her to give up her Chemistry, and her Philofopher to be hanged.

This ridiculous Affair has led me into many ferious Reflections on the Errors of the Mind. 'Tis obvious from this, as well as a thousand other Instances, how much every Species of Enthusiasm destroys the Power of moral Reason. From that Source fprung all this poor Woman's Abfurdities. Her Paffion for the high Romance abforbed every other Principle. The Senfe of Justice, Honour, Truth, and Decency was totally overborn. So it is in Religious, so it is in Political Systems: Let us once become Enthufiafts; there is nothing fo wicked we will not do for Religion, nothing fo impolitic we will not atempt for our Country.

LETTER

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LETTER IX.

WALLER to ST. EVREMOND.

NEVER think of the glorious Fate of ancient Genius, without a Sigh that rifes from the moft fenfible Part of my Soul. You have an Expreffion in your Language, Je meurs d'Envie, which is defcriptive of what I feel. To be carried down the Current of Time, my St. Evremond, undeftroyed by the Wrecks of Two Thoufand Years! To have our best Productions, the Productions of the Mind, confirm and maintain their Existence in the Souls of furviving Ages, when our Ashes have been fo long the Sport of Winds, that even the Winds cannot find them! Heavens! what Glory is in the Hope! My Soul is on Fire at the Profpect! The Spirit of this Ambition is irrefiftible! It is Inchantment: It is Magic!

But oh! my Friend, it is Delufion; it is Vanity! The fugitive State of modern Lang age forebodes Destruction to every thing that is. conveyed in it. Your Wit, your Elegance of Thought, your Vivacity of Imagination will share the fame Fate with my trifling Strains, and be involved

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involved in the impenetrable Mass of obsolete Expreffion.

Your Language feems, indeed, to be fomewhat nearer a Period of Perfection than that in which I am obliged to write. You begun more early to refine, and Phraseological Criticism was more cultivated in your Country. Yet the Time, I apprehend, is at no great Distance, when our harsher and heavier Periods will lofe the Stiffness and Formality of their March, and acquire an Air of Grace and Delicacy, without being impaired in their Strength. Whenever that Æra fhall arrive, the English Language will be in a State of comparative Excellence, beyond which it will be hazardous for it to go. For, fhould it once depart from its characteristic Simplicity, and affect a pompous and inflated Diction, that will prove a certain Symptom of its Decay.

It is to be feared that our Language will have the fame Fate which that of Rome had formerly. Men of vain Minds and weak Judgments will think it a Merit at least to be fingular. For this Purpose they will depart from Nature, and, instead of pursuing her plain and easy Walks, will ride like Sancho and his unfortunate Mafter through Sulphur, Smoke, and Clouds.

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The Genius of your Language fets this Danger at a greater Distance from you; but when ill-judging Writers rife up amongst us, I am afraid that it will be the Fate of the Englife Tongue to perish, like Samson, by a fatal Exertion of its own Strength.

LETTER X.

ST. EVREMOND to WALLer.

WH

HEN the Prince of Condé was in Prifon, the Princess headed his Party in Normandy; and as that great General amused himself in a little Garden adjoining to his Apartments, he used to say pleafantly, that whilft he was watering Pinks, his Wife was making War. My Occupations, fince I quitted thofe of the Field, have, I think, been of much the fame Confequence, and have answered much the fame Purpose. When I had done with making War, I betook myself to making Songs, and making Love. When they would no longer let me fight in France, I fate down to write Verses in England, and took up the belle Paffion for the fole End of infpiriting and embellishing my Poetry.

At first I looked upon my Exile as the worst of Evils; but for these many Years past I have been in Doubt whether, on the whole, my Life has been a Lofer by it or not. If the Pursuits of Wealth, of Court Diftinctions, and military Glory have nothing more important in them than thofe of Poetry and Love, I have even profited

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