84. Eulogy on female literature-Due homage to the great superiority of the sex in the qualities that constitute poetical excel- lence-Spirit of modern novels-Strik- ing specimen of one, exhibiting a series of adventures as extraordinary as disastrous 229 85. Causes of melancholy investigated-Trace- able to moral circumstances-The cure of our national melancholy to be ex- pected only from more rational plans of education-As public liberty has a ten- dency to engender it, so does domestic discipline supply the best remedy for it -Two little poems-Dialogue on the pleasures of melancholy, between a re- verend dean and a poor curate............ 245 86. The more dreadful shapes of melancholy 87. An immortal poem by a tailor, on the mys- tical incorporation of nine of these ano- malous beings in the composition of one 88. The danger of indulging illicit hopes...... 282 89. Female friendship-Letter illustrative of illustrative of religion, concluded......... 307 91. Equalization of follies and diseases-And ridiculous results therefrom............... 216 THE LOOKER-ON. No. 65. SATURDAY, AUGUST 10. Πάντα ἐν μεταβολῇ. All things are in a constant flux. ALTHOUGH I really believe that the reverses of fortune and the revolutions of matter have been felt in less proportion by me and my race than by the ge- . nerality of the world, yet I must own that no sentiment is so frequently in my mind as that which is inspired by a view of the transitoriness of our natures, and the perishable allotment of every thing that appertains to man. I was grey-headed at twenty-five, and grey-headed I remain: and my mother assures me, that forty years have made but little alteration in my face or figure. But, in the mean time, what a wreck have I beheld of things around me! How many have been swept away, and how many have been led forwards by the hand of Time! How many have again succeeded and departed, and carried away with them all memory of their existence! How often have I marked the early promise of manhood bloom, ripen, wither, and drop off! How often have I seen the throne of beauty disputed, till both competitors have lost their claims! And what a list of queens in the empire of love have these forty years afforded! In the midst of such caducity, one almost wonders that man should be merry; but one wonders more that he should be sad; and, most of all, that he should be ambitious; that he should have his objects, and hopes, and friendships, and enmities, is all wonderful in the few short years of this passing existence. That our habits should so outlive our powers; that our ambition should begin at the close of life; that our hopes and anxieties should bloom in our wrinkles; that the love of acquisition should so long survive the enjoyment; and that our desire of knowledge should increase with our decay; are to me irresistible proofs of the vast disproportion between our existence and our faculties, and of the separate natures of our corporeal and mental constitution. This princely permanence of the mind, this "forma mentis æterna," is proved in a clear and astonishing manner by the inverse proportion in which its capacities improve under a visible decay of the instrument of its operations. Even in the hour of mortal decrepitude the soul asserts its independency, and exhibits proofs that, however it may fail in its organical functions, its essential powers are in no sort diminished. The living faculties are destined here to work with instruments not immortal like themselves, but of frail and perishable natures. When these are injured by age or accident, they are sometimes repaired, sometimes supplied by human contrivance: the mind, when called upon, is always ready; give it but an engine, and its action recommences. Now either it was the same, or itwas reduced in its capacities, during the suspension of its operations, and mutilation of its instruments. If it were defalcated and reduced, we must consent that human means could restore the living powers. If it were the same, then is the mind as separate from the body, its vehicle, as is the charioteer from the chariot in which he rides. Yet for all this it is melancholy to reflect upon the changing condition of all that regards our nature; to contemplate the decline and dissolution of the ostensible objects of all our cares, affections, and friendships; then to look inwards, and regard the revolutions of our own bosoms, the shadowy succession of hopes and wishes, the gradual dereliction of those interests and pleasures in which our hearts have formerly delighted, and the painful disenchantment of those happy delusions which make a paradise of our thoughts in early life, and which are among the most precious sacrifices that youth can make to manhood, or inexperience to knowledge. Yet this changing condition of man brings its comforts as well as its regrets: the objects of our anxieties, our pains, our loves, and our sorrows, alter their complexion or lose their existence in a little time, and nothing but remorse can so fasten upon the mind, but that its liberty may again be regained at some subsequent period, in some new condition or posture of things. It is the solace of disappointed ambition to reflect that those rewards and attainments, which at present elude its grasp, will one day or other be robbed of their relish and attractions, and that thus a sort of revenge will be given it in this natural waste of life; and love despised may find comfort in the thought, that the period is not very distant when those features, which inspired it, shall lose their polish, and those feelings shall be blunted from which it drew its power to torment us. per. Were it not for this insensible change, that is petually taking place in our bosoms and in the colour of every thing around us, it would be impossible for human nature to support the losses and sorrows to which it is subject. It is that law of our existence in which Providence has peculiarly consulted human imbecility; for, without such a law, our reason could but ill contend with the crosses and calamities of life. But if this condition of universal change was designed as a source of consolation to suffering humanity, it was also designed to be a perpetual lesson of instruction, and a gradual preparation for that last great change to which at length we must resign ourselves. Amidst so much fluctuation and so much mortality, in such a state of lubricity and deception, amidst such a mass of perishing objects of pleasure and fleeting monuments of pride, one would think it impossible for a mind that has been exercised to reflection to fix its hopes on any thing in this life, or lend to present concerns that greater half of our being which belongs to a permanent and solid futurity. Such contemplations as these, continually renewed, make a salutary impression upon the mind; they release it from that thraldom in which the devotees to this world and its pleasures are involved, and hold it in a sort of equilibrium as to temporal concerns, while its option and its views fasten on a spiritual eternity. While such is the insecurity of enjoyment, the pleasures of this existence must be always incomplete; and as no depression of fortunes can long endure, so no elevation of circumstances can raise us above the dread of change. A certain secret alarm, an obtrusive threatening idea, enters into all our delights which depend upon present objects, and troubles those moments of felicity to which have been devoted all the ardours of the mind, as to the consum |