scope to my inclination, and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; for, if I mistake not, the manner, which I have adopted, admits equally of all these kinds of composition. I have written one hundred and fifty lines, and am surprised to find the structure of that complicated stanza so little troublesome. I was always fond of it; for I think it the most harmonious that ever was contrived. It admits of more variety of pauses than either the couplet, or the alternate rhyme; and it concludes with a pomp, and majesty of sound, which, to my ear, is wonderfully delightful. It seems also very well adapted to the genius of our language, which, from its irregularity of inflexion and number of monosyllables, abounds in diversied terminations, and consequently renders our poetry susceptible of an endless variety of legitimate rhymes. But I am so far from intending this performance for the press, that I am morally certain it never will be finished. I shall add a stanza now and then, when I am at leisure; and when I have no humour for any other amusement: but I am resolved to write no more poetry with a view to publication, till I see some dawnings of a poetical taste among the generality of readers; of which, however, there is not at present any thing like an appearance."

To the same, 20 May, 1767.

"My performance in Spenser's stanza has not advanced a single line, these many months. It is called “The Minstrel." The subject was suggested by a dissertation on the old minstrels, which is prefixed to a

collection

collection of ballads lately published by Dodsley in three volumes.* I propose to give an account of the birth, education, and adventures of one of those bards; in which I shall have full scope for description, sentiment, satire, and even a certain species of humour and of pathos, which, in the opinion of my great master, are by no means inconsistent, as is evident from his works. My hero is to be born in the south of Scotland, which you know was the native land of the English Minstrels; I mean of those Minstrels, who travelled into England; and supported themselves there by singing their ballads to the harp. His father is a shepherd. The son will have a natural taste for music and the beauties of nature; which, however, languishes for want of culture, till in due time he meets with a hermit, who gives him some instruction; but endeayours to check his genius for poetry and adventures, by representing the happiness of obscurity and solitude, and the bad reception which poetry has met with in almost every age. The poor swain acquiesces in this advice, and resolves to follow his father's employment, when on a sudden the country is invaded by Danes, or English Borderers, (1 know not which,) and he is stripped of all his little fortune, and obliged by necessity to commence Minstrel. This is all that I have as yet concerted of the plan. † I have written 150 lines; but my hero is not yet born, though now in a fair way of being so; for his parents are described,

• The Reliques of ancient English poetry, by Dr. Percy, published in 1765. But he once afterwards told Sir W. Forbes, "he proposed to have introduced a foreign enemy as invading his country, in consequence of which The Minstrel was to employ himself in rousing his countrymen to arms." Life, I. 203. This was probably the result of his friend Gray's suggestion. See Cens. Lit, Vol. I. p. 57%

and

and married. I know not whether I shall ever proceed any farther; however, I am not dissatisfied with what I have written."

In the course of two more years Beattie finished the first canto of this enchanting poem; and published it early in the spring of 1771. It instantly attracted the public attention, and raised the author into the first ranks of fame. Gray praised it with a warm and disinterested energy; and it seemed to have electrified Lord Lyttelton, who spoke of it in a much higher tone of eloquence, than he was accustomed to reach. I cannot resist transcribing the short but beautiful letter here.

Lord Lyttelton to Mrs. Montagu, 8 March, 1771.

"I read your "Minstrel" last night, with as much rapture as poetry, in her noblest sweetest charms, ever raised in my soul. It seemed to me, that my once most beloved minstrel, Thomson, was come down from heaven, refined by the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with here, to let me hear him sing again the beauties of nature, and the finest feelings of virtue, not with human, but with angelic strains! I beg you to express my gratitude to the poet for the pleasure he has given me. Your eloquence alone can do justice to my sense of his admirable genius, and the excellent use he makes of it. Would it were in my power to do him any service!"*

*The Rev. Mr. Allison, the elegant author of "Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste," and the husband of Dr. Gregory's daughter, feelingly observes "I do not know any thing that Lord Lyttelton has written, that so strongly marks the sensibility and purity of his taste. The allusion to Thomson is singularly affecting, and constitutes the finest praise, that ever was bestowed on a poet.”

In a letter dated 6 July, 1772, the author declares that the second canto had been nearly finished these two years: but it was not published till 1774, accompanied by a new edition of the first canto.

In the mean time Beattie's domestic afflictions increased with his fame; and embittered the exquisite satisfaction, which he would otherwise have derived from the flattering station he now held in society. To these I think we must attribute the change of sentiments on a very important topic, which the latter part of the following most eloquent letter seems to dis

cover.

Dr. Beattie to Mrs. Montagu, 26 July, 1773.

"Your most obliging and most excellent letter of the 14th current, bore the impression of Socrates on the outside. He, if I mistake not, piqued himself on having constantly resided in Athens, and used to say, that he found no instruction in stones or trees; but you, Madam, better skilled in the human heart, and more thoroughly acquainted with all the sublimest affections, do justly consider that quiet which the country affords, and those soothing and elevating sentiments, which "rural sights and rural sounds" so powerfully inspire, as necessary to purify the soul, and raise it to the contemplation of the first and greatest good. Yet, I think, you rightly determine, that absolute solitude is not good for us. The social affections must be cherished, if we would keep both mind and body in good health. The virtues are all so nearly allied, and sympathise so strongly with each other, that if one is borne down, all the rest feel it, and have a tendency to pine away. The more we love one another, the more

we

we shall love our Maker: and if we fail in dify to our common parent, our brethren of mankind will soon discover that we fail in duty to them also..

"In my younger days I was much attached to solitude, and could have envied even "The Shepherd of the Hebride isles, placed far amid the melancholy main." I wrote Odes to Retirement, and wished to be conducted to its deepest groves, remote from every rude sound, and from every vagrant foot. In a word, I thought the most profound solitude the best. But I have now changed my mind. Those solemn and incessant energies of imagination, which naturally take place in such a state, are fatal to the health and spirits, and tend to make us more and more unfit for the business of life: the soul deprived of those ventilations of passion, which arise from social intercourse, is reduced to a state of stagnation; and if she is not of a very pure consistence indeed, will be apt to breed within herself many "monstrous and many prodigious things," of which she will find it no easy matter to rid herself, even when she is become sensible of their noxious nature."

I have no room here to enter into a disquisition upon the very interesting subject of solitude. The objections to it thus urged by Beattie deserve, no doubt, very serious consideration. But they do not convince me, expressed, as they are, in general terms. Nay, I confess I could have wished they had never appeared under this poet's authority; because they take something from the pleasure we feel in some of the finest passages of his best poems. For my part, it appears

to