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none. This opens too the grounds of that excellent cau« tion, which the Apostle administers to his early converts,
againkt being seduced by the rudiments of this world; but • that vain Philofnphy, which was then working, and, as he
might easily foresee, would work afterwards incredible mis( chief to the Christian Religion. Dr. Patten indeed steps in, • and tells us, that $t. Paul had no such meaning, as we • ascribe to him; or, at least, that he did not mean the Græ«cian Elements only, but likewise those first and fimple prin<ciples of Reason and Common Sense, which we have made « the foundation of all Religion. But we may assure this • Doctor, that he knows as little of Human Nature, as he • does of the state of the world at the promulgation of Chris• tianity; or else he would fee the extreme propriety of the i admonition, in the sense we understand it. For the best,
and indeed the only preservative against vain Philosophy, is a
sober exertion of our Natural Powers, and a firm adherence • to the dictates of Common Sense: it would therefore have « been strange in St. Paul to have denied us the use of these • Powers, and to have bid us stifle those common notions, that « result from the exercise of them, if he meant to guard us. ' against that Philosophy, which might probably seduce us from . Christianity itself.
• Thus it appears from this general view of it under Plato ? and Aristotle, how Christianity has suffered by being re
moved from its proper basis of Natural Religion, and by « being engrafted upon Systems and Opinions. And were we
to view it under the management of private men, who
were not attached to any particular Philosophy, but yet « who deserted the principles of Nature and Reason, we • should find it undergoing still the same fate. We should
find, for instance, eminent Lights and venerable Fathers of
the Church, mistaking it as grossly, and enforcing it as ab« furdly, as if they had had no possible means of discovering ( what was the real Nature and End of its Institution. Thus swe might see Tertullian, at the conclusion of the second
century, running out into all the wildness and frenzy of • Enthusiasm, and inculcating such rigours for Christian du• ties, as were utterly incompatible with human life. We
might see the Fathers of the fourth century, such as Bafil, • Chryfoftom, Athanafius, or Jerom, declaiming against mar
riage, establishing Monkery, and sending men to worship 5 at the tombs of martyrs. And we might see the Fathers of ' every succeeding century, teaching fuch doctrines, and encouraging such superstitions, as have not only no relation REV. July, 1756.
to Christianity, but plainly contradict the nature and defign
of it. Now to what is it possible to ascribe all this, but • only to a desertion of Reason, or the dictates of Common « Sense?
And, 'What shall we say now to this Doctor of Ours, ( who has laboured with all his might to destroy Natural Re
ligion, to difcredit and explode the use of our intellectual powers, and to reprefent Reafon, or the dictates of Com
mon Sense, as nothing better than the suggestions of the « Devil ? and what shall we say to the extreme propriety of « his doing this in the face of an University ; a place, origi
nally instituted for the improvement of Reason, and the culture of Common Sense?'
We could have wished that our Author had not given his antagonists any reason to complain of him, for omitting some words in a citation from their writings. Speaking of Mr. Hutchinson, they say, “ That he never offended with his tongue, “ never spoke with more warmth than was strictly justifiable, we say not.”
It should seem as if Mr. Heathcote looked upon this as denying that he ever did offend in the manner there related. So he has represented it in two places, p. 87, 99.
If he understood “ we say not,” as meaning, say he did not”--tho' this makes the sentence as oracular as
Aio te Æacidem Romanos vincere polle, Yet, in justice, the whole paragraph should have been recited. However, he could not mean to reproach Mr. Hutchinson by it; for, on the contrary, he makes his disciples, by this reading, speak better of their master than they own he deserved.
MONTHLY C A T A L OG U E
For JULY, 1756.
POETICA L. 1. A
New Translation of Telemachus, in English Verse. By
Gibbons Bagnall, Vicar of Home-Lacy, Herefordshire. No. I. 12mo. 6d. Owen.
The merit of Archbishop Fenelon's Telemachus baving been long established in Europe, we fall only observe, that it is flill disputed, among fome Critics, under what denomination that excellent work should pass. Some maintain, that the Telemachus is a mere Romance, written, indeed, in the spirit of antiquity, but no poem: while the Chevalier Ramsay, and others, contend, that it is a poem, and only wanting in Numbers to
take it a compleat Epic. Of this opinion is Mr. Bagnall; yet however highly he esteems the work, he thinks it capable of • some improvement, from Harmony and Numbers. For * want of this variety, (especially in the didactic parts, which
frequently take up almost a whole book together) the fentiments, however excellent in themselves, are dry and tedious. To diversify, and give a life to these, was one of the principal things I had in view and what was attended with the greatest difficulty. It was like travelling for many miles over a dead
flat, with no variety of prospect to entertain the fight. A • ftrict literal translation, in these cases was not to be expected :
a paraphrase was often necessary, often anavoidable ; and the • best Translators we have (even Mr. Pope, the Prince of them) . have given a sanction, by their practice, to this kind of liberty. * It is sufficient, in works of this nature, if nothing inconsistent • be introduced : if we never deviate so far as to lose fight of
author.' As the Archbishop had much recourse to antiquity to embellish his work, the Translator has referred to those passages, in his margin ; and has not only selected notes from the different editions of Telemachus, but has now and then added a comment of
For a specimen of the improvement that the Telemachus is likely to receive from Mr. Bagnall, we shall, from this his first Number, present our Readers with his description of Calypso, which is by no means the least beautiful passage of the book.
She said. And compass’d with a beauteous band
Join'd with a sweetness not to be express'd. Altho the preceptive part of Telemachus might gain some advantage from Numbers, yet we doubt if this translation will fucceed. What the world admires in Fenelon, is his language ; which Voltaire happily calls a cadenced prose; and if the Archbishop is tedious in his descriptions, which the best judges are now agreed he is, we cannot expect to see that fault rectified in the circumlocution of Rhyme.
When Gentlemen have taken much pains to little purpose, and are likely to reap neglect inftead of applause, we always feel some concern for their misfortune ; but the principle from which our commiseration arises, also prompts us, now and then, to throw out a friendly hint, that they may turn their attention to more profitable, or more successful studies. It is not enough, that they have consulted their friends ; for, in general, friends either cannot, or will not, tell them the truth; the bookseller is generally the first who lets them into the unwelcome secret.
These considerations have made us the less severe on the translation of Telemachus; especially too, as the Author seems, by his preface, to be a man of good sense, and real modefty: of which our readers will be convinced when we inform them, that he frankly recommends his work only as a Narcotic, that may administer comfort to those who want sleep.
II. Britannia and the Gods in Council. A Dramatic Poem. By Mr. Averay: 4to. IS. Kinnersley. .
We are at some lofs to say, whether Mr. Averay has most fuccessfully imitated the manner of his great predeceffor Mr. Antient Piftol, or of the renowned Hurlothrumbo. In some places he seems to have strongly caught the spirit of the former, in others, of the latter ; and, now and then, he even out-Hurloes the one, and out-Pistols the other. In a word, his performance seems so well adapted to yield the highest delight, to every real admirer and judge of heroic-poetry, that we cannot do better justice between the Author and the Public, than to recommend it to every one who has tafte enough rightly ro relish the following morselswhich cannot fail to make the reader lick his lips, and long for the whole piece. Britannia addresses Jupiter.
• Othou Supreme ! unlimited in pow'r !
From nothing glitt'ring the celeftial orbs,'&c.
• Like gaping earthquakes lofty mountains gorg'ng'From Jupiter's charge to the inferior Gods, in council:
• Therefore, ye Gods, who Gallia's cause espouse,
Proceed alternate, I your voice will heare'
• To Love it is the best and fureft friend
And to old age a cordial life-restoring -
• One British warrior will in combat beat
Minerva is much in the fame sentiments. In her panegyric on the Britons, the informs Jupiter, that
• Their (words of pureft fteel, and horrid edge
Revengeful ftrike, and cleave their foes afunder.'
III. A British Philippic. Infcribed to the Right Hon. the Earl of Granville. 4to. Is. Kinnerfley.
The Author of this poem is neither a Tyrtæus nor a Demofthenes ; for inftead of using every motive to rouse the courage of his countrymen against their perfidious foes, he very coolly tells them, that
Th' immortal Bard,
Our venerable ancestry aspired. Altho' we'may, without poffeffing the spirit of prophecy, prognof., ticate, that the Numbers of our Briton and Bard (1.42.) (were he ever so fo well disposed to inspirit us) will never transform a coward into a brave man, yet are we far from thinking, that the British Courage is fo greatly sunk, as he represents it. Sure we are, if it is, this writer ought not so publicly to have told us fo. A dastard may be impelled by praise, to something; but when told, that nothing is expected, his pufillanimity will never make an effort.But abstracting from this error of plan, the sentiments are, in general, just, tho' common; and most of the characters are drawn with truth, tho' not with any masterly distinctions. Some wit the poem certainly shews, but little poetry; some fatyr, but no elevation of sentiment. The diction never rises to the sublime, and is often unharmoniously prosaic. The poem confilts of 321 lines, of which
Mille die versus deduci poffe. At the beginning of the late Spanish war, we remember a British Philippic, which tho' no very extraordinary poem, yet surpassed this. The following paflage, however, from the present production, merits some attention.
See that assemblage of the sons of wealth,