event of things, and does not drag on slowly, perpetually turning aside from his point, and catching at every incident to prolong his story, as though he wanted matter to furnish out his tale.

Semper ad eventum festinat.

Though I must confess I cannot think Homer has always followed this rule in either of his two famous epic poems; but Horace does not hear what I say. There is also another rule near akin to the former.

As a writer or speaker should not wander from his subject to fetch in foreign matter from afar, so neither should he amass together and drag in all that can be said, even on his appointed theme of discourse; but he should consider what is his chief design, what is the end he hath in view, and then to make every part of his discourse subserve that design. If he keep his great end always in his eye, he will pass hastily over those parts or appendages of his subject which have no evident connexion with his design; or he will entirely omit them, and hasten continually toward his intended mark, employing his time, his study, and labour, chiefly on the part of his subject which is most necessary to attain his present and proper end.

This might be illustrated by a multitude of examples; but an author who should heap them together on such an occasion, might be in danger of becoming himself an example of the impertinence he is cautioning others to avoid.

After you have finished any discourse which you design for the public, it would be always best, if other circumstances would permit, to let it sleep some time before you expose it to the world, that so you may have opportunity to review it with the indifference of a stranger, and to make the whole of it pass under a new and just examination: for no man can judge so justly of his own work, while the pleasure of his invention and performance is fresh, and has engaged his self-love too much on the side of what he has newly finished.

If an author would send a discourse into the world

which should be most universally approved, he should consult persons of very different genius, sentiment, and party, and endeavour to learn their opinions of it: in the world it will certainly meet with all these. Set it therefore to view amongst several of your acquaintance first, who may survey the argument on all sides, and one may happen to suggest a correction which is entirely neglected by others; and be sure to yield yourself to the dictates of true criticism and just censure wheresoever you meet with them, nor let a fondness for what you have written blind your eyes against the discovery of your own mistakes.

When an author desires a friend to revise his work, it is too frequent a practice to disallow almost every correction which a judicious friend shall make. He apologizes for this word, and the other expression; he vindicates this sentence, and gives his reasons for another paragraph, and scarce ever submits to correction, and thus utterly discourages the freedom that a true friend would take in pointing out our mistakes. Such writers, who are so full of themselves, may go on to admire their own incorrect performances, and expose their works and their follies to the world without pity*.

Horace, in his Art of Poetry, talks admirably well on this subject.

Quintilio si quid recitares, corrige, sodes,
Hoc, aiebat, et hoc; melius te posse negares
Bis terque expertum frustra; delere jubebat,
Et malè tornatos incudi reddere versus,
Si defendere delictum, quàm vertere, malles ;

Nullum ultrà verbum, aut operam insumebat inanem,
Quin sine rivali teque et tua soles amarcs.

Let good Quintilius all your lines revise,
And he will freely say, Mend this, and this;

To cut off such chicanery, it may perhaps be the most expedient for a person consulted on such an occasion, to note down in a distinct paper, with proper references, the advised alterations, referring it to the author to make such use of them as he, on due deliberation, shall think fit.

Sir, I have often tried, and tried again,
I'm sure I can't do better; 'tis in vain :

Then blot out ev'ry word, or try once more,
And file these ill-turn'd verses o'er and o'er:
But if you seem in love with your own thought,
More eager to defend than mend your fault,
He says no more, but lets the fop go on,
And rival-free admire his lovely own.

CREECH.

If you have not the advantage of friends to survey your writings, then read them over yourself, and all the way consider what will be the sentence and judgment of all the various characters of mankind upon them: think what one of your own party would say, or what would be the sense of an adversary: imagine what a curious or a malicious man, what a captious or an envious critic, what a vulgar or a learned reader would object, either to the matter, the manner, or the style: and be sure and think with yourself what you yourself could say against your own writing, if you were of a different opinion or a stranger to the writer and by these means you will obtain some hints whereby to correct and improve your own work, and to guard it better against the censures of the public, as well as to render it more useful to that part of mankind for whom you chiefly design it.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF WRITING AND READING CONTROVERSIES.

SECTION I.

OF WRITING CONTROVERSIES.

WHEN a person of good sense writes on any controverted subject, he will generally bring the strongest arguments that are usually to be found for the support of his opinion; and when that is done, he will represent the most powerful objections against it in a fair and candid

manner, giving them their full force; and at last will put in such an answer to those objections as he thinks will dissipate and dissolve the force of them: and herein the reader will generally find a full view of the controversy, together with the main strength of argument on both sides.

When a good writer has set forth his own opinion at large, and vindicated it with its fairest and strongest proofs, he shall be attacked by some pen on the other side of the question; and if his opponent be a wise and sensible writer, he will shew the best reasons why the former opinions cannot be true; that is, he will draw out the objections against them in their fullest array, in order to destroy what he supposes a mistaken opinion; and here we may reasonably suppose, that an opponent will draw up his objections against the supposed error in a brighter light, and with stronger evidence than the first writer did, who propounded his opinion, which was contrary to those objections.

If, in the third place, the first writer answers his opponent with care and diligence, and maintains his own point against the objections which were raised in the best manner; the reader may then generally presume, that in these three pieces he has a complete view of the controversy; together with the most solid and powerful arguments on both sides of the debate.

But when a fourth and fifth, and sixth volume appears in rejoinders and replies, we cannot reasonably expect any great degrees of light to be derived from them, or that much further evidences for truth shall be found in them: and it is sufficiently evident, from daily experience, that many mischiefs attend this prolongation of controversies among men of learning, which, for the most part, do injury to the truth, either by turning the attention of the reader quite away from the original point to other matters, or by covering the truth with a multitude of occasional incidents and perplexities, which serve to bewilder rather than guide a faithful inquirer.

Sometimes, in these latter volumes, the writers on both sides will hang upon little words and occasional expressions of their opponent, in order to expose them, which

have no necessary connexion with the grand point in view, and which have nothing to do with the debated truth.

Sometimes they will spend many a page in vindicating their own character, or their own little sentences or accidental expressions, from the remarks of their opponent, in which expressions or remarks the original truth has no

concern.

And sometimes again you shall find even writers of good sense, who have happened to express themselves in an improper and indefensible manner, led away by the fondness of self-love to justify those expressions, and vindicate those little lapses they were guilty of, rather than they will condescend to correct those little mistakes, or recall those improper expressions. O that we would put off our pride, our self-sufficiency, and our infallibility, when we enter into a debate of truth. But if the writer is guilty of mingling these things with his grand argument, happy will that reader be who has judgment enough to distinguish them, and to neglect every thing that does not belong to the original theme proposed and disputed.

Yet here it may be proper to put in one exception to this general observation or remark, namely, When the second writer attacks only a particular or collateral opinion, which was maintained by the first, then the fourth writing may be supposed to contain a necessary part of the complete force of the argument, as well as the second and third, because the first writing only occasionally or collaterally mentioned that sentiment which the second attacks and opposes; and in such a case the second may be esteemed as the first treatise on that controversy. It would take up too much time should we mention instances of this kind which might be pointed to in most of our controversial writers, and it might be invidious to enter into the detail*.

*Upon this it may be remarked farther, that there is a certain spirit of modesty, and of benevolence, which never fails to adorn a writer on such occasions, and which generally does him much more service in the judgment of wise and sensible men, than any poignancy of satire with which he might be able to animate his productions; and as this always appears amiable, so is it peculiarly charming when the opponent' shows