and friendly ridicule could annihilate such hostilities! Cannot you, my dear Warton, who have the weight and authority of a pacific Nestor in this tumultuous field, cannot you suggest effectual tenitives for the genus irritabile seriptorum. The celebrated Saxon painter Mengs, has, I think, given us all an admirable hint of this kind in writing to an ingenious but petulant Frenchman, who had provoked him by speaking contemptuously of his learned and enthusiastic friend Winkelman. Se io possedessi il talento di scriver bene (says the modest painter) vorrei esporre ragioni, e fatti, e insegnar cose utili senza perdermi a contradir veruno poiche mi sembra, che si possan fare buoni libri senza dire, che il tale, o il tal sogetto s' in gunna; e finalmente se ella mi puo dimostrare, che la maldicenza sia cosa honesta, allora io converro che importa molto poco il modo, con cui si attacca la riputazione del prossimo: e aggiungo che il sarcasmo e l' insulto sono la peggior maniera di mormorare, e di biasimare donde risulta sempre il maggior danno a chi lo usa.-Opere di Mengs, tomo primo, p. 243.

These admonitions are excellent, and want only the good example of the monitor to make them complete; but Mengs, unfortunately, in his professional writings, has spoken of Reynolds in a manner that grossly violates his own doctrine ; so difficult is it, my good Doctor, to find a pacific preacher and his practice in perfect harmony with each other.

To feeling and fervent spirits there can hardly be any provocation more apt to excite asperity of language, than an insult offered to an object of their esteem and veneration. In writing upon Milton, and those who, to my apprehension, have insulted his name with contumelious severity, I may have been hurried beyond the bias of my temper, which is, I trust, neither irascible nor cen◄ sorious; but I will imitate some well meaning catholic writers, and making you, my dear Warton, my inquisitor as well as my patron, I will here very honestly say to you" Si quid dixerim contra spiritum caritatis evangelicæ indictum volo."

&

Let me now hasten to apologize to you, as I

think I ought, for such deficiencies as your nice discernment cannot fail to observe in the work I You remember that Plutarch, the

address to you. amiable prince of ancient biographers, has justly mentioned the advantage arising to a writer from residing in a city amply furnished with books ;-it is my lot, you know, to live in a little sequestered village, and I chuse to do so for the reason which attached the good-natured Plutarch to his native Cheronca, that it may not become less. Had it suited me to devote much time and labour to extensive researches in the public and private libraries in London, it is possible that I might have discovered some latent anecdotes relating to Milton; yet after the patient inquiries of the intelligent and indefatigable Dr. Birch, and after the signal discovery of your successful brother, little novelty could be expected to reward the toil of such investigation; and perhaps a writer too eager to make new discoveries on this beaten ground, might be hurried by such eagerness into the censurable temerity of Peck the antiquarian, who, in his memoirs of the great poet, has affixed the

name of Milton to a portrait and a poem that do not belong to him.

Though my work has been executed in a retired village of England, my enquiries have extended far beyond the limits of our own country, by the aid of some intelligent and obliging friends, who had the kindness to search for me the great libraries of Paris and Rome, in the hope of discovering some neglected composition, or latent anecdote, that might be useful to a biographer of Milton. The success of these researches has not been equal to the kindness and the zeal of the intelligent enquirers; but an unexpected favor from a literary friend, who is known to me only by his writings, has enabled me to throw, perhaps, a new ray of light on that inviting subject of conjecture, the real origin of Milton's greatest performance.

In the dissertation, which I have annexed to this life of the poet, you will find some account of an Italian drama on the inhabitants of Paradise, which, though it rises not to the poetical spirit of Andreini, may have had some influence I appre

hend, on the fancy of Milton. You will also find that I have followed your example, in recommending your old acquaintance Andreini to the notice of the public. He happened to engage my attention, when the health of my revered friend, Mr. Cowper, allowed him to be my guest; and after our more serious morning studies, it afforded us a pleasant relaxation and amusement to throw some parts of the Adamo into English, in a rapid yet metrical translation. In this joint work, or rather pastime, it would be needless, if it were possible, to distinguish the lines of the united translators, as the the version had no higher aim than to gratify the curiosity of the English reader, without aspiring to praise. A very different character is due to that version of Milton's Latin Poetry, which my excellent friend has finished with such care and felicity, that even from the separate spec imens of it, with which this life is embellished, you, my dear Warton, and every delicate of judge of poetry, will, I am confident, esteem it an absolute model of poetical translation. For the honour of Milton and for that of his most worthy interpreter, I hope