When I see a man of birth, education, and
fortune, put himself on a level with the dregs of the people,
mingle with low mechanics, feed with them at the same board, and
drink with them in the same cup, flatter their prejudices,
harangue in praise of their virtues, expose themselves to the
belchings of their beer, the fumes of their tobacco, the
grossness of their familiarity, and the impertinence of their
conversation, I cannot help despising him, as a man guilty of the
vilest prostitution, in order to effect a purpose equally selfish
and illiberal.
I should renounce politics the more willingly, if I could find
other topics of conversation discussed with more modesty and
candour; but the daemon of party seems to have usurped every
department of life. Even the world of literature and taste is
divided into the most virulent factions, which revile, decry, and
traduce the works of one another. Yesterday, I went to return an
afternoon's visit to a gentleman of my acquaintance, at whose
house I found one of the authors of the present age, who has
written with some success -- As I had read one or two of his
performances, which gave me pleasure, I was glad of this
opportunity to know his person; but his discourse and deportment
destroyed all the impressions which his writings had made in his
favour.
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