lic; and we
ought to consider them as only a kind of frothy nourishment in
themselves; but which, however, gratify the curiosity of many readers,
according to the diversity of their tastes. What is there, for example,
less interesting to the public than the _Bibliotheque Choisie_ of
Colomies (a small bibliographical work); yet is that work looked on as
excellent in its kind. I could mention other works which are read,
though containing nothing which interests the public." Two years after,
when he resumed these letters, he changed his plan; he became more
argumentative, and more sparing of literary and historical articles. We
have now certainly obtained more decided notions of the nature of this
species of composition, and treat such investigations with more skill;
still they are "caviare to the general." An accumulation of dry facts,
without any exertion of taste or discussion, forms but the barren and
obscure diligence of title-hunters. All things which come to the reader
without having first passed through the mind, as well as the pen of the
writer, will be still open to the fatal objection of insane industry
raging with a depraved appetite for trash and cinders; and this is the
line of demarcation which will for ever separate a Bayle from a Prosper
Marchand, and a Warton from a Ritson; the one must be satisfied to be
useful, but the other will not fail to delight. Yet something must be
alleged in favour of those who may sometimes indulge researches too
minutely; perhaps there is a point beyond which nothing remains but
useless curiosity; yet this too may be relative. The pleasure of these
pursuits is only tasted by those who are accustomed to them, and whose
employments are thus converted into amusements. A man of fine genius,
Addison relates, trained up in all the polite studies of antiquity, upon
being obliged to search into several rolls and records, at first found
this a very dry and irksome employment; yet he assured me, that at last
he took an incredible pleasure in it, and preferred it even to the
reading of Virgil and Cicero.

As for our Bayle, he exhibits a perfect model of the real literary
character. He, with the secret alchymy of human happiness, extracted his
tranquillity out of the baser metals, at the cost of his ambition and
his fortune. Throughout a voluminous work, he experienced the enjoyment
of perpetual acquisition and delight; he obtained glory, and he endured
persecution. He died as he had live