It is a kind of heavy broad-wheeled waggon of an objection, that makesa formidable, awkward appearance, and takes up so much of the road, that I shall have a lucky escape if I can dash by it in my light gig without being upset or crushed to atoms. The persons who in the present instance have the charge of it in its progress through the streets of Edinburgh are a constitutional lawyer, a political economist, an opposition editor, and an ex-officio surveyor of the customs-fearful odds against one poor metaphysician! Their machine of human life, I confess, puts me a little in mind of those square-looking caravans one sometimes meets on the road, in which they transport wild beasts from place to place; and dull, heavy, safe, and flat as they look, the inmates continue their old habits; the monkeys play their tricks, and the panthers lick their jaws for human blood, though cramped and confined in their excursions. So the vices and follies, when they cannot break loose, do their worst inside this formal conveyance, the main chance. As this ovation is intended to pass up High street for the honor of the Scottish capital, I should wish it to stop at the shop-door of Mr. Bartholine Saddletree, to see if he is at home or in the courts. Also to inquire whether the suit of Peter Peebles is yet ended; and to take the opinion of counsel how many of the Highland lairds, or Scottish noblemen and gentlemen, that were out in the Fifteen and the Forty-five, periled their lives and fortunes in the "good cause" from an eye to the main chance? The Baron of Bradwardine would have scorned such a suggestion; nay, it would have been below Balmawhapple or even Killancureit. But "the age of chivalry is gone, and that of sophists, economists, and calculators, has succeeded." should say that the risk, the secrecy, the possibility of the leaders having their heads stuck on Temple Bar and their estates confiscated were among the foremost causes that inflamed their zeal and stirred their blood to the enterprise.

Hardship, danger, exile, death, these words smack of honor more than the main chance. The modern Scotch may be loyal on this thriving principle their ancestors found their loyalty a very losing concern, yet they persevered in it till, and long after, it became a desperate cause. But patriotism and loyalty (true or false) are important and powerful principles in human affairs, though not always selfish and calculating. Honor is one great standard bearer and puissant leader in the struggle of human life; and less than honor (a nickname or a bug-bear) is enough to set the multitude together by the ears, whether in civil, religious, or private brawls. But to return to our Edinburgh shop-keepers, those practical models of wisdom, and authentic epitomes of human nature. Say that by their canny ways and pawky looks" they keep their names out of the Gazette,' yet still care (not the less perhaps) mounts behind their counters, and sits in their back-shops. A tradesman is not a bankrupt at the year's end. But what does it signify, if he is hen-pecked in the mean time, or quarrels with his wife, or beats his apprentices, or has married a woman twice as old as himself for her money, or has been jilted by his maid, or fuddles himself every night, or is laying in an apoplexy by over-eating himself, or is believed by nobody, or is a furious Whig or Tory, or a knave, or a fool, or one envious of the success of his neighbors, or dissatisfied with his own, or surly, or eaten up with indolence and procrastination, never easy but bashful and awkard in company (though with a vast

desire to shine) or has some personal defect or weak sides on which the Devil is sure to assail him, and the venting his spleen and irritability on which, through some loop-hole or other, makes the real business and torment of his life-that of his shop may go on as it pleases. Such is the perfection of reason and the triumph of the sovereign good, where there are no strong passions to disturb, or no great vices to sully it! The humors collect, the will will have head, the petty passions ferment, and we start some grievance or other, and hunt it down every hour in the day, or the machine of still-life could not go on even in North Britain. But were I to grant the full force and extent of the objection, I should still say that it does not bear upon my view of the subject or general assertion, that reason is an unequal match for passion. Business is a kind of gaoler or taskmaster, that keeps its vassals in good order while they are under its eye, as the slave or culprit performs his task with the whip hanging over him, and punishment immediately to follow neglect; but the question is, what he would do with his recovered freedom, or what course the mind will for the most part pursue, when in the range of its general conduct it has its choice to make between a distant, doubtful, sober, rational good (or average state of being,) and some one object of comparatively little value, that strikes the senses, flatters our pride, gives scope to the imagination, and has all the strength of passion and inclination on its side. The main chance then is a considerable exception, but not a fair one or a case in point, since it falls under a different head and line of argument. The fault of reason in general (which takes in the whole instead of parts) is that its objects, though of the utmost extent and importance, are not defined and tangible. This fault cannot be found with the pursuit of trade and commerce. It is not a mere dry abstract, undefined, speculative, however steady and wellfounded conviction of the understanding. It has other levers and pullies to enforce it, besides those of reason and reflection; as follows:

1. The value of money is positive or specific. The interest in it is a sort of mathematical interest, reducible to number and quantity. Ten is always more than one; a part is never greater than the whole; the good we seek or attain in this way has a technical denomination; and I do not deny that in matters of strict calculation, the principle of calculation will naturally bear great sway. The returns of profit and loss are regular and mechanical, and the operations of business or the main chance are so too. But commonly speaking, we judge by the degree of excitement, not by the ultimate quantity. Thus we prefer a draught of nectar to the recovery of our health, and are on most occasions ready to exclaim,

"An ounce of sweet is worth a pound of sour."

Yet there is a point at which self-will and humor stop. A man will take brandy, which is a a kind of slow poison, but he will not take actual poison knowing it to be such, however slow the operation or bewitching the taste; because here the effect is absolutely fixed and certain, not variable, nor in the power of the imagination to elude or trifle with it. I see no courage in battle, but in going on what is called the forlorn hope.

2. Business is also an affair of habit; it calls for incessant and daily application; and what was at first a matter of necessity to supply our wants, becomes often a matter of necessity to employ our time. The man of

business wants work for his head; the laborer and mechanic for his hands, so that the love of action, of difficulty of competition, the stimulus of success or failure is perhaps as strong an ingredient in men's ordinary pursuits as the love of gain. We find persons pursuing science or any hobbyhorsical whim or handicraft that they have taken a fancy to, or persevering in a loosing concern with just the same ardor and obstinacy. As to the choice of a pursuit in life, a man may not be forward to engage in business, but being once in, does not like to turn back amidst the pity of friends and the derision of enemies. How difficult is it to prevent those who have a turn for any art or science from going into these pursuits however unprofitable! Nay, how difficult is it often to prevent those who have no turn that way, but prefer starving to a certain income! If there is one in a family brighter than the rest, he is immediately designed for one of the learned professions. Really, the dull and plodding people of the world have not much reason to boast of their superior wisdom or numbers: they are in an involuntary majority!

3. The value of money is an exchangeable value; that is, this pursuit is available towards and convertible into a great many others. A person is in want of money, and mortgages an estate to throw it away upon a round of entertainments and company. The passion or motive here is not a hankering after money, and the individual will ruin himself for this object. Another who has the same passion for show, and a certain style of living, tries to gain a fortune in trade to indulge it, and only goes to work in a more round-about way. I remember a story of a common mechanic at Manchester, who laid out the hard-earned savings of the week in hiring a horse and livery-servant to ride behind him to Stockport every Sunday, and to dine there at an ordinary like a gentleman. The pains bestowed upon the main chance here was only a cover for another object, which exercised a ridiculous predominance over his mind. Money will purchase a horse, a house, a picture, leisure, dissipation, or whatever the individual has a fancy for, that is to be purchased; but it does not follow that he is fond of all these, or of whatever will promote his real interest, because he is fond of money, but that he has a passion for some one of these objects, to which he would probably sacrifice all the rest, and his own peace and happiness into the bargain.

4. The main chance is an instrument of various passions, but is directly opposed to none of them, with the single exception of indolence, or the vis invertia, which of itself is seldom strong enough to master it, without the aid of some other incitement. A barrister sticks to his duty, as long as he has only his love of ease to conquer; but he flings up his briefs or neglects them, if he thinks he can make a figure in Parliament. A servantgirl stays in her place and does her work, though perhaps lazy and slatternly because no immediate temptation occurs strong enough to interfere with the necessity of gaining her bread, but she goes away with a bastardchild, because here passion and desire come into play, though the consequence is that she loses not only her place but her character and every prospect in life. No one, therefore, flings away the main chance without a motive, any more than he voluntarily puts his hand into the fire or breaks his neck by jumping out of the window. A man must live; the first step is a point of necessity: every man would live well, the second is a point of luxury. The having or even acquiring wealth does not prevent our en

joying it in various ways. A man may give his mornings to business, and his evenings to pleasure. There is no contradiction in this; nor does he sacrifice his ruling passion by this, any more than the man of letters by study, or the soldier by an attention to discipline. Reason and passion are opposed, not passion and business. The sot, the glutton, the debauchee, the gamester, must all have money, to make their own use of it, and they may indulge all these passions and their avarice at the same time. It is only when the last becomes the ruling passion that it puts a prohibition on the others. In that case, every thing else is lost sight of; but it is seldom carried to this length, or when it is, it is far from being another name, either in its means or ends, for reason, sense, or happiness, as I have already shown.

I have taken no notice hitherto of ambition or virtue, or scarcely of the pursuits of fame or intellect. Yet all these are important and respectable divisions of the map of human life. Who ever charged Mr. Pitt with a want of common sense, because he did not die worth a plumb? Had it been proposed to Lord Byron to forfeit every penny of his estate, or every particle of his reputation, would he have hesitated to part with the former? Is not a loss of character, a stain upon honor, as severe a blow as any reverse of fortune? Do not the richest heiresses in the city marry for a title, and think themselves well off? Are there not patriots who think or dream all their lives about their country's good; philanthropists who rave about liberty and humanity at a certain yearly loss? Are there not studious men who never once thought of bettering their circumstances? Are not the liberal professions held more respectable than business, though less lucrative? Might not most people do better than they do, but that they postpone their interest to their indolence, their taste for reading, their love of pleasure, or to some other influence? And is it not generally understood that all men can make a fortune or succeed in the main chance, who have but that one idea in their heads? Lastly, are there not those who pursue or husband wealth for their own good, for the benefit of their friends or the relief of the distressed? But as the examples are rare, and might be supposed to make against myself, I shall not insist upon them. think I have said enough to vindicate or apologize for my first position

"Masterless passion sways us to the mood
Of what it likes or loaths;"

I

-or if not to make good my ground, to march out with flying colors and beat of drum!

ESSAY XV II.

THE OPERA.

THE Opera is a fine thing: the only question is whether it is not too fine. It is the most fascinating, and at the same time the most tantalising of all places. It is not the too little, but the too much, that offends us. Every object is there collected, and displayed in ostentatious profusion, that can strike the senses or dazzle the imagination; music, dancing, painting, poetry, architecture, the blaze of beauty," the glass of fashion, and the mould of form ;" and yet one is not satisfied-for the multitude and variety of objects distract the attention, and by flattering us with a vain show of the highest gratification of every faculty and wish, leave us at last in a state of listlessness, disappointment, and ennui. The powers of the mind are exhausted, without being invigorated; our expectations are excited, not satisfied; and we are at some loss to distinguish an excess of irritation from the height of enjoyment. To sit at the Opera for a whole evening, is like undergoing the process of animal magnetism for the same length of time. It is an illusion and a mockery, where the mind is made" the fool of the senses," and cheated of itself; where pleasure courts us, as in a fairy palace; where the Graces and the Muses, waving in a gay, fantastic round with one another, still turn from our pursuit; where, art, like an enchantress with a thousand faces, still allures our giddy admiration, shifts her mask, and again disappoints us. The Opera, in short, proceeds upon a false estimate of taste and morals; it supposes that the capacity for enjoyment may be multiplied with the objects calculated to afford it. It is a species of intellectual prostitution; for we can no more receive pleasure from all our faculties at once than we can be in love with a number of mistresses at the same time. Though we have different senses, we have but one heart; and if we attempt to force it into the service of them all at once, it must grow restive or torpid, hardened or enervated. The spectator may say to the sister-arts of Painting, Poetry, and Music, as they advance to him in a pas-de-trois at the Opera, "How happy could I be with either, where t'other dear charmers away;" but while "they all tease him together," the heart gives a satisfactory answer to none of them ;is ashamed of its want of resources to supply the repeated calls upon its sensibility, seeks relief from the importunity of endless excitement in fastidious apathy or affected levity; and in the midst of luxury, pomp, vanity, indolence, and dissipation, feels only the hollow, aching void within, the irksome craving of unsatisfied desire, because more pleasures are placed within its reach than it is capable of enjoying, and the interference of one