The reputation of his house now brings round him a daily confluence of visitants, and every one tells him of some elegance which he has hitherto overlooked, some convenience not yet procured, or some new mode in ornament or furniture.  Bob, who had no wish but to be admired, nor any guide but the fashion, thought every thing beautiful in proportion as it was new, and considered his work as unfinished, while any observer could suggest an addition; some alteration was therefore every day made, without any other motive than the charms of novelty.  A traveller at last suggested to him the convenience of a grotto:  Bob immediately ordered the mount of his garden to be excavated:  and having laid out a large sum in shells and minerals, was busy in regulating the disposition of the colours and lustres, when two gentlemen, who had asked permission to see his gardens, presented him a writ, and led him off to less elegant apartments.

I know not, Sir, whether among this fraternity of sorrow you will think any much to be pitied; nor indeed do many of them appear to solicit compassion, for they generally applaud their own conduct, and despise those whom want of taste or spirit suffers to grow rich.  It were happy if the prisons of the kingdom were filled only with characters like these, men whom prosperity could not make useful, and whom ruin cannot make wise:  but there are among us many who raise different sensations, many that owe their present misery to the seductions of treachery, the strokes of casualty, or the tenderness of pity; many whose sufferings disgrace society, and whose virtues would adorn it:  of these, when familiarity shall have enabled me to recount their stories without horrour, you may expect another narrative from

Sir,

Your most humble servant,

MISARGYRUS.

No. 58.  SATURDAY, MAY 25, 1753.

  Damnant quod non intelligunt.  CIC.

  They condemn what they do not understand.

Euripides, having presented Socrates with the writings of Heraclitus[1], a philosopher famed for involution and obscurity, inquired afterwards his opinion of their merit.  “What I understand,” said Socrates, “I find to be excellent; and, therefore, believe that to be of equal value which I cannot understand.”

The reflection of every man who reads this passage will suggest to him the difference between the practice of Socrates, and that of modern criticks:  Socrates, who had, by long observation upon himself and others, discovered the weakness of the strongest, and the dimness of the most enlightened intellect, was afraid to decide hastily in his own favour, or to conclude that an author had written without meaning, because he could not immediately catch his ideas; he knew that the faults of books are often more justly imputable to the reader, who sometimes wants attention, and sometimes penetration; whose understanding is often obstructed by prejudice, and often dissipated by remissness; who comes sometimes to a new study, unfurnished with knowledge previously necessary; and finds difficulties insuperable, for want of ardour sufficient to encounter them.