served, has evidently begun to degenerate from its former politeness; and were the learning of the Europeans at present candidly considered, the decline would perhaps appear to have already taken place. We should find among the natives of the west the study of morality displaced for mathematical disquisition, or metaphysical subtilties; we should find learning begin to separate from the useful duties and concerns of life; while none ventured to aspire after that character but they who know much more than is truly amusing or useful. We should find every great attempt suppressed by prudence, and the rapturous sublimity in writing cooled by a cautious fear of offence. We should find few of those daring spirits, who bravely venture to be wrong, and who are willing to hazard much for the sake of great acquisitions. Providence has indulged the world with a period of almost four hundred years refinement; does it not now by degrees sink us into our former ignorance, leaving us only the love of wisdom, while it deprives us of its advantages? Adieu. LETTER LXIV. From the Same. THE princes of Europe have found out a manner of rewarding their subjects who have behaved well, by presenting them with about two yards of blue ribbon, which is worn about the shoulder. They who are honoured with this mark of distinction are called knights, and the king himself is always the head of the order. This is a very frugal method of recompencing the most important services; and it is very fortunate for kings that their subjects are satisfied with such trifling rewards. Should a noble man happen to lose his leg in battle, the king presents him with two yards of ribbon, and he is paid for the loss of his limb. Should an ambassador spend all his paternal fortune in supporting the honour of his country abroad, the king presents him with two yards of ribbon, which is to be considered as an equivalent to his estate. In short, while an European king has a yard of blue or green ribbon left, he need be under no apprehensions of wanting statesmen, generals, and soldiers. I cannot sufficiently admire those kingdoms in which men with patrimonial estates are willing thus to undergo real hardships for empty favours. A person, already possessed of a competent fortune, who undertakes to enter the career of ambition, feels many real inconveniences from his station, while it procures him no real happiness that he was not possessed of before. He could eat, drink, and sleep before he became a courtier, as well, perhaps better, than when invested with his authority. He could command flatterers in a private station, as well as in his public capacity, and indulge at home every favourite inclination, uncensured and unseen by the people. What real good then does an addition to a fortune, already sufficient, procure? Not any. Could the great man, by having his fortune increased, increase also his appetites, then precedence might be attended with real amusement. Was he, by having his one thousand made two, thus enabled to enjoy two wives, or eat two dinners, then, indeed, he might be excused for undergoing some pain, in order to extend the sphere of his enjoyments. But, on the contrary, he finds his desire for pleasure often lessen, as he takes pains to be able to improve it; and his capacity for enjoyments diminishes as his fortune happens to increase. Instead, therefore, of regarding the great with envy, I generally consider them with some share of com passion. I look upon them as a set of good-natured misguided people, who are indebted to us, and not to themselves, for all the happiness they enjoy. For our pleasure, and not their own, they sweat under a cumbrous heap of finery; for our pleasure, the lacquied train, the slow parading pageant, with all the gravity of grandeur, moves in review; a single coat, or a single footman, answers all the purposes of most indolent refinement as well; and those who have twenty, may be said to keep one for their own pleasure, and the other nineteen merely for ours. So true is the observation of Confucius, that we take greater pains to persuade others that we are happy, than in endeavouring to think so ourselves. But though this desire of being seen, of being made the subject of discourse, and of supporting the dignities of an exalted station be troublesome enough to the ambitious, yet it is well for society that there are men thus willing to exchange ease and safety for danger and a ribbon. We lose nothing by their vanity, and it would be unkind to endeavour to deprive a child of its rattle. If a duke or a duchess are willing to carry a long train for our entertainment, so much the worse for themselves; if they chuse to exhibit in public with a hundred lacquies and mamelukes in their equipage for our entertainment, still so much the worse for themselves; it is the spectators alone who give and receive the pleasure, they only the sweating figures that swell the pageant. A mandarine, who took much pride in appearing with a number of jewels on every part of his robe, was once accosted by an old sly Bonze, who, following him through several streets, and bowing often to the ground, thanked him for his jewels. What does the man mean? cried the mandarine. Friend, I never gave thee any of my jewels. No, replied the other; but you have let me look at them, and that is all the use you can make of them yourself; so there is no dif ference between us, except that you have the trouble of watching them, and that is an employment I do not much desire. Adieu. LETTER LXV. From the Same. THOUGH not very fond of seeing a pageant myself, yet I am generally pleased with being in the crowd which sees it; it is amusing to observe the effect which such a spectacle has upon the variety of faces, the pleasure it excites in some, the envy in others, and the wishes it raises in all. With this design I lately went to see the entry of a foreign ambassador, resolved to make one of the mob, to shout as they shouted, to fix with earnestness upon the same frivolous objects, and participate for a while the pleasures and the wishes of the vulgar. Struggling here for some time, in order to be first to see the cavalcade as it passed, some one of the crowd unluckily happened to tread upon my shoe, and tore it in such a manner, that I was utterly unqualified to march forward with the main body, and obliged to fall back in the rear. Thus rendered incapable of being a spectator of the show myself, I was at least willing to observe the spectators, and limped behind like one of the invalids which follow the march of an army. In this plight, as I was considering the eagerness that appeared on every face, how some bustled to get foremost, and others contented themselves with taking a transient peep when they could; how some praised the four black servants that were stuck behind one of the equipages, and some the ribbons that decorated the horses' necks in another; my attention was called off to an object more extraordinary than any I had yet seen. A poor cobbler sat in his stall by the way side, and continued to work while the crowd passed by, without testifying the smallest share of curiosity. I own, his want of attention excited mine; and as I stood in need of his assistance, I thought it best to employ a philosophic cobbler on this occasion; perceiving my business, therefore, he desired me to enter and sit down, took my shoe in his lap, and began to mend it with his usual indifference and taciturnity. "How, my friend," said I to him, "can you con"tinue to work, while all those fine things are "passing by your door?" "Very fine they are, "master," returned the cobbler, " for those that like "them, to be sure, but what are all those fine things "to me? You do not know what it is to be a cobbler, " and so much the better for yourself. Your bread “is baked, you may go and see sights the whole ❝day, and eat a warm supper when you come home "at night; but for me, if I should run hunting after "all these fine folk, what should I get by my journey "but an appetite; and, God help me, I have too much "of that at home already, without stirring out for "it. Your people who may eat four meals a-day ❝ and a supper at night, are but a bad example to "such a one as I. No, master, as God has called (6 me into this world in order to mend old shoes, I "have no business with fine folk, and they no busi"ness with me." I here interrupted him with a smile. "See this last, master," continues he, "and "this hammer; this last and hammer are the two "best friends I have in this world; nobody else will "be my friend, because I want a friend. The great "folks you saw pass just now have five hundred "friends, because they have no occasion for them: "now, while I stick to my good friends here, I am "very contented; but when I ever so little run after "sights and fine things, I begin to hate my work, I |