classical, and as much after the manner of Homer's as I can render it.* Thus, should the MAGNET fail to prove universally attractive, it will not be for want either of good-will, or of strenuous exertion, on my part. I have only to entreat patience, and a perseverance in buying the Work, till the appearance of that Number which shall entirely coincide with the tastes and opinions of the respective purchasers; after which, it shall be my constant anxiety to confirm their favourable prepossession. Some, indeed, there are, whose favour I neither covet, nor shall endeavour to obtain. Those who can find pleasure in the detail of private scandal, in the defamation of public men, in looseness, vulgarity, and profaneness, must seek for gratification elsewhere. Yet, in serious truth, it would afford the highest satisfaction, could I persuade but one individual to forego such unworthy pursuits, for the higher, and more real enjoyments of innocence and rationality. I own there is something very like presumption in publishing a work which is partly to consist of Essays, whilst our literature is already enriched with so many invaluable writings of that denomination. The Essay appears to have been a species of composition peculiarly acceptable to the English, ever since they became capable of estimating the value of learning and refinement. Our rapid progress within the last two centuries, in every department of knowledge and civilization, can be attributed to nothing with so much propriety, as to the diffusion of useful and elegant instruction in the periodical labours of the British Essayists. It is they who have familiarized the principles of science to men of plain good sense, and have inspired individuals engaged in the ordinary occupations of life, with a taste for those polite and liberal arts which, exciting the best feelings of our nature, promote the comforts and elegancies of social life, while they contribute in no small degree, to the greatness and stability of empires. 66 Bacon may be considered the founder of English essays, as well as of that sublime philosophy which they were admirably calculated to render popular. His essays are the institutes of a science which all wish to learn; but how few, in comparison, are interested in the 'Novum Organum." The first periodical essayist deserving of note, is Steele, the editor of the Tatler, a work designed, as he expresses it, " to expose the false arts of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and ostentation; and to recommend a general simplicity in our dress, discourse, and behaviour." Although Steele was unquestionably a clever and successful writer, this production could never have come down to us with the great character which it possesses, had it not derived from its contributors, and especially from Addison, a lustre and importance, which will entitle it to celebrity so long as a taste for fine writing remains amongst us. The good-nature displayed by Sir Richard under these circumstances, which might have given rise to envy in a less ingenuous bosom, ought never to be passed over. Speaking of the assistance rendered him by Addison in this undertaking, he says, "This good office he performed with such force of genius, humour, wit, and learning, that I fared like a distressed prince, who calls in a powerful neighbour to his aid-I was undone by my auxiliary." In the Spectator, Addison appeared to still greater advantage: here, being released from the desultory arrangement of the Tatler, which must * Aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus.-Hon. have proved inconvenient to his genius, he produced a number of regular treatises in consecutive papers, and discoursed upon all kinds of subjects, from the most sublime, to the most familiar,-in a style both of thought and diction, which, for ease, delicacy, simplicity, and aptitude, can never be excelled; and I much doubt whether any subsequent writer can justly be said to have equalled it. The Guardian was intended by Steele, the editor, for a continuation of the Spectator; but its plan has been considered too limited to accomplish the design. Professing to convey instruction and advice from a guardian to the wards intrusted to his care, it might consistently inculcate the duties and proprieties of life; but it was little adapted to embrace the subtleties of literary speculations. The three works already named, claim the first rank among our periodical writings, as well for their superior excellence, as for the priority of their date. They have been succeeded by many publications, popular in their day, and still worthy of a high reputation. The sonorous phraseology of Dr. Johnson's essays is the vehicle of much elegant conception, and of much sound advice; which latter might be followed with profit, by many who, in their blind censure of his language, are too apt to disregard the sentiments which it conveys. Then we also have the spirited Adventurer, the polite World, the humorous Connoisseur, and a host of others, all excellent in their way, and worthy to be honoured with the designation of British Classics. The essays of Goldsmith must not be forgotten; in which one is at a loss to know whether humour or pathos, composure or vivacity, contributes most to our delight. I shall name only one more, Vicesimus Knox, whose venerable person and amiable character are still fresh in our remembrance. His moral and literary essays will endear his memory to the virtuous and intelligent of every age. Had I pointed to these luminaries for the purpose of provoking a comparison, from which the best of living writers might shrink with apprehension; the reader would do well to reject my lucubrations with derision and contempt. But as every body that can wield a pen is writing in one periodical or another, and as the province of the essayist is unlimited, and his materials are inexhaustible, I may be allowed to enter the lists with my contemporaries. Those who have favoured me with a perusal thus far, must have experienced to their comfort, that the merit of this paper is not intended to consist in a small type, or closely-printed columns. I really have too much regard for them, to subject their eye-sight to so injurious a trial as the perusal of small print. Wishing to depend rather upon the quality, than the quantity of contents, it will be sought to infuse as much spirit as possible, and to exclude whatever is without end in either sense of the phrase. Herein consists the chief merit of our plan: having only a few moderate pages to fill weekly, there will be no necessity to fabricate tedious introductions, or to spin out our articles with a tenuous prolixity. To prove the sincerity of this last profession, I forthwith conclude my prefatory observations. B 2 LOVE AND PLATONISM. "hate. It does not appear likely that the Platonic system of love and friendship should ever become fashionable. The romantic and sentimental attachments of lovers, have been a fruitful theme for the novelist, and the observer of life and manners, in every age and country. But Platonic attachment is too cold, and lifeless, to interest the many. Love founded on esteem, as it is the most noble, so is it the most constant of the passions; but the liaisons of love, and of Platonic friendship, are altogether dissimilar. I would not infer from this, that friendship cannot exist in great purity; for history shews the contrary. But it existed only for a period of time. Its duration was fleeting. It found no "continuing city." A Pylades, a Damon, a Pliny, appeared at remote intervals. Neither is friendship at all times equal. My friend does not always the man who injures me." But love knows not this "cold medium." It must either passionately adore, or hate. It was the enthusiastic nature of this passion, that in the Gothic ages incited so many of its admirers to perform such memorable acts of heroism and devotion. While the knights templars, marching under the banner of the cross, carried war and devastation into the east: the troubadours of Provence, - those wandering minstrels, the very essence of whose existence appeared to consist in gallantry,-travelled through different countries, chaunting forth the praises of beauty, in strains to which no lady could listen with indifference. Another, and a more extraordinary race of beings, who appeared to unite the opposite characters of the lover and the monk, flourished about the middle of the thirteenth century. They called themselves "The Fraternity of the Penitents of Love." Engaged in voluntary acts of penance for the cause of the deity whom they worshipped, they enveloped themselves in the thickest garments during the heats of summer, and in the winter, were clad in the lightest and thinnest habiliments. Thus, at one season, the warmth of their adoration was evinced by the texture of the garment in which they were enwrapped, while, at another, they wished to shew that the flame of love burnt with an ardour, which the frosts of winter could neither diminish, nor destroy. It is not known what became of these penitents, or whether some of them did not die martyrs to love and constancy: for one sufferer had a penance of two years' silence imposed on him by the object of his affections. A Platonic affection may extend itself to various objects, since many may command our esteem who yet can never awaken our love. But love endures not division; it cherishes no secondary affections. A modern writer has beautifully observed, "If we love ardently, we can love but once; that enchanting passion, with all its train of hopes and fears, its raptures and its ecstacies, can only be felt in that age when bliss seems waiting upon fruition; every emotion which we feel in the autumn or the evening of our days, is like the last leaf which has survived its fellows on the withering tree. It has lost its verdant hue, and only preserved its form to shew that it once flourished under kindlier aspects." This warmth of feeling, which contributes so much to the intensity and purity of this passion, could not endure in its original freshness, from youth to age, on the Platonic system. The conjugal attachment of that wedded female, who declared, that during a period of fifty years, she never was separated from her husband for more than twelve hours! is another bright instance of that continuous happiness, true and unalloyed, which is likely to accompany the love which usually takes its station at the fireside, and in the infantine circle. Calmly and serenely it glides along, and, passing by insensible gradations, from one period of life to another, it finds at last a peaceful retreat in the grave, to be, perhaps, renewed, with inconceivable purity, in a better world. We know enough also of the warring passions and misguided motives which actuate mankind not to be aware, how much this placid state contributes to the general good, and how greatly it tends to prolong the existence of man. But Platonic love-if ever such an affection there were-knows nothing of this. It commences, I suppose, in a formal manner; is continued with evident constraint, and at remote intervals of time; and terminates with indifference, if not with disgust. That Plato was a great advocate for this peculiar species of affection, cannot be doubted. But the Greek philosopher must have been aware, that the cherished favourite of his mind had no existence in nature, and that its evident tendency was (premising the possibility of its power) to render the whole human race apathetic and unactuated by the motives of generosity, benevolence, or sensibility. The precepts of Zeno would here have had full effect, and a stoical indifference would have been cherished, towards the most pleasing and (under proper regulations) the most virtuous of the human passions. Indeed love, founded on esteem, has been properly termed an affection rather than a passion, because it involves a desire of the happiness of its object. It must, however, be confessed, that on a simple inspection of history it will appear that the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, knew nothing of the purity of disinterested love. Achilles, in the Iliad, dismisses the captive girl Briseis without any emotions of disappointed love, but rather of wounded pride Χερσὶ μὲν οὔτοι ἔγωγε μαχήσομαι εἵνεκα κούρης -No more Achilles draws His conquering sword in any woman's cause.-POPE... 1 The version of Pope is not so strong as the original, for there it is, literally, "I shall not fight with my hands on account of a girl, neither with you, nor with any one else." In the parting scene between Hector and Andromache, which is exquisitely tender, delicate, and affecting, the poet has, however, depicted conjugal love in its true and unsophisticated form. All her happiness centres in his presence, and all her affliction is awakened by his departure and anticipated death. Ἕκτορ, ἀτὰρ σύ μοί ἐσσι πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ, Μὴ παῖδ ̓ ὀρφανικὸν θείης, χήρην τε γυναῖκα -Iliad, b. vi. v. 429. Yet while my Hector still survives, I see Plato, well acquainted with the disposition of his countrymen, and the manners of the age in which he lived, wished, in common with other philosophers, to reform the general impurity of life, and to substitute a finer and purer feeling in the place of mere sensual desire. But love, augmented by esteem, is not a pure, spiritual, incorporeal affection: it is something far more estimable. The romantic instances of attachment so common in the northern nations, and in the dark ages, did not concern mind alone; the passion which gave to their life half its value, was not associated with an ethereal essence, or a visionary form; it was a natural and domestic affection; and from it they derived true felicity. Love in them belonged to the heart, and not to the head or to the brain, as Jacques Ferrand endeavours to prove.* The peculiar susceptibility, and warm temperament of Petrarch, indeed, caused him to cherish a glowing and unwearied though unfortunate attachment for twenty years, to one lady: but it was any thing but Platonic: the form, the aspect of Laura haunted him, rather than her mind. Her dress, her air, her words, all preyed upon his imagination, and tormented him with corroding and incessant care. But this was love, love in all the intensity of that powerful passion. And so it has always appeared to the world. At the distance of nearly five centuries, the tale, and the feelings of this interesting pair, yet command the admiration of every country. The attachment of Abelard to Eloise might here indeed be adduced as an example, in the concluding years of their lives, of Platonic love. But this will not be so evident to him who shall carefully attend to their history. In truth, the character of Abelard has been greatly overrated. He has been pitied as a virtuous and unfortunate man. Was he so? Hear his own words, " I excelled so much in form and person, that no woman could resist me." Mr. Berrington says, "When he loved Eloise, it was neither her abilities, nor her person, nor her charms, nor her virtues, which he loved, he sought only his own gratification; whilst in its pursuit, no repulsion of innocence could thwart him; no voice of duty, of gratitude, of unguarded confidence, could impede his headlong progress. He suffered, and from that moment rather he became a man." The advocates of Platomic love could contemplate with no satisfaction the closing years of Abelard's life, marked indeed by overwhelming calamity and penitence, but also by wounded pride. Another example remains, that of Dean Swift. Here the inconsistency of his conduct, and the pride with which he treated Mrs. Johnson, are sufficiently apparent. Though affection dwelt upon his lips, there was no love in his heart: and the unfortunate object of an unrequited affection sunk into an early grave. Φ. IMPROMPTU. Ce monde est plein de fous, et qui n'en veut pas voir, You say, whene'er abroad you roam, * His curious work was printed at Paris in 1623, entitled "De la Maladie d'Amour ou Melancholie Erotique par Jacques Ferrand," in which the title of one of his chapters is "Si en la Melancholie Erotique le cœur est la principale partie malade ou le cerveau." |