may remember, has been censured by many, as drawing too gloomy a picture of the objects surrounding him.

Phil. I see it in precisely the same colours as De la Rochefoucault. His picture is uncommonly faithful and just; and his defence, as set up by the celebrated Helvetius, must be satisfactory to every observing man. "La connaissance de ces idées (les idées de l'amourpropre), aurait préservé M. de la Rochefoucault du reproche tant répété, qu'il voyait l'humanité trop en noir; il l'a connue telle qu'elle est. Je conviens que la vue nette de l'indifférence de presque tous les hommes à notre égard est un spectacle affligeant pour notre vanité; mais, enfin, il faut prendre les hommes comme ils sont. S'irriter contre les effets de leur amour-propre, c'est se plaindre des giboulées du printemps, des ardeurs de l'été, des pluies de l'automne, et des glaces de l'hiver."*

Gen. This is a concise but able justification of that excellent philosopher. In the passage, however, which you have quoted from Helvetius, whose reasoning, it must at the same time be owned, is generally cogent and close, I do not clearly perceive in what manner our pride should be so greatly hurt at the base indifference of man to man; unless, indeed, he means in the persons of those who are soliciting-who " duck the learned pate to the golden fool." With others, who are at the same time possessed of virtue, it must be precisely the reverse. The degeneracy of their fellows necessarily gives them an opportunity of showing themselves to advantage, and their pride is consequently gratified by the event; for, to prove himself superior to common mortals, and be linked to "an higher order," (as a late philosopher has termed it, when virtue, truth, and beneficence were found to predominate in the breast,) must surely be the height of ambition in man.

Phil. "What we resemble the gods in most," says a

heathen moralist, " are truth and beneficence:" the very excellences at which you point.

Since you speak of "an higher order," how beautiful is the sentiment of an Indian philosopher, which I will give you in the words of the admired writer who has recorded it. "Entendraije toujours, disait un philosophe Indien, les riches s'écrier Seigneur, frappe quiconque nous dérobe la moindre parcelle de nos biens; tandis que, d'un voix plaintive et les mains étendues vers le ciel, le pauvre dit: Seigneur, fais-moi part des biens que tu prodigues au riche; et si de plus infortunés m'en enlèvent une partie, je n'implorerai point ta vengeance, et je considerai ces larcins de l'oeil dont on voit, au temps des semailles, les colombes se répandre dans les champs pour y chercher leur nourriture."

Gen. This sentiment is certainly the effusion of a benevolent heart, and might, could we boast of another "golden age," be entitled to praise; but, in the present state of the world, it is both morally and politically wrong; and such kind of indulgence, or lenity, would open a door to repeated impositions. The honest man who cannot find employment, and the desperate villain who will not engage in it, and between whom, perhaps, we cannot immediately distinguish, may be equally poor; and, consequently, on the principle laid down by the Indian, expect to become both, in some sort, partakers in our possessions. You may, on a little reflection, perceive what a torrent of abuses would be let in by passing over the depredations in question, however small; and that this toleration, were it once admitted in some few instances, would shortly lead to contention for a community of goods; and which, although it has been seriously taken up by many of our countrymen, is certainly, in the highest degree Utopian.

Phil. The honest and the dishonest must then be equally objects of neglect?

Gen. I say not that; there is provision for the honest but indigent man.

Phil. And punishment for the poor and petty rogue. The provision you speak of, however, is neither wisely nor fairly applied.

Gen. And of punishment you may say the same.

In

a well-regulated government, in a well-compacted state, there would be little temptation to fraud; for man, it should be remembered, is not, generally speaking, by nature a rogue and a plunderer: it is not from propensity, except in some few instances, but exigency, that he is found to be such. That punishment is necessary, I readily admit the abandoned villain is the growth of every country. But I insist, that far the greater portion of those whom we brand with the opprobrious name are more deserving of pity than punishment; as they are hurried into evil courses by pressing and irresistible want. The sound politician, therefore, will not think so much on punishments as on rewards; but hold out benefits and advantages to all. He will shower his favours indiscriminately on the good and the bad, when the latter are not atrociously so; by which he will gratify the one, and probably "turn the hearts" of the other; in imitation of the all-beneficent God of nature, who allows the sun to shine and the rains to descend without the smallest partiality, without any regard to persons; trusting to these his creatures, as free agents, for adoration, and a grateful sense of the bounties so freely bestowed.

Phil. I acknowledge the truth of your positions, and subscribe to the justness of your remarks. But, when you speak of the Utopian scheme of allowing a community of goods, you should remember in what it originated, a neglect of the unfortunate and the necessitous; in not attempting some establishment for those who, from want of money, are wholly unable to make such establishment for themselves: in short, in leaving the good and virtuous man on the rough and tempestuous sea of the world, to swim or sink, according to chance. Gen. How! Have you then forgotten the establish

ment of poor-houses? For whom, and for what purpose, is the sum of three millions* per annum collected?

Phil. Principally for the idle and the dissolute, though set on foot with a totally different view. Half of the sum you mention as raised would be sufficient for the relief of the really sick and aged among the poor. I am firmly persuaded, indeed, that full as many abuses have crept into these establishments as you seem to be apprehensive would arise from practising the act of forbearance suggested by the generous Indian. Nay, I think it might, without difficulty, be proved, that the public are far greater losers in the present order of things, than they could be in any other possible event. It is the business of a great and powerful nation, not to think so much of maintaining its poor as to hinder the increase of them, or even of the country's producing any. Sick and aged there must always be. Let us look to the plans and regulations of Frederic the Second, of Prussia, in respect to this truly important matter. Let us attend likewise to the words of a king of Persia: The great Shah Abbas (says his historian), among the many useful establishments made by him in Persia, founded not a single poor-house. On being asked the reason of this,' It is my intention, and it shall be my care (said he), that there be no occasion for poor-houses, or charitable institutions, in Persia."" By this he clearly signified, that his charity went to the making of establishments for all, by encouraging industry.-It is an astonishing circumstance, that, at the present day, scarcely a statesman is to be found who considers that the stability of a kingdom, the permanency of a government, must depend entirely on the prosperity of the people. The people, then, when found to be numerous and poor, should, as you have already hinted, be assisted; not by a slight and temporary relief (which frequently induces nothing but idleness), but by putting them in a way to make a lasting provision for themselves.

* At the close of the last century.

DIALOGUE VII.

SCENE-A CHAMBER.

MERCURY and a COQUETte.

Coq. AND so, Mr. Mercury, you too are become my admirer? I really know not what to say to you; I, who have so long withstood the solicitations of that horrid creature, man.-Well

Merc. True, fair lady; but you will find it impossible to withstand me.

Coq. So confident! but, positively, you shall not triumph over me; I will not consent these fifty years. Merc. Your consent is of little moment, Madam; I shall certainly carry you off.

Coq. He's a charming impudent fellow! (Aside.) What, to Scotland, or

?

Merc. Scotland! no; a far more delightful place ;-to Elysium, gentle lady!

Coq. Elysium! my lovers have often declared, indeed, that to be with me was to be in Elysium; but I never rightly understood them.

Merc. And had you never the curiosity to inquire into their meaning?

Coq. Inquire! O, no; that were a terrible waste of time; I knew it was a sort of compliment, and that was enough for me.

Merc. They meant to tell you, Madam, that, in your society, they enjoyed a kind of heaven upon earth: they will be greatly distressed at losing you.

Coq. Losing me! why you do not imagine, that, because I am to be married to you, I must necessarily forego their company?