to supply what flies off and is worn away, and much more so for the growth of animals. for the food of a more noble animal, since it was on this condition only that it had life given, which it could not otherwise have enjoyed. Matter which is fit for the nourishment of man is also capable of life; if, therefore, God had denied it life, he had omitted a degree of good which might have been produced without any impediment to his principal design, which does not seem very agreeable to infinite goodness. It is better, therefore, that it should be endowed with life But animals have particular constitutions, and cannot be nourished by any sort of matter; some choice therefore must be made of it, to which they are to be urged by an importunity strong enough to excite their endeavours after it. Hence hunger and thirst come to affect the soul; affections that are sometimes indeed troublesome, but yet necessary, and which bring more pleasures than pain along with them. But why, say you, are we obliged to labour | for a time, though it is to be devoured afterin quest of food? why are not the elements themselves sufficient? I answer, they are sufficient for some animals; but mankind required such a disposition of matter as was to be prepared by various actions and changes, and that daily, because it is soon liable to corruption, and if kept long would be unfit for nourishment. Hence labour becomes necessary to provide victuals in this present state of things; neither could hunger, or thirst, or labour (which are reckoned among natural evils) be prevented without greater inconveniences. The divine goodness, therefore, had the highest reason for affixing these to animals. Now as animals require different sorts of food, as was shown, according to their different constitutions, so God has placed every one of them where it may find what is proper for it; on which account there is scarce anything in the elements but what may be food for some. Every herb has its insect which it supports. The earth, the water, the very stones, serve for aliment to living creatures. But some stand in need of more delicate food: now God could have created an inanimate machine, which might have supplied them with such food; but one that is animated does it much better and with more ease. A being that has life is (cæteris paribus) preferable to one that has not; God therefore animated that machine which furnishes out provision for the more perfect animals; which was both graciously and providently done; for by this means he gained so much life to the world as there is in those animals which are food for others; by this means they themselves enjoy some kind of life, and are of service also to the rest. An ox, for instance, or a calf, is bred, nourished, and protected for some time in order to become fit food for man. This certainly is better and more eligible than if the matter of its body had been converted into an inanimate mass, such as a pompion, or continued in the state of unformed clay. Nor is it hardly dealt withal by being made wards, than to continue totally stupid and inactive. The common objection then is of no force, viz., that inanimate matter might have been prepared for this use; for it is better that it should be animated, especially as such animals are ignorant of futurity, and are neither conscious nor solicitous about their being made for this purpose. So that as long as they live they enjoy themselves without anxiety, at least they rejoice in the present good, and are neither tormented with the remembrance of what is past nor the fear that is to come; and lastly, are killed with less pain than they would be by a distemper or old age. Let us not be surprised then at the universal war, as it were, among animals, or that the stronger devour the weaker; for these are made on purpose to afford aliment to the others. It is to be observed, in the last place, that animals are of such a nature as to delight in action, or the exercise of their faculties, nor can we have any other notion of happiness even in God himself. Since then the faculties of both body and mind are to be exercised in order to produce pleasure, where is the wonder if God destined that exercise in part for procuring of food, and connected this pleasure with it? The infinite power of God was able to produce animals of such capacities; and since the creation of them was no inconvenience to other beings who might exercise themselves in a more noble manner, may not the infinite goodness of God be conceived to have almost compelled him not to refuse or envy those the benefit of life? Some of this kind were to be created, since there was room left for them in the work of God after so many others were made as was convenient. But you may wish that some other place and condition had fallen to your lot. Perhaps so. But if you had taken up another place, that other, or some one else, must have been put into yours, who, being alike ungrateful to the divine pro vidence, would wish for the place you have now occupied. Know, then, that it was necessary that you should either be what you are or not at all. For since every other place and state which the system or nature of things allowed was occupied by some others, you must of necessity either fill that which you are now in, or be banished out of nature. For do you expect that any other should be turned out of his order and you placed in his room? that is, that God should exhibit a peculiar and extraordinary munificence towards you to the prejudice of others. You ought therefore not to censure, but adore the divine goodness for making you what you are. You could neither have been made otherwise, nor in a better manner, but to the disadvantage of some others, or of the whole. Some make it a question why so great a part of the earth is given away to the brutes; but these men would have it all left to them, and mankind itself extinct. We have often declared that evils are chiefly to be avoided, nay, that they are prohibited by God, because they are prejudicial to human nature; but how much worse would it be to take that nature entirely away? They therefore who require this of the divine goodness, desire the greatest evil of all as a remedy for evils. The same persons also that with such earnestness desire a change of their condition are afraid of death, forgetting this change of their condition is what they dread the most of all in death. Mankind believes, indeed, from the light of nature, that God will translate good men into a better state; but it is necessary that they should be prepared here, as plants in a nursery, before they be removed into the garden WHY HAS GOD PLACED MAN IN REACH where they are to bear fruit. God has there OF EVIL? It is plain that in the present state of things it is impossible for man to live without natural evils, or the danger of erring. 'Tis a common question, Why does not God change this state and translate man to some other, where, all occasions of error and excitements to evil being cut off, he might choose only good? i.e. in reality, why has he placed man upon the earth? Why did he not leave it to be inhabited by the brutes alone? There are some persons who expect such things as these from the divine goodness, but without any sense or reason; since it manifestly appears to be better that we should contend with the present evils than that the earth should be void of all rational inhabitants. fore devised this life to be, as it were, the passage to a better. Thus this earth is replenished with inhabitants, who, being educated under discipline for a while, till they have finished their course, shall depart into another state suited to their deserts. They who find fault with this in God seem to me to do the same as if one who knows nothing of harvest or the nature of agriculture should laugh at the sower for throwing away his corn. For there is no doubt but the present state of things is as necessary, not only to the earth, lest it should be void of inhabitants, and to the animals, which for the most part depend upon the labours of men, but also to men themselves; and as requisite in the divine administration, in order to some better life, as seed-time is to harvest. 66 JOHN O'NEACHTAN. FLOURISHED ABOUT 1695-1720. [John O'Neachtan, now chiefly known for the two poems we quote below, was born probably in the latter half of the seventeenth century. He was a native as well as resident of Meath, a learned man and an ingenious poet," as Hardiman says, "and enriched his native language with many original compositions and translations." Hardiman further states that several of these were in his pos session at the time of writing his Irish Minstrelsy, the most important of them being "A copious treatise in Irish on general geography extending to nearly five hundred closely written pages, and containing many interesting particulars." He also possessed O'Neachtan's "Curious Annals of Ireland from a.d. 1167 to the Beginning of the Last (Seventeenth) Century." When O'Neachtan died, or what the incidents of his life may have been beyond those of an ordinary bard, we are unable to discover. In his days the death of a bard or a writer in Irish was a thing not worth notice, or if noticed to be only a subject of gratulation as ridding the world of one more pest. As a poet and miscellaneous writer Hardiman asserts that "O'Neachtan holds the same rank in Irish literature that Dr. Young, author of Night Thoughts, occupies in English. With equal genius and learning the Irish bard's compositions are more equal and correct, and his style less diffuse, than those of the favoured English author."] MAGGY LAIDIR.1 Here's first the toast, the pride and boast, Let old and young, with ready tongue Come, friends, don't fail to toast O'Neill, The madder fill with right good will, And as he steers thro' life's long years, Come mark the call, and drink to all Long as of old may Connaught hold A curse for those who dare oppose May lasting joys attend the boys And hearts as sound as those around Come raise the voice! rejoice, rejoice, Where's Thady Oge? up, Dan, you rogue, There's Mora here, and Una's here, Now frisk it round-aye, there's the sound The harp rings clear-hear, gossip, hear! O sure such notes are cheering! Your health, my friend! till life shall end May no bad chance betide us; 1 Hardiman in his Irish Minstrelsy makes the following among other remarks on this song:-"This inimitable description of an Irish feast was written in the seventeenth century by John O'Neachtan, and is now printed from a transcript made in the year 1706. . . . In point of composition, 'Maggy Laidir' is superior to 'O'Rorke's Feast,' so humorously translated by Dean Swift. Here the chairman only speaks throughout. His first toast is Old Ireland under the name of 'Maggy Laidir,'-then the beauteous daughters of Erin - the ancient families of the four provinces Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught the clergy, who have been always dear to the Irish-and finally, he wishes disappointment to the foes and success to the friends of the country. After these libations he becomes a little gay, and must have music. He calls on the harpers to strike up. Finally a quarrel, more Thracian, ensues, which our elevated chairman, in the true Irish style of commanding peace, orders to be quelled by knocking down the combatants; and he concludes by alluding to his noble ancestry and kindred to enforce his claim to respect and obedience. "The air as well as the words of 'Maggy Laidir,' though long naturalized in North Britain, is Irish. The name signifies in the original strong or powerful Maggy, and by it was meant Ireland, also designated by our bards under the names of Granua Weale, Roisin Dubh, Sheelas na Guira, &c. By an easy change the adjective laidir, strong, was converted into Lauder, the patronymic of a Scotch family, and the air was employed to celebrate a famous courtezan of Crail." Oh may we still, our grief to kill, A fig for care! but who's that there Put out the clown or knock him down- Tie up his tongue-am I not sprung O'Brien the strong, Maguire, whose song A LAMENT.1 Dark source of my anguish! deep wound of a land Whose young and defenceless the loss will deplore; The munificent spirit, the liberal hand, Still stretched the full bounty it prompted to pour. The stone is laid o'er thee! the fair glossy braid, The high brow, the light cheek with its roseate glow; The bright form, and the berry that dwelt and could fade On these lips, thou sage giver, all, all are laid low. Like a swan on the billows, she moved in her grace, Snow-white were her limbs, and with beauty replete, And time on that pure brow had left no more trace Than if he had sped with her own fairy feet. Whatever of purity, glory, hath ever Been linked with the name, lovely Mary, was thine; Woe, woe, that the tomb, ruthless tyrant, should Though our sorrows avail not, our hope is not sever The tie which our spirits half broken resign. Than Caesar of hosts-the true darling of Rome, Far prouder was James-where pure spirits are met, This poem is a lament for Mary D'Este, queen of James II. She died at St. Germaine, April 26th, 1718. Her son, called James Francis Edward, was the Chevalier de St. George, so much beloved by the Irish. lost For the Father is mighty! the highest remains! The loos'd waters rushed down upon Pharaoh's wide host, But the billows crouch back from the foot he sustains. Just Power! that for Moses the wave did'st divide, Look down on the land where thy followers pine; Look down upon Erin, and crush the dark pride Of the scourge of thy people, the foes of thy shrine. SIR RICHARD STEELE. BORN 1672-DIED 1729. [Richard Steele was born in Dublin on the | condemnation of the things condemned in his 12th March, 1672, a few weeks before the birth of his life-long friend Joseph Addison. His father was an attorney, his mother, as he himself says, "a very beautiful woman, of a noble spirit." While he was in his fifth year his father died; but notwithstanding this there was little change in his condition until his thirteenth year, when, through the influence of the Duke of Ormond, he became a foundationer at the Charterhouse in London. There in 1686 he met with Addison, and from there he went to Oxford in 1690. Addison had already gone to Oxford, and on Steele joining him the friendship was renewed. While at Oxford, Steele, as a matter of course, began to write verses, and in 1695 he made public his first poem, The Procession, which had for its subject the funeral of Queen Mary. His best work at this time, however, was in helping Addison to "break loose from the critical cobwebs of an age of periwigs and patches," and in helping to lay the first foundation of that reputation, which, with the generosity of his nature, he builded so high that it is only now his own is beginning to properly appear out of the shadow. Presently, leaving Addison to his slow-going longings to "launch into a bolder strain," Steele allowed his patriotism to carry him away, and he enlisted as a private in the Coldstream Guards. For this, as he says himself, "he lost the succession to a very good estate in the county of Wexford, from the same humour which he has preserved ever since, of preferring the state of his mind to that of his fortune." The colonel of the regiment, Lord Cutts, soon made Steele his secretary, and got him a commission as ensign. While an ensign he wrote his Christian Hero, chiefly to confirm himself in resisting the temptations of his position; but as it rather failed to do this he made it public, in the hope that then it would have a greater effect on him. The book was at once a success, but in the eyes of his brother officers he had changed from being a good companion into a disagreeable fellow. To remedy this, and also to show that his style was not in reality a didactic one, he soon after produced a bright little comedy, The Funeral; or, Grief à la Mode, in which, however, he adhered to the | book. This comedy, first acted in 1702, made him at once popular with the town. In 1703 it was followed by The Tender Husband, which was dedicated to Addison, and to which Addison wrote a prologue. This comedy is gay in manner and full of pure wit, yet it preaches an effective moral, and has many a hit at the fashionable vices of the day. In 1704 he produced the Lying Lovers, an adaptation from the French. The play was not a success, art being sacrificed in it to morality. Its failure placed Steele in the position "of being the only English dramatist who had had a piece damned for its piety." Foote afterwards re-adapted it as The Liar, in which form it still keeps the stage. From 1704 to 1707 Steele wrote little, except possibly as a collaborateur. In May of the latter year he was appointed to the office of gazetteer, the work of which he performed with care and faithfulness. In the same year he married his second wife, he having already been married to a lady belonging to Barbadoes, who died a few months after her marriage. From Addison he borrowed a thousand pounds to "set up house," and the thousand was repaid within a year. On the 12th of April, 1709, he published the first number of his Tatler, "for the use of the good people of England," but in which he candidly declared that he was "an author writing for the public, who expected from the public payment for his work, and that he preferred this to gambling for the patronage of men in office." The first eighty numbers of the publication he produced entirely out of his own resources, but the mental strain must have been great, and no doubt he welcomed the return of Addison from Ireland, as it gave him an opportunity of inducing his friend to join him in the work. On the 2d of January, 1711, the Tatler was discontinued, after a career of great usefulness and influence, and on the 1st of the following March appeared the first number of the Spectator, that living monument to the friendship of two honest men. The Spectator was even a greater success than the Tatler, and on the articles contributed to it to please his friend now chiefly rests Addison's fame-a fame which Steele took every opportunity of enlarg |