head, or the half broken sentence; or any of those diabolical intimations, which blast the fairest fame, by the dumb show of Envy, are the blackest and most venomous arts of this detested vice; which a virtuous man will never practice, and an honourable one never listen to.

All vices become more diffuse in proportion as they receive extenuation and countenance by general example. That envy is a common passion, does not, however, divest it of one attribute of its Satanic character, but rather furnishes additional motives for its suppresion and controul. Few of the evils that flow from the conduct of our fellow mortals but can be traced to this source; and how great a portion of the misery of life, results from the actions of others, we need not prove. Discord and contention, hatred and vengeance, hostility and murder, are among the numerous children of Envy, which all who consult their own felicity, or regard the com. fort of others, will struggle to extinguish. In our own minds, it becomes a serpent, fatal to our peace, and to others it is still more dangerous, though not always fraught with certain misery.

Intellectual pain, of all suffering, is the most acute and intense; and it is here, that Envy inflicts its wounds, with dire and disastrous certainty. The pistol, the stiletto, the rope and bullet, are passive instruments of torture, that carry with them the period of suffering. But the ravages of pain committed by Envy upon a mind of Sensibility, are endless and infinite; they fill the space of an entire life; they intrench themselves in the heart's deep

est passions, and even extend the torture to posterity, through the tenacious memory of an affec. tionate offspring. Where I to draw a picture of Envy, it would be the figure of a Deamon smilingly seated on a throne, composed of two living Hearts, quivering with incessant agony. In Learning it blasts the noblest enterprises, and prostrates the loftiest genius.

It is a humiliating truth, that those most prone to Envy, are most susceptible of its slander. Such is the infirmity of genius. A contrary opinion, however, appears generally to prevail; and calumny is accumulated by Envy with the utmost indifference upon the head of those highly-endowed, as they are supposed to be shielded from its venom by the the same powers that procure them glory and dis. tinction.

Envy is the greatest obstacle to Literature, be. cause authors aim at Fame; and those who give the tone to public opinion, being in pursuit of the same object, are studious to villify and lower men of geni. us and learning. Those who are rich, but dull and ignorant, can only succeed by depressing men eminent for intellect and wit. Yet there is a romantic trait in mankind which assists authors in this contest for glory. The fame procured by Riches is mercenary and selfish, while that obtained by Genius is derived from the loftiest emotions of the soul; men esteem and admire the latter for itself, but they only love the former for the sake of the recompense.— Cræsus and Homer divide our sentiments very unequally; and Homer, were he now alive, and a blind

beggar would be very loath to exchange his glory for the fame of a nabob of antiquity. Such is always the inherent Superiority of Genius.—And it is this superiority, which always excites the opposition of abortive understandings, who have exhausted their vigour without satisfying their wishes. Among authors, it is really a subject for serious lamentation, that Envy should so much prevail-yet authors are not, unfor. tunately, always Philosophers and even philosophers too much resemble common men in this particular. It is not wonderful, therefore, that we find men of inferior parts, repining in agony at the Fame of their masters; and often attempting to pull down to their own level, the towering genius who has soared above them. In this endeavour of the envious, to level the the lofty, mankind in general, but too readily com. bine, during the life time of the great spirits who dazzle and irritate them by their splendour; and it is only when Death has removed them from the are. na, that the world agrees to confess their power, consecrate their fame, and lavish applause upon their works. Then the envious hope for fame, by associat ing their names with the glory of him, whom they be føre calumniated.

THE

AUTHOR'S JEWEL,

NUMBER XVI.

UTILITY AND IMPORTANCE OF NOVELS.

"A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore, "And proud defiance in their looks they bore: "For thee (they cried) amidst alarms and strife, "We sail'd in tempests down the stream of life; "For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood, "And swam to empire through the purple flood. "Those ills we dar'd, thy inspiration own; "What virtue seem'd was done for thee alone."Thus spoke ROMANCE and FABLE to the Age, "And smil'd exulting as they view'd each page.

POPE.

The most prominent and remarkable effect produced by the art of printing, is the astonishing multiplication of books, particularly Novels and Romances; from which has resulted a wide diffusion of knowledge, and information, that has materially conduced not only to civilize and refine mankind, but to beget that love of Liberty, which tends so much to soften and improve the morals of society. When we contrast the ages anterior to the invention of this sublime art, we are struck by the surprising inferiority of the ancients, in regard to that department of polite learning, which refers to the Imagina.

tion for its production. In particular, the prodigious increase of Novels and Romances since the era of that invention, affords a remarkable illustration of its powerful influence upon the destinies of mankind, in the advancement of taste, reflection, and fancy.

Dr. Johnson has remarked, that "of every other kind of writing," except Translations, "the ancients have left us models which all succeeding ages have laboured to imitate."

Is this assertion of the great Lexicographer philo• sophically correct? Have the ancients left us models of Novels and Romances? I do not think the inquiry will sustain his assertion.

Antiquity presents us with nothing similar to our productions of this kind. The indistinct and remote resemblance between the fables and poems of Hesiod, Homer, Æsop and Ovid, and modern Novels, will not bear out the assertion, of the ancients having furnished us with the model. With as much reason might we class the Inferno of Dante, the Orlando of Ariosto, and the Fairy Queen of Spencer, with the Udolpho of Mrs. Radcliffe, and the Astrologer of Waverly. Lord Bacon's remarks upon this subject corroborate our position. In his treatise on "The Mythology, or concealed knowledge of the Ancients," he observes:" Men have proposed to answer two different and contrary ends, by the use of parables; for parables serve as well to instruct or illustrate, as to wrap up and envelope: so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed use, and suppose the Ancient Fables to be vague, indeterminate things, formed for amusement, still the other use must re