No. XLI.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1787.

"He that prefers the boasted excellence of ancient times to the endearments and the embellishments of modern life, may be charged with the depraved taste of the Hottentot, who, on his return to his native country, shook off the European dress, nauseated European food, and indulged in all the excesses of his countrymen."

Parr's Sermons.

THE declaimers on morals have frequently poured forth their invectives against the living, in favour of the dead. The virtues of past ages have been considered by them as purer than the present, more worthy of imitation, and more conducive to happiness. It will neither be a useless speculation, nor a matter of insuperable difficulty, to explode this vulgar error, and to prove to those who have had the misfortune, as some think it, to be born in the eighteenth century, that it is as free from gross violations of rectitude and decorum as any that have preceded it.

It will be readily admitted by every person of an enlightened understanding, that the number of our public executions can be no criterion of the depravity of our manners, or our progress in vicious refinement. When laws are multiplied to such an immense degree, there must infallibly be more victims to their neglect, as the more cobwebs the spider spins, the more heedless flies are likely to be caught. We leave, therefore, the comparative

number of names, which have lately filled the annals of Newgate, to the consideration of the officers of the police, who are most benefited by their augmentation, and who would be most injured, if every statutable offence were not prosecuted to conviction; and proceeding to a review of the religion, the manners, and the amusements of the age, shall draw such conclusions as will abundantly prove our position.

That there is some share of profligacy, infidelity, and irreligion, conspicuously in the present age, few will be hardy enough to deny; but that real virtue, piety, and truth, are both practised and countenanced, must be equally evident, to all whose minds are not tinctured with the gloom of fanaticism, or soured with the leaven of misanthropy. In the church, in the state, in the senate, and at the bar, we have men, eminent for the discharge of duty men who adorn elevated rank by corresponding manners; and are unfashionable enough to think religion has charms, and virtue an inherent lustre.

The present times afford many eminent examples of religion and piety among the highest orders of the state; of the nobility, paying a due respect to the doctrines of Christianity in general, and showing a promptitude to vindicate the national church in particular; and yet treating dissenters of every denomination with candour and affection, A conduct like this exalts true religion, and points out the alliance of Christianity to Heaven. The prejudices of illiberal minds are always as hostile to its progress, as they are disgraceful to the breast that indulges them. In former days, religion was stained with violence and blood; it now begins to

assume its native lustre, and to be marked with its genuine characteristics; it breathes "peace and good-will to men."

To form a due estimate of the morals of the present age will be an easy matter. They are influenced by religion; and if the latter be pure and generally practised, the former-will of necessity receive a polish from its connection. That charity triumphs over avarice; that the social obligations are fulfilled with a more exact observance; that the virtues of humanity have gained an ascendency over cruelty and revenge; are positions that need only be named to be allowed.

It is not to be denied, that former ages were replete with examples of heroism, magnanimity, and a contempt of death: I give them full credit for superior abstemiousness, and more resigned humility they produced men who were zealous for religion, who were lovers of their country, and foes to tyrants; men, who were valiant in war, and amiable in peace. But where was to be found that polish which is universally diffused over modern manners? that civilization, that mildness, and grace, which repress the bursts of furious passions, and soften the ferocity of rudeness and barbarity?

War, the pest of the human race, and the disgrace of reason, was once carried on with horrors now unknown. The public enemy, when disarmed, is now treated with the indulgence of a private friend; and, instead of dragging the vanquished at our chariot-wheels, humanity and gentleness go hand in hand to soften the severity of defeat, and to reconcile the conquered to himself. The same amiableness of manners is visible in humbler circum

stances, and displayed on less important occasions. The snarling cynic may call all this effeminacy, and dignify savage qualities with the appellation of virtues: he may denominate piety a weakness, and stigmatise the humane with want of spirit. But let it be observed, in answer to his cavils, that whatever renders mankind more amiable and more refined, whatever binds one to another with more endearing ties, is a virtue, and a virtue deserving applause.

As manners are intimately connected with our religion, so our amusements have a close affinity to our manners. The boisterous mirth, the rude joy, the indelicate witticism, which used to delight even the highest ranks, are now degraded to the lowest ; and if refinement progressively goes on, we may hope in time to see even the lower orders of society too enlightened to taste them. The obstreperous jollity of the bowl, though sometimes admitted, is now no longer boasted of. The most splendid triumphs of Bacchus are not considered as conferring glory on the most zealous of his votaries; and he who can vanquish his companions over the bottle, is as little valued by those who pretend to refinement, as, a few years hence, he will most probably be, who can lay no claims to merit, except his resolution in risking his neck over a five-bar gate; or killing his horse, that he may boast the paltry achievement of being in at the death.

But of all the amusements that modern times can exhibit with just pretensions to applause, the stage, in its present state, is one of the chief. The lewd allusion, the profane jest, and the imprecatory expletives of language, are now relished only by those

whose ideas are circumscribed by the meauness of their birth and the scantiness of their education; or whose minds have never imbibed right sentiments of genuine humour and sterling sense. But it is not the public stage to which I would confine my commendations; as its managers have the million to please, they are too often obliged to do violence to their own judgment, in order to gratify a vitiated and vulgar taste. It is the establishment of private theatres that I particularly advert to, as a proof of the superior taste and elegance of this age over every preceding one. This may justly be denominated an æra in the scenic art, when trick and artifice are banished, and their places successfully supplied by easy manners. Whoever has had the pleasure of seeing the performances of our nobility and gentry on their own stages, where only the most admired and most decorous pieces are represented, and where the actors appear more ambitious to imitate real life than to shine in affected situations, must confess, that the dominion of taste has widely extended itself, and that frivolous or vicious pastimes are exchanged for rational and instructive pursuits. In consequence of this diffusion of dramatic performances, the stage is more likely than ever to become "the school of virtue, and the picture of living manners. For in whatever light the surly dogmatist may consider plays in general, it may be asserted, on safe grounds, that they may be good in particular; they may impart much knowledge without the languor of study, and warn from error without an approach to the verge of guilt. Indeed, where virtue obtains those rewards which Heaven will bestow, and poetic justice should never