passion is easily recognized. The miser talks most wildly about his treasures, and another person is besieged by religious terrors. After reasoning and judgment, the faculty of association becomes lost. This takes place in the cases known as defaillances, to which I have myself been liable. I was once talking with a friend and met with an insurmountable difficulty in combining two ideas from which I wished to make up an opinion. The syncope was not, however, complete, for memory and sensation remained. I heard the persons around me say distinctly, He is fainting, and sought to arouse me from this condition, which was not without pleasure. Memory then becomes extinct. The patient who in his delirium recognized his friends now fails even to know those with whom he had been on terms of the greatest intimacy. He then loses sensation, but the senses go out in a successive and determinate order. Taste and smell give no evidence of their existence, the eyes become covered with a mistful veil and the ear ceases to execute its functions. For that reason the Ancients, to be sure of the reality of death, used to utter loud cries in the ears of the dying. He neither tastes, sees, nor hears. He yet retains the sense of touch, moves in his bed, changes the position of the arms and body every moment, and has motions analogous to those of the child yet unborn. Death affects him with no terror, for he has no ideas, and he ends life as unconsciously as he began it. Complete. Meditation XXVI. from "The H HENRY BROOKE (1703-1783) ENRY BROOKE, dramatist, novelist, and essayist, was born in County Cavan, Ireland, in 1703 (1706 according to some authorities). After graduating at Trinity College, Dublin, he studied law and settled in London to practice, but it does not appear that his literary work left him much time to do so. Besides "The Fool of Quality," in five volumes, and other novels, he wrote thirteen tragedies, and occasional poems. Pope and Swift gave him their friendship and patronage, and he was popular with what was then the aristocracy of letters. His novels and dramas are only read now by the curious, but such essays as "What is a Gentleman ?" are sure to remain popular with readers of all classes. THE WHAT IS A GENTLEMAN? HERE is no term in our language more common than that of "Gentleman"; and whenever it is heard, all agree in the general idea of a man in some way elevated above the vulgar. Yet perhaps no two living are precisely agreed respecting the qualities they think requisite for constituting this character. When we hear the epithets of a "fine gentleman," "a pretty gentleman," "much of a gentleman," "gentlemanlike, something of a gentleman," "nothing of a gentleman," and so forth, all these different appellations must intend a peculiarity annexed to the ideas of those who express them; though no two of them, as I said, may agree in the constituent qualities of the character they have formed in their own minds. There have been ladies who deemed a bagwig, tasseled waistcoat, new-fashioned snuff box, and a sword knot very capital ingredients in the composition of a gentleman. A certain easy impudence acquired by low people, by casually being conversant in high life, has passed a man current through many companies for- a gentleman. In the country, a laced hat and long whip make-a gentleman. In taverns and some other places, he who is the most of a bully is -- the most of a gentleman. With heralds, every esquire is indisputably a gentleman. And the highwayman, in his manner of taking your purse; and your friend, in his manner of deceiving your wife, may, however, be allowed to have-much of the gentleman. Plato, among the philosophers, was "the most of a man of fashion," and therefore allowed, at the court of Syracuse, to be the most of a gentleman. But, seriously, I apprehend that this character is pretty much upon the modern. In all ancient or dead languages we have no term, any way adequate, whereby we may express it. In the habits, manners, and characters of old Sparta and old Rome, we find an antipathy to all the elements of modern gentility. Among those rude and unpolished people you read of philosophers, of orators, patriots, heroes, and demigods; but you never hear of any character so elegant as that of a pretty gentleman. When those nations, however, became refined into what their ancestors would have called corruption; when luxury introduced, and fashion gave a sanction to certain sciences which cynics would have branded with the ill-mannered appellations of debauchery, drunkenness, gambling, cheating, lying, etc., the practitioners assumed the new title of gentlemen, till such gentlemen became as plenteous as stars in the milky way, and lost distinction merely by the confluence of their lustre. Wherefore as the said qualities were found to be of ready acquisition and of easy descent to the populace from their betters, ambition judged it necessary to add further marks and criterions for severing the general herd from the nobler species of gentlemen. Accordingly, if the commonalty were observed to have a propensity to religion, their superiors affected a disdain of such vulgar prejudices; and a freedom that cast off the restraints of morality, and a courage that spurned at the fear of a God, were accounted the distinguishing characteristics of a gentleman. If the populace, as in China, were industrious and ingenious, the grandees, by the length of their nails and the cramping of their limbs, gave evidence that true dignity was above labor and utility, and that to be born to no end was the prerogative-of a gentleman. If the common sort, by their conduct, declared a respect for the institutions of civil society and good government, their betters despise such pusillanimous conformity, and the magistrates pay becoming regard to the distinction, and allow of the superior liberties and privileges-of a gentleman. If the lower set show a sense of common honesty and common order, those who would figure in the world think it incumbent to demonstrate that complaisance to inferiors, common manners, common equity, or anything common, is quite beneath the attention or sphere-of a gentleman. Now, as underlings are ever ambitious of imitating and usurping the manners of their superiors; and as this state of mortality is incident to perpetual change and revolution, it may happen that when the populace, by encroaching on the province of gentility, have arrived at their ne plus ultra of insolence, debauchery, irreligion, etc., the gentry, in order to be again distinguished, may assume the station that their inferiors had forsaken, and, however ridiculous the supposition may appear at present, humanity, equity, utility, complaisance, and piety may in time come to be the distinguishing characteristics-of a gentleman. It appears that the most general idea which people have formed of a gentleman is that of a person of fortune above the vulgar, and embellished by manners that are fashionable in high life. In this case, fortune and fashion are the two constituent ingredients in the composition of modern gentlemen; for whatever the fashion may be, whether moral or immoral, for or against reason, right or wrong, it is equally the duty of a gentleman to conform. And yet I apprehend that true gentility is altogether independent of fortune or fashion, of time, customs, or opinions of any kind. The very same qualities that constituted a gentleman in the first age of the world are permanently, invariably, and indispensably necessary to the constitution of the same character to the end of time. Hector was the finest gentleman of whom we read in history, and Don Quixote the finest gentleman we read of in romance, as was instanced from the tenor of their principles and actions. Some time after the battle of Cressy, Edward III. of England, and Edward the Black Prince, the more than heir of his father's renown, pressed John, King of France, to indulge them with the pleasure of his company at London. John was desirous of embracing the invitation, and accordingly laid the proposal before his Parliament at Paris. The Parliament objected that the invitation had been made with an insidious design of seizing his person, thereby to make the cheaper and easier acquisition of the crown, to which Edward at that time pretended. But John replied, with some warmth, that he was confident his brother Edward, and more especially his young cousin, were too much of the gentleman to treat him in that manner. He did not say too much of the king, of the hero, or of the saint, but too much of the gentleman to be guilty of any baseness. The sequel verified this opinion. At the battle of Poitiers King John was made prisoner, and soon after conducted by the Black Prince to England. The prince entered London in triumph, amid the throng and acclamations of millions of the people. But then this rather appeared to be the triumph of the French king than that of his conqueror. John was seated on a proud steed, royally robed, and attended by a numerous and gorgeous train of the British nobility; while his conqueror endeavored, as much as possible, to disappear, and rode by his side in plain attire, and degradingly seated on a little Irish hobby. As Aristotle and the critics derived their rules for epic poetry and the sublime from a poem which Homer had written long before the rules were formed, or laws established for the purpose; thus, from the demeanor and innate principles of particular gentlemen, art has borrowed and instituted the many modes of behavior which the world has adopted under the title of good manners. Human excellence, or human amiableness, doth not so much. consist in a freedom from frailty, as in our recovery from lapses, our detestation of our own transgressions, and our desire of atoning, by all possible means, the injuries we have done and the offenses we have given. Herein therefore may consist the very singular distinction which the great Apostle makes between his estimation of a just and of a good man. "For a just or righteous man," says he, one would grudge to die; but for a good man one would even dare to die." Here the just man is supposed to adhere strictly to the rule of right or equity, and to exact from others the same measure that he is satisfied to mete; but the good man, though occasionally he may fall short of justice, has, properly speaking, no measure to his benevolence; his general propensity is to give more than the due. The just man condemns, and is desirous of punishing the transgressors of the line prescribed to himself; but the good man, in the sense of his own |