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I 
 

A 
 
 PICTURE OF SOCIETY, 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 I copied from the life, and in the original perused Mankind. 
 
 Armstrong, 
 
 - Honiscm: 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. IIOOKHAM, JUN. AND E. T. HOOKHAM, 
 NO. 15 , OLD BOND STREET; 
 
 AND M. KEENER COLLEGE GREEN, DUBLIN. 
 
 1813 . 
 
Vigurs, Printer, H, York-street, Movent Garden, 
 
gZ3 
 
 THE 
 
 MISANTHROPIST; 
 
 OR, A 
 
 PICTURE OF SOCIETY, 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 jj* 
 
 V 
 
 "4 
 
 “ Hope, deceptive enchantress! god- 
 dess of self-created bliss! inspire my heart ; 
 look from thy airy regions of imagination, 
 thy throne of ever-varying brightness ; 
 raise thy voice to strains of rapture, and 
 while Echo and Love return the magic 
 tones of thy seductive song, steal my soul 
 from the dull and frigid bondage of rea- 
 son 
 
 . B 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 2 
 
 Such was the dream of youthful en- 
 thusiasm. The goddess heard my prayer ; 
 but, like her sex, faithless and enchant- 
 ing, she caught me in her flowery fetters, 
 intoxicated me with her cup, and after 
 leading me through worlds of ideal bliss, 
 fled and left me to despair! 
 
 Entering on the busy scenes of life with 
 a heart innocent as the first smile that 
 played on my infant lips, an imagination 
 glowing with highly-coloured .pictures of 
 human nature (pictures sketched by the 
 hand of Hope), my soul sighed after per- 
 fection : and surely, if beauty the most 
 dazzling and sublime were worthy to en- 
 shrine a soul of angelic purity. Virtue her- 
 self might wear the form of Matilda . 
 
 No statuary could adopt a finer model of 
 Grecian symmetry, nor poet imagine a 
 love or a grace which her countenance did 
 not display : it was beauty in-all its mild 
 and touching languor ; her eyes beaming 
 with sentimental softness, her interesting 
 and negligent deportment, her air, at once 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 3 
 
 so modest and so noble, overwhelmed my 
 heart with a, torrent of such exquisitely 
 delightful sensations, that, even if 1 could 
 have regained my freedom, I would have 
 preferred the contemplation of her charms 
 to the highest felicity which indifference 
 would enable me to taste ; for I felt ex- 
 alted in my own eyes, by the conscious- 
 ness of possessing a heart capable of valuing 
 her perfections. She blended the most 
 insinuating sweetness with the dignity of 
 her lofty pride ; and when she deigned to 
 address me, when those beauteous eyes 
 turned on me their ineffable and fatal 
 beams, and the most harmonious voice 
 issued from those lips, I hung enamoured 
 on her accents, forgot what she said, and 
 felt conscious only of the honor, the dan- 
 gerous felicity of being the object of her 
 attentions. 
 
 1 believed that so indolent a temper was 
 incapable of vanity, and that a smile so 
 lovely could never cloak deceit. But 
 Matilda was false, and l ceased even to 
 b 2 
 
4 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 wish for happiness. At first, the void in 
 my heart was filled by another passion ; 
 pride urged me to bear with firmness the 
 demolition of all my earthly hopes, nor let 
 the vain heart of Matilda see her slave 
 humbled to the dust. I dropped no tear ; 
 I smothered the rising sigh: like the proud 
 oak, unbending, I met the storm ; but 
 the effort was too much, and reason paid 
 a debt at which sensibility need not have 
 blushed. 
 
 Slowly I recovered from this gloomy 
 eclipse of the soul : but though reason, 
 alas! too soon, too powerfully resumed its 
 empire ; all the sweet illusions, the fond 
 enthusiasm, the brilliant deceptions of life 
 were gone. <c Who, ” I exclaimed, 
 “ would withdraw the veil that hides fu- 
 turity from our knowledge? We are 
 blessed in ignorance ; its delusive mists 
 obscure life’s chequered scene : borne on 
 the wings of hope, we seek an imaginary 
 
 good ; every setting sun brings with it a 
 
 / 
 
 tale of disappointment ; but every rising 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 6 
 
 ^un witnesses a new pursuit. Desire of 
 attainment disguises the difficulty ; we 
 substitute the wish for the power, and ex- 
 pect a day to perform a work of ages. Man, 
 uncertain as his being is, thinks and talks 
 and prosecutes, as if the end of his exist- 
 ence were the only doubtful event upon 
 earth. Oh, 1 have felt what it is to trust 
 to human joys! I have revelled in ima- 
 ginary security ; but where are now the 
 smiling visions of my early youth ? All 
 fled ! all destroyed ! What an illusion is 
 happiness, when woman is called upon to 
 realize the fond hopes of the heart! How 
 could fancy, in its wildest flight, pursue 
 the phantom in the shape of woman ? 
 Truth, love, sincerity ; heavenly sounding 
 terms, and in heaven only to be found ; 
 why are we taught to believe in your ex- 
 istence ? are we to be happy only in 
 illusion? ” 
 
 These were the ebullitions of my wild 
 despair: let the history of my future life 
 determine their justice. 
 
6 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 Persuaded by a man who called himself 
 my friend (and Augustus was such, if such 
 there be on earth), I once more entered 
 the busy world of pleasure ; but not to 
 taste of it. I felt a gloomy satisfaction 
 in tracing the hidden recesses of that den 
 of folly, the human heart ; — but a specta- 
 tor at the puppet-show of life, for I had 
 purchased indifference at the expence of 
 happiness. Yet 1 smiled to see that brittle 
 machine, man, unconscious of the secret 
 springs by which he is moved, and seem- 
 ingly ignorant of the end for which he is 
 created. Vain race ! deceiving and de- 
 ceived, ever grasping a shadow, sacrificing 
 at the gilded shrine of vanity, while nature, 
 bearing the stamp of a divine artificer (like 
 every other blessing that is easily enjoyed), 
 has lost in your eyes its value and its 
 charms. 
 
 In the prosecution of this pursuit, how- 
 ever, I found that, as a mere spectator, I 
 should acquire little information : actions 
 I might see ; but, unless I acted myself, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 i 
 
 I should remain ignorant of motives. 
 Many sage philosophers are so occupied 
 with the performance of their characters, 
 so anxious to strike the beholders with 
 awe, that their faculties become absorbed 
 in seif, and the vanity of looking profound 
 prevents their being really so. While pre- 
 paring a scrutinizing glance, they lose the 
 moment of observation, they knit the brow, 
 foid the arms, mistake sulky discontent 
 for philosophic coldness, and because they 
 are silent, fancy themselves observing. 
 
 Resolved to do something more than 
 strut about and call myself an observer, I 
 became once more a man of society. How 
 often, amidst the gay circles of folly, have 
 I forgot the motive which led me thither, 
 and with surprise detected myself, still 
 elated by vanity, soothed by pleasure, or 
 stimulated by hope. He who would reason, 
 must permit himself to feel ; and to judge 
 of human nature we must take a near 
 view of it. The bold and conspicuous 
 vices which arrest public attention, have 
 
8 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 little to interest the philosopher and excite 
 the investigating mind : it is the finer and 
 more complicated foibles of the heart, 
 which, while they escape the tribunal of 
 the laws, interrupt the harmony of society ; 
 it is these which call for the correcting 
 voice of the satirist, and supply the phi- 
 losopher with inexhaustible materials for 
 the instruction of mankind. 
 
 The two great powers by which society 
 is held together, and by which its crimes 
 are repressed, are the laws of religion and 
 the laws of our country : but in social life, 
 there are innumerable violations of man’s 
 happiness, over which those laws have no 
 control, and which are cognizable alone 
 to the law's of society itself. But, as the 
 profligate and disorderly are contemners 
 of religion and law ; so those who deserve 
 the lash of satire, declaim against its utility, 
 and endeavour to stifle its voice. The 
 proud, the ignorant, the presumptuous, 
 the ridiculous, and the stupid, detest the 
 discrimination on which they fail to im- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 9 
 
 pose, and wish all the world would make 
 as little use of reason as they do themselves. 
 These, assuming the name of good nature, 
 say, that for their part “ they wish to avoid 
 making enemies ; and when they cannot 
 speak well of people, they make it a rule 
 not to speak of them at all.” Now this is 
 an admirable system ! for thus, by per- 
 mitting vice, they sanction it, and by not 
 opposing, assist its progress. 
 
 Indiscriminate praise is as injurious as 
 indiscriminate censure, it equally con- 
 founds the distinctions between right and 
 wrong. When mediocrity receives the 
 reward of excellence, men are deprived of 
 the motive for attainment ; and that praise 
 becomes valueless which is eoually be- 
 stowed on itic ^rthless and deserving. 
 And yet satire, which flows from a just 
 and refined taste, discrimination, and sen- 
 sibility, the heart that can feel and the 
 genius that can express, is often confounded 
 with scandal or defamation, which pro- 
 ceeds from the basest and most ignoble 
 B 5 
 
10 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 sentiments. While the satirist is feared, 
 shunned, and detested, the gossiping de- 
 famer is admitted without hesitation and 
 treated with unbounded confidence. 
 
 This latter is what is called by the world 
 a mighty good-sort of person, and is gene- 
 rally a woman, “ a well-meaning creature, 
 though sometimes perhaps a little mis- 
 taken.” She is mischievous from pious 
 principles ; her love of God excuses her 
 hatred to her neighbour, and her excessive 
 zeal for Christian perfection robs her of 
 Christian charity, ft is her horror of vice 
 which makes her discover it where it is 
 not ; it is her love of truth which makes 
 heT propagate the falsehood ; but it is the 
 discretion of calumniating with hypocriti- 
 cal sanctity, that enables her to attain the 
 purposes of malevolence without incurring 
 its obloquy. Thus dullness is the best 
 quality to give impunity to a mischievous 
 disposition, and defamation is metamor- 
 phosed into good nature when it is uttered 
 in the name of the Lord. The satirist is 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 11 
 
 witty at the expence of vice ; the defamer 
 makes virtue his prey, and ££ hates the 
 excellence he cannot reach:” the one cor- 
 rects society, the other stigmatizes it. But 
 though individuals may lament that they 
 cannot indulge their insolent caprices, pro- 
 pagate dangerous sentiments, practise fash- 
 ionable levity, be noisy, obtrusive, inde- 
 cent, or profane, with impunity ; the 
 good order of social life and the morals of 
 society are preserved by the discriminating 
 severity of the satirist. The fear of ridi- 
 cule will restrain those who consider jus- 
 tice and virtue as empty sounds ; present 
 odium will terrify, when future punish- 
 ment is despised ; and he who is insensible 
 to conscience, and laughs at a God, is 
 yet susceptible to the feelings of shame and 
 alive to the poignancy of satire. 
 
 Thus the intercourses of life are sweet- 
 ened and preserved, and even selfishness 
 learns to contribute to the happiness of 
 others in order to secure its own. Let 
 those who deny the efficacy of satire, ask 
 
12 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 their own hearts if the fear of its lash has 
 not given a decency to their conduct, in 
 cases too frivolous for higher considerations 
 to affect them. A respect for the opinion 
 of the world is one of our immediate pro- 
 tections against evil : it gives a habit of 
 self-denial, which, though exerted in trifles, 
 prepares the mind for encountering greater 
 temptations : it teaches decorum, which 
 is an outwork of virtue : it corrects the 
 asperities of the heart ; and that fictitious 
 virtue which it teaches, often grows into 
 principle by the force of habit. But there 
 are some lofty and independent spirits, 
 who imagine that, by defying its censures, 
 they display superior firmness of mind ; 
 w ho, boasting of immaculate purity of in- 
 tention, place themselves in the most sus- 
 picious and perilous situations, deaf to re- 
 monstrance, undaunted by universal con- 
 tempt, careless alike to the suffering of 
 friends or the malignant triumph of ene- 
 mies. Those despisers of public opinion, 
 who make such a parade about the silent 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 13 
 
 testimony of a good conscience, ought, 
 ho»yever, to recollect that they owe some- 
 thing to society as well as to their own 
 feelings; and t^at it is a part of virtue to 
 seem virtuous ; for weak minds, en- 
 couraged by their examples, practise 
 
 the crimes which they but affect. 
 
 That is a strange kind of conscience,' 
 then, which can boast of its silent conso- 
 lations, while giving a precedent to vice, 
 disturbing the order of society, and viola- 
 ting the sanctity of virtue. The fact is, 
 few despise the censures of the world but 
 those who intend to deserve them. A con- 
 tempt for public opinion, so far from being 
 a proof of firmness, generally proceeds 
 from a vicious weakness, which shrinks 
 from the practice of those virtues by which 
 alone the good opinion of the world can 
 be obtained ; for mankind, generally 
 speaking, forms a fair estimate of cha- 
 racter ; and though it is sometimes mis- 
 taken in particular events, though facts 
 are magnified and altered, and stories 
 
1.4 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 fabricated, to the momentary injury of 
 individuals; yet calumny is soon refuted, 
 and innocence, like the light of heaven, 
 can suffer but a transitory eclipse. 
 
 I seldom believe circumstantial tale of 
 scandal, be it ever so plausibly dressed up. 
 I allo^ for the misconceptions of dullness 
 and the exaggerations of envy. But when 
 the general tenor of conduct betrays a pro- 
 pensity to vice; when the radical principles 
 of an individual are universally arraigned ; 
 I confess that I am neither credulous 
 enough to be duped by imposing manners, 
 nor do I pretend to that hypocritical good- 
 nature which countenances those whose 
 conduct my reason cannot approve. When, 
 by our own imprudence, we have drawn 
 upon ourselves its censures, we must not 
 accuse the world of unjust severity, if its 
 censures are severe. They are useful ; for 
 public opinion, which is the test of na- 
 tional morals, is also the protection of na- 
 tional purity. Let us not then, relaxing that 
 system of moral severity which has hitherto 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 15 
 
 preserved our country virtuous, respect- 
 able, and free, plead obscurity of rank or 
 mediocrity of talent, to extenuate our 
 vices. The morality of a nation is the 
 accumulated morality of its individuals ; 
 private honesty is public spirit ; and the 
 true patriot is he, who best fulfils the 
 duties of a Husband, a Parent, a Master, 
 and a Friend : yes, the virtue of the cot- 
 tage is the proudest security of the throne. 
 
16 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Wealth, though it does not possess 
 one quality which fits us for society, is yet 
 a certain passport into it. Wealth there- 
 fore procured me admittance into the first 
 circles in town ; and though the cause was 
 not very flattering to self-love, it favored 
 my immediate pursuit, which was neither 
 ambition nor pleasure, but a aesire to 
 study the human character and to obtain 
 an intimate knowledge of mankind. 
 
 To me, whose life had been passed in 
 the bosom of domestic tranquillity, whose 
 pleasures were confined within the limits 
 of a good library and the conversation of a 
 few amiable intelligent companions, how 
 new, how brilliant, how imposing was the 
 scene which now unfolded itself. In every 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 17 
 
 countenance I met a smile of kindness, 
 professions of friendship flowed from every 
 tongue, and for a moment I believed they 
 were sincere. When courtiers can impose 
 upon each other, it is little wonder that 
 they should impose upon me. Nothing 
 can be more insinuating than their address. 
 By a judicious mixture of oblique flattery 
 and respectful ease, they put the mind into 
 that happy frame which inclines it to ap- 
 prove. An external complacency, an air 
 of observance, a turn of expression the 
 most happy and conciliating, would incline 
 superficial observers to believe them en- 
 dowed with a superior portion of the “ milk 
 of human kindness.” But the heart has 
 nothing to do with all this : they depend 
 on their wit to supply them with the lan- 
 guage of sensibility ; they bestow a minute 
 attention on those trifling acts of ceremo- 
 nious courtesy which a truly generous 
 mind might overlook, and endeavour to 
 atone, by suavity of manner, for their de- 
 
18 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 ficiency in liberal acts. Thus politeness 
 becomes more necessary as the heart be- 
 comes more depraved, and hypocrisy, 
 which is the most despicable vice, supplies 
 the place of the noblest virtues. Here all 
 is false, studied, and superficial. Their 
 virtue consists in throwing the most be- 
 coming drapery over vice ; they despise 
 the flattery which imposes on others, but 
 always believe that sincere which is 
 addressed to themselves. Here beauty 
 puts on all her captivating graces ; her 
 smile is heavenly, but it is the hacknied 
 smile of indiscriminate allurement: it 
 wants the charm of sensibility, the occa- 
 sional relief of intellectual composure, 
 which renders its brilliancy more striking. 
 Manner is studied, and mind totally neg- 
 lected. Every original trait is lost, every 
 feeling repressed or eradicated, by the 
 vitiating influence of tumultuous pleasure. 
 Every one is suspicious, for every one 
 knows himself to be deceitful : many affect 
 
I HE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 IB 
 
 a love of pleasure, as a cloak to deep de- 
 signs ; but none affect virtue, for all are 
 unanimous in despising it. 
 
 Oh ! how often, wandering through the 
 dreary solitude of a crowded assembly, 
 wearied by tumultuous pleasures and ficti- 
 tious gaiety, have I sighed for those days 
 of tranquil happiness, fled for ever. Had 
 l never known Matilda, I should have 
 escaped the pangs of disappointment : but 
 I should also have been a stranger to the 
 noblest feelings of the heart. I endea- 
 voured to cheat the tardy flight of time by 
 seeking scenes of festive gaiety. Vain 
 effort ! her image still pursued me, still 
 floated before my eyes, still smiled with 
 unequalled sweetness. Fond illusions be- 
 stowed by love ! who would exchange you 
 for the languid content or vacant joy of 
 those whom the world calls wiser ? 
 
 Had I obeyed the dictates of my own 
 heart, I should have returned once more 
 to my beloved retirement ; but the pro- 
 mise which friendship had extracted, was 
 
20 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 sacred. I also looked forward to that time 
 when, after a few years dedicated to bustle, 
 activity, and observation, 1 should for ever 
 quit the haunts of men, and in the tran- 
 quillity of philosophical retirement retrace 
 every event and draw useful deductions 
 from personal experience. 
 
 “ Your debut, ” said Augustus, “ was 
 not calculated to remove the prejudices of a 
 misanthrope. Instead of cultivating society 
 congenial to your taste, and enjoying the 
 sober pleasures of domestic life, you plunged 
 into a scene ol dissipation and folly ; where 
 all intercourse of the heart is checked by 
 ceremony ; where artifice is mistaken for 
 talent, insincerity for address, and selfish- 
 ness for prudence. A philosopher studies 
 such society in vain ; for, be he ever so 
 penetrating, ever so ingenious, he will see 
 nothing but thesuperficies. Mind is intirely 
 hidden from his view, and a philosopher has 
 nothing to do with manners. Those whom 
 we meet but at stated times, can easily 
 support a fictitious character; but in do- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 2 1 
 
 mestic life, where a constant intercourse 
 prevents preparation, vve see the natural 
 workings of the passions, as they are un- 
 folded by accidental occurrences. In such 
 an intercourse, dissimulation is vain ; the 
 heart will betray itself ; the eyes will belie 
 the studied profession of the lips; the sud- 
 den exclamation, the half-formed sentence, 
 the hasty reply, the tear, the blush, the 
 smile, will speak beyond a thousand 
 words.” 
 
22 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 I now cultivated the society of families 
 who, without belonging to what is called 
 the first class, are yet near enough to catch 
 their elegance, without imbibing their 
 vices. Here I expected to find education 
 less confined to exterior show, and refine- 
 ment of manners produced by refine- 
 ment of mind. I expected to hear less 
 chat, but to enjoy more conversation ; to 
 be paid fewer compliments, but to receive 
 more proofs of friendship, and to be valued 
 for intellectual acquirements as well as for 
 the graces of a dancing-master or the prat- 
 tle of a petit-maitre. 
 
 Was it the pride of man, who loves to 
 face dangers which he cannot conquer, that 
 again led me into the presence of that bane 
 and blessing of society, a woman : But 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 23 
 
 the recollection of Matilda raised a frozen 
 rampart round my heart ; and a man must 
 have indeed a wonderful propensity to 
 falling in love, if he could be captivated 
 by the hacknied airs of town-bred misses, 
 who, contaminated by promiscuous in- 
 tercourse, know nothing of the world but 
 its follies, and without reasoning or" reflect- 
 ing on what they see, make no more use 
 of experience than to be as dissipated, 
 thoughtless and extravagant as their ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 I knew many very pretty girls, well 
 bred, accomplished, and possessingall those 
 superficial graces of manner which many 
 mistake for elegance of mind ; who, in 
 short, were showy enough to attract atten- 
 tion in a ball-room, and agreeable enough 
 to trifle away an evening with at the 
 opera; but whose powers extended no far- 
 ther. Removed to the tranquil scene of 
 a domestic fire- side, how faded their lustre! 
 how spiritless their conversation ! Accus- 
 tomed to consider public amusements as 
 
24 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 their only places of exhibition, they culti- 
 vated no other talents but those which 
 would enable them to shine there, and 
 passed the intervals between one scene of 
 vanity and another, in fretful languor or 
 feverish anticipation. ’Tis true, that at 
 the entrance of a stranger (and that stranger 
 a young man) every effort was made to re- 
 vive the attractive airs of ball-room vivacity; 
 but fictitious cheerfulness can communicate 
 no sympathy. A young lady may talk 
 much, yet say very little ; display white 
 teeth, without displaying good humour ; 
 and play off with inimitable address all her 
 little glances and simpers, without pro- 
 ducing any effect on a mind which looks 
 for sincerity, candour, and sensibility. 
 
 What puerile arts does female vanity 
 inspire ! Some, who are unable to converse, 
 carry off stupidity with a bewitching lan- 
 guor and pathetic softness, and fancy that 
 the beams which emanate from a pair of 
 half-closed eyes, speak more feelingly to 
 the soul than sense, fancy, and all the 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 25 
 
 graces of an elegant mind. Careless to pre- 
 ciseness, and systematically negligent, they 
 practise an air of easy indifference, till it 
 degenerates into rudeness. Others affect 
 an irradiated intelligence of countenance, 
 an animated quickness of comprehension, 
 that would be satisfactory enough to the 
 speaker, were the mind half as much in 
 play as the features. The countenance is 
 lighted up with predetermined approba- 
 tion ; the exclamation of delight anticipates 
 the cause. A story that would draw tears 
 from a heart open to real feeling, is heard 
 with an unmeaning simper, and the point 
 of an epigram is unheeded in an ostenta- 
 tious attention to what will follow. 
 
 Oh, what a creature might woman be, 
 if she hut felt her own importance ; if she 
 employed her attractions, not for the mean 
 triumph of conquering hearts, but for the 
 glorious ambition bf reforming them! How 
 melancholy to behold women contracting 
 their minds to the most puerile pursuits, 
 that they might have a chance of being 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 comprehended by the beings whom they 
 are ambitious of pleasing ; beings who, 
 having no faith in virtue, mistake cheer- 
 fulness for levity, and laugh at the spon- 
 taneous feelings of offended delicacv as ridi- 
 culous grimace and affectation. Can the 
 homage of such men reflect honor on her 
 who might draw votaries to the shrine of 
 virtue, by arraying it in the garb of the 
 graces ? The garb ought to be attractive, 
 for mankind are creatures of imagination. 
 
 Let not virtuous women trust too much 
 to the justness of their cause, and despise 
 those graces which vice so successfully em- 
 ploys. What man can admire virtue that 
 seems defended only by austerity, or love 
 a woman who thinks that to be insipid is 
 the best test of her prudence ? 
 
 How did I hate those termagant airs of 
 prudery, after a short acquaintance with 
 the majestic Alicia. Solemn, insipid, and 
 austere, she acted as if all mankind were 
 her enemies, and as if one word spoken 
 without study and motive would convict 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 2 7 
 
 her. To trust a fellow-creature she con- 
 sidered an act of folly, and to be cheerful 
 an act of levity. She knew that it was in 
 vain for her to charm by grace and suavity 
 of manner ; so affected to despise what ex- 
 perience made her despair of acquiring. 
 She consoled herself by reflecting that the 
 arrows of love fell blunted from the shield of 
 Minerva ; so, stepping forward with proud 
 defiance in her eye arid more than manly 
 roughness, declared war against the whole 
 tribe of loves and graces, made spirited 
 resistance without ever being attacked, 
 and fancied herself triumphant because 
 neglected. 
 
 Others err in the opposite extreme : 
 oppressively animated, unceasing in laugh- 
 ter, exuberant in gaiety, they substitute 
 the contortions of the body for the efforts of 
 the mind, and make wit a mere grimace. 
 To entertain them, a man must “nick- 
 name God’s creatures,” and distort nature’s 
 fair proportions. In short, they are en- 
 chanted with him while he resembles an 
 
28 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 ape or a mountebank, but think him in- 
 tolerably dull when he degenerates into a 
 mere rational being. 
 
 Lamentable indeed is the fate of an un- 
 fortunate lover, who sees no chance of 
 obtaining his mistress’s affection but by 
 antics and merriment. If he really loves, 
 the effort is intolerable. A woman of sen- 
 timent and delicacy expects a very 
 different homage. She feels that it is 
 impossible to trifle when the heart is in- 
 terested ; that, in the presence of a beloved 
 object, there is an anxious solicitude, a 
 sentiment too sublime for mirth, too deli- 
 cate to betray itself by common- place 
 gallantry. In the dignity of her lover’s 
 manners she discovers her best security 
 for the steadiness of his affections ; in his 
 reserve, the respectful timidity of genuine 
 love ; and that very timidity, which in- 
 clines him to be doubtful of success, renders 
 him at the same time most worthy of it. 
 She knows that the flattery which-charms 
 in the lover, ends with the days of court- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 2.9 
 
 ship; and she would rather hear of one 
 generous action, one noble sacrifice to 
 honor, and discover her influence in the 
 refined principles of her lover, than listen 
 to the most ardent professions and obsequi- 
 ous homage. The love which ostenta- 
 tiously exposes itself, which is gay, voluble, 
 and obtrusive, may flatter a giddy girl who 
 delights in the eclat of conquest ; but she 
 who is herself capable of a dignified attach- 
 ment, will know how to value the seif- 
 imposed restraints of respectful passion, 
 and to reward the virtuous pride which 
 seeks success by merit alone. 
 
 How seldom do we meet cheerfulness 
 without levity, sense without pedantry, 
 manners that at once delight the fancy and 
 satisfy the understanding. When I see an 
 unaffected young female, with understand- 
 ing to dignify and prudence to temper 
 gaiety; imparting ease without diminishing 
 respect ; 1 feel more inclined to rely upon 
 the correct purity of her heart, than on the 
 studied decorums of those lisping misses 
 who, demurely tittering in their little cor- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 .■5 a 
 
 nered circle, have been taught by their 
 card-playing mothers and gossiping aunts, 
 that the only quality which will enable 
 them to pass through life with security, is 
 the innocent incapability of ever commit- 
 ting themselves to an opinion. 
 
 Depending solely upon the blooms and 
 blushes of youth, what will become of the 
 light triflers when the age of simplicity is 
 passed, and they can no longer make folly 
 captivating? Mind is the only solid basis 
 of happiness, and he who unites his fate 
 with one of those pretty automatons, will 
 too late discover that man is a being en- 
 dowed with reasoning faculties, and that 
 life cannot he spent with satisfaction unless 
 those faculties, which make him lord of 
 the creation, are unfolded and understood. 
 
 This frivolity of character is the chief 
 
 •/ 
 
 cause of misery in the marriage state. 
 Women who have no resources in their 
 own minds, sink into indolence and in- 
 difference as soon as they lose the motive 
 which, as girls, prompted their exertions 
 to please. They become gossips, scolds, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 31 
 
 and slatterns ; morose wives, and tyranni- 
 cal or foolishly indulgent mothers : while 
 the unfortunate man, who formed his- 
 choice upon the generally received opinion 
 that a mild, innocent, inexperienced girl 
 would he most easily moulded to his wishes 
 and governed by his will, is soon fatally 
 convinced that ignorance is ever obstinate 
 and folly ever capricious. 
 
 I had many opportunities of observing 
 matrimonial infelicity. That which pro- 
 ceeds from temper, appears a radical evil, 
 which no advice nor argument can correct : 
 at least it is fair to infer that, if any effort 
 of reason could subdue them, there are few 
 so mad as to indulge those fatal caprices 
 which spread misery through a domestic 
 circle, but which exhaust their peculiar 
 rancour in the bosom of their possessor. In- 
 deed, selfishness, independent of principle, 
 teaches the doctrine of self-control : for I be- 
 lieve that the greatest tyrant on earth never 
 caused as much misery to others, as the in- 
 dulgence of his passions procured himself. 
 
32 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 But the unhappiness of the wedded 
 state often proceeds from causes less seem- 
 J ng!y important. I n the days of courtship, 
 every grace of manner, every allurement 
 of dress, every refined sentiment and cap- 
 tivating charm, are employed to secure a 
 conquest: but, that once accomplished, 
 carelessness soon succeeds. Nay, some 
 women actually make it a point of duty to 
 despise every agreeable qualification, and 
 by becoming hideous and disgusting, set 
 jealousy asleep for ever. Thus despising 
 the graces which first won a heart, dislike 
 quickly usurps the place of fondness; neg- 
 lecting those little amiable arts which 
 diversify and embellish domestic life, it 
 becomes a comfortless, insipid scene ; and 
 a man of taste, who hoped to meet a re- 
 fined, intelligent companion, is astonished 
 to find her sunk into a homely housewife, 
 who receives his friends with constrained 
 civility, entertains them with anecdotes of 
 the nursery and complaints of the servants, 
 hates every man of wit because he detains 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 33 
 
 the gentlemen at their wine, and despises 
 every woman who does not stun her com- 
 pany with the insipid detail of domestic 
 economy. 
 
 Such a creature, however, has the con- 
 solation of being called the best sort of 
 woman in the world by all her female 
 acquaintance, because she has neither 
 graces nor talents to inspire competition 
 or to excite envy. But a woman whose 
 taste has been refined by intellectual culti- 
 vation, knows how to unite elegance with 
 frugality, to be at once domestic and pru- 
 dent, yet lively, graceful, and intelligent. 
 She does not think it necessary to adopt 
 the language of her cook, though she 
 attends to the culinary arrangements; nor 
 to neglect personal neatness and the graces 
 of an engaging and cheerful deportment, 
 while regulating the most minute concerns 
 of her household. In short, she makes it 
 a point of duty to retain the affections of 
 her husband ; and in order to render home 
 a delightful retreat from the cares and bus- 
 c 5 
 
34 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 tie of the world, she arrays her face in 
 smiles and her form in graces ; she culti- 
 vates the arts of conversation, and endea- 
 vours to cheer his hours of solitude by the 
 most winning sweetness and endearing 
 complacency. 
 
 Domestic life scarcely admits of any me- 
 dium. When there is a constant jarring 
 of tempers, interests, and opinions, 5 can- 
 not imagine any thing more dreary and 
 comfortless. But when candour and cheer- 
 fulness dwell in the domestic circle, when 
 each individual contributes to the general 
 happiness, it affords the most delightful 
 picture of rational content. 
 
 Dissipated minds, accustomed to an 
 eternal tumult of varied pleasures, would 
 call such a life insipid ; and to those who 
 know it only by description, it will ever 
 appear so. Descriptions of domestic life 
 fail to convey an image to the mind, be- 
 cause there are no striking features to 
 arrest the attention. It is an assemblage 
 of such minute attributes, it depends so 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 35 
 
 entirely on the peculiar adaption of cir- 
 cumstances to tempers, that, to conceive 
 it, it must be experienced. It will not 
 attract superficial observers ; but he 
 who has once tasted its pure and simple 
 pleasures, will carry the remembrance 
 of it to his latest moments, and in the 
 midst of courts and camps, surrounded 
 by glare and pomp and revelry, will still 
 sigh for the tranquil pleasures of the heart, 
 and “ remember that such things were, 
 and were most precious.” 
 
 Alas ! the world is ever more anxious to 
 appear happy than to be so. Those who 
 are most capable of contributing to the 
 pleasures of home, seem to think it a 
 waste of powers; as if the intellectual fa*- 
 culties could be impaired by use, and as 
 if nature had bestowed on every individual 
 a certain measure of agreeability which 
 required economy in the disposal of. Good 
 nature often sits yawning in a corner, wish- 
 ing to be cheerful, but certain of not being 
 met with a corresponding sentiment, and 
 
36 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 fearing the illiberal constructions of rigid 
 plain sense. All the charms of social 
 intercourse, every warm sentiment, every 
 tender affection, are sacrificed to that 
 suspicious and gloomy prudence, which, 
 always armed against some imaginary 
 enemy, discovers an insidious motive in 
 the most accidental observation, a plot 
 in every whisper, and falsehood in every 
 smile. In such hearts the language of 
 affection produces no sympathy, the most 
 generous action creates distrust, and the 
 warmest zeal of friendship is met with 
 reserve and returned with measured cir- 
 cumspection or inanimate politeness. 
 
 Friendship ! what a mockery of words! 
 Every accidental association of con- 
 venience, of interest, or of pleasure, is 
 dignified with its sacred name. It is made 
 up of exquisite sympathies, romantic ap- 
 peals, and enthusiastic professions. But 
 it exhausts itself in sentiments, and evapo- 
 rates at the first approach of adversity. 
 The most delicate friendship yields to the 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 3 / 
 
 most vulgar accidents. The whisper of a 
 malignant gossip, a trifling pecuniary 
 transaction, can change the sentimental 
 whine of disinterested friendship into 
 rancorous malice and scurrilous invective. 
 It is melancholy to see by what insignifi- 
 cant circumstances friends are estranged 
 from each other: indeed, the most certain 
 termination of friendship is when one 
 party lays the other under an important 
 obligation. Instantly pride takes the 
 alarm. Instead of repaying the giver by 
 enjoying the gift, we receive it as a humi- 
 liating boon, and consider the superiority 
 which the power of bestowing seems to 
 imply, as sufficient to cancel the obli- 
 gation. 
 
 But the true way to judge, in all cases 
 of feeling between man and man, is by 
 exchanging situations. I would ask those 
 whose too sensitive feelings produce all the 
 effect of insensibility ; who, spurning the 
 offers of friendship, act through an excess 
 of gratitude, as if they were totally desti- 
 
38 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 tute of every vestige of it ; I would ask 
 them, if they themselves ever bestowed a 
 favor ? and if they did not feel more than 
 compensated by the act itself? If, then, 
 they are convinced that it is a pleasure to 
 give, they should consider it, for the same 
 reason, a pleasure to receive, since it 
 obliges the person to whom they are 
 themselves most obliged. Reciprocal 
 favors are the bonds of civilized society. 
 To be independent is not the lot of man : 
 it is the impracticable theory of a heart 
 too proud to owe and too inefficient to 
 repay. A good heart receives an obliga- 
 tion by being permitted to confer it ; but 
 when favors are ostentatiously bestowed, 
 and accompanied by the supercilious airs 
 of patronage, then, indeed, the weight 
 becomes oppressive. The gift of friend- 
 ship ennobles both parties ; but he who 
 exacts gratitude, more than cancels the 
 debt. 
 
 Alas ! we too often see that the supe- 
 riority of rank which enables a man to be 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 39 
 
 generous, prevents his being just. To 
 reason with him on his errors, is to rebel 
 against his authority ; and the language 
 of truth, which would teach him to dis- 
 cover right and to pursue it, is silenced 
 by the haughtiness of situation. He 
 seeks respect without endeavouring to 
 create esteem, expects affection without 
 feeling it, and demands obedience, care- 
 less whether his demands are possible to 
 perform or reasonable if performed. He 
 knows, and takes good care to recollect, 
 that dependence has duties to perform and 
 obligations to fulfil ; but banishes the 
 idea that he too is bound by duties just 
 as strong, obligations just as imperative, 
 though different in their nature. More 
 of the miseries of life are occasioned by 
 neglect of the lesser virtues than by the 
 actual commission of crimes; ad daily 
 experience points out candour as one of 
 the most useful of the minor virtues. 
 How many are separated by foolish punc- 
 tilios, mistaken intentions, and suspicious 
 
40 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 appearances, and for want of that noble 
 condescension, lose the blessing of life — 
 a friend ! If a friend be worth having, 
 he is worth regaining; and if a circum- 
 tance be important enough to lessen es- 
 teem, it is important enough to deserve 
 investigation. 
 
 Candour is not alone an amiable, but a 
 useful quality. It forms a bond of mutual 
 confidence between man and man ; and 
 when opposed to cunning and artifice, 
 will be ever found triumphant. Deceit 
 meets deceit on equal terms ; it is pre- 
 pared against every wile, and armed 
 against every stratagem. But there is an 
 awful simplicity in candour, which over- 
 whelms, convinces, and which, soaring 
 above the low calculations of cunning, 
 totally disconcerts its machinations. 
 
 Uncandid minds always arrogate to 
 themselves the merit of superior pru- 
 dence. They talk of the danger of com- 
 mitting themselves ; that words are liable 
 to misconstruction, but that silence is 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 41 
 
 always secure. In short, they have good 
 plain sense at their side ; but the senti- 
 ment does more honor to the head than 
 to the heart. It may be prudent, but is 
 not amiable ; it may obtain cold respect, 
 but will never conciliate love. 
 
 Let little minds, who are incapable of 
 distinguishing between cunning and wis- 
 dom, between selfishness and prudence, 
 dignify it with what epithets they please ; 
 but those who are deficient in candour, 
 must ever be deficient in good nature ; 
 for they constantly sacrifice the peace of 
 others to some unfeeling calculation of 
 personal security. 
 
 To conceal a truth is often productive 
 of as much mischief as to propagate a 
 falsehood. IIow often do we see people 
 acting from the most laudable motives, 
 yet producing nothing but misery and 
 discontent, for want of making those mo- 
 tives known. Supporting an impenetrable 
 silence under mysterious appearances, 
 suspicions are excited ; doubts arise j 
 
42 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 friends become estranged ; and anxious 
 affection is left to mourn in secret the 
 imaginary ruin of its fondest hopes. 
 Candour would soon dispel the frightful 
 monsters of the imagination, and ele- 
 vate despondency to rapture. What a 
 heart then must he have who witnesses 
 the evil, and yet withholds the remedy 1 
 “ A few words can rescue misery out of 
 its distress,” and God knows that security 
 is dearly purchased, which wrings one 
 tear from the eye of sensibility, which adds 
 one pang to the inevitable load of human 
 suffering ! 
 
 Yet often we see the kindest intention 
 defeated by misconception. To defend 
 one’s self is a crime ; to expostulate is an 
 insult ; and while our words breathe 
 peace, the simple effort of speaking is 
 considered a summons to war. A calm 
 explanation may convince a man that he 
 has wronged you, but he will hate you 
 more for the discovery than for the crime. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 43 
 
 and would rather believe you infamous 
 than himself unjust. 
 
 We too often mistake insensibility for 
 strength of mind, and forgetting that 
 firmness becomes ferocity, unless it be 
 tempered by feeling, blush at being mer- 
 ciful, and glory in an unforgiving’ disposi- 
 tion. Forgiveness was the language of 
 Him who died for our sins, and should 
 be echoed by every heart that beats be- 
 neath the Christian banner. In God it 
 was mercy ; in man it is acknowledg- 
 ment : it is a sound of sweet peace to the 
 receiver ; but to the giver it is like the dew 
 which returns from Heaven to bless the 
 source from which it sprung. 
 
44 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 It was my unhappy fate to have the 
 pleasing expectations of my imagination 
 constantly checked by the painful convic- 
 tions of my understanding. When I 
 sought for the easy intercourse of friend- 
 ship, I was overwhelmed with ceremony; 
 when I uttered the spontaneous language 
 of affection, I was suspected of an in- 
 terested motive ; when animated with 
 virtuous emotions, I betrayed sentiments 
 too exalted perhaps for worldly prudence, 
 tc£> refined for vulgar minds ; I was smiled 
 at as an enthusiast, or ridiculed as a roman- 
 tic visionary. In short, I found that, if 
 I would be considered a man of sense, I 
 must relinquish the character of a man of 
 feeling; that I must deserve to be despised, 
 in order to make myself respected ; and 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 4b 
 
 lose the esteem of my own heart, before I 
 could obtain that of the world. 
 
 There is a sort of plodding good sense 
 so securely entrenched behind the bul- 
 warks of established rule and received 
 opinions, that, though it cannot convince, 
 it will certainly silence : for what appeal 
 can be made, where there are no feelings 
 to touch, and when the understanding, 
 narrowed by its intercourse with pre- 
 judiced and illiberal minds, rejects every 
 opinion which a century has not estab- 
 lished ? Argue with such persons on the 
 broad basis of philosophy; they will in- 
 stantly meet you with some thread- bare 
 maxim or local fact, and instead of laying 
 their minds open to conviction, congratu- 
 late themselves on being proof against fine 
 words and flourishing sentences. The 
 ignorant man adopts an opinion without 
 consideration, and supports it with aspe- 
 rity; his zeal produces persecution; his 
 conviction, hatred : but the enlightened 
 man knows the fallacy of human judgment, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 46 
 
 and never adopts an opinion without 
 supposing the possibility of its being 
 erroneous. 
 
 1 had every where to encounter the 
 
 obstinate prejudices of little minds; and a 
 sentiment, which would gain me almost 
 divine honors in one house, would stamp 
 me a villain at the next door. Would I 
 be received, therefore, as a friend, 1 must 
 affect conviction on certain little points, 
 and adapt my opinions to the peculiar 
 prejudices of every family : I must hate 
 
 those whom they hate, love those whom 
 they love, admire the same authors, ap- 
 prove or condemn the same measures of 
 the ministry, and pronounce the same 
 sentence on a political enterprize, though 
 no human judgment could possibly decide 
 on the result of an experiment which had 
 not been tried. 
 
 Such are the unjust effects of prejudice, 
 that abstract and speculative questions 
 become subjects of personal animosity ; 
 and to differ in theory, is worse than to 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 4J 
 
 injure in practice. But of all the plagues that 
 render society intolerable, save me from the 
 inoffensive mighty-good-sort- of-man, who 
 loves all the world, praises all the world, 
 is the dupe of all the world ; whom every 
 body despises, but who could never arrive 
 at the dignity of being hated. Should he 
 possess rank and riches, he will give fair 
 words, extend his hand with a most pro- 
 mising and patronizing smile ; would be 
 very happy to serve his friends, but really 
 all the world knows he is a plain man, not 
 fond of bustle, has no influence at court, 
 was never ambitious of great men’s com- 
 pany, and then “ Pray come and dine 
 with me” concludes the harangue. Should 
 his rank be less conspicuous, he constantly 
 takes care to remind his friends of his 
 humble lot, receives an equal as a patron, 
 and the most common civility as an unme- 
 rited condescension. Passive under ca- 
 lumny, resigned to insult, he would rather 
 be despised by all the world, than make 
 an enemy of one individual, by asserting 
 
48 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 liis consequence and supporting his cha- 
 racter. Mistaking indiscriminate appro- 
 bation for good nature, he forms the most 
 disgraceful friendships, and becomes the 
 dupe of vicious and designing people, be- 
 cause he would neither risk their bad word 
 nor hurt their feelings by a repulse. 
 
 Such a man is always peculiarly happy 
 in setting a company by the ears : if an 
 argument he supported with spirit and 
 animation, he instantly expostulates on 
 the folly of losing one’s temper, hopes the 
 good gentlemen will forget what has 
 passed and shake hands, fie constantly 
 revives forgotten animosities, by endea- 
 vouring to accomplish a formal reconcilia- 
 tion, mistakes playful raillery for acrimo- 
 nious sarcasm, and by endeavouring to 
 explain away an imaginary offence, points 
 out a meaning which it does not carry, 
 and creates a feeling the most foreign 
 from what was intended. Thus, while 
 meaning well, he is eternally doing ill, and 
 proves that a perverted understanding may 
 produce as much mischief as a bad heart. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 4.9 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Despairing of finding any thing to 
 interest my affections ; tired of the selfish 
 indolent composure of a society which, 
 without the embellishments of taste, wit, 
 or sentiment, and depending for conversa- 
 tion on the misfortunes or follies of its 
 friends, plods soberly on in all the unfeel- 
 ing apathy of prosperity ; I fled to the ex- 
 hilarating circle of a club composed of a 
 number of fashionable and elegant young 
 men. 
 
 1 had before formed a very high opinion 
 of some, — those who, in female society, 
 supported the cause of religion and virtue. 
 But to judge of young men, it is necessary 
 to see them freed from the restraints im- 
 posed by the presence of females : the 
 
 D 
 
60 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 scene then changes ; uproar is gaiety ; pro- 
 fligacy, spirit ; profaneness, wit ; and 
 he who is most daring in depravity, is most 
 admired and imitated. Though some 
 minds may soar above the scene, none have 
 courage to introduce worthier subjects, or 
 venture one moral idea, for fear of draw- 
 ing upon themselves the ridicule of liber- 
 tines whom they despise. Careless of res- 
 pect, provided they escape the momentary 
 sneer, they are wicked for fear of being 
 thought weak. 
 
 How little the vain votary of popularity 
 knows, that while he barters the respect 
 of the w’orid and the peace of his own 
 bosom for the applause of a few worthless 
 associates, they despise him for vices prac- 
 tised by themselves, and laugh at the fol- 
 lies into which their own example had 
 betrayed him. The most abandoned have 
 their hours of meditation, and though they 
 do not themselves obey the dictates of 
 reason, their better feelings revolt from 
 the credulous companions of their excesses. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 31 
 
 who rush upon ruin because it happens to 
 be called pleasure. Thus we see, that 
 those young men whorun together the race 
 of dissipation, seldom form lasting friend- 
 ships. No, — the selfishness of the liber- 
 tine unites with common policy, to rely on 
 principle, feeling and honor alone, and 
 never to trust those who are unable to act 
 for themselves. 
 
 Augustus remarked, that the immorality 
 I lament does not so often proceed from 
 inherent depravity as from a yielding 
 temper. It may be so ; but what comfort 
 is it to him whose house falls and crushes 
 his dearest treasure, to be told that the 
 ruin was occasioned, not by the tempest 
 or the earthquake, but by the imbecility 
 of its nature ? How often have I seen those 
 thoughtless victims of folly deserted and 
 despised, when wealth, that source of all 
 evil, no longer enabled them to minister 
 to the wants of their selfish associates. I 
 was then trusted and consulted. In 
 
 that calm hour life is stripped of its 
 d 2 
 
 Diversity of 
 ILLiN °is library 
 
S2 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 delusive pageantries. Sweet and salutary 
 is the language of a friend ; self-love loses 
 its magic influence when friendship dares 
 to be sincere. Dangerous is the sophistry 
 of self-love ! which can dignify a folly and 
 sanctify a crime, discover to us faults that 
 never existed in another, and virtues that 
 never existed in ourselves. It is a deceit- 
 ful enemy, the indirect, but active dele- 
 gate of sin ; and he who listens to the 
 syren is undone! 
 
 I often expostulated with my com- 
 panions on the dangerous pursuits that 
 occupied their time and thoughts ; but if 
 I was listened to with patience by some, it 
 was more the composure of indifference 
 than conviction : they ridiculed the idea, 
 that those pleasures which delighted while 
 new, could, when that charm was passed, 
 be followed by satiety ; and because sorrow 7 
 was not in view, they thought it would 
 never arrive. The prophetic voice which 
 would warn youth, is generally heard 
 with impatience and contempt ; before 8 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 53 
 
 danger is encountered, it appears insignifi- 
 cant ; all rely on their powers of resist- 
 ance, they meet temptations, and are 
 
 undone ! 
 
 He is wise, then, who flies at the first 
 appearance of clanger ; for, to expose our- 
 selves to temptation, is to trust our virtue 
 to chance and invite an enemy whom we 
 may not be able to repulse. Who can 
 answer for his own heart ? who can say 
 how he will act under the influence of feel- 
 ings to which he is at present a stranger ? 
 How sage, how edifying are the reflections 
 of those who, being yet unassailed by 
 temptation, comment on the frailties of 
 others. But in ourselves, every crime 
 is palliated ; for the heart that desires evil 
 always knows how to excuse it : like a 
 false friend, it first creates temptation and 
 then flatters into a security, by which we 
 are undone. We console ourselves by re- 
 flecting that others are as guilty as our- 
 selves ; that this one crime, which we find 
 it so difficult to resist, shall be our last, 
 
5 4 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 and that we shall certainly atone for it by 
 the strict integrity of our future lives. 
 Thus creating a necessity to which vve 
 yield, we oppose those dangerous and 
 illusive distinctions of right and wrong 
 which fashion and convenience have 
 established, to the plain, demonstrated, 
 unequivocal commandments of Heaven. 
 We forget that temptations are given to 
 prove that virtue, which, without trials, 
 can deserve no reward ; and that while we 
 pause upon an attractive vice, seek for 
 encouraging precedents, bargain with con- 
 science, and calculate chances of mercy, 
 our eternal happiness hangs upon the 
 decision. Every other good deed that we 
 perform rewards itself : we are often selfish, 
 when we fancy ourselves charitable, and 
 merely seek to secure our own happiness 
 by contributing to that of others. But in 
 denying ourselves a present enjoyment, we 
 suffer a painful deprivation without any 
 recompence but a sense of duty. We talk 
 of atoning for a voluntary crime by the 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 55 
 
 strict integrity of our future lives ; but has 
 not experience warned us to place no re- 
 liance on our own resolution ? were we 
 not once seduced into error against the 
 conviction of our own reason and con- 
 science, and will not every deviation be- 
 come easier through habit ? The mercy 
 of God is unlimited ; but the life of man 
 is too uncertain to risk eternity upon the 
 chance of future atonement. The only 
 certainty that life affords, is the certainty 
 of its own termination. Which of us can 
 say that he will behold tomorrow ? The 
 youth who supports the steps of his aged 
 parent, sinks into the grave before him ; 
 the lover is cut off ere the completion of 
 his hopes ; and the orator, silenced in 
 sudden death, leaves his favourite period 
 unclosed ! 
 
 That man is an imperfect creature, ever 
 liable to err, is a self-evident assertion, a 
 melancholy deduction drawn from our 
 own hearts. But he who listens to the 
 
56 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 counsels of friendship, who disdains not 
 conviction, and who exerts the powers of 
 his mind, not to defend error, but to con- 
 quer it, he alone is truly great. The man 
 who has not candour enough to acknow- 
 ledge a fault, has seldom virtue enough to 
 correct it. 
 
 Though the revelry of Bacchanalian 
 rioters for a moment, by its novelty, dis- 
 sipated my thoughts, it could neither inte- 
 rest my affections, nor satisfy my under- 
 standing ; and so far from lulling me into 
 forgetfulness, it brought the past more 
 strongly before me, by forcing upon my 
 mind comparisons at once painful and 
 soothing. Oh, memory ! be thou to 
 me in place of all that I have lost ! 
 recall those moments of my early youth, 
 those moments so precious and so 
 fleeting, when hope played in my heart 
 and pleasure in my eye, when every smile 
 was bliss, and every thought was rapture ! 
 Sweet and cherished recollections ! asso- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST.’ 
 
 57 
 
 ciated with the softest feelings, the gentlest 
 sympathies of our nature. That spot, 
 on which our infant limbs were cherished; 
 that spot, where our hearts first learned to 
 throb with fond alfection, or within 
 whose bosom cold is laid the earliest ob- 
 ject of our regard ; that spot, which even 
 the holy romance of enthusiasm has pic- 
 tured as the Elysium of a future state ; to 
 thee our hearts turn in the remotest 
 climes and regions, and thy image still 
 solaces the decline of our days by recall- 
 ing the visions of our childhood ! 
 
 “ Every heart,” said Augustus, “ loves to 
 recall the memory of childhood, and all 
 imagine it the season of cloudless felicity. 
 Alas ! it only proves mat happiness is 
 more in idea than reality : that season too 
 had its cares and disappointments; but 
 the sorrows of infancy are forgotten in a 
 more mature age, or are deemed too pu- 
 erile to interrupt happiness, while its 
 pleasures dwell in the heart, because they 
 are the pleasures of purity and innocence, 
 d 5 
 
58 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 which are ever congenial to the human 
 mind, prized by the most worthless, and re- 
 gretted by those who have no longer hearts 
 capable of tasting their charms. The 
 mountain that looks blue and smooth at a 
 distance, discovers, on a nearer approach, 
 a barren and rugged aspect: time pro- 
 duces the same effect on the occurrences 
 of life; it softens or obliterates every as- 
 perity, and presents to the retrospective 
 mind one smiling image of tranquillity. 
 To enjoy the passing hour, and arrest the 
 fugitive joys of life, has ever been recom- 
 mended by the poet and the philosopher ; it, 
 has been urged with all the persuasion of 
 eloquence, and illustrated with all the 
 decorations of wit. In vain, however, is 
 the reason convinced, or the imagination 
 captivated ; discontent still sighs over fan- 
 cied sorrows, conjures up past misfortunes, 
 forbodes future, and dignifies itself with 
 the name of sensibility. All are ready to 
 acknowledge the truth of an aphorism, 
 and to display ingenuity in its applica- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 59 
 
 tion to living characters ; but few have hu- 
 mility enough to apply it to themselves, 
 and fewer still have wisdom enough to 
 profit by the lesson.” 
 
6‘o 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 I now sought a friend to whom I could 
 fully unburthen my heart, who would 
 Neither reason nor ridicule, but who would 
 sympathize in sorrows that no reason 
 could remove. Towards one man I was 
 imperceptibly drawn by the attractive 
 charms of his conversation. His wit was 
 more cheerful than dazzling. He em- 
 ployed learning but as one of the many 
 means of pleasing; and while he instructed 
 the mind, he seemed anxious only to 
 amuse. His conversation was a delightful 
 rest to the soul ; and he secured approba- 
 tion by not appearing to exact it. Pity 
 seemed the ruling passion of his mind ; at 
 least tears and eloquence were lavished on 
 the darling theme, and charity caught 
 new graces adorned by his language. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 6l 
 
 But it was the eloquence of genius, not of 
 feeling. His eye glistened at a tale of 
 sorrow, when that tear was likely to be 
 consecrated by the applause of the world. 
 His was the stage-box sensibility, that 
 with ostentatious tenderness lavishes tears 
 upon fictitious distress, while the pining 
 children of poverty are regarded with phi- 
 losophic composure, — that mechanism of 
 feeling which vibrates only to the passing 
 gale of popularity. 
 
 1 soon lost all pleasure in the society of 
 a man who was most deceitful when most 
 he charmed, and attached myself to a cha- 
 racter apparently so congenial to my own, 
 that I thought no time could lessen the 
 avidity with which I sought his conversa- 
 tion. He, like me, felt disgust to society; 
 but, like me, he had never tasted its 
 sweetest joys, had never revelled in the 
 golden dreams of hope, nor known that 
 blessed moment when the silent eloquence 
 of a glance bids every hope be realized. 
 
 But I soon learned to distinguish be- 
 
62 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 tween the gloomy discontent of constitu- 
 tional misanthropy and the fastidiousness 
 of a too susceptible and disappointed heart. 
 In his youth he had gained some celebrity 
 by his argumentative talents: logic was his 
 favorite study, controversy his only recrea- 
 tion ; and he entered society without 
 any object or desire but to engage in 
 disputation. Imposing and sophistical, 
 he puzzled many whom he failed to con- 
 vince, and politeness taught ethers to 
 relinquish an unimportant discussion. 
 Thus, elated by imaginary successes, from 
 being ingenious he soon became dogma- 
 tical, and conceived every opposition to 
 his opinion was an insult to his under- 
 standing. 
 
 A sophistical man, who first supports an 
 opinion merely to display his ingenuity, 
 is apt to argue himself into conviction 
 of its truth. He soon began to advance 
 extravagant paradoxes, and propagate the 
 most * dangerous sentiments, until, at 
 length, his principles became as odious as 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 6 $ 
 
 his manners were tiresome. Finding him- 
 self, therefore, shunned, he resolved to 
 make a voluntary retreat, and passed 
 his days in sullen and gloomy hatred. 
 He could tolerate the follies which gave 
 him an opportunity of displaying his elo- 
 quence, but could not forgive the blind 
 and indiscriminating stupidity that called 
 his lofty declamations bombast, and his 
 elegant fastidiousness pride and malevo- 
 lence. Hatred seemed the natural cora- 
 plection of his mind; a look, a word, 
 created the most horrid suspicion. Sus- 
 picion was soon magnified into certainty ; 
 he triumphed in the discovery, cherished 
 the growing aversion, and never forgave 
 the person who undeceived him. In 
 short, to find pretexts to be miserable was 
 the only use he made of reason. He 
 could forgive those who injured him, but 
 never forgave those whom he injured. 
 He was capable of performing a generous 
 action, but the object of his bounty was 
 ever after the victim of a barbarous ty- 
 
6 4 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 ranny. His maxims were, never to trust, 
 and he could not be deceived ; never to 
 love, and he could not be disappointed ; 
 and he believed himself wise, when only 
 suspicious. But was he happy in his 
 security ? Oh, no; the canker of discon- 
 tent preyed upon his heart; he was dread- 
 ed by the cheerful, despised by the wise, 
 and avoided by those who had real sor- 
 row's to lament. 
 
 Augustus saw how dangerous such a 
 companion must prove to a mind already 
 so oppressed as mine, and he endeavoured 
 to accomplish, by general reflections and 
 oblique insinuation, what he dreaded to 
 attempt by open expostulation; well know r - 
 ing that the pride of man is for ever at 
 war with his reason and interest. He 
 described, with all the eloquence of feel- 
 ing, how injurious to the interests of so- 
 ciety is the indulgence of misanthropy; 
 what misery a discontented mind draws 
 upon itself, and all those within its power ; 
 like the fabled Upas tree, breathing 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 6*5 
 
 pestilential vapours, and with poisonous 
 influence expelling utility and joy from 
 its fatal atmosphere. 
 
 “ When some sentimental caprice is 
 disappointed,” continued he, “ gloom in- 
 stantly seizes on the mind: we despise 
 the pleasures and comforts within our 
 reach, and distorting the most promising 
 appearances into melancholy augurs, sul- 
 lenly resign ourselves to hopeless despon- 
 dency. We never consider how much 
 more misery is below, than happiness 
 above us; how many pine in want and 
 agony, or suffer the more horrible pangs 
 of a guilty conscience. Alas! millions of 
 human beings consider a mere exemption 
 from want and pain as the height of 
 human felicity ; while those blessed with 
 health, independence, innocence, and 
 friends, close their eyes on conviction and 
 dream of imaginary sorrows. We com- 
 plain of the small portion of happiness we 
 enjoy ; we accuse our fellow-creatures and 
 the state of society, forgetting that happi- 
 
66 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 ness is a sacred relic committed to the 
 sanctuary of our own hearts. Who is to 
 blame if that sanctuary is profaned by 
 every ignoble passion? if pride, envy, 
 ambition, revenge, steal the bright image 
 of heaven ? Happiness, how fleeting ! 
 like time, unmarked but by its flight, and 
 prized only when it cannot be recalled ; 
 the present moment for ever neglected, 
 while a future, which beckons with delu- 
 sive smiles, yet ever flies our grasp, em- 
 ploys all our thoughts. When we look 
 back on past pleasures, and, dressing 
 them in imaginary charms, sigh the use- 
 less wish, “ Oh, that those days of bliss 
 would return !” let us ask ourselves, was 
 that time more prized when present, than 
 this moment of useless regret ; and may 
 not this neglected moment be the re- 
 gretted past of a future day r” 
 
 Alas ! how much easier is it to convince 
 the understanding than to reform the 
 heart! Memory still conjures up visions 
 of departed joys, and argument affects not 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 67 
 
 the blighted feelings of disappointed hope. 
 Ye, who never knew the sweet dream of 
 life ; whomever hung enamoured on ac- 
 cents that gave back the image of your 
 own soul, softened and refined; who view 
 the rising sun but as the cause of light 
 and heat, not as the harbinger of return- 
 ing bliss ; it is for you to argue, but for 
 me to feel ! 
 
r> s 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 As yet my intimacies had been confined 
 to men whose desultory educations might, 
 I thought, account for the unsteadiness of 
 their principles and conduct. But a man 
 who practises any of the learned profes- 
 sions, is obliged to pursue a systematical 
 course of study: many years of his life are, 
 of necessity, dedicated to the attainment 
 of wisdom ; and the mind which is thus 
 capable of devoting itself to one serious 
 pursuit, must acquire habitual steadiness. 
 A youth then becomes acquainted with 
 the wise men of all ages, before he knows 
 the fashions and follies of his own day ; 
 his mind is impressed with the great and 
 simple images of past glory ; he converses 
 with the heroes of old ; he becomes, in 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 69 
 
 idea, one of them ; his young heart ex- 
 pands with the hope of one day perform- 
 ing those acts of justice, magnanimity and 
 self-denial, that fill the historic page. 
 Early impressions, to which maturer rea- 
 son cannot subscribe, often triumph over 
 that reason and sw r ay the human mind: 
 how powerful, then, must the influence of 
 those studies be, which, commencing with 
 the earliest dawn of reason, still bear the 
 test of matured and cultivated experience. 
 
 My measures, like my opinions, ever 
 hastily formed, I sought the society of bar - 
 risters, whose eloquence and talents I had 
 often admired. As pleasant companions 
 and elegant scholars, even my ardent 
 imagination was gratified. Learned, with- 
 out pedantry, they unite at once the 
 scholar and the gentleman ; and with the 
 most discriminating knowledge of the 
 world, their manners are unaffected and 
 entirely free from supercilious airs of su- 
 perior wisdom. They possess gaiety re- 
 fined by wit, society and refiecion. In 
 
70 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 their society the vociferous and opinion- 
 ated are tamed by well-directed ridicule, 
 and the reserved are inspired by the force 
 of example. But the vices which once 
 drove me from the society of the young and 
 gay, flourish here in bold luxuriance: their 
 immorality is more delicate, more refined, 
 and consequently more dangerous ; for 
 though the profane jest of ignorant profli- 
 gacy may shock the feelings, it endangers 
 very little'the principles : but when wit is 
 exerted in the cause of vice, how easily 
 are the weak and credulous imposed on, 
 and how encouraging is such an example 
 to those who, incapable of discriminating 
 between a splendid and a just argument, 
 would not wish to detect the fallacy of 
 opinions which flatter the evil propensi- 
 ties of their own hearts. Those who, in 
 the open court, declaimed with all the 
 persuasive energy of genius in the cause of 
 virtue, who quoted Heaven’s high autho- 
 rity to prove, and its awful denunciations 
 to terrify, were at that moment guilty of 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 71 
 
 crimes more flagitious, though more pri- 
 vate, than the wretch whom their elo- 
 quence hurries to the last tribunal of 
 eternal justice. The interest of a client 
 is often neglected in the ardour of per- 
 sonal invective ; or in the pride of elo- 
 quence, they sacrifice truth for antithesis, 
 reason for repartee, and argument for 
 alliteration. 
 
 “ Education,” said Augustus, “ is un- 
 doubtedly the best security for the morals 
 of society : but by education I do not 
 mean the learning of the schools alone. 
 You lay a great stress upon the sublime 
 lessons of virtue imbibed from a research 
 into past ages. ’Tis true, we may be 
 dazzled by the exploits of ancient heroes ; 
 their deeds may surprize, and their virtues 
 inflame us : but the deeds which elevate 
 the hero, would often disgrace the Chris- 
 tian; or. even when actions are conform- 
 able to the pure precepts of Christianity, 
 the motive wanting renders the example 
 useless. 
 
7 2 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 “ Religion,” continued he, “ is made 
 subservient to every other study, or is 
 entirely neglected ; while a confused, 
 speculative principle, which those who 
 talk of do not understand, is substituted 
 for it. Every individual has his pecu- 
 liar code, which he fashions to his 
 own desires and pursuits, acknowledges 
 r.o tribunal but his own heart, and 
 seeks no reward but its approbation. But 
 can a judge be just who is interested? Oh, 
 how weak is the morality of sentiment 
 when opposed to pleasure or ambition ! 
 He who expects no future rewards nor 
 punishment, who believes this world the 
 last scene of his existence, can have no 
 motive sufficiently strong to counteract 
 the influence of human infirmity. And 
 when religion, with all its hopes and ter- 
 rors, is insufficient to guard the best of us 
 from some deviations, can the cold theory 
 of moral rectitude, the abstract beauty of 
 virtue, hold human passions in command, 
 and silence the pleadings of self-interest ? 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 73 
 
 When we have no motive for virtue, but 
 the gratification it affords our own hearts, 
 should vice promise us a higher gratifica- 
 tion, virtue has no longer any influence 
 over us. A mind replete with good na- 
 ture and benevolence, though unprotected 
 by religious principles, may, if circum- 
 stances be propitious, pass through life 
 without committing base and dishonour- 
 able actions. Such a man is virtuous 
 while unassailed ; he will not seek to com- 
 mit evil; but will he resist temptation 
 when resistance is followed by no reward ? 
 The question requires no answer, huma- 
 nity acknowledges its own frailty, and 
 adores that mercy which accepts penitence 
 instead of perfection. The lot of irreli- 
 gion is poisoned pleasures and privations 
 without reward; while religion, adding 
 the charms of hope to present enjoyment, 
 makes us taste even in this life the reward 
 which we seek in the next. Oh, ye whose 
 talents have been exerted to tear from suf- 
 fering humanity its last consolation, what 
 
 E 
 
74 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 have you accomplished r have you substi- 
 tuted laws more pure, precepts more simple 
 and more engaging ? and have you secured 
 to your converts present happiness while 
 depriving them of future hope ?” 
 
 “ Where,” said I, “ is virtue to be 
 found ? Not in the gay haunts of splen- 
 dour and revelry, whence contemplation 
 is banished as an enemy to mirth, and 
 w'here not to be depraved is not to be 
 fashionable. We must not seek it in the 
 lowly abodes of penury and ignorance; for 
 poverty is as apt to debase the mind as 
 riches are to corrupt it. Is virtue then 
 the laboured production of learning alone? 
 Alas, no; human pride too often renders 
 human wisdom vain. The learned man, 
 elevated on the cloud-capt heights of spe- 
 culation, distracted by laborious investiga- 
 tion, and confused amidst a chaos of in- 
 explicable theories, becomes morose, opi- 
 nionated, and fastidious ; while speculating 
 upon virtue, he neglects the performance 
 of it, and wastes that time in thinking for 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 75 
 
 others which ought to be employed in 
 instructing himself. Too proud to enjoy 
 life by common means, too theoretical to 
 pursue virtue in the path that experience 
 and common sense have pointed out, he 
 bewilders himself with metaphysical in- 
 tricacies and sceptical doubts ; fancies 
 that if he thinks differently from the rest 
 of the world, he must necessarily think 
 better, and that to mistake an obvious 
 meaning is to discover a hidden truth. 
 The moral philosopher, intent upon his 
 pretty impossibilities, talks of the beauty 
 of virtue, while deceiving a friend or lay- 
 ing snares for the innocent ; and, satisfied 
 with the grandeur of his theory, despises 
 the minute detail of practice as below his 
 genius.” 
 
 “ We must not,” said Augustus, “ con- 
 demn a thing as dangerous because it has 
 been abused ; the very food that sustains 
 us, every blessing with which this world 
 abounds, may be made an improper use 
 of, and become so many means of des- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 76 
 
 traction. Learning does not cause the 
 evils of which you complain ; the same 
 mind that made an ill use of learning, 
 would make as bad a use of ignorance. 
 
 o 
 
 The metaphysical sceptic and the profli- 
 gate unbeliever are in principle the same ; 
 but that one employs finer words to sup- 
 port his opinions and plausibly bewilders 
 the understanding, while the other more 
 daringly attacks the passions.” 
 
 “ You will confess, however/’ said I, 
 “ that the learned man can do most mis- 
 chief : he reasons for those who are inca- 
 pable of reasoning for themselves ; he gives 
 the result of his cogitations to those who 
 eagerly grasp at opinions that free them 
 from the troublesome restraints of con- 
 science.” 
 
 “ Were learning,” said Augustus, “ to 
 be employed only on one side of the 
 question, then, indeed, its influence might 
 be fatal : but if vice has sometimes a spe- 
 cious support in the imposing subtleties 
 of the unbeliever, what able and eloquent 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 77 
 
 champions in the. cause of religion has 
 learning produced. The man who is 
 merely good may fill a private station with 
 respectability and happiness ; the man 
 who is merely learned may astonish and 
 instruct: but both must be united in him 
 who would support with dignity the high 
 and important character of a minister of 
 God. He must not alone believe himself, 
 but he must be capable of instilling that 
 belief into others: he must anticipate 
 doubts, in order to confute them, and be 
 acquainted with every argument of the 
 unbeliever and every subtlety of the phi- 
 losopher. Flattery must be a stranger to 
 his tongue, and ambition unknown to his 
 heart.” 
 
 “ Happy,” said I, “ would it be for the 
 interests of religion, if we saw this picture 
 more generally realized: but look round 
 and observe the manners of the clergy in 
 general ; where do we see so much pride, 
 so much ostentation, such avaricious love 
 of every thing belonging to this world, 
 
7 ® THE misanthropist. 
 
 tind such marked neglect of every thing 
 concerned with the next If we seek for 
 piety and zeal^ vve discover nothing but an 
 intolerant and gloomy enthusiasm, while 
 liberality is the companion only of levity 
 and negligence. To speak well is con- 
 sidered of more importance than to live 
 well ; they “ strut and fret their hour,” 
 forgetting that example is more powerful 
 than precept, and that private advice, 
 when given by one whose sincerity can- 
 not be doubted and whose zeal seems the 
 natural overflowings of a kind and bene- 
 volent heart, is more useful than the most 
 laboured public exhortations, though 
 graced with all the powers of rhetoric. 
 Eloquence is certainly a brilliant and 
 noble gift ; no one can deny or resist its 
 influence: But if its effects are violent, 
 they are also transient, and he knows little 
 of the human heart who would hope to 
 reform it by a burst of eloquence. No, it 
 is by patient reiterated efforts, adapted to 
 the particular temper and understanding 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 7 © 
 
 of the individual, that a lasting effect can 
 be produced. We are too apt to be daz- 
 zled by words, and to fancy that the man 
 who talks best must also live best : but the 
 pulpit may be the scene of dramatic de- 
 ception as well as the stage, and whether 
 the orator strut in the buskin, or wave 
 the sacerdotal lawn, the love of fame or 
 the love of money may alone stimulate his 
 exertions.” 
 
 “ What a touching picture,” said Au- 
 gustus, “ is the life of a good clergyman, 
 the friend, the comfort, the light of an 
 entire parish ; his influence boundless, for 
 it is the influence of love, without which 
 zeal offends and advice looks like imper- 
 tinence. It enlists every sensibility and 
 social affection on the side of virtue, 
 making even the weakness of our nature 
 instrumental in reforming us. It is in 
 vain we would hope always to succeed by 
 reasoning; human nature will be human 
 nature still, and will reject conviction 
 through pique and personal animosity; 
 
so 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 but the language of love carries with it a 
 charm which we neither can nor wish to 
 resist ; it persuades without the aid of ar- 
 gument, and is felt when reason could 
 not be understood. Wisdom calculates, 
 weighs, resolves, and is overthrown, and 
 obstinacy forgets to ask why he is con- 
 vinced. The first duty of a clergyman, 
 therefore, is to make himself beloved. 
 How many profligate characters do we see 
 every day reformed by friendly exhorta- 
 tion ; how many wavering minds, who 
 knew their duty, but neglected its per- 
 formance through indolence, are suddenly 
 aroused by well-directed, counsel. I have 
 seen a general reformation in the conduct 
 of a parish, and those who had forsaken 
 the public worship of their God, and be- 
 trayed in private a total neglect of every 
 moral duty, become examples of devotion 
 and virtue by the affecting remonstrances 
 and touching example of a good and judi- 
 cious pastor.” 
 
 “ You have justly described,” said 1, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 81 
 
 £{ what a clergyman ought to be, and what 
 he may reasonably accomplish ; but I can- 
 not help lamenting that a profession so 
 capable of doing good, should be so often 
 disgraced by the vices and negligence of 
 the clergy.” 
 
 ct It is a truth too obvious to be de- 
 nied,” said Augustus; “ I shall not defend 
 the unworthy through that mistaken zeal 
 which confounds the profession and the 
 professor, and which would uphold re- 
 ligion by countenancing the depravity of 
 its ministers. The most odious and con- 
 temptible character on earth is a bad 
 clergyman, and more service is done to 
 the cause by that just reproof which may 
 remind such people of their duly, than by 
 that blind credulity, which, in linking the 
 dignity of religion with the personal res- 
 pectability of its ministers, leads us to 
 acknowledge the one only so long as we 
 can respect the other, and which fancies 
 the wildest and most dangerous doctrine 
 strictly orthodox because it comes from 
 E 5 
 
82 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 the lips of the Lord’s anointed ! Too 
 many enter the profession without bestow- 
 ing one serious thought on the important 
 and awful duties annexed to it ; and when 
 we investigate the motives of one half, we 
 shall cease to wonder at their subsequent 
 conduct. Every dunce, who, after stum- 
 bling through his college course, is found 
 incapable of pursuing the more intricate 
 studies of law or physic, disguises his stu- 
 pidity in the demure air of a parson, and 
 without understanding or dignity to sup- 
 port the cause he espouses, bewilders the 
 ignorant and disgusts the wise. Educated 
 in the vices and luxuries of high life, 
 many enter orders to secure an hereditary 
 living, liidiculing religion, and glorying 
 in depravity, the only vice they do not 
 practise is hypocrisy. Others enter the 
 church in a gloomy fit of religious frenzy, 
 and make the cause odious by sullen vir- 
 tue and ferocious sanctity. Insulting the 
 Deity, by limiting his mercy, employing 
 invective instead of persuasion, those 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 83 
 
 high church demagogues wear out life in 
 useless controversy, more intent upon the 
 forms than the duties of religion. We see 
 mean fawning sycophants, who depend 
 upon the pliability of their dispositions 
 for preferment, bend the abject knee to 
 power, and stimulate by applause the 
 errors and follies which it is their duty to 
 check. Ignorant of the principles of their 
 faith, but clamorous for the church estab- 
 lishment, they would be Mahometans had 
 Mahomet the gift of a mitre. Many causes 
 conspire to render even the most amiable 
 and best intentioned clergyman unpo- 
 pular; their means are often too circum- 
 scribed to enable them to purchase praise 
 from those who know of no other virtue 
 but hospitality, and can discover no ex- 
 cellence but over a bottle of claret. Ad- 
 vice is seldom well received even from the 
 rich and powerful, and many call it an 
 insult to be reminded of their duty, who 
 would be foremost in accusing their pas- 
 tor of neglect if he desisted from the vain 
 effort.” 
 
84 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 The opinions of Augustus always leaned 
 to the side of mercy ; his calm, superior 
 mind viewed the actions of his fellow- 
 creatures with candour and impartiality; 
 he could see merit in an enemv, and 
 never expected perfection in a friend. 
 Unwarped by prejudice, unmoved by 
 passion, reason ruled his heart, sincerity 
 his tongue. He had read much, but had 
 thought still more than he had read, and 
 his remarks were an instructive com- 
 mentary on the works of philosophers. 
 
 “ On entering life,” said he, “ the pic- 
 tures of your mind were an exaggerated 
 imitation of nature; your coloring too 
 vivid, allowing no light and shade : it was 
 all one broad glare of dazzling perfection; 
 you found or fancied yourself disap- 
 pointed, and suddenly running from one 
 extreme to another, from being an idolator 
 you became a sceptic, and having no 
 longer a pretext to be eloquent in eulogy, 
 resolved to be pointed in invective. You 
 mistook in Matilda a general desire to 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 85 
 
 please for a particular effort to attract 
 yourself. That which we ardently hope 
 we soon bring ourselves to believe ; for 
 though man deceives man, the heart 
 more frequently deceives itself. Banishing 
 every intermediate feeling between perfect 
 indifference and violent love, as you 
 had conquered the former, you fondly 
 persuaded yourself that the latter was all 
 vour own. Misery now makes part of 
 your dream of happiness ; you grasp the 
 fleeting shadow of your sorrows, and ex- 
 pect the world to pity sufferings that are 
 prolonged only by the hope of its sym- 
 pathy.” 
 
 My friend urged me to try a change of 
 scene and of society. “ The capital,” said 
 he, te has been called the hot-bed of vice, 
 and though human nature is the same in 
 ail climes and regions, some soils may be 
 more congenial than others to the growth 
 of virtue.” 
 
 He talked of rural life, its calm delight, 
 its simple pleasures ; he at once touched 
 
86 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 my heart and awakened its enthusiasm. 
 Anticipation is the bliss of life! it creates 
 a fairy world of hope, and urges to those 
 efforts which ultimately make us blessed ; 
 that ever restless and eager spirit which 
 strides towards futurity, proclaims our 
 destination. It is the silent testimony of 
 eternity. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 87 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Full of new hopes I directed my 
 course far from the poisonous atmosphere 
 of London. Shenstone, Thomson, every 
 poet who tuned the doric reed and sung 
 of rural life, were my companions; every 
 breeze wafted odours ; spring unfolded all 
 its beauties to my charmed eye, its re- 
 freshing showers unlocked those balmy 
 exhalations which seemed rising to offer 
 the pure incense of nature at the throne 
 of the Creator. Oh, what a scene was 
 this for happiness! my spirits, light as the 
 air I breathed, were in unison with the 
 cheerful scenes around. Creative fancy 
 struck her magic lyre and gave to every 
 thing the language of romance : the weary 
 peasant, propped upon his spade, gazing 
 with vacant eye at the splendid retinue of 
 wealth, was transformed into a rural St re- 
 
88 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 phon, “ composing sonnets to his mis- 
 tress’s eyebrow ; ” every cottage was a 
 Paradise, every woman an angel ; a Cin- 
 cinnatus followed every plough, and I 
 was for a moment a Philanthropist. 
 
 The country in which I fixed my resi- 
 dence was delightfully picturesque, invit- 
 ing to contemplation and solitude ; but 
 I resolved to follow the advice of Augustus 
 and mix in society. “ You will, by doing 
 so,” said he, “ render your hours of re- 
 tirement more sweet, you will lay in a 
 store of observation for the employment 
 of your reasoning faculties and the de- 
 velopement of taste and genius. Solitude 
 engenders gloomy discontent, or nourishes 
 hopes and expectations that end in disap- 
 pointment; its conclusions are speculative, 
 often erroneous, always extravagant. The 
 solitary man expects too much from the 
 world: never satisfied with his fellow- 
 creatures as they are, nor watchful to be 
 himself what he ought, he raises an ideal 
 model of perfection, and then quarrels 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 8$ 
 
 with mankind because they are what na- 
 ture made them. 
 
 “ Yet it is not by being for ever in a 
 crowd that a just knowledge of the world 
 is acquired. Look at the man of pleasure, 
 who spends his life in the dull routine of 
 polite amusements: he is profoundly igno- 
 rant of mankind ; the forms and etiquettes 
 of society equalize manners, and by man- 
 ners alone his judgment is formed. Too 
 much occupied to study the various and 
 complicated movements of the human 
 mind, he feels self-interest the moving 
 principle within, and reduces the motives 
 of his fellow-creatures to the same standard. 
 Occasional retirement is that salutary rest 
 to the mind which sleep is to the body ; like 
 the vicissitudes of summer and winter, 
 each is a preparation for the other. So- 
 ciety corrects the dangerous wanderings 
 of the heart, while solitude refines the 
 calculations of the head, warms and ani- 
 mates the cold deductions of cautious ex- 
 perience, and gives to worldly prudence the 
 
90 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 graceful enthusiasm of romance. The 
 powers are unfolded in society, matured 
 in solitude ; in the one we act, in the 
 other we think : in a word, society has 
 claims on every individual, and solitude 
 should be employed but as means of 
 fulfilling those claims.” 
 
 A heart possessed of the smallest sensi- 
 bility, will feel a sensation of calm delight 
 while contemplating a beautiful village; 
 but when harassed by the tumultuous 
 scenes of public life, wearied by its dis- 
 appointments, and seeking rest in the 
 bosom of innocence, oh, what delightful 
 anticipations does such a prospect give 
 birth to! Its romantic seclusion, the gay 
 prospect of its woodbine cottages and cul- 
 tivated gardens, the church, the hill, the 
 river, the union of a thousand simple ob- 
 jects, combining to give life and interest 
 to the whole, fill the heart with that still 
 and plaintive serenity, sweeter than joy 
 and far more lasting. Imagination soon 
 peoples this fairy land with creatures of 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 91 
 
 its own ; we fancy a whole neighbourhood 
 united by the most cordial good will ; no 
 clashing of interest, no schemes of am- 
 bition, no turbulent passions to interrupt 
 the gay tranquillity of their simple and 
 rural lives ; their pleasures untainted by 
 vanity, and their intercourse unmixed with 
 suspicion and deceit. We see no reason 
 why simplicity may not be united with 
 elegance, why the refinements of polished 
 society may not be acquired without its 
 vices ; and we look round for the realiza- 
 tion of our hopes ; but, alas, the country 
 is no longer the seat of peaceful inno- 
 cence ; vice is now mistaken for fashion, 
 and a contempt for rational pleasures dis- 
 covers a knowledge of the world and a cul- 
 tivated taste. Insulting the Creator, and 
 ridiculing the created, villagers unite the 
 profligacy of refinement with the narrow 
 prejudices of ignorance. What plots, 
 what party business, what cabinet intrigue 
 in every country town! The politics of 
 Europe are not more intricate. Every 
 
92 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 family carries on a war defensive or offen- 
 sive : they have their spies and their 
 whisperers, and they smile and hate and 
 flatter and undermine with the most 
 courtly ease. Vanity aspires to the high- 
 est seat at a feast, contends for it with 
 polite impertinence, and forfeits respect 
 by the very effort to obtain it. Envy 
 lights her torch at beauty’s eye, and the 
 rival fair-ones copy, while they decry her 
 air, her dress, and her conversation. Here 
 we see love make the clown an antic; he 
 talks of his mistress Angelina instead of 
 his horse Matchless, and seeks her in the 
 grove where he formerly sought a fox. 
 The pedant adjusts his locks, essays an 
 awkward merriment ; with the language of 
 science, attempts the effusions of the heart, 
 and fancies the laugh raised at his folly is 
 a tribute to his wit! Ail those passions 
 that disgrace the senate make the village 
 ridiculous ; the obstinate struggle for 
 power, the well-cloaked job, the adoption 
 of one opinion because a rival has adopted 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 93 
 
 another, and the welfare of the many 
 sacrificed to the interest of a few. 
 
 Thus we see those little spots which 
 nature seems to have created for calm re- 
 pose, torn with contention ; and those who 
 should be elevated above the little motives 
 of envy and personal animosity, spread 
 through an entire neighbourhood the dis- 
 content that corrodes their own hearts, 
 and foment those disturbancies which 
 their very names ought to quell. Much 
 might be done in the cause of virtue, in 
 the promotion of unanimity, and the dif- 
 fusion of happiness, by that influence 
 which rank and talent, when judiciously 
 employed, never fail to bestow. But 
 respect must be won, not exacted : he 
 who ostentatiously proclaims his own im- 
 portance, insults when he ought to con- 
 ciliate, and makes the dignity of his situa- 
 tion a striking contrast to the littleness of 
 mind that could stoop so low as to remind 
 us of it. Humility exalts the man, ar- 
 rogance debases situation. True dignity 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 94 
 
 is never ostentatious ; it is neither petulant 
 nor tyrannical, and requires no stage-effect 
 to display itself. It can stoop to inferiors, 
 without assuming the insulting airs of 
 patronage, and perform acts of private 
 charity and public spirit, without motives 
 of personal exaltation. The little mind 
 exacts applause ; the great mind is satis- 
 fied with deserving it: the one quotes the 
 example of some fool of quality, and con- 
 sults self-interest alone; the other con- 
 siders whether honest men will approve, 
 and makes conscience his ultimatum. He 
 disdains to be the tool of a great man’s 
 ambition, and smiles at the artifices of the 
 whisperer and parasite, convinced that he 
 who commits himself to their guidance, 
 betrays either a weak head or a design- 
 ing heart, and that their influence, once 
 admitted, assumes despotic sway; while 
 the victim of their malicious interference 
 is betrayed from credulity into injustice, 
 is taught to resent imaginary wrongs, to 
 insult without cause, oppose without rea- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 95 
 
 son, and become a ridiculous actor in 
 scenes where caprice is motive and passion 
 argument. Our forefathers kept fools for 
 the entertainment of their friends ; our 
 great men now perform that part them- 
 selves, and prefer a knave for their private 
 instruction ; under whose auspicious in- 
 fluence they gradually unite in their own 
 proper persons the qualities of both ! 
 
 Half the discontents which divide so- 
 ciety are occasioned by that fatal promp- 
 titude to believe every tale that malice or 
 gossipping garrulity invents. Those pests 
 of society, those petty fomentors of village 
 vexations are caressed and applauded, call- 
 ed the best creatures in the world, the 
 most zealous friends, because they supply 
 curiosity with scandal and malignity with 
 excuses for hatred. The private history 
 of one family is made a passport to 
 another, who are in turn betrayed to their 
 next-door neighbour. But, as whisperers 
 derive their little importance, or perhaps 
 their daily bread from the recital of anec- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 96 
 
 dote and the diffusion of scandal, when 
 truth does not supply the memory, ne- 
 cessity draws upon the imagination. Thus 
 falsehoods are propagated, and characters 
 traduced. The most scandalous story, 
 when introduced with a deprecatory ap- 
 peal to Heaven, and drawled out with a 
 pious reflection upon the depravity of the 
 age, is never called satire. Oh no, wit 
 alone is satire; it is a matter of no im- 
 portance when innocence is blasted and 
 friendship betrayed; so long as defamers 
 are dull, they are called innocent ! 
 
 I endeavoured, on entering this new 
 circle, to avoid forming too hasty a judge- 
 ment of their characters. This, however, 
 was difficult. We are apt to be biassed 
 by the opinions of our first intimates, 
 and of course trust to the chances of pre- 
 judice, ignorance, or ill-nature. We 
 should, however, give society a lair trial, 
 and wait patiently the time when charac- 
 ters must unfold themselves. To judge 
 by the conversation of any one class, i 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 97 
 
 should have supposed all the rest unworthy 
 of my acquaintance; but when time and 
 personal experience allowed me to com- 
 pare evidence, I saw how apt we are to 
 form general conclusions of character from 
 private causes of dislike ; that the error of 
 a moment is magnified into an inherent 
 and radical fault, while a salute unreturn- 
 ed, or a visit neglected, stamps a character 
 with more obloquy than immorality or 
 deceit. As the best cannot hope to es- 
 cape uncensured, so the worst have their 
 eulogists; and the character that is held 
 up in one company as a model for all men 
 to imitate, in another is loaded with epi- 
 thets of contempt and abhorrence. Both 
 cannot be true : let us then trace each 
 opinion to its source, and we shall discover 
 that personal feelings and self-interest dic- 
 tate both the praise and the censure. A 
 man is a villain because his interests clash 
 with ours : but let the circumstances be 
 altered, let fortune unexpectedly raise him 
 to an eminence, and give him the power 
 
 F 
 
93 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 of contributing to our advancement or 
 pleasures, a new light suddenly darts into 
 our minds and dazzles us with a view of 
 virtues till then unseen. Profligacy is 
 then a taste for polite amusements, extra- 
 vagance becomes generosity, insincerity 
 is a knowledge of the world, the super- 
 cilious pomp of a little mind is called the 
 dignity of a great one, and even folly it- 
 self is overlooked though it cannot be pal- 
 liated. 
 
 How seldom are the charms of rural 
 life, the cheering scenes of pastoral sim- 
 plicity, enjoyed. They are despised, be- 
 cause they can be purchased without cost; 
 and the senseless votaries of fashion, who 
 have not hearts capable of enjoying refined 
 pleasures, yawn away their time in 
 gloomy pomp, and without ever attempt- 
 ing to be happy, wear out life in the most 
 animated efforts to persuade the world 
 that they are superlatively so ! Thus so- 
 ciety degenerates into a tasteless inter- 
 change of unvalued ceremonies, occupy- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 99 
 
 ing time, without touching the heart or 
 improving the understanding. Social in- 
 tercourse is now a supplement to pride, 
 not the kind interchange of benevolence. 
 A pitiful emulation expels happiness, and 
 a suspicious caution chains the tongue of 
 candour, chills the heart of feeling ; while 
 that man is called prudent who never 
 speaks his sentiments, that man wise who 
 never differs from the great, and that man 
 good-natured whose indiscriminating sua- 
 vity bows alike to merit and insignifi- 
 cance, to virtue and vice. Smiles are 
 banished, as indications of vulgar content ; 
 it is for the humble and insignificant alone 
 to be careless and cheerful, but high mind- 
 ed station, when it cannot be respected 
 for its wisdom, must at least give to folly 
 all the chilling dignity of a dismal coun- 
 tenance. Happy thus to keep mankind 
 at a distance, (since, by doing so, they can. 
 alone escape the depressing sensation of 
 intellectual inferiority,) and mistaking the 
 distance of dislike for the awfulness of res- 
 f 2 
 
100 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 pect, their vanity is solaced; and thus the 
 very punishment of their fault contributes 
 to its continuance ! Blind to merit, and 
 careless of happiness, all their sensibilities 
 absorbed in pride, their intimacies are re- 
 gulated by one rule alone. It is not, 
 “ Are such and such people amiable or 
 instructive?” It is, '* Will they reflect 
 honor on me by their rank, or are they 
 mean enough to supply me with flattery 
 and scandal?” But the insulting favours 
 of ostentation are received without grati- 
 tude, and partaken without enjoyment. 
 Certainly the society of the country might 
 be the most agreeable in the world, if people 
 thought half as much of enjoyment as they 
 do of parade. In a city, conversation is 
 confined to the common-place topics of 
 the day, which require neither energy of 
 mind nor play of fancy. Those who fill 
 the splendid saloon, and glitter in every 
 scene of vanity, flock thither, not with ex- 
 pectations of happiness, but as a refuge 
 from misery; not so much to meet others. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 101 
 
 as to escape from themselves. They have 
 nothing to interest the affections, nothing 
 to rouse the benevolent and social feel- 
 ings; they discover no virtues in each 
 other, and make no other distinctions but 
 the externals of dress and address ; they 
 converse without interest, smile without 
 pleasure, meet with indifference, and part 
 without regret. 
 
 But the country affords a very different 
 picture: there is always some pursuit to 
 interest the mind, some impulse to give 
 energy to the character; all are united by 
 some tie, either of interest or friendship, 
 of hope or fear. The circle in which they 
 move is the whole world to them : every 
 meeting is a little drama, where each in- 
 dividual supports a part and forms one of 
 the Dramatis Personae of the plot. In a 
 city every man adopts the common-place 
 opinions of his associates, adjusts his mind 
 by the rules of fashion, learns to reason 
 in a coffee-house and declaims in a circle 
 of belles. But in the country, deprived 
 
102 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 of the constant recurrence of little events, 
 when every thing conspires to give a sober 
 contemplative turn, the mind seeks em- 
 ployment within itself, and judges with a 
 degree of accuracy and strength seldom 
 attained amidst the fooleries of a gay life 
 or the splendour of a great one. It is a 
 situation peculiarly adapted to the deve- 
 lopement of character. Though the circle 
 is more confined in the country, there 
 is an originality of character which com- 
 pensates for a more enlarged field of spe- 
 culation ; for a few well observed, is better 
 than a multitude who pass like puppets 
 before us. Perhaps no character on earth 
 is more capable of enjoying true happi- 
 ness, of attaining to wisdom and virtue, 
 than the country gentleman, who divides 
 his time between rural occupations and 
 liberal studies ; who sets that value on the 
 opinion of the world which is one of our 
 immediate protections against evil, yet 
 despises it enough to secure him from 
 being the victim of example and the slave 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 103 
 
 of prejudice; who spends his fortune in 
 acts of benevolent hospitality ; not that 
 hospitality which starves the poor to feed 
 the rich, nor yet that glittering hospitality 
 whose object is to eclipse an enemy, not 
 to gratify a friend. Such I have seen, 
 and, in proportion as they are scarce, they 
 are valuable. 
 
104 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 My fortune made me a very tempting 
 prize to ail the speculating beauties in the 
 country ; but my vanity was not flattered 
 by believing myself the object of their 
 hopes ; for I was courted ere known, and 
 while they laid snares for my heart, their 
 own were invulnerable but to a golden 
 arrow. How few are united in the silken 
 fetters wove by love and reason ! how few 
 are happy in marriage, and how few enter 
 it from motives to make them so. The 
 blooming bride, arrayed in Asiatic splen- 
 dour, descends from the brilliant equipage 
 for which she bartered happiness; no 
 cheerful home awaits her, no social joys, 
 no confidential converse wing away the 
 time; all is chill indifference or gloomy 
 discontent. ’Tis true she sparkles in 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 105 
 
 public, is gazed at and envied ; but with 
 what years of suffering is the momentary 
 indulgence of vanity purchased ! Con- 
 demned to the wearisome society of a man 
 she dislikes, harassed by the eternal 
 necessity of dissembling her feelings, she 
 loses the vivacity of mind which gave a 
 relish for gay pleasures, and soon looks 
 with indifference on the gay pageantries 
 of wealth which habit renders common. 
 
 Splendour, wealth, honors, can you sup- 
 ply the inward peace which the heart will 
 demand, though dazzled by your pomp? 
 Can you console it for the absence of all 
 those nameless consolations, those sources of 
 inexhaustible content which mutual affec- 
 tion bestows ? Let not the ambitious or 
 dissipated ridicule a passion they can never 
 feel ; it ennobles the nature, even after its 
 influence is passed ; and the heart that 
 truly loves has approached one degree 
 nearer perfection! Love does not alone 
 determine the happiness of our lives, but 
 often our moral and intellectual character, 
 F 5 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 106 
 
 and in the choice we make lies its power 
 of either exalting or debasing our nature. 
 
 If our affections are placed on one whom 
 we do not esteem, and whom we contem- 
 plate without discovering any of those 
 sentiments which inspire us with virtuous 
 ambition, we soon cease to value in our- 
 selves what she does not consider valuable. 
 We feel that those principles which 
 hitherto we deemed noble, those acquire- 
 ments that cost us labour to attain, are 
 either despised by her as useless, or are 
 viewed with a degree of awe and terror 
 more likely to create obstacles to the 
 success of our passion than to inspire a 
 reciprocal sentiment. Then the heart 
 shrinks from its own applause ; we feel our 
 powers cramped, our sentiments debased; 
 we endeavour to forget that there are v ; r- 
 tues of which she is ignorant, and that 
 nature and education fitted us for a higher 
 sphere of action than to be the ignoble 
 puppet of a frivolous woman, whose judge- 
 ment is decided by a bow, and whose es- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 10/ 
 
 teem depends upon the elegance of our 
 dress and facility of our compliments. 
 
 We insensibly steal into the sentiments 
 of her whom we love ; we contract her 
 tastes and habits; our likings and dislikes 
 are directed by hers ; and from loving 
 the object, we soon learn to think, act, 
 and feel with her. We do not ourselves 
 discover the effect of her influence, and 
 probably would despise ourselves for the 
 degrading subserviency; but the illusion 
 which transforms us, renders us blind to 
 the change. A lover does not affect the 
 sentiments of his mistress, he actually im- 
 bibes them ; he does not copy, but he 
 assimilates: no prejudice is proof against 
 her persuasions; and that which would 
 be deemed ridiculous or improper in an- 
 other, appears in her so amiable as to be 
 adopted as the rule of a lover’s life. Thus 
 she can transform the noblest nature into 
 the vilest, can instil the most destructive 
 principles, and eradicate every elevated 
 and virtuous sentiment : all this she may 
 
108 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 achieve without intending the mischief; 
 she may undermine her lover’s principles, 
 and render him wicked and depraved, 
 while she herself is indulging but the 
 thoughtless levity of youth ; and though 
 she would shudder at being the champion 
 of vice, she is gradually rendering it fa- 
 miliar to his mind by the lightness of her 
 sentiments, the ridicule which she attaches 
 to every moral character, and the flatter- 
 ing epithets of spirit, elegance, fashion, & c. 
 which she bestows on those whose lives 
 have been most notoriously profligate. 
 
 The human mind is ever fluctuating 
 between good and evil ; if it is not aspiring 
 towards excellence, it is sinking to debase- 
 ment, and it requires a constant and ac- 
 tive incitement to counteract its natural 
 propensity towards evil. If, then, we pass 
 our lives in the society of those who 
 neither practise themselves, nor value in 
 others the strict principles of morality and 
 religion ; who sneer virtue out of counte- 
 nance, by coupling it with insipidity and 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 109 
 
 meanness ; who render vice familiar by 
 example, and agreeable by the decorations 
 of wit and the blandishments of flattery ; 
 and who fix the attention solely on world- 
 ly motives and rewards; — alas! where is 
 the heart so noble, so elevated, so free 
 from human passion and human weakness, 
 as to resist the contagion ? Virtue is sel- 
 dom the foundation of our attachments ; 
 and yet the future honor of our lives, our 
 eternal as well as temporal happiness, often 
 depend upon the principles of a compa- 
 nion chosen in the hey-day of juvenile 
 giddiness, when a momentary caprice of 
 fancy is mistaken for love. 
 
 We too often form our attachments on 
 some trifling coincidence of taste or pur- 
 suit, from having enjoyed together some 
 particular pleasure; which, however, owed 
 none of its charms to the exclusive par- 
 ticipation of an individual. Associated 
 by circumstances, we yield our affec- 
 tions to an object whose only charm is 
 proximity, and because we were once 
 
110 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 happy to liier, ftncy we could never be 
 happy asunder. 1 he little simpering 
 miss, who whiled away our vacant hours 
 in the country, who romped with us when 
 politics were exhauted, and whose untu- 
 tored vivacity looked like artless naivete 
 and originality, might expel ennui and 
 create a momentary interest in solitude ; 
 but those qualities which peculiar circum- 
 stances alone unfold, vanish with a change 
 of situation and form no solid ground of 
 attachment. That which is esteemed a- 
 greeable or beautiful when contrasted with 
 downright dullness or deformity, should 
 be viewed in some other theatre of re- 
 presentation before a just opinion can be 
 formed. Half the world, mistaking 
 habit for affection, become lovers through 
 idleness, and then, persuaded that fate 
 has ordained it, marry and are miserable 
 for life ! 
 
 From the system of education now 
 adopted, the females of the present day 
 are not likely to stamp a very dignified 
 
THE MISANT’IUOriST. 
 
 Ill 
 
 character on ti e young men whom they 
 influence; ’ hey are so frivolous, vain, and 
 s ■ . ini, so zealous in the pursuit of a 
 spl p "' ,: '! establishment, that their hearts 
 aie insensible to merit, and any titled pro- 
 fligate or wealthy fool is certain of being 
 preferred before the most exalted cha- 
 racter. I should be sorry to see female 
 education confined to cookery and tent 
 stitch; but I observe with regret the valu- 
 able time that is wasted in acquiring a 
 variety of superficial accomplishments, 
 while the culture of the mind, which alone 
 can render woman permanently pleasing 
 and useful in society, is neglected. It is true 
 the ephemeral productions of the day are 
 universally read by females: but this is all 
 very superficial ; they read enough to set 
 them talking, but they are as far from 
 knowing how to think as if they had never 
 opened a book. Accomplishment is now 
 so much the mania of the day, that we see 
 the daughters of the humblest mechanic 
 studying the ornamental instead of the 
 
112 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 useful branches of female education. The 
 most miserable shop in the suburbs of the 
 city resounds with the din of an old 
 harpsichord, the enbroidery-frame litters 
 the miserable counter, the shop is hung 
 with birds, beasts, and flowers, painted by 
 M iss Dolly or Miss Nancy, while she her- 
 self reclines amidst volumes of romances, 
 the fatal personification of her studies, 
 which begin in mistake and end in ruin! 
 
 However, the abuse of a thing is no 
 argument against it. There are some 
 who will not allow their daughters to 
 learn music, because, they say, it occupies 
 too much time and withdraws their atten- 
 tion from more useful employments. 
 Before they give this reason, let them 
 consider if two or three hours in the day 
 are not lavished on more frivolous pur- 
 suits. It were well could we catch each 
 flying moment, and load its wing with 
 deeds of immortality: but while young 
 ladies are working trimmings that are out 
 of fashion before they are out of the 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 113 
 
 embroidery-frame, making card-racks and 
 fire-skreens, and sticking gold-paper upon 
 eggshells to ornament the chimney, their 
 fingers might be just as usefully em- 
 ployed 
 
 “ Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 
 “ The hidden soul of harmony.” 
 
 i expected some pleasure at the house 
 of Mr. D , a gentleman of large for- 
 
 tune, with three beautiful daughters, of 
 whose elegance and accomplishments 
 fame spoke very loudly. They w r ere cele- 
 brated musicians, and to me, who aarau 
 idolator of that charming art, no other 
 attraction was necessary. Music is no 
 solitary acquirement, which, proudly all- 
 sufficient to itself, renders the possessor 
 careless and incapable of pleasing. 
 
 These young ladies, returning home 
 with all the ignorance and affectation of 
 a boarding-school, are considered pro- 
 digies of musical talent, because they can 
 
114 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 with unblushing effrontery and unfeeling 
 rapidity gabble over an Italian bravura, 
 closing their eyes, shrugging their shoul- 
 ders, and employing the appoggiatura till 
 it degenerates into a groan. Sweet powers 
 of harmony, how are you insulted ! The 
 
 Miss D s sung and simpered, played 
 
 the tambourine, and put themselves into 
 the most graceful attidudes ; exhibited a 
 thousand pretty childish airs, all those 
 
 “ Quips and quirks, and wanton wiles, 
 
 “ Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,” 
 
 iCi.' • • • 
 
 01/ easily acquired from a fashionable go- 
 verness or copied from a second-rate 
 actress. 
 
 The tedious display of accomplish- 
 ments over, L endeavoured to discover the 
 yet hidden treasure of mind. I first 
 introduced common topics, that I should 
 not alarm them by too exalted an opinion 
 of my wisdom, and check that natural flow 
 of thought which is woman’s sweetest 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 115 
 
 charm. On the subjects of halls, dress, and 
 scandal, they were loquacious and ani- 
 mated ; but their animation was without 
 any play of fancy : they had all the sur- 
 face of refinement, but wanted that inhe- 
 rent elegance which charms by unstudied 
 graces, and diffuses through the manners 
 a calm, collected, winning ease. Their 
 conversation was made up of the cant 
 of science and the jargon of romance, and 
 I soon found that the range of their lite- 
 rary pursuits w ? as confined to those fic- 
 tions which soften w ithout instructing the 
 heart, those works of imagination, which, 
 like the prismatic glass, shew objects 
 glowing with false but brilliant colors: and 
 that to their dazzled eyes the sober page of 
 reason was never unfolded. 
 
 Though I do not agree with those sage 
 moralists who have endeavoured to prove 
 all novel reading destructive and all novel 
 writers contemptible, I believe that, were 
 a fair estimate made of the comparative 
 good and evil which novels have done to so- 
 
11() THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 ciety, we should find the evil predominate. 
 They create a distaste for the sober plea- 
 sures of life ; they describe love and 
 hatred in such extravagant terms, that the 
 temperate feelings of nature appear insi- 
 pid, they display such models of imprac- 
 ticable perfectibility, that we turn in des- 
 pair from the imitation ; and they paint 
 vicious characters in such alluring colors, 
 that we forget their errors in contemplation 
 of their brilliant and engaging qualities. 
 To support the consistency of characters, 
 they are made to utter the most dangerous 
 sentiments. The author does not per- 
 haps wish to inculcate those sentiments, 
 but a long train of events and arguments 
 are not always able to do away the im- 
 pression of one false but ingenious maxim, 
 as few minds are capable of following or 
 comprehending the laboured combinations 
 of little results with which the author 
 fancies he overthrows it. Thus the sen- 
 timent which probably was introduced 
 only to be confuted, will be engraven on 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 11/ 
 
 the memory to create bad actions or to 
 excuse them. 
 
 A mind that has long followed fiction 
 through her flowery mazes, is little inclined 
 to pursue the plain unadorned path of 
 reason. Thus the understanding lies dor- 
 mant, while imagination roves uncon- 
 trolled, and the genuine sympathies of 
 nature, the best feelings of the heart, are 
 exhausted on fictitious woes. Thanks to 
 the taste and genius of the present day, 
 every circulating-library supplies elope- 
 ments, catastrophes, mystery and dis- 
 traction, distressed damsels and invincible 
 heroes, in such abundance, that terror has 
 ceased to tremble and wonder has ceased 
 to stare. The softest hearts have expended 
 their stock of sympathy, and the most 
 weeping eyes can no longer produce one 
 tear even for domestic calamities. Every 
 boarding-school miss has learned to act 
 the heroine, to create adventures, and 
 then weep at them ; to unbind her golden 
 tresses, fix her eyes upon the moon, and 
 
 i 
 
118 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 sigh forth her sorrows in tripping Madri- 
 gals. Intricate incident, astonishing dis- 
 coveries, hopeless misery, and felicity 
 more perfect than that of angels; sulky 
 heroines, who are perfect in the arts of 
 blushing, scolding, and looking disdainful ; 
 sophistical heroes, who sentimentally 
 break the Ten Commandments, and then 
 sanctify every immorality by proving 
 themselves men of their word ; sighs, 
 blushes, thrilling sensibility and uncon- 
 trollable emotions, with a little pert dia- 
 logue interlarded with French phrases, 
 constitute the whole art of modern story- 
 telling. 
 
 A story often passes off a bad work, 
 and as often degrades a good one : it will 
 always please those who are incapable of 
 comprehending a higher order of writing, 
 and though it may not be valued by every 
 class of readers, it will at least be under- 
 stood by all. But if a book has no other 
 merit than incident, it cannot please the 
 wise, and if an author is capable of dig- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 i 19 
 
 nifying incident, who can forbear lament- 
 ing that such valuable time and talents 
 should be wasted on the soliloquies of 
 some moon-stricken lover or sentimental 
 martyr to parental authority. 
 
 Most people open a book for the same 
 reason that Turks chew opium ; it acts as 
 a momentary stimulant, and lulls the 
 mind into temporary forgetfulness of its 
 own cares. But as the merit of an au- 
 thor is measured by the reader’s capabi- 
 lity of comprehending him, a work that 
 is too sublime for a little mind, too deli- 
 cate for a vulgar one, stands a chance of 
 being accused of dullness by more than one 
 half of its readers. The world teems with 
 beings, who, though possessed of abilities 
 which might, if judiciously called forth, 
 prove a source of instruction and delight 
 to society, for want of early excitation 
 sullenly resign themselves to insignifi- 
 cance, and plod indolently through life 
 without any motive but to beguile the 
 passing hour, satisfied to be thought con- 
 
120 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 temptible provided they are acknowledged 
 inoffensive ; who consider every exertion 
 of reason an unprofitable occupation, and 
 who ask nothing- from Heaven but an 
 easy sofa, a full glass, and a companion, 
 who will neither talk too much nor too 
 well. Peace be with them ! may they 
 long enjoy that rest which they so ardent- 
 ly solicit ; and may all authors who toil 
 for the applause of the wise and the dis- 
 criminating, be for ever unstigmatized by 
 the odium of their approbation. 
 
 The novelty of the scenes in which I 
 was placed, the opportunity for observa- 
 tion which a variety of new characters 
 afforded, for a while amused me. But the 
 heart demands more. 1 soon became 
 languid and absent in the midst of gaiety, 
 and immersed in painful reverie when the 
 claims of society demanded the exertion 
 of my talents towards the general amuse- 
 ment. No man has a right to retire 
 within himself, and in the security of 
 silence watch the unguarded. A reserved 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 121 
 
 and suspicious disposition can never form 
 a fair estimate of characters ; every heart 
 shrinks in cautious reserve at his approach; 
 he communicates the coldness that he 
 feels ; first creates the crime, and then 
 punishes it. 
 
 Were I permitted to fill that place in 
 society which others do, and to pass 
 through life in tranquil insignificance, I 
 might possibly be happy ; but having been 
 unfortunately convicted of learning and 
 talent, I was isolated from all intercourse 
 of the heart, and forced to listen to the 
 laboured nothings of those who think it 
 an insult to talk the language of nature to 
 a genius. Every word 1 uttered was 
 weighed with critical accuracy ; I was 
 therefore obliged to consider well before I 
 spoke: nor could I venture to express what 
 the vivacity of natural feeling dictated, for 
 fear of committing myself to an opinion, 
 and of hearing that bandied about from 
 tongue to tongue as a fixed and unalterable 
 maxim, which was uttered without consi- 
 
 c 
 
122 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 deration and forgotten by myself the next 
 moment. Did I attempt to impart that 
 cheerfulness to others which sometimes 
 my own heart enjoyed, it Was called an 
 artful trap to betray the unwary and to 
 lead others into folly by shewing them 
 the example. Alas ! how little do they 
 know this heart of mine, who would en- 
 train m el it with those splendid fetters ; 
 this heart, that sighs but for peace, and 
 asks no other honors but to be esteemed 
 by the virtuous. 
 
 I have passed through many scenes of 
 life ; I have seen much to admire and 
 more to condemn ; I have known many 
 of the learned, many who thought them- 
 selves profound, and some few who were 
 really so ; 1 have listened, wondered, 
 
 looked excessively intelligent, felt that it 
 was all very fine, and perhaps useful too 
 if seasonably introduced : but those in 
 whose society I have passed my happiest 
 moments, whom I have truly loved and 
 esteemed, pleased less by their talents 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 123 
 
 than their virtues, less by the acquirement 
 of learning than the genuine feelings of 
 nature ; and I have gained more instruc- 
 tion from the hearts of some than from the 
 heads of others. Is it that nature, in 
 bestowing any dazzling or valuable acqui- 
 sition, has wisely annexed to it some 
 corrective, some evil to counterbalance 
 its intoxicating effects. Oh, nature, if 
 such be thy laws, withdraw this treache- 
 rous gift : give to others that dangerous 
 emulation which draws upon us the voice 
 of calumny and the sneer of envy, which 
 makes our virtues depressed and our im- 
 perfections blazoned ; but leave to me the 
 sober content of mediocrity ! 
 
124 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 I looked forward with some expecta- 
 tion of pleasure to the arrival of Sir 
 
 William G ’s family in the country, 
 
 who were related to Augustus, and of 
 whom I had heard enough to make me 
 expect a valuable acquisition. Imme- 
 diately on their arrival I paid my respects, 
 and was received with easy politeness, ac- 
 companied by a certain air of dignity that 
 inspired more respect than fear. I clearly 
 saw that they were not people who profess 
 a violent friendship for every new acquain- 
 tance, that their approbation was not in- 
 discriminately lavished, and was gained 
 neither by rank nor title, but by merit 
 alone. 
 
 Those who make it a point to “ shine 
 on all alike,” betray great stupidity or 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 125 
 
 great hypocrisy, and by levelling the 
 distinctions between the insignificant and 
 meritorious, leave no motive for noble 
 emulation. If the undeserving are ca- 
 ressed and applauded ; if they are spoken 
 of with respect and courted with assiduity; 
 if crimes are palliated and softened down 
 with a decorous decency of language, and 
 disgraceful vices dressed up in the elegant 
 garb of fashionable levity, I would not call 
 it good-nature, but injustice ; it is coun- 
 tenancing vice and robbing virtue of its 
 reward. Many find it their interest to level 
 those nice distinctions, and by leaning 
 lightly on the errors of others, expect to 
 be paid back in kind, and to practise with 
 impunity what they judge with lenity. 
 This dangerous and unjust liberality often 
 proceeds from the pitiful ambition of a 
 little mind, that would sacrifice good taste 
 and sincerity in order to obtain popularity : 
 but universal praise is unattainable, the 
 qualities prized by one class are dreaded 
 or despised by another, and the noblest 
 
126 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 are least understood or most likely to 
 create envy. Who would seek popula- 
 rity, even were it attainable r The se- 
 verest satire is the eulogy of a fool ! 
 
 I heard with indescribable pleasure that 
 my friend Augustus was shortly expected 
 
 to Castle G . With what pleasure I 
 
 anticipated our mutual enquiries and com- 
 munications ! To him I could freely un- 
 burthen my heart, soothed by his sympa- 
 thy and strengthened by his reason. 
 These thoughts delightfully occupied me. 
 I stored my memory with observations ; 
 I studied every thing, and felt my powers 
 of reasoning unfold with my confidence in 
 the reception my remarks would meet. 
 Who has not felt that the approbation 
 of the auditor creates new talent in the 
 speaker ? 
 
 He came, and I for a moment forgot 
 my friend in contemplating the lovely 
 creature who accompanied him. I had 
 heard much of Julia, lady G’s sister, and 
 expected her arrival ; but supposing that 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 vxi 
 
 I should behold a mere beauty, my heart 
 was prepared to meet her with coldness 
 and distrust. I now paused to examine a 
 face and air so new, so original, and so 
 striking, that I totally forgot to consider 
 whether she was beautiful according to the 
 rules of art. But 1 felt that she possessed, 
 that which is the best test of beauty, the 
 power of prepossessing the beholder in her 
 favor at the first glance, and of diffusing 
 pleasure and complacency around. I 
 know not how to describe her; her beauty 
 depends so much more on character and 
 expression, than on the accuracy of each 
 separate feature. She was not a heroine. 
 She had nothing of Grecian languor or 
 Homan dignity about her. She carried no 
 aweful denunciations in her eye ; no 
 celestial reveries withdrew her from sub- 
 lunary enjoyment ; no fastidious senti- 
 mentality taught her to mistake rudeness 
 for dignity. It was her mind which gave 
 the last indefineable finishing to a face and 
 figure of uncommon loveliness. Hers wa$ 
 
128 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 the beauty of sentiment. The nameless 
 graces of conversation, the glance of genius, 
 the soft, the brilliant, the ever-varying 
 charms of vivacity and feeling ; these were 
 hers. In mere personal beauty she may 
 be excelled ; but I never saw a woman 
 who would not appear lifeless and unin- 
 teresting when compared with the fasci- 
 nating Julia. 
 
 Augustus soon observed the effect which 
 her uncommon powers of pleasing pro- 
 duced, and he formed a hope that the 
 charms of his fair cousin would obliterate 
 the traces of an unfortunate attachment. 
 But while charmed by the polished viva- 
 city of her manners, her artless sensibility 
 and cultivated understanding, though I 
 felt that, in her presence, my talents were 
 unfolded and that her approbation formed 
 my highest felicity, — though, in a word, 
 she filled my soul with the most cheering 
 reflections, and gave motive to every exer- 
 tion, I still recalled the beauteous image 
 ©f my pensive and interesting Matilda, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. *2g 
 
 and fancied that to forget her would be to 
 profane love’s altar, and to render myself 
 for ever unworthy the smiles of beauty. 
 “ No, noj” said I, “ I have loved with 
 enthusiasm, with delicacy, and more than 
 human constancy ; let me not then relin- 
 quish the extatic reveries, the sweet and 
 cherished sorrows which Petrarch felt and 
 sung for the rational but vulgar felicity of 
 a second and successful love.” 
 
 “ How many men,” said Augustus, 
 “ sacrifice the happiness of their lives to 
 chimerical notions of delicacy. You think 
 inconstancy a crime ; I think so too, if 
 the passion be reciprocal, and if you en- 
 danger the happiness of a tender and con- 
 fiding heart by transferring your affections. 
 But what, in the name of common sense, 
 is your object? You would be a second 
 Petrarch! My good friend, first learn to 
 be as good a poet, and then you may pos- 
 sibly give to romantic folly an air of in- 
 terest and dignity. Now do you really 
 think that this system of romantic ad- 
 g 5 
 
130 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 herence to a first love is founded in reason? 
 The thing is absurd and impracticable. 
 Every boy. before he has attained the age 
 of one-and-twenty, has been in love — no 
 matter with whom ; some milliner’s ap- 
 prentice, or schoolmaster’s daughter, or 
 country cousin ; it is all alike, provided 
 he can but fancy himself in love. The 
 poor youth writes verses on her, if he can ; 
 and if he cannot, a volume of Moore’s 
 Poems supplies the deficiency ; and he 
 walks by moonlight, and he sighs with 
 excessive assiduity and works himself into 
 an extacy of despair. All this is vastly 
 sentimental and pretty. Our Romeo, how- 
 ever, smartens up wonderfully in conse- 
 quence of the exertions he makes to 
 please: he lays aside his school-boy bash- 
 fulness and academic slouch ; his under- 
 standing unfolds itself, his sentiments 
 become refined, he feels a motive for 
 exertion and an ambition to excel. 
 
 “ Thus a first love, though itself a very 
 foolish thing, is absolutely necessary to 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 13 L 
 
 fit a man for a second ; and if a boy was 
 not in love with twenty fools, lie would 
 not know how to value a woman of sense. 
 The parting hour, however, draws near : 
 the lover must return to his college, or his 
 father’s house; vows of fidelity, tears of 
 agony are lavished with all proper liberal- 
 ity. But how soon a little acquaintance 
 with other women obliterates the recollec- 
 tion of his rustic charmer, and convinces 
 him that an immature judgment and 
 romantic sensibility, though they may be 
 in favor of the passion itself, are bad guides - 
 in the choice of an object. 
 
 “ In the fervor of youthful romance, 
 when your heart, sighing for captivity, 
 sought an object on whom to lavish its 
 exuberant sensibilities, your eye was 
 caught by the beauty of Matilda, and you 
 instantly resolved to be desperately in 
 love : but let me ask you, what qualities 
 had Matilda to fix the heart of a man of 
 sense ? In her society your intellectual 
 faculties were dormant, and the noblest 
 
132 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 feelings of your heart were repressed be- 
 cause they were not understood. She had 
 no talents as a companion, could neither 
 comment on the past, embellish the pre- 
 sent, or inspire a new train of thought 
 for the future. She was just good enough 
 to be uninteresting, but not half good 
 enough to be valuable. She was lovely, 
 I confess ; but beauty like hers soon 
 loses its influence ; it wants the fugitive 
 graces, the indefineable attraction of a 
 varying expression, which holds the gazer 
 in delighted expectation, and excites an 
 interest ever new and ever lively. 
 
 “ Who, that has ever admired the 
 works of nature, but must confess that 
 the mere beauty of the landscape consti- 
 tuted but half its charms ? Wood, water, 
 mountain, vale, flung together in sweet 
 confusion, harmonious chance, promis- 
 cuous regularity, borrow powerful aids 
 from the glowing softness of the evening 
 breeze, impregnated with aromatic per- 
 fumes; from the softened sounds of buzzing 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 133 
 
 insects, of birds, and bleating flocks ; the 
 colors on lifeless canvass may rival the tints 
 of nature, prospect may for a while de- 
 light the eye ; but these satisfy, refresh, 
 and soothe the soul. Beauty that depends 
 upon mere contour and color is the most 
 ephemeral of nature’s works ; but that 
 which is the result of inherent elegance, 
 if it once pleases, pleases forever; and 
 time, which steals roses from the cheek of 
 lifeless beauty, adds new charms to intel- 
 lectual loveliness. The silent, languid, 
 pensive girl, whose demure looks and 
 timid accents gave a celestial character to 
 an oval face and sleepy eyes, soon degene- 
 rates into an indolent woman, slovenly in 
 person, sullen in temper, incapable of en- 
 joying life herself, and careless of contri- 
 buting to the happiness of others. Such, 
 believe me, is the painful discovery which 
 many a husband makes, when the in- 
 teresting blush of youth begins to fade, 
 and the fascinations of external beauty no 
 longer prej udice the judgment. Then that 
 
134 
 
 THE MI SAMTIIROPIST. 
 
 glance which once conveyed rapture to his 
 heart, and seemed to discover the softness 
 and sensibility of an angel, betrays the 
 vacancy of ignorance or the disdainful 
 apathy of pride ; then the low and mellow 
 voice becomes a drawling monotony, and 
 the silence which was ascribed to modesty, 
 is found to proceed from d id ness. 
 
 “ I have seen how life stagnates when 
 the companion of home and solitude is 
 not the repository of sentiment, the coun- 
 sellor of the heart, the intellectual friend, as 
 well as the idol of the imagination. Believe 
 me, my friend, you deceive yourself if 
 you suppose that you really loved Matilda: 
 but you had long been enamoured of an 
 ideal charmer, and you chose to enshrine 
 it in Matilda’s form ; you loved, not what 
 she was, but what your fancy painted her ; 
 you embodied a vision ; you first deified 
 an image, and then worshipped the idol 
 of your own creating ! Compare her with 
 the captivating Julia. The most fastidi- 
 ous critics forget to criticise while they 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 135 
 
 are forced to acknowledge the influence of 
 her charms, and prefer her artless ani- 
 mated air, the beaming intelligence of her 
 eye, and pathetic sweetness of her coun- 
 tenance, to the tame and insipid regularity 
 of a Matilda. In her is endless variety: 
 gentleness assumes the touching expression 
 of sensibility, and her most sportive sally 
 discovers a pure heart and a correct taste. 
 The charm that lurks in her smile and 
 hangs upon her every word ; the charm 
 derived from a soul possessing all the 
 graces of genius without its terrors; these 
 are worthy to hold such a heart as yours 
 in bondage. 
 
 “ I would not attempt to argue any 
 man into love, but I shall never despair of 
 arguing a wise man out of a ridiculous 
 prejudice. Lay your mind open to the 
 reception of truth; you have dignity 
 enough to acknowledge yourself convinced, 
 and sense enough not to prefer the misery 
 of your own creating to the happiness 
 which friendly council may obtain for 
 
136 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 you. Cultivate the society of Julia; her 
 friendship, at least, will be a consolation ; 
 and time will convince you, better than I 
 can, how false are those fastidious refine- 
 ments which interrupt rational happiness, 
 and how wrong we are to form, under the 
 influence of passion, irrevocable determi- 
 nations." 
 
137 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 As I was unfortunately suspected of 
 being a man of literature, I found my ac- 
 quaintance ardently solicited by a little 
 coterie of village pedants, who, by using 
 words of thundering sound, arguing dog- 
 matically, and quoting the authority of 
 books little read (because perhaps little 
 worth reading), had persuaded the plain 
 squires that they were prodigies of erudi- 
 tion. But how small did I find their pre- 
 tensions. Pedantic precision, uninterest- 
 ing solemnity, hard words, the cant of 
 science, and an austerity of manner, that, 
 by claiming the title of wisdom, draws 
 odium and ridicule upon the name; — - 
 these are the qualifications necessary to 
 be thought learned. To please is a study 
 
138 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 below their ambition. What I under- 
 stand by the art of conversation, was un- 
 known in this society. Indefineable 
 charm ! that seizes on the imagination and 
 convinces the understanding, while pedan- 
 try is arranging systems and logarithms, 
 and drawing out all the heavy artillery of 
 the brain, commanded by that most un- 
 skilful general — a cold heart ! Playful 
 fancy, that gives to trifles its own graces, 
 and, by its happy embellishment, renders 
 life an eternal novelty, is a talent so 
 prized, that pedantry plays the awkward 
 gambols of the elephant imitating the 
 leopard, and mistaking insipidity for art- 
 lessness, folly for brilliancy, and far- 
 fetched comparison for elegant embellish- 
 ment, declaims for hours on — the anato- 
 my of a fly. 
 
 These, then, are the oracles of taste, 
 the terror of the multitude ; yet they are 
 prized only while unknown. Like Persian 
 kings, they support dignity by obsurity 
 and reserve, and are sure to sink to the 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 139 
 
 level of ordinary mortals when personal 
 intercourse withdraws the mysterious veil 
 in which policy envelops them. Yet how 
 few, that boast of plain sense, are more 
 rational creatures. They are so narrow- 
 minded, so temporizing, so right, that 
 they are always wrong! In short, such 
 every-day characters, or rather beings, 
 one meets every day with no characters at 
 all. I should rather attempt to identify 
 each drop of rain, and dignify it with a 
 separate title and property, than be forced 
 to describe those cold, narrow minds, who 
 take shelter under that hacknied apology 
 for stupidity — good plain sense. 
 
 “ The man of genius,” said Augustus, 
 <f is like a rich mine, which contains trea 7 
 sures mixed with useless dross. But 
 though the character of plain sense does 
 not contain its inexhaustible riches, it has 
 nevertheless sterling value, and is marked 
 with the stamp of currency.” 
 
 Augustus mistook me, however, if he 
 supposed I despised those who really pos- 
 
140 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 sess plain sense. Oh no, for I have felt 
 how insufficient are the flights of the soul, 
 the dreams of an enthusiastic mind, to 
 make the possessor happy. Like opium, 
 they create an intoxicating delirium, but 
 leave the mind languid and unfit for hap- 
 piness. Plain sense is the staple commo- 
 dity of the mind. Genius may be ranked 
 among its useless luxuries. One is the 
 steady orb that guides our course ; the 
 other a brilliant meteor, that dazzles and 
 often misleads, Yet who can behold, 
 without indignation, those dull and arro* 
 gant pretenders to the name of plain 
 sense ? It is the rallying point round 
 which stupidity, with all its gloomy cau- 
 tion, for ever crowds. Coldness, that 
 cannot feel — dullness, that cannot reason 
 — pride, ignorance, and envy, all bless 
 Heaven that they are not geniuses, and 
 fancy that a dreary vacuity of mind, an 
 incapability to comprehend anything great 
 or feel any thing refined, gives them un- 
 deniable claims to plain sense. Slaves to 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 141 
 
 custom, they call every enquiry a doubt, 
 every improvement a dangerous innova- 
 tion, and fancy every prejudice sacred 
 because it is hereditary. They accuse 
 genius of self-sufficiency and arrogance ; 
 but have themselves all its faults, without 
 its advantages : for which is better — the 
 self-sufficiency, by which we gain instruc- 
 tion, or the sullen arrogance of little 
 minds, who, stripping human nature of 
 every embellishment that they do not 
 themselves possess, leave it at last a poor, 
 naked, shivering, pitiable object ? Genius 
 may have its evils, but who would silence 
 the voice that pleads for immortal fame ? 
 Who, that could be great, would choose 
 to be insignificant ? How fatal would it 
 be to wisdom and virtue, if those who 
 have enlightened the world by their talents 
 had listened to the suggestions of those 
 cautious calculators, who waste the gay 
 season of youth, hope, and enterprise, in 
 averting dangers that may never arrive ; 
 who seek a possible evil, and shun the po 
 
142 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 si live good ; who expect a snake to leap 
 from every bush, tread the earth in expec- 
 tation of a pitfal, and never lift their eyes 
 to Heaven but to discover a storm ! 
 
 To feel an ambition for excellence, is 
 almost to have attained it ; for the wish 
 soon creates the pow r er. But in eradica- 
 ting the seeds of vanity, it is difficult to 
 avoid destroying also that aspiring spirit 
 which teaches youth to encounter much 
 in order to achieve a little. Humility 
 is no longer a virtue, when it interferes 
 with the performance of active duties- ; and 
 ambition is dangerous only when ill direct- 
 ed. Never yet was a great action performed 
 by him who is eternally reminded of his 
 own insignificance, who is taught to be- 
 lieve himself below his cotemporaries and 
 incapable of rising above mediocrity. It 
 is in vain that he feels within himself the 
 powers of greatness, which urge him to 
 assert his own importance and to grasp the 
 crown of glory that hovers over his brow. 
 He has been taught to call every effort 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 143 
 
 presumption, and the voice of prejudice 
 soon silences the pleadings of infant 
 genius. 
 
 Ambition, though the parent of many 
 faults, is also the parent of every thing 
 excellent and exalted. It discovers itself 
 in various ways : it fills some minds with 
 noble emulation, and excites to great 
 deeds ; but when, in early life, it has 
 been ridiculed and repressed, then it de- 
 generates into pitiful vanity, which solaces 
 itself with low company, extravagance, 
 and sensuality ; which degrades the un- 
 derstanding, destroys the principles, and 
 leads to every vice and every meanness. 
 Education and early impressions can alone 
 determine whether ambition will prove a 
 blessing or a misfortune. It is an inherent 
 passion in the human mind: it is strongest 
 in great minds ; it ought to be directed; it 
 can never be extinguished ! 
 
 In the company of literati I generally 
 found those with whom I conversed so 
 anxious to display their own talents, that 
 
144 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 they neglected that most useful and 
 pleasing one, the power of unfolding the 
 talents of others. In vain are we gifted 
 with all that science or philosophy can 
 yield, unless we possess that amiable art 
 which pleases by appearing pleased ; which 
 gives courage to the timid, soothes the 
 desponding, and gilds every object of life 
 with its own cheering light. There is 
 nothing more envied, nor more laboriously 
 studied than thearts of conversation -.yetthe 
 wish often defeats itself, and by a formal 
 attention to pedantic rules, what ought to 
 be the effusion of the heart, becomes the 
 cold calculation of the head. Every one 
 acknowledges the power of artless, ani- 
 mated elegance ; the coldest and most 
 austere insensibly becomes enamoured of 
 manners that seek to win affection instead 
 of enforcing respect. 
 
 Woman’s peculiar province is to chase 
 gloom from the brow of man, and her 
 studies should tend to encrease those lively 
 graces of mind which form so agreeable a 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 145 
 
 contrast to the serious habits of her hus- 
 band. 
 
 How useless then are those laborious 
 pursuits which stupify the intellects, with- 
 out adding any ornament in place of that 
 cheerfulness which is the soul of female 
 attraction. To talk well, is not always 
 to talk agreeably ; and though the pom- 
 pous phraseology and incontrovertible 
 truism might become a pleader in a court 
 of equity, yet from the tongue of woman, 
 who ought to dispel gloom, not create it, all 
 this solemn formula of words is but the 
 resource of dullness, the last effort of con- 
 scious inferiority. 
 
 I spent some days with a gentleman, who, 
 by endeavouring to persuade the world 
 that he is very clever, has actually suc- 
 ceeded in believing it himself; and be- 
 cause he makes himself the constant topic 
 of his own discourse, fancies that he is an 
 object of universal interest. He could 
 mix powders and elixirs, torture animals 
 to discover their powers of feeling, and 
 H 
 
146 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 manufacture a machine to elucidate the 
 mysteries interwoven with the wing of a 
 gnat. He found it easier to anatomize a 
 body than the human mind, and cared 
 very little which was the most useful 
 study ; exhausted all the powers of his 
 soul upon the “buzzing flutterer of an 
 hour,” or drudged in mortar like the la- 
 borious mechanic, less useful in practice, 
 and much more unintelligible in theory. 
 
 Are we the wiser or the better for study- 
 ing the height of a dome or the breadth 
 of a pillar? No, the human mind is the 
 noblest and most useful study — an edifice 
 that bears the stamp of eternity, virtue 
 the foundation, and learning but the scaf- 
 folding by which it is raised — an immor- 
 tal structure, that reaches Heaven when 
 the works of man lie mouldering in decay. 
 Vain, arrogant, theoretically mad, nothing 
 appeared physically impossible to him, 
 who believed his genius could surmount 
 all obstacles, subjugate the winds, the 
 seas, the thunders of Heaven, and arrest 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 147 
 
 the course of nature by mechanical inge- 
 nuity. Borne away by a torrent of words, 
 a few weak and credulous minds assented 
 with profound respect to what they did 
 not comprehend, and were incapable of 
 examining. Believing every thing incom- 
 prehensible, wise, and every thing im- 
 practicable, grand, they were perfectly 
 satisfied with the honor of being his echo, 
 and of making themselves ridiculous in 
 order to make him notorious. But the 
 discriminating and the wise listened in 
 silent wonder, smiled at his extravagance, 
 and were forced to acknowledge that vanity 
 is the most valuable possession ; for it 
 alone is independent of fate and of fortune: 
 it mistakes the gratulations of its own 
 heart for the applause of the world, the 
 sneer of ridicule for the smile of approba- 
 tion, and knows not that the insidious 
 voice of the flatterer encourages in order 
 to betray, and stimulates by praise the 
 lollies that contribute to his amusement. 
 
 The children of this gentleman were a 
 
14S 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 laughable caricature of himself: it might 
 almost have passed for a well acted piece 
 of mimicry. Their little heads were cram- 
 med with technical phrases and pertinent 
 answers, which passed for originality upon 
 strangers, but which were merely the 
 effect of memory. Provided they acquired 
 a knowledge of any one science (no matter 
 how useless, nor whether it withdrew 
 them from the studies which fit a man for 
 active life), the father was satisfied. To 
 spend hours examining by what means a 
 toy was set in motion, was called an inves- 
 tigating mind, and the boy considered a 
 second Archimedes. A museum of flies 
 bestowed immortal honors on another ; 
 his days were spent in adding to the col- 
 lection, in discovering with a microscope 
 a purple tint on the back of one, a grey 
 speck on another, and arranging with 
 learned accuracy their various classifica- 
 tions. 
 
 The father, delighted to have them con- 
 sidered prodigies while infants, to see 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 149 
 
 them astonish a circle by their flippant 
 answers, to be able to say they knew more 
 than other children of their age, forgot 
 that this very knowledge would stupify 
 their intellects, and, in the immediate 
 gratification of his own vanity, he lost sight 
 of the future welfare of his children. To 
 encumber the memory, is not to unfold 
 the understanding ; it rather checks the 
 progress of reason, by accustoming chil- 
 dren to gabble words to which they can 
 affix no meaning, and teaching them to 
 rely solely upon books for their opinions. 
 The human mind requires time to arrive 
 at maturity ; if forced, it is soon exhausted. 
 I seldom heard of a prodigy at six years 
 old that was not a dunce at thirty ; and I 
 always suspect that those who talk like 
 men when they are children, will act like 
 children when they are men. What a 
 long train of useless studies arise in dismal 
 array to chase the infant smile and blush 
 of health. The glowing morn of life, 
 the youthful fire of fancy and genius are 
 
150 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 chilled by technical formality, rules are 
 substituted for precepts, criticism for taste, 
 and the cold atmosphere which science 
 breathes round the soul of youth, nips the 
 bud of feeling'. 
 
 Every little miss of eight years old 
 is now a botanist, a chemist, a linguist, a 
 natural historian ; she can discover the 
 most undiscoverable phenomenon of inani- 
 mate nature, and parade her little stock of 
 erudition with as much formality and con- 
 fidence as the wisest pedagogue that ever 
 read himself out of common sense and 
 politeness. 
 
 I soon grew tired of argument without 
 object, solemnity without wisdom, and 
 insipidity without artlessness. Though a 
 withered leaf or expiring butterfly supplied 
 them with conversation for an entire day, 
 it could not interest me for five minutes. 
 Learned in things, hut ignorant of man- 
 kind, they knew not how to adapt their 
 information to the capacity or taste of 
 those with whom they conversed, and 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 151 
 
 thought less of being agreeable than of 
 appearing profound. They read, not to be 
 wiser, happier, or better; but to be able 
 to say, “ I read this book and though 
 they could repeat a fact out of every author, 
 they acquired no ideas from any. Their 
 trifling produced melancholy, their wis- 
 dom mirth. 
 
 How different was the society at Sir 
 
 William G ’s. Literature refined, 
 
 but did not occupy them ; it fitted them 
 for society, instead of withdrawing them 
 from it ; it shone through every word, 
 gave an elegance to the commonest 
 thought, and simplified the most profound 
 and complex. In argument they sought 
 conviction, not victory, and all felt more 
 anxious to please than to astonish. 
 
152 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Sir William possessed a beautiful villa 
 
 on the romantic borders of Lake, 
 
 at which they proposed spending a few 
 months, and kindly expressed a wish that 
 Augustus and myself would accompany 
 them to their voluntary banishment. De- 
 lightful was the journey ! friendship ba- 
 nished the necessity of form ; for the kind- 
 ness of spirit that animated every heart, 
 inspired a more refined politeness than all 
 the unmeaning ceremonies which insince- 
 rity has established. We did not regu- 
 larly set about being happy, nor sit silent 
 for an hour, labouring some happy bon 
 mot which should astonish for a minute. 
 We were not ashamed of being pleased at 
 trifles, nor amused at folly ; nor pause to 
 enquire whether the occasion was im- 
 portant enough to move our risibility. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 153 
 
 Such caution may be necessary for those 
 who doubt their own understandings. The 
 fool attempts to look wise, while the phi- 
 losopher trifles ; as a rich man feels easy 
 under a thread- bare coat, conscious that the 
 world knows he could afford a better, while 
 the man of suspected circumstances feels 
 as if every spot on his clothes were stains 
 on his character. 1 believe we did not 
 consider all this at the time. Vi e certainly 
 did not converse for the edification of pos- 
 terity, bewilder ourselves about the height 
 of every mountain and mineralogy of every 
 stream, nor spend half a day endeavouring 
 to decypher the unintelligible characters 
 on a tomb-stone. Nay, I am almost 
 ashamed to acknowledge, that, during our 
 journey, I did not once take out my tab- 
 lets to note some solid observation and 
 frighten my fellow-travellers into silence! 
 
 However, notwithstanding these omis- 
 sions, I felt myself happy, and cared not 
 whether it was according to the rules of 
 pedants or heroes of romance. How sel- 
 H 5 
 
154 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 (lorn is happiness found, and how seldom 
 is she received as a friend. True wisdom 
 would welcome the fickle goddess when 
 sire deigns to appear, and, satisfied when 
 innocence follows in her train, pause not 
 to ask the world if this be joy ? Alas! is 
 not happiness at best but an illusion of 
 the senses? Bearing no established form, 
 but varying according to age, climate, and 
 disposition, unsought, she comes; ever 
 flies, when pursued, and mocks the efforts 
 of art. Wealth cannot purchase her smile, 
 nor learning discover her retreat. 
 
 On the evening of the third day we em- 
 barked upon the lake, and caught the first 
 view of that sweet retirement where busy 
 fancy sketched scenes of peace and joy. 
 The fervor of youthful feeling, meliorated 
 by reason ; the ana thy of indifference, 
 conquered by friendship ; a placid resigna- 
 tion, a corrected hope, succeeded. I gazed 
 upon the tranquil surface of the lake, nor 
 thought of future storms. The goatherd’s 
 whistle and bleating flock, the distant hum 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 155 
 
 of a small hamlet, faintly died upon the 
 still and balmy air. Nature seemed to 
 repose in the bosom of content. “ And 
 what have I suffered,” I exclaimed, “ that 
 thousands have not suffered before me ? 
 Did I act fairly by mankind, when I so 
 severely judged them ? Did I wish to 
 discover excellence, or had I a heart ca- 
 pable of valuing it? Alas, no: I have 
 been too fastidious, I rejected happiness 
 in every shape, when it no longer appeared 
 in the form of Matilda; and far better 
 would it have been forme if that fatal light 
 had never dawned upon my mind, which 
 dazzled and then withdrew for ever, mak- 
 ing darkness more dreadful. Return, ye 
 balmy gales that usher in the spring; bear 
 upon your wings the varied w’ood-notes ! 
 Soft showers, fragrant blossoms, let me 
 again behold you ; refresh the soul of one 
 who sighs for rural quiet. 1 ask but one 
 little corner of the universe, cool, verdant, 
 secluded ; there let me muse and read ; 
 let the memory of former happiness, the 
 
156 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 days that are passed, steal across my soul, 
 not to indulge in useless regrets, but to 
 draw, from the varied scenes of life, sweet 
 subjects of contemplation, instructive 
 warnings and tender recollections. Let 
 me learn candidly to compare the good 
 and the evil of life, and teach my heart its 
 best lesson — resignation.” 
 
 It was a delightful reverie, for it pointed 
 to happiness in perspective. Every wild 
 throb of tumultuous care was hushed, and 
 I already enjoyed the anticipated delights 
 of futurity. Thought crowded after 
 thought in rapid succession, and, like the 
 glassy lake which, smooth and untouched, 
 received into its bosom the brightness ofthe 
 heavenly constellations, a sweet and tran- 
 quil composure pervaded every sense; 
 while reason poured her thousand lights 
 into my soul, and filled it with a fire as 
 temperate as it was beautiful. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 157 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 I now entered on a new scene of 
 existence. I became the inmate of a 
 family, who, though they appeared in 
 society adorned with all those qualities 
 which captivate and delight, can never be 
 justly estimated but by those who have 
 known them in the endearing scenes of 
 domestic life. They did not confine their 
 talents and powers of pleasing to dazzle 
 an admiring circle, and then return to a 
 languid family party, fatigued, listless, 
 and discontented, in ail their various 
 occupations, in every pursuit in which 
 they engaged, domestic happiness was still 
 the end they sought to attain ; and they 
 wisely judged, that, to keep the active 
 powers of the mind in motion, to supply 
 
158 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 it with new images and subjects, it is ne- 
 cessary to mix in society, even though that 
 society might be inferior to what they 
 would enjoy at home. The occasional 
 restraint of ceremony gave a new charm to 
 domestic freedom, and the tasteless, un- 
 interesting conversation they were so often 
 obliged to endure, gave each a higher re- 
 lish for the society of the other. 
 
 If there is a situation immediately ap- 
 pointed by Providence for the enjoyment 
 of perfect happiness, it is a well-regulated 
 domestic society, possessing within them- 
 selves the powers of varying and giving in- 
 terest to their occupations ; where piety 
 displays itself in the cheerful discharge of 
 incumbent duties, and attunes every heart 
 to harmony; not the narrow prejudice of 
 sectarian intolerance, where grimace is 
 piety and groaning penitence; not the 
 wild speculations of enthusiasts, agitated 
 by controversy, whose zeal for Heaven 
 gives to their words the fury of demons — 
 who, with conscientious wickedness, tor- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 159 
 
 ture the obvious meaning of Scripture into 
 doctrines at which piety and reason re- 
 volt — but guided by that pure and holy 
 light discernible to the most uneducated 
 peasant as well as learned prelate ! 
 
 Convinced of those dignified and sim- 
 ple truths, those affecting precepts, which, 
 rectifying, but not destroying the affections 
 of the heart, give to power clemency, to 
 wisdom the gentle graces of humility, and 
 to every intercourse of life benevolence, 
 j usticc, forbearance, and love. Lady G — 
 
 united an understanding of almost mascu- 
 line strength, to the gentlest, most femi- 
 nine manners — a softness ever winning, a 
 gaiety the most spontaneous and engaging. 
 Young, lovely, accomplished, and bene- 
 volent, she passed her days in the tran- 
 quillity of innocence and the cheerfulness of 
 hope ; charitable in the most extended 
 sense of the word, lor it was the charity 
 of the heart as well as of the hand. And 
 she was not alone zealous to relieve 
 the distressed, but to inform, instruct, 
 
i6o 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 and, with a guardian angel’s care, watch 
 over the interests of those she loved. 
 
 The coldly prudent part of the world 
 call such zeal presumption, ridicule the 
 enthusiasm of a feeling heart, and esteem 
 themselves patterns of prudence because 
 they allow every body to go their own way 
 and take care of themselves; and, wh'en 
 misfortunes overtake a friend and plunge 
 him into irretrievable ruin, then wisely 
 shake their heads and inform him that 
 they foresaw it long ago. Most people 
 think they perform all the duties of friend- 
 ship when they lament over the errors and 
 misfortunes of their friends ; but to know 
 that an evil threatens which one word 
 might avert — to believe that advice might 
 arrest a friend in the swift course of de- 
 struction, and yet withhold it — to behold 
 impending ruin, and silently permit it, is 
 to be guilty of all the consequences. The 
 blow which my arm might arrest is given 
 with my consent, and the life which I 
 might have saved I am answ’erable for. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. lffl 
 
 They tell you it is a thankless office, which 
 is always repaid with ingratitude. This 
 is the language of selfishness, the argument 
 of an interested heart, which would con- 
 fine charity to a posted and legered inter- 
 change of courtesies ; but a good action 
 repays itself. In contemplating the glorious 
 work we have performed, we ask nothing 
 from gratitude, and in the success of our 
 efforts are more than rewarded ! 
 
 Lady G possessed the happy art of 
 
 instructing, while she appeared to trifle ; 
 of drawing useful deductions from the 
 passing events of the moment, and insen- 
 sibly leading the mind from investigation 
 of particular characters to useful general 
 reflections. I f she observed error in others, 
 it was with a view of correcting it in her- 
 self; and she ever felt triumph in the 
 discovery of a virtue, since it added one 
 more example to the catalogue of human 
 excellence. Sir William loved her not 
 alone as the gay companion of his social 
 hours, the syren who chaced care and 
 
1 6 2 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 languor from his heart ; but as the wise 
 and dispassionate friend, whose judgment 
 strengthened his reason, and whose vir- 
 tuous example ennobled his nature. 
 
 “ 1 entered the gay circles of life,” said 
 he, one day, when our conversation 
 turned on the advantages of education in 
 women ; “ I entered the gay circles of 
 life full of academic enthusiasm, having 
 studied women only in books. I believed 
 them all angels. Love approached me 
 under a thousand bewitching forms, and 
 my muse, obedient to my fervent invoca- 
 tions, exhausted the regions of fancy and 
 illustration, to deck each fleeting idol. 
 Disappointed enthusiasm soon sinks into 
 misanthropy, as tepid water freezes faster 
 than temperate. I set out on a tour to the 
 Continent, an idolater of the sex ; but 
 having detected a few instances of treach- 
 ery, meanness, and vice, adorned by bril- 
 liant talents and fascinating manners, the 
 ideas of intellectual refinement and depra- 
 vity of heart became so united in my 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 163 
 
 mind, that I could never behold the former 
 without suspecting the latter its com- 
 panion. I learned to mistrust the soft air 
 of attractive complacency, the melting 
 tongue of sentiment, and the playful viva- 
 city of wit, which I believed were merely 
 brought forward like jewels, to sparkle in 
 society, and were then laid by as too fine 
 for the domestic circle and every-day 
 life. I discovered artifice in every word, 
 deceit in every smile, and accused the entire 
 sex of the faults of a few. Thus it is that 
 a knowledge of vice is called a knowledge 
 of the world. In short, I learned to des- 
 pise woman because chance and my own 
 want of discrimination brought me ac- 
 quainted with a few “ fair defects of na- 
 ture and when the death of my father 
 obliged me to return to England, I re- 
 solved to retrieve the wasted patrimony 
 of my ancestors by a prudent marriage, and 
 to secure the peace and honor of my life by 
 a union with prudence and unsophisticated 
 simplicity. I therefore shunned the gay, 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 1 64 
 
 the accomplished, and the beautiful, and 
 turned my attention to the insipid, whom 
 I called mild — the ignorant, whom I called 
 innocent — and the silent, whom I called 
 modest. These passive patterns of conju- 
 gal security, these stately models of nega- 
 tive virtues and unobtruding worth, these 
 are they to whom we impute amiable 
 qualities, because we see that they do not 
 possess agreeable ones. Thus the want of 
 excellence secures some from censure, for 
 all are willing to praise whom none can 
 envv, while we should never hear of the 
 faults of others were it not for their merits. 
 
 iC At length my heart (no, not my 
 heart, but my reason) made an election, 
 flattered by the undisguised attentions of 
 a familv whose fortunes and connexions 
 
 J 
 
 appeared to me unexceptionable. I be- 
 came the cold, listless lover of Elizabeth ; 
 my self-love was flattered at what 1 con- 
 sidered a distinguished preference, for- 
 getting that her want of attractions was 
 my best security against rivals, and that she 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 l6S 
 
 who has had no opportunity of selecting, 
 but accepts a lover merely because he is 
 the first that offers, can give no very flat- 
 tering proof of discrimination. It was a 
 protracted, prudent courtship, enlivened 
 neither by hopes nor by fears. 
 
 “ I consoled myself with the idea that 
 the prudence of the wife would repay me 
 for the insipidity of the mistress ; and her 
 apparent freedom from some faults recon- 
 ciled me to the absence of many perfec- 
 tions. But the want of active virtues 
 often produce real evils, and those nega- 
 tive qualities which fit us for solitude are 
 insufficient for the busy, ensnaring, try- 
 ing scenes of life. I drew arguments to 
 strengthen myself in the sacrifice I medi- 
 tated from the very unwillingness I felt to 
 make it. I fancied, that because I was 
 Tendering myself miserable, I must cer- 
 tainly be actuated by wise and pure 
 motives. I forgot, that to be the slave 
 of prejudice is as bad as to be the slave 
 of passion, and never suspected my- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 l66 
 
 self to be under an illusion, since that 
 illusion carried with it no charm. Tn 
 short, I deceived myself by my very 
 efforts to secure myself against deception. 
 
 t£ But the mists of error were soon dis- 
 pelled, and the moment that first presented 
 Caroline to my eyes seemed to me the 
 commencement of a new existence! I 
 saw her beautiful and admired; yet simple, 
 sincere, and unaffected, her heart over- 
 flowing with cheerfulness and sensibility, 
 tempered with thoughtful dignity and 
 self-possession, tier’s was not the acci- 
 dental prudence of circumstance and si- 
 tuation, of apathy or pride, nor the fleet- 
 ing effervescence of sentiment, uncertain 
 in duration and changing in principle; it 
 was the calm security of a heart governed 
 by reason and religion, which no sophistry 
 could deceive, and accompanied with a 
 grace so winning, an air so free from pru- 
 dery and restraint, that the most unfeel- 
 ing and depraved were forced to acknow- 
 ledge its power ; and the practice was ad- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 16'/ 
 
 mired even when the principle was rejected. 
 
 “ I now looked back with horror and 
 surprise to that phantom which a fastidi- 
 ous suspiciousness had conjured up and 
 dignified with the name of virtue. How 
 prejudice perverts the best understanding! 
 how soon a prudent caution degenerates 
 into unjust suspicion ! and how ingenious- 
 ly does the vanity of thinking differently 
 from others teach us to argue ! Excellen- 
 cies become faults, and faults perfections. 
 We lay down a maxim ; to support 
 which, we see actions not as they are, but 
 as we w ish them to be, employ sophistry 
 to convince others, which deceives only 
 ourselves, and end by sacrificing our happi- 
 ness to a chimerical necessity. I had cal- 
 culated on the correct principles of a wo- 
 man, merely because I saw in her none of 
 those attractive graces (which, though they 
 may be copied by vice, are the natural effects 
 of virtue) ; I mistook the modesty of neg- 
 lect for thedeiicatereserveof feminineti nu- 
 dity ; I forgot how r little reliance ought to 
 
168 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 be placed on a heart that never reveals 
 itself, and that if reserve be a proof of gen- 
 tleness and prudence, it is as often a proof 
 of stupidity or sullen carelessness, which, 
 incapable of pleasing or feeling pleasure, 
 takes refuge under the imposing aspect of 
 diffidence, and with its own darkness 
 shadows the surrounding objects. 
 
 “ Docile meekness and blushing sim- 
 plicity, however amiable as part of a cha- 
 racter, are a miserable substitute for that 
 intelligence, that mental charm, which 
 speaks to the understanding as well as to 
 the heart, which gives dignity to beauty and 
 sentiment to timidity, which secures a 
 husband from the terror of seeing his 
 wife, instead of the elegant hostess, 
 acting the awkward novice, rude and 
 vulgar from mauvaise honte , and sullen 
 from conscious inferiority. The best 
 protection against ignoble passions and 
 dangerous pursuits, is the possession of a 
 various, refined, and cultivated under- 
 standing. Devoid of such resources, we 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. lC>9 
 
 lean upon the hollow pomp of worldly 
 situation, to support the falling fabric of 
 self importance, or plunge into the giddy 
 vortex of dissipation, to keep the vapid 
 mind from preying upon itself. A simple 
 and uninformed mind, be it ever so vir- 
 tuously inclined, is liable to be imposed 
 on by specious appearances and sophistical 
 ingenuity ; but an experienced and culti- 
 vated understanding, a habit of observa- 
 tion and reasoning, teach not alone to 
 triumph over temptation, but, wiser still, 
 to foresee and avoid it. 
 
 “ Whoever looks abroad into the world, 
 and observes folly and depravity that were 
 once simplicity, will confess that the head 
 is the best preceptor to the heart, and that 
 ignorance is almost another name for vice. 
 Shall we then make that a criterion in 
 choosing a wife, which we would reject in 
 every other relation of life? Shall we en- 
 deavour to exalt her virtues, by degrading 
 her nature? Since we cannot make the 
 world as it ought to be, and must live in 
 
 i 
 
i;o 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 it as it is ; since we cannot make a world 
 suited to her, we must suit her to the 
 world. Virtuous emotions are so strongly 
 implanted in our natures, that few would 
 be seduced by vice, did it not steal into 
 the heart under the attractive semblance 
 of virtue. Substituting the love of virtue 
 for its duties, we shed upon our actions 
 the lustre of the virtuous impulses that 
 preceded them. Can that knowledge, 
 then, be useless or dangerous, which 
 shews us with what delusive sophistry the 
 heart may impose on itself and be undone; 
 which discovers to us the flattering falla- 
 cies of self-love ; which convinces us that 
 an impartial investigation of our own 
 hearts is necessary in a world where tender- 
 ness, sensibility, every fond and cherished 
 affection of the heart may be the very 
 means of betraying it ? In a word, to 
 avoid evil, we must know it ; to shun 
 danger, we must anticipate it. Better td 
 learn experience from others, than dearly 
 to purchase it ourselves. It is too late 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 1^1 
 
 for simplicity to say, £ Alas, I have been 
 deceived !’ ” 
 
 Sir William smiled at his own warmth. 
 <e 1 am well aware,” said he, “ that a false 
 construction might be put upon my words 
 by those who argue for ever in extremes; 
 who believe all or nothing; who either grasp 
 an opinion at the first glance, and adhere 
 to it with pertinacious obstinacy, or reject 
 with contempt what they have not patience 
 to examine or judgment to comprehend : 
 to such minds i should never address my- 
 self on this or any other subject that re- 
 quires candid and liberal discussion. They 
 would suppose, that because I do not con- 
 sider silence an undoubted proof of pru- 
 dence, wisdom, and modesty, I would 
 therefore recommend loquacity as an in- 
 dispensable qualification, and make all 
 virtue consist in boisterous spirits, laughter, 
 and frolic ; or that, when I talk of igno- 
 rance being another name for vice, I would 
 make every woman a scholar, teach her to 
 wage war with the chronologists, philoso- 
 
172 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 pliers, and logicians of the day, and bid 
 her hurl the thunders of Greek and Latin 
 at the head of a presumptuous lover. Such 
 studies would certainly defend her against 
 the flattering snares of admiration and love; 
 but 1 should be sorry to see her protected 
 by a want of attractions, and the graceful 
 elegance of feminine acquirements lost in 
 the jargon of scholastic pedantry and the 
 formality of scientific precision. If igno- 
 rance is dangerous on the one hand, pe- 
 dantry is disgusting on the other. 
 
 ‘ f I should wish to see a woman learned 
 enough to think justly and converse ra- 
 tionally ; to add to the charms of society 
 by those light and affecting touches which 
 the heart alone can inspire, but which re- 
 quire the polish of literature to express 
 with elegance and grace, which makes wit 
 at one poignant and delicate, and tempers 
 gaiety by a habit of thinking and reasoning. 
 Nature should be ornamented, not dis- 
 torted; and while a literary taste renders 
 a woman independent of society, and 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 173 
 
 enables her to dispense with those frivolous 
 pleasures which often lead her into scenes 
 of extravagance and dissipation, it also fits 
 her to be the companion of a man of sense, 
 and to reward a life of study and thought 
 by an intelligent participation in his pur- 
 suits.” 
 
174 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 In enumerating the advantages which 
 woman derives from education, Sir William 
 overlooked one of the most essential to 
 herself as well as to society in general ; I 
 mean, as it affects her conduct in the rela- 
 tion of a mother. That the impressions of 
 infancy are radically interwoven with the 
 future character, is universally allowed : 
 the temper is then formed, the mind re- 
 ceives its bias, and it requires not alone a 
 penetrating judgment to discover the nice 
 intricacies of that assemblage of contradic- 
 tions, the human heart, but' a wise and 
 judicious management, to enable us to suit 
 the various means of improvement to the 
 capacity, temper, and disposition of each 
 individual. This talent of discovering 
 character, of tracing the passions to their 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. I? $ 
 
 remotest cause, and knowing by what as- 
 sociations the mind may be governed, is 
 the practical philosophy which makes 
 mankind wiser and happier. It is not 
 alone a necessary qualification in the orator, 
 the statesman, and the poet ; but it forms 
 the liberal companion in private life ; it 
 corrects the prejudices of mankind, and 
 fits us for the high and important task of 
 educating youth. 
 
 But how many amiable women, with 
 the best possible intentions, for want of an 
 enlarged view of the subject, lay the 
 foundation of future misery for themselves 
 and their children. They ask you, what 
 more a mother can do, than teach her 
 children their prayers and their lessons ; 
 whip them when they are bold, and treat 
 them with toys and sweetmeats when they 
 are good ? Others rest their claims upon 
 thatdoating fondness which can refuse the 
 little angels nothing. “ Infancy,” they 
 say, “ is the sweet season of innocence 
 and joy ; when, forgetful of the past, care- 
 
1?6 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 Jess of the future, and enjoying with avi- 
 dity the new and attractive pleasures of 
 life, it seems appointed by Heaven as the 
 only period of existence free from anxiety 
 and regret. How cruel,” they exclaim, 
 “ to anticipate those sorrows which the 
 world has yet in store for them, and make 
 the heart of infancy, so pure, so unsus- 
 pecting, so full of hope, rapture, and ex- 
 pectation, taste the bitter cup of disap- 
 pointment while yet unacquainted with 
 its name !” 
 
 Such is the language of maternal ten- 
 derness. When yielding to the softness of a 
 mother’s love, it ceases to perform a mo- 
 ther’s duty ! and to save a few infant tears, 
 whose course is arrested by a smile, per- 
 mits those storms to gather which over- 
 whelm their mature years with misery and 
 crimes. Fatal indulgence! the liberty they 
 now enjoy is dearly purchased by future 
 slavery ; for what bondage so cruel as that 
 of the passions ? what tyrant so despotic 
 as a vitiated heart? But unjust severity 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. l/J) 
 
 eause it is introduced under an unpleasing 
 form : it is imposed on children as a task; 
 their Catechism has procured them as 
 many whippings as their grammar, and 
 they are forced to read the Scriptures as a 
 punishment for idleness. But if the Deity 
 were spoken of as all-good and all-powerful 
 by a tender mother in moments of affec- 
 tion ; if his love and goodness were dwelt 
 upon, instead of the terrors of his wrath ; 
 if every thing relative to religion wore the 
 appearance of gladdening the heart, and a 
 participation in its exercises were held out 
 as a reward, and united with an idea of 
 glory, honor, and felicity; the young heart 
 would learn to associate a sacred and noble 
 pleasure with its name, and would for ever 
 retain so sweet an impression. 
 
 Few parents think of instructing their 
 children through the medium of familiar 
 conversation ; if they supply them with 
 books and masters, and teach the outward 
 forms of good breeding, they think they 
 have fulfilled their duty ; but it is in the 
 
ISO 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 domestic circle, when the heart is un- 
 folded by kindness, when opinions are free- 
 ly given and candidly discussed, it is then 
 the young mind begins to investigate and 
 reason, to distinguish between virtue and 
 the semblance of it, to form opinions in- 
 dependent of fashion and prejudice, and, 
 by investigating the hearts of others, dis- 
 cover all the weakness of their own. 
 
 Thus children know the world before 
 they encounter its snares ; and parents, by 
 discovering the extent of their understand- 
 ings and the peculiar bias of their minds, 
 are enabled to direct their remarks to the 
 advantage of each, and to instruct without 
 the ungracious formality of lectures. 
 
 But how can she, who has never ex- 
 amined her own heart, know how to judge 
 of others ? Can she, who k nows no vir- 
 tues but those of habit and constraint ; 
 who has ever had some one to think for 
 her and direct her actions, without con- 
 vincing her understanding; who has been 
 taught to consider every exertion of her 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 177 
 
 injures even more than neglect ; it corrodes 
 the heart with discontent, teaches cunning 
 and hyprocrisy, creates every malignant 
 passion while it smothers every noble one, 
 and, by robbing youth of innocent recrea- 
 tions, inspires a taste for low and danger- 
 ous amusements. What a woeful picture 
 do some domestic scenes present, where 
 the cheerful smile and sportive sally of 
 youth are repressed, and the trembling 
 group of weeping sufferers, in all the tor 
 turing shackles of collars and stocks, sit 
 prim, sullen, and demure, sob out the 
 detested task, and ponder a thousand 
 schemes of remuneration when freed from 
 the hateful bondage that looks to them like 
 tyranny and caprice. 
 
 Some reading ladies, resolved to soar 
 above vulgar prejudices, study those t£ dull 
 receipts” for education, and follow with 
 blind credulity every wild and i mpracticable 
 theory they contain. Incapable of form- 
 ing an opinion independent of books, they 
 1 5 
 
178 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 become dupes to the “ vulgar prejudices 
 of the learned,” forgetting that many re- 
 commend a system, not to benefit man- 
 kind, but to display their own ingenuity ; 
 that a man of genius sometimes talks non- 
 sense, and that every theory should be 
 governed by circumstances. 
 
 It is the business of a mother to study 
 the hearts of her children, and to know 
 how to apply general rules to particular 
 instances. Whatever impressions we would 
 wish to make indeiible, should be intro- 
 duced in the most pleasing form, and as- 
 sociated with agreeable images. Moral 
 truths should be drawn from the passing 
 events of the day, from those little inci- 
 dents, which, by striking the fancy, arrest 
 the attention, and gradually lead the mind 
 into that vague and undefined reverie 
 which lays it open to impressions either 
 dangerous or useful. Why is not religion 
 made as agreeable to the minds of vouth 
 as many less noble studies ? Simply be- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 183 
 
 young mind. In such a variety, there 
 will be always found some with vicious 
 dispositions; and one ill-disposed child can 
 taint an entire school. And what is to be 
 acquired there, which can compensate 
 such dangers ? — a superficial knowledge of 
 music executed without taste or judgment 
 — a few shewy drawings manufactured by 
 the master — theatrical grimace instead of 
 dancing, and levity disguised under a de- 
 mure and studied decorum. Such an edu- 
 cation might suit the sex, had they no 
 higher destination than to sing and dance 
 like slaves, before their lords, the despised 
 and ignoble toy of his vacant hours \ but 
 it cannot fit them for the dignified rela- 
 tions of a wife, a mother, and a mistress 
 of a family ; it cannot make them com- 
 panions for a man of sense, nor accustom 
 them to the management of those domestic 
 concerns which are the province of every 
 woman, from the peeress to the peasant. 
 A fashionable education is dearly pur- 
 chased with such sacrifices! how much 
 
184 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 more captivating are the si triple graces of 
 nature, when the heart is warm and the 
 understanding cultivated, than the prim 
 and artificial manners of one of those over- 
 educated misses who fancy themselves 
 finished patterns of elegance because na- 
 ture has yielded her empire to art and 
 affectation. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 181 
 
 understanding unfeininine and presumptu- 
 ous ; can a being so superficial perform a 
 task of such importance? No, she will 
 make her children formal automatons or 
 vicious romps ; she will spoil them one 
 half the day, and whip them the other. 
 
 In choosing a companion for life, a wise 
 man will consider all this ; he will ask 
 himself how he would feel if, in the mother 
 of his children, he beheld a being incapable 
 of forming their minds to virtue ; one 
 whose weak indulgence or injudicious in- 
 struction, instead of repressing, would 
 increase their natural faults, and whose 
 insipid conversation could neither inspire' 
 them with respect for herself nor create 
 one elevated sentiment. 
 
 Oh, what must be the feelings of a fond 
 father, when forced to relinquish to 
 strangers the important task which ma- 
 ternal love ought to fulfil; when his 
 daughters, exiled from his house, are con- 
 signed -to the uncertain guidance of mer- 
 cenary hirelings, and subjected to the 
 
182 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST, 
 
 contamination of a public school. There 
 they may possibly become accomplished 
 girls : but what is to make them virtuous 
 women ? Is it among fifty or sixty noisy 
 romps that they are to imbibe correct prin- 
 ciples and domestic tastes? Possibly they 
 may sometimeshear formal lectures on reli- 
 gion and vi rlue ; but such lectures cannot be 
 adapted to the particular tempers and dis- 
 positions of each individual, for in a pub- 
 lic school there is neither time nor motive 
 for such minute investigation. Its fame 
 depends upon the shevvy accomplishments 
 of the pupils : it may ingraft learning, but 
 it does not prune vices; it may teach young 
 ladies to talk, but it seldom furnishes them 
 with materials for conversation ; it may 
 make artists and scholars, coquettes and 
 opera-dancers, but it can never inspire 
 the virtues nor correct the errors of the 
 heart, like the watchful solicitude of ma- 
 ternal love. 
 
 The indiscriminate society of a board- 
 ing-school is dangerous to the purity of a 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 185 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 The society round Sir William’s cot- 
 tage, though perhaps not individually su- 
 perior to that near Castle G , was 
 
 more agreeable in its effect; it owed its 
 charms not to mere brilliant wit, mere 
 dazzling acquirements — not to the pomp 
 of equipage, nor the fictitious stimulant of 
 public amusements— it was the calm enjoy- 
 ment of rational conversation without the 
 labour of disputation or anxieties of rival 
 talent; the polish more of sentiment than 
 of fashion, that sincere cordiality of man- 
 ner which never fails to create the senti- 
 ment it expresses — it was, in a word, that 
 something which no tongue can describe, 
 but which every heart acknowledges. 
 
 Here, at length, 1 reposed myself in 
 confidence and security ; every kind 
 
186 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 emotion was unfolded by the intercourse 
 of congenial minds, and I became gra- 
 dually reconciled to the world wdien I 
 found I had yet something to hope for 
 and enjoy. I could say : “ This is no illu- 
 sion of the senses, no impracticable dream 
 of rapture and perfection ; it is a sober 
 conviction of my understanding, the result 
 of reason more than of passion ; it is the 
 contentment of a heart corrected by dis- 
 appointment, humbled, but not broken.” 
 Every day discovered some new trait of 
 excellence in the characters of this amiable 
 family : their friendship, displayed with- 
 out ostentation, was soothing to my feel- 
 ings and flattering to my pride. To them 
 I could bear to be obliged ; for every favor 
 was conferred with such ease and cordial 
 good will, that I lost all the pain of obli- 
 gation, and felt conscious of nothing but 
 the kindness of the giver. Thank Heaven, 
 I have none of that ungracious delicacy 
 which is satisfied to appear unfriendly 
 rather than risk being thought obtrusive !. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 is; 
 
 The whole family united in the humane 
 effort of drawing me from the contempla- 
 tion of past sorrows. The task was easier 
 than they imagined ; they employed the 
 most delicate address and judicious argu- 
 ments. But though argument might have 
 convinced, it was experience and feeling 
 alone which could produce a radical 
 change in my sentiments. They might 
 talk with the wisdom of Socrates and the 
 ei^uence of Cicero., but one smile from 
 Julia was more persuasive than all their 
 periods; and the most glowing description 
 of earthly felicity, the most finished pic- 
 ture of human excellence would have 
 failed to affect me, had I never known the 
 virtues nor experienced the happiness 
 which dwelt in their domestic circle. In 
 fact, the greatest happiness I enjoyed was 
 not being obliged to appear happy. I 
 never found myself called on to act the 
 delighted guest and admiring auditor, nor 
 was forced to light up my eyes and look 
 excessively vivacious, or else run the risk 
 
188 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 of hearing half sullen, half humble apolo- 
 gies for the dullness of the house. There 
 was no exertion made to amuse me, and 
 for that reason not a moment hung heavy- 
 on my hands. 
 
 Some very civil people think that the 
 greatest misfortune in life is to be left 
 alone, and accordingly worry their unfor- 
 tunate visitors with an eternal attendance. 
 Sir William’s family had very different 
 ideas of politeness. I wandered amiost 
 the luxuriant shades that skirted the lake, 
 unmolested by polite intruders. I re- 
 turned to the drawing-room, without 
 having to answer a volley of silly questions 
 about the heat of the sun or the coldness 
 of the wind : no one laid by their books 
 at my approach, and I was suffered to 
 choose my own seat without the lap-dog 
 being trod on or the screen upset to hand 
 me one. Sweetly did memory bring back 
 the occurrences of every past day ; the be- 
 witching manners, the amiable sentiments, 
 the playful graces of the lively enchantress 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 189 
 
 who graced our solitude, were ever present 
 to my imagination ; the refreshing air con- 
 veyed joy and vigour to my spirits, and 
 wherever my eyes turned, the most sub- 
 lime and affecting objects of nature pre- 
 sented themselves to my view. 
 
 But often would I quit the valley where 
 fragance, shade, and music, united their 
 spells to detain me, and hastily climbing 
 the mountain’s side, turn from the ex- 
 tended lake, the ample groves, and pointed 
 tops of those mountains, which seemed to 
 form a barrier between the world and me, 
 to seek that blest abode where every wish 
 of my soul was now centered. With what 
 tears of fond delight have I gazed and al- 
 most worshipped ; for I knew that an 
 angel dwelt there, and I thought of it as 
 1 would of Heaven! The first sound I 
 heard in the morning was the voice of 
 Julia singing; it was the last sound I 
 heard at night. I never entered her com- 
 pany without feeling my spirits cheered 
 and refreshed ; her kind eyes made their 
 
190 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 way to the heart, they shone with the best 
 feelings of humanity, and whoever felt 
 their influence, imbibed a portion of the 
 sentiment by which they were enlivened. 
 Our family circle at Sir William’s was the 
 scene in which her talents and virtues ap- 
 peared most conspicuous. It was then 
 she displayed all that delicate address 
 which renders instruction so delightful, 
 that tenderness of soul without which 
 beauty ceases to captivate and virtue to 
 charm, all those fascinating graces which 
 make the influence of woman so fatal w hen 
 ill directed, or so affecting an incitement 
 to every thing virtuous and noble. 
 
 Julia presented a striking instance of 
 that union of captivating graces and sober 
 virtues, which those, who have known only 
 the worst part of the sex, are so apt to 
 reckon incompatible with each other ; her 
 charms were the offspring of her virtues ; 
 it was the sweetness of her disposition that 
 gave to her countenance that ineffable ex- 
 pression of benignity which constitutes its 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 191 
 
 highest charms ; her elegance of manner 
 was the combined result of benevolence 
 and good sense, the composure of inno- 
 cence, discrimination to see what is agree- 
 able, and good nature to practise it. 
 
 When the playful sallies of a lively and 
 brilliant imagination diffused their cheer- 
 ing influence around, the most attentive 
 observer could discover nothing but the 
 artless overflowings of an innocent heart at 
 peace with itself and all the world, free at 
 once from melancholy retrospection, and 
 gloomy forebodings. Nothing is so diffi- 
 cult as to trifle agreeably, to talk nonsense 
 without being foolish, to be gay without 
 levity, and witty without buffoonery. 
 When the heart lays itself open in mirth, 
 an attentive observer will discover traits of 
 character which would not be betrayed in 
 years of formal intercourse. Thus we 
 often see the most demure manners veiling 
 the most depraved hearts, because a studied 
 and cautious reserve is the only resource 
 
192 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 of her who dares not be natural lest she 
 should he impudent : while, secure in 
 native purity, the transparent soul of in- 
 nocence fears no detection. 
 
 Wherever Julia appeared, pleasure fol- 
 lowed in her train ; she united elegance 
 with simplicity, and sentiment with mirth. 
 Often, when! thought myself only amused 
 by her wit, my attention was arrested by 
 some profound and original idea, and my 
 heart was touched by the unaffected gran- 
 deur of her sentiments. Thus, while the 
 charms of her conversation “ took the pri- 
 soned soul and raptitinElysium,” still that 
 pure and gentle heart, nobly superior to 
 vanity, wished to be loved for its virtues 
 alone. Julia was too proud to be vain : 
 pride can take root only in great minds, 
 for it requires a rich soil to nourish it ; 
 while vanity, wafted on each light breath 
 of flattery, is scattered without judgment, 
 and flourishes in the most barren soil. 
 
 To promote the happiness of all those 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 133 
 
 within her circle, was the study of her 
 life, and the means which she employed 
 was promoting their virtues. Ever atten- 
 tive to the wants of others, zealous in the 
 cause of the unhappy, she was the friend 
 of all who required her assistance, the 
 enemy of nothing but vice ; her heart was 
 the seat of beneficence and love ; from her 
 lips flowed the language of kindness, and 
 her smile was that of conciliation and peace. 
 Was Julia to become an ordinary woman, 
 stripped at once of all those graces by 
 which she is so eminently distinguished, 
 still she would possess virtues which would 
 ever insure her the love and esteem of all 
 her acquaintance ; then Julia would be 
 cried up as a pattern of domestic virtues, 
 of prudence, and good sense ; but because 
 she has superadded to those qualities 
 attractive and brilliant manners, envy 
 calls her superficial, suspicion doubts 
 her prudence, ignorance fears, and stupi- 
 dity cannot understand her. 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 194 
 
 Such is the reward of superior excellence. 
 Who then would seek popularity when it 
 can be obtained only by ceasing to deserve 
 it ? Better to be loved by few, and by 
 those well, than to be in every one’s mouth 
 and in no one’s heart. 
 
 It was in vain to attempt deceiving my- 
 self as to the nature of my attachment to 
 Julia ; but though I sometimes dared to 
 flatter myself that her eyes spoke a lan- 
 guage most flattering to my hopes, I read 
 my destiny in my own merit, and de- 
 spairing of success, resolved to withdraw 
 from the dangerous contemplation. 
 
 Again was I indebted to the friendship 
 of Augustus. “ Could you,” said he, “by 
 relinquishing the pursuit, forget the ob- 
 ject, then it would be for you to choose 
 between a state of certain but negative 
 content, or the chances of felicity with 
 her : but this is no boyish attachment ; 
 you are now arrived at an age when the 
 heart obeys the voice of reason ; you have 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. I95 
 
 seen much of the world ; you know women 
 well, and are no longer the dupe of roman- 
 tic sensibility. From my knowledge of 
 your disposition, and the observations I 
 have lately made, I am convinced, that, 
 however you may have deceived yourself, 
 you never really loved any woman but 
 Julia, and I believe the passion inspired 
 by such a woman is not easily overcome. 
 But because there is a chance of your fail- 
 ing, you wisely resolve not to give yourself 
 an opportunity of succeeding ; you make 
 that certain which was merely possible, 
 and remind me of a man who, being told 
 by a necromancer that he would die on a 
 certain day, poisoned himself through 
 terror ! 
 
 “I admire decent humility, and esteem 
 the man who rather undervalues his own 
 merits; but when humility sinks and de- 
 bases the mind, checks ns in the pursuit 
 of happiness and honorable fame ; when it 
 teaches us to fly from fancied evils, and 
 
196 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 to act upon mere doubts, as if they were 
 realities — then humility degenerates into 
 meanness, and the most amiable quality 
 becomes the parent of the most ignoble 
 vices. Believe me, humility often creates 
 obstacles by supposing them, and we lose 
 more by fearing to attempt, than by un- 
 worthiness to succeed ! But suppose, for 
 a moment, that Julia, so far from intend- 
 ing to reject your suit, has already be- 
 stowed her affections in the full assurance 
 of the passion’s being reciprocal ; what will 
 you be guilty of, if, obeying a rash impulse 
 of pride, you fly from the anticipated re- 
 jection, and leave her a prey to eternal 
 regret and disappointment r Ah, my 
 friend, a man should consider how far his 
 pride will permit him to go, before he risks 
 the peace of a female heart by those dan- 
 gerous little attentions, which, though not 
 obtrusive, are striking ; which may be felt, 
 but cannot be questioned.” 
 
 Augustus was right ; he knew the heart 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 197 
 
 of my faithful and tender Julia ; I yielded 
 to his arguments, and received from her 
 lips the sweet assurance which renders me 
 the happiest of men. 
 
 K 3 
 
198 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 How little, in the first paroxysms of my 
 wild despair, did I foresee the possibility 
 of such a revolution in my heart. I yielded 
 to the sensations of the moment — sensa- 
 tions which 1 believed to be indelible, and 
 felt, that, next to the evil I had already 
 endured, a state of tranquillity would be 
 the greatest misfortune that could befal 
 me. But if the mind could explore futu- 
 rity, and anticipate the inevitable change 
 which even one year produces in our feel- 
 ings, the voice of despair would be silent, 
 and the uplifted arm of the suicide would 
 drop into the humble posture of resigna- 
 tion, or be raised to Heaven in the ardent 
 expression of thanksgiving and hope. 
 
 While suffering the cruel pangs of hope- 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. ’ 
 
 199 
 
 less disappointment, I returned to a world 
 I detested ; 1 returned not to enjoy life, 
 but to gratify the malignity of a wounded 
 heart, by “ tracing the hidden recesses of 
 that den of folly — the human mind.” I 
 was not disappointed : I met abundance of 
 follies, vices, and errors ; but, encouraged 
 by success, and hoping that the deeper I 
 dived into the motives and springs of hu- 
 man action, the more I should be strength- 
 ened in those sentiments of abhorrence 
 which I loved to cherish, I laid aside my 
 gloomy and suspicious air of misanthropy, 
 and gradually insinuated myself into inti- 
 macy and confidence. But intimacy, 
 while it adds nothing to the catalogue of 
 human imperfection, discovers a thousand 
 latent springs of good, and by layingopenthe 
 motives that actuate, and the feelings that 
 incite, often proves even our worst actions 
 the consequence of some splendid decep- 
 tion, some passion that originated perhaps 
 in an amiable sensibility, some subtle irri- 
 
200 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 position of the understanding, which, 
 though fatal in their result, still prove that 
 the heart is more weak than depraved. 
 
 Often, where the rudest and most fero- 
 cious vices dwell, some spontaneous vir- 
 tues burst forth with an uncontrolled and 
 striking vehemence, leaving us in doubt 
 whether fear, hatred, or respect, are the 
 feelings most excited. But in the pride 
 of cynical philosophy, we forget the com- 
 pound nature of the human heart, where 
 virtues and vices are so closely allied, that 
 the one is often lost in the other. We see 
 actions of vice with motives of virtue, while 
 motives degrading to our nature often lead 
 to honorable results in the world. In the 
 rapid glance of superficial observation, we 
 are struck by the bold and conspicuous 
 features of a landscape, and overlook its 
 mild and unobtruding beauties. Thus 
 one fault is observed, while a thousand 
 virtues are neglected. An infamous cha- 
 racter is soon blazoned abroad, morality 
 
THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 201 
 
 exposes it as an object of abhorrence, and 
 wit employs its lighter weapons to render it 
 contemptible. But virtue, whose scene 
 is retirement, wiiose best deeds are per- 
 formed in secret, glides peaceful through 
 the happy walks of private life, unnoticed 
 and unpraised. 
 
 Self-love is the source whence our dis- 
 content to mankind proceeds : in propor- 
 tion as we prize and value ourselves, we 
 are sensible to every wound, every neglect, 
 which chance more than malice inflicts. 
 Making ourselves the centra! point round 
 which everything revolves, we judge of 
 actions only as they affect our peculiar 
 tastes, prejudices, or interests : we call a 
 man the worst on earth, because he has 
 injured ourselves ; while the man we most 
 esteem has perhaps equally injured another. 
 And while the arrogance of self-love con- 
 tinually draws upon us that contempt to 
 which, at the same time, it renders us so 
 sensitive, we are ignorant that in our 
 
202 
 
 THE MISANTHROPIST. 
 
 own heart lies the cause, whose effect vve 
 so loudly censure and so feelingly deplore. 
 It is experience which corrects the gloomy 
 prejudices of misanthropy, it shews man 
 a being made up of contradictions — even 
 in his greatness mean — even in his folly 
 interesting: it teaches that he is no where 
 so fallen and depraved as not to possess 
 some amiable qualities ; that the spark 
 of divine light, though it may lie dormant, 
 is never wholly extinct ; but that, to ex- 
 pect perfection, is to ensure disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 finis. 
 
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