Addison.
MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, MORAL, POLITICAL, and DIVINE.
By Mr. ADDISON.
LONDON:
Printed for
E. CURLL
in
Fleet-Street.
MDCCXIX.
Advertisement.
S Ince these
small Extracts
Maxims, &c.
collected from the Writings of Dr.
South
and Archbishop
Tillotson.
are become lately so much in Vogue, and Mr. Archdeacon
Echard
has spoken so fully of their general Use, 'tis only thought proper to assure the Reader, that these Collections are faithfully selected from the Writings of that excellent 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 Letters
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
Tatlers
I cannot find any Topicks that properly fall within the Scheme I have proposed.
The Hurry of the Bookseller (occasioned, 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 admirable
Spectator
upon the
Immortality of the Soul;
and the remaining Papers from which I design my farther Extracts, shall follow with all convenient Speed.
Cha. Beckingham.
St. Albans,
June 15, 1719.
THE CONTENTS.
OF a good Conscience. Page 1
— Religious Fear. 2
— Justice. 4
— Charity. 6
— Knowledge. 7
— Nobility. 8
— False Gallantry. 11
— The Conduct of Families. 12
— The Qualifications of a good Wife. 15
— Pride. 17
— Industry. 19
— The Reproach of Idleness. 20
— Honour. 22
— Complaisance. 26
— The Love which we owe to our Country. 28
Of the Guilt of Perjury. Page 30
— The Guilt of Rebellion. 34
How Ministers of State should bear an undeserved Reproach. 35
Of The Practice of Morality. 41
— The Absurdity of a Party-Spirit. 43
— The Inconsistence of a Popish Prince and Protestant Subjects. 45
— The Decay of Piety. 48
— The Character of a Stateswoman. 50
—
Britons,
Free-Thinkers in Politicks. 52
— The Preference of the
Whig
-Scheme to that of the
Tories.
54
Characters of the Royal Family. 56, 64, &c.
The Good Man's Security against the Fear of Death. 71
Of True Happiness. 73
— Calumny; or, the Danger of Satire. 74
— The Dignity and Excellency of Tragedy. 77
— Avarice and Luxury. 78
— Fame, and the Pursuit after it. 79
A Check to inordinate Desires. 81
A Reflection on Mortality. 83
Upon the Immortality of the Soul. 84
MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, Taken from the GUARDIAN, Methodized and Connected.
CONSCIENCE.
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.
R Eligious Fear, when it is produced by just Apprehensions of a Divine Power, naturally overlooks all human Greatness that stands in Competition with it, and extinguishes every other Terrour that can settle itself in the Heart of Man; it lessens and contracts the Figure of the most exalted Person; it disarms the Tyrant and Executioner, and represents to our Minds the most enraged and the most powerful 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 forsakes 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 proceeds from the Sense of our Duty, and from the Fear of offending him that made us, acts always in a uniform Manner, and according to the Dictates of right Reason.
What can the Man fear, who takes Care, in all his Actions to please a Being 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 Person who lives with this constant and habitual Regard to the great Superintendant 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. Dangers 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 who has Human Nature under his Care, in which Case they are certainly averted from the Person who has made himself, by this Virtue, an Object of Divine Favour.
JUSTICE.
T Here 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 himself, and to be practised in its Perfection by none but him. Omniscience and Omnipotence are requisite for the full Exertion of it. The one, to discover every Degree of Uprightness, or Iniquity in Thoughts, Words and Actions. The other, to measure out and impart suitable Rewards and Punishments.
As to be perfectly just is an Attribute 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 Hands, acts like the Representative of his Maker, in recompensing the Virtuous, and punishing the Offender.
When a Nation once loses its Regard to JUSTICE; when they do not look upon 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 capable of being influenced by any Thing but Law, or a Cause may be recommended by any Thing that is foreign to its own Merits, we may venture to pronounce that such a Nation is hastening to its Ruin.
JUSTICE discards Party, Friendship, Kindred, and is therefore always represented as blind, that we may suppose her Thoughts are wholly intent on the Equity of a Cause, without being diverted or prejudiced by Objects foreign to it.
CHARITY.
C HARITY is a Virtue of the Heart, and not of the Hands, says an old Writer. Gifts and Alms are the Expressions, not the Essence of this Virtue. A Man may bestow great Sums on the Poor and Indigent, without being 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.
K NOWLEDGE is indeed that which, next to Virtue, truly and essentially raises one Man above another. It finishes one Half of the human Soul. It makes Being pleasant to us, fills the Mind with entertaining Views, and administers to it a perpetual Series of Gratifications. It gives Ease to Solitude, and Gracefulness to Retirement. It fills a publick Station with suitable Abilities, and adds a Lustre to those who are in the Possession of them.
LEARNING, by which I mean all useful 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 superiour Capacity for Business, and a more extensive Knowledge, are the Steps by which a new Man often mounts to Favour, and outshines the rest of his Conemporaries. But when Men are actually born to Titles, it is almost impossible that they should fail of receiving an additional Greatness, if they take Care to accomplish themselves for it.
NOBILITY.
W E ought in Gratitude to honour the Posterity of those who have raised either the Interest, or Reputation of their Country, and by whose Labours we ourselves are more Happy, Wise, or Virtuous, than we should have been without them. Besides, naturally speaking, 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. 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 upon that Account, and to be more respected than the common Run of Men, who are of low and vulgar Extraction.
After having thus ascribed due Honours to Birth and Parentage, I must, however, take Notice of those, who arrogate to themselves more Honours than are due to them on this Account. The first are such who are not enough sensible 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 insignificant and worthless Man, who is descended 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.
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 conversible: You read his Ancestry in his Smile, in his Air, in his Eye-brow; he has indeed his Nobility to give Employment to his Thoughts; Rank and Precedency are the important Points which he is always discussing within himself.
To conclude,
There is nothing more easy than to discover a Man whose Heart is full of his Family; weak Minds, that have imbibed a strong Tincture of the
Nursery,
younger Brothers that have been brought up to Nothing, superannuated Retainers to a great House, have generally 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 Posterity, and those who are to descend from us, ought to have the same Kind of Influence 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 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 Virtues, and be honoured for his Sake.
FALSE GALLANTRY.
T Here 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 Innocence. When Men of Rank and Figure 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, whatever low Station his Fortune or Birth have placed him in. Title and Ancestry 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 Compassion 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 Circumstances 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 purchase the Gratification of a Moment at so dear a Rate? and entail a lasting Misery on others, for such a transient Satisfaction to himself? nay, for a Satisfaction that is sure, at some Time or other, to be followed with Remorse?
Of the CONDUCT of FAMILIES.
I T is a melancholy Thing to see a Coxcomb at the Head of a Family: He scatters Infection through the whole House, his Wife and Children 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 Understandings to him, and make daily Improvements 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 Father 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 Family is weak, you hear the Repetitions of his insipid Pleasantries, shallow Conceits, 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 unhappy 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 Knowledge in the whole House. It is highly expedient that at least one of the 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 Gentleman in his Master's Way; he improves by his Table-Talk, and repeats in the Kitchin what he learns in the Parlour: Invest him with the same Title 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 within his Power; but, though a Man cannot abstain from being weak, he may from being vicious. It is in his Power to give a good Example of Modesty, of Temperance, of Frugality, of Religion, and of all other Virtues, which, though the greatest Ornaments of Human 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 latter, since the Consequences of Vice are of an infinitely more dangerous Nature than those of Folly.
The QUALIFICATIONS of a Good WIFE, from Sir
THOMAS MORE
's Latin Original.
M AY you meet with a Wife who is not always stupidly silent, nor always pratling Nonsense! May she be
Learned,
if possible, or, at least, capable of being made so! A Woman thus accomplished will be always drawing 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 Prosperity, nor broken with Adversity: You will find in her an even, chearful, good-humoured Friend, and an agreeable Companion for Life: She will infuse Knowledge 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 amiable. If she touches her Lute, or sings to it any of her own Compositions, her Voice will sooth you in your Solitudes, 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 Discourse: She will keep your Mind in perpetual Serenity, restrain its Mirth from being dissolute, and prevent its Melancholy from being painful.
PRIDE.
T HERE is no Passion which steals into the Heart more imperceptibly, and covers itself 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 sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret Seeds of Pride; and, on the contrary, to sink the Soul into the lowest State of Humility, and what the Schoolmen call Self-Annihilation. Pride was not made for Man; as he is,
I. A sinful,
II. An ignorant,
III. A miserable Being.
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 Reasons why he is so. Were he not a sinful Creature, he would not be subject to a Passion which rises from the Depravity of his Nature: Were he not an ignorant Creature, 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 Comparison 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 neither sinful, nor ignorant, nor miserable.
If there be any Thing which makes Human 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 supernumerary Advantages, whether in Birth, Fortune, or Title, which one Man enjoys above another, that it must certainly very much astonish, if it does not very much divert them, when they see a Mortal puffed up, and valuing himself above his Neighbours on any of these Accounts, counts, at the same Time that he is obnoxious to all the common Calamities of the Species.
INDUSTRY.
I T has been observed by Writers of Morality, that in Order to quicken Human Industry, Providence has so contrived 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 engaged in a painful and laborious Way of Life, to procure a necessary Subsistance 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 Monster in the Creation. All Nature is busy about him; every Animal he sees reproaches him. Let such a Man, who lies as a Burden, or dead Weight, upon the Species, and contributes nothing either 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 Industry to rational Creatures.
The REPROACH of IDLENESS.
I N comparing together the INDUSTRY of Man with that of other Creatures, I cannot but observe, that notwithstanding we are obliged by Duty to keep ourselves in constant Employ, after the same Manner as inferior Animals are prompted to it by Instinct, we fall very short of them in this Particular. We are here the more inexcusable, because there is a greater Variety 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, their waking Hours are wholly taken up in seeking after their Food, or in consuming it. The Human Species only, to the great Reproach of our Natures, 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 shameful 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, besides the Business of their proper Callings and Professions, can apply themselves to the Duties of Religion, to Meditation, to the reading of useful Books, to Discourse; in a Word, who may exercise themselves in the unbounded Pursuits of Knowledge and Virtue, and every Hour of their Lives make themselves wiser or better than they were before.
I shall conclude with recommending to them the same short Self-Examination. If every one of them frequently lays his Hand upon his Heart, and considers what he is doing, it will check him in all the idle, or what is worse, the vicious Moments of Life; lift up his Mind, when it is running on in a Series of indifferent Actions, and encourage 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 Reason to acknowledge in their daily Confessions, of
leaving undone those Things which they ought to have done, and of doing those Things which they ought not to have done.
HONOUR.
E VERY 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 Conscience, 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 naturally noble; or in such as have been cultivated by great Examples, or a refined 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 mistaken Notion of it: And, Thirdly, with Regard to those who treat it as Chimerical, 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;
HONOUR,
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
forbidden.
Thus
SENECA
speaks in the natural and genuine Language of a Man of
Honour,
when he declares, That were there no God to see or punish Vice, he would not commit it, because it is of so mean, so base, and so vile a Nature.
In the second Place, we are to consider those who have mistaken Notions of
Honour,
and these are such as establish any Thing to themselves for a Point of
Honour,
which is contrary either to the Laws of God, or of their Country; who think it more honourable to revenge, than to forgive an Injury; 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 Courage; by which Means we have had many among us, who have called themselves 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 to the Practice of some Virtues, and not of others, is by no Means to be reckoned 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 Sentiments, which are natural to Minds that are innocent and undepraved. Such old battered Miscreants ridicule every Thing as Romantick, that comes in Competition 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 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.
C OMPLAISANCE renders a Superior amiable, an Equal agreeable, and an Inferior acceptable. It smooths Distinction, sweetens Conversation, and makes every one in the Company 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 Persons 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 Actions, 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.
If we could look into the secret Anguish and Affliction of every Man's Heart, we should often find that more of it arises from little imaginary Distresses, such as Checks, Frowns, Contradictions, Expressions of Contempt, and (what
SHAKESPEAR,
in
Hamlet,
reckons among other Evils under the Sun)
— The poor Man's Contumely,
The Insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient Merit of the Unworthy takes,
than from the more real Pains and Calamities 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 Virtue, may be defined to be
a constant Endeavour 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.
Political MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, Taken from the
FREE-HOLDER.
Of the LOVE which we Owe to our COUNTRY.
I.
W HAT one would think should be natural to every Man, (
under a well instituted Government
)
is
a Desire to be Happy, and a Good-will towards those who are the Instruments of making them so.
II.
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 stubborn Sort of a Creature, a
Lover
is always at the Devotion of his
Mistress.
III.
AS
Self-Love
is an Instinct planted in us for the Good and Safety of each particular Person, the
Love of our Country
is impressed on our Minds for the Happiness and Preservation of the Community. 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.
IV.
AS the
Love of ones Country
is natural to every Man, any particular Nation, who, by
false Politicks,
shall endeavour to stifle or restrain it, will not be upon a Level with others.
V.
ALL
Casuists
are unanimous in determining, that when the Good of ones Country interferes even with the Life of the most beloved Relation, dearest Friend, or greatest Benefactor, it is to be preferred without Exception.
VI.
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 Avarice and Luxury, it was in Danger of being betrayed or sold.
The Guilt of PERJURY.
VII.
A LL Casuists who have gained any Esteem for their Learning, Judgment, or Morality, have unanimously determined, that an
Oath
is always to be taken in the Sense of that Authority which imposes it; and that those, whose Hearts do not concur with their Lips in the Form of these publick Protestations, or who have any mental Reserves, or who take an
Oath
against their Consciences, upon any Motive whatsoever; or with a Design to break it, or repent of it, are guilty of
PERJURY.
Any of these, or the like Circumstances, instead of alleviating the Crime, make it more heinous, as they are premeditated 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 greatest Horrour) is yet, in some Respects, not quite so black as the
Perjury
abovementioned. It is indeed a very unhappy 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 Morality to the Views of Politicks; and that when the Love of our Country is
acknowledged
to be a
Virtue,
there should be any Occasion to shew that
PERJURY
is a Sin.
VIII.
PERJURY,
with Relation to publick
Oaths,
has in it all the aggravating Circumstances, which can attend that Crime. We take them before the Magistrates of publick Justice; are reminded by the Ceremony, that it is a Part of that Obedience which we learn from the Gospel; expressly disavow all Evasions and mental Reservations whatsoever; 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 Assistance; 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 therefore
PERJURY,
by the common Sense of Mankind, the Reason of the Thing, and from the whole Tenour of Christianity, is a Crime of so flagitious a Nature, we cannot be too careful in avoiding every Approach towards it.
IX.
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.
X.
THE most fruitful Source of Falshood and Calumny, is that which, one would think, should be the least able to produce them; I mean a pretended 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 Character of the Church of
England,
and in which the Authors of the Reformed Religion in this Nation have always gloried.
XI.
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.
XII.
Party-FICTIONS
are the proper Subjects of Mirth and Laughter, their deluded 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 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 Compunction of Heart; when they consider, that in Order to give a Spirit to a desperate Cause, they have, by their false and treacherous Insinuations and Reports, betrayed so many of their Friends into their own Destruction.
XIII.
THE PEOPLE
are made to believe, that
Passive-Obedience
and
Non-Resistance, Unlimited Power
and
Indefeasible Right,
have something of a Venerable and Religious 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.
The Guilt of REBELLION.
XIV.
R EBELLION is a Violation of all those Engagements, which every Government exacts from such Persons as live under it; and consequently the most base and pernicious Instance of Treachery and Perfidiousness.
XV.
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 Government, 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.
XVI.
MEN who have any natural Love to their Country, or Sense of their Duty, should exert their united Strength in a Cause that is common to all
Parties.
In such a Case an
avowed Indifference
is
Treachery
to our Fellow-Subjects; and a
lukewarm Allegiance
may prove as pernicious in its Consequences as
Treason.
How MINISTERS of STATE should bear an undeserved Reproach.
XVII.
A STATESMAN, who is possest of real Merit, should look upon his Political Censurers with the same Neglect that a
good Writer
regards his
Criticks,
who are generally a Race of Men that are not able to discover the Beauties 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 mortified by those who misrepresent them; and consider, that not only Envy, but Vanity has a Share in the Detraction of their Adversaries.
XVIII.
PUBLICK-MINISTERS
would likewise do well to consider, that the principal 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 Competitors.
XIX.
MALECONTENTS
of an inferior Character are acted by the same Principle; for so long as there are Employments of all Sizes, there will be Murmurers of all Degrees.
XX.
I have heard of a Country Gentleman, who made a very long and melancholy Complaint to the late Duke of
Buckingham,
when he was in great Power at 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 under Heaven during that whole Ministry.
XXI.
A
Virtuous Man,
who lays out his Endeavours for the Good of his Country, 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 Actions, because when they are thoroughly 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.
XXII.
A strict Examination of a great Man's Character, is like the Tryal of a suspected 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 before: So that they destroyed the Guilty, but beautified the Innocent.
XXIII.
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 contradictory in itself, which he doth not chearfully believe, if it tends to the Advancement of the Cause.
XXIV.
A
Malecontent
who is a good Believer, has generally Reason to repeat the celebrated Rant of an ancient Father,
Credo quia impossibile est:
i. e. It must be True, because it is Impossible.
XXV.
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.
XXVI.
KING
CHARLES the Second,
when he was at
Windsor,
used to amuse himself with the Conversation of the famous
VOSSIUS,
who was full of Stories relating to the Antiquity, Learning, 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 Accounts 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.
XXVII.
WHEN
you
cannot refute an Adversary, the shortest Way is to Libel him; and to endeavour at the making his Person odious, when
you
cannot represent his Notions as absurd.
XXVIII.
AS Adversity makes a Man wise in his private Affairs,
civil Calamities
give him Prudence and Circumspection in his publick Conduct.
XXIX.
THE Miseries of the
Civil War
under the Reign of KING
CHARLES the First,
and the Consequences which ensued 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.
XXX.
AN Army of Trumpeters would give as great a Strength to a Cause, as a Confederacy of Tongue-Warriours; who, like those military Musicians, content themselves with animating their Friends to Battle, and run out of the Engagement upon the first Onset.
XXXI.
NOTHING can be more contemptible and insignificant, than the Scum of a People, when they are instigated against a KING, who is supported by the two Branches of the Legislature. A Mob may pull down a Meeting-House, but will never be able to overturn a Government.
Of the Practice of MORALITY.
XXXII.
C Ommon Sense, as well as the Experience of all Ages, teaches us, that no Government can flourish which doth not encourage and propagate Religion and Morality among all its particular Members.
XXXIII.
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 publick Prosperity.
XXXIV.
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 contemned for his Folly, as to be detested for his Impiety.
XXXV.
THE World is never sunk into such a State of Degeneracy, but they pay a 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 themselves accountable for all their Proceedings to the great Judge and Superintendant of Human Affairs.
XXXVI.
Prejudice and Self-Sufficiency naturally proceed from Inexperience of the World and Ignorance of Mankind.
XXXVII.
AS it requires but very small Abilities to discover the Imperfections of another, 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.
XXXVIII.
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 among the Guilty, between such as are more or less criminal.
XXXIX.
IT was a famous Saying of
William Rufus,
and is quoted to his Honour by Historians;
Whosoever spares perjured Men, Robbers, Plunderers, and Traytors, deprives all good Men of their Peace and Quietness, and lays a Foundation of innumerable Mischiefs to the Virtuous and Innocent.
XL.
MERCY,
in the true Sense of the Word, is that Virtue by which a Prince approaches nearest to him whom he represents; and whilst he is neither remiss nor extreme, 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.
The Absurdity of a PARTY SPIRIT.
XLI.
W E 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 Pleasure be of greater Continuance, which arises from the Prejudice or Malice of its Hearers.
XLII.
SINCE the present Hatred and Violence of Parties is so unspeakably pernicious 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.
XLIII.
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.
The Inconsistence of a
Popish
PRINCE and
Protestant
SUBJECTS.
XLIV.
A MONG all the Paradoxes in Politicks which have been advanc'd by some among us, there is none so absurd and shocking to the most ordinary Understanding, as that it is possible for
Great Britain,
to be quietly governed by a
Popish
Sovereign.
XLV.
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
Monarchs might have hoped to reign quietly 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 that Experiment, and tho' he was endowed with many Royal Virtues, and might have made a Nation of
Roman
Catholicks happy under his Administration, 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, Clergy, and Commonalty, rise up as one Man against him, and oblige him to quit the Throne of his Ancestors.
XLVI.
WE have only the Vices of a Protesttant Prince to fear, and may be made happy by his Virtues: But in a
Popish
Prince we have no Chance for our Prosperity; his very Piety obliges him to our Destruction; and in Proportion as he is more Religious, he becomes more Insupportable.
XLVII.
CAN we imagine that our
British
Clergy 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, 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 Slavery on the other: And I believe every reasonable Man will be of the
Roman
Historian's Opinion,
that a
disturbed Liberty
is better than a
quiet Servitude.
XLVIII.
THERE is not indeed a greater Absurdity, 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
Sovereign
carries in it the utmost Malignity to that of the
Subject:
What Harmony and Correspondence can be expected between them, when they cannot join together in the most joyful, the most solemn, and most laudable Action of reasonable Creatures; in a Word, where the Prince considers his People as
Hereticks,
and the People look upon their Prince as an
Idolater!
Of the Decay of PIETY.
XLIX.
I T 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 neighbouring State or Kingdom, whether they be such as continue still immersed in the Errors of the Church of
Rome,
or such as are recovered out of them.
L.
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
Englishman,
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.
LI.
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 Virtue 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 opposite Extream of
Cant
and
Hypocrisy,
which had taken Possession of the Peoples Minds in the Times of the great
Rebellion,
and of the Usurpation that succeeded it. The Practices of these Men, under the Covert of a feigned Zeal, made even the Appearances of sincere Devotion ridiculous and unpopular.
LII.
THE Raillery of the Wits and Courtiers, 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 those Duties which they were sent into the World to perform.
The Character of a STATESWOMAN.
LIII.
I T is the Ambition of the Male Part of the World to make themselves esteemed, and of the Female to make themselves beloved. There is nothing 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 charming 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 Occasion, can be so very angry. The most endearing of our beautiful Fellow-Subjects, are those, whose Minds are the least imbittered with the Passions and Prejudices of either Side; and who discover 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 exasperated Sisterhood, appears more amiable by the Singularity of her Character, and may be compared, with
SOLOMON
's Bride, to
a Lilly among Thorns.
LIV.
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 instead 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
Billingsgate
Warriours; but a scolding Heroe is, at the worst, a more tolerable Character than a Bully in Petticoats. To which we may add, that the keenest Satyrist, among the Antients, looked upon nothing as a more proper Subject of Raillery and Invective, than a Female Gladiator.
BRITONS, Free-Thinkers in Politicks.
LV.
T HERE is scarce any Man in
England,
of what Denomination soever, that is not a Free-Thinker in Politicks, and hath not some particular Notions 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 Ministers, and Scheme of Government.
LVI.
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 Virulence and Passion of a Party, before they come to the Use of their Reason.
LVII.
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, of censuring their Conduct, and rectifying the Legislature.
LVIII.
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 Politicks, that, to use the Thought of an ingenious Gentleman, we are frequently 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 Ecclesiastical 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 little after, by an Enemy in his own Profession, who is a Lover of
Moderation!
LIX.
IN short, there is hardly a
Female
in this our Metropolis, who is not a competent Judge of our highest Controversies in Church and State. We have several
Oyster-Women
that hold the Unlawfulness of
Episcopacy
; and
Cinder-Wenches
that are great Sticklers for
Indefeasible Right.
The Preference of the
WHIG
-Scheme to that of the
TORIES.
LX.
T HE
Tories
tell us, that the
Whig-Scheme
would end in
Presbyterianism
and a
Commonwealth.
The
Whigs
tell us, on the other Side, that the
Tory-Scheme
would terminate in
Popery
and
Arbitrary Governments.
Were these Reproaches mutually true; which would be most preferable 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 inevitable, 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 Circumstantials, before one that differs from it in the Essentials of Christianity!
LXI.
I would recommend to our
Malecontents
the Advice given by a great Moralist 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.
CHARACTERS OF THE
ROYAL FAMILY.
His MAJESTY's Character.
W E 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 Inclination to Justice led him to rule his
German
Subjects in the same Manner that our Constitution directs him to govern the
English.
He regarded those which are our Civil Liberties, as the natural Rights of Mankind; and therefore indulged them to a People, who pleaded no other Claim to them than his known Goodness and Humanity. This Experience of a good Prince, before we had the Happiness to enjoy him, must give great Satisfaction to every thinking Man, who considers how apt Sovereignty is to deprave human Nature; 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, whereby he inflexibly pursues those Measures which appear the most just and equitable. 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, I think they cannot be ascribed to any Thing so much as to this Uniformity and Firmness of Mind, which has always discovered itself in his Proceedings. It was by this that he surmounted 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 before him. The fickle and unsteady Politicks of our late
British
Monarchs, have been the perpetual Source of those Dissensions and Animosities which have made the Nation unhappy: Whereas the constant and unshaken Temper of his present Majesty, must have a natural Tendency to the Peace of his Government, 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 Countrymen were dear to him, before there was any Prospect of their being his Subjects; and every one knows, that nothing recommended a Man so much to the distinguishing 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 Atchievements. 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 military Glory; and chuses rather to be distinguished as a Father, than as the Captain of his People. I am glad his rebellious 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
Flanders,
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 Personal Courage to be an Hereditary Virtue, when we see so many Instances of it in the Line of
BRUNSWICK.
To go 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 many Persons of distinguished Fortitude? Three of his Majesty's Brothers have fallen 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
Andenarde,
when the Children of
France,
and the Pretender, fled before him.
His Love and Regard for our Constitution 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 Access to those who desire it, and is so gracious in his Behaviour and Condescension on such Occasions, that none of his Subjects retire from his Presence without the greatest Idea of his Wisdom and Goodness. His continued Application to such publick Affairs as may conduce to the Benefit of his Kingdoms, diverts him from those Pleasures and 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 Character. Common Decency forbids opprobrious Language, even to a bad Prince; and common Justice will exact from us, towards a good Prince, the same Benevolence and Humanity with which he treats his Subjects. Those who are influenced 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 famed, 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 into such Schemes of Council and Intelligence as produce them; and therefore we should rather turn our Thoughts upon the Reasonableness of his Proceedings, than busy ourselves to form Objections against them. The Consideration of his Majesty's Character should at all Times suppress our Censure of his Conduct: And since we have never yet seen or heard of any false Steps in his Behaviour, 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 reconcile to his Majesty the Hearts and Tongues of all his People: But as for those who are obstinate, irreclaimable, professed Enemies to our present Establishment, we must expect their Calumnies 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 Happiness in his Majesty's Civil and Military Character, I cannot forbear pleasing my self with regarding him in the View of One, who has been always fortunate.
CICERO
recommends
POMPEY
under 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 Reward of Virtue, and as often the Effect of Prudence; and whether it proceeds from either of these, or from both together, or whatever may be the Cause of it, every one is naturally pleased to see his Interests conducted by a Person 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 considerably strengthened his Interests in the Empire, and given a great additional Weight to the Protestant Cause. But the most remarkable Interpositions of Providence, in Favour of him, have appeared in removing those seemingly invincible Obstacles to his Succession; in taking away, at so critical a Juncture, the Person who might have proved a dangerous Enemy; in confounding the secret and open Attempts of his traiterous Subjects; and in giving him the delightful Prospect of transmitting his Power through a numerous and still-increasing Progeny.
Upon the whole, it is not to be doubted but every wise and honest Subject will concur with Providence in promoting the Glory and Happiness of his present Majesty, who is endowed with all those Royal Virtues, that will naturally secure to us the national Blessings, which ought to be dear and valuable to a free People.
The PRINCESS's Character.
W HEN 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 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 declined them, because she saw the Acceptance of them was inconsistent with what she esteems more than all the Glories 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 Wisdom, 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 Magnanimity.
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 personal Charms, which had been before so universally admired, were now become the least Part of her Character. We of the
British
Nation have Reason to rejoice, that such a Proposal was made and accepted; 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 Piety 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 reckoned among the Politest in
Europe
; and increased the Satisfaction of that People, who were before looked upon as the Happiest in the Empire. She immediately became the Darling of the Princess
SOPHIA,
who was acknowledged in all the Courts of
Europe
the most acomplished Woman of the Age in which she lived, and who was not a little 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 these Kingdoms surrounded by a numerous and beautiful Progeny, when we consider 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 Issue like herself, by instilling early into their Minds all the Principles of Religion, Virtue, and Honour, and seasoning their tender Years with all that Knowledge which they are capable of receiving. 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 remarkable 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 Behaviour 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 Affection, when we consider so wise and virtuous a Princess possessing, in the same sacred Person, the kindest of Fathers and the best of Kings. And here it is natural for us to congratulate our own good Fortune, who see our Sovereign blest with a numerous Issue, among whom are Heirs Male in two direct Descents, 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 remain 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 conspicuous than the Princess. She is as eminent for a sincere Piety in the Practice of Religion, as for an inviolable Adherence to its Principles. She is constant in her Attendance on the daily Offices of our Church, and by her serious and devout Comportment on these 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 Sourness 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 Affability, Compassion, Benevolence, Evenness 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 naturally hang on the Timorous or the Modest, when they are admitted to the Honour of her Presence. There is none that does not listen with Pleasure to a Person in so high a Station, who condescends to make herself thus agreeable, by Mirth without Levity, and Wit without Ill-Nature.
Her Royal Highness is, indeed, possess'd of all those Talents which make Conversation either delightful or improing. As she has a fine Taste of the elegant Arts, and is skilled in several modern Languages, her Discourse is not confined to the ordinary Subjects or Forms of Conversation, but can adapt itself with an uncommon Grace to every 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 Politeness of her Education, and the Splendor of her Quality.
MAXIMS, OBSERVATIONS, AND REFLECTIONS, Taken from the
SPECTATOR.
The
GOOD MAN's
SECURITY against the FEAR of
DEATH.
T HE Horror with which we entertain the Thoughts of
Death,
or indeed of any future Evil) and the Uncertainty of its Approach, fill a melancholy Mind with innumerable Apprehensions and Suspicions, and consequently dispose it to the Observation of many groundless Prodigies and Predictions. For as it is the chief Concern of wise Men to retrench the Evils of Life, 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 disposes 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 question not but he will either avert them, or turn them to our Advantage. Tho' we know neither the Time nor the Manner 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.
T RUE HAPPINESS is of a retired 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 Conversation of a few select Companions: It loves Shades and Solitude, and naturally haunts Groves and Fountains, Fields and Meadows: In short, it feels every Thing it wants within itself, and receives no Addition from Multitudes of Witnesses and Spectators. On the Contrary, 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, Theatres and Assemblèes, and has no Existence but when she is looked upon.
CALUMNY; or, the Danger of
SATIRE.
T HERE is nothing that more betrays a base and ungenerous 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 Possession of an ill-natured Man. There cannot be a greater Gratification to a barbarous and inhuman Wit, than to stir up Sorrow in the Heart of a private Person, to raise Uneasiness among near Relations, and to expose whole Families to Derision, at the same Time that he remains unseen and undiscovered. If besides the Accomplishments of being witty and ill-natured, a Man is vicious into the Bargain, he is one of the most mischievous Creatures that can enter into a civil Society. His Satire will then chiefly fall upon those who ought to be the most exempt from it. Virtue, Merit, and every Thing that is Praiseworthy, 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 produce nothing more than a secret Shame and Sorrow in the Mind of the suffering Person. It must indeed be confessed; that a Lampoon or a Satire do not carry 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 Derision? And in this Case a Man should consider, that an Injury is not to be measured 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 Person, whose Reputation he thus assaults, in his Body or in his Fortune, could he do it with the same Security. There is indeed something very barbarous and inhuman in the ordinary Scribblers of Lampoons. An innocent young Lady shall be exposed for an unhappy Feature. 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 Qualities that should do him Honour. So pernicious a Thing is Wit, when it is not tempered with Virtue and Humanity. I have indeed heard of heedless inconsiderate 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 mischievous 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 indifferently both Friends and Foes.
The Dignity and Excellency of TRAGEDY.
A S a perfect TRAGEDY is the noblest Production of Human 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 Dispensations of Providence.
AVARICE and LUXURY.
W Hen a Government flourishes in Conquests, and is secure from foreign Attacks, it naturally 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 Money, by all the Methods of Rapaciousness and Corruption; so that AVARICE and LUXURY very often become one complicated 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 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 outshine one another in Pomp and Splendor, and, having no Fears to alarm them, indulge themselves in the Enjoyment of all the Pleasures they can get into their Possession; which naturally produces AVARICE, and an immoderate Pursuit after Wealth and Riches.
Of FAME, and the Pursuit after it.
I T is very strange to consider, that a Creature like Man, who is sensible of so many Weaknesses and Imperfections, should be actuated by a Love of FAME: That Vice and Ignorance, 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 Comparative Perfection may be very considerable. If he looks upon himself in an abstracted Light, he has not much to boast of; but if he considers himself with Regard to others, he may find Occasion of glorying, if not in his own Virtues, at least in the Absence of another's Imperfections. This gives a different Turn to the Reflections of the wise Man and the Fool. The first endeavours to shine in himself, and the last to outshine 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 defective, or faulty, but the Consequences it produces are so good, that, for the Benefit of Mankind, it ought not to be extinguished.
A CHECK to INORDINATE DESIRES.
T HERE is not, in my Opinion, a Consideration more effectual to extinguish inordinate 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, remains 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 therefore the obscene Passions in particular, have once taken Root, and spread themselves 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: Nay, that the Desire grows more violent, 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 divested of it: The very Substance of the Soul is festered with them; the Gangrene is gone too far to be ever cured; the Inflammation will rage to all Eternity.
In this therefore (say the
PLATONISTS
) consists the Punishment of a voluptuous Man after Death: He is tormented with Desires which it is impossible for him to gratify; solicited by a Passion that has neither Objects nor Organs 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 Coemiteries, and hover about the Places where their Bodies are buried, as still hankering after their old brutal Pleasures, and desiring again to enter the Body that gave them an Opportunity of fulfilling them.
A REFLECTION on MORTALITY.
W HEN 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 divided the World with their Contests and Disputes, I reflect with Sorrow and Astonishment on the little Competitions, Factions, and Debates of Mankind; when I read the several Dates of the Tombs
In
Westminster
-Abbey.
, of some that dy'd Yesterday, and some Six Hundred Years ago, I consider that Great Day, when we shall all of us be Contemporaries, and make our Appearance together.
Upon the IMMORTALITY of the SOUL.
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 Creature, I consider those several Proofs drawn,
FIRST,
From the Nature of the SOUL itself, and particularly its Immateriality; which, though not absolutely necessary 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 Annihilation, and its Hopes of Immortality, with that secret Satisfaction which it finds in the Practice of Virtue, and that Uneasiness which follows in it upon the Commission of Vice.
THIRDLY,
From the Nature of the supream Being, whose Justice, Goodness, Wisdom and Veracity, are all concerned in this great Point.
But among these and other excellent Arguments for the IMMORTALITY of the SOUL, there is one drawn from the perpetual Progress of the SOUL to its Perfection, without a Possibility of ever arriving 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 Endowments 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 Faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther Enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop 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 Perfection, after having just looked Abroad into the Works of its Creator, and made a few Discoveries of his infinite Goodness, 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 propagate his Kind. He provides himself with a Successor, and immediately quits his Post to make Room for him.
—haeres
Haeredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam,
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 Virtue, and come up to the Perfection of his Nature, before he is hurried off the Stage. Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious Creatures for so mean a Purpose? Can he delight in the Production 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 Wisdom, which shines through all his Works, in the Formation of Man, without looking 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 agreeable to that Ambition which is natural 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 Perfection, 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 HUMAN 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 Perfection, 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 soever 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 Veneration 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 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 Creator, 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?
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The Contents.
T HE Benefit of Death p. 91
Cheerfulness preferable to Mirth 92
—Its Effects 94
—Enemies to this Happiness 95
—Its Benefits with Regard to the
Body,
and the Objects that give Rise to it 99
Compassion,
a laudable Virtue 104
Hypocrisy,
the various Kinds of it 105
—Instructions how to endeavour at the Knowledge of our Selves 106
The Use and Excellency of
Church-Musick
111
The Benefit of
Conversation
112
The Nature of
Courts
113
Of the Infamy of a
Spy,
and the Caution that is necessary in trusting him 114
Inquisitive Suspicions rejected by great Minds 115
The Inquisitive Person troublesome to himself 116
Reliance on God, the Christian's only Support against Misfortune 117
The Force and Effect of
Custom
121
The Advantages that may be derived from this Effect of
Custom
122
The Infamy of
Libels;
the Interest of the Government to correct and suppress them 126
Of
Gratitude
128
Of
Modesty
129
Hypocrisy
preferable to open
Impiety
132
The Benefits of
Faith
and
Morality
considered 133
The Immorality of
Persecution
137
The
Middle Condition
of Life most desirable 138
The Means for confirming our
Faith
141
Places of
Trust
best invested in Men of generous Principles 146
—Why Men of Learning are best qualified for such Offices 150
The Passion of
Hope
151
Religious
Hope
152
The Effects of the
Spleen
154
Of
Oratory
164
A Contemplation of the Omnipresence and Omniscience of GOD 170
The Happiness of Souls in Heaven 178
The BENEFIT of DEATH.
I Am very much pleased with a consolatory Letter of
Phalaris,
to one who had lost a Son, who was a young Man of great Merit. The Thought with which he comforts the afflicted Father, 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 Possibility of falling away from Virtue, and losing the Fame of which he was possessed. Death only closes a Man's Reputation, 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 forced to retract our Opinions: He may forfeit the Esteem we have conceived of him, and some Time or other appear to us under a different Light from what he does at present. In short, as the Life of any Man cannot be called happy or unhappy, so neither can it be pronounced vicious or virtuous, before the Conclusion of it.
It was upon this Consideration that
Epaminondas,
being asked whether
Chabrias, 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.
CHEARFULNESS preferable to MIRTH.
I Have always preferred
Chearfulness
to
Mirth:
The latter I consider as an Act, the former as an Habit of the Mind. Mirth is short and transient, Chearfulness fixed and permanent. Those are often raised into the greatest Transports of Mirth, who are subject to the greatest Depressions of Melancholy: On the 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 greatest Danger. Writers of this Complexion have observed, that the Sacred PERSON, who was the great Pattern of Perfection, was never seen to laugh.
CHEARFULNESS of Mind is not liable to any of these Exceptions; it is of a serious and composed Nature; it does not throw the Mind into a Condition 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.
Its Effects.
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 recommend itself on each of these Accounts. The Man who is possessed of this excellent 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 Pleasures 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 naturally 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 Chearfulness of his Companion: It is like a sudden Sun-shine, that awakens a secret Delight in the Mind, without her attending 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 Nature. An inward Chearfulness is an implicit Praise and Thanksgiving to Providence under all its Dispensations: It is a Kind of Acquiescence in the State wherein we are placed, and a secret Approbation of the Divine Will in his Conduct towards Man.
The Enemies to this Happiness.
THERE are but two Things which can reasonably deprive us of this Chearfulness 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. Chearfulness in an ill Man deserves a harder 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 Disbelief of a supreme Being, and consequently of a future State, under whatsoever Titles it shelters itself, may likewise very reasonably deprive a Man of this Chearfulness of Temper. There is something so particularly gloomy and offensive to human Nature in the Prospect of Non-Existence, that I cannot but wonder, with many excellent Writers, how it is possible for a Man to outlive 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 Object, 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 Nothing?
The vicious Man and Atheist have therefore no Pretence to Chearfulness, and would act very unreasonably, should they endeavour after it. It is impossible 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 Duration, 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 discompose him, which he is sure will bring him to a joyful Harbour. A Man, who uses his best Endeavours to live according 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.
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 considerable 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 Dependance, and in whom, though we behold 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 Immensity of Love and Mercy. In short, 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 Unchangeableness 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 unthinking Men are subject to, when they lie under no real Affliction; all that Anguish which we may feel from any Evil that actually oppresses us; to which I may likewise add, those little Cracklings of Mirth and Folly, that are apter to betray Virtue than support it, and stablish in us such an even and chearful Temper, as makes us pleasing to ourselves, to those with whom we converse, and to him whom we were made to please.
The Benefit of CHEARFULNESS, with Regard to the Body, and the Objects that give Rise to this Chearfulness.
HAVING spoken of CHEARFULNESS as it is a
moral
Habit of the Mind, and accordingly mentioned such moral Motives 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 delicate Fibres of which the vital Parts are composed, and wear out the Machine insensibly; not to mention those violent Ferments which they stir up in the Blood, and those irregular disturbed Motions which they raise in the animal Spirits. Health and Chearfulness mutually beget each other, with this Difference, that we seldom meet with a great Degree of Health which is not attended with a certain Chearfulness, 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 perpetual Calm. The World in which we are placed, is filled with innumerable Objects, that are proper to raise and keep alive this happy Temper of Mind.
If we consider the World in its Subserviency to Man, one would think it was made for our Use; but if we consider it in its natural Beauty and Harmony, one would be apt to conclude it was made for our Pleasure. The Sun, which is as the great Soul of the Universe, 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 refreshing 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 important Parts of the vegetable World are those which are the most beautiful. These are the Seeds by which the several Races of Plants are propagated and continued, and which are always lodg'd in Flowers or Blossoms. Nature seems to hide her principal Design, and to be industrious in making the Earth gay and delightful, while she is carrying on her great Work, and intent upon her own Preservation. The Husbandman, after the same Manner, is employed in laying out the whole Country in a Kind of Garden, or Landskip, and making every 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 Providence 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 Delight from several Objects which seem to have very little Use in them, as from the Wildness of Rocks and Desarts, and the like grotesque Pieces of Nature. Those who are versed in Philosophy, may still carry this Consideration higher, by observing, that if Matter had appeared to us endowed only with those real Qualities which it actually possesses, it would have made but a very joyless and uncomfortable Figure; and why has Providence given it a Power of producing in us such imaginary 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 diversify 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 Pleasures of Friendship, Books, Conversation, and other accidental Diversions of Life, because I would only take Notice of such Incitements to a chearful Temper, 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 involv'd in Gloom or Melancholy.
Every one ought to fence against the Temper of his Climate or Constitution; 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 uninterrupted Happiness.
COMPASSION, a laudable Virtue.
C OMPASSION does not only refine and civilize human Nature, but has something in it more pleasing and agreeable than what can be met with in such an indolent Happiness, such an Indifference to Mankind 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 Sorrow: 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, the various Kinds of it.
H YPOCRISY, at the fashionable End of the Town, is very different from Hypocrisy in the City. The modish Hypocrite endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is, the other Kind of Hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid of every Thing that has the Shew of Religion in it, and would be thought engag'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 Hypocrisy, 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 conceals 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 for Virtues. It is this fatal Hypocrisy and Self-deceit, which is taken Notice of in these Words,
Who can understand his Errors? cleanse thou me from my secret Faults.
If the open Professors of Impiety deserve the utmost Application and Endeavours 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 walking 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 Discovery 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.
Instructions how to endeavour at the Knowledge of our selves.
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 compare our Lives with the Life of that Person who acted up to the Perfection 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 following 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 Representations, after such a Manner, that we think them too trivial to be taken Notice of. An Adversary, on the contrary, 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 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 Approbations which the World bestow upon us; whether the Actions they celebrate, proceed from laudable and worthy Motives, and how far we are really possess'd of those Virtues which gain us an Applause among those with whom we converse. Such a Reflection is absolutely 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.
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 ourselves. 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 Calamities 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 Virtues? 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 apprehensive of those Actions which proceed from natural Constitution, Favourite-Passions, particular Education, or whatever 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 Reason, and always apprehend some concealed 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 Importance 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.
The Use and Excellency of CHURCH-MUSICK.
F REQUENT Entertainments of
Divine Musick
among us in our
Religious Worship,
would
not a little
purify and exalt 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 accompany any transient Form of Words that are uttered in the ordinary Method of religious Worship.
The Benefit of CONVERSATION.
C ONVERSATION with Men of a polite Genius is a very useful Method for improving 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, besides 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 Conversation 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, Moliere, Boileau, La Fontaine, Bruyere, Bossu,
or the
Daciers,
would have written so well as they have done, had they not been Friends and Contemporaries.
The Nature of COURTS.
I Consider COURTS with the same regard to the Governments which they superintend, as
Ovid
's Palace of Fame, with regard to the Universe. The Eyes of a watchful Minister run through the whole People. There is scarce a Murmur or Complaint, that does not reach his Ears. They have News-gatherers and Intelligencers distributed into their several 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 employed. 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 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 Matter.
Of the Infamy of a SPY, and the Caution that is necessary in trusting him.
A S 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 Manner, 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 he does not hear and see Things worth Discovery; so that he naturally inflames 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.
Inquisitive Suspicions rejected by Great MINDS.
I T is observed of great and heroic MINDS, that they have not only shewn a particular Disregard to those unmerited 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.
The Inquisitive PERSON troublesome to himself.
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 forgotten 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 bestow Commendations, as the dearest Friend cannot sometimes refrain from speaking ill. The Man who is indifferent in either of these Respects, gives his Opinion at Random, and praises or disapproves as he finds himself in Humour.
A Reliance on
GOD,
the Christian's only Support against Misfortunes.
M AN, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched Being. He is subject every Moment to the greatest Calamities and Misfortunes: 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 obnoxious 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.
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 Person who has a firm Trust on the Supreme 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 Infinite Perfection.
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 having made such a Reliance a Duty, notwithstanding we should have been miserable 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 supernatural 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 Abilities, 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 they are under the Protection of some invisible Assistance, did not only encourage 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 Dispositions of Mind that alleviate those Calamities which we are not able to remove.
The Practice of this Virtue administers 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 Existence, to converse with Scenes, and Objects, and Companions that are altogether new, what can support her under such Tremblings of Thought, such Fear, such Anxiety, such Apprehensions, 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.
The Force and Effect of CUSTOM.
T HERE 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 Influence 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 Entertainment. 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 such Actions as were at first indifferent to us, but even such as were painful, will by Custom and Practice become pleasant.
The Advantages that may be derived from this Effect of CUSTOM.
If we consider attentively this Property of human Nature, it may instruct us in very fine Moralities. In the first Place, I would have no Man discouraged with that Kind of Life, or Series of Action, in which the Choice of others, 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 recommend to every one that admirable Precept which
Pythagoras
is said to have given his Disciples, and which that Philosopher must have drawn from the Observation I have enlarged upon;
Optimum vitae genus eligito, nam consuetudo faciet jucundissimum,
Pitch upon that Course of Life which is the most excellent, and Custom will render it the most delightful. Men, whose Circumstances 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 laudable. 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 irreligious Man, to overlook those Hardships and Difficulties which are apt to discourage 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 farther you advance in it.
The Man who proceeds in it with Steadiness and Resolution, 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 accompanies those Actions to which we are habituated, but with those supernumerary 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 particular 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, exchange that Pleasure which it takes in the Performance of its Duty, for Delights of a much more inferior and unprofitable Nature.
The last Use which I shall make of this remarkable Property in human Nature, 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 Heaven, will not be capable of affecting those Minds which are not thus qualified for it; we must, in this World, gain a Relish of Truth and Virtue, if we would be able to taste that Knowledge 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 Probation: 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 Sensuality, 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 Manner, create them a-new, and work a Miracle in the Rectification of their Faculties. 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 Tormentors, and cherish in themselves those painful Habits of Mind which are called in Scripture Phrase,
The Worm that never dies.
The Infamy of LIBELS; the Interest of a Government to correct and suppress them.
T HERE is nothing so scandalous to a Government, and detestable in the Eyes of all good Men, as defamatory Papers and Pamphlets; but at the same Time there is nothing so difficult to tame as a satyrical 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 Contempt of the vicious and the ignorant. 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 Government, and a Reproach to human Nature. 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 against 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 Humanity among us, it deserves the utmost Detestation and Discouragement of all who have either the Love of their Country, or the Honour of their Religion, at Heart. I would therefore humbly 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; 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.
GRATITUDE.
T HERE is not a more pleasing 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 Blessing we enjoy, by what Means soever 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 another, naturally produces a very pleasing Sensation in the Mind of a grateful Man; it exalts the Soul into Rapture, 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.
MODESTY.
N Othing is more amiable than true MODESTY, and nothing 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 MODESTY 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 latter is only a general undetermined Instinct; the former is that Instinct limited 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 indiscreet, 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 exceeding timorous, for I dare not do an ill Thing.
On the contrary, a Man of vicious
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 unjustifiable 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 Nature, that Men should not be ashamed of speaking or acting in a dissolute or irrational Manner, but that one who is in their Company should be ashamed of governing himself by the Principles of Reason and Virtue.
In the second Place we are to consider 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 without a secret Concern. We have in
England
a particular Bashfulness in every 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 Libertine 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 omitted by the Heathens themselves.
English
Gentlemen, who travel into
Roman
Catholick Countries, are not a little surprized to meet with People of the best Quality kneeling in their Churches, and engaged in their private Devotions, though it be not at the Hours of publick 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 offering up his Devotions on such Occasions. The same Show of Religion appears in all their Foreign Reformed Churches, and enters so much into their ordinary Conversation, that an
Englishman
is apt to term them Hypocritical and Precise.
HYPOCRISY preferable to open IMPIETY.
H YPOCRISY cannot indeed be too much detested; but at the same Time is to be prefered to open IMPIETY. They are both equally destructive 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 virtuous, and at the same Time to let the World see we are so. I do not know a more dreadful Menace in the holy Writings, than that which is pronounced against those who have this perverted Modesty, to be ashamed before Men in a Particular of such unspeakable Importance.
The Benefits of FAITH and MORALITY considered.
R ELIGION may be considered under two General Heads: The first comprehends what we are to believe, 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 MORALITY. If we look into the more serious Part of Mankind, we find many who lay so great a Stress upon FAITH, that they neglect MORALITY; and many who build so much upon
Morality,
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 Division 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 Mankind, and become more beneficial to the World, by
Morality,
without
Faith,
than by
Faith
without
Morality.
Thirdly,
Because
Morality
gives a greater Perfection to human Nature, by quieting the Mind, moderating the Passions, and advancing the Happiness of every Man in his private Capacity.
Fourthly,
Because the Rule of
Morality
is much more certain than that of
Faith,
all the civilized Nations agreeing 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 invincible Ignorance) but none for a vicious Believer.
Sixthly,
Because Infidelity seems to draw its Principal, if not all its Excellency, from the Influence it has upon
Morality
; as we shall see more at large, if we consider wherein consists the Excellency of
Faith,
or the Belief of Revealed Religion; and this I think is,
First,
In explaining, and carrying to greater Heights, several Points of
Morality.
Secondly,
In furnishing new and stronger Motives to enforce the Practice of
Morality.
Thirdly,
In giving us more amiable Ideas of the supreme Being, more endearing Notions of one another, and a truer State of our selves, both in Regard to the Grandeur and Vileness of our Natures.
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 represented by several of our Divines as hating 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
Morality,
who does not strengthen and support 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 Article of
Faith,
which does not contribute to the Confirmation or Improvement 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.
Thirdly,
That the greatest Friend of
Morality,
or Natural Religion, cannot possibly apprehend any Danger from embracing Christianity, as it is preserved 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.
The Immorality of PERSECUTION.
F OR Example, in that disputable Point of persecuting Men for Conscience sake, besides the imbittering their Minds with Hatred, Indignation, and all the Vehemence of Resentment, and ensnaring them to profess what they do not believe; we cut them off from the Pleasures and Advantages of Society, afflict their Bodies, distress their Fortunes, hurt their Reputations, ruin their Families, make their Lives painful, or put an End to them. Sure, when we see such dreadful Consequences rising from a Principle, we ought to be as fully convinced of the Truth of it, as of a Mathematical Demonstration, before we venture to act upon it, or make it a Part of our Religion.
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 produces Charity as well as Zeal, it will not be for shewing itself by such cruel Instances.
The Middle Condition of Life most desirable.
T HERE is a beautiful Saying in
Theognis,
Vice is covered by Wealth, and Virtue by Poverty
; or, to give it in the verbal Translation,
Among Men there are some who have their Vices
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 despised, 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 enjoying 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.
If we regard Poverty and Wealth, as they are apt to produce Virtues or Vices in the Mind of Man, one may observe 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 Qualifications of the Rich. On the contrary, Poverty is apt to betray a Man into Envy, Riches into Arrogance. Poverty is too often attended with Fraud, vicious 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 middle 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 Knowledge.
The Means for confirming our FAITH.
H AVING
already
endeavoured to shew the great Excellency of FAITH, I shall here consider what are the proper Means of strengthening and confirming it in the Mind of Man. Those who delight in reading Books of Controversy, which are written 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 revives 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 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 Cases 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 Reading or Discourse we find ourselves thoroughly 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 retain 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, considering the Weakness and Limitation of our intellectual Faculties. It is in this Manner that the Mathematician proceeds upon Propositions which he has once demonstrated, and though the Demonstration 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 appear 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 Morality. 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, according 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 Religion upon an impartial Examination of it; but at the same Time it is as certain, that Faith is kept alive in us, and gathers Strength from Practice more than from Speculation.
There is still another Method, which is more persuasive than any of the former, and that is an habitual Adoration of the supreme Being, as well in constant Acts of mental Worship, as in outward 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 Intercourses with him, and even in this Life almost loses his Faith in Conviction.
The last Method which I shall mention 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 soliciting his Senses, and calling off his Attention, 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 stunned 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 multitude of vicious Examples give a kind of Justification to our Folly. In our Retirements 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 Nature. 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 Affairs.
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 immediately pronounce them the Works of such a Being as we define God to be.
Places of Trust best invested in Men of generous Principles.
I AM persuaded there are few Men, of generous Principles, who would seek after great Places, were it not rather to have an Opportunity 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 themselves. To an honest Mind the best Perquisites of a Place are the Advantages 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 Opportunities 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 Poverty as a Recommendation in the Person who applies himself to them, and make the Justice of his Cause the most powerful Solicitor in his Behalf. A Man of this Temper, when he is in a Post of Business, becomes a Blessing to the Publick: He patronizes the Orphan and the Widow, 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 Proceedings by Justice and Equity, he finds a thousand Occasions for all the good-natured Offices of Generosity and Compassion.
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 approach 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 unbecoming Qualities, is sometimes looked upon as a proper Person to keep off Impertinence and Solicitation from his Superior; 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 Qualities which render a Man very unfit for such a Place of Trust. The first of these is a dilatory Temper, which commits innumerable Cruelties without Design. The Maxim which several have laid down for a Man's Conduct in ordinary 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 Office is very often as beneficial to the Solicitor as the good Office itself. In short, if a Man compared the Inconveniencies which another suffers by his Delays, with the trifling Motives and Advantages which he himself may reap by such a Delay, he would never be guilty of a Fault which very often does an irreparable Prejudice to the Person who depends upon him, and which might be remedyed with little Trouble to himself.
But in the last Place, there is no Man so improper to be employ'd in Business, as he who is in any degree capable of Corruption; and such a one is the Man, who upon any Pretence whatsoever receives more than what is the stated and unquestioned Fee of his Office. Gratifications, Tokens of Thankfulness, Dispatch-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 moderate Fortune that is gained with Honour 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 themselves, 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.
Why Men of Learning are best qualifyed for such Offices.
It has been observed, that Men of Learning, who take to Business, discharge it generally with greater Honesty than Men of the World. The chief Reason for it I take to be as follows. A Man that has spent his Youth in Reading, has been used to find Virtue extolled, and Vice stigmatized: A Man that has past his Time in the World, has often 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 Authors, 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 Advantage in employing Men of Learning and Parts in Business, that their Prosperity would set more gracefully on them, and that we should not see many worthless Persons shot up into the greatest Figures of Life.
The Passion of HOPE.
O UR actual Enjoyments are so few and transient, that Man would be a very miserable 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 remiss and indolent Hours. It gives habitual 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 Enjoyments. The Saying of
Caesar
is very 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 natural 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 upon 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 consider how few are the present Enjoyments of the most happy Man, and how insufficient to give him an entire Satisfaction and Acquiescence in them.
Religious HOPE.
My next Observation is this, That a religious Life is that which most abounds in a well-grounded
Hope,
and such an one as is fixed on Objects that are capable of making us entirely happy. 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 Happiness.
I have before shewn how the Influence 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 Advantage 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 sometimes 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.
The Effects of the SPLEEN.
I T is a celebrated Thought of
Socrates,
that if all the Misfortunes of Mankind were cast into a publick Stock, in order to be equally distributed 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, intimating, 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 every Mortal should bring in his Griefs and Calamities, and throw them together in a Heap. There was a large Plain appointed for this Purpose. I took my Stand in the Center of it, and saw with a great deal of Pleasure the whole human Species marching one after 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 magnifying 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 Mortal 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 groaning 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 a Fardel very carefully concealed under 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 examining, 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 Multitudes 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. Observing one advancing towards the Heap with a larger Cargo than ordinary upon his Back, I found, upon his near Approach, that it was only a natural Hump, which he disposed of, with great Joy of Heart, among this Collection 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 Notice of, which was a Complication of all the Diseases incident to human Nature, and was in the Hand of a great many fine People: This was called the SPLEEN. But what most of all surprized 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 concluded within my self, that every one would take this Opportunity of getting rid of his Passions, Prejudices, and Frailties.
I took Notice in particular of a very profligate Fellow, who I did not question 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 Ignorance.
When the whole Race of Mankind had thus cast their Burdens, the
Phantome
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 extended 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 Contributions 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, 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 attentively 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 any such other Bundle as should be delivered to him.
Upon this,
Fancy
began again to bestir herself, and parcelling out the whole Heap with incredible Activity, recommended to every one his particular Packet. 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 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 Exchanges 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 Features; 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 cheapning 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 disagreeable 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 are in some Measure suited and proportioned to our Strength, or that every Evil becomes more supportable by our being accustomed to it, I shall not determine.
I could not for my Heart forbear pitying the poor hump'd-back Gentleman, who went off a very well-shaped Person 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 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: Observing 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 among the two Sexes, who made a most piteous Sight, as they wandered up and down under the Pressure of their several 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 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 Delusions, was commanded to disappear. There was sent in her stead a Goddess of a quite different Figure; her Motions 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 appear 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 commodious 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 Morality to be drawn out of this Vision, I learnt from it, never to repine at my own Misfortunes, or to envy the Happiness of another, since it is impossible 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 Sentiments of Humanity and Compassion.
Of ORATORY.
I T was a common Enquiry among the Antients, Why the Number of excellent Orators, under all the Encouragements the most flourishing States could give them, fell so far short of the Number of those who excelled 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 scarcely 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 later Ages we have greater Causes of Complaint than the Antients had. Our Moderns have greater Advantages towards true and solid Eloquence than any which the celebrated Speakers of Antiquity enjoy'd.
The first great and substantial Difference is, that their common Places, in which almost the whole Force of Amplification consists, were drawn from the Profit or Honesty of the Action, as they regarded only this present State of Duration. 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 report, could shake the firmest Resolutions 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 Subject, what may be expected from that Orator, who warns his Audience against those Evils which have no Remedy, when once undergone, either from Prudence or Time? As much greater as the Evils in a future State are than these at present, so much are the Motives to Persuasion 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 Orator has the Advantage beyond Contradiction. Our Ideas are so infinitely enlarged by Revelation, the Eye of Reason 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 Contemplation of such Objects will give our Discourse a noble Vigour, an invincible Force, beyond the Power of any human Consideration.
Tully
requires in his perfect Orator some Skill in the Nature of Heavenly Bodies; because, says he, his Mind will become more extensive and unconfined; and when he descends to treat of human Affairs, he will both think and write in a more exalted and magnificent Manner. For the same Reason that excellent Master would have recommended the Study of those great and glorious Mysteries which Revelation has discovered to us; to which the noblest Parts of this System of the World are as much inferior, as the Creature is less excellent than its Creator. The wisest and most knowing among the Heathens, had very poor and imperfect Notions of a future State. They had indeed some uncertain Hopes, either received by Tradition, or gathered by Reason, that the Existence of virtuous 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
Antigonus,
with one Side only to the Spectator, 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 Deformity to human Nature. I have often observed, that whenever the abovementioned Orator, in his Philosophical Discourses, 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 Subject, he stretches his Imagination to conceive something uncommon, and with 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 Persuasion 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 Eloquence 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 Compass of Futurity lay open and exposed to his View? How would his Imagination 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 Attention, in Spite of all the Opposition of corrupt Nature, upon those glorious Themes which his Eloquence hath painted in such lively and lasting Colours?
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 Critick'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 constrained to acknowledge the Merit of that Apostle. And, no Doubt, such as
Longinus
describes St.
Paul,
such he appeared to the Inhabitants of those Countries which he visited and blessed with those Doctrines he was divinely commissioned 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 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 ascribe 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 Orator, 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 wondered at, that in his Reasonings upon Idolatry at
Athens,
where Eloquence was born and flourished, he confines himself to strict Argument only; but my Reader may remember what many Authors of the best Credit have assured us, That all Attempts upon the Affections, and Strokes of Oratory, were expresly forbidden, by the Laws of that Country, in Courts of Judicature. His Want of Eloquence therefore here, was the Effect of his exact Conformity to the Laws: But his Discourse on the Resurrection to the
Corinthians,
his Harangue before
Agrippa
upon his own Conversion, 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 Discourse is, That our Clergy have no farther to look for an Example of the Perfection they may arrive at, than to St.
Paul
's Harangues; that when he, under the Want of several Advantages of Nature, (as he himself tells us) was heard, admired, and made a Standard to succeeding Ages by the best Judge of a different Persuasion in Religion: I say, Our Clergy may learn, that however instructive their Sermons are, they are 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.
A Contemplation of the Omnipresence and Omniscience of
GOD.
A BOUT 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 Proportion as they faded away and went out, several Stars and Planets appeared one after another, t'ill the whole Firmament 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
appeared 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 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 walking 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 Reflection,
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 respective 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 enlightened 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 pursued this Thought, I could not but reflect on that little insignificant Figure which I my self bore amidst the Immensity 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 annihilated, 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 Creation. 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 discover 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 certain Bounds set to it; but when we consider that it is the Work of infinite 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 Immensity of Nature, and lost among that infinite Variety of Creatures, which in all Probability swarm through all these immeasurable Regions of Matter.
In order to recover my self from this mortifying Thought, I considered that it took its Rise from those narrow Conceptions 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 Imperfection that cleaves in some Degree to Creatures of the highest Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is, Beings of finite and limited Natures. The Presence of every Being is confined to a certain Measure of Space, and consequently his Observation is stinted to a certain Number of Objects. The Sphere in which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider Circumference to one Creature than another, according as we rise one above another in the Scale of Existence. But the widest of these our Spheres has its Circumference. When therefore we reflect on the Divine Nature, 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 Succour, 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 Multiplicity 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 Omniscient.
If we consider him in his Omnipresence: His Being passes through, actuates, 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 Substance 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 Imperfection in him, were he able to remove 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 Omnipresent as well as Omniscient. His Omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his Omnipresence; he cannot 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 which he is thus intimately united. Several Moralists have considered the Creation as the Temple of God, which he has built with his own Hands, and which is filled with his Presence. Others 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 Newton
'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 perceive the Actions of a few Objects that lye contiguous to them: Their Knowledge and Observation turns within a very narrow Circle. But as God Almighty 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 Omniscience.
Were the Soul separate from the Body, and with one Glance of Thought should start beyond the Bounds of the Creation, should it for Millions of Years continue its Progress through infinite Space with the same Activity, it would still find itself within the Embrace of its Creator, and encompassed round with the Immensity of the Godhead. Whilst we are in the Body he is not less present with us, because 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 perceive 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 Almighty's Omnipresence and Omniscience every 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 endeavour to recommend themselves to his Notice, and in an unfeigned Humility of Heart think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of them.
The Happiness of SOULS in HEAVEN.
I Have always taken a particular Pleasure in examining the Opinions which Men of different Religions, different Ages, and different Countries, have entertained concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and the State of Happiness which they promise themselves 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 lately 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 Happiness is this, That every Thing we there wish for will immediately present it self to us. We find, say they, our Souls 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 Compliance 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 Inclination directs him to, will be present with him. Nor is it material whether the Supreme Power creates in Conformity to our Wishes, or whether he only produces such a Change in our Imagination, 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 received from my learned Friend. Notwithstanding this System of Belief be in general very chimerical and visionary, there is something sublime in its Manner 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 enjoy 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 upon human Nature, is that Variety of Pleasures which it supposes the Souls of good Men will be possessed of in another World. This I think highly probable, from the Dictates of both Reason and Revelation. The Soul consists of many Faculties, as the Understanding, 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 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 Satisfaction of the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing, or any other Mode of Perception. Every Faculty is as a distinct Taste in the Mind, and hath Objects accommodated to its proper Relish. Dr.
Tillotson
somewhere says, that he will not presume to determine in what consists the Happiness of the Bless'd, because God Almighty is capable of making the Soul happy by Ten Thousand different Ways. Besides those several Avenues 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.
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 Contemplation of Moral, Natural, Mathematical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory likewise may turn it self to an infinite Multitude of Objects, especially when the Soul shall have passed through the Space of many Millions of Years, and shall reflect with Pleasure on the Days of Eternity. Every other Faculty may be considered in the same Extent.
We cannot question but that the Happiness 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 Proportion 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 Acts. For notwithstanding, as has been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of by one of the greatest modern 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 remembers, understands, wills, or imagines. Our Manner of considering the Memory, 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 endowed with several latent Faculties, which it is not at present in a Condition to exert; that we cannot believe the Soul is endowed with any Faculty which is of no Use to it; that whenever any one of these Faculties is transcendently 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 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 receiving!
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 Faculties 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 confirms 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 innumerable Host of Angels, and with the Spirits of Just Men made Perfect, are likewise revealed to us in several Parts of the Holy Writings. There are also mentioned those Hierarchies, or Governments, 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 Revelation 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 different Faculties, as I have been here mentioning.
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 imaginary I shall not here examine; but it is highly probable that among the Spirits of good Men there may be some who will be more pleased with the Employment of one Faculty than of another, and this perhaps according to those innocent and virtuous Habits or Inclinations which have here taken the deepest Root.
I might here apply this Consideration to the Spirits of wicked Men, with relation to the Pain they shall suffer in every one of their Faculties, and the respective Miseries which shall be appropriated to each Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection of my Readers, I shall conclude, with observing how we ought to be thankful to our great Creator, and rejoice in the Being which he has bestowed upon us, for having made the Soul susceptible of Pleasure 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 Goodness of its Creator. We may therefore look into our selves with Rapture and Amazement, and cannot sufficiently express our Gratitude to him, who has encompassed us with such a Profusion of Blessiegs, and open'd in us so many Capacities 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 never 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 manifest, by the inward Frame and Constitution of our Minds, that he has adapted them to an infinite Variety of Pleasures 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 Purpose 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.
FINIS.