Strange, but so it is, that those things which reflect the greatest honour on the human mind are frequently of the least benefit to it!  A man who understands the four fundamental rules of arithmetic, aided by a little good sense, shall amass prodigious wealth in trade, shall become a Sir Peter Delme, a Sir Richard Hopkins, a Sir Gilbert Heathcote, whilst a poor algebraist spends his whole life in searching for astonishing properties and relations in numbers, which at the same time are of no manner of use, and will not acquaint him with the nature of exchanges.  This is very nearly the case with most of the arts:  there is a certain point beyond which all researches serve to no other purpose than merely to delight an inquisitive mind.  Those ingenious and useless truths may be compared to stars which, by being placed at too great a distance, cannot afford us the least light.

With regard to the French Academy, how great a service would they do to literature, to the language, and the nation, if, instead of publishing a set of compliments annually, they would give us new editions of the valuable works written in the age of Louis XIV., purged from the several errors of diction which are crept into them.  There are many of these errors in Corneille and Moliere, but those in La Fontaine are very numerous.  Such as could not be corrected might at least be pointed out.  By this means, as all the Europeans read those works, they would teach them our language in its utmost purity—­which, by that means, would be fixed to a lasting standard; and valuable French books being then printed at the King’s expense, would prove one of the most glorious monuments the nation could boast.  I have been told that Boileau formerly made this proposal, and that it has since been revived by a gentleman eminent for his genius, his fine sense, and just taste for criticism; but this thought has met with the fate of many other useful projects, of being applauded and neglected.