of life had made him
the slave of every passion that happened to be excited by the presence
of its object, and that slavery to his passions reciprocally produced a
life irregular and dissipated. He was not master of his own motions, nor
could promise anything for the next day.

With regard to his economy, nothing can be added to the relation of his
life. He appeared to think himself born to be supported by others, and
dispensed from all necessity of providing for himself; he therefore
never prosecuted any scheme of advantage, nor endeavoured even to secure
the profits which his writings might have afforded him. His temper
was, in consequence of the dominion of his passions, uncertain and
capricious; he was easily engaged, and easily disgusted; but he is
accused of retaining his hatred more tenaciously than his benevolence.
He was compassionate both by nature and principle, and always ready to
perform offices of humanity; but when he was provoked (and very small
offences were sufficient to provoke him), he would prosecute his revenge
with the utmost acrimony till his passion had subsided.

His friendship was therefore of little value; for though he was zealous
in the support or vindication of those whom he loved, yet it was always
dangerous to trust him, because he considered himself as discharged
by the first quarrel from all ties of honour and gratitude; and would
betray those secrets which in the warmth of confidence had been
imparted to him. This practice drew upon him an universal accusation of
ingratitude; nor can it be denied that he was very ready to set himself
free from the load of an obligation; for he could not bear to conceive
himself in a state of dependence, his pride being equally powerful with
his other passions, and appearing in the form of insolence at one time,
and of vanity at another. Vanity, the most innocent species of pride,
was most frequently predominant: he could not easily leave off, when he
had once begun to mention himself or his works; nor ever read his verses
without stealing his eyes from the page, to discover in the faces of his
audience how they were affected with any favourite passage.

A kinder name than that of vanity ought to be given to the delicacy with
which he was always careful to separate his own merit from every other
man's, and to reject that praise to which he had no claim. He did not
forget, in mentioning his performances, to mark every line that had
been suggested or a