I know not whether by the acute enquiries of the present age, this opinion has been discovered to be groundless, and is therefore thrown aside among obsolete follies; or whether it has happened on this, as on other occasions, that conviction is on one side, and practice on the other; but so it is, that the war, whatever it has taken from the wealth, has added nothing to our frugality. Every place of splendid pleasure is filled with assemblies, every sale of expensive superfluities is crowded with buyers; and war has no other effect, than that of enabling us to shew that we can be at once military and luxurious, and pay soldiers and fidlers at the same time.

Among other changes which time has effected, a new species of profusion has been produced. We are now, with an emulation never known before, out-bidding one another for a sight of the coronation; the annual rent of palaces is offered for a single room for a single day.4

I am far from desiring to repress curiosity, to which we owe so great a part of our intellectual pleasures; nor am I hardy enough oppose the general practice of mankind, so much as to think all pomp and magnificence useless or ridiculous. But all passions have their limits, which they cannot exceed without putting our happiness in danger; and although a fine show be a fine thing; yet, like other fine things, it may be purchased too dear. All pleasures are valuable in proportion to their greatness and duration: that the pleasure of a show is not of any long continuance; all know, who are now striving for places; for if a show was long, it would not be rare. This is not the worst; the pleasure while it lasts will be less than is expected. No human performance can rise up to human ideas. Grandeur is less grand, and finery less fine, than it is painted by the fancy. And such is the difference between hope and possession; that, to a great part of the spectators, the show will cease as soon as it appears.

Let me yet not deceive my readers to their disadvantage; or represent the little pleasures of life as less than they are. Those who come to see, come likewise to be seen, and will, for many hours before the procession, enjoy the eyes of innumerable gazers. Nor will this be the last or the longest gratification; those who have seen the coronation, will have whole years of triumph over those who saw it not. They will have an opportunity of amusing their humble friends and rustic acquaintances with narratives, often heard with envy, and often with wonder: and when they hear the youth of the next generation boasting the splendor of any future procession, they will talk with contemptuous superiority of the coronation of George the Third.