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N° XXIV.

On the Pleasures of Reading.

THE Contempt of many of the innocent trifles of life, which the generality of the world betray, arises from the weakness and narrowness, and not from the superiority, of their understandings. Most of the empty baubles, which mankind pursue as objects of high consideration, are suffered to eclipse those simple amusements which are in no respect less important, and which are so far more valuable as they are more compatible with purity of heart and conduct!

It is from an undue estimate of the points of ordinary ambition, that health, liberty, carelessness of mind, and ease of conscience are sacrificed to the attainment of distinctions, which in the opinion of the truly wise are mere vanity. A just appreciation on the contrary will deem every pursuit, that affords amusement without derogating from virtue, praiseworthy.

Of all the human relaxations which are free from guilt, perhaps there is none so dignified as reading. It is no little good to while away the tediousness of existence in a gentle and harmless

exercise of the intellectual faculties. If we build castles in the air that vanish as quickly as the passing clouds, still some beneficial result has been obtained; some hours of weariness have been stolen from us; and probably some cares have been robbed of their sting.

I do not here mean to discuss the scale of excellence among the various studies that books afford. It is my purpose to shew that even the most trifling books, which give harmless pleasure, produce a good far exceeding what the world ascribes to more high-sounding occupations.

When we recollect of how many it is the lot, even against choice, to pass their days in solitude, how admirable is the substitute for conversation, which the powers of genius and arts of printing bestow!

I have made these observations for the purpose of introducing the following very excellent Letter of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu to her daughter, Lady Bute.

"Louvre, Sept. 30. 1757.

"Daughter! Daughter! don't call names; you are always abusing my pleasures, which is what no mortal will bear. Trash, lumber, sad stuff, are the titles you give to my favourite amusement. If I called a white staff a stick of wood, a gold key

gilded brass, and the ensigns of illustrious orders coloured strings, this may be philosophically true,

but would be very ill received. We have all our playthings; happy are they that can be contented with those they can obtain: those hours are spent in the wisest manner that can easiest shade the ills of life, and are the least productive of ill consequences. I think my time better employed in reading the adventures of imaginary people, than the Duchess of Marlborough, who passed the latter years of her life in paddling with her will, and contriving schemes of plaguing some, and extracting praise from others to no purpose; eternally disappointed, and eternally fretting. The active scenes are over at my age. I indulge, with all the art I can, my taste for reading. If I could confine it to valuable books, they are almost as rare as valuable men. I must be content with what I can find. As I approach a second childhood, I endeavour to enter into the pleasures of it. Your youngest son is, perhaps, at this very moment riding on a poker with great delight, not at all regretting that it is not a gold one, and much less wishing it an Arabian horse, which he could not know how to manage; I am reading an idle tale, not expecting wit or truth in it, and am very glad it is not metaphysics to puzzle my judgment, or history to mislead my opinion he fortifies his health by exercise; I calm

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my cares by oblivion. The methods may appear low to busy people; but if he improves his strength, and I forget my infirmities, we both attain very desirable ends."

In a prior letter, 1752, Lady Mary says, "I yet retain, and carefully cherish my love of reading. If relays of eyes were to be hired like post-horses, I would never admit any but silent companions : they afford a constant variety of entertainment, which is almost the only one pleasing in the enjoyment, and inoffensive in the consequence."

Again, 1753. "Every woman endeavours to breed her daughter a fine lady, qualifying her for a station in which she will never appear: and at the same time incapacitating her for that retirement, to which she is destined. Learning, if she has a real taste for it, will not only make her contented, but happy in it. No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She will not want new fashions, nor regret the loss of expensive diversions, or variety of company, if she can be amused with an author in her closet."

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I am well aware that a rigid censor may blame this view of things exhibited by Lady Mary as too

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limited, and exclaim, in the beautiful words of Mrs. Carter, addressed to another of her own name:

"How short a period, how confin'd a space

Must bound thy shining course beneath the skies!
For wider glories, for immortal fame

Were all those talents, all those graces given!"

But let it be remembered, that I have not compared the occupations of idle reading with the duties pointed out by religion; but only with the pursuits of worldly ambition. And surely of those who thus employ themselves it may well be said, with Gray;

Beneath the good how far, yet far above the great!" c

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We may perhaps apply to idle reading what Lord Clarendon records as the opinion of James Hay, Earl of Carlisle, as to a life of pleasure in opposition to a life of business. "He was,' says the noble historian, "a man of the greatest expense in his own person of any in the age he lived; and introduced more of that expense in the excess of clothes and diet, than any other man; and was indeed the original of all those inventions, from which others did but transcribe copies. He had a great universal understanding, and could have taken as much delight in any other way, if he had thought any other as pleasant and worth his care. But be found business was attended with more rivals and vexations; and he thought with much less pleasure, and not more innocence.”

April 1, 1808.

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