MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, MORAL, POLITICAL, and DIVINE.
By Mr. ADDISON.
LONDON: Printed for E. CURLL in Fleet-Street. MDCCXIX.
SInce theſe ſmall Extracts * are become lately ſo much in Vogue, and Mr. Arch⯑deacon Echard has ſpoken ſo fully of their general Uſe, 'tis only thought proper to aſſure the Reader, that theſe Collections are faithfully ſe⯑lected from the Writings of that excel⯑lent Author whoſe Name they bear.
Sir Richard Steele has been chiefly my Guide in this Matter; for I have conſulted no other Guardians but thoſe marked with a Hand, nor no other Spectators but thoſe marked with the Let⯑ters C. L. I. O. Thoſe upon Milton's [] Paradiſe Loſt, I have paſſed over, being informed that they are to be ſpeedily publiſhed with a new Edition of that Poem.
As for the Freeholder, I never heard of any Competitor; and among the Tat⯑lers I cannot find any Topicks that pro⯑perly fall within the Scheme I have pro⯑poſed.
The Hurry of the Bookſeller (occa⯑ſioned, as he tells me, by the preſſing Demand of the Publick) has obliged me to divide this Collection into Two Parts. I thought I could not better conclude this firſt Part, than with that admi⯑rable Spectator upon the Immortality of the Soul; and the remaining Papers from which I deſign my farther Ex⯑tracts, ſhall follow with all convenient Speed.
A Good Conſcience is to the Soul what Health is to the Body; it preſerves a conſtant Eaſe and Serenity within us, and more than countervails all the Calamities and Afflictions which can poſſibly befal us. I know nothing ſo hard for a generous Mind to get over as Calumny and Reproach, and cannot find any Method of quieting the Soul under them, beſides this ſingle one, of our being conſcious to our ſelves that we do not deſerve them.
REligious Fear, when it is produced by juſt Apprehen⯑ſions of a Divine Power, naturally overlooks all hu⯑man Greatneſs that ſtands in Competition with it, and extinguiſhes every other Terrour that can ſettle itſelf in the Heart of Man; it leſſens and con⯑tracts the Figure of the moſt exalted Perſon; it diſarms the Tyrant and Ex⯑ecutioner, and repreſents to our Minds the moſt enraged and the moſt power⯑ful as altogether harmleſs and impotent.
There is no true Fortitude which is not founded upon this Fear, as there is no other Principle of ſo ſettled and fixed a Nature. Courage that grows from Conſtitution, very often for⯑ſakes a Man when he has Occaſion for it; and, when it is only a Kind of Inſtinct in the Soul, breaks out on all Occaſions without Judgment or Diſcretion. That Courage which pro⯑ceeds from the Senſe of our Duty, and from the Fear of offending him that made us, acts always in a uniform Man⯑ner, [3] and according to the Dictates of right Reaſon.
What can the Man fear, who takes Care, in all his Actions to pleaſe a Be⯑ing that is Omnipotent? a Being who is able to cruſh all his Adverſaries? a Being, that can divert any Misfortune from befalling him, or turn any ſuch Misfortune to his Advantage? The Per⯑ſon who lives with this conſtant and habitual Regard to the great Superin⯑tendant of the World, is indeed ſure that no real Evil can come into his Lot. Bleſſings may appear under the Shape of Pains, Loſſes, and Diſappointments, but let him have Patience, and he will ſee them in their proper Figures. Dan⯑gers may threaten him, but he may reſt ſatisfied, that they will either not reach him, or, that if they do, they will be the Inſtruments of Good to him. In ſhort, he may look upon all Croſſes and Accidents, Sufferings and Afflictions, as Means which are made Uſe of to bring him to Happineſs. This is even the worſt of that Man's Condition whoſe Mind is poſſeſſed with the habitual Fear of which I am now ſpeaking. But it very often happens, that thoſe which appear Evils in our own Eyes, appear alſo as ſuch to him [4] who has Human Nature under his Care, in which Caſe they are certainly avert⯑ed from the Perſon who has made himself, by this Virtue, an Object of Divine Favour.
THere is no Virtue ſo truly great and God-like as JUSTICE. Moſt of the other Virtues are the Virtues of created Beings, or accommodated to our Nature as we are Men. JUSTICE is that which is practiſed by God him⯑ſelf, and to be practiſed in its Per⯑fection by none but him. Omniſcience and Omnipotence are requiſite for the full Exertion of it. The one, to diſco⯑ver every Degree of Uprightneſs, or Iniquity in Thoughts, Words and Actions. The other, to meaſure out and impart ſuitable Rewards and Pu⯑niſhments.
As to be perfectly juſt is an Attri⯑bute in the Divine Nature, to be ſo to the utmoſt of our Abilities is the Glory of a Man. Such an one, who has the publick Adminiſtration in his [5] Hands, acts like the Repreſentative of his Maker, in recompenſing the Virtu⯑ous, and puniſhing the Offender.
When a Nation once loſes its Regard to JUSTICE; when they do not look up⯑on it as ſomething venerable, holy and inviolable; when any of them dare preſume to leſſen, affront, or terrify thoſe who have the Diſtribution of it in their Hands; when a Judge is ca⯑pable of being influenced by any Thing but Law, or a Cauſe may be recom⯑mended by any Thing that is foreign to its own Merits, we may venture to pronounce that ſuch a Nation is ha⯑ſtening to its Ruin.
JUSTICE diſcards Party, Friendſhip, Kindred, and is therefore always repre⯑ſented as blind, that we may ſuppoſe her Thoughts are wholly intent on the Equity of a Cauſe, without being di⯑verted or prejudiced by Objects foreign to it.
CHARITY is a Virtue of the Heart, and not of the Hands, ſays an old Writer. Gifts and Alms are the Expreſſi⯑ons, not the Eſſence of this Virtue. A Man may beſtow great Sums on the Poor and Indigent, without be⯑ing Charitable, and may be Charitable, when he is not able to beſtow any Thing. Charity is therefore a Habit of Good-Will, or Benevolence, in the Soul, which diſpoſes us to the Love, Aſſiſtance, and Relief of Mankind, eſpecially of thoſe who ſtand in Need of it. The poor Man, who has this excellent Frame of Mind, is no leſs intitled to the Reward of this Virtue, than the Man who founds a College.
KNOWLEDGE is indeed that which, next to Virtue, tru⯑ly and eſſentially raiſes one Man above another. It fi⯑niſhes one Half of the hu⯑man Soul. It makes Being pleaſant to us, fills the Mind with entertaining Views, and adminiſters to it a perpe⯑tual Series of Gratifications. It gives Eaſe to Solitude, and Gracefulneſs to Retirement. It fills a publick Station with ſuitable Abilities, and adds a Lu⯑ſtre to thoſe who are in the Poſſeſſion of them.
LEARNING, by which I mean all uſe⯑ful Knowledge, whether ſpeculative or practical, is, in popular and mixed Governments, the natural Source of Wealth and Honour. If we look into moſt of the Reigns from the Conqueſt, we ſhall find, that the Favourites of each Reign have been thoſe who have raiſed themſelves. The greateſt Men are generally the Growth of that particular Age in which they flouriſh. A ſupe⯑riour Capacity for Buſineſs, and a more [8] extenſive Knowledge, are the Steps by which a new Man often mounts to Fa⯑vour, and outſhines the reſt of his Con⯑emporaries. But when Men are actually born to Titles, it is almoſt impoſſible that they ſhould fail of receiving an addi⯑tional Greatneſs, if they take Care to ac⯑compliſh themſelves for it.
WE ought in Gratitude to honour the Poſterity of thoſe who have raiſed either the Intereſt, or Reputation of their Coun⯑try, and by whoſe Labours we ourſelves are more Happy, Wiſe, or Virtuous, than we ſhould have been without them. Beſides, naturally ſpeak⯑ing, a Man bids fairer for Greatneſs of Soul, who is the Deſcendant of worthy Anceſtors, and has good Blood in his Veins, than one who is come of an ignoble and obſcure Parentage. For theſe Reaſons I think a Man of Merit, who is derived from an illuſtrious Line, is very juſtly to be regarded more than a Man of equal Merit, who has no Claim to hereditary Honours. [9] Nay, I think thoſe who are indifferent in themſelves, and have nothing elſe to diſtinguiſh them, but the Virtues of their Forefathers, are to be looked upon with a Degree of Veneration, even up⯑on that Account, and to be more re⯑ſpected than the common Run of Men, who are of low and vulgar Extraction.
After having thus aſcribed due Ho⯑nours to Birth and Parentage, I muſt, however, take Notice of thoſe, who ar⯑rogate to themſelves more Honours than are due to them on this Account. The firſt are ſuch who are not enough ſen⯑ſible that Vice and Ignorance taint the Blood, and that an unworthy Behaviour degrades and diſennobles a Man, in the Eye of the World, as much as Birth and Family aggrandize and exalt him.
The ſecond are thoſe who believe a new Man of an elevated Merit, is not more to be honoured than an inſignifi⯑cant and worthleſs Man, who is deſcend⯑ed from a long Line of Patriots and Heroes; or, in other Words, behold with Contempt a Perſon who is ſuch a Man as the firſt Founder of their Family was, upon whoſe Reputation they value themſelves.
[10]There are ſome whoſe Quality fits uppermoſt in all their Diſcourſes and Behaviour. An empty Man of a great Family is a Creature that is ſcarce con⯑verſible: You read his Anceſtry in his Smile, in his Air, in his Eye-brow; he has indeed his Nobility to give Employ⯑ment to his Thoughts; Rank and Pre⯑cedency are the important Points which he is always diſcuſſing within himſelf.
To conclude, There is nothing more ea⯑ſy than to diſcover a Man whoſe Heart is full of his Family; weak Minds, that have imbibed a ſtrong Tincture of the Nur⯑ſery, younger Brothers that have been brought up to Nothing, ſuperannuated Retainers to a great Houſe, have general⯑ly their Thoughts taken up with little elſe.
But on the other Hand, As the Actions of our Anceſtors and Forefathers ſhould excite us to every Thing that is Great and Virtuous; ſo a Regard to our Poſte⯑rity, and thoſe who are to deſcend from us, ought to have the ſame Kind of In⯑fluence on a generous Mind. A noble Soul would rather die than commit an Action that ſhould make his Children bluſh, when he is in the Grave, and be looked upon as a Reproach to thoſe who ſhall live a hundred Years after [11] him. On the contrary, nothing can be a more pleaſing Thought to a Man of Eminence, than to conſider that his Poſterity, who lie many Removes from him, ſhall make their Boaſt of his Vir⯑tues, and be honoured for his Sake.
THere are a Sort of Knights-Errant in the World, who, quite contrary to thoſe in Romance, are perpetually ſeeking Adventures to bring Virgins into Diſtreſs, and to ruin Inno⯑cence. When Men of Rank and Fi⯑gure paſs away their Lives in theſe Criminal Purſuits and Practices, they ought to conſider, that they render themſelves more vile and deſpicable than any innocent Man can be, what⯑ever low Station his Fortune or Birth have placed him in. Title and Ance⯑ſtry render a good Man more illuſtrious, but an ill one more contemptible.
I have often wondered, that theſe Deflowrers of Innocence, though dead to all the Sentiments of Virtue and Honour, are not reſtrained by Compaſ⯑ſion [12] and Humanity. To bring Sorrow, Confuſion and Infamy into a Family, to wound the Heart of a tender Parent, and ſtain the Life of a poor deluded young Woman with a Diſhonour that can never be wiped off, are Circumſtan⯑ces one would think, ſufficient to check the moſt violent Paſſion in a Heart, which has the leaſt Tincture of Pity and Good-nature. Would any one pur⯑chaſe the Gratification of a Moment at ſo dear a Rate? and entail a laſting Mi⯑ſery on others, for ſuch a tranſient Sa⯑tisfaction to himſelf? nay, for a Satis⯑faction that is ſure, at ſome Time or other, to be followed with Remorſe?
IT is a melancholy Thing to ſee a Coxcomb at the Head of a Family: He ſcatters In⯑fection through the whole Houſe, his Wife and Chil⯑dren have always their Eyes upon him: If they have more Senſe than himſelf, they are out of Countenance for him; if leſs, they ſubmit their Underſtand⯑ings to him, and make daily Improve⯑ments [13] in Folly and Impertinence. I have been very often ſecretly concerned, when I have ſeen a Circle of pretty Children cramped in their natural Parts, and prattling even below themſelves, while they are talking after a Couple of ſilly Parents. The Dulneſs of a Fa⯑ther often extinguiſhes a Genius in the Son, or gives ſuch a wrong Caſt to his Mind, as it is hard for him ever to wear off. In ſhort, where the Head of a Fa⯑mily is weak, you hear the Repetitions of his inſipid Pleaſantries, ſhallow Con⯑ceits, and topical Points of Mirth, in every Member of it: His Table, his Fire-Side, his Parties of Diverſion, are all of them ſo many ſtanding Scenes of Folly.
This is one Reaſon why I would the more recommend the Improvements of the Mind to my Female Readers, that a Family may have a double Chance for it, and, if it meets with Weakneſs in one of the Heads, may have it made up in the other. It is indeed an unhap⯑py Circumſtance in a Family, where the Wife has more Knowledge than the Huſband; but it is better it ſhould be ſo, than that there ſhould be no Know⯑ledge in the whole Houſe. It is high⯑ly expedient that at leaſt one of the [14] Perſons, who ſits at the Helm of Affairs, ſhould give an Example of good Senſe to thoſe who are under them, in theſe little domeſtick Governments.
If Folly is of ill Conſequence in the Head of a Family, Vice is much more ſo, as it is of a more pernicious and of a more contagious Nature. When the Maſter is a Profligate, the Rake runs through the Houſe: You hear the Sons talking looſely and ſwearing after their Father, and ſee the Daughters either familiarized to his Diſcourſe, or every Moment bluſhing for him.
The very Footman will be a fine Gen⯑tleman in his Maſter's Way; he im⯑proves by his Table-Talk, and repeats in the Kitchin what he learns in the Parlour: Inveſt him with the ſame Ti⯑tle and Ornaments, and you would ſcarce know him from his Lord; he practiſes the ſame Oaths, the ſame Ribaldry, the ſame Way of Joking.
It is therefore of very great Concern to a Family, that the Ruler of it ſhould be wiſe and Virtuous: The firſt of theſe Qualifications does not indeed lie with⯑in his Power; but, though a Man can⯑not abſtain from being weak, he may from being vicious. It is in his Power to give a good Example of Modeſty, [15] of Temperance, of Frugality, of Reli⯑gion, and of all other Virtues, which, though the greateſt Ornaments of Hu⯑man Nature, may be put in Practice by Men of the moſt ordinary Capacities.
As Wiſdom and Virtue are the proper Qualifications in the Maſter of a Houſe, if he is not accompliſhed in both of them, it is much better that he ſhould be deficient in the former than in the lat⯑ter, ſince the Conſequences of Vice are of an infinitely more dangerous Nature than thoſe of Folly.
MAY you meet with a Wife who is not always ſtupidly ſi⯑lent, nor always pratling Non⯑ſenſe! May ſhe be Learned, if poſſible, or, at leaſt, ca⯑pable of being made ſo! A Woman thus accompliſhed will be always draw⯑ing Sentences and Maxims of Virtue out of the beſt Authors of Antiquity: She will be herſelf in all Changes of Fortune, neither blown up in Proſperi⯑ty, [16] nor broken with Adverſity: You will find in her an even, chearful, good-hu⯑moured Friend, and an agreeable Com⯑panion for Life: She will infuſe Know⯑ledge into your Children with their Milk, and from their Infancy train them up to Wiſdom. Whatever Company you are engaged in, you will long to be at Home, and retire with Delight from the Society of Men, into the Boſom of one, who is ſo dear, ſo knowing, and ſo ami⯑able. If ſhe touches her Lute, or ſings to it any of her own Compoſitions, her Voice will ſooth you in your Soli⯑tudes, and ſound more ſweetly in your Ear than that of the Nightingale: You will waſte with Pleaſure whole Days and Nights in her Converſation, and be ever finding out new Beauties in her Diſ⯑courſe: She will keep your Mind in perpetual Serenity, reſtrain its Mirth from being diſſolute, and prevent its Melancholy from being painful.
THERE is no Paſſion which ſteals into the Heart more imperceptibly, and covers it⯑ſelf under more Diſguiſes than PRIDE. I have been always wonderfully delighted with that Sentence in Holy Writ, ‘Pride was not made for Man.’ There is not indeed any ſingle View of Human Nature, under its preſent Condition, which is not ſuf⯑ficient to extinguiſh in us all the ſe⯑cret Seeds of Pride; and, on the con⯑trary, to ſink the Soul into the loweſt State of Humility, and what the School⯑men call Self-Annihilation. Pride was not made for Man; as he is,
There is nothing in his Underſtanding, in his Will, or in his preſent Condition, that can tempt any conſiderate Creature to Pride or Vanity.
Theſe three very Reaſons why he ſhould not be proud, are notwithſtanding the Rea⯑ſons why he is ſo. Were he not a ſinful [18] Creature, he would not be ſubject to a Paſ⯑ſion which riſes from the Depravity of his Nature: Were he not an ignorant Crea⯑ture, he would ſee that he has nothing to be proud of: And, were not the whole Species miſerable, he would not have thoſe wretched Objects of Com⯑pariſon before his Eyes, which are the Occaſions of this Paſſion, and which make one Man value himſelf more than another.
A wiſe Man will be contented that his Glory be deferred 'till ſuch Time as he ſhall be truly glorified; when his Underſtanding ſhall be cleared, his Will rectified, and his Happineſs aſſured; or, in other Words, when he ſhall be nei⯑ther ſinful, nor ignorant, nor miſerable.
If there be any Thing which makes Hu⯑man Nature appear ridiculous to Beings of ſuperior Faculties, it muſt be Pride. They know ſo well the Vanity of thoſe imaginary Perfections that ſwell the Heart of Man, and of thoſe little ſuper⯑numerary Advantages, whether in Birth, Fortune, or Title, which one Man en⯑joys above another, that it muſt certain⯑ly very much aſtoniſh, if it does not very much divert them, when they ſee a Mor⯑tal puffed up, and valuing himſelf above his Neighbours on any of theſe Ac⯑counts, [19] counts, at the ſame Time that he is obnoxious to all the common Calamities of the Species.
IT has been obſerved by Wri⯑ters of Morality, that in Or⯑der to quicken Human Indu⯑ſtry, Providence has ſo con⯑trived it, that our daily Food is not to be procured without much Pains and Labour. The Chace of Birds and Beaſts, the ſeveral Arts of Fiſhing, with all the different Kinds of Agriculture, are neceſſary Scenes of Buſineſs, and give Employment to the greateſt Part of Mankind. If we look into the Brute Creation, we find all its Individuals en⯑gaged in a painful and laborious Way of Life, to procure a neceſſary Subſi⯑ſtance for themſelves, or thoſe that grow up under them: The Preſervation of their Being is the whole Buſineſs of it. An idle Man is therefore a Kind of Mon⯑ſter in the Creation. All Nature is buſy about him; every Animal he ſees re⯑proaches him. Let ſuch a Man, who lies as a Burden, or dead Weight, upon [20] the Species, and contributes nothing ei⯑ther to the Riches of the Commonwealth, or to the Maintenance of himſelf and Family, conſider that Inſtinct with which Providence has endowed the Ant, and by which is exhibited an Example of In⯑duſtry to rational Creatures.
IN comparing together the INDUSTRY of Man with that of other Creatures, I cannot but obſerve, that not⯑withſtanding we are obliged by Duty to keep ourſelves in conſtant Employ, after the ſame Manner as infe⯑rior Animals are prompted to it by In⯑ſtinct, we fall very ſhort of them in this Particular. We are here the more inex⯑cuſable, becauſe there is a greater Vari⯑ety of Buſineſs, to which we may apply ourſelves. Reaſon opens to us a large Field of Affairs, which other Creatures are not capable of. Beaſts of Prey, and, I believe, of all other Kinds, in their natural State of Being, divide their Time between Action and Reſt. They are always at work or aſleep: In ſhort, [21] their waking Hours are wholly taken up in ſeeking after their Food, or in conſuming it. The Human Species on⯑ly, to the great Reproach of our Na⯑tures, are filled with Complaints, that the Day hangs heavy on them, that they do not know what to do with themſelves, that they are at a Loſs how to paſs away their Time, with many of the like ſhame⯑ful Murmurs, which we often find in the Mouths of thoſe who are ſtiled Reaſonable Beings. How monſtrous are ſuch Expreſſions among Creatures, who have the Labours of the Mind, as well as thoſe of the Body, to furniſh them with proper Employments; who, be⯑ſides the Buſineſs of their proper Cal⯑lings and Profeſſions, can apply them⯑ſelves to the Duties of Religion, to Me⯑ditation, to the reading of uſeful Books, to Diſcourſe; in a Word, who may ex⯑erciſe themſelves in the unbounded Pur⯑ſuits of Knowledge and Virtue, and eve⯑ry Hour of their Lives make themſelves wiſer or better than they were before.
I ſhall conclude with recommending to them the ſame ſhort Self-Examina⯑tion. If every one of them frequently lays his Hand upon his Heart, and con⯑ſiders what he is doing, it will check him in all the idle, or what is worſe, [22] the vicious Moments of Life; lift up his Mind, when it is running on in a Series of indifferent Actions, and encou⯑rage him when he is engaged in thoſe which are virtuous and laudable. In a Word, it will very much alleviate that Guilt which the beſt of Men have Rea⯑ſon to acknowledge in their daily Con⯑feſſions, of leaving undone thoſe Things which they ought to have done, and of doing thoſe Things which they ought not to have done.
EVERY Principle that is a Motive to good Actions ought to be encouraged, ſince Men are of ſo different a Make, that the ſame Principle does not work equally upon all Minds. What ſome Men are prompted to by Con⯑ſcience, Duty, or Religion, which are only different Names for the ſame Thing, others are prompted to by HONOUR.
The Senſe of HONOUR is of ſo fine and delicate a Nature, that it is only to be met with in Minds which are na⯑turally noble; or in ſuch as have been [23] cultivated by great Examples, or a re⯑fined Education.
But as nothing is more pernicious than a Principle of Action, when it is miſunderſtood, I ſhall conſider HONOUR with Reſpect to three Sorts of Men. Firſt of all, with Regard to thoſe who have a right Notion of it: Secondly, with Regard to thoſe who have a miſta⯑ken Notion of it: And, Thirdly, with Regard to thoſe who treat it as Chime⯑rical, and turn it into Ridicule.
In the firſt Place, true HONOUR, tho' it be a different Principle from Religion, is that which produces the ſame Effects. The Lines of Action, though drawn from different Parts, terminate in the ſame Point. Religion embraces Virtue, as it is enjoined by the Laws of God; HO⯑NOUR, as it is graceful and ornamental to Human Nature. The Religious Man fears, the Man of HONOUR ſcorns to do an ill Action: The former conſiders Vice as ſomething that is beneath him, the other as ſomething that is offenſive to the Divine Being: The one, as what is unbecoming, the other as what is forbid⯑den. Thus SENECA ſpeaks in the na⯑tural and genuine Language of a Man of Honour, when he declares, That were there no God to ſee or puniſh Vice, he [24] would not commit it, becauſe it is of ſo mean, ſo baſe, and ſo vile a Nature.
In the ſecond Place, we are to conſi⯑der thoſe who have miſtaken Notions of Honour, and theſe are ſuch as eſta⯑bliſh any Thing to themſelves for a Point of Honour, which is contrary ei⯑ther to the Laws of God, or of their Country; who think it more honoura⯑ble to revenge, than to forgive an Inju⯑ry; who make no Scruple of telling a Lie, but would put any Man to Death that accuſes them of it; who are more careful to guard their Reputation by their Courage than by their Virtue. True Fortitude is indeed ſo becoming in Human Nature, that he who wants it ſcarce deſerves the Name of a Man; but we find ſeveral, who ſo much abuſe this Notion, that they place the whole Idea of Honour in a Kind of brutal Cou⯑rage; by which Means we have had many among us, who have called them⯑ſelves Men of Honour, that would have been a Diſgrace to a Gibbet. In a Word, the Man who ſacrifices any Duty of a reaſonable Creature to a prevailing Mode or Faſhion, who looks upon any Thing as honourable that is diſpleaſing to his Maker, or deſtructive to Society, who thinks himſelf obliged by this Principle [25] to the Practice of ſome Virtues, and not of others, is by no Means to be recko⯑ned among true Men of Honour.
In the third Place, we are to conſider thoſe Perſons, who treat this Principle as chimerical, and turn it into Ridicule. Men who are profeſſedly of no Honour, are of a more profligate and abandoned Nature than even thoſe who are acted by falſe Notions of it, as there is more Hopes of a Heretick than of an Atheiſt. Theſe Sons of Infamy conſider Honour as a fine imaginary Notion, that leads aſtray young unexperienced Men, and draws them into real Miſchiefs, while they are engaged in the Purſuits of a Shadow. Theſe are generally Perſons who, in SHAKESPEAR's Phraſe, are ‘worn and hackneyed in the Ways of Men;’ whoſe Imaginations are grown callous, and have loſt all thoſe delicate Senti⯑ments, which are natural to Minds that are innocent and undepraved. Such old battered Miſcreants ridicule every Thing as Romantick, that comes in Competi⯑tion with their preſent Intereſt, and treat thoſe Perſons as Viſionaries, who dare ſtand up in a corrupt Age for what has not its immediate Reward joined to it. The Talents, Intereſt, or Experience of ſuch Men, make them ſo very often [26] uſeful in all Parties, and at all Times: But whatever Wealth and Dignities they may arrive at, they ought to conſider, that every one ſtands as a Blot in the Annals of his Country, who arrives at the Temple of HONOUR by any other Way than through that of VIRTUE.
COMPLAISANCE renders a Su⯑perior amiable, an Equal a⯑greeable, and an Inferior acceptable. It ſmooths Di⯑ſtinction, ſweetens Conver⯑ſation, and makes every one in the Com⯑pany pleaſed with himſelf. It produces Good-nature and mutual Benevolence, encourages the Timorous, ſooths the Turbulent, humanizes the Fierce, and diſtinguiſhes a Society of civilized Per⯑ſons from a Confuſion of Savages. In a Word, COMPLAISANCE is a Virtue that blends all Orders of Men together in a friendly Intercourſe of Words and Acti⯑ons, and is ſuited to that Equality of Human Nature which every one ought to conſider, ſo far as is conſiſtent with the Order and Oeconomy of the World.
[27]If we could look into the ſecret An⯑guiſh and Affliction of every Man's Heart, we ſhould often find that more of it ariſes from little imaginary Di⯑ſtreſſes, ſuch as Checks, Frowns, Con⯑tradictions, Expreſſions of Contempt, and (what SHAKESPEAR, in Hamlet, reckons among other Evils under the Sun)
than from the more real Pains and Ca⯑lamities of Life. The only Method to remove theſe imaginary Diſtreſſes, as much as poſſible out of Human Life, would be the univerſal Practice of ſuch an ingenuous Complaiſance as I have been here deſcribing, which, as it is a Vir⯑tue, may be defined to be a conſtant En⯑deavour to pleaſe thoſe whom we converſe with, ſo far as we may do it innocently. I ſhall here add, that I know nothing ſo effectual to raiſe a Man's Fortune as COMPLAISANCE, which recommends more to the Favour of the Great, than Wit, Knowledge, or any other Talent whatſoever.
WHAT one would think ſhould be natural to every Man, (un⯑der a well inſtituted Govern⯑ment) is a Deſire to be Happy, and a Good-will towards thoſe who are the Inſtruments of making them ſo.
LADIES are always of great Uſe to the Party they eſpouſe, and never fail to win over Numbers to it. It has been an uncontroverted Maxim in all Ages, That though a Huſband is ſometimes a ſtub⯑born Sort of a Creature, a Lover is al⯑ways at the Devotion of his Miſtreſs.
AS Self-Love is an Inſtinct planted in us for the Good and Safety of each par⯑ticular Perſon, the Love of our Country is impreſſed on our Minds for the Hap⯑pineſs and Preſervation of the Communi⯑ty. There is no greater Sign of a general Decay of Virtue in a Nation, than a Want of Zeal in its Inhabitants for the Good of their Country.
AS the Love of ones Country is na⯑tural to every Man, any particular Nation, who, by falſe Politicks, ſhall en⯑deavour to ſtifle or reſtrain it, will not be upon a Level with others.
ALL Caſuiſts are unanimous in de⯑termining, that when the Good of ones Country interferes even with the Life of the moſt beloved Relation, dear⯑eſt Friend, or greateſt Benefactor, it is to be preferred without Exception.
NO Nation was ever famous for its Morals, which was not at the ſame Time remarkable for its Publick Spirit: And there is no Remark more common among the ancient Hiſtorians, than that when the State was corrupted with A⯑varice and Luxury, it was in Danger of being betrayed or ſold.
ALL Caſuiſts who have gained any Eſteem for their Learn⯑ing, Judgment, or Morality, have unanimouſly determin⯑ed, that an Oath is always to be taken in the Senſe of that Autho⯑rity which impoſes it; and that thoſe, whoſe Hearts do not concur with their Lips in the Form of theſe publick Pro⯑teſtations, or who have any mental Re⯑ſerves, or who take an Oath againſt their Conſciences, upon any Motive what⯑ſoever; or with a Deſign to break it, or repent of it, are guilty of PERJURY. Any of theſe, or the like Circumſtan⯑ces, inſtead of alleviating the Crime, make it more heinous, as they are pre⯑meditated [31] Frauds, (which it is the chief Deſign of an Oath to prevent) and the moſt flagrant Inſtances of Inſincerity to Men and Irreverence to their Maker. For this Reaſon, the Perjury of a Man, who takes an Oath with an Intention to keep it, and is afterwards ſeduced to the Violation of it, (though a Crime not to be thought of, without the great⯑eſt Horrour) is yet, in ſome Reſpects, not quite ſo black as the Perjury above⯑mentioned. It is indeed a very unhap⯑py Token of the great Corruption of our Manners, that there ſhould be any ſo inconſiderate among us, as to ſacrifice the ſtanding and eſſential Duties of Mo⯑rality to the Views of Politicks; and that when the Love of our Country is ac⯑knowledged to be a Virtue, there ſhould be any Occaſion to ſhew that PERJURY is a Sin.
PERJURY, with Relation to publick Oaths, has in it all the aggravating Circumſtances, which can attend that Crime. We take them before the Ma⯑giſtrates of publick Juſtice; are remind⯑ed by the Ceremony, that it is a Part of that Obedience which we learn from the Goſpel; expreſsly diſavow all Eva⯑ſions and mental Reſervations whatſo⯑ever; [32] appeal to Almighty God for the Integrity of our Hearts, and only deſire him to be our Helper, as we fulfil the Oath we there take in his Preſence. What then muſt be the Succeſs that a Man can hope for, who turns a Rebel, after having diſclaimed the divine Aſſiſt⯑ance; but upon Condition of being a faithful and loyal Subject? He firſt of all deſires that God may help him, as he ſhall keep his Oaths, and afterwards hopes to proſper in an Enterprize, which is the direct Breach of them. Since there⯑fore PERJURY, by the common Senſe of Mankind, the Reaſon of the Thing, and from the whole Tenour of Chri⯑ſtianity, is a Crime of ſo flagitious a Na⯑ture, we cannot be too careful in avoid⯑ing every Approach towards it.
IN a Nation which is tied down by ſuch Religious and Solemn Engagements, the Peoples Loyalty will keep Pace with their Morality; and in Proportion as they are ſincere Chriſtians they will be faithful Subjects.
THE moſt fruitful Source of Falſ⯑hood and Calumny, is that which, one would think, ſhould be the leaſt able to produce them; I mean a pre⯑tended [33] Concern for the Safety of our eſtabliſhed Religion. Were People as anxious for the Doctrines, which are eſſential to the Church of England, as they are for the nominal Diſtinction of adhering to its Intereſts, they would know, that the ſincere Obſervation of publick Oaths, Allegiance to their King, Submiſſion to their Biſhops, Zeal againſt Popery, and Abhorrence of Rebellion, are the great Points that adorn the Cha⯑racter of the Church of England, and in which the Authors of the Reformed Religion in this Nation have always gloried.
WHEN a leading Man begins to grow apprehenſive for the Church, you may be ſure, that he is either in Danger of loſing a Place, or in Deſpair of getting one. It is pleaſant on theſe Occaſions, to ſee a notorious Profligate ſeized with a Concern for his Religion, and converting his Spleen into Zeal.
Party-FICTIONS are the proper Sub⯑jects of Mirth and Laughter, their de⯑luded Believers are only to be treated with Pity or Contempt. But as for thoſe Incendiaries of Figure and Diſtinction, who are the Inventors and Publiſhers of [34] ſuch groſs Falſhoods and Calumnies, they cannot be regarded by others, but with the utmoſt Deteſtation and Abhorrence; nor, one would think, by themſelves, without the greateſt Remorſe and Com⯑punction of Heart; when they conſider, that in Order to give a Spirit to a de⯑ſperate Cauſe, they have, by their falſe and treacherous Inſinuations and Reports, betrayed ſo many of their Friends into their own Deſtruction.
THE PEOPLE are made to believe, that Paſſive-Obedience and Non-Reſiſtance, Unlimited Power and Indefeaſible Right, have ſomething of a Venerable and Re⯑ligious Meaning in them; whereas in Reality they only imply, that the KING has a Right to be a TYRANT, and that his Subjects are obliged in Conſcience to be SLAVES.
REBELLION is a Violation of all thoſe Engagements, which every Government ex⯑acts from ſuch Perſons as live under it; and conſequently the moſt baſe and pernicious Inſtance of Treachery and Perfidiouſneſs.
WHEN in the Diviſion of PARTIES, Men only ſtrive for the firſt Place in the PRINCE's Favour; when all are attached to the ſame Form of Govern⯑ment, and contend only for the higheſt Offices in it; a prudent and an honeſt Man may look upon the Struggle with Indifference, and be in no great Pain for the Succeſs of either Side.
MEN who have any natural Love to their Country, or Senſe of their Du⯑ty, ſhould exert their united Strength in a Cauſe that is common to all Par⯑ties. In ſuch a Caſe an avowed Indiffe⯑rence is Treachery to our Fellow-Sub⯑jects; and a lukewarm Allegiance may prove as pernicious in its Conſequences as Treaſon.
A STATESMAN, who is poſſeſt of real Merit, ſhould look upon his Political Cenſurers with the ſame Neglect that a good Writer regards his Cri⯑ticks, who are generally a Race of Men [36] that are not able to diſcover the Beau⯑ties of a Work they examine, and deny that Approbation to others, which they never met with themſelves. PATRIOTS therefore ſhould rather rejoice in the Succeſs of their Deſigns, than be mor⯑tified by thoſe who miſrepreſent them; and conſider, that not only Envy, but Vanity has a Share in the Detraction of their Adverſaries.
PUBLICK-MINISTERS would like⯑wiſe do well to conſider, that the prin⯑cipal Authors of ſuch Reproaches as are caſt upon them, are thoſe who have a Mind to get their Places: And as for Cenſure ariſing from this Motive, it is in their Power to eſcape it when they pleaſe, and turn it upon their Competi⯑tors.
MALECONTENTS of an inferior Cha⯑racter are acted by the ſame Principle; for ſo long as there are Employments of all Sizes, there will be Murmurers of all Degrees.
I have heard of a Country Gentleman, who made a very long and melancholy Complaint to the late Duke of Bucking⯑ham, when he was in great Power at [37] Court, of ſeveral publick Grievances. The Duke, after having given him a very patient Hearing, My dear Friend, ſays he, this is but too true; but I have thought of an Expedient which will ſet all Things right, and that very ſoon. His Country Friend aſked him what it was? You muſt know, ſays the Duke, there's a Place of Five Hundred Pounds a Year fallen this very Morning, which I intend to put you in Poſſeſſion of. The Gentleman thanked his Grace, went away ſatisfied, and thought the Nation the happieſt un⯑der Heaven during that whole Miniſtry.
A Virtuous Man, who lays out his Endeavours for the Good of his Coun⯑try, ſhould never be troubled at the Reports which are made of him, ſo long as he is conſcious of his own Integrity: He ſhould rather be pleaſed to find People deſcanting upon his Acti⯑ons, becauſe when they are thorough⯑ly canvaſſed and examined, they are ſure in the End to turn to his Honour and Advantage. The reaſonable and unprejudiced Part of Mankind will be of his Side, and rejoice to ſee their common Intereſt lodged in ſuch honeſt Hands.
A ſtrict Examination of a great Man's Character, is like the Tryal of a ſuſpect⯑ed Chaſtity, which was made among the Jews by the Waters of Jealouſy. Moſes aſſures us, that the Criminal burſt upon the Drinking of them; but if ſhe was accuſed wrongfully, the Rabbins tell us, they heightened her Charms, and made her much more amiable than be⯑fore: So that they deſtroyed the Guil⯑ty, but beautified the Innocent.
THE Political Faith of a Malecontent is altogether founded on Hope: He does not give Credit to any Thing becauſe it is probable, but becauſe it is pleaſing: His Wiſhes ſerve him inſtead of Reaſons, to confirm the Truth of what he hears. There is no Report ſo incredible or con⯑tradictory in itſelf, which he doth not chearfully believe, if it tends to the Ad⯑vancement of the Cauſe.
A Malecontent who is a good Believer, has generally Reaſon to repeat the cele⯑brated Rant of an ancient Father, Cre⯑do quia impoſſibile eſt: i. e. It muſt be True, becauſe it is Impoſſible.
It has been very well obſerved, that the moſt credulous Man in the World is the Atheiſt, who believes the Univerſe to be the Production of Chance. In the ſame Manner a Malecontent, who is the greateſt Believer in what is improbable, is the greateſt Infidel in what is certain.
KING CHARLES the Second, when he was at Windſor, uſed to amuſe him⯑ſelf with the Converſation of the fa⯑mous VOSSIUS, who was full of Sto⯑ries relating to the Antiquity, Learn⯑ing, and Manners of the Chineſe, and at the ſame Time a Free-Thinker in Points of Religion. The KING, upon hearing him repeat ſome incredible Ac⯑counts of theſe Eaſtern People, turning to thoſe who were about him, ‘This Learned Divine, ſaid he, is a very ſtrange Man! He believes every Thing but the BIBLE.’
WHEN you cannot refute an Adver⯑ſary, the ſhorteſt Way is to Libel him; and to endeavour at the making his Per⯑ſon odious, when you cannot repreſent his Notions as abſurd.
AS Adverſity makes a Man wiſe in his private Affairs, civil Calamities give him Prudence and Circumſpection in his publick Conduct.
THE Miſeries of the Civil War un⯑der the Reign of KING CHARLES the Firſt, and the Conſequences which en⯑ſued upon them, did, for many Years, deter the Inhabitants of our Iſland from the Thoughts of engaging anew in ſuch deſperate Undertakings; and convinced them, by fatal Experience, that nothing could be ſo pernicious to the Engliſh, and ſo oppoſite to the Genius of the People, as the Subverſion of Monarchy.
AN Army of Trumpeters would give as great a Strength to a Cauſe, as a Con⯑federacy of Tongue-Warriours; who, like thoſe military Muſicians, content themſelves with animating their Friends to Battle, and run out of the Engage⯑ment upon the firſt Onſet.
NOTHING can be more contempti⯑ble and inſignificant, than the Scum of a People, when they are inſtigated a⯑gainſt a KING, who is ſupported by the two Branches of the Legiſlature. A [41] Mob may pull down a Meeting-Houſe, but will never be able to overturn a Government.
COmmon Senſe, as well as the Experience of all Ages, teach⯑es us, that no Government can flouriſh which doth not en⯑courage and propagate Religion and Mo⯑rality among all its particular Members.
Juſtice, Temperance, Humility, and almoſt every other moral Virtue, do not only derive the Bleſſings of Providence upon thoſe who exerciſe them, but are the natural Means for acquiring the pub⯑lick Proſperity.
Religious Motives and Inſtincts are ſo buſy in the Heart of every reaſonable Creature, that a Man who would hope to govern a Society without any Regard to theſe Principles, is as much to be con⯑temned for his Folly, as to be deteſt⯑ed for his Impiety.
THE World is never ſunk into ſuch a State of Degeneracy, but they pay a [42] natural Veneration to Men of Virtue; and rejoice to ſee themſelves conducted by thoſe, who act under the Awe of a ſupreme Being, and who think them⯑ſelves accountable for all their Proceed⯑ings to the great Judge and Superinten⯑dant of Human Affairs.
Prejudice and Self-Sufficiency natu⯑rally proceed from Inexperience of the World and Ignorance of Mankind.
AS it requires but very ſmall Abili⯑ties to diſcover the Imperfections of a⯑nother, we find that none are more apt to turn their Neighbours into Ridicule, than thoſe who are the moſt ridiculous in their own private Conduct.
PUNISHMENTS are neceſſary to ſhew there is Juſtice in a Government, and PARDONS to ſhew there is Mercy; and both together convince the People, that under a good Adminiſtration there is not only a Difference made between the Guilty and the Innocent; but even a⯑mong the Guilty, between ſuch as are more or leſs criminal.
IT was a famous Saying of William Rufus, and is quoted to his Honour by [43] Hiſtorians; ‘Whoſoever ſpares perjured Men, Robbers, Plunderers, and Traytors, deprives all good Men of their Peace and Quietneſs, and lays a Foundation of innu⯑merable Miſchiefs to the Virtuous and In⯑nocent.’
MERCY, in the true Senſe of the Word, is that Virtue by which a Prince approach⯑es neareſt to him whom he repreſents; and whilſt he is neither remiſs nor ex⯑treme, to animadvert upon thoſe who offend him, that Logick will hold true of him, which is applied to the Great Judge of all the Earth; With Thee there is Mercy, therefore ſhalt Thou be feared.
WE ſeem to have ſuch a Reliſh for Faction, as to have loſt that of Wit; and are ſo uſed to the Bitterneſs of Party Rage, that we cannot be gratified with the higheſt Entertainment that has not this Kind of Seaſoning in it: But as no Work muſt expect to live long, which draws all its Beauty from the Colour of the Times, ſo neither can that Plea⯑ſure be of greater Continuance, which [44] ariſes from the Prejudice or Malice of its Hearers.
SINCE the preſent Hatred and Vio⯑lence of Parties is ſo unſpeakably perni⯑cious to the Community, and none can do a better Service to their Country, than thoſe who uſe their utmoſt Endeavours to extinguiſh it, we may reaſonably hope, that the more elegant Part of the Nation will give a good Example to the reſt, and put an End to ſo abſurd and fooliſh a Practice, which makes our moſt refined Diverſions detrimental to the Publick, and, in a particular Manner, deſtructive of all Politeneſs.
IT were happy for us, could we prevail upon our ſelves to imagine, that one who differs from us in Opinion may poſſibly be an honeſt Man; and that we might do the ſame Juſtice to one another, which will be done us hereafter by thoſe who ſhall make their Appearance in the World, when this Generation is no more.
AMONG all the Paradoxes in Politicks which have been advanc'd by ſome among us, there is none ſo abſurd and ſhocking to the moſt ordina⯑ry Underſtanding, as that it is poſſible for Great Britain, to be quietly governed by a Popiſh Sovereign.
WE are convinced by the Experience of our own Times, that our Conſtitution is not able to bear a Popiſh Prince at the Head of it. If any of our Engliſh Mo⯑narchs might have hoped to reign quiet⯑ly under ſuch Circumſtances, it would have been King CHARLES the Second, who was received with all the Joy and Good-will that are natural to a People newly reſcued from a Tyranny which had long oppreſſed them in ſeveral Shapes. But this Monarch was too wiſe to own himſelf a Roman Catholick, even in that Juncture of Time, or to imagine it practicable for an avowed Popiſh Prince to govern a Proteſtant People. His Brother, King JAMES the Second, tried [46] that Experiment, and tho' he was en⯑dowed with many Royal Virtues, and might have made a Nation of Roman Catholicks happy under his Adminiſtra⯑tion, yet the Grievances we ſuffered in his Reign proceeded purely from his Religion: And they were ſuch as made the whole Body of the Nobility, Cler⯑gy, and Commonalty, riſe up as one Man againſt him, and oblige him to quit the Throne of his Anceſtors.
WE have only the Vices of a Proteſt⯑tant Prince to fear, and may be made hap⯑py by his Virtues: But in a Popiſh Prince we have no Chance for our Proſperity; his very Piety obliges him to our De⯑ſtruction; and in Proportion as he is more Religious, he becomes more Inſup⯑portable.
CAN we imagine that our Britiſh Cler⯑gy would be quiet under a Prince, who is zealous for his Religion, and obliged by it to ſubvert thoſe Doctrines which it is their Duty to defend and propagate? Nay, would any of thoſe Men themſelves, who are the Champions for a Popiſh Succeſſor, unleſs ſuch of them as are profeſſed Roman Catholicks, or diſpoſed to be ſo, live quiet under a Government, [47] which at the beſt would make Uſe of all indirect Methods in Favour of a Religion that is inconſiſtent with our Laws and Liberties, and would impoſe on us ſuch a Yoke, as neither we nor our Fathers were able to bear? All the Quiet that could be expected from ſuch a Reign, muſt be the Reſult of Abſolute Power on the one Hand, and a deſpicable Sla⯑very on the other: And I believe every reaſonable Man will be of the Roman Hiſtorian's Opinion, that a diſturbed Li⯑berty is better than a quiet Servitude.
THERE is not indeed a greater Ab⯑ſurdity, than to imagine the Quiet of a Nation can ariſe from an Eſtabliſhment, in which the King would be of one Communion, and the People of another; eſpecially when the Religion of the So⯑vereign carries in it the utmoſt Malignity to that of the Subject: What Harmony and Correſpondence can be expected be⯑tween them, when they cannot join to⯑gether in the moſt joyful, the moſt ſo⯑lemn, and moſt laudable Action of rea⯑ſonable Creatures; in a Word, where the Prince conſiders his People as Here⯑ticks, and the People look upon their Prince as an Idolater!
IT is a melancholy Reflection, that our Country, which in Times of Popery was called The Nation of Saints, ſhould now have leſs Appearance of Religion in it than any other neigh⯑bouring State or Kingdom, whether they be ſuch as continue ſtill immer⯑ſed in the Errors of the Church of Rome, or ſuch as are recovered out of them.
IT was formerly thought dangerous for a young Man to travel, leſt he ſhould return an Atheiſt to his native Country: But at preſent it is certain, that an En⯑gliſhman, who has any tolerable Degree of Reflection, cannot be better awakened to a Senſe of Religion in general, than by obſerving how the Minds of all Mankind are ſet upon this important Point; how every Nation is ſerious and attentive to the great Buſineſs of their Being; and that in other Countries a Man is not out of the Faſhion, who is bold and open in the Profeſſion and Practice of all Chriſtian Duties.
THIS Decay of Piety is by no Means to be imputed to the Reformation, which in its firſt Eſtabliſhment produced its proper Fruits, and diſtinguiſhed the whole Age with ſhining Inſtances of Vir⯑tue and Morality. If we would trace out the Original of that flagrant and avowed Impiety, which has prevailed among us for ſome Years, we ſhould find, that it owes its Riſe to that oppo⯑ſite Extream of Cant and Hypocriſy, which had taken Poſſeſſion of the Peoples Minds in the Times of the great Re⯑bellion, and of the Uſurpation that ſuc⯑ceeded it. The Practices of theſe Men, under the Covert of a feigned Zeal, made even the Appearances of ſincere Devotion ridiculous and unpopular.
THE Raillery of the Wits and Cour⯑tiers, in King CHARLES the Second's Reign, upon every Thing which they then called preciſe, was carried to ſo great an Extravagance, that it almoſt put Chriſtianity out of Countenance. The Ridicule grew ſo ſtrong and licentious, that from this Time we may date that remarkable Turn in the Behaviour of our faſhionable Engliſhmen, that makes them ſhame-faced in the Exerciſes of [50] thoſe Duties which they were ſent in⯑to the World to perform.
IT is the Ambition of the Male Part of the World to make themſelves eſteemed, and of the Female to make them⯑ſelves beloved. There is no⯑thing which makes the Fair Sex more unamiable than Party-Rage. The fineſt Woman, in a Tranſport of Fury, loſes the Uſe of her Face: Inſtead of charm⯑ing her Beholders, ſhe frights both Friend and Foe. The latter can never be ſmitten by ſo bitter an Enemy, nor the former captivated by a Nymph, who, upon Oc⯑caſion, can be ſo very angry. The moſt endearing of our beautiful Fellow-Sub⯑jects, are thoſe, whoſe Minds are the leaſt imbittered with the Paſſions and Prejudices of either Side; and who diſ⯑cover the native Sweetneſs of the Sex in every Part of their Converſation and Behaviour. A lovely Woman, who thus flouriſhes in her Innocence and Good-Humour, amidſt that mutual Spite and Rancour, which prevails among her ex⯑aſperated Siſterhood, appears more ami⯑able [51] by the Singularity of her Charact⯑er, and may be compared, with SOLO⯑MON's Bride, to a Lilly among Thorns.
A STATESWOMAN is as ridiculous a Creature as a Cot-Quean. Each of the Sexes ſhould keep within its particular Bounds, and content themſelves to excel within their reſpective Diſtricts. When VENUS complained to JUPITER of the Wound which ſhe had received in Battle, the Father of the Gods ſmiled upon her, and put her in Mind, that in⯑ſtead of mixing in a War, which was not her Buſineſs, ſhe ſhould have been officiating in her proper Miniſtry, and carrying on the Delights of Marriage. The Delicacy of ſeveral modern Criticks has been offended with Homer's Billingſ⯑gate Warriours; but a ſcolding Heroe is, at the worſt, a more tolerable Cha⯑racter than a Bully in Petticoats. To which we may add, that the keeneſt Sa⯑tyriſt, among the Antients, looked upon nothing as a more proper Subject of Rail⯑lery and Invective, than a Female Gla⯑diator.
THERE is ſcarce any Man in England, of what Denomina⯑tion ſoever, that is not a Free-Thinker in Politicks, and hath not ſome particular No⯑tions of his own, by which he diſtinguiſhes himſelf from the reſt of the Community. Almoſt every Age, Profeſſion, and Sex among us, has its Favourite Set of Mini⯑ſters, and Scheme of Government.
OUR CHILDREN are initiated into Factions before they know their Right Hand from their Left. They no ſooner begin to ſpeak, but Whig and Tory are the firſt Words they learn. They are taught in their Infancy to hate one half of the Nation; and contract all the Vi⯑rulence and Paſſion of a Party, before they come to the Uſe of their Reaſon.
AS for our NOBILITY, they are Politicians by Birth; and though the Commons of the Nation delegate their Power in the Community to certain Repreſentatives, every one reſerves to himſelf a private Juriſdiction, or Privilege, [53] of cenſuring their Conduct, and rectify⯑ing the Legiſlature.
THERE is ſcarce a Freſh-Man in either Univerſity, who is not able to mend the Conſtitution in ſeveral Particulars. We ſee Squires and Yeomen coming up to Town every Day, ſo full of Poli⯑ticks, that, to uſe the Thought of an ingenious Gentleman, we are frequent⯑ly put in Mind of Roman Dictators, who were called from the Plough. You can ſcarce ſee a Bench of Porters without two or three Caſuiſts in it, that will ſettle you the Right of Princes, and ſtate the Bounds of the Civil and Ec⯑cleſiaſtical Power, in the Drinking of a Pot of Ale. What is more uſual than on a Rejoycing Night to meet with a drunken Cobler bawling out for the Church, and perhaps knocked down a lit⯑tle after, by an Enemy in his own Pro⯑feſſion, who is a Lover of Moderation!
IN ſhort, there is hardly a Female in this our Metropolis, who is not a com⯑petent Judge of our higheſt Controverſies in Church and State. We have ſeveral Oyſter-Women that hold the Unlawful⯑neſs of Epiſcopacy; and Cinder-Wenches [54] that are great Sticklers for Indefeaſible Right.
THE Tories tell us, that the Whig-Scheme would end in Preſbyterianiſm and a Common⯑wealth. The Whigs tell us, on the other Side, that the Tory-Scheme would terminate in Popery and Arbitrary Governments. Were theſe Reproaches mu⯑tually true; which would be moſt pre⯑ferable to any Man of Common-Senſe, Preſbyterianiſm and a Republican Form of Government, or Popery and Tyranny? Both Extremes are indeed dreadful, but not equally ſo; both to be regarded with the utmoſt Averſion by the Friends of our Conſtitution, and Lovers of our Country: But if one of them were ine⯑vitable, who would not rather chuſe to live under a State of exceſſive Liberty, than of Slavery, and not prefer a Religion that differs from our own in the Cir⯑cumſtantials, before one that differs from it in the Eſſentials of Chriſtianity!
I would recommend to our Malecon⯑tents the Advice given by a great Mora⯑liſt to his Friend upon another Occaſion; That he would ſhew it was in the Power of Wiſdom to compoſe his Paſſions; and let that be the Work of Reaſon, which would certainly be the Effect of Time.
WE have the Pleaſure at this Time to ſee a King upon the Throne, who hath too much Goodneſs to wiſh for any Power, that does not enable him to promote the Welfare of his Subjects; and too much Wiſdom to look upon thoſe as his Friends, who would make their Court to him by the Profeſſion of an Obedience, which they never practiſed, and which has always proved fatal to thoſe Princes who have put it to the Tryal. His Majeſty gave a Proof of his Sovereign Virtues before he came to the Exerciſe of them in this Kingdom. His [57] Inclination to Juſtice led him to rule his German Subjects in the ſame Manner that our Conſtitution directs him to go⯑vern the Engliſh. He regarded thoſe which are our Civil Liberties, as the natural Rights of Mankind; and there⯑fore indulged them to a People, who pleaded no other Claim to them than his known Goodneſs and Humanity. This Experience of a good Prince, be⯑fore we had the Happineſs to enjoy him, muſt give great Satisfaction to every thinking Man, who conſiders how apt Sovereignty is to deprave human Na⯑ture; and how many of our own Princes made very ill Figures upon the Throne, who, before they aſcended it, were the Favourites of the People.
What gives us the greateſt Security in the Conduct of ſo excellent a Prince, is that Conſiſtency of Behaviour, where⯑by he inflexibly purſues thoſe Meaſures which appear the moſt juſt and equita⯑ble. As he hath the Character of being the moſt prudent in laying proper Schemes, he is no leſs remarkable for being ſteady in accompliſhing what he has once concerted. Indeed, if we look into the Hiſtory of his preſent Majeſty, and reflect upon that wonderful Series of Succeſſes which have attended him, [58] I think they cannot be aſcribed to any Thing ſo much as to this Uniformity and Firmneſs of Mind, which has al⯑ways diſcovered itſelf in his Proceed⯑ings. It was by this that he ſurmount⯑ed thoſe many Difficulties which lay in the Way to his Succeſſion; and by which, we have Reaſon to hope, he will daily make all Oppoſition fall be⯑fore him. The fickle and unſteady Po⯑liticks of our late Britiſh Monarchs, have been the perpetual Source of thoſe Diſ⯑ſenſions and Animoſities which have made the Nation unhappy: Whereas the conſtant and unſhaken Temper of his preſent Majeſty, muſt have a natu⯑ral Tendency to the Peace of his Go⯑vernment, and the Unanimity of his People.
Whilſt I am enumerating the publick Virtues of our Sovereign, which are ſo conducive to the Advantage of thoſe who are to obey him, I cannot but take Notice, that his Majeſty was bred up from his Infancy with a Love to this our Nation, under a Princeſs, who was the moſt accompliſhed Woman of her Age, and particularly famous for her Affection to the Engliſh. Our Country⯑men were dear to him, before there was any Proſpect of their being his Subjects; [59] and every one knows, that nothing re⯑commended a Man ſo much to the di⯑ſtinguiſhing Civilities of his Court, as the being born in Great Britain.
To the Fame of his Majeſty's Civil Virtues we may add the Reputation he has acquired by his martial Atchieve⯑ments. It is obſerved by Sir William Temple, that the Engliſh are particularly fond of a King who is valiant: Upon which Account his Majeſty has a Title to all the Eſteem that can be paid the moſt warlike Prince; tho' at the ſame Time, for the Good of his Subjects, he ſtudies to decline all Occaſions of mili⯑tary Glory; and chuſes rather to be di⯑ſtinguiſhed as a Father, than as the Cap⯑tain of his People. I am glad his rebel⯑lious Subjects are too inconſiderable to put him upon exerting that Courage and Conduct which raiſed him ſo great a Reputation in Hungary and the Morea, when he fought againſt the Enemies of Chriſtianity; and in Germany and Flan⯑ders, where he commanded againſt the great Diſturber of the Peace of Europe. One would think there was Reaſon for the Opinion of thoſe, who make Perſo⯑nal Courage to be an Hereditary Virtue, when we ſee ſo many Inſtances of it in the Line of BRUNSWICK. To go [60] no farther back than the Time of our preſent King, where can we find, among the Sovereign Houſes of Europe, any other Family, that has furniſhed ſo ma⯑ny Perſons of diſtinguiſhed Fortitude? Three of his Majeſty's Brothers have fal⯑len gloriouſly in the Field, fighting againſt the Enemies of their native Country: And the Bravery of his Royal Highneſs the Prince of WALES, is ſtill freſh in our Memory, who fought, with the Spirit of his Father, at the Battle of Ande⯑narde, when the Children of France, and the Pretender, fled before him.
His Love and Regard for our Conſti⯑tution is ſo remarkable, that, as we are told by thoſe whoſe Office it is to lay the Buſineſs of the Nation before him, it is his firſt Queſtion, upon any Matter of the leaſt Doubt or Difficulty, whether it be in every Point according to the Laws of the Land? He is eaſy of Ac⯑ceſs to thoſe who deſire it, and is ſo gracious in his Behaviour and Conde⯑ſcenſion on ſuch Occaſions, that none of his Subjects retire from his Preſence without the greateſt Idea of his Wiſ⯑dom and Goodneſs. His continued Ap⯑plication to ſuch publick Affairs as may conduce to the Benefit of his Kingdoms, diverts him from thoſe Pleaſures and [61] Entertainments which may be indulged by Perſons in a lower Station, and are purſued with Eagerneſs by Princes who have not the Care of the Publick ſo much at Heart. The leaſt Return which we can make to ſuch a Sovereign, is that Tribute which is always paid by honeſt Men, and is always acceptable to great Minds, the Praiſe and Approbation that are due to a virtuous and noble Cha⯑racter. Common Decency forbids oppro⯑brious Language, even to a bad Prince; and common Juſtice will exact from us, towards a good Prince, the ſame Bene⯑volence and Humanity with which he treats his Subjects. Thoſe who are in⯑fluenced by Duty and Gratitude, will riſe much higher in all the Expreſſions of Affection and Reſpect, and think they can never do too much to advance the Glory of a Sovereign, who takes ſo much Pains to advance their Happineſs.
When we have a King who has gained the Reputation of the moſt unblemiſhed Probity and Honour, and has been fa⯑med, through the whole Courſe of his Life, for an inviolable Adherence to his Promiſes, we may acquieſce (after his many ſolemn Declarations) in all thoſe Meaſures which it is impoſſible for us to judge rightly of, unleſs we were let in⯑to [62] ſuch Schemes of Council and Intel⯑ligence as produce them; and there⯑fore we ſhould rather turn our Thoughts upon the Reaſonableneſs of his Proceed⯑ings, than buſy ourſelves to form Ob⯑jections againſt them. The Conſideration of his Majeſty's Character ſhould at all Times ſuppreſs our Cenſure of his Con⯑duct: And ſince we have never yet ſeen or heard of any falſe Steps in his Be⯑haviour, we ought, in Juſtice, to think that he governs himſelf by his uſual Rules of Wiſdom and Honour, 'till we diſcover ſomething to the contrary.
Theſe Conſiderations ought to recon⯑cile to his Majeſty the Hearts and Tongues of all his People: But as for thoſe who are obſtinate, irreclaimable, profeſſed Enemies to our preſent Eſta⯑bliſhment, we muſt expect their Calum⯑nies will not only continue, but riſe againſt him in Proportion as he purſues ſuch Meaſures as are likely to prove ſucceſsful, and ought to recommend him to his People.
Having thus far conſidered our Hap⯑pineſs in his Majeſty's Civil and Milita⯑ry Character, I cannot forbear pleaſing my ſelf with regarding him in the View of One, who has been always fortunate. CICERO recommends POMPEY under [63] this particular Head to the Romans, with whom the Character of being Fortunate was ſo popular, that ſeveral of their Emperors gave it a Place among their Titles. Good Fortune is often the Re⯑ward of Virtue, and as often the Effect of Prudence; and whether it proceeds from either of theſe, or from both to⯑gether, or whatever may be the Cauſe of it, every one is naturally pleaſed to ſee his Intereſts conducted by a Per⯑ſon who is uſed to good Succeſs. The Eſtabliſhment of the Electoral Dignity in his Majeſty's Family, was a Work reſerved for him finally to accompliſh. A large Acceſſion of Dominion fell to him by his ſucceeding to the Dukedom of Zell, whereby he became one of the greateſt Princes of Germany, and one of the moſt powerful Perſons that ever ſtood next Heir to the Throne of Great Britain. The Dutchy of Bremen, and the Biſhoprick of Oſnaburg, have conſidera⯑bly ſtrengthened his Intereſts in the Em⯑pire, and given a great additional Weight to the Proteſtant Cauſe. But the moſt remarkable Interpoſitions of Providence, in Favour of him, have appeared in re⯑moving thoſe ſeemingly invincible Obſta⯑cles to his Succeſſion; in taking away, at ſo critical a Juncture, the Perſon who [64] might have proved a dangerous Enemy; in confounding the ſecret and open At⯑tempts of his traiterous Subjects; and in giving him the delightful Proſpect of tranſmitting his Power through a nume⯑rous and ſtill-increaſing Progeny.
Upon the whole, it is not to be doubted but every wiſe and honeſt Sub⯑ject will concur with Providence in pro⯑moting the Glory and Happineſs of his preſent Majeſty, who is endowed with all thoſe Royal Virtues, that will natu⯑rally ſecure to us the national Bleſſings, which ought to be dear and valuable to a free People.
WHEN this excellent Princeſs was yet in her Father's Court, ſhe was ſo celebrated for the Beauty of her Perſon, and the Accompliſhments of her Mind, that there was no Prince in the Empire, who had Room for ſuch an Alliance, that was not ambitious of gaining her into his Family, either as a Daughter, or as a Conſort. He, who is now the Chief of the crowned Heads in Europe, and [65] was then King of Spain, and Heir to all the Dominions of the Houſe of Auſtria, ſought her in Marriage. Could her Mind have been captivated with the Glories of this World, ſhe had them all laid before her; but ſhe generouſly de⯑clined them, becauſe ſhe ſaw the Accep⯑tance of them was inconſiſtent with what ſhe eſteems more than all the Glo⯑ries of this World, the Enjoyment of her Religon. Providence however kept in Store a Reward for ſuch an exalted Virtue; and, by the Methods of its Wiſ⯑dom, opened a Way for her to become the greateſt of her Sex, among thoſe, who profeſs that Faith to which ſhe adhered with ſo much Chriſtian Mag⯑nanimity.
This her illuſtrious Conduct might, in the Eye of the World, have loſt its Merit, had ſo accompliſhed a Prince as his Royal Highneſs declared his Paſſion for the ſame Alliance at that Time: It would then have been no Wonder that all other Propoſals had been rejected. But it was the Fame of this heroick Conſtancy that determined his Royal Highneſs to deſire in Marriage a Princeſs, whoſe perſo⯑nal Charms, which had been before ſo uni⯑verſally admired, were now become the leaſt Part of her Character. We of the [66] Britiſh Nation have Reaſon to rejoice, that ſuch a Propoſal was made and accept⯑ed; and that her Royal Highneſs, with Regard to theſe two ſucceſſive Treaties of Marriage, ſhewed as much Prudence in her Compliance with the one, as Pi⯑ety in her Refuſal of the other.
The Princeſs was no ſooner arrived at Hanover, than ſhe improved the Luſtre of that Court, which was before recko⯑ned among the Politeſt in Europe; and increaſed the Satisfaction of that Peo⯑ple, who were before looked upon as the Happieſt in the Empire. She im⯑mediately became the Darling of the Princeſs SOPHIA, who was acknow⯑ledged in all the Courts of Europe the moſt acompliſhed Woman of the Age in which ſhe lived, and who was not a lit⯑tle pleaſed with the Converſation of one in whom ſhe ſaw ſo lively an Image of her own Youth.
But I ſhall inſiſt no longer on that Reputation which her Royal Highneſs has acquired in other Countries. We daily diſcover thoſe admirable Qualities for which ſhe is ſo juſtly famed, and rejoyce to ſee them exerted in our own Country, where we ourſelves are made happy by their Influence. We are the more pleaſed to behold the Throne of [67] theſe Kingdoms ſurrounded by a numerous and beautiful Progeny, when we conſi⯑der the Virtues of thoſe from whom they deſcend. Not only the Features, but the Mind of the Parent is often copied out in the Offspring. But the Princeſs we are ſpeaking of, takes the ſureſt Method of making her Royal Iſ⯑ſue like herſelf, by inſtilling early into their Minds all the Principles of Reli⯑gion, Virtue, and Honour, and ſeaſoning their tender Years with all that Know⯑ledge which they are capable of receiv⯑ing. What may we not hope from ſuch an uncommon Care in the Education of the Children of Great Britain, who are directed by ſuch Precepts, and will be formed by ſuch an Example.
The Conjugal Virtues are ſo remarka⯑ble in her Royal Highneſs, as to deſerve thoſe juſt and generous Returns of Love and Tenderneſs, for which the Prince her Huſband is ſo univerſally celebrated.
But there is no Part of her Royal Highneſs's Character, which we obſerve with greater Pleaſure, than that Beha⯑viour by which ſhe has ſo much endeared herſelf to his Majeſty; though indeed we have no Reaſon to be ſurprized at this mutual Intercourſe of Duty and Af⯑fection, when we conſider ſo wiſe and [68] virtuous a Princeſs poſſeſſing, in the ſame ſacred Perſon, the kindeſt of Fa⯑thers and the beſt of Kings. And here it is natural for us to congratulate our own good Fortune, who ſee our Sove⯑reign bleſt with a numerous Iſſue, among whom are Heirs Male in two direct De⯑ſcents, which has not happened in the Reign of any Engliſh King ſince the Time of his Majeſty's Great Anceſtor Edward III. and is a Felicity not enjoyed by the Subjects of any other of the Kings of Europe who are his Contemporaries. We are like Men entertained with the View of a ſpacious Land ſkip, where the Eye paſſes over one pleaſing Proſpect into another, 'till the Sight is loſt by Degrees in a Succeſſion of delightful Objects, and leaves us in the Perſuaſion that there re⯑main ſtill more behind.
But if we regard her Royal Highneſs in that Light which diffuſes the greateſt Glory round a Human Character, we ſhall find the Chriſtian no leſs conſpi⯑cuous than the Princeſs. She is as e⯑minent for a ſincere Piety in the Pra⯑ctice of Religion, as for an inviolable Adherence to its Principles. She is con⯑ſtant in her Attendance on the daily Offices of our Church, and by her ſe⯑rious and devout Comportment on theſe [69] ſolemn Occaſions, gives an Example that is very often too much wanted in Courts.
Her Religion is equally free from the Weakneſs of Superſtition, and the Sour⯑neſs of Enthuſiaſm. It is not of that uncomfortable melancholy Nature which diſappoints its own End, by appearing unamiable to thoſe whom it would gain to its Intereſts. It diſcovers itſelf in the genuine Effects of Chriſtianity, in Affa⯑bility, Compaſſion, Benevolence, Even⯑neſs of Mind, and all the Offices of an active and univerſal Charity.
As a cheerful Temper is the neceſſary Reſult of theſe Virtues, ſo it ſhines out in all the Parts of her Converſation, and diſſipates thoſe Apprehenſions which na⯑turally hang on the Timorous or the Mo⯑deſt, when they are admitted to the Ho⯑nour of her Preſence. There is none that does not liſten with Pleaſure to a Perſon in ſo high a Station, who conde⯑ſcends to make herſelf thus agreeable, by Mirth without Levity, and Wit without Ill-Nature.
Her Royal Highneſs is, indeed, poſ⯑ſeſs'd of all thoſe Talents which make Converſation either delightful or impro⯑ing. As ſhe has a fine Taſte of the ele⯑gant Arts, and is ſkilled in ſeveral mo⯑dern Languages, her Diſcourſe is not [70] confined to the ordinary Subjects or Forms of Converſation, but can adapt itſelf with an uncommon Grace to eve⯑ry Occaſion, and entertain the politeſt Perſons of different Nations. I need not mention, what is obſerved by every one, that agreeable Turn which appears in her Sentiments upon the moſt ordinary Affairs of Life, and which is ſo ſuitable to the Delicacy of her Sex, the Polite⯑neſs of her Education, and the Splendor of her Quality.
THE Horror with which we entertain the Thoughts of Death, or indeed of any fu⯑ture Evil) and the Uncer⯑tainty of its Approach, fill a melancholy Mind with innumerable Ap⯑prehenſions and Suſpicions, and conſe⯑quently diſpoſe it to the Obſervation of many groundleſs Prodigies and Predicti⯑ons. For as it is the chief Concern of wiſe Men to retrench the Evils of Life, [72] by the Reaſonings of Philoſophy, it is the Employment of Fools to multiply them by the Sentiments of Superſtition.
There is but one Way of fortifying the Soul againſt theſe gloomy Preſages and Terrors of Mind, and that is, by ſecuring to ourſelves the Friendſhip and and Protection of that Being, who diſ⯑poſes of Events, and governs Futurity. He ſees at one View the whole Thread of our Exiſtence, not only that Part of it which we have already paſſed through, but that which runs forward into all the Depths of Eternity. When we lay us down to Sleep, let us recommend ourſelves to his Care; when we awake, let us give up ourſelves to his Direction; amidſt all the Evils that threaten us, let us look up to him for Help, and que⯑ſtion not but he will either avert them, or turn them to our Advantage. Tho' we know neither the Time nor the Man⯑ner of the Death we are to die, we need not be at all ſolicitous about it; becauſe we are ſure that he knows them both, and that he will not fail to comfort and ſupport us under them.
TRUE HAPPINESS is of a re⯑tired Nature, and an Enemy to Pomp and Noiſe; it ariſes, in the firſt Place, from the Enjoyment of one's ſelf; and in the next, from the Friendſhip and Conver⯑ſation of a few ſelect Companions: It loves Shades and Solitude, and natural⯑ly haunts Groves and Fountains, Fields and Meadows: In ſhort, it feels every Thing it wants within itſelf, and re⯑ceives no Addition from Multitudes of Witneſſes and Spectators. On the Con⯑trary, falſe Happineſs loves to be in a Crowd, and to draw the Eyes of the World upon her: She does not receive any Satisfaction from the Applauſes which ſhe gives herſelf, but from the Admiration ſhe raiſes in others: She flouriſhes in Courts and Palaces, Thea⯑tres and Aſſemblèes, and has no Exiſtence but when ſhe is looked upon.
THERE is nothing that more betrays a baſe and ungene⯑rous Spirit, than the giving of ſecret Stabs to a Man's Reputation. Lampoons and Satires, that are written with Wit and Spirit, are like poiſoned Darts, which not only inflict a Wound, but make it incurable. For this Reaſon I am very much troubled, when I ſee the Talents of Humour and Ridicule in the Poſſeſſi⯑on of an ill-natured Man. There can⯑not be a greater Gratification to a barba⯑rous and inhuman Wit, than to ſtir up Sorrow in the Heart of a private Perſon, to raiſe Uneaſineſs among near Rela⯑tions, and to expoſe whole Families to Deriſion, at the ſame Time that he re⯑mains unſeen and undiſcovered. If be⯑ſides the Accompliſhments of being wit⯑ty and ill-natured, a Man is vicious into the Bargain, he is one of the moſt miſchievous Creatures that can en⯑ter into a civil Society. His Satire will then chiefly fall upon thoſe who ought to be the moſt exempt from it. Virtue, [75] Merit, and every Thing that is Praiſe⯑worthy, will be made the Subject of Ridicule and Buffoonry. It is impoſſible to enumerate the Evils which ariſe from theſe Arrows that fly in the Dark; and I know no other Excuſe that is or can be made for them, than that the Wounds they give are only imaginary, and pro⯑duce nothing more than a ſecret Shame and Sorrow in the Mind of the ſuffer⯑ing Perſon. It muſt indeed be confeſſed; that a Lampoon or a Satire do not car⯑ry in them Robbery or Murder; but at the ſame Time, how many are there, that would not rather loſe a conſiderable Sum of Money, or even Life itſelf, than be ſet up as a Mark of Infamy and De⯑riſion? And in this Caſe a Man ſhould conſider, that an Injury is not to be mea⯑ſured by the Notions of him that gives, but of him that receives it.
Thoſe who can put the beſt Countenance upon Outrages of this Nature which are offered them, are not without their ſecret Anguiſh: For my own Part, I would never truſt a Man that I thought was capable of giving theſe ſecret Wounds; and cannot but think that he would hurt the Per⯑ſon, whoſe Reputation he thus aſſaults, in his Body or in his Fortune, could he do it with the ſame Security. There [76] is indeed ſomething very barbarous and inhuman in the ordinary Scribblers of Lampoons. An innocent young Lady ſhall be expoſed for an unhappy Fea⯑ture. A Father of a Family turned to Ridicule, for ſome domeſtick Calamity. A Wife be made uneaſy all her Life, for a miſ-interpreted Word or Action. Nay, a good, a temperate, and a juſt Man, ſhall be put out of Countenance, by the Repreſentation of thoſe Quali⯑ties that ſhould do him Honour. So pernicious a Thing is Wit, when it is not tempered with Virtue and Humani⯑ty. I have indeed heard of heedleſs in⯑conſiderate Writers, that without any Malice have ſacrificed the Reputation of their Friends and Acquaintance to a certain Levity of Temper, and a ſilly Ambition of diſtinguiſhing themſelves by a Spirit of Raillery and Satire: As if it were not infinitely more honourable to be a good-natured Man than a Wit. Where there is this little petulant Humour in an Author, he is often very miſchie⯑vous without deſigning to be ſo. For which Reaſon I always lay it down as a Rule, that an indiſcreet Man is more hurtful than an ill-natured one; for as the former will only attack thoſe he wiſhes well to, the other injures indif⯑ferently both Friends and Foes.
AS a perfect TRAGEDY is the nobleſt Production of Hu⯑man Nature, ſo it is capable of giving the Mind one of the moſt delightful and moſt improving Entertainments. A virtuous Man (ſays SENECA) ſtruggling with Misfortunes, is ſuch a Spectacle as Gods might look upon with Pleaſure: And ſuch Pleaſure it is which one meets with in the Repreſentation of a well-written TRAGEDY. Diverſions of this Kind wear out of our Thoughts every Thing that is mean and little. They cheriſh and cultivate that Humanity which is the Ornament of our Nature: They ſoften Inſolence, ſooth Affliction, and ſubdue the Mind to the Diſpenſa⯑tions of Providence.
WHen a Government flouriſhes in Conqueſts, and is ſecure from foreign Attacks, it na⯑turally falls into all the Pleaſures of LUXURY; and as theſe Pleaſures are very expenſive, they put thoſe who are addicted to them upon raiſing freſh Supplies of Mo⯑ney, by all the Methods of Rapaciouſneſs and Corruption; ſo that AVARICE and LUXURY very often become one com⯑plicated Principle of Action, in thoſe whoſe Hearts are wholly ſet upon Eaſe, Magnificence, and Pleaſure.
The moſt elegant and correct of all the Latin Hiſtorians obſerves, that in his Time, when the moſt formidable States of the World were ſubdued by the Romans, the Republick ſunk into thoſe two Vices of a quite different Nature, LUXURY and AVARICE: And accordingly deſcribes CATILINE as one who coveted the Wealth of other Men, at the ſame Time that he ſquandered away his own. This Obſervation on the Commonwealth, when it was in its [79] Height of Power and Riches, holds good of all Governments that are ſettled in a State of Eaſe and Proſperity. At ſuch Times Men naturally endeavour to out⯑ſhine one another in Pomp and Splen⯑dor, and, having no Fears to alarm them, indulge themſelves in the Enjoy⯑ment of all the Pleaſures they can get into their Poſſeſſion; which naturally produces AVARICE, and an immoderate Purſuit after Wealth and Riches.
IT is very ſtrange to conſider, that a Creature like Man, who is ſenſible of ſo many Weakneſſes and Imperfecti⯑ons, ſhould be actuated by a Love of FAME: That Vice and Igno⯑rance, Imperfection and Miſery, ſhould contend for Praiſe, and endeavour, as much as poſſible, to make themſelves Objects of Admiration.
But notwithſtanding Man's Eſſential Perfection is but very little, his Com⯑parative Perfection may be very conſi⯑derable. If he looks upon himſelf in an abſtracted Light, he has not much to [80] boaſt of; but if he conſiders himſelf with Regard to others, he may find Oc⯑caſion of glorying, if not in his own Virtues, at leaſt in the Abſence of ano⯑ther's Imperfections. This gives a diffe⯑rent Turn to the Reflections of the wiſe Man and the Fool. The firſt endeavours to ſhine in himſelf, and the laſt to out⯑ſhine others. The firſt is humbled by the Senſe of his own Infirmities, the laſt is lifted up by the Diſcovery of thoſe which he obſerves in other Men. The wiſe Man conſiders what he wants, and the Fool what he abounds in. The wiſe Man is happy when he gains his own Approbation, and the Fool when he recommends himſelf to the Applauſe of thoſe about him.
But however unreaſonable and abſurd this Paſſion for Admiration may appear in ſuch a Creature as Man, it is not wholly to be diſcouraged, ſince it often produces very good Effects, not only as it reſtrains him from doing any Thing which is mean and contemptible, but as it puſhes him to Actions which are great and glorious. The Principle may be de⯑fective, or faulty, but the Conſequences it produces are ſo good, that, for the Benefit of Mankind, it ought not to be extinguiſhed.
THERE is not, in my Opini⯑on, a Conſideration more ef⯑fectual to extinguiſh inordi⯑nate Deſires, in the Soul of Man, than the Notions of PLATO and his Followers upon that Subject: They tell us, that every Paſſion which has been contracted by the Soul during her Reſidence in the Body, re⯑mains with her in a ſeparate State; and that the Soul in the Body, or out of the Body, differs no more than the Man does from himſelf when he is in his Houſe, or in open Air. When there⯑fore the obſcene Paſſions in particular, have once taken Root, and ſpread them⯑ſelves in the Soul, they cleave to her inſeparably, and remain in her for ever, after the Body is caſt off and thrown aſide. As an Argument to confirm this their Doctrine, they obſerve, that a lewd Youth, who goes on in a continued Courſe of Voluptuouſneſs, advances by Degrees into a libidinous old Man; and that the Paſſion ſurvives in the Mind when it is altogether dead in the Body: [82] Nay, that the Deſire grows more vio⯑lent, and (like all other Habits) gathers Strength by Age, at the ſame Time that it has no Power of executing its own Purpoſes. If, ſay they, the Soul is the moſt ſubject to theſe Paſſions at a Time when it has the leaſt Inſtigation from the Body, we may well ſuppoſe ſhe will ſtill retain them when ſhe is entirely di⯑veſted of it: The very Subſtance of the Soul is feſtered with them; the Gan⯑grene is gone too far to be ever cured; the Inflammation will rage to all Eter⯑nity.
In this therefore (ſay the PLATO⯑NISTS) conſiſts the Puniſhment of a voluptuous Man after Death: He is tormented with Deſires which it is impoſ⯑ſible for him to gratify; ſolicited by a Paſſion that has neither Objects nor Or⯑gans adapted to it: He lives in a State of invincible Deſire and Impotence, and always burns in the Purſuit of what he always deſpairs to poſſeſs. It is for this Reaſon (ſays PLATO) that the Souls of the Dead appear frequently in Coe⯑miteries, and hover about the Places where their Bodies are buried, as ſtill hankering after their old brutal Plea⯑ſures, and deſiring again to enter the Body that gave them an Opportunity of fulfilling them.
WHEN I look upon the Tombs of the Great, every Emotion of Envy dies in me; when I read the Epitaphs of the Beautiful, every inordinate Deſire goes out; when I meet with the Grief of Parents upon a Tombſtone, my Heart melts with Compaſſion; when I ſee the Tomb of the Parents themſelves, I conſider the Vanity of grieving for thoſe whom we muſt quickly follow; when I ſee Kings lying by thoſe who depoſed them, when I conſider Rival-Wits placed Side by Side, or the holy Men that di⯑vided the World with their Conteſts and Diſputes, I reflect with Sorrow and A⯑ſtoniſhment on the little Competitions, Factions, and Debates of Mankind; when I read the ſeveral Dates of the Tombs ‖, of ſome that dy'd Yeſterday, and ſome Six Hundred Years ago, I con⯑ſider that Great Day, when we ſhall all of us be Contemporaries, and make our Appearance together.
I Am now led into a Subject upon which I always meditate with great Delight, I mean the IMMORTALITY of the SOUL. When I run over in my Mind the ſeveral Arguments that eſtabliſh'd this great Point, which is the Baſis of Morality, and the Source of all the pleaſing Hopes and ſecret Joys that can ariſe in the Heart of a reaſonable Crea⯑ture, I conſider thoſe ſeveral Proofs drawn,
FIRST, From the Nature of the SOUL itſelf, and particularly its Immateriali⯑ty; which, though not abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary to the Eternity of its Duration, has, I think, been evinced to almoſt a Demonſtration.
SECONDLY, From its Paſſions and Sentiments, as particularly from its Love of Exiſtence, its Horrour of An⯑nihilation, and its Hopes of Immortali⯑ty, with that ſecret Satisfaction which it finds in the Practice of Virtue, and that Uneaſineſs which follows in it up⯑on the Commiſſion of Vice.
[85] THIRDLY, From the Nature of the ſupream Being, whoſe Juſtice, Good⯑neſs, Wiſdom and Veracity, are all con⯑cerned in this great Point.
But among theſe and other excellent Arguments for the IMMORTALITY of the SOUL, there is one drawn from the per⯑petual Progreſs of the SOUL to its Per⯑fection, without a Poſſibility of ever ar⯑riving at it; which is a Hint that I do not remember to have ſeen opened and improved by others who have written on this Subject, though it ſeems to me to carry a great Weight with it: How can it enter into the Thoughts of Man, that the SOUL, which is capable of ſuch immenſe Perfections, and of receiving new Improvements to all Eternity, ſhall fall away into nothing, almoſt as ſoon as it is created? Are ſuch Abilities made for no Purpoſe? A Brute arrives at a Point of Perfection that he can never paſs; in a few Years he has all the En⯑dowments he is capable of, and were he to live ten thouſand more, would be the ſame Thing he is at preſent. Were a HUMAN SOUL thus at a Stand in her Accompliſhments, were her Facul⯑ties to be full blown, and incapable of farther Enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away inſenſibly, and drop [86] at once into a State of Annihilation: But can we believe a Thinking Being, that is in a perpetual Progreſs of Improvements, and travelling on from Perfection to Per⯑fection, after having juſt looked Abroad into the Works of its Creator, and made a few Diſcoveries of his infinite Good⯑neſs, Wiſdom, and Power, muſt periſh at her firſt ſetting out, and in the very Beginning of her Enquiries?
A Man, conſidered in his preſent State, ſeems only ſent into the World to pro⯑pagate his Kind. He provides himſelf with a Succeſſor, and immediately quits his Poſt to make Room for him.
He does not ſeem born to enjoy Life, but to deliver it down to others. This is not ſurprizing to conſider in Animals, which are formed for our Uſe, and can finiſh their Buſineſs in a ſhort Life. The Silk-worm, after having ſpun her Taſk, lays her Eggs and dies: But a Man can never have taken in his full Meaſure of Knowledge, has not Time to ſubdue his Paſſions, to eſtabliſh his SOUL in Vir⯑tue, and come up to the Perfection of his Nature, before he is hurried off the Stage. Would an infinitely wiſe Being [87] make ſuch glorious Creatures for ſo mean a Purpoſe? Can he delight in the Pro⯑duction of ſuch abortive Intelligencies, ſuch ſhort-liv'd reaſonable Beings? Would he give us Talents that are not to be exerted? Capacities that are never to be gratified? How can we find that Wiſ⯑dom, which ſhines through all his Works, in the Formation of Man, without look⯑ing on this World as only a Nurſery for the next, and believing that the ſeveral Generations of rational Creatures, which riſe up and diſappear in ſuch quick Succeſſions, are only to receive their firſt Rudiments of Exiſtence here, and afterwards to be tranſplanted into a more friendly Climate, where they ſpread and flouriſh to all Eternity?
There is not, in my Opinion, a more pleaſing and triumphant Conſideration in Religion, than this of the perpetual Progreſs which the SOUL makes towards the Perfection of its Nature, without ever arriving at a Period in it. To look upon the SOUL as going on from Strength to Strength; to conſider that ſhe is to ſhine for ever with new Acceſſions of Glory, and brighten to all Eternity; that ſhe will be ſtill adding Virtue to Virtue, and Knowledge to Knowledge; carries in it ſomething wonderfully a⯑greeable [88] to that Ambition which is na⯑tural to the Mind of Man: Nay, it muſt be a Proſpect pleaſing to God himſelf, to ſee his Creation for ever beautifying in his Eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by greater Degrees of Reſemblance.
Methinks this ſingle Conſideration, of the Progreſs of a finite Spirit to Per⯑fection, will be ſufficient to extinguiſh all Envy in inferior Natures, and all Contempt in ſuperior. That Cherubim, which now appears as a God to a HU⯑MAN SOUL, knows very well that the Period will come about in Eternity, when the HUMAN SOUL ſhall be as perfect as he himſelf now is: Nay, when ſhe ſhall look down upon that Degree of Per⯑fection, as much as ſhe now falls ſhort of it. It is true, the higher Nature ſtill advances, and by that Means preſerves his Diſtance and Superiority in the Scale of Being; but he knows how high ſo⯑ever the Station is, of which he ſtands poſſeſſed at preſent, the inferior Nature will at length mount up to it, and ſhine forth in the ſame Degree of Glory.
With what Aſtoniſhment and Venera⯑tion may we look into our own SOULS, when there are ſuch hidden Stores of Virtue and Knowledge, ſuch in exhauſted Sources of Perfection? We know not yet [89] what we ſhall be, nor will it ever enter into the Heart of Man to conceive the Glory that will be always in Reſerve for him. The SOUL, conſidered with its Cre⯑ator, is like one of thoſe Mathematical Lines that may draw nearer to another for all Eternity, without a Poſſibility of touching it: And can there be a Thought ſo tranſporting, as to conſider ourſelves in theſe perpetual Approaches to him, who is not only the Standard of Perfection but of Happineſs?
MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, Moral, Political, and Divine.
By Mr. ADDISON.
The SECOND PART.
LONDON: Printed for E. CURLL in Fleet-ſtreet. 1720. (Price 1s. 6d.)
Where may be had the firſt Part. Price 1s. 6d. alſo Mr. Addiſon's LIFE, dedicated to the Counteſs of Warwick. Price 1s.
I Am very much pleaſed with a conſolatory Letter of Pha⯑laris, to one who had loſt a Son, who was a young Man of great Merit. The Thought with which he comforts the afflicted Fa⯑ther, is, to the beſt of my Memory, as follows: That he ſhould conſider Death had ſet a Kind of Seal upon his Son's Character, and placed him out of the Reach of Vice and Infamy: That while he lived he was ſtill within the Poſſibili⯑ty of falling away from Virtue, and loſing the Fame of which he was poſſeſ⯑ſed. Death only cloſes a Man's Repu⯑tation, and determines it as good or bad.
This, among other Motives, may be one Reaſon, why we are naturally averſe to the launching out into a Man's Praiſe 'till his Head is laid in the Duſt. Whilſt he is capable of changing, we may be for⯑ced to retract our Opinions: He may for⯑feit the Eſteem we have conceived of him, and ſome Time or other appear to us un⯑der a different Light from what he does at preſent. In ſhort, as the Life of any [92] Man cannot be called happy or unhap⯑py, ſo neither can it be pronounced vi⯑cious or virtuous, before the Concluſion of it.
It was upon this Conſideration that Epaminondas, being aſked whether Cha⯑brias, Iphicrates, or he himſelf, deſerved moſt to be eſteemed? You muſt firſt ſee us Die, ſaid he, before that Queſtion can be anſwered.
As there is not a more melancholy Conſideration to a good Man, than his being obnoxious to ſuch a Change, ſo there is nothing more glorious than to keep up an Uniformity in his Actions, and preſerve the Beauty of his Character to the laſt.
I Have always preferred Chear⯑fulneſs to Mirth: The latter I conſider as an Act, the for⯑mer as an Habit of the Mind. Mirth is ſhort and tranſient, Chearful⯑neſs fixed and permanent. Thoſe are often raiſed into the greateſt Tranſports of Mirth, who are ſubject to the great⯑eſt Depreſſions of Melancholy: On the [93] contrary, Chearfulneſs, though it does not give the Mind ſuch an exquiſite Gladneſs, prevents us from falling into the Depths of Sorrow. Mirth is like a Flaſh of Lightning, that breaks through a Gloom of Clouds, and glitters for a Moment; Chearfulneſs keeps up a Kind of Day-light in the Mind, and fills it with a ſteady and perpetual Serenity.
MEN of auſtere Principles look upon Mirth as too wanton and diſſolute for a State of Probation, and as filled with a certain Triumph and Inſolence of Heart, that is inconſiſtent with a Life which is every Moment obnoxious to the great⯑eſt Danger. Writers of this Complexi⯑on have obſerved, that the Sacred PER⯑SON, who was the great Pattern of Per⯑fection, was never ſeen to laugh.
CHEARFULNESS of Mind is not li⯑able to any of theſe Exceptions; it is of a ſerious and compoſed Nature; it does not throw the Mind into a Condi⯑tion improper for the preſent State of Humanity, and is very conſpicuous in the Characters of thoſe who are looked upon as the greateſt Philoſophers among the Heathens, as well as among thoſe who have been deſervedly eſteemed as Saints and holy Men among Chriſtians.
IF we conſider Chearfulneſs in three Lights, with Regard to ourſelves, to thoſe we converſe with, and to the great Author of our Being, it will not a little recom⯑mend itſelf on each of theſe Accounts. The Man who is poſſeſſed of this excel⯑lent Frame of Mind, is not only eaſy in his Thoughts, but perfect Maſter of all the Powers and Faculties of his Soul; his Imagination is always clear, and his Judgment undiſturbed; his Temper is even and unruffled, whether in Action or in Solitude; he comes with a Reliſh to all thoſe Goods which Nature has provided for him, taſtes all the Plea⯑ſures of the Creation which are poured about him, and does not feel the full Weight of thoſe accidental Evils which may befal him.
If we conſider him in Relation to the Perſons whom he converſes with, it na⯑turally produces Love and Good-will towards him. A chearful Mind is not only diſpoſed to be affable and obliging, but raiſes the ſame good Humour in thoſe who come within its Influence. A Man finds himſelf well pleaſed he does not know why, with the Chear⯑fulneſs [95] of his Companion: It is like a ſudden Sun-ſhine, that awakens a ſecret Delight in the Mind, without her at⯑tending to it: The Heart rejoices of its own Accord, and naturally flows out into Friendſhip and Benevolence towards the Perſon who has ſo kindly an Effect upon it.
When I conſider this chearful State of Mind in its third Relation, I cannot but look upon it as a conſtant habitual Gratitude to the great Author of Na⯑ture. An inward Chearfulneſs is an implicit Praiſe and Thankſgiving to Pro⯑vidence under all its Diſpenſations: It is a Kind of Acquieſcence in the State wherein we are placed, and a ſecret Ap⯑probation of the Divine Will in his Conduct towards Man.
THERE are but two Things which can reaſonably deprive us of this Chear⯑fulneſs of Heart: The firſt of theſe is the Senſe of Guilt. A Man who lives in a State of Vice and Impenitence, can have no Title to that Evenneſs and Tranquillity of Mind, which is the Health of the Soul, and the natural Effect of Virtue and Innocence. Chear⯑fulneſs [96] in an ill Man deſerves a hard⯑er Name than Language can furniſh us with, and in many Degrees beyond what we commonly call Folly or Madneſs.
Atheiſm, by which I mean a Diſbe⯑lief of a ſupreme Being, and conſe⯑quently of a future State, under what⯑ſoever Titles it ſhelters itſelf, may like⯑wiſe very reaſonably deprive a Man of this Chearfulneſs of Temper. There is ſomething ſo particularly gloomy and offenſive to human Nature in the Pro⯑ſpect of Non-Exiſtence, that I cannot but wonder, with many excellent Wri⯑ters, how it is poſſible for a Man to out⯑live the Expectation of it: For my own Part, I think the Being of a God is ſo little to be doubted, that it is almoſt the only Truth we are ſure of, and ſuch a Truth as we meet with in every Ob⯑ject, in every Occurrence, and in every Thought. If we look into the Characters of this Tribe of Infidels, we generally find they are made up of Pride, Spleen, and Cavil: It is indeed no Wonder that Men who are uneaſy to themſelves, ſhould be ſo to the reſt of the World; and how is it poſſible for a Man to be otherwiſe than uneaſy in himſelf, who is in Danger every Moment of loſing his entire Exiſtence, and dropping into No⯑thing?
[97]The vicious Man and Atheiſt have therefore no Pretence to Chearfulneſs, and would act very unreaſonably, ſhould they endeavour after it. It is impoſſi⯑ble for any one to live in good Humour, and enjoy his preſent Exiſtence, who is apprehenſive either of Torment, or of Annihilation, of being miſerable, or of not being at all.
After having mentioned theſe two great Principles, which are deſtructive of Chearfulneſs in their own Nature, as well as in right Reaſon, I cannot think of any other that ought to baniſh this happy Temper from a virtuous Mind. Pain and Sickneſs, Shame and Reproach, Poverty and old Age, nay, Death itſelf, conſidering the Shortneſs of their Du⯑ration, and the Advantage we may reap from them, do not deſerve the Name of Evils. A good Mind may bear up under them with Fortitude, with Indolence, and with Chearfulneſs of Heart: The toſſing of a Tempeſt does not diſcom⯑poſe him, which he is ſure will bring him to a joyful Harbour. A Man, who uſes his beſt Endeavours to live accord⯑ing to the Dictates of Virtue and right Reaſon, has two perpetual Sources of Chearfulneſs, in the Conſideration of his own Nature, and of that Being on whom he has a Dependance.
[98]If he looks into himſelf, he cannot but rejoice in that Exiſtence which is ſo lately beſtowed upon him, and which, after Millions of Ages, will be ſtill new, and ſtill in its Beginning. How many Self-Congratulations naturally ariſe in the Mind, when it reflects on this its Entrance into Eternity, when it takes a View of thoſe improveable Faculties, which in a few Years, and even at its firſt ſetting out, have made ſo conſider⯑able a Progreſs, and which will be ſtill receiving an Increaſe of Perfection, and conſequently an Increaſe of Happineſs. The Conſciouſneſs of ſuch a Being ſpreads a perpetual Diffuſion of Joy through the Soul of a virtuous Man, and makes him look upon himſelf every Moment as more happy than he knows how to conceive.
The ſecond Source of Chearfulneſs to a good Mind, is its Conſideration of that Being on whom we have our Depen⯑dance, and in whom, though we be⯑hold him as yet but in the firſt faint Diſcoveries of his Perfections, we ſee every Thing that we can imagine as great, glorious, or amiable; we find ourſelves every where upheld by his Goodneſs, and ſurrounded with an Im⯑menſity of Love and Mercy. In ſhort, [99] we depend upon a Being, whoſe Power qualifies him to make us happy by an Infinity of Means, whoſe Goodneſs and Truth engage him to make thoſe happy who deſire it of him, and whoſe Un⯑changeableneſs will ſecure us in this Happineſs to all Eternity.
Such Conſiderations, which every one ſhould perpetually cheriſh in his Thoughts, will baniſh from us all that ſecret Heavineſs of Heart which un⯑thinking Men are ſubject to, when they lie under no real Affliction; all that An⯑guiſh which we may feel from any Evil that actually oppreſſes us; to which I may likewiſe add, thoſe little Crack⯑lings of Mirth and Folly, that are apter to betray Virtue than ſupport it, and ſtabliſh in us ſuch an even and chear⯑ful Temper, as makes us pleaſing to ourſelves, to thoſe with whom we con⯑verſe, and to him whom we were made to pleaſe.
HAVING ſpoken of CHEARFULNESS as it is a moral Habit of the Mind, and accordingly mentioned ſuch moral Mo⯑tives [100] as are apt to cheriſh and keep alive this happy Temper in the Soul of Man: I ſhall now conſider Chearfulneſs in its natural State, and reflect on theſe Motives to it, which are indifferent either as to Virtue or Vice.
CHEARFULNESS is, in the firſt Place, the beſt Promoter of Health. Repinings and ſecret Murmurings of the Heart give imperceptible Strokes to thoſe de⯑licate Fibres of which the vital Parts are compoſed, and wear out the Ma⯑chine inſenſibly; not to mention thoſe violent Ferments which they ſtir up in the Blood, and thoſe irregular di⯑ſturbed Motions which they raiſe in the animal Spirits. Health and Chearful⯑neſs mutually beget each other, with this Difference, that we ſeldom meet with a great Degree of Health which is not attended with a certain Chearful⯑neſs, but very often ſee Chearfulneſs where there is no great Degree of Health.
CHEARFULNESS bears the ſame friendly Regard to the Mind as to the Body; it baniſhes all anxious Care and Diſcontent, ſooths and compoſes the Paſſions, and keeps the Soul in a perpe⯑tual Calm. The World in which we are placed, is filled with innumerable [101] Objects, that are proper to raiſe and keep alive this happy Temper of Mind.
If we conſider the World in its Sub⯑ſerviency to Man, one would think it was made for our Uſe; but if we con⯑ſider it in its natural Beauty and Har⯑mony, one would be apt to conclude it was made for our Pleaſure. The Sun, which is as the great Soul of the Uni⯑verſe, and produces all the Neceſſaries of Life, has a particular Influence in chearing the Mind of Man, and making the Heart glad.
Thoſe ſeveral living Creatures which are made for our Service, or Suſtenance, at the ſame Time either fill the Woods with their Muſick, furniſh us with Game, or raiſe pleaſing Ideas in us by the Delightfulneſs of their Appearance. Fountains, Lakes, and Rivers are as re⯑freſhing to the Imagination, as to the Soil through which they paſs.
To conſider farther this double End in the Works of Nature, and how they are at the ſame Time both uſeful and entertaining, we find, that the moſt im⯑portant Parts of the vegetable World are thoſe which are the moſt beautiful. Theſe are the Seeds by which the ſeve⯑ral Races of Plants are propagated and continued, and which are always lodg'd [102] in Flowers or Bloſſoms. Nature ſeems to hide her principal Deſign, and to be indu⯑ſtrious in making the Earth gay and de⯑lightful, while ſhe is carrying on her great Work, and intent upon her own Preſervation. The Huſbandman, after the ſame Manner, is employed in lay⯑ing out the whole Country in a Kind of Garden, or Landſkip, and making e⯑very Thing ſmile about him, whilſt in Reality he thinks of nothing but of the Harveſt and Encreaſe which is to ariſe from it.
We may farther obſerve how Provi⯑dence has taken Care to keep up this Chearfulneſs in the Mind of Man, by having formed it after ſuch a Manner, as to make it capable of conceiving De⯑light from ſeveral Objects which ſeem to have very little Uſe in them, as from the Wildneſs of Rocks and De⯑ſarts, and the like groteſque Pieces of Nature. Thoſe who are verſed in Phi⯑loſophy, may ſtill carry this Conſidera⯑tion higher, by obſerving, that if Mat⯑ter had appeared to us endowed only with thoſe real Qualities which it actu⯑ally poſſeſſes, it would have made but a very joyleſs and uncomfortable Fi⯑gure; and why has Providence given it a Power of producing in us ſuch ima⯑ginary [103] Qualities, as Taſtes and Colours, Sounds and Smells, Heat and Cold, but that Man, while he is converſant in the lower Stations of Nature, might have his Mind cheared and delighted with agreeable Senſations? In ſhort, the whole Univerſe is a Kind of Theatre, filled with Objects that either raiſe in us Pleaſure, Amuſement, or Admiration.
The Reader's own Thoughts will ſuggeſt to him the Viciſſitude of Day and Night, the Change of Seaſons, with all that Variety of Scenes which diver⯑ſify the Face of Nature, and fill the Mind with a perpetual Succeſſion of beautiful and pleaſing Images.
I ſhall not here mention the ſeveral Entertainments of Art, with the Plea⯑ſures of Friendſhip, Books, Converſa⯑tion, and other accidental Diverſions of Life, becauſe I would only take Notice of ſuch Incitements to a chearful Tem⯑per, as offer themſelves to Perſons of all Ranks and Conditions, and which may ſufficiently ſhew us that Providence did not deſign this World ſhould be fill'd with Murmurs and Repinings, or that the Heart of Man ſhould be in⯑volv'd in Gloom or Melancholy.
Every one ought to fence againſt the Temper of his Climate or Conſtitution; [104] and frequently to indulge in himſelf thoſe Conſiderations which may give him a Serenity of Mind, and enable him to bear up chearfully againſt thoſe little Evils and Misfortunes which are common to human Nature, and which, by a right Improvement of them, will produce a Satiety of Joy, and an un⯑interrupted Happineſs.
COMPASSION does not only refine and civilize hu⯑man Nature, but has ſome⯑thing in it more pleaſing and agreeable than what can be met with in ſuch an indolent Happineſs, ſuch an Indifference to Man⯑kind as that in which the Stoicks placed their Wiſdom. As Love is the moſt delightful Paſſion, Pity is nothing elſe but Love ſoftned by a degree of Sor⯑row: In ſhort, it is a Kind of pleaſing Anguiſh, as well as generous Sympathy, that knits Mankind together, and blends them in the ſame common Lot.
HYPOCRISY, at the faſhio⯑nable End of the Town, is very different from Hypo⯑criſy in the City. The mo⯑diſh Hypocrite endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is, the other Kind of Hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid of e⯑very Thing that has the Shew of Re⯑ligion in it, and would be thought en⯑gag'd in many Criminal Gallantries and Amours which he is not guilty of. The latter aſſumes a Face of Sanctity, and covers a Multitude of Vices under a ſeeming religious Deportment.
But there is another Kind of Hypo⯑criſy, which differs from both theſe, and which I intend to make my preſent Subject: I mean that Hypocriſy, by which a Man does not only deceive the World, but very often impoſes on himſelf: That Hypocriſy, which con⯑ceals his own Heart from him, and makes him believe he is more virtuous than he really is, and either not attend to his Vices, or miſtake even his Vices [106] for Virtues. It is this fatal Hypocriſy and Self-deceit, which is taken Notice of in theſe Words,
If the open Profeſſors of Impiety de⯑ſerve the utmoſt Application and En⯑deavours of moral Writers to recover them from Vice and Folly, how much more may thoſe lay a Claim to their Care and Compaſſion, who are walk⯑ing in the Paths of Death, while they fancy themſelves engaged in a Courſe of Virtue! I ſhall endeavour therefore to lay down ſome Rules for the Diſco⯑very of thoſe Vices that lurk in the ſecret Corners of the Soul, and to ſhew my Reader thoſe Methods by which he may arrive at a true and impartial Knowledge of himſelf.
The uſual Means preſcribed for this Purpoſe, are to examine our ſelves by the Rules which are laid down for our Direction in Sacred Writ, and to com⯑pare our Lives with the Life of that Perſon who acted up to the Perfection [107] of human Nature, and is the ſtanding Example, as well as the Great Guide and Inſtructor, of thoſe who receive his Doctrines. Though theſe two Heads cannot be too much inſiſted upon, I ſhall but juſt mention them, ſince they have been handled by many great and eminent Writers.
I would therefore propoſe the fol⯑lowing Methods to the Conſideration of ſuch as would find out their ſecret Faults, and make a true Eſtimate of themſelves.
In the firſt Place, let them conſider well what are the Characters which they bear among their Enemies. Our Friends very often flatter us, as much as our own Hearts. They either do not ſee our Faults, or conceal them from us, or ſoften them by their Re⯑preſentations, after ſuch a Manner, that we think them too trivial to be taken Notice of. An Adverſary, on the con⯑trary, makes a ſtricter Search into us, diſcovers every Flaw and Imperfection in our Tempers, and though his Malice may ſet them in too ſtrong a Light, it has generally ſome Ground for what it advances. A Friend exaggerates a Man's Virtues, an Enemy inflames his Crimes. A wiſe Man ſhould give a [108] juſt Attention to both of them, ſo far as they may tend to the Improvement of the one, and Diminution of the other.
Plutarch has written an Eſſay on the Benefits which a Man may receive from his Enemies, and, among the good Fruits of Enmity, mentions this in particular, that by the Reproaches which it caſts upon us, we ſee the worſt Side of our ſelves, and open our Eyes to ſeveral Blemiſhes and Defects in our Lives and Converſations, which we ſhould not have obſerv'd, without the Help of ſuch ill-natur'd Monitors.
In order likewiſe to come at a true Knowledge of our ſelves, we ſhould conſider on the other hand how far we may deſerve the Praiſes and Approba⯑tions which the World beſtow upon us; whether the Actions they celebrate, proceed from laudable and worthy Mo⯑tives, and how far we are really poſ⯑ſeſs'd of thoſe Virtues which gain us an Applauſe among thoſe with whom we converſe. Such a Reflection is ab⯑ſolutely neceſſary, if we conſider how apt we are either to value or condemn ourſelves by the Opinions of others, and to ſacrifice the Report of our own Hearts to the Judgment of the World.
[109]In the next Place, that we may not deceive ourſelves in a Point of ſo much Importance, we ſhould not lay too great a Streſs on any ſuppoſed Virtues we poſſeſs, that are of a doubtful Nature: And ſuch we may eſteem all thoſe in which Multitudes of Men diſſent from us, who are as good and wiſe as our⯑ſelves. We ſhould always act with great Cautiouſneſs and Circumſpection, in Points where it is not impoſſible that we may be deceiv'd. Intemperate Zeal, Bigotry, and Perſecution for any Party or Opinion, how praiſe-worthy ſoever they may appear to weak Men of our own Principles, produce infinite Cala⯑mities among Mankind, and are highly criminal in their own Nature; and yet how many Perſons, eminent for Piety, ſuffer ſuch monſtrous and abſurd Principles of Action to take Root in their Minds under the Colour of Vir⯑tues? For my own Part, I muſt own, I never yet knew any Party ſo juſt and reaſonable, that a Man could follow it in its Height and Violence, and at the ſame Time be innocent.
We ſhould likewiſe be very appre⯑henſive of thoſe Actions which proceed from natural Conſtitution, Favourite-Paſſions, particular Education, or what⯑ever [110] promotes our worldly Intereſt or Advantage. In theſe and the like Caſes a Man's Judgment is eaſily perverted, and a wrong Biaſs hung upon his Mind. Theſe are the Inlets of Prejudice, the unguarded Avenues of the Mind, by which a thouſand Errors and ſecret Faults find Admiſſion, without being obſerved or taken Notice of. A wiſe Man will ſuſpect thoſe Actions to which he is directed by ſomething beſide Rea⯑ſon, and always apprehend ſome con⯑cealed Evil in every Reſolution that is of a diſputable Nature, when it is conformable to his particular Temper, his Age, or Way of Life, or when it favours his Pleaſure or his Profit.
There is nothing of greater Impor⯑tance to us, than thus diligently to ſift our Thoughts, and examine all theſe dark Receſſes of the Mind, if we would eſtabliſh our Souls in ſuch a ſolid and ſubſtantial Virtue, as will turn to an Account in that Great Day, when it muſt ſtand the Teſt of infinite Wiſdom and Juſtice.
FREQUENT Entertainments of Divine Muſick among us in our Religious Worſhip, would not a little purify and ex⯑alt our Paſſions, give our Thoughts a proper Turn, and cheriſh thoſe Divine Impulſes in the Soul, which every one feels that has not ſtifled them by ſenſual and immoderate Pleaſures.
MUSICK, when thus applied, raiſes noble Hints in the Mind of the Hearer, and fills it with great Conceptions. It ſtrengthens Devotion, and advances Praiſe into Rapture. It lengthens out every Act of Worſhip, and produces more laſting and permanent Impreſſions in the Mind, than thoſe which accom⯑pany any tranſient Form of Words that are uttered in the ordinary Method of religious Worſhip.
CONVERSATION with Men of a polite Genius is a very uſeful Method for im⯑proving our Natural Taſte. It is impoſſible for a Man of the greateſt Parts to conſider any thing in its whole Extent, and in all its Variety of Lights. Every Man, be⯑ſides thoſe general Obſervations which are to be made upon an Author, forms ſeveral Reflections that are peculiar to his own Manner of Thinking; ſo that Con⯑verſation will naturally furniſh us with Hints which we did not attend to, and make us enjoy other Mens Parts and Reflections as well as our own. This is the beſt Reaſon I can give for the Obſervation which ſeveral have made, that Men of great Genius in the ſame Way of Writing ſeldom riſe up ſingly, but at certain Periods of Time appear together, and in a Body; as they did at Rome in the Reign of Auguſtus, and in Greece about the Age of Socrates. I cannot think that Corneille, Racine, Mo⯑liere, Boileau, La Fontaine, Bruyere, Boſſu, [113] or the Daciers, would have written ſo well as they have done, had they not been Friends and Contemporaries.
I Conſider COURTS with the ſame regard to the Govern⯑ments which they ſuper⯑intend, as Ovid's Palace of Fame, with regard to the Univerſe. The Eyes of a watchful Miniſter run through the whole Peo⯑ple. There is ſcarce a Murmur or Complaint, that does not reach his Ears. They have News-gatherers and Intelligencers diſtributed into their ſe⯑veral Walks and Quarters, who bring in their reſpective Quota's, and make them acquainted with the Diſcourſe and Converſation of the whole Kingdom or Commonwealth where they are em⯑ployed. The wiſeſt of Kings, alluding to theſe inviſible and unſuſpected Spies, who are planted by Kings and Rulers over their Fellow-Citizens, as well as to thoſe voluntary Informers that are buzzing about the Ears of a Great Man, and making their Court by ſuch ſecret [114] Methods of Intelligence, has given us a very prudent Caution: Curſe not the King, no not in thy Thought, and curſe not the Rich in thy Bed-Chamber: For a Bird of the Air ſhall carry the Voice, and that which hath Wings ſhall tell the Mat⯑ter.
AS it is abſolutely neceſſary for Rulers to make Uſe of other Peoples Eyes and Ears, they ſhould take particular Care to do it in ſuch a Man⯑ner, that it may not bear too hard on the Perſon whoſe Life and Converſation are enquir'd into. A Man who is capable of ſo infamous a Calling as that of a SPY, is not very much to be relied upon. He can have no great Ties of Honour, or Checks of Conſcience, to reſtrain him in thoſe covert Evidences, where the Perſon accuſed has no Opportunity of vindicating himſelf. He will be more induſtrious to carry that which is grateful, than that which is true. There will be no Occaſion for him, if [115] he does not hear and ſee Things worth Diſcovery; ſo that he naturally in⯑flames every Word and Circumſtance, aggravates what is faulty, perverts what is good, and miſrepreſents what is indifferent. Nor is it to be doubted but that ſuch ignominious Wretches let their private Paſſions into theſe their clandeſtine Informations, and often wreak their particular Spite or Malice againſt the Perſon whom they are ſet to watch.
IT is obſerved of great and heroic MINDS, that they have not only ſhewn a parti⯑cular Diſregard to thoſe un⯑merited Reproaches which have been caſt upon 'em, but have been altogether free from that impertinent Curioſity of enquiring after them, or the poor Revenge of reſenting them.
A Man, who in ordinary Life is very Inquiſitive after every Thing which is ſpoken ill of him, paſſes his Time but very indifferently. He is wounded by every Arrow that is ſhot at him, and puts it in the Power of every inſignificant Enemy to diſquiet him: Nay, he will ſuffer from what has been ſaid of him, when it is for⯑gotten by thoſe who ſaid or heard it. For this Reaſon I could never bear one of thoſe officious Friends, that would be telling every malicious Report, every idle Cenſure that paſſed upon me. The Tongue of Man is ſo petulant, and his Thoughts ſo variable, that one ſhould not lay too great a Streſs upon any preſent Speeches and Opinions. Praiſe and Obloquy proceed very frequently out of the ſame Mouth upon the ſame Perſon, and upon the ſame Occaſion. A generous Enemy will ſometimes be⯑ſtow Commendations, as the deareſt Friend cannot ſometimes refrain from [117] ſpeaking ill. The Man who is indiffe⯑rent in either of theſe Reſpects, gives his Opinion at Random, and praiſes or diſapproves as he finds himſelf in Hu⯑mour.
MAN, conſidered in himſelf, is a very helpleſs and a very wretched Being. He is ſub⯑ject every Moment to the greateſt Calamities and Mis⯑fortunes: He is beſet with Dangers on all Sides, and may become unhappy by numberleſs Caſualties which he could not foreſee, nor have prevented had he foreſeen them.
It is our Comfort, while we are ob⯑noxious to ſo many Accidents, that we are under the Care of one who directs Contingencies, and has in his Hands the Management of every Thing that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the Aſſiſtance we ſtand in Need of, and is always ready to beſtow it on thoſe who aſk it of him.
[118]The natural Homage which ſuch a Creature bears to ſo infinitely Wiſe and Good a Being, is a firm Reliance on him for the Bleſſings and Conveniencies of Life, and an habitual Truſt in him for Deliverance out of all ſuch Dangers and Difficulties as may befal us.
The Man, who always lives in this Diſpoſition of Mind, has not the ſame dark and melancholy Views of Human Nature, as he who conſiders himſelf abſtractedly from this Relation to the Supreme Being. At the ſame Time that he reflects upon his own Weakneſs and Imperfection, he comforts himſelf with the Contemplation of thoſe Divine Attributes, which are employ'd for his Safety and his Welfare. He finds his Want of Foreſight made up by the Omniſcience of him who is his Support. He is not ſenſible of his own Want of Strength, when he knows that his Helper is Almighty: In ſhort, the Per⯑ſon who has a firm Truſt on the Su⯑preme Being, is Powerful in his Power, Wiſe by his Wiſdom, Happy by his Happineſs. He reaps the Benefit of every Divine Attribute, and loſes his own Inſufficiency in the Fulneſs of In⯑finite Perfection.
[119]To make our Lives more eaſy to us, we are commanded to put our Truſt in Him, who is thus able to relieve and ſuccour us; the Divine Goodneſs ha⯑ving made ſuch a Reliance a Duty, not⯑withſtanding we ſhould have been mi⯑ſerable had it been forbidden us.
Among ſeveral Motives which might be made Uſe of to recommend this Duty to us, I ſhall only take Notice of thoſe that follow.
The firſt and ſtrongeſt is, That we are promiſed, He will not fail thoſe who put their Truſt in Him.
But without conſidering the ſuper⯑natural Bleſſings which accompanies this Duty, we may obſerve that it has a natural Tendency to its own Reward, or, in other Words, that this firm Truſt and Confidence in this Diſpoſer of all Things, contributes very much to the getting clear of any Affliction, or to the bearing it manfully. A Perſon who believes he has his Succour at Hand, and that acts in the Sight of his Friend, often exerts himſelf beyond his Abili⯑ties, and does Wonders that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with ſuch a Confidence of Succeſs. I could produce Inſtances from Hiſtory, of Generals, who out of a Belief that [120] they are under the Protection of ſome inviſible Aſſiſtance, did not only encou⯑rage their Soldiers to their utmoſt, but have acted themſelves beyond what they would have done, had they not been inſpired by ſuch a Belief. I might in the ſame Manner ſhew how ſuch a Truſt in the Aſſiſtance of an Almighty Being naturally produces Patience, Hope, Chearfulneſs, and all other Diſ⯑poſitions of Mind that alleviate thoſe Calamities which we are not able to remove.
The Practice of this Virtue admini⯑ſters great Comfort to the Mind of Man in Times of Poverty and Affliction, but moſt of all in the Hour of Death. When the Soul is hovering in the laſt Moments of its Separation, when it is juſt entering on another State of Ex⯑iſtence, to converſe with Scenes, and Objects, and Companions that are alto⯑gether new, what can ſupport her un⯑der ſuch Tremblings of Thought, ſuch Fear, ſuch Anxiety, ſuch Apprehenſi⯑ons, but the caſting all her Cares upon him who firſt gave her Being, who has conducted her through one Stage of it, and will be always with her to guide and comfort her in her Progreſs through Eternity.
THERE is not a common Saying which has a better Turn of Senſe to it, than what we often hear in the Mouths of the Vulgar, that CUSTOM is a ſecond Nature. It is indeed able to form the Man anew, and to give him Inclinations and Capacities altogether different from thoſe he was born with. CUSTOM has a Mechanical Effect upon the Body, at the ſame Time that it has a very extraordinary Influ⯑ence upon the Mind.
CUSTOM has a wonderful Efficacy in making every Thing pleaſant to us; our Delight in any particular Study, Art, or Science, riſes and improves in Proportion to the Application which we beſtow upon it; what was at firſt an Exerciſe, becomes at length an En⯑tertainment. Our Employments are changed into our Diverſions. The Mind grows fond of thoſe Actions ſhe is accuſtomed to, and is dr [...]wn with Reluctancy from thoſe Paths in which ſhe has been uſed to walk. Not only [122] ſuch Actions as were at firſt indifferent to us, but even ſuch as were painful, will by Cuſtom and Practice become pleaſant.
If we conſider attentively this Pro⯑perty of human Nature, it may inſtruct us in very fine Moralities. In the firſt Place, I would have no Man diſcou⯑raged with that Kind of Life, or Series of Action, in which the Choice of o⯑thers, or his own Neceſſities, may have engaged him. It may perhaps be very diſagreeable to him at firſt; but Uſe and Application will certainly render it not only leſs painful, but pleaſing and ſatisfactory.
In the ſecond Place, I would recom⯑mend to every one that admirable Pre⯑cept which Pythagoras is ſaid to have given his Diſciples, and which that Philoſopher muſt have drawn from the Obſervation I have enlarged upon; ‘Op⯑timum vitae genus eligito, nam conſuetudo faciet jucundiſſimum,’ Pitch upon that Courſe of Life which is the moſt ex⯑cellent, and Cuſtom will render it the moſt delightful. Men, whoſe Circum⯑ſtances [123] will permit them to chuſe their own Way of Life, are inexcuſable if they do not purſue that which their Judgment tells them is the moſt lau⯑dable. The Voice of Reaſon is more to be regarded than the Bent of any preſent Inclination, ſince by the Rule above-mentioned, Inclination will at length come over to Reaſon, though we can never force Reaſon to comply with Inclination.
In the third Place, this Obſervation may teach the moſt ſenſual and irreli⯑gious Man, to overlook thoſe Hardſhips and Difficulties which are apt to diſ⯑courage him from the Proſecution of a virtuous Life. ‘The Gods, ſaid Heſiod, have placed Labour before Virtue; the Way to her is at firſt rough and difficult, but grows more ſmooth and eaſy the far⯑ther you advance in it.’ The Man who proceeds in it with Steadineſs and Re⯑ſolution, will find, that ‘her Ways are Ways of Pleaſantneſs, and that all her Paths are Peace.’
To enforce this Conſideration, we may farther obſerve, that the Practice of Religion will not only be attended with that Pleaſure which naturally ac⯑companies thoſe Actions to which we are habituated, but with thoſe ſuper⯑numerary [124] Joys of Heart, that riſe from the Conſciouſneſs of ſuch a Pleaſure, from the Satisfaction of acting up to the Dictates of Reaſon, and from the Proſpect of an happy Immortality.
In the fourth Place, we may learn from this Obſervation which we have made on the Mind of Man, to take par⯑ticular Care, when we are once ſettled in a regular Courſe of Life, how we too frequently indulge our ſelves in any the moſt indecent Diverſions and Entertainments, ſince the Mind may inſenſibly fall off from the Reliſh of virtuous Actions, and, by degrees, ex⯑change that Pleaſure which it takes in the Performance of its Duty, for De⯑lights of a much more inferior and un⯑profitable Nature.
The laſt Uſe which I ſhall make of this remarkable Property in human Na⯑ture, of being delighted with thoſe Actions to which it is accuſtomed, is to ſhew how abſolutely neceſſary it is for us to gain Habits of Virtue in this Life, if we would enjoy the Pleaſures of the next. The State of Bliſs we call Hea⯑ven, will not be capable of affecting thoſe Minds which are not thus qua⯑lified for it; we muſt, in this World, gain a Reliſh of Truth and Virtue, if [125] we would be able to taſte that Know⯑ledge and Perfection, which are to make us happy in the next. The Seeds of thoſe Spiritual Joys and Raptures, which are to riſe up and flouriſh in the Soul to all Eternity, muſt be planted in her during this her preſent State of Proba⯑tion: In ſhort, Heaven is not to be looked upon only as the Reward, but as the natural Effect of a religious Life. On the other Hand, thoſe evil Spirits, who, by long Cuſtom, have contracted in the Body Habits of Luſt and Senſua⯑lity, Malice and Revenge, an Averſion to every Thing that is good, juſt, or laudable, are naturally ſeaſoned and prepared for Pain and Miſery. Their Torments have already taken Root in them; they cannot be happy when diveſted of the Body, unleſs we may ſuppoſe that Providence will, in a Man⯑ner, create them a-new, and work a Miracle in the Rectification of their Fa⯑culties. They may, indeed, taſte a Kind of malignant Pleaſure in thoſe Actions to which they are accuſtomed, whilſt in this Life, but when they are removed from all thoſe Objects which are here apt to gratify them, they will naturally become their own Tormen⯑tors, and cheriſh in themſelves thoſe [126] painful Habits of Mind which are cal⯑led in Scripture Phraſe, The Worm that never dies.
THERE is nothing ſo ſcan⯑dalous to a Government, and deteſtable in the Eyes of all good Men, as defa⯑matory Papers and Pamph⯑lets; but at the ſame Time there is nothing ſo difficult to tame as a ſatyri⯑cal Author. An angry Writer, who cannot appear in Print, naturally vents his Spleen in Libels and Lampoons. Our Satyr is nothing but Ribaldry, and Billingſgate Scurrility paſſes for Wit, and he who can call Names in the greateſt Variety of Phraſes, is looked upon to have the ſhrewdeſt Pen. By this Means the Honour of Families is ruined, the higheſt Poſts and greateſt Titles are rendered cheap and vile in the Sight of the People; the nobleſt Virtues and moſt exalted Parts expoſed to the Con⯑tempt of the vicious and the ignorant. [127] Would a Government ſet an everlaſting Mark of their Diſpleaſure upon one of thoſe infamous Writers, who makes his Court to them by tearing to Pieces the Reputation of his Competitor, we ſhould quickly ſee an End put to this Race of Vermin, that are a Scandal to Govern⯑ment, and a Reproach to human Na⯑ture. Such a Proceeding would make a Miniſter of State ſhine in Hiſtory, and would fill all Mankind with a juſt Abhorrence of Perſons who ſhould treat him unworthily, and employ a⯑gainſt him thoſe Arms which he ſcorned to make Uſe of againſt his Enemies.
As this cruel Practice tends to the utter Subverſion of all Truth and Hu⯑manity among us, it deſerves the ut⯑moſt Deteſtation and Diſcouragement of all who have either the Love of their Country, or the Honour of their Reli⯑gion, at Heart. I would therefore hum⯑bly recommend it to the Conſideration of thoſe who deal in theſe pernicious Arts of Writing, and of thoſe who take Pleaſure in the reading of them. As for the firſt, I have ſpoken of them before, and have not ſtuck to rank them with the Murderer and Aſſaſſin. Every honeſt Man ſets as high a Value upon a good Name as upon Life itſelf; [128] and I cannot but think that thoſe who privily aſſault the one, would deſtroy the other, might they do it with the ſame Secrecy and Impunity.
THERE is not a more plea⯑ſing Exerciſe of the Mind than GRATITUDE. It is accompanied with ſuch an inward Satisfaction, that the Duty is ſufficiently rewarded by the Performance. It is not like the Practice of many other Virtues, difficult and painful, but attended with ſo much Pleaſure, that were there no poſitive Command which enjoin'd it, nor any Recompence laid up for it hereafter, a generous Mind would indulge itſelf in it, for the natural Gratification that accompanies it.
If GRATITUDE is due from Man to Man, how much more from Man to his Maker? The ſupreme Being does not only confer upon us thoſe Bounties which proceed more immediately from his Hand, but even thoſe Benefits which are convey'd to us by others. Every [129] Bleſſing we enjoy, by what Means ſoe⯑ver it may be derived upon us, is the Gift of him who is the great Author of Good, and Father of Mercies.
If GRATITUDE, towards one ano⯑ther, naturally produces a very plea⯑ſing Senſation in the Mind of a grate⯑ful Man; it exalts the Soul into Rap⯑ture, when it is employed on this great Object of Gratitude, on this Beneficent Being, who has given us every Thing we already poſſeſs, and from whom we expect every Thing we yet hope for.
NOthing is more amiable than true MODESTY, and no⯑thing is more contemptible than the falſe: The one guards Virtue, the other betrays it. True MODESTY is aſhamed to do any Thing that is repugnant to the Rules of right Reaſon: Falſe MO⯑DESTY is aſhamed to do any Thing that is oppoſite to the Humour of the Company. True Modeſty avoids every Thing that is criminal, falſe Modeſty every Thing that is unfaſhionable. The [130] latter is only a general undetermined Inſtinct; the former is that Inſtinct li⯑mited and circumſcribed by the Rules of Prudence and Religion. We may conclude that Modeſty to be falſe and vicious, which engages a Man to do any Thing that is ill or indiſcreet, or which reſtrains him from doing any Thing that is of a contrary Nature.
Nor does this falſe Modeſty expoſe us only to ſuch Actions as are indiſ⯑creet, but very often to ſuch as are highly Criminal. When Xenophanes was called timorous, becauſe he would not venture his Money in a Game at Dice; ‘I confeſs, ſaid he, that I am ex⯑ceeding timorous, for I dare not do an ill Thing.’ On the contrary, a Man of vi⯑cious Modeſty complies with every Thing, and is only fearful of doing what may look ſingular in the Company where he is engaged. He falls in with the Torrent, and lets himſelf go to every Action or Diſcourſe, however unjuſtifi⯑able in its ſelf, ſo it be in vogue among the preſent Party. This, though one of the moſt common, is one of the moſt ridiculous Diſpoſitions in human Na⯑ture, that Men ſhould not be aſhamed of ſpeaking or acting in a diſſolute or irrational Manner, but that one who is [131] in their Company ſhould be aſhamed of governing himſelf by the Principles of Reaſon and Virtue.
In the ſecond Place we are to conſi⯑der falſe Modeſty, as it reſtrains a Man from doing what is good and laudable; and here I ſhall only dwell upon one Reflection, which I cannot make with⯑out a ſecret Concern. We have in England a particular Baſhfulneſs in e⯑very Thing that regards Religion: A well-bred Man is obliged to conceal any ſerious Sentiment of this Nature, and very often to appear a greater Li⯑bertine than he is, that he may keep himſelf in Countenance among the Men of Mode. Our Exceſs of Modeſty makes us ſhame-faced in all the Exerciſes of Piety and Devotion. This Humour prevails upon us daily; inſomuch, that at many well-bred Tables, the Maſter of the Houſe is ſo very modeſt a Man, that he has not the Confidence to ſay Grace at his own Table: A Cuſtom which is not only practiſed by all the Nations about us, but was never omit⯑ted by the Heathens themſelves. Eng⯑liſh Gentlemen, who travel into Roman Catholick Countries, are not a little ſurprized to meet with People of the beſt Quality kneeling in their Churches, [132] and engaged in their private Devotions, though it be not at the Hours of pub⯑lick Worſhip. An Officer of the Army, or a Man of Wit and Pleaſure in thoſe Countries, would be afraid of paſſing not only for an irreligious but an ill-bred Man, ſhould he be ſeen to go to Bed, or ſit down at Table, without of⯑fering up his Devotions on ſuch Occa⯑ſions. The ſame Show of Religion ap⯑pears in all their Foreign Reformed Churches, and enters ſo much into their ordinary Converſation, that an Engliſh⯑man is apt to term them Hypocritical and Preciſe.
HYPOCRISY cannot indeed be too much deteſted; but at the ſame Time is to be prefered to open IMPIETY. They are both equally de⯑ſtructive to the Perſon who is poſſeſſed with them; but, in Regard to others, HYPOCRISY is not ſo pernicious as bare-faced Irreligion. The due Mean to be obſerved, is to be ſincerely virtu⯑ous, and at the ſame Time to let the [133] World ſee we are ſo. I do not know a more dreadful Menace in the holy Writings, than that which is pro⯑nounced againſt thoſe who have this perverted Modeſty, to be aſhamed be⯑fore Men in a Particular of ſuch un⯑ſpeakable Importance.
RELIGION may be con⯑ſidered under two General Heads: The firſt compre⯑hends what we are to be⯑lieve, the other what we are to practice. By thoſe Things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us in the Holy Writings, and which we could not have obtained the Knowledge of by the Light of Nature; by the Things which we are to practice, I mean all thoſe Duties to which we are directed by Reaſon or natural Religion. The firſt of theſe I ſhall diſtinguiſh by the Name of FAITH, the ſecond by that of MORA⯑LITY. If we look into the more ſeri⯑ous Part of Mankind, we find many [134] who lay ſo great a Streſs upon FAITH, that they neglect MORALITY; and many who build ſo much upon Mora⯑lity, that they do not pay a due Regard to Faith. The perfect Man ſhould be defective in neither of theſe Particulars, as will be very evident to thoſe who conſider the Benefits which ariſe from each of them, and which I ſhall make my preſent Subject.
Notwithſtanding this general Divi⯑ſion of Chriſtian Duty into Morality and Faith, and that they have both their peculiar Excellencies, the firſt has the Pre-eminence in ſeveral Reſpects.
Firſt, Becauſe the greateſt Part of Morality (as I have ſtated the Notion of it) is of a fixt eternal Nature, and will endure when Faith ſhall fail, and be loſt in Conviction.
Secondly, Becauſe a Perſon may be qualified to do greater Good to Man⯑kind, and become more beneficial to the World, by Morality, without Faith, than by Faith without Morality.
Thirdly, Becauſe Morality gives a great⯑er Perfection to human Nature, by quieting the Mind, moderating the Paſſions, and advancing the Happineſs of every Man in his private Capa⯑city.
[135] Fourthly, Becauſe the Rule of Mora⯑lity is much more certain than that of Faith, all the civilized Nations agree⯑ing in the great Points of Morality, as much as they differ in thoſe of Faith.
Fifthly, Becauſe Infidelity is not of ſo malignant a Nature as Immorality; or, to put the ſame Reaſon in another Light, becauſe it is generally owned, there may be Salvation for a virtuous Infidel, (particularly in the Caſe of in⯑vincible Ignorance) but none for a vi⯑cious Believer.
Sixthly, Becauſe Infidelity ſeems to draw its Principal, if not all its Excel⯑lency, from the Influence it has upon Morality; as we ſhall ſee more at large, if we conſider wherein conſiſts the Ex⯑cellency of Faith, or the Belief of Re⯑vealed Religion; and this I think is,
Firſt, In explaining, and carrying to greater Heights, ſeveral Points of Mo⯑rality.
Secondly, In furniſhing new and ſtron⯑ger Motives to enforce the Practice of Morality.
Thirdly, In giving us more amiable Ideas of the ſupreme Being, more en⯑dearing Notions of one another, and a truer State of our ſelves, both in Regard to the Grandeur and Vileneſs of our Natures.
[136] Fourthly, By ſhewing us the Blackneſs and Deformity of Vice, which in the Chriſtian Syſtem is ſo very great, that he who is poſſeſſed of all Perfection, and the Sovereign Judge of it, is repre⯑ſented by ſeveral of our Divines as ha⯑ting Sin to the ſame Degree that he loves the ſacred Perſon who was made the Propitiation of it.
Fifthly, In being the ordinary and preſcribed Method of making Morality effectual to Salvation.
This I am ſure is ſo obvious, that no one can miſs it, namely, that a Man cannot be perfect in his Scheme of Mo⯑rality, who does not ſtrengthen and ſup⯑port it with that of the Chriſtian Faith.
Beſides this, I ſhall lay down two or three other Maxims, which I think we may deduce from what has been ſaid:
Firſt, That we ſhould be particularly cautious of making any Thing an Ar⯑ticle of Faith, which does not contri⯑bute to the Confirmation or Improve⯑ment of Morality.
Secondly, That no Article of Faith can be true and authentick, which weakens or ſubverts the practical Part of Religion, or what I have hitherto called Morality.
[137] Thirdly, That the greateſt Friend of Morality, or Natural Religion, cannot poſſibly apprehend any Danger from embracing Chriſtianity, as it is preſer⯑ved pure and uncorrupt in the Doctrines of our National Church.
There is likewiſe another Maxim which I think may be drawn from the foregoing Conſiderations, which is this, that we ſhould in all dubious Points conſider any ill Conſequences that may ariſe from them, ſuppoſing they ſhould be erroneous, before we give up our Aſſent to them.
FOR Example, in that diſpu⯑table Point of perſecuting Men for Conſcience ſake, be⯑ſides the imbittering their Minds with Hatred, Indig⯑nation, and all the Vehemence of Re⯑ſentment, and enſnaring them to pro⯑feſs what they do not believe; we cut them off from the Pleaſures and Advan⯑tages of Society, afflict their Bodies, di⯑ſtreſs their Fortunes, hurt their Repu⯑tations, ruin their Families, make their [138] Lives painful, or put an End to them. Sure, when we ſee ſuch dreadful Con⯑ſequences riſing from a Principle, we ought to be as fully convinced of the Truth of it, as of a Mathematical De⯑monſtration, before we venture to act upon it, or make it a Part of our Reli⯑gion.
In this Caſe the Injury done our Neighbour is plain and evident; the Principle that puts us upon doing it, of a dubious and diſputable Nature. Morality ſeems highly violated by the one, and whether or no a Zeal for what a Man thinks the true Syſtem of Faith may juſtify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our Religion pro⯑duces Charity as well as Zeal, it will not be for ſhewing itſelf by ſuch cruel Inſtances.
THERE is a beautiful Saying in Theognis, ‘Vice is covered by Wealth, and Virtue by Po⯑verty; or, to give it in the verbal Tranſlation, Among Men there are ſome who have their Vices [139] concealed by Wealth, and others who have their Virtues concealed by Poverty.’
Every Man's Obſervation will ſupply him with Inſtances of rich Men, who have ſeveral Faults and Defects that are overlooked, if not entirely hidden, by means of their Riches; and I think we cannot find a more natural Deſcription of a poor Man, whoſe Merits are loſt in his Poverty, than that in the Words of the Wiſe Man: ‘There was a little City, and few Men within it; and there came a great King againſt it, and beſieged it, and built great Bulwarks againſt it: Now there was found in it a poor wiſe Man, and he by his Wiſdom deliver'd the City; yet no Man remembered that ſame poor Man. Then ſaid I, Wiſdom is better than Strength; nevertheleſs, the poor Man's Wiſdom is de⯑ſpiſed, and his Words are not heard.’
The middle Condition ſeems to be the moſt advantageouſly ſituated for the gaining of Wiſdom. Poverty turns our Thoughts too much upon the ſupplying of our Wants, and Riches upon enjoy⯑ing our Superfluities; and as Cowley has ſaid in another Caſe, ‘it is hard for a Man to keep a ſteady Eye upon Truth, who is always in a Battle or a Triumph.’
[140]If we regard Poverty and Wealth, as they are apt to produce Virtues or Vi⯑ces in the Mind of Man, one may ob⯑ſerve that there is a Set of each of theſe growing out of Poverty, quite different from that which riſes out of Wealth. Humility and Patience, Induſtry and Temperance, are very often the good Qualities of a poor Man. Humanity and good Nature, Magnanimity, and a Senſe of Honour, are as often the Qua⯑lifications of the Rich. On the contra⯑ry, Poverty is apt to betray a Man into Envy, Riches into Arrogance. Poverty is too often attended with Fraud, vici⯑ous Compliance, repining Murmurs, and Diſcontent. Riches expoſe a Man to Pride and Luxury, a fooliſh Elation of Heart, and too great a Fondneſs for the preſent World. In ſhort, the mid⯑dle Condition is moſt eligible to the Man who would improve himſelf in Virtue; as I have before ſhewn, it is the moſt advantageous for the gaining of Know⯑ledge.
HAVING already endea⯑voured to ſhew the great Excellency of FAITH, I ſhall here conſider what are the proper Means of ſtrength⯑ening and confirming it in the Mind of Man. Thoſe who delight in reading Books of Controverſy, which are writ⯑ten on both Sides of the Queſtion in Points of Faith, do very ſeldom arrive at a fixed and ſettled Habit of it. They are one Day entirely convinced of its important Truths, and the next meet with ſomething that ſhakes and diſturbs them. The Doubt which was laid re⯑vives again, and ſhews it ſelf in new Difficulties, and that generally for this Reaſon, becauſe the Mind, which is perpetually loſt in Controverſies and Diſputes, is apt to forget the Reaſons which had once ſet it at Reſt, and to be diſquieted with any former Perplexity, when it appears in a new Shape, or is ſtarted by a different Hand. As nothing is more laudable than an Enquiry after Truth, ſo nothing is more irrational [142] than to paſs away our whole Lives, without determining our ſelves one Way or other in thoſe Points, which are of the laſt Importance to us. There are indeed many Things from which we may with-hold our Aſſent; but in Ca⯑ſes by which we are to regulate our Lives, it is the greateſt Abſurdity to be wavering and unſettled, without cloſing with that Side which appears the moſt ſafe and the moſt probable.
The firſt Rule therefore which I ſhall lay down is this, That when by Read⯑ing or Diſcourſe we find ourſelves tho⯑roughly convinced of the Truth of any Article, and of the Reaſonableneſs of our Belief in it, we ſhould never after ſuffer our ſelves to call it into Queſtion. We may perhaps forget the Arguments which occaſioned our Conviction; but we ought to remember the Strength they had with us, and therefore ſtill to re⯑tain the Conviction which they once produced. This is no more than what we do in every common Art or Science, nor is it poſſible to act otherwiſe, conſi⯑dering the Weakneſs and Limitation of our intellectual Faculties. It is in this Manner that the Mathematician pro⯑ceeds upon Propoſitions which he has once demonſtrated, and though the De⯑monſtration [143] may have ſlipt out of his Memory, he builds upon the Truth, becauſe he knows it was demonſtrated. This Rule is abſolutely neceſſary for weaker Minds, and in ſome meaſure for Men of the greateſt Abilities; but to theſe laſt I would propoſe, in the ſecond Place, that they ſhould lay up in their Memories, and always keep by them in a Readineſs, thoſe Arguments which ap⯑pear to them of the greateſt Strength, and which cannot be got over by all the Doubts and Cavils of Infidelity. But, in the third Place, there is nothing which ſtrengthens Faith more than Mo⯑rality. Faith and Morality naturally produce each other. A Man is quickly convinced of the Truth of Religion, who finds it is not againſt his Intereſt that it ſhould be true. The Pleaſure he receives at preſent, and the Happineſs which he promiſes himſelf to receive from it hereafter, will both diſpose him very powerfully to give Credit to it, ac⯑cording to the ordinary Obſervation, that we are eaſy to believe what we wiſh.
It is very certain, that a Man of ſound Reaſon cannot forbear cloſing with Re⯑ligion upon an impartial Examination of it; but at the ſame Time it is as cer⯑tain, that Faith is kept alive in us, and [144] gathers Strength from Practice more than from Speculation.
There is ſtill another Method, which is more perſuaſive than any of the for⯑mer, and that is an habitual Adoration of the ſupreme Being, as well in con⯑ſtant Acts of mental Worſhip, as in out⯑ward Forms. The devout Man does not only believe but feels there is a Deity: He has actual Senſations of him; his Experience concurs with his Reaſon; he ſees him more and more in all his Inter⯑courſes with him, and even in this Life almoſt loſes his Faith in Conviction.
The laſt Method which I ſhall menti⯑on for the giving Life to a Man's Faith, is frequent Retirement from the World, accompany'd with religious Meditation. When a Man thinks of any Thing in the Darkneſs of the Night, whatever deep Impreſſions it may make in his Mind are apt to baniſh as ſoon as the Day breaks about him. The Light and Noiſe of the Day, which are perpetually solicit⯑ing his Senſes, and calling off his Atten⯑tion, wear out of his Mind the Thoughts that imprinted themſelves in it, with ſo much Strength, during the Silence and Darkneſs of the Night. A Man finds the ſame Difference as to himſelf in a Crowd and a Solitude; the Mind is ſtun⯑ned [145] and dazzled amidſt that Variety of Objects which preſſes upon her in a great City: She cannot apply herſelf to the Conſideration of thoſe Things which are of the utmoſt Concern to her. The Cares or Pleaſures of the World ſtrike in with every Thought, and a multi⯑tude of vicious Examples give a kind of Juſtification to our Folly. In our Re⯑tirements every Thing diſpoſes us to be ſerious. In Courts and Cities we are entertained with the Works of Men, in the Country with thoſe of God. One is the Province of Art, the other of Na⯑ture. Faith and Devotion naturally grow in the Mind of every reaſonable Man, who ſees the Impreſſions of divine Power and Wiſdom in every Object on which he caſts his Eye. The ſupreme Being has made the beſt Arguments for his own Exiſtence, in the Formation of the Heavens and the Earth; and theſe are Arguments which a Man of Senſe cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the Noiſe and Hurry of human Af⯑fairs. Ariſtotle ſays, That ſhould a Man live under Ground, and there converſe with Works of Art and Mechaniſm, and ſhould afterwards be brought up into the open Day, and ſee the ſeveral Glories of the Heaven and Earth, he would imme⯑diately [146] pronounce them the Works of ſuch a Being as we define God to be.
I AM perſuaded there are few Men, of generous Prin⯑ciples, who would ſeek af⯑ter great Places, were it not rather to have an Opportu⯑nity in their Hands of obliging their particular Friends, or thoſe whom they look upon as Men of Worth, than to procure Wealth and Honour for them⯑ſelves. To an honeſt Mind the beſt Perquiſites of a Place are the Advanta⯑ges it gives a Man of doing Good. Thoſe who are under the great Officers of State, and are the Inſtruments by which they act, have more frequent Opportu⯑nities for the Exerciſe of Compaſſion and Benevolence, than their Superiors themſelves. Theſe Men know every little Caſe that is to come before the Great Man, and if they are poſſeſſed with honeſt Minds, will conſider Pover⯑ty as a Recommendation in the Perſon who applies himſelf to them, and make [147] the Juſtice of his Cauſe the moſt power⯑ful Solicitor in his Behalf. A Man of this Temper, when he is in a Poſt of Bu⯑ſineſs, becomes a Bleſſing to the Publick: He patronizes the Orphan and the Wi⯑dow, aſſiſts the Friendleſs, and guides the Ignorant: He does not reject the Perſon's Pretenſions, who does not know how to explain them, or refuſe doing a good Office for a Man becauſe he cannot pay the Fee of it. In ſhort, tho' he regulates himſelf in all his Pro⯑ceedings by Juſtice and Equity, he finds a thouſand Occaſions for all the good-natured Offices of Generoſity and Com⯑paſſion.
A Man is unfit for ſuch a Place of Truſt, who is of a ſower untractable Nature, or has any other Paſſion that makes him uneaſy to thoſe who ap⯑proach him. Roughneſs of Temper is apt to diſcountenance the Timorous or Modeſt. The proud Man diſcourages thoſe from approaching him who are of a mean Condition, and who moſt want his Aſſiſtance. The impudent Man will not give himſelf Time to be informed of the Matter that lies before him. An Officer with one or more of theſe unbe⯑coming Qualities, is ſometimes looked upon as a proper Perſon to keep off Im⯑pertinence [148] and Solicitation from his Su⯑perior; but this is a kind of Merit that can never atone for the Injuſtice which may very often ariſe from it.
There are two other vicious Quali⯑ties which render a Man very unfit for ſuch a Place of Truſt. The firſt of theſe is a dilatory Temper, which com⯑mits innumerable Cruelties without De⯑ſign. The Maxim which ſeveral have laid down for a Man's Conduct in ordi⯑nary Life, ſhould be inviolable with a Man in Office, never to think of doing that to Morrow which may be done to Day. A Man who defers doing what ought to done, is guilty of Injuſtice ſo long as he defers it. The Diſpatch of a good Of⯑fice is very often as beneficial to the So⯑licitor as the good Office itſelf. In ſhort, if a Man compared the Inconveniencies which another ſuffers by his Delays, with the trifling Motives and Advanta⯑ges which he himſelf may reap by ſuch a Delay, he would never be guilty of a Fault which very often does an irrepa⯑rable Prejudice to the Perſon who de⯑pends upon him, and which might be remedyed with little Trouble to him⯑ſelf.
But in the laſt Place, there is no Man ſo improper to be employ'd in Buſineſs, [149] as he who is in any degree capable of Corruption; and ſuch a one is the Man, who upon any Pretence whatſoever re⯑ceives more than what is the ſtated and unqueſtioned Fee of his Office. Grati⯑fications, Tokens of Thankfulneſs, Diſ⯑patch-Money, and the like ſpecious Terms, are the Pretences under which Corruption very frequently ſhelters it ſelf. An honeſt Man will however look on all theſe Methods as unjuſtifiable, and will enjoy himſelf better in a mode⯑rate Fortune that is gained with Ho⯑nour and Reputation, than in an over-grown Eſtate that is cankered with the Acquiſitions of Rapine and Extortion. Were all our Offices diſcharged with ſuch an inflexible Integrity, we ſhould not ſee Men in all Ages, who grow up to exorbitant Wealth, with the Abilities which are to be met with in an ordinary Mechanick. I can not but think that ſuch a Corruption proceeds chiefly from Mens receiving the firſt that offer them⯑ſelves, or thoſe who have the Character of ſhrewd worldly Men, inſtead of ſearching out ſuch as have had a liberal Education, and have been trained up in the Studies of Knowledge and Virtue.
It has been obſerved, that Men of Learning, who take to Buſineſs, diſ⯑charge it generally with greater Hone⯑ſty than Men of the World. The chief Reaſon for it I take to be as follows. A Man that has ſpent his Youth in Read⯑ing, has been uſed to find Virtue extol⯑led, and Vice ſtigmatized: A Man that has paſt his Time in the World, has of⯑ten ſeen Vice triumphant, and Virtue diſcountenanced. Extortion, Rapine, and Injuſtice, which are branded with Infamy in Books, often give a Man a Figure in the World; while ſeveral Qualities which are celebrated in Au⯑thors, as Generoſity, Ingenuity, and Good-nature, impoveriſh and ruin him. This cannot but have a proportionable Effect on Men whoſe Tempers and Principles are equally good and vicious.
There would be at leaſt this Advan⯑tage in employing Men of Learning and Parts in Buſineſs, that their Proſpe⯑rity would ſet more gracefully on them, and that we ſhould not ſee many worth⯑leſs Perſons ſhot up into the greateſt Fi⯑gures of Life.
OUR actual Enjoyments are ſo few and tranſient, that Man would be a very mi⯑ſerable Being, were he not endowed with this Paſſion of HOPE, which gives him a Taſte of thoſe good Things that may poſſibly come into his Poſſeſſion. ‘We ſhould hope for every Thing that is good, ſays the old Poet Linus, becauſe there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the Gods are able to give us.’ HOPE quickens all the ſtill Parts of Life, and keeps the Mind awake in her moſt re⯑miſs and indolent Hours. It gives ha⯑bitual Serenity and good Humour: It is a kind of vital Heat to the Soul, that chears and gladdens her, when ſhe does not attend to it. It makes Pain eaſy, and Labour pleaſant.
Beſide theſe ſeveral Advantages which riſe from HOPE, there is another which is none of the leaſt, and that is, its great Efficacy in preſerving us from ſetting too high a Value on preſent En⯑joyments. The Saying of Caeſar is very [152] well known: When he had given away all his Eſtate in Gratuities among his Friends, one of them aſked, What he had left for himſelf? To which that Great Man replied, HOPE. His natu⯑ral Magnanimity hindered him from prizing what he was certainly poſſeſſed of, and turned all his Thoughts upon ſomething more valuable that he had in View.
I ſhall make but two Reflections up⯑on what I have ſaid: Firſt, That no kind of Life is ſo happy as that which is full of Hope, eſpecially when the Hope is well-grounded, and when the Object of it is of an exalted Kind, and in its Nature proper to make the Perſon happy who enjoys it. This Propoſition muſt be very evident to thoſe who con⯑ſider how few are the preſent Enjoy⯑ments of the moſt happy Man, and how inſufficient to give him an entire Satisfaction and Acquieſcence in them.
My next Obſervation is this, That a religious Life is that which moſt a⯑bounds in a well-grounded Hope, and ſuch an one as is fixed on Objects that are capable of making us entirely hap⯑py. [153] This Hope in a religious Man, is much more ſure and certain, than the Hope of any temporal Bleſſing, as it is ſtrengthened not only by Reaſon but by Faith. It has at the ſame Time its Eye fixed perpetually on that State, which implies in the very Notion of it the moſt full and the moſt compleat Hap⯑pineſs.
I have before ſhewn how the Influ⯑ence of Hope in general ſweetens Life, and makes our Condition ſupportable, if not pleaſing: But a religious Hope has ſtill greater Advantages; it does not only bear up the Mind under her Sufferings, but makes her rejoice in them, as they may be the Inſtruments of procuring her the great and ultimate End of all her Hope.
Religious Hope has likewiſe this Ad⯑vantage above any other Kind of Hope, that it is able to revive the dying Man, and to fill his Mind not only with ſecret Comfort and Refreſhment, but ſome⯑times with Rapture and Tranſport. He triumphs in his Agonies, whilſt the Soul ſprings forward with Delight to the great Object which ſhe has always had in View, and leaves the Body with an Expectation of being re-united to her in a glorious and joyful Reſurrection.
IT is a celebrated Thought of Socrates, that if all the Misfortunes of Mankind were caſt into a publick Stock, in order to be equally diſtri⯑buted among the whole Species, thoſe who now think themſelves the moſt unhappy, would prefer the Share they are already poſſeſſed of, before that which would fall to them by ſuch a Diviſion. Horace has carry'd this Thought a great deal farther, intima⯑ting, That the Hardſhips or Misfortunes we lie under, are more eaſy to us than thoſe of any other Perſon would be, in caſe we could change Conditions with him.
As I was ruminating on theſe two Remarks, and ſeated in my Elbow-Chair, I inſenſibly fell aſleep; when, on a ſudden, methought there was a Proclamation made by Jupiter, that e⯑very Mortal ſhould bring in his Griefs and Calamities, and throw them toge⯑ther in a Heap. There was a large Plain appointed for this Purpoſe. I [155] took my Stand in the Center of it, and ſaw with a great deal of Pleaſure the whole human Species marching one af⯑ter another, and throwing down their ſeveral Loads, which immediately grew up into a prodigious Mountain that ſeemed to riſe above the Clouds.
There was a certain Lady of a thin airy Shape, who was very active in this Solemnity. She carried a magni⯑fying Glaſs in one of her Hands, and was cloathed in a looſe flowing Robe, embroidered with ſeveral Figures of Fiends and Spectres, that diſcovered themſelves in a thouſand chimerical Shapes, as her Garment hovered in the Wind. There was ſomething wild and diſtracted in her Looks. Her Name was FANCY. She led up every Mor⯑tal to the appointed Place, after having very officiouſly aſſiſted him in making up his Pack, and laying it upon his Shoulders. My Heart melted within me, to ſee my Fellow-Creatures groan⯑ing under their reſpective Burdens, and to conſider that prodigious Bulk of human Calamities which lay before me.
There were however ſeveral Perſons who gave me great Diverſion upon this Occaſion. I obſerved one bringing in [156] a Fardel very carefully concealed un⯑der an old embroidered Cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the Heap, I diſcovered to be Poverty. Another, after a great deal of Puffing, threw down his Luggage; which, upon ex⯑amining, I found to be his Wife.
There were Multitudes of Lovers ſaddled with very whimſical Burdens, compoſed of Darts and Flames; but, what was very odd, tho' they ſighed as if their Hearts would break under theſe Bundles of Calamities, they could not perſwade themſelves to caſt them into the Heap, when they came up to it; but, after a few faint Efforts, ſhook their Heads and marched away, as heavy loaden as they came. I ſaw Mul⯑titudes of old Women throw down their Wrinkles, and ſeveral young ones who ſtripped themſelves of a tawny Skin. There were very great Heaps of red Noſes, large Lips, and ruſty Teeth. The Truth of it is, I was ſurprized to ſee the greateſt Part of the Mountain made up of bodily Deformities. Ob⯑ſerving one advancing towards the Heap with a larger Cargo than ordinary up⯑on his Back, I found, upon his near Approach, that it was only a natural Hump, which he diſpoſed of, with [157] great Joy of Heart, among this Colle⯑ction of human Miſeries. There were likewiſe Diſtempers of all Sorts, tho' I could not but obſerve, that there were many more imaginary than real. One little Packet I could not but take No⯑tice of, which was a Complication of all the Diſeaſes incident to human Na⯑ture, and was in the Hand of a great many fine People: This was called the SPLEEN. But what moſt of all ſur⯑prized me, was a Remark I made, that there was not a ſingle Vice or Folly thrown into the whole Heap: At which I was very much aſtoniſhed, having con⯑cluded within my ſelf, that every one would take this Opportunity of getting rid of his Paſſions, Prejudices, and Frail⯑ties.
I took Notice in particular of a very profligate Fellow, who I did not que⯑ſtion came loaden with his Crimes, but upon ſearching into his Bundle, I found, that inſtead of throwing his Guilt from him, he had only laid down his Memory. He was followed by another worthleſs Rogue, who flung away his Modeſty inſtead of his Igno⯑rance.
When the whole Race of Mankind had thus caſt their Burdens, the Phan⯑tome [158] which had been ſo buſy on this Occaſion, ſeeing me an idle Spectator of what paſſed, approached towards me. I grew uneaſy at her Preſence, when of a ſudden ſhe held her magnifying Glaſs full before my Eyes. I no ſooner ſaw my Face in it, but was ſtartled at the Shortneſs of it, which now appeared to me in its utmoſt Aggravation. The immoderate Breadth of the Features made me very much out of Humour with my own Countenance, upon which I threw it from me like a Maſk. It happened very luckily, that one who ſtood by me had juſt before thrown down his Viſage, which, it ſeems, was too long for him. It was indeed ex⯑tended to a moſt ſhameful Length; I believe the very Chin was, modeſtly ſpeaking, as long as my whole Face. We had both of us an Opportunity of mending our ſelves, and all the Con⯑tributions being now brought in, every Man was at Liberty to exchange his Misfortune for thoſe of another Perſon.
I ſaw, with unſpeakable Pleaſure, the whole Species thus delivered from its Sorrows; tho', at the ſame Time, as we ſtood round the Heap, and ſurveyed the ſeveral Materials of which it was compoſed, there was ſcarce a Mortal, [159] in this vaſt Multitude, who did not diſcover what he thought Pleaſures and Bleſſings of Life, and wonder'd how the Owners of them ever came to look upon them as Burdens and Grievances.
As we were regarding very attentive⯑ly this Confuſion of Miſeries, this Chaos of Calamity, Jupiter iſſued out a ſecond Proclamation, That every one was now at Liberty to exchange his Affliction, and to return to his Habitation with a⯑ny ſuch other Bundle as ſhould be deli⯑vered to him.
Upon this, Fancy began again to be⯑ſtir herſelf, and parcelling out the whole Heap with incredible Activity, recom⯑mended to every one his particular Pac⯑ket. The Hurry and Confuſion at this Time was not to be expreſſed. Some Obſervations, which I made upon the Occaſion, I ſhall communicate to the Publick. A venerable grey-headed Man, who had laid down the Cholick, and whom I found wanted an Heir to his Eſtate, ſnatched up an undutiful Son, that had been thrown into the Heap by his angry Father. The graceleſs Youth, in leſs than a quarter of an Hour, pulled the old Gentleman by the Beard, and had like to have knocked his Brains out; ſo that meeting the true Father, who [160] came towards him in a Fit of the Gripes, he begged him to take his Son again, and give him back his Cholick; but they were incapable either of them to recede from the Choice they had made. A poor Gally-Slave, who had thrown down his Chains, took up the Gout in their ſtead, but made ſuch wry Faces, that one might eaſily perceive he was no great Gainer by the Bargain. It was pleaſant enough to ſee the ſeveral Ex⯑changes that were made, for Sickneſs againſt Poverty, Hunger againſt want of Appetite, and Care againſt Pain.
The Female World were very buſy among themſelves in bartering for Fea⯑tures; one was trucking a Lock of grey Hairs for a Carbuncle, another was making over a ſhort Waſte for a Pair of round Shoulders, and a third cheap⯑ning a bad Face for a loſt Reputation: But on all theſe Occaſions, there was not one of them who did not think the new Blemiſh, as ſoon as ſhe had got it into her Poſſeſſion, much more diſagree⯑able than the old one. I made the ſame Obſervation on every other Misfortune or Calamity, which every one in the Aſſembly brought upon himſelf, in lieu of what he had parted with; whether it be that all the Evils which befal us [161] are in ſome Meaſure ſuited and propor⯑tioned to our Strength, or that every Evil becomes more ſupportable by our being accuſtomed to it, I ſhall not de⯑termine.
I could not for my Heart forbear pity⯑ing the poor hump'd-back Gentleman, who went off a very well-ſhaped Per⯑ſon with a Stone in his Bladder; nor the fine Gentleman who had ſtruck up this Bargain with him, that limped through a whole Aſſembly of Ladies who uſed to admire him, with a Pair of Shoulders peeping over his Head.
I muſt not omit my own particular Adventure. My Friend with the long Viſage had no ſooner taken upon him my ſhort Face, but he made ſuch a groteſque Figure in it, that as I looked upon him I could not forbear laughing at my ſelf, inſomuch that I put my own Face out of Countenance. The poor Gentleman was ſo ſenſible of the Ridicule, that I found he was aſhamed of what he had done: On the other Side I found that I my ſelf had no great Reaſon to triumph, for as I went to touch my Forehead, I miſſed the Place, and clapped my Finger upon my Upper Lip. Beſides, as my Noſe was exceeding prominent, I gave it two or [162] three unlucky Knocks as I was playing my Hand about my Face, and aiming at ſome other Part of it. I ſaw two other Gentlemen by me, who were in the ſame ridiculous Circumſtances. Theſe had made a fooliſh Swop between a Couple of thick bandy Legs, and two long Trapſticks that had no Calfs to them. One of theſe looked like a Man walking upon Stilts, and was ſo lifted up into the Air above his ordinary Height, that his Head turned round with it, while the other made ſuch awkward Circles, as he attempted to walk, that he ſcarce knew how to move forward upon his new Supporters: Ob⯑ſerving him to be a pleaſant kind of a Fellow, I ſtuck my Cane in the Ground, and told him I would lay him a Bottle of Wine, that he did not march up to it on a Line, that I drew for him, in a Quarter of an Hour.
The Heap was at laſt diſtributed a⯑mong the two Sexes, who made a moſt piteous Sight, as they wandered up and down under the Preſſure of their ſeve⯑ral Burdens. The whole Plain was filled with Murmurs and Complaints, Groans and Lamentations. Jupiter at length, taking Compaſſion on the poor Mortals, ordered them a ſecond Time [163] to lay down their Loads, with a Deſign to give every one his own again. They diſcharged themſelves with a great deal of Pleaſure, after which the Phantome, who had led them into ſuch groſs De⯑luſions, was commanded to diſappear. There was ſent in her ſtead a Goddeſs of a quite different Figure; her Moti⯑ons were ſteady and compoſed, and her Aſpect ſerious but chearful. She every now and then caſt her Eyes towards Heaven, and fixed them upon Jupiter: Her Name was PATIENCE. She had no ſooner placed her ſelf by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole Heap ſunk to ſuch a Degree, that it did not ap⯑pear a third Part ſo big as it was before. She afterwards returned every Man his own proper Calamity, and teaching him how to bear it in the moſt com⯑modious Manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleaſed that he had not been left to his own Choice, as to the Kind of Evils which fell to his Lot.
Beſides the ſeveral Pieces of Mora⯑lity to be drawn out of this Viſion, I learnt from it, never to repine at my own Misfortunes, or to envy the Hap⯑pineſs of another, ſince it is impoſſible [164] for any Man to form a right Judgment of his Neighbour's Sufferings; for which Reaſon alſo I have determined never to think too lightly of another's Complaints, but to regard the Sorrows of my Fellow-Creatures with Senti⯑ments of Humanity and Compaſſion.
IT was a common Enquiry among the Antients, Why the Number of excellent Ora⯑tors, under all the Encou⯑ragements the moſt flouriſh⯑ing States could give them, fell ſo far ſhort of the Number of thoſe who ex⯑celled in all other Sciences? Herodotus ſays, ‘That the moſt uſeful Animals are the moſt fruitful in their Generation; whereas the Species of thoſe Beaſts that are fierce and miſchievous to Mankind, are but ſcarce⯑ly continued.’ The Hiſtorian inſtances in an Hare, which always either breeds or brings forth; and a Lioneſs, which brings forth but once, and then loſes all Power of Conception. But in theſe la⯑ter Ages we have greater Cauſes of Com⯑plaint [165] than the Antients had. Our Mo⯑derns have greater Advantages towards true and ſolid Eloquence than any which the celebrated Speakers of Anti⯑quity enjoy'd.
The firſt great and ſubſtantial Differ⯑ence is, that their common Places, in which almoſt the whole Force of Am⯑plification conſiſts, were drawn from the Profit or Honeſty of the Action, as they regarded only this preſent State of Du⯑ration. But Chriſtianity, as it exalts Morality to a greater Perfection, as it brings the Conſideration of another Life into the Queſtion, as it propoſes Rewards and Puniſhments of a higher Nature, and a longer Continuance, is more adapted to affect the Minds of the Audience, naturally inclined to purſue what it imagines its greateſt Intereſt and Concern. If Pericles, as Hiſtorians re⯑port, could ſhake the firmeſt Reſoluti⯑ons of his Hearers, and ſet the Paſſions of all Greece in a Ferment, when the preſent Welfare of his Country, or the Fear of hoſtile Invaſions was the Sub⯑ject, what may be expected from that Orator, who warns his Audience againſt thoſe Evils which have no Remedy, when once undergone, either from Pru⯑dence or Time? As much greater as the [166] Evils in a future State are than theſe at preſent, ſo much are the Motives to Per⯑ſuaſion under Chriſtianity greater than thoſe which meer moral Conſiderations could ſupply us with. But what is now mention'd relates only to the Power of moving the Affections. There is another Part of Eloquence, which is indeed its Maſter-piece, which is the Marvellous and Sublime. In this the Chriſtian O⯑rator has the Advantage beyond Con⯑tradiction. Our Ideas are ſo infinitely enlarged by Revelation, the Eye of Rea⯑ſon has ſo wide a Proſpect into Eternity, the Notions of a Deity are ſo worthy and refin'd, and the Accounts we have of a State of Happineſs or Miſery ſo clear and evident, that the Contempla⯑tion of ſuch Objects will give our Diſ⯑courſe a noble Vigour, an invincible Force, beyond the Power of any hu⯑man Conſideration. Tully requires in his perfect Orator ſome Skill in the Na⯑ture of Heavenly Bodies; becauſe, ſays he, his Mind will become more exten⯑ſive and unconfined; and when he de⯑ſcends to treat of human Affairs, he will both think and write in a more ex⯑alted and magnificent Manner. For the ſame Reaſon that excellent Maſter would have recommended the Study of thoſe [167] great and glorious Myſteries which Re⯑velation has diſcovered to us; to which the nobleſt Parts of this Syſtem of the World are as much inferior, as the Crea⯑ture is leſs excellent than its Creator. The wiſeſt and moſt knowing among the Heathens, had very poor and im⯑perfect Notions of a future State. They had indeed ſome uncertain Hopes, ei⯑ther received by Tradition, or gathered by Reaſon, that the Exiſtence of virtu⯑ous Men would not be determined by the Separation of Soul and Body: But they either diſbelieved a future State of Puniſhment and Miſery, or, upon the ſame Account that Apelles painted Anti⯑gonus, with one Side only to the Specta⯑tor, that the Loſs of his Eye might not caſt a Blemiſh upon the whole Piece; ſo theſe repreſented the Condition of Man in its faireſt View, and endeavoured to conceal what they thought was a Defor⯑mity to human Nature. I have often obſerved, that whenever the abovemen⯑tioned Orator, in his Philoſophical Diſ⯑courſes, is led by his Argument to the Mention of Immortality, he ſeems like one awaked out of Sleep, rouzed and alarmed with the Dignity of the Sub⯑ject, he ſtretches his Imagination to con⯑ceive ſomething uncommon, and with [168] the Greatneſs of his Thoughts caſts, as it were, a Glory round the Sentence: Uncertain and unſettled as he was, he ſeems fired with the Contemplation of it; and nothing but ſuch a glorious Proſpect could have forced ſo great a Lover of Truth, as he was, to declare his Reſolution, never to part with his Per⯑ſuaſion of Immortality, though it ſhould be proved to be an erroneous one. But had he lived to ſee all that Chriſtianity has brought to Light, how would he have laviſhed out all the Force of Elo⯑quence in thoſe nobleſt Contemplations which human Nature is capable of, the Reſurrection, and the Judgment that follows it? How had his Breaſt glowed with Pleaſure, when the whole Com⯑paſs of Futurity lay open and expoſed to his View? How would his Imagina⯑tion have hurryed him on in the Purſuit of the Myſteries of the Incarnation? How would he have entered with the Force of Lightning into the Affections of his Hearers, and fixed their Attenti⯑on, in Spite of all the Oppoſition of corrupt Nature, upon thoſe glorious Themes which his Eloquence hath pain⯑ted in ſuch lively and laſting Colours?
[169]This Advantage Chriſtians have; and it was with no ſmall Pleaſure I lately met with a Fragment of Longinus, which is preſerved as a Teſtimony of that Cri⯑tick's Judgment, at the Beginning of a Manuſcript of the New Teſtament in the Vatican Library. After that Author has numbered up the moſt celebrated Orators among the Grecians, he ſays, ‘Add to theſe Paul of Tarſus, the Patron of an Opinion not yet fully prov'd.’ As a Heathen, he condemns the Chriſtian Religion; and as an impartial Critick, he judges in Favour of the Promoter and Preacher of it. To me it ſeems, that the latter Part of his Judgment adds great Weight to his Opinion of St. Paul's Abilities, ſince, under all the Prejudice of Opinions directly oppoſite, he is con⯑ſtrained to acknowledge the Merit of that Apoſtle. And, no Doubt, ſuch as Longinus deſcribes St. Paul, ſuch he ap⯑peared to the Inhabitants of thoſe Coun⯑tries which he viſited and bleſſed with thoſe Doctrines he was divinely commiſ⯑ſioned to preach. Sacred Story gives us, in one Circumſtance, a convincing Proof of his Eloquence, when the Men of Lyſtra called him Mercury, becauſe he was the chief Speaker, and would have [170] paid divine Worſhip to him, as to the God who invented and prefided over Eloquence. This one Account of our Apoſtle ſets his Character, conſidered as an Orator only, above all the celebrated Relations of the Skill and Influence of Demoſthenes and his Contemporaries. Their Power in Speaking was admired, but ſtill it was thought human: Their Eloquence warmed and raviſhed the Hearers, but ſtill it was thought the Voice of Man, not the Voice of God. What Advantage then had St. Paul above thoſe of Greece or Rome? I confeſs I can aſ⯑cribe this Excellence to nothing but the Power of the Doctrines he delivered, which may have ſtill the ſame Influence on the Hearers; which have ſtill the Power, when preached by a ſkilful O⯑rator, to make us break out in the ſame Expreſſions as the Diſciples, who met our Saviour in their Way to Emmaus, made Uſe of; ‘Did not our Hearts burn within us, when he talked to us by the Way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?’ I may be thought bold in my Judgment by ſome; but I muſt affirm, That no one Orator has left us ſo viſible Marks and Footſteps of his Eloquence as our Apoſtle. It may perhaps be won⯑dered [169] at, that in his Reaſonings upon Idolatry at Athens, where Eloquence was born and flouriſhed, he confines himſelf to ſtrict Argument only; but my Rea⯑der may remember what many Authors of the beſt Credit have aſſured us, That all Attempts upon the Affections, and Strokes of Oratory, were expreſly for⯑bidden, by the Laws of that Country, in Courts of Judicature. His Want of Eloquence therefore here, was the Ef⯑fect of his exact Conformity to the Laws: But his Diſcourſe on the Reſur⯑rection to the Corinthians, his Harangue before Agrippa upon his own Converſi⯑on, and the Neceſſity of that of others, are truly great, and may ſerve as full Examples to thoſe excellent Rules for the Sublime, which the beſt of Criticks has left us. The Sum of all this Diſ⯑courſe is, That our Clergy have no far⯑ther to look for an Example of the Per⯑fection they may arrive at, than to St. Paul's Harangues; that when he, under the Want of ſeveral Advantages of Na⯑ture, (as he himſelf tells us) was heard, admired, and made a Standard to ſuc⯑ceeding Ages by the beſt Judge of a dif⯑ferent Perſuaſion in Religion: I ſay, Our Clergy may learn, that however inſtructive their Sermons are, they are [170] capable of receiving a great Addition; which St. Paul has given them a noble Example of, and the Chriſtian Religion has furniſhed them with certain Means of attaining to.
ABOUT Sun-ſet walking in the open Fields, 'till the Night inſenſibly fell upon me, I at firſt amuſed myſelf with all the Richneſs and Variety of Colours, which appeared in the Weſtern Parts of Heaven: In Pro⯑portion as they faded away and went out, ſeveral Stars and Planets appeared one after another, t'ill the whole Firma⯑ment was in a Glow. The Blueneſs of the Aether was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the Seaſon of the Year, and by the Rays of all thoſe Luminaries that paſſed through it. The Galaxy ap⯑peared in its moſt beautiful White. To compleat the Scene, the full Moon roſe, at length, in that clouded Majeſty which Milton takes Notice of, and opened to the Eye a new Picture of Nature, which [171] was more finely ſhaded, and diſpoſed among ſofter Lights than that which the Sun had before diſcovered to us.
As I was ſurveying the Moon walk⯑ing in her Brightneſs, and taking her Progreſs among the Conſtellations, a Thought roſe in me, which I believe very often perplexes and diſturbs Men of ſerious and contemplative Natures. David himſelf fell into it, in that Refle⯑ction, ‘When I conſider the Heavens, the Work of thy Fingers, the Moon and the Stars which thou haſt ordained; what is Man that thou art mindful of him, and the Son of Man that thou regardeſt him!’ In the ſame manner, when I conſidered that infinite Hoſte of Stars, or, to ſpeak more philoſophically, of Suns, which were then ſhining upon me, with thoſe innumerable Sets of Planets or Worlds, which were moving round their reſpect⯑ive Suns: When I ſtill enlarged the Idea, and ſuppoſed another Heaven of Suns and Worlds riſing ſtill above this which we diſcovered, and theſe ſtill en⯑lightened by a ſuperior Firmament of Luminaries, which are planted at ſo great a Diſtance, that they may appear to the Inhabitants of the former as the Stars do to us. In ſhort, whilſt I pur⯑ſued this Thought, I could not but re⯑flect [172] on that little inſignificant Figure which I my ſelf bore amidſt the Immen⯑ſity of God's Works.
Were the Sun, which enlightens this Part of the Creation, with all the Hoſt of Planetary Worlds that move about him, utterly extinguiſhed and annihila⯑ted, they would not be miſſed more than a Grain of Sand upon the Sea-ſhore. The Space they poſſeſs is ſo exceedingly little, in compariſon of the whole, that it would ſcarce make a Blank in the Crea⯑tion. The Chaſm would be imperceptible to an Eye that could take in the whole Compaſs of Nature, and paſs from one End of the Creation to the other, as it is poſſible there may be ſuch a Senſe in our ſelves hereafter, or in Creatures which are at preſent more exalted than our ſelves. We ſee many Stars by the Help of Glaſſes, which we do not diſ⯑cover with our naked Eyes; and the finer our Teleſcopes are, the more ſtill are our Diſcoveries. Huygenius carries this Thought ſo far, that he does not think it impoſſible there may be Stars, whoſe Light is not yet travelled down to us ſince their firſt Creation. There is no Queſtion but the Univerſe has cer⯑tain Bounds ſet to it; but when we con⯑ſider that it is the Work of infinite [173] Power, prompted by infinite Goodneſs, with an infinite Space to exert itſelf in, how can our Imagination ſet any Bounds to it?
To return therefore to my firſt Thought, I could not but look upon my ſelf with ſecret Horror, as a Being that was not worth the ſmalleſt Regard of one who had ſo great a Work under his Care and Superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidſt the Immenſi⯑ty of Nature, and loſt among that infi⯑nite Variety of Creatures, which in all Probability ſwarm through all theſe im⯑meaſurable Regions of Matter.
In order to recover my ſelf from this mortifying Thought, I conſidered that it took its Riſe from thoſe narrow Con⯑ceptions which we are apt to entertain of the Divine Nature. We ourſelves cannot attend to many different Objects at the ſame Time. If we are careful to inſpect ſome Things, we muſt of courſe neglect others. This Imperfection which we obſerve in our ſelves, is an Imperfe⯑ction that cleaves in ſome Degree to Creatures of the higheſt Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is, Beings of fi⯑nite and limited Natures. The Preſence of every Being is confined to a certain Meaſure of Space, and conſequently his [174] Obſervation is ſtinted to a certain Num⯑ber of Objects. The Sphere in which we move, and act, and underſtand, is of a wider Circumference to one Crea⯑ture than another, according as we riſe one above another in the Scale of Exiſt⯑ence. But the wideſt of theſe our Spheres has its Circumference. When therefore we reflect on the Divine Na⯑ture, we are ſo uſed and accuſtomed to this Imperfection in ourſelves, that we cannot forbear in ſome meaſure aſcribing it to him in whom there is no Shadow of Imperfection. Our Reaſon indeed aſſures us that his Attributes are infinite, but the Poorneſs of our Conceptions is ſuch, that it cannot forbear ſetting Bounds to every thing it contemplates, 'till our Reaſon comes again to our Suc⯑cour, and throws down all thoſe little Prejudices which riſes in us unawares, and are natural to the Mind of Man.
We ſhall therefore utterly extinguiſh this melancholy Thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the Multi⯑plicity of his Works, and the Infinity of thoſe Objects among which he ſeems to be inceſſantly employed, if we conſider in the firſt Place that he is Omnipreſent, and, in the ſecond, that he is Omniſci⯑ent.
[175]If we conſider him in his Omnipre⯑ſence: His Being paſſes through, actu⯑ates, and ſupports the whole Frame of Nature. His Creation, and every Part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is either ſo diſtant, ſo little, or ſo inconſiderable, which he does not eſſentially inhabit. His Sub⯑ſtance is within the Subſtance of every Being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately preſent to it, as that Being is to it ſelf. It would be an Im⯑perfection in him, were he able to re⯑move out of one Place into another, or to withdraw himſelf from any thing he has created, or from any Part of that Space which is diffuſed and ſpread abroad to Infinity. In ſhort, to ſpeak of him in the Language of the old Philoſopher, he is a Being whoſe Centre is every where, and his Circumference is no where.
In the ſecond Place, he is Omnipre⯑ſent as well as Omniſcient. His Om⯑niſcience indeed neceſſarily and natural⯑ly flows from his Omnipreſence; he can⯑not but be conſcious of every Motion that ariſes in the whole material World, which he thus eſſentially pervades, and of every Thought that is ſtirring in the intellectual World, to every Part of [176] which he is thus intimately united. Se⯑veral Moraliſts have conſidered the Cre⯑ation as the Temple of God, which he has built with his own Hands, and which is filled with his Preſence. O⯑thers have conſidered infinite Space as the Receptacle, or rather the Habitation of the Almighty: But the nobleſt and moſt exalted Way of conſidering this infinite Space, is that of Sir Iſaac New⯑ton's, who calls it the Senſorium of the Godhead. Brutes and Men have their Senſoriola, or little Senſoriums, by which they apprehend the Preſence, and per⯑ceive the Actions of a few Objects that lye contiguous to them: Their Know⯑ledge and Obſervation turns within a very narrow Circle. But as God Al⯑mighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he reſides, infinite Space gives Room to infinite Knowledge, and is, as it were, an Organ to Omni⯑ſcience.
Were the Soul ſeparate from the Bo⯑dy, and with one Glance of Thought ſhould ſtart beyond the Bounds of the Creation, ſhould it for Millions of Years continue its Progreſs through in⯑finite Space with the ſame Activity, it would ſtill find itſelf within the Em⯑brace of its Creator, and encompaſſed [177] round with the Immenſity of the God⯑head. Whilſt we are in the Body he is not leſs preſent with us, be⯑cauſe he is concealed from us. ‘O that I knew where I might find him! ſays Job. Behold I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot per⯑ceive him. On the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himſelf on the right hand, that I cannot ſee him.’ In ſhort, Reaſon as well as Revelation aſſures us, that he cannot be abſent from us, notwithſtanding he is undiſcovered by us.
In this Conſideration of God Almigh⯑ty's Omnipreſence and Omniſcience e⯑very Thought vaniſhes. He cannot but regard every Thing that has Being, eſpecially ſuch of his Creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their Thoughts, and to that Anxiety of Heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this Occaſion: For as it is impoſſible he ſhould overlook any of his Creatures, ſo we may be confident that he regards, with an Eye of Mercy, thoſe who en⯑deavour to recommend themſelves to his Notice, and in an unfeigned Humi⯑lity of Heart think themſelves unwor⯑thy that he ſhould be mindful of them.
I Have always taken a parti⯑cular Pleaſure in examining the Opinions which Men of different Religions, different Ages, and different Coun⯑tries, have entertained concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and the State of Happineſs which they promiſe them⯑ſelves in another World. For whatever Prejudices and Errors human Nature lies under, we find that either Reaſon, or Tradition from our firſt Parents, has diſcovered to all People ſomething in theſe great Points which bears Analogy to Truth, and to the Doctrines opened to us by Divine Revelation. I was late⯑ly diſcourſing on this Subject with a learned Perſon who has been very much converſant among the Inhabitants of the more Weſtern Parts of Africk: Upon his converſing with ſeveral in that Country, he tells me, that their Notion of Heaven, or of a future State of Happi⯑neſs is this, That every Thing we there wiſh for will immediately preſent it ſelf to us. We find, ſay they, our Souls [179] are of ſuch a Nature that they require Variety, and are not capable of being always delighted with the ſame Objects. The Supreme Being therefore, in Compli⯑ance with this Taſte of Happineſs which he has planted in the Soul of Man, will raiſe up from Time to Time, they ſay, every Gratification which it is in the Humour to be pleaſed with. If we wiſh to be in Groves or Bowers, among running Streams or Falls of Water, we ſhall immediately find our ſelves in the midſt of ſuch a Scene as we deſire. If we would be entertained with Muſick and the Melody of Sounds, the Conſort riſes upon our Wiſh, and the whole Region about us is filled with Harmony. In ſhort, every Deſire will be followed by Fruition, and whatever a Man's In⯑clination directs him to, will be preſent with him. Nor is it material whether the Supreme Power creates in Confor⯑mity to our Wiſhes, or whether he on⯑ly produces ſuch a Change in our Ima⯑gination, as makes us believe our ſelves converſant among thoſe Scenes which delight us. Our Happineſs will be the ſame, whether it proceed from external Objects, or from the Impreſſions of the Deity upon our own private Fancies. This is the Account which I have re⯑ceived [180] from my learned Friend. Not⯑withſtanding this Syſtem of Belief be in general very chimerical and viſionary, there is ſomething ſublime in its Man⯑ner of conſidering the Influence of a Divine Being on a human Soul. It has alſo, like moſt other Opinions of the Heathen World upon theſe important Points, it has, I ſay, its Foundation in Truth, as it ſuppoſes the Souls of good Men after this Life to be in a State of perfect Happineſs, that in this State there will be no barren Hopes, nor fruitleſs Wiſhes, and that we ſhall en⯑joy every Thing we can deſire. But the particular Circumſtance which I am moſt pleaſed with in this Scheme, and which ariſes from a juſt Reflection up⯑on human Nature, is that Variety of Pleaſures which it ſuppoſes the Souls of good Men will be poſſeſſed of in a⯑nother World. This I think highly probable, from the Dictates of both Reaſon and Revelation. The Soul con⯑ſiſts of many Faculties, as the Under⯑ſtanding, and the Will, with all the Senſes both outward and inward; or, to ſpeak more philoſophically, the Soul can exert her ſelf in many different Ways of Action: She can underſtand, will, imagine, ſee and hear, love and [181] diſcourſe, and apply her ſelf to many other the like Exerciſes of different Kinds and Natures; but what is more to be conſidered, the Soul is capable of receiving a moſt exquiſite Pleaſure and Satisfaction from the Exerciſe of any of theſe its Powers, when they are gratified with their proper Objects; ſhe can be entirely happy by the Satisfa⯑ction of the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing, or any other Mode of Percep⯑tion. Every Faculty is as a diſtinct Taſte in the Mind, and hath Objects ac⯑commodated to its proper Reliſh. Dr. Tillotſon ſomewhere ſays, that he will not preſume to determine in what con⯑ſiſts the Happineſs of the Bleſs'd, becauſe God Almighty is capable of making the Soul happy by Ten Thouſand dif⯑ferent Ways. Beſides thoſe ſeveral A⯑venues to Pleaſure which the Soul is endowed with in this Life, it is not impoſſible, according to the Opinions of many eminent Divines, but there may be new Faculties in the Souls of good Men made perfect, as well as new Senſes in their glorified Bodies. This we are ſure of, that there will be new Objects offered to all thoſe Faculties which are eſſential to us.
[182]We are likewiſe to take Notice, that every particular Faculty is capable of being employed on a very great Variety of Objects. The Underſtanding, for Example, may be happy in the Con⯑templation of Moral, Natural, Mathe⯑matical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory likewiſe may turn it ſelf to an infinite Multitude of Objects, e⯑ſpecially when the Soul ſhall have paſ⯑ſed through the Space of many Milli⯑ons of Years, and ſhall reflect with Plea⯑ſure on the Days of Eternity. Every other Faculty may be conſidered in the ſame Extent.
We cannot queſtion but that the Hap⯑pineſs of a Soul will be adequate to its Nature, and that it is not endowed with any Faculties which are to lye uſeleſs and unemploy'd. The Happineſs is to be the Happineſs of the whole Man, and we may eaſily conceive to our ſelves the Happineſs of the Soul, whilſt any one of its Faculties is in the Fruition of its chief Good. The Happineſs may be of a more exalted Nature in Propor⯑tion as the Faculty employed is ſo, but as the whole Soul acts in the Exertion of any of its particular Powers, the whole Soul is happy in the Pleaſure which ariſes from any of its particular [183] Acts. For notwithſtanding, as has been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of by one of the greateſt mo⯑dern Philoſophers, we divide the Soul into ſeveral Powers and Faculties, there is no ſuch Diviſion in the Soul it ſelf, ſince it is the whole Soul that remem⯑bers, underſtands, wills, or imagines. Our Manner of conſidering the Memo⯑ry, Underſtanding, Will, Imagination, and the like Faculties, is for the better enabling us to expreſs our ſelves in ſuch abſtracted Subjects of Speculation, not that there is any ſuch Diviſion in the Soul it ſelf.
Seeing then that the Soul has many different Faculties, or, in other Words, many different Ways of acting; that it can be intenſely pleaſed, or made happy, by all theſe different Faculties, or Ways of acting; that it may be en⯑dowed with ſeveral latent Faculties, which it is not at preſent in a Condi⯑tion to exert; that we cannot believe the Soul is endowed with any Faculty which is of no Uſe to it; that when⯑ever any one of theſe Faculties is tran⯑ſcendently pleaſed, the Soul is in a State of Happineſs; and, in the laſt Place, conſidering that the Happineſs of another World is to be the Happineſs [184] of the whole Man, who can queſtion but that there is an infinite Variety in thoſe Pleaſures we are ſpeaking of; and that this Fulneſs of Joy will be made up of all thoſe Pleaſures which the Nature of the Soul is capable of re⯑ceiving!
We ſhall be the more confirmed in this Doctrine, if we obſerve the Nature of Variety, with regard to the Mind of Man. The Soul does not care to be always in the ſame Bent. The Facul⯑ties relieve one another by Turns, and receive an additional Pleaſure from the Novelty of thoſe Objects, about which they are converſant.
Revelation likewiſe very much con⯑firms this Notion, under the different Views which it gives us of our future Happineſs. In the Deſcription of the Throne of God, it repreſents to us all thoſe Objects which are able to gratify the Senſes and Imagination. In very many Places it intimates to us all the Happineſs which the Underſtanding can poſſibly receive in that State, where all Things ſhall be revealed to us, and we ſhall know, even as we are known; the Raptures of Devotion, of Divine Love, the Pleaſure of converſing with our Bleſſed Saviour, with an innume⯑rable [185] Hoſt of Angels, and with the Spi⯑rits of Juſt Men made Perfect, are like⯑wiſe revealed to us in ſeveral Parts of the Holy Writings. There are alſo mentioned thoſe Hierarchies, or Go⯑vernments, in which the Bleſt ſhall be ranged one above another, and in which we may be ſure a great Part of our Happineſs will likewiſe conſiſt; for it will not be there as in this World, where every one is aiming at Power and Superiority; but, on the contrary, every one will find that Station the moſt proper for him in which he is placed, and will probably think that he could not have been ſo happy in any other Station. Theſe and many other Particulars are marked in Divine Revela⯑tion as the ſeveral Ingredients of our Happineſs in Heaven, which all imply ſuch a Variety of Joys, and ſuch a Gratification of the Soul in all its diffe⯑rent Faculties, as I have been here men⯑tioning.
Some of the Rabbins tell us, that the Cherubims are a Set of Angels who know moſt, and the Seraphims a Set of Angels who love moſt. Whether this Diſtinction be not altogether ima⯑ginary I ſhall not here examine; but it is highly probable that among the Spi⯑rits [186] of good Men there may be ſome who will be more pleaſed with the Em⯑ployment of one Faculty than of ano⯑ther, and this perhaps according to thoſe innocent and virtuous Habits or Incli⯑nations which have here taken the deep⯑eſt Root.
I might here apply this Conſideration to the Spirits of wicked Men, with re⯑lation to the Pain they ſhall ſuffer in every one of their Faculties, and the re⯑ſpective Miſeries which ſhall be appro⯑priated to each Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection of my Readers, I ſhall conclude, with obſerv⯑ing how we ought to be thankful to our great Creator, and rejoice in the Being which he has beſtowed upon us, for ha⯑ving made the Soul ſuſceptible of Plea⯑ſure by ſo many different Ways. We ſee by what a Variety of Paſſages Joy and Gladneſs may enter into the Thoughts of Man: How wonderfully a human Spirit is framed, to imbibe its proper Satisfactions, and taſte the Good⯑neſs of its Creator. We may therefore look into our ſelves with Rapture and Amazement, and cannot ſufficiently ex⯑preſs our Gratitude to him, who has en⯑compaſſed us with ſuch a Profuſion of [187] Bleſſiegs, and open'd in us ſo many Ca⯑pacities of enjoying them.
There cannot be a ſtronger Argument that God has deſigned us for a State of future Happineſs, and for that Heaven which he has revealed to us, than that he has thus naturally qualified the Soul for it, and made it a Being capable of receiving ſo much Bliſs. He would ne⯑ver have made ſuch Faculties in vain, and have endowed us with Powers that were not to be exerted on ſuch Objects as are ſuited to them. It is very mani⯑feſt, by the inward Frame and Conſti⯑tution of our Minds, that he has adap⯑ted them to an infinite Variety of Plea⯑ſures and Gratifications, which are not to be met with in this Life. We ſhould therefore at all times take Care that we do not diſappoint this his gracious Pur⯑poſe and Intention towards us, and make thoſe Faculties which he formed as ſo many Qualifications for Happineſs and Rewards, to be the Inſtruments of Pain and Puniſhment.