to be truth. (The case is poffible: he is far from certain that God will allow of sophiftry, whatever his earthly superiors may.) What is he to do in this dilemma ? Is he to be filent then, or to be kept back, or to retire from the ministry of God in his church, because he is of all men the most fit to serve in it? (If he retires ever so peaceably; he is liable to excommunication, and all its harafling consequences.) Or is he to force himself into compliance, as thinking he can that way be most useful to the cause of religion ; and then to be reprobated and fuspected of finister views, and branded with opprobrious names, because be folicits humbly to be relieved from fo iniquitous a burtben ? And are the DissenTERS to have the rod held over them for ever, if they will not comply with what we know they cannot? Or are they to be suspected of designs against Christianity, or againft the state, because they desire to be released from fo fevere a law; fo contrary to all the dictates of humanity, fo contrary to all true Christianity ?

This may serve as a specimen of our Author's manner of writing, which is sensible, liberal, and manly. How it is poffible for our ecclesiastical governors to peruse, with serious attention, what many other able writers have advanced upon this subject, and, at the same time, satisfy themselves with fitting still as unconcerned spectators of the laudable efforts of other men, is to us utterly inconceivable. If matters are to remain upon the present footing, we cannot but think, with our Author, that the glory of our Church is extinct.

Those who have opportunities of converfing much with perfons in high life, laugh at the Petitioning Clergy, and vindicate the conduct of our ecclefiaftical governors. They tell us, that the Petitioners, they believe, are worthy honeft creatures, good, fimple fouls, but that they know nothing of the world, and have very confined views ;--the Bishops, on the contrary, they fay, are persons of superior capacities, and enlarged views; that they have too much good sense not to look upon all religious systems as pretty much the same ; and that they would therefore act a very absurd and impolitic part were they to risk the consequences of making any alterations. But is not this a ftrange apology for their Lordships? Some of them, we know, would not think themselves at all obliged to such vindicators; and we have charity enough to hope as much of the rest of the right reverend Bench. Art. IV. The History of Lord Stanton. By a Gentleman of the Middle Temple, Author of The Trial. 12mo. 3 Vols,

E remember to have read The Trial with greater plea

sure than we in general receive from works of this na. • See Review for January 1772, p. 79.


98. Vernor,

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ture; and our fenfible Author has continued to amuse us agreeably, in the volumes now before us. The History of Lord Stanton, though not any way equal to the works of our firstrate writers, in this branch of literature, are much superior to

the common run of those romances that are daily published unį der the titles of Navels; and we will venture to assure those of

our Readers, who have a taste for writings of this kind, that they will not find the time employed in perusing the present work wholly thrown away.

Many of the letters contained in this History are fenfible, fpirited, and affe&ing. Lord Stanton baving been, by the care of his mother, educated in the country, and entirely secluded from the great and gay world, till he was of age, now leaves his retirement, and, under the concealed name of Benson, arrives in London; where, having by a fortunate accident, been introduced to a genteel family, he proceeds to make his observations on men and manners, as they appear to him in that great theatre of pleasure and diffipation. The seducing scenes he meets with, have however a visible effect on his morals; and the severity of his virtue more than begins to relax when he gives his friend in the country the following account of a masquerade scene, in which he was peculiarly interested.This, and his friend's anfwer to it, with some abridgment, will be sufficient to thew the ftyle and manner in which this History is written.

• Ignorant of the ways of the world, as I am, yet I have not been without my atchievements : a porter put a billet into my hand, and, whilft I was admiring the superscription of it, got off unqueftioned. It was addressed in the monitory verse of Dryden: "Be difcreet-Love's fairy favours are loft when not concealed." This bespoke a mystery, and I haftily burst open contained these words: “ Titania, Queen of the Fairies, to the moft charming of the Sons of Men-Love spares not immortality and I have felt his fhafts, that mortals have been admitted to our embraces is authorized by many instances : that heighth of honour is reserved for you.' I thall be at the masquerade to-morrow night in my proper dress. If you dare encounter me I shall meet you half way; but I know that secrecy alone can ensure you a fairy's affection. Perhaps before we part I may condescend to be a mortal.”It is not to be fupposed I failed to meet my fair antagonist: to encounter the Queen of the Fairies it was necessary that I lhould put on pro. per apparel : I was dreft like a forester, green was the close habit which fitted my body; my spear glitter'd in my hand, and my bugle horn hung from my shoulders ; but till her Majesty appeared, I concealed my fell in a domino. She did not enter the room till late, and her appearance attracted the eyes of the mole motley company : her robe was of a light blue, em


the paper ;

it at noon."

broidered with filver stars, and flowers; her hair was bound up fpirally, and a string of diamonds appeared to confine it, which terminated in a large crescent. I cannot really describe the other parts of her dress, which bespoke an elegant fancy, and great richness: I must not however forget her wand, nor to tell you that her shape was faultless, and her air noble. I attended ber some time in my domino, and listened to the answers the gave the crowd that thronged about her; for, coming into the room alone, the excited every body's attention, and was attacked on all sides ; I call her alone, as she had only a person in the character of an attendant fairy with her. She repulfed cvery body that came near her, and her eye was in queft of something, the knew not what. It was time to relieve her from her anxiety; and, flipping out to the place where my fervant attended, I threw off my domino, and entered as the hunter I approached her, and whether the knew my perfon or not in that disguise, the started as I came near her. I have received a sore wound faid I, and the Queen of the Fairies, can alone cure me.”

“ Is it visible ?”. “ No; and that makes it the more dangerous." " When did you receive it?”:..Yefterday

“ Ha! Forefter, are you come?" Yes, and you must lay aside your pretensions to fairy knowledge, for I have attended your person in disguise ever since you appeared, while your eye was seeking me in vain. You must drop your divinity, and break your wand, for hcan be as secret to a fair mortal, as to the Queen of the Fairies.” " You 'rob: me of my divinity too soon : consider I shall be less troublesome in this ofjumed character than when I sink into a meer woman." By this time we had got away from the company, and found ourfelves almost alone. Here we entered into conversation, and I prevailed with her to thew me her face, which would not have disgraced the reality of the character she assumed. It was really charming: an explanation foon ensued, and we retired from the crowd which prevented our joy, and heightened expectation.

. Do not imagine I pass my time in seducing innocence, or violating the nuptial bedono such thing. This was the mistress of a nobleman, who kept her more for the vanity of having so fine a woman in bis power, than for any other gratification. She thought herself at liberty to please her fancy, and I happened to be the happy man. Well, Thompson, and where's the harm of all this? Your gravity will be displeased with it, and will make you look on me as a very bad fellow; but though I indulge and gratify the desires so natural, and consequent to youth, I trust I do not forget the dictates of honour, or fail to pay a due respect to virtue,"


His friend who, though little older than Lord Stanton, had lived with him as his tutor and companion, thus sensibly replies to the foregoing letter:

If I can presume upon the right of a friend, which ever implies equality, your excuses for your filence cannot be admitted. Oh, my good friend, they are the worst that can be framed, and sorry I am to tell you so. Oh thou of little resolution, who canft fo soon relinquish thy boafted attachment to virtue, whose heart yields to every flight and transient temptation. The honour of thy youth forsaken, and forgot; in what manner shall I address you? How shall the admonitions of thy friend reach thy ears, fills with flattery and falsehood, or how shall my words gain a paffage to thy heart, when all the avenues are choaked with variety, and fill'd with licentious pleafure ? I cannot so far forget my former interest in you, as not to warn you, with friendly voice, to avoid the edge of the precipice that yawns beneath you, and where, if you fall, ruin and destruction await you. How many are the fubterfuges vice Alies to, endeavouring to palliate her actions with the semblance of right! Thus you call the acquaintance of the lewd and abandoned, a knowledge of the world ; and thus you ftile libertinism and folly, vivacity and spirit. Who are your companions ? With whom do you associate? Those whom honour' has forSaken, whom virtue disowns, who are unacquainted with honesty, who are strangers to every thing good. Thou shalt not touch pitch, but thou shalt be defiled ; and a communication with the votaries of folly shall contaminate the heart. The fenciments and the actions have a close connection with each other. If your heart is not totally abandoned, you must have shrunk back with horror on your first introduction to the paths of licentiousness. The man who hears without disapproving, tacitly commends; then where will this road lead us? Oh 'tis too dismal to think of it, or cast our eyes only where it begins to terminate; misfortune, disease, infamy, wait with open arms to receive you. But I question if your generous heart could support the disgrace which you will find awaits you. When your eyes come to be opened, when all your actions, however bad or dishoneft, are hung up in the fane of Time, and Memory, ever to be then shunned, takes them down, and presents them to your view, the colours heightened by reflection, and your pallions fled, what then will become of you? Can you fupport your own thoughts, or bear the idea, even at present, of what may happen hereafter? You know not the nature of the actions you commit every moment, how unjust, or bad, exclusive of the immorality of them, though custom has gilded them over with the appellation of gallantry and amour. If we consider that adventure, that to your shame you boast of, which vanity and false pride makes you think glorious and honourable, you will find that you have violated another's right, which he purchased, and though dishonourable or criminal in him, was still more so in you, who added injustice to guilt. The mind that feels not a repugnance, an abhorrence at the commission of a crime, foon grows callous to all the admonitions of virtue : but I will not think so ill of you; for as yet you may have unwillingly suffered yourself to be carried away by the strong ride of pleasure, and look back with forrow to the peaceful Thore you have quitted. Oh, my good friend, let not my zeal appear imperçinent, nor my friendship officious; my regard, my affection for you inspires my pen and prompts my heart. The man who offends least has the greatest right to warn others from the ways of vice, but he who has felt the lash of remorse, has been pierced with the arrows of self-conviction, can more truly describe the miseries attending a courfe of folly, and the gratification of the paffions. I, alas ! am an example, a melancholy example of the latter.'

consider allowed

As the fourth volume is not published *, and, consequently, the history remains unfinished, we fhall here conclude this article, which has already been extended longer perbaps than fome of our graver Readers may think was neceffary.

With respect to the style of this work, the language is more easy than correct; and there are a multitude of little flips, which seem to intimate that the Author wrote in hafte. The bookseller, too, appears to have been as much in a hurry as the Writer.

* Since this article was put to the press, we have seen the 4th and 5th vols. of the History of Lord Stanton advertised.

ART. V. The History of Agathon. By C. M. Wieland. Translated from the German Original, 12mo. 4 Vols. 12 s. Çadell. 1773.

R. Wieland has already been introduced to the acquaint

ance of our Readers. His Socrates was translated in 1772, and we gave a brief character of it in the Review for June, in the same Year. His Reason triumphant over Fancy appeared soon after, in an English dress; and our account of it will be found in our Number for February, 1773. In these articles we asserted the originality t. of this German genius, and

+ We do not mean to intimate that Mr. W. is the firft modern writer who hath pursued the idea of a PHILOSOPHICAL ROMANCE. We have not forgotten the celebrated Telemachus, nor the Travels of Cyrus, nor the Adventures of Neoprolemes, the Son of Achilles.

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