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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:27 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:42:27 -0700 |
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diff --git a/13588-h/13588-h.htm b/13588-h/13588-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..898a422 --- /dev/null +++ b/13588-h/13588-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15862 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Young Gentleman and +Lady's Monitor, and English Teachers Assitant, by John Hamilton +Moore.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .poem {margin-left:30%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13588 ***</div> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1><i>YOUNG GENTLEMAN AND LADY's</i></h1> +<h1>MONITOR,</h1> +<h3>AND</h3> +<h2><i>ENGLISH TEACHER's</i></h2> +<h2>ASSISTANT:</h2> +<h4>BEING</h4> +<h3>A COLLECTION OF SELECT PIECES</h3> +<h3>FROM OUR BEST MODERN WRITERS;</h3> +<h4>CALCULATED TO</h4> +<h5>Eradicate vulgar Prejudices and Rusticity of Manners;<br> +Improve the Understanding; Rectify the Will; Purify the +Passions;<br> +Direct the Minds of Youth to the Pursuit of proper Objects;<br> +and to facilitate their Reading, Writing, and Speaking the English +language,<br> +with Elegance and Propriety.</h5> +<h5>Particularly adapted for the use of our eminent Schools and +Academies,<br> +as well as private persons, who have not an opportunity of perusing +the<br> +Works of those celebrated Authors, from whence this collection is +made.</h5> +<h3>DIVIDED INTO SMALL PORTIONS, FOR THE EASE OF READING IN +CLASSES.</h3> +<h4>THE LATEST EDITION.</h4> +<h3><i>BY J. HAMILTON MOORE</i>,</h3> +<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4> +<h4>THE PRACTICAL NAVIGATOR AND SEAMAN'S NEW DAILY ASSISTANT.</h4> +<br> +<h3>1802.</h3> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='PREFACE' id="PREFACE"></a> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> +<p><i>As the design of Learning is to render persons agreeable +companions to themselves, and useful members of society; to support +solitude with pleasure, and to pass through promiscuous temptations +with prudence; 'tis presumed, this compilation will not be +unacceptable; being composed of pieces selected from the most +celebrated moral writers in the English language, equally +calculated to promote the principles of religion, and to render +youth vigilant in discharging, the social and relative duties in +the several stations of life; by instilling into their minds such +maxims of virtue and good-breeding, as tend to eradicate local +prejudices and rusticity of manners; and at the same time, +habituate them to an elegant manner of expressing themselves either +in Writing or Speaking.</i></p> +<p><i>And as the first impression made on the minds of youth is the +most lasting, great care should be taken to furnish them with such +seeds of reason and philosophy as may rectify and sweeten every +part of their future lives; by marking out a proper behaviour both +with respect to themselves and others, and exhibiting every virtue +to their view which claims their attention, and every vice which +they ought to avoid. Instead of this, we generally see youth +suffered to read romances, which impress on their minds such +notions of Fairies, Goblins, &c. that exist only in the +imagination, and, being strongly imbibed, take much time to +eradicate, and very often baffle all the powers of philosophy. If +books abounding with moral instructions, conveyed in a proper +manner, were given in their stead, the frequent reading of them +would implant in their mind such ideas and sentiments, as would +enable them to guard against those prejudices so frequently met +with amongst the ignorant.</i></p> +<p><i>Nor is it possible that any person can speak or write with +elegance and propriety, who has not been taught to read well, and +in such books where the sentiments are just and the language +pure.</i></p> +<p><i>An insipid flatness and languor is almost the universal fault +in reading; often uttering their words so faint and feeble, that +they appear neither to feel nor understand what they read, nor have +any desire it should be understood or felt by others. In order to +acquire a forcible manner of pronouncing words, let the pupils +inure themselves, while reading, to draw in as much air as their +lungs can contain with ease, and to expel it with vehemence in +uttering those sounds which require an emphatical pronunciation, +and read aloud with all the exertion they can command; let all the +consonant sounds be expressed with a full impulse of the breath, +and a forcible action of the organs employed in forming them; and +all the vowel sounds have a full and bold utterance.</i></p> +<p><i>These reasons, and to inspire youth with noble sentiments, +just expression, to ease the teacher, and to render a book cheap, +and convenient for schools, as well as private persons, who have +neither time nor opportunity to peruse the works of those +celebrated authors from whence this Collection is made, was the +cause of the following compilation.</i></p> +<p><i>And as the speeches in both houses of parliament, pleading at +the bar, instructions in the pulpit, and commercial correspondance, +are delivered and carried on in the English language; the cloathing +our thoughts with proper expressions, and conveying our ideas, +either in writing or speaking, agreeably, cannot fail of making an +impression upon the hearer or reader. For a man's knowledge is of +little use to the world, when he is not able to convey it properly +to others; which is the case of many who are endowed with excellent +parts, but are either afraid or ashamed of writing, or speaking in +public, being conscious of their own deficiency of expressing +themselves in proper terms.</i></p> +<p><i>In order to remedy these defects, and to ease the teacher, I +would advise, that several young gentlemen read in a class, each a +sentence in this book, (it being divided into small portions for +that purpose,) as often as convenient: and let him who reads best, +be advanced to the head, or have some pecuniary reward; and every +inferior one according to his merit; this will create emulation +among them, and facilitate their improvement much more than threats +or corrections, which stupifies and intimidates them, and often +ends in contempt of their teachers, and learning in general. This +will draw forth those latent abilities, which otherwise might lie +dormant forever.</i></p> +<p><i>It may not be improper for the teacher, or some good reader, +to read a sentence or two first, that the learners may gain the +proper emphasis, and read without that monotony so painful to a +good ear: for they will improve more by imitating a good reader, +than any rules that can be laid down to them. When they come to +read gracefully, let them stand up in the school and read aloud, in +order to take off that bashfulness generally attending those who +are called upon either to read or speak in public.</i></p> +<p><i>The next thing I would recommend, is the English Grammar (the +best I know of is the Buchanan's syntax) the knowledge of which is +absolutely necessary, as it is the solid foundation upon which all +other science rests. After they have run over the rules of syntax, +the teacher may dictate to them one or more sentences in false +English, which they may correct by their grammar rules, and also +find out the various significations of each word in the dictionary; +by which means they will soon acquire a copious vocabulary, and +become acquainted not with words only, but with things themselves. +Let them get those sentences by heart to speak extempore; which +will in some measure, be delivering their own compositions, and may +be repeated as often as convenient. This will soon give the young +gentlemen an idea of the force, elegance, and beauty of the English +language.</i></p> +<p><i>The next thing I would gladly recommend, is that of +letter-writing, a branch of education, which seems to me of the +utmost utility, and in which most of our youth are deficient at +their leaving school; being suffered to form their own style by +chance: or imitate the first wretched model that falls in their +way, before they know what is faulty, or can relish the beauties of +a just simplicity.</i></p> +<p><i>For their improvement in this particular, the teacher may +cause every young gentleman to have a slate or paper before him, on +Saturdays, and then dictate a letter to them, either of his own +composition, or taken out of some book, and turn it into false +English, to exercise them in the grammar rules if he thinks proper, +which they shall all write down, and then correct and transcribe it +fairly in their books.</i></p> +<p><i>After the young gentlemen have been accustomed to this some +time, a supposed correspondence may be fixt between every two of +them, and write to one another under the inspection of the teacher +who may correct and shew their faults when he sees occasion; by +such a method he will soon find them improve in epistolary writing. +The same may be observed with regard to young ladies, who are very +often deficient, not only in orthography, but every other part of +grammar.</i></p> +<p><i>If something similar to this method be pursued, it will soon +reflect honor on the teacher, give the highest satisfaction to +judicious parents, and entail upon the scholar a pleasing and +lasting advantage.</i></p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>THE +EDITOR</i>.</div> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='CONTENTS' id="CONTENTS"></a> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<div style='margin-left: 22%;'><a href= +'#Pursuit_of_Knowledge_recommended_to_Youth'><b>Pursuit of +Knowledge recommended to Youth,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Directions_how_to_spend_our_Time'><b>Directions how to +spend our Time,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Misspent_time'><b>Mispent Time how punished,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Modesty'><b>Modesty</b></a>,<br> +<a href='#Affectation'><b>Affectation,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Affection_Continued'><b>The same continued,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Good_Humour_and_Nature'><b>Good humour and +Nature,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Friendship'><b>Friendship,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Detraction_and_Falsehood'><b>Detraction and +Falshood,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Importance_of_Punctuality'><b>The Importance of +Punctuality,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Exercise___Temperance_the_best_Preservative_of_Health'><b>Exercise +and Temperance the best Preservative of Health,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Duty_of_Secrecy'><b>The Duty of Secrecy,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Cheerfulness'><b>Of Cheerfulness,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_the_Advantages_of_a_Cheerful_Temper'><b>On the +Advantages of a Cheerful Temper,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Discretion'><b>Discretion,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Pride'><b>Pride,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Drunkenness'><b>Drunkenness,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Gaming'><b>Gaming,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Whisperers'><b>Whisperers and Giglers complained +of,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Beauty'><b>Beauty produced by Sentiments,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Honour'><b>Honour,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Human_Nature'><b>Human Nature,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#The_Advantages_of_representing_Human_Nature_in_its_proper_Dignity'> +<b>The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper +Dignity,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Custom_a_Second_Nature'><b>Custom a second +Nature,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_Cleanliness'><b>On Cleanliness,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Advantages_of_a_good_Education'><b>The Advantages of +a good Education,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Disadvantages_of_a_bad_Education'><b>The +Disadvantages of a bad Education,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Learning_a_necessary_Accomplishment_in_a_Woman_of_Quality_or_Fortune'> +<b>Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or +Fortune,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_the_Absurdity_of_Omens'><b>On the Absurdity of +Omens,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#A_good_Conscience_the_best_Security_against_Calumny_and_Reproach'> +<b>A good Conscience, &c.</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_Contentment'><b>On Contentment,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Human_Miseries_chiefly_imaginary'><b>Human Miseries +chiefly imaginary,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#A_Life_of_Virtue_preferable_to_a_Life_of_Pleasure_exemplified_in_the'> +<b>A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Virtue_rewarded_The_History_of_Amanda'><b>Virtue +rewarded,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Virtue_rewarded_The_History_of_Amanda'><b>The History of +Amanda,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Story_of_Abdallah_and_Balsora'><b>The Story of +Abdallah and Balsora,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_Rashness_and_Cowardice'><b>Rashness and +Cowardice,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Fortitude_founded_upon_the_fear_of_God'><b>Fortitude +founded upon the Fear of God,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_folly_of_youthful_Extravagance'><b>The Folly of +youthful Extravagance,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Misery_of_depending_upon_the_Great'><b>The Misery of +depending upon the Great,</b></a><br> +<a href='#What_it_is_to_see_the_World_the_Story_of_Melissa'><b>What +it is to see the World,</b></a><br> +<a href='#What_it_is_to_see_the_World_the_Story_of_Melissa'><b>The +Story of Melissa,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#On_the_Omniscience_and_Omnipresence_of_the_Deity_together_with_the'> +<b>On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together with +the Immensity of his Works,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Motives_to_Piety_and_Virtue_drawn_from_the_Omniscience_and'><b>Motives +to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and Omnipresence of +the Deity,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Reflections_on_the_third_Heaven'><b>Reflections on the +third Heaven,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#The_present_Life_to_be_considered_only_as_it_may_conduce_to_the'><b> +The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to the +Happiness of a future one,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_the_Immortality_of_the_Soul'><b>On the Immortality of +the Soul,</b></a><br> +<a href='#On_the_Animal_World_and_the_Scale_of_Beings'><b>On the +Animal World, and the Scale of Beings,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Providence_proved_from_Animal_Instinct'><b>Providence +proved from Animal instinct,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Good_Breeding'><b>Good-Breeding,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters'><b>Further +Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his +Son,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Genteel_Carriage'><b>Genteel Carriage,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Cleanliness_of_Person'><b>Cleanliness of +Person,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Dress'><b>Dress,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Elegance_of_Expression'><b>Elegance of +Expression,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Small_Talk'><b>Small Talk,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Observation'><b>Observation,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Absence_of_Mind'><b>Absence of Mind,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Knowledge_of_the_World'><b>Knowledge of the +World,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Choice_of_Company'><b>Choice of Company,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Laughter'><b>Laughter,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Sundry_little_Accomplishments'><b>Sundry little +Accomplishments,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Dignity_of_Manners'><b>Dignity of Manners,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Rules_for_Conversation'><b>Rules for +Conversation,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters1'><b>Further +Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his +Son,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Entrance_upon_the_World'><b>Entrance upon the +World,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Advice_to_a_young_Man'><b>Advice to a young +Man,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#The_Vision_of_Mirza_exhibiting_a_Picture_of_Human_Life'><b>The +Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human Life,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Riches_not_productive_of_Happiness_The_Story_of_Ortogrul_of_Basra'> +<b>Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of +Basra,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_the_Scriptures_as_the_Rule_of_Life'><b>Of the +Scriptures, as the Rule of Life,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Genesis'><b>Of Genesis,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Exodus'><b>Of Exodus,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Leviticus_Numbers_and_Deuteronomy'><b>Of Leviticus, +Numbers, and Deuteronomy,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Joshua'><b>Of Joshua,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Judges_Samuel_and_Kings'><b>Of Judges, Samuel, and +Kings,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Chronicles_Ezra_Nehemiah_and_Esther'><b>Of Chronicles, +Ezra, Nehemiah; and Esther,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Job'><b>Of Job,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_the_Psalms'><b>Of the Psalms,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Of_the_Proverbs_Ecclesiastes_Solomons_Song_the_Prophecies_and_Apocrypha'> +<b>Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the Prophecies, +and Apocrypha,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Of_the_New_Testament_which_is_constantly_to_be_referred_to_as_the_Rule_and_Direction_of_our_moral_Conduct'> +<b>Of the New Testament,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Of_the_Example_set_by_our_Saviour_and_his_Character'><b>Of the +Example set by our Saviour, and his Character,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#A_Comparative_View_of_the_Blessed_and_Cursed_at_the_Last_Day_and_the_Inference_to_be_drawn_from_it'> +<b>A comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the last Day, +and the Inference to be drawn from it,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Character_of_St_Paul'><b>Character of St. +Paul,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_the_Epistles'><b>Of the Epistles,</b></a><br> +<a href='#The_Epistle_of_St_James'><b>The Epistle of St. +James,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Epistles_of_St_Peter_and_the_first_of_St_John'><b>Epistles of St. +Peter, and the first of St. John,</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_the_Revelations'><b>Of the Revelations,</b></a><br> +<a href='#True_Devotion_productive_of_the_truest_Pleasure'><b>True +Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#A_Morning_Prayer_for_a_young_Student_at_School_or_for_the_common_Use_of_a_School'> +<b>A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the +common Use of a School,</b></a><br> +<a href='#An_Evening_Prayer'><b>An Evening Prayer,</b></a><br> +<br> +<a href='#APPENDIX'><b>APPENDIX.</b></a><br> +<a href='#Of_Columbus_and_the_Discovery_of_America'><b>Of Columbus, +and the Discovery of America,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#Romulus_the_founder_of_Rome_after_building_the_city_resolved_to'><b> +Speech of Romulus after founding Rome,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#While_Quinctius_Capitolinus_and_Agrippa_Furius_were_Consuls_at'><b> +Speech of Quinctius Capitolinus,</b></a><br> +<a href='#CAIUS_MARIUS_to_the_ROMANS'><b>Caius Marius to the +Romans,</b></a><br> +<a href='#DEMOSTHENES_to_the_ATHENIANS'><b>Demosthenes to the +Athenians,</b></a><br> +<a href='#THE_PERFECT_SPEAKER'><b>The perfect Speaker,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#On_the_duties_of_School_Boys_from_the_pious_and_judicious'><b>On +the Duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious +Rollin,</b></a><br> +<a href='#COLUMBIA'><b>Columbia.—A Poem,</b></a><br> +<a href='#THE_CHOICE_OF_A_RURAL_LIFE'><b>The Choice of a Rural +Life.—A Poem,</b></a><br> +<a href='#HYMNS'><b>Hymns and Prayers,</b></a><br> +<a href='#CHARACTER_OF_MAN'><b>Character of Man,</b></a><br> +<a href='#WINTER'><b>Winter,</b></a><br> +<a href='#DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_HIMSELF'><b>Douglas's Account of +himself,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_MANNER_IN_WHICH_HE_LEARNED_THE_ART_OF_WAR'> +<b>------how he learned the Art of War,</b></a><br> +<a href='#BAUCIS_AND_PHILEMON'><b>Baucis and Philemon,</b></a><br> +<a href='#ON_HAPPINESS'><b>On Happiness,</b></a><br> +<a href='#SPEECH_OF_ADAM_TO_EVE'><b>Speech of Adam to +Eve,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#SOLILOQUY_AND_PRAYER_OF_EDWARD_THE_BLACK_PRINCE_BEFORE_THE_BATTLE_OF'> +<b>Soliloquy and Prayer of Edward the Black Prince, before the +battle of Poictiers,</b></a><br> +<a href='#INVOCATION_TO_PARADISE_LOST'><b>Invocation to Paradise +Lost,</b></a><br> +<a href='#MORNING_HYMN'><b>Morning Hymn,</b></a><br> +<a href='#THE_HERMIT_BY_DR_BEATIE'><b>The Hermit, by Dr. +Beatie,</b></a><br> +<a href='#COMPASSION'><b>Compassion,</b></a><br> +<a href='#ADVANTAGES_OF_PEACE'><b>Advantages of Peace,</b></a><br> +<a href='#PROGRESS_OF_LIFE'><b>The Progress of Life,</b></a><br> +<a href='#SPEECHES_IN_THE_ROMAN_SENATE'><b>Speeches in the Roman +Senate,</b></a><br> +<a href='#SPEECHES_IN_THE_ROMAN_SENATE'><b>Cato's Soliloquy on the +Immortality of the Soul,</b></a><br> +<a href='#HAMLETS_MEDITATION_ON_DEATH'><b>Hamlet's Meditation on +Death,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#SELECT_PASSAGES_FROM_DRAMATIC_WRITERS_EXPRESSIVE_OF_THE_PRINCIPAL'> +<b><i>Select Passages from Dramatic Writers.</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#JOY'><b>Joy,—<i>Distressed Mother,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#GRIEF'><b>Grief,—<i>Distressed +Mother,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#PITY'><b>Pity,—<i>Venice Preserved,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#FEAR'><b>Fear,—<i>Lear,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#AWE_AND_FEAR'><b>Awe and Fear,—<i>Mourning +Bride,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#HORROR'><b>Horror,—<i>Scanderberg,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#ANGER'><b>Anger,—<i>Lear,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#REVENGE'><b>Revenge,—<i>Merchant of +Venice,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#ADMIRATION'><b>Admiration,—<i>Merchant of +Venice,</i></b></a><br> +<a href= +'#HAUGHTINESS'><b>Haughtiness,—<i>Tamerlane,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#CONTEMPT'><b>Contempt,—<i>Fair +Penitent,</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#RESIGNATION'><b>Resignation,—<i>Jane +Shore,</i></b></a><br> +<a href= +'#IMPATIENCE'><b>Impatience,—<i>Volpone</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#REMORSE_AND_DESPAIR'><b>Remorse and +Despair,—<i>Busiris</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#DISTRACTION'><b>Distraction,—<i>Jane +Shore</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#GRATITUDE'><b>Gratitude,—<i>Fair +Penitent</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#INTREATY'><b>Intreaty,—<i>Jane +Shore</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#COMMANDING'><b>Commanding,—<i>Rinaldo and +Armida</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#COURAGE'><b>Courage,—<i>Alfred</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#BOASTING'><b>Boasting,—<i>Every Man in his +Humour</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#PERPLEXITY'><b>Perplexity,—<i>Tancred and +Sigismunda</i></b></a><br> +<a href='#SUSPICION'><b>Suspicion,—<i>Julius +Cæsar</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href='#WIT_AND_HUMOUR'><b>Wit and Humour,—<i>2d Henry</i> +4, <i>1st Henry</i> 4,</b></a><br> +<a href='#RIDICULE'><b>Ridicule,—<i>Julius +Cæsar</i>,</b></a><br> +<a href= +'#PERTURBATION'><b>Perturbation—<i>Lear</i>,</b></a><br> +<br> +<a href='#Elements_of_Gesture'><b>ELEMENTS OF GESTURE.</b></a><br> +<a href='#SECTION_I'><b>Section I,</b></a><br> +<a href='#SECTION_II'><b>Section II.</b></a><br> +<a href='#SECTION_III'><b>Section III.</b></a><br> +<br> +<a href='#On_Reading_and_Speaking'><b>On Reading and +Speaking,</b></a><br></div> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1><i>YOUNG GENTLEMAN AND LADY's</i></h1> +<h1>MONITOR,</h1> +<h3>AND</h3> +<h2><i>ENGLISH TEACHER's</i></h2> +<h2>ASSISTANT.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Pursuit_of_Knowledge_recommended_to_Youth' id= +"Pursuit_of_Knowledge_recommended_to_Youth"></a> +<h2><i>Pursuit of Knowledge recommended to Youth</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> I am very much concerned when I see young gentlemen of +fortune and quality so wholly set upon pleasure and diversions, +that they neglect all those improvements in wisdom and knowledge +which may make them easy to themselves and useful to the world. The +greatest part of our <i>British</i> youth lose their figure, and +grow out of fashion, by that time they are five and twenty.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> As soon as the natural gaiety and amiableness of the +young man wears off, they have nothing left to recommend them, but +<i>lie by</i> the rest of their lives, among the lumber and refuse +of the species.</p> +<p>It sometimes happens, indeed, that for want of applying +themselves in due time to the pursuits of knowledge, they take up a +book in their declining years, and grow very hopeful scholars by +that time they are threescore. I must therefore earnestly press my +readers who are in the flower of their youth, to labour at these +accomplishments which may set off their persons when their bloom is +gone, and to <i>lay in</i> timely provisions for manhood and old +age. In short, I would advise the youth of fifteen to be dressing +up every day the man of fifty; or to consider how to make himself +venerable at threescore.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Young men, who are naturally ambitious, would do well +to observe how the greatest men of antiquity wade it their ambition +to excel all their cotemporaries in knowledge. <i>Julius +Cæsar</i> and <i>Alexander</i>, the most celebrated instances +of human greatness, took a particular care to distinguish +themselves by their skill in the arts and sciences. We have still +extant, several remains of the former, which justify the character +given of him by the learned men of his own age.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> As for the latter, it is a known saying of his, that +he was more obliged to <i>Aristotle</i>, who had instructed him, +than to <i>Philip</i>, who had given him life and empire. There is +a letter of his recorded by <i>Plutarch</i> and <i>Aulus +Gellius</i>, which he wrote to <i>Aristotle</i>, upon hearing that +he had published those lectures he had given him in private. This +letter was written in the following words, at a time when he was in +the height of his <i>Persian</i> conquests.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> "ALEXANDER <i>to</i> ARISTOTLE, <i>Greeting</i>.</p> +<p>"You have not done well to publish your books of select +knowledge; for what is there now in which I can surpass others, if +those things which I have been instructed in are communicated to +every body? For my own part I declare to you, I would rather excel +others in knowledge than power. <i>Farewell</i>."</p> +<p><b>6.</b> We see by this letter, that the love of conquest was +but the second ambition in <i>Alexander</i>'s soul. Knowledge 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.</p> +<p>It gives ease to solitude, and gracefulness to retirement. It +fills a public station with suitable abilities, and adds a lustre +to those who are in possession of them.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Learning, by which I mean all useful knowledge, +whether speculative or practical, is in popular and mixed +governments the natural source of wealth and honor. If we look into +most of the reigns from the conquest, we shall find, that the +favorites 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.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> A superior capacity for business and a more extensive +knowledge, are the steps by which a new man often mounts to favor, +and outshines the rest of his cotemporaries. 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.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The story of <i>Solomon</i>'s choice, does not only +instruct us in that point of history, but furnishes out a very fine +moral to us, namely, that he who applies his heart to wisdom, does +at the same time take the most proper method for gaining long life, +riches and reputation, which are very often not only the rewards, +but the effects of wisdom.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> As it is very suitable to my present subject, I shall +first of all quote this passage in the words of sacred writ, and +afterwards mention an allegory, in which this whole passage is +represented by a famous FRENCH Poet; not questioning but it will be +very pleasing to such of my readers as have a taste for fine +writing.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> In <i>Gibeon</i> the Lord appeared to <i>Solomon</i> +in a dream by night: and God said, "Ask what I shall give thee." +And Solomon said, "Thou hast shewed unto thy servant <i>David</i>, +my father, great mercy, according as he walked before thee in +truth, and in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart with thee, +and thou hast kept from him this great kindness, that thou hast +given him a son to sit on his throne, as it is this day. And now, O +Lord, my God, thou hast made thy servant King instead of David my +father; and I am but a little child: I know not how to go out or +come in."</p> +<p><b>12.</b> "Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart to +judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad: for who +is able to judge this thy so great a people?" And the speech +pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this thing. And God said +unto him, "Because thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked +for thyself long life, neither hast asked riches for thyself, nor +hast asked the life of thine enemies, but hast asked for thyself +understanding to discern judgment; behold, I have done according to +thy words, so I have given thee a wise and understanding heart, so +that there was none like thee before thee, neither after thee shall +any arise like unto thee."</p> +<p><b>13.</b> "And I have also given thee that which thou hast not +asked, both riches and honor, so that there shall not be any among +the kings like unto thee all thy days. And if thou wilt walk in my +ways, to keep my statutes and my commandments as thy father +<i>David</i> did walk, then I will lengthen thy days." And Solomon +awoke and behold it was a dream.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> The French poet has shadowed this story in an +allegory, of which he seems to have taken the hint from the fable +of the three goddesses appearing to Paris, or rather from the +vision of <i>Hercules</i>, recorded by <i>Xenophon</i>, where +<i>Pleasure</i> and <i>Virtue</i> are represented as real persons +making their court to the hero with all their several charms and +allurements.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> <i>Health</i>, <i>Wealth</i>, <i>Victory</i> and +<i>Honor</i> are introduced successively in their proper emblems +and characters, each of them spreading her temptations, and +recommending herself to the young monarch's choice. <i>Wisdom</i> +enters last, and so captivates him with her appearance, that he +gives himself up to her. Upon which she informs him, that those who +appeared before her were nothing but her equipage, and that since +he had placed his heart upon <i>Wisdom</i>, <i>Health</i>, +<i>Wealth</i>, <i>Victory</i> and <i>Honor</i> should always wait +an her as her handmaids.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Directions_how_to_spend_our_Time' id= +"Directions_how_to_spend_our_Time"></a> +<h2><i>Directions how to spend our Time.</i></h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> We all of us complain of the shortness of time, saith +<i>Seneca</i>, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. +Our lives, says he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in +doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to +do; we are always complaining our days are few, and acting as +though there would be no end of them. That noble philosopher has +described our inconsistency with ourselves in this particular, by +all those various turns of expression and thought which are +peculiar to his writings.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I often consider mankind as wholly inconsistent with +itself in a point that bears some affinity to the former. Though we +seem grieved at the shortness of life in general, we are wishing +every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be at age, then to +be a man of business, then to make up an estate, then to arrive at +honors, then to retire. Thus, although the whole of life is allowed +by every one to be short, the several divisions of it appear to be +long and tedious.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> We are for lengthening our span in general, but would +fain contract the parts of which it is composed. The usurer would +be very well satisfied to have all the time annihilated that lies +between the present moment and next quarter day. The politician +would be contented to loose three years of his life, could he place +things in the posture which he fancies they will stand in after +such a revolution of time.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> The lover would be glad to strike out of his existence +all the moments that are to pass away before the happy meeting. +Thus, as far as our time runs, we should be very glad in most parts +of our lives, that it ran much faster than it does. Several hours +of the day hang upon our hands, nay, we wish away whole years; and +travel through time as through a country filled with many wild and +empty wastes which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at +those several little settlements or imaginary points of rest, which +are dispersed up and down in it.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> If we may divide the life of most men into twenty +parts, we shall find, that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps +and chasms, which are neither filled with pleasure nor business. I +do not however include in this calculation the life of those men +who are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but of those only who are +not always engaged in scenes of action: and I hope I shall not do +an unacceptable piece of service to those persons, if I point out +to them certain methods for the filling up their empty spaces of +life. The methods I shall propose to them are as follow:</p> +<p><b>6.</b> The first is the exercise of virtue, in the most +general acceptation of the word. That particular scheme which +comprehends the social virtues, may give employment to the most +industrious temper, and find a man in business more than the most +active station of life. To advise the ignorant, relieve the needy, +comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way almost every +day of our lives.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the +fierceness of a party; of doing justice to the character of a +deserving man; of softening the envious, quieting the angry, and +rectifying the prejudiced; which, are all of them employments +suited to a reasonable nature, and bring great satisfaction to the +person who can busy himself in them with discretion.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> There is another kind of virtue that may find +employment for those retired hours in which we are altogether left +to ourselves, and destitute of company and conversation: I mean +that intercourse and communication which every reasonable creature +ought to maintain with the great Author of his being.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The man who lives under an habitual sense of the +divine presence, keeps up a perpetual cheerfulness of temper, and +enjoys every moment the satisfaction of thinking himself in company +with the dearest and best of friends. The time never lies heavy +upon him; it is impossible for him to be alone.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> His thoughts and passions are the most busied at such +hours when those of other men are the most inactive; he no sooner +steps out of the world, but his heart burns with devotion, swells +with hope, and triumphs in the consciousness of that presence which +every where surrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its +fears, its sorrows, its apprehensions, to the great supporter of +its existence.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I have here only considered the necessity of a man's +being virtuous that he may have something to do; but if we consider +further, that the exercise of virtue is not only an amusement for +the time it lasts, but that its influence extends to those parts of +our existence which lie beyond the grave, and that our whole +eternity is to take its colour from those hours which we here +employ in virtue or in vice, the argument redoubles upon us, for +putting in practice this method of passing away our time.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> When a man has but a little stock to improve, and has +opportunities of turning it all to a good account, what shall we +think of him if he suffers nineteen parts of it to lie dead, and +perhaps employs even the twentieth to his ruin or disadvantage? But +because the mind cannot be always in its fervour nor strained up to +a pitch of virtue, it is necessary to find out proper employments +for it in its relaxations.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> The next method therefore that I would propose to +fill up our time, should be useful and innocent diversion. I must +confess I think it is below reasonable creatures to be altogether +conversant in such diversions as are merely innocent, and having +nothing else to recommend them but that there is no hurt in +them.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Whether any kind of gaming has even thus much to say +for itself, I shall not determine; but I think it is very wonderful +to see persons of the best sense, passing away a dozen hours +together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no other +conversation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and no +other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in +different figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of his +species complaining that life is short.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> The stage might be made a perpetual source of the +most noble and useful entertainments, were it under proper +regulations.</p> +<p>But the mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the +conversation of a well-chosen friend. There is indeed no blessing +of life that is any way comparable to the enjoyment of a discreet +and virtuous friend. It eases and unloads the mind, clears and +improves the understanding, engenders thoughts and knowledge, +animates virtue and good resolution, sooths and allays the +passions, and finds employment for most of the vacant hours of +life.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Next to such an intimacy with a particular person, +one would endeavour after a more general conversation with such as +are able to entertain and improve those with whom they converse, +which are qualifications that seldom go asunder.</p> +<p>There are many other useful amusements of life, which one would +endeavour to multiply, that one might on all occasions have +recourse to something rather than suffer the mind to lie idle, or +ran adrift with any passion that chances to rise in it.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> A man that has a taste in music, painting, or +architecture, is like one that has another sense when compared with +such as have no relish for those arts. The florist, the planter, +the gardener, the husbandman, when they are only as accomplishments +to the man of fortune; are great reliefs to a country life, and +many ways useful to those who are possessed of them.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +93.</div> +<a name='Misspent_time' id="Misspent_time"></a> +<p><b>18.</b> I was yesterday busy in comparing together the +industry of man with that of other creatures; in which I could not +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 fell very short of them +in this particular.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> We are 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 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 awaking hours +are wholly taken up in seeking after their food, or in consuming +it.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> 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 mouth of those +who are styled reasonable beings.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> 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.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> After having been taken up for some time in this +course of thought, I diverted myself with a book, according to my +usual custom, in order to unbend my mind before I went to sleep. +The book I made use of on this occasion was <i>Lucian</i> where I +amused my thoughts for about an hour among the dialogues of the +dead, which in all probability produced the following dream:</p> +<p><b>23.</b> I was conveyed, methought, into the entrance of the +infernal regions, where I saw <i>Rhadamanthus</i>, one of the +judges of the dead, seated in his tribunal. On his left hand stood +the keeper of <i>Erebus</i>, on his right the keeper of +<i>Elysium</i>. I was told he sat upon women that day, there being +several of the sex lately arrived, who had not yet their mansions +assigned them.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> I was surprised to hear him ask every one of them the +same question, namely, What they had been doing? Upon this question +being proposed to the whole assembly they stared upon one another, +as not knowing what to answer. He then interrogated each of them +separately. Madam, says he to the first of them, you have been upon +the earth about fifty years: What have you been doing there all +this while? Doing, says she, really I do not know what I have been +doing: I desire I may have time given me to recollect.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> After about half an hour's pause, she told him that +she had been playing at crimp: upon which <i>Rhadamanthus</i> +beckoned to the keeper on his left hand, to take her into custody. +And you, Madam, says the judge, that look with such a soft and +languishing air; I think you set out for this place in your nine +and twentieth year; what have you been doing all this while? I had +a great deal of business on my hands, says she, being taken up the +first twelve years of my life, in dressing a jointed baby, and all +the remaining part of it in reading plays and romances.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> Very well, says he, you have employed your time to +good purpose. Away with her. The next was a plain country woman: +Well, mistress, says <i>Rhadamanthus</i>, and what have you been +doing? An't please your worship, says she, I did not live quite +forty years; and in that time brought my husband seven daughters, +made him nine thousand cheeses, and left my eldest girl with him to +look after his house in my absence, and who, I may venture to say, +is us pretty a housewife as any in the country.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> <i>Rhadamanthus</i> smiled at the simplicity of the +good woman, and ordered the keeper of <i>Elysium</i>, to take her +into his care. And you, fair lady, says he, what have you been +doing these five and thirty years? I have been doing no hurt, I +assure you sir, said she. That is well, says he, but what good have +you been doing? The lady was in great confusion at this question, +and not knowing what to answer, the two keepers leaped out to seize +her at the same time; the one took her by the hand to convey her to +<i>Elysium</i>; the other caught hold of her to carry her away to +<i>Erebus</i>.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> But <i>Rhadamanthus</i> observing an ingenuous +modesty in her countenance and behaviour, bid them both let her +loose, and set her aside for a re-examination when he was more at +leisure. An old woman, of a proud and sour look, presented herself +next at the bar, and being asked what she had been doing? Truly, +says she, I lived three score and ten years in a very wicked world, +and was so angry at the behaviour of a parcel of young flirts, that +I past most of my last years in condemning the follies of the +times.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> I was every day blaming the silly conduct of people +about me, in order to deter those I conversed with from falling +into the like errors and miscarriages. Very well, says +<i>Rhadamanthus</i>, but did you keep the same watchful eye over +your own actions? Why truly, says she, I was so taken up with +publishing the faults of others, that I had no time to consider my +own.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> Madam, says <i>Rhadamanthus</i>, be pleased to file +off to the left, and make room for the venerable matron that stands +behind you. Old gentlewoman, says he, I think you are fourscore? +You have heard the question, what have you been doing so long in +the world? Ah! sir, says she, I have been doing what I should not +have done, but I had made a firm resolution to have changed my +life, if I had not been snatched off by an untimely end.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> Madam, says he, you will please to follow your +leader, and spying another of the same age, interrogated her in the +same form. To which the matron replied, I have been the wife of a +husband who was as dear to me in his old age as in his youth. I +have been a mother, and very happy in my children, whom I +endeavoured to bring up in every thing that is good.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> My eldest son is blest by the poor, and beloved by +every one that knows him. I lived within my own family, and left it +much more wealthy than I found it. <i>Rhadamanthus</i>, who knew +the value of the old lady smiled upon her in such a manner, that +the keeper of <i>Elysium</i>, who knew his office, reached out his +hand to her. He no sooner touched her but her wrinkles vanished, +her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with blushes, and she appeared +in full bloom and beauty.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> A young woman observing that this officer, who +conducted the happy to <i>Elysium</i>, was so great a +<i>beautifier</i>, longed to be in his hands, so that, pressing +through the croud, she was the next that appeared at the bar, and +being asked what she had been doing the five and twenty years that +she had passed in the world, I have endeavoured, says she, ever +since I came to the years of discretion, to make myself lovely, and +gain admirers.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> In order to do it I past my time in bottling up +Maydew, inventing white-washes, mixing colours, cutting out +patches, consulting my glass, suiting my complexion, tearing off my +tucker, sinking my stays—<i>Rhadamanthus</i>, without hearing +her out, gave the sign to take her off. Upon the approach of the +keeper of <i>Erebus</i> her colour faded, her face was puckered up +with wrinkles, and her whole person lost in deformity.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> I was then surprised with a distant sound of a whole +troop of females that came forward laughing, singing, and dancing. +I was very desirous to know the reception they would meet with, and +withal was very apprehensive that <i>Rhadamanthus</i> would spoil +their mirth; but at their nearer approach the noise grew so very +great that it awakened me.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> Employment of time is a subject that, from its +importance, deserves your best attention. Most young gentlemen have +a great deal of time before them, and one hour well employed, in +the early part of life, is more valuable and will be of greater use +to you, than perhaps four and twenty, some years to come.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> What ever time you can steal from company and from +the study of the world (I say company, for a knowledge of life is +best learned in various companies) employ it in serious reading. +Take up some valuable book, and continue the reading of that book +till you have got through it; never burden your mind with more than +one thing at a time: and in reading this book do not run it over +superficially, but read every passage twice over, at least do not +pass on to a second till you thoroughly understand the first, nor +quit the book till you are master of the subject; for unless you do +this, you may read it through, and not remember the contents of it +for a week.</p> +<p><b>38.</b> The books I would particularly recommend, are +Cardinal Retz's maxims, Rochefoucault's moral reflections, +Bruyere's characters, Fontenelle's plurality of worlds, Sir Josiah +Child on trade, Bollinbroke's works; for style, his remarks on the +history of England, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle; +Puffendorff's Jus Gentium, and Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis: the +last two are well translated by <i>Barbeyrac</i>. For occasional +half hours or less, read the best works of invention, wit and +humor; but never waste your minutes on trifling authors, either +ancient or modern.</p> +<p><b>39.</b> Any business you may have to transact, should be done +the first opportunity, and finished, if possible, without +interruption; for by deferring it we may probably finish it too +late, or execute it indifferently. Now, business of any kind should +never be done by halves, but every part of it should be well +attended to: for he that does business ill, had better not do it at +all. And in any point which discretion bids you pursue, and which +has a manifest utility to recommend it, let not difficulties deter +you; rather let them animate your industry. If one method fails, +try a second and a third. Be active, persevere, and you will +certainly conquer.</p> +<p><b>40.</b> Never indulge a lazy disposition, there are few +things but are attended with some difficulties, and if you are +frightened at those difficulties, you will not complete any thing. +Indolent minds prefer ignorance to trouble; they look upon most +things as impossible, because perhaps they are difficult. Even an +hour's attention is too laborious for them, and they would rather +content themselves with the first view of things than take the +trouble to look any farther into them. Thus, when they come to talk +upon subjects to those who have studied them, they betray an +unpardonable ignorance, and lay themselves open to answers that +confuse them. Be careful then, that you do not get the appellation +of indolent, and, if possible, avoid the character of +frivolous.</p> +<p><b>41.</b> For the frivolous mind is busied always upon nothing. +It mistakes trifling objects for important ones, and spends that +time upon little matters, that should only be bestowed upon great +ones. Knick-knacks, butterflies, shells, and such like, engross the +attention of the frivolous man, and fill up all his time. He +studies the dress and not the characters of men, and his subjects +of conversation are no other than the weather, his own domestic +affairs, his servants, his method of managing his family, the +little anecdotes of the neighborhood, and the fiddle-faddle stories +of the day; void of information, void of improvement. These he +relates with emphasis, as interesting matters; in short, he is a +male gossip. I appeal to your own feelings now, whether such things +do not lessen a man in the opinion, of his acquaintance, and +instead of attracting esteem, create disgust.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Modesty' id="Modesty"></a> +<h2><i>Modesty</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p>Modesty is the citidel of beauty and virtue. The first of all +virtues is innocence; the second is modesty.</p> +<p><b>1.</b> Modesty is both in its source, and in its consequence, +a very great happiness to the fair possessor of it; it arises from +a fear of dishonor, and a good conscience, and is followed +immediately, upon its first appearance, with the reward of honor +and esteem, paid by all those who discover it in any body +living.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> It is indeed a virtue in a woman (that might otherwise +be very disagreeable to one) so exquisitely delicate, that it +excites in any beholder, of a generous and manly disposition, +almost all the passions that he would be apt to conceive for the +mistress of his heart, in variety of circumstances.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> A woman that is modest creates in us an awe in her +company, a wish for her welfare, a joy in her being actually happy, +a sore and painful sorrow if distress should come upon her, a ready +and willing heart to give her consolation, and a compassionate +temper towards her, in every little accident of life she undergoes; +and to sum up all in one word, it causes such a kind of angelical +love, even to a stranger, as good natured brothers and sisters +usually bear towards one another.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> It adds wonderfully to the make of a face, and I have +seen a pretty well turned forehead, fine set eyes, and what your +poets call, a row of pearl set in coral, shewn by a pretty +expansion of two velvet lips that covered them (that would have +tempted any sober man living of my own age, to have been a little +loose in his thoughts, and to have enjoyed a painful pleasure +amidst his impotency) lose all their virtue, all their force and +efficacy, by having an ugly cast of boldness very discernibly +spread out at large over all those alluring features.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> At the same time modesty will fill up the wrinkles of +old age with glory; make sixty blush itself into sixteen; and help +a green sick girl to defeat the satyr of a false waggish lover, who +might compare her colour, when she looked like a ghost, to the +blowing of the rose-bud, by blushing herself into a bloom of +beauty; and might make what he meant a reflection, a real +compliment, at any hour of the day, in spite of his teeth. It has a +prevailing power with me, whenever I find it in the sex.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> I who have the common fault of old men, to be very +sour and humoursome, when I drink my water-gruel in a morning, fell +into a more than ordinary pet with a maid whom I call my nurse, +from a constant tenderness, that I have observed her to exercise +towards me beyond all my other servants; I perceived her flush and +glow in the face, in a manner which I could plainly discern +proceeded not from anger or resentment of my correction, but from a +good natured regret, upon a fear that she had offended her grave +old master.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> I was so heartily pleased, that I eased her of the +honest trouble she underwent inwardly far my sake; and giving her +half a crown, I told her it was a forfeit due to her because I was +out of humour with her without any reason at all. And as she is so +gentle-hearted, I have diligently avoided giving her one harsh word +ever since: and I find my own reward in it: for not being so testy +as I used, has made me much haler and stronger than I was +before.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The pretty, and witty, and virtuous <i>Simplicia</i>, +was, the other day, visiting with an old aunt of her's, that I +verily believe has read the <i>Atalantis</i>; she took a story out +there, and dressed up an old honest neighbour in the second hand +clothes of scandal. The young creature hid her face with her fan at +every burst and peal of laughter, and blushed for her guilty +parent; by which she atoned, methought, for every scandal that ran +round the beautiful circle.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> As I was going home to bed that evening, I could not +help thinking of her all the way I went. I represented her to +myself as shedding holy blood every time she blushed, and as being +a martyr in the cause of virtue. And afterwards, when I was putting +on my night-cap, I could not drive the thought out of my head, but +that I was young enough to be married to her; and that it would be +an addition to the reputation I have in the study of wisdom, to +marry to so much youth and modesty, even in my old age.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I know there have not been wanting many wicked +objections against this virtue; one is grown insufferably common. +The fellow blushes, he is guilty. I should say rather, He blushes, +therefore he is innocent. I believe the same man, that first had +that wicked imagination of a blush being the sign of guilt, +represented good nature to be folly; and that he himself, was the +most inhuman and impudent wretch alive.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The author of <i>Cato</i>, who is known to be one of +the most modest, and most ingenious persons of the age we now live +in, has given this virtue a delicate name in the tragedy of +<i>Cato</i>, where the character of <i>Marcia</i> is first opened +to us. I would have all ladies who have a mind to be thought +well-bred, to think seriously on this virtue, which he so +beautifully calls the sanctity of manners.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Modesty is a polite accomplishment, and generally an +attendant upon merit. It is engaging to the highest degree, and +wins the hearts of all our acquaintance. On the contrary, none are +more disgustful in company than the impudent and presuming.</p> +<p>The man who is, on all occasions, commending and speaking well +of himself, we naturally dislike. On the other hand, he who studies +to conceal his own deserts, who does justice to the merit of +others, who talks but little of himself, and that with modesty, +makes a favourable impression on the persons he is conversing with, +captivates their minds, and gains their esteem.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Modesty, however, widely differs from an aukward +bashfulness; which is as much to be condemned as the other is to be +applauded. To appear simple is as ill-bred as to be impudent. A +young man ought to be able to come into a room and address the +company without the least embarrassment. To be out of countenance +when spoken to, and not to have an answer ready, is ridiculous to +the last degree.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> An aukward country fellow, when he comes into company +better than himself, is exceedingly disconcerted. He knows not what +to do with his hands or his hat, but either puts one of them in his +pocket, and dangles the other by his side: or perhaps twirls his +hat on his fingers, or perhaps fumbles with the button. If spoken +to he is in a much worse situation; he answers with the utmost +difficulty, and nearly stammers; whereas a gentleman who is +acquainted with life, enters a room with gracefulness and a modest +assurance; addresses even persons he does not know, in an easy and +natural manner, and without the least embarrassment.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> This is the characteristic of good-breeding, a very +necessary knowledge in our intercourse with men; for one of +inferior parts, with the behaviour of a gentleman, is frequently +better received than a man of sense, with the address and manners +of a clown. Ignorance and vice are the only things we need be +ashamed of; steer clear of these, and you may go into any company +you will; not that I would have a young man throw off all dread of +appearing abroad; as a fear of offending, or being disesteemed, +will make him preserve a proper decorum.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Some persons, from experiencing the bad effects of +false modesty, have run into the other extreme, and acquired the +character of impudent. This is as great a fault as the other. A +well-bred man keeps himself within the two, and steers the middle +way. He is easy and firm in every company; is modest, but not +bashful; steady, but not impudent. He copies the manners of the +better people, and conforms to their customs with ease and +attention.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Till we can present ourselves in all companies with +coolness and unconcern, we can never present ourselves well; nor +will man ever be supposed to have kept good company, or ever be +acceptable in such company, if he cannot appear there easy and +unembarrassed. A modest assurance in every part of life, is the +most advantageous qualification we can possibly acquire.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Instead of becoming insolent, a man of sense, under a +consciousness of merit, is more modest. He behaves himself indeed +with firmness, but without the least presumption. The man who is +ignorant of his own merit is no less a fool than he who is +constantly displaying it. A man of understanding avails himself of +his abilities but never boasts of them; whereas the timid and +bashful can never push himself in life, be his merit as great as it +will; he will be always kept behind by the forward and the +bustling.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> A man of abilities, and acquainted with life, will +stand as firm in defence of his own rights, and pursue his plans as +steadily and unmoved as the most impudent man alive; but then he +does it with a seeming modesty. Thus, manner is every thing; what +is impudence in one is proper assurance only in another: for +firmness is commendable, but an overbearing conduct is +disgustful.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> Forwardness being the very reverse of modesty, follow +rather than lead the company; that is, join in discourse upon their +subjects rather than start one of your own; if you have parts, you +will have opportunities enough of shewing them on every topic of +conversation; and if you have none, it is better to expose yourself +upon a subject of other people's, than on one of your own.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> But be particularly careful not to speak of yourself +if you can help it. An impudent fellow lugs in himself abruptly +upon all occasions, and is ever the here of his own story. Others +will colour their arrogance with, "It may seem strange indeed, that +I should talk in this manner of myself; it is what I by no means +like, and should never do, if I had not been cruelly and unjustly +accused; but when my character is attacked, it is a justice I owe +to myself to defend it." This veil is too thin not to be seen +through on the first inspection.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Others again, with more art, will <i>modestly</i> +boast of all the principal virtues, by calling these virtues +weaknesses, and saying, they are so unfortunate as to fall into +those weaknesses. "I cannot see persons suffer," says one of his +cast, "without relieving them; though my circumstances are very +unable to afford it—I cannot avoid speaking truth; though it +is often very imprudent;" and so on.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> This angling for praise is so prevailing a principle, +that it frequently stoops to the lowest object. Men will often +boast of doing that, which, if true, would be rather a disgrace to +them than otherwise. One man affirms that he rode twenty miles +within the hour: 'tis probably a lie; but suppose he did, what +then? He had a good horse under him, and is a good jockey. Another +swears he has often at a sitting, drank five or six bottles to his +own share. Out of respect to him, I will believe <i>him</i> a liar; +for I would not wish to think him a beast.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> These and many more are the follies of idle people, +which, while they think they procure them esteem, in reality make +them despised.</p> +<p>To avoid this contempt, therefore, never speak of yourself at +all, unless necessity obliges you; and even then, take care to do +it in such a manner, that it may not be construed into fishing for +applause. Whatever perfections you may have, be assured, people +will find them out; but whether they do or not, nobody will take +them upon your own word. The less you say of yourself, the more the +world will give you credit for; and the more you say, the less they +will believe you.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Affectation' id="Affectation"></a> +<h2><i>Affectation</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> A late conversation which I fell into, gave me an +opportunity of observing a great deal of beauty in a very handsome +woman, and as much wit in an ingenious man, turned into deformity +in the one, and absurdity in the other, by the mere force of +affectation. The fair one had something in her person upon which +her thoughts were fixed, that she attempted to shew to advantage in +every look, word and gesture.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The gentleman was as diligent to do justice to his +fine parts, as the lady to her beauteous form: you might see his +imagination on the stretch to find out something uncommon, and what +they call bright, to entertain her: while she writhed herself into +as many different postures to engage him. When she laughed, her +lips were to sever at a greater distance than ordinary to shew her +teeth.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Her fan was to point to somewhat at a distance, that +in the reach she may discover the roundness of her arm; then she is +utterly mistaken in what she saw, falls back, smiles at her own +folly, and is so wholly discomposed, that her tucker is to be +adjusted, her bosom exposed, and the whole woman put into new airs +and graces.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> While she was doing all this, the gallant had time to +think of something very pleasant to say next to her, or make some +unkind observation on some other lady to feed her vanity. These +unhappy effects of affectation naturally led me to look into that +strange state of mind, which so generally discolours the behaviour +of most people we meet with.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The learned Dr. <i>Burnet</i>, in his Theory of the +Earth, takes occasion to observe, that every thought is attended +with consciousness and representativeness; the mind has nothing +presented to it, but what is immediately followed by a reflection +of conscience, which tells you whether that which was so presented +is graceful or unbecoming.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> This act of the mind discovers itself in the gesture, +by a proper behaviour in those whose consciousness goes no farther +than to direct them in the just progress of their present thought +or action; but betrays an interruption in every second thought, +when the consciousness is employed in too fondly approving a man's +own conceptions; which sort of consciousness is what we call +affectation.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> As the love of praise is implanted in our bosoms as a +strong incentive to worthy actions; it is a very difficult task to +get above a desire of it for things that should be wholly +indifferent. Women, whose hearts are fixed upon the pleasure they +have in the consciousness that they are the objects of love and +admiration, are ever changing the air of their countenances, and +altering the attitude of their bodies, to strike the hearts of +their beholders with a new sense of their beauty.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The dressing part of our sex, whose minds are the same +with the sillier part of the other, are exactly in the like uneasy +condition to be regarded for a well tied cravat, an hat cocked with +an unusual briskness, a very well chosen coat, or other instances +of merit, which they are impatient to see unobserved.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> But this apparent affectation, arising from an ill +governed consciousness, is not so much to be wondered at in such +loose and trivial minds as these. But when you see it reign in +characters of worth and distinction, it is what you cannot but +lament, nor without some indignation. It creeps into the heart of +the wise man, as well as that of the coxcomb.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> When you see a man of sense look about for applause, +and discover an itching inclination to be commended; lay traps for +a little incense, even from those whose opinion he values in +nothing but his own favour; who is safe against this weakness? or +who knows whether he is guilty of it or not? The best way to get +clear of such a light fondness for applause is, to take all +possible care to throw off the love of it upon occasions that are +not in themselves laudable; but, as it appears, we hope for no +praise from them.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Of this nature are all graces in men's persons, +dress, and bodily deportment; which will naturally be winning and +attractive if we think not of them, but lose their force in +proportion to our endeavour to make them such.</p> +<p>When our consciousness turns upon the main design of life, and +our thoughts are employed upon the chief purpose either in business +or pleasure, we should never betray an affectation, for we cannot +be guilty of it, but when we give the passion for praise an +unbridled liberty, our pleasure in little perfections robs us of +what is due to us for great virtues and worthy qualities.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> How many excellent speeches and honest actions are +lost, for want of being indifferent where we ought! Men are +oppressed with regard to their way of speaking and acting, instead +of having their thoughts bent upon what they should do or say; and +by that means bury a capacity for great things, by their fear of +failing in indifferent things. This, perhaps, cannot be called +affectation; but it has some tincture of it, at least so far, as +that their fear of erring in a thing of no consequence argues they +would be too much pleased in performing it.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> It is only from a thorough disregard to himself in +such particulars, that a man can act with a laudable sufficiency; +his heart is fixed upon one point in view; and he commits no +errors, because he thinks nothing an error but what deviates from +that intention.</p> +<p>The wild havock affectation makes in that part of the world +which should be most polite, is visible wherever we turn our eyes; +it pushes men not only into impertinences in conversation, but also +in their premeditated speeches.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> At the bar it torments the bench, whose business it +is to cut off all superfluities in what is spoken before it by the +practitioner; as well as several little pieces of injustice which +arise from the law itself. I have seen it make a man run from the +purpose before a judge, who at the bar himself, so close and +logical a pleader, that with all the pomp of eloquence in his +power, he never spoke a word too much.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> It might be borne even here, but it often ascends the +pulpit itself; and the declaimer, in that sacred place, is +frequently so impertinently witty, speaks of the last day itself +with so many quaint phrases, that there is no man who understands +raillery, but must resolve to sin no more; nay, you may behold him +sometimes in prayer, for a proper delivery of the great truths he +is to utter, humble himself with a very well turned phrase, and +mention his unworthiness in a way so very becoming, that the air of +the pretty gentleman is preserved, under the lowliness of the +preacher.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> I shall end this with a short letter I wrote the +other day to a very witty man, over-run with the fault I am now +speaking of.</p> +<p>'DEAR SIR,</p> +<p>I spent some time with you the other day, and must take the +liberty of a friend to tell you of the insufferable affectation you +are guilty of in all you say and do.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> When I gave you a hint of it, you asked me whether a +man is to be cold to what his friends think of him? No, but praise +is not to be the entertainment of every moment: he that hopes for +it must be able to suspend the possession of it till proper periods +of life, or death itself. If you would not rather be commended than +be praiseworthy, contemn little merits; and allow no man to be so +free with you, as to praise you to your face.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Your vanity by this means will want its food. At the +same time your passion for esteem will be more fully gratified; men +will praise you in their actions: where you now receive one +compliment you will then receive twenty civilities. Till then you +will never have of either, further than,</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SIR,<br> +<br> +Your humble servant.'<br> +<br> +SPECTATOR, Vol. 1. No. 38.</div> +<a name='Affection_Continued' id="Affection_Continued"></a> +<p><b>19.</b> Nature does nothing in vain; the Creator of the +Universe has appointed every thing to a certain use and purpose, +and determined it to a settled course and sphere of action, from +which, if it in the least deviates, it becomes unfit to answer +those ends for which it was designed.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> In like manner it is in the disposition of society: +the civil œconomy is formed in a chain as well as the +natural; and in either case the breach but of one link puts the +whole in some disorder. It is, I think, pretty plain, that most of +the absurdity and ridicule we meet with in the world, is generally +owing to the impertinent affectation of excelling in characters men +are not fit for, and for which nature never designed them.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Every man has one or more qualities which may make +him useful both to himself and others: Nature never fails of +pointing them out, and while the infant continues under her +guardianship, she brings him on in his way, and then offers herself +for a guide in what remains of the journey; if he proceeds in that +course, he can hardly miscarry: Nature makes good her engagements; +for as she never promises what she is not able to perform, so she +never fails of performing what she promises.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> But the misfortune is, men despise what they may be +masters of, and affect what they are not fit for; they reckon +themselves already possessed of what their genius inclines them to, +and so bend all their ambition to excel in what is out of their +reach; thus they destroy the use of their natural talents, in the +same manner as covetous men do their quiet and repose; they can +enjoy no satisfaction in what they have, because of the absurd +inclination they are possessed with for what they have not.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> <i>Cleanthes</i> had good sense, a great memory, and +a constitution capable of the closest application: in a word, there +was no profession in which <i>Cleanthes</i> might not have made a +very good figure; but this won't satisfy him; he takes up an +unaccountable fondness for the character of a line gentleman; all +his thoughts are bent upon this, instead of attending a dissection, +frequenting the courts of justice, or studying the Fathers.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> <i>Cleanthes</i> reads plays, dances, dresses, and +spends his time in drawing rooms, instead of being a good lawyer, +divine, or physician; <i>Cleanthes</i> is a down-right coxcomb, and +will remain to all that knew him a contemptible example of talents +misapplied. It is to this affectation the world owes its whole race +of coxcombs; Nature in her whole drama never drew such a part; she +has sometimes made a fool, but a coxcomb is always of a man's own +making, by applying his talents otherwise than nature designed, who +ever bears an high resentment for being put out of her course, and +never fails of taking revenge on those that do so.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> Opposing her tendency in the application of a man's +parts, has the same success as declining from her course in the +production of vegetables; by the assistance of art and an hot bed, +we may possibly extort an unwilling plant, or an untimely sallad; +but how weak, how tasteless, and insipid! Just as insipid as the +poetry of <i>Valerio</i>.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> <i>Valerio</i> had an universal character, was +genteel, had learning, thought justly, spoke correctly; 'twas +believed there was nothing in which <i>Valerio</i> did not excel; +and 'twas so far true, that there was but one: <i>Valerio</i> had +no genius for poetry, yet was resolved to be a poet; he writes +verses, and takes great pains to convince the town, that +<i>Valerio</i> is not that extraordinary person he was taken +for.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> If men would be content to graft upon nature, and +assist her operations, what mighty effects might we expect? +<i>Tully</i> would not stand so much alone in oratory, +<i>Virgil</i> in poetry, or <i>Cæsar</i> in war. To build +upon nature, is laying the foundation upon a rock; every thing +disposes itself into order as it were of course, and the whole work +is half done as soon as undertaken. <i>Cicero's</i> genius inclined +him to oratory, <i>Virgil</i>'s to follow the train of the muses; +they piously obeyed the admonition, and were rewarded.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> Had <i>Virgil</i> attended the bar, his modest and +ingenuous virtue would surely have made but a very indifferent +figure: and <i>Tully</i>'s declamatory inclination would have been +as useless in poetry. Nature, if left to herself, leads us on in +the best course, but will do nothing by compulsion and constraint; +and if we are not satisfied to go her way, we are always the +greatest sufferers by it.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> Wherever nature designs a production, she always +disposes seeds proper for it, which are as absolutely necessary to +the formation of any moral or intellectual existence, as they are +to the being and growth of plants; and I know not by what fate and +folly it is, that men are taught not to reckon him equally absurd +that will write verses in spite of nature, with that gardener that +should undertake to raise a jonquil or tulip, without the help of +their respective seeds.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> As there is no good or bad quality that does not +affect both sexes, so it is not to be imagined but the fair sex +must have suffered by an affectation of this nature, at least as +much as the other: the ill effect of it is in none so conspicuous +as in the two opposite characters of <i>Cælia</i> and +<i>Iras</i>. <i>Cælia</i> has all the charms of person, +together with an abundant sweetness of nature, but wants wit, and +has a very ill voice: <i>Iras</i> is ugly and ungenteel, but has +wit and good sense.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> If <i>Cælia</i> would be silent, her beholders +would adore her; if <i>Iras</i> would talk, her hearers would +admire her; but <i>Cælia</i>'s tongue runs incessantly, while +<i>Iras</i> gives herself silent airs and soft languors; so that +'tis difficult to persuade one's self that <i>Cælia</i> has +beauty, and <i>Iras</i> wit: each neglects her own excellence, and +is ambitious of the other's character: <i>Iras</i> would be thought +to have as much beauty as <i>Cælia</i>, and +<i>Cælia</i> as much wit as <i>Iras</i>.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> The great misfortune of this affectation is, that men +not only lose a good quality, but also contract a bad one: they not +only are unfit for what they were designed, but they assign +themselves to what they are not fit for; and instead of making a +very good, figure one way, make a very ridiculous one in +another.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> If <i>Semanthe</i> would have been satisfied with her +natural complexion, she might still have been celebrated by the +name of the olive beauty; but <i>Semanthe</i> has taken up an +affectation to white and red, and is now distinguished by the +character of the lady that paints so well.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> In a word, could the world be reformed to the +obedience of that famed dictate, <i>follow nature</i>, which the +oracle of <i>Delphos</i> pronounced to <i>Cicero</i> when he +consulted what course of studies he should pursue, we should see +almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere as <i>Tully</i> +was in his, and should in a very short time find impertinence and +affectation banished from among the women, and coxcombs and false +characters from among the men.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> For my part I could never consider this preposterous +repugnancy to nature any otherwise, than not only as the greatest +folly, but also one of the most heinous crimes, since it is a +direct opposition to the disposition of providence, and (as +<i>Tully</i> expresses it) like the sin of the giants, an actual +rebellion against heaven.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, Vol. +VI. No. 404.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Good_Humour_and_Nature' id="Good_Humour_and_Nature"></a> +<h2><i>Good Humour and Nature</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> A man advanced in years that thinks fit to look back +upon his former life, and calls that only life which was passed +with satisfaction and enjoyment, excluding all parts which were not +pleasant to him, will find himself very young, if not in his +infancy. Sickness, ill-humour, and idleness, will have robbed him +of a great share of that space we ordinarily call our life.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> It is therefore the duty of every man that would be +true to himself, to obtain, if possible, a disposition to be +pleased, and place himself in a constant aptitude for the +satisfaction of his being. Instead of this, you hardly see a man +who is not uneasy in proportion to his advancement in the arts of +life.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> An affected delicacy is the common improvement we meet +with in these who pretend to be refined above others: they do not +aim at true pleasure themselves, but turn their thoughts upon +observing the false pleasures of other men. Such people are +valetudinarians in society, and they should no more come into +company than a sick man should come into the air.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> If a man is too weak to bear what is a refreshment to +men in health, he must still keep his chamber. When any one in Sir +<i>Roger</i>'s company complains he is out of order, he immediately +calls for some posset drink for him; for which reason that sort of +people, who are ever bewailing their constitutions in other places, +are the cheerfulest imaginable when he is present.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> It is a wonderful thing that so many, and they not +reckoned absurd, shall entertain those with whom they converse, by +giving them the history of their pains and aches; and imagine such +narrations their quota of the conversation. This is, of all others, +the-meanest help to discourse, and a man must not think at all, or +think himself very insignificant, when he finds an account of his +head ache answered by another asking, what news in the last +mail?</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Mutual good humour is a dress we ought to appear in +wherever we meet, and we should make no mention of what concerns +ourselves, without it be of matters wherein our friends ought to +rejoice: but indeed there are crowds of people who put themselves +in no method of pleasing themselves or others; such are those whom +we usually call indolent persons.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Indolence is, methinks, an intermediate state between +pleasure and pain, and very much unbecoming any part of our life +after we are out of the nurse's arms. Such an aversion to labour +creates a constant weariness, and one would think should make +existence itself a burden.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The indolent man descends from the dignity of his +nature, and makes that being which was rational, merely vegetative; +his life consists only in the mere increase and decay of a body, +which, with relation to the rest of the world, might as well have +been uninformed, as the habitation of a reasonable mind.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Of this kind is the life of that extraordinary couple, +<i>Harry Tersett</i> and his lady. <i>Harry</i> was, in the days of +his celibacy, one of those pert creatures who have much vivacity +and little understanding; Mrs. <i>Rebecca Quickly</i>, whom he +married, had all that the fire of youth and a lively manner could +do towards making an agreeable woman.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> These two people of seeming merit fell into each +other's arms; and passion being sated, and no reason or good sense +in either to succeed it, their life is now at a stand; their meals +are insipid, and time tedious; their fortune has placed them above +care, and their loss of taste reduced them below diversion.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> When we talk of these as instances of inexistence, we +do not mean, that in order to live it is necessary we should always +be in jovial crews, or crowned with chaplets of roses, as the merry +fellows among the ancients are described; but it is intended by +considering these contraries to pleasure, indolence and too much +delicacy, to shew that it is prudent to preserve a disposition in +ourselves, to receive a certain delight in all we hear and see.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> This portable quality of good-humour seasons all the +parts and occurrences we meet with; in such a manner, that there +are no moments lost; but they all pass with so much satisfaction, +that the heaviest of loads (when it is a load) that of time, is +never felt by us.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> <i>Varilas</i> has this quality to the highest +perfection, and communicates it wherever he appears: the sad, the +merry, the severe, the melancholy, shew a new cheerfulness when he +comes amongst them. At the same time no one can repeat any thing +that <i>Varilas</i> has ever said that deserves repetition; but the +man has that innate goodness of temper, that he is welcome to every +body, because every man thinks he is so to him.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> He does not seem to contribute any thing to the mirth +of the company; and yet upon reflection you find it all happened by +his being there. I thought it was whimsically said of a gentleman, +That if <i>Varilas</i> had wit, it would be the best wit in the +world. It is certain when a well corrected lively imagination and +good-breeding are added to a sweet disposition, they qualify it to +be one of the greatest blessings, as well as pleasures of life.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Men would come into company with ten times the +pleasure they do, if they were sure of bearing nothing which should +shock them, as well as expected what would please them. When we +know every person that is spoken of is represented by one who has +no ill-will, and every thing that is mentioned described by one +that is apt to set it in the best light, the entertainment must be +delicate, because the cook has nothing bought to his hand, but what +is the most excellent in its kind.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Beautiful pictures are the entertainments of pure +minds, and deformities of the corrupted. It is a degree towards the +life of angels, when we enjoy conversation wherein there is nothing +present but in its excellence; and a degree towards that of demons, +wherein nothing is shewn but in its degeneracy.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, Vol. +II. No. 100.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Friendship' id="Friendship"></a> +<h2><i>Friendship</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> One would think that the larger the company is in +which we are engaged, the greater variety of thoughts and subjects +would be started in discourse; but instead of this, we find that +conversation is never so much straitened and confined as in +numerous assemblies.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> When a multitude meet together upon any subject of +discourse, their debates are taken up chiefly with forms; and +general positions; nay, if we come into a more contracted assembly +of men and women, the talk generally runs upon the weather, +fashions, news, and the like public topics.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> In proportion as conversation gets into clubs and +knots of friends, it descends into particulars, and grows more free +and communicative; but the most open, instructive, and unreserved +discourse, is that which passes between two persons who are +familiar and intimate friends.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> On these occasions, a man gives a loose to every +passion, and every thought that is uppermost discovers his most +retired opinions of persons and things, tries the beauty and +strength of his sentiments, and exposes his whole soul to the +examination of his friend.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> <i>Tully</i> was the first who observed, that +friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of +our joy and dividing of our grief; a thought in which he hath been +followed by all the essayers upon friendship, that have written +since his time. Sir <i>Francis Bacon</i> has finally described +other advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of friendship; and +indeed there is no subject of morality which has been better +handled and more exhausted than this.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Among the several fine things which have been spoken +of, I shall beg leave to quote some out of a very ancient author, +whose book would be regarded by our modern wits as one of the most +shining tracts of morality that is extant, if it appeared under the +name of a <i>Confucius</i> or of any celebrated Grecian +philosopher; I mean the little Apocryphal Treatise, entitled the +Wisdom of the Son of <i>Sirach</i>.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> How finely has he described the art of making friends, +by an obliging and affable behaviour! And laid down that precept +which a late excellent author has delivered as his own, "That we +should have many well-wishers, but few friends." Sweet language +will multiply friends; and a fair-speaking tongue will increase +kind greetings. Be in peace with many, nevertheless have but one +counsellor of a thousand.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> With what prudence does he caution us in the choice of +our friends! And with what strokes of nature (I could almost say of +humour) has he described the behaviour of a treacherous and +self-interested friend—"If thou wouldest get a friend, prove +him first, and be not hasty to credit him: for some man is a friend +for his own occasion, and will not abide in the day of thy +trouble."</p> +<p><b>9.</b> "And there is a friend, who being turned to enmity and +strife, will discover thy reproach." Again, "Some friend is a +companion at the table, and will not continue in the day of thy +affliction: but in thy prosperity he will be as thyself, and will +be bold over thy servants. If thou be brought low, he will be +against thee, and hide himself from thy face."</p> +<p><b>10.</b> What can be more strong and pointed than the +following verse? "Separate thyself from thine enemies, and take +heed of thy friends." In the next words he particularizes one of +those fruits of friendship which is described at length by the two +famous authors above mentioned, and falls into a general eulogium +of friendship, which is very just as well as very sublime.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> "A faithful friend is a strong defence; and he that +hath found such a one, hath found a treasure. Nothing doth +countervail a faithful friend, and his excellence is invaluable. A +faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the +Lord, shall find him. Whoso feareth the Lord, shall direct his +friendship aright; for as he is, so shall his neighbour (that is, +his friend) be also."</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I do not remember to have met with any saying that +has pleased me more than that of a friend's being the medicine of +life, to express the efficacy of friendship in healing the pains +and anguish which naturally cleave to our existence in this world; +and am wonderfully pleased with the turn in the last sentence, That +a virtuous man shall, as a blessing, meet with a friend who is as +virtuous as himself.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> There is another saying in the same author, which +would have been very much admired in an heathen writer: "Forsake +not an old friend, for the new is not comparable to him: a new +friend is as new wine; when it is old thou shalt drink it with +pleasure."</p> +<p><b>14.</b> With what strength of allusion, and force of thought, +has he described the breaches and violations of friendship! "Whoso +casteth a stone at the birds, frayeth them away; and he that +upbraideth his friend, breaketh friendship. Though thou drawest a +sword at a friend, yet despair not, for there may be a returning to +favor; if thou hast opened thy mouth against thy friend, fear not, +for there may be a reconciliation; except for upbraiding, or pride, +or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound; for, for these +things, every friend will depart."</p> +<p><b>15.</b> We may observe in this and several other precepts in +this author, those little familiar instances and illustrations +which are so much admired in the moral writings of <i>Horace</i> +and <i>Epictetus</i>. There are very beautiful instances of this +nature in the following pages, which are likewise written upon the +same subject:</p> +<p><b>16.</b> "Whoso discovereth secrets, loseth his credit, and +shall never find a friend to his mind. Love thy friend, and be +faithful unto him; but if thou betrayest his secret, follow no more +after him; for as a man hath destroyed his enemy, so hast thou lost +the love of thy friend; as one that letteth a bird go out of his +hand, so hast thou let thy friend go, and shall not get him again: +follow after him no more, for he is too far off; he is as a roe +escaped out of the snare. As for a wound, it may be bound up, and +after reviling, there may be reconciliation; but he that betrayeth +secrets, is without hope."</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Among the several qualifications of a good friend, +this wise man has very justly singled out constancy and +faithfulness as the principal; to these, others have added virtue, +knowledge, discretion, equality in age and fortune, and, as +<i>Cicero</i> calls it, <i>morum comitas</i>, a pleasantness of +temper.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> If I were to give my opinion upon such an exhausted +subject, I should join to these other qualifications a certain +æquibility or evenness of behaviour. A man often contracts a +friendship with one whom perhaps he does not find out till after a +year's conversation: when, on a sudden, some latent ill-humour +breaks out upon him, which he never discovered or suspected at his +first entering into an intimacy with him.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> There are several persons who, in some certain +periods of their lives, are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others +as odious and detestable. <i>Martial</i> has given us a very pretty +picture of one of these species in the following epigram:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span><i>Difficilis facilas, jocundus, acerbus, +es idem</i>,<br></span> <span><i>Nec tecum possum vivere; nec sine +te</i>.<br></span></div> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 45%;'>Epig. 47. 1. +12.</div> +<div class='stanza'><span>In all thy humours, whether grave or +mellow,<br></span> <span>Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant +fellow;<br></span> <span>Hast so much wit and mirth, and spleen +about thee,<br></span> <span>There is no living with thee nor +without thee.<br></span></div> +</div> +<p><b>20.</b> It is very unlucky for a man to be entangled in a +friendship with one, who by these changes and vicissitudes of +humour is sometimes amiable, and sometimes odious: and as most men +are at some times in an admirable frame and disposition of mind, it +should be one of the greatest tasks of wisdom to keep ourselves +well when we are so, and never to go out of that which is the +agreeable part of our character.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, Vol. +1. No. 68.</div> +<p><b>21.</b> "Friendship is a strong and habitual inclination in +two persons to promote the good and happiness of one another." +Though the pleasures and advantages of friendship have been largely +celebrated by the best moral writers, and are considered by all as +great ingredients of human happiness, we very rarely meet with the +practice of this virtue an the world.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Every man is ready to give a long catalogue of those +virtues and good qualities he expects to find in the person of a +friend, but very few of us are careful to cultivate them in +ourselves.</p> +<p>Love and esteem are the first principles of friendship, which +always is imperfect where either of these two is wanting.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> As on the one hand, we are soon ashamed of loving a +man whom we cannot esteem; so on the other, though we are truly +sensible of a man's abilities, we can never raise ourselves to the +warmths of friendship, without an affectionate good will towards +his person.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Friendship immediately banishes envy under all its +disguises. A man who can once doubt whether he should rejoice in +his friend's being happier than himself, may depend upon it, that +he is an utter stranger to this virtue.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> There is something in friendship so very great and +noble, that in those fictitious stories which are invented to the +honor of any particular person, the authors have thought it as +necessary to make their hero a friend as a lover. <i>Achilles</i> +has his <i>Patroclus</i>, and <i>Æneas</i> his +<i>Achates</i>.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> In the first of these instances we may observe, for +the reputation of the subject I am treating of, that <i>Greece</i> +was almost ruined by the hero's love, but was preserved by his +friendship.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> The character of <i>Achates</i> suggests to us an +observation we may often make on the intimacies of great men, who +frequently choose their companions rather for the qualities of the +heart, than those of the head: and prefer fidelity, in an easy, +inoffensive, complying temper, to those endowments which make a +much greater figure among mankind.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> I do not remember that <i>Achates</i>, who is +represented as the first favourite, either gives his advice, or +strikes a blow through the whole <i>Æneid</i>.</p> +<p>A friendship, which makes the least noise, is very often most +useful; for which reason I should prefer a prudent friend to a +zealous one.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> <i>Atticus</i>, one of the best men of ancient +<i>Rome</i>, was a very remarkable instance of what I am here +speaking.—This extraordinary person, amidst the civil wars of +his country, when he saw the designs of all parties equally tended +to the subvention of liberty, by constantly preserving the esteem +and affection of both the competitors, found means to serve his +friends on either side: and while he sent money to young +<i>Marius</i>, whose father was declared an enemy of the +commonwealth, he was himself one of <i>Sylla's</i> chief +favourites, and always near that general.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> During the war between <i>Cæsar</i> and +<i>Pompey</i>, he still maintained the same conduct. After the +death of Cæsar, he sent money to <i>Brutus</i>, in his +troubles, and did a thousand good offices to <i>Anthony's</i> wife +and friends, when the party seemed ruined. Lastly, even in that +bloody war between <i>Anthony</i> and <i>Augustus</i>, +<i>Atticus</i> still kept his place in both their friendships; +insomuch, that the first, says <i>Cornelius Nepos</i>, whenever he +was absent from <i>Rome</i>, in any part of the empire, writ +punctually to him what he was doing, what he read, and whither he +intended to go; and the latter gave him constantly an exact account +of all his affairs.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> A likeness of inclinations in every particular is so +far from being requisite to form a benevolence in two minds towards +each other, as it is generally imagined, that I believe we shall +find some of the firmest friendships to have been contracted +between persons of different humours; the mind being often pleased +with those perfections which are new to it, and which it does not +find among its own accomplishments.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> Besides that a man in some measure supplies his own +defects, and fancies himself at second-hand possessed of those good +qualities and endowments, which are in the possession of him who in +the eye of the world is looked on as his other self.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> The most difficult province in friendship is the +letting a man see his faults and errors, which should, if possible, +be so contrived, that he may perceive our advice is given him not +so much to please ourselves, as for his own advantage. The +reproaches, therefore, of a friend, should always be strictly just, +and not too frequent.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> The violent desire of pleasing in the person reproved +may otherwise change into a despair of doing it, while he finds +himself censured for faults he is not conscious of. A mind that is +softened and humanized by friendship, cannot bear frequent +reproaches: either it must quite sink under the oppression, or +abate considerably of the value and esteem it had for him who +bestows them.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> The proper business of friendship is to inspire life +and courage; and a soul, thus supported, out-does itself; whereas +if it be unexpectedly deprived of those succours, it droops and +languishes.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> We are in some measure more inexcusable if we violate +our duties to a friend, than to a relation; since the former arise +from a voluntary choice, the latter from a necessity, to which we +could not give our own consent.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> As it has been said on one side, that a man ought not +to break with a faulty friend, that he may not expose the weakness +of his choice; it will doubtless hold much stronger with respect to +a worthy one, that he may never be upbraided for having lost so +valuable a treasure which was once in his possession.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Detraction_and_Falsehood' id= +"Detraction_and_Falsehood"></a> +<h2><i>Detraction and Falsehood</i></h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> I have not seen you lately at any of the places where +I visit, so that I am afraid you are wholly unacquainted with what +passes among my part of the world, who are, though I say it, +without controversy, the most accomplished and best bred in the +town.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Give me leave to tell you, that I am extremely +discomposed when I hear scandal, and am an utter enemy to all +manner of detraction, and think it the greatest meanness that +people of distinction can be guilty of; however, it is hardly +possible to come into company, where you do not find them pulling +one another to pieces, and that from no other provocation but that +of hearing any one commended.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Merit, both as to wit and beauty, is become no other +than the possession of a few trifling people's favor, which you +cannot possibly arrive at, if you have really any thing in you that +is deserving.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> What they would bring to pass is, to make all good and +evil consist in report, and with whisper, calumnies, and +impertinence, to have the conduct of those reports.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> By this means innocents are blasted upon their first +appearance in town: and there is nothing more required to make a +young woman the object of envy and hatred, than to deserve love and +admiration.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> This abominable endeavour to suppressor lessen every +thing that is praise-worthy, is as frequent among the men as women. +If I can remember what passed at a visit last night, it will serve +as an instance that the sexes are equally inclined to defamation, +with equal malice, with equal impotence.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> <i>Jack Triplett</i> came into my Lady <i>Airy</i>'s +about eight of the clock. You know the manner we sit at a visit, +and I need not describe the circle; but Mr. <i>Triplett</i> came +in, introduced by two tapers supported by a spruce servant, whose +hair is under a cap till my lady's candles are all lighted up, and +the hour of ceremony begins.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> I say <i>Jack Triplett</i> came in, and singing (for +he is really good company) 'Every feature, charming +creature,'—he went on. It is a most unreasonable thing that +people cannot go peaceably to see their friends, but these +murderers are let loose.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Such a shape! such an air! what a glance was that as +her chariot passed by mine!—My lady herself interrupted him: +Pray, who is this fine thing?—I warrant, says another, 'tis +the creature I was telling your ladyship of just now.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> You were telling of? says <i>Jack</i>; I wish I had +been so happy as to have come in and heard you, for I have not +words to say what she is: but if an agreeable height, a modest air, +a virgin shame, and impatience of being beheld, amidst a blaze of +ten thousand charms—The whole room flew out—Oh, Mr. +<i>Triplett</i>! When Mrs. <i>Lofty</i>, a known prude, said she +believed she knew whom the gentleman meant; but she was, indeed, as +he civilly represented her, impatient of being beheld. Then turning +to the lady next her—The most unbred creature you ever +saw.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Another pursued the discourse:—As unbred, +madam, as you may think her, she is extremely belied if she is the +novice she appears; she was last week at a ball till two in the +morning: Mr. <i>Triplett</i> knows whether he was the happy man +that took care of her home; but—This was followed by some +particular exception that each woman in the room made to some +peculiar grace or advantage; so that Mr. <i>Triplett</i> was beaten +from one limb and feature to another, till he was forced to resign +the whole woman.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> In the end, I took notice <i>Triplett</i> recorded +all this malice in his heart; and saw in his countenance, and a +certain waggish shrug, that he designed to repeat the conversation: +I therefore let the discourse die, and soon after took an occasion +to commend a certain gentleman of my acquaintance for a person of +singular modesty, courage, integrity, and withal, as a man of an +entertaining conversation, to which advantages he had a shape and +manner peculiarly graceful.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Mr. <i>Triplett</i>, who is a woman's man, seemed to +hear me, with patience enough, commend the qualities of his mind; +he never heard, indeed, but that he was a very honest man, and no +fool; but for a fine gentleman, he must ask pardon. Upon no other +foundation than this, Mr. <i>Triplett</i> took occasion to give the +gentleman's pedigree, by what methods some part of the estate was +acquired, how much it was beholden to a marriage for the present +circumstances of it: after all, he could see nothing but a common +man in his person, his breeding or under-Standing.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Thus, Mr. <i>Spectator</i>, this impertinent humour +of diminishing every one who is produced in conversation to their +advantage, runs through the world; and I am, I confess, so fearful +of the force of ill tongues, that I have begged of all those who +are my well-wishers, never to commend me, for it will but bring my +frailties into examination, and I had rather be unobserved, than +conspicuous for disputed perfections.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> I am confident a thousand young people, who would +have been ornaments to society, have, from fear of scandal, never +dared to exert themselves in the polite arts of life.—Their +lives have passed away in an odious rusticity, in spite of great +advantages of person, genius and fortune.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> There is a vicious terror of being blamed in some +well-inclined people, and a wicked pleasure in suppressing them in +others; both which I recommend to your spectatorial wisdom to +animadvert upon: and if you can be successful in it, I need not say +how much you will deserve of the town; but new toasts will owe to +you their beauty, and new wits their fame.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Truth and reality have all the advantages of +appearance, and many more. If the show of any thing be good for any +thing, I am sure sincerity is better: for why does any man +dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because he +thinks it good to have such a quality as he pretends to? for to +counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of some real +excellency.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Now the best way in the world for a man to seem to be +any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be. Besides that, +it is many times as troublesome to make good the pretence of a good +quality, as to have it; and if a man have it not, it is ten to one +but he is discovered to want it, and then all his pains and labour +to seem to have it, is lost. There is something unnatural in +painting, which a skilful eye will easily discern from native +beauty and complexion.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> It is hard to personate and act a part long; for +where truth is not at the bosom; nature will always be endeavouring +to return, and will peep out and betray herself one time or other. +Therefore, if any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be +so indeed, and then his goodness will appear to every body's +satisfaction; so that upon all accounts sincerity is true +wisdom.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> Particularly as to the affairs of this world, +integrity hath many advantages over all the fine and artificial +ways of dissimulation and deceit; it is much the plainer and +easier, much the safer and more secure way of dealing in the world; +it has less of trouble and difficulty, of entanglement and +perplexity, of danger and hazard in it: it is the shortest and +nearest way to our end, carrying us thither in a straight line, and +will hold out and last longest.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> The arts of deceit and cunning do continually grow +weaker and less effectual and serviceable to them that use them; +whereas integrity gains strength by use, and the more and longer +any man practiseth it, the greater service it does him, by +confirming his reputation, and encouraging those with whom he hath +to do, to repose the greatest trust and confidence in him, which is +an unspeakable advantage in the business and affairs of life.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Truth is always consistent with itself, and needs +nothing to help it out; it is always near at hand, and sits upon +our lips, and is ready to drop out before we are aware; whereas a +lie is troublesome, and sets a man's invention upon the rack, and +one trick needs a great many more to make it good.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> It is like building upon a false foundation, which +continually stands in need of props to shoar it up, and proves at +last more chargeable, than to have raised a substantial building at +first upon a true and solid foundation; for sincerity is firm and +substantial, and there is nothing hollow and unsound in it, and +because it is plain and open, fears no discovery:</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Of which the crafty man is always in danger, and when +he thinks he walks in the dark, all his pretences are so +transparent, that he who runs may read them; he is the last man +that finds himself to be found out, and whilst he takes it for +granted that he makes fools of others, he renders himself +ridiculous.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> Add to all this, that sincerity is the most +compendious wisdom, and an excellent instrument for the speedy +dispatch of business; it creates confidence in those we have to +deal with, saves the labor of many inquiries, and brings things to +an issue in a few words.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> It is like travelling; in a plain beaten road, which +commonly brings a man sooner to his journey's end than by-ways, in +which men often lose themselves. In a word, whatsoever convenience +may be thought to be in falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon +over, but the inconvenience of it is perpetual, because it brings a +man under an everlasting jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not +believed when he speaks truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means +honestly; when a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his +integrity, he is set last, and nothing will then serve his turn, +neither truth nor falsehood.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> And I have often thought, that God hath, in his great +wisdom, hid from men of false and dishonest minds, the wonderful +advantages of truth and integrity to the prosperity even of our +worldly affairs; these men are so blinded by their covetousness and +ambition, that they cannot look beyond a present advantage, nor +forbear to seize upon it, though by ways never so indirect; they +cannot see so far, as to the remote consequences of a steady +integrity, and the vast benefit and advantages which it will bring +a man at last.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> Were but this sort of men wise and clear sighted +enough to discern this, they would be honest out of very knavery; +not out of any love to honesty and virtue, but with a crafty design +to promote and advance more effectually their own interests; and +therefore the justice of the Divine Providence hath hid this truest +point of wisdom from their eyes, that bad men might not be upon +equal terms with the just and upright, and serve their own wicked +designs by honest and lawful means.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> Indeed if a man were only to deal in the world for a +day, and should never have occasion to converse more with mankind, +never more need their good opinion or good word, it were then no +great matter (speaking as to the concernments of this world) if a +man spent his reputation all at once, or ventured it at one +throw.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> But if he be to continue in the world, and would have +the advantage of conversation while he is in it, let him make use +of truth and sincerity in all his words and actions; for nothing +but this will last and hold out to the end; all other arts will +fail, but truth and integrity will carry a man through, and bear +him out to the last.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> When <i>Aristotle</i> was once asked, what a man +could gain by uttering falsehoods? he replied, "not to be credited +when he shall tell the truth."</p> +<p>The character of a lyar is at once so hateful and contemptible, +that even of those who have lost their virtue it might be expected, +that from the violation of truth they should be restrained by their +pride. Almost every other vice that disgraces human nature, may be +kept in countenance by applause and association.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> The corrupter of virgin innocence sees himself envied +by the men, and at least not detested by the women: the drunkard +may easily unite with beings, devoted like himself to noisy +merriment or silent insensibility, who will celebrate his victories +over the novices of intemperance, boast themselves the companions +of his prowess, and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom +unsuccessful emulation has hurried to the grave: even the robber +and the cut-throat have their followers, who admire their address +and intrepidity, their stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to +the gang.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> The lyar, and only the lyar, is invariably and +universally despised, abandoned and disowned: he has no domestic +consolations, which he can oppose to the censure of mankind; he can +retire to no fraternity where his crimes may stand in the place of +virtues, but is given up to the hisses of the multitude, without +friend and without apologist. It is the peculiar condition of +falsehood, to be equally detested by the good and bad: "The +devils," says Sir <i>Thomas Brown</i>, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies; nor can the +society of hell subsist without it."</p> +<p><b>34.</b> It is natural to expect, that a crime thus generally +detested, should be generally avoided; at least that none should +expose himself to unabated and unpitied infamy, without an adequate +temptation; and that to guilt so easily detected, and so severely +punished, an adequate temptation would not readily be found.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> Yet so it is, that in defiance of censure and +contempt, truth is frequently violated; and scarcely the most +vigilant unremitted circumspection will secure him that mixes with +mankind, from being hourly deceived by men of whom it can scarcely +be imagined, that they mean an injury to him or profit to +themselves; even where the subject of conversation could not have +been expected to put the passions in motion, or to have excited +either hope or fear, or zeal or malignity, sufficient to induce any +man to put his reputation in hazard, however little he might value +it, or to overpower the love of truth, however weak might be its +influence.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> The casuists have very diligently distinguished lies +into their several classes, according to their various degrees of +malignity; but they have, I think, generally omitted that which is +most common, and, perhaps, not less mischievous; which, since the +moralists have not given it a name, I shall distinguish as the lie +of vanity.</p> +<p>To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which +every man perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and perhaps most +of those that are propagated with success.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> To the lie of commerce, and the lie of malice, the +motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or +implicitly received: suspicion is always watchful over the +practices of interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of +mischief, can prompt one man to assert, another is, by reasons +equally cogent, incited to refute. But vanity pleases herself with +such slight gratifications, and looks forward to pleasure so +remotely consequential, that her practices raise no alarm, and her +stratagems are not easily discovered.</p> +<p><b>38.</b> Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass unpursued +by suspicion; because he that would watch her motions, can never be +at rest; fraud and malice are bounded in their influence; some +opportunity of time and place is necessary to their agency; but +scarce any man is abstracted one moment from his vanity; and he, to +whom truth affords no gratifications, is generally inclined to seek +them in falsehoods.</p> +<p><b>39.</b> It is remarked by Sir <i>Kenelm Digby</i>, "that +every man has a desire to appear superior to others, though it were +only in having seen what they have not seen."</p> +<p>Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies merit, +nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so much +as to be counterfeited; yet even this vanity, trifling as it is, +produces innumerable narratives, all equally false, but more or +less credible, in proportion to the skill or confidence of the +relater.</p> +<p><b>40.</b> How many may a man of diffusive conversation count +among his acquaintances, whose lives have been signalized by +numberless escapes; who never cross the river but in a storm, or +take a journey into the country without more adventures than befel +the knight-errants of ancient times in pathless forests or +enchanted castles! How many must he know, to whom portents and +prodigies are of daily occurrence; and for whom nature is hourly +working wonders invisible to every other eye, only to supply them +with subjects of conversation!</p> +<p><b>41.</b> Others there are who amuse themselves with the +dissemination of falsehood, at greater hazard of detection and +disgrace; men marked out by some lucky planet for universal +confidence and friendship, who have, been consulted in every +difficulty, entrusted with every secret, and summoned to every +transaction: it is the supreme felicity of these men, to stun all +companies with noisy information; to still doubt, and overbear +opposition, with certain knowledge or authentic intelligence.</p> +<p><b>42.</b> A lyar of this kind, with a strong memory or brisk +imagination, is often the oracle of an obscure club, and, till time +discovers his impostures, dictates to his hearers with uncontrolled +authority: for if a public question be started, he was present at +the debate; if a new fashion be mentioned, he was at court the +first day of its appearance; if a new performance of literature +draws the attention of the public, he has patronized the author, +and seen his work in manuscript; if a criminal of eminence be +condemned to die, he often predicted his fate, and endeavoured his +reformation; and who that lives at a distance from the scene of +action, will dare to contradict a man, who reports from his own +eyes and ears, and to whom all persons and affairs are thus +intimately known?</p> +<p><b>45.</b> This kind of falsehood is generally successful for a +time, because it is practised at first with timidity and caution; +but the prosperity of the lyar is of short duration; the reception +of one story is always an incitement to the forgery of another less +probable; and he goes on to triumph over tacit credulity, till +pride or reason rises up against him, and his companions will no +longer endure to see him wiser than themselves.</p> +<p><b>44.</b> It is apparent, that the inventors of all these +fictions intend some exaltation of themselves, and are led off by +the pursuit of honour from their attendance upon truth: their +narratives always imply some consequence in favor of their courage, +their sagacity, or their activity, their familiarity with the +learned, or their reception among the great; they are always bribed +by the present pleasure of seeing themselves superior to those that +surround them, and receiving the homage of silent attention and +envious admiration.</p> +<p><b>45.</b> But vanity is sometimes excited to fiction by less +visible gratifications: the present age abounds with a race of +lyars who are content with the consciousness of falsehood, and +whose pride is to deceive others without any gain or glory to +themselves. Of this tribe it is the supreme pleasure to remark a +lady in the play-house or the park, and to publish, under the +character of a man suddenly enamoured, an advertisement in the news +of the next day, containing a minute description of her person and +her dress.</p> +<p><b>46.</b> From this artifice, however, no other effect can be +expected, than perturbations which the writer can never see, and +conjectures of which he can never be informed: some mischief, +however, he hopes he has done; and to have done mischief is of some +importance. He sets his invention to work again, and produces a +narrative of a robbery, or a murder, with all the circumstances of +the time and place accurately adjusted. This is a jest of greater +effect and longer duration. If he fixes his scene at a proper +distance, he may for several days keep a wife in terror for her +husband, or a mother for her son; and please himself with +reflecting, that by his abilities and address some addition is made +to the miseries of life.</p> +<p><b>47.</b> There is, I think, an ancient law in <i>Scotland</i>, +by which <i>Leasing-making</i> was capitally punished. I am, +indeed, far from desiring to increase in this kingdom the number of +executions; yet I cannot but think, that they who destroy the +confidence of society, weaken the credit of intelligence, and +interrupt the security of life; harrass the delicate with shame, +and perplex the timorous with alarms; might very properly be +awakened to a sense of their crimes, by denunciations of a +whipping-post or a pillory: since many are so insensible of right +and wrong, that they have no standard of action but the law; nor +feel guilt, but as they dread punishment.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Importance_of_Punctuality' id= +"The_Importance_of_Punctuality"></a> +<h2><i>The Importance of Punctuality</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> It is observed in the writings of <i>Boyle</i>, that +the excellency of manufactures and the facility of labor would be +much promoted, if the various expedients and contrivances which lie +concealed in private hands, were, by reciprocal communications, +made generally known; for there are few operations that are not +performed by one or other with some peculiar advantages, which, +though singly of little importance, would, by conjunction and +concurrence, open new inlets to knowledge, and give new powers to +diligence.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> There are in like manner several moral excellencies +distributed among the various classes of mankind, which he that +converses in the world should endeavor to assemble in himself. It +was said by the learned <i>Cajucius</i>, that he never read more +than one book, by which he was not instructed; and he that shall +inquire after virtue with ardour and attention, will seldom find a +man by whose example or sentiments he may not be improved.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Every profession has some essential and appropriate +virtue, without which there can be no hope of honor or success, and +which, as it is more or less cultivated, confers within its sphere +of activity different degrees of merit and reputation. As the +astrologers range the subdivisions of mankind under the planets +which they suppose to influence their lives, the moralist may +distribute them according to the virtues which they necessarily +practise, and consider them as distinguished by prudence or +fortitude, diligence or patience.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> So much are the modes of excellence settled by time +and place, that man may be heard boasting in one street of that +which they would anxiously conceal in another. The grounds of scorn +and esteem, the topics of praise and satire, are varied according +to the several virtues or vices which the course of our lives has +disposed us to admire or abhor; but he who is solicitous for his +own improvement, must not suffer his affairs to be limited by local +reputation, but select from every tribe of mortals their +characteristical virtues, and constellate in himself the scattered +graces which shine single in other men.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The chief praise to which a trader generally aspires, +is that of punctuality, or an exact and rigorous observance of +commercial promises and engagements; nor is there any vice of which +he so much dreads the imputation, as of negligence and instability. +This is a quality which the interest of mankind requires to be +diffused through all the ranks of life, but which, however useful +and valuable, many seem content to want: it is considered as a +vulgar and ignoble virtue, below the ambition of greatness, or +attention of wit, scarcely requisite among men of gaiety and +spirit, and sold at its highest rate when it is sacrificed to a +frolic or a jest.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Every man has daily occasion to remark what vexations +and inconveniences arise from this privilege of deceiving one +another. The active and vivacious have so long disdained the +restraints of truth, that promises and appointments have lost their +cogency, and both parties neglect their stipulations, because each +concludes that they will be broken by the other.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Negligence is first admitted in trivial affairs, and +strengthened by petty indulgences. He that is not yet hardened by +custom, ventures not on the violation of important engagements, but +thinks himself bound by his word in cases of property or danger, +though he allows himself to forget at what time he is to meet +ladies in the park, or at what tavern his friends are expecting +him.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> This laxity of honor would be more tolerable, if it +could be restrained to the play-house, the ball-room, or the card +table; yet even there it is sufficiently troublesome, and darkens +those moments with expectation, suspence, uncertainty and +resentment, which are set aside for the softer pleasures of life, +and from which we naturally hope for unmingled enjoyment, and total +relaxation. But he that suffers the slightest breach in his +morality, can seldom tell what shall enter it, or how wide it shall +be made; when a passage is opened, the influx of corruption is +every moment wearing down opposition, and by slow degrees deluges +the heart.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> <i>Aliger</i> entered into the world a youth of lively +imagination, extensive views, and untainted principles. His +curiosity incited him to range from place to place, and try all the +varieties of conversation; his elegance of address and fertility of +ideas gained him friends wherever he appeared; or at least he found +the general kindness of reception always shewn to a young man whose +birth and fortune gave him a claim to notice, and who has neither +by vice or folly destroyed his privileges.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> <i>Aliger</i> was pleased with this general smile of +mankind, and being naturally gentle and flexible, was industrious +to preserve it by compliance and officiousness, but did not suffer +his desire of pleasing to vitiate his integrity. It was his +established maxim, that a promise is never to be broken; nor was it +without long reluctance that he once suffered himself to be drawn +away from a festal engagement by the importunity of another +company.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> He spent the evening, as is usual in the rudiments of +vice, with perturbation and imperfect enjoyment, and met his +disappointed friends in the morning with confusion and excuses. His +companions, not accustomed to such scrupulous anxiety, laughed at +his uneasiness, compounded the offence for a bottle, gave him +courage to break his word again, and again levied the penalty.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> He ventured the same experiment upon another society; +and found them equally ready to consider it as a venial fault, +always incident to a man of quickness and gaiety; till by degrees +he began to think himself at liberty to follow the last invitation, +and was no longer shocked at the turpitude of falsehood. He made no +difficulty to promise his presence at distant places, and if +listlessness happened to creep upon him, would sit at home with +great tranquillity, and has often, while he sunk to sleep in a +chair, held ten tables in continual expectation of his +entrance.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> He found it so pleasant to live in perpetual vacancy, +that he soon dismissed his attention as an useless incumbrance, and +resigned himself to carelessness and dissipation, without any +regard to the future or the past, or any other motive of action +than the impulse of a sudden desire, or the attraction of immediate +pleasure. The absent were immediately forgotten, and the hopes or +fears of others had no influence upon his conduct. He was in +speculation completely just, but never kept his promise to a +creditor; he was benevolent, but always deceived those friends whom +he undertook to patronize or assist; he was prudent, but suffered +his affairs to be embarrassed for want of settling his accounts at +stated times.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> He courted a young lady, and when the settlements +were drawn, took a ramble into the country on the day appointed to +sign them. He resolved to travel, and sent his chests on +ship-board, but delayed to follow them till he lost his passage. He +was summoned as an evidence in a cause of great importance, and +loitered in the way till the trial was past. It is said, that when +he had with great expense formed an interest in a borough, his +opponent contrived by some agents, who knew his temper, to lure him +away on the day of election.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> His benevolence draws him into the commission of +thousand crimes, which others, less kind or civil, would escape. +His courtesy invites application, his promises produce dependence: +he has his pockets filled with petitions, which he intends some +time to deliver and enforce; and his table covered with letters of +request, with which he purposes to comply; but time slips +imperceptibly away, while he is either idle or busy: his friends +lose their opportunities, and charge upon him their miscarriages +and calamities.</p> +<p>This character, however contemptible, is not peculiar to +<i>Aliger</i>.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> They whose activity of imagination is often shifting +the scenes of expectation, are frequently subject to such sallies +of caprice as to make all their actions fortuitous, destroy the +value of their friendship, obstruct the efficacy of their virtues, +and set them below the meanest of those that persist in their +resolutions, execute what they design, and perform what they have +promised.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Exercise___Temperance_the_best_Preservative_of_Health' id= +"Exercise___Temperance_the_best_Preservative_of_Health"></a> +<h2><i>Exercise & Temperance the best Preservative of +Health.</i></h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a man +submits to for his livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his +pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name of labor +for that of exercise, but differs only from ordinary labor as it +rises from another motive.</p> +<p>A country life abounds in both these kinds of labor, and for +that reason gives a man a greater stock of health, and consequently +a more perfect enjoyment of himself, than any other way of +life.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I consider the body as a system of tubes and glands, +or, to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, +fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner, as to make a +proper engine for the soul to work with. This description does not +only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, nerves and +arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, which is a +composition of fibres, that are so many imperceptible tubes or +pipes interwoven on all sides with invisible glands or +strainers.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> This general idea of a human body, without considering +it in its niceties of anatomy, let us see how absolutely necessary +labor is for the right preservation of it. There must be frequent +motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and separate the juices +contained in it, as well as to clear and disperse the infinitude of +pipes and strainers of which it is composed, and to give their +solid parts a more firm and lasting tone. Labor or exercise +ferments the humors, casts them into their proper channels, throws +off redundancies, and helps nature in those secret distributions, +without which the body cannot subsist in its vigor, nor the soul +act with cheerfulness.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I might here mention the effects which this has upon +all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, +the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits that are +necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual faculties, +during the present laws of union between soul and body. It is to a +neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the spleen, which +is so frequent in men of studious and sedentary tempers, as well as +the vapours to which those of the other sex are so often +subject.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our +well-being, nature would not have made the body so proper for it, +by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pliancy to +every part, as necessarily produce those compressions, extensions, +contortions, dilations, and all other kinds of motions that are +necessary for the preservation of such a system of tubes and glands +as has been before mentioned. And that we might not want +inducements to engage us in such an exercise of the body, as is +proper for its welfare, it is so ordered, that nothing, valuable +can be procured without it. Not to mention riches and honor, even +food and raiment are not to be come at without the toil of the +hands and sweat of the brows.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we +should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored before it +gives its increase, and when it is forced into its several +products, how many hands must they pass through before they are fit +for use. Manufactures, trade and agriculture, naturally employ more +than nineteen parts of the species in twenty; and as for those who +are not obliged to labor, by the condition in which they are born, +they are more miserable than the rest of mankind, unless they +indulge themselves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name +of exercise.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> My friend Sir <i>Roger</i> hath been an indefatigable +man in business of this kind, and has hung several parts of his +house with the trophies of his former labors. The walls of his +great hall are covered with the horns of several kinds of deer that +he has killed in the chase, which he thinks the most valuable +furniture of his house, as they afford him frequent topics of +discourse, and show that he has not been idle.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> At the lower end of the hall is a large otter's skin +stuffed with hay, which his mother ordered to be hung up in that +manner, and the knight looks upon it with great satisfaction, +because it seems he was but nine years old when his dog killed it. +A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal, filled +with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the knight +has made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thousands of +pheasants, partridges and woodcocks. His stable-doors are patched +with noses that belonged to foxes of the knight's own hunting +down.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Sir <i>Roger</i> shewed me one of them that, for +distinction sake, has a brass nail stuck through it, which cost him +about fifteen hours riding, carried him, through half a dozen +counties, killed him a brace of geldings, and lost about half his +dogs. This the knight looks upon as one of the greatest exploits of +his life.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The perverse widow, whom I have given some account +of, was the death of several foxes; for Sir <i>Roger</i> has told +me, that in the course of his amours he patched the western door of +his stable. Whenever the widow was cruel, the foxes were sure to +pay for it. In proportion as his passion for the widow abated and +old age came on, he left off fox-hunting; but a hare is not yet +safe that sits within ten miles of his house.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> There is no kind of exercise which I would so +recommend to my readers of both sexes as that of riding, as there +is none which so much conduces to health, and is every way +accommodated to the body, according to the idea which I have given +of it. Dr. <i>Sydenham</i> is very lavish in its praise; and if the +<i>English</i> reader will see the mechanical effects of it +described at length, he may find them in a book published not many +years since, under the title of <i>Medicina Gymnastica</i>.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> For my own part, when I am in town, for want of these +opportunities, I exercise myself an hour every morning upon a dumb +bell that is placed in a corner of my room, and pleases me the more +because it does everything I require in the most profound silence. +My landlady and her daughters are so well acquainted with my hours +of exercise, that they never come into my room to disturb me whilst +I am ringing.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> When I was some years younger than I am at present, I +used to employ myself in a more laborious diversion, which I +learned from a <i>Latin</i> treatise of exercise, that is written +with great erudition: It is there called the <i>Skimachia</i>, or +the fighting with a man's own shadow, and consists in the +brandishing of two short sticks grasped in each hand, and loaded +with plugs of lead at either end. This opens the chest, exercises +the limbs, and gives a man all the pleasure of boxing, without the +blows.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> I could wish that several learned men would lay out +that time which they employ in controversies, and disputes about +nothing, in <i>this method</i> of fighting with their own shadows. +It might conduce very much to evaporate the spleen, which makes +them uneasy to the public as well as to themselves.</p> +<p>As I am a compound of soul and body, I consider myself as +obliged to a double scheme of duties; and think I have not +fulfilled the business of the day when I do not thus employ the one +in labour and exercise, as well as the other in study and +contemplation.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> There is a story in the <i>Arabian Nights Tales</i>, +of a king who had long languished under an ill habit of body, and +had taken abundance of remedies to no purpose. At length, says the +fable, a physician cured him by the following method: He took an +hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several drugs; after which +he closed it up so artificially that nothing appeared. He likewise +took a mall, and after having hollowed the handle, and that part +which strikes the ball, inclosed in them several drugs after the +same manner as in the ball itself.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> He then ordered the sultan who was his patient, to +exercise himself early in the morning with these rightly prepared +instruments, till such time as he should sweat; when, as the story +goes, the virtue of the medicaments perspiring through the wood, +had so good an influence on the sultan's constitution, that they +cured him of an indisposition which all the compositions he had +taken inwardly had not been able to remove.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> This eastern allegory is finely contrived to shew us +how beneficial bodily labour is to health, and that exercise is the +most effectual physic. I have described in my hundred and fifteenth +paper, from the general structure and mechanism of an human body, +how absolutely necessary exercise is for its preservation; I shall +in this place recommend another great preservative of health, which +in many cases produces the same effects as exercise, and may, in +some measure, supply its place, where opportunities of exercise are +wanting.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> The preservative I am speaking of is temperance, +which has those particular advantages above all other means of +health, that it may be practised by all ranks and conditions, at +any season, or in any place. It is a kind of regimen into which +every man may put himself, without interruption to business, +expense of money, or loss of time. If exercise throws off all +superfluities, temperance prevents them: if exercise clears the +vessels, temperance neither satiates nor over-strains them; if +exercise raises proper ferments in the humours, and promotes the +circulation of the blood, temperance gives nature her full play, +and enables her to exert herself in all her force and vigour: if +exercise dissipates a growing distemper, temperance starves it.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the +substitute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are indeed +absolutely necessary in acute distempers, that cannot wait the slow +operations of these two great instruments of health: but did men +live in an habitual course of exercise and temperance, there would +be but little occasion for them. Accordingly we find that those +parts of the world are the most healthy, where they subsist by the +chase; and that men lived longest when their lives were employed in +hunting, and when they had little food besides what they +caught.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> Blistering, cupping, bleeding, are seldom of use to +any but the idle and intemperate; as all those inward applications, +which are so much in practice among us, are, for the most part, +nothing else but expedients to make luxury consistent with health. +The apothecary is perpetually employed in countermining the cook +and the vintner. It is said of <i>Diogenes</i>, that meeting a +young man who was going to a feast, he took him up in the street, +and carried him home to his friends, as one who was running into +imminent danger, had he not prevented him.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> What would that philosopher have said, had he been +present at the gluttony of a modern meal? Would not he have thought +the master of the family mad, and have begged his servant to tie +down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish and flesh; +swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; throw down sallads of +twenty different herbs, sauces of an hundred ingredients, +confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavours? What +unnatural motions and counter-ferments must such a medley of +intemperance produce in the body? For my part, when I behold a +fashionable table set out in all its magnificence, I fancy, that I +see gouts and dropsies, fevers and lethargies, with other +innumerable distempers, lying in ambuscade among the dishes.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. +Every animal but man keeps to one dish. Herbs are the food of this +species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man falls upon every +thing that comes in his way; not the smallest fruit or excrescence +of the earth, scarce a berry, or a mushroom can escape him.</p> +<p>It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule for +temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temperance in +another; but there are few that have lived any time in the world, +who are not judges of their own constitutions, so far as to know +what kinds and what proportions of food do best agree with +them.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to +prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to all +persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate and +way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very eminent +physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. If you indulge +in a second, avoid drinking any thing strong till you have finished +your meal: at the same time abstain from all sauces, or at least +such as are not the most plain and simple.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> A man could not be well guilty of gluttony, if he +stuck to these few obvious and easy rules. In the first case, there +would be no variety of tastes to solicit his palate and occasion +excess; nor in the second, any artificial provocatives to relieve +satiety, and create a false appetite. Were I to prescribe a rule +for drinking, it should be formed on a saying quoted by Sir +<i>William Temple:—The first glass for myself, the second for +my friends, the third for good humour, and the fourth for my +enemies</i>. But because it is impossible for one who lives in the +world to diet himself always in so philosophical a manner, I think +every man should have his days of abstinence, according as his +constitution will permit.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> These are great reliefs to nature, as they qualify +her for struggling with hunger and thirst, whenever any distemper +or duty of life may put her upon such difficulties; and at the same +time give her an opportunity of extricating herself from her +oppressions, and recovering the several tones and springs of her +distended vessels. Besides that, abstinence well-timed often kills +a sickness in embryo, and destroys the first seeds of an +indisposition.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that +<i>Socrates</i>, notwithstanding he lived in <i>Athens</i> during +that great plague, which has made so much noise through all ages, +and has been celebrated at different times by such eminent hands; I +say, notwithstanding that he lived in the time of this devouring +pestilence, he never caught the least infection, which those +writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted temperance which +he always observed.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> And here I cannot but mention an observation which I +have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, and +comparing them with any series of kings or great men of the same +number. If we consider these ancient sages, a great part of whose +philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious course of life, +one would think the life of a philosopher and the life of a man +were of two different dates. For we find that the generality of +these wise men were nearer an hundred than sixty years of age at +the time of their respective deaths.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of +temperance towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet with +in a little book published by <i>Lewis Cornaro</i>, the +<i>Venetian</i>; which I the rather mention, because it is of +undoubted credit, as the late <i>Venetian</i> ambassador, who was +of the same family, attested more than once in conversation, when +he resided in <i>England</i>. <i>Cornaro</i>, who was the author of +the little treatise I am mentioning, was of an infirm constitution, +till about forty, when, by obstinately persisting in an exact +course of temperance, he recovered a perfect state of health; +insomuch that at fourscore he published his book, which has been +translated into <i>English</i>, under the title of, <i>Sure and +certain methods of attaining a long and healthy Life</i>.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and +after having passed his hundredth year, died without pain or agony, +and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I mention has been +taken notice of by several eminent authors, and is written with +such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion and good sense, as are the +natural concomitants of temperance and sobriety. The mixture of the +old man in it is rather a recommendation than a discredit to +it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Duty_of_Secrecy' id="The_Duty_of_Secrecy"></a> +<h2><i>The Duty of Secrecy.</i></h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> It is related by <i>Quintus Curtius</i>, that the +<i>Persians</i> always conceived a lasting and invincible contempt +of a man who had violated the laws of secrecy: for they thought +that, however he might be deficient in the qualities requisite to +actual excellence, the negative virtues at least were always in his +power, and though he perhaps could not speak well if he was to try, +it was still easy for him not to speak.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> In this opinion of the easiness of secrecy, they seem +to have considered it as opposed, not to treachery, but loquacity, +and to have conceived the man, whom they thus censured, not +frighted by menaces to reveal, or bribed by promises to betray, but +incited by the mere pleasure of talking, or some other motive +equally trivial, to lay open his heart with reflection, and to let +whatever he knew slip from him, only for want of power to retain +it.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Whether, by their settled and avowed scorn of +thoughtless talkers, the <i>Persians</i> were able to diffuse to +any great extent, the virtue of taciturnity, we are hindered by the +distress of those times from being able to discover, there being +very few memoirs remaining of the court of <i>Persepolis</i>, nor +any distinct accounts handed down to us of their office-clerks, +their ladies of the bed-chamber, their attornies, their +chamber-maids, or the foot-men.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> In these latter ages, though the old animosity against +a prattler is still retained, it appears wholly to have lost its +effects upon the conduct of mankind; for secrets are so seldom +kept, that it may with some reason be doubted, whether the ancients +were not mistaken in their first postulate, whether the quality of +retention be so generally bestowed, and whether a secret has not +some subtile volatility, by which it escapes almost imperceptibly +at the smallest vent; or some power of fermentation, by which it +expands itself so as to burst the heart that will not give it +way.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Those that study either the body or the mind of man, +very often find the most specious and pleasing theory falling under +the weight of contrary experience: and instead of gratifying their +vanity by inferring effects from causes, they are always reduced at +last to conjecture causes from effects. That it is easy to be +secret, the speculatist can demonstrate in his retreat, and +therefore thinks himself justified in placing confidence: the man +of the world knows, that, whether difficult or not, it is not +uncommon, and therefore finds himself rather inclined to search +after the reason of this universal failure in one of the most +important duties of society.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> The vanity of being known to be trusted with a secret +is generally one of the chief motives to disclose it; for however +absurd it may be thought to boast an honour, by an act that shews +that it was conferred without merit, yet most men seem rather +inclined to confess the want of virtue than of importance, and more +willingly shew their influence and their power, though at the +expence of their probity, than glide through life with no other +pleasure than the private consciousness of fidelity: which, while +it is preserved, must be without praise, except from the single +person who tries and knows it.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> There are many ways of telling a secret, by which a +man exempts himself from the reproaches of his conscience, and +gratifies his pride without suffering himself to believe that he +impairs his virtue. He tells the private affairs of his patron or +his friend, only to those from whom he would not conceal his own; +he tells them to those who have no temptation to betray their +trust, or with the denunciation of a certain forfeiture of his +friendship, if he discovers that they become public.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Secrets are very frequently told in the first ardour +of kindness, or of love, for the sake of proving by so important a +sacrifice, the sincerity of professions, or the warmth of +tenderness; but with this motive, though it be sometimes strong in +itself, vanity generally concurs, since every man naturally desires +to be most esteemed by those whom he loves, or whom he converses, +with whom he passes his hours of pleasure, and to whom he retires +from business and from care.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> When the discovery of secrets is under consideration, +there is always a distinction carefully to be made between our own +and those of another, those of which we are fully masters as they +affect only our own interest, and those which are deposited with us +in trust, and involve the happiness or convenience of such as we +have no right to expose to hazard by experiments upon their lives, +without their consent. To tell our own secrets is generally folly, +but that folly is without guilt; to communicate those with which we +are entrusted is always treachery, and treachery for the most part +combined with folly.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> There have, indeed, been some enthusiastic and +irrational zealots for friendship, who have maintained; and perhaps +believed that one friend has a right to all that is in possession +of another; and that therefore it is a violation of kindness to +exempt any secret from this boundless confidence; accordingly a +late female minister of state has been shameless enough to inform +the world, that she used, when she wanted to extract any thing from +her sovereign, to remind her of <i>Montaigne</i>'s reasoning, who +has determined, that to tell a secret to a friend is no breach of +fidelity, because the number of persons trusted is not multiplied, +a man and his friend being virtually the same.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> That such fallacy could be imposed upon any human +understanding, or that an author could have been imagined to +advance a position so remote from truth and reason any otherwise +than as a declaimer to shew to what extent he could stretch his +imagination, and with what strength he could press his principle, +would scarcely have been credible, had not this lady kindly shewed +us how far weakness may be deluded, or indolence amused.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> But since it appears, that even this sophistry has +been able, with the help of a strong desire to repose in quiet upon +the understanding of another, to mislead honest intentions, and an +understanding not contemptible, it may not be superfluous to +remark, that those things which are common among friends are only +such as either possesses in his own right, and can alienate or +destroy without injury to any other person. Without this +limitation, confidence must run on without end, the second person +may tell the secret to the third upon the same principle as he +received it from the first, and the third may hand it forward to a +fourth, till at last it is told in the round of friendship to them +from whom it was the first intention chiefly to conceal it.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> The confidence which <i>Caius</i> has of the +faithfulness of <i>Titius</i> is nothing more than an opinion which +himself cannot know to be true, and which <i>Claudius</i>, who +first tells his secret to <i>Caius</i>, may know, at least may +suspect to be false; and therefore the trust is transferred by +<i>Caius</i>, if he reveal what has been told him, to one from whom +the person originally concerned would probably have withheld it; +and whatever may be the event, <i>Caius</i> has hazarded the +happiness of his friend, without necessity and without permission, +and has put that trust in the hand of fortune was given only to +virtue.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> All the arguments upon which a man who is telling the +private affairs of another may ground his confidence in security, +he must upon reflection know to be uncertain, because he finds them +without effect upon himself. When he is imagining that +<i>Titius</i> will be cautious from a regard to his interest, his +reputation, or his duty, he ought to reflect that he is himself at +that instant acting in opposition to all these reasons, and +revealing what interest, reputation and duty direct him to +conceal.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Every one feels that he should consider the man +incapable of trust, who believed himself at liberty to tell +whatever he knew to the first whom he should conclude deserving of +his confidence: therefore <i>Caius</i>, in admitting <i>Titius</i> +to the affairs imparted only to himself, violates his faith, since +he acts contrary to the intention of <i>Claudius</i>, to whom that +faith was given. For promises of friendship are, like all others, +useless and vain, unless they are made in some known sense, +adjusted and acknowledged by both parties.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> I am not ignorant that many questions may be started +relating to the duty of secrecy, where the affairs are of public +concern; where subsequent reasons may arise to alter the appearance +and nature of the trust; that the manner in which the secret was +told may change the degree of obligation; and that the principles +upon which a man is chosen for a confidant may not always equally +constrain him.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> But these scruples, if not too intricate, are of too +extensive consideration for my present purpose, nor are they such +as generally occur in common life; and though casuistical knowledge +be useful in proper hands, yet it ought by no means to be +carelessly exposed, since most will use it rather to lull than +awaken their own consciences; and the threads of reasoning, on +which truth is suspended, are frequently drawn to such subtility, +that common eyes cannot perceive, and common sensibility cannot +feel them.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> The whole doctrine as well as practice of secrecy is +so perplexing and dangerous, that, next to him who is compelled to +trust, I think him unhappy who is chosen to be trusted; for he is +often involved in scruples without the liberty of calling in the +help of any other understanding; he is frequently drawn into guilt, +under the appearance of friendship and honesty; and sometimes +subjected to suspicion by the treachery of others, who are engaged +without his knowledge in the same schemes; for he that has one +confidant has generally more, and when he is at last betrayed, is +in doubt on whom he shall fix the crime.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> The rules therefore that I shall propose concerning +secrecy, and from which I think it not safe to deviate, without +long and exact deliberation, are—never to solicit the +knowledge of a secret. Not willingly nor without any limitations, +to accept such confidence when it is offered. When a secret is once +admitted, to consider the trust as of a very high nature, important +to society, and sacred as truth, and therefore not to be violated +for any incidental convenience, or slight appearance of contrary +fitness.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Of_Cheerfulness' id="Of_Cheerfulness"></a> +<h2><i>Of Cheerfulness.</i></h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The +latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. +Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness 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, cheerfulness, though it does not give the mind such an +exquisite gladness, prevents us from falling into any depths of +sorrow. Mirth is like a flash of lightning that breaks through a +gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a +kind of day-light in the mind, and fills it with a steady and +perpetual serenity.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 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 dangers. +Writers of this complexion have observed, that the sacred person +who was the great pattern of perfection, was never seen to +laugh.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Cheerfulness 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.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> If we consider cheerfulness 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 in possession of this excellent +frame of mind, is not only easy in his thoughts, but a perfect +master of all the powers and faculties of the soul: his imagination +is always clear, and his judgment undisturbed: his temper is even +and unruffled, whether in action or 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.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> If we consider him in relation to the persons whom he +converses with, it naturally produces love and good will towards +him. A cheerful 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 pleased, he does not know why, +with the cheerfulness 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.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> When I consider this cheerful stale 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 cheerfulness 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.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> There are but two things which, in my opinion, can +reasonably deprive us of this cheerfulness 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 tranquility of +mind which is the health of the soul, and the natural effect of +virtue and innocence. Cheerfulness in an ill man, deserves a harder +name than language can furnish us with, and is many degrees beyond +what we commonly call folly or madness.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Atheism, by which I mean a disbelief of a Supreme +Being, and consequently of a future state, under whatsoever title +it shelters itself, may likewise very reasonably deprive a man of +this cheerfulness 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 out-live the expectation +of it. For my own part, I think the being of a God is so little to +be doubted, that it is almost the only truth we are sure of, and +such a truth as we meet with in every object, in every occurrence, +and in every thought.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> 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?</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The vicious man and atheist have therefore no +pretence to cheerfulness, and would act very unreasonably, should +they endeavor 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.</p> +<p>After having mentioned these two great principles, which are +destructive of cheerfulness 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.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> A good mind may bear up under them with fortitude, +with indolence, and with cheerfulness of heart—the tossing of +a tempest does not discompose him, which he is sure will bring him +to a joyful harbour.</p> +<p>A man who uses his best endeavours to live according to the +dictates of virtue and right reason, has two perpetual sources of +cheerfulness, in the consideration of his own nature, and of that +Being on whom he has a dependence.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> 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 still be 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?</p> +<p><b>13.</b> 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.</p> +<p>The second source of cheerfulness to a good mind is, its +consideration of that Being on whom we have our dependence, 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 by an immensity of +love and mercy.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> 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.</p> +<p>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 establish in us such an even and +cheerful temper, as makes us pleasing to ourselves, to those with +whom we converse, and to him whom we are made to please.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_the_Advantages_of_a_Cheerful_Temper' id= +"On_the_Advantages_of_a_Cheerful_Temper"></a> +<h2><i>On the Advantages of a Cheerful Temper</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>[SPECTATOR, No. +387.]</div> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> Cheerfulness is in the first place the best promoter +of health. Repining and secret murmurs of 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.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I scarce remember in my own observation, to have met +with many old men, or with such, who (to use our <i>English</i> +phrase) <i>were well</i>, that had not at least a certain indolence +in their humour, if not a more than ordinary gaiety and +cheerfulness of heart. The truth of it is, health and cheerfulness +mutually beget each other; with this difference, that we seldom +meet with a great degree of health which is not attended with a +certain cheerfulness, but very often see cheerfulness where there +is no great degree of health.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Cheerfulness bears the same friendly regard to the +mind as to the body: it banishes all anxious care and discontent, +soothes and composes the passions, and keeps the soul in a +perpetual calm. But, having already touched on this last +consideration, I shall here take notice, that 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.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> 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 cheering the mind of man; and making the +heart glad.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Those several living creatures which are made for our +service or sustenance, at the same time either fill the woods with +their music, 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 soul through +which they pass.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> There are writers of great distinction, who have made +it an argument for Providence, that the whole earth is covered with +green, rather than with any other colour, as being such a right +mixture of light and shade, that it comforts and strengthens the +eye instead of weakening or grieving it. For this reason several +painters have a green cloth hanging near them, to ease the eye upon +after too great an application to their colouring.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> A famous modern philosopher accounts for it in the +following manner:—All colours that are more luminous, +overpower and dissipate the animal spirits which are employed +insight: on the contrary, those that are more obscure do not give +the animal spirits a sufficient exercise; whereas the rays that +produce in us the idea of green, fall upon the eye in such a due +proportion, that they give the animal spirits their proper play, +and by keeping up the struggle in a just balance, excite a very +agreeable and pleasing sensation. Let the cause be what it will, +the effect is certain; for which reason, the poets ascribe to this +particular colour the epithet of <i>cheerful</i>.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> To consider further 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 in 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 lodged 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 +into a kind of garden or landscape, and making every thing smile +about him, whilst, in reality, he thinks of nothing but of the +harvest and increase which is to arise from it.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> We may further observe how Providence has taken care +to keep up this cheerfulness 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 deserts, and the like grotesque +parts 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 lowest stations of nature, might have his mind +cheered 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.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The reader's own thoughts may 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.</p> +<p>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 cheerful temper, as offer themselves to +persons of all ranks and Conditions, and which may sufficiently +show us, that Providence did not design this world should be filled +with murmurs and repinings, or that the heart of man should be +involved in gloom and melancholy.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I the more inculcate this cheerfulness of temper, as +it is a virtue in which our countrymen are observed to be more +deficient than any other nation. Melancholy is a kind of +dæmon that haunts our island, and often conveys herself to us +in an easterly wind. A celebrated <i>French</i> novelist, in +opposition to those who begin their romances with a flowery season +of the year, enters on his story thus: <i>In the gloomy month +of</i> November, <i>when the people of</i> England <i>hang and +drown themselves, a disconsolate lover walked out into the +fields</i>, &c.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> 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 cheerfully 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.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> At the same time that I would engage my readers to +consider the world in its most agreeable lights, I must own there +are many evils which naturally spring up amidst the entertainments +that are provided for us, but these, if rightly considered, should +be far from overcasting the mind with sorrow, or destroying that +cheerfulness of temper which I have been recommending.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> This interspersion of evil with good, and pain with +pleasure, in the works of nature, is very truly ascribed by Mr. +<i>Locke</i> in his Essay upon Human Understanding, to a moral +reason, in the following words:</p> +<p><i>Beyond all this, we may find another reason</i> why <i>God +hath scattered up and down</i> several degrees of pleasure and +pain, in all the things that environ and effect us, <i>and blended +them together in almost all that our thoughts and senses have to do +with; that we, finding imperfection, dissatisfaction, and want of +complete happiness in all the enjoyments which the creature can +afford us, might be fed to seek it in the enjoyment of him</i>, +with whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right hand are +pleasures for evermore.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Discretion' id="Discretion"></a> +<h2><i>Discretion</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> I have often thought if the minds of men were laid +open, we should see but little difference between that of the wise +man and that of the fool. There are infinite reveries, numberless +extravagancies, and a perpetual train of vanities, which pass +through both. The great difference is, that the first knows how to +pick and cull his thoughts for conversation, by suppressing some, +and communicating others; whereas the other lets them all +indifferently fly out in words. This sort of discretion, however, +has no place in private conversation between intimate friends. On +such occasions the wisest men very often talk like the weakest; for +indeed the talking with a friend is nothing else but thinking +aloud.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> <i>Tully</i> has therefore very justly exposed a +precept delivered by some ancient writers, that a man should live +with his enemy in such a manner, as might leave him room to become +his friend; and with his friend in such a manner, that if he became +his enemy, it should not be in his power to hurt him. The first +part of this rule, which regards our behaviour towards an enemy, is +indeed very reasonable, as well as prudential; but the latter part +of it, which regards our behaviour towards a friend, favours more +of cunning than of discretion, and would cut a man off from the +greatest pleasures of life, which are the freedoms of conversation +with a bosom friend. Besides, that when a friend is turned into an +enemy, and (as the son of <i>Sirach</i> calls him) a betrayer of +secrets, the world is just enough to accuse the perfidiousness of +the friend, rather than the indiscretion of the person who confided +in him.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Discretion does not only shew itself in words, but In +all the circumstances of action; and is like an under-agent of +Providence, to guide and direct us in the ordinary concerns of +life.</p> +<p>There are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, but +there is none so useful as discretion; it is this indeed which +gives a value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their +proper times and places, and turns them to the advantage of the +person who is possessed of them. Without it, learning is pedantry, +and wit impertinence; virtue itself looks like weakness; the best +parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and active +to his own prejudice.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Nor does discretion only make a man the master of his +own parts, but of other men's. The discreet man finds out the +talents of those he converses with, and knows how to apply them to +proper uses. Accordingly, if we look into particular communities +and divisions of men, we may observe, that it is the discreet man, +not the witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the +conversation, and gives measures to the society. A man with great +talents, but void of discretion, is like <i>Polyphemus</i> in the +fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible force, which +for want of sight, is of no use to him.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Though a man has all other perfections, and wants +discretion, he will be of no great consequence in the world; but if +he has this single talent in perfection and but a common share of +others, he may do what he pleases in his station of life.</p> +<p>At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent +a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the +accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points +out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and +laudable methods of attaining them; cunning has only private +selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them +succeed.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Discretion has large and extended views, and, like a +veil formed eye, commands a whole horizon: cunning is a kind of +short-sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are +near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. +Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to +the person who possesses it; cunning, when it is once detected, +loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even +those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a +plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to +us in all the duties of life: cunning is a kind of instinct, that +only looks out after our immediate interest and welfare.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Discretion is only found in men of strong sense and +good understandings: cunning is often to be met with in brutes +themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from +them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may +pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often +mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.</p> +<p>The cast of mind which is natural to a discreet man, makes him +look forward into futurity, and consider what will be his condition +millions of ages hence, as well as what it is at present.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> He knows, that the misery or happiness which are +reserved for him in another world, lose nothing of their reality by +being placed at so great a distance from him. The objects do not +appear little to him because they are remote. He considers that +those pleasures and pains which lie hid in eternity, approach +nearer to him every moment, and will be present with him in their +full weight and measure, as much as those pains and pleasures which +he feels at this very instant. For this reason he is careful to +secure to himself that which is the proper happiness of his nature, +and the ultimate design of his being.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> He carries his thoughts to the end of every action, +and considers the most distant as well as the most immediate +effects of it. He supercedes every little prospect of gain and +advantage which offers itself here, if he does not find it +consistent with his views of an hereafter. In a word, his hopes are +full of immortality, his schemes are large and glorious, and his +conduct suitable to one who knows his true interest, and how to +pursue it by proper methods.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I have, in this essay upon discretion, considered it +both as an accomplishment and as a virtue, and have therefore +described it in its full extent; not only as it is conversant about +worldly affairs, but as it regards our whole existence; not only as +it is the guide of a mortal creature, but as it is in general the +director of a reasonable being. It is in this light that discretion +is represented by the wise man, who sometimes mentions it under the +name of discretion, and sometimes under that of wisdom.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It is indeed (as described in the latter part of this +paper) the greatest wisdom, but at the same time in the power of +every one to attain. Its advantages are infinite, but its +acquisition easy; or, to speak of her in the words of the +apocryphal writer, "<i>Wisdom</i> is glorious, and never fadeth +away, yet she is easily seen of them that love her, and found of +such as seek her."</p> +<p><b>12.</b> "She preventeth them that desire her, in making +herself first known unto them. He that seeketh her early, shall +have no great travel: for he shall find her sitting at his doors. +To think, therefore, upon Her, is perfection of wisdom, and whoso +watcheth for her, shall quickly be without care. For she goeth +about seeking such as are worthy of her, sheweth herself favourably +unto them in the ways, and meeteth them in every thought."</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Pride' id="Pride"></a> +<h2><i>Pride</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> There is no passion which steals into the heart more +imperceptibly, and covers itself under more disguises, than pride. +For my own part, I think, if there is any passion or vice which I +am wholly a stranger to, it is this; though at the same time, +perhaps this very judgment which I form of myself, proceeds in some +measure from this corrupt principle.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I have been always wonderfully delighted with that +sentence in holy writ, <i>Pride was not made for man</i>. 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 slate of humility, and what the school-men call +self-annihilation. Pride was not made for man, as he is,</p> +<div style='margin-left: 2em'> +<p><b>1.</b> A sinful,</p> +<p><b>2.</b> An ignorant,</p> +<p><b>3.</b> A miserable being.</p> +</div> +<p>There is nothing in his understanding, in his will, or in his +present condition, that can tempt any considerate creature to pride +or vanity.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> These three very reasons why he should not be proud, +are, notwithstanding, the reasons why he is so. Were not he 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 +before his eyes, which are the occasions of this passion, and which +make one man value himself more than another.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> 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.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> If there be any thing which makes human nature appear +<i>ridiculous</i> 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, at the same time that he is obnoxious to all the common +calamities of the species.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> To set this thought in its true light, we will fancy, +if you please, that yonder mole-hill is inhabited by reasonable +creatures, and that every pismire (his shape and way of life only +excepted) is endowed with human passions. How should we smile to +hear one give us an account of the pedigrees, distinctions, and +titles that reign among them!</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Observe how the whole swarm divide and make way for +the pismire that passes through them! You must understand he is an +emmet of quality, and has better blood in his veins than any +pismire in the mole-hill.—Don't you see how sensible he is of +it, how slow he marches forward, how the whole rabble of ants keep +their distance?</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Here you may observe one placed upon a little +eminence, and looking down upon a long row of labourers. He is the +richest insect on this side the hillock, he has a walk of half a +yard in length, and a quarter of an inch in breadth, he keeps a +hundred menial servants, and has at least fifteen barley-corns in +his granary. He is now chiding and beslaving the emmet that stands +before him, and who, for all that we can discover, is as good an +emmet as himself.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> But here comes an insect of figure! don't you take +notice of a little white straw that he carries in his mouth? That +straw, you must understand, he would not part with for the longest +tract about the mole-hill: did you but know what he has undergone +to purchase it! See how the ants of all qualities and conditions +swarm about him! Should this straw drop out of his mouth, you would +see all this numerous circle of attendants follow the next that +took it up, and leave the discarded insect, or run over his back to +come at his successor.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> If now you have a mind to see all the ladies of the +mole-hill, observe first the pismire that listens to the emmet on +her left hand, at the same time that she seems to turn away her +head from him. He tells this poor insect that she is a goddess, +that her eyes are brighter than the sun, that life and death are at +her disposal. She believes him, and gives herself a thousand little +airs upon it.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Mark the vanity of the pismire on your left hand. She +can scarce crawl with age; but you must know she values herself +upon her birth; and if you mind, spurns at every one that comes +within her reach. The little nimble coquette that is running along +by the side of her, is a wit. She has broke many a pismire's heart. +Do but observe what a drove of lovers are running after her.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> We will here finish this imaginary scene; but first +of all, to draw the parallel closer, will suppose, if you please, +that death comes down upon the mole-hill in the shape of a +cock-sparrow, who picks up without distinction, the pismire of +quality and his flatterers, the pismire of substance and his day +labourers, the white straw officer and his sycophants, with all the +goddesses, wits, and beauties of the mole-hill.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> May we not imagine that beings of superior natures +and perfections regard all the instances of pride and vanity, among +our own species, in the same kind of view, when they take a survey +of those who inhabit the earth; or, in the language of an ingenious +<i>French</i> poet, of those pismires that people this heap of +dirt, which human vanity has divided into climates and regions.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, Vol. +II. No. 153.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Drunkenness' id="Drunkenness"></a> +<h2><i>Drunkenness</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> No vices are so incurable as those which men are apt +to glory in. One would wonder how drunkenness should have the good +luck to be of this number. <i>Anarcharsis</i>, being invited to a +match of drinking at Corinth, demanded the prize very humourously, +because he was drunk before any of the rest of the company, for, +says he, when we run a race, he who arrives at the goal first, is +entitled to the reward:</p> +<p><b>2.</b> On the contrary, in this thirsty generation, the +honour falls upon him who carries off the greatest quantity of +liquor, and knocks down the rest of the company. I was the other +day with honest <i>Will Funnell</i>, the West Saxon, who was +reckoning up how much liquor had passed through him in the last +twenty years of his life, which, according to his computation, +amounted to twenty-three hogsheads of October, four ton of port, +half a kilderkin of small-beer, nineteen barrels of cyder, and +three glasses of champaigne; besides which he had assisted at four +hundred bowls of punch, not to mention sips, drams, and whets +without number.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> I question not but every reader's memory will suggest +to him several ambitious young men, who are as vain in this +particular as <i>Will Funnell</i>, and can boast of as glorious +exploits.</p> +<p>Our modern philosophers observe, that there is a general decay +of moisture in the globe of the earth. This they chiefly ascribe to +the growth of vegetables, which incorporate into their own +substance many fluid bodies that never return again to their former +nature:</p> +<p><b>4.</b> But with submission, they ought to throw into their +account, those innumerable rational beings which fetch their +nourishment chiefly out of liquids: especially when we consider +that men, compared with their fellow-creatures, drink much more +than comes to their share.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> But however highly this tribe of people may think of +themselves, a drunken man is a greater monster than any that is to +be found among all the creatures which God has made; as indeed +there is no character which appears more despicable and deformed, +in the eyes of all reasonable persons, than that of a drunkard.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> <i>Bonosus</i>, one of our own countrymen, who was +addicted to this vice, having set up for a share in the Roman +empire, and being defeated in a great battle, hanged himself. When +he was seen by the army in this melancholy situation, +notwithstanding he had behaved himself very bravely, the common +jest was, that the thing they saw hanging upon the tree before +them, was not a man, but a bottle.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> This vice has very fatal effects on the mind, the body +and fortune of the person who is devoted to it.</p> +<p>In regard to the mind, it first of all discovers every flaw in +it. The sober man, by the strength of reason, may keep under and +subdue every vice or folly to which he is most inclined; but wine +makes every latent seed sprout up in the soul, and shew itself: it +gives fury to the passions, and force to those objects which are +apt to produce them.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> When a young fellow complained to an old philosopher +that his wife was not handsome; Put less water into your wine, says +the philosopher, and you'll quickly make her so. Wine heightens +indifference into love, love into jealousy, and jealousy into +madness. It often turns the good natured man into an idiot, and the +choleric into an assassin. It gives bitterness to resentment, it +makes vanity insupportable, and displays every little spot of the +soul in its utmost deformity.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Nor does this vice only betray the hidden faults of a +man, and shew them in most odious colours, but often occasions +faults to which he is not naturally subject. There is more of turn +than of truth in a saying of <i>Seneca</i>, that drunkenness does +not produce, but discover faults. Common experience teaches the +contrary.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> Wine throws a man out of himself, and infuses +qualities into the mind, which she is a stranger to in her sober +moments. The person you converse with, after the third bottle, is +not the same man who at first sat down at the table with you. Upon +this maxim is founded one of the prettiest sayings I ever met with, +which is inscribed to <i>Publius Syrus, He who jests unto a man +that is drunk, injures the absent</i>.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Thus does drunkenness act in direct contradiction to +reason, whose business it is to clear the mind of every vice which +is crept into it, and to guard it against all the approaches of any +that endeavour to make its entrance. But besides these ill effects +which this vice produces in the person who is actually under its +dominion, it has also a bad influence on the mind, even in its +sober moments, as it insensibly weakens the understanding, impairs +the memory, and makes those faults habitual which are produced by +frequent excesses: it wastes the estate, banishes reputation, +consumes the body, and renders a man of the brightest parts the +common jest of an insignificant clown.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> A method of spending one's time agreeably is a thing +so little studied, that the common amusement of our young gentlemen +(especially of such as are at a great distance from those of the +first breeding) is drinking. This way of entertainment has custom +on its side; but as much as it has prevailed, I believe there have +been very few companies that have been guilty of excess this way, +where there have not happened more accidents which make against, +than for the continuance of it.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> It is very common that events arise from a debauch +which are fatal, and always such as are disagreeable. With all a +man's reason and good sense about him, his tongue is apt to utter +things out of a mere gaiety of heart, which may displease his best +friends. Who then would trust himself to the power of wine, without +saying more against it, than, that it raises the imagination and +depresses judgment?</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Were there only this single consideration, that we +are less masters of ourselves when we drink in the least proportion +above the exigencies of thirst: I say, were this all that could be +objected, it were sufficient to make us abhor this vice. But we may +go on to say, that as he who drinks but a little is not master of +himself, so he who drinks much is a slave to himself.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> As for my part, I ever esteemed a drunkard of all +vicious persons the most vicious: for if our actions are to be +weighed and considered according to the intention of them, what can +we think of him who puts himself into a circumstance wherein he can +have no intention at all, but incapacitates himself for the duties +and offices of life, by a suspension of all his faculties.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> If a man considers that he cannot, under the +oppression of drink, be a friend, a gentleman, a master, or a +subject; that he has so long banished himself from all that is +dear, and given up all that is sacred to him, he would even then +think of a debauch with horror; but when he looks still further, +and acknowledges that he is not only expelled out of all the +relations of life, but also liable to offend against them all, what +words can express the terror and detestation he would have of such +a condition? And yet he owns all this of himself who says he was +drunk last night.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> As I have all along persisted in it, that all the +vicious in general are in a state of death, so I think I may add to +the non-existence of drunkards that they died by their own hands. +He is certainly as guilty of suicide who perishes by a slow, as he +that is dispatched by an immediate poison.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> In my last lucubration I proposed the general use of +water-gruel, and hinted that it might not be amiss at this very +season: but as there are some, whose cases, in regard to their +families, will not admit of delay, I have used my interest in +several wards of the city, that the wholesome restorative +above-mentioned may be given in tavern kitchens to all the mornings +draught-men within the walls when they call for wine before +noon.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> For a further restraint and mark upon such persons, I +have given orders, that in all the officers where policies are +drawn upon lives, it shall be added to the article which prohibits +that the nominee should cross the sea, the words, <i>Provided also, +That the above-mentioned</i> A.B. <i>shall not drink before dinner +during the term mentioned in this indenture</i>.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> I am not without hopes that by this method I shall +bring some unsizeable friends of mine into shape and breadth, as +well as others who are languid and consumptive into health and +vigour. Most of the self-murderers whom I yet hinted at, are such +as preserve a certain regularity in taking their poison, and make +it mix pretty well with their food:</p> +<p><b>21.</b> But the most conspicuous of those who destroy +themselves, are such as in their youth fall into this sort of +debauchery, and contract a certain uneasiness of spirit, which is +not to be diverted but by tippling as often as they can fall into +company in the day, and conclude with down-right drunkenness at +night. These gentlemen never know the satisfaction of youth, but +skip the years of manhood, and are decrepid soon after they are of +age.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> I was godfather to one of these old fellows. He is +now three and thirty, which is the grand climacteric of a young +drunkard. I went to visit the crazy wretch this morning, with no +other purpose but to rally him, under the pain and uneasiness of +being sober.</p> +<p>But as our faults are double when they effect others besides +ourselves, so this vice is still more odious in a married than a +single man.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> He that is the husband of a woman of honour, and +comes home overloaded with wine, is still more contemptible, in +proportion to the regard we have to the unhappy consort of his +bestiality. The imagination cannot shape to itself any thing more +monstrous and unnatural, than the familiarities between drunkenness +and chastity. The wretched <i>Astræa</i>, who is the +perfection of beauty and innocence, has long been thus condemned +for life. The romantic tales of virgins devoted to the jaws of +monsters, have nothing in them so terrible, as the gift of +<i>Astræa</i> to that bacchanal.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> The reflection of such a match as spotless innocence +with abandoned lewdness, is what puts this vice in the worst figure +it can bear with regard to others; but when it is looked upon with +respect only to the drunkard himself, it has deformities enough to +make it disagreeable, which may be summed up in a word, by +allowing, that he who resigns his reason, is actually guilty of all +that he is liable to from the want of reason.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>TATLER, Vol. IV, +No. 241.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Gaming' id="Gaming"></a> +<h2><i>Gaming</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p>SIR,</p> +<p><b>1.</b> 'As soon as you have set up your unicorn, there is no +question but the ladies will make him push very furiously at the +men; for which reason, I think it is good to be beforehand with +them, and make the lion roar aloud at female irregularities. Among +these I wonder how their gaming has so long escaped your +notice.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 'You who converse with the sober family of the +<i>Lizards</i>, are, perhaps, a stranger to these viragoes; but +what would you say, should you see the <i>Sparkler</i> shaking her +elbow for a whole night together, and thumping the table with a +dice-box? Or how would you like to hear good widow lady herself +returning to her house at midnight and alarming the whole street +with a most enormous rap, after having sat up till that time at +crimp or ombre? Sir, I am the husband of one of these female +gamesters, and a great loser by it both in rest my and pocket. As +my wife reads your papers, one upon this subject might be of use +both to her, and;</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>YOUR HUMBLE +SERVANT.'</div> +<p><b>3.</b> I should ill deserve the name of <i>Guardian</i>, did +I not caution all my fair wards against a practice, which, when it +runs to excess, is the most shameful but one that the female world +can fall into. The ill consequences of it are more than can be +contained in this paper. However, that I may proceed in method, I +shall consider them, First, as they relate to the mind; Secondly, +as they relate to the body.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Could we look into the mind of a female gamester, we +should see it full of nothing but trumps and mattadores. Her +slumbers are haunted with kings, queens, and knaves. The day lies +heavy upon her till the play-season returns, when for half a dozen +hours together, all her faculties are employed in shuffling, +cutting, dealing and sorting out a pack of cards; and no ideas to +be discovered in a soul which calls itself rational, excepting +little square figures of painted and spotted paper.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Was the understanding, that divine part in our +composition, given for such an use? Is it thus that we improve the +greatest talent human nature is endowed with? What would a superior +being think, were he shewn this intellectual faculty in a female +gamester, and at the same time told, that it was by this she was +distinguished from brutes, and allied to angels?</p> +<p><b>6.</b> When our women thus fill their imaginations with pips +and counters, I cannot wonder at the story I have lately heard of a +new-born child that was marked with the five of clubs.</p> +<p>Their passions suffer no less by this practice than their +understandings and imaginations. What hope and fear, joy and anger, +sorrow and discontent, break out all at once in a fair assembly, +upon so noble an occasion as that of turning up a card?</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Who can consider, without a secret indignation, that +all those affections of the mind which should be consecrated to +their children, husbands and parents, are thus vilely prostituted +and thrown away upon a hand at loo? For my own part, I cannot but +be grieved, when I see a fine woman fretting and bleeding inwardly +from such trivial motives: when I behold the face of an angel, +agitated and discomposed by the heart of a fury.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Our minds are of such a make, that they naturally give +themselves up to every diversion which they are much accustomed to, +and we always find, that play, when followed with assiduity, +engrosses the whole woman. She quickly grows uneasy in her own +family, takes but little pleasure in all the domestic innocent +endearments of life, and grows more fond of <i>Pam</i> than of her +husband.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> My friend <i>Theophrastus</i>, the best of husbands +and of fathers, has often complained to me, with tears in his eyes, +of the late hours he is forced to keep if he would enjoy his wife's +conversation. When she returns to me with joy in her face, it does +not arise, says he, from the sight of her husband but from the good +luck she has had at cards.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> On the contrary, says he, if she has been a loser, I +am doubly a sufferer by it. She comes home out of humor, is angry +with every body, displeased with all I can do or say, and in +reality for no other reason but because she has been throwing away +my estate. What charming bed fellows and companions for life are +men likely to meet with, that chuse their wives out of such women +of vogue and fashion? What a race of worthies, what patriots, what +heroes must we expect from mothers of this make?</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I come in the next place to consider the ill +consequences which gaming has on the bodies of our female +adventurers. It is so ordered, that almost every thing which +corrupts the soul decays the body. The beauties of the face and +mind are generally destroyed by the same means. This consideration +should have a particular weight with the female world, who are +designed to please the eye and attract the regards of the other +half of the species.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Now there is nothing that wears out a fine face like +the vigils of the card table, and those cutting passions which +naturally attend them. Hollow eyes, haggard looks, and pale +complexions, are the natural indications of a female gamester. Her +morning sleeps are not able to repair her midnight watchings.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I have known a woman carried off half dead from +bassette, and have many a time grieved, to see a person of quality +gliding by me in her chair at two o'clock in the morning, and +looking like a spectre amidst a glare of flambeaux: in short, I +never knew a thorough-paced female gamester hold her beauty two +winters together.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> But there is still another case in which the body is +more endangered than in the former. All play-debts must be paid in +specie, or by an equivalent. The man that plays beyond his income +pawns his estate; the woman must find out something else to +mortgage when her pin-money is gone. The husband has his lauds to +dispose of, the wife her person. Now when the female body is once +<i>dipped</i>, if the creditor be very importunate, I leave my +reader to consider the consequences.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> It is needless here to mention the ill consequences +attending this passion among the men, who are often bubbled out of +their money and estates by sharpers, and to make up their loss, +have recourse to means productive of dire events, instances of +which frequently occur; for strictly speaking, those who set their +minds upon gaming, can hardly be honest; a man's reflections, after +losing, render him desperate, so as to commit violence either upon +himself or some other person, and therefore gaming should be +discouraged in all well regulated communities.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Whisperers' id="Whisperers"></a> +<h2><i>Whisperers</i>.</h2> +<p>SIR,</p> +<p><b>1.</b> As the ladies are naturally become the immediate +objects of your care, will you permit a complaint to be inserted in +your paper, which is founded upon matter of fact? They will pardon +me, if by laying before you a particular instance I was lately +witness to of their improper behaviour, I endeavour to expose a +reigning evil, which subjects them to many shameful +imputations.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I received last week a dinner card from a friend, with +an intimation that I should meet some very agreeable ladies. At my +arrival, I found that the company consisted chiefly of females, who +indeed did me the honour to rise, but quite disconcerted me in +paying my respects, by their whispering each other, and appearing +to stifle a laugh. When I was seated, the ladies grouped themselves +up in a corner, and entered into a private cabal, seemingly to +discourse upon points of great secrecy and importance, but of equal +merriment and diversion.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The same conduct of keeping close to their ranks was +observed at table, where the ladies seated themselves together. +Their conversation was here also confined wholly to themselves, and +seemed like the mysteries of the <i>Bonna Deo</i>, in which men +were forbidden to have any share. It was a continued laugh and a +whisper from the beginning to the end of dinner. A whole sentence +was scarce ever spoken aloud.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Single words, indeed, now and then broke forth; such +as <i>odious</i>, <i>horrid</i>, <i>detestable</i>, +<i>shocking</i>, HUMBUG. This last new-coined expression, which is +only to be found in the nonsensical vocabulary, sounds absurd and +disagreeable, whenever it is pronounced; but from the mouth of a +lady it is, "shocking, detestable, horrible and odious."</p> +<p><b>5.</b> My friend seemed to be in an uneasy situation at his +own table; but I was far more miserable. I was mute, and seldom +dared to lift up my eyes from my plate, or turn my head to call for +small beer, lest by some aukward posture I might draw upon me a +whisper or a laugh. <i>Sancho</i>, when he was forbid to eat of a +delicious banquet set before him, could scarce appear more +melancholy.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> The rueful length of my face might possibly increase +the mirth of my tormentors: at least their joy seemed to rise in +exact proportion with my misery. At length, however, the time of my +delivery approached. Dinner ended, the ladies made their exit in +pairs, and went off hand in hand whispering like the two kings of +<i>Brentford</i>.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Modest men, Mr. <i>Town</i>, are deeply wounded when +they imagine themselves the subjects of ridicule or contempt; and +the pain is the greater, when it is given by those whom they +admire, and from whom they are ambitious of receiving any marks of +countenance and favour. Yet we must allow, that affronts are +pardonable from ladies, as they are often prognostics of future +kindness.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> If a lady strikes our cheek, we can very willingly +follow the precept of the gospel, and turn the other cheek to be +smitten: even a blow from a fair hand conveys pleasure. But this +battery of whispers is against all legal rights of war; poisoned +arrows and stabs in the dark, are not more repugnant to the general +laws of humanity.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Modern writers of comedy often introduce a pert +titling into their pieces, who is very severe upon the rest of the +company; but all his waggery is spoken <i>aside</i>.—These +giglers and whisperers seem to be acting the same part in company +that this arch rogue does in the play. Every word or motion +produces a train of whispers; the dropping of a snuff-box, or +spilling the tea, is sure to be accompanied with a titter: and, +upon the entrance of any one with something particular in his +person, or manner, I have seen a whole room in a buz like a bee +hive.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> This practice of whispering, if it is any where +allowable, may perhaps be indulged the fair sex at church, where +the conversation can only be carried on by the secret symbols of a +curtsy, an ogle, or a nod. A whisper in this place is very often of +great use, as it serves to convey the most secret intelligence, +which a lady would be ready to burst with, if she could not find +vent for it by this kind of auricular confession. A piece of +scandal transpires in this manner from one pew to another, then +presently whizes along the channel, from whence it crawls up to the +galleries, till at last the whole church hums with it.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It were also to be wished, that the ladies would be +pleased to confine themselves to whispering in their +<i>tete-a-tete</i> conferences at an opera or the play-house; which +would be a proper deference to the rest of the audience. In +<i>France</i>, we are told, it is common for the <i>parterre</i> to +join with the performers in any favorite air: but we seem to have +carried this custom still further, as the company in our boxes, +without concerning themselves in the least with the play, are even +louder than the players.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> The wit and humour of a <i>Vanbrugh</i>, or a +<i>Congreve,</i> is frequently interrupted by a brilliant dialogue +between two persons of fashion; and a love scene in the side box +has often been more attended to, than that on the stage. As to +their loud bursts of laughter at the theatre, they may very well be +excused, when they are excited by any lively strokes in a comedy: +but I have seen our ladies titter at the most distressful scenes in +<i>Romeo</i> and <i>Juliet</i>, grin over the anguish of a +<i>Monimia</i>, or <i>Belvidera</i>, and fairly laugh king +<i>Lear</i> off the stage.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Thus the whole behaviour of these ladies is in direct +contradiction to good manners. They laugh when they should cry, are +loud when they should be silent, and are silent when their +conversation is desirable. If a man in a select company was thus to +laugh or whisper me out of countenance, I should be apt to construe +it as an affront, and demand an explanation.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> As to the ladies I would desire them to reflect how +much they would suffer, if their own weapons were turned against +them, and the gentlemen should attack them with the same arts of +laughing and whispering. But, however free they may be from our +resentment, they are still open to ill-natured suspicions. They do +not consider, what strange constructions may be put on these laughs +and whispers.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> It were indeed, of little consequence, if we only +imagined, that they were taking the reputation of their +acquaintance to pieces, or abusing the company round; but when they +indulge themselves in this behaviour, some perhaps may be led to +conclude, that they are discoursing upon topics, which they are +ashamed to speak of in a less private manner.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> If the misconduct which I have described, had been +only to be found, Mr. <i>Town</i>, at my friend's table, I should +not have troubled you with this letter: but the same kind of ill +breeding prevails too often, and in too many places. The giglers +and the whisperers are innumerable; they beset us wherever we go; +and it is observable, that after a short murmur of whispers, out +comes the burst of laughter: like a gunpowder serpent, which, after +hissing about for some time, goes off in a bounce.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Some excuse may perhaps be framed for this ill-timed +merriment, in the fair sex. <i>Venus</i>, the goddess of beauty, is +frequently called <i>laughter-loving dame</i>; and by laughing, our +modern ladies may possibly imagine, that they render themselves +like <i>Venus</i>. I have indeed remarked, that the ladies commonly +adjust their laugh to their persons, and are merry in proportion as +it sets off their particular charms.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> One lady is never further moved than to a smile or a +simper, because nothing else shews her dimples to so much +advantage; another who has a fine set of teeth, runs into a broad +grin; while a third, who is admired for a well turned neck and +graceful chest, calls up all her beauties to view by breaking into +violent and repeated peals of laughter.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> I would not be understood to impose gravity or too +great a reserve on the fair sex. Let them laugh at a feather; but +let them declare openly, that it is a feather which occasions their +mirth. I must confess, that laughter becomes the young, the gay, +and the handsome: but a whisper is unbecoming at all ages, and in +both sexes: nor ought it ever to be practised, except in the round +gallery of St. <i>Paul's</i>, or in the famous whispering place in +<i>Gloucester</i> cathedral, where two whisperers hear each other +at the distance of five-and-twenty yards.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am, +Sir,<br> +<br> +Your humble Servant.</i></div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Beauty' id="Beauty"></a> +<h2><i>Beauty</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Though the danger of disappointment is always in +proportion to the height of expectation, yet I this day claim the +attention of the ladies, and profess to teach an art by which all +may obtain what has hitherto been deemed the prerogative of a few: +an art by which their predominant passion may be gratified, and +their conquest not only extended, but secured; "The art of being +PRETTY."</p> +<p><b>2.</b> But though my subject may interest the ladies, it may, +perhaps, offend those profound moralists who have long since +determined, that beauty ought rather to be despised than desired; +that, like strength, it is a mere natural excellence, the effect +that causes wholly out of our power, and not intended either as the +pledge of happiness or the distinction of merit.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> To these gentlemen I shall remark, that beauty is +among those qualities which no effort of human wit could ever bring +into contempt: it is therefore to be wished at least, that beauty +was in some degree dependent upon sentiment and manners, that so +high a privilege might not be possessed by the unworthy, and that +human reason might no longer suffer the mortification of those who +are compelled to adore an idol, which differs from a stone or log +only by the skill of the artificer: and if they cannot themselves +behold beauty with indifference, they must, surely, approve an +attempt to shew that it merits their regard.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I shall, however, principally consider that species of +beauty which is expressed in the countenance; for this alone is +peculiar to human beings, and is not less complicated than their +nature. In the countenance there are but two requisites to perfect +beauty, which are wholly produced by external causes, colour and +proportion: and it will appear, that even in common estimation +these are not the chief; but that though there may be beauty +without them, yet there cannot be beauty without something +more.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The finest features, ranged in the most exact +symmetry, and heightened by the most blooming complexion, must be +animated before they can strike; and when they are animated, will +generally excite the same passions which they express. If they are +fixed in the dead calm of insensibility, they will be examined +without emotion; and if they do not express kindness, they will be +beheld without love.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Looks of contempt, disdain, or malevolence, will be +reflected, as from a mirror, by every countenance on which they are +turned; and if a wanton aspect excites desire; it is but like that +of a savage for his prey, which cannot be gratified without the +destruction of its object.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Among particular graces, the dimple has always been +allowed the pre-eminence, and the reason is evident; dimples are +produced by a smile, and a smile is an expression of complacency; +so the contraction of the brows into a frown, as it is an +indication of a contrary temper, has always been deemed a capital +defect.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The lover is generally at a loss to define the beauty, +by which his passion was suddenly and irresistibly determined to a +particular object; but this could never happen, if it depended upon +any known rule of proportion, upon the shape and disposition of the +features, or the colour of the skin: he tells you that it is +something which he cannot fully express, something not fixed in any +part, but diffused over the whole; he calls it a sweetness, a +softness, a placid sensibility, or gives it some other appellation +which connects beauty with sentiment, and expresses a charm which +is not peculiar to any set of features, but is perhaps possible to +all.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> This beauty, however, does not always consist in +smiles, but varies as expressions of meekness and kindness vary +with their objects: it is extremely forcible in the silent +complaint of patient sufferance, the tender solicitude of +friendship, and the glow of filial obedience; and in tears, whether +of joy, of pity, or of grief, it is almost irresistible.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> This is the charm which captivates without the aid of +nature, and without which her utmost bounty is ineffectual. But it +cannot be assumed as a mask to conceal insensibility or +malevolence; it must be the genuine effect of corresponding +sentiments, or it will impress upon the countenance a new and more +disgusting deformity, affectation: it will produce the grin, the +simper, the stare, the languish, the pout, and innumerable other +grimaces, that render folly ridiculous, and change pity to +contempt.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> By some, indeed, this species of hypocrisy has been +practised with such skill as to deceive superficial observers, +though it can deceive even those but for a moment.—Looks +which do not correspond with the heart, cannot be assumed without +labour, nor continued without pain; the motive to relinquish them +must, therefore, soon preponderate, and the aspect and apparel of +the visit will be laid by together; the smiles and languishments of +art will vanish, and the fierceness of rage, or the gloom of +discontent, will either obscure or destroy all the elegance of +symmetry and complexion.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> The artificial aspect is, indeed, as wretched a +substitute for the expression of sentiment; as the smear of paint +for the blushes of health: it is not only equally transient, and +equally liable to dejection; but as paint leaves the countenance +yet more withered and ghastly, the passions burst out with move +violence after restraint, the features become more distorted and +excite more determined aversion.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Beauty, therefore, depends principally upon the mind, +and, consequently, may be influenced by education. It has been +remarked, that the predominant passion may generally be discovered +in the countenance; because the muscles by which it is expressed, +being almost perpetually contracted, lose their tone, and never +totally relax; so that the expression remains when the passion is +suspended; thus an angry, a disdainful, a subtle and a suspicious +temper, is displayed in characters that are almost universally +understood.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> It is equally true of the pleasing and the softer +passions, that they leave their signatures upon the countenance +when they cease to act: the prevalence of these passions, +therefore, produces a mechanical effect upon the aspect, and gives +a turn and cast to the features which makes a more favorable and +forcible impression upon the mind of others, than any charm +produced by mere external causes.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Neither does the beauty which depends upon temper and +sentiment, equally endanger the possessor: "It is," to use an +eastern metaphor, "like the towers of a city, not only an ornament, +but a defence;" if it excites desire, it at once controls and +refines it; it represses with awe, it softens with delicacy, and it +wins to imitation. The love of reason and virtue is mingled with +the love of beauty; because this beauty is little more than the +emanation of intellectual excellence, which is not an object of +corporeal appetite.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> As it excites a purer passion, it also more forcibly +engages to fidelity: every man finds himself more powerfully +restrained from giving pain to goodness than to beauty; and every +look of a countenance in which they are blended, in which beauty is +the expression of goodness, is a silent reproach of the first +irregular wish: and the purpose immediately appears to be +disingenious and cruel, by which the tender hope of ineffable +affection would be disappointed, the placid confidence of +unsuspected simplicity abased, and the peace even of virtue +endangered by the most sordid infidelity, and the breach of the +strongest obligations.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> But the hope of the hypocrite must perish. When the +fictitious beauty has laid by her smiles, when the lustre of her +eyes and the bloom of her cheeks have lost their influence with +their novelty; what remains but a tyrant divested of power, who +will never be seen without a mixture of indignation and disdain? +The only desire which this object could gratify, will be +transferred to another, not only without reluctance, but with +triumph.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> As resentment will succeed to disappointment, a +desire to mortify will succeed to a desire to please; and the +husband may be urged to solicit a mistress, merely by a remembrance +of the beauty of his wife, which lasted only till she was +known.</p> +<p>Let it therefore be remembered, that none can be disciples of +the Graces, but in the school of Virtue; and that those who wish to +be lovely, must learn early to be good.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call +<i>Lætitia</i> and <i>Daphne</i>. The former is one of the +greatest beauties of the age in which she lives; the latter no way +remarkable for any charms in her person. Upon this one circumstance +of their outward form, the good and ill of their life seem to turn. +<i>Lætitia</i> has not from her very childhood heard any +thing else but commendations of her features and complexion, by +which means she is no other than nature made her, a very beautiful +outside.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> The consciousness of her charms has rendered her +insupportably vain and insolent towards all who have to do with +her. <i>Daphne</i>, who was almost twenty before one civil thing +had ever been said to her, found herself obliged to acquire some +accomplishments to make up for the want of those attractions which +she saw in her sister.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Poor <i>Daphne</i> was seldom submitted to in a +debate wherein she was concerned; her discourse had nothing to +recommend it but the good sense of it, and she was always under a +necessity to have very well considered what she was to say before +she uttered it; while <i>Lætitia</i> was listened to with +partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she +conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> These causes have produced suitable effects, and +<i>Lætitia</i> is as insipid a companion as <i>Daphne</i> is +an agreeable one. <i>Lætitia</i>, confident of favour, has +studied no arts to please: <i>Daphne</i>, despairing of any +inclination towards her person, has depended only on her merit. +<i>Lætitia</i> has always something in her air that is +sullen, grave and disconsolate.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> <i>Daphne</i> has a countenance that appears +cheerful, open and unconcerned. A young gentleman saw +<i>Lætitia</i> this winter at play, and became her captive. +His fortune was such, that he wanted very little introduction to +speak his sentiments to her father. The lover was admitted with the +utmost freedom into the family, where a constrained behaviour, +severe looks, and distant civilities were the highest favours he +could obtain from <i>Lætitia</i>; while <i>Daphne</i> used +him with the good humour, familiarity, and innocence of a +sister.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Insomuch that he would often say to her, <i>Dear +Daphne, wert thou but as handsome as Lætitia!</i>—She +received such language with that ingenious and pleasing mirth, +which is natural to a woman without design. He still sighed in vain +for <i>Lætitia</i> but found certain relief in the agreeable +conversation of <i>Daphne</i>. At length, heartily tired with the +haughty impertinence of <i>Lætitia</i>, and charmed with +repeated instances of good humour he had observed in <i>Daphne</i>, +he one day told the latter, that he had something to say to her he +hoped she would be pleased with.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> ——<i>Faith Daphne</i>, continued he, <i>I +am in love with thee, and despise thy sister sincerely</i>. The +manner of his declaring himself gave his mistress occasion for a +very hearty laughter.—<i>Nay</i>, says he, <i>I knew you +would laugh at me, but I'll ask your father</i>. He did so; the +father received his intelligence with no less joy than surprize, +and was very glad he had now no care left but for his beauty, which +he thought he would carry to market at his leisure.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> I do not know any thing that has pleased me so much a +great while, as this conquest of my friend <i>Daphne's</i>. All her +acquaintance congratulate her upon her chance medley, and laugh at +that premeditating murderer, her sister. As it is an argument of a +light mind, to think the worse of ourselves for the imperfections +of our persons, it is equally below us to value ourselves upon the +advantages of them.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> The female world seems to be almost incorrigibly gone +astray in this particular; for which reason, I shall recommend the +following extract out of a friend's letter to the profess'd +beauties, who are a people almost as insufferable as the profess'd +wits.</p> +<p>'Monsier St. <i>Evrement</i> has concluded one of his essays +with affirming, that the last sighs of a handsome woman are not so +much for the loss of her life, as her beauty.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> 'Perhaps this raillery is pursued too far, yet it is +turned upon a very obvious remark, that woman's strongest passion +is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favourite +distinction. From hence it is that all hearts, which intend to +improve or preserve it, meet with so general a reception among the +sex.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> To say nothing Of many false helps, and contraband +wares of beauty, which are daily vended in this great mart, there +is not a maiden gentlewoman, of a good family, in any county of +<i>South Britain</i>, who has not heard of the virtues of may-dew, +or is unfurnished with some receipt or other in favour of her +complexion; and I have known a physician of learning and sense, +after eight years study in the university and a course of travels +into most countries of <i>Europe</i>, owe the first raising of his +fortune to a cosmetic wash.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> 'This has given me occasion to consider how so +universal a disposition in womankind, which springs from a laudable +motive, the desire of pleasing, and proceeds upon an opinion, not +altogether groundless, that nature may be helped by art, may be +turned to their advantage. And, methinks, it would be an acceptable +service to take them out of the hands of quacks and pretenders, and +to prevent their imposing upon themselves, by discovering to them +the true secret and art of improving beauty.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> 'In order to do this, before I touch upon it +directly, it will be necessary to lay down a few preliminary +maxims, <i>viz.</i></p> +<p>That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, +any more she can be witty only by the help of speech.</p> +<p>That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a +more terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox.</p> +<p>That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not +incapable of being false.</p> +<p>And, that what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a +mistress.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> 'From these few principles thus laid down, it will be +easy to prove that the true art of assisting beauty consists in +embellishing the whole person by the proper ornaments of virtuous +and commendable qualities. By this help alone it is, that those who +are the favourite work of nature, or, as Mr. <i>Dryden</i> +expresses it, the porcelain clay of human kind, become animated, +and are in a capacity of exerting their charms: and those who seem +to have been neglected by her, like models wrought in haste, are +capable, in a great measure, of finishing what she has left +imperfect.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> 'It is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of that +sex, which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of +humanity, by the most agreeable participation, to consider them +merely as objects of sight.—This is abridging them of their +natural extent of power to put them upon a level with their +pictures at the pantheon. How much nobler is the contemplation of +beauty heightened by virtue, and commanding our esteem and love, +while it draws our observation?</p> +<p><b>34.</b> 'How faint and spiritless are the charms of a +coquette, when compared with the real loveliness of +<i>Sophronia's</i> innocence, piety, good-humour, and truth; +virtues which add a new softness to her sex, and even beautify her +beauty! That agreeableness, which must otherwise have appeared no +longer in the modest virgin, is now preserved in the tender mother, +the prudent friend and faithful wife'.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> 'Colours artfully spread upon canvas may entertain +the eye, but not affect the heart; and she, who takes no care to +add to the natural graces of her person, any excelling qualities, +may be allowed still to amuse as a picture, but not to triumph as a +beauty.</p> +<p>'When <i>Adam</i> is introduced by <i>Milton</i> describing +<i>Eve</i> in Paradise, and relating to the angel the impressions +he felt upon seeing her at her first creation, he does not +represent her like a <i>Grecian Venus</i>, by her shape of +features, but by the lustre of her mind which shone in them, and +gave them their power of charming.</p> +<p><b>36.</b></p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her +eye,<br></span> <span>In all her gestures dignity and +love:<br></span></div> +</div> +<p>'Without this irradiating power, the proudest fair-one ought to +know, whatever her glass may tell her to the contrary, that her +most perfect features are uninformed and dead.</p> +<p>'I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph, +written by <i>Ben Johnson</i> with a spirit which nothing could +inspire, but such an object as I have been describing.</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>'Underneath this stone doth +lie,<br></span> <span>As much virtue as could die;<br></span> +<span>Which when alive did vigour give<br></span> <span>To as much +beauty as could live.'<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am, +Sir</i><br> +<br> +<i>Your most humble Servant</i>,<br> +<br> +R.B.<br> +<br> +SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No.33.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Honour' id="Honour"></a> +<h2><i>Honour</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p><b>1.</b> Every principle that is a motive to good actions, +ought to be encouraged, since men are of so different a make, that +the same principle does not work equally upon all minds. What some +men are prompted to by conscience, duty, or religion, which are +only different names for the same thing, others are prompted to by +honour.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 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. This paper, therefore, is chiefly designed for +those who by means of any of these advantages, are, or ought to be, +actuated by this glorious principle.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> 'But as nothing is more pernicious than a principle or +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.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> 'In the first place, true honour, though 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.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> 'The religious man <i>fears</i>, the man of honor +<i>scorns</i> 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 +<i>unbecoming</i>, the other as what <i>forbidden</i>. Thus +<i>Seneca</i> speaks in the natural and genuine language of a man +of honor, 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.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> 'I shall conclude this head with the description of +honor in the part of young <i>Juba</i>.</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Honour's a sacred tie, the law of +kings,<br></span> <span>The noble mind's distinguishing +perfection,<br></span> <span>That aids and strengthens virtue where +it meets her,<br></span> <span>And imitates her actions where she +is not.<br></span> <span>It ought not to be sported with.— +CATO.<br></span></div> +</div> +<p><b>7.</b> 'In the second place we are to consider those who have +mistaken notions of honor, and these are such as establish any +thing to themselves for a point of honor which is contrary either +to the laws of God, or of their country; who think it is 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.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> '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 honor 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.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> In a word, the man who sacrifices any duty of a +reasonable creature to a prevailing mode of 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 honor.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> <i>Timogenes</i> was a lively instance of one +actuated by false honor. <i>Timogenes</i> would smile at a man's +jest who ridiculed his Maker, and at the same time run a man thro' +the body that spoke ill of his friend. <i>Timogenes</i> would have +scorned to have betrayed a secret, that was intrusted with him, +though the fate of his country depended upon the discovery of +it.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> <i>Timogenes</i> took away the life of a young fellow +in a duel, for having spoken ill of <i>Belinda</i>, a lady whom he +himself had seduced in his youth, and betrayed into want and +ignominy. To close his character, <i>Timogenes</i>, after having +ruined several poor tradesmen's families, who had trusted him, sold +his estate to satisfy his creditors; but, like a man of honor, +disposed of all the money he could make of it, in paying off his +play-debts, or, to speak in his own language, his debts of +honor.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> 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 actuated by false notions +of it, as there is more hope of a heretic than of an atheist. These +sons of infamy consider honor with old <i>Syphax</i>, in the play +before mentioned, as a fine imaginary notion, that leads astray +young unexperienced men, and draws them into real mischief, while +they are engaged in the pursuits of a shadow.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> These are generally persons, who, in +<i>Shakspeare's</i> phrase, are <i>worn and hackney'd in the ways +of men</i>; 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 romantic, 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.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> The talents, interest, or experience of such men, +make them 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 <i>honor</i> by any other way +than through that of <i>virtue</i>.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, Vol. +II. No. 161.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Human_Nature' id="Human_Nature"></a> +<h2><i>Human Nature</i>.</h2> +<br> +<p>Mr. SPECTATOR,</p> +<p><b>1.</b> 'I have always been a very great lover of your +speculations, as well in regard to the subject, as to your manner +of treating it. Human nature I always thought the most useful +object of human reason, and to make the consideration of it +pleasant and entertaining, I always thought the best employment of +human wit: other parts of philosophy may make us wiser, but this +not only answers that end, but makes us better too.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 'Hence it was that the oracle pronounced +<i>Socrates</i> the wisest of all men living, because he +judiciously made choice of human nature for the object of his +thoughts; an enquiry into which as much exceeds all other learning, +as it is of more consequence to adjust the true nature and measures +of right and wrong, than to settle the distance of the planets, and +compute the times of their circumvolutions.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> 'One good effect that will immediately arise from a +near observation of human nature, is, that we shall cease to wonder +at those actions which men are used to reckon wholly unaccountable; +for as nothing is produced without a cause, so by observing the +nature and course of the passions, we shall be able to trace every +action from its first conceptions to its death.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> 'We shall no more admire at the proceedings of +<i>Cataline</i> and <i>Tiberius</i>, when we know the one was +actuated by a cruel jealousy; the other by a furious ambition; for +the actions of men follow their passions as naturally as light does +heat, or as any other effect flows from its cause; reason must be +employed in adjusting the passions, but they must ever remain the +principles of action.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> 'The strange and absurd variety that is so apparent in +men's actions, shews plainly they can never proceed immediately +from reason; so pure a fountain emits no such troubled waters: they +must necessarily arise from the passions, which are to the mind as +the winds to a ship; they only can move it, and they too often +destroy it; if fair and gentle, they guide it into the harbour; if +contrary and furious, they overset it in the waves.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> 'In the same manner is the mind assisted or endangered +by the passions; reason must then take the place of pilot, and can +never fail of securing her charge if she be not wanting to herself; +the strength of the passions will never be accepted as an excuse +for complying with them: they were designed for subjection; and if +a man suffers them to get the upper hand, he then betrays the +liberty of his own soul.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> 'As nature has framed the several species of beings as +it were in a chain, so man seems to be placed as the middle link +between angels and brutes; hence he participates both of flesh and +spirit by an admirable tye, which in him occasions perpetual war of +passions; and as a man inclines to the angelic or brute part of his +constitution, he is then denominated good or bad, virtuous or +wicked: if love, mercy, and good-nature prevail, they speak him of +the angel; if hatred, cruelly, and envy predominate, they declare +his kindred to the brute.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> 'Hence it was that some ancients imagined, that as men +in this life incline more to the angel or the brute, so after their +death they should transmigrant into the one or the other; and it +would be no unpleasant notion to consider the several species of +brutes, into which we may imagine that tyrants, misers, the proud, +malicious, and ill-natured, might be changed.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> 'As a consequence of this original, all passions are +in all men, but appear not in all: constitution, education, custom +of the, country, reason, and the like causes may improve or abate +the strength of them, but still the seeds remain, which are ever +ready to sprout forth upon the least encouragement.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> 'I have heard a story of a good religious man, who +having been bred with the milk of a goat, was very modest in +public, by a careful reflection he made of his actions, but he +frequently had an hour in secret, wherein he had his frisks and +capers; and, if we had an opportunity of examining the retirement +of the strictest philosophers, no doubt but we should find +perpetual returns of those passions they so artfully conceal from +the public.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> 'I remember <i>Machiavel</i> observes, that every +state should entertain a perpetual jealousy of its neighbours, that +so it should never be unprovided when an emergency happens; in like +manner should reason be perpetually on its guard against the +passions, and never suffer them to carry on any design that may be +destructive of its security; yet, at the same time, it must be +careful, that it don't so far break their strength as to render +them contemptible, and, consequently, itself unguarded.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> 'The understanding being of itself too slow and lazy +to exert itself into action, it is necessary it should be put in +motion by the gentle gales of passion, which may preserve it from +stagnation and corruption; for they are necessary to the help of +the mind, as the circulation of the animal spirits is to the health +of the body; they keep it in life, and strength and vigour: nor is +it possible for the mind to perform its offices without their +assistance; these motions are given us with our being: they are +little spirits, that are born and die with us; to some they are +mild, easy and gentle; to others wayward and unruly; yet never too +strong for the reins of reason, and the guidance of judgment.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> 'We may generally observe a pretty nice proportion, +between the strength of reason and passion; the greatest geniuses +have commonly the strongest affections, as on the other hand, the +weaker understandings have generally the weaker passions: and 'tis +fit the fury of the coursers should not be too great for the +strength of the charioteer.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> 'Young men, whose passions are not a little unruly, +give small hopes of their being considerable; the fire of youth +will of course abate, and is a fault, if it be a fault, that mends +every day; but surely, unless a man has fire in youth, he can +hardly have warmth in old age.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> We must therefore be very cautious, lest while we +think to regulate the passions, we should quite extinguish them; +which is putting out the light of the soul; for to be without +passion, or to be hurried away with it, makes a man equally blind. +The extraordinary severity used in most of our schools has this +fatal effect; it breaks the spring of the mind, and most certainly +destroys more good geniuses than it can possibly improve.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> 'And surely 'tis a mighty mistake that the passions +should be so entirely subdued; for little irregularities are +sometimes not only to be borne with, but to be cultivated too, +since they are frequently attended with the greatest perfections. +All great geniuses have faults mixed with their virtues, and +resemble the flaming bush which has thorns amongst lights.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> 'Since therefore the passions are the principles of +human actions, we must endeavour to manage them so as to retain +their vigour, yet keep them under strict command; we must govern +them rather like free subjects than slaves, lest while we intend to +make them obedient, they become abject, and unfit for those great +purposes to which they were designed.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> 'For my part I must confess, I could never have any +regard to that sect of philosophers, who so much insisted upon an +absolute indifference and vacancy from all passion; for it seems to +me a thing very inconsistent for a man to divest himself of +humanity, in order to acquire tranquility of mind, and to eradicate +the very principles of action, because it is possible they may +produce ill effects.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am, +Sir</i>,<br> +<br> +<i>Your affectionate admirer</i><br> +<br> +T.B.<br> +SPECTATOR, Vol. IV. No. 408.</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'The_Advantages_of_representing_Human_Nature_in_its_proper_Dignity' +id= +"The_Advantages_of_representing_Human_Nature_in_its_proper_Dignity"> +</a> +<h2><i>The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper +Dignity</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>TATLER, No. +198.</div> +<p>It is not to be imagined how great an effect well-disposed +lights, with proper forms, and orders in assemblies, have upon some +tempers, I am sure I feel it in so extraordinary a manner, that I +cannot in a day or two get out of my imagination any very beautiful +or disagreeable impression which I receive on such occasions. For +this reason I frequently look in at the play-house, in order to +enlarge my thoughts, and warm my mind with some new ideas, that may +be serviceable to me in my lucubrations.</p> +<p><b>1.</b> In this disposition I entered the theatre the other +day, and placed myself in a corner of it, very convenient for +seeing, without being myself observed. I found the audience hushed +in a very deep attention, and did not question but some noble +tragedy was just then in its crisis, or that an incident was to be +unravelled which would determine the fate of an hero. While I was +in this suspense, expecting every moment to see my old friend Mr. +<i>Bitterton</i> appear in all the majesty of distress, to my +unspeakable amazement, there came up a monster with a face between +his feet; and, as I was looking on, he raised himself on one leg in +such a perpendicular posture, that the other grew in a direct line +above his head.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> It afterwards twisted itself into the motions and +wreathings of several different animals, and, after great variety +of shapes and transformations, went off the stage in the figure of +a human creature. The admiration, the applause, the satisfaction of +the audience, during this strange entertainment, is not to be +expressed. I was very much out of countenance for my dear +countrymen, and looked about with some apprehension, for fear any +foreigner should be present.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Is it possible, thought I, that human nature can +rejoice in its disgrace, and take pleasure in seeing its own figure +turned into ridicule, and distorted into forms that raise horror +and aversion? There is something disingenuous and immoral in the +being able to bear such a sight. Men of elegant and noble minds are +shocked at the seeing characters of persons who deserve esteem for +their virtue, knowledge, or services to their country, placed in +wrong lights, and by misrepresentations made the subject of +buffoonery.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Such a nice abhorrence is not, indeed, to be found +among the vulgar; but methinks it is wonderful, that those, who +have nothing but the outward figure to distinguish them as men, +should delight in seeing it abused, vilified and disgraced.</p> +<p>I must confess there is nothing that more pleases me, in all +that I read in books, or see among mankind, than such passages as +represent human nature in its proper dignity.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> As man is a creature made up of different extremes, he +has something in him very great and very mean: a skilful artist may +draw an excellent picture of him in either of these views. The +finest authors of antiquity have taken him on the more advantageous +side. They cultivate the natural grandeur of the soul, raise in her +a generous ambition, feed her with hopes of immortality and +perfection, and do all they can to widen the partition between the +virtuous and the vicious, by making the difference betwixt them as +great as between gods and brutes.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> In short, it is impossible to read a page in +<i>Plato</i>, <i>Tully,</i> and a thousand other ancient moralists, +without being a greater and a better man for it. On the contrary, I +could never read any of our modish <i>French</i> authors, or those +of our own country who are the imitators and admirers of that +trifling nation, without being for some time out of humour with +myself, and at every thing about me.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Their business is, to depreciate human nature, and +consider it under its worst appearances. They give mean +interpretations and base motives to the worthiest actions; they +resolve virtue and vice into constitution. In short, they endeavour +to make no distinction between man and man, or between the species +of men and that of brutes. As an instance of this kind of authors, +among many others, let any one examine the celebrated +<i>Rochefoucault</i>, who is the great philosopher for +administering of consolation to the idle, the envious, and +worthless parts of mankind.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> I remember a young gentleman of moderate +understanding, but great vivacity, who, by dipping into many +authors of this nature, had got a little smattering of knowledge, +just enough to make an atheist or a free thinker, but not a +philosopher or a man of sense. With these accomplishments, he went +to visit his father in the country, who was a plain, rough, honest +man, and wise though not learned. The son, who took all +opportunities to shew his learning, began to establish a new +religion in the family, and to enlarge the narrowness of their +country notions; in which he succeeded so well, that he had seduced +the butler by his table talk, and staggered his eldest sister.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The old gentleman began to be alarmed at the schisms +that arose among his children, but did not yet believe his son's +doctrine to be so pernicious as it really was, till one day talking +of his setting-dog, the son said he did not question but +<i>Trey</i> was as immortal as any one of the family; and in the +heat of the argument told his father, that for his own part he +expected to die like a dog. Upon which the old gentleman, starting +up in a very great passion, cried out, Then, sirrah, you shall live +like one; and taking his cane in his hand, cudgeled him out of his +system. This had so good an effect upon him, that he took up from +that day, fell to reading good books, and is now a bencher in the +<i>Middle Temple</i>.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I do not mention this cudgeling part of the story +with a design to engage the secular arm in matters of this nature; +but certainly, if it ever exerts itself in affairs of opinion and +speculation, it ought to do it on such shallow and despicable +pretenders to knowledge, who endeavour to give man dark and +uncomfortable prospects of his being, and destroy those principles +which are the support, happiness, and glory of all public +societies, as well as private persons.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I think it is one of <i>Pythagoras's</i> golden +sayings, <i>that a man should take care above all things to have a +due respect for himself</i>; and it is certain, that this +licentious sort of authors, who are for depreciating mankind, +endeavour to disappoint and undo what the most refined spirits have +been labouring to advance since the beginning of the world. The +very design of dress, good-breeding, outward ornaments and +ceremonies, were to lift up human nature, and set it of too +advantage. Architecture, painting, and statuary, were invented with +the same design; as indeed every art and science that contributes +to the embellishment of life, and to the wearing off and throwing +into shades the mean and low parts of our nature.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Poetry carries on this great end more than all the +rest, as may be seen in the following passages taken out of Sir +<i>Francis Bacon's Advancement of Learning</i>, which gives a true +and better account of this art than all the volumes that were ever +written upon it.</p> +<p>"Poetry, especially heroical, seems to be raised altogether from +a noble foundation, which makes much for the dignity of man's +nature. For seeing this sensible world is in dignity inferior to +the soul of man, poesy seems to endow human nature with that which +history denies; and to give satisfaction to the mind, with at least +the shadow of things, where the substance cannot be had."</p> +<p><b>13.</b> "For if the matter be thoroughly considered, a strong +argument may be drawn from poesy, that a more stately greatness of +things, a more perfect order, and a more beautiful variety, +delights the soul of man than any way can be found in nature since +the fall. Wherefore, seeing the acts and events, which are the +subjects of true history, are not of that amplitude as to content +the mind of man, poesy is ready at hand to feign acts more +heroical."</p> +<p><b>14.</b> "Because true history reports the successes of +business not proportionable to the merit of virtues and vices, +poesy corrects it, and presents events and fortunes according to +desert, and according to the law of Providence: because true +history, through the frequent satiety and similitude of things, +works a distaste and misprision in the mind of man; poesy cheereth +and refresheth the soul, chanting things rare and various, and full +of vicissitudes."</p> +<p><b>15.</b> "So as poesy serveth and conferreth to delectation, +magnanimity and morality; and therefore it may seem deservedly to +have some participation of divineness, because it doth raise the +mind, and exalt the spirit with high raptures, proportioning the +shew of things to the desires of the mind, and not submitting the +mind to things as reason and history do. And by these allurements +and congruities, whereby it cherisheth the soul of man, joined also +with concert of music, whereby it may more sweetly insinuate +itself; it hath won such access, that it hath been in estimation, +even in rude times, among barbarous nations, when our learning +stood excluded."</p> +<p><b>16.</b> But there is nothing which favours and falls in with +this natural greatness and dignity of human nature so much as +religion, which does not only promise the entire refinement of the +mind, but the glorifying of the body, and the immortality of +both.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Custom_a_Second_Nature' id="Custom_a_Second_Nature"></a> +<h2><i>Custom a Second Nature</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> There is not a common saying which has a better turn +of sense in 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 give him inclinations and capacities altogether different +from those he was born with.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Dr. <i>Plot</i>, in his history of +<i>Staffordshire</i>, tells of an idiot, that chancing to live +within the sound of a clock, and always amusing himself with +counting the hour of the day whenever the clock struck: the clock +being spoiled by some accident, the idiot continued to strike and +count the hour without the help of it, in the same manner as he had +done when it was entire.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Though I dare not vouch for the truth of this story, +it is very certain that custom has a mechanical effect upon the +body, at the same time that it has a very extraordinary influence +upon the mind.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I shall in this paper consider one very remarkable +effect which custom has upon human nature; and which, if rightly +observed, may lead us into very useful rules of life. What I shall +here take notice of in custom, is its wonderful efficacy in making +every thing pleasant to us.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> A person who is addicted to play or gaming, though he +took but little delight in it at first, by degrees contracts so +strong an inclination towards it, and gives himself up so entirely +to it, that it seems the only end of his being. The love of a +retired or busy life will grow upon a man insensibly, as he is +conversant in the one or the other, till he is utterly unqualified +for relishing that to which he has been for some time disused.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Nay, a man may smoke or drink, or take snuff, till he +is unable to pass away his time without it; not to mention how our +delight in any particular study, art, or science, rises and +improves in proportion to the application which we bestow upon it. +Thus what was at first an exercise, becomes at length an +entertainment. Our employments are changed into diversions. The +mind grows fond of those actions it is accustomed to, and is drawn +with reluctancy from those paths in which it has been used to +walk.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Not only such actions as were at first indifferent to +us, but even such as were painful, will by custom and practice +become pleasant.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Sir <i>Francis Bacon</i> observes in his natural +philosophy, that our taste is never better pleased than with those +things which at first create a disgust in it. He gives particular +instances of claret, coffee, and other liquors; which the palate +seldom approves upon the first taste: but when it has once got a +relish of them, generally retains it for life. The mind is +constituted after the same manner, and after having habituated +itself to any particular exercise or employment, not only loses its +first aversion towards it, but conceives a certain fondness and +affection for it.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I have heard one of the greatest genuises this age has +produced, who had been trained up in all the polite studies of +antiquity, assure me, upon his being obliged to search into several +rolls and records, that notwithstanding such an employment was at +first very dry and irksome to him, he at last took an incredible +pleasure in it, and preferred it even to the reading of +<i>Virgil</i> or <i>Cicero</i>.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The reader will observe that I have not here +considered custom as it makes things easy, but as it renders them +delightful; and though others have often made the same reflection, +it is possible they may not have drawn those uses from it, with +which I intend to fill the remaining part of this paper.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> 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 actions, 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.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> In the second place, I would recommend to every one +the admirable precept which <i>Pythagoras</i> is said to have given +to his disciples, and which that philosopher must have drawn from +the observation I have enlarged upon: <i>Optimum vitæ genus +eligito nam consuctudo facict jucundissimum.</i> Pitch upon that +course of life which is the most excellent, and custom will render +it the most delightful.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Men, whose circumstances will permit them to choose +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.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> 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 <i>Hesiod</i>, have placed +labour before virtue; the way to her is at first rough and +difficult, but grows more smooth and easy, the further you advance +in it. The man who proceeds in it, with steadiness and resolution, +will in a little time find that her ways are ways of pleasantness, +and that all her paths are peace.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> To enforce this consideration, we may further +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.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> 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 ourselves in any of the most +innocent 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 delight of a much more inferior and unprofitable +nature.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> 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.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> 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 it, during this its 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.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> On the other hand, those evil spirits, who by long +custom, have contracted in the body, habits of lust, 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 anew, and work a miracle in +the rectification of their faculties.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> 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 which never dies.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> This notion of heaven and hell is so very conformable +to the light of nature, that it was discovered by several of the +most exalted heathens. It has been finely improved by many eminent +divines of the last age, as in particular by Archbishop +<i>Tillotson</i> and Dr. <i>Sherlock</i>; but there is none who has +raised such noble speculations upon it as Dr. <i>Scott</i>, in the +first book of his Christian Life, which is one of the finest and +most rational schemes of divinity, that is written in our tongue or +any other. That excellent author has shewn how every particular +custom and habit of virtue will, in its own nature, produce the +heaven, or a state of happiness, in him who shall hereafter +practise it: as on the contrary, how every custom or habit of vice +will be the natural hell of him in whom it subsists.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_Cleanliness' id="On_Cleanliness"></a> +<h2><i>On Cleanliness</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +631.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I had occasion to go a few miles out of town, some +days since, in a stage-coach, where I had for my fellow travellers, +a dirty beau, and a pretty young Quaker woman. Having no +inclination to talk much at that time, I placed myself backward, +with a design to survey them, and pick a speculation out of my two +companions. Their different figures were suificient of themselves +to draw my attention.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The gentleman was dressed in a suit, the ground +whereof had been black, as I perceived from some few spaces that +had escaped the powder, which was incorporated with the greatest +part of his coat; his periwig, which cost no smull sum, was after +so slovenly a manner cast over his shoulders, that it seemed not to +have been combed since the year 1712; his linen, which was not much +concealed, was daubed with plain Spanish from the chin to the +lowest button, and the diamond upon his finger (which naturally +dreaded the water) put me in mind how it sparkled amidst the +rubbish of the mine where it was first discovered.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> On the other hand, the pretty Quaker appeared in all +the elegance of cleanliness. Not a speck was to be found on her. A +clear, clean, oval face, just edged about with little thin plaits +of the purest cambrick, received great advantages from the shade of +her black hood: as did the whiteness of her arms from that +sober-coloured stuff in which she had clothed herself. The +plainness of her dress was very well suited to the simplicity of +her phrases, all which put together, though they could not give me +a great opinion of her religion, they did of her innocence.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> This adventure occasioned my throwing together a few +hints upon <i>cleanliness</i>, which I shall consider as one of the +half virtues, as <i>Aristotle</i> calls them, and shall recommend +it under the three following heads: As it is a mark of politeness; +as it produceth love; and as it bears analogy to purity of +mind.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> First, it is a mark of politeness. It is universally +agreed upon, that no one, unadorned with this virtue, can go into +company without giving a manifest offence. The easier or higher any +one's fortune is, this duty rises proportionably. The different +nations of the world are as much distinguished by their +cleanliness, as by their arts and sciences. The more any country is +civilized, the more they consult this part of politeness. We need +but compare our ideas of a female <i>Hottentot</i> with an +<i>English</i> beauty, to be; satisfied with the truth of what hath +been advanced.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> In the next place, cleanliness may be said to be the +foster-mother of love. Beauty, indeed, most commonly produces that +passion in the mind, but cleanliness preserves it. An indifferent +face and person, kept in perpetual neatness, hath won many a heart +from a pretty slattern. Age itself is not unamiable, while it is +preserved clean and unsullied: like a piece of metal constantly +kept smooth and bright, we look on it with more pleasure than on a +new vessel that is cankered with rust.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> I might observe further, that as cleanliness renders +us agreeable to others, so it makes it easy to ourselves; that it +is an excellent preservative of health; and that several vices, +destructive both to mind and body, are inconsistent with the habit +of it. But these reflections I shall leave to the leisure of my +readers, and shall observe in the third place, that it bears a +great analogy with purity of mind, and naturally inspires refined +sentiments and passions.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> We find, from experience, that through the prevalence +of custom, the most vicious actions lose their horror, by being +made familiar to us. On the contrary, those who live in the +neighbourhood of good examples, fly from the first appearances of +what is shocking. It fares with us much after the same manner as +our ideas. Our senses, which are the inlets to all the images +conveyed to the mind, can only transmit the impression of such +things as usually surround them; so that pure and unsullied +thoughts are naturally suggested to the mind, by those objects that +perpetually encompass us, when they are beautiful and elegant in +their kind.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> In the East, where the warmth of the climates makes +cleanliness more immediately necessary than in colder countries, it +is made one part of their religion; the Jewish law (and the +Mahometan, which, in somethings, copies after it) is filled with +bathings, purifications, and other rites of the like nature. Though +there is the above named convenient reason to be assigned for these +ceremonies, the chief intention, undoubtedly, was to typify inward +purity and cleanliness of heart by those outward washings.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> We read several injunctions of this kind in the book +of Deuteronomy, which confirms this truth, and which are but ill +accounted for by saying, as some do, that they were only instituted +for convenience in the desert, which otherways could not have been +habitable, for so many years.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I shall conclude this essay with a story which I have +some where read in an account of Mahometan superstition. A dervise +of great sanctity one morning had the misfortune, as he took up a +crystal cup, which was consecrated to the prophet, to let it fall +upon the ground and dash it in pieces. His son coming in some time +after, he stretched out his hand to bless him, as his manner was +every morning; but the youth going out stumbled over the threshold +and broke his arm. As the old man wondered at those events, a +caravan passed by in its way from <i>Mecca</i>. The dervise +approached it to beg a blessing; but as he stroked one of the holy +camels, he received a kick from the beast, that sorely bruised him. +His sorrow and amazement increased upon him, till he recollected, +that, through hurry and inadvertency, he had that morning come +abroad without washing his hands.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Advantages_of_a_good_Education' id= +"The_Advantages_of_a_good_Education"></a> +<h2><i>The Advantages of a good Education</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> I consider a human soul without education like marble +in the quarry, which shews none of its inherent beauties, until the +skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, makes the surface +shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot and vein, that +runs through the body of it. Education, after the same manner, when +it works, upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue +and perfection, which, without such helps, are never able to make +their appearance.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> If my reader will give me leave to change the allusion +so soon upon him, I shall make use of the same instance to +illustrate the force of education, which <i>Aristotle</i> has +brought to explain his doctrine of substantial forms, when he tells +us that a statue lies hid in a block of marble; and that the art of +the statuary only clears away the superfluous matter, and removes +the rubbish. The figure is in the stone, the sculptor only finds +it. What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to an +human soul.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The philosopher, the saint, or the hero, the wise, the +good, or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a +plebeian, which a proper education might have disinterred, and have +brought to light. I am therefore much delighted with reading the +accounts of savage nations, and with contemplating those virtues +which are wild and uncultivated; to see courage exerting itself in +fierceness, resolution in obstinacy, wisdom in cunning, patience in +sullenness and despair.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Men's passions operate variously, and appear in +different kinds of actions, according as they are more or less +rectified or swayed by reason. When one hears of negroes, who upon +the death of their masters, or upon changing their service, hang +themselves upon the next tree, as it frequently happens in our +American plantations, who can forbear admiring their fidelity, +though it expresses itself in so dreadful a manner?</p> +<p><b>5.</b> What might not that savage greatness of soul which +appears in these poor wretches on many occasions, be raised to, +were it rightly cultivated? And what colour of excuse can there be +for the contempt with which we treat this part of our species? that +we should not put them upon the common foot of humanity; that we +should only set an insignificant fine upon the man who murders +them; nay, that we should, as much as in us lies, cut them off from +the prospect of happiness in another world, as well as in this, and +deny them that which we look upon as the proper means for attaining +it.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> It is therefore an unspeakable blessing to be born in +those parts of the world where wisdom and knowledge flourish, +though it must be confessed there are, even in these parts, several +poor uninstructed persons, who are but little above the inhabitants +of those nations of which I have been here speaking; as those who +have had the advantages of a more liberal education, rise above one +another by several different degrees of perfection.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> For, to return to our statue in the block of marble, +we see it sometimes only begun to be chipped, sometimes sough hewn, +and but just sketched into an human figure; sometimes we see the +man appearing distinctly in all his limbs and features, sometimes +we find the figure wrought up to a great elegancy, but seldom meet +with any to which the hand of <i>Phidias</i> or <i>Prixiteles</i> +could not give several nice touches and finishings.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Disadvantages_of_a_bad_Education' id= +"The_Disadvantages_of_a_bad_Education"></a> +<h2><i>The Disadvantages of a bad Education.</i></h2> +<br> +<p>SIR,</p> +<p><b>1.</b> I was condemned by some disastrous influence to be an +only son, born to the apparent prospect of a large fortune, and +allotted to my parents at that time of life when satiety of common +diversions allows the mind to indulge parental affection with great +intenseness. My birth was celebrated by the tenants with feasts and +dances and bagpipes; congratulations were sent from every family +within ten miles round; and my parents discovered in my first cries +such tokens of future virtue and understanding, that they declared +themselves determined to devote the remaining part of life to my +happiness and the increase of their estate.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The abilities of my father and mother were not +perceptibly unequal, and education had given neither much advantage +over the other. They had both kept good company, rattled in +chariots, glittered in play-houses, and danced at court, and were +both expert in the games that were in their times called in as +auxiliaries against the intrusion of thought.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> When there is such a parity between two persons +associated for life, the dejection which the husband, if he be not +completely stupid, must always suffer for want of superiority, +sinks him to submissiveness. My mamma therefore governed the family +without control; and except that my father still retained some +authority in the stables, and now and then, after a supernumery +bottle, broke a looking-glass, or china-dish, to prove his +sovereignty, the whole course of the year was regulated by her +direction; the servants received from her all their orders, and the +tenants were continued or dismissed at her discretion.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> She therefore thought herself entitled to the +superintendance of her son's education; and when my father, at the +instigation of the parson, faintly proposed that I should be sent +to school, very positively told him, that she would not suffer so +fine a child to be ruined: that she never knew any boys at a +grammar-school that could come into a room without blushing, or set +at the table without some awkward uneasiness; that they were always +putting themselves into danger by boisterous plays, or vitiating +their behaviour with mean company; and that for her part, she would +rather follow me to the grave than see me tear my clothes, and hang +down my head, and sneak about with dirty shoes and blotted fingers, +my hair unpowdered, and my hat uncocked.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> My father, who had no other end in his proposal than +to appear wise and manly, soon acquiesced, since I was not to live +by my learning; for indeed he had known very few students that had +not some stiffness in their manner. They therefore agreed that a +domestic tutor should be procured, and hired an honest gentleman of +mean conversation and narrow sentiments, but who having passed the +common forms of literary education, they implicitly concluded +qualified to teach all that was to be learned from a scholar. He +thought himself sufficiently exalted by being placed at the same +table with his pupil, and had no other view than to perpetuate his +felicity by the utmost flexibility of submission to all my mother's +opinions and caprices. He frequently took away my book, lest I +should mope with too much application, charged me never to write +without turning up my ruffles, and generally brushed my coat before +he dismissed me into the parlour.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> He had no occasion to complain of too burthensome an +employment; for my mother very judiciously considered that I was +not likely to grow politer in his company, and suffered me not to +pass any more time in his apartment, than my lesson required. When +I was summoned to my task, she enjoined me not to get any of my +tutor's ways, who was seldom mentioned before me but for practices +to be avoided. I was every moment admonished not to lean on my +chair, cross my legs, or swing my hands like my tutor; and once my +mother very seriously deliberated upon his total dismission, +because I began, said she, to learn his manner of sticking on my +hat, and had his bend in my shoulders, and his totter in my +gait.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Such, however, was her care, that I escaped all these +depravities, and when I was only twelve years old, had rid myself +of every appearance of childish diffidence. I was celebrated round +the country for the petulence of my remarks, and the quickness of +my replies; and many a scholar five years older than myself, have I +dashed into confusion by the steadiness of my countenance, silenced +by my readiness of repartee, and tortured with envy by the address +with which I picked up a fan, presented a snuff-box, or received an +empty tea-cup.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> At fourteen I was completely skilled in all the +niceties of dress, and I could not only enumerate all the variety +of silks, and distinguish the product of a French loom, but dart my +eye through a numerous company, and observe every deviation from +the reigning mode. I was universally skilful in all the changes of +expensive finery; but as every one, they say, has something to +which he is particularly born, was eminently known in Brussels +lace.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The next year saw me advanced to the trust and power +of adjusting the ceremonial of an assembly. All received their +partners from my hand, and to me every stranger applied for +introduction. My heart now disdained the instructions of a tutor, +who was rewarded with a small annuity for life, and left me +qualified, in my own opinion, to govern myself.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> In a short time I came to London, and as my father +was well known among the higher classes of life, soon; obtained +admission to the most splendid assemblies, and most crowded +card-tables. Here I found myself universally caressed and +applauded, the ladies praised the fancy of my clothes, the beauty +of my form, and the softness of my voice; endeavoured in every +place to force themselves to my notice; and incited, by a thousand +oblique solicitations, my attendance at the play-house, and my +salutations in the park. I was now happy to the utmost extent of my +conception; I passed every morning in dress, every afternoon in +visits, and every night in some select assemblies, where neither +care nor knowledge were suffered to molest us.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> After a few years, however, these delights became +familiar, and I had leisure to look round me with more attention. I +then found that my flatterers had very little power to relieve the +languor of satiety, or recreate weariness by varied amusement; and +therefore endeavoured to enlarge the sphere of my pleasures, and to +try what satisfaction might be found in the society of men. I will +not deny the mortification with which I perceived that every man +whose name I had heard mentioned with respect, received me with a +kind of tenderness nearly bordering on compassion; and that those +whose reputation was not well established, thought it necessary to +justify their understandings, by treating me with contempt. One of +these witlings elevated his crest by asking me in a full +coffee-house the price of patches; and another whispered, that he +wondered Miss <i>Frisk</i> did not keep me that afternoon to watch +her squirrel.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> When I found myself thus hunted from all masculine +conversation by those who were themselves barely admitted, I +returned to the ladies, and resolved to dedicate my life to their +service and their pleasure. But I find that I have now lost my +charms. Of those with whom I entered the gay world, some are +married, some have retired, and some have so much changed their +opinion, that they scarcely pay any regard to my civilities, if +there is any other man in the place. The new flight of beauties to +whom I have made my addresses, suffer me to pay the treat, and then +titter with boys: So that I now find myself welcome only to a few +grave ladies, who, unacquainted with all that gives either use or +dignity to life, are content to pass their hours between their bed +and their cards, without esteem from the old, or reverence from the +young.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I cannot but think, Mr. <i>Rambler</i>, that I have +reason to complain; for surely the females ought to pay some regard +to the age of him whose youth was passed in endeavouring to please +them. They that encourage folly in the boy, have no right to punish +it in the man. Yet I find, that though they lavish their first +fondness upon pertness and gaiety, they soon transfer their regard +to other qualities, and ungratefully abandon their adorers to dream +out their last years in stupidity and contempt.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>I am, &c. +<i>Florentulus</i>.<br> +<br> +[RAMBLER.]</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'Learning_a_necessary_Accomplishment_in_a_Woman_of_Quality_or_Fortune' +id= +"Learning_a_necessary_Accomplishment_in_a_Woman_of_Quality_or_Fortune"> +</a> +<h2><i>Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or +Fortune</i>.</h2> +<br> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, No. +155.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I have often wondered that learning is not thought a +proper ingredient in the education of a woman of quality or +fortune. Since they have the same improveable minds as the male +part of the species, why should they not be cultivated, by the same +method? Why should reason be left to itself in one of the sexes, +and be disciplined with so much care to the other?</p> +<p><b>2.</b> There are some reasons why learning seems more adapted +to the female world than to the male. As in the first place, +because they have more spare time upon their hands, and lead a more +sedentary life. Their employments are of a domestic nature, and not +like those of the other sex, which are often inconsistent with +study and contemplation.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The excellent lady, the lady <i>Lizard</i>, in the +space of one summer furnished a gallery with chairs and couches of +her own and her daughters working; and at the same time heard all +Dr. <i>Tillotson's</i> sermons twice over. It is always the custom +for one of the young ladies to read, while the others are at work; +so that the learning of the family is not at all prejudicial to its +manufactures.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I was mightily pleased the other day to find them all +busy in preserving several fruits of the season, with the Sparkler +in the midst of them, reading over "The plurality of Worlds." It +was very entertaining to me to see them dividing their speculations +between jellies and stars, and making a sudden transition from the +sun to an apricot, or from the Copernicum system to the figure of a +cheese cake.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> A second reason why women should apply themselves to +useful knowledge rather than men, is because they have that natural +gift of speech in greater perfection. Since they have so excellent +a talent, such a <i>Copia Verborum</i>, or plenty of words, it is +pity they should not put it to some use. If the female tongue will +be in motion, why should it not be set to go right? Could they +discourse about the spots in the sun, it might divert them from +publishing the faults of their neighbours: could they talk of the +different aspects and conjunctions of the planets, they need not be +at the pains to comment upon oglings and clandestine marriages. In +short, were they furnished with matters of fact, out of arts and +sciences, it would now and then be of great ease to their +invention.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> There is another reason why those, especially who are +women of quality, should apply themselves to letters, namely, +because their husbands are generally strangers to them. It is great +pity there should by no knowledge in a family. For my own part, I +am concerned when I go into a great house, where perhaps there is +not a single person that can spell, unless it be by chance the +butler, or one of the foot-men. What a figure is the young heir +likely to make, who is a dunce both by father and mother's +side?</p> +<p><b>7.</b> If we look into the histories of famous women, we find +many eminent philosophers of this sex. Nay, we find that several +females have distinguished themselves in those sects of philosophy +which seem almost repugnant to their natures. There have been +famous female <i>Pythagorians</i>, notwithstanding most of that +philosophy consisted in keeping a secret, and that the disciple was +to hold her tongue five years together.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Learning and knowledge are perfections in us, not as +we are men, but as we are reasonable creatures, in which order of +beings the female world is upon the same level with the male. We +ought to consider in this particular, not what is the sex, but what +is the species to which they belong. At least I believe every one +will allow me, that a female philosopher is not so absurd a +character, and so opposite to the sex, as a female gamester; and +that it is more irrational for a woman to pass away half a dozen +hours at cards or dice, than in getting up stores of useful +learning.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> This, therefore, is another reason why I would +recommend the studies of knowledge to the female world, that they +may not be at a loss how to employ those hours that lie heavy upon +their hands.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I might also add this motive to my fair readers, that +several of their sex, who have improved their minds by books and +literature, have raised themselves to the highest posts of honour +and fortune. A neighbouring nation may at this time furnish us with +a very remarkable instance of this kind: but I shall conclude this +head with the history of Athenais, which is a very signal example +to my present purpose.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The Emperor Theodosius being about the age of +one-and-twenty, and designing to take a wife, desired his sister +Pulcheria and his friend Paulinus to search his whole empire for a +woman of the most exquisite beauty and highest accomplishments. In +the midst of this search, Athenais, a Grecian virgin, accidentally +offered herself. Her father, who was an eminent philosopher of +Athens, and had bred her up in all the learning of that place, at +his death left her but a very small portion, in which also she +suffered great hardships from the injustice of her two +brothers.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> This forced her upon a journey to Constantinople, +where she had a relation who represented her case to Pulcheria, in +order to obtain some redress from the emperor. By this means that +religious princess became acquainted with Athenais; whom she found +the most beautiful woman of her age, and educated under a long +course of philosophy, in the strictest virtue and most unspotted +innocence.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Pulcheria was charmed with her conversation, and +immediately made her report to the emperor her brother Theodosius. +The character she gave made such an impression on him, that he +desired his sister to bring her away immediately to the lodgings of +his friend Paulinus, where he found her beauty and her conversation +beyond the highest idea he had framed of them.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> His friend Paulinus converted her to christianity, +and gave her the name of Eudosia; after which the emperor publicly +espoused her, and enjoyed all the happiness in his marriage which +he promised himself from such a virtuous and learned bride. She not +only forgave the injuries which her two brothers had done her, but +raised them to great honours; and by several works of learning, as +well as by an exemplary life, made herself so dear to the whole +empire, that she had many statues erected to her memory, and is +celebrated by the fathers of the church as an ornament of her +sex.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_the_Absurdity_of_Omens' id= +"On_the_Absurdity_of_Omens"></a> +<h2><i>On the Absurdity of Omens</i>.</h2> +<br> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> Going yesterday to dine with an old acquaintance, I +had the misfortune to find the whole family very much dejected. +Upon asking him the occasion of it, he told me that his wife had +dreamed a very strange dream the night before, which they were +afraid portended some mischief to themselves or to their children. +At her coming into the room, I observed a settled melancholy in her +countenance, which I should have been troubled for, had I not heard +from whence it proceeded.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> We were no sooner sat down, but, after having looked +upon me a little while, 'My dear,' says she, turning to her +husband, 'you may now see the stranger that was in the candle last +night.' Soon after this, as they began to talk of family affairs, a +little boy at the lower end of the table told her, that he was to +go into joining-hand on Thursday—'Thursday!' says she, 'no, +child, if it please God, you shall not begin upon Childermas day; +tell your writing-master that Friday will be soon enough.'</p> +<p><b>3.</b> I was reflecting with myself on the oddness of her +fancy, and wondering that any body would establish it as a rule to +lose a day in every week. In the midst of these my musings, she +desired me to reach her a little salt upon the point of my knife, +which I did in such a trepidation and hurry of obedience, that I +let it drop by the way; at which she immediately startled, and said +it fell towards her. Upon which I looked very blank; and, observing +the concern of the whole table, began to consider myself, with some +confusion, as a person that had brought a disaster upon the +family.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> The lady, however, recovering herself after a little +space, said to her husband with a sigh, 'My dear, misfortunes never +come single.' My friend, I found, acted but an under-part at his +table, and being a man of more good-nature than understanding, +thinks himself obliged to fall in with all the passions and humours +of his yoke-fellow: 'Do you remember, child,' says she, 'that the +pigeon-house fell the very afternoon that our careless wench spilt +the salt upon the table?' 'Yes,' says he, 'my dear, and the next +post brought us an account of the battle of Almanza.'</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The reader may guess at the figure I made, after +having done all this mischief. I dispatched my dinner as soon as I +could, with my usual taciturnity; when, to my utter confusion, the +lady seeing me quitting my knife and fork, and laying across one +another upon my plate, desired me that I would humour her so far as +to take them out of that figure, and place them side by side.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> What the absurdity was which I had committed I did not +know, but I suppose there was some traditionary superstition in it; +and therefore, in obedience to the lady of the house, I disposed of +my knife and fork in two parallel lines, which is a figure I shall +always lay them in for the future, though I do not know any reason +for it.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> It is not difficult to a man to see that a person has +conceived an aversion to him. For my own part, I quickly found, by +the lady's looks, that she regarded me as a very odd kind of +fellow, with an unfortunate aspect; for which reason I took my +leave immediately after dinner, and withdrew to my own +lodgings.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Upon my return home, I fell into a profound +contemplation on the evils that attend these superstitious follies +of mankind: how they subject us to imaginary afflictions and +additional sorrows that do not properly come within our lot. As if +the natural calamities of life were not sufficient for it, we turn +the most indifferent circumstances into misfortunes, and suffer as +much from trifling accidents, as from real evils.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I have known the shooting of a star spoil a night's +rest; and have seen a man in love grow pale and lose his appetite, +upon the plucking of a merry-thought. A screech owl at midnight has +alarmed a family more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice of a +cricket hath struck more terror than the roaring of a lion.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> There is nothing so inconsiderable, which may not +appear dreadful to an imagination that is filled with omens and +prognostics. A rusty nail, or crooked pin, shoot up into +prodigies.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I remember I was once in a mixt assembly, that was +full of noise and mirth, when on a sudden an old woman unluckily +observed there were thirteen of us in company. This remark struck a +panic terror into several who were present, insomuch that one or +two of the ladies were going to leave the room; but a friend of +mine taking notice that one of our female companions was big with +child, affirmed there were fourteen in the room, and that, instead +of portending one of the company should die, it plainly foretold +one of them should be born. Had not my friend found out this +expedient to break the omen, I question not but half the women in +the company would have fallen sick that very night.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> An old maid, that is troubled with the vapours, +produces infinite disturbances of this kind among her friends and +neighbours. I know a maiden aunt, of a great family, who is one of +these antiquated Sibyls, that forebodes and prophesies from one end +of the year to the other. She is always seeing apparitions, and +hearing dead-watches; and was the other day almost frightened out +of her wits by the great house-dog, that howled in the stable at a +time when she lay ill of the tooth-ache.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Such an extravagant cast of mind engages multitudes +of people not only in impertinent terrors, but in supernumerary +duties of life; and arises from that fear and ignorance which are +natural to the soul of man.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> The 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 such +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.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> For my own part, I should be very much troubled were +I endowed with this divining quality, though it should inform me +truly of every thing that can befal me. I would not anticipate the +relish of any happiness, nor feel the weight of any misery, before +it actually arrives.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> I know but one way of fortifying my soul against +these gloomy presages and terrors of mind; and that is, by securing +to myself the friendship and protection of that Being, who disposes +of events and governs futurity. He sees, at one view, the whole +thread of my existence, not only that part of it which I have +already passed through, but that which runs forward into all the +depths of eternity.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> When I lay me down to sleep, I recommend myself to +his care; when I awake, I give myself up to his direction. Amidst +all the evils that threaten me, I will look up to him for help, and +question not but he will either avert them, or turn them to my +advantage. Though I know neither the time nor the manner of the +death I am to die, I am not at all solicitous about it; because I +am sure that he knows them both, and that he will not fail to +comfort and support me under them.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'A_good_Conscience_the_best_Security_against_Calumny_and_Reproach' +id= +"A_good_Conscience_the_best_Security_against_Calumny_and_Reproach"></a> +<h2><i>A good Conscience the best Security against Calumny and +Reproach</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, No. +135.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> A good conscience is to the soul what health is to the +body; it preserves a constant ease and serenity within us, and move +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 ourselves that we do not deserve them.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I have been always mightily pleased with that passage +in Don Quixotte, where the fantastical knight is represented as +loading a gentleman of good sense with praises and eulogiums. Upon +which the gentleman makes this reflection to himself: how grateful +is praise to human nature!</p> +<p><b>3.</b> I cannot forbear being secretly pleased with the +commendations I receive, though, I am sensible, it is a madman who +bestows them on me. In the same manner, though we are often sure +that the censures which are passed upon us, are uttered by those +who know nothing of us, and have neither means nor abilities to +form a right judgment of us, we cannot forbear being grieved at +what they say.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> In order to heal this infirmity, which is so natural +to the best and wisest of men, I have taken a particular pleasure +in observing the conduct of the old philosophers, how they bore +themselves up against the malice and detraction of their +enemies.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The way to silence calumny, says <i>Bias</i>, is to be +always exercised in such things as are praise-worthy. +<i>Socrates</i>, after having received sentence, told his friends +that he had always accustomed himself to regard truth and not +censure, and that he was not troubled at his condemnation, because +he knew himself free from guilt. It was in the same spirit that he +heard the accusations of his two great adversaries, who had uttered +against him the most virulent reproaches.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> <i>Anytus</i> and <i>Melitus</i>, says he, may procure +sentence against me, but they cannot hurt me. This divine +philosopher was so well fortified in his own innocence, that he +neglected all the impotence of evil tongues which were engaged in +his destruction. This was properly the support of a good +conscience, that contradicted the reports which had been raised +against him, and cleared him to himself.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Others of the philosophers rather chose to retort the +injury of a smart reply, than thus to disarm it with respect to +themselves. They shew that it stung them, though at the same time +they had the address to make their aggressors suffer with them. Of +this kind is <i>Aristotle's</i> reply to one who pursued him with +long and bitter invectives. You, says he, who are used to suffer +reproaches, utter them with delight; I who have not been used to +utter them, take no pleasure in hearing them.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Diogenes was still more severe on one who spoke ill of +him: nobody will believe you when you speak ill of me, any more +than they would believe me when I speak well of you.</p> +<p>In these and many other instances I could produce, the +bitterness of the answer sufficiently testifies the uneasiness of +mind the person was under who made it.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I would rather advise my reader, if he has not in this +case the secret consolation, that he deserves no such reproaches as +are cast upon him, to follow the advice of Epictetus: If any one +speaks ill of thee, consider whether he has truth on his side; and +if so, reform thyself that his censures may not affect thee.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> When Anaximander was told that the very boys laughed +at his singing: Ay, says he, then I must learn to sing better. But +of all the sayings of philosophers which I have gathered together +for my own use on this occasion, there are none which carry in them +more candour and good sense than the two following ones of +Plato.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Being told that he had many enemies who spoke ill of +him; it is no matter, said he, I will live so that none shall +believe them. Hearing at another time, that an intimate friend of +his had spoken detractingly of him, I am sure he would not do it, +says he, if he had not some reason for it.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> This is the surest as well as the noblest way of +drawing the sting out of a reproach, and a true method of preparing +a man for that great and only relief against the pains of calumny, +'a good conscience.'</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I designed in this essay; to shew, that there is no +happiness wanting to him who is possessd of this excellent frame of +mind, and that no one can be miserable who is in the enjoyment of +it; but I find this subject so well treated in one of Dr. Soulh's +sermons, that I shall fill this Saturday's paper with a passage of +it, which cannot but make the man's heart burn within him, who +reads it with due attention.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> That admirable author, having shewn the virtue of a +good conscience, in supporting a man under the greatest trials and +difficulties of life, concludes with representing its force and +efficacy in the hour of death.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> The third and last instance, in which above all +others this confidence towards God does most eminently shew and +exert itself, is at the time of death; which surely gives the grand +opportunity of trying both the strength and worth of every +principle.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> When a man shall be just about to quit the stage of +this world, to put off his mortality, and to deliver up his last +accounts to God; at which sad time his memory shall serve him for +little else, but to terrify him with a frightful review of his past +life, and his former extravagancies stripped of all their pleasure, +but retaining their guilt; what is it then that can promise him a +fair passage into the other world, or a comfortable appearance +before his dreadful Judge when he is there?</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Not all the friends and interests, all the riches and +honours under heaven can speak so much as a word for him, or one +word of comfort to him in that condition; they may possibly +reproach, but they cannot relieve him.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> No, at this disconsolate time, when the busy temper +shall be more than usually apt to vex and trouble him, and the +pains of a dying body to hinder and discompose him, and the +settlement of worldly affairs to disturb and confound him; and in a +word, all things conspire to make his sick-bed grievous and uneasy: +nothing can then stand up against all these ruins, and speak life +in the midst of death, but a clear conscience.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> And the testimony of that shall make the comforts of +heaven descend upon his weary head, like a refreshing dew, or +shower upon a parched ground. It shall give him some lively +earnests, and secret anticipations of his approaching joy. It shall +bid his, soul to go out of the body undauntedly, and lift up his +head with confidence before saints and angels. Surely the comfort, +which it conveys at this season, is something bigger than the +capacities of mortality, mighty and unspeakable, and not to be +understood till it comes to be felt.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> And now who would not quit all the pleasures, and +trash, and trifles, which are apt to captivate the heart of man, +and pursue the great rigours of piety, and austerities of a good +life, to purchase to himself such a conscience, as at the hour of +death, when all the friendship in the world shall bid him adieu, +and the whole creation turns its back upon him, shall dismiss the +soul and close his eyes with that blessed sentence, 'Well done thou +good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy +Lord.'</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_Contentment' id="On_Contentment"></a> +<h2><i>On Contentment</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +574.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I was once engaged in discourse with a Rosicrucian +about the <i>great secret</i>. As this kind of men (I mean those of +them who are not professed cheats) are over-run with enthusiasm and +philosophy, it was very amusing to hear this religious adept +descanting on his pretended discovery. He talked of the secret as +of a spirit which lived within an emerald, and converted every +thing that was near it to the highest perfection it is capable +of.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> It gives a lustre, says he, to the sun, and water to +the diamond. It irradiates every metal, and enriches lead with all +the properties of gold. It heightens smoke into flame, flame into +light, and light into glory. He further added, that a single ray of +it dissipates pain, and care, and melancholy, from the person on +whom it falls. In short, says he, its presence naturally changes +every place into a kind of heaven.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> After he had gone on for some time in this +unintelligible cant, I found that he jumbled natural and moral +ideas together in the same discourse, and that his great secret was +nothing else but content.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> This virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all +those effects which the alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls +the philosopher's stone; and if it does not bring riches, it does +the same thing, by banishing the desire of them. If it cannot +remove the disquietudes arising out of a man's mind, body or +fortune, it makes him easy under them. It has indeed a kindly +influence on the soul of man, in respect of every thing to whom he +stands related. It extinguishes all murmur, repining and +ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted him his part to act +in this world. It destroys all inordinate ambition, and every +tendency to corruption, with regard to the community wherein he is +placed. It gives sweetness to his conversation, and a perpetual +serenity to all his thoughts.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Among the many methods which might be made use of for +the acquiring of this virtue, I shall only mention the two +following: First of all, a man should always consider how much more +unhappy he might be than he really is.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> First of all, a man should always consider how much +more he has than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased with the reply +which Aristippus made to one who condoled him upon the loss of a +farm: Why, said he, I have three farms still, and you have but one; +so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you than you for me. On +the contrary, foolish men are more apt to consider what they have +lost than what they possess; and to fix their eyes upon those who +are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under +greater difficulties.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> All the real pleasures and conveniences of life lie in +a narrow compass; but it is the humour of mankind, to be always +looking forward, and straining after one who has got the start of +them in wealth and honour. For this reason, as there are none can +be properly called rich, who have not more than they want; there +are few rich men in any of the politer nations but among the middle +sort of people, who keep their wishes within their fortunes, and +have more wealth than they know how to enjoy.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Persons in a higher rank live in a kind of splendid +poverty; and are perpetually wanting, because, instead of +acquiescing in the solid pleasures of life, they endeavour to +outvie one another in shadows and appearances. Men of sense have at +all times beheld with a great deal of mirth this silly game that is +playing over their heads, and by contracting their desires enjoy +all that secret satisfaction which others are always in quest +of.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The truth is, this ridiculous chase after imaginary +pleasures cannot be sufficiently exposed, as it is the great source +of those evils which generally undo a nation. Let a man's estate be +what it will, he is a poor man if he does not live within it, and +naturally sets himself to sale to any one that can give him his +price.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> When Pitticus, after the death of his brother, who +had left him a good estate, was offered a greater sum of money by +the king of Lydia, he thanked him for his kindness, but told him he +had already more by half than he knew what to do with. In short, +content is equivalent to wealth, and luxury to poverty; or, to give +the thought a more agreeable turn, 'Content is natural wealth,' +says Socrates; to which I shall add, 'Luxury is artificial +poverty.'</p> +<p><b>11.</b> I shall therefore recommend to the consideration of +those who are always aiming after superfluous and imaginary +enjoyments, and will not be at the trouble of contracting their +desires, an excellent saying of Bion the philosopher; namely, 'That +no man has so much care as he who endeavours after the most +happiness.'</p> +<p><b>12.</b> In the second place, every one ought to reflect how +much more unhappy he might be than he really is. The former +consideration took in all those who are sufficiently provided with +the means to make themselves easy; this regards such as actually +lie under some pressure or misfortune.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> These may receive a great alleviation from such a +comparison as the unhappy person may make between himself and +others, or between the misfortunes which he suffers, and greater +misfortunes which might have befallen him.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> I like the story of the honest Dutchman, who upon +breaking his leg by a fall from the main-mast, told the +standers-by, it was a great mercy that it was not his neck. To +which, since I am got into quotations, give me leave to add the +saying of an old philosopher, who, after having invited some of his +friends to dine with him, was ruffled by his wife that came into +the room in a passion and threw down the table that stood before +them; 'Every one, says he, has his calamity, and he is a happy man +that has no greater than this.'</p> +<p><b>15.</b> We find an instance to the same purpose in the life +of Doctor Hammond, written by Bishop Fell. As this good man was +troubled with a complication of distempers, when he had the gout +upon him, he used to thank God that it was not the stone; and when +he had the stone, that he had not both these distempers on him at +the same time.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> I cannot conclude this essay without observing, that +there was never any system besides that of christianity, which +could effectually produce in the mind of man the virtue I have been +hitherto speaking of. In order to make us content with our present +condition, many of the present philosophers tell us, that our +discontent only hurts ourselves, without being able to make an +alteration in our circumstances; others, that whatever evil befals +us, is derived to us by a fatal necessity, to which the gods +themselves are subject; while others very gravely tell the man who +is miserable, that it is necessary he should be so to keep up the +harmony of the universe, and that the <i>scheme</i> of Providence +would be troubled and perverted were he otherwise.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> These, and the like considerations, rather silence +than satisfy a man. They may shew him that his discontent is +unreasonable; but are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They +rather give despair than consolation. In a word, a man might reply +to one of these comforters, as Augustus did to his friend who +advised him not to grieve for the death of a person whom he loved, +because his grief could not fetch him again: 'It is for that very +reason, said the emperor, that I grieve.'</p> +<p><b>18.</b> On the contrary, religion bears a more tender regard +to human nature. It prescribes to a very miserable man the means of +bettering his condition; nay, it shews him that the bearing of his +afflictions as he ought to do, will naturally end in the removal of +them: It makes him easy here, because it can make him happy +hereafter.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Upon the whole, a contented mind is the greatest +blessing a man can enjoy in this world; and if in the present life +his happiness arises from the subduing his desires, it will arise +in the next from the gratification of them.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Human_Miseries_chiefly_imaginary' id= +"Human_Miseries_chiefly_imaginary"></a> +<h2><i>Human Miseries chiefly imaginary.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> It is a celebrated thought of <i>Socrates</i>, that if +all the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in +order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who +now think themselves the must unhappy, would prefer the share they +are already possessed of, before that which would fall to them by +such a division. <i>Horace</i> has carried this thought a great +deal further; who says, that the hardships or misfortunes we lie +under, are more easy to us than those of any other person would be, +in case we should change conditions with him.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 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 <i>Jupiter</i>, 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 centre 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.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> 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 +garments hovered in the wind; there was something wild, and +districted in her looks.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Her name <i>Fancy</i>. 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 burthens, and to consider that prodigious bulk of human +calamities which lay before me.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> 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.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very +whimsical burthens, composed of darts and flames; but what was very +odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these +bundles of calamities, they could not persuade 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 laden as they +came.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> 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 surprised 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.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> There were likewise distempers of all sorts, though 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 the diseases incident to human nature, and was in +the hands of a great many fine people: this was called the spleen. +But what most of all surprised 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 myself, that +every one would take this opportunity of getting rid of his +passions, prejudices and frailties.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I took notice in particular of a very profligate +fellow, who, I did not question, came laden 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.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> When the whole race of mankind had thus cast their +burthens, the <i>phantom</i>, 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, on a sudden, she +laid 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.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The immoderate breadth of my 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 satins, 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.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> We had both of us an opportunity of mending +ourselves, and all the contributions being now brought in, every +man was at liberty to exchange his misfortune for those of another +person. But as there arose many new incidents in the sequel of my +vision, I shall pursue this subject further, as the moral which may +be drawn from it, is applicable to persons of all degrees and +stations in life.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I gave my reader a sight of that mountain of +miseries, which was made up of those several calamities that +afflict the minds of men. I saw with unspeakable pleasure, the +whole species thus delivered from its sorrows; though, 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 wondered how the owners of them ever +came to look upon them as burthens and grievances.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> As we were regarding very attentively this confusion +of miseries, this chaos of calamity, <i>Jupiter</i> 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.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Upon this, <i>Fancy</i> 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 reader. A venerable grey-headed man, who had laid down his +cholic, and who, I found, wanted an heir to his estate, snatched up +an undutiful son, that had been thrown into the heap by his angry +father.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> 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 +toward him in a fit of the gripes, he begged him to take his son +again, and give him back his cholic; but they were incapable either +of them to recede from the choice they had made.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> A poor galley-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.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> 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 waist for a pair of +round shoulders, and a third cheapening 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.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> 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 befall 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.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> I could not, for my heart, forbear pitying the poor +hump-backed gentleman mentioned in the former paper, 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.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> 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 myself, 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 myself 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.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Besides, as my nose was exceedingly 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 swap between a couple of thick bandy legs, +and two long trap-sticks that had no calfs to them.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> One of these looked like a man walking upon stilts, +and was so lifted up in 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 fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and I told him I +would lay him a bottle of wine, that he did not march up to it on +the line that I drew for him, in a quarter of an hour.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> 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 burthens. The whole plain was filled +with murmurs and complaints, groans and lamentations. +<i>Jupiter</i>, 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.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> They discharged themselves with a great deal of +pleasure, alter which the phantom, 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 cheerful. She every now and +then cast her eyes towards heaven, and fixed them upon +<i>Jupiter</i>.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> Her name was <i>Patience</i>. She had no sooner +placed herself by the mount of sorrow, 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.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> Besides the several pieces of morality to be drawn +out of this vision, I learned from it, never to repine at my own +misfortunes, nor 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.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'A_Life_of_Virtue_preferable_to_a_Life_of_Pleasure_exemplified_in_the' +id= +"A_Life_of_Virtue_preferable_to_a_Life_of_Pleasure_exemplified_in_the"> +</a> +<h2><i>A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure, +exemplified in the Choice of Hercules</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>TATLER, No. +97.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> When Hercules, says the divine Prodicus, was in that +part of his youth, in which it was natural for him to consider what +course of life he ought to pursue, he one day retired into a +desert, where the silence and solitude of the place very much +favoured his meditations.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> As he was musing on his present condition, and very +much perplextd in himself on the state of life he should chuse, he +saw two women of a larger stature than ordinary approaching towards +him. One of them had a very noble air and graceful deportment; her +beauty was natural and easy; her person clean and unspotted; her +eyes cast towards the ground, with an agreeable reserve; her motion +and behaviour full of modesty; and her raiment as white as +snow.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The other had a great deal of health and florridness +in her countenance, which she had helped with an artificial white +and red, and endeavoured to appear more graceful than ordinary in +her mein, by a mixture of affectation in all her gestures. She had +a wonderful confidence and assurance in her looks, and all the +variety of colours in her dress that she thought were the most +proper to shew her complexion to an advantage. She cast her eyes +upon herself, then turned them on those that were present to see +how they liked her, and often looked on the figure she made in her +own shadow.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Upon her nearer approach to Hercules, she stepped +before the other lady, who came forward with a regular composed +carriage, and running up to him, accosted him after the following +manner:</p> +<p><b>5.</b> My dear Hercules, says she, I find you are very much +divided in your own thoughts upon the way of life that you ought to +chuse: be my friend and follow me; I will lead you into the +possession of pleasure and out of the reach of pain, and remove you +from all the noise and disquietude of business. The affairs of +either war or peace shall have no power to disturb you. Your whole +employment shall be to make your life easy, and to entertain every +sense with its proper gratifications. Sumptuous tables, beds of +roses, clouds of perfumes, concerts of music, crouds of beauties, +are all in readiness to receive you. Come along with me into this +region of delights, this world of pleasure, and bid farewell for +ever to care, to pain, and to business.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Hercules hearing the lady talk after this manner, +desired to know her name; to which she answered, my friends, and +those who are well acquainted with me, call me Happiness; but my +enemies, and those who would injure my reputation, have given me +the name of Pleasure.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> By this time the other lady was come up, who addressed +herself to the young hero in a very different manner.</p> +<p>Hercules, says she, I offer myself to you, because I know you +are descended from the gods, and give proofs of that descent by +your love to virtue, and application to the studies proper to your +age. This makes me hope you will gain both for yourself and me an +immortal reputation. But before I invite you into my society and +friendship, I will be open and sincere with you, and must lay down +this as an established truth, that there is nothing truly valuable +which can be purchased without pains and labour.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The gods have set a price upon every real and noble +pleasure. If you would gain the favour of the Deity, you must be at +the pains of worshipping him; if the friendship of good men, you +must study to oblige them; if you would be honoured by your +country, you must take care to serve it. In short, if you would be +eminent in war or peace, you must become master of all the +qualifications that can make you so. These are the only terms and +conditions upon which I can propose happiness. The goddess of +pleasure here broke in upon her discourse:</p> +<p><b>9.</b> You see, said she, Hercules, by her own confession, +the way to her pleasure is long and difficult, whereas that which I +propose is short and easy. Alas! said the other lady, whose visage +glowed with a passion made up of scorn and pity, what are the +pleasures you propose? To eat before you are hungry, drink before +you are thirsty, sleep before you are tired, to gratify appetites +before they are raised, and raise such appetites as nature never +planted.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> You never heard the most delicate music, which is the +praise of one's self; nor saw the most beautiful object, which is +the work of one's own hands. Your votaries pass away their youth in +a dream of mistaken pleasures, while they are hoarding up anguish, +torment, and remorse, for old age.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> As for me, I am a friend of the Gods and of good men, +an agreeable companion to the artisan, a household guardian to the +fathers of families, a patron and protector of servants, and +associate in all true and generous friendships. The banquets of my +votaries are never costly, but always delicious; for none eat or +drink at them who are not invited by hunger and thirst. Their +slumbers are sound, and their wakings cheerful.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> My young men have the pleasure of hearing themselves +praised by those who are in years, and those who are in years, of +being honoured by those who are young. In a word, my followers are +favoured by the gods, beloved by their acquaintance, esteemed by +their country, and after the close of their labours, honoured by +posterity.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> We know by the life of this memorable hero, to which +of these two ladies he gave up his heart; and I believe, every one +who reads this, will do him the justice to approve his choice.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> I very much admire the speeches of these ladies, as +containing in them the chief arguments for a life of virtue, or a +life of pleasure, that could enter into the thoughts of an heathen: +but am particularly pleased with the different figures he gives the +two goddesses. Our modern authors have represented pleasure or vice +with an alluring face, but ending in snakes and monsters: here she +appears in all the charms of beauty, though they are all false and +borrowed; and by that means compose a vision entirely natural and +pleasing.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> I have translated this allegory for the benefit of +the youth in general; and particularly of those who are still in +the deplorable state of non-existence, and whom I most earnestly +intreat to come into the world. Let my embryos shew the least +inclination to any single virtue, and I shall allow it to be a +struggling towards birth.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> I do not expect of them that, like the hero in the +foregoing story, they should go about as soon as they are born, +with a club in their hands, and a lion's skin on their shoulders, +to root out monsters and destroy tyrants; but as the finest author +of all antiquity has said upon this very occasion, though a man has +not the abilities to distinguish himself in the most shining parts +of a great character, he has certainly the capacity of being just, +faithful, modest, and temperate.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Virtue_rewarded_The_History_of_Amanda' id= +"Virtue_rewarded_The_History_of_Amanda"></a> +<h2><i>Virtue rewarded; The History of Amanda</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +375.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I have more than once had occasion to mention a noble +saying of Seneca the philosopher, that a virtuous person struggling +with misfortunes, and rising above them, is an object on which the +gods themselves may look down with delight. I shall therefore set +before my readers a scene of this kind of distress in private life, +for the speculation of this day.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> An eminent citizen, who had lived in good fashion and +credit, was by a train of accidents, and by an unavoidable +perplexity in his affairs, reduced to a low condition. There is a +modesty usually attending faultless poverty, which made him rather +chuse to reduce his manner of living to his present circumstances, +than solicit his friends, in order to support the shew of an +estate, when the substance was gone.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> His wife, who was a woman of sense and virtue, behaved +herself on this occasion with uncommon decency, and never appeared +so amiable in his eyes as now. Instead of upbraiding him with the +ample fortune she had brought, or the many great offers she had +refused for his sake, she redoubled all the instances of her +affection, while her husband was continually pouring out his heart +to her in complaints, that he had ruined the best woman in the we +world.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> He sometimes came home at a time when she did not +expect him, and surprised her in tears, which she endeavoured to +conceal, and always put on an air of cheerfulness to receive him. +To lessen their expense, their eldest daughter (whom I shall call +Amanda) was sent into the country, to the house of an honest +farmer, who had married a servant of the family: This young woman +was apprehensive of the ruin which was approaching, and had +privately engaged a friend in the neighbourhood to give her an +account of what passed from time to time in her father's +affairs.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Amanda was in the bloom of her youth and beauty, when +the lord of the manor, who often called in at the farmer's house as +he followed his country sports, fell passionately in love with her. +He was a man of great generosity, but from a loose education had +contracted a hearty aversion to marriage. He therefore entertained +a design upon Amanda's virtue, which at present he thought fit to +keep private. The innocent creature, who never suspected his +intentions, was pleased with his person; and, having observed his +growing passion for her, hoped by so advantageous a match she might +quickly be in a capacity of supporting her impoverished +relations.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> One day as he called to see her, he found her in tears +over a letter she had just received from her friend, which gave an +account that her father had been lately stript of every thing by an +execution. The lover, who with some difficulty found out the cause +of her grief, took this occasion to make her a proposal. It is +impossible to express Amanda's confusion when she found his +pretentions were not honourable.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> She was now deserted of all hopes, and had no power to +speak; but rushing from him in the utmost disturbance, locked +herself up in her chamber. He immediately dispatched a messenger to +her father with the following letter.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> SIR,</p> +<p>'I have heard of your misfortune, and have offered your +daughter, if she will live with me, to settle on her four hundred +pounds a year, and to lay down the sum for which you are now +distressed. I will be so ingenuous as to tell you, that I do not +intend marriage; but if you are wise, you will use your authority +with her not to be too nice, when she has an opportunity of serving +you and your family, and of making herself happy.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>'<i>I am</i>, +&c.'</div> +<p><b>9.</b> This letter came to the hands of Amanda's mother: she +opened and read it with great surprise and concern. She did not +think it proper to explain herself to the messenger; but desiring +him to call again the next morning, she wrote to her daughter as +follows:</p> +<p><b>10.</b> <i>Dearest Child</i>,</p> +<p>'Your father and I have just now received a letter from a +gentleman who pretends love to you, with a proposal that insults +our misfortunes, and would throw us to a lower degree of misery +than any thing which is come upon us. How could this barbarous man +think that the tenderest of parents would be tempted to supply +their wants, by giving up the best of children to infamy and ruin! +It is a mean and cruel artifice to make this proposal at a time +when he thinks our necessities must compel us to any thing; but we +will not eat the bread of shame; and therefore we charge thee not +to think of us, but to avoid the snare which is laid for thy +virtue. Beware of pitying us: it is not so bad as you have perhaps +been told. All things will yet be well, and I shall write my child +better news.</p> +<p>'I have been interrupted. I know not how I was moved to say +things would mend. As I was going on, I was startled by the noise +of one that knocked at the door, and had brought us an unexpected +supply of a debt which had long been owing. Oh! I will now tell +thee all. It is some days I have lived almost without support, +having conveyed what little money I could raise to your poor +father. Thou wilt weep to think where he is, yet be assured he will +soon be at liberty. That cruel letter would have broke his heart, +but I have concealed it from him. I have no companion at present +besides little Fanny, who stands watching my looks as I write, and +is crying for her sister; she says she is sure you are not well, +having discovered that my present trouble is about you. But do not +think I would thus repeat my sorrows to grieve thee. No, it is to +intreat thee not to make them insupportable, by adding what would +be worse than all. Let us bear cheerfully an affliction which we +have not brought on ourselves, and remember there is a Power who +can better deliver us out of it, than by the loss of thy innocence. +Heaven preserve my dear child.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>'<i>Thy +affectionate mother</i>—.'</div> +<p><b>11.</b> The messenger, notwithstanding he promised to deliver +this letter to Amanda, carried it first to his master, who, he +imagined, would be glad to have an opportunity of giving it into +her hands himself. His master was impatient to know the success of +his proposal, and therefore broke open the letter privately, to see +the contents.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> He was not a little moved at so true a picture of +virtue in distress: but, at the same time, was infinitely surprised +to find his offers rejected. However, he resolved not to suppress +the letter, but carefully sealed it up again, and carried it to +Amanda. All his endeavours to see her were in vain, till she was +assured he brought a letter from her mother. He would not part with +it but upon condition that she should read it without leaving the +room.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> While she was perusing it, he fixed his eyes on her +face with the deepest attention; her concern gave a new softness to +her beauty, and when she burst into tears, he could no longer +refrain from bearing a part in her sorrow, and telling her, that he +too had read the letter, and was resolved to make reparation for +having been the occasion of it. My reader will not be displeased to +see the second epistle which he now wrote to Amanda's mother.</p> +<p>MADAM,</p> +<p>'I am full of shame, and will never forgive myself if I have not +your pardon for what I lately wrote. It was far from my intention +to add trouble to the afflicted; nor could any thing but my being a +stranger to you, have betrayed me into a fault, for which, if I +live, I shall endeavour to make you amends as a son. You cannot be +unhappy while Amanda is your daughter: nor shall be, if any thing +can prevent it, which is in the power of,</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>MADAM,<br> +<br> +<i>Your obedient humble servant</i>—.'</div> +<p><b>14.</b> This letter he sent by his steward, and soon after +went up to town himself to complete the generous act he had now +resolved on. By his friendship and assistance, Amanda's father was +quickly in a condition of retrieving his perplexed affairs. To +conclude, he married Amanda, and enjoyed the double satisfaction of +having restored a worthy family to their former prosperity, and of +making himself happy by an alliance to their virtues.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Story_of_Abdallah_and_Balsora' id= +"The_Story_of_Abdallah_and_Balsora"></a> +<h2><i>The Story of Abdallah and Balsora.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, No. +167.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> The following story is lately translated out of an +Arabian manuscript, which I think has very much the turn of an +oriental tale: and as it has never before been printed, I question +not but it will be highly acceptable to my reader.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The name of Helim is still famous through all the +eastern parts of the world. He is called among the Persians, even +to this day, Helim the great physician. He was acquainted with all +the powers of simples, understood all the influence of the stars, +and knew the secrets that were engraved on the seal of Solomon the +son of David. Helim was also governor of the black palace, and +chief of the physicians to Alnareschin the great king of +Persia.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Alnareschin was the most dreadful tyrant that ever +reigned in this country. He was of a fearful, suspicious and cruel +nature, having put to death, upon very slight jealousies; and +surmises, five-and-thirty of his queens, and above twenty sons whom +he suspected to have conspired against his life. Being at length +wearied with the exercise of so many cruelties in his own family, +and fearing lest the whole race of Caliphs should be entirely lost, +he one day sent for Helim, and spoke to him after this manner.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> 'Helim,' said he, 'I have long admired thy great +wisdom, and retired way of living. I shall now shew thee the entire +confidence which I place in thee. I have only two sons remaining, +who are as yet but infants. It is my design that thou take them +home with thee, and educate them as thy own. Train them up in the +humble unambitious pursuits of knowledge. By this means shall the +line of Caliphs be preserved, and my children succeed after me, +without aspiring to my throne whilst I am yet alive.'</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The words of my lord the king shall be obeyed, said +Helim. After which he bowed, and went out of the king's presence. +He then received the children into his own house, and from that +time bred them up with him in the studies of knowledge and virtue. +The young princes loved and respected Helim as their father, and +made such improvements under him, that by the age of one-and-twenty +they were instructed in all the learning of the East.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> The name of the eldest was Ibrahim, and of the +youngest Abdallah. They lived together in such a perfect +friendship, that to this day it is said of intimate friends, that +they live together like Ibrahim and Abdallah. Helim had an only +child, who was a girl of a fine soul, and a most beautiful person. +Her father omitted nothing in her education, that might make her +the most accomplished woman of her age.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> As the young princes were in a manner excluded from +the rest of the world, they frequently conversed with this lovely +virgin, who had been brought up by her father in the same course of +knowledge and of virtue.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Abdallah, whose mind was of a softer turn than tint of +his brother, grew by degrees so enamoured of her conversation, that +he did not think he lived, when he was not in company with his +beloved Balsora, for that was the name of the maid. The fame of her +beauty was so great, that at length it came to the ears of the +king, who, pretending to visit the young princes his sons, demanded +of Helim the sight of Balsora his fair daughter.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The king was so enflamed with her beauty and +behaviour, that he sent for Helim the next morning, and told him it +was now his design to recompence him for all his faithful services; +and that in order to it, he intended to make his daughter queen of +Persia.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> Helim, who knew very well the fate of all those +unhappy women who had been thus advanced, and could not but be +privy to the secret love which Abdallah bore his daughter; 'Far be +it,' says he, 'from the king of Persia to contaminate the blood of +the Caliphs, and join himself in marriage with the daughter of his +physcian.'</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The king, however, was so impatient for such a bride, +that without hearing any excuses, he immediately ordered Balsora to +be sent for into his presence, keeping the father with him in order +to make her sensible of the honour which he designed. Balsora, who +was too modest and humble to think her beauty had made such an +impression on the king, was a few moments after brought into his +presence as he had commanded.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> She appeared in the king's eye as one of the virgins +of paradise. But upon hearing the honour which he intended her, she +fainted away, and fell down as dead at his feet. Helim wept, and +after having recovered her out of the trance into which she was +fallen, represented to the king that so unexpected an honour was +too great to have been communicated to her all at once; but that, +if he pleased, he would himself prepare her for it. The king bid +him take his own away and dismissed him.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Balsora was conveyed again to her father's house, +where the thoughts of Abdallah renewed her affliction every moment; +insomuch that at length she fell into a raging fever. The king was +informed of her condition by those who saw her. Helim finding no +other means of extricating her from the difficulties she was in, +after having composed her mind, and made her acquainted with his +intentions, gave her a certain potion, which he knew would lay her +asleep for many hours; and afterwards in all the seeming distress +of a disconsolate father informed the king she was dead.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> The king, who never let any sentiments of humanity +come too near his heart, did not much trouble himself about the +matter; however, for his own reputation, he told the father, that +since it was known through the empire that Balsora died at a time +when he designed her for his bride, it was his intention that she +should be honoured as such after her death, that her body should be +laid in the black palace, among those of his deceased queens.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> In the meantime Abdallah, who had heard of the king's +design, was not less afflicted than his beloved Balsora. As for the +several circumstances of his distress, as also how the king was +informed of an irrecoverable distemper into which he was fallen, +they are to be found at length in the history of Helim.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> It shall suffice to acquaint the reader, that Helim, +some days after the supposed death of his daughter, gave the prince +a potion of the same nature with which he had laid asleep +Balsora.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> It is the custom among the Persians, to convey in a +private manner the bodies of all the royal family a little after +their death, into the black palace; which is the repository of all +who are descended from the Caliphs, or any way allied to them. The +chief physician is always governor of the black palace; it being +his office to embalm and preserve the holy family after they are +dead, as well as to take care of them while they are yet +living.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> The black palace is so called from the colour of the +building, which is all of the finest polished black marble. There +are always burning in it five thousand everlasting lamps. It has +also an hundred folding doors of ebony, which are each of them +watched day and night by an hundred negroes, who are to take care +that nobody enters besides the governor.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Helim, after having conveyed the body of his daughter +into this repository, and at the appointed time received her out of +the sleep into which she was fallen, took care some time after to +bring that of Abdallah into the same place. Balsora, watched over +him till such time as the dose he had taken lost its effect. +Abdallah was not acquainted with Helim's design when he gave him +this sleepy potion.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> It is impossible to describe the surprise, the joy, +the transport he was in at his first awaking. He fancied himself in +the retirement of the blest, and that the spirit of his dear +Balsora, who he thought was just gone before him, was the first who +came to congratulate his arrival. She soon informed him of the +place he was in, which notwithstanding all its horrors, appeared to +him more sweet than the bower of Mahomet, in the company of his +Balsora.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Helim, who was supposed to be taken up in the +embalming of the bodies, visited the place very frequently. His +greatest perplexity was how to get the lovers out of it, the gates +being watched in such a manner as I have before related. This +consideration did not a little disturb the two interred lovers.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> At length Helim bethought himself, that the first day +of the full moon of the month Tizpa was near at hand. Now it is a +received tradition among the Persians, that the souls of those of +the royal family, who are in a state of bliss, do, on the first +full moon after their decease, pass through the eastern gate of the +black palace, which is therefore called the Gate of Paradise, in +order to take their flight for that happy place.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> Helim, therefore, having made due preparation for +this night, dressed each of the lovers in a robe of azure silk, +wrought in the finest looms of Persia, with a long train of linen +whiter than snow, that flowed on the ground behind them. Upon +Abdallah's head he fixed a wreath of the greenest myrtle, and on +Balsora's a garland of the freshest roses. Their garments were +scented with the richest perfumes of Arabia.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Having thus prepared every thing, the full moon was +no sooner up, and shining in all its brightness, but he privately +opened the Gate of Paradise, and shut it after the same manner, as +soon as they had passed through it.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> The band of negroes who were posted at a little +distance from the gate, seeing two such beautiful apparitions, that +shewed themselves to'aclvantage by the light of the full moon, and +being ravished with the odour that flowed from their garments, +immediately concluded them to be the ghosts of the two persons +lately deceased.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> They fell upon their faces as they passed through the +midst of them, and continued prostrate on the earth until such time +as they were out of sight. They reported the next day what they had +seen, but this was looked upon by the king himself and most others, +as the compliment that was usually paid to any of the deceased of +his family.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> Helim had placed two of his own mules about a mile's +distance from the black temple, on the spot which they had agreed +upon for their rendezvous. Here he met them, and conducted them to +one of his own houses, which was situated on mount +<i>Khacan</i>.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> The air of this mountain was so very healthful, that +Helim had formerly transported the king thither, in order to +recover him out of a long fit of sickness, which succeeded so well, +that the king made him a present of the whole mountain, with a +beautiful house and garden that were on the top of it.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> In this retirement lived Abdallah and Balsora. They +were both so fraught with all kinds of knowledge, and possessed +with so constant and mutual a passion for each other, that their +solitude never lay heavy on them.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> Abdallah applied himself to those arts Which were +agreeable to his manner of living, and the situation of the place; +insomuch that in a few years he converted the whole mountain into a +kind of garden, and covered every part of it with plantations or +spots of flowers.</p> +<p>Helim was too good a father to let him want any thing that might +conduce to make his retirement pleasant.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> In about ten years after their abode in this place, +the old king died, and was succeeded by his son Ibrahim, who upon +the supposed death of his brother, had been called to court, and +entertained there as heir to the Persian empire. Though he was some +years inconsolable for the death of his brother, Helim durst not +trust him with the secret, which he knew would have fatal +consequences, should it by any means come to the knowledge of the +old king.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> Ibrahim was no sooner mounted to the throne, but +Helim sought after a proper opportunity of making a discovery to +him, which he knew would be very agreeable to so good natured and +generous a prince. It so happened, that before Helim found such an +opportunity as he desired, the new king Ibrahim, having been +separated from his company in a chase, and almost fainting with +heat and thirst, saw himself at the foot of mount Khacan. He +immediately ascended the hill, and coming to Helim's house, +demanded some refreshments.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> Helim was very luckily there at that time; and after +having set before the king the choicest of wines and fruits, +finding him wonderfully pleased with so seasonable a treat, told +him that the best part of his entertainment was to come. Upon which +he opened to him the whole history of what had passed. The king was +at once astonished and transported at so strange a relation, and +seeing his brother enter the room with Balsora in his hand, he +leaped off from the sofa on which he sat, and cried out, 'It is he! +it is my Abdallah!' Having said this, he fell upon his neck, and +wept.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> The whole company for some time remained silent, and +shedding tears of joy. The king at length having kindly reproached +Helim for depriving him so long from such a brother, embraced +Balsora with the greatest tenderness, and told her that she should +now be a queen indeed, for that he would immediately make his +brother king of all the conquered nations on the other side the +Tigris.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> He easily discovered in the eyes of our two lovers, +that instead of being transported with the offer, they preferred +their present retirement to empire. At their request, therefore, he +changed his intentions, and made them a present of all the open +country as far as they could sec from the top of mount Khacan.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> Abdallah continuing to extend his former +improvements, beautified this whole prospect with groves and +fountains, gardens and seats of pleasure, until it became the most +delicious spot of ground within the empire, and is therefore called +the garden of Persia.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> This Caliph, Ibrahim, after a long and happy reign, +died without children, and was succeeded by Abdallah, a son of +Abdallah and Balsora. This was that king Abdallah, who afterwards +fixed the imperial residence upon mount Khacan, which continues at +this time to be the favourite palace of the Persian empire.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_Rashness_and_Cowardice' id= +"On_Rashness_and_Cowardice"></a> +<h2><i>On Rashness and Cowardice.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>RAMBLER, No. +25.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> There are some vices and errors which, though often +fatal to those in whom they are found, have yet, by the universal +consent of mankind, been considered as entitled to some degree of +respect, or have at least been exempted from contemptuous infamy, +and condemned by the severest moralists with pity rather than +detestation.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> A constant and invariable example of this general +partiality will be found in the different regard which has always +been shewn to rashness and cowardice; two vices, of which, though +they maybe conceived equally distant from the middle point, where +true fortitude is placed, and may equally injure any public or +private interest, yet the one is never mentioned without some kind +of veneration, and the other always considered as a topic of +unlimited and licentious censure, on which all the virulence of +reproach may he lawfully exerted.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The same distinction is made, by the common suffrage, +between profusion and avarice, and perhaps between many other +opposite vices; and, as I have found reason to pay great regard to +the voice of the people, in cases where knowledge has been forced +upon them by experience, without long deductions or deep +researches, I am inclined to believe that this distribution of +respect is not without some agreement with the nature of things; +and that in the faults, which are thus invested with extraordinary +privileges, there are generally some latent principles of merit, +some possibilities of future virtue, which may, by decrees, break +from obstruction, and by time and opportunity be brought into +act.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> It may be laid down as an axiom, that it is more easy +to take away superfluities than to supply defects; and therefore, +he that is culpable, because he has passed the middle point of +virtue, is always accounted a fairer object of hope, than he who +fails by falling short. The one has all that perfection requires, +and more, but the excess may be easily retrenched; the other wants +the qualities requisite to excellence, and who can tell how he +shall obtain them?</p> +<p><b>5.</b> We are certain that the horse may be taught to keep +pace with his fellows, whose fault it is that he leaves them +behind. We know that a few strokes of the axe will lop a cedar; but +what arts of cultivation can elevate a shrub?</p> +<p><b>6.</b> To walk with circumspection and steadiness in the +right path, at an equal distance between the extremes of error, +ought to be the constant endeavour of every reasonable being; nor +can I think those teachers of moral wisdom much to be honoured as +benefactors to mankind, who are always enlarging upon the +difficulty of our duties, and providing rather excuses for vice, +than incentives to virtue.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> But, since to most it will happen often, and to all +sometimes, that there will be a deviation towards one side or the +other, we ought always to employ our vigilance with most attention, +on that enemy from which there is the greatest danger, and to +stray, if we must stray, towards those parts from whence we may +quickly and easily return.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Among other opposite qualities of the mind, which may +become dangerous, though in different degrees, I have often had +occasion to consider the contrary effects of presumption and +despondency; of steady confidence, which promises a victory without +contest, and heartless pusilanimity, which shrinks back from the +thought of great undertakings, confounds difficulty with +impossibility, and considers all advancement towards any new +attainment, as irreversibly prohibited.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Presumption will be easily corrected. Every experiment +will teach caution, and miscarriages will hourly shew, that +attempts are not always rewarded with success. The most precipitate +ardour will, in time, be taught the necessity of methodical +gradation, and preparatory measures; and the most daring confidence +be convinced, that neither merit nor abilities can command +events.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> It is the advantage of vehemence and activity, that +they are always hastening to their own reformation; because they +incite us to try whether our expectations are well grounded; and +therefore detect the deceits which they are apt to occasion. But +timidity is a disease of the mind more obstinate and fatal; for a +man once persuaded, that any impediment is insuperable, has given +it, with respect to himself, that strength and weight which it had +not before.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> He can scarcely strive with vigour and perseverance, +when he has no hope of gaining the victory; and since he will never +try his strength, can never discover the unreasonableness of his +fears.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> There is often to be found in men devoted to +literature, a kind of intellectual cowardice, which whoever +converses much among them, may observe frequently to depress the +alacrity of enterprise, and by consequence to retard the +improvement of science.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> They have annexed to every species of knowledge, some +chimerical character of terror and inhibition, which they transmit, +without much reflection, from one to another; they first fright +themselves, and then propagate the panic to their scholars and +acquaintances.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> One study is inconsistent with a lively imagination, +another with a solid judgment; one is improper in the early parts +of life, another requires so much time, that it is not to be +attempted at an advanced age; one is dry and contracts the +sentiments, another is diffuse and over-burdens the memory; one is +insufferable to taste and delicacy, and another wears out life in +the study of words, and is useless to a wise man, who desires only +the knowledge of things.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> But of all the bugbears by which the <i>infantes +barbati</i>, boys both young and old, have been hitherto frighted +from digressing into new tracts of learning, none has been more +mischievously efficacious than an opinion that every kind of +knowledge requires a peculiar genius, or mental constitution, +framed for the reception of some ideas and the exclusion of others; +and that to him whose genius is not adapted to the study which he +prosecutes, all labour shall be vain and fruitless; vain as an +endeavour to mingle oil and water, or, in the language of +chemistry, to amalgamate bodies of heterogeneous principles.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> This opinion we may reasonably suspect to have been +propogated, by vanity, beyond the truth. It is natural for those +who have raised a reputation by any science, to exalt themselves as +endowed by heaven with peculiar powers, or marked out by an +extraordinary designation for their profession: and to fright +competitors away by representing the difficulties with which they +must contend, and the necessity of qualities which are supposed to +be not generally conferred, and which no man can know, but by +experience, whether he enjoys.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> To this discouragement it may possibly be answered, +that since a genius, whatever it may be, is like fire in the flint, +only to be produced by collision with a proper subject, it is the +business of every man to try whether his faculties may not happily +co-operate with his desires; and since they whose proficiency he +admires, knew their own force only by the event, he needs but +engage in the same undertaking, with equal spirit, and may +reasonably hope for equal success.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> There is another species of false intelligence, given +by those who profess to shew the way to the summit of knowledge, of +equal tendency to depress the mind with false distrust of itself, +and weaken it by needless solicitude and dejection. When a scholar +whom they desire to animate, consults them at his entrance on some +new study, it is common to make flattering representations of its +pleasantness and facility.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Thus they generally attain one of the two ends almost +equally desirable; they either incite his industry by elevating his +hopes, or produce a high opinion of their own abilities, since they +are supposed to relate only what they have found, and to have +proceeded with no less ease than they have promised to their +followers.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> The student, enflamed by this encouragement, sets +forward in the new path, and proceeds a few steps with great +alacrity; but he soon finds asperities and intricacies of which he +has not been forewarned, and imagining that none ever were so +entangled or fatigued before him, sinks suddenly into despair, and +desists as from an expedition in which fate opposes him. Thus his +terrors are multiplied by his hopes, and he is defeated without +resistance, because he had no expectation of an enemy.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Of these treacherous instructors, the one destroys +industry, by declaring that industry is vain, the other by +representing it as needless: the one cuts away the root of hope, +the other raises it only to be blasted. The one confines his pupil +to the shore, by telling him that his wreck is certain; the other +sends him to sea without preparing him for tempests.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> False hopes and false terrors, are equally to be +avoided. Every man who proposes to grow eminent by learning, should +carry in his mind, at once, the difficulty of excellence, and the +force of industry; and remember that fame is not conferred but as +the recommence of labour, and that labour, vigorously continued, +has not often failed of its reward.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Fortitude_founded_upon_the_fear_of_God' id= +"Fortitude_founded_upon_the_fear_of_God"></a> +<h2><i>Fortitude founded upon the fear of God.</i></h2> +<br> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>GUARDIAN, No. +167.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> Looking over the late edition of Monsieur +<i>Boileau's</i> works, I was very much pleased with the article +which he has added to his notes on the translation of +<i>Longinus</i>. He there tells us, that the sublime in writing +rises either from the nobleness of the thought, the magnificence of +the words, or the harmonious and lively turn of the phrase, and +that the perfect sublime rises from all these three in conjunction +together. He produces an instance of this perfect sublime in four +verses from the Athalia of Monsieur <i>Racine</i>.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> When <i>Abner</i>, one of the chief officers of the +court, represents to <i>Joad</i> the high priest, that the queen +was incensed against him, the high priest, not in the least +terrified at the news, returns this answer:</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span><i>Celui que met un frein à la +fureur des flots,</i><br></span> <span><i>Scait aussi des +méchans arréter les complots;</i><br></span> +<span><i>Soumis avecs respect à sa volutté +sainte,</i><br></span> <span><i>Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, & +n'ai point d'autre crainte.</i><br></span></div> +</div> +<p><b>3.</b> 'He who ruleth the raging of the sea, knows also how +to check the designs of the ungodly. I submit myself with reverence +to his holy will. O Abner! I fear my God, and I fear none but him.' +Such a thought gives no less a solemnity to human nature, than it +does to good writing.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> This religious 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 terror that can settle itself in the heart of a 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.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> 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 a sense of our +duty, and from a fear of offending him that made us, acts always in +an uniform manner, and according to the dictates of right +reason.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> What can a 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.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> 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 +lock upon all crosses and accidents, sufferings and afflictions, as +means which are made use of to bring him to happiness.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> 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.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Histories are full of instances of this nature, where +men of virtue have had extraordinary escapes out of such dangers as +have enclosed them, and which have seemed inevitable.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> There is no example of this kind in Pagan history +which more pleases me than that which is recorded in the life of +<i>Timoleon</i>. This extraordinary man was famous for referring +all his successes to Providence. <i>Cornelius Nepos</i> acquaints +us that he had in his house a private chapel in which he used to +pay his devotions to the goddess who represented Providence among +the heathens. I think no man was ever more distinguished by the +Deity, whom he blindly worshipped, than the great person I am +speaking of, in several occurrences of his life, but particularly +in the following one, which I shall relate out of +<i>Plutarch</i>.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Three persons had entered into a conspiracy to +assassinate <i>Timoleon</i> as he was offering up his devotions in +a certain temple. In order to it they took their several stands in +the most convenient places for their purpose. As they were waiting +for an opportunity to put their design in execution, a stranger +having observed one of the conspirators, fell upon him and slew +him. Upon which the other two, thinking their plot had been +discovered, threw themselves at <i>Timoleon's</i> feet, and +confessed the whole matter.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> This stranger, upon examination, was found to have +understood nothing of the intended assassination, but having +several years before had a brother killed by the conspirator, whom +he here put to death, and having till now sought in vain for an +opportunity of revenge, he chanced to meet the murderer in the +temple, who had planted himself there for the above-mentioned +purpose.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> <i>Plutarch</i> cannot forbear on this occasion, +speaking with a kind of rapture on the schemes of Providence, +which, in this particular, had so contrived it that the stranger +should, for so great a space of time, be debarred the means of +doing justice to his brother, till by the same blow that revenged +the death of one innocent man, he preserved the life of +another.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> For my own part, I cannot wonder that a man of +<i>Timoleon's</i> religion should have this intrepidity and +firmness of mind, or that he should be distinguished by such a +deliverance as I have here related.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_folly_of_youthful_Extravagance' id= +"The_folly_of_youthful_Extravagance"></a> +<h2><i>The folly of youthful Extravagance.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>RAMBLER, No. +26.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> It is usual for men, engaged in the same pursuits, to +be inquisitive after the conduct and fortune of each other; and +therefore, I suppose it will not be unpleasing to you to read an +account of the various changes which have appeared in part of a +life devoted to literature. My narrative will not exhibit any great +variety of events, or extraordinary revolutions; but may perhaps be +not less useful, because I shall relate nothing which is not likely +to happen to a thousand others.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I was born heir to a very small fortune, and left by +my father, whom I cannot remember, to the care of an uncle. He +having no children, always treated me as his son, and finding in me +those qualities which old men easily discover in sprightly children +when they happen to love them, declared that a genius like mine +should never be lost for want of cultivation.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> He therefore placed me for the usual time at a great +school, and then sent me to the university, with a larger allowance +than my own patrimony would have afforded, that I might not keep +mean company, but learn to become my dignity when I should be made +Lord Chancellor, which he often lamented that the increase of his +infirmities was very likely to preclude him from seeing.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> This exuberance of money displayed itself in gaiety of +appearance, and wantonness of expence, and introduced me to the +acquaintance of those whom the same superfluity of fortune had +betrayed to the same licence and ostentation: young heirs who +pleased themselves with a remark very frequently in their mouths, +that though they were sent by their fathers to the university, they +were not under the necessity of living by their learning.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Among men of this class I easily obtained the +reputation of a great genius, and was persuaded that, with such +liveliness of imagination, and delicacy of sentiment, I should +never be able to submit to the drudgery of the law.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> I therefore gave myself wholly to the more airy and +elegant parts of learning, and was often so much elated with my +superiority to the youths with whom I conversed, that I began to +listen with great attention, to those who recommended to me a wider +and more conspicuous theatre; and was particularly touched with an +observation made by one of my friends, that it was not by lingering +in the university that Prior became ambassador, or Addison a +secretary of state.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> This desire was hourly increased by the solicitation +of my companions, who removing one by one to London, as the caprice +of their relations allowed them, or the legal dismission from the +hands of their guardian put it in their power, never failed to send +an account of the beauty and felicity of the new world, and to +remonstrate how much was lost by every hour's continuance in a +place of retirement and restraint.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> My uncle, in the mean time, frequently harrassed me +with monitory letters, which I sometimes neglected to open for a +week after I received them, and generally read in a tavern, with +such comments as I might show how much I was superior to +instruction or advice. I could not but wonder, how a man confined +to the country and unacquainted with the present system of things, +should imagine himself qualified to instruct a rising genius, born +to give laws to the age, refine its state, and multiply its +pleasures.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The postman, however, still continued to bring me new +remonstrances; for my uncle was very little depressed by the +ridicule and reproach which he never heard. But men of parts have +quick resentments; it was impossible to bear his usurpations for +ever; and I resolved, once for all, to make him an example to those +who imagine themselves wise because they are old, and to teach +young men, who are too tame under representation, in what manner +grey-bearded insolence ought to be treated.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I therefore one evening took my pen in hand, and +after having animated myself with a catch, wrote a general answer +to all his precepts, with such vivacity of turn, such elegance of +irony, and such asperity of sarcasm, that I convulsed a large +company with universal laughter, disturbing the neighbourhood with +vociferations of applause, and five days afterwards was answered, +that I must be content to live upon my own estate.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> This contraction of my income gave me no disturbance, +for a genius like mine was out of the reach of want. I had friends +that would be proud to open their purses at my call, and prospects +of such advancement as would soon reconcile my uncle, whom, upon +mature deliberation, I resolved to receive into favour, without +insisting on any acknowledgment of his offence, when the splendor +of my condition should induce him to wish for my countenance.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I therefore went up to London before I had shewn the +alteration of my condition, by any abatement of my way of living, +and was received by all my academical acquaintance with triumph and +congratulation. I was immediately introduced among the wits and men +of spirit; and, in a short time, had divested myself of all my +scholar's gravity, and obtained the reputation of a pretty +fellow.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> You will easily believe that I had no great knowledge +of the world; yet I have been hindered by the general +disinclination every man feels to confess poverty, from telling to +any one the resolution of my uncle, and some time subsisted upon +the stock of money which I had brought with me, and contributed my +share as before to all our entertainments. But my pocket was soon +emptied, and I was obliged to ask my friends for a small sum.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> This was a favour which we had often reciprocally +received from one another, they supposed my wants only accidental, +and therefore willingly supplied them. In a short time, I found a +necessity of asking again, and was again treated with the same +civility, but the third time they began to wonder what that old +rogue my uncle could mean by sending a gentleman to town without +money; and when they gave me what I asked for, advised me to +stipulate for more regular remittances.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> This somewhat disturbed my dream of constant +affluence, but I was three days after completely awaked; for +entering the tavern, where we met every evening, I found the +waiters remitted their complaisance, and instead of contending to +light me up stairs, suffered me to wait for some minutes by the +bar.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> When I came to my company I found them unusually +grave and formal, and one of them took a hint to turn the +conversation upon the misconduct of young men, and enlarged upon +the folly of frequenting the company of men of fortune, without +being able to support the expence; an observation which the rest +contributed either to enforce by repetition, or to illustrate by +examples. Only one of them tried to divert the discourse, and +endeavoured to direct my attention to remote questions, and common +topics.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> A man guilty of poverty easily believes himself +suspected. I went, however, next morning to breakfast with him, who +appeared ignorant of the drift of the conversation, and by a series +of enquiries, drawing still nearer to the point, prevailed on him, +not, perhaps, much against his will, to inform me, that Mr. +<i>Dash</i>, whose father was a wealthy attorney near my native +place, had the morning before received an account of my uncle's +resentment, and communicated his intelligence with the utmost +industry of groveling insolence.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> It was no longer practicable to consort with my +former friends, unless I would be content to be used as an inferior +guest, who was to pay for his wine by mirth and flattery; a +character which, if I could not escape it, I resolved to endure +only among those who had never known me in the pride of plenty.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> I changed my lodgings, and frequented the coffee +houses in a different region of the town; where I was very quickly +distinguished by several young gentlemen of high birth, and large +estates, and began again to amuse my imagination with hopes of +preferment, though not quite so confidently as when I had less +experience.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> The first great conquest which this new scene enabled +me to gain over myself was, when I submitted to confess to a party, +who invited me to an expensive diversion, that my revenues were not +equal to such golden pleasures; they would not suffer me, however, +to stay behind, and with great reluctance I yielded to be treated. +I took that opportunity of recommending myself to some office or +employment, which they unanimously promised to procure me by their +joint interest.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> I had now entered into a state of dependence, and had +hopes, or fears, from almost every man I saw. If it be unhappy to +have one patron, what is his misery who has so many? I was obliged +to comply with a thousand caprices, to concur in a thousand +follies, and to countenance a thousand errors. I endured +innumerable mortifications, if not from cruelty, at least from +negligence, which will creep in upon the kindest and most delicate +minds, when they converse without the mutual awe of equal +condition.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> I found the spirit and vigour of liberty every moment +sinking in me, and a servile fear of displeasing, stealing by +degrees upon all my behaviour, till no word, or look, or action, +was my own. As the solicitude to please increased, the power of +pleasing grew less, and I was always clouded with diffidence where +it was most my interest and wish to shine.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> My patrons, considering me as belonging to the +community, and, therefore, not the charge of any particular person, +made no scruple of neglecting any opportunity of promoting me, +which every one thought more properly the business of another. An +account of my expectations and disappointments, and the succeeding +vicissitudes of my life, I shall give you in my following letter, +which will be, I hope, of use to shew how ill he forms his schemes, +who expects happiness without freedom.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am, +&c.</i></div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Misery_of_depending_upon_the_Great' id= +"The_Misery_of_depending_upon_the_Great"></a> +<h2><i>The Misery of depending upon the Great.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>RAMBLER, NO. +27.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> As it is natural for every man to think himself of +importance, your knowledge of the world will incline you to forgive +me, if I imagine your curiosity so much excited by the former part +of my narration, as to make you desire that I should proceed +without any unnecessary arts of connection. I shall, therefore, not +keep you longer in such suspence, as perhaps my performance may not +compensate.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> In the gay company with which I was now united, I +found those allurements and delights, which the friendship of young +men always affords; there was that openness which naturally +produced confidence, and that ardour of profession which excited +hope.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> When our hearts were dilated with merriment, promises +were poured out with unlimited profusion, and life and fortune were +but a scanty sacrifice to friendship; but when the hour came, at +which any effort was to be made, I had generally the vexation to +find, that my interest weighed nothing against the slightest +amusement, and that every petty avocation was found a sufficient +plea for continuing me in uncertainty and want.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Their kindness was indeed sincere, when they promised +they had no intention to deceive; but the same juvenile warmth +which kindled their benevolence, gave force in the same proportion +to every other passion, and I was forgotten as soon as any new +pleasure seized on their attention.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> <i>Vagrio</i> told me one evening, that all my +perplexities should soon be at an end, and desired me, from that +instant, to throw upon him all care of my fortune, for a post of +considerable value was that day become vacant, and he knew his +interest sufficient to procure it in the morning. He desired me to +call on him early, that he might be dressed soon enough to wait +upon the minister before any other application should be made.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> I came as he appointed, with all the flame of +gratitude, and was told by his servant, that having found at his +lodgings, when he came home, an acquaintance who was going to +travel, he had been persuaded to accompany him to Dover, and that +they had taken post-horses two hours before day.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> I was once very near to preferment by the kindness of +<i>Charinus</i>; who, at my request, went to beg a place, which he +thought me likely to fill with great reputation, and in which I +should have many opportunities of promoting his interest in return; +and he pleased himself with imagining the mutual benefits that we +should confer, and the advances that we should make by our united +strength.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Away, therefore, he went, equally warm with friendship +and ambition, and left me to prepare acknowledgements against his +return. At length he came back, and told me that he had met in his +way a party going to breakfast in the country, that the ladies +importuned him too much to be refused, and that having passed the +morning with them, he was come back to dress himself for a ball, to +which he was invited for the evening.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I have suffered several disappointments from taylors +and perriwig-makers, who, by neglecting to perform their work, +withheld my patrons from court, and once failed of an establishment +for life by the delay of a servant, sent to a neighbouring shop to +replenish a snuff-box.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> At last I thought my solicitude at an end, for an +office fell into the gift of <i>Hippodamus</i>'s father, who being +then in the country, could not very speedily fill it, and whose +fondness would not have suffered him to refuse his son a less +reasonable request. <i>Hippodamus</i> therefore set forward with +great expedition, and I expected every hour an account of his +success.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> A long time I waited without any intelligence, but at +last received a letter from Newmarket, by which I was informed, +that the races were begun, and I knew the vehemence of his passion +too well to imagine that he could refuse himself his favourite +amusement.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> You will not wonder that I was at last weary of the +patronage of young men, especially as I found them not generally to +promise much greater fidelity as they advanced in life; for I +observed that what they gained in steadiness, they lost in +benevolence, and grew colder to my interest as they became more +diligent to promote their own.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I was convinced that their liberality was only +profuseness, that, as chance directed, they were equally generous +to vice and virtue, that they were warm, but because they were +thoughtless, and counted the support of a friend only amongst other +gratifications of passion.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> My resolution was now to ingratiate myself with men +whose reputation was established, whose high stations enabled them +to prefer me, and whose age exempted them from sudden changes of +inclination; I was considered as a man of parts, and therefore +easily found admission to the table of <i>Hilarius</i>, the +celebrated orator, renowned equally for the extent of his +knowledge, the elegance of his diction, and the acuteness of his +wit.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> <i>Hilarius</i> received me with an appearance of +great satisfaction, produced to me all his friends, and directed to +me that part of his discourse in which he most endeavoured to +display his imagination. I had now learned my own interest enough +to supply him with opportunities for smart remarks and gay sallies, +which I never failed to echo and applaud.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Thus I was gaining every hour on his affections, +till, unfortunately, when the assembly was more splendid than +usual, his desire of admiration prompted him to turn raillery upon +me. I bore it for some time with great submission, and success +encouraged him to redouble his attacks; at last my vanity prevailed +over my prudence; I retorted his irony with such spirit, that +<i>Hilarius</i>, unaccustomed to resistance, was disconcerted, and +soon found means of convincing me, that his purpose was not to +encourage a rival, but to foster a parasite.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> I was then taken into the familiarity of +<i>Argurio</i>, a nobleman eminent for judgment and criticism. He +had contributed to my reputation, by the praises which he had often +bestowed upon my writings, in which he owned that there were proofs +of a genius that might rise high to degrees of excellence, when +time, or information, had reduced its exuberance.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> He therefore required me to consult him before the +publication of any new performance, and commonly proposed +innumerable alterations, without, sufficient attention to the +general design, or regard to my form of style, and mode of +imagination.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> But these corrections he never failed to press as +indispensably necessary, and thought the least delay of compliance +an act of rebellion. The pride of an author made this treatment +insufferable, and I thought any tyranny easier to be borne than +that which took from me the use of my understanding.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> My next patron was <i>Eutyches</i> the statesman, who +was wholly engaged in public affairs, and seemed to have no +ambition but to be powerful and rich. I found his favour more +permanent than that of the others, for there was a certain price at +which it might be bought; he allowed nothing to humour or +affection, but was always ready to pay liberally for the service he +required.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> His demands were, indeed, very often such as virtue +could not easily consent to gratify; but virtue is not to be +consulted when men are to raise their fortunes by favour of the +great. His measures were censured; I wrote in his defence, and was +recompensed with a place, of which the profits were never received +by me without the pangs of remembering that they were the reward of +wickedness; a reward which nothing but that necessity, which the +consumption of my little estate in these wild pursuits had brought +upon me, hindered me from throwing back in the face of my +corruptor.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> At this time my uncle died without a will, and I +became heir to a small fortune. I had resolution to throw off the +splendor which reproached me to myself, and retire to an humbler +state, in which I am now endeavouring to recover the dignity of +virtue, and hope to make some reparation for my crimes and follies, +by informing others who may be led after the same pageants, that +they are about to engage in a course of life, in which they are to +purchase, by a thousand miseries, the privilege of repentance.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am</i>, +&c.<br> +<br> +EUBULUS.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='What_it_is_to_see_the_World_the_Story_of_Melissa' id= +"What_it_is_to_see_the_World_the_Story_of_Melissa"></a> +<h2><i>What it is to see the World; the Story of Melissa.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>RAMBLER, No. +75.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> The diligence with which you endeavour to cultivate +the knowledge of nature, manners, and life, will perhaps incline +you to pay some regard to the observations of one who has been +taught to know mankind by unwelcome information, and whose opinions +are the result, not of solitary conjectures, but of practice and +experience.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I was born to a large fortune, and bred to the +knowledge of those arts which are supposed to accomplish the mind, +and adorn the person of a woman. To these attainments, which custom +and education almost forced upon me, I added some voluntary +acquisitions by the use of books and the conversation of that +species of men whom the ladies generally mention with terror and +aversion under the name of scholars, but whom I have found a +harmless and inoffensive order of beings, not no much wiser than +ourselves, but that they may receive as well as communicate +knowledge, and more inclined to degrade their own character by +cowardly submission, than to overbear or oppress us with their +learning or their wit.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> From these men, however, if they are by kind treatment +encouraged to talk, something may be gained, which, embelished with +elegancy, and softened by modesty, will always add dignity and +value to female conversation; and from my acquaintance with the +bookish part of the world, I derived many principles of judgment +and maxims of prudence, by which I was enabled to draw upon myself +the general regard in every place of concourse or pleasure.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> My opinion was the great rule of approbation, my +remarks were remembered by those who desired the second degree of +fame, my mein was studied, my dress imitated, my letters were +handed from one family to another, and read by those who copied +them as sent to themselves; my visits were solicited as honours, +and multitudes boasted of an intimacy with Melissa, who had only +seen me by accident, whose familiarity had never proceeded beyond +the exchange of a compliment, or return of a courtesy.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> I shall make no scruple of confessing that I was +pleased with this universal veneration, because I always considered +it as paid to my intrinsic qualities and inseparable merit, and +very easily persuaded myself, that fortune had no part in my +superiority.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> When I looked upon my glass, I saw youth and beauty, +with health that might give me reason to hope their continuance: +when I examined my mind, I found some strength of judgment and +fertility of fancy, and was told that every action was grace, and +that every accent was persuasion.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> In this manner my life passed like a continual triumph +amidst acclamations, and envy, and courtship, and caresses: to +please Melissa was the general ambition, and every stratagem of +artful flattery was practised upon me. To be flattered is grateful, +even when we know that our praises are not believed by those who +pronounce them: for they prove at least our power, and shew that +our favour is valued, since it is purchased by the meanness of +falsehood.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> But perhaps the flatterer is not often detected, for +an honest mind is not apt to suspect, and no one exerts the power +of discernment with much vigour when self-love favours the +deceit.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The number of adorers, and the perpetual distraction +of my thoughts by new schemes of pleasures, prevented me from +listening to any of those who crowd in multitudes to give girls +advice, and kept me unmarried and unengaged to my twenty-seventh +year, when, as I was towering in all the pride of uncontested +excellency, with a face yet little impaired, and a mind hourly +improving, the failure of a fund, in which my money was placed, +reduced me to a frugal competency, which allowed a little beyond +neatness and independence.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I bore the diminution of my riches without any +outrages of sorrow, or pusillanimity of dejection. Indeed I did not +know how much I had lost, for having always heard and thought more +of my wit and beauty, than of my fortune, it did not suddenly enter +my imagination, that Melissa could sink beneath her established +rank, while her form and her mind continued the same; that she +should cease to raise admiration, but by ceasing to deserve it, or +feel any stroke but from the hand of time.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It was in my power to have concealed the loss, and to +have married, by continuing the same appearance, with all the +credit of my original fortune; but I was not so far sunk in my +esteem, as to submit to the baseness of fraud, or to desire any +other recommendation than sense and virtue.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I therefore dismissed my equipage, sold those +ornaments which were become unsuitable to my new condition, and +appeared among those with whom I used to converse with less +glitter, but with equal spirit.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I found myself received at every visit with sorrow +beyond what is naturally felt for calamities in which we have no +part, and was entertained with condolence and consolation so +frequently repeated, that my friends plainly consulted rather their +own gratification, than my relief.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Some from that time refused my acquaintance, and +forebore without any provocation, to repay my visits; some visited +me, but after a longer interval than usual, and every return was +still with more delay; nor did any of my female acquaintances fail +to introduce the mention of my misfortunes, to compare my present +and former condition, to tell me how much it must trouble me to +want that splendor which I became so well; to look at pleasures, +which I had formerly enjoyed, and to sink to a level with those by +whom I had been considered as moving in a higher sphere, and who +had hitherto approached me with reverence and submission, which I +was now no longer to expect.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Observations like these are commonly nothing better +than covert insults, which serve to give vent to the flatulence of +pride, but they are now and then imprudently uttered by honesty and +benevolence, and inflict pain where kindness is intended; I will, +therefore, so far maintain my antiquated claim to politeness, as to +venture the establishment of this rule, that no one ought to remind +another of misfortunes of which the sufferer does not complain, and +which there are no means proposed of alleviating.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> You have no right to excite thoughts which +necessarily give pain whenever they return, and which, perhaps, +might not have revived but by absurd and unseasonable +compassion.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> My endless train of lovers immediately withdrew +without raising any emotions. The greater part had indeed always +professed to court, as it is termed upon the square, had enquired +my fortune, and offered settlements; these undoubtedly had a right +to retire without censure, since they had openly treated for money, +as necessary to their happiness, and who can tell how little they +wanted any other portion?</p> +<p><b>18.</b> I have always thought the clamours of women +unreasonable, who imagine themselves injured, because the men who +followed them upon the supposition of a greater fortune, reject +them when they are discovered to have less. I have never known any +lady, who did not think wealth a title to some stipulations in her +favour; and surely what is claimed by the possession of money, is +justly forfeited by its loss.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> She that has once demanded a settlement, has allowed +the importance of fortune; and when she cannot shew pecuniary +merit, why should she think her cheapner obliged to purchase?</p> +<p><b>20.</b> My lovers were not all contented with silent +desertion. Some of them revenged the neglect which they had +formerly endured by wanton and superfluous insults, and endeavoured +to mortify me, by paying in my presence those civilities to other +ladies, which were once devoted only to me.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> But as it had been my rule to treat men according to +the rank of their intellect, I had never suffered any one to waste +his life in suspense who could have employed it to better purpose, +and had therefore no enemies but coxcombs, whose resentment and +respect were equally below my consideration.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> The only pain which I have felt from degradation, is +the loss of that influence which I have always exerted on the side +of virtue, in the defence of innocence and the assertion of truth. +I now find my opinions slighted, my sentiments criticised, and my +arguments opposed by those that used to listen to me without reply, +and struggle to be first in expressing their conviction.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> The female disputants have wholly thrown off my +authority, and if I endeavour to enforce my reasons by an appeal to +the scholars that happen to be present, the wretches are certain to +pay their court by sacrificing me and my system to a finer gown; +and I am every hour insulted with contradiction by cowards, who +could never find till lately, that Melissa was liable to error.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> There are two persons only whom I cannot charge with +having changed their conduct with my change of fortune. One is an +old curate, that has passed his life in the duties of his +profession, with great reputation for his knowledge and piety; the +other is a lieutenant of dragoons. The parson made no difficulty in +the height of my elevation, to check me when I was pert, and +instruct me when I blundered; and if there is any alteration, he is +now more timorous lest his freedom should be thought rudeness.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> The soldier never paid me any particular addresses, +but very rigidly observed all the rules of politeness, which he is +now so far from relaxing, that whenever he serves the tea, he +obstinately carries me the first dish, in defiance of the frowns +and whispers of the table.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> This, Mr. Rambler, is <i>to see the world</i>. It is +impossible for those that have only known affluence and prosperity, +to judge rightly of themselves or others. The rich and the powerful +live in a perpetual masquerade, in which all about them wear +borrowed characters; and we only discover in what estimation we are +held, when we can no longer give hopes or fears.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'><i>I am</i>, +&c. MELISSA.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'On_the_Omniscience_and_Omnipresence_of_the_Deity_together_with_the' +id= +"On_the_Omniscience_and_Omnipresence_of_the_Deity_together_with_the"> +</a> +<h2><i>On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together +with the Immensity of his Works.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> I was yesterday about sun-set walking in the open +fields, till the night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused +myself with all the richness and variety of colours, which appeared +in the western parts of heaven; in proportion as they faded away +and went out, several stars and planets appeared one after another, +till the whole firmament was in a glow. The blueness of the +æther was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the season +of the year, and by the rays of all those luminaries that passed +through it.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The <i>Galaxy</i> appeared in its most beautiful +white. To complete the scene, the full moon rose at length in that +clouded majesty, which <i>Milton</i> 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.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> 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. <i>David</i> +himself fell into it in that reflection, <i>When I consider the +heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars which thou +hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him, and the +son of man, that thou regardest him!</i></p> +<p><b>4.</b> In the same manner, when I consider that infinite host +of stars, or, to speak more philosophically, of suns, who 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 he had 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, while I +pursued this thought, I could not but reflect on that little +insignificant figure which I myself bore amidst the immensity of +God's works.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> 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 ourselves hereafter, or in +creatures which are at present more exalted than ourselves.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> 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. <i>Huygenius</i> carries his +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!</p> +<p><b>7.</b> To return, therefore, to my first thought, I could not +but look upon myself 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.</p> +<p>In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I +consider that it took its rise from those narrow conceptions which +we are apt to maintain 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.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> This imperfection which we observe in ourselves, 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 created 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.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> 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 ascribes 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 rise in us unawares, +and are natural to the mind of man.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> 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 is intimately present to +it, as that being is to itself. 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 philosophers, He +is a being whose centre is every where, and his circumference no +where.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> In the second place, he is omniscient as well as +omnipresent. 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.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> 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 <i>Isaac Newton</i>, who calls it the +<i>sensorium</i> of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their +<i>sensoria</i>, or little <i>sensoriums</i>, by which they +apprehend the presence and perceive the actions of a few objects +that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and apprehension turn +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.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> 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 embraces of its Creator, and encompassed round with the +immensity of the Godhead. While we are in the body, he is hot less +present with us because he is concealed from us. <i>Oh that I knew +where I might find him</i>! says Job. <i>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.</i> In short, +reason as well as revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent +from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> In this consideration of God Almighty's omnipresence +and omniscience, every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot +but regard every thing that has beings 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 unfeigned humility of +heart think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of +them.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'Motives_to_Piety_and_Virtue_drawn_from_the_Omniscience_and' id= +"Motives_to_Piety_and_Virtue_drawn_from_the_Omniscience_and"></a> +<h2><i>Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and +Omnipresence of the Deity.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +571.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> In your paper of Friday the 9th instant, you had +occasion to consider the ubiquity of the Godhead; and at the same +time to shew, that as he is presented every thing, he cannot but be +attentive to every thing, and privy to all the modes and parts of +its existence; or, in other words, that his omniscience and +omnipresence are co-existent, and run together through the whole +infinitude of space.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> This consideration might furnish us with many +incentives to devotion, and motives to morality; but as this +subject has been handled by several excellent writers, I shall +consider it in a light wherein I have not seen it placed by +others.</p> +<p><i>First</i>, How disconsolate is the condition of an +intellectual being who is thus present with his Maker, but at the +same time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this +his presence!</p> +<p><b>3.</b> <i>Secondly</i>, How deplorable is the condition of an +intellectual being, who feels no other effects from this his +presence, but such as proceed from divine wrath and +indignation!</p> +<p><i>Thirdly</i>, How happy is the condition of that intellectual +being, who is sensible of his Maker's presence from the secret +effects of his mercy and loving kindness!</p> +<p><b>4.</b> <i>first</i>, How disconsolate is the condition of an +intellectual being who is thus present with his Maker, but at the +same time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this +his presence! Every particle of matter is actuated by this Almighty +Being which passes through it. The heavens and the earth, the stars +and planets, move, and gravitate by virtue of this great principle +within them. All the dead parts of nature are invigorated by the +presence of their Creator, and made capable of exerting their +respective qualities.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The several instincts in the brute creation do +likewise operate and work towards the several ends which, are +agreeable to them, by this divine energy. Man only, who does not +co-operate with his holy spirit, and is unattentive to his +presence, receives none of these advantages from it, which are +perfective of his nature, and necessary to his well-being. The +divinity is with him, and in him, and every where about him, but of +no advantage to him.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> It is the same thing to a man without religion, as if +there were no God in the world. It is indeed impossible for an +infinite Being to remove, himself from any of his creatures; but +though he cannot withdraw his essence from us, which would argue an +imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the joys and +consolations of it. His presence may, perhaps, be necessary to +support us in our existence; but he may leave this our existence to +itself, with regard to our happiness or misery.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> For, in this sense, he may cast us away from his +presence, and take his holy spirit from us. This single +consideration one would think sufficient to make us open our hearts +to all those infusions of joy and gladness which are so near at +hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we +consider, <i>secondly</i>, the deplorable condition of an +intellectual being who feels no other effects from his Maker's +presence, but such as proceed from divine wrath and +indignation!</p> +<p><b>8.</b> We may assure ourselves, that the great Author of +Nature, will not always be as one who is indifferent to any of his +creatures. Those who will not feel him in his love, will be sure at +length to feel him in his displeasure. And how dreadful is the +condition of that creature who is only sensible of the being of his +Creator by what he suffers from him! He is as essentially present +in hell as in heaven; but the inhabitants of those accursed places +behold him only in his wrath, and shrink within the flames to +conceal themselves from him. It is not in the power of imagination +to conceive the fearful effects of Omnipotence incensed.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> But I shall only consider the wretchedness of an +intellectual being, who, in this life, lies under the displeasure +of him, that at all times, and in all places, is intimately united +with him. He is able to disquiet the soul, and vex it in all its +faculties, He can hinder any of the greatest comforts of life from +refreshing us, and give an edge to every one of its slightest +calamities.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> Who then can bear the thought of being an outcast +from his presence, that is, from the comforts of it, or of feeling +it only in its terrors? how pathetic is that expostulation of +<i>Job</i>, when for the real trial of his patience, he was made to +look upon himself in this deplorable condition! <i>Why hast thou +set me as a mark against thee so that I am become a burden to +myself?</i> But <i>thirdly</i>, how happy is the condition of that +intellectual being, who is sensible of his Maker's presence from +the secret effects of his mercy and loving kindness!</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The blessed in heaven behold him face to face, that +is, are as sensible of his presence as we are of the presence of +any person whom we look upon with our eyes. There is doubtless a +faculty in spirits, by which they apprehend one another, as our +senses do material objects; and there is no question but our souls, +when they are disembodied, or placed in glorified bodies, will by +this faculty, in whatever space they reside, be always sensible of +the divine presence.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> We who have this veil of flesh standing between us +and the world of spirits, must be content to know the spirit of God +is present with us, by the effects which he produceth in us. Our +outward senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however taste +and see how gracious he is, by his influence upon our minds, by +those virtuous thoughts which he awakens in us, by those secret +comforts and refreshments which he conveys into our souls, and by +those ravishing joys and inward satisfactions which are perpetually +springing up, and diffusing themselves among all the thoughts of +good men.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> He is lodged in our very essence, and is as a soul +within the soul to irradiate its understanding, rectify its will, +purify its passions, and enliven all the powers of man. How happy +therefore is an intellectual being, who by prayer and meditation, +by virtue and good works, opens this communication between God and +his own soul! Though the whole creation frowns upon him, and all +nature looks black about him, he has his light and support within +him, that are able to cheer his mind, and bear him up in the midst +of all those horrors which encompass him.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> He knows that his helper is at hand, and is always +nearer to him than any thing else can be, which is capable of +annoying or terrifying him. In the midst of calumny or contempt, he +attends to that Being who whispers better things within his soul, +and whom he looks upon as his defender, his glory and the lifter up +of his head. In his deepest solitude and retirement, he knows that +he is in company with the greatest of beings: and perceives within +himself such real sensations of his presence, as are more +delightful than any thing that can be met with in the conversations +of his creatures.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Even in the hour of death, he considers the pains of +his dissolution to be nothing else but the breaking down of that +partition, which stands betwixt his soul and the sight of that +Being who is always present with him, and is about to manifest +itself to him in fulness of Joy.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> If we would be thus happy and thus sensible of our +Maker's presence, from the secret effects of his mercy and +goodness, we must keep such a watch over all our thoughts, that, in +the language of the scripture, His soul may have pleasure in us. We +must take care not to grieve his holy spirit, and endeavour to make +the meditations of our hearts always acceptable in his sight, that +he may delight thus to reside and dwell in us.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> The light of nature could direct <i>Seneca</i> to +this doctrine in a very remarkable passage among his epistles; +<i>Sacer inest in nobis spiritus, bonorum malorumque custos et +observator; et quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille +nos</i>. 'There is a holy spirit residing in us, who watches and +observes both good and evil men, and will treat us after the same +manner that we treat him.' But I shall conclude this discourse with +those more emphatical words in divine revelation: <i>If a man love +me, he will keep my words; and my father will love him, and we will +come unto him, and make our abode with him</i>.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Reflections_on_the_third_Heaven' id= +"Reflections_on_the_third_Heaven"></a> +<h2><i>Reflections on the third Heaven</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +580.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I considered in my two last letters, that awful and +tremendous subject, the ubiquity or Omnipresence of the Divine +Being. I have shewn that he is equally present in all places +throughout the whole extent of infinite space. This doctrine is so +agreeable to reason, that we meet with it in the writings of the +enlightened heathens, as I might shew at large, were it not already +done by other hands. But though the Deity be thus essentially +present through all the immensity of space, there is one part of it +in which he discovers himself in a most transcendant and visible +glory.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> This is that place which is marked out in scripture +under the different appellations of <i>Paradise, the third Heaven, +the throne of God, and the habitation of his glory</i>. It is here +where the glorified body of our Saviour resides, and where all the +celestial hierarchies, and innumerable hosts of angels, are +represented as perpetually surrounding the seat of God with +hallelujahs and hymns of praise. This is that presence of God which +some of the divines call his glorious, and others his majestic +presence.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> He is indeed as essentially present in all other +places as in this; but it is here where he resides in a sensible +magnificence, and in the midst of all these splendors which can +affect the imagination of created beings.</p> +<p>It is very remarkable that this opinion of God Almighty's +presence in heaven, whether discovered by the light of nature, or +by a general tradition from our first parents, prevails among all +the nations of the world, whatsoever different notions they +entertain of the Godhead.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> If you look into <i>Homer</i>, that is, the most +ancient of the <i>Greek</i> writers, you see the Supreme power +seated in the heavens, and encompassed with inferior deities, among +whom the muses are represented as singing incessantly about his +throne. Who does not here see the main strokes and outlines of this +great truth we are speaking of?</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The same doctrine is shadowed out in many other +heathen authors, though at the same time, like several other +revealed truths, dashed and adulterated with a mixture of fables +and human inventions. But to pass over the notions of the +<i>Greeks</i> and <i>Romans</i>, those more enlightened parts of +the pagan world, we find there is scarce a people among the late +discovered nations who are not trained up in an opinion that heaven +is the habitation of the divinity whom they worship.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> As in <i>Solomon's</i> temple there was the <i>Sanctum +Sanctorum</i>, in which a visible glory appeared among the figures +of the cherubims, and into which none but the high-priest himself +was permitted to enter, after having made an atonement for the sins +of the people; so, if we consider this whole creation as one great +temple, there is in it the Holy of Holies, into which the +high-priest of our salvation entered, and took his place among +angels and archangels, after having made a propitiation for the +sins of mankind.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> With how much skill must the throne of God be erected? +With what glorious designs is that habitation beautified, which is +contrived and built by him who inspired <i>Hiram</i> with wisdom? +How great must be the majesty of that place, where the whole art of +creation has been employed, and where God has chosen to shew +himself in the most magnificent manner? What must be the +architecture of infinite power under the direction of divine +wisdom? A spirit cannot but be transported after an ineffable +manner with the sight of those objects, which were made to affect +him by that being who knows the inward frame of a soul, and how to +please and ravish it in all its most secret powers and +faculties.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> It is to this majestic presence of God we may apply +those beautiful expressions in holy writ: <i>Behold even to the +moon, and it shineth not; yea, the stars are not pure in his +sight</i>. The light of the sun, and all the glories of the world +in which we live, are but as weak and sickly glimmerings, or rather +darkness itself, in comparison of those splendors which encompass +the throne of God.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> As the glory of this place is transcendent beyond +imagination, so probably is the extent of it. There is light behind +light, and glory within glory. How far that space may reach, in +which God thus appears in perfect majesty, we cannot possibly +conceive. Though it is not infinite, it may be indefinite; and +though not immeasurable in itself, it may be so with regard to any +created eye or imagination. If he has made these lower regions of +matter so inconceivably wide and magnificent for the habitation of +mortal and perishable beings, how great may we suppose the courts +of his house to be, where he makes his residence in a more especial +manner, and displays himself in the fulness of his glory, among an +innumerable company of angels, and spirits of just men made +perfect!</p> +<p><b>10.</b> This is certain, that our imaginations cannot be +raised too high, when we think on a place where omnipotence and +omniscience have so signally exerted themselves, because that they +are able to produce a scene infinitely more great and glorious than +what we are able to imagine.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It is not impossible but at the consummation of all +things, these outward apartments of nature, which are now suited to +those beings who inhabit them, may be taken in and added to that +glorious place of which I am here speaking; and by that means made +a proper habitation for beings who are exempt from mortality, and +cleared of their imperfections: for so the scripture seems to +intimate, when it speaks of new heavens and of a new earth, wherein +dwelleth righteousness.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I have only considered this glorious place with +regard to the sight and imagination, though it is highly probable, +that our other senses may here likewise enjoy then highest +gratifications. There is nothing which more ravishes and transports +the soul, than harmony; and we have great reason to believe, from +the description of this place in Holy scripture, that this is one +of the entertainments of it.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> And if the soul of man can be so wonderfully affected +with those strains of music, which human art is capable of +producing, how much more will it be raised and elevated by those, +in which is exerted the whole power of harmony! The senses are +faculties of the human soul, though they cannot be employed, during +this our vital union, without proper instruments in the body.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Why therefore should we exclude the satisfaction of +these faculties, which we find by experience are inlets of great +pleasure to the soul, from among these entertainments which are to +make our happiness hereafter? Why should we suppose that our +hearing and seeing will not be gratified by those objects which are +most agreeable to them, and which they cannot meet with in those +lower regions of nature; objects, <i>which neither eye hath seen, +nor ear heard, nor can it enter into the heart of man to +conceive</i>!</p> +<p><b>15.</b> <i>I knew a man in Christ</i> (says St. Paul, +speaking of himself) <i>above fourteen years ago</i> (<i>whether in +the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: +God knoweth</i>) <i>such a one caught up to the third heaven. And I +knew such a man</i> (<i>whether in the body or out of the body, I +cannot tell: God knoweth</i>) <i>how that he was caught up into +Paradise, and heard unspeakable words which it is not possible for +a man to utter</i>.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> By this is meant that what he heard was so infinitely +different from any thing which he had heard in this world, that it +was impossible to express it in such words as might convey a notion +of it to his hearers.</p> +<p>It is very natural for us to take delight in inquiries +concerning any foreign country, where we are some time or other to +make our abode; and as we all hope to be admitted into this +glorious place, it is both a laudable and useful curiosity, to get +what information we can of it, while we make use of revelation for +our guide.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> When these everlasting doors shall be opened to us, +we may be sure that the pleasures and beauties of this place will +infinitely transcend our present hopes and expectations, and that +the glorious appearance of the throne of God will rise infinitely +beyond whatever we are able to conceive of it. We might here +entertain ourselves with many other speculations on this subject +from those several hints which we find of it in the holy +scriptures: as whether there may not be different mansions and +apartments of glory, to beings of different natures; whether, as +they: excel one another in perfection, they are not admitted nearer +to the throne of the Almighty, and enjoy greater manifestations of +his presence.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Whether there are not solemn times and occasions, +when all the multitude of heaven celebrate the presence of their +Maker, in more extraordinary forms of praise and adoration; as +<i>Adam</i>, though he had continued in a state of innocence, +would, in the opinion of our divines, have kept holy the <i>Sabbath +day</i>, in a more particular manner than any other of the seven. +These, and the like speculations, we may very innocently indulge, +so long as we make use of them to inspire us with a desire of +becoming inhabitants of this delightful place.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> I have in this, and in two foregoing letters, treated +on the most serious subject that can employ the mind of man, the +omnipresence of the Deity; a subject which, if possible, should +never depart from our meditations. We have considered the Divine +Being, as he inhabits infinitude, as he dwells among his works, as +he is present to the mind of man, and as he discovers himself in a +more glorious manner among the regions of the blest. Such a +consideration should be kept awake in us at all times, and in all +places, and possess our minds with a perpetual awe and +reverence.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> It should be interwoven with all our thoughts and +perceptions, and become one with the consciousness of our own +being. It is not to be reflected on in the coldness of philosophy, +but ought to sink us into the lowest prostration before him, who is +so astonishingly, great, wonderful, and holy.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'The_present_Life_to_be_considered_only_as_it_may_conduce_to_the' +id= +"The_present_Life_to_be_considered_only_as_it_may_conduce_to_the"></a> +<h2><i>The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to +the Happiness of a future one</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR; No. +575.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> A lewd young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him +barefoot, <i>Father</i>, says he, <i>you are in a very miserable +condition, if there is not another world. True son</i>, said the +hermit; <i>but what is thy condition if there is</i>? Man is a +creature designed for two different states of being, or rather, for +two different lives. His first life is short and transient; his +second permanent and lasting.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The question we are all concerned in is this, in which +of these two lives is our chief interest to make ourselves happy? +or in other words, whether we should endeavour to secure to +ourselves the pleasure and gratification of a life which is +uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost length of a very +inconsiderable duration; or to secure to ourselves the pleasure of +a life that is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every man, +upon the first hearing of this question, knows very well which side +of it he ought to close with.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> But however right we are in theory, it is plain that +in practice we adhere to the wrong side of the question. We make +provisions for this life as though it were never to have an end, +and for the other life as though it were never to have a +beginning.</p> +<p>Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human +nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a survey of +its inhabitants, what would his notions of us be?</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Would not he think that we were a species of beings +made for quite different ends and purposes than what we really are? +Must not he imagine that we were placed in this world to get riches +and honours? Would he not think that it was our duty to toil after +wealth, and station, and title? Nay, would not he believe we were +forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to +pursue our pleasures under pain of damnation? He would certainly +imagine that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite +opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> And truly, according to such an imagination, be must +conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in +the universe; that we are constant to our duty; and that we keep a +steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither.</p> +<p>But how great would be his astonishment, when he learnt that we +were beings not designed to exist in this world above threescore +and ten years; and that the greatest part of this busy species fall +short even of that age?</p> +<p><b>6.</b> How would he be lost in horror and admiration, when he +should know that this set of creatures, who lay out all their +endeavours for this life, which scarce deserves the name of +existence, when, I say, he should know that this set of creatures +are to exist to all eternity in another life, for winch they make +no preparations?</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason than that +men, who are persuaded of these two different states of being, +should be perpetually employed in providing for a life of +threescore and ten years, and neglecting to make provision for that +which, after many myriads of years, will be still new, and still +beginning; especially when we consider that our endeavours for +making ourselves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we +place our happiness in, may, after all, prove unsuccessful; whereas +if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make ourselves happy in +the other life, we are sure that our endeavours will succeed, and +that we shall not be disappointed of our hope.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The following question is started by one of the +school-men: Supposing the whole body of the earth were a great ball +or mass of the finest sand, and that a single grain or particle of +this sand should be annihilated every thousand years. Supposing +then that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this +prodigious mass of sand was consuming by this slow method till +there was not a grain, of it left, on condition you were to be +miserable for ever after; or supposing that you might be happy for +ever after, on condition you would be miserable till the whole mass +of sand were thus annihilated at the rate of one sand in a thousand +years: which of these two cases would you make your choice?</p> +<p><b>9.</b> It must be confessed in this case, so many thousands +of years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in +reality they do not bear so great a proportion to that duration +which is to follow them, as an unit does to the greatest number +which you can put together in figures, or as one of those sands to +the supposed heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any manner of +hesitation, which would be the better part in this choice.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> However, as I have before intimated, our reason might +in such a case be so overset by the imagination, as to dispose some +persons to sink under the consideration of the great length of the +first part of this duration, and of the great distance of that +second duration, which is to succeed it. The mind, I say, might +give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, considering that +it is so very near, and that it would last so very long.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> But when the choice we actually have before us, is +this, whether we will chuse to be happy for the space of only +threescore and ten, nay, perhaps of only twenty or ten years, I +might say of only a day or an hour, and miserable to all eternity; +or, on the contrary, miserable for this short term of years, and +happy for a whole eternity; what words are sufficient to express +that folly and want of consideration which in such a case makes a +wrong choice?</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I here put the case even at the worst, by supposing +(what seldom happens) that a course of virtue makes us miserable in +this life: but if we suppose (as it generally happens) that virtue +will make us more happy even in this life than a contrary course of +vice; how can we sufficiently admire the stupidity or madness of +those persons who are capable of making so absurd a choice?</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Every wise man, therefore, will consider this life +only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and +cheerfully sacrifice the pleasures of a few years to those of an +eternity.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_the_Immortality_of_the_Soul' id= +"On_the_Immortality_of_the_Soul"></a> +<h2><i>On the Immortality of the Soul</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +111.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I was yesterday walking alone in one of my friend's +woods, and lost myself in it very agreeably, as I was running over +in my mind the several arguments that establish 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.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I considered those several proofs drawn: <i>First</i>, +From the nature of the soul itself, and particualrly its +immateriality; which, though not absolutely necessary to the +eternity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a +demonstration.</p> +<p><i>Secondly</i>, From its passions and sentiments, as +particularly from, its love of existence; its horror 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.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> <i>Thirdly</i>, From the nature of the Supreme Being, +whose justice, goodness, wisdom and veraveracity, are all concerned +in this point.</p> +<p>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 seeras to me to carry a very great weight with +it.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the +soul which is capable of such immense perfection, 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.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Were a human soul thus at a stand in her +accomplishments, were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable +of further enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away +insensibly; and drop at once into a state of annihilation.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> 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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'> +————<i>Hæres.</i><br> +<i>Hæredem alterius velut unda supervenit undam.</i><br> +<br> +<i>HOR. Ep. 2. 1. 2. v. 175</i><br> +<br> +——Heir crowds heir, as in a rolling flood<br> +Wave urges wave.<br> +<i>CREECH.</i></div> +<p><b>7.</b> He does net seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it +down to others. This is not surprising 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, establish his +soul in virtue, and come up to the perfection of his nature, before +he is hurried off the stage.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious +creatures for so mean a purpose? Can he delight in the production +of such abortive intelligences, such short-lived 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 the +first rudiments of existence here, and afterwards to be +transplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may spread +and flourish to all eternity.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> 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 of ever beautifying his eyes, and drawing nearer to him, +by greater degrees of resemblance.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> 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 that, 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.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> With what astonishment and veneration may we look +into our own soul, where there are such hidden stores of virtue and +knowledge, such inexhausted 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!</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_the_Animal_World_and_the_Scale_of_Beings' id= +"On_the_Animal_World_and_the_Scale_of_Beings"></a> +<h2><i>On the Animal World, and the Scale of Beings</i>.</h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +519.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> Though there is a great deal of pleasure in +contemplating the material world, by which I mean that system of +bodies into which nature has so curiously wrought the mass of dead +matter, with the several relations which, those bodies bear to one +another; there is still, methinks, something more wonderful and +surprising in contemplations on the world of life, by which I mean +all those animals with which every part of the universe is +furnished.</p> +<p>The material world, is only the shell of the universe: the world +of life are its inhabitants.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> If we consider those parts of the material world which +lie the nearest to us, and are therefore subject to our +observations and inquiries, it is amazing to consider the infinity +of animals with which it is stocked. Every part of matter is +peopled: every green leaf swarms with inhabitants. There is scarce +a single humour of the body of a man, or of any other animal, in +which our glasses do not discover myriads of living creatures.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The surface of animals, is also covered with other +animals, which are in the same manner the basis of other animals +that live upon it: nay, we find in the most solid bodies, as in +marble itself, innumerable cells and cavities, that are crowded +with such imperceptible inhabitants, as are too little for the +naked eye to discover. On the other hand, if we look into the more +bulky parts of nature, we see the seas, lakes, and rivers teeming +with numberless kinds of living creatures; we find every mountain +and marsh, wilderness and wood plentifully stocked with birds and +beasts, and every part of matter affording proper necessaries and +conveniences for the livelihood of multitudes which, inhabit +it.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> The author of the <i>Plurality of Worlds</i> draws a +very good argument from this consideration, for the <i>peopling</i> +of every planet: as indeed it seems very probable, from the analogy +of reason, that if no part of matter, which we are acquainted with, +lies waste and useless, those great bodies; which are at such a +distance from us, should not be desert and unpeopled, but rather +that they should be furnished with beings adapted to their +respective situations.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Existence is a blessing to those beings only which are +endowed with perception, and is in a manner thrown away upon dead +matter, any further than it is subservient to beings which are +conscious of their existence. Accordingly we find, from the bodies +which lie under our observation, that matter is only made as the +basis and support of animals, and that there is no more of the one, +than what is necessary for the existence of the other.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Infinite goodness is of so communicative a nature, +that it seems to delight in the conferring of existence upon every +degree of perceptive being. As this is a speculation, which I have +often pursued with great pleasure to myself, I shall enlarge +further upon it, by considering that part of the scale of beings +which comes within our knowledge.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> There are some living creatures which are raised but +just above dead matter. To mention only that species of shell-fish, +which are formed in the fashion of a cone, that grow to the surface +of several rocks and immediately die upon their being severed from +the place where they grow: there are many other creatures but one +remove from these, which have no other sense besides that of +feeling and taste. Others have still an additional one of hearing; +others of smell; and others of sight.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> It is wonderful, to observe, by what a gradual +progress the world of life advances through a prodigious variety of +species, before a creature is formed that is complete in all its +senses: and even among these there is such a different degree of +perfection in the sense which one animal enjoys beyond what appears +in another, though the sense in different animals is distinguished +by the same common denomination; it seems almost of a different +nature.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The exuberant and overflowing; goodness of the +Supreme Being, whose mercy extends to all his works, is plainly +seen, as I have before hinted; from his having made so very little +matter, at least what fall within our knowledge, that does not +swarm with life: nor is his goodness less seen in the diversity, +than in the multitude of living creatures. Had he only made one +species animals, none of the rest could have enjoyed the happiness +of existence; he has therefore <i>specified</i> in his creation +every degree of life, every capacity of being.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> The whole chasm of nature, from a plant to a man, is +filled up with divers kinds of creatures, rising one over another, +by such a gentle and easy ascent, that the little transitions and +deviations from one species to another, are almost insensible. This +intermediate space is so well husbanded and managed, that there is +scarce a degree of perception which does not appear in some one +part of the world of life. Is the goodness, or wisdom, of the +Divine Being, more manifested in this his proceeding?</p> +<p><b>12.</b> There is a consequence, besides those I have already +mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing +considerations. If the scale of being rises by such a regular +progress, so high as man, we may by a parity of reason suppose that +it still proceeds gradually through those beings which are of a +superior nature to him; since there is an infinitely greater space +and room for different degrees of perfection between the Supreme +Being and man, than between man and the most despicable insect.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> The consequence of so great a variety of beings which +are superior to us, from that variety which is inferior to us is +made by Mr. <i>Locke</i>, in a passage which I shall here set down, +after having premised that notwithstanding there is still infinite +room between man and his Maker for the creative power to exert +itself in, it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since +there will be still an infinite gap or distance between the highest +created being, and the power which produced him.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> <i>That there should be more</i> species <i>of +intelligent creatures above us, than there are of sensible and +material below us, is probable to me from hence; that in all the +visible corporeal world, we see no chasms or no gaps. All quite +down from us, the descent is by easy steps, and a continued series +of things that in each remove, differ very little one from the +other. There are fishes that have wings, and are not strangers to +the airy region; and there are some birds, that are inhabitants of +the water, whose blood is as cold as fishes, and their flesh so +like in taste, that the scrupulous, are allowed them on +fish-days</i>.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> <i>There are animals so near of kin both to birds and +beasts, that they are in the middle between both; amphibious +animals, link the terrestrial and aquatic together: seals live on +land and at sea, and porpoises have the warm blood and entrails of +a hog. Not to mention what is confidently reported of mermaids or +sea-men, them are same brutes, that seem to have as much knowledge +and reason, as some that are called men; and the animal and +vegetable kingdoms are so nearly joined, that if you will take the +lowest of one, and the highest of the other, there will scarce be +perceived any great difference between them; and so on till we come +to the lowest and the most most inorganical parts of matter, we +shall find every where that the several</i> species <i>are linked +together, and differ but, in almost insensible degrees</i>.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> <i>And when we consider the infinite power and wisdom +of the Maker, we have reason to think that it is suitable to the +magnificent harmony of the universe, that the great design and +infinite goodness of the architect, that the</i> species <i>of +creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend upwards from us +toward his infinite perfection as we see they gradually descend +from us downward: which if it be probable, we have reason then to +be persuaded; that there are far more</i> species <i>of creatures +above us than there are beneath; we being in degrees of perfection +much more remote from the infinite Being of God, than we are from +the lowest state of being, and that which approaches nearest to +nothing. And yet of all those distinct species, we have no clear +distinct ideas.</i></p> +<p><b>17.</b> In this system of being, there is no creature so +wonderful in its nature, and which so much deserves our particular +attention, as man, who fills up the middle space between the animal +and intellectual nature, the visible and invisible world, and is +that link in the chain of being, which has been often termed the +<i>Nexus utriusque mundi</i>. So that he who in one respect is +associated with angels and archangels, may look upon a Being of +infinite perfection as his father, and the highest order of spirits +as his brethren; may in another respect say to <i>corruption, Thou +art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my +sister</i>.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Providence_proved_from_Animal_Instinct' id= +"Providence_proved_from_Animal_Instinct"></a> +<h2><i>Providence proved from Animal Instinct.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>SPECTATOR, No. +120.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those +speculations of nature which are to be made in a country-life; and +as my reading has very much lain among books of natural history, I +cannot forbear recollecting, upon this occasion, the several +remarks which I have met with in authors, and comparing them with +what falls under my own observation; the arguments for Providence +drawn from the natural history of animals, being, in my opinion, +demonstrative.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> The make of every kind of animal is different from +that of every other kind; and there is not the least turn in the +muscles or twist in the fibres of any one, which does not render +them more proper for that particular animal's way of life, than any +other cast or texture of them would have been.</p> +<p>The most violent appetites in all creatures are <i>lust</i> and +<i>hunger</i>; the first is a perpetual call upon them to propagate +their kind; the latter to preserve themselves.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> It is astonishing to consider the different degrees of +care that descend from the parent to the young, so far as is +absolutely necessary for the leaving a posterity. Some creatures +cast their eggs as chance directs them, and think of them no +further, as insects, and several kinds of fish; others, of a nicer +frame, find out proper beds to deposit them in, and there leave +them, as the serpent, the crocodile, and ostrich; others hatch +their eggs and tend the birth till it is able to shift for +itself.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> What can we call the principle which directs every +different kind of bird to observe a particular plan in the +structure of the nest, and directs all of the same species to work +after the same model! It cannot be <i>imitation</i>; for though you +hatch a crow under a hen, and never let it see any of the works of +its own kind, the nest it makes shall be the same to the laying of +a stick, with all the other nests of the same species. It cannot be +<i>reason</i>; for were animals endued with it to as great a degree +as man, their buildings would be as different as ours, according to +the different conveniences that they would propose to +themselves.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Is it not remarkable, that the same temper of weather, +which raises this general warmth in animals, should cover the trees +with leaves, and the fields with grass, for their security and +concealment, and produce such infinite swarms of insects for the +support and sustenance of their respective broods?</p> +<p>Is it not wonderful that the love of the parent should be so +violent while it lasts, and that it should last no longer than is +necessary for the preservation of the young?</p> +<p><b>6.</b> With what caution does the hen provide herself a nest +in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturbances? When +she has laid her eggs in such a manner that she can cover them, +what care does she take in turning them frequently, that all parts +may partake of the vital warmth? When she leaves them, to provide +for her necessary sustenance, how punctually does she return before +they have time to cool, and become incapable of producing an +animal? In the summer, you see her giving herself greater freedoms, +and quitting her care for above two hours together; but, in winter, +when the rigour of the season would chill the principles of life, +and destroy the young one, she grows more assiduous in her +attendance, and stays away but half the time.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> When the birth approaches, with how much nicety and +attention does she help the chick to break its prison? Not to take +notice of her covering it from the injuries of the weather, +providing it proper nourishment, and teaching it to help itself; +nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if after the usual time of +reckoning the young one does not make its appearance. A chymical +operation could not be followed with greater art or diligence, than +is seen in the hatching of a chick; though there are many more +birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity in all the fore +mentioned particulars.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> But at the same time the hen, that has all this +seeming ingenuity (which is indeed absolutely necessary for the +propagation of the species) considered in other respects, is +without the least glimmerings of thought or common sense. She +mistakes a piece of chalk for an egg, and sits upon it in the same +manner: she is insensible of any increase or diminution in the +number of those she lays: she does not distinguish between her own +and those off another species; and when the birth appears of ever +so different a bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these +circumstances, which do not carry an immediate regard to the +subsistence of herself or her species, she is a very idiot.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> There is not, in my opinion, any thing more mysterious +in nature than this instinct in animals, which thus, rises above +reason, and falls infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted +for by any properties of matter, and at the same time works after +so odd a manner, that one cannot think it the faculty of an +intellectual being. For my own part, I look upon it as upon the +principle of gravitation in bodies, which is not to be explained by +any known qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from any +laws in mechanism; but, according to the best notions of the +greatest philosophers, is an immediate impression from the first +mover, and the divine energy acting in the creature.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Good_Breeding' id="Good_Breeding"></a> +<h2><i>Good-Breeding.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Complaisance renders a superior amiable, an equal +agreeable, and an inferior acceptable. It smoothes distinction, +sweetens conversation, and makes every one in the company pleased +with himself. It produces good nature and mutual benevolence, +encourages the timorous, soothes 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 in human nature +which every one ought to consider, so far as is consistent with the +order and economy of the world.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> 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 +<i>Shakspeare</i> reckons among other evils under the sun)</p> +<div class='blkquot'> +<p>"—The poor man's contumely, The insolence of office, and +the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes,"</p> +</div> +<p>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 ingenious +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."</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Good-breeding necessarily implies civility; but +civility does not reciprocally imply good-breeding. The former has +its intrinsic weight and value, which the latter always adorns, and +often doubles by its workmanship.</p> +<p>To sacrifice one's own self-love to other people's, is a short, +but, I believe, a true definition of civility: to do it with ease, +propriety and grace, is good-breeding. The one is the result of +good-nature; the other of good-sense, joined to experience, +observation and attention.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> A ploughman will be civil, if he is good-natured, but +cannot be well bred. A courtier will be well bred though perhaps +without good-nature, if he has but good sense. Flattery is the +disgrace of good-breeding, as brutality often is of truth and +sincerity. Good-breeding is the middle point between those two +odious extremes.</p> +<p>Ceremony is the superstition of good-breeding, as well as of +religion: but yet, being an out-work to both, should not be +absolutely demolished. It is always, to a certain degree, to be +complied with, though despised by those who think, because admired +and respected by those who do not.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The most perfect degree of good-breeding, as I have +already hinted, is only to be acquired by great knowledge of the +world, and keeping the best company. It is not the object of mere +speculation, and cannot be exactly defined, as it consists in a +fitness, a propriety of words, actions, and even looks, adapted to +the infinite variety and combinations of persons, places, and +things. It is a mode, not a substance; for what is good-breeding at +St. <i>James's</i>, would pass for foppery or banter in a remote +village; and the homespun civility of that village would be +considered as brutality at court.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> A cloistered pedant may form true notions of civility; +but if amidst the cobwebs of his cell he pretends to spin a +speculative system of good-breeding, he will not be less absurd +than his predecessor, who judiciously undertook to instruct +<i>Hannibal</i>, in the art of war. The most ridiculous and most +aukward of men are, therefore, the speculatively well bred monks of +all religions and all professions.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Good-breeding, like charity, not only covers a +multitude of faults, but, to a certain degree, supplies the want of +some virtues. In the common intercourse of life, it nets +good-nature, and often does what good-nature will not always do; it +keeps both wits and fools within those bounds of decency, which the +former are too apt to transgress, and which the latter never know. +Courts are unquestionably the seats of good-breeding and must +necessarily be so; otherwise they would be the seats of violence +and desolation. There all the passions are in their highest state +of fermentation.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> All pursue what but few can obtain, and many seek what +but one can enjoy. Good-breeding alone restrains their excesses. +There, if enemies did not embrace they would stab. There, smiles +are often put on to conceal tears. There, mutual services are +professed, while mutual injuries are intended; and there, the guile +of the serpent stimulates the gentleness of the dove: all this, it +is true, at the expense of sincerity; but upon the whole, to the +advantage of social intercourse in general.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I would not be misapprehended, and supposed to +recommend good-breeding, thus prophaned and prostituted to the +purposes of guilt and perfidy; but I think I may justly infer from +it, to what a degree the accomplishment of good-breeding must adorn +and enforce virtue and truth, when it can thus soften the outrages +and deformity of vice and falsehood. I am sorry to be obliged to +confess, that my native country is not perhaps the seat of the most +perfect good-breeding, though I really believe, that it yields to +none in hearty and sincere civility, as far as civility is (and to +a certain degree it is) an inferior moral duty of doing as one +would be done by.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> If <i>France</i> exceeds us in that particular, the +incomparable author of <i>L'Esprit des Loix</i> accounts for it +very impartially, and I believe very truly. "If my countrymen," +says he, "are the best bred people in the world, it is only because +they are the vainest." It is certain that their good-breeding and +attention, by flattering the vanity and self-love of others, repay +their own with interest. It is a general commerce, usefully carried +on by a barter of attentions, and often without one grain of solid +merit, by way of medium, to make up the balance.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It were to be wished that good-breeding were in +general thought a more essential part in the education of our +youth, especially of distinction, than at present it seems to be. +It might even be substituted in the room of some academical +studies, that take up a great deal of time to very little purpose; +or, at least, it might usefully share some of those many hours, +that are so frequently employed upon a coach-box, or in stables. +Surely those, who by their rank and fortune are called to adorn +courts, ought at least not to disgrace, them by their manners.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> But I observe with concern, that it is the fashion +for our youth of both sexes to brand good-breeding with the name of +ceremony and formality. As such they ridicule and explode it, and +adopt in its stead, an offensive carelessness and inattention, to +the diminution, I will venture to say, even of their own pleasures, +if they know what true pleasures are. Love and friendship +necessarily produce, and justly authorize familiarity; but then +good-breeding must mark out its bounds, and say, thus far shalt +thou go, and no farther; for I have known many a passion and many a +friendship, degraded, weakened, and at last (if I may use the +expression) wholly flattened away, by an unguarded and illiberal +familiarity.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Nor is good-breeding less the ornament and cement of +common social life: it connects, it endears, and at the same time +that it indulges the just liberty, restrains that indecent +licentiousness of conversation, which alienates and provokes. Great +talents make a man famous, great merit makes him respected, and +great learning makes him esteemed; but good breeding alone can make +him beloved.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> I recommend it in a more particular manner to my +countrywomen, as the greatest ornament to such of them as have +beauty, and the safest refuge for those who have not. It +facilitates the victories, decorates the triumphs, and secures the +conquests of beauty; or in some degree atones for the want of it. +It almost deifies a fine woman, and procures respect at least to +those who have not charms enough to be admired. Upon the whole, +though good-breeding cannot, strictly speaking, be called a virtue, +yet it is productive of so many good effects, that, in my opinion, +it may be justly reckoned more than a mere accomplishment.</p> +<br> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>WORLD, No. +143.</div> +<a name='Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters' id= +"Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters"></a> +<h2><i>Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to +his Son.</i></h2> +<p><b>15.</b> Good-Breeding has been very justly defined to be "the +result of much good-sense, some good nature and a little +self-denial for the sake of others, and with a view to obtain the +same indulgence from them."</p> +<p>Good-breeding alone can prepossess people in our favour at first +sight; more time being necessary to discover greater talents. +Good-breeding, however, does not consist in low bows, and formal +ceremony; but in an easy civil, and respectful behaviour.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Indeed, good-sense, in many cases, must determine +good-breeding; for what would be civil at one time, and to one +person, would be rude at another time, and to another person: there +are, however, some general rules of good-breeding. As for example; +to answer only yes, or no, to any person, without adding sir, my +lord, or madam, (as it may happen) is always extremely rude; and it +is equally so not to give proper attention and a civil answer, when +spoken to: such behaviour convinces the person who is speaking to +us, that we despise him, and do not think him worthy of our +attention or answer.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> A well-bred person will take care to answer with +complaisance when he is spoken to; will place himself at the lower +end of the table, unless bid to go higher; will first drink to the +lady of the house, and then to the master; he will not eat +aukwardly or dirtily, nor sit when others stand; and he will do all +this with an air of complaisance, and not with a grave ill-natured +look, as if he did it all unwillingly.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> There is nothing more difficult to attain, or so +necessary to possess, as perfect good-breeding; which is equally +inconsistent with a stiff formality, an impertinent forwardness, +and an aukward bashfulness. A little ceremony is sometimes +necessary; a certain degree of firmness is absolutely so; and an +outward modesty is extremely becoming.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic +value; but, if they are not polished, they certainly lose a great +deal of their lustre: and even polished brass will pass upon more +people than rough gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, +easy, good-breeding of the <i>French</i> frequently cover!</p> +<p>My Lord <i>Bacon</i> says, that "a pleasing figure is a +perpetual letter of recommendation." It is certainly an agreeable +fore-runner of merit and smooths the way for it.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> A man of good-breeding should be acquainted with the +forms and particular customs of courts. At <i>Vienna</i> men always +make courtesies, instead of bows, to the emperor; in <i>France</i> +nobody bows to the king, or kisses his hand; but in <i>Spain</i> +and <i>England</i> bows are made and hands are kissed. Thus every +court has some peculiarity, which those who visit them ought +previously to inform themselves of, to avoid blunders and +aukwardness.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Very few, scarce any, are wanting in the respect +which they should shew to those whom they acknowledge to be +infinitely their superiors. The man of fashion, and of the world, +expresses it in its fullest extent; but naturally, easily, and +without concern: whereas a man, who is not used to keep good +company, expresses it aukwardly; one sees that he is not used to +it, and that it costs him a great deal: but I never saw the worst +bred man living, guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his head, +and such-like indecencies, in company that he respected. In such +companies, therefore, the only point to be attended to is, to shew +that respect, which every body means to shew, in an easy, +unembarrassed and graceful manner.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part +of them, is, for the time at least, supposed to be upon a footing +of equality with the rest; and consequently, every one claims, and +very justly, every mark of civility and good-breeding. Ease is +allowed, but carelessness and negligence are strictly forbidden. If +a man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dully or frivolously, +it is worse than rudeness, it is brutality, to shew him, by a +manifest inattention to what he says, that you think him a fool or +a blockhead, and not worth hearing.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> It is much more so with regard to women; who, of +whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration of their +sex, not only to an attentive, but an officious good-breeding from +men. Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, +antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impertinences, must be +officiously attended to, flattered, and, if possible, guessed at +and anticipated, by a well-bred man. You must never usurp to +yourself those conveniences and <i>agrémens</i> which are of +common right; such as the best places, the best dishes, &c. +but, on the contrary, always decline themself yourself, and offer +them to others; who, in their turns, will offer them to you: so +that, upon the whole, you will, in your turn, enjoy your share of +common right.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> The third sort of good-breeding is local; and is +variously modified, in not only different countries, but in +different towns in the same country. But it must be founded upon +the two former sorts: they are the matter; to which, in this case, +fashion and custom only give the different shapes and impressions. +Whoever has the two first sorts, will easily acquire this third +sort of good-breeding, which depends singly upon attention and +observation. It is properly the polish, the lustre, the last +finishing strokes of good-breeding. A man of sense, therefore, +carefully attends to the local manners of the respective places +where he is, and takes for his models those persons, whom he +observes to be at the head of the fashion and good-breeding.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> He watches how they address themselves to their +superiors, how they accost their equals, and how they treat their +inferiors: and lets none of those little niceties escape him; which +are to good-breeding, what the last delicate and masterly touches +are to a good picture, and which the vulgar have no notion of, but +by which good judges distinguish the master. He attends even to +their airs, dress, and motions, and imitates them liberally, and +not servilely; he copies, but does not mimic. These personal graces +are of very great consequence. They anticipate the sentiments, +before merit can engage the understanding: they captivate the +heart, and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of +charms and philtres. Their effects were so surprising, that they +were reckoned supernatural.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> In short, as it is necessary to possess learning, +honor and virtue, to gain the esteem and admiration of mankind, so +politeness and good-breeding are equally necessary to render us +agreeable in conversation and common life. Great talents are above +the generality of the world; who neither possess them themselves, +nor are competent judges of them in others; but all are judges of +the lesser talents, such, as civility, affability, and an agreeable +address and manner; because they feel the good effects of them, as +making society easy and agreeable.</p> +<p>To conclude: be assured that the profoundest learning, without +good-breeding, is unwelcome and tiresome pedantry; that a man who +is not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for company, and unwelcome in +it; and that a man, who is not well-bred, is full as unfit for +business as for company.</p> +<p>Make, then, good-breeding the great object of your thoughts and +actions. Observe carefully the behaviour and manners of those who +are distinguished by their good-breeding; imitate, nay, endeavour +to excel, that you may at least reach them; and be convinced that +good-breeding is to all worldly qualifications, what charity is to +all christian virtues. Observe how it adorns merit, and how often +it covers the want of it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Genteel_Carriage' id="Genteel_Carriage"></a> +<h2><i>Genteel Carriage.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Next to good-breeding is a genteel manner and +carriage, wholly free from those ill habits and aukward actions, +which many very worthy persons are addicted to.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> A genteel manner of behaviour, how trifling soever it +may seem, is of the utmost consequence in private life. Men of very +inferior parts have been esteemed, merely for their genteel +carriage and good-breeding, while sensible men have given disgust +for want of it. There is something or other that prepossesses us at +first sight in favor of a well-bred man, and makes us wish to like +him.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> When an aukward fellow first comes into a room, he +attempts to bow, and his sword, if he wears one, gets between his +legs, and nearly throws him down. Confused, and ashamed, he +stumbles to the upper end of the room and seats himself in the very +chair he should not. He there begins playing with his hat, which he +presently drops; and recovering his hat, he lets fall his cane; and +in picking up his cane, down goes his hat again: thus 'tis a +considerable time before he is adjusted.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> When his tea or coffee is handed to him, he spreads +his handkerchief upon his knee, scalds his mouth, drops either the +cup or the saucer, and spills the tea or coffee in his lap. At +dinner he is more uncommonly aukward: there he tucks his napkin +through a button-hole, which tickles his chin, and occasions him to +make a variety of wry faces; he seats himself on the edge of the +chair, at so great a distance from the table, that he frequently +drops his meat between his plate and his mouth; he holds his knife, +fork and spoon different from other people; eats with his knife, to +the manifest danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with his fork, +rakes his mouth with his finger, and puts his spoon, which has been +in his throat a dozen times, into the dish again.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> If he is to carve he cannot hit the joint, but in +labouring to cut through the bone, splashes the sauce over every +body's clothes. He generally daubs himself all over, his elbows are +in the next person's plate, and he is up to the knuckles in soup +and grease. If he drinks, it is with his mouth full, interrupting +the whole company with, "to your good health, Sir," and "my service +to you;" perhaps coughs in his glass, and besprinkles the whole +table. Further, he has perhaps a number of disagreeable tricks; he +snuffs up his nose, picks it with his fingers, blows it; and looks +in his handkerchief, crams his hands first in his bosom, and next +in his breeches.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> In short, he neither dresses nor acts like any other +but is particularly aukward in every thing he does. All this, I +own, has nothing in it criminal; but it is such an offence to good +manners and good-breeding that it is universally despised; it makes +a man ridiculous in every company, and, of course, ought carefully +to be avoided by every one who would wish to please.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> From this picture of the ill-bred man, you will easily +discover that of the well-bred; for you may readily judge what you +ought to do, when you are told what you ought not to do; a little +attention to the manners of those who have seen the world, will +make a proper behaviour habitual and familiar to you.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Actions, that would otherwise be pleasing, frequently +become ridiculous by your manner of doing-them. If a lady drops her +fan in company, the worst bred man would immediately pick it up, +and give it to her; the best bred man can do no more; but then he +does it in a graceful manner, which is sure to please; whereas the +other would do it so aukwardly as to be laughed at.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> You may also know a well-bred person by his manner of +sitting. Ashamed and confused, the aukward man sits in his chair +stiff and bolt upright, whereas the man of fashion is easy in every +position; instead of lolling or lounging as he sits, he leans with +elegance, and by varying his attitudes, shews that he has been used +to good company. Let it be one part of your study, then, to learn +to set genteely in different companies, to loll gracefully, where +you are authorised to take that liberty, and to set up +respectfully, where that freedom is not allowable.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> In short, you cannot conceive how advantageous a +graceful carriage and a pleasing address are, upon all occasions; +they ensnare the affections, steal a prepossession in our favour, +and play about the heart till they engage it.</p> +<p>Now to acquire a graceful air, you must attend to your dancing; +no one can either sit, stand, or walk well unless he dances well. +And in learning to dance be particularly attentive to the motion of +your arms, for a stiffness in the wrist will make any man look +aukward. If a man walks well, presents himself well in company, +wears his hat well, moves his head properly and his arms +gracefully, it is almost all that is necessary.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> There is also an aukwardness in speech, that +naturally falls under this head, and ought to, and may be guarded +against; such as forgetting names and mistaking one name for +another; to speak of Mr. What-d'ye-call him, or, You-know-who, Mrs. +Thingum, What's-her-name, or, How-d'ye-call her, is exceedingly +aukward and vulgar. 'Tis the same to address people by improper +titles, as <i>sir</i> for <i>my lord</i>; to begin a story without +being able to finish it, and break off in the middle, with "I have +forgot the rest."</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Our voice and manner of speaking, too, should +likewise be attended to. Some will mumble over their words, so as +not to be intelligible, and others will speak so fast as not to be +understood, and in doing this, will sputter and spit in your face; +some will bawl as if they were speaking to the deaf: others will +speak so low as scarcely to be heard; and many will put their faces +so close to your's as to offend you with their breath.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> All these habits are horrid and disgustful, but may +easily be got the better of with care. They are the vulgar +characteristics of a low-bred man, or are proofs that very little +pains have been bestowed in his education. In short, an attention +to these little matters is of greater importance than you are aware +of; many a sensible man having lost ground for want of these little +graces, and many a one possessed of these perfections alone, having +made his way through life, that otherwise would not have been +noticed.</p> +<br> +<a name='Cleanliness_of_Person' id="Cleanliness_of_Person"></a> +<h2><i>Cleanliness of Person.</i></h2> +<p><b>14.</b> But as no one can please in company, however graceful +his air, unless he be clean and neat in his person, this +qualification comes next to be considered.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Negligence of one's person not only implies an +unsufferable indolence, but an indifference whether we please or +not. In others, it betrays an insolence and affectation, arising +from a presumption that they are sure of pleasing, without having +recourse to those means by which many are obliged to use.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> He who is not thoroughly clean in his person, will be +offensive to all he converses with. A particular regard to the +cleanness of your mouth, teeth, hands and nails, is but common +decency. A foul mouth and unclean hands are certain marks of +vulgarity; the first is the cause of an offensive breath, which +nobody can bear, and the last is declaratory of dirty work; one may +always know a gentleman by the state of his hands and nails. The +flesh at the roots should be kept back, so as to shew the +semicircles at the bottom of the nails; the edges of the nails +should never be cut down below the ends of the fingers; nor should +they be suffered to grow longer than the fingers.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> When the nails are cut down to the quick, it is a +shrewd sign that the man is a mechanic, to whom long nails would be +troublesome, or that he gets his bread by fiddling; and if they are +longer than his fingers ends, and encircled with a black rim, it +foretells he has been laboriously and meanly employed, and too +fatigued to clean himself: a good apology for want of cleanliness +in a mechanic, but the greatest disgrace that can attend a +gentleman.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> These things may appear too significant to be +mentioned; but when it is considered that a thousand little +nameless things, which every one feels but no one can describe, +conspire to form that <i>whole</i> of pleasing, I hope you will not +call them trifling. Besides a clean shirt and a clean person are as +necessary to health, as not to offend other people. It is a maxim +with me, which I have lived to see verified, that he who is +negligent at twenty years of age, will be a sloven at forty, and +intolerable at fifty.</p> +<br> +<a name='Dress' id="Dress"></a> +<h2><i>Dress</i>.</h2> +<p><b>19.</b> Neatness of person I observed was as necessary as +cleanliness; of course some attention must be paid to your +dress.</p> +<p>Such is the absurdity of the times, that to pass well with the +world, we must adopt some of its customs, be they ridiculous or +not.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> In the first place, to neglect one's dress is to +affront all the female part of our acquaintance. The women in +particular pay an attention to their dress; to neglect, therefore, +your's, will displease them, as it would be tacitly taxing them +with vanity, and declaring that you thought them not worth the +respect which every body else does. And, as I have mentioned +before, as it is the women who stamp a young man's credit in the +fashionable world, if you do not make yourself agreeable to the +women, you will assuredly lose ground among the men.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> Dress, as trifling as it may appear to a man of +understanding, prepossesses on the first appearance, which is +frequently decisive; and indeed we may form some opinion of a man's +sense and character from his dress. Any exceeding of the fashion, +or any affectation in dress whatever, argues a weakness of +understanding, and nine times out of ten it will be found so.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> There are few young fellows but what display some +character or other in this shape. Some would be thought fearless +and brave: these wear a black cravat, a short coat and waistcoat, +an uncommon long sword hanging to their knees, a large hat fiercely +cocked, and are <i>flash</i> all over. Others affect to be country +squires; these will go about in buckskin breeches, brawn frocks, +and great oaken cudgels in their hands, slouched hats, with their +hair undressed and tucked up behind them to an enormous size, and +imitate grooms and country boobies so well externally, that there +is not the least doubt of their resembling them as well +internally.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> Others, again, paint and powder themselves so much, +and dress so finically, as leads us to suppose they are only women +in boy's clothes. Now a sensible man carefully avoids all this, or +any other affectation. He dresses as fashionable and well as +persons of the best families and best sense; if he exceeds them, he +is a coxcomb; if he dresses worse, he is unpardonable.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Dress yourself fine, then, if possible, or plain, +agreeable to the company you are in; that is, conform to the dress +of others, and avoid the appearance of being tumbled. Imitate those +reasonable people of your own age, whose dress is neither remarked +as too neglected or too much studied. Take care to have your +clothes well made, in the fashion, and to fit you, or you will, +after all, appear aukward. When once dressed, think no more of it; +shew no fear of discomposing your dress, but let all your motions +be as easy and unembarrassed, as if you was at home in your +dishabille.</p> +<br> +<a name='Elegance_of_Expression' id="Elegance_of_Expression"></a> +<h2><i>Elegance of Expression.</i></h2> +<p><b>25.</b> Having mentioned elegance of person, I will proceed +to elegance of expression.</p> +<p>It is not one or two qualifications alone that will complete the +gentleman; it must be an union of many; and graceful speaking is as +essential as gracefulness of person. Every man cannot be an +harmonious speaker; a roughness or coarseness of voice may prevent +it; but if there are no natural imperfections, if a man does not +stammer or lisp, or has not lost his teeth, he may speak +gracefully; nor will all these defects, if he has a mind to it, +prevent him from speaking correctly.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> Nobody can attend with pleasure to a bad speaker. One +who tells his story ill, be it ever so important, will tire even +the most patient. If you have been present at the performance of a +good tragedy, you have doubtless been sensible of the good effects +of a speech well delivered; how much it has interested and affected +you; and on the contrary, how much an ill-spoken one has disgusted +you.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> 'Tis the same in common conversation; he who speaks +deliberately, distinctly and correctly; he who makes use of the +best words to express himself, and varies his voice according to +the nature of the subject, will always please, while the thick or +hasty speaker, he who mumbles out a set of ill-chosen words, utters +them ungrammatically, or with a dull monotony, will tire and +disgust. Be assured then, the air, the gesture, the looks of a +speaker, a proper accent, a just emphasis, and tuneful cadence, are +full as necessary, to please and to be attended to, as the subject +matter itself.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> People may talk what they will of solid reasoning and +sound sense; without the graces and ornaments of language, they +will neither please nor persuade. In common discourse, even trifles +elegantly expressed, will be better received, than the best of +arguments homespun and unadorned.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> A good way to acquire a graceful utterance, is to +read aloud to some friend every day, and beg of him to set you +right, in case you read too fast, do not observe the proper stops, +lay wrong emphasis, or utter your words indistinctly. You may even +read aloud to yourself where such a friend is not at hand, and you +will find your own ear a good corrector. Take care to open your +teeth when you read or speak, and articulate every word distinctly; +which last cannot be done but by sounding the final letter. But +above all, endeavour to vary your voice according to the matter, +and avoid a monotony. By a daily attention to this, it will in a +little time become easy and habitual to you.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> Pay an attention also to your looks and your gesture, +when talking even on the most trifling subjects: things appear very +different according as they are expressed, looked and +delivered.</p> +<p>Now, if it is necessary to attend so particularly to our +<i>manner</i> of speaking, it is much more so with regard to the +<i>matter</i>. Fine turns of expression, a genteel and correct +style, are ornaments as requisite to common sense, as polite +behaviour and an elegant address are to common good manners; they +are great assistants in the point of pleasing. A gentleman, 'tis +true, may be known in the meanest garb, but it admits not of a +doubt, that he would be better received into good company genteely +and fashionably dressed, than was he to appear in dirt and +tatters.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> Be careful, then, of your style upon all occasions; +whether you write or speak, study for the best words and best +expressions, even in common conversation and the most familiar +letters. This will prevent your speaking in a hurry, than which +nothing is more vulgar; though you may be a little embarrassed at +first, time and use will render it easy. It is no such difficult +thing to express ourselves well on subjects we are thoroughly +acquainted with, if we think before we speak; and no one should +presume to do otherwise.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> When you have said a thing, if you did not reflect +before, be sure to do it after wards: consider with yourself +whether you could not have expressed yourself better; and if you +are in doubt of the propriety or elegancy of any word, search for +it in some dictionary, or some good author, while you remember it; +never be sparing of your trouble while you wish to improve, and my +word for it, a very little time will make this matter habitual.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> In order to speak grammatically, and to express +yourself pleasingly, I would recommend it to you to translate +often, any language you are acquainted with, into English, and to +correct such translation till the words, their order, and the +periods, are agreeable to your own ear.</p> +<p>Vulgarism in language is another distinguishing mark of bad +company and education. Expressions may be correct in themselves and +yet be vulgar, owing to their not being fashionable; for language +as manners are both established for the usage of people of +fashion.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> The conversation of a low-bred man is filled up with +proverbs and hackneyed sayings; instead of observing that tastes +are different, and that most men have one peculiar to themselves, +he will give you—"What is one man's meat is another man's +poison;" or, "Every one to their liking, as the old woman said, +when she kissed her cow." He has ever some favourite word, which he +lugs in upon all occasions, right or wrong; such as <i>vastly</i> +angry, <i>vastly</i> kind; <i>devilish</i> ugly, <i>devilish</i> +handsome; <i>immensely</i> great, <i>immensely</i> little.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> Even his pronunciation carries the mark of vulgarity +along with it; he calls the earth <i>yearth</i>; finan' ces, +<i>fin' ances</i>, he goes <i>to wards</i>, and not towards such a +place. He affects to use hard words, to give him the appearance of +a man of learning, but frequently mistakes their meaning, and +seldom, if ever, pronounces them properly.</p> +<p>All this must be avoided, if you would not be supposed to have +kept company with foot-men and house-maids. Never have recourse to +proverbial or vulgar sayings; use neither favourite nor hard words, +but seek for the most elegant; be careful in the management of +them, and depend on it your labour will not be lost; for nothing is +more engaging than a fashionable and polite address.</p> +<br> +<a name='Small_Talk' id="Small_Talk"></a> +<h2><i>Small-Talk</i>.</h2> +<p><b>36.</b> In all good company we meet with a certain manner, +phraseology and general conversation, that distinguishes the man of +fashion. This can only be acquired by frequenting good company, and +being particularly attentive to all that passes there.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> When invited to dine or sup at the house of any +well-bred man, observe how he does the honours of his table, and +mark his manner of treating his company.</p> +<p>Attend to the compliments of congratulation or condolence that +he pays; and take notice of his address to his superiors, his +equals, and his inferiors; nay, his very looks and tone of voice +are worth your attention, for we cannot please without an union of +them all.</p> +<p><b>38.</b> There is a certain distinguishing diction that marks +the man of fashion, a certain language of conversation that every +gentleman should be master of. Saying to a man just married, "I +wish you joy," or to one who has lost his wife, "I am sorry for +your loss," and both perhaps with an unmeaning countenance, may be +civil, but it is nevertheless vulgar. A man of fashion will express +the same thing more elegantly, and with a look of sincerity, that +shall attract the esteem of the person he speaks to. He will +advance to the one, with warmth and cheerfulness, and perhaps +squeezing him by the hand, will say, "Believe me, my dear sir, I +have scarce words to express the joy I feel, upon your happy +alliance with such or such a family, &c." To the other in +affliction he will advance slowly, and with a peculiar composure of +voice and countenance, begin his compliments of condolence with, "I +hope, sir, you will do me the justice to be persuaded, that I am +not insensible of your unhappiness, that I take part in your +distress, and shall ever be affected where <i>you</i> are so."</p> +<p><b>39.</b> Your first address to, and indeed all your +conversation with your superiors, should be open, cheerful, and +respectful; with your equals, warm, and animated; with your +inferiors, hearty, free, and unreserved.</p> +<p><b>40.</b> There is a fashionable kind of small-talk, which, +however trifling it may be thought, has its use in mixed companies; +of course you should endeavour to acquire it. By small-talk, I mean +a good deal to say on unimportant matters: for example, foods, the +flavour and growth of wines, and the chit-chat of the day. Such +conversation will serve to keep off serious subjects, that might +some time create disputes. This chit-chat is chiefly to be learned +by frequenting the company of the ladies.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Observation' id="Observation"></a> +<h2><i>Observation</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> As the art of pleasing is to be learnt only by +frequenting the best companies, we must endeavour to pick it up in +such companies, by observation; for, it is not sense and knowledge +alone that will acquire esteem; these certainly are the first and +necessary foundations for pleasing, but they will by no means do, +unless attended with manners and attention.</p> +<p>There have been people who have frequented the first companies +till their life-time, and yet have never got rid of their natural +stiffness and aukwardness; but have continued as vulgar as if they +were never out of a servant's hall: this has been owing to +carelessness, and a want of attention to the manners and behaviour +of others.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> There are a great many people likewise who busy +themselves the whole day, and who in fact do nothing. They have +possibly taken up a book for two or three hours, but from a certain +inattention that grows upon them the more it is indulged, know no +more of the contents than if they had not looked into it; nay, it +is impossible for any one to retain what he reads, unless he +reflects and reasons upon it as he goes on. When they have thus +lounged away an hour or two, they will saunter into company, +without attending to any thing that passes there; but, if they +think at all, are thinking of some trifling matter that ought not +to occupy their attention; thence perhaps they go to the play, +where they stare at the company and the lights, without attending +to the piece, the very thing they went to see.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> In this manner they wear away their hours, that might +otherwise he employed to their improvement and advantage. This +silly suspension of thought they would have pass <i>absence of +mind</i>—Ridiculous!—Wherever you are, let me recommend +it to you to pay attention to all that passes; observe the +characters of the persons you are with, and the subjects of their +conversation; listen to every thing that is said, see every thing +that is done, and (according to the vulgar saying) have your eyes +and your ears about you.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> A continual inattention to matters that occur, is the +characteristic of a weak mind; the man who gives way to it, is +little else than a trifler, a blank in society, which every +sensible person overlooks; surely what is worth doing is worth +doing well, and nothing can be done well if not properly attended +to. When I hear a man say, on being asked about any thing that was +said or done in his presence, "that truly he did not mind it," I am +ready to knock the fool down. <i>Why</i> did he not mind +it?—What had he else to do?—A man of sense and fashion +never makes use of this paltry plea; he never complains of a +treacherous memory, but attends to and remembers every thing that +is said or done.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Whenever, then, you go into good company, that is, the +company of people of fashion, observe carefully their behaviour, +their address, and their manner; imitate it as far as in your +power. Your attention, if possible, should be so ready as to +observe every person in the room at once, their motions, their +looks, and their turns of expression, and that without staring or +seeming to be an observer. This kind of observation may be acquired +by care and practice, and will be found of the utmost advantage to +you, in the course of life.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Absence_of_Mind' id="Absence_of_Mind"></a> +<h2><i>Absence of Mind</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Having mentioned absence of mind, let me be more +particular concerning it.</p> +<p>What the world calls an absent man is generally either a very +affected one or a very weak one; but whether weak or affected, he +is, in company, a very disagreeable man. Lost in thought, or +possibly in no thought at all, he is a stranger to every one +present, and to every thing that passes; he knows not his best +friends, is deficient in every act of good manners, unobservant of +the actions of the company, and insensible to his own.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> His answers are quite the reverse of what they ought +to be; talk to him of one thing, he replies, as of another. He +forgets what he said last, leaves his hat in one room, his cane in +another, and his sword in a third; nay, if it was not for his +buckles, he would even leave his shoes behind him. Neither his arms +nor his legs seem to be a part of his body, and his head is never +in a right position. He joins not in the general conversation, +except it be by fits and starts, as if awaking from a dream; I +attribute this either to weakness or affectation.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> His shallow mind is possibly not able to attend to +more than one thing at a time, or he would be supposed wrapt up in +the investigation of some very important matter. Such men as Sir +<i>Isaac Newton</i> or Mr. <i>Locke</i>, might occasionally have +some excuse for absence of mind; it might proceed from that +intenseness of thought that was necessary at all times for the +scientific subjects they were studying; but, for a young man, and a +man of the world, who has no such plea to make, absence of mind is +a rudeness to the company, and deserves the severest censure.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> However insignificant a company may be; however +trifling their conversation; while you are with them, do not shew +them by any inattention that you think them trifling; that can +never be the way to please; but rather fall in with their weakness +than otherwise, for to mortify, or shew the least contempt to those +we are in company with, is the greatest rudeness we can be guilty +of; and what few can forgive.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> I never yet found a man inattentive to the person he +feared, or the woman he loved; which convinces me that absence of +mind is to be got the better of, if we think proper to make the +trial; and believe me, it is always worth the attempt.</p> +<p>Absence of mind is a tacit declaration, that those we are in +company with are not worth attending to; and what can be a greater +affront?—Besides, can an absent man improve by what is said +or done in his presence?—No; he may frequent the best +companies for years together, and all to no purpose. In short, a +man is neither fit for business nor conversation, unless he can +attend to the object before him, be that object what it will.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Knowledge_of_the_World' id="Knowledge_of_the_World"></a> +<h2><i>Knowledge of the World.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> A knowledge of the world, by our own experience and +observation, is so necessary, that without it we shall act very +absurdly, and frequently give offence when we do not mean it. All +the learning and parts in the world will not secure us from it. +Without an acquaintance with life, a man may say very good things, +but time them so ill, and address them so improperly, that he had +much better be silent. Full of himself and his own business, and +inattentive to the circumstances and situations of those he +converses with, he vents it without the least discretion, says +things that he ought not to say, confutes some, shocks others, and +puts the whole company in pain, lest what he utters next should +prove worse than the last. The best direction I can give you in +this matter, is, rather to fall in with the conversation of others, +than start a subject of your own: rather strive to put them more in +conceit with themselves, than to draw their attention to you.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> A novice in life, he who knows little of mankind, but +what he collects from books, lays it down as a maxim, that most men +love flattery; in order therefore to please, he will flatter: but, +how? Without regard either to circumstances or occasions. Instead +of those delicate touches, those soft tints, that serve to heighten +the piece, he lays on his colours with a heavy hand, and daubs +where he means to adorn: in other words, he will flatter so +unseasonably, and, at the same time, so grossly, that while he +wishes to please he puts out of countenance and is sure to offend. +On the contrary, a man of the world, one who has made life his +study, knows the power of flattery as well as he; but then he knows +how to apply it; he watches the opportunity, and does it +indirectly, by inference, comparison and hint.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Man is made up of such a variety of matter, that, to +search him thoroughly, requires time and attention; for, though we +are all made of the same materials, and have all the same passions, +yet, from a difference in their proportion and combination, we vary +in our dispositions; what is agreeable to one is disagreeable to +another, and what one shall approve, another shall condemn. Reason +is given us to controul these passions, but seldom does it. +Application therefore to the reason of any man will frequently +prove ineffectual, unless we endeavour at the same time to gain his +heart.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Wherever then you are, search into the characters of +men; find out, if possible, their foible, their governing; passion, +or their particular merit; take them on their weak side, and you +will generally succeed: their prevailing vanity you may readily +discover, by observing; their favourite topic of conversation, for +every one talks most of what he would be thought most to excel +in.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> The time should also be judiciously made choice of. +Every man has his particular times when he may be applied to with +success, the <i>mollia tempora fandi</i>: but these times are not +all the day long; they must be found out, watched, and taken +advantage of. You could not hope for success in applying to a man +about one business, when he was taken up with another, or when his +mind was affected with excess of grief, anger, or the like.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> You cannot judge of other men's minds better than by +studying your own; for, though some men have one foible, and +another has another, yet men, in general, are very much alike. +Whatever pleases or offends you, will in similar circumstances, +please or offend others; if you find yourself hurt when another, +makes you feel his superiority, you will certainly, upon the common +rule of right, <i>do as you would be done by</i>, take care not to +let another feel your superiority, if you have it, especially if +you wish to gain his interest or esteem.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> If disagreeable insinuations, open contradictions, or +oblique sneers vex and anger you, would you use them where you +wished to please? certainly not. Observe then with care the +operations of your own mind; and you may in a great measure read +all mankind.</p> +<p><i>I</i> will allow that one bred up in a cloister or college, +may reason well on the structure of the human mind; he may +investigate the nature of man, and give a tolerable account of his +head, his heart, his passions; and his sentiments: but at the same +time he may know nothing of him; he has not lived with him, and of +course can know but little how those sentiments or those passions +will work; he must be ignorant of the various prejudices, +propensities and antipathies, that always bias him and frequently +determine him.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> His knowledge is acquired only from theory, which +differs widely from practice; and if, he forms his judgment from +that alone, he must be often deceived; whereas a man of the world, +one who collects his knowledge from his own experience and +observation, is seldom wrong; he is well acquainted with the +operations of the human mind, prys into the heart of man, reads +his-words before they are utttered, sees his actions before they +are performed, knows what will please, and what will displease; and +foresees the event of most things.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Labour then to require this intuitive knowledge; +attend carefully to the address, the arts and manners of those +acquainted with life, and endeavour to imitate them. Observe the +means they take to gain the favour, and conciliate the affections +of those they associate with; pursue those means, and you will soon +gain the esteem of all that know you.</p> +<p>How often have we seen men governed by persons very much their +inferiors in point of understanding, and even without their knowing +it? A proof that some men have more worldly dexterity than others; +they find out the weak and unguarded part, make their attack there, +and the man surrenders.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> Now from a knowledge of mankind we shall learn the +advantage of two things, the command of our temper and our +countenance: a trifling, disagreeable incident shall perhaps anger +one unacquainted withlife, or confound him with same; shall make +him rave like a madman, or look like a fool: but a man of the world +will never understand what he cannot or ought not to resent. If he +should chance to make a slip himself, he will stifle his confusion, +and turn it off with a jest; recovering it with coolness.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Many people have sense enough to keep their own +secrets; but from being unused to a variety of company, have +unfortunately such a tell-tale countenance, as involuntarily +declares what they would wish to conceal. This is a great +unhappiness; and should as soon as possible be got the better +of.</p> +<p>That coolness of mind and evenness of countenance, which +prevents a discovery of our sentiments, by our words, our actions, +or our looks, is too necessary to pass unnoticed.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> A man who cannot hear displeasing things, without +visible marks of anger or uneasiness; or pleasing ones, without a +sudden burst of joy, a cheerful eye, or an expanded face, is at the +mercy of every knave: for either they will designedly please or +provoke you themselves, to catch your unguarded looks; or they will +seize the opportunity thus to read your very heart, when any other +shall do it. You may possibly tell me, that this coolness must be +natural, for if not, you can never acquire it.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I will admit the force of constitution, but people +are very apt to blame that for many things they might readily +avoid. Care, with a little reflection, will soon give you this +mastery of your temper and your countenance. If you find yourself +subject to sudden starts of passion, determine with yourself not to +utter a single word till your reason has recovered itself; and +resolve to keep your countenance as unmoved as possible.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> As a man who at a card-table can preserve a serenity +in his looks, under good or bad luck, has considerably the +advantage of one who appears elated with success, or cast down with +ill fortune, from our being able to read his cards in his face; so +the man of the world, having to deal with one of these babbling +countenances, will take care to profit by the circumstance, let the +consequence, to him with whom he deals, be as injurious as it +may.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> In the course of life, we shall find it necessary +very often to put on a pleasing countenance when, we are +exceedingly displeased; we must frequently seem friendly when we +are quite otherwise. I am sensible it is difficult to accost a man +with smiles whom we know to be our enemy: but what is to be done? +On receiving an affront if you cannot be justified in knocking the +offender down, you must not notice the offence; for in the eye of +the world, taking an affront calmly is considered as cowardice.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> If fools should at any time attempt to be witty upon +you, the best way is not to know their witticisms are levelled at +you, but to conceal any uneasiness it may give you: but, should +they be so plain that you cannot be thought ignorant of their +meaning, I would recommend, rather than quarrel with the company, +joining even in the laugh against yourself: allow the jest to be a +good one, and take it in seeming good humour. Never attempt to +retaliate the same way, as that would imply you were hurt. Should +what is said wound your honour or your moral character, there is +but one proper reply, which I hope you will never be obliged to +have recourse to.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Remember there are but two alternatives for a +gentleman; extreme politeness, or the sword. If a man openly and +designedly affronts you, call him oat; but if it does not amount to +an open insult, be outwardly civil; if this does not make him +ashamed of his behaviour, it will prejudice every by-stander in +your favour, and instead of being disgraced, you will come off with +honour. Politeness to those we do not respect, is no more a breach +of faith than <i>your humble servant</i> at the bottom of a +challenge; they are universally understood to be things of +course.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Wrangling and quarreling are characteristics of a +weak mind: leave that to the women, be <i>you</i> always above it. +Enter into no sharp contest, and pride yourself in shewing, if +possible, more civility to your antagonist than to any other in the +company; this will infallibly bring over all the laughter to your +side, and the person you are contending with will be very likely to +confess you have behaved very handsomely throughout the whole +affair.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Experience will teach us that though all men consist +principally of the same materials, as I before took notice, yet +from a difference in their proportion, no two men are uniformly the +same: we differ from one another, and we often differ from +ourselves, that is, we sometimes do things utterly inconsistent +with the general tenor of our characters. The wisest man will +occasionally do a weak thing: the most honest man, a wrong thing; +the proudest man, a mean thing; and the worst of men will sometimes +do a good thing.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> On this account, our study of mankind should not be +general; we should take a frequent view of individuals, and though +we may upon the whole form a judgment of the man from his +prevailing passion or his general character, yet it will be prudent +not to determine, till we have waited to see the operation of his +subordinate appetites and humours.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> For example; a man's general character maybe that of +strictly honest; I would not dispute it, because I would not be +thought envious or malevolent; but I would not rely upon this +general character, so as to entrust him with my fortune or my life. +Should this honest man, as is not common, be my rival in power, +interest, or love, he may possibly do things that in other +circumstances he would abhor; and power, interest, and love, let me +tell you, will often put honesty to the severest trial, and +frequently overpower it. I would then ransack this honest man to +the bottom, if I wished to trust him, and as I found him, would +place my confidence accordingly.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> One of the great compositions in our nature is +vanity, to which, all men, more or less, give way. Women have an +intolerable share of it. So flattery, no adulation is too gross for +them; those who flatter them most please them best, and they are +most in love with him who pretends to be most in love with them; +and the least slight or contempt of them is never forgotten. It is +in some measure the same with men; they will sooner pardon an +injury than an insult, and are more hurt by contempt than by +ill-usage. Though all men do not boast of superior talents, though +they pretend not to the abilities of a <i>Pope</i>, a +<i>Newton</i>, or a <i>Bollingbroke</i>, every one pretends to have +common sense, and to discharge his office in life with common +decency; to arraign therefore, in any shape, his abilities or +integrity in the department he holds, is an insult he will not +readily forgive.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> As I would not have you trust too implicitly to a +man, because the world gives him a good character; so I must +particularly caution you against those who speak well of +themselves. In general, suspect those who boast of or affect to +have any one virtue above all others, for they are commonly +impostors. There are exceptions, however, to this rule, for we hear +of prudes that have been made chaste, bullies that have been brave, +and saints that have been religious. Confide only where your own +observation shall direct you; observe not only what is said, but +how it is said, and if you have penetration, you may find out the +truth better by your eyes than your ears; in short, never take a +character upon common report, but enquire into it yourself; for +common report, though it is right in general, may be wrong in +particulars.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Beware of those who, on a slight acquaintance, make a +tender of their friendship, and seem to place a confidence in you; +'tis ten to one but they deceive and betray you: however, do not +rudely reject them upon such a supposition; you may be civil to +them, though you do not entrust them. Silly men are apt to solicit +your friendship, and unbosom themselves upon the first +acquaintance: such friends cannot be worth hearing, their +friendship being as slender as their understanding; and if they +proffer their friendship with a design to make a property of you, +they are dangerous acquaintance indeed.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> Not but the little friendships of the weak may be of +some use to you, if you do not return the compliment; and it may +not be amiss to seem to accept those of designing men, keeping +them, as it were, in play, that they may not be openly your +enemies; for their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their +friendship. We may certainly hold their vices in abhorrence, +without being marked out as their personal enemy. The general rule +is to have a real reserve with almost every one, and a seeming +reserve with almost no one; for it is very disgusting to seem +reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few observe the true +medium. Many are ridiculously misterious upon trifles and many +indiscreetly communicative of all they know.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> There is a kind of short-lived friendship that takes +place among young men, from a connection in their pleasures only; a +friendship too often attended with bad consequences. This companion +of your pleasures, young and unexperienced, will probably, in the +heat of convivial mirth, vow a perpetual friendship, and unfold +himself to you without the least reserve; but new associations, +change of fortune, or change of place, may soon break this +ill-timed connection, and an improper use may be made of it.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> Be one, if you will, in young companies, and bear +your part like others in the social festivity of youth; nay, trust +them with your innocent frolics, but keep your serious matters to +yourself; and if you must at any time make <i>them</i> known, let +it be to some tried friend of great experience; and that nothing +may tempt him to become your rival, let that friend be in a +different walk of life from yourself.</p> +<p>Were I to hear a man making strong protestations, and swearing +to the truth of a thing, that is in itself probable, and very +likely to be, I shall doubt his veracity; for when he takes such +pains to make me believe it, it cannot be with a good design.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> There is a certain easiness or false modesty in most +young people, that either makes them unwilling, or ashamed to +refuse any thing that is asked of them. There is also an unguarded +openness about them, that makes them the ready prey of the artful +and designing. They are easily led away by the feigned friendships +of a knave or a fool, and too rashly place a confidence in them, +that terminates in their loss, and frequently in their ruin. +Beware, therefore, as I said before, of these proffered +friendships; repay them with compliments, but not with confidence. +Never let your vanity make you suppose that people become your +friends upon a slight acquaintance: for good offices must be shewn +on both sides to create a friendship; it will not thrive, unless +its love be mutual; and it requires time to ripen it.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> There is still among young people another kind of +friendship merely nominal, warm indeed for the time, but +fortunately of no long continuance. This friendship takes its rise +from their pursuing the same course of riot and debauchery; their +purses are open to each other, they tell one another all they know, +they embark in the same quarrels, and stand by each other on all +occasions. I should rather call this a confederacy against good +morals and good manners, and think it deserves the severest lash of +the law; but they have the impudence to call it friendship. +However, it is often as suddenly dissolved as it is hastily +contracted; some accident disperses them, and they presently forget +each other, except it is to betray and laugh at their own egregious +folly.</p> +<p>In short, the sum of the whole is, to make a wide difference +between companions and friend; for a very agreeable companion has +often proved a very dangerous friend.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Choice_of_Company' id="Choice_of_Company"></a> +<h2><i>Choice of Company.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> The next thing to the choice of friends is the choice +of your company.</p> +<p>Endeavour as much as you can to keep good company, and the +company of your superiors: for you will be held in estimation +according to the company you keep. By superiors I do not mean so +much with regard to birth, as merit and the light in which they are +considered by the world.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> There are two sorts of good company; the one consists +of persons of birth, rank, and fashion; the other of those who are +distinguished by some peculiar merit, in any liberal art or +science; as men of letters, &c. and a mixture of these is what +I would have understood by good company; for it is not what +particular sets of people shall call themselves, but what the +people in general acknowledge to be so, and are the accredited good +company of the place.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Now and then, persons without either birth, rank, or +character, will creep into good company, under the protection of +some considerable personage; but, in general, none are admitted of +mean degree, or infamous moral character.</p> +<p>In this fashionable good company alone, can you learn the best +manners and the best language, for, as there is no legal standard +to form them by, 'tis here they are established.</p> +<p>It may possibly be questioned whether a man has it always in his +power to get into good company: undoubtedly, by deserving it, he +has; provided he is in circumstances which enable him to live and +appear in the style of a gentleman. Knowledge, modesty, and +good-breeding, will endear him to all that see him; for without +politeness, the scholar is no better than a pedant, the philosopher +than a cynic, the soldier than a brute, nor any man than a +clown.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Though the company of men of learning and genius is +highly to be valued, and occasionally coveted, I would by no means +have you always found in such company. As they do not live in the +world, they cannot have that easy manner and address which I would +wish you to acquire. If you can bear a part in such company, it is +certainly adviseable to be in it sometimes, and you will be the +more esteemed in other company by being so; but let it not engross +you, lest you be considered as one of the <i>literati</i>, which, +however respectable in name, is not the way to rise or shine in the +fashionable world.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> But the company, which, of all others, you should +carefully avoid, is that, which, in every sense of the word, may be +called <i>low</i>; low in birth, low in rank, low in parts, and low +in manners; that company, who, insignificant and contemptible in +themselves, think it an honour to be seen with <i>you</i>, and who +will flatter your follies, nay, your very vices, to keep you with +them.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Though <i>you</i> may think such a caution +unnecessary, <i>I</i> do not; for many a young gentleman of sense +and rank has been led by his vanity to keep such company, till he +has been degraded, villified and undone.</p> +<p>The vanity I mean, is that of being the first of the company. +This pride, though too common, is idle to the last degree. Nothing +in the world lets a man down so much. For the sake of dictating, +being applauded and admired by this low company, he is disgraced +and disqualified for better. Depend upon it, in the estimation of +mankind you will sink or rise to the level of the company you +keep.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Be it then your ambition to get into the best company; +and, when there, imitate their virtues, but not their vices. You +have no doubt, often heard of genteel and fashionable vices. These +are whoring, drinking, and gaming. It has happened that some men +even with these vices, have been admired and esteemed. Understand +this matter rightly; it is not their vices for which they are +admired; but for some accomplishments they at the same time +possess; for their parts, their learning, or their good-breeding. +Be assured, were they free from their vices, they would be much +more esteemed. In these mixed characters, the bad part is +overlooked, for the sake of the good.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Should you be unfortunate enough to have any vices of +your own, add not to their number by adopting the vices of others. +Vices of adoption are of all others the most unpardonable, for they +have not inadvertency to plead. If people had no vices but their +own, few would have so many as they have.</p> +<p>Imitate, then, only the perfections you meet with; copy the +politeness, the address, the easy manners of well-bred people; and +remember, let them shine ever so bright, if they have any vices, +they are so many blemishes, which it would be as ridiculous to +imitate, as it would to make an artificial wart on one's face, +because some very handsome man had the misfortune to have a natural +one upon his.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Laughter' id="Laughter"></a> +<h2><i>Laughter.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Let us now descend to minuter matters, which, tho' not +so important as those we have mentioned, are still far from +inconsiderable. Of these laughter is one.</p> +<p>Frequent and loud laughter is a sure sign of a weak mind, and no +less characteristic of a low education. It is the manner in which +low-bred men express their silly joy, at silly things, and they +call it being merry.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> I do not recommend upon all occasions a solemn +countenance. A man may smile; but if he would be thought a +gentleman and a man of sense, he would by no means laugh. True wit +never yet made a man of fashion laugh; he is above it. It may +create a smile; but as loud laughter shews that a man has not the +command of himself, every one who would with to appear sensible, +must abhor it.</p> +<p>A man's going to set down, on a supposition that he has a chair +behind him, and falling for want of one, occasions a general laugh, +when the best piece of wit would not do it: a sufficient proof how +low and unbecoming laughter is.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Besides, could the immoderate laugher hear his own +noise, or see the face he makes, he would despise himself for his +folly. Laughter being generally supposed to be the effect of gaity, +its absurdity is not properly attended to; but a little reflection +will easily restrain it, and when you are told it is a mark of +low-breeding, I persuade myself you will endeavour to avoid it.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Some people have a silly trick of laughing whenever +they speak, so that they are always on the grin, and their faces +are ever distorted. This and a thousand other tricks, such as +scratching their heads, twirling their hats, fumbling with their +button, playing with their fingers, &c. are acquired from a +false modesty at their first out-set in life. Being shame-faced in +company, they try a variety of ways to keep themselves in +countenance; thus, they fall into those awkward habits I have +mentioned, which grow upon them, and in time become habitual.</p> +<p>Nothing is more repugnant likewise to good-breeding than +horse-play of any sort, romping, throwing things at one another's +heads, and so on. They may pass well enough with the mob; but they +lessen and degrade the gentleman.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Sundry_little_Accomplishments' id= +"Sundry_little_Accomplishments"></a> +<h2><i>Sundry little Accomplishments.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> I have had reason to observe before, that various +little matters, apparently trifling in themselves, conspire to form +the <i>whole</i> of pleasing, as in a well-finished portrait, a +variety of colours combine to complete the piece. It not being +necessary to dwell much upon them, I shall content myself with just +mentioning them as they occur.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> To do the honours of a table gracefully, is one of the +outlines of a well-bred man; and to carve well, is an article, +little as it may seem, that is useful twice every day, and the +doing of which ill is not only troublesome to one's self, but +renders us disagreeable and ridiculous to others. We are always in +pain for a man who, instead of cutting up a fowl genteelly, is +hacking for half an hour across the bone, greasing himself, and +bespattering the company with the sauce. Use, with a little +attention, is all that is requisite to acquit yourself well in this +particular.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> To be well received, you must also pay some attention +to your behaviour at table, where it is exceedingly rude to scratch +any part of your body; to spit, or blow your nose, if you can +possibly avoid it, to eat greedily, to lean your elbows on the +table, to pick your teeth before the dishes are removed, or to +leave the table before grace is said.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Drinking of healths is now growing out of fashion, and +is very unpolite in good company. Custom once had made it +universal, but the improved manners of the age now render it +vulgar. What can be more rude or ridiculous, than to interrupt +persons at their meals with an unnecessary compliment? Abstain then +from this silly custom, where you find it out of use; and use it +only at those tables where it continues general.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> A polite manner of refusing to comply with the +solicitations of a company, is also very necessary to be learnt, +for a young man who seems to have no will of his own, but does +every thing that is asked of him, may be a very good-natured +fellow, but he is a very silly one. If you are invited to drink at +any man's house, more than you think is wholesome, you may say, +"you wish you could, but that so little makes you both drunk and +sick, that you shall only be bad company by doing it: of course beg +to be excused."</p> +<p><b>6.</b> If desired to play at cards deeper than you would, +refuse it ludicrously; tell them, "If you were sure to lose, you +might possibly sit down; but that as fortune may be favourable, you +dread the thought of having too much money, ever since you found +what an incumbrance it was to poor Harlequin, and therefore you are +resolved never to put yourself in the way of winning more than such +and such a sum a day." This light way of declining invitations to +vice and folly, is more becoming a young man, than philosophical or +sententious refusals, which would only be laughed at.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Now I am on the subject of cards, I must not omit +mentioning the necessity of playing them well and genteelly, if you +would be thought to have kept good company. I would by no means +recommend playing at cards as a part of your study, lest you should +grow too fond of it, and the consequences prove bad. It were better +not to know a diamond from a club, than to become a gambler; but, +as custom has introduced innocent card playing at most friendly +meetings, it marks the gentleman to handle them genteelly, and play +them well; and as I hope you will play only for small sums, should +you lose your money pray lose it with temper: or win, receive your +winnings without either elation or greediness.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> To write well and correct, and in a pleasing style, is +another part of polite education. Every man who has the use of his +eyes and his right hand, can write whatever hand he pleases. +Nothing is so illiberal as a school-boy's scrawl. I would not have +you learn a stiff formal hand-writing, like that of a +school-master, but a genteel, legible, and liberal hand, and to be +able to write quick. As to the correctness and elegancy of your +writing, attention to grammar does the one, and to the best +authors, the other. Epistolary correspondence should not be carried +on in a studied or affected style, but the language should flow +from the pen, as naturally and as easily as it would from the +mouth. In short, a letter should be penned in the same style as you +would talk to your friend, if he was present.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> If writing well shews the gentleman, much more so does +spelling well. It is so essentially necessary for a gentleman, or a +man of letters, that one false spelling may fix a ridicule on him +for the remainder of his life. Words in books are generally well +spelled, according to the orthography of the age; reading, +therefore, with attention, will teach every one to spell right. It +sometimes happens, that words shall be spelled differently by +different authors; but, if you spell them upon the authority of one +in estimation of the public, you will escape ridicule. Where there +is but one way of spelling a word, by your spelling it wrong, you +will be sure to be laughed at. For a <i>woman</i> of a tolerable +education would laugh at and despise her lover, if he wrote to her, +and the words were ill-spelled. Be particularly attentive, then, to +your spelling.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> There is nothing that a man at his first appearance +in life ought more to dread than having any ridicule fixed on him. +In the estimation even of the most rational men, it will not only +lessen him, but ruin him with all the rest. Many a man has been +undone by a ridiculous nick-name. The causes of nick-names among +well-bred men, are generally the little defects in manner, air, or +address. To have the appellation of ill-bred, aukward, muttering, +left-legged, or any other tacked always to your name, would injure +you more than you are aware of; avoid then these little defects +(and they are easily avoided) and you need never fear a +nick-name.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Some young men are apt to think, that they cannot be +complete gentlemen, without becoming men of pleasure. A rake is +made up of the meanest and most disgraceful vices. They all combine +to degrade his character, and ruin his health, and fortune. A man +of pleasure will refine upon the enjoyments of the age, attend them +with decency, and partake of them becomingly.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Indeed he is too often less scrupulous than he should +be, and frequently has cause to repent it. A man of pleasure, at +best, is but a dissipated being, and what the rational part of +mankind most abhor; I mention it, however, lest, in taking, up the +man of pleasure, you should fall into the rake; for, of two evils, +always chuse the least. A dissolute flagitious footman may make as +good a rake as a man of the first quality. Few man can be men of +pleasure; every man may be a rake.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> There is a certain dignity that should be preserved +in all our pleasures; in love, a man may lose his heart, without +losing his nose; at table a man may have a distinguished palate, +without being a glutton; he may love wine without being a drunkard; +he may game without being a gambler, and so on.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Every virtue has its kindred vice, and every pleasure +its neighbouring disgrace. Temperance and moderation mark the +gentleman, but excess the blackguard. Attend carefully, then, to +the line that divides them; and remember, stop rather a yard short, +than step an inch beyond it. Weigh the present enjoyment of your +pleasures against the necessary consequences of them, and I will +leave you to your own determination.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> A gentleman has ever some regard also to the +<i>choice</i> of his amusements. If at cards, he will not be seen +at cribbage, all-fours, or putt; or, in sports of exercise, at +skittles, foot-ball, leap-frog, cricket, driving of coaches, +&c. but will preserve a propriety in every part of his conduct; +knowing, that any imitation of the manners of the mob, will +unavoidably stamp him with vulgarity. There is another amusement +too, which I cannot help calling illiberal, that is, playing upon +any musical instrument.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Music is commonly reckoned one of the liberal arts, +and undoubtedly is so; but to be piping or fiddling at a concert, +is degrading to a man of fashion. If you love music, hear it; pay +fiddlers to play to you, but never fiddle yourself. It makes a +gentleman appear frivolous and contemptible, leads him frequently +into bad company, and wastes that time which might otherwise be +well employed.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Secrecy is another characteristic of good-breeding. +Be careful not to tell in one company, what you see or hear in +another; much less to divert the present company at the expense of +the last. Things apparently indifferent may, when often repeated +and told abroad, have much more serious consequences than imagined. +In conversation there is generally a tacit reliance, that what is +said will not be repeated; and a man, though not enjoined to +secrecy, will be excluded company, if found to be a tattler; +besides, he will draw himself into a thousand scrapes, and every +one will be afraid to speak before him.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> Pulling out your watch in company unasked, either at +home or abroad, is a mark of ill-breeding; if at home, it appears +as if you were tired of your company, and wished them to be gone; +if abroad, as if the hours drag heavily, and you wished to be gone +yourself. If you want to know the time, withdraw; besides, as the +taking what is called a French leave was introduced, that on one +person's leaving the company the rest might not be disturbed, +looking at your watch does what that piece of politeness was +designed to prevent: it is a kind of dictating to all present, and +telling them it is time, or almost time, to break up.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Among other things, let me caution you against ever +being in a hurry; a man of sense may be in haste, but he is never +in a hurry; convinced, that hurry is the surest way to make him do +what he undertakes ill. To be in a hurry, is a proof that the +business we embark in is too great for us; of course, it is the +mark of little minds, that are puzzled and perplexed when they +should be cool and deliberate; they wish to do every thing at once, +and are thus able to do nothing. Be steady, then, in all your +engagements; look round you before you begin; and remember, that +you had better do half of them well, and leave the rest undone, +than to do the whole indifferently.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> From a kind of false modesty, most young men are apt +to consider familiarity as unbecoming. Forwardness I allow is so; +but there is a decent familiarity that is necessary in the course +of life. Mere formal visits, upon formal invitations, are not the +thing; they create no connection, nor will they prove of service to +you; it is the careless and easy ingress and egress, at all hours, +that secures an acquaintance to our interest, and this is acquired +by a respectful familiarity entered into, without forfeiting your +consequence.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> In acquiring new acquaintance, be careful not to +neglect your old, for a slight of this kind is seldom forgiven. If +you cannot be with your former acquaintance so often as you used to +be, while you had no others, take care not to give them cause to +think you neglect them; call upon them frequently though you cannot +stay long with them; tell them you are sorry to leave them so soon, +and nothing should take you away but certain engagements which good +manners obliged you to attend to; for it will be your interest to +make all the friends you can, and as few enemies as possible.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> By friends, I would not be understood to mean +confidential ones; but persons who speak of you respectfully, and +who, consistent with their own interest, would wish to be of +service to you, and would rather do you good than harm.</p> +<p>Another thing I must recommend to you, as characteristic of a +polite education, and of having kept good company, is a graceful +manner of conferring favours. The most obliging things may be done +so aukwardly as to offend, while the most disagreeable things may +be done so agreeable as to please.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> A few more articles of general advice, and I have +done; the first is on the subject of vanity. It is the common +failing of youth, and as such ought to be carefully guarded +against. The vanity I mean, is that which, if given way to, stamps +a man a coxcomb, a character he will find a difficulty to get rid +of, perhaps as long as he lives. Now this vanity shews itself in a +variety of shapes; one man shall pride himself in taking the lead +in all conversations, and peremptorily deciding upon every subject; +another, desirous of appearing successful among the women, shall +insinuate the encouragement he has met with, the conquests he +makes, and perhaps boasts of favours he never received; if he +speaks the truth, he is ungenerous; if false, he is a villain; but +whether true or false, he defeats his own purposes, overthrows the +reputation he wishes to erect, and draws upon himself contempt in +the room of respect.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Some men are vain enough to think they acquire +consequence by alliance, or by an acquaintance with persons of +distinguished character or abilities: hence they are eternally +taking of their grand-father, Lord such-a-one; their kinsman, Sir +William such-a-one; or their intimate friend, Dr. such-a-one, with +whom, perhaps, they are scarce acquainted. If they are ever found +out (and that they are sure to be one time or other) they become +ridiculous and contemptible; but even admitting what they say to be +true, what then? A man's intrinsic merit does not arise from an +ennobled alliance, or a reputable acquaintance.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> A rich man never borrows. When angling for praise, +modesty is the surest bait. If we would wish to shine in any +particular character, we must never affect that character. An +affectation of courage will make a man pass for a bully; an +affectation of wit, for a coxcomb; and an affectation of sense, for +a fool. Not that I would recommend bashfulness or timidity; no: I +would have every one know his own value, yet not discover that he +knows it, but leave his merit to be found out by others.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> Another thing worth your attention is, if in company +with an inferior, not to let him feel his inferiority; if he +discovers it himself without your endeavours, the fault is not +yours, and he will not blame you; but if you take pains to mortify +him, or to make him feel himself inferior to you in abilities, +fortune, or rank, it is an insult that will not readily be +forgiven. In point of abilities, it would be unjust, as they are +out of his power; in point of rank or fortune, it is ill-natured +and ill-bred.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> This rule is never more necessary than at table, +where there cannot be a greater insult than to help an inferior to +a part he dislikes, or a part that may be worse than ordinary, and +to take the best to yourself. If you at any time invite an inferior +to your table, you put him during the time he is there upon an +equality with you, and it is an act of the highest rudeness to +treat him in any respect slightingly. I would rather double my +attention to such a person, and treat him with additional respect, +lest he should even suppose himself neglected.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> There cannot be a greater savageness or cruelty, or +any thing more degrading to a man of fashion, than to put upon, or +take unbecoming liberties with him, whose modesty, humility, or +respect, will not suffer him to retaliate. True politeness consists +in making every body happy about you; and as to mortify is to +render unhappy, it can be nothing but the worst of breeding. Make +it a rule, rather to flatter a person's vanity than otherwise; make +him, if possible, more in love with himself, and you will be +certain to gain his esteem; never tell him any thing he may not +like to hear, nor say things that will put him out of countenance, +but let it be your study on all occasions to please: this will be +making friends instead of enemies; and be a means of serving +yourself in the end.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> Never be witty at the expense of any one present, to +gratify that idle inclination which is too strong in most young +men, I mean, laughing at, or ridiculing the weaknesses or +infirmities of others, by way of diverting the company, or +displaying your own superiority. Most people have their weaknesses, +their peculiar likings and aversions. Some cannot bear the sight of +a cat; others the smell of cheese, and so on; was you to laugh at +those men for their antipathies, or by design or inattention to +bring them in their way, you could not insult them more.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> You may possibly thus gain the laugh on your side for +the present, but it will make the person, perhaps, at whose expense +you are merry, your enemy for ever after; and even those who laugh +with you, will, on a little reflection, fear you, and probably +despise you: whereas to procure what <i>one</i> likes, and to +remove what the <i>other</i> hates, would shew them that they were +objects of your attention, and possibly make them more your friends +than much greater services would have done.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> If you have wit, use it to please, but not to hurt. +You may shine, but take care not to scorch. In short, never seem to +see the faults of others. Though among the mass of men there are, +doubtless, numbers of fools and knaves, yet were we to tell every +one of these we meet with that we knew them to be so, we should be +in perpetual war. I would detest the knave and pity the fool, +wherever I found him, but I would let neither of them know +unnecessarily that I did so; as I would not be industrious to make +myself enemies. As one must please others then, in order to be +pleased one's self, consider what is agreeable to you must be +agreeable to them, and conduct yourself accordingly.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> Whispering in company is another act of ill-breeding; +it seems to insinuate either that the persons whom we would not +wish should hear, are unworthy of our confidence, or it may lead +them to suppose we are speaking improperly of them; on both +accounts, therefore, abstain from it.</p> +<p>So pulling out one letter after another, and reading them in +company, or cutting or pairing one's nails, is unpolite and rude. +It seems to say, we are weary of the conversation, and are in want +of some amusement to pass away the time.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> Humming a tune to ourselves, drumming with our +fingers on the table, making a noise with our feet, and such like, +are all breaches of good manners, and indications of our contempt +for the persons present; therefore they should hot be indulged.</p> +<p>Walking fast in the streets is a mark of vulgarity, implying +hurry of business; it may appear well in a mechanic or tradesman, +but suits ill with the character of a gentleman or a man of +fashion.</p> +<p>Staring any person you meet, full in the face, is an act also of +ill-breeding; it looks as if you saw something wonderful in his +appearance, and is, therefore, a tacit reprehension.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> Eating quick, or very slow, at meals, is +characteristic of the vulgar; the first infers poverty, that you +have not had a good meal for some time; the last, if abroad, that +you dislike your entertainment; if at home, that you are rude +enough to set before your friends, what you cannot eat yourself. So +again, eating your soups with your nose in the plate, is vulgar; it +has the appearance of being used to hard work; and of course an +unsteady hand.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Dignity_of_Manners' id="Dignity_of_Manners"></a> +<h2><i>Dignity of Manners</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> A certain dignity of manners is absolutely necessary, +to make even the most-valuable character either respected or +respectable in the world.</p> +<p>Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, +waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will sink both merit and +knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compose at most a merry +fellow, and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. +Indiscriminate familiarity either offends your superiors, or else +dubs you their dependent and led captain. It gives your inferiors +just, but troublesome and improper claims to equality. A joker is +near a-kin to a buffoon; and neither of them is the least related +to wit.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Mimicry, the favorite amusement of little minds, has +been ever the contempt of great ones. Never give way to it +yourself, nor ever encourage it in others; it is the most illiberal +of all buffoonery; it is an insult on the person you mimic; and +insults, I have often told you, are seldom forgiven.</p> +<p>As to a mimic or a wag, he is little else than a buffoon, who +will distort his mouth and his eyes to make people laugh. Be +assured, no one person ever demeaned himself to please the rest, +unless he wished to be thought the Merry-Andrew of the company, and +whether this character is respectable, I will leave you to +judge.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> If a man's company is coveted on any other account +than his knowledge, his good sense, or his manners, he is seldom +respected by those who invite him, but made use of only to +entertain—"Let's have such a one, for he sings a good song, +for he is always joking or laughing;" or, "let's send for such a +one, for he is a good bottle companion;" these are degrading +distinctions, that preclude all respect and esteem. Whoever is +<i>had</i> (as the phrase is) for the sake of any qualification, +singly, is merely that thing he is <i>had</i> for, is never +considered in any other light, and, of course, never properly +respected, let his intrinsic merits be what they will.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> You may possibly suppose this dignity of manners to +border upon pride; but it differs as much from pride, as true +courage from blustering.</p> +<p>To flatter a person right or wrong, is abject flattery, and to +consent readily to every thing proposed by a company, be it silly +or criminal, is full as degrading, as to dispute warmly upon every +subject, and to contradict, upon all occasions. To preserve +dignity, we should modestly assert our own sentiments, though we +politely acquiesce in those of others.</p> +<p>So again, to support dignity of character, we should neither be +frivolously curious about trifles, nor be laboriously intent on +little objects that deserve not a moment's attention; for this +implies an incapacity in matters of greater importance.</p> +<p>A great deal likewise depends upon our air, address, and +expressions; an aukward address and vulgar expressions, infer +either a low turn of mind, or a low education.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Insolent contempt, or low envy, is incompatible also +with dignity of manners. Low-bred persons, fortunately lifted in +the world, in fine clothes and fine equipages, will insolently look +down on all those who cannot afford to make as good an appearance; +and they openly envy those who perhaps make a better. They also +dread the being slighted; of course are suspicious and captious; +are uneasy themselves, and make every body else so about them.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> A certain degree of outward seriousness in looks and +actions, gives dignity, while a constant smirk upon the face (with +that insipid silly smile fools have when they would be civil) and +whiffling motions, are strong marks of futility.</p> +<p>But above all, a dignity of character is to be acquired best by +a certain firmness in all our actions. A mean, timid, and passive +complaisance, lets a man down more than he is aware of: but still +his firmness or resolution should not extend to brutality, but be +accompanied with a peculiar and engaging softness, or mildness.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> If you discover any hastiness in your temper, and find +it apt to break out into rough and unguarded expressions, watch it +narrowly, and endeavour to curb it; but let no complaisance, no +weak desire of pleasing, no weedling, urge you to do that which +discretion forbids; but persist and persevere in all that is right. +In your connections and friendships, you will find this rule of use +to you. Invite and preserve attachments by your firmness; but +labour to keep clear of enemies by a mildness of behaviour. Disarm +those enemies you may unfortunately have (and few are without them) +by a gentleness of manner, but make them feel the steadiness of +your just resentment; for there is a wide difference between +bearing malice and a determined self-defence; the one is imperious, +but the other is prudent and justifiable.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> In directing your servants, or any person you have a +right to command, if you deliver your orders mildly and in that +engaging manner which every gentleman should study to do, you will +be cheerfully, and, consequently, well obeyed: but if tyrannically, +you would be very unwillingly served, if served at all. A cool, +steady determination should shew that you <i>will</i> be obeyed, +but a gentleness in the manner of enforcing that obedience should +make service a cheerful one. Thus will you be loved without being +despised, and feared without being hated.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> I hope I need not mention vices. A man who has +patiently been kicked out of company, may have as good a pretence +to courage, as one rendered infamous by his vices, may to dignity +of any kind; however, of such consequence are appearances, that an +outward decency, and an affected dignity of manners, will even keep +such a man the longer from sinking. If, therefore, you should +unfortunately have no intrinsic merit of your own, keep up, if +possible, the appearance of it; and the world will possibly give +you credit for the rest. A versatility of manner is as necessary in +social life, as a versatility of parts in political. This is no way +blameable, if not used with an ill design. We must, like the +cameleon, then, put on the hue of the persons we wish to be well +with; and it surely can never be blameable, to endeavour to gain +the good will or affection of any one, if, when obtained, we do not +mean to abuse it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Rules_for_Conversation' id="Rules_for_Conversation"></a> +<h2><i>Rules for Conversation.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Jack Lizard was about fifteen when he was first +entered in the university, and being a youth of a great deal of +fire, and a more than ordinary application to his studies; it gave +his conversation a very particular turn. He had too much spirit to +hold his tongue in company; but at the same time so little +acquaintance with the world, that he did not know how to talk like +other people.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> After a year and a half's stay at the university, he +came down among us to pass away a month or two in the country. The +first night after his arrival, as we were at supper, we were all of +us very much improved by <i>Jack's</i> table-talk. He told us, upon +the appearance of a dish of wild-fowl, that according to the +opinion of some natural philosophers, they might be lately come +from the moon.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Upon which the <i>Sparkler</i> bursting out into a +laugh, he insulted her with several questions, relating to the +bigness and distance of the moon and stars; and after every +interrogatory would be winking upon me, and smiling at his sister's +ignorance. <i>Jack</i> gained his point; for the mother was +pleased, and all the servants stared at the learning of their young +master. <i>Jack</i> was so encouraged at this success, that for the +first week he dealt wholly in paradoxes. It was a common jest with +him to pinch one of his sister's lap-dogs, and afterwards prove he +could not feel it.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> When the girls were sorting a set of knots, he would +demonstrate to them that all the ribbons were of the same colour; +or rather, says <i>Jack</i>, of no colour at all. My Lady +<i>Lizard</i> herself, though she was not a little pleased with her +son's improvements, was one day almost angry with him; for, having +accidentally burnt her fingers as she was lighting her lamp for her +tea-pot, in the midst of her anguish, <i>Jack</i> laid hold of the +opportunity to instruct her that there was no such thing as heat in +fire. In short, no day passed over our heads, in which <i>Jack</i> +did not imagine he made the whole family wiser than they were +before.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> That part of his conversation which gave me the most +pain, was what passed among those country gentlemen that came to +visit us. On such occasions <i>Jack</i> usually took upon him to be +the mouth of the company; and thinking himself obliged to be very +merry, would entertain us with a great many odd sayings and +absurdities of their college cook. I found this fellow had made a +very strong impression upon <i>Jack's</i> imagination, which he +never considered was not the case of the rest of the company, till +after many repeated trials he found that his stories seldom any +body laugh but himself.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> I all this while looked upon <i>Jack</i> as a young +tree shooting out into blossoms before its time; the redundancy of +which, though it was a little unseasonably, seemed to foretell an +uncommon fruitfulness.</p> +<p>In order to wear out the vein of pedantry, which ran through his +conversation, I took him out with me one evening, and first of all +insinuated to him this rule, which I had myself learned from a very +great author, "To think with the wise, but talk with the vulgar," +<i>Jack's</i>, good sense soon made him reflect that he had exposed +himself to the laughter of the ignorant by a contrary behaviour; +upon which he told me, that he would take care for the future to +keep his notions to himself, and converse in the common received +sentiments of mankind.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> He at the same time desired me to give him any other +rules of conversation, which I thought might he for his +improvement. I told him I would think of it; and accordingly, as I +have a particular affection for the young man, I gave him the next +morning the following rules in writing, which may, perhaps, have +contributed to make him the agreeable man he now is.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The faculty of interchanging our thoughts with one +another, or what we express by the word conversation, has always +been represented by moral writers, as one of the noblest privileges +of reason, and which more particularly sets mankind above the brute +part of the creation.</p> +<p>Though nothing so much gains upon the affections as this +extempore eloquence, which we have constantly occasion for, and are +obliged to practice every day, we very rarely meet with any who +excel in it.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so +much for want of wit and learning, as of good-breeding and +discretion.</p> +<p>It is not in every man's power, perhaps, to have fine parts, say +witty things, or tell a story agreeably; but every man may be +polite if he pleases, at least to a certain degree. Politeness has +infinitely more power to make us esteemed, and our company sought +after, than the most extraordinary parts or attainments we can be +master of. These seldom fail to create envy, and envy has always +some ill will in it.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> If you resolve to please never speak to gratify any +particular vanity or passion of your own, but always with a design +either to divert or inform the company. A man who only aims at one +of these, is always easy in his discourse. He is never out of +humour at being interrupted, because he considers that those who +hear him are the best judges whether what he was saying would +either divert or inform him.</p> +<p>A modest person seldom fails to gain the good will of those he +converses with, because nobody envies a man who does not appear to +be pleased with himself.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> We should talk extremely little of ourselves. Indeed +what can we say? It would be as imprudent to discover faults, as +ridiculous to count over our fancied virtues. Our private and +domestic affairs are no less improper to be introduced in +conversation. What does it concern the company how many horses you +keep in your stables? or whether your servant is most knave or +fool?</p> +<p><b>12.</b> A man may equally affront the company he is in, by +engrossing all the talk, or observing a contemptuous silence.</p> +<p>Conform yourself to the taste, character, and present humours of +the persons you converse with; not but a person must follow his +talent in conversation. Do not force nature; no one ever did it +with success.</p> +<p>If you have not a talent for humour, or raillery, or +story-telling, never attempt them.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Contain yourself also within the bounds of what you +know; and never talk of things you are ignorant of, unless it be +with a view to inform yourself. A person cannot fail in the +observance of this rule, without making himself ridiculous; and yet +how often do we see it transgressed! Some, who on war or politics +could talk very well, will be perpetually haranguing on works of +genius and the belles letters; others who are capable of reasoning, +and would make a figure in grave discourse, will yet constantly aim +at humour and pleasantry, though with the worst grace imaginable. +Hence it is, that we see a man of merit sometimes appear like a +coxcomb, and hear a man of genius talk like a fool.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Before you tell a story, it may be generally not +amiss to draw a short character, and give the company a true idea +of the principal persons concerned in it; the beauty of most things +consisting not so much in their being said or done, as in their +being said or done by such a particular person; or on such a +particular occasion.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> Notwithstanding all the advantages of youth, few +young people please in conversation: the reason is, that want of +experience makes them positive, and what they say, is rather with a +design to please themselves, than any one else.</p> +<p>It is certain that age itself shall make many things pass well +enough, which would have been laughed at in the mouth of one much +younger.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Nothing, however, is more insupportable to men of +sense, than an empty formal man who speaks in proverbs, and decides +all controversies with a short sentence. This piece of stupidity is +the more insufferable, as it puts on the air of wisdom.</p> +<p>Great talents for conversation requires to be accompanied with +great politeness. He who eclipses others, owes them great +civilities; and whatever a mistaken vanity may tell us, it is +better to please in conversation, than to shine in it.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> A prudent man will avoid talking much of any +particular science, for which he is remarkably famous. There is +not, methinks, an handsomer thing said of Mr. <i>Cowley</i> in his +whole life, than, that none but his intimate friends ever +discovered he was a great poet by his discourse. Besides the +decency of this rule, it is certainly founded in good policy. A man +who talks of any thing he is already famous for, has little to get, +but a great deal to lose.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> I might add, that he who is sometimes silent on a +subject, where everyone is satisfied he would speak well, will +often be thought no less knowing in any other matters where, +perhaps, he is wholly ignorant.</p> +<p>Women are frightened at the name of argument, and are sooner +convinced by an happy turn, or, witty expression, than by +demonstration.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> Whenever you commend, add your reasons for so doing; +it is this which distinguishes the approbation of a man of sense, +from the flattery of sycophants, and admiration of fools.</p> +<p>Raillery is no longer agreeable, than while the whole company is +pleased with it. I would least of all be understood to except the +person raillied.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> Though good-humour, sense, and discretion, can seldom +fail to make a man agreeable, it may be no ill policy sometimes to +prepare yourself in a particular manner for conversation, by +looking a little farther than your neighbours into whatever is +become a reigning subject. If our armies are besieging a place of +importance abroad, or our House of Commons debating a bill of +consequence at home, you can hardly fail of being heard with +pleasure, if you have nicely informed yourself of the strength, +situation and history of the first, or of the reasons for and +against the latter.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> It will have the same effect if, when any single +person begins to make a noise in the world, you can learn some of +the smallest accidents in his life or conversation, which, though +they are too fine for the observation of the vulgar, give more +satisfaction to men of sense, (as they are the best openings to a +real character) than the recital of his most glaring actions. I +know but one ill consequence to be feared from this method, namely, +that coming full charged into company, you should resolve to +unload, whether an handsome opportunity offers itself or no.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> The liberal arts, though they may possibly have less +effect on our external mein and behaviour, make so deep an +impression on the mind, as is very apt to bend it wholly one +way.</p> +<p>The mathematician will take little less than demonstration in +the most common discourse; and the schoolman is as great a friend +to definitions and syllogisms. The physician and divine are often +heard to dictate in private companies with the same authority which +they exercise over their patients and disciples; while the lawyer +is putting cases, and raising matter for disputation, out of every +thing that occurs.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> Though the asking of questions may plead for itself +the spacious name of modesty, and a desire of information, it +affords little pleasure to the rest of the company, who are not +troubled with the same doubts; besides which, he who asks a +question would do well to consider that he lies wholly at the mercy +of another before he receives an answer.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> Nothing is more silly than the pleasure some people +take in what they call speaking their minds. A man of this make +will say a rude thing for the mere pleasure of saying, it, when an +opposite behaviour, full as, innocent, might have preserved his +friend, or made his fortune.</p> +<p>It is not impossible for a man to form to himself as exquisite a +pleasure in complying with the humour and sentiments of others, as +of bringing others over to his own; since 'tis the certain sign of +a superior genius, that can take and become whatever dress it +pleases.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> Avoid disputes as much as possible, in order to +appear easy and well-bred, in conversation. You may assure +yourself, that it requires more wit, as well as more good-humour, +to improve than to contradict the notions of another; but if you +are at any time obliged to enter on an argument, give your reasons +with the inmost coolness and modesty, two things which scarce ever +fail of making an impression on the hearers. Besides, if you are +neither dogmatical, nor shew either by your actions or words, that +you are full of yourself, all will the more heartily rejoice at +your victory; nay, should, you be pinched in your argument, you may +make your retreat with a very good graces you were never positive, +and are now glad to be better informed.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> This hath made some approve the socratical way of +reasoning, where, while you scarce affirm any thing, you can hardly +be caught in an absurdity; and though possibly you are endeavouring +to bring over another to your opinion, which is firmly fixed, you +seem only to desire information from him.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> In order to keep that temper, which is so difficult +and yet so necessary to preserve, you may please to consider, that +nothing can be more unjust or ridiculous, than to be angry with +another because he is not of your opinion. The interests, +education, and means, by which men attain their knowledge, are so +very different, that it is impossible they should all think alike; +and he has at least us much reason to be angry with you, as you +with him.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> Sometimes to keep yourself cool, it may be of service +to ask yourself fairly, what might have been your opinion, had you +all the biases of education and interest your adversary may +possibly have? But if you contend for the honour of victory alone, +you may lay down this as an infallible maxim, That you cannot make +a more false step, or give your antagonists a greater advantage +over you, than by falling into a passion.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> When an argument is over, how many weighty reasons +does a man recollect, which his heat and violence made him utterly +forget?</p> +<p>It is yet more absurd to be angry with a man, because he does +not apprehend the force of your reasons, or give weak ones of his +own. If you argue for reputation, this makes your victory the +easier; he is certainly in all respects an object of your pity, +rather than anger; and if he cannot comprehend what you do, you +ought to thank nature for her favours, who has given you so much +the clearer understanding.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> You may please to add this consideration, that among +your equals no one values your anger, which only preys upon its +master; and perhaps you may find it not very consistent, either +with prudence or your ease, to punish yourself whenever you meet +with a fool or a knave.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> Lastly, if you propose to yourself the true end of +argument, which is information, it may be a seasonable check to +your passion; for if you search purely after truth, it will be +almost indifferent to you where you find it. I cannot in this place +omit an observation which I have often made, namely, that nothing +procures a man more esteem and less envy from the whole company, +than if he chooses the part of moderator, without engaging directly +on either side in a dispute.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> This gives him the character of impartial, furnishes +him an opportunity of sifting things to the bottom, shewing his +judgment, and of sometimes making handsome compliments to each of +the contending parties.</p> +<p>When you have gained a victory, do not push it too far; it is +sufficient to let the company and your adversary see it is in your +power, but that you are too generous to make use of it.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> I shall only add, that besides what I have here said, +there is something which can never be learnt but in the company of +the polite. The virtues of men are catching as well as their vices, +and your own observations added to these, will soon discover what +it is that commands attention in one man, and makes you tired and +displeased with the discourse of another.</p> +<a name='Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters1' +id="Further_Remarks_taken_from_Lord_Chesterfields_Letters1"></a> +<h2><i>Further Remarks taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to +his Son.</i></h2> +<p><b>34.</b> Having now given you full and sufficient instructions +for making you well received in the best of companies; nothing +remains but that I lay before you some few rules for your conduct +in such company. Many things on this subject I have mentioned +before; but some few matters remain to be mentioned now.</p> +<p>Talk, then, frequently, but not long together, lest you tire the +persons you are speaking to; for few persons talk so well upon a +subject, as to keep up the attention of their hearers for any +length of time.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> Avoid telling stories in company, unless they are +very short indeed, and very applicable to the subject you are upon; +in this case relate them in as few words as possible, without the +least digression, and with some apology; as, that you hate the +telling of stories, but the shortness of it induced you. And if +your story has any wit in it, be particularly careful not to laugh +at it yourself. Nothing is more tiresome and disagreeable than a +long tedious narrative; it betrays a gossiping disposition, and +great want of imagination; and nothing is more ridiculous than to +express an approbation of your own story by a laugh.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> In relating any thing, keep clear of repetitions, or +very hackneyed expressions, such as, <i>says he</i>, or <i>says +she</i>. Some people will use these so often, as to take off the +hearers' attention from the story; as in an organ out of tune, one +pipe shall perhaps sound the whole time we are playing, and confuse +the piece so as not to be understood.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> Digressions, likewise, should be guarded against. A +story is always more agreeable without them. Of this kind are, +"<i>the gentleman I am telling you of, is the son of Sir Thomas +——, who lives in Harley-street;—you must know +him—his brother had a horse that won the sweepstakes at the +last Newmarket meeting.—Zounds! if you don't know him you +know nothing</i>." Or, "<i>He was an upright tall old gentleman, +who wore his own long hair; don't you recollect him</i>?"—All +this is unnecessary, is very tiresome and provoking, and would he +an excuse for a man's behaviour, if he was to leave us in the midst +of our narrative.</p> +<p><b>38.</b> Some people have a trick of holding the persons they +are speaking to by the button, or the hands in order to be heard +out; conscious, I suppose, that their tale is tiresome. Pray, never +do this; if the person you speak to is not as willing to hear your +story as you are to tell it, you had much better break off in the +middle: for if you tire them once, they will be afraid to listen to +you a second time.</p> +<p><b>39.</b> Others have a way of punching the person they are +talking to in the side, and at the end of every sentence, asking +him some questions as the following—"Wasn't I right in +that?"—"You know, I told you so."—"What's your +opinion?" and the like; or, perhaps, they will be thrusting him, or +jogging him with their elbow. For mercy's sake, never give way to +this: it will make your company dreaded.</p> +<p><b>40.</b> Long talkers are frequently apt to single out some +unfortunate man present; generally the most silent one of the +company, or probably him who sits next them. To this man, in a kind +of half whisper, they will run on for half an hour together. +Nothing can be more ill-bred. But, if one of these unmerciful +talkers should attack you, if you wish to oblige him, I would +recommend the hearing with patience: seem to do so at least, for +you could not hurt him more than to leave him in the middle of his +story, or discover any impatience in the course of it.</p> +<p><b>41.</b> Incessant talkers are very disagreeable companions. +Nothing can be more rude than to engross the conversation to +yourself, or to take the words, as it were, out of another man's +mouth. Every man in company has an equal claim to bear his part in +the conversation, and to deprive him of it, is not only unjust, but +a tacit declaration that he cannot speak so well upon the subject +as yourself: you will therefore take it up. And, what can be more +rude? I would as soon forgive a man that should stop my mouth when +I was gaping, as take my words as it were, me while I was speaking +them. Now, if this be unpardonable.</p> +<p><b>42.</b> It cannot be less so to help out or forestall the +slow speaker, as if you alone were rich in expressions, and he were +poor. You may take it for granted, every one is vain enough to +think he can talk well, though he may modestly deny it; helping a +person out, therefore, in his expressions, is a correction that +will stamp the corrector with impudence and ill-manners.</p> +<p><b>43.</b> Those who contradict others upon all occasions, and +make every assertion a matter of dispute, betray by this behaviour +an unacquaintance with good-breeding. He, therefore, who wishes to +appear amiable, with those he converses with, will be cautious of +such expressions as these, "That can't be true, sir." "The affair +is as I say." "That must be false, sir." "If what you say is true, +&c." You may as well tell a man he lies at once, as thus +indirectly impeach his veracity. It is equally as rude to be +proving every trifling assertion with a bet or a wager—"I'll +bet you fifty of it," and so on. Make it then a constant rule, in +matters of no great importance, complaisantly to submit your +opinion to that of others; for a victory of this kind often costs a +man the loss of a friend.</p> +<p><b>44.</b> Giving advice unasked, is another piece of rudeness: +it is, in effect, declaring ourselves wiser than those to whom we +give it; reproaching them with ignorance and inexperience. It is a +freedom that ought not to be taken with any common acquaintance, +and yet there are these who will be offended, if their advice is +not taken. "Such-a-one," say they, "is above being advised. He +scorns to listen to my advice;" as if it were not a mark of greater +arrogance to expect every one to submit to their opinion, than for +a man sometimes to follow his own.</p> +<p><b>45.</b> There is nothing so unpardonably rude, as a seeming +inattention to the person who is speaking to you; tho' you may meet +with it in others, by all means avoid it yourself. Some ill-bred +people, while others are speaking to them, will, instead of looking +at or attending to them, perhaps fix their eyes on the ceiling, or +some picture in the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, +their watch-chain, or their cane, or probably pick their nails or +their noses. Nothing betrays a more trifling mind than this; nor +can any thing be a greater affront to the person speaking; it being +a tacit declaration, that what he is saying is not worth your +attention. Consider with yourself how you would like such +treatment, and, I am persuaded, you will never shew it to +others.</p> +<p><b>46.</b> Surliness or moroseness is incompatible also with +politeness. Such as, should any one say "he was desired to present +Mr. such-a-one's respects to you," to reply, "What the devil have I +to do with his respects?"—"My Lord enquired after you lately, +and asked how you did," to answer, "if he wishes to know, let him +come and feel my pulse," and the like. A good deal of this often is +affected; but whether affected or natural, it is always offensive. +A man of this stamp will occasionally be laughed at as an oddity; +but in the end will be despised.</p> +<p><b>47.</b> I should suppose it unnecessary to advise you to +adapt your conversation to the company you are in. You would not +surely start the same subject, and discourse of it in the same +manner, with the old and with the young, with an officer, a +clergyman, a philosopher, and a woman? no; your good sense will +undoubtedly teach you to be serious with the serious, gay with the +gay, and to trifle with the triflers.</p> +<p><b>48.</b> There are certain expressions which are exceedingly +rude, and yet there are people of liberal education that sometimes +use them; as, "You don't understand me, sir." "Is it not so?" "You +mistake." "You know nothing of the matter," &c. Is it not +better to say, "I believe I do not express myself so as to be +understood." "Let us consider it again, whether we take it right or +not." It is much more polite and amiable to make some excuse for +another, even in cases where he might justly be blamed, and to +represent the mistake as common to both, rather than charge him +with insensibility or incomprehension.</p> +<p><b>49.</b> If any one should have promised you any thing, and +not have fulfilled that promise, it would be very impolite to tell +him he has forfeited his word; or if the same person should have +disappointed you, upon any occasion, would it not be better to say, +"You were probably so much engaged, that you forgot my affair;" or, +"perhaps it slipped your memory;" rather than, "you thought no more +about it:" or, "you pay very little regard to your word." For +expressions of this kind leave a sting behind them—They are a +kind of provocation and affront, and very often bring on lasting +quarrels.</p> +<p><b>50.</b> Be careful not to appear dark and mysterious, lest +you should be thought suspicious; than which, there cannot be a +more unamiable character. If you appear mysterious and reserved, +others will be truly so with you: and in this case, there is an end +to improvement, for you will gather no information. Be reserved, +but never seem so.</p> +<p><b>51.</b> There is a fault extremely common with some people, +which I would have you avoid. When their opinion is asked upon any +subject, they will give it with so apparent a diffidence and +timidity, that one cannot, without the utmost pain, listen to them; +especially if they are known to be men of universal knowledge. +"Your Lordship will pardon me," says one of this stamp, "if I +should not be able to speak to the case in hand, so well as it +might be wished."—"I'll venture to speak of this matter to +the best of my poor abilities and dullness of +apprehension."—"I fear I shall expose myself, but in +obedience to your Lordship's commands,"—and while they are +making these apologies, they interrupt the business and tire the +company.</p> +<p><b>52.</b> Always look people in the face when you speak to +them, otherwise you will be thought conscious of some guilt; +besides, you lose the opportunity of reading their countenances; +from which you will much better learn the impression your discourse +makes upon them, than you can possibly do from their words; for +words are at the will of every one, but the countenance is +frequently involuntary.</p> +<p><b>53.</b> If, in speaking to a person, you are not heard, and +should be desired to repeat what you said, do not raise your voice +in the repetition, lest you should be thought angry, on being +obliged to repeat what you had said before; it was probably owing +to the hearer's inattention.</p> +<p><b>54.</b> One word only, as to swearing. Those who addict +themselves to it, and interlard their discourse with oaths, can +never be considered as gentlemen; they are generally people of low +education, and are unwelcome in what is called good company. It is +a vice that has no temptation to plead, but is, in every respect, +as vulgar as it is wicked.</p> +<p><b>55.</b> Never accustom yourself to scandal, nor listen to it; +for though it may gratify the malevolence of some people, nine +times out of ten it is attended with great disadvantages. The very +person you tell it to, will, on reflection, entertain a mean +opinion of you, and it will often bring you into a very +disagreeable situation. And as there would be no evil-speakers, if +there were no evil-hearers; it is in scandal as in robbery; the +receiver is as bad as the thief. Besides, it will lead people to +shun your company, supposing that you would speak ill of them to +the next acquaintance you meet.</p> +<p><b>56.</b> Carefully avoid talking either of your own or other +people's domestic concerns. By doing the one you will be thought +vain; by entering into the other, you will be considered as +officious. Talking of yourself is an impertinence to the company; +your affairs are nothing to them; besides, they cannot be kept too +secret. And as to the affairs of others, what are they to you? In +talking of matters that no way concern you, you are liable to +commit blunders, and, should you touch any one in a sore part, you +may possibly lose his esteem. Let your conversation, then, in mixed +companies, always be general.</p> +<p><b>57.</b> Jokes, <i>bon-mots</i>, or the little pleasantries of +one company, will not often bear to be told in another; they are +frequently local, and take their rise from certain circumstances; a +second company may not be acquainted with these circumstances, and +of course your story may not be understood, or want explaining; and +if, after you have prefaced it with, "I will tell you a good +thing," the sting should not be immediately perceived, you will +appear exceedingly ridiculous, and wish you had not told it. Never, +then, repeat in one place what you hear in another.</p> +<p><b>58.</b> In most debates, take up the favourable side of the +question; however, let me caution you against being clamorous; that +is, never maintain an argument with heat though you know yourself +right; but offer your sentiments modestly and coolly; and, if this +does not prevail, give it up, and try to change the subject, by +saying something to this effect, "I find we shall hardly convince +one another, neither is there any necessity to attempt it; so let +us talk of something else."</p> +<p><b>59.</b> Not that I would have you give up your opinion +always; no, assert your own sentiments, and oppose those of others +when wrong, but let your manner and voice be gentle and engaging, +and yet no ways affected. If you contradict, do it with, <i>I may +be wrong, but—I won't be positive, but I really think—I +should rather suppose—If I may be permitted to +say</i>—and close your dispute with good humour, to shew you +are neither displeased yourself, nor meant to displease the person +you dispute with.</p> +<p><b>60.</b> Acquaint yourself with the character and situation of +the company you go into, before you give a loose to your tongue; +for should you enlarge on some virtue, which anyone present may +notoriously want: or should you condemn some vices which any of the +company may be particularly addicted to, they will he apt to think +your reflections pointed and personal, and you will be sure to give +offence. This consideration will naturally lead you, not to suppose +things said in general to be levelled at you.</p> +<p><b>61.</b> Low-bred people, when they happen occasionally to be +in good company, imagine themselves to be the subject of every +separate conversation. If any part of the company whispers, it is +about them; if they laugh, it is at them; and if any thing is said, +which they do not comprehend, they immediately suppose it is meant +of them.—This mistake is admirably ridiculed in one of our +celebrated comedies, "<i>I am sure</i>, says Scrub, <i>they were +talking of me, for they laughed consumedly</i>."</p> +<p><b>62.</b> Now, a well-bred person never thinks himself +disesteemed by the company, or laughed at, unless their reflections +are so gross, that he cannot be supposed to mistake them, and his +honour obliges him to resent it in a proper manner; however, be +assured, gentlemen never laugh at or ridicule one another, unless +they are in joke, or on a footing of the greatest intimacy. If such +a thing should happen once in an age, from some pert coxcomb, or +some flippant woman, it is better not to seem to know it, than to +make the least reply.</p> +<p><b>63.</b> It is a piece of politeness not to interrupt a person +in a story, whether you have heard it before or not. Nay, if a +well-bred man is asked whether he has heard it, he will answer no, +and let the person go on, though he knows it already. Some are fond +of telling a story, because they think they tell it well; others +pride themselves in being the first teller of it, and others are +pleased at being thought entrusted with it. Now, all these persons +you would disappoint by answering yes; and, as I have told you +before, as the greatest proof of politeness is to make every body +happy about you, I would never deprive a person of any secret +satisfaction of this sort, when I could gratify by a minute's +attention.</p> +<p><b>64.</b> Be not ashamed of asking questions, if such questions +lead to information: always accompany them with some excuse, and +you will never be reckoned impertinent. But, abrupt questions, +without some apology, by all means avoid, as they imply design. +There is a way of fishing for facts, which, if done judiciously, +will answer every purpose, such as taking things you wish to know +for granted: this will, perhaps, lead some officious person to set +you right. So again, by saying, you have heard so and so, and +sometimes seeming to know more than you do, you will often get an +information, which you would lose by direct questions, as these +would put people upon their guard, and frequently defeat the very +end you aim at.</p> +<p><b>65.</b> Make it a rule never to reflect on any body of +people, for by this means you will create a number of enemies. +There are good and bad of all professions, lawyers, soldiers, +parsons or citizens. They are all men, subject to the same +passions, differing only in their manner according to the way they +have been bred up in. For this reason, it is unjust, as well as +indiscreet, to attack them as a <i>corps</i> collectively. Many a +young man has thought himself extremely clever in abusing the +clergy. What are the clergy more than other men? Can you suppose a +black gown can make any alteration in his nature? Fie, fie, think +seriously, and I am convinced you will never do it.</p> +<p><b>66.</b> But above all, let no example, no fashion, no +witticism, no foolish desire of rising above what knaves call +prejudices, tempt you to excuse, extenuate or ridicule the least +breach of morality, but upon every occasion shew the greatest +abhorrence of such proceedings, and hold virtue and religion in the +highest veneration.</p> +<p>It is a great piece of ill-manners to interrupt any one while +speaking, by speaking yourself, or calling off the attention of the +company to any foreign matter. But this every child knows.</p> +<p><b>67.</b> The last thing I shall mention, is that of concealing +your learning, except on particular occasions. Reserve this for +learned men, and let them rather extort it from you, than you be +too willing to display it. Hence you will be thought modest, and to +have more knowledge than you really have. Never seem more wise or +learned than the company you are in. He who affects to shew his +learning, will be frequently questioned; and if found superficial, +will be sneered at; if otherwise, he will be deemed a pedant. Real +merit will always shew itself, and nothing can lessen it in the +opinion of the world, but a man's exhibiting it himself.</p> +<p>For God's sake, revolve all these things seriously in your mind, +before you go abroad into life. Recollect the observations you have +yourself occasionally made upon men and things; compare them with +my instructions, and act wisely and consequentially, as they shall +teach you.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Entrance_upon_the_World' id="Entrance_upon_the_World"></a> +<h2><i>Entrance upon the World</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> Curino was a young man brought up to a reputable +trade; the term of his apprenticeship was almost expired, and he +was contriving how he might venture into the world with safety, and +pursue business with innocence and success.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Among his near kindred, Serenus was one, a gentleman +of considerable character in the sacred profession; and after he +had consulted with his father, who was a merchant of great esteem +and experience, he also thought fit to seek a word of advice from +the divine.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Serenus had such a respect for his young kinsman, that +he set his thought at work on this subject, and with some tender +expressions, which melted the youth into tears, he put into his +hand a paper of his best counsels. Curino entered upon business, +pursued his employment with uncommon advantage, and, under the +blessing of Heaven, advanced himself to a considerable estate.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> He lived with honour in the world, and gave a lustre +to the religion which he professed; and after a long life of piety +and usefulness, he died with a sacred composure of soul, under the +influences of the Christian hope.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Some of his neighbours wondered at his felicity in +this world, joined with so much innocence, and such severe virtue; +but after his death this paper was found in his closet, which was +drawn up by his kinsman in holy orders, and was supposed to have a +large share in procuring his happiness.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Advice_to_a_young_Man' id="Advice_to_a_young_Man"></a> +<h2><i>Advice to a young Man.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> I presume you desire to be happy here and hereafter; +you know there are a thousand difficulties which attend this +pursuit; some of them perhaps you foresee, but there are multitudes +which you could never think of. Never trust therefore to your own +understanding in the things of this world, where you can have the +advice of a wise and faithful friend; nor dare venture the more +important concerns of your soul, and your eternal interests in the +world to come, upon the mere light of nature, and the dictates of +your own reason; since the word of God, and the advice of Heaven, +lies in your hands. Vain and thoughtless indeed are those children +of pride, who chuse to turn heathens in America; who live upon the +mere religion of nature and their own stock, when they have been +trained up among all these superior advantages of Christianity, and +the blessings of divine revelation and grace!</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Whatsoever your circumstances may be in this world, +still value your bible as your best treasure; and whatsoever be +your employment here, still look upon religion as your best +business. Your bible contains eternal life in it, and all the +riches of the upper world; and religion is the only way to become +the possessor of them.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> To direct your carriage towards God, converse +particularly with the book of Psalms; David was a man of sincere +and eminent devotion. To behave aright among men, acquaint yourself +with the whole book of Proverbs: Solomon was a man of large +experience and wisdom. And to perfect your directions in both +these, read the Gospels and Epistles; you will find the best of +rules and the best of examples there, and those more immediately +suited to the Christian life.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> As a man, maintain strict temperance and sobriety, by +a wise government of your appetites and passions; as a neighbour, +influence and engage all around you to be your friends, by a temper +and carriage made up of prudence and goodness; and let the poor +have a certain share in all your yearly profits; as a trader, keep +that golden sentence of our Saviour's ever before you. Whatsoever +you "would that men should do unto you, do you also unto them."</p> +<p><b>5.</b> While you make the precepts of scripture the constant +rule of your duty, you may with courage rest upon the promises of +scripture as the springs of your encouragement; all divine +assistances and divine recompenses are contained in them. The +spirit of light and grace is promised to assist them that ask it. +Heaven and glory are promised to reward the faithful and the +obedient.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> In every affair of life, begin with God; consult him +in every thing that concerns you; view him as the author of all +your blessings, and all your hopes, as your best friend, and your +eternal portion. Meditate on him in this view, with a continual +renewal of your trust in him, and a daily surrender of yourself to +him, till you feel that you love him most entirely, that you serve +him with sincere delight, and that you cannot live a day without +God in the world.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> You know yourself to be a man, an indigent creature +and a sinner, and you profess to be a Christian, a disciple of the +blessed Jesus, but never think you know Christ or yourself as you +ought till you find a daily need of him for righteousness and +strength, for pardon and sanctification; and let him be your +constant introducer to the great God, though he sits upon a throne +of grace. Remember his own words, <i>John</i> xiv 6. "No man cometh +to the father but by me."</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Make prayer a pleasure, and not a task, and then you +will not forget nor omit it. If ever you have lived in a praying +family, never let it be your fault if you do not live in one +always. Believe that day, that hour, or those minutes to be wasted +and lost, which any worldly pretences would tempt you to save out +of the public worship of the church, the certain and constant +duties of the closet, or any necessary services for God and +godliness; beware lest a blast attend it, and not a blessing. If +God had not reserved one day in seven to himself, I fear religion +would have been lost out of the world; and every day of the week is +exposed to a curse which has no morning religion.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> See that you watch and labour, as well as pray; +diligence and dependence must he united in the practice of every +Christian. It is the same wise man acquaints us, that the hand of +the diligent, and the blessing of the Lord, join together to make +us rich, <i>Prov</i>. x. 4. 22. Rich in the treasures of body or +mind, of time or eternity.</p> +<p>It is your duty indeed, under a sense of your own weakness, to +pray daily against sin; but if you would effectually avoid it, you +must also avoid temptation, and every dangerous opportunity. Set a +double guard wheresoever you feel or suspect an enemy at hand. The +world without, and the heart within, have so much flattery and +deceit in them, that we must keep a sharp eye upon both, lest we +are trapt into mischief between them.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> Honour, profit, and pleasure, have been sometimes +called the world's Trinity; they are its three chief idols; each of +them is sufficient to draw a soul off from God, and ruin it for +ever. Beware of them, therefore, and of all their subtle +insinuations, if you would be innocent or happy.</p> +<p>Remember that the honour which comes from God, the approbation +of Heaven, and your own conscience, are infinitely more valuable +than all the esteem or applause of men. Dare not venture one step +out of the road of Heaven, for fear of being laughed at for walking +strictly in it, it is a poor religion that cannot stand against a +jest.</p> +<p>Sell not your hopes of heavenly treasures, nor any thing that +belongs to your eternal interest, for any of the advantages of the +present life; "What shall it profit a man to gain the world and +lose his own soul."</p> +<p>Remember also the words of the wise man, "He that loveth +pleasure shall be a poor man;" he that indulges himself in "wine +and oil," that is, in drinking, in feasting, and in sensual +gratifications, "shall not be rich." It is one of St. Paul's +characters of a most degenerate age, when "men become lovers of +pleasure more than lovers of God." And that "fleshly lusts war +against the soul," is St. Peter's caveat to the Christians of his +time.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> Preserve your conscience always soft and sensible; if +but one sin force its way into that tender part of the soul, and +dwell easy there, the road is paved for a thousand; iniquities.</p> +<p>And take heed that under any scruple, doubt, or temptation +whatsoever, you never let any reasonings satisfy your conscience, +which will not be a sufficient answer of apology to the great Judge +at the last day.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> Keep this thought ever in your mind. It is a world of +vanity and vexation in which you live; the flatteries and promises +of it are vain and deceitful; prepare, therefore, to meet +disappointments. Many of its occurrences are teazing and vexatious. +In every ruffling storm without, possess your spirit in patience, +and let all be calm and serene within. Clouds and tempests are only +found in the lower skies; the heavens above are ever bright and +clear. Let your heart and hope dwell much in these serene regions; +live as a stranger here on earth, but as a citizen of heaven, if +you will maintain a soul at ease.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> Since in many things we offend all, and there is not +a day passes which is perfectly free from sin, let "repentance +towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ," be your daily +work. A frequent renewal of these exercises which make a Christian +at first, will be a constant evidence of your sincere Christianity, +and give you peace in life, and hope in death.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> Ever carry about with you such a sense of the +uncertainty of every thing in this life, and of life itself, as to +put nothing off till to-morrow, which you can conveniently do +to-day. Dilatory persons are frequently exposed to surprise and +hurry in every thing that belongs to them; the time is come, and +they are unprepared. Let the concerns of your soul and your shop, +your trade and your religion, lie always in such order, as far as +possible, that death, at a short warning, may be no occasion of a +disquieting tumult in your spirit, and that you may escape the +anguish of a bitter repentance in a dying hour. Farewel.</p> +<p>Phronimus, a considerable East-land merchant, happened upon a +copy of these advices, about the time when he permitted his son to +commence a partnership with him in his trade; he transcribed them +with his own hand, and made a present of them to the youth, +together with the articles of partnership. Here, young man, said +he, is a paper of more worth than these articles. Read it over once +a month, till it is wrought in your very soul and temper. Walk by +these rules, and I can trust my estate in your hands. Copy out +these counsels in your life, and you will make me and yourself easy +and happy.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='The_Vision_of_Mirza_exhibiting_a_Picture_of_Human_Life' +id="The_Vision_of_Mirza_exhibiting_a_Picture_of_Human_Life"></a> +<h2><i>The Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human +Life.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the +custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed +myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high +hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation +and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the +mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of +human life; and passing from one thought to another, surely, said +I, man is but a shadow, and life a dream.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the +summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one +in the habit of a shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his +hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his lips, and began to +play upon it. The sound of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into +a variety of tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and +altogether different from any thing I had ever heard: they put me +in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed +souls of good men upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear out +the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for the +pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret +raptures.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> I had often been told that the rock before me was the +haunt of a genius; and that several had been entertained with that +music, who had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had +before made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts by +those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of +his conversation, as I looked upon him like one astonished, he +beckoned to me, and, by the waving of his hand, directed me to +approach the place where he sat.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I drew near with that reverence which is due to a +superior nature; and as my heart was entirely subdued by the +captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. +The genius smiled on me with a look of compassion and affability, +that familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all +the fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted +me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirza, said he, I +have heard thee in thy soliloquies: follow me.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, +and placing me on the top of it, cast thy eyes eastward, said he, +and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge valley, and a +prodigious tide of water rolling through it.</p> +<p>The valley that then seest, said, he, is the vale of misery and +the tide of water that thou seest, is part of the great tide of +eternity.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> What is the reason, said I, that the tide I see rises +out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick +mist at the other? What thou seest, said he, is that portion of +eternity which is called time, measured out by the sun, and +reaching from the beginning of the world to its consummation. +Examine now, said he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at +both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a bridge, +said I; standing in the midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest +said he, is human life; consider it attentively.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it +consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken +arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the number +of about an hundred. As I was counting the arches, the genius told +me that this bridge consisted at the first of a thousand arches; +but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in +the ruinous condition I now beheld it; but tell me further, said +he, what thou discoverest on it. I see multitudes of people passing +over it, said I, and a black cloud hanging on each end of it.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the +passengers dropping through the bridge, into the great, tide that +flowed underneath it; and upon further examination, perceived there +were innumerable trap-doors that lay concealed in the bridge, which +the passengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell through them into +the tide, and immediately disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were +set very thick at the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs of +people no sooner broke through the cloud, but many of them fell +into them. They grew thinner, towards the middle, but multiplied +and lay closer together towards the end of the arches that were +entire.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> There were indeed some persons, but their number was +very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken +arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and +spent with so long a walk.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> I passed some time in the contemplation of this +wonderful structure; and the great variety of objects which it +presented. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy, to see +several dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, +and catching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. +Some were looking up towards the heavens in a thoughtful posture, +and in the midst of a speculation, stumbled and fell out of sight. +Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles, that glittered +in their eyes and danced before them; but often, when they thought +themselves within the reach of them, their footing failed, and down +they sunk.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> In this confusion of objects, I observed some with +scymitars in their hands, and others with urinals, who ran to and +fro upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on trap-doors, which +did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might have +escaped, had they not been thus forced upon them.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> The genius, seeing me indulge myself in this +melancholy prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it: take +thine eyes off the bridge, says he, and tell me if thou seest any +thing thou dost not comprehend. Upon looking up, what mean, said I, +those great flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about +the bridge, and settling upon it from time to time? I see vultures, +harpies, ravens, cormorants, and, among many other feathered +creatures, several little winged boys, that perch in great numbers +upon the middle arches. These, said the genius, are envy, avarice, +superstition, despair, love, with the like cares and passions that +infest human life.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> I here fetched a deep sigh: Alas, said I, man was +made in vain! how is he given away to misery and mortality! +tortured in life, and swallowed up in death! The genius, being +moved with compassion towards me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a +prospect. Look no more, said he, on man in the first stage of his +existence, in his setting out for eternity; but cast thine eye on +that thick mist into which the tide bears the several generations +of mortals that fall into it.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or +no the good genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or +dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye +to penetrate) I saw the valley opening; at the farther end, and +spreading forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of +adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two +equal parts. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch +that I could discover nothing in it; but the other appeared to me a +vast ocean, planted with innumerable islands, that were covered +with fruits and flowers; and interwoven with a thousand little +shining seas that ran among them.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with +garlands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by +the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could +hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human +voices, and musical instruments. Gladness grew in me at the +discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of an +eagle, that I might fly away to those happy seats; but the genius +told me there was no passage to them, except through the gates of +death that I saw opening every moment upon the bridge.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> The islands, said he, that are so fresh and green +before thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears +spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the sand +on the sea-shore; there are myriads of islands behind those which +thou here discoverest, reaching further than thine eye, or even +thine imagination can extend itself. These are the mansions of good +men after death, who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue +in which they excelled, are distributed among these several +islands, which abound with pleasures of different kinds and +degrees, suitable to the relishes and perfections of those who are +settled in them; every island is a paradise, accommodated to its +respective inhabitants.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Are not these, O Mirza, habitations worth contending +for? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities of +earning such a reward? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee +to so happy an existence? Think not man was made in vain, who has +such an eternity reserved for him. I gazed, with inexpressible +pleasure, on these happy islands. At length, said I, shew me now, I +beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds, +which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> The genius making me no answer, I turned about to +address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left +me; I then turned again to the vision which I had been so long +contemplating: but instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, +and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long, hollow valley of +Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing upon the sides of +it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'Riches_not_productive_of_Happiness_The_Story_of_Ortogrul_of_Basra' +id= +"Riches_not_productive_of_Happiness_The_Story_of_Ortogrul_of_Basra"> +</a> +<h2><i>Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of +Basra.</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>IDLER, No. +99.</div> +<p><b>1.</b> As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the +streets of Bagdat, musing on the varieties of merchandize which the +shops altered to his view, and observing the different occupations +which busied the multitude on every side, he was awakened from the +tranquillity of meditation by a crowd that obstructed his passage. +He raised his eyes, and saw the Chief Vizier, who, having returned +from the Divan, was entering his palace.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Ortogrul mingled with the attendants, and being +supposed to have some petiton for the Vizier, was permitted to +enter. He surveyed the spaciousness of the apartments, admired the +walls hung with golden tapestry, and the floors covered with silken +carpets, and despised the simple neatness of his own little +habitation.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Surely, said he to himself, this palace is the seat of +happiness, where pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent and +sorrow can have no admission. Whatever nature has provided for the +delight of sense, is here spread forth to be enjoyed. What can +mortals hope or imagine, which the master of this palace has not +obtained? The dishes of luxury cover his table, the voice of +harmony lulls him in his bowers; he breathes the fragrance of the +groves of Java, and sleeps upon the down of the cygnets of Ganges. +He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed; he wishes, and his wish is +gratified! all whom he sees obey him, and all whom he hears flatter +him.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> How different, Ortogrul, is thy condition, who art +doomed to the perpetual torments of unsatisfied desire, and who +hast no amusement in thy power that can withhold thee from thy own +reflections! They tell thee that thou art wise, but what does +wisdom avail with poverty? None will flatter the poor, and the wise +have very little power of flattering themselves. That man is surely +the most wretched of the sons of wretchedness, who lives with his +own faults and follies always before him, and who has none to +reconcile him to himself by praise and veneration. I have long +sought content, and have not found it; I will from this moment +endeavour to be rich.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Full of his new resolution, he shut himself in his +chamber for six months, to deliberate how he should grow rich; he +sometimes proposed to offer himself as a counsellor to one of the +kings of India, and sometimes resolved to dig for diamonds in the +mines of Golconda. One day, after some hours passed in violent +fluctuation of opinion, sleep insensibly seized him in his chair; +he dreamed that he was ranging a desert country in search of some +one that might teach him to grow rich; and as he stood on the top +of a hill shaded with cypress, in doubt whither to direct his +steps, his father appeared on a sudden, standing before him.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Ortogrul, said the old man, I know thy perplexity; +listen to thy father; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain. +Ortogrul looked, and saw a torrent tumbling down the rocks, roaring +with the noise of thunder, and scattering, its foam on the +impending woods. Now, said his father, behold the valley that lies +between the hills.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Ortogrul looked, and espied a little well, out of +which issued a small rivulet. Tell me now, said his father, dost +thou wish for sudden affluence, that may pour upon thee like the +mountain torrent, or for a slow and gradual increase, resembling +the rill gliding from the well? Let me be quickly rich, said +Ortogrul; let the golden stream be quick and violent.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> Look round thee, said his father, once again. Ortogrul +looked, and perceived the channel of the torrent dry and dusty; but +following the rivulet from the well, he traced it to a wide lake, +which the supply, slow and constant, kept always full. He waked, +and determined to grow rich by silent profit, and persevering +industry.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandise, +and in twenty years purchased lands, on which he raised a house +equal in sumptuousness to that of the Vizier, to which he invited +all the ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the felicity +which he had imagined riches able to afford. Leisure soon made him +weary of himself, and he longed to be persuaded that he was great +and happy. He was courteous and liberal; he gave all that +approached him hopes of pleasing him, and all who should please +him, hopes of being rewarded. Every art of praise was tried, and +every source of adulatory fiction was exhausted.</p> +<p>10, Ortogrul heard his flatterers without delight, because he +found himself unable to believe them. His own heart told him its +frailties. His own understanding reproached him with his faults. +How long, said he, with a deep sigh, have I been labouring in vain +to amass wealth, which at last is useless? Let no man hereafter +wish to be rich, who is already too wise to be flattered.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='Of_the_Scriptures_as_the_Rule_of_Life' id= +"Of_the_Scriptures_as_the_Rule_of_Life"></a> +<h2><i>Of the Scriptures, as the Rule of Life.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> As you advance in years and under standing, I hope +you, will be able to examine for yourself the evidence of the +Christian religion, and that you will be convinced, on rational +grounds, of its divine authority. At present, such enquiries would +demand more study, and greater powers of reasoning, than your age +admits of. It is your part, therefore, till you are capable of +understanding the proofs, to believe your parents and teachers, +that the holy scriptures are writings inspired by God, containing a +true history of facts, in which we are deeply concerned—a +true recital of the laws given by God to Moses, and of the precepts +of our blessed Lord and Saviour, delivered from his own mouth to +his disciples, and repeated and enlarged upon in the edifying +epistles of his Apostles; who were men chosen from amongst those +who had the advantage of conversing with our Lord, to bear witness +of his miracles and resurrection—and who, after his +ascension, were assisted and inspired by the Holy Ghost.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> This sacred volume must be the rule of your life. In +it you will find all truths necessary to be believed; and plain and +easy directions for the practice of every duty. Your bible, then, +must be your chief study and delight; but, as it contains many +various kinds of writing—some parts obscure and difficult of +interpretation, others plain and intelligible to the meanest +capacity—I would chiefly recommend to your frequent perusal, +such parts of the sacred writings as are most adapted to your +understanding, and most necessary for your instruction.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Our Saviour's precepts were spoken to the common +people amongst the Jews; and were therefore given in a manner easy +to be understood, and equally striking and instructive to the +learned and unlearned; for the most ignorant may comprehend them, +whilst the wisest must be charmed and awed by the beautiful and +majestic simplicity with, which they are expressed. Of the same +kind are the Ten Commandments, delivered by God to Moses; which, as +they were designed for universal laws, are worded in the most +concise and simple manner, yet with a majesty which commands our +utmost reverence.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> I think you will receive great pleasure, as well as +improvement, from the historical books of the Old Testament; +provided you read them as an history in a regular course, and keep +the thread of it in your mind as you go on. I know of none, true or +fictitious, that is equally wonderful, interesting, or affecting; +or that is told in so short and simple a manner as this, which is +of all histories the most, authentic.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> I shall give you some brief directions, concerning the +method and course I wish you to pursue, in reading the Holy +Scriptures. May you be enabled to make the best use of this most +precious gift of God—this sacred treasure of +knowledge!—May you read the bible, not as a task, nor as the +dull employment of that day only in which you are forbidden more +lively entertainments—but, with a sincere and ardent desire +of instruction; with that love and delight in God's word, which the +holy Psalmist so pathetically felt and described, and which is the +natural consequence of loving God and virtue.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> Though I speak this of the bible in general, I would +not be understood to mean, that every part of the volume is equally +interesting. I have already said, that it consists of various +matter, and various kinds of books, which must be read with +different views and sentiments.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> The having some general notion of what you are to +expect from each book, may possibly help you to understand them. I +shall treat you as if you were perfectly new to the whole; for so I +wish you to consider yourself; because the time and manner in which +children usually read the bible, are very ill-calculated to make +them really acquainted with it; and too many people who have read +it thus, without understanding it in their youth, satisfy +themselves that they know enough of it, and never afterwards study +it with attention when they come to a mature age.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> If the feelings of your heart, whilst you read, +correspond with those of mine whilst I write, I shall not be +without the advantage of your partial affection, to give weight to +my advice; for, believe me, my heart and eyes overflow with +tenderness, when I tell you how warm and earnest my prayers are for +your happiness here and hereafter.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Genesis' id="Of_Genesis"></a> +<h2><i>Of Genesis.</i></h2> +<p><b>9.</b> I now proceed to give you some short sketches of the +matter contained in the different books of the Bible, and of the +course in which they ought to be read.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> The first book, Genesis, contains the most grand, +and, to us, the most interesting events, that ever happened in the +universe: The creation of the world, and of man; the deplorable +fall of man, from his first state of excellence and bliss, to the +distressed condition in which we see all his descendants continue: +The sentence of death pronounced on Adam and on all his race; with +the reviving promise of that deliverance, which has since been +wrought for us by our blessed Saviour: The account of the early +state of the world; of the universal deluge: The division of +mankind into different nations and languages: The story of Abraham, +the founder of the Jewish people, whose unshaken faith and +obedience, under the severest trial human nature could sustain, +obtained such favour in the sight of God, that he vouchsafed to +stile him his friend, and promised to make of his posterity a great +nation; and that in his seed—that is, in one of his +descendants—all the kingdoms of the earth should be blessed. +This, you will easily see, refers to the Messiah, who was to be the +blessing and deliverance of all nations.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> It is amazing that the Jews, possessing this prophecy +among many others, should have been so blinded by prejudice, as to +have expected from, this great personage, only a temporal +deliverance of their own nation from the subjection to which they +were reduced under the Romans: It is equally amazing, that some +Christians should, even now, confine the blessed effects of his +appearance upon earth, to this or that particular sect or +profession, when he is so clearly and emphatically described as the +Saviour of the whole world.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> The story of Abraham's proceeding to sacrifice his +only son, at the command of God, is affecting in the highest +degree, and sets forth a pattern of unlimited resignation, that +every one ought to imitate in those trials of obedience under +temptation, or of acquiescence under afflicting dispensations, +which fall to their lot: of this we may be assured, that our trials +will be always proportioned to the powers afforded us. If we have +not Abraham's strength of mind, neither shall we be called upon to +lift the bloody knife against the bosom of an only child; but, if +the almighty arm should be lifted up against him, we must be ready +to resign him, and all we hold dear, to the divine will.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> This action of Abraham has been censured by some who +do not attend to the distinction between obedience to a specified +command, and the detestably cruel sacrifices of the heathens, who +sometimes voluntarily, and without any divine injunctions, offered +up their own children, under the notion of appeasing the anger of +their gods. An absolute command from God himself—as in the +case of Abraham—entirely alters the moral nature of the +action; since he, and he only, has a perfect sight over the lives +of his creatures, and may appoint whom he will, either angel or +man, to be his instrument of destruction.</p> +<p><b>14.</b> That it was really the voice of God which pronounced +the command, and not a delusion, might be made certain to Abraham's +mind, by means we do not comprehend, but which we know to be within +the power of him who made our souls as well as bodies, and who can +control and direct every faculty of the human mind: and we may be +assured, that if he was pleased to reveal himself so miraculously, +he would not leave a possibility of doubting whether it was a real +or an imaginary revelation: thus the sacrifice of Abraham appears +to be clear of all superstition, and, remains the noblest instance +of religious faith and submission, that was ever given by a mere +man: we cannot wonder that the blessings bestowed on him for it, +should have been extended to his posterity.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> This book proceeds with the history of Isaac, which +becomes very interesting to us, from the touching scene I have +mentioned—and, still more so, if we consider him as the type +of our Saviour: it recounts his marriage with Rebecca—the +birth and history of his two sons, Jacob,—the father of the +twelve tribes, and Esau, the father of the Edomites or +Idumeans—the exquisitively affecting story of Joseph and his +brethren—and of his transplanting the Israelites into Egypt, +who there multiplied to a great nation.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Exodus' id="Of_Exodus"></a> +<h2><i>Of Exodus.</i></h2> +<p><b>16.</b> In Exodus, you read of a series of wonders, wrought +by the Almighty to rescue the oppressed Israelites from the cruel +tyranny of the Egyptians, who having first received them as guests, +by degrees reduced them to a state of slavery. By the most peculiar +mercies and exertion in their favour, God prepared his chosen +people to receive, with reverent and obedient hearts, the solemn +restitution of those primitive laws, which probably he had revealed +to Adam and his immediate descendants; or which, at least, he had +made known by the dictates of conscience, but which time, and the +degeneracy of mankind, had much obscured.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> This important revelation was made to them in the +wilderness of Sinai; there, assembled before the burning mountain, +surrounded with "blackness, and darkness, and tempest," they heard +the awful voice of God pronounce the eternal law, impressing it on +their hearts with circumstances of terror, but without those +encouragements and those excellent promises, which were afterwards +offered to mankind by Jesus Christ. Thus were the great laws of +morality restored to the Jews, and through them transmitted to +other nations; and by that means a great restraint was opposed to +the torrent of vice and impiety which began to prevail over the +world.</p> +<p><b>18.</b> To these moral precepts; which are of perpetual and +universal obligation, were superadded, by the ministration of +Moses, many peculiar institutions, wisely adapted to different +ends—either to fix the memory of those past deliverances, +which were figurative of a future and far greater +salvation—to place inviolable barriers between the Jews and +the idolatrous nations, by whom they were surrounded—or, to +be the civil law by which the community was to be governed.</p> +<p><b>19.</b> To conduct this series of events, and to establish +these laws with his people, God raised up that great prophet Moses, +whose faith and piety enabled him to undertake and execute the most +arduous enterprizes, and to pursue, with unabated zeal, the welfare +of his countrymen; even in the hour of death, this generous ardour +still prevailed; his last moments were employed in fervent prayers +for their prosperity, and, in rapturous gratitude, for the glimpse +vouchsafed him of a Saviour, far greater than himself, whom God +would one day raise up to his people.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> Thus did Moses, by the excellency of his faith, +obtain a glorious pre-eminence among the saints and prophets in +heaven; while on earth he will be for ever revered as the first of +those benefactors to mankind, whose labours for the public good +have endeared their memory to all ages.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Leviticus_Numbers_and_Deuteronomy' id= +"Of_Leviticus_Numbers_and_Deuteronomy"></a> +<h2><i>Of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.</i></h2> +<p><b>21.</b> The next book is Leviticus, which contains little +besides the laws for the peculiar ritual observance of the Jews, +and therefore affords no great instruction to us now; you may pass +it over entirely; and for the same reason you may omit the first +eight chapters of Numbers. The rest of Numbers is chiefly a +continuation of the history, with some ritual laws.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> In Deuteronomy, Moses makes a recapitulation of the +foregoing history, with zealous exhortations to the people, +faithfully to worship and obey that God who had worked such amazing +wonders for them: he promises them the noblest temporal blessings, +if they prove obedient, and adds the most awful and striking +denunciations against them, if they rebel, or forsake the true +God.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> I have before observed, that the sanctions of the +Mosaic law, were temporal rewards and punishments; those of the New +Testament are eternal. These last, as they are so infinitely more +forcible than the first, were reserved for the last, best gift to +mankind—and were revealed by the Messiah, in the fullest and +clearest manner. Moses, in this book, directs the method in which +the Israelites were to deal with the seven nations, whom they were +appointed to punish for their profligacy and idolatry; and whose +land they were to possess, when they had driven out the old +inhabitants. He gives them excellent laws, civil as well as +religious, which were after the standing municipal laws of that +people. This book concludes with Moses' song and death.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Joshua' id="Of_Joshua"></a> +<h2><i>Of Joshua.</i></h2> +<p><b>24.</b> The book of Joshua contains the conquests of the +Israelites over the seven nations, and their establishment in the +promised land. Their treatment of these conquered nations must +appear to you very cruel and unjust, if you consider it as their +own act, unauthorised by a positive command; but they had the most +absolute injunctions not to spare these corrupt people—"to +make no covenant with them, nor shew mercy to them, but utterly to +destroy them:"—and the reason is given, "lest they should +turn away the Israelites from following the Lord, that they might +serve other gods." The children of Israel are to be considered as +instruments in the hand of the Lord, to punish those whose idolatry +and wickedness had deservedly brought destruction on them: this +example, therefore, cannot be pleaded in behalf of cruelty, or +bring any imputation on the character of the Jews.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> With regard to other cities, which did not belong to +these seven nations, they were directed to deal with them, +according to the common law of arms at that time. If the city +submitted, it became tributary, and the people were spared; if it +resisted, the men were to be slain, but the women and children +saved.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> Yet, though the crime of cruelty cannot be justly +laid to their charge on this occasion, you will observe in the +course of their history, many things recorded of them very +different from what you would expect from the chosen people of God, +if you supposed them selected on account of their own merit; their +national character was by no means amiable; and we are repeatedly +told, that they were not chosen for their superior +righteousness—"for they were a stiff-necked people, and +provoked the Lord with their rebellions from the day they left +Egypt."—"You have been rebellious against the Lord (says +Moses) from the day that I knew you." And he vehemently exhorts +them, not to flatter themselves that their success was, in any +degree, owing to their own merits.</p> +<p><b>27.</b> They were appointed to be the scourge of other +nations, whose crimes rendered them fit objects of divine +chastisement. For the sake of righteous Abraham, their founder, and +perhaps for many other wise reasons, undiscovered to us, they were +selected from a world over-run with idolatry, to preserve upon +earth the pure worship of the one only God, and to be honoured with +the birth of the Messiah amongst them. For this end, they were +precluded, by divine command, from mixing with any other people, +and defended, by a great number of peculiar rites and observances, +from falling into the corrupt worship practised by their +neighbours.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Judges_Samuel_and_Kings' id= +"Of_Judges_Samuel_and_Kings"></a> +<h2><i>Of Judges, Samuel, and Kings.</i></h2> +<p><b>28.</b> The book of Judges, in which you will find the +affecting stories of Sampson and Jeptha, carries on the history +from the death of Joshua, about two hundred and fifty years; but, +the facts are not told in the times in which they happened, which +makes some confusion; and it will be necessary to consult the +marginal dates and notes, as well as the index, in order to get any +clear idea of the succession of events during that period.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> The history then proceeds regularly through the two +books of Samuel, and those of Kings: nothing can be more +interesting and entertaining than the reigns of Saul, David, and +Solomon: but, after the death of Solomon, when ten tribes revolted +from his son Rehoboam, and became a separate kingdom, you will find +some difficulty in understanding distinctly the histories of the +two kingdoms of Israel and Judah, which are blended together, and +by the likeness of the names, and other particulars, will be apt to +confound your mind, without great attention to the different +threads thus carried on together: The index here will be of great +use to you. The second book of Kings concludes with the Babylonish +captivity, 588 years before Christ—'till which time the +kingdom of Judah had descended uninterruptedly in the line of +David.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Chronicles_Ezra_Nehemiah_and_Esther' id= +"Of_Chronicles_Ezra_Nehemiah_and_Esther"></a> +<h2><i>Of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther.</i></h2> +<p><b>30.</b> The first book of Chronicles begins with a genealogy +from Adam, through all the tribes of Israel and Judah; and the +remainder is the same history which is contained in the books of +Kings, with little or no variation, till the separation of the ten +tribes: From that period it proceeds with the history of the +kingdom of Judah alone, and gives, therefore, a more regular and +clear account of the affairs of Judah, than the book of Kings. You +may pass over the first book of Chronicles, and the nine first +chapters of the second book: but, by all means, read the remaining +chapters, as they will give you more clear and distinct ideas of +the history of Judah, than that you read in the second book of +Kings. The second of Chronicles ends, like the second of Kings, +with the Babylonish captivity.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> You must pursue the history in the book of Ezra, +which gives the account of the return of some of the Jews on the +edict of Cyrus, and of the re-building the Lord's temple.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> Nehemiah carries on the history for about twelve +years, when he himself was governor of Jerusalem, with authority to +re-build the walls, &c.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> The story of Esther is prior in time to that of Ezra +and Nehemiah; us you will see by the marginal dates; however, as it +happened during the seventy years captivity, and is a kind of +episode, it may be read in its own place.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> This is the last of the canonical books that is +properly historical; and I would therefore advise, that you pass +over what follows, till you have continued the history through the +Apocryphal Books.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_Job' id="Of_Job"></a> +<h2><i>Of Job.</i></h2> +<p><b>35.</b> The history of Job is probably very ancient, though +that is a point upon which learned men have differed: It is dated, +however, 1520 years before Christ: I believe it is uncertain by +whom it was written: many parts of it are obscure, but it is well +worth studying, for the extreme beauty of the poetry, and for the +noble and sublime devotion it contains.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> The subject of the dispute between Job and his +pretended friends, seems to be, whether the Providence of God +distributes the rewards and punishments of this life; in exact +proportion to the merit or demerit of each individual. His +antagonists suppose that it does; and therefore infer from Job's +uncommon calamities, that, notwithstanding his apparent +righteousness, he was in reality a grievous sinner: They aggravate +his supposed guilt, by the imputation of hypocrisy, and call upon +him to confess it, and to acknowledge the justice of his +punishment.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> Job asserts his own innocence and virtue in the most +pathetic manner, yet does not presume to accuse the Supreme Being +of injustice. Elihu attempts to arbitrate the matter, by alledging +the impossibility that so frail and ignorant a creature as man +should comprehend the ways of the Almighty, and therefore condemns +the unjust and cruel inference the three friends had drawn from the +sufferings of Job. He also blames Job for the presumption of +acquitting himself of all iniquity, since the best of men are not +pure in the sight of God—but all have something to repent of; +and he advises him to make this use of his afflictions.</p> +<p><b>38.</b> At last, by a bold figure of poetry, the Supreme +Being himself is introduced, speaking from the whirlwind, and +silencing them all by the most sublime display of his own power, +magnificence, and wisdom, and of the comparative littleness and +ignorance of men.—This, indeed, is the only conclusion of the +argument, which could be drawn at a time when life and immortality +were not yet brought to light: a future retribution is the only +satisfactory solution of the difficulty arising from the sufferings +of good people in this life.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_the_Psalms' id="Of_the_Psalms"></a> +<h2><i>Of the Psalms.</i></h2> +<p><b>39.</b> Next follow the Psalms, with which you cannot be too +conversant. If you have any taste, either for poetry or devotion, +they will be your delight, and will afford you a continual feast. +The Bible translation is far better than that used in the common +prayer-book, and will often give you the sense, when the other is +obscure. In this, as well as in all other parts of the scripture, +you must be careful always to consult the margin, which gives you +the corrections made since the last translation, and it is +generally preferable to the words of the text.</p> +<p><b>40.</b> I would wish you to select some of the Psalms that +please you best, and get them by heart; or, at least, make yourself +master of the sentiments contained in them: Dr. Delaney's life of +David, will shew you the occasions on which several of them were +composed, which add much to their beauty and propriety; and by +comparing them with the events of David's life, you will greatly +enhance your pleasure in them.</p> +<p><b>41.</b> Never did the spirit of true piety breathe more +strongly than in these divine songs; which being added to a rich +vein of poetry, makes them more captivating to my heart and +imagination, than any thing I ever read. You will consider how +great disadvantages any poem must sustain from being rendered +literally into prose, and then imagine how beautiful these must be +in the original.—May you be enabled by reading them +frequently, to transfuse into your own breast that holy flame which +inspired the writer!—To delight in the Lord, and in his laws, +like the Psalmist—to rejoice in him always, and to think "one +day in his courts better than a thousand!"—But may you escape +the heart-piercing sorrow of such repentance as that of +David—by avoiding sin, which humbled this unhappy king to the +dust—and which cost him such bitter anguish, as it is +impossible to read of without being moved.</p> +<p><b>42.</b> Not all the pleasures of the most prosperous sinners, +could counterbalance the hundredth part of those sensations +described in his penitential psalms—and which must be the +portion of every man, who has fallen from a religious state into +such crimes, when once he recovers a sense of religion and virtue, +and is brought to a real hatred of sin. However, available such +repentance may be to the safety and happiness of the soul after +death, it is a state of such exquisite suffering here, that one +cannot be enough surprised at the folly of those who indulge sin, +with the hope of living to make their peace with God by +repentance.</p> +<p><b>43.</b> Happy are they who preserve their innocence unsullied +by any great or wilful crimes, and who have only the common +failings of humanity to repent of, these are suffiently mortifying +to a heart deeply smitten with the love of virtue, and with the +desire of perfection.</p> +<p><b>44.</b> There are many very striking prophecies of the +Messiah in these divine songs, particularly in psalm xxii. Such may +be found scattered up and down almost throughout the Old Testament. +To bear testimony to <i>him</i>, is the great and ultimate end for +which the spirit of prophecy was bestowed on the sacred +writers;—but, this will appear more plainly to you when you +enter on the study of prophecy, which you are now much too young to +undertake.</p> +<br> +<a name= +'Of_the_Proverbs_Ecclesiastes_Solomons_Song_the_Prophecies_and_Apocrypha' +id= +"Of_the_Proverbs_Ecclesiastes_Solomons_Song_the_Prophecies_and_Apocrypha"> +</a> +<h2><i>Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the +Prophecies, and Apocrypha.</i></h2> +<p><b>45.</b> The Proverbs and Ecclesiastes are rich stores of +wisdom; from which I wish you to adopt such maxims as may be of +infinite use, both to your temporal and eternal interest. But, +detached sentences are a kind of reading not proper to be continued +long at a time; a few of them, well chosen and digested, will do +you much more service, than to read half a dozen chapters together: +in this respect, they are directly opposite to the historical +books, which, if not read in continuation, can hardly be +understood, or retained to any purpose.</p> +<p><b>46.</b> The Song of Solomon is a fine poem—but its +mystical reference to religion lies too deep for a common +understanding: if you read it, therefore, it will be rather as +matter of curiosity than of edification.</p> +<p><b>47.</b> Next follow the Prophecies; which, though highly +deserving the greatest attention and study, I think you had better +omit for some years, and then read them with a good Exposition, as +they are much too difficult for you to understand without +assistance. Dr. Newton on the prophecies, will help you much, +whenever you undertake this study; which you should by all means do +when your understanding is ripe enough; because one of the main +proofs of our religion rests on the testimony of the prophecies; +and they are very frequently quoted, and referred to, in the New +Testament: besides, the sublimity of the language and sentiments, +through all the disadvantages of a antiquity and translation, must, +in very many passages, strike every person of taste; and the +excellent moral and religious precepts found in them, must be +useful to all.</p> +<p><b>48.</b> Though I have spoken of these books in the order in +which they stand, I repeat, that they are not to be read in that +order—but that the thread of the history is to be pursued, +from Nehemiah to the first book of the Maccabees, in the Apocrypha; +taking care to observe the chronology regularly, by referring to +the index, which supplies the deficiencies of this history from +Josephus's Antiquities of the Jews. The first of Maccabees carries +on the story till within 195 years of our Lord's circumcision: the +second book is the same narrative, written by a different hand, and +does not bring the history so forward as the first; so that it may +be entirely omitted, unless you have the curiosity to read some +particulars of the heroic constancy of the Jews, under the tortures +inflicted by their heathen conquerors, with a few other things not +mentioned in the first book.</p> +<p><b>49.</b> You must then connect the history by the help of the +index, which will give you brief heads of the changes that happened +in the state of the Jews, from this time till the birth of the +Messiah.</p> +<p><b>50.</b> The other books of the Apocrypha, though not admitted +as of sacred authority, have many things well worth your attention; +particularly the admirable book called Ecclesiasticus, and the book +of Wisdom. But, in the course of reading which I advise, these must +be omitted till after you have gone through the Gospels and Acts, +that you may not lose the historical thread.</p> +<br> +<a name= +'Of_the_New_Testament_which_is_constantly_to_be_referred_to_as_the_Rule_and_Direction_of_our_moral_Conduct' +id= +"Of_the_New_Testament_which_is_constantly_to_be_referred_to_as_the_Rule_and_Direction_of_our_moral_Conduct"> +</a> +<h2><i>Of the New Testament, which is constantly to be referred to +as the Rule and Direction of our moral Conduct.</i></h2> +<p><b>51.</b> We come now to that part of scripture, which is the +most important of all, and which you must make your constant study, +not only till you are thoroughly acquainted with but all your life +long; because, how often soever repeated, it is impossible to read +the life and death of our blessed Saviour, without renewing and +increasing in our hearts that love and reverence, and gratitude +towards him, which is so justly due for all he did and suffered for +us! Every word that fell from his lips is more precious than all +the treasures of the earth; for his "are the words of eternal +life!" They must therefore be laid up in your heart, and constantly +referred to on all occasions, as the rule and directions of all +your actions; particularly those very comprehensive moral precepts +he has graciously left with us, which can never fail to direct us +aright, if fairly and honestly applied: such as, "whatsoever you +would that men should do unto you, even so do unto them." There is +no occasion, great or small, on which you may not safely apply this +rule for the direction of your conduct; and, whilst your heart +honestly adheres to it, you can never be guilty of any sort of +injustice or unkindness.</p> +<p><b>52.</b> The two great commandments, which contain the summary +of our duty to God and man, are no less easily retained, and made a +standard by which to judge our own hearts—"To love the Lord +our God, with all our own hearts, with all our minds, with all our +strength; and our neighbour (or fellow-creature) as +ourselves."—"Love worketh no ill to his neighbour." +Therefore, if you have true benevolence, you will never do any +thing injurious to individuals, or to society.</p> +<p><b>53.</b> Now, all crimes whatever, are (in their remoter +consequences at least, if not immediately and apparently) injurious +to the society in which we live. It is impossible to love God +without desiring to please him, and, as far as we are able, to +resemble him: therefore the love of God must lead to every virtue +in the highest degree; and, we may be sure we do not truly love +him, if we content ourselves with avoiding flagrant sins, and do +not strive, in good earnest, to reach the greatest degree of +perfection we are capable of. Thus do these few words direct as to +the highest Christian virtue. Indeed; the whole tenor of the +Gospel, is to offer us every help, direction, and motive, that can +enable us to attain that degree of perfection on which depends our +eternal good.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_the_Example_set_by_our_Saviour_and_his_Character' id= +"Of_the_Example_set_by_our_Saviour_and_his_Character"></a> +<h2><i>Of the Example set by our Saviour, and his +Character.</i></h2> +<p><b>54.</b> What an example is set before us in our blessed +master! How is his whole life, from earliest youth, dedicated to +the pursuits of true wisdom, and to the practice of the most +exalted virtue! When you see him, at twelve years of age, in the +temple amongst the doctors, hearing them, and asking them questions +on the subject of religion, and astonishing them all with his +understanding and answers—you will say, perhaps, "Well might +the Son of God, even at those years, be far wiser than the aged; +but, can a mortal child emulate such heavenly wisdom! Can such a +pattern be proposed to my imitation?"—Yes, +certainly;—remember that he has bequeathed to you his +heavenly wisdom, as far as concerns your own good. He has left you +such declarations of his will, and of the consequences of your +actions, as you are, even now, fully able to understand, if you +will but attend to them. If, then, you will imitate his zeal for +knowledge, if you will delight in gaining information and +improvement, you may even now become "wise unto salvation."</p> +<p><b>55.</b> Unmoved by the praise he acquired amongst these +learned men, you see him meekly return to the subjection of a +child, under those who appeared to be his parents, though he was in +reality their Lord; you see him return to live with them, to work +for them, and to be the joy and solace of their lives; till the +time came, when he was to enter on that scene of public action, for +which his heavenly Father had sent him from his own right hand, to +take upon him the form of a poor carpenter's son.</p> +<p><b>56.</b> What a lesson of humility is this, and of obedience +to parents!—When, having received the glorious testimony from +heaven, of his being the beloved Son of the most High, he enters on +his public ministry, what an example does he give us, of the most +extensive and constant benevolence!—how are all his hours +spent in doing good to the souls and bodies of men!—not the +meanest sinner is below his notice:—To reclaim and save them, +he condescends to converse familiarly with the most corrupt as well +as the most abject. All his miracles are wrought to benefit +mankind; not one to punish and afflict them. Instead of using the +almighty power which accompanied him, to the purpose of exalting +himself, and treading down his enemies, he makes no other use of it +than to heal and to save.</p> +<p><b>57.</b> When you come to read of his sufferings and death, +the ignominy and reproach, the sorrow of mind, and torment of body, +which he submitted to—when you consider, that it was all for +our sakes—"that by his stripes we are healed,"—and by +his death we are raised from destruction to everlasting +life—what can I say that can add any thing to the sensations +you must then feel? No power of language can make the scene more +touching than it appears in the plain and simple narrations of the +Evangelists. The heart that is unmoved by it, can be scarcely +human; but the emotions of tenderness and compunction; which almost +every one feels in reading this account, will be of no avail, +unless applied to the true end—unless it inspires you with a +sincere and warm affection towards your blessed Lord—with a +firm resolution to obey his commands—to be his faithful +disciple—and ever renounce and abhor those sins, which +brought mankind under divine condemnation, and from which we have +been redeemed at so clear a rate.</p> +<p><b>58.</b> Remember that the title of Christian, or follower of +Christ, implies a more than ordinary degree of holiness and +goodness. As our motives to virtue are stronger than those which +are afforded to the rest of mankind, our guilt will be +proportionally greater if we depart from it.</p> +<p><b>59.</b> Our Saviour appears to have had three great purposes +in descending from his glory, and dwelling amongst men. The first, +to teach them true virtue, both by his example and precepts: the +second, to give them the most forcible motives to the practice of +it, by "bringing life and immortality to light;" by shewing them +the certainty of a resurrection and judgment, and the absolute +necessity of obedience to God's laws. The third, to sacrifice +himself for us, to obtain by his death the remission of our sins, +upon our repentance and reformation, and the power of bestowing on +his sincere followers, the inestimable gift of immortal +happiness.</p> +<br> +<a name= +'A_Comparative_View_of_the_Blessed_and_Cursed_at_the_Last_Day_and_the_Inference_to_be_drawn_from_it' +id= +"A_Comparative_View_of_the_Blessed_and_Cursed_at_the_Last_Day_and_the_Inference_to_be_drawn_from_it"> +</a> +<h2><i>A Comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the Last +Day, and the Inference to be drawn from it.</i></h2> +<p><b>60.</b> What a tremendous scene of the last day does the +gospel place before our eyes!—of that day, when you and every +one of us shall awake from the grave, and behold the Son of God, on +his glorious tribunal, attended by millions of celestial beings, of +whose superior excellence we can now form no adequate +idea—When, in presence of all mankind, of those holy angels, +and of the great Judge himself, you must give an account of your +past life, and hear your final doom, from which there can be no +appeal, and which must determine your fate to all eternity: then +think—if for a moment you can hear the thought—what +will be the desolation, shame, and anguish of those wretched souls, +who shall hear these dreadful words—"Depart from me, ye +cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his +angels."—Oh!—I cannot support even the idea of your +becoming one of those undone, lost creatures! I trust in God's +mercy, that you will make a better use of that knowledge of his +will, which he has vouchsafed you, and of those amiable +dispositions he has given you.</p> +<p><b>61.</b> Let us, therefore, turn from this horrid, this +insupportable view—and rather endeavour to imagine, as far as +is possible, what will be the sensations of your soul, if you shall +hear our heavenly Judge address you in these transporting +words—"Come thou blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom +prepared for you from the foundation of the world."—Think, +what it must be, to become an object of the esteem and +applause—not only of all mankind assembled together—but +of all the host of heaven, of our blessed Lord himself—nay, +of his and our Almighty Father:—to find your frail flesh +changed in a moment into a glorious celestial body, endowed with +perfect beauty, health, and agility;—to find your soul +cleansed from all its faults and infirmities; exalted to the purest +and noblest affections; overflowing with divine love and rapturous +gratitude!—to have your understanding enlightened and +refined; your heart enlarged and purified; and every power, and +disposition of mind and body, adapted to the highest relish of +virtue and happiness!—Thus accomplished, to be admitted into +the society of amiable and happy beings, all united in the most +perfect peace and friendship, all breathing nothing but love to +God, and to each other;—with them to dwell in scenes more +delightful than the richest imagination can paint—free from +every pain and care, and from all possibility of change or +satiety:—but, above all, to enjoy the more immediate presence +of God himself—to be able to comprehend and admire his +adorable perfections in a high degree, though still far short of +their infinity—to be conscious, of his love and favour, and +to rejoice in the light of his countenance!</p> +<p><b>62.</b> But here all imagination fails:—we can form no +idea of that bliss which may be communicated to us by such a near +approach to the source of all beauty and all good:—we must +content ourselves with believing, "that it is what mortal eye hath +not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of +man to conceive." The crown of all our joys will be, to know that +we are secure of possessing them for ever—what a transporting +idea!</p> +<p><b>63.</b> Can you reflect on all these things, and not feel the +most earnest longings after immortality? Do not all other views and +desires seem mean and trifling, when compared with this?—And +does not your inmost heart resolve, that this shall be the chief +and constant object of its wishes and pursuit, through the whole +course of your life?</p> +<p><b>64.</b> If you are not insensible to that desire of happiness +which seems woven into our nature, you cannot surely be unmoved by +the prospect of such a transcendant degree of it; and +that—continued to all eternity—perhaps continually +increasing. You cannot but dread the forfeiture of such an +inheritance as the most insupportable evil!—Remember +then—remember the conditions on which alone it can be +obtained. God will not give to vice, to carelessness, or sloth, the +prize he has proposed to virtue. You have every help that can +animate your endeavours: You have written laws to direct +you—the example of Christ and his disciples to encourage +you—the most awakening motives to engage you—and you +have, besides, the comfortable promise of constant assistance from +the Holy Spirit, if you diligently and sincerely pray for it. O! +let not all this mercy be lost upon you—but give your +attention to this your only important concern, and accept, with +profound gratitude, the inestimable advantages that are thus +affectionately offered you.</p> +<p><b>65.</b> Though the four Gospels are each of them a narration +of the life, sayings, and death of Christ; yet as they are not +exactly alike, but some circumstances and sayings omitted in one, +are recorded in another, you must make yourself perfectly master of +them all.</p> +<p><b>66.</b> The Acts of the Holy Apostles, endowed with the Holy +Ghost, and authorised by their Divine Master, come next in order to +be read. Nothing can be more interesting and edifying, than the +history of their actions—of the piety, zeal, and courage, +with which they preached the glad tidings of salvation, and of the +various exertions of the wonderful powers conferred on them by the +Holy Spirit for the confirmation of their mission.</p> +<a name='Character_of_St_Paul' id="Character_of_St_Paul"></a> +<h2><i>Character of St. Paul.</i></h2> +<p><b>67.</b> The character of St. Paul, and his miraculous +conversion, demand your particular attention: most of the Apostles +were men of low birth and education; but St. Paul was a Roman +citizen; that is, he possessed the privileges annexed to the +freedom of the city of Rome, which was considered as a high +distinction in those countries that had been conquered by the +Romans. He was educated amongst the most learned sect of the Jews, +and by one of their principal doctors. He was a man of +extraordinary eloquence, as appears not only in his writings, but +in several speeches in his own defence, pronounced before governors +and courts of justice, when he was called to account for the +doctrines he taught.</p> +<p><b>68.</b> He seems to have been of an uncommonly warm temper, +and zealous in whatever religion he professed: his zeal, before his +conversion, shewed itself in the most unjustifiable actions, by +furiously persecuting the innocent Christians: but, though his +actions were bad, we may be sure his intentions were good; +otherwise we should not have seen a miracle employed to convince +him of his mistake, and to bring him into the right way.</p> +<p><b>69.</b> This example may assure us of the mercy of God +towards mistaken consciences, and ought to inspire us with the most +enlarged charity and good will towards those whose erroneous +principles mislead their conduct: instead of resentment and hatred +against their persons, we ought only to feel an active wish of +assisting them to find the truth, since we know not whether, if +convinced, they might not prove, like St. Paul, chosen vessels to +promote the honour of God, and of true religion.</p> +<p><b>70.</b> It is not now my intention to enter with you into any +of the arguments for the truth of Christianity, otherwise it would +be impossible wholly to pass over that which arises from this +remarkable conversion, and which has been so admirably illustrated +by a nobler writer, whose tract on this subject is in everybody's +hands.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_the_Epistles' id="Of_the_Epistles"></a> +<h2><i>Of the Epistles.</i></h2> +<p><b>71.</b> Next follow the Epistles, which make a very important +part of the New Testament; and you cannot be too much employed in +reading them. They contain the most excellent precepts and +admonitions; and are of particular use in explaining more at large +several doctrines of Christianity, which we could not so fully +comprehend without them.</p> +<p><b>72.</b> There are indeed, in the Epistles of St. Paul, many +passages hard to be understood: such in particular are the first +eleven chapters to the Romans; the greater part of his Epistles to +the Corinthians and Galatians; and several chapters of that to the +Hebrews. Instead of perplexing yourself with these more obscure +passages of scripture, I would wish you to employ your attention +chiefly on those that are plain; and to judge of the doctrines +taught in the other parts, by comparing them with what you find in +these. It is through the neglect of this rule, that many have been +led to draw the most absurd doctrines from the Holy Scriptures.</p> +<p><b>73.</b> Let me particularly recommend to your careful +perusal, the xii, xiii, xiv, and xv chapters of the Epistle to the +Romans. In the xiv chapter, St. Paul has in view the difference +between the Jewish and Gentile (or Heathen) converts at that time; +the former were disposed to look with horror on the latter, for +their impiety in not paying the same regard to the distinctions of +days and meats that they did; and the latter, on the contrary, were +inclined to look with contempt on the former, for their weakness +and superstition.</p> +<p><b>74.</b> Excellent is the advice which the Apostle gives to +both parties: he exhorts the Jewish converts not to judge and the +Gentiles not to despise; remembering that the kingdom of Heaven is +not meat and drink, but righteousness and peace, and joy in the +Holy Ghost.</p> +<p><b>75.</b> Endeavour to conform yourself to this advice; to +acquire a temper of universal candour and benevolence; and learn +neither to despise nor condemn any persons on account of their +particular modes of faith and worship: remembering always, that +goodness is confined to no party, that there are wise and worthy +men among all the sects of Christians, and that to his own master +every one must stand or fall.</p> +<p><b>76.</b> I will enter no farther into the several points +discussed by St. Paul in his various epistles; most of them are too +intricate for your understanding at present, and many of them +beyond my abilities to state clearly. I will only again recommend +to you, to read those passages frequently, which, with, so much +fervor and energy, excite you to the practice of the most exalted +piety and benevolence. If the effusions of a heart, warmed with the +tenderest affection for the whole human race; if precept, warning, +encouragement, example, urged by an eloquence which such affection +only could inspire, are capable of influencing your mind; you +cannot fail to find, in such parts of his epistles as are adapted +to your understanding, the strongest persuasives to every virtue +that can adorn and improve your nature.</p> +<br> +<a name='The_Epistle_of_St_James' id="The_Epistle_of_St_James"></a> +<h2><i>The Epistle of St. James.</i></h2> +<p><b>77.</b> The Epistle of St. James is entirely practical, and +exceedingly fine; you cannot study it too much. It seems +particularly designed to guard Christians against misunderstanding +some things in St. Paul's writings, which have been fatally +perverted to the encouragement of a dependence on faith alone, +without good works. But, the more rational commentators will tell +you, that by the works of the law, which the Apostle asserts to be +incapable of justifying us, he means not the works of moral +righteousness, but the ceremonial works of the Mosaic law; on which +the Jews laid the greatest stress as necessary to salvation. But, +St. James tells us, "that if any man among us seem to be religious, +and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, that +man's religion is vain;"—and that "pure religion, and +undefiled before God and the Father, is this, to visit the +fatherless and widow in their affliction, and to keep himself +unspotted from the world." Faith in Christ, if it produce not these +effects, he declareth is dead, or of no power.</p> +<br> +<a name='Epistles_of_St_Peter_and_the_first_of_St_John' id= +"Epistles_of_St_Peter_and_the_first_of_St_John"></a> +<h2><i>Epistles of St. Peter, and the first of St. John.</i></h2> +<p><b>78.</b> The Epistles of St. Peter are also full of the best +instructions and admonitions, concerning the relative duties of +life; amongst which are set forth the duties of women in general, +and of wives in particular. Some part of his second Epistle is +prophetical; warning the church of false teachers and false +doctrines, which undermine morality, and disgrace the cause of +Christianity.</p> +<p><b>79.</b> The first of St. John is written in a highly +figurative stile, which makes it in some parts hard to be +understood: but the spirit of divine love which it so fervently +expresses, renders it highly edifying and delightful.—That +love of God and of Man, which this beloved apostle so pathetically +recommends, is in truth the essence of religion as our Saviour +himself informs us.</p> +<br> +<a name='Of_the_Revelations' id="Of_the_Revelations"></a> +<h2><i>Of the Revelations.</i></h2> +<p><b>80.</b> The book of Revelations contains a prophetical +account of most of the greater events relating to the Christian +church, which were to happen from the time of the writer, St. John, +to the end of the world. Many learned men have taken a great deal +of pains to explain it; and they have done this in many instances +very successfully; but, I think, it is yet too soon for you to +study this part of scripture: some years hence, perhaps, there may +be no objection to your attempting it, and taking into your hands +the best Expositions to assist you in reading such of the most +difficult parts of the New Testament as you cannot now be supposed +to understand.—May heaven direct you in studying this sacred +volume, and render it the means of making you wise unto +salvation!—-May you love and reverence, as it deserves, this +blessed and valuable book, which contains the best rule of life, +the clearest declaration of the will and laws of the Deity, the +reviving assurance of favour to true penitants, and the unspeakable +joyful tidings of eternal life and happiness to all the truly +virtuous, through Jesus Christ, the Saviour and Deliverer of the +world.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='True_Devotion_productive_of_the_truest_Pleasure' id= +"True_Devotion_productive_of_the_truest_Pleasure"></a> +<h2><i>True Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure</i>.</h2> +<p><b>1.</b> You see that true devotion is not a melancholy +sentiment, that depresses the spirits and excludes the ideas, of +pleasure, which youth is so fond of: on the contrary, there is +nothing so friendly to joy, so productive of true pleasure, so +peculiarly suited to the warmth and innocence of a youthful heart. +Do not, therefore, think it too soon to turn your mind to God; but +offer him, the first fruits of your understanding and affections: +and, be assured, that the more you increase in love to him, and +delight in his laws, the more you will increase in happiness, in +excellence, and honour:—that, in proportion as you improve in +true piety, you will become dear and amiable to your fellow +creatures; contented and peaceable in yourself, and qualified to +enjoy the best blessings of this life, as well as to inherit the +glorious promise of immortality.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> Thus far I have spoken of the first principles of all +religion: namely, belief in God, worthy notions of his attributes, +and suitable affections towards him—which will naturally +excite a sincere desire of obedience. But, before you can obey his +will, you must know what that will is; you must enquire in what +manner he has declared it, and where you may find those laws, which +must be the rule of your actions.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> The great laws of morality are indeed written in our +hearts, and may be discovered by reason; but our reason is of slow +growth, very unequally dispensed to different persons; liable to +error, and confined within very narrow limits in all. If, +therefore, God has vouchsafed to grant a particular revelation of +his will—if he has been so unspeakably gracious as to send +his Son into the world, to reclaim mankind from error and +wickedness—to die for our sins—and to teach us the way +to eternal life—surely it becomes us to receive his precepts +with the deepest reverence; to love and prize them above all +things; and to study them constantly, with an earnest desire to +conform our thoughts, our words and actions, to them.</p> +<a name= +'A_Morning_Prayer_for_a_young_Student_at_School_or_for_the_common_Use_of_a_School' +id= +"A_Morning_Prayer_for_a_young_Student_at_School_or_for_the_common_Use_of_a_School"> +</a> +<h2><i>A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the +common Use of a School.</i></h2> +<p>Father of all! we return thee most humble and hearty thanks for +thy protection of us in the night season, and for the refreshment +of our souls and bodies, in the sweet repose of sleep. Accept also +our unfeigned gratitude for all thy mercies during the helpless age +of infancy.</p> +<p>Continue, we beseech thee, to guard us under the shadow of thy +wing. Our age is tender, and our nature frail, and without the +influence of thy grace, we shall surely fall.</p> +<p>Let that influence descend into our hearts, and teach us to love +thee and truth above all things. O guard our hearts from the +temptations to deceit, and grant, that we may abhor a lie as a sin +and as a disgrace.</p> +<p>Inspire us also with an abhorrence of the loathsomeness of vice, +and the pollutions of sensual pleasure. Grant at the same time, +that we may early feel the delight of conscious purity, and wash +our hands in innocency, from the united motives of inclination and +of duty.</p> +<p>Give us, O thou Parent of all knowledge, a love of learning, and +a taste for the pure and sublime pleasures of the understanding. +Improve our memory, quicken our apprehension, and grant that we may +lay up such a store of learning, as may fit us for the station to +which it shall please thee to call us, and enable us to make great +advances in virtue and religion, and shine as lights in the world, +by the influence of a good example.</p> +<p>Give us grace to be diligent in our studies, and that whatever +we read we may strongly mark, and inwardly digest it.</p> +<p>Bless our parents, guardians, and instructors; and grant that we +may make them the best return in our power, for giving us +opportunities of improvement, and for all their care and attention +to our welfare. They ask no return, but that we should make use of +those opportunities, and co-operate with their endeavours—O +grant that we may never disappoint their anxious expectations.</p> +<p>Assist us mercifully, O Lord, that we may immediately engage in +the studies and duties of the day, and go through them cheerfully, +diligently and successfully.</p> +<p>Accept our endeavours, and pardon our defects through the merits +of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ our Lord. <i>Amen.</i></p> +<br> +<a name='An_Evening_Prayer' id="An_Evening_Prayer"></a> +<h2><i>An Evening Prayer.</i></h2> +<p>O almighty God! again we approach thy mercy-seat, to offer unto +thee our thanks and praises for the blessings and protection +afforded us this day; and humbly to implore thy pardon for our +manifold transgressions.</p> +<p>Grant that the words of various instruction which we have heard +or read this day, may be so inwardly grafted in our hearts and +memories, as to bring forth the fruits of learning and virtue.</p> +<p>Grant that as we recline on our pillows, we may call to mind the +transactions of the day, condemn those things of which our +conscience accuses us, and make and keep resolutions of +amendment.</p> +<p>Grant that thy holy angels may watch over us this night, and +guard us from temptation, excluding all improper thoughts, and +filling our breasts with the purest sentiments of piety. Like as +the heart panteth for the water-brook, so let our souls thirst for +thee, O Lord, and for whatever is excellent and beautiful in +learning and behaviour.</p> +<p>Correct, by the sweet influence of Christian charity, the +irregularities of our temper, and restrain every tendency to +ingratitude; and to ill usage of our parents, teachers, pastors, +and masters. Teach us to know the value of a good education, and to +be thankful to those who labour in the improvement of our minds and +morals. Give us grace to be reverent to our superiors, gentle to +our equals or inferiors, and benevolent to all mankind. Elevate and +enlarge our sentiments, and let all our conduct be regulated by +right reason, by Christian charity, and attended with that peculiar +generosity of mind, which becomes a liberal scholar and a sincere +Christian.</p> +<p>O Lord, bestow upon us whatever may be good for us, even though +we should omit to pray for it; and avert whatever is hurtful, +though in the blindness of our hearts we should wish for it.</p> +<p>Into thy hands, then, we resign ourselves, as we retire to rest, +hoping by thy mercy to rise again with renewed spirits, to go +through the business of the morrow, and to prepare ourselves for +this life, and for a blessed immortality; which we ardently hope to +attain, through the merits and intercession of thy Son our Saviour, +Jesus Christ our Lord. <i>Amen.</i></p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='APPENDIX' id="APPENDIX"></a> +<h2><i>APPENDIX.</i></h2> +<a name='Of_Columbus_and_the_Discovery_of_America' id= +"Of_Columbus_and_the_Discovery_of_America"></a> +<h2><i>Of Columbus, and the Discovery of America.</i></h2> +<p><b>1.</b> It is to the discoveries of the Portuguese in the old +world, that we are indebted for the new, if we may call the +conquest of America an obligation, which proved so fatal to its +inhabitants, and at times to the conquerors themselves.</p> +<p><b>2.</b> This was doubtless the most important event that ever +happened on our globe, one half of which had been hitherto +strangers to the other. Whatever had been esteemed most great or +noble before, seemed absorbed in this kind of new creation. We +still mention, with respectful admiration, the names of the +Argonauts, who did not perform the hundredth part of what was done +by the sailors under Gama and Albuquerque. How many altars would +have been raised by the ancients to a Greek who had discovered +America! and yet Bartholomew and Christopher Columbus were not thus +rewarded.</p> +<p><b>3.</b> Columbus, struck with the wonderful expeditions of the +Portuguese, imagined that something greater might be done; and from +a bare inspection of the map of our world, concluded that there +must be another which might be found by sailing always west. He had +courage equal to his genius, or indeed superior, seeing he had to +struggle with the prejudices of his cotemporaries, and the repulses +of several princes to whom he had tendered his services.</p> +<p><b>4.</b> Genoa, which was his native country, treated his +schemes as visionary, and by that means lost the only opportunity +that could have offered of aggrandizing her power. Henry VII. king +of England, who was too greedy of money, to hazard any on this +noble attempt, would not listen to the proposals made by Columbus's +brother; and Columbus himself was rejected by John II. of Portugal, +whose attention was wholly employed upon the coast of Africa. He +had no prospect of success in applying to the French, whose marine +lay totally neglected, and their affairs more confused than ever, +daring the Minority of Charles VIII. The emperor Maximilian, had +neither ports for shipping, money to fit out a fleet, nor +sufficient courage to engage in a scheme of this nature. The +Venetians, indeed, might have undertaken it; but whether the +natural aversion of the Genoese to these people, would not suffer +Columbus to apply to the rivals of his country, or that the +Venetians had no idea of any thing more important than the trade +they carried on from Alexandria and in the Levant, Columbus at +length fixed all his hopes on the court of Spain.</p> +<p><b>5.</b> Ferdinand, king of Arragon, and Isabella, queen of +Castile, had by their marriage united all Spain under one dominion, +excepting only the kingdom of Granada, which was still in the +possession of the Moors; but which Ferdinand soon after took from +them. The union of these two princes had prepared the way for the +greatness of Spain, which was afterwards begun by Columbus; he was +however obliged to undergo eight years of incessant application, +before Isabella's court would consent to accept of the inestimable +benefit this great man offered it. The bane of all great objects is +the want of money. The Spanish court was poor; and the prior, +Perez, and two merchants, named Pinzono, were obliged to advance +seventeen thousand ducats towards fitting out the armament. +Columbus procured a patent from the court, and at length set sail +from the port of Palos, in Andalusia, with three ships, on August +23, in the year 1492.</p> +<p><b>6.</b> It was not above a month after his departure from the +Canary Islands, where he had come to an anchor to get refreshment, +when Columbus discovered the first island in America; and during +this short run, he suffered more from the murmurings and discontent +of the people of his fleet, than he had done even from the refusals +of the princes he had applied to. This island, which he discovered +and named St. Salvador, lies about a thousand leagues from the +Canaries. Presently after he likewise discovered the Lucayan +islands, together with those of Cuba and Hispaniola, now called St. +Domingo.</p> +<p><b>7.</b> Ferdinand and Isabella were in the utmost surprise to +see him return at the end of nine months, with some of the American +natives of Hispaniola, several rarities from that country, and a +quantity of gold, with which he presented their majesties.</p> +<p><b>8.</b> The king and queen made him sit down in their +presence, covered like a grandee of Spain, and created him high +admiral and viceroy of the new world. Columbus was now every where +looked upon as an extraordinary person sent from heaven. Everyone +was vying who should be foremost in assisting him in his +undertakings, and embarking under his command. He soon set sail +again, with a fleet of seventeen ships. He now made the discovery +of several other new islands, particularly the Caribees and +Jamaica. Doubt had been changed into admiration on his first +voyage; in this, admiration was turned into envy.</p> +<p><b>9.</b> He was admiral and viceroy, and to these titles might +have been added that of the benefactor of Ferdinand and Isabella. +Nevertheless, he was brought home prisoner to Spain, by judges who +had been purposely sent out on board to observe his conduct. As +soon as it was known that Columbus was arrived, the people ran in +shoals to meet him, as the guardian genius of Spain. Columbus was +brought from the ship, and appeared on shore chained hands and +feet.</p> +<p><b>10.</b> He had been thus treated by the orders of Fonseca, +Bishop of Burgos, the intendant of the expedition, whose +ingratitude was as great as the other's services. Isabella was +ashamed of what she saw, and did all in her power to make Columbus +amends for the injuries done to him: however he was not suffered to +depart for four years, either because they feared that he would +seize upon what he had discovered for himself, or that they were +willing to have time to observe his behaviour. At length he was +sent on another voyage to the new world; and now it was that he +discovered the continent, at six degrees distance from the equator, +and saw that part of the coast on which Carthagena has been since +built.</p> +<p><b>11.</b> At the time that Columbus first promised a new +hemisphere, it was insisted upon that no such hemisphere could +exist; and after he had made the actual discovery of it, it was +pretended that it had been known long before.</p> +<p><b>12.</b> I shall not mention one Martin Behem, of Nuremberg, +who, it is said, went from that city to the Straits of Magellan, in +1460, with a patent from the Duchess of Burgundy, who, as she was +not alive at that time, could not issue patents. Nor shall I take +notice of the pretended charts of this Martin Behem, which are +still shewn; nor of the evident contradictions which discredit this +story: but, in short, it was not pretended that Martin Behem had +peopled America; the honour was given to the Carthaginians, and a +book of Aristotle was quoted on the occasion, which he never wrote. +Some found out a conformity between some words in the Caribee and +Hebrew languages, and did not fail to follow so fine an opening. +Others were positive that the children of Noah, after settling in +Siberia, passed from thence over to Canada on the ice, and that +their descendants, afterwards born in Canada, had gone and peopled +Peru. According to others again, the Chinese and Japanese sent +colonies into America, and carried over lions with them for their +diversion, though there are no lions either in China or Japan.</p> +<p><b>13.</b> In this manner have many learned men argued upon the +discoveries made by men of genius. If it should be asked, how men +first came upon the continent of America? Is it not easily +answered, that they were placed there by the same power who causes +trees and grass to grow?</p> +<p><b>14.</b> The reply which Columbus made to some of those who +envied him the high reputation he had gained, is still famous. +These people pretended that nothing could be more easy than the +discoveries he had made; upon which he proposed to them to set an +egg upright on one of its ends; but when they had tried in vain to +do it, he broke one end of the egg, and set it upright with ease. +They told him any one could do that: How comes it then, replied +Columbus, that not one among you thought of it? This story is +related of Brunelleschi, who improved architecture at Florence many +years before Columbus was born. Most bon-mots are only the +repetition of things that have been said before.</p> +<p><b>15.</b> The ashes of Columbus cannot be affected by the +reputation he gained while living, in having doubled for us the +works of the creation. But mankind delight to do justice to the +illustrious dead, either from a vain hope that they enhance thereby +the merit of the living, or that they are naturally fond of +truth.</p> +<p><b>16.</b> Americo Vespucci, whom we call Americus Vespusius, a +merchant of Florence, had the honour of giving his name to this new +half of the globe, in which he did not possess one acre of land, +and pretended to be the first who discovered the continent. But +supposing it true, that he was the first discoverer, the glory was +certainly due to him who had the penetration and courage to +undertake and perform the first voyage: Honour, as Newton says in +his dispute with Leibnitz, is due only to the first inventor; and +those that follow after are only his scholars.</p> +<p><b>17.</b> Columbus had made three voyages as admiral and +viceroy, five years before Americas Vespusius had made one as a +geographer, under the command of admiral Ojeda; but the latter, +writing to his friends at Florence, that he had discovered a new +world, they believed him on his word, and the citizens of Florence +decreed, that a grand illumination should be made before the door +of his house every three years, on the feast of All Saints. And +yet, could this man be said to deserve any honours, for happening +to be on board a fleet that, in 1489; sailed along the coast of +Brazil, when Columbus had, five years before, pointed out the way +to the rest of the world?</p> +<p><b>18.</b> There has lately appeared at Florence, a life of this +Americus Vespusius, which seems to be written with very little +regard to truth, and without any conclusive reasoning. Several +French authors are there complained of, who have done justice to +Columbus's merit; but the writer should not have fallen upon the +French authors, but on the Spanish, who were the first that did +this justice. This writer says, "that he will confound the vanity +of the French nation, who have always attacked with impunity the +honour and success of the Italian nation."</p> +<p><b>19.</b> What vanity can there be in saying, that it was a +Genoese that first discovered America? or how is the honour of the +Italian nation injured in owning, that it was to an Italian born in +Genoa, that we are indebted for the new world? I purposely remark +this want of equity, good breeding, and good sense, as we have too +many examples of it; and I must say, that the good French writers +have in general been the least guilty of this insufferable fault; +and one great reason of their being so universally read throughout +Europe, is their doing justice to all nations.</p> +<p><b>20.</b> The inhabitants of these islands, and of the +continent, were a new race of men. They were all without beards, +and were as much astonished at the faces of the Spaniards, as they +were at their ships and artillery: they at first looked upon these +new visitors as monsters or gods, who had come out of the sky or +the sea.</p> +<p><b>21.</b> These voyages, and those of the Portuguese, had now +taught us how inconsiderable a spot of the globe our Europe was, +and what an astonishing variety reigns in the world. Indostan was +known to be inhabited by a race of men whose complexions were +yellow. In Africa and Asia, at some distance from the equator, +there had been found several kinds of black men; and after +travellers had penetrated into America, as far as the line, they +met with a race of people who were tolerably white. The natives of +Brazil are of the colour of bronze. The Chinese still appear to +differ entirely from the rest of mankind, in the make of their eyes +and noses. But what is still to be remarked is, that into +whatsoever regions these various races are transplanted, their +complexions never change, unless they mingle with the natives of +the country. The mucous membrane of the negroes, which is known to +be of a black colour, is a manifest proof, that there is a +differential principle in each species of men, as well as +plants.</p> +<p><b>22.</b> Dependent upon this principle, nature has formed the +different degrees of genius, and the characters of nations, which +are seldom known to change. Hence the negroes are slaves to other +men, and are purchased on the coast of Africa like beasts, for a +sum of money; and the vast multitudes of negroes transplanted into +our American colonies, serve as slaves under a very inconsiderable +number of Europeans. Experience has likewise taught us how great a +superiority the Europeans have over the Americans, who are every +where easily overcome, and have not dared to attempt a revolution, +though a thousand to one superior in numbers.</p> +<p><b>23.</b> This part of America was also remarkable on account +of its animals and plants, which are not to be found in the other +three parts of the world, and which are of so great use to us. +Horses, corn of all kinds, and iron, were not wanting in Mexico and +Peru, and among the many valuable commodities unknown to the old +world, cochineal was the principal, and was brought us from this +country. Its use in dying has now made us forget the scarlet, which +for time immemorial had been the only thing known for giving a fine +red colour.</p> +<p><b>24.</b> The importation of cochineal was soon succeeded by +that of indigo, cocoa, vanille, and those woods which serve for +ornament and medicinal purposes, particularly the quinquina, or +Jesuit's bark, which is the only specific against intermitting +fevers. Nature has placed this remedy in the mountains of Peru, +whilst she had dispersed the disease it cured through all the rest +of the world. This new continent likewise furnished pearls; +coloured stones, and diamonds.</p> +<p><b>25.</b> It is certain, that America at present furnishes the +meanest citizen of Europe with his conveniences and pleasures. The +gold and silver mines, at their first discovery, were of service +only to the kings of Spain and the merchants; the rest of the world +was impoverished by them; for the great multitudes who did not +follow business, found themselves possessed of a very small +quantity of specie, in comparison with the immense sums accumulated +by those who had the advantage of the first discoveries. But, by +degrees, the great quantity of gold and silver which was sent from +America, was dispersed throughout all Europe, and by passing into a +number of hands, the distribution is become more equal. The price +of commodities is likewise increased in Europe, in proportion to +the increase of specie.</p> +<p><b>26.</b> To comprehend how the treasures of America passed +from the possession of the Spaniards into that of other nations, it +will be sufficient to consider these two things: The use which +Charles V. and Philip II. made of their money; and the manner in +which other nations acquired a share in the mines of Peru.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> The emperor Charles V. who was always travelling, and +always at war, necessarily dispersed a great quantity of that +specie which he received from Mexico and Peru, through Germany and +Italy. When he sent his son Philip over to England, to marry queen +Mary, and take upon bun the title of king of England, that prince +deposited in the tower of London, twenty-seven large chests of +silver, in bars, and an hundred horse-loads of gold and silver +coin. The troubles in Flanders, and the intrigues of the league in +France, cost this Philip, according to his own confession, above +three thousand millions of livres of our money.</p> +<p><b>28.</b> The manner in which the gold and silver of Peru is +distributed amongst all the people of Europe, and from thence is +sent to the East-Indies, is a surprising, though well-known +circumstance. By a strict law enacted by Ferdinand and Isabella, +and afterwards confirmed by Charles V. and all the kings of Spain, +all other nations were not only excluded the entrance into any of +the ports in Spanish America, but likewise from having the least +share, directly or indirectly, in the trade of that part of the +world. One would have imagined, that this law would have enabled +the Spaniards to subdue all Europe; and yet Spain subsists only by +the continual violation of this very law. It can hardly furnish +exports for America to the value of four millions; whereas the rest +of Europe sometimes send over merchandize to the amount of near +fifty millions.</p> +<p><b>29.</b> This prodigious trade of the nations at enmity, or at +alliance with Spain, is carried on by the Spaniards themselves, who +are always faithful in their dealings with individuals, and always +cheating their king. The Spaniards gave no security to foreign +merchants for the performance of their contracts; a mutual credit, +without which there never could have been any commerce, supplies +the place of other obligations.</p> +<p><b>30.</b> The manner in which the Spaniards for a long time +consigned the gold and silver to foreigners, which was brought home +by their galleons, was still more surprising. The Spaniard, who at +Cadiz is properly factor for the foreigner, delivered the bullion +he received to the care of certain bravoes, called Meteors: these, +armed with pistols at their belt, and a long sword, carried the +bullion in parcels, properly marked, to the ramparts, and flung +them over to other meteors, who waited below, and carried them to +the boats which were to receive them, and these boats carried them +on board the ships in the road. These meteors and the factors, +together with the commissaries and the guards; who never disturbed +them, had each a stated fee, and the foreign merchant was never +cheated. The king, who received a duty upon this money at the +arrival of the galleons, was likewise a gainer; so that properly +speaking, the law only was cheated; a law which would be absolutely +useless if not eluded, and which, nevertheless, cannot yet be +abrogated, because old prejudices are always the most difficult to +be overcome amongst men.</p> +<p><b>31.</b> The greatest instance of the violation of this law, +and of the fidelity of the Spaniards, was in the year 1684, when +war was declared between France and Spain. His Catholic majesty +endeavoured to seize upon the effects of all the French in his +kingdom; but he in vain issued edicts and admonitions, enquiries +and excommunications, not a single Spanish factor would betray his +French correspondent. This fidelity, which does so much honour to +the Spanish nation, plainly shews, that men only willingly obey +those laws which they themselves have made for this good of +society, and that those which are the mere effects of a sovereign's +will, always meet with opposition.</p> +<p><b>32.</b> As the discovery of America was at first the source +of much good to the Spaniards, it afterwards occasioned them many +and considerable evils. One has been, the depriving that kingdom of +its subjects, by the great numbers necessarily required to people +the colonies: another was, the infecting the world with a disease, +which was before unknown only in the new world and particularly in +the island of Hispaniola. Several of the companions of Christopher +Columbus returned home infected with this contagion, which +afterwards spread over Europe. It is certain that this poison, +which taints the springs of life, was peculiar to America, as the +plague and small-pox, were diseases originally endemial to the +southern parts of Numidia.</p> +<p><b>33.</b> We are not to believe, that the eating of human +flesh, practised by some of the American savages, occasions this +disorder. There were no cannibals on the island of Hispaniola, +where it was most frequent and inveterate; neither are we to +suppose, with some, that it proceeded from too great an excess of +sensual pleasures. Nature had never punished excesses of this kind +with such disorders in the world; and even to this day, we find +that a momentary indulgence, which has been passed for eight or ten +years, may bring this cruel and shameful scourge upon the chastest +union.</p> +<p><b>34.</b> The great Columbus, after having built several houses +on these islands, and discovered the continent, returned to Spain, +where he enjoyed a reputation unsullied by rapine or cruelty, and +died at Validolid in 1506. But the Governors of Cuba and +Hispaniola, who succeeded him, being persuaded that these provinces +furnished gold, resolved to make the discovery at the price of the +lives of the inhabitants. In short, whether they thought the +natives had conceived an implacable hatred to them, or that they +were apprehensive of their superior numbers; or that the rage of +slaughter when once begun, knows no bounds, they in the space of a +few years entirely depopulated Hispaniola and Cuba, the former of +which contained three millions of inhabitants, and the latter above +six hundred thousand.</p> +<p><b>35.</b> Bartholomew de la Cases, bishop of Chiapa, who was an +eye-witness to these desolations, relates that they hunted down the +natives with dogs. These wretched savages, almost naked and without +arms, were pursued like wild beasts in the forest, devoured alive +by dogs, shot to death, or surprised and burnt in their +habitations.</p> +<p><b>36.</b> He further declares, from occular testimony, that +they frequently caused a number of these miserable wretches to be +summoned by a priest to come in, and submit to the Christian +religion, and to the king of Spain; and that after this ceremony, +which was only an additional act of injustice, they put them to +death without the least remorse.—I believe that De la Cases +has exaggerated in many parts of his relation; but, allowing him to +have said ten times more than is truth, there remains enough to +make us shudder with horror.</p> +<p><b>37.</b> It may seem surprizing, that this massacre of a whole +race of men, could have been carried on in the sight, and under the +administration of several religieuse of the order of St. Jerome; +for we know that cardinal Ximenes, who was prime minister at +Castile before the time of Charles V. sent over four monks of this +order, in quality of presidents of the royal council of the island. +Doubtless they were not able to resist the torrent, and the hatred +of the natives to their new masters being with just reason become +implacable, rendered their destruction unhappily necessary.</p> +<a name= +'Romulus_the_founder_of_Rome_after_building_the_city_resolved_to' +id= +"Romulus_the_founder_of_Rome_after_building_the_city_resolved_to"></a> +<h3><b>Romulus <i>the founder of Rome, after building the city, +resolved to submit the form of its government to the choice of the +people; and therefore, calling the citizens together, he harangued +them thus</i>:</b></h3> +<p>If all the strength of cities lay in the height of their +ramparts, or the depth of their ditches, we should have great +reason to be in fear for that which we have now built. Are there in +reality any walls too high to be scaled by a valiant enemy? And of +what use are ramparts in intestine divisions? They may serve for a +defence against sudden incursions from abroad; but it is by courage +and prudence chiefly, that the invasions of foreign enemies are +repelled; and by unanimity, sobriety, and justice, that domestic +seditions are prevented. Cities fortified by the strongest +bulwarks, have been often seen to yield to force from without, or +to tumults from within. An exact military discipline, and a steady +observance of civil polity, are the surest barriers against these +evils. But there is still another point of great importance to be +considered. The prosperity of some rising colonies, and the speedy +ruin of others, have in a great measure been owing to the form of +government. Was there but one manner of ruling states and cities +that could make you happy, the choice would not be difficult; but I +have learnt, that of the various forms of government among the +Greeks and Barbarians, there are three which are highly extolled by +those who have experienced them; and yet, that no one in those is +in all respects perfect; but each of them has some innate and +incurable defect. Chuse you then in what manner this city shall be +governed. Shall it be by one man? Shall it be by a select number of +the wisest among us? or shall the legislative power be in the +people? As for me, I shall submit to whatever form of +administration you shall please to establish. As I think myself not +unworthy to command, so neither am I unwilling to obey. Your having +chosen me to be the leader of this colony, and your calling the +city after my name, are honours sufficient to content me; honours +of which, I or dead, I can never be deprived.</p> +<a name= +'While_Quinctius_Capitolinus_and_Agrippa_Furius_were_Consuls_at' +id="While_Quinctius_Capitolinus_and_Agrippa_Furius_were_Consuls_at"> +</a> +<h3><b><i>While</i> Quinctius Capitolinus <i>and</i> Agrippa Furius +<i>were Consuls at</i> Rome, <i>the differences betwixt the Senate +and people ran so high, that the</i> Æqui <i>and</i> Volsci, +<i>taking advantage of their intestine disorders ravaged the +country to the very gates of</i> Rome, <i>and the Tribunes of the +people forbad the necessary levies of troops to oppose them</i>. +Quinctius, <i>a Senator, of great reputation, well beloved, and now +in his fourth consulate, got the better of this opposition, by the +following speech.</i></b></h3> +<p>Though I am not conscious, O Romans, of any crime by me +committed, it is yet with the utmost shame and confusion that I +appear in your assembly. You have seen it—posterity will know +it. In the fourth consulship of Titus Quinctius, the Æqui and +Volsci, (scarce a match for the Hernici alone) came in arms to the +very gates of Rome, and went away unchastised! The course of our +manners, indeed, and the state of our affairs, have long been such, +that I had no reason to presage much good: But could I have +imagined that so great an ignominy would have befallen me this +year, I would by death; or banishment (if all other means had +failed) have avoided the station I am now in. What! might Rome then +have been taken, if those men who were at our gates had not wanted +courage for the attempt!—Rome taken while I was +consul—Of honours I had sufficient,—of life +enough—more than enough.—I should have died in my third +consulate. But who are they that our dastardly enemies thus +despise? The consuls, or you Romans? If we are in the fault, depose +us, or punish us yet more severely. If <i>you</i> are to blame, may +neither God nor man punish your faults! only may you repent. No, +Romans, the confidence of our enemies is not owing to their +courage, or to the belief of your cowardice. They have been too +often vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. Discord, +discord is the ruin of this city. The eternal disputes between the +senate and the people, are the sole cause of our misfortunes. While +we set no bounds to our dominion, nor you to your liberty: While +you patiently endure Patrician magistrates, and we Plebeian, our +enemies take heart, grow elated and presumptuous. In the name of +the immortal gods, what is it, Romans, you would have? You desired +tribunes; for the sake of peace we granted them. You were eager to +have decemvirs; we consented to their creation. You grew weary of +these decemvirs; we obliged them to abdicate. Your hatred pursued +them when reduced to private men; and we suffered you to put to +death, or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the republic. You +insisted upon the restoration of the tribuneship; we yielded; we +quietly saw consuls of your faction elected. You have the +protection of your tribunes, and the privilege of appeal: the +Patricians are subjected to the decrees of the commons. Under +pretence of equal and impartial laws, you have invaded our rights, +and we have suffered it, and we still suffer it. When shall we see +an end of discord? When shall we have one interest and one common +country? Victorious and triumphant, you shew less temper than we +under defeat. When you are to contend with <i>us</i>, you seize the +Aventine hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer.</p> +<p>The enemy is at our gates, the Æsquiline is near being +taken, and nobody stirs to hinder it. But against <i>us</i> you are +valiant, against <i>us</i> you can arm with diligence. Come on, +then, besiege the senate house, make a camp of the forum, fill the +jails with our nobles, and when you have achieved these glorious +exploits, <i>then</i> at last sally out at the Æsquiline +gate, with the same fierce spirits against the enemy. Does your +resolution fail you for this? Go, then, and behold from your walls, +your lands ravaged, your houses plundered and in flames, the whole +country laid waste with fire and sword. Have you any thing here to +repair these damages? Will the tribunes make up your losses to you? +They'll give you as many words as you please: Bring impeachments in +abundance against the prime men of the state: Heap laws upon laws; +assemblies you shall have without end. But will any of you return +the richer from these assemblies? Extinguish, O Romans, those fatal +divisions; generously break this cursed enchantment, which keeps +you buried in a scandalous inaction. Open your eyes, and consider +the management of these ambitious men, who, to make themselves +powerful in their party, study nothing but how they may foment +divisions in the commonwealth.</p> +<p>If you can but summon up your former courage; if you will now +march out of Rome with your consuls, there is no punishment you can +inflict, which I will not submit to, if I do not in a few days +drive these pillagers out of our territory. This terror of war +(with which you seem so grievously struck) shall quickly be removed +from Rome to their own cities.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='CAIUS_MARIUS_to_the_ROMANS' id= +"CAIUS_MARIUS_to_the_ROMANS"></a> +<h2>CAIUS MARIUS <i>to the</i> ROMANS.</h2> +<p>It is but too common, my countrymen, to observe a material +difference between the behaviour of those who stand candidates, for +places of power and trust, before and after their obtaining them. +They solicit them in one manner, and execute them in another. They +set out with a great appearance of activity, humility, and +moderation; and they quickly fall into sloth, pride, and +avarice.—It is undoubtedly, no easy matter to discharge, to +the general satisfaction, the duty of a supreme commander in +troublesome times. I am, I hope, duly sensible of the importance of +the office I propose to take upon me, for the service of my +country. To carry on, with effect, an expensive war, and yet be +frugal of the public money; to oblige those to serve, whom it may +be delicate to offend; to conduct, at the same time, a complicated +variety of operations; to concert measures at home, answerable to +the state of things abroad; and to gain every valuable end, in +spite of opposition from the envious, the factious, and the +disaffected; to do all this, my countrymen, is more difficult than +is generally thought.</p> +<p>But, besides the disadvantages which are common to me, with all +others in eminent stations, my case is, in this respect, peculiarly +hard; that whereas a commander of Patrician rank, if he is guilty +of a neglect, or breach of duty, has his great connection, the +antiquity of his family, the important services of his ancestors, +and the multitudes he has, by power, engaged in his interest, to +screen him from condign punishment; my whole safety depends upon +myself; which renders it the more indispensibly necessary for me, +to take care that my conduct be clear and unexceptionable. Besides, +I am well aware, my country men, that the eye of the public is upon +me; and that, though the impartial, who prefer the real advantage +of the commonwealth to all other considerations, favour my +pretensions, the Patricians want nothing so much as an occasion +against me. It is, therefore, my fixed resolution, to use my best +endeavours, that you may not be disappointed in me, and that their +indirect designs against me may be defeated.</p> +<p>I have, from my youth, been familiar with toils, and with +dangers. I was faithful to your interests, my countrymen, when I +served you for no reward, but that of honour. It is not my design +to betray you, now that you have conferred upon me a place of +profit. You have committed to my conduct, the war against Jugurtha. +The Patricians are offended at this. But, where would be the wisdom +of giving such a command to one of their honourable body? a person +of illustrious birth, of ancient family, of innumerable statues, +but—of no experience! What service would his long line of +dead ancestors, or his multitude of motionless statues, do his +country in the day of battle? What could such a general do, but, in +his trepidation and inexperience, have recourse to some inferior +commander, for direction in difficulties to which he was not +himself equal? Thus, your Patrician general would, in fact have a +general over him; so that the acting commander would still be a +Plebeian. So true is this, my countrymen, that I have myself known +those, who have been chosen consuls, begin then to read the history +of their own country, of which, till that time, they were totally +ignorant: that is, they first obtained the employment, and then +bethought themselves of the qualifications necessary for the proper +discharge of it.</p> +<p>I submit to your judgment, Romans, on which side the advantage +lies, when a comparison is made between Patrician haughtiness and +Plebeian experience. The very actions, which they have only read, I +have partly seen, and partly myself achieved. What they know by +reading, I know by action. They are pleased to slight my mean +birth. I despise their mean characters. Want of birth and fortune +is the objection against me: want of personal merit against them. +But are not all men of the same species? What can make a difference +between one man and another but the endowments of the mind? For my +part, I shall always look upon the bravest man as the noblest man. +Suppose it were enquired of the fathers of such Patricians as +Albinus and Bessia, whether, if they had their choice, they would +desire sons of their character, or of mine: what would they answer, +but that they should wish the worthiest to be their sons. If the +Patricians have reason to despise me, let them likewise despise +their ancestors, whose nobility was the fruit of their virtue. Do +they envy the honours bestowed upon me? let them envy, likewise, my +labours, my abstinence, and the dangers I have undergone for my +country, by which I have acquired them. But those worthless men +lend such a life of inactivity, as if they despised any honours you +can bestow; whilst they aspire to honours, as if they had deserved +them by the most industrious virtue. They lay claim to the rewards +of activity, for their having enjoyed the pleasures of luxury. Yet +none can be more lavish than they are in praise of their ancestors: +and they imagine they honour themselves by celebrating their +forefathers. Whereas, they do the very contrary: for, as much as +their ancestors were distinguished for their virtues, so much are +they disgraced by their vices.</p> +<p>Observe now, my countrymen, the injustice of the Patricians. +They arrogate to themselves honours, on account of the exploits +done by their forefathers; whilst they will not allow me the due +praise, for performing the very same sort of actions in my own +person. He has no statues, they cry, of his family. He can trace no +venerable line of ancestors. What then! Is it matter of more praise +to disgrace one's illustrious ancestors, than to become illustrious +by one's own good behaviour? What if I can shew no statues of my +family: I can shew the standards, the armour, and the trappings, +which I have taken myself from the vanquished: I can shew the scars +of those wounds which I have received by facing the enemies of my +country. These are my statues; these are the honours I boast of. +Not left me by inheritance as theirs; but earned by toil, by +abstinence, by valour; amidst clouds of dust, and seas of blood: +scenes of action, where those effeminate Patricians, who endeavour, +by indirect means, to depreciate me in your esteem, have never +dared to shew their faces.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='DEMOSTHENES_to_the_ATHENIANS' id= +"DEMOSTHENES_to_the_ATHENIANS"></a> +<h2>DEMOSTHENES <i>to the</i> ATHENIANS.</h2> +<p>When I compare, Athenians, the speeches of some amongst us, with +their actions, I am at a loss to reconcile what I see, with what I +hear. Their protestations are full of zeal against the public +enemy; but their measures are so inconsistent that all their +professions become suspected. By confounding you with a variety of +projects, they perplex your resolutions, and lead you from +executing what is in your power, by engaging you in schemes not +reducible to practice.</p> +<p>'Tis true, there was a time, when we were powerful enough, not +only to defend our own borders, and protect our allies, but even to +invade Philip in his own dominions. Yes, Athenians, there was such +a juncture; I remember it well. But, by neglect of proper +opportunities, we are no longer in a situation to be invaders: it +will be well for us, if we can procure for our own defence, and our +allies. Never did any conjuncture require so much prudence as this. +However, I should not despair of seasonable remedies, had I the art +to prevail with you to be unanimous in right measures. The +opportunities, which have so often escaped us have not been lost; +through ignorance, or want of judgment; but through negligence or +treachery.—If I assume, at this time, more than ordinary +liberty of speech, I conjure you to suffer, patiently, those +truths, which have no other end, but your own good. You have too +many reasons to be sensible how much you have suffered, by +hearkening to sycophants. I shall, therefore, be plain, in laying +before you the grounds of past miscarriages, in order to correct +you in your future conducts.</p> +<p>You may remember, it is not above three or four years since we +had the news of Philip's laying siege to the fortress of Juno, in +Thrace. It was, as I think, in October we received this +intelligence. We voted an immediate supply of threescore talents; +forty men of war were ordered to sea: and so zealous we were, that +preferring the necessities of state to our very laws, our citizens +above the age of five and forty years, were commanded to serve. +What followed?—A whole year was spent idly, without any thing +done; and it was but the third month of the following year, a +little after the celebration of the feast of Ceres, that Charedemus +set sail, furnished with no more than five talents, and ten +galleys, not half manned.</p> +<p>A rumour was spread that Philip was sick. That rumour was +followed by another, that Philip was dead. And, then, as if all +danger died with him, you dropped your preparations: whereas then, +then was your time to push, and be active; then was your time to +secure yourselves, and confound him at once. Had your resolutions, +taken with so much heat, been as warmly seconded by action, you had +then been as terrible to Philip, as Philip, recovered, is now to +you. "To what purpose, at this time, these reflections! What is +done cannot be undone." But, by your leave, Athenians; though past +moments are not to be recalled, past errors may be repeated. Have +we not now, a fresh provocation to war? Let the memory of +oversights, by which you have suffered so much, instruct you to be +more vigilant in the present danger. If the Olynthians are not +instantly succoured, and with your utmost efforts, you become +assistants to Philip, and serve him more effectually than he can +help himself.</p> +<p>It is not, surely, necessary to warn you, that votes alone can +be of no consequence. Had your resolutions, of themselves, the +virtue to compass what you intend, we should not see them multiply +every day, as they do, and upon every occasion, with so little +effect: nor would Philip be in a condition to brave and affront us +in this manner.—Proceed, then, Athenians, to support your +deliberations with vigour. You have heads capable of advising what +is best; you have judgment and experience, to discern what is +right; and you have power and opportunity to execute what you +determine. What time so proper for action! What occasion so happy? +And when can you hope for such another, if this be neglected? Has +not Philip, contrary to all treaties, insulted you in Thrace? Does +he not, at this instant, straiten and invade your confederates, +whom you have solemnly sworn to protect? Is he not an implacable +enemy? a faithless ally? the usurper of provinces, to which he has +no title nor pretence? a stranger, a barbarian, a tyrant? and +indeed, what is he not?</p> +<p>Observe, I beseech you, men of Athens, how different your +conduct appears from the practices of your ancestors. They were +friends to truth and plain dealing, and detested flattery and +servile compliance. By unanimous consent they continued arbiters of +all Greece for the space of forty-five years, without interruption; +a public fund, of no less than ten thousand talents, were ready for +any emergency: they exercised over the kings of Macedon that +authority which is due to Barbarians; obtained, both by sea and +land, in their own persons frequent and signal victories and by +their noble exploits, transmitted to posterity an immortal memory +of their virtue, superior to the reach of malice and detraction. It +is to them we owe that great number of public edifices, by which +the city of Athens exceeds all the rest of the world, in beauty and +magnificence. It is to them we owe so many stately temples, so +richly embellished; but, above all, adorned with the spoils of +vanquished enemies—But, visit their own private habitations; +visit the houses of Aristides, Militiades, or any other of those +patriots of antiquity; you will find nothing, not the least mark of +ornament, to distinguish them from their neighbours. They took part +in the government, not to enrich themselves, but the public; they +had no schemes or ambition, but for the public nor knew any +interest, but the public. It was by a close and steady application +to the general good of their country; by an exemplary piety toward +the immortal gods; by a strict faith, and religious honesty, +betwixt man and man; and a moderation, always uniform, and of +apiece; they established that reputation, which remains to this +day, and will last to utmost posterity.</p> +<p>Such, O men of Athens! were your ancestors; so glorious in the +eye of the world; so bountiful and munificent to their country; so +sparing, so modest, so self-denying to themselves. What resemblance +can we find in the present generation, of these great men? At a +time, when your ancient competitors have left you a clear stage; +when the Lacedemonians are disabled; the Thebans employed in +troubles of their own; when no other state whatever is in a +condition to rival or molest you: in short, when you are at full +liberty; when you have the opportunity and the power to become once +more the sole arbiters of Greece; you permit, patiently, whole +provinces to be arrested from you; you lavish the public money to +scandalous and obscure uses; you suffer your allies to perish in +time of peace, whom you preserved in time of war; and, to sum up +all, you yourselves, by your mercenary court, and servile +resignation to the will and pleasure of designing, insidious +leaders, abet, encourage, and strengthen the most dangerous and +formidable of your enemies. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you +yourselves are the contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man +who has confidence enough to deny it? let him arise, and assign, if +he can, any other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip. +"But," you reply, "what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, +she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater +appearance of prosperity! a greater face of plenty? Is not the city +enlarged? Are not the streets better paved? houses repaired and +beautified?"—Away with such trifles! Shall I be paid with +counters? An old square new vamped up! a fountain! an aqueduct! Are +these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magistrate, +under whose ministry you boast these precious improvements. Behold +the despicable creature, raised, all at once, from dirt to +opulence; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honours. Have +not some of these upstarts built private houses and seats, vying +with the most sumptuous of our public palaces? And how have their +fortunes and their power increased, but as the commonwealth has +been ruined and impoverished!</p> +<p>To what are we to impute these disorders? and to what cause +assign the decay of a state, so powerful and flourishing in past +time?—The reason is plain. The servant is now become the +master. The magistrate was then subservient to the people: +punishments and rewards were properties of the people: all honours, +dignities, and preferments were disposed by the voice and favour of +the people. But the magistrate, now, has usurped the right of the +people, and exercises an arbitrary authority over his ancient and +natural lord. You miserable people! the mean while, without money, +without friends; from being the ruler, are become the servant; from +being the master, the dependant: happy that these governors, into +whose hands you have thus resigned your own power, are so good, and +so gracious, as to continue your poor allowance to see plays.</p> +<p>Believe me, Athenians, if recovering from this lethargy, you +would assume the ancient freedom and spirit of your fathers; if you +would be your own soldiers, and your own commanders, confiding no +longer your affairs in foreign or mercenary hands; if you would +charge yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for the +public, what you waste in unprofitable pleasures at home, the world +might, once more, behold you making a figure worthy of Athenians. +"You would have us then (you say) do service in our armies, in our +own persons; and for so doing, you would have the pensions we +receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. Is it +thus we are to understand you?"—Yes, Athenians, 'tis my plain +meaning. I would make it a standing rule, that no person, great or +little, should be the better for the public money, who should +grudge to employ it for the public service. Are we in peace? the +public is charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or under a +necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war? let your gratitude +oblige you to accept, as pay, in defence of your benefactors, what +you receive, in peace, as mere bounty.—Thus, without any +innovation, without altering or abolishing any thing, but +pernicious novelties, introduced for the encouragement of sloth and +idleness; by converting only for the future the same funds for the +use of the serviceable, which are spent, at present, upon the +unprofitable; you may be well served in your armies; your troops +regularly paid; justice duly administered; the public revenues +reformed and increased; and every member of the commonwealth +rendered useful to his country, according to his age and ability, +without any further burden to the state.</p> +<p>This, O men of Athens! is what my duty prompted me to represent +to you upon this occasion.—May the gods inspire you to +determine upon such measures as may be most expedient for the +particular and general good of our country!</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='THE_PERFECT_SPEAKER' id="THE_PERFECT_SPEAKER"></a> +<h2>THE PERFECT SPEAKER.</h2> +<p>Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes addressing the most +illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of +the most illustrious of nations depended.—How awful such a +meeting! How vast the subject! Is man possessed of talents adequate +to the great occasion? Adequate—yes, superior. By the power +of his eloquence; the augustness of the assembly is lost in the +dignity of the orator; and the importance of the subject for a +while superceded by the admiration of his talents. With what +strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what +emotions of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man, +and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his +passions!—To effect this, must be the utmost effort of the +most improved state of human nature. Not a faculty that he +possesses, is here unemployed: not a faculty that he possesses, but +is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are +at work: all his external testify their energies. Within, the +memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions are all busy: +without, every muscle, every nerve is exerted; not a feature, not a +limb, but speaks. The organs of the body attuned to the exertions +of the mind, through the kindred organs of the hearers, +instantaneously, and, as it were, with an electrical spirit, +vibrate those energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the +diversity of minds in such a multitude, by the lightning of +eloquence, they are melted into one mass—the whole assembly +actuated in one and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, +and have but one voice. The universal cry is—LET US MARCH +AGAINST PHILIP—LET US FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES—LET US +CONQUER—OR DIE!</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_the_duties_of_School_Boys_from_the_pious_and_judicious' +id="On_the_duties_of_School_Boys_from_the_pious_and_judicious"></a> +<h2><i>On the duties of School-Boys, from the pious and +judicious</i></h2> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'>ROLLIN.</div> +<p>Quintillian says, that he has included almost all the duty of +scholars in this one piece of advice which he gives them, to love +those who teach them, as they love the science which they learn of +them; and to look upon them as fathers, from whom they derive not +the life of the body, but that instruction which is in a manner the +life of the soul. Indeed this sentiment of affection, and respect +suffices to make them apt to learn during the time of their +studies, and full of gratitude all the rest of their lives. It +seems to me to include a great part of what is to be expected from +them.</p> +<p>Docility, which consists in submitting to directions, in readily +receiving the instructions of their masters; and reducing them to +practice, is properly the virtue of scholars, as that of masters is +to teach well. The one can do nothing without the other; and as it +is not sufficient for a labourer to sow the seed, unless the earth, +after having opened its bosom to receive it, in a manner hatches, +warms, and moistens it; so likewise the whole fruit of instruction +depends upon a good correspondence between the masters and the +scholars.</p> +<p>Gratitude for those who have laboured in our education, is the +character of an honest man, and the mark of a good heart. Who is +there among us, says Cicero, that has been instructed with any +care, that is not highly delighted with the sight, or even the bare +remembrance of his preceptors, masters, and the place where he was +taught and brought up? Seneca exhorts young men to preserve always +a great respect for their masters, to whose care they are indebted +for the amendment of their faults, and for having imbibed +sentiments of honour and probity. Their exactness and severity +displease sometimes, at an age when we are not in a condition to +judge of the obligations we owe to them; but when years have +ripened our understanding and judgment, we then discern that what +made us dislike them, I mean admonitions, reprimands, and a severe +exactness in restraining the passions of an imprudent and +inconsiderate age, is expressly the very thing which should make us +esteem and love them. Thus we see that Marcus Aurelius, one of the +wisest and most illustrious emperors that Rome ever had, thanked +the gods for two things especially—for his having had +excellent tutors himself, and that he had found the like for his +children.</p> +<p>Quintillian, after having noted the different characters of the +mind in children, draws, in a few words, the image of what he +judged to be a perfect scholar; and certainly it is a very amiable +one: "For my part," says he, "I like a child who is encouraged by +commendation, is animated by a sense of glory, and weeps when he is +outdone. A noble emulation will always keep him in exercise, a +reprimand will touch him to the quick, and honour will serve +instead of a spur. We need not fear that such a scholar will ever +give himself up to sullenness." <i>Mihi ille detur puer, quem laus +excitet, quem gloria juvet, qui virtus fleut. Hic erit alendus +ambitu: hunc mordebit objurgetio; hunc honor excitabit; in hoc +desidium nunquam verebor.</i></p> +<p>How great a value soever Quintillian sets upon the talents of +the mind, he esteems those of the heart far beyond them, and looks +upon the others as of no value without them. In the same chapter +from whence I took the preceding words, he declares, he should +never have a good opinion of a child, who placed his study in +occasioning laughter, by mimicking the behaviour, mien, and faults +of others; and he presently gives an admirable reason for it: "A +child," says he, "cannot be truly ingenuous, in my opinion, unless +he be good and virtuous; otherwise, I should rather choose to have +him dull and heavy, than of a bad disposition." <i>Non dubit spem +bonoe indolis, qui hoc initandi studio petit, ut rideatur. Nam +probus quoque imprimus erit ille vere ingeniosus: alioquinon pejus +duxerim tardi esse ingenii, quam mali.</i></p> +<p>He displays to us all these talents in the eldest of his two +children, whose character he draws, and whose death he laments in +so eloquent and pathetic a strain, in the beautiful preface to his +sixth book. I shall beg leave to insert here a small extract of it, +which will not be useless to the boys, as they will find it a model +which suits well with their age and condition.</p> +<p>Alter having mentioned his younger son, who died at five years +old, and described the graces and beauties of his countenance, the +prettiness of his expression, the vivacity of his understanding, +which began to shine through the veil of childhood: "I had still +left me," says he, "my son Quintillian, in whom I placed all my +pleasure and all my hopes, and comfort enough I might have found in +him; for, having now entered into his tenth year, he did not +produce only blossoms like his younger brother, but fruits already +formed, and beyond the power of disappointment.—I have much +experience; but I never saw in any child, I do not say only so many +excellent dispositions for the sciences, nor so much taste, as his +masters know, but so much probity, sweetness, good nature, +gentleness, and inclination to please and oblige, as I discerned in +him."</p> +<p>"Besides this, he had all the advantages of nature, a charming +voice, a pleasing countenance, and a surprising facility in +pronouncing well the two languages, as if he had been equally born +for both of them.</p> +<p>"But all this was no more than hopes. I set a greater value upon +his admirable virtues, his equality of temper, his resolution, the +courage with which he bore up against fear and pain; for, how were +his physicians astonished at his patience under a distemper of +eight months continuance, when at the point of death he comforted +me himself, and bade me not to weep for him! and delirious as he +sometimes was at his last moments, his tongue ran on nothing else +but learning and the sciences: O vain and deceitful hopes!" +&c.</p> +<p>Are there many boys amongst us, of whom we can truly say so much +to their advantage, as Quintillian says here of his son? What a +shame would it be for them, if born and brought up in a Christian +country, they had not even the virtues of Pagan children! I make no +scruple to repeat them here again—docility, obedience, +respect for their masters, or rather a degree of affection, and the +source of an eternal gratitude; zeal for study, and a wonderful +thirst after the sciences, joined to an abhorrence of vice and +irregularity; an admirable fund of probity, goodness, gentleness, +civility, and liberality; as also patience, courage, and greatness +of soul in the course of a long sickness.—What then was +wanting to all these virtues?—That which alone could render +them truly worthy the name, and must be in a manner the soul of +them, and constitute their whole value, the precious gift of faith +and piety; the saving knowledge of a Mediator; a sincere desire of +pleasing God, and referring all our actions to him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='COLUMBIA' id="COLUMBIA"></a> +<h2><i>COLUMBIA.</i></h2> +<h4><i>BY THE REVEREND DR. DWIGHT.</i></h4> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Columbia, Columbia, to glory +arise,<br></span> <span>The queen of the world, and child of the +skies!<br></span> <span>Thy genius commands thee; with rapture +behold,<br></span> <span>While ages on ages thy splendors +unfold.<br></span> <span>Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of +time,<br></span> <span>Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy +clime;<br></span> <span>Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson +thy name,<br></span> <span>Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy +fame.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe +aspire;<br></span> <span>Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in +fire;<br></span> <span>Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall +defend,<br></span> <span>And triumph pursue them, and glory +attend.<br></span> <span>A world is thy realm: for a world be thy +laws,<br></span> <span>Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy +cause;<br></span> <span>On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall +rise;<br></span> <span>Extend with the main and dissolve with the +skies.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall +unbar,<br></span> <span>And the east see thy morn hide the beams of +her star,<br></span> <span>New bards, and new sages, unrival'd +shall soar<br></span> <span>To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is +no more;<br></span> <span>To thee, the last refuge of virtue +design'd,<br></span> <span>Shall fly from all nations, the best of +mankind;<br></span> <span>Here, grateful to Heaven, with transports +shall bring<br></span> <span>Their incense, more fragrant than +odours of spring.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Nor less, shall thy fair ones to glory +ascend,<br></span> <span>And Genius and Beauty in harmony +blend;<br></span> <span>The graces of form shall awake pure +desire,<br></span> <span>And the charms of the soul ever cherish +the fire;<br></span> <span>Their sweetness unmingled, their manners +refin'd,<br></span> <span>And virtue's bright image, instamp'd on +the mind,<br></span> <span>With peace, and soft rapture, shall +teach life to glow,<br></span> <span>And light up a smile in the +aspect of woe.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall +display,<br></span> <span>The nations admire, and the ocean +obey;<br></span> <span>Each shore to thy glory its tribute +unfold,<br></span> <span>And the east and the south yield their +spices and gold.<br></span> <span>As the day-spring unbounded, thy +splendor shall flow,<br></span> <span>And earth's little kingdoms +before thee shall bow;<br></span> <span>While the ensigns of union, +in triumph unfurl'd,<br></span> <span>Hush the tumult of war, and +give peace to the world.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars +o'erspread,<br></span> <span>From war's dread confusion, I +pensively stray'd—<br></span> <span>The gloom from the face +of fair heav'n retir'd;<br></span> <span>The winds ceas'd to +murmur; the thunders expir'd;<br></span> <span>Perfumes, as of +Eden, flow'd sweetly along,<br></span> <span>And a voice, as of +angels, enchantingly sung:<br></span> <span>"Columbia, Columbia, to +glory arise,<br></span> <span>The queen of the world, and the child +of the skies"<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='THE_CHOICE_OF_A_RURAL_LIFE' id= +"THE_CHOICE_OF_A_RURAL_LIFE"></a> +<h2>THE CHOICE OF A RURAL LIFE.</h2> +<h3>A POEM,</h3> +<h4>Written by W.L. Esq. Gov. of N.J.</h4> +<br> +<p><b>THE ARGUMENT.</b></p> +<p><i>The subject proposed. Situation of the author's house. His +frugality in his furniture. The beauties of the country. His love +of retirement, and choice of his friends. A description of the +morning. Hymn to the sun. Contemplation of the Heavens. The +existence of God inferred from a view of the beauty and harmony of +the creation. Morning and evening devotion. The vanity of riches +and grandeur. The choice of his books. Praise of the marriage +state. A knot of modern ladies described. The author's +exit.</i></p> +<br> +<h3>PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, &c.</h3> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Let ardent heroes seek renown in +arms,<br></span> <span>Pant after fame, and rush to war's +alarms;<br></span> <span>To shining palaces let fools +resort,<br></span> <span>And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at +court:<br></span> <span>Mine be the pleasure of a <i>rural</i> +life,<br></span> <span>From noise remote, and ignorant of +strife;<br></span> <span>Far from the painted belle, and +white-glov'd beau,<br></span> <span>The lawless masquerade and +midnight show;<br></span> <span>From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, +garters, stars,<br></span> <span>Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, +and czars.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Full in the centre of some shady +grove,<br></span> <span>By nature form'd for solitude and +love;<br></span> <span>On banks array'd with ever-blooming +flow'rs,<br></span> <span>Near beaut'ous landscapes, or by roseate +bow'rs,<br></span> <span>My neat, but simple mansion I would +raise,<br></span> <span>Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern +days;<br></span> <span>Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness +form'd,<br></span> <span>With savage game, and glossy shells +adorn'd.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>No costly furniture should grace my +hall;<br></span> <span>But curling vines ascend against the +wall,<br></span> <span>Whose pliant branches shou'd luxuriant +twine,<br></span> <span>While purple clusters swell'd with future +wine<br></span> <span>To slake my thirst a liquid lapse +distill,<br></span> <span>From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid +rill.<br></span> <span>Along my mansion spiry firs should +grow,<br></span> <span>And gloomy yews extend the shady +row;<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The cedars flourish, and the poplars +rise<br></span> <span>Sublimely tall, and shoot into the +skies:<br></span> <span>Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs +play,<br></span> <span>And crouding trees exclude the noon-tide +ray;<br></span> <span>Whereon the birds their downy nests should +form,<br></span> <span>Securely shelter'd from the batt'ring +storm;<br></span> <span>And to melodious notes their choir +apply,<br></span> <span>Soon as Aurora blush'd along the +sky:<br></span> <span>While all around the enchanting music +rings,<br></span> <span>And every vocal grove reponsive +sings.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses +guide,<br></span> <span>Where nature wanton's in her virgin +pride,<br></span> <span>To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning +flow'rs,<br></span> <span>Elysian fields and amaranthian +bow'rs;<br></span> <span>T' ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring +rills,<br></span> <span>To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and funny +hills.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal +blooms<br></span> <span>Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic +glooms!<br></span> <span>Ye forests hail! ye solitary +woods!<br></span> <span>Love-whispering groves and silver-streaming +floods!<br></span> <span>Ye meads, that aromatic sweets +exhale!<br></span> <span>Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties +hail!<br></span> <span>Oh how I long with you to spend my +days,<br></span> <span>Invoke the muse, and try the rural +lays!<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>No trumpets there with martial clangor +found,<br></span> <span>No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd +ground;<br></span> <span>No groves of lances glitter in the +air,<br></span> <span>Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine +war;<br></span> <span>but white-rob'd peace, and universal +love<br></span> <span>Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry +grove,<br></span> <span>There all the beauties of the circling +year,<br></span> <span>In native ornamental pride +appear;<br></span> <span>Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and <i>April</i> +show'rs;<br></span> <span>Wake from the womb of earth the rising +flow'rs:<br></span> <span>In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the +plain,<br></span> <span>And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden +grain;<br></span> <span>The trees weep amber, and the whispering +gales<br></span> <span>Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the +vales:<br></span> <span>The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion +bloom,<br></span> <span>Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with +perfume;<br></span> <span>On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits +arise.<br></span> <span>And varied prospects glad the wand'ring +eyes.<br></span> <span>In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous +day,<br></span> <span>Where meadows flourish and where fields look +gay;<br></span> <span>From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure +rove,<br></span> <span>Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal +grove,<br></span> <span>Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile +fields, or shades<br></span> <span>Aerial mountains, or subjacent +glades.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>There from the polish'd fetters of the +great,<br></span> <span>Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of +state;<br></span> <span>Prime ministers, and sycophantic +knaves;<br></span> <span>Illustrious villains, and illustrious +slaves;<br></span> <span>From all the vain formality of +fools,<br></span> <span>An odious task of arbitrary +rules;<br></span> <span>The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul +annoy,<br></span> <span>The wealth the rich possess, but not +enjoy,<br></span> <span>The visionary bliss the world can +lend,<br></span> <span>The insidious foe, and false designing +friend,<br></span> <span>The seven-fold fury of <i>Xantippe</i>'s +soul,<br></span> <span>And <i>S——</i>'s rage that burns +without controul;<br></span> <span>I'd live retir'd, contented, and +serene,<br></span> <span>Forgot, unknown, unenvied and +unseen.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Yet not a real hermitage I'd +chuse,<br></span> <span>Nor wish to live from all the world +recluse;<br></span> <span>But with a friend sometimes unbend the +soul,<br></span> <span>In social converse, o'er the sprightly +bowl.<br></span> <span>With cheerful <i>W——</i>, serene +and wisely gay,<br></span> <span>I'd often pass the dancing hours +away;<br></span> <span>He skill'd alike to profit and to +please,<br></span> <span>Politely talks with unaffected +ease;<br></span> <span>Sage in debate, and faithful to his +trust,<br></span> <span>Mature in science, and severely +just;<br></span> <span>Of soul diffusive, vast and +unconfin'd,<br></span> <span>Breathing benevolence to all +mankind;<br></span> <span>Cautious to censure, ready to +commend,<br></span> <span>A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted +friend:<br></span> <span>In early youth fair wisdom's paths he +trod,<br></span> <span>In early youth a minister of God:<br></span> +<span>Each pupil lov'd him when at <i>Yale</i> he shone,<br></span> +<span>And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone.<br></span> +<span>Dear <i>A——</i>, too, should grace my rural +seat,<br></span> <span>Forever welcome to the green +retreat:<br></span> <span>Heav'n for the cause of righteousness +design'd<br></span> <span>His florid genius, and capacious +mind:<br></span> <span>Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring +throng,<br></span> <span>Celestial truths devolving from his +tongue;<br></span> <span>High o'er the list'ning audience seen him +stand,<br></span> <span>Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his +hand:<br></span> <span>With such becoming grace and pompous +sound,<br></span> <span>With long-rob'd senators encircled +round,<br></span> <span>Before the Roman bar, while <i>Rome</i> was +free,<br></span> <span>Nor bow'd to <i>Cæsar</i>'s throne the +servile knee;<br></span> <span>Immortal <i>Tully</i> pleads the +patriot cause,<br></span> <span>While ev'ry tongue resounded his +applause.<br></span> <span>Next round my board should candid +<i>S——</i> appear,<br></span> <span>Of manners gentle, +and a friend sincere,<br></span> <span>Averse to discord party-rage +and strife,<br></span> <span>He sails serenely down the stream of +life.<br></span> <span>With these <i>three friends</i> beneath a +spreading shade,<br></span> <span>Where silver fountains murmur +thro' the glade;<br></span> <span>Or in cool grots, perfum'd with +native flow'rs,<br></span> <span>In harmless mirth I'd spend the +circling hours;<br></span> <span>Or gravely talk, or innocently +sing,<br></span> <span>Or, in harmonious concert, strike the +trembling string.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding +streams,<br></span> <span><i>Druids</i> and <i>Bards</i> enjoy'd +serenest dreams.<br></span> <span>Such was the seat where courtly +<i>Horace</i> sung:<br></span> <span>And his bold harp immortal +<i>Maro</i> strung:<br></span> <span>Where tuneful <i>Orpheus</i>' +unresisted lay,<br></span> <span>Made rapid tygers bear their rage +away;<br></span> <span>While groves attentive to th' extatic +sound<br></span> <span>Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd +around.<br></span> <span>Such feats the venerable <i>Seers</i> of +old<br></span> <span>(When blissful years in golden circles +roll'd)<br></span> <span>Chose and admir'd: e'en Goddesses and +Gods<br></span> <span>(As poets feign) were fond of such +abodes:<br></span> <span>Th' imperial consort of fictitious +<i>Jove</i>,<br></span> <span>For fount full <i>Ida</i> forsook the +realms above.<br></span> <span>Oft to <i>Idalia</i> on a golden +cloud,<br></span> <span>Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, <i>Venus</i> +rode;<br></span> <span>The num'rous altars to the queen were +rear'd,<br></span> <span>And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows +prefer'd,<br></span> <span>While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious +train)<br></span> <span>With wanton rites ador'd her gentle +reign.<br></span> <span>The silver-shafted <i>Huntress</i> of the +woods,<br></span> <span>Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in +cooling floods.<br></span> <span>In palmy <i>Delos</i>, by +<i>Scamander</i>'s side,<br></span> <span>Or when <i>Cajister</i> +roll'd his silver tide,<br></span> <span>Melodious +<i>Ph$oelig;bus</i> sang; the <i>Muses round</i><br></span> +<span>Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound.<br></span> +<span>E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode,<br></span> +<span>High thron'd in gold, of ROLLIN.Gods the sov'reign +God,<br></span> <span>Oft time prefer'd the shade of <i>Ida</i>'s +grove<br></span> <span>To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd +cups above.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning +dawn,<br></span> <span>In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the +lawn!<br></span> <span>Reflected from the clouds, a radiant +stream,<br></span> <span>Tips with etherial dew the mountain's +brim.<br></span> <span>Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning +flow'rs<br></span> <span>Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied +bow'rs,<br></span> <span>Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and +glow<br></span> <span>With all the colours of the show'ry +bow<br></span> <span>The industrious bees their balmy toil +renew,<br></span> <span>Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy +dew.<br></span> <span>But yonder comes th'illustrious God of +day,<br></span> <span>Invests the east, and gilds the etherial +way;<br></span> <span>The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations +sing,<br></span> <span>Echo the mountains and the vallies +ring.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and +fire,<br></span> <span>That bids each sable shade of night +retire!<br></span> <span>Fountain of light! with burning glory +crown'd,<br></span> <span>Darting a deluge of effulgence +round!<br></span> <span>Wak'd by thy genial and praline +ray,<br></span> <span>Nature resumes her verdure, and looks +gay;<br></span> <span>Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants +revive,<br></span> <span>The groves reflourish, and forests +live.<br></span> <span>Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning +ore<br></span> <span>Confesses thy consolidating pow'r:<br></span> +<span>Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould<br></span> +<span>The fusile silver and the ductile gold:<br></span> +<span>Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield<br></span> +<span>Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field.<br></span> +<span>If thou so fair with delegated light,<br></span> <span>That +all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight;<br></span> <span>With +what effulgence must the ocean glow!<br></span> <span>From which +thy borrow'd beams incessant flow!<br></span> <span>Th' exhaustless +force whose single smiles supplies,<br></span> <span>Th' unnumber'd +orbs that gild the spangled skies!<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Oft would I view, in admiration +lost,<br></span> <span>Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry +host;<br></span> <span>With level'd tube and astronomic +eye,<br></span> <span>Pursue the planets whirling thro' the +sky:<br></span> <span>Immeasurable vaults! where thunders +roll,<br></span> <span>And forked lightnings flash from pole to +pole.<br></span> <span>Say, railing infidel! canst thou +survey<br></span> <span>Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden +day,<br></span> <span>Th' harmonious structure of this vast +machine,<br></span> <span>And not confess its Architect +divine?<br></span> <span>Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be +thy soul,<br></span> <span>Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the +bowl;<br></span> <span>Plunge into vice, humanity +resign,<br></span> <span>Go, fill the stie, and bristle into +swine?<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>None but a pow'r omnipotent and +wise<br></span> <span>Could frame this earth, or spread the +boundless skies<br></span> <span>He made the whole; at his omnific +call, }<br></span> +<span>From formless chaos rose this spacious +ball, }<br></span> <span>And one +ALMIGHTY GOD is seen in +all. }<br></span> +<span>By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread<br></span> +<span>With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread.<br></span> +<span>What countless wonders doth the earth contain!<br></span> +<span>What countless wonders the unfathom'd main!<br></span> +<span>Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine,<br></span> +<span>Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine.<br></span> +<span>JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round.<br></span> <span>In +heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound;<br></span> +<span>Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing,<br></span> +<span>And praise their Maker while they hail the spring:<br></span> +<span>The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar,<br></span> +<span>While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore.<br></span> +<span>But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind,<br></span> <span>His +Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd;<br></span> <span>To loftier +notes his raptur'd voice should raise,<br></span> <span>And chaunt +sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>When rising <i>Phœbus</i> ushers in +the morn,<br></span> <span>And golden beams th' impurpled skies +adorn:<br></span> <span>Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the +floods,<br></span> <span>Or the soft music of the waving +woods;<br></span> <span>Rising from sleep with the melodious +quire,<br></span> <span>To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd +lyre.<br></span> <span>Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on my +tongue,<br></span> <span>Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my +song:<br></span> <span>(Delightful task! with dawning light to +sing,<br></span> <span>Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal +king.)<br></span> <span>Some courteous angel should my breast +inspire,<br></span> <span>Attune my lips, and guide the warbled +wire,<br></span> <span>While sportive echoes catch the sacred +sound,<br></span> <span>Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music +round;<br></span> <span>While mazy streams meand'ring to the +main<br></span> <span>Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly +strain;<br></span> <span>And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd +throng,<br></span> <span>Attentive listen to the tuneful +song.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Father of <i>Light!</i> exhaustless +source of good!<br></span> <span>Supreme, eternal, self-existent +God!<br></span> <span>Before the beamy sun dispens'd a +ray,<br></span> <span>Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the +day;<br></span> <span>Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd +light,<br></span> <span>Shone queen amid the silver host of +night;<br></span> <span>High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst +superior Lord,<br></span> <span>By suppliant angels worship'd and +ador'd.<br></span> <span>With the celestial choir then let me +join,<br></span> <span>In cheerful praises to the pow'r +Divine.<br></span> <span>To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! +inspire,<br></span> <span>A mortal breast with more than mortal +fire;<br></span> <span>In dreadful majesty thou sit'st +enthron'd,<br></span> <span>With light encircled, and with glory +crown'd;<br></span> <span>Thro' all infinitude extends thy +reign,<br></span> <span>For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns +contain;<br></span> <span>But tho' thy throne is <i>fix'd</i> above +the sky,<br></span> <span>Thy <i>Omnipresence</i> fills +immensity.<br></span> <span>Saints rob'd in white, to thee their +anthems bring,<br></span> <span>And radient Martyrs hallelujahs +sing:<br></span> <span>Heav'n's universal host their voices +raise,<br></span> <span>In one <i>eternal chorus</i>, to thy +praise;<br></span> <span>And round thy awful throne, with one +accord,<br></span> <span>Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the +Lord.<br></span> <span>At thy creative voice, from ancient +night,<br></span> <span>Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of +light:<br></span> <span>Thou spak'st—the planetary Chorus +roll'd<br></span> <span>And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy +gold;<br></span> <span><i>Let there be light</i>, said +GOD—Light instant shone,<br></span> <span>And from the +orient, burst the golden Sun;<br></span> <span>Heav'n's gazing +hierarchies, with glad surprise,<br></span> <span>Saw the first +morn invest the skies,<br></span> <span>And straight th' exulting +troops thy throne surround,<br></span> <span>With thousand thousand +harps of heav'nly sound:<br></span> <span>Thrones, powers, +dominions, (ever shining trains!)<br></span> <span>Shouted thy +praises in triumphant strains:<br></span> <span><i>Great are thy +works</i>, they sing, and, all around,<br></span> <span><i>Great +are thy works</i>, the echoing heav'n's resound.<br></span> +<span>The effulgent sun, insufferably bright,<br></span> <span>Is +but a beam of thy o'erflowing light;<br></span> <span>The tempest +is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd,<br></span> <span>Tremendous +roars thy vengeance o'er the world;<br></span> <span>Thou bow'st +the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod;<br></span> <span>Rocks fall +to dust, and nature owns her God;<br></span> <span>Pale tyrants +shrink, the atheist stands aghast,<br></span> <span>And impious +kings in horror breath their last.<br></span> <span>To this great +God alternately I'd pay,<br></span> <span>The evening anthem, and +the morning lay.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>For sov'reign <i>Gold</i> I never would +repine,<br></span> <span>Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs +mine.<br></span> <span>What tho' high columns heave into the +skies,<br></span> <span>Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches +rise;<br></span> <span>Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof +adorn,<br></span> <span>The rubies redden, and the jaspers +burn!<br></span> <span>Or what, alas! avails the gay +attire,<br></span> <span>To wretched man, who breathes but to +expire!<br></span> <span>Oft on the vilest, riches are +bestow'd,<br></span> <span>To shew their meanness in the sight of +God.<br></span> <span>High from a dung-hill, see a <i>Dives</i> +rise,<br></span> <span>And, <i>Titan</i>-like, insult th' avenging +skies:<br></span> <span>The crowd, in adulation, calls him +Lord,<br></span> <span>By thousands courted, flatter'd, and +ador'd:<br></span> <span>In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly +joys,<br></span> <span>No higher thought his grov'ling foul +employs:<br></span> <span>The poor he scourges with an iron +rod,<br></span> <span>And from his bosom banishes his +God.<br></span> <span>But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's +bloom,<br></span> <span>Deluded man is fated to the +tomb!<br></span> <span>For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour +flies,<br></span> <span>And rising mists obscure his swimming +eyes:<br></span> <span>Around his bed his weeping friends +bemoan,<br></span> <span>Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him +gone;<br></span> <span>His sorrowing heir augments the tender +show'r,<br></span> <span>Deplores his death—yet hails the +dying hour.<br></span> <span>Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to +die!<br></span> <span>Tho' sunk in down, beneath the +canopy!<br></span> <span>His eyes no more shall see the cheerful +light,<br></span> <span>Weigh'd down by death in everlasting +night:<br></span> <span>"And when with age thy head is silver'd +o'er,<br></span> <span>"And cold in death thy bosom beats no +more,<br></span> <span>"Thy foul exulting shall desert its +clay,<br></span> <span>"And mount, triumphant, to eternal +day."<br></span> <span>But to improve the intellectual +mind,<br></span> <span>Reading should be to contemplation +join'd.<br></span> <span>First I'd collect from the Parnassian +spring,<br></span> <span>What muses dictate, and what poets +sing.—<br></span> <span><i>Virgil</i>, as Prince, shou'd wear +the laurel'd crown,<br></span> <span>And other bards pay homage to +his throne;<br></span> <span>The blood of heroes now effus'd so +long,<br></span> <span>Will run forever purple thro' his +song.<br></span> <span>See! how he mounts toward the blest +abodes,<br></span> <span>On planets rides, and talks with +demi-gods!<br></span> <span>How do our ravish'd spirits melt +away,<br></span> <span>When in his song <i>Sicilian</i> shepherds +play!<br></span> <span>But what a splendor strikes the dazzled +eye,<br></span> <span>When <i>Dido</i> shines in awful +majesty!<br></span> <span>Embroider'd purple clad the <i>Tyrian</i> +queen,<br></span> <span>Her motion graceful, and august her +mein;<br></span> <span>A golden zone her royal limbs +embrac'd,<br></span> <span>A golden quiver rattled by her +waist.<br></span> <span>See her proud steed majestically +prance,<br></span> <span>Contemn the trumpet, and deride the +lance!<br></span> <span>In crimson trappings, glorious to +behold,<br></span> <span>Confus'dly gay with interwoven +gold!<br></span> <span>He champs the bitt, and throws the foam +around,<br></span> <span>Impatient paws, and tears the solid +ground.<br></span> <span>How stern <i>Æneas</i> thunders +thro' the field!<br></span> <span>With tow'ring helmet, and +refulgent shield!<br></span> <span>Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty +warriors slain,<br></span> <span>Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring +on the plain.<br></span> <span>Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated +chieftains lie,<br></span> <span>Frown e'en in death, and threaten +as they die.<br></span> <span>Thro' the thick squadrons see the +Hero bound,<br></span> <span>(His helmet flashes, and his arms +resound!)<br></span> <span>All grim with rage, he frowns o'er +<i>Turnus</i>' head,<br></span> <span>(Re-kindled ire! for blooming +<i>Pallas</i> dead)<br></span> <span>Then, in his bosom plung'd the +shining blade—<br></span> <span>The soul indignant sought the +Stygian shade!<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The far-fam'd bards that grac'd +<i>Britannia</i>'s isle,<br></span> <span>Should next compose the +venerable pile.<br></span> <span>Great <i>Milton</i> first, for +tow'ring thought renown'd,<br></span> <span>Parent of song, and +fam'd the world around!<br></span> <span>His glowing breast divine +<i>Urania</i> fir'd,<br></span> <span>Or GOD himself th' immortal +Bard inspir'd.<br></span> <span>Borne on triumphant wings he take +this flight,<br></span> <span>Explores all heaven, and treads the +realms of light:<br></span> <span>In martial pomp he clothes th' +angelic train,<br></span> <span>While warring myriads shake th' +etherial plain.<br></span> <span>First <i>Michael</i> stalks, high +tow'ring o'er the rest;<br></span> <span>With heav'nly plumage +nodding on his crest:<br></span> <span>Impenetrable arms his limbs +unfold,<br></span> <span>Eternal adamant, and burning +gold!<br></span> <span>Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire +delight,<br></span> <span>Rebellious <i>Satan</i> animates the +fight:<br></span> <span>Armipotent they sink in rolling +smoke,<br></span> <span>All heav'n resounding, to its centre +shook,<br></span> <span>To crush his foes, and quell the dire +alarms,<br></span> <span><i>Messiah</i> sparkled in refulgent +arms;<br></span> <span>In radient panoply divinely +bright,<br></span> <span>His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring +light,<br></span> <span>On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's +crystalline road<br></span> <span>Thunder'd the chariot of thy +<i>Filial</i> God;<br></span> <span>The burning wheels on golden +axles turn'd,<br></span> <span>With flaming gems the golden axles +burn'd.<br></span> <span>Lo! the apostate host, with terror +struck,<br></span> <span>Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean +shook!<br></span> <span>Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of +gold,<br></span> <span>Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion +roll'd;<br></span> <span>Till, from his hand, the triple thunder +hurl'd,<br></span> <span>Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal +world.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Then tuneful <i>Pope</i>, whom all the +nine inspire,<br></span> <span>With <i>saphic</i> sweetness, and +<i>pindaric</i> fire.<br></span> <span>Father of verse! melodious +and divine!<br></span> <span>Next peerless Milton should +distinguish'd shine.<br></span> <span>Smooth flow his numbers when +he paints the grove,<br></span> <span>Th' enraptur'd virgins +list'ning into love.<br></span> <span>But when the night and hoarse +resounding storm,<br></span> <span>Rush on the deep, and +<i>Neptune</i>'s face deform,<br></span> <span>Rough runs the +verse, the son'rous numbers roar<br></span> <span>Like the hoarse +surge that thunders on the shore.<br></span> <span>But when he +sings th' exhilerated swains,<br></span> <span>Th' embow'ring +groves, and <i>Windsor</i>'s blissful plains,<br></span> <span>Our +eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene,<br></span> +<span>Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green:<br></span> +<span>His lays the verdure of the meads prolong,<br></span> +<span>And wither'd forests blossom in his song;<br></span> +<span><i>Thames</i>' silver streams his flowing verse +admire,<br></span> <span>And cease to murmur while he tunes his +lyre.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Next shou'd appear great <i>Dryden</i>'s +lofty muse,<br></span> <span>For who would <i>Dryden</i>'s polish'd +verse refuse?<br></span> <span>His lips were moisten'd in +<i>Parnassus</i>' spring,<br></span> <span>And <i>Phœbus</i> +taught his <i>laureat</i> son to sing.<br></span> <span>How long +did <i>Virgil</i> untranslated moan,<br></span> <span>His beauties +fading, and his flights unknown;<br></span> <span>Till +<i>Dryden</i> rose, and, in exalted strain,<br></span> +<span>Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man?<br></span> +<span>Again the <i>Trojan</i> prince with dire delight,<br></span> +<span>Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight:<br></span> +<span>Again <i>Camilla</i> glows with martial fire,<br></span> +<span>Drives armies back, and makes all <i>Troy</i> +retire.<br></span> <span>With more than native lustre <i>Virgil</i> +shines,<br></span> <span>And gains sublimer heights in +<i>Dryden</i>'s lines.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The gentle <i>Watts</i>, who strings his +silver lyre<br></span> <span>To sacred odes, and heav'n's +all-ruling fire;<br></span> <span>Who scorns th' applause of the +licentious stage,<br></span> <span>And mounts yon sparkling worlds +with hallow'd rage,<br></span> <span>Compels my thoughts to wing +the heav'nly road,<br></span> <span>And wafts my soul, exulting, to +my God;<br></span> <span>No fabled <i>Nine</i> harmonious bard! +inspire<br></span> <span>Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic +fire;<br></span> <span>But prompting <i>Angels</i> warm thy +boundless rage,<br></span> <span>Direct thy thoughts, and animate +thy page.<br></span> <span>Blest man! for spotless sanctity +rever'd,<br></span> <span>Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty +fear'd;<br></span> <span>Blest man! from gay delusive scenes +remov'd,<br></span> <span>Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker +lov'd;<br></span> <span>To God thou tun'st thy consecrated +lays,<br></span> <span>Nor meanly blush to sing <i>Jehovah</i>'s +praise.<br></span> <span>Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard +delight,<br></span> <span>To paint <i>Religion</i> in her native +light,<br></span> <span>Not then with Plays the lab'ring' press +would groan,<br></span> <span>Nor <i>Vice</i> defy the +<i>Pulpit</i> and the <i>Throne</i>;<br></span> <span>No impious +rhymer charm a vicious age,<br></span> <span>Nor prostrate +<i>Virtue</i> groan beneath their rage:<br></span> <span>But themes +divine in lofty numbers rise,<br></span> <span>Fill the wide earth, +and echo through the skies.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>These for <i>Delight</i>;—for +<i>Profit</i> I would read,<br></span> <span>The labour'd volumes +of the learned dead:<br></span> <span>Sagacious Locke, by +Providence design'd<br></span> <span>T' exalt, instruct, and +rectify the mind.<br></span> <span>Th' unconquerable +<i>Sage</i>,<a name='FNanchor_A_1' id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href= +'#Footnote_A_1'><sup>[A]</sup></a> whom virtue fir'd,<br></span> +<span>And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd,<br></span> +<span>When victor <i>Cæsar</i> freed unhappy +<i>Rome</i>,<br></span> <span>From <i>Pompey's</i> chains, to +substitute his own.<br></span> <span><i>Longinius</i>, <i>Livy</i>, +fam'd <i>Thucydides</i>,<br></span> <span><i>Quintillian</i>, +<i>Plato</i> and <i>Demosthenes</i>,<br></span> <span>Persuasive +<i>Tully</i>, and <i>Corduba</i>'s <i>Sage</i>,<a name= +'FNanchor_B_2' id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href= +'#Footnote_B_2'><sup>[B]</sup></a><br></span> <span>Who fell by +<i>Nero</i>'s unrelenting rage;<br></span> <span><i>Him</i><a name= +'FNanchor_C_3' id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href= +'#Footnote_C_3'><sup>[C]</sup></a> whom ungrateful <i>Athens</i> +doom'd to bleed,<br></span> <span>Despis'd when living, and +deplor'd when dead.<br></span> <span><i>Raleigh</i> I'd read with +ever fresh delight,<br></span> <span>While ages past rise present +to my fight:<br></span> <span>Ah man unblest! he foreign realms +explor'd,<br></span> <span>Then fell a victim to his country's +sword!<br></span> <span>Nor should great <i>Derham</i> pass +neglected by, }<br></span> <span>Observant +sage! to whose deep piercing +eye }<br></span> <span>Nature's +stupendous works expanded +lie. }<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Nor he, <i>Britannia</i>, thy unmatch'd +renown!<br></span> <span>(Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic +crown)<br></span> <span>Who on the solar orb uplifted +rode,<br></span> <span>And scan'd th' unfathomable works of +God,<br></span> <span>Who bound the silver planets to their +spheres,<br></span> <span>And trac'd th' elliptic curve of blazing +stars!<br></span> <span><i>Immortal Newton</i>; whole illustrious +name<br></span> <span>Will shine on records of eternal +fame.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>By love directed, I wou'd choose a +wife,<br></span> <span>T' improve my bliss and ease the load of +life.<br></span> <span>Hail <i>Wedlock!</i> hail, inviolable +tye!<br></span> <span>Perpetual fountain of domestic +joy!<br></span> <span>Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure +delight,<br></span> <span>Harmonious mingle in the nuptial +rite.<br></span> <span>In <i>Eden</i> first the holy state +begun,<br></span> <span>When perfect innocence distinguish'd +man;<br></span> <span>The human pair, th' Almighty Pontiff +led,<br></span> <span>Gay as the morning to the bridal +bed;<br></span> <span>A dread solemnity th' espousals +grac'd,<br></span> <span><i>Angels</i> the <i>Witnesses</i>, and +GOD the PRIEST!<br></span> <span>All earth exulted on the nuptial +hour,<br></span> <span>And voluntary roses deck'd the +bow'r!<br></span> <span>The joyous birds, on ev'ry blossom'd +spray,<br></span> <span>Sung <i>Hymenians</i> to th' important +day,<br></span> <span>While <i>Philomela</i> swell'd the sponsal +song,<br></span> <span>And Paradise with gratulations +rung.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I +find<br></span> <span>A blooming virgin with an angel +mind,<br></span> <span>Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin +quire<br></span> <span>That fed, O <i>Rome!</i> thy consecrated +fire;<br></span> <span>By reason aw'd, ambitious to be +good,<br></span> <span>Averse to vice, and zealous for her +God?<br></span> <span>Relate, in what blest region can I +find<br></span> <span>Such bright perfections in a female +mind?<br></span> <span>What <i>Phœnix</i>-woman breathes the +vital air,<br></span> <span>So greatly greatly good, and so +divinely fair?<br></span> <span>Sure, not the gay and fashionable +train,<br></span> <span>Licentious, proud, immoral and +prophane;<br></span> <span>Who spend their golden hours in antic +dress,<br></span> <span>Malicious whispers, and inglorious +ease.—<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Lo! round the board a shining train +appears,<br></span> <span>In rosy beauty, and in prime of +years!<br></span> <span><i>This</i> hates a flounce, and +<i>this</i> a flounce approves,<br></span> <span><i>This</i> shews +the trophies of her former loves;<br></span> <span><i>Polly</i> +avers that <i>Sylvia</i> dress in green,<br></span> <span>When last +at church the gaudy Nymph was seen;<br></span> <span><i>Chloe</i> +condemns her optics, and will lay<br></span> <span>'Twas azure +sattin, interstreak'd with grey;<br></span> <span><i>Lucy</i> +invested with judicial pow'r,<br></span> <span>Awards 'twas +neither—and the strife is o'er.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Then parrots, lap-dogs, monkeys, +squirrels, beaus,<br></span> <span>Fans, ribbands, tuckers, +patches, furbaloes,<br></span> <span>In quick succession, thro' +their fancies run,<br></span> <span>And dance incessant on the +flippant tongue.<br></span> <span>And when fatigued with ev'ry +other sport,<br></span> <span>The belles prepare to grace the +sacred court,<br></span> <span>They marshal all their forces in +array,<br></span> <span>To kill with glances and destroy in +play.<br></span> <span>Two skilful <i>maids</i>, with reverential +fear,<br></span> <span>In wanton wreaths collect their silken +hair;<br></span> <span>Two paint their cheeks, and round their +temples pour<br></span> <span>The fragrant unguent, and the +ambrosial show'r;<br></span> <span>One pulls the shape-creating +stays, and one<br></span> <span>Encircles round her waist the +golden zone:<br></span> <span>Not with more toil t' improve +immortal charms,<br></span> <span>Strove <i>Juno</i>, <i>Venus</i>, +and the <i>Queen of Arms</i>,<br></span> <span>When <i>Priam</i>'s +Son adjudg'd the golden prize<br></span> <span>To the resistless +beauty of the skies.<br></span> <span>At length equip'd in love's +enticing arms,<br></span> <span>With all that glitters and with all +that charms,<br></span> <span>Th' ideal goddesses to church +repair,<br></span> <span>Peep thro' the fan and mutter o'er a +pray'r,<br></span> <span>Or listen to the organ's pompous +sound,<br></span> <span>Or eye the gilded images around;<br></span> +<span>Or, deeply studied in coquetish rules,<br></span> <span>Aim +wily glances at unthinking fools;<br></span> <span>Or shew the +lilly hand with graceful air,<br></span> <span>Or wound the fopling +with a lock of hair:<br></span> <span>And when the hated discipline +is o'er,<br></span> <span>And <i>Misses</i> tortur'd with +<i>Repent</i> no more,<br></span> <span>They mount the pictur'd +coach, and to the play<br></span> <span>The celebrated idols hie +away.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Not so the <i>Lass</i> that shou'd my +joys improve,<br></span> <span>With solid friendship, and connubial +love:<br></span> <span>A native bloom, with intermingled +white,<br></span> <span>Should set features in a pleasing +light;<br></span> <span>Like <i>Helen</i> flushing with unrival'd +charms.<br></span> <span>When raptur'd <i>Paris</i> darted in her +arms.<br></span> <span>But what, alas! avails a ruby +cheek,<br></span> <span>A downy bosom, or a snowy neck!<br></span> +<span>Charms ill supply the want of innocence,<br></span> <span>Nor +beauty forms intrinsic excellence:<br></span> <span>But in her +breast let moral beauties shine,<br></span> <span>Supernal grace +and purity divine:<br></span> <span>Sublime her reason, and her +native wit<br></span> <span>Unstrain'd with pedantry and low +conceit;<br></span> <span>Her fancy lively, and her judgment +free,<br></span> <span>From female prejudice and +bigotry:<br></span> <span>Averse to idle pomp, and outward +show,<br></span> <span>The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic +beau.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The fop's impertinence she should +despise,<br></span> <span>Tho' <i>sorely wounded by her radient +eyes</i>;<br></span> <span>But pay due rev'rence to the exalted +mind<br></span> <span>By learning polish'd, and by wit +refin'd,<br></span> <span>Who all her virtues, without guile, +commends,<br></span> <span>And all her faults as freely +reprehends.<br></span> <span>Soft <i>Hymen's</i> rites her passion +should approve,<br></span> <span>And in her bosom glow the flames +of love:<br></span> <span>To me her foul, by sacred friendship +turn,<br></span> <span>And I, for her, with equal friendship +burn;<br></span> <span>In ev'ry stage of life afford +relief,<br></span> <span>Partake my joys, and sympathize my +grief;<br></span> <span>Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful +road,<br></span> <span>Nor bribe her reason to pursue the +mode;<br></span> <span>Mild as the saint whose errors are +forgiv'n,<br></span> <span>Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as +heav'n.<br></span> <span>This be the partner, this the lovely +wife<br></span> <span>That should embellish and prolong my +life;<br></span> <span>A nymph! who might a second fall +inspire,<br></span> <span>And fill a glowing <i>Cherub</i> with +desire!<br></span> <span>With her I'd spend the pleasurable +day,<br></span> <span>While fleeting minutes gaily danc'd +away:<br></span> <span>With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the +green,<br></span> <span>Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural +scene,<br></span> <span>Or sit in open fields damask'd with +flow'rs,<br></span> <span>Or where cool shades imbrown the +noon-tide bow'rs,<br></span> <span>Imparadis'd within my eager +arms,<br></span> <span>I'd reign the happy monarch of her +charms:<br></span> <span>Oft on her panting bosom would I +lay,<br></span> <span>And, in dissolving raptures, melt +away;<br></span> <span>Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy +rest,<br></span> <span>My blooming fair should slumber at my +breast.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>And when decrepid age (frail mortals +doom!)<br></span> <span>Should bend my wither'd body to the +tomb,<br></span> <span>No warbling <i>Syrens</i> should retard my +flight,<br></span> <span>To heav'nly mansions of unclouded +light;<br></span> <span>Tho' death, with his imperial horrors +crown'd,<br></span> <span>Terrific grinn'd, and formidably +frown'd,<br></span> <span>Offences pardon'd, and remitted +sin,<br></span> <span>Should form a calm serenity +within:<br></span> <span>Blessing my <i>natal</i> and my +<i>mortal</i> hour,<br></span> <span>(My soul committed to th' +eternal pow'r)<br></span> <span>Inexorable death should smile, for +I,<br></span> <span>Who <i>knew</i> to LIVE, would never <i>fear to +DIE.</i><br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><a name='Footnote_A_1' id="Footnote_A_1"></a> +<a href='#FNanchor_A_1'>[A]</a> <i>Cato.</i></div> +<div class='stanza'><a name='Footnote_B_2' id= +"Footnote_B_2"></a><a href='#FNanchor_B_2'>[B]</a> +<i>Seneca.</i></div> +<div class='stanza'><a name='Footnote_C_3' id= +"Footnote_C_3"></a><a href='#FNanchor_C_3'>[C]</a> +<i>Socrates.</i></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='HYMNS' id="HYMNS"></a> +<h2>HYMNS</h2> +<br> +<a name='HYMN_I' id="HYMN_I"></a> +<h2>HYMN I.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Begin the high celestial +strain,<br></span> <span class='i2'>My ravish'd soul, and +sing,<br></span> <span>A solemn hymn of grateful praise<br></span> +<span class='i2'>To heav'n's Almighty King.<br></span> <span>Ye +curling fountains, as ye roll<br></span> <span class='i2'>Your +silver waves along,<br></span> <span>Whisper to all your verdant +shores<br></span> <span class='i2'>The subject of my +song.<br></span> <span>Retain it long y' echoing rocks,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>The sacred sound retain,<br></span> <span>And from +your hollow winding caves<br></span> <span class='i2'>Return it oft +again.<br></span> <span>Bear it, ye winds, on all your +wings,<br></span> <span class='i2'>To distant climes +away,<br></span> <span>And round the wide extended world<br></span> +<span class='i2'>My lofty theme convey.<br></span> <span>Take the +glad burden of his name,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Ye clouds, as +you arise,<br></span> <span>Whether to deck the golden +morn,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Or shade the ev'ning +skies.<br></span> <span>Let harmless thunders roll along<br></span> +<span class='i2'>The smooth etherial plain,<br></span> <span>And +answer from the crystal vault<br></span> <span class='i2'>To ev'ry +flying strain.<br></span> <span>Long let it warble round the +spheres,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And echo through the +sky,<br></span> <span>Till Angels, with immortal skill,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Improve the harmony.<br></span> <span>While I, +with sacred rapture fir'd,<br></span> <span class='i2'>The blest +Creator sing,<br></span> <span>And warble consecrated +lays<br></span> <span class='i2'>To heav'n's Almighty +King.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<a name='HYMN_II_ON_HEAVEN' id="HYMN_II_ON_HEAVEN"></a> +<h2>HYMN II—ON HEAVEN.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Hail sacred Salem! plac'd on +high,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Seat of the mighty +King!<br></span> <span>What thought can grasp thy boundless +bliss,<br></span> <span class='i2'>What tongue thy glories +sing?<br></span> <span>Thy crystal tow'rs and palaces<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Magnificently rise,<br></span> <span>And dart +their beaut'ous lustre round<br></span> <span class='i2'>The +empyrean skies.<br></span> <span>The voice of triumph in thy +streets<br></span> <span class='i2'>And acclamations +found,<br></span> <span>Gay banquets in thy splendid +courts<br></span> <span class='i2'>And purest joys +abound.<br></span> <span>Bright smiles on ev'ry face +appear,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Rapture in ev'ry +eye;<br></span> <span>From ev'ry mouth glad anthems +flow,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And charming harmony.<br></span> +<span>Illustrious day for ever there,<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>Streams from the face divine;<br></span> <span>No pale-fac'd +moon e'er glimmers forth,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Nor stars nor +sun decline.<br></span> <span>No scorching heats, no piercing +colds,<br></span> <span class='i2'>The changing seasons +bring;<br></span> <span>But o'er the fields mild breezes +there<br></span> <span class='i2'>Breathe an eternal +spring.<br></span> <span>The flow'rs with lasting beauty +shine,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And deck the smiling +ground,<br></span> <span>While flowing streams of pleasures +all<br></span> <span class='i2'>The happy plains +surround.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<a name='HYMN_III_THE_CREATION' id="HYMN_III_THE_CREATION"></a> +<h2>HYMN III.—THE CREATION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Now let the spacious world +arise,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Said the creator +Lord:<br></span> <span>At once th' obedient earth and +skies<br></span> <span class='i2'>Rose at his sov'reign +word.<br></span> <span>Dark was the deep, the waters lay<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Confus'd, and drown'd the land;<br></span> +<span>He call'd the light, the new-born day<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>Attends on his command.<br></span> <span>He bids the clouds +ascend on high;<br></span> <span class='i2'>The clouds ascend, and +bear<br></span> <span>A wat'ry treasure to the sky,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>And float on softer air.<br></span> <span>The +liquid element below,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Was gather'd by +his hand;<br></span> <span>The rolling seas together +flow,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And leave a solid +land:<br></span> <span>With herbs and plants (a flow'ry +birth)<br></span> <span class='i2'>The naked globe he +crown'd,<br></span> <span>Ere there was rain to bless the +earth,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Or sun to warm the +ground.<br></span> <span>Then he adorn'd the upper +skies,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Behold the sun +appears,<br></span> <span>The moon and stars in order +rise,<br></span> <span class='i2'>To mark our months and +years.<br></span> <span>Out of the deep th' Almighty +King<br></span> <span class='i2'>Did vital beings frame,<br></span> +<span>And painted fowls of ev'ry wing,<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>And fish of ev'ry name,<br></span> <span>He gave the lion and +the worm<br></span> <span class='i2'>At once their wond'rous +birth;<br></span> <span>And grazing beasts of various +form<br></span> <span class='i2'>Rose from the teeming +earth.<br></span> <span>Adam was form'd of equal clay,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>The sov'reign of the rest;<br></span> +<span>Design'd for nobler ends than they,<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>With God's own image blest.<br></span> <span>Thus glorious in +the Maker's eye,<br></span> <span class='i2'>The young Creation +stood;<br></span> <span>He saw the building from on +high,<br></span> <span class='i2'>His word pronounc'd it +good.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<a name='THE_LORDS_PRAYER' id="THE_LORDS_PRAYER"></a> +<h2>THE LORD'S PRAYER.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Father of all! we bow to thee,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Who dwells in heav'n ador'd;<br></span> <span>But +present still thro' all thy works,<br></span> <span class='i2'>The +universal Lord.<br></span> <span>All hallow'd be thy sacred +name,<br></span> <span class='i2'>O'er all the nations +known;<br></span> <span>Advance the kingdom of thy +grace,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And let thy glory +come.<br></span> <span>A grateful homage may we yield,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>With hearts resigned to thee;<br></span> <span>And +as in heav'n thy will is done,<br></span> <span class='i2'>On earth +so let it be.<br></span> <span>From day to day we humbly +own<br></span> <span class='i2'>The hand that feeds us +still;<br></span> <span>Give us our bread, and we may +rest<br></span> <span class='i2'>Contented in thy will.<br></span> +<span>Our sins and trespasses we own;<br></span> <span class='i2'>O +may they be forgiv'n!<br></span> <span>That mercy we to others +shew,<br></span> <span class='i2'>We pray the like from +Heav'n.<br></span> <span>Our life let still thy grace +direct,<br></span> <span class='i2'>From evil guard our +way,<br></span> <span>And in temptation's fatal path<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Permit us not to stray.<br></span> <span>For thine +the pow'r, the kingdom thine,<br></span> <span class='i2'>All +glory's due to thee:<br></span> <span>Thine from eternity they +were,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And thine shall ever +be.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<a name='THE_UNIVERSAL_PRAYER_BY_MR_POPE' id= +"THE_UNIVERSAL_PRAYER_BY_MR_POPE"></a> +<h2>THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.—<i>BY MR. POPE</i>.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Father of all, in ev'ry age,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>In ev'ry clime ador'd;<br></span> <span>By saint, +by savage, and by sage,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Jehovah, Jove, +or Lord.<br></span> <span>Thou great First Cause, least +understood;<br></span> <span class='i2'>Who all my sense +confin'd,<br></span> <span>To know but this, that thou art +good,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And that myself am +blind:<br></span> <span>Yet gave me in this dark estate,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>To see the good from ill;<br></span> <span>And +binding Nature fast in fate,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Left free +the human Will.<br></span> <span>What conscience dictates to be +done,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Or warns me not to do,<br></span> +<span>This, teach me more than hell to shun,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>That, more than heav'n pursue.<br></span> +<span>What blessings thy free bounty gives;<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>Let me not cast away;<br></span> <span>For God is paid when +man receives,<br></span> <span class='i2'>T' enjoy is to +obey.<br></span> <span>Yet not to earth's contracted +span<br></span> <span class='i2'>Thy goodness let me +bound,<br></span> <span>Or think thee Lord alone of Man,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>When thousand worlds are round:<br></span> +<span>Let not this weak unknowing hand<br></span> <span class= +'i2'>Presume thy bolts to throw,<br></span> <span>And deal +damnation round the land,<br></span> <span class='i2'>On each I +judge thy foe.<br></span> <span>If I am right, thy grace +impart,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Still in the right to +stay;<br></span> <span>If I am wrong, O teach my heart<br></span> +<span class='i2'>To find that better way.<br></span> <span>Save me +alike from foolish pride,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Or impious +discontent,<br></span> <span>At aught thy wisdom has +deny'd,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Or aught thy goodness +lent.<br></span> <span>Teach me to feel another's woe,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>To hide the fault I see;<br></span> <span>That +mercy I to others shew,<br></span> <span class='i2'>That mercy show +to me.<br></span> <span>Mean though I am, not wholly so,<br></span> +<span class='i2'>Since quicken'd by thy breath;<br></span> <span>Oh +lead me wheresoe'er I go,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Through this +day's life or death.<br></span> <span>This day be bread and peace +my lot:<br></span> <span class='i2'>All else beneath the +sun,<br></span> <span>Thou knowst if best bestow'd or +not,<br></span> <span class='i2'>And let thy will be +done.<br></span> <span>To thee, whose temple is all +space,<br></span> <span class='i2'>Whose altar, earth, sea, +skies!<br></span> <span>One chorus let all being raise!<br></span> +<span class='i2'>All nature's incense rise!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='CHARACTER_OF_MAN' id="CHARACTER_OF_MAN"></a> +<h2>CHARACTER OF MAN.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Know then thyself; presume not God to +scan<br></span> <span>The proper study of mankind, is +man.<br></span> <span>Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle +state,<br></span> <span>A being darkly wise, and rudely +great;<br></span> <span>With too much knowledge for the sceptic +side,<br></span> <span>With too much weakness for the stoic's +pride,<br></span> <span>He hangs between; in doubt to act, or +rest;<br></span> <span>In doubt, to deem himself a God, or +beast;<br></span> <span>In doubt, his mind or body to +prefer;<br></span> <span>Born, but to die; and reas'ning, but to +err:<br></span> <span>Alike in ignorance, his reason +such,<br></span> <span>Whether he thinks too little or too +much:<br></span> <span>Chaos of thought and passion, all +confus'd;<br></span> <span>Still by himself abus'd, or +disabus'd:<br></span> <span>Created, half to rise, and half to +fall;<br></span> <span>Great lord of all things, yet a prey to +all:<br></span> <span>Sole judge of truth, in endless error +hurl'd;<br></span> <span>The glory, jest, and riddle of the +world!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='WINTER' id="WINTER"></a> +<h2>WINTER.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>See! Winter comes, to rule the varied +year,<br></span> <span>Sullen and sad, with all his rising +train,<br></span> <span>Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these +my theme;<br></span> <span>These, that exalt the soul to solemn +thought,<br></span> <span>And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred +glooms!<br></span> <span>Congenial horrors, hail! With frequent +foot,<br></span> <span>Pleas'd, have I, in my cheerful morn of +life,<br></span> <span>When, nurs'd by careless solitude, I +liv'd,<br></span> <span>And sung of nature with unceasing +joy.<br></span> <span>Pleas'd, have I wand'red through your rough +domain;<br></span> <span>Trod the pure virgin snows, myself as +pure;<br></span> <span>Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent +burst;<br></span> <span>Or seen the deep fermenting tempest +brew'd<br></span> <span>In the grim evening sky. Thus pass the +time,<br></span> <span>Till, through the lucid chambers of the +south,<br></span> <span>Look'd out the joyous spring, look'd out, +and smil'd.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_HIMSELF' id= +"DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_HIMSELF"></a> +<h2>DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>My name is Norval. On the Grampian +Hills<br></span> <span>My father feeds his flocks; a frugal +swain,<br></span> <span>Whose constant cares were to increase his +store,<br></span> <span>And keep his only son, myself, at +home.<br></span> <span>For I had heard of battles, and I +long'd<br></span> <span>To follow to the field some warlike +lord:<br></span> <span>And heav'n soon granted what my sire +deny'd.<br></span> <span>This moon, which rose last night, round as +my shield,<br></span> <span>Had not yet fill'd her horns, when by +her light,<br></span> <span>A band of fierce barbarians, from the +hills<br></span> <span>Rush'd, like a torrent, down upon the +vale,<br></span> <span>Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds +fled<br></span> <span>For safety and for succour. I +alone,<br></span> <span>With bended bow, and quiver full of +arrows,<br></span> <span>Hover'd about the enemy, and +mark'd<br></span> <span>The road he took; then hasted to my +friends;<br></span> <span>Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen +men,<br></span> <span>I met advancing. The pursuit I +led,<br></span> <span>Till we o'ertook the spoil encumber'd +foe.<br></span> <span>We fought—and conquer'd. Ere a sword +was drawn,<br></span> <span>An arrow, from my bow, had pierc'd +their chief,<br></span> <span>Who wore, that day, the arms which +now I wear.<br></span> <span>Returning home in triumph, I +disdain'd<br></span> <span>The shepherd's slothful life: and having +heard<br></span> <span>That our good king had summon'd his bold +peers,<br></span> <span>To lead their warriors to the Carron +side,<br></span> <span>I left my father's house, and took with +me<br></span> <span>A chosen servant to conduct my +steps—<br></span> <span>Yon trembling coward who forsook his +master.<br></span> <span>Journeying with this intent, I pass'd +these towers;<br></span> <span>And, heaven directed, came this day, +to do<br></span> <span>The happy deed, that gilds my humble +name.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_MANNER_IN_WHICH_HE_LEARNED_THE_ART_OF_WAR' +id= +"DOUGLASS_ACCOUNT_OF_THE_MANNER_IN_WHICH_HE_LEARNED_THE_ART_OF_WAR"> +</a> +<h2>DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF THE MANNER IN WHICH HE LEARNED THE ART OF +WAR.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Beneath a mountain's brow, the most +remote<br></span> <span>And inaccessible by shepherds +trod,<br></span> <span>In a deep cave, dug by no mortal +hand,<br></span> <span>A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man,<br></span> +<span>Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains,<br></span> +<span>Austere and lonely, cruel to himself,<br></span> <span>Did +they report him; the cold earth his bed,<br></span> <span>Water his +drink, his food the shepherd's alms.<br></span> <span>I went to see +him, and my heart was touch'd<br></span> <span>With rev'rence and +with pity. Mild he spake,<br></span> <span>And, entering on +discourse, such stories told,<br></span> <span>As made me oft +revisit his sad cell.<br></span> <span>For he had been a soldier in +his youth,<br></span> <span>And fought in famous battles, when the +peers<br></span> <span>Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo +led,<br></span> <span>Against th' usurping infidel +display'd<br></span> <span>The blessed cross, and won the Holy +Land.<br></span> <span>Pleas'd with my admiration, and the +fire<br></span> <span>His speech struck from me; the old man would +shake<br></span> <span>His years away, and act his young +encounters.<br></span> <span>Then having shewn his wounds; he'd sit +him down.<br></span> <span>And all the live long day, discourse of +war.<br></span> <span>To help my fancy, in the smooth green +turf<br></span> <span>He cut the figures of the marshall'd +hosts:<br></span> <span>Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the +use<br></span> <span>Of the deep column and lengthen'd +line,<br></span> <span>The square, the crescent, and the phalanx +firm;<br></span> <span>For, all that Saracen or Christian +knew<br></span> <span>Of war's vast art, was to this hermit +known.<br></span> <span class='i10'>Unhappy man!<br></span> +<span>Returning homeward by Messina's port,<br></span> <span>Loaded +with wealth and honours bravely won,<br></span> <span>A rude and +boist'rous captain of the sea<br></span> <span>Fasten'd a quarrel +on him. Fierce they fought;<br></span> <span>The stranger fell, and +with his dying breath,<br></span> <span>Declar'd his name and +lineage! Mighty God!<br></span> <span>The soldier cry'd, my +brother! Oh! my brother!<br></span> <span class='i10'>They +exchanged forgiveness:<br></span> <span>And happy, in my mind, was +he that died;<br></span> <span>For many deaths has the survivor +suffer'd,<br></span> <span>In the wild desart on a rock he +sits,<br></span> <span>Or on some nameless stream's untrodden +banks,<br></span> <span>And ruminates all day his dreadful +fate.<br></span> <span>At times, alas! not in his perfect +mind!<br></span> <span>Hold's dialogues with his lov'd brother's +ghost;<br></span> <span>And oft each night forsakes his sullen +couch,<br></span> <span>To make sad orisons for him he +slew.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='BAUCIS_AND_PHILEMON' id="BAUCIS_AND_PHILEMON"></a> +<h2>BAUCIS AND PHILEMON.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>In ancient times, as story +tells,<br></span> <span>The saints would often leave their +cells,<br></span> <span>And stroll about; but hide their +quality,<br></span> <span>To try good people's +hospitality.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>It happened, on a winter +night,<br></span> <span>As authors on the legend write,<br></span> +<span>Two brother hermits, saints by trade;<br></span> <span>Taking +their tour in masquerade,<br></span> <span>Disguis'd in tattered +habits, went<br></span> <span>To a small village down in +Kent;<br></span> <span>Where, in the stroller's canting +strain,<br></span> <span>They begg'd from door to door, +in-vain;<br></span> <span>Tri'd every tone might pity +win,<br></span> <span>But not a soul would let them +in.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Our wandering saints, in woeful +state,<br></span> <span>Treated at this ungodly rate,<br></span> +<span>Having through all the village pass'd,<br></span> <span>To a +small cottage came at last,<br></span> <span>Where dwelt a good old +honest yoeman,<br></span> <span>Call'd in the neighbourhood, +Philemon;<br></span> <span>Who kindly did these saints +invite<br></span> <span>In his poor hut to pass the +night;<br></span> <span>And, then, the hospitable sire<br></span> +<span>Bid goody Baucis mend the fire;<br></span> <span>While he, +from out the chimney, took<br></span> <span>A flitch of bacon off +the hook,<br></span> <span>And, freely from the fattest +side,<br></span> <span>Cut out large slices to be fry'd:<br></span> +<span>Then stept aside, to fetch them drink,<br></span> +<span>Fill'd a large jug up to the brink;<br></span> <span>Then saw +it fairly twice go round;<br></span> <span>Yet (what is wonderful) +they found,<br></span> <span>'Twas still replenish'd to the +top,<br></span> <span>As if they had not touch'd a +drop.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The good old couple were +amaz'd,<br></span> <span>And often on each other gaz'd;<br></span> +<span>For both were frighten'd to the heart,<br></span> <span>And +just began to cry—What art!<br></span> <span>Then softly +turn'd aside to view,<br></span> <span>Whether the lights were +turning blue,<br></span> <span>The gentle pilgrims, soon aware +on't,<br></span> <span>Told them their calling and their +errand;<br></span> <span>"Good folks you need not be +afraid;<br></span> <span>"We are but saints," the hermit +said;<br></span> <span>"No hurt shall come to you or +yours;<br></span> <span>"But for that pack of churlish +boors,<br></span> <span>"Not fit to live on Christian +ground,<br></span> <span>"They, and their houses shall be +drown'd;<br></span> <span>"While you see your cottage +rise,<br></span> <span>"And grow a church before your +eyes."<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>They scarce had spoke, when fair and +soft,<br></span> <span>The roof began to move aloft;<br></span> +<span>Aloft rose every beam and rafter;<br></span> <span>The heavy +wall climb'd slowly after.<br></span> <span>The chimney widen'd, +and grew higher,<br></span> <span>Became a steeple with a +spire.<br></span> <span>The kettle to the top was hoist;<br></span> +<span>With upside down, doom'd there to dwell,<br></span> +<span>'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.<br></span> <span>A wooden +jack, which had almost<br></span> <span>Lost, by disuse, the art to +roast,<br></span> <span>A sudden alteration feels,<br></span> +<span>Increas'd by new intestine wheels;<br></span> <span>And +strait against the steeple rear'd,<br></span> <span>Became a clock, +and still adher'd;<br></span> <span>And, now, in love to household +cares,<br></span> <span>By a shrill voice the hour +declares,<br></span> <span>Warning the housemaid not to +burn<br></span> <span>The roast-meat which it cannot +turn.<br></span> <span>The easy chair began to crawl,<br></span> +<span>Like a huge snail along the wall;<br></span> <span>There, +stuck aloft in public view,<br></span> <span>And, with small +change, a pulpit grew.<br></span> <span>A bed-stead of the antique +mode,<br></span> <span>Made up of timber many a load,<br></span> +<span>Such as our ancestors did use,<br></span> <span>Was +metamorphos'd into pews:<br></span> <span>Which still their ancient +nature keep,<br></span> <span>By lodging folks dispos'd to +sleep.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>The cottage by such feats as +these,<br></span> <span>Grown to a church by just +degrees,<br></span> <span>The hermits then desir'd their +host<br></span> <span>Old goodman Dobson of the green,<br></span> +<span>Remembers, he the trees has seen;<br></span> <span>He'll talk +of them from morn to night,<br></span> <span>And goes with folks to +shew the sight.<br></span> <span>On Sundays, after ev'ning +prayer,<br></span> <span>He gathers all the parish +there;<br></span> <span>Points out the place of either +yew:<br></span> <span>"Here Baucis, there Philemon grew;<br></span> +<span>"Till, once, a parson of our town,<br></span> <span>"To mend +his barn, cut Baucis down;<br></span> <span>"At which, 'tis hard to +be believ'd;<br></span> <span>"How much the other tree was +griev'd;<br></span> <span>"Grew scrubby, died a-top, was +stunted;<br></span> <span>"So the next parson stubb'd, and burnt +it."<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='ON_HAPPINESS' id="ON_HAPPINESS"></a> +<h2>ON HAPPINESS.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Oh happiness! our being's end and +aim;<br></span> <span>Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er they +name,<br></span> <span>That something still which prompts the +eternal sigh,<br></span> <span>For which we bear to live, or dare +to die:<br></span> <span>Which still so near us, yet beyond us +lies,<br></span> <span>O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and +wise:<br></span> <span>Plant of celestial seed! if drop'd +below,<br></span> <span>Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to +grow:<br></span> <span>Fair op'ning to some court's propitious +shrine;<br></span> <span>Or deep with di'monds in the flaming +mine?<br></span> <span>Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels +yield,<br></span> <span>Or reap'd in iron harvests of the +field?<br></span> <span>Where grows? where grows it not? If vain +our toil,<br></span> <span>We ought to blame the culture, not the +soil.<br></span> <span>Fix'd to no spot is happiness +sincere?<br></span> <span>'Tis no where to be found, or every +where.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Order is heaven's first law: and this +confest,<br></span> <span>Some are, and must be, greater than the +rest;<br></span> <span>More rich, more wise. But, who infers from +hence<br></span> <span>That such are happier, shocks all common +sense;<br></span> <span>Heaven to mankind impartial we +confess,<br></span> <span>If all are equal in their +happiness.<br></span> <span>But mutual wants this happiness +increase;<br></span> <span>All natures difference keeps all natures +peace.<br></span> <span>Condition, circumstance, is not the +thing;<br></span> <span>Bliss is the same, in subject, or in +king;<br></span> <span>In who obtain defence, or who +defend;<br></span> <span>In him who is, or him who finds a +friend.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Fortune her gifts may variously +dispose,<br></span> <span>And these be happy call'd, unhappy +those;<br></span> <span>But heaven's just balance equal will +appear,<br></span> <span>While those are plac'd in hope, and these +in fear;<br></span> <span>Nor present good or ill, the joy or +curse,<br></span> <span>But future views of better, or of +worse.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Oh sons of earth! attempt ye still to +rise,<br></span> <span>By mountains pil'd on, mountains, to the +skies?<br></span> <span>Heaven still, with laughter, the vain toil +surveys,<br></span> <span>And buries madmen in the heaps they +raise.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Know, all the good that individuals +find,<br></span> <span>Or God and nature meant to mere +mankind,<br></span> <span>Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of +sense,<br></span> <span>Lie in three words—Health, Peace, and +Competence.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SPEECH_OF_ADAM_TO_EVE' id="SPEECH_OF_ADAM_TO_EVE"></a> +<h2>SPEECH OF ADAM TO EVE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern +clime<br></span> <span>Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient +pearl,<br></span> <span>When Adam wak'd; so custom'd; for his +sleep<br></span> <span>Was airy light, from pure digestion +bred,<br></span> <span>And temperate vapours bland, which the only +found<br></span> <span>Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's +fan,<br></span> <span>Lightly dispers'd, and the thrill matin +song<br></span> <span>Of birds on ev'ry bough. So much the +more<br></span> <span>His wonder was to find unwaken'd +Eve<br></span> <span>With tresses discomposed, and glowing +cheek.<br></span> <span>As through unquiet rest. He, on his +side<br></span> <span>Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial +love,<br></span> <span>Hung over her enamour'd; and +beheld<br></span> <span>Beauty, which, whether waking or +asleep,<br></span> <span>Shot forth peculiar graces. Then, with +voice<br></span> <span>Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora +breathes,<br></span> <span>Her hand soft touching, whispered thus; +"Awake,<br></span> <span>"My fairest, my espous'd, my latest +found:<br></span> <span>"Heaven's last best gift, my ever new +delight,<br></span> <span>"Awake!—The morning shines, and the +fresh field<br></span> <span>"Calls us. We lose the prime; to mark +how spring<br></span> <span>"Our tended plants; how blows the +citron grove:<br></span> <span>"What drops the myrrh, and what the +balmy reed;<br></span> <span>"How nature paints her colours; how +the bee<br></span> <span>"Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid +sweet."<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name= +'SOLILOQUY_AND_PRAYER_OF_EDWARD_THE_BLACK_PRINCE_BEFORE_THE_BATTLE_OF' +id= +"SOLILOQUY_AND_PRAYER_OF_EDWARD_THE_BLACK_PRINCE_BEFORE_THE_BATTLE_OF"> +</a> +<h2>SOLILOQUY AND PRAYER OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE, BEFORE THE +BATTLE OF POICTIERS.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>The hour advances, the decisive +hour,<br></span> <span>That lifts me to the summit of +renown,<br></span> <span>Or leaves me on the earth a breathless +corse,<br></span> <span>The buzz and bustle of the field before +me;<br></span> <span>The twang of bow-strings, and the clash of +spears:<br></span> <span>With every circumstance of +preparation;<br></span> <span>Strike with an awful +horror!—Shouts are echo'd,<br></span> <span>To drown dismay, +and blow up resolution<br></span> <span>Even to its utmost +swell.—From hearts so firm,<br></span> <span>Whom dangers +fortify, and toils inspire,<br></span> <span>What has a leader not +to hope! And, yet,<br></span> <span>The weight of apprehension +sinks me down—<br></span> <span>"O, soul of Nature! great +eternal cause,<br></span> <span>"Who gave, and govern's all that's +here below!<br></span> <span>"'Tis by the aid of thy almighty +arm<br></span> <span>"The weak exist, the virtuous are +secure.<br></span> <span>"If, to your sacred laws obedient +ever<br></span> <span>"My sword, my soul, have own'd no other +guide,<br></span> <span>"Oh! if your honour, if the rights of +men,<br></span> <span>"My country's happiness, my king's +renown,<br></span> <span>"Were motives worthy of a warrior's +zeal,<br></span> <span>"Crown your poor servant with success this +day:<br></span> <span>"And be the praise and glory all thy +own."<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='INVOCATION_TO_PARADISE_LOST' id= +"INVOCATION_TO_PARADISE_LOST"></a> +<h2>INVOCATION TO PARADISE LOST.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Of man's first disobedience, and the +fruit<br></span> <span>Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal +taste<br></span> <span>Brought death into the world, and all our +woe,<br></span> <span>With loss of Eden, till one greater +man<br></span> <span>Restore us, and regain the blissful +seat,<br></span> <span>Sing heav'nly muse! that on the sacred +top<br></span> <span>Of Oreb, or of Sinai, did'st +inspire<br></span> <span>That shepherd, who first taught the chosen +seed,<br></span> <span>In the beginning, how the heav'ns and +earth<br></span> <span>Rose out of chaos: or, if Sion +hill<br></span> <span>Delight thee more, and Silo's book that +flow'd.<br></span> <span>Fast by the oracle of God; I +thence<br></span> <span>Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous +song,<br></span> <span>That, with no middle flight, intends to +soar<br></span> <span>Above th' Aonian mount, while it +pursues<br></span> <span>Things unattempted yet in prose or +rhyme<br></span> <span>And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost +prefer<br></span> <span>Before all temples, th' upright heart and +pure,<br></span> <span>Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou, from +the first,<br></span> <span>Wast present, and with mighty wings +outspread,<br></span> <span>Dove-like sat'st brooding o'er the vast +abyss,<br></span> <span>And mad'st it pregnant; what in me is +dark,<br></span> <span>Illumine: what is low, raise and +support;<br></span> <span>That, to the height of this great +argument,<br></span> <span>I may assert eternal +providence,<br></span> <span>And justify the ways of God to +men.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='MORNING_HYMN' id="MORNING_HYMN"></a> +<h2>MORNING HYMN.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>These are thy glorious works, Parent of +good!<br></span> <span>Almighty! thine this universal +frame,<br></span> <span>Thus wond'rous fair: thyself, how +wond'rous, then,<br></span> <span>Unspeakable! who fit'st above +these heav'ns,<br></span> <span>To us invisible, or dimly +seen<br></span> <span>In these thy lowest works; yet these +declare<br></span> <span>Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r +divine—<br></span> <span>Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons +of light,<br></span> <span>Angels!—for ye behold him, and, +with songs<br></span> <span>And choral symphonies, day without +night,<br></span> <span>Circle his throne, rejoicing. Ye in +heav'n!—<br></span> <span>On earth, join all ye creatures, to +extol<br></span> <span>Him first, him last, him midst, and without +end,<br></span> <span>Fairest of stars! last in the train of +night,<br></span> <span>If better then, belong not to the +dawn,<br></span> <span>Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the +smiling morn<br></span> <span>With thy bright circlet, praise him +in thy sphere,<br></span> <span>While day arises, that sweet hour +of prime.<br></span> <span>Thou fun! of this great world both eye +and foul,<br></span> <span>Acknowledge him thy greater: found his +praise<br></span> <span>In thy eternal course, both when thou +climb'st,<br></span> <span>And when high noon has gain'd, and when +thou fall'st,<br></span> <span>Moon! that now meet'st the orient +fun, now fly'st<br></span> <span>With the fix'd stars, fix'd in +their orb that flies;<br></span> <span>And ye five other wand'ring +fires! that move<br></span> <span>In mystic dance, not without +song; resound<br></span> <span>His praise, who out of darkness, +call'd up light.<br></span> <span>Air, and ye elements! the eldest +birth<br></span> <span>Of nature's womb, that, in quaternion, +run<br></span> <span>Perpetual circle, multiform, and +mix<br></span> <span>And nourish all things; let your ceaseless +change<br></span> <span>Vary, to our great Maker, still new +praise,<br></span> <span>Ye mists and exhalations! that now +rise<br></span> <span>From hill or streaming lake, dusky or +grey,<br></span> <span>Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with +gold,<br></span> <span>In honour to the world's great Author, +rise;<br></span> <span>Whether to deck with clouds, th' uncolour'd +sky,<br></span> <span>Or wet the thirsty earth with falling +show'rs,<br></span> <span>Rising, or falling, still advance his +praise.<br></span> <span>His praise, ye winds! that from four +quarters blow,<br></span> <span>Breathe soft or loud! and wave your +tops, ye pines!<br></span> <span>With ev'ry plant, in sign of +worship, wave,<br></span> <span>Fountains! and ye that warble, as +ye flow,<br></span> <span>Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his +praise.—-<br></span> <span>Join voices, all ye living souls. +Ye birds,<br></span> <span>That, singing, up to heaven-gate +ascend,<br></span> <span>Bear, on your wings, and in your notes, +his praise.—<br></span> <span>Ye, that in waters glide! and +ye, that walk<br></span> <span>The earth, and stately tread, or +lowly creep!<br></span> <span>Witness, if I be silent, morn or +ev'n,<br></span> <span>To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh +shade,<br></span> <span>Made vocal by my song, and taught his +praise.—<br></span> <span>Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous +still,<br></span> <span>To give us only good: and, if the +night<br></span> <span>Have gather'd aught of evil, or +conceal'd—<br></span> <span>Disperse it, as now light dispels +the dark.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='THE_HERMIT_BY_DR_BEATIE' id="THE_HERMIT_BY_DR_BEATIE"></a> +<h2>THE HERMIT.—<i>BY DR. BEATIE</i>.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>At the close of the day, when the hamlet +is still,<br></span> <span>And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness +prove;<br></span> <span>When nought, but the torrent, is heard on +the hill;<br></span> <span>And nought, but the, nightingale's song, +in the grove;<br></span> <span>'Twas then, by the cave of the +fountain afar;<br></span> <span>A hermit his song of the night thus +began;<br></span> <span>No more with himself, or with nature at +war,<br></span> <span>He thought as a sage, while he felt as a +man.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>'Ah! why thus abandon'd to darkness and +woe?<br></span> <span>'Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad +strain?<br></span> <span>'For spring shall return, and a lover +bestow,<br></span> <span>'And thy bosom no trace of misfortune +retain.<br></span> <span>'Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not +thy lay;<br></span> <span>'Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls +thee to mourn;<br></span> <span>'Oh! soothe him, whose pleasures, +like thine, pass away,<br></span> <span>'Full quickly they +pass—but they never return.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>'Now, gliding remote, on the verge of the +sky,<br></span> <span>'The moon, half extinguish'd, her crescent +displays;<br></span> <span>'But lately I mark'd; when majestic: on +high<br></span> <span>'She shone, and the planets were lost in her +blaze.<br></span> <span>'Roll on, thou fair orb! and with; gladness +pursue<br></span> <span>'The path that conducts thee to splendor +again—<br></span> <span>'But man's faded glory no change +shall renew:<br></span> <span>'Ah fool! to exult in a glory so +vain.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>''Tis night, and the landscape is lovely +no more;<br></span> <span>'I mourn; but ye woodlands! I mourn not +for you:<br></span> <span>'For morn is approaching, your charms to +restore,<br></span> <span>'Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and +glitt'ring with dew.<br></span> <span>'Nor, yet, for the ravage of +winter I mourn;<br></span> <span>'Kind nature the embryo blossom +will save—<br></span> <span>'But, when shall spring visit the +mould'ring urn?<br></span> <span>'O! when shall it dawn on the +night of the grave!'<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>'Twas thus, by the glare of false science +betray'd,<br></span> <span>That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to +blind;<br></span> <span>My thoughts want to roam, from shade onward +to shade,<br></span> <span>Destruction before me, and sorrow +behind.<br></span> <span>'O! pity, great father of light!' then I +cry'd,<br></span> <span>'Thy creature, who fain would not wander +from thee;<br></span> <span>'Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my +pride:<br></span> <span>F'rom doubt, and from darkness, thou only +canst free.'<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>And darkness, and doubt, are now flying +away,<br></span> <span>No longer I roam, in conjecture +forlorn,<br></span> <span>So breaks on the traveller, faint, and +astray,<br></span> <span>The bright and the balmy effulgence of +morn.<br></span> <span>See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph +descending,<br></span> <span>And nature all glowing in Eden's first +bloom!<br></span> <span>On the cold cheek of death, smiles and +roses are blending,<br></span> <span>And beauty immortal awakes +from the tomb,<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='COMPASSION' id="COMPASSION"></a> +<h2>COMPASSION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Pity the sorrows of a poor old +man,<br></span> <span>Whole trembling limbs have borne him to your +door;<br></span> <span>Whole days are dwindled to the shortest +span,<br></span> <span>Oh! give relief and heav'n will bless your +store,<br></span> <span>These tatter'd clothes my poverty +bespeak,<br></span> <span>Those hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd +years;<br></span> <span>And many a furrow in my grief-worn +cheek<br></span> <span>Has been the channel to a flood of +tears.<br></span> <span>You house erected on the rising +ground,<br></span> <span>With tempting aspect, drew me from my +road,<br></span> <span>For plenty there a residence has +found,<br></span> <span>And grandeur a magnificent +abode.<br></span> <span>Hard is the fate of the infirm and +poor!<br></span> <span>Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their +bread,<br></span> <span>A pamper'd menial drove me from the +door,<br></span> <span>To seek a shelter in an humbler +shed.<br></span> <span>Oh! take me to your hospitable +dome;<br></span> <span>Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the +cold:<br></span> <span>Short is my passage to the friendly +tomb,<br></span> <span>For I am poor and miserably old.<br></span> +<span>Should I reveal the sources of my grief,<br></span> <span>If +soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast,<br></span> <span>Your hands +would not withhold the kind relief,<br></span> <span>And tears of +pity would not be represt.<br></span> <span>Heav'n sends +misfortunes; why should we repine?<br></span> <span>'Tis heav'n has +brought me to the state you see;<br></span> <span>And your +condition may be soon like mine,<br></span> <span>The child of +sorrow and of misery.<br></span> <span>A little farm was my +paternal lot,<br></span> <span>Then like the lark I sprightly +hail'd the morn:<br></span> <span>But, ah! oppression forc'd me +from my cot,<br></span> <span>My cattle died, and blighted was my +corn.<br></span> <span>My daughter, once the comfort of my +age,<br></span> <span>Lur'd by a villain from her native +home,<br></span> <span>Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide +stage,<br></span> <span>And doom'd in scanty poverty to +roam.<br></span> <span>My tender wife, sweet soother of my +care,<br></span> <span>Struck with sad anguish at the stern +decree,<br></span> <span>Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to +despair,<br></span> <span>And left the world to wretchedness and +me.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Pity the sorrows of a poor old +man,<br></span> <span>Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your +door;<br></span> <span>Whose days are dwindled to the shortest +span,<br></span> <span>Oh! give relief, and heav'n will bless your +store.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='ADVANTAGES_OF_PEACE' id="ADVANTAGES_OF_PEACE"></a> +<h2>ADVANTAGES OF PEACE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Oh, first of human blessings and +supreme,<br></span> <span>Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful, +thou!<br></span> <span>By whose wide tie, the kindred sons of +men,<br></span> <span>brothers live, in amity combin'd,<br></span> +<span>And unsuspicious faith: while honest toil<br></span> +<span>Gives ev'ry joy; and, to those joys, a right,<br></span> +<span>Which idle barbarous rapine but usurps.<br></span> <span>Pure +is thy reign; when, unaccurs'd by blood,<br></span> <span>Nought, +save the sweetness of indulgent show'rs,<br></span> +<span>Trickling, distils into the vernant glebe;<br></span> +<span>Instead of mangled carcases, sad scene!<br></span> <span>When +the blythe sheaves lie scatter'd o'er the field;<br></span> +<span>When only shining shares, the crooked knife,<br></span> +<span>And hooks imprint the vegetable wound;<br></span> <span>When +the land blushes with the rose alone,<br></span> <span>The falling +fruitage, and the bleeding vine.<br></span> <span>Oh! peace! then +source and soul of social life!<br></span> <span>Beneath whose calm +inspiring influence,<br></span> <span>Science his views enlarges, +art refines,<br></span> <span>And swelling commerce opens all her +ports—<br></span> <span>Bless'd be the man divine, who gives +us thee!<br></span> <span>Who bids the trumpet hush its horrid +clang,<br></span> <span>Nor blow the giddy nations into +rage;<br></span> <span>Who sheathes the murd'rous blade; the deadly +gun<br></span> <span>Into the well-pil'd armory returns;<br></span> +<span>And, ev'ry vigour from the work of death<br></span> <span>To +grateful industry converting, makes<br></span> <span>The country +flourish, and the city smile!<br></span> <span>Unviolated, him the +virgin sings;<br></span> <span>And him, the smiling mother, to her +train.<br></span> <span>Of him, the Shepherd, in the peaceful +dale,<br></span> <span>Chaunts; and the treasures of his labour +sure,<br></span> <span>The husbandman, of him, as at the +plough,<br></span> <span>Or team, he toils. With him, the Tailor +soothes,<br></span> <span>Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight +wave;<br></span> <span>And the full city, warm, from street to +street,<br></span> <span>And shop to shop, responsive rings of +him.<br></span> <span>Nor joys one land alone: his praise +extends,<br></span> <span>Far as the sun rolls the diffusive +day;<br></span> <span>Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of +peace;<br></span> <span>Till all the happy nations catch the +song.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='PROGRESS_OF_LIFE' id="PROGRESS_OF_LIFE"></a> +<h2>PROGRESS OF LIFE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>All the world's a stage,<br></span> +<span>And all the men and women merely players:<br></span> +<span>They have their exits and their entrances;<br></span> +<span>And one man in his time plays many parts;<br></span> +<span>His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,<br></span> +<span>Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms;<br></span> <span>And +then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,<br></span> <span>And +shining morning face, creeping like snail<br></span> +<span>Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,<br></span> +<span>Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad<br></span> +<span>Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier<br></span> +<span>Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,<br></span> +<span>Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,<br></span> +<span>Seeking the bubble reputation,<br></span> <span>Ev'n in the +cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,<br></span> <span>In fair +round belly, with good capon lin'd;<br></span> <span>With eyes +severe and beard of formal cut,<br></span> <span>Full of wise saws +and modern instances,<br></span> <span>And so he plays his part. +The sixth age foists<br></span> <span>Into the lean and slipper'd +pantaloon,<br></span> <span>With spectacles on nose, and pouch on +side.<br></span> <span>His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too +wide<br></span> <span>For his shrunk shank; and his big manly +voice<br></span> <span>Turning again towards childish treble, +pipes.<br></span> <span>And whistles in his sound. Last scene of +all<br></span> <span>That ends this strange eventful +history,<br></span> <span>Is second childishness, and mere +oblivion;<br></span> <span>Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans +every thing.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SPEECHES_IN_THE_ROMAN_SENATE' id= +"SPEECHES_IN_THE_ROMAN_SENATE"></a> +<h2><i>SPEECHES IN THE ROMAN SENATE.</i></h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>CATO.—Fathers! we once again are +met in council.<br></span> <span>Cæsar's approach, has +summon'd us together,<br></span> <span>And Rome attends her fate +from our resolves.<br></span> <span>How shall we treat this bold +aspiring man?<br></span> <span>Success still follows him, and backs +his crimes,<br></span> <span>Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has +since<br></span> <span>Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is +Cæsar's.<br></span> <span>Why should I mention Juba's +overthrow,<br></span> <span>And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning +sands<br></span> <span>Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should +decree<br></span> <span>What course to take. Our foe advances on +us,<br></span> <span>And envies us ev'n Lybia's sultry +deserts.<br></span> <span>Fathers, pronounce your thoughts. Are +they still fix'd<br></span> <span>To hold it out and fight it to +the last?<br></span> <span>Or, are your hearts subdu'd, at length, +and wrought;<br></span> <span>By time and ill success, to a +submission?—<br></span> <span>Sempronius, +speak.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>SEMPRONIUS.—My voice is still for +war.<br></span> <span>Gods! can a Roman senate long +debate<br></span> <span>Which of the two to chuse, slav'ry or +death?<br></span> <span>No—let us rise at once; gird on our +swords;<br></span> <span>And, at the head of our remaining +troops,<br></span> <span>Attack the foe; break through the thick +array<br></span> <span>Of his throng'd legions; and charge home +upon him.<br></span> <span>Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the +rest,<br></span> <span>May reach his heart, and free the world from +bondage.<br></span> <span>Rise, Fathers, rise! 'Tis Rome demands +your help;<br></span> <span>Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd +citizens,<br></span> <span>Or share their fate! The corpse of half +her senate<br></span> <span>Manure the fields of Thessaly, while +we<br></span> <span>Sit here, delib'rating' hi told +debates,<br></span> <span>If we should sacrifice our lives to +honour,<br></span> <span>Or wear them out in servitude and +chains.<br></span> <span>Rouse up, for shame: Our brothers of +Pharsalia<br></span> <span>Point at their wounds, and cry +aloud—to battle!<br></span> <span>Great Pompey's shade +complains that we are flow;<br></span> <span>And Scipio's ghost +walks unreveng'd amongst us!<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>CATO.—Let not a torrent of +impetuous zeal<br></span> <span>Transport thee thus beyond the +bounds of reason.<br></span> <span>True fortitude is seen in great +exploits,<br></span> <span>That justice warrants, and that wisdom +guides;<br></span> <span>All else is tow'ring frenzy and +distraction.<br></span> <span>Are not the lives of those who draw +the sword<br></span> <span>In Rome's defence, entrusted to our +care?<br></span> <span>Should we thus lead them to a field of +slaughter,<br></span> <span>Might not th' impartial world, with +reason, say<br></span> <span>We lavish'd, at our deaths, the blood +of thousands;<br></span> <span>To grace our fall, and make our ruin +glorious?<br></span> <span>Lucius, we next would know what's your +opinion.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>LUCIUS.—My thoughts, I must +confess, are turn'd on peace,<br></span> <span>Already have our +quarrels fill'd the world<br></span> <span>With widows and with +orphans. Scythia mourns<br></span> <span>Our guilty wars, and +earth's remotest regions<br></span> <span>Lie half unpeopled by the +feuds of Rome.<br></span> <span>'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and +spare mankind,<br></span> <span>It is not Cæsar, but the +gods, my fathers!<br></span> <span>The gods declare against us, and +repel<br></span> <span>Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to +battle,<br></span> <span>(Prompted by a blind revenge and wild +despair)<br></span> <span>Were, to refuse th' awards of +providence,<br></span> <span>And not to rest in heav'n's +determination.<br></span> <span>Already have we shewn our love to +Rome;<br></span> <span>Now, let us shew submission to the +gods.<br></span> <span>We took up arms not to revenge +ourselves,<br></span> <span>But free the commonwealth. When this +end fails,<br></span> <span>Arms have no further use. Our country's +cause,<br></span> <span>That drew our swords, now wrests them from +our hands,<br></span> <span>And bids us not delight in Roman +blood<br></span> <span>Unprofitably shed. What men could +do<br></span> <span>Is done already. Heav'n and earth will +witness,<br></span> <span>If Rome must fall, that we are +innocent.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>CATO—Let us appear, not rash, nor +diffident,<br></span> <span>Immoderate valour swells into a +fault;<br></span> <span>And fear, admitted into public +councils,<br></span> <span>Betray like treason. Let us shun 'em +both.—<br></span> <span>Father's, I cannot see that our +affairs<br></span> <span>Are grown thus desp'rate. We have bulwarks +round us;<br></span> <span>Within our walls, are troops inur'd to +toil<br></span> <span>In Afric heats, and season'd to the +sun.<br></span> <span>Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind +us,<br></span> <span>Ready to rise at its young prince's +call.<br></span> <span>While there is hope, do not distrust the +gods:<br></span> <span>But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near +approach<br></span> <span>Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too +late<br></span> <span>To sue for chains, and own a +conqueror.<br></span> <span>Why should Rome fall a moment ere her +time?<br></span> <span>No—let us draw our term of freedom +out<br></span> <span>In its full length, and spin it to the +last:<br></span> <span>So shall we gain still one day's +liberty.<br></span> <span>And, let me perish, but, in Cato's +judgment,<br></span> <span>A day, an hour, of virtuous +liberty,<br></span> <span>Is worth a whole eternity of +bondage.<br></span></div> +</div> +<p>CATO, solus, <i>sitting in a thoughtful posture: In his hand +Plato's book on the immortality of the soul. A drawn sword on the +table by him</i>.</p> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>It must be so—Plato, thou reason'st +well!—<br></span> <span>Else, whence this pleasing hope, this +fond desire,<br></span> <span>This longing after +immortality?<br></span> <span>Or whence this secret dread, and +inward horror,<br></span> <span>Of falling into nought? Why shrinks +the soul<br></span> <span>Back on herself, and startles at +destruction?<br></span> <span>'Tis the divinity that stirs within +us;<br></span> <span>'Tis heav'n itself, that points out—an +hereafter,<br></span> <span>And intimates—eternity to +man.<br></span> <span>Eternity!—thou pleasing—dreadful +thought!<br></span> <span>Through what variety of untry'd +beings,<br></span> <span>Through what new scenes and changes must +we pass!<br></span> <span>The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies +before me—<br></span> <span>But shadows, clouds, and darkness +rest upon it.—<br></span> <span>Here will I hold. If there's +a pow'r above us,<br></span> <span>(And that there is all nature +cries aloud<br></span> <span>Through all her works) he must delight +in virtue;<br></span> <span>And that which he delights in must be +happy.<br></span> <span>But, when! or where! this world—was +made for Cæsar.<br></span> <span>I'm weary of +conjectures—this must end 'em.<br></span> <span class= +'i10'>[<i>Laying his hand on his sword</i>.<br></span></div> +<div class='stanza'><span>Thus am I doubly arm'd; my death and +life,<br></span> <span>My bane and antidote are both before +me:<br></span> <span>This, in a moment, brings me to an +end;<br></span> <span>But this informs me I shall never +die.<br></span> <span>The soul, secur'd in her existence, +smiles<br></span> <span>At the drawn dagger, and defies its +point.<br></span> <span>The stars shall fade away, the sun +himself<br></span> <span>Grow dim with age, and nature sink in +years;<br></span> <span>But thou shalt flourish in immortal +youth,<br></span> <span>Unhurt amid the war of elements,<br></span> +<span>The wrecks of matter; and the crush of worlds.<br></span> +<span>What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?<br></span> +<span>This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?<br></span> +<span>Nature oppress'd, and harrass'd out with care;<br></span> +<span>Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her;<br></span> +<span>That my awaken'd soul may take her flight,<br></span> +<span>Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life;<br></span> +<span>An offering fit for Heav'n. Let guilt or fear<br></span> +<span>Disturb man's rest; Cato knows neither of 'em;<br></span> +<span>Indiff'rent in his choice, to sleep or die.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='HAMLETS_MEDITATION_ON_DEATH' id= +"HAMLETS_MEDITATION_ON_DEATH"></a> +<h2>HAMLET'S MEDITATION ON DEATH.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>To be—or not to be!—that is +the question.—<br></span> <span>Whether 'tis nobler in the +mind, to suffer<br></span> <span>The stings and arrows of +outrageous fortune;<br></span> <span>Or to take arms against a +siege of troubles,<br></span> <span>And, by opposing, end +them?—To die—to sleep—<br></span> <span>No +more;—and, by a sleep, to say we end<br></span> <span>The +heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks<br></span> <span>That +flesh is heir to—'tis a consummation<br></span> +<span>Devoutly to be wish'd. To die—to +sleep—<br></span> <span>To sleep—perchance to +dream—aye, there's the rub.—<br></span> <span>For, in +that sleep of death what dreams may come;<br></span> <span>When we +have shuffled off this mortal coil;<br></span> <span>Must give us +pause.—There's the respect<br></span> <span>That makes +calamity of so long a life<br></span> <span>For, who would bear the +whips and scorns o' th' time,<br></span> <span>Th' oppressor's +wrong, the proud man's contumely,<br></span> <span>The pangs of +despis'd love, the law's delay,<br></span> <span>The insolence of +office, and the spurns<br></span> <span>That patient merit of the +unworthy takes;<br></span> <span>When he himself might his quietus +make<br></span> <span>With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels +bear,<br></span> <span>To groan and sweat under a weary +life;<br></span> <span>But that the dread of something after +death<br></span> <span>(That undiscover'd country, from whose +bourne<br></span> <span>No traveller returns) puzzles the +will;<br></span> <span>And makes us rather bear those ills we +have,<br></span> <span>Than fly to others that we know not +of;<br></span> <span>Thus conscience does make cowards of us +all;<br></span> <span>And thus the native hue of +resolution<br></span> <span>Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of +thought;<br></span> <span>And enterprizes of great pith and +moment,<br></span> <span>With this regard, their currents turn +away,<br></span> <span>And lose the name of +action.<br></span></div> +</div> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name= +'SELECT_PASSAGES_FROM_DRAMATIC_WRITERS_EXPRESSIVE_OF_THE_PRINCIPAL' +id= +"SELECT_PASSAGES_FROM_DRAMATIC_WRITERS_EXPRESSIVE_OF_THE_PRINCIPAL"> +</a> +<h2>SELECT PASSAGES FROM DRAMATIC WRITERS,<br> +EXPRESSIVE OF THE <i>PRINCIPAL EMOTIONS AND PASSIONS</i>.</h2> +<a name='JOY' id="JOY"></a> +<h2>JOY.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Then is Orestes blest! My griefs are +fled!<br></span> <span>Fled like a dream! Methinks I tread in +air!—<br></span> <span>Surprising happiness! unlook'd for +joy!<br></span> <span>Never let love despair! The prize is +mine!—<br></span> <span>Be smooth, ye seas! and, ye +propitious winds,<br></span> <span>Blow from Epirus to the Spartan +coast!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='GRIEF' id="GRIEF"></a> +<h2>GRIEF.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>I'll go; and in the anguish of my +heart—-<br></span> <span>Weep o'er my child—If he must +die, my life<br></span> <span>Is wrapt in his; I shall not long +survive.<br></span> <span>'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd +life;<br></span> <span>Groan'd in captivity; and outliv'd +Hector.—<br></span> <span>Yes, my Astyanax! we'll go +together;<br></span> <span>Together—to the realms of night +we'll go.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='PITY' id="PITY"></a> +<h2>PITY.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how, at +last,<br></span> <span>Thy beauties, Belvidera, like a +wretch<br></span> <span>That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping +forth,<br></span> <span>Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she +lean'd,<br></span> <span>Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew +sad!<br></span> <span>E'en the lewd rabble, that were gather'd +round<br></span> <span>To see the sight, stood mute when they +beheld her,<br></span> <span>Govern'd their roaring +throats—and grumbled pity.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='FEAR' id="FEAR"></a> +<h2>FEAR.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Come on, Sir,—here's the +place—stand still,—<br></span> <span>How fearful 'tis +to cast one's eyes so low!<br></span> <span>The crows and coughs, +that whig the midway air,<br></span> <span>Shew scarce so gross as +beetles. Half way down,<br></span> <span>Hangs one that gathers +samphire—dreadful trade!<br></span> <span>Methinks he seems +no bigger than one's head,<br></span> <span>The fishermen, that +walk upon the beach,<br></span> <span>Appear like mice; and yon +tall anchoring bark<br></span> <span>Seems lesson'd to a cock; her +cock, a buoy<br></span> <span>Almost too small for fight. The +murmuring surge;<br></span> <span>That on th' unnumbered idle +pebbles chases,<br></span> <span>Cannot be heard so +high.—I'll look no more,<br></span> <span>Lest my brain turn +and the disorder make me<br></span> <span>Tumble down +headlong.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='AWE_AND_FEAR' id="AWE_AND_FEAR"></a> +<h2>AWE AND FEAR.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Now, all is hush'd and still as +death—<br></span> <span>How reverend is the face of this tall +pile,<br></span> <span>Whose ancient pillars rear their marble +heads,<br></span> <span>To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous +roof,<br></span> <span>By its own weight made stedfast and +immoveable,<br></span> <span>Looking tranquillity! It strikes an +awe<br></span> <span>And terror on my aking sight. The +tombs,<br></span> <span>And monumental caves of death look +cold,<br></span> <span>And shoot a chillness to my trembling +heart.<br></span> <span>Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy +voice—<br></span> <span>Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me +hear<br></span> <span>Thy voice—my own affrights me with its +echoes.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='HORROR' id="HORROR"></a> +<h2>HORROR.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Hark!—the death-denouncing trumpet +founds<br></span> <span>The fatal charge, and shouts proclaim the +onset.<br></span> <span>Destruction rushes dreadful to the +field,<br></span> <span>And bathes itself in blood. Havock, let +loose.<br></span> <span>Now, undistinguish'd, rages all +around;<br></span> <span>While Ruin, seated on her dreary +throne,<br></span> <span>Sees the plain strew'd, with subjects +truly her's,<br></span> <span>Breathless and cold.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='ANGER' id="ANGER"></a> +<h2>ANGER.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Hear me, rash man; on thy allegiance hear +me,<br></span> <span>Since thou hast striven to make us break our +vow,<br></span> <span>Which, nor our nature, nor our place can +bear,<br></span> <span>We banish thee forever from our +sight<br></span> <span>And kingdom. If, when three days are +expir'd,<br></span> <span>Thy hated trunk be found in our +dominions,<br></span> <span>That moment is thy +death—-Away!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='REVENGE' id="REVENGE"></a> +<h2>REVENGE.</h2> +<div class='blkquot'> +<p>If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath +disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; laughed at my +losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my +bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies. And what's his +reason—I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, +organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Is he not fed +with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same +diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same +winter and summer, as a Christian is? if you prick us do we not +bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we +not die? And, if you wrong us—shall we not revenge? If we are +like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong +a Christian, what is his humility?—Revenge. If a Christian +wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian +example?—Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will +execute; and it shall go hard, but I will better the +instruction.</p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='ADMIRATION' id="ADMIRATION"></a> +<h2>ADMIRATION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>What find I here?<br></span> <span>Fair +Portia's counterfeit?—What demi-god<br></span> <span>Hath +come so near creation! Move these eyes!<br></span> <span>Or, +whether, riding on the balls of mine,<br></span> <span>Seem they in +motion?—Here are sever'd lips,<br></span> <span>Parted with +sugar breath: so sweet a bar<br></span> <span>Should sunder such +sweet friends.—Here, in her hair,<br></span> <span>The +painter plays the spider, and hath woven<br></span> <span>A golden +mesh, t' entrap the hearts of men<br></span> <span>Falter than +gnats in cobwebs.—But her eyes—<br></span> <span>How +could he see to do them! having made one,<br></span> <span>Methinks +it should have power to steal both his,<br></span> <span>And leave +itself unfinish'd!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='HAUGHTINESS' id="HAUGHTINESS"></a> +<h2>HAUGHTINESS.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Make thy demands to those that own thy +power!<br></span> <span>Know, I am still beyond thee. And tho' +fortune<br></span> <span>Has strip'd me of this train, this pomp of +greatness;<br></span> <span>This outside of a king, yet still my +soul,<br></span> <span>Fix'd high, and on herself alone +dependant,<br></span> <span>Is ever free and royal: and, even +now,<br></span> <span>As at the head of battle—does defy +thee!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='CONTEMPT' id="CONTEMPT"></a> +<h2>CONTEMPT.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Away! no woman could descend so +low,<br></span> <span>A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you +are;<br></span> <span>Fit only for yourselves. You herd +together;<br></span> <span>And when the circling glass warms your +vain hearts,<br></span> <span>You talk of beauties that you never +saw,<br></span> <span>And fancy raptures that you never +knew.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='RESIGNATION' id="RESIGNATION"></a> +<h2>RESIGNATION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Yet, yet endure—nor murmur, O my +foul!<br></span> <span>For, are not thy transgressions great and +numberless?<br></span> <span>Do they not cover thee, like rising +floods?<br></span> <span>And press then, like a weight of waters, +down?<br></span> <span>Does not the hand of righteousness afflict +thee?<br></span> <span>And who shall plead against it? who shall +say<br></span> <span>To Pow'r Almighty, Thou hast done +enough;<br></span> <span>Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance it +stay?—<br></span> <span>Wait, then, with patience, till the +circling hours<br></span> <span>Shall bring the time of thy +appointed rest<br></span> <span>And lay thee down in +death.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='IMPATIENCE' id="IMPATIENCE"></a> +<h2>IMPATIENCE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Oh! rid me of this torture, quickly +there,<br></span> <span>My Madam, with the everlasting +voice.<br></span> <span>The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er +made<br></span> <span>Like noise, or were in that perpetual +motion.<br></span> +<span>————————————All +my house,<br></span> <span>But now, steam'd like a bath, with her +thick breath,<br></span> <span>A lawyer could not have been heard, +nor scarce<br></span> <span>Another woman, such a hail of +words<br></span> <span>She has let fall.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='REMORSE_AND_DESPAIR' id="REMORSE_AND_DESPAIR"></a> +<h2>REMORSE AND DESPAIR.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Henceforth, let no man trust the first +false step<br></span> <span>Of guilt. It hangs upon a +precipice,<br></span> <span>Whose deep descent in last perdition +ends.<br></span> <span>How far am I plung'd down, beyond all +thought<br></span> <span>Which I this evening +fram'd—<br></span> <span>Consummate horror! guilt beyond, a +name!—<br></span> <span>Dare not, my soul, repent. In thee, +repentance<br></span> <span>Were second guilt; and 'twere +blaspheming Heav'n<br></span> <span>To hope for mercy. My pain can +only cease<br></span> <span>When gods want power to +punish.—Ha!—the dawn—<br></span> <span>Rise never +more, O fun!—let night prevail:<br></span> <span>Eternal +darkness close the world's wide scene—<br></span> <span>And +hide me from myself.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='DISTRACTION' id="DISTRACTION"></a> +<h2>DISTRACTION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Mercy!—I know it not—for I am +miserable.<br></span> <span>I'll give thee misery—for here +she dwells,<br></span> <span>This is her house—where the sun +never dawns:<br></span> <span>The bird of night sits screaming o'er +the roof;<br></span> <span>Grim spectres sweep along the horrid +gloom;<br></span> <span>And nought in heard, but wailings and +lamenting.<br></span> <span>Hark!—something cracks +above;—it shakes—it totters!<br></span> <span>And +see—the nodding ruin falls to crush me!—<br></span> +<span>'Tis fallen—'Tis here!—I feel it on my +brain!<br></span> <span>A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er +me!<br></span> <span>And now 'tis out—and I am drown'd in +blood.—<br></span> <span>Ha! what art thou? thou horrid +headless trunk!—<br></span> <span>It is my +Hastings—See, he wafts me on!<br></span> <span>Away I +go!—I fly!—I follow thee!<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='GRATITUDE' id="GRATITUDE"></a> +<h2>GRATITUDE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>My Father! Oh! let me unlade my +breast;<br></span> <span>Pour out the fullness of my soul before +you;<br></span> <span>Shew ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful +thought,<br></span> <span>This wond'rous goodness stirs. But 'tis +impossible,<br></span> <span>And utt'rance all is vile; since I can +only<br></span> <span>Swear you reign here, but never tell how +much.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='INTREATY' id="INTREATY"></a> +<h2>INTREATY.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Reward him for the noble deed, just +Heavens!<br></span> <span>For this one action, guard him, and +distinguish him<br></span> <span>With signal mercies, and with +great deliverance,<br></span> <span>Save him from wrong, adversity, +and shame,<br></span> <span>Let never-fading honours flourish round +him;<br></span> <span>And consecrate his name; ev'n to time's +end.<br></span> <span>Let him know nothing else, but good on +earth<br></span> <span>And everlasting blessedness +hereafter.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='COMMANDING' id="COMMANDING"></a> +<h2>COMMANDING.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Silence, ye winds!<br></span> <span>That +make outrageous war upon the ocean:<br></span> <span>And then, old +ocean? lull thy boist'rous waves.<br></span> <span>Ye warring +elements! be hush'd as death,<br></span> <span>While I impose my +dread commands on hell.<br></span> <span>And thou, profoundest +hell! whose dreary sway,<br></span> <span>Is given to me by fate +and demogorgon—<br></span> <span>Hear, hear my powerful +voice, through all thy regions<br></span> <span>And from thy gloomy +caverns thunder the reply.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='COURAGE' id="COURAGE"></a> +<h2>COURAGE.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>A generous few, the vet'ran hardy +gleanings<br></span> <span>Of many a hapless fight, with a, +fierce<br></span> <span>Heroic fire, inspirited each +other:<br></span> <span>Resolv'd on death, disdaining to +survive<br></span> <span>Their dearest country. "If we fall," I +cry'd,<br></span> <span>"Let us not tamely fall, like passive +cowards!<br></span> <span>No—let us live, or let us +die—like men!<br></span> <span>Come on, my friends. To Alfred +we will cut<br></span> <span>Our glorious way: or as we nobly +perish,<br></span> <span>Will offer to the genius of our +country—<br></span> <span>Whole hecatombs of Danes." As if +one soul<br></span> <span>Have mov'd them all, around their heads +they flash'd<br></span> <span>Their flaming falchions—"lead +us to those Danes!<br></span> <span>Our Country!—Vengeance!" +was the general cry.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='BOASTING' id="BOASTING"></a> +<h2>BOASTING.</h2> +<div class='blkquot'> +<p>I will tell you, Sir, by the way of private, and under seal. I +am a gentleman; and live here, obscure, and to myself; but, were I +known to his Majesty, and the Lords, observe me, I would undertake, +upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit or the state, +not only to spare the entire lives of his subjects in general, but +to save the one half, nay three parts of his yearly charge, in +holding war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, +think you? Why thus, Sir. I would select nineteen more to myself, +throughout the land; gentlemen they should be; of good spirit, +strong and able constitution. I would chuse them by an instinct +that I have. And I would teach these nineteen, the special rules; +as your Punto, your Reverso, your Stoccaio, your Imbroccato, your +Passada, your Montonto; till they could all play very near, or +altogether, as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty +thousand strong. We twenty, would come into the field the tenth of +March or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; +they could not, in their honour refuse us: Well, we would kill +them; challenge twenty more, kill them: twenty more, kill them: +twenty more, kill them too. And thus, would we kill, every man, his +twenty a day; that's twenty score; twenty score; that's two +hundred; two hundred a day; five days, a thousand: forty +thousand—forty times five—five times forty—two +hundred days kill them all up by computation. And this I will +venture my poor gentleman-like carcase to perform (provided there +by no treason practised upon) by fair and discreet manhood; that +is, civilly by the sword.</p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='PERPLEXITY' id="PERPLEXITY"></a> +<h2>PERPLEXITY.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>—Let me think—<br></span> +<span>What can this mean—Is it to me aversion?<br></span> +<span>Or is it, as I feared, she loves another?<br></span> +<span>Ha! yes—perhaps the king, the young count +Tancred?<br></span> <span>They were bred up together—surely +that,<br></span> <span>That cannot be—Has he not given his +hand,<br></span> <span>In the most solemn manner, to +Constantia?<br></span> <span>Does not his crown depend upon the +deed?<br></span> <span>No—if they lov'd, and this old +statesman knew it,<br></span> <span>He could not to a king prefer a +subject.<br></span> <span>His virtues I esteem—nay more, I +trust them—<br></span> <span>So far as virtue goes—but +could he place<br></span> <span>His daughter on the throne of +Sicily—<br></span> <span>O! 'tis a glorious bribe; too much +for man!<br></span> <span>What is it then!—I care not what it +is.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SUSPICION' id="SUSPICION"></a> +<h2>SUSPICION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Would he were fatter—but I fear him +not.<br></span> <span>Yes, if my name were liable to +fear,<br></span> <span>I do not know the man I should +avoid,<br></span> <span>So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads +much—<br></span> <span>He is a great observer—and he +looks<br></span> <span>Quite through the deeds of men.<br></span> +<span>He loves no plays: he hears no music.<br></span> <span>Seldom +he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,<br></span> <span>As if he +mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit,<br></span> <span>That could +be moved to smile at any thing.<br></span> <span>Such men as he be +never at heart's ease,<br></span> <span>Whilst they behold a +greater than themselves—<br></span> <span>And, therefore, are +they very dangerous.<br></span></div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='WIT_AND_HUMOUR' id="WIT_AND_HUMOUR"></a> +<h2>WIT AND HUMOUR.</h2> +<p>A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends +me into the brain. Dries me there, all-the foolish, dull, and crudy +vapours which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, inventive; +full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, delivered over +to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent +wit—The second property of your excellent sherris, is, the +warming of the blood; which, before, cold and settled, left the +liver white and pale: which is the badge of pusillanimity and +cowardice. But the sherris warms it, and makes its course from the +inwards to the parts extreme. It illuminateth the face, which, as a +beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, +to arm; and then, the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, +muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed +up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage—and this value +comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon, is nothing without +sack; for that sets it a-work; and learning, a mere hoard of gold +kept by a devil, till sack commences it, and sets it in act and +use. Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for the cold +blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, +steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with +drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris—If I had a +thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should +be—to foreswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to +sack.</p> +<br> +<p>A plague on all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too, marry and +amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy—Ere I lead this life long, +I'll sew nether socks and mend them, and foot them too. A plague on +all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue +extant?</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'> +[<i>Drinks.</i></div> +<p>You rogue! here's lime in this sack too. There is nothing but +roguery to be found in villainous man. Yet a coward is worse> +than a cup of sack with lime in it—-Go thy ways, old Jack! +die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon +the face of the earth, then a'nt I a shotten herring. There lives +not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat, and +grows old, God help the while!—A plague on all cowards, I say +still!—-Give me a cup of sack.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'> +[<i>Drinks.</i></div> +<p>I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them +two hours together. I have escaped by miracle. I am eight times +thrust through the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut +through and through; my sword hacked like a +hand-saw—<i>ecce</i> <i>signum!</i> I never dealt better +since I was a man. All would not do. A plague on all +cowards!—But I have peppered two of them; two, I am sure I +have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, if I tell +thee a lie, spit in my face; call me a horse.—Thou knowest my +old ward. Here I lay; and thus I bore my point.—Four rogues +in buckram let drive at me. These four came all afront, and mainly +thrust at me. I made no more ado, but took all their seven points +in my target, thus. Then, these nine in buckram, that I told thee +of, began to give me ground. But I followed them close; came in +foot and hand; and, with a thought—seven of these eleven I +paid.—A plague on all cowards, say I!—Give me a cup of +sack.</p> +<div style='text-align: right; margin-right: 10%;'> +[<i>Drinks</i>.</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='RIDICULE' id="RIDICULE"></a> +<h2>RIDICULE.</h2> +<div class='blkquot'> +<p>I can as well be hanged, as tell the manner of it; it was mere +foolery.—I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown; and, as I told +you, he put it by once—but, for all that, to my thinking, he +would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then, he +put it by again—but, to my thinking, he was very loth to lay +his fingers off it. And then he offered it a third time; he put it +the third time by; and still as he refused it, the rabblement +shouted, and clapt their chopt hands, and threw by their sweaty +night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath, because +Cæsar refused the crown, that it had almost choaked +Cæsar, for he swooned, and, fell down at it; and for mine own +part, I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips, and receiving +the bad air.</p> +<p>Before he fell down, when he perceived the common herd were +glad, he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and +offered them his throat to cut: an' I had been a man of any +occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I +might go to hell among the rogues!—and so he fell. When he +came to himself again, he said, "if he had done, or said any thing +amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity." +Three or four wenches where I stood, cried, Alas, good +soul!—and forgave him with all their hearts. But there's no +heed to be taken of them: if Cæsar had stabbed their mothers +they would have done no less.</p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name='PERTURBATION' id="PERTURBATION"></a> +<h2>PERTURBATION.</h2> +<div class='poem'> +<div class='stanza'><span>Vengeance! death! plague! +confusion!<br></span> <span>Fiery! what quality?—-Why, +Gloster, Gloster!<br></span> <span>I'd speak with the Duke of +Cornwall and his wife:<br></span> <span>The King would speak with +Cornwall—-the dear father<br></span> <span>Would with his +daughter speak; commands her service.<br></span> <span>Are they +inform'd of this?—-My breath and blood!<br></span> +<span>Fiery! the fiery Duke! Tell the hot Duke—<br></span> +<span>No' but not yet: may be he is not well:<br></span> <span>I +beg his pardon: and I'll chide my rashness,<br></span> <span>That +took the indisposed and sickly fit.<br></span> <span>For the sound +man,—-But wherefore sits he there?—<br></span> +<span>Death on my state! this act convinces me,<br></span> +<span>That this retiredness of the Duke and her<br></span> <span>Is +plain contempt—Give me my servant forth—<br></span> +<span>Go tell the Duke and's wife I'd speak with 'em:<br></span> +<span>Now: instantly—Bid 'em come forth and hear +me;<br></span> <span>Or, at their chamber-door, I'll beat the +drum—<br></span> <span>'Till it cry—Sleep to +death.<br></span></div> +</div> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='Elements_of_Gesture' id="Elements_of_Gesture"></a> +<h2>Elements of Gesture.</h2> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SECTION_I' id="SECTION_I"></a> +<h2>SECTION I.</h2> +<h2><i>On the Speaking of Speeches at Schools</i>.</h2> +<p>Elocution has, for some years past, been an object of attention +in the most respectable schools in this country. A laudable +ambition of instructing youth in the pronunciation and delivery of +their native language, has made English speeches a very conspicuous +part of those exhibitions of oratory which do them so much +credit.</p> +<p>This attention to English pronunciation has induced several +ingenious men to compile Exercises in Elocution for the use of +schools, which have answered very useful purposes; but none, so far +as I have seen, have attempted to give us a regular system of +gesture suited to the wants and capacities of school-boys. Mr. +Burgh, in his Art of Speaking, has given us a system of the +passions, and has shewn us how they appear in the countenance, and +operate on the body; but this system, however useful to people of +riper years, is too delicate and complicated to be taught in +schools. Indeed, the exact adaptation of the action to the word, +and the word to the action, as Shakespear calls it, is the most +difficult part of delivery, and therefore can never be taught +perfectly to children; to say nothing of distracting their +attention with two difficult things at the same time. But that boys +should stand motionless, while they are pronouncing the most +impassioned language, is extremely absurd and unnatural; and that +they should sprawl into an aukward, ungain, and desultory action, +is still more offensive and disgusting. What then remains, but that +such a general style of action be adopted, as shall be easily +conceived and easily executed, which, though not expressive of any +particular passion, shall not be inconsistent with the expression +of any passion; which shall always keep the body in a graceful +position, and shall so vary its motions; at proper intervals, as to +seem the subject operating on the speaker, and not the speaker on +the subject. This, it will be confessed, is a great desideratum; +and an attempt to do this, is the principal object of the present +publication.</p> +<p>The difficulty of describing action by words, will be allowed by +every one; and if we were never to give any instructions but such +as should completely answer our wishes, this difficulty would be a +good reason for not attempting to give any description of it. But +there are many degrees between conveying a precise idea of a thing, +and no idea at all. Besides, in this part of delivery, instruction +may be conveyed by the eye; and this organ is a much more rapid +vehicle of knowledge than the ear. This vehicle is addressed on the +present, occasion, and plates, representing the attitudes which are +described, are annexed to the several descriptions, which it is not +doubted will greatly facilitate the reader's conception.</p> +<p>The first plate represents the attitude in which a boy should +always place himself when he begins to speak. He should rest the +whole weight of his body on the right leg; the other, just touching +the ground, at the distance at which it would naturally fall, if +lifted up to shew that the body does not bear upon it. The knees +should be strait and braced, and the body, though perfectly strait, +not perpendicular, but inclining as far to the right as a firm +position on the right leg will permit. The right arm must then be +held out with the palm open, the fingers straight and close, the +thumb almost as distant from them as it will go, and the flat of +the hand neither horizontal nor vertical, but exactly between both. +The position of the arm perhaps will be best described by supposing +an oblong hollow square, formed by the measure of four arms, as in +plate the first, where the arm in its true position forms the +diagonal of such an imaginary figure. So that, if lines were drawn +at right angles from the shoulder, extending downwards, forwards, +and sideways, the arm will form a& angle of forty-five degrees +every way.</p> +<h3>PLATE I.</h3> +<center><img src='images/plate1.gif' width='656' height='770' alt= +'PLATE I.' title=''></center> +<p>When the pupil has pronounced one sentence in the position thus +described, the hand, as if lifeless, must drop down to the side, +the very moment the last accepted word is pronounced; and the body, +without altering the place of the feet, poise itself on the left +leg, while the left hand rises itself into exactly the same +position as the right was before, and continues in this position +till tine end of the next sentence, when it drops down on the side, +as if dead; and the body poizing itself on the right leg as before, +continues with the right arm extended, till the end of the +succeeding sentence, and so on from right to left, and from left to +right alternately, till the speech is ended.</p> +<h3>PLATE II.</h3> +<center><img src='images/plate2.gif' width='481' height='804' alt= +'PLATE II.' title=''></center> +<p>Great care must he taken that the pupil end one sentence +completely, before he begin another. He must let the arm drop to +the side, and continue for a moment in that posture in which he +concluded, before he poizes his body on the other leg, and raises +the other arm into the diagonal position before described; both +which should be done before he begins to pronounce the next +sentence. Care must also he taken in shifting the body from one leg +to the other, that the feet do not alter their distance. In +altering the position of the body, the feet will necessarily alter +their position a little; but this change must be made by turning +the toes in a somewhat different direction, without suffering them +to shift their ground. The heels, in this transition, change their +place, but not the toes. The toes may be considered as pivots, on +which the body turns from side to side.</p> +<p>If the pupil's knees are not well formed, or incline inwards, he +must be taught to keep his legs at as great a distance as possible, +and to incline his body so much to that side, on which the arm is +extended, as to oblige him to rest the opposite leg upon the toe; +and this will, in a great measure, hide the defect of his make. In +the same manner, if the arm be too long, or the elbow incline +inwards, it will be proper to make him turn the palm of his hand +downwards, so as to make it perfectly horizontal. This will +infallibly incline the elbow outwards, and prevent the worst +position the arm can possibly fall into, which is that of inclining +the elbow to the body. This position of the hand so necessarily +keeps the elbow out, that it would not be improper to make the +pupil sometimes practice it, though he may have no defect in his +make; as an occasional alteration of the former position to this, +may often be necessary both for the sake of justness and variety. +These two last positions of the legs and arms, are described in +plate second.</p> +<p>When the pupil has got the habit of holding his hand and arm +properly, he may be taught to move it. In this motion he must be +careful to keep the arm from the body. He must neither draw the +elbow backwards, nor suffer it to approach to the side, bur, while +the hand and lower joint of the arm are curving towards the +shoulder, the whole arm, with the elbow forming nearly an angle of +a square, should move upwards from the shoulder, in the same +position as when gracefully taking off the hat; that is, with the +elbow extended from the side, and the upper joint of the arm nearly +on a line with the shoulder, and forming an angle of a square with +the body—(see plate III.) This motion of the arm will +naturally bring the hand with the palm downwards, into an +horizontal position, and when it approaches to the head, the arm +should with a jerk be suddenly straitened into its first position, +at the very moment the emphatical word is pronounced. This +coincidence of the hand and voice, will greatly enforce the +pronunciation; and if they keep time, they will be in tune as it +were to each other, and to force and energy add harmony and +variety.</p> +<p>As this motion of the arm is somewhat complicated, and may be +found difficult to execute, it would be adviseable to let the pupil +at first speak without any motion of the arm at all. After some +time he will naturally fall into a small curvature of the elbow, to +beat time, as it were, to the emphatic word; and if, in doing this, +he is constantly urged to raise the elbow, and to keep it at a +distance from the body, the action of the arm will naturally grow +up into that we have just described. So the diagonal position of +the arm, though the most graceful and easy when the body is at +rest, may he too difficult for boys to fall into at first; and +therefore it may be necessary, in order to avoid the worse extreme, +for some time to make them extend the arm as far from the body as +they can, in a somewhat similar direction, but higher from the +ground, and inclining more to the back. Great care must be taken to +keep the hand open, and the thumb at some distance from the +fingers; and particular attention must be paid to keeping the hand +in the exact line with the lower part of the arm, so as not to bend +at the wrist, either when it is held out without motion, or when it +gives the emphatic stroke. And above all, the body must be kept in +a straight line with the leg on which it bears, and not suffered to +bend to the opposite side.</p> +<h3>PLATE III.</h3> +<center><img src='images/plate3.gif' width='485' height='767' alt= +'PLATE III.' title=''></center> +<p>At first it may not be improper for the teacher, after placing +the pupil in the position plate I. to stand at some distance +exactly opposite to him in the same position, the right and left +sides only reversed, and while the pupil is speaking, to show him +by example the action he is to make use of. In this case the +teacher's left hand will correspond for the pupil's right, by which +means he will see as in a looking-glass, how to regulate his +gesture, and will soon catch the method of doing it by himself.</p> +<p>It is expected the master will be a little discouraged at the +aukward figure his pupil makes in his first attempts to teach him. +But this is no more than what happens in dancing, fencing, or any +other exercise which depends on habit. By practice, the pupil will +soon begin to feel his position, and be easy in it. Those positions +which were at first distressing to him, he will fall into +naturally, and if they are such as are really graceful and becoming +(and such it is presumed are those which have been just described) +they will be adopted with more facility than any other that can be +taught him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SECTION_II' id="SECTION_II"></a> +<h2>SECTION II.</h2> +<h2><i>On the Acting of Plays at School</i>.</h2> +<p>Though the acting of plays at schools has been universally +supposed a very useful practice, it has of late years been much +laid aside. The advantages arising from it have not been judged +equal to the inconveniencies; and the speaking of single speeches, +or the acting of single scenes, has been generally substituted in +its stead. Indeed when we consider the leading principle and +prevailing sentiments of most plays, we shall not wonder that they +are not always thought to be the most suitable employment for youth +at school; nor, when we reflect on the long interruption to the +common school-exercises, which the preparation for a play must +necessarily occasion, shall we think it consistent with the general +improvement:—But, to wave every objection from prudence or +morality, it may be confidently affirmed, that the acting of a play +is not so conducive to improvement in elocution, as the speaking of +single speeches.</p> +<p>In the first place, the acting of plays is of all kinds of +delivery the most difficult; and therefore cannot be the most +suitable exercise for boys at school. In the next place, a dramatic +performance requires so much attention to the deportment of the +body, so varied an expression of the passions, and so strict an +adherence to character, that elocution is in danger of being +neglected: Besides, exact propriety of action, and a nice +discrimination of the passions, however essential on the stage, are +but of a secondary importance in a school. It is plain, open, +distinct, and forcible pronunciation which school-boys should aim +at; and not that quick transition from one passion to another, that +archness of look, and that <i>jeu de theatre</i>, as it is called, +so essential to a tolerable dramatic exhibition, and which actors +themselves can scarcely arrive at. In short, it is speaking rather +than acting which school-boys should be taught, while the +performance of plays is calculated to teach them acting rather than +speaking.</p> +<p>But there is a contrary extreme into which many teachers are apt +to run, and that is, to condemn every thing which is vehement and +forcible as <i>theatrical</i>. It is an old trick to depreciate +what we can not attain, and calling a spirited pronunciation +<i>theatrical</i>, is but an artful method of hiding an utter +inability of speaking with force and energy. But though school-boys +ought not to be taught those nice touches which form the greatest +difficulties in the profession of an actor, they should not be too +much restrained from an exertion of voice, so necessary to +strengthening the organs of sound, because they may sometimes be +too loud and vociferous. Perhaps nine out of ten, instead of too +much confidence, and too violent a manner of speaking, which these +teachers seem so much to dread, have as Dr. Johnson calls it, a +frigid equality, a stupid languor, and a torpid apathy. These must +be roused by something strong and excessive, or they will never +rise even to mediocrity; while the few who have a tendency to rant, +are very easily reclaimed; and ought to be treated in pronunciation +and action, as Quintillion advises to do in composition; that is, +we should rather allow of an exuberance, than, by too much +correctness, check the vigour and luxuriancy of nature.</p> +<h3>PLATE IV.</h3> +<center><img src='images/plate4.gif' width='537' height='360' alt= +'PLATE IV.' title=''></center> +<p>Though school-boys, therefore, ought not to be taught the +finesses of acting, they should as much as possible be accustomed +to speak such speeches as require a full, open, animated +pronunciation: for which purpose, they should be confined chiefly +to orations, odes, and such single speeches of plays, as are in the +declamatory and vehement style. But as there are many scenes of +plays, which are justly reckoned among the finest compositions of +the language, some of these may be adopted among the upper class of +boys, and those more particularly who have the best deportment: for +action in scenes will be found much more difficult than in single +speeches. And here it will be necessary to give some additional +instructions respecting action, as a speaker who delivers himself +singly to an auditory, and one who addresses another speaker in +view of an auditory, are under very different predicaments. The +first has only one object to address, the last has two:—For +if a speaker on the stage were to address the person he speaks to, +without any regard to the point of view in which he stands with +respect to the audience, he would be apt to turn his back on them, +and to place himself in such positions as would be highly +ungraceful and disgusting. When a scene, therefore, is represented, +it is necessary that the two personages who speak should form a +sort of picture, and place themselves in a position agreeable to +the laws of perspective. In order to do this, it will be necessary +that each of them should stand obliquely, and chiefly make use of +one hand: that is, supposing the stage or platform where they +stand, to be a quadrangle, each speaker should respectively face +that corner of it next to the audience, and use that hand and rest +upon that leg which is next to the person he speaks to, and which +is farthest from the audience. This disposition is absolutely +necessary to form any thing like a picturesque grouping of objects, +and without it, that is, if both speakers use the right hand, and +stand exactly fronting each other, the impropriety will be +palpable, and the spectacle disgusting.</p> +<p>It need scarcely be noted, that the speaker in a scene uses that +hand which is next the audience, he ought likewise to poize his +body upon the same leg: this is almost an invariable rule in +action: the hand should act on that side only on which the body +bears. Good actors and speakers may sometimes depart from this +rule, but such only will know when to do it with propriety.</p> +<p>Occasion may be taken in the course of the scene to change +sides. One speaker at the end of an impassioned speech, may cross +over to the place of the other, while the latter at the same moment +crosses over to the place of the former. This, however, must be +done with great care, and so as to keep the back from being turned +to the audience: But if this transition be performed adroitly, it +will have a very good effect in varying the position of the +speakers, and giving each an opportunity of using his right +hand—the most favourable to grace and expression. And if from +so humble a scene as the school, we may be permitted to raise our +observations to the senate, it might be hinted, that gentlemen on +each side of the house, while addressing the chair, can with grace +and propriety only make use of one hand; namely, that which is next +to the speaker; and it may be observed in passing, that to all the +other advantages of speaking, which are supposed to belong to one +side of the house—may be added—the graceful use of the +right hand.</p> +<p>The better to conceive the position of two speakers in a scene, +a plate is given representing their respective attitudes; and it +must be carefully noted, that when they are not speaking; the arms +must hang in their natural place by the sides; unless what is +spoken by one is of such importance, as to excite agitation and +surprize in the other. But if we should be sparing of gesture at +all times, we should be more particularly so when we are not +speaking.</p> +<p>From what has been laid down, it will evidently appear, how much +more difficult and complicate is the action of a scene than that of +a single speech; and, in teaching both to children, how necessary +it is to adopt as simple and easy a method as possible. The easiest +method of conveying instruction in this point, will be sufficiently +difficult; and therefore, the avoiding of aukwardness and +impropriety should be more the object of instruction, than the +conveying of beauties.</p> +<p>There are indeed some masters who are against teaching boys any +action at all, and are for leading them in this point entirely to +nature. It is happy, however, that they do not leave that action to +nature, which is acquired by dancing; the deportment of their +pupils would soon convince them they were imposed on by the sound +of words. Improved and beautiful nature is the object of the +painter's pencil, the poet's pen, and the rhetorician's action, and +not that sordid and common nature, which is perfectly rude and +uncultivated. Nature directs us to art, and art selects and +polishes the beauties of nature. It is not sufficient for an +orator, says Quintilian, that he is a man: he must be an improved +and cultivated man: he must be a man favoured by nature and +fashioned by art.</p> +<p>But the necessity of adopting some method of teaching action, is +too evident to need proof. Boys will infallibly contract some +action; to require them to stand stock-still while they are +speaking an impassioned speech, is not only exacting a very +difficult task from them, but is, in a great measure, checking +their natural exertions. If they are left to themselves, they will +in all probability fall into very wild and ungraceful action, +which, when once formed into habit, can scarcely ever be corrected: +giving them therefore a general out-line of good action, must be of +the utmost consequence to their progress and improvement in +pronunciation.</p> +<p>The great use, therefore, of a system of action like the +present, is, that a boy will never be embarrassed for want of +knowing what to do with his legs and arms; nor will he bestow that +attention on his action, which ought to be directed to his +pronunciation: he will always be in a position which will not +disgrace his figure; and when this gesture is easy to him, it may +serve as a ground-work to something more perfect: he may either, by +his own genius or his master's instructions, build some other +action upon it, which may in time give it additional force and +variety.</p> +<p>Thus, what seemed either unworthy the attention, or too +difficult for the execution of others, the author of the present +publication hits ventured to attempt. A conviction of the necessity +of leaching some system of action, and the abundant success of the +present system in one of the most respectable academies near +London, has determined him to publish it, for the use of such +seminaries as make English pronunciation a part of their +discipline.</p> +<p>It may not be useless to observe, that boys should be classed in +this, as in every other kind of instruction, according to their +abilities. That a class should not consist of more than ten; that +about eight or ten lines of some speech, should be read first by +the teacher, then by the boy who reads best; and then by the rest +in order, all having a book of the same kind, and all reading the +same portion. This portion they must be ordered to get by heart +against the next lesson; and then the first boy must speak it, +standing at some distance from the rest; in the manner directed in +the plates; the second boy must succeed him, and so on till they +have all spoken. After which another portion may be read to them, +which they must read and speak in the same manner as before. When +they have gone through a speech in this manner by portions, the two +or three first boys may be ordered, against the next lesson, to +speak the whole speech; the next lesson two or three more, and so +on to the rest. This will excite emulation, and give the teacher an +opportunity of ranking them according to their merits.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='SECTION_III' id="SECTION_III"></a> +<h2>SECTION III.</h2> +<h2><i>Rules for expressing with Propriety, the principal Passions +and Humours which occur in Reading or public Speaking</i>.</h2> +<p>Every part of the human frame contributes to express the +passions and emotions of the mind, and to shew, in general, its +present state. The head is sometimes erected, sometimes hung down, +sometimes drawn suddenly back with an air of disdain, sometimes +shews by a nod, a particular person or object; gives assent or +denial, by different motions; threatens by one sort of movement, +approves by another, and expresses suspicion by a third.</p> +<p>The arms are sometimes both thrown out, sometimes the right +alone. Sometimes they are lifted up as high as the face, to express +wonder; sometimes held out before the breast, to shew fear; spread +forth with the hands open to express desire or affection; the hands +clapped in surprise, and in sudden joy and grief; the right hand +clenched, and the arms brandished, to threaten; the two arms set +a-kimbo, to look big, and express contempt or courage. With the +hands, we solicit, we refuse, we promise, we threaten, we dismiss, +we invite, we in treat, we express aversion, fear, doubting, +denial, asking, affirmation, negation, joy, grief, confession, +penitence. With the hands we describe, and point out all +circumstances of time, place and manner of what we relate; we +excite the passions of others, and soothe them: we approve and +disapprove, permit or prohibit, admire or despise. The hands serve +us instead of many sorts of words, and where the language of the +tongue is unknown, that of the hands is understood, being universal +and common to all nations.</p> +<p>The legs advance, or retreat, to express desire, or aversion, +love or hatred, courage or fear, and produce exultation, or leaping +in sudden joy; and the stamping of the foot expresses earnestness, +anger, and threatening.</p> +<p>Especially the face, being furnished with a variety of muscles, +does more in expressing the passions of the mind, than the whole +human frame besides. The change of colour (in white people) shews, +by turns, anger by redness, and sometimes by paleness; fear +likewise by paleness, and shame by blushing. Every feature +contributes its part. The mouth open, shews one state of the mind, +shut, another; the gnashing of the teeth another. The forehead +smooth, eyebrows arched and easy, shew tranquility or joy. Mirth +opens the mouth towards the ears, crisps the nose, half shuts the +eyes, and sometimes fills them with tears. The front wrinkled into +frowns, and the eyebrows overhanging the eyes, like clouds fraught +with tempest, shew a mind agitated with fury. Above all, the eye +shews the very spirit in a visible form. In every different state +of the mind, it assumes a different appearance. Joy brightens and +opens it. Grief half-closes, and drowns it in tears. Hatred and +anger, flash from it like lightning. Love darts from it in glances, +like the orient beam. Jealousy, and squinting envy, dart their +contagious blasts from the eye. And devotion raises it to the +skies, as if the soul of the holy man were going to take its flight +to heaven.</p> +<p>The force of attitude and looks alone appears in a wonderously +striking manner, in the works of the painter and statuary, who have +the delicate art of making the flat canvas and rocky marble utter +every passion of the human mind, and touch the soul of the +spectator, as if the picture, or statue, spoke the pathetic +language of Shakspear. It is no wonder, then, that masterly action, +joined with powerful elocution, should be irresistible. And the +variety of expression, by looks and gestures, is so great, that, as +is well known, a whole play can be represented without a word +spoken.</p> +<p>The following are, I believe, the principal passions, humours, +sentiments and intentions, which are to be expressed by speech and +action. And I hope it will be allowed by the reader, that it is +nearly in the following manner, that nature expresses them.</p> +<p><i><b>Tranquility</b></i>, or <i><b>apathy</b></i>, appears by +the composure of the countenance, and general repose of the body +and limbs, without the exertion of any one muscle. The countenance +open; the forehead smooth; the eyebrows arched; the mouth just not +shut; and the eyes passing with an easy motion from object to +object, but not dwelling long upon any one.</p> +<p><i><b>Cheerfulness</b></i>, adds a smile, opening the mouth a +little more.</p> +<p><i><b>Mirth</b></i>, or <i><b>laughter</b></i>, opens the mouth +still more towards the ears; crisps the nose; lessens the aperture +of the eyes, and sometimes fills them with tears; shakes and +convulses the whole frame, giving considerable pain, which +occasions holding the sides.</p> +<p><i><b>Raillery</b></i>, in sport, without real animosity, puts +on the aspect of cheerfulness. The tone of voice is sprightly. With +contempt, or disgust, it casts a look asquint, from time to time, +at the object; and quits the cheerful aspect for one mixed between +an affected grin and sourness—the upper lip is drawn up with +an air of disdain. The arms are set a-kimbo on the hips, and the +right hand now and then thrown out toward the object, as if one +were going to strike another a slight back-handed blow. The pitch +of the voice rather loud, the tone arch and sneering; the sentences +short; the expressions satyrical, with mock-praise intermixed. +There are instances of raillery in scripture itself, as 1 Kings +xviii. and Isa. xliv. It is not, therefore, beneath the dignity of +the pulpit-orator, occasionally to use it, in the cause of virtue, +by exhibiting vice in a ludicrus appearance. Nor should I think +raillery unworthy the attention of the lawyer; as it may +occasionally come in, not unusefully, in his pleadings, as well as +any other stroke of ornament, or entertainment.</p> +<p><i><b>Buffoonery</b></i> assumes an arch, sly, leering gravity. +Must not quit its serious aspect, though all should laugh to burst +ribs of steel. This command of face is somewhat difficult, though +not so hard, I should think, as to restrain the contrary sympathy, +I mean of weeping with those who weep.</p> +<p><i><b>Joy</b></i>, when sudden and violent, expresses itself by +clapping of hands, and exultation, or leaping. The eyes are opened +wide; perhaps filled with tears; often raised to heaven, especially +by devout persons. The countenance is smiling; not composedly, but +with features aggravated. The voice rises from time to time, to +very high notes.</p> +<p><i><b>Delight</b></i>, or <i><b>pleasure</b></i>, as when one is +entertained, or ravished with music, painting, oratory, or any such +elegancy, shews itself by the looks, gestures, and utterance of +joy; but moderated.</p> +<p><i><b>Gravity</b></i>, or <i><b>seriousness</b></i>, the mind +fixed upon some important subject, draws down the eyebrows a +little; casts down, or shuts, or raises the eyes to heaven; shuts +the mouth, and pinches the lips close. The posture of the body and +limbs is composed, and without much motion. The speech, if any, +slow and solemn; the tone unvarying.</p> +<p><i><b>Enquiry</b></i> into an obscure subject, fixes the body in +one posture, the head stooping, and the eye poring, the eyebrows +drawn down.</p> +<p><i><b>Attention</b></i> to an esteemed, or superior character, +has the same aspect, and requires silence; the eyes often cast down +upon the ground; sometimes fixed on the face of the speaker; but +not too pertly.</p> +<p><i><b>Modesty</b></i>, or <i><b>submission</b></i>, bends the +body forward; levels the eyes, to the breast, if not to the feet, +of the superior character. The voice low; the tone submissive; and +words few.</p> +<p><i><b>Perplexity</b></i>, or <i><b>anxiety</b></i>, which is +always attended with some degree of fear and uneasiness, draws all +the parts of the body together; gathers up the arms upon the +breast, unless one hand covers the eyes, or rubs the forehead; +draws down the eyebrows; hangs the head upon the breast; casts down +the eyes; shuts and pinches the eye-lids close; shuts the month, +and pinches the lips close, or bites them. Suddenly the whole body +is vehemently agitated. The person walks about busily; stops +abruptly: then he talks to himself, or makes grimaces. If he speaks +to another, his pauses are very long; the tone of his voice, +unvarying, and his sentences broken, expressing half, and keeping +in half of what arises in his mind.</p> +<p><i><b>Vexation</b></i>, occasioned by some real or imaginary +misfortune, agitates the whole frame; and, besides expressing +itself with the looks, gestures, restlessness, and tone of +perplexity, it adds complaint, fretting, and lamenting.</p> +<p><i><b>Pity</b></i>, a mixed passion of love and grief, looks +down upon distress with lifted hands; eyebrows drawn down; mouth +open, and features drawn together. Its expression, as to looks and +gesture, is the same with those of suffering, (see +<i><b>Suffering</b></i>) but more moderate, as the painful feelings +are only sympathetic, and therefore one remove, as it were, more +distant from the soul, than what one feels in his own person.</p> +<p><i><b>Grief</b></i>, sudden and violent, expresses itself by +beating the head; groveling on the ground; tearing of garments, +hair, and flesh; screaming aloud, weeping, stamping with the feet, +lifting the eyes, from time to time, to heaven; hurrying to and +fro, running distracted, or fainting away, sometimes without +recovery. Sometimes violent grief produces a torpid silence, +resembling total apathy.</p> +<p><i><b>Melancholy</b></i>, or fixed grief, is gloomy, sedentary, +motionless. The lower jaw falls; the lips pale; the eyes are cast +down, half shut, eye-lids swelled and red, or livid, tears +trickling silent, and unwiped; with a total inattention to every +thing that passes. Words, if any, few, and those dragged out, +rather than spoken; the accents weak, and interrupted, sighs +breaking into the middle of sentences and words.</p> +<p><i><b>Despair</b></i>, as in a condemned criminal, or one who +has lost all hope of salvation, bends the eyebrows downward; clouds +the forehead; roils the eyes around frightfully; opens the mouth +towards the ears; bites the lips; widens the nostrils; gnashes with +the teeth, like a fierce wild beast. The heart is too much hardened +to suffer tears to flow; yet the eye-balls will be red and +inflamed, like those of an animal in a rabid state. The head is +hung down upon the breast. The arms are bended at the elbows, the +fists are clenched hard; the veins and muscles swelled; the skin +livid; and the whole body strained and violently agitated; groans, +expressive of inward torture, more frequently uttered than words. +If any words, they are few, and expressed with a sullen, eager +bitterness; the tone of voice often loud and furious. As it often +drives people to distraction, and self-murder, it can hardly be +over-acted by one who would represent it.</p> +<p><i><b>Fear</b></i>, violent and sudden, opens very wide the eyes +and mouth; shortens the nose; draws down the eyebrows; gives the +countenance an air of wildness; covers it with a deadly paleness; +draws back the elbows parallel with the sides; lifts up the open +hands, the fingers together, to the height of the breast, so that +the palms face the dreadful object, as shields opposed against it. +One foot is drawn back behind the other, so that the body seems +shrinking from the danger, and putting itself in a posture for +flight. The heart beats violently; the breath is fetched quick and +short; the whole body is thrown into a general tremor. The voice is +weak and trembling; the sentences are short, and the meaning +confused and incoherent. Imminent danger, real or fancied, produces +in timorous persons, as women and children, violent shrieks, +without any articulate sound of words; and sometimes irrecoverably +confounds the understanding; produces fainting, which is sometimes +followed by death.</p> +<p><i><b>Shame</b></i>, or a sense of one's appearing to a +disadvantage, before one's fellow-creatures; turns away the face +from the beholders, covers it with blushes, hangs the head, casts +down the eyes, draws down the eyebrows, either strikes the person +dumb, or, if he attempts to say any thing in his own defence, +causes his tongue to faulter, and confounds his utterance, and puts +him upon making a thousand gestures and grimaces, to keep himself +in countenance; all of which only heighten the confusion of his +appearance.</p> +<p><i><b>Remorse</b></i>, or a painful sense of guilt; casts down +the countenance, and clouds it with anxiety; hangs down the head, +draws the eyebrows down upon the eyes; the right hand beats the +breast; the teeth gnash with anguish; the whole body is strained +and violently agitated. If this strong remorse is succeeded by the +more gracious disposition of penitence, or contrition, then the +eyes are raised (but with great appearance of doubting and fear) to +the throne of heavenly mercy; and immediately cast down again to +the earth. Then floods of tears are seen to flow. The knees are +bended, or the body prostrated on the ground. The arms are spread +in a suppliant posture, and the voice of deprecation is uttered +with sighs, groans, timidity, hesitation and trembling.</p> +<p><i><b>Courage</b></i>, steady, and cool, opens the countenance, +gives the whole form an erect and graceful air. The accents are +strong, full-mouthed and articulate, the voice firm and even.</p> +<p><i><b>Boasting</b></i>, or affected courage, is loud, +blustering, threatening. The eyes stare; the eyebrows draw down; +the face red and bloated; the mouth pouts out; the voice hollow and +thundering; the arms are set a-kimbo; the head often nodding in a +menacing manner; and the right fist, clenched, is brandished, from +time to time, at the person threatened. The right foot is often +stamped upon the ground, and the legs take such large strides, and +the steps are so heavy, that the earth seems to tremble under +them.</p> +<p><i><b>Pride</b></i>, assumes a lofty look, bordering upon the +aspect and attitude of anger. The eyes open, but with the eyebrows +considerably drawn down; the mouth pouting out, mostly shut, and +the lips pinched close. The words walk out a-strut, with a slow, +stiff bombastic affectation of importance. The arms generally +a-kimbo, and the legs at a distance from one another, taking large +tragedy strides.</p> +<p><i><b>Obstinacy</b></i> adds to the aspect of pride, a dodged +sourness, like that of malice. See <i><b>Malice</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Authority</b></i>, opens the countenance, but draws down +the eyebrows a little, so far as to give the look of gravity. See +<i><b>Gravity</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Commanding</b></i> requires an air a little more +peremptory, with a look a little severe or stern. The hand is held +out, and moved toward the person to whom the order is given, with +the palm upwards, and the head nods towards him.</p> +<p><i><b>Forbidding</b></i>, on the contrary, draws the head +backwards, and pushes the hand from one with the palm downward, as +if going to lay it upon the person, to hold him down immoveable, +that he may not do what is forbidden him.</p> +<p><i><b>Affirming</b></i>, especially with a judicial oath, is +expressed by lifting the open right hand and eyes toward heaven; or +if conscience is appealed to, by laying the right hand upon the +breast.</p> +<p><i><b>Denying</b></i> is expressed by pushing the open right +hand from one, and turning the face the contrary way. See +<i>Aversion</i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Differing</b></i> in sentiment may be expressed as +refusing. See <i><b>Refusing</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Agreeing</b></i> in opinion, or <i><b>Conviction</b></i>, +as granting. See <i><b>Granting</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Exhorting</b></i>, as by a general at the head of his +army, requires a kind, complacent look; unless matter of offence +has passed, as neglect of duty, or the like.</p> +<p><i><b>Judging</b></i> demands a grave, steady look, with deep +attention; the countenance altogether clear from any appearance of +either disgust or favour. The accents slow, distinct, emphatical, +accompanied with little action, and that very grave.</p> +<p><i><b>Reproving</b></i> puts on a stern aspect, roughens the +voice, and is accompanied with gestures not much different from +those of <i>Threatening</i>, but not so lively.</p> +<p><i><b>Acquitting</b></i> is performed with a benevolent, +tranquil countenance and tone of voice; the right hand, if not +both, open, waved gently toward the person acquitted, expressing +dismission. See <i>Dismissing</i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Condemning</b></i> assumes a severe look, but mixed with +pity. The sentence is to be expressed as with reluctance.</p> +<p><i><b>Teaching</b></i>, explaining, inculcating, or giving +orders to an inferior, requires an air of superiority to be +assumed. The features are to be composed of an authoritative +gravity. The eye steady, and open, the eye-brow a little drawn down +over it; but not so much as to look surly or dogmatical. The tone +of voice varying according as the emphasis requires, of which a +good deal is necessary in expressing matter of this sort. The pitch +of the voice to be strong and clear; the articulation distinct; the +utterance slow, and the manner peremptory. This is the proper +manner of pronouncing the commandments in the communion office. But +(I am sorry to say it) they are too commonly spoken in the same +manner as the prayers, than which nothing can be more +unnatural.</p> +<p><i><b>Pardoning</b></i> differs from acquitting, in that the +latter means clearing a person, after trial, of guilt; whereas the +former supposes guilt, and signifies merely delivering the guilty +person from punishment. Pardoning requires some degree of severity +of aspect and tone of voice, because the pardoned person is not an +object of entire unmixed approbation; otherwise its expression is +much the same as granting. See <i><b>Granting</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Arguing</b></i> requires a cool, sedate, attentive aspect, +and a clear, slow, emphatical accent, with much demonstration by +the hand. It differs from teaching (see <i>Teaching</i>) in that +the look of authority is not wanting in arguing.</p> +<p><i><b>Dismissing</b></i>, with approbation, is done with a kind +aspect and tone of voice; the right hand open, gently waved toward +the person. With displeasure, besides the look and tone of voice +which suits displeasure, the hand is hastily thrown out toward the +person dismissed, the back part toward him, the countenance at the +same time turned away from him.</p> +<p><i><b>Refusing</b></i>, when accompanied with displeasure, is +expressed nearly in the same way. Without displeasure, it is done +with a visible reluctance, which occasions the bringing out the +words slowly, with such a shake of the head, and shrug of the +shoulders, as is natural upon hearing of somewhat which gives us +concern.</p> +<p><i><b>Granting</b></i>, when done with unreserved good-will, is +accompanied with a benevolent aspect and tone of voice; the right +hand pressed to the left breast, to signify how heartily the favour +is granted, and the benefactor's joy in conferring it.</p> +<p><i><b>Dependence</b></i>. See <i><b>Modesty</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Veneration</b></i>, or <i><b>Worshipping</b></i>, +comprehends several articles, as ascription, confession, remorse, +intercession, thanksgiving, deprecation, petition, &c. +Ascription of honour and praise to the peerless, supreme Majesty of +Heaven, and confession and deprecation, are to be uttered with all +that humility of looks and gesture, which can exhibit the most +profound self-abasement, and annihilation, before One; whose +superiority is infinite. The head is a little raised, but with the +most apparent timidity and dread; the eye is lifted, but +immediately cast down again, or closed for a moment; the eyebrows +are drawn down in the most respectful manner; the features, and the +whole body and limbs, are all composed to the most profound +gravity; one posture continuing, without considerable change, +during the whole performance of the duty. The knees bended, or the +whole body prostrate, or if the posture be standing, which +scripture does not disallow, bending forward, as ready to prostrate +itself. The arms spread out, but modestly, as high as the breast; +the hands open. The tone of the voice will be submissive, timid, +equal trembling, weak, suppliant. The words will be brought out +with a visible anxiety and diffidence, approaching to hesitation; +few and slow; nothing of vain repetition, haranguing, flowers of +rhetoric, or affected figures of speech; all simplicity, humility, +and lowliness, such as becomes a reptile of the dust, when +presuming to address Him, whose greatness is tremenduous beyond all +created conception. In intercession for our fellow creatures, which +is prescribed in the scriptures, and in thanksgiving, the +countenance will naturally assume a small degree of cheerfulness +beyond what it was clothed with in confession of sin, and +deprecation of punishment. But all affected ornament of speech, or +gesture in devotion, deserves the severest censure, as being +somewhat much worse than absurd.</p> +<p><i><b>Respect</b></i> for a superior, puts on the looks and +gesture of modesty. See <i><b>Modesty</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Hope</b></i> brightens the countenance; arches the +eyebrows; gives the eyes an eager, wishful look; opens the mouth to +half a smile; bends the body a little forward, the feet equal; +spreads the arms, with the hands open, as to receive the object of +its longings. The tone of the voice is eager and unevenly, +inclining to that of joy, but curbed by a degree of doubt and +anxiety. Desire differs from hope as to expression, in this +particular, that there is more appearance of doubt and anxiety in +the former than in the latter. For it is one thing to desire what +is agreeable, and another to have a prospect of actually obtaining +it.</p> +<p><i><b>Desire</b></i> expresses itself by bending the body +forward, and stretching the arms toward the object, as to grasp it. +The countenance smiling, but eager and wishful; the eyes wide open, +and eyebrows raised; the mouth open; the tone of voice suppliant, +but lively and cheerful, unless there be distress as well as +desire; the expressions fluent and copious: if no words are used, +sighs instead of them; but this is chiefly in distress.</p> +<p><i><b>Love</b></i> (successful) lights up the countenance into +smiles. The forehead is smoothed and enlarged; the eyebrows are +arched; the mouth a little open, and smiling; the eyes languishing, +and half shut, doat upon the beloved object. The countenance +assumes the eager and wishful look of desire, (see +<i><b>Desire</b></i> above) but mixed with an air of satisfaction +and repose. The accents are soft and winning; the tone of voice +persuasive, flattering, pathetic, various, musical, rapturous, as +in joy. (See <i><b>Joy</b></i>.) The attitude much the same with +that of desire. Sometimes both hands pressed eagerly to the bosom. +Love, unsuccessful, adds an air of anxiety and melancholy. See +<i><b>Perplexity</b></i> and <i><b>Melancholy</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Giving</b></i>, <i><b>Inviting</b></i>, +<i><b>Soliciting</b></i>. and such-like actions, which suppose some +degree of affection, real or pretended, are accompanied with much +the same looks and gestures as express love, but more moderate.</p> +<p><i><b>Wonder</b></i>, or <i><b>Amazement</b></i>, (without any +other <i>interesting</i> passion, as <i><b>Love</b></i>, +<i><b>Esteem</b></i>, &c.) opens the eyes, and makes them +appear very prominent; sometimes raises them to the skies; but +oftener, and more expressively, fixes them on the object, if the +cause of the passion be a present and visible object, with the +look, all except the wildness, of fear. (See <i><b>Fear</b></i>.) +If the hands hold any thing, at the time when the object of wonder +appears, they immediately let it drop, unconscious, and the whole +body fixes in the contracted, stooping posture of amazement; the +mouth open; the hands held up open, nearly in the attitude of fear. +(See <i><b>Fear</b></i>.) The first excess of this passion stops +all utterance; but it makes amends afterwards by a copious flow of +words, and exclamations.</p> +<p><i><b>Admiration</b></i>, a mixed passion, consisting of wonder, +with love or esteem, takes away the familiar gesture and expression +of simple love. (See <i><b>Love</b></i>.) Keeps the respectful look +and gesture. (See <i><b>Modesty</b></i> and +<i><b>Veneration</b></i>.) The eyes are opened wide, and now and +then raised toward heaven. The mouth is opened. The hands are +lifted up. The tone of the voice rapturous. This passion expresses +itself copiously, making great use of the figure hyperbole.</p> +<p><i><b>Gratitude</b></i> puts on an aspect full of complacency. +(See <i><b>Love</b></i>.) If the object of it is a character +greatly superior, it expresses much submission. (See +<i><b>Modesty</b></i>.) The right hand pressed upon the breast, +accompanies, very properly, the expression of a sincere and hearty +sensibility of obligation.</p> +<p><i><b>Curiosity</b></i>, as of a busy-body, opens the eyes and +mouth, lengthens the neck, bends the body forward, and fixes it in +one posture, with the hands nearly in that of admiration. See +<i><b>Admiration</b></i>. See also <i><b>Desire</b></i>, +<i><b>Attention</b></i>, <i><b>Hope</b></i>, <i><b>Enquiry</b></i>, +and <i><b>Perplexity</b></i>.</p> +<p><i><b>Persuasion</b></i> puts on the looks of moderate love. +(See <i><b>Love</b></i>.) Its accents are soft, flattering, +emphatical and articulate.</p> +<p><i><b>Tempting</b></i>, or <i><b>Wheedling</b></i>, expresses +itself much in the same way, only carrying the fawning part to +excess.</p> +<p><i><b>Promising</b></i> is expressed with benevolent looks, the +nod of consent, and the open hands gently moved towards the person +to whom the promise is made, the palms upwards. The sincerity of +the promiser may be expressed by laying the right hand gently on +the breast.</p> +<p><i><b>Affectation</b></i> displays itself in a thousand +different gestures, motions, airs and looks, according to the +character which the person affects. Affectation of learning gives a +stiff formality to the whole person. The words come stalking out +with the pace of a funeral procession, and every sentence has the +solemnity of an oracle. Affectation of piety turns up the goggling +whites of the eyes to heaven, as if the person were in a trance, +and fixes them in that posture so long that the brain of the +beholder grows giddy. Then comes up, deep grumbling, a holy groan +from the lower parts of the thorax; but so tremendous in sound, and +so long protracted, that you expect to see a goblin rise, like an +exhalation through the solid earth. Then he begins to rock from +side to side, or backward and forward, like an aged pine on the +side of a hill, when a brisk wind blows. The hands are clasped +together, and often lifted, and the head often shaken with foolish +vehemence. The tone of the voice is canting, or sing-song lullaby, +not much distant from an Irish howl, and the words godly doggrell. +Affectation of beauty, and killing, puts a fine woman by turns into +all sorts of forms, appearances and attitudes, but amiable ones. +She undoes by art, or rather by aukwardness, (for true art conceals +itself) all that nature had done for her. Nature formed her almost +an angel, and she, with infinite pains, makes herself a monkey. +Therefore, this species of affectation is easily imitated, or taken +off. Make as many and as ugly grimaces, motions and gestures as can +be made, and take care that nature never peep out, and you +represent coquetish affectation to the life.</p> +<p><i><b>Sloth</b></i> appears by yawning, dosing, snoring; the +head dangling sometimes to one side, sometimes to the other; the +arms and legs stretched out, and every sinew of the body unstrung; +the eyes heavy, or closed; the words, if any, crawl out of the +mouth but half formed, scarcely audible to any ear, and broken off +in the middle by powerful sleep.</p> +<p>People who walk in their sleep (of which our inimitable +Shakespear has, in his tragedy of MACBETH, drawn out a fine scene) +are said to have their eyes open; though they are not, the more for +that, conscious of any thing, but the dream which has got +possession of their imagination. I never saw one of those persons, +therefore cannot describe their manner from nature; but I suppose +their speech is pretty much like that of persons dreaming, +inarticulate, incoherent, and very different, in its tone, from +what it is when waking.</p> +<p><i><b>Intoxication</b></i> shews itself by the eyes half shut, +sleepy, stupid, inflamed. An idiot smile, a ridiculous surliness, +an affected bravado, disgraces the bloated countenance. The mouth +open tumbles out nonsense in heaps, without articulation enough for +any ear to take it in, and unworthy of attention, if it could be +taken In. The head seems too heavy for the neck. The arms dangle +from the shoulders; as if they were almost cut away, and hung by +shreds. The legs totter and bend at the knees, as ready to sink +under the weight of the reeling body. And a general incapacity, +corporeal and mental, exhibits human nature sunk below the +brutal.</p> +<p><i><b>Anger</b></i>, (violent) or <i><b>Rage</b></i> expresses +itself with rapidity, interruption, noise, harshness, and +trepidation. The neck stretched out; the head forward, often +nodding and shaken in a menacing manner, against the object of the +passion. The eyes red, inflamed, staring, rolling, and sparkling; +the eyebrows drawn down over them; and the forehead wrinkled into +clouds. The nostrils stretched wide; every vein swelled; every +muscle strained; the breast heaving, and the breath fetched hard. +The mouth open, and drawn on each side toward the ears, shewing the +teeth in a gnashing posture. The face bloated, pale, red, or +sometimes almost black. The feet stamping: the right arm often +thrown out, and menacing with the clenched fist shaken, and a +general end violent agitation of the whole body.</p> +<p><i><b>Peevishism</b></i> or <i><b>Ill-nature</b></i> is a lower +degree of anger; and is therefore expressed in the above manner, +only more moderate, with half sentences, and broken speeches, +uttered hastily; the upper lip drawn up disdainfully; the eyes +asquint upon the object of displeasure.</p> +<p><i><b>Malice</b></i> or <i><b>Spite</b></i>, sets the jaws, or +gnashes with the teeth; sends blasting flashes from the eyes; draws +the mouth toward the ears; clenches both fists, and bends the +elbows in a straining manner. The tone of voice and expression, are +much the same with that of anger; but the pitch not so loud.</p> +<p><i><b>Envy</b></i> is a little more moderate in its gestures +than malice, but much the same in kind.</p> +<p><i><b>Revenge</b></i> expresses itself as malice.</p> +<p><i><b>Cruelty</b></i>. See <i><b>Anger</b></i>, +<i><b>Aversion</b></i>, <i><b>Malice</b></i> and the other +irrascible passions.</p> +<p><i><b>Complaining</b></i> as when one is under violent bodily +pain, distorts the features; almost closes the eyes; sometimes +raises them wishfully; opens the mouth; gnashes with the teeth; +draws up the upper lip; draws down the head upon the breast, and +the whole body together. The arms are violently bent at the elbows, +and the fists strongly clenched. The voice is uttered in groans, +lamentations, and violent screams. Extreme torture produces +fainting, and death.</p> +<p><i><b>Fatigue</b></i> from severe labour, gives a general +languor to the whole body. The countenance is dejected. (See +<i><b>Grief</b></i>.) The arms hang listless; the body (if sitting +or lying along be not the posture) stoops, as in old-age. (See +<i><b>Dotage</b></i>.) The legs, if walking, are dragged heavily +along, and seem at every step ready to bend under the weight of the +body. The voice is weak, and the words hardly enough articulated to +be understood.</p> +<p><i><b>Aversion</b></i>, or <i><b>Hatred</b></i>, expressed to, +or of any person or thing, that is odious to the speaker, occasions +his drawing back, as avoiding the approach of what he hates; the +hands, at the same time, thrown out spread, as if to keep it off. +The face turned away from that side toward which the hands are +thrown out; the eyes looking angrily and asquint the same way the +hands are directed; the eyebrows drawn downwards; the upper lip +disdainfully drawn up; but the teeth set. The pitch of the voice +loud; the tone chiding, unequal, surly, vehement. The sentences +short and abrupt.</p> +<p><i><b>Commendation</b></i>, or <i><b>Approbation</b></i> from a +superior, puts on the aspect of love (excluding desire and respect) +and expresses itself in a mild tone of voice; the arms gently +spread; the palms of the hands toward the person approved. +Exhorting or encouraging, as of an army by a general, is expressed +with some part of the looks and action of courage.</p> +<p><i><b>Jealousy</b></i> would be likely to be well expressed by +one, who had often seen prisoners tortured in the dungeons of the +inquisition, or who had seen what the dungeons of the inquisition +are the best earthly emblem of; I mean Hell. For next to being in +the Pope's or in Satan's prison, is the torture of him who is +possessed with the spirit of jealousy. Being a mixture of passions +directly contrary to one another, the person, whose soul is the +seat of such confusion and tumult, must be in as much greater +misery than Prometheus, with the vulture tearing his liver, as the +pains of the mind are greater than those of the body. Jealousy is a +ferment of love, hatred, hope, fear, shame, anxiety, suspicion, +grief, pity, envy, pride, rage, cruelty, vengeance, madness, and if +there be any other tormenting passion which can agitate the human +mind. Therefore to express jealousy well, requires that one know +how to represent justly all these passions by turns, (see +<i><b>Love</b></i>, <i><b>Hatred</b></i>, &c.) and often +several of them together. Jealousy shews itself by restlessness, +peevishness, thoughtfulness, anxiety, absence of mind. Sometimes it +bursts out in piteous complaint and weeping; then a gleam of hope, +that all is yet well, lights up the countenance into a momentary +smile. Immediately the face, clouded with a general gloom, shews +the mind overcast again with horrid suspicions and frightful +imaginations. Then the arms are folded upon the breast; the fists +violently clenched; the rolling, bloody eyes dart fury. He hurries +to and fro; he has no more rest than a ship in a troubled sea, the +sport of winds and waves. Again, he composes himself a little to +reflect on the charms of the suspected person. She appears to his +imagination like the sweetness of the rising dawn. Then his +monster-breeding fancy represents her as false as she is fair. Then +he roars out as one on the rack, when the cruel engine rends every +joint, and every sinew bursts. Then he throws himself on the +ground. He beats his head against the pavement. Then he springs up, +and with the look and action of a fury bursting hot from the abyss, +he snatches the instrument of death, and, after ripping up the +bosom of the loved, suspected, hated, lamented, fair one, he stabs +himself to the heart, and exhibits a striking proof, how terrible a +creature a puny mortal is, when agitated by an infernal +passion.</p> +<p><i><b>Dotage</b></i> or <i><b>infirm old age</b></i>, shews +itself by talkativeness, boasting of the past, hollowness of the +eyes and cheeks, dimness of sight, deafness, tremor of voice, the +accents, through default of teeth, scarce intelligible; hams weak, +knees tottering, head paralytic, hollow coughing, frequent +expectoration, breathless wheezing, laborious groaning, the body +stooping under the insupportable load of years, which soon shall +crush it into the dust, from whence it had its origin.</p> +<p><i><b>Folly</b></i>, that is, of a natural ideot, gives the face +an habitual thoughtless, brainless grin. The eyes dance from object +to object, without ever fixing steadily upon any one. A thousand +different and incoherent passions, looks, gestures, speeches and +absurdities, are played off every moment.</p> +<p><i><b>Distraction</b></i> opens the eyes to a frightful +wideness, rolls them hastily and wildly from object to object; +distorts every feature; gnashes with the teeth; agitates all parts +of the body; rolls in the dust; foams at the mouth; utters, with +hideous bellowings, execrations, blasphemies, and all that is +fierce and outrageous, rushes furiously on all who approach; and, +if not restrained, tears its own fiesh, and destroys itself.</p> +<p><i><b>Sickness</b></i> has infirmity and feebleness in every +motion and utterance. The eyes dim, and almost closed; cheeks pale +and hollow; the jaw fallen; the head hung down, as if too heavy to +be supported by the neck. A general inertia prevails. The voice +trembling; the utterance through the nose; every sentence +accompanied with a groan; the hand shaking, and the knees tottering +under the body; or the body stretched helpless on the bed.</p> +<p><i><b>Fainting</b></i> produces a sudden relaxation of all that +holds the human frame together, every sinew and ligament unstrung. +The colour flies from the vermilion cheek; the sparkling eye grows +dim. Down the body drops, as helpless, and senseless, as a mass of +clay, to which, by its colour and appearance, it seems hastening to +resolve itself—Which leads me to conclude with:</p> +<p><i><b>Death</b></i> the awful end of all flesh; which exhibits +nothing in appearance different from what I have been just +describing; for fainting continued ends in death,—a subject +almost too serious to be made a matter of artificial imitation.</p> +<p><i><b>Lower</b></i> degrees of every passion are to be expressed +by more moderate exertions of voice and gesture; as every public +speaker's discretion will suggest to him.</p> +<p><i><b>Mixed</b></i> passions, or emotions of the mind, require a +mixed expression. <i><b>Pity</b></i>, for example, is composed of +grief and love. It is therefore evident, that a correct speaker +must, by his looks and gestures, and by the tone and pitch of his +voice, express both grief and love, in expressing pity, and so of +the rest.</p> +<p>It is to be remembered, that the action, in expressing the +various humours and passions, for which I have here given rules, is +to be suited to the age, sex, condition, and circumstances of the +character. Violent anger, or rage, for example, is to be expressed +with great agitation; (see <i><b>Anger</b></i>) but the rage of an +infirm old man, of a woman, and of a youth, are all different from +one another, and from that of a man in the flower of his age, as +every speaker's discretion will suggest. A hero may shew fear, or +sensibility of pain; but not in the same manner as a girl would +express those sensations. Grief may be expressed by a person +reading a melancholy story or description of a room. It may be +acted upon the stage. It may be dwelt upon by the pleader at the +bar; or it may have a place in a sermon. The passion is still +grief. But the manner of expressing it will be different in each of +the speakers, if they have judgment.</p> +<p>A correct speaker does not make a movement of limb, or feature, +for which he has not a reason. If he addresses heaven, he looks +upward. If he speaks to his fellow-creatures, he looks round upon +them. The spirit of what he says, or is said to him, appears in his +look. If he expresses amazement, or would excite it, he lifts up +his hands and eyes. If he invites to virtue and happiness, he +spreads his arms, and looks benevolent. If he threatens the +vengeance of heaven against vice, he bends his eye-brow into wrath +and menaces with his arm and countenance. He does not needlessly +saw the air with his arm, nor stab himself with his finger. He does +not clap his right hand upon his breast, unless he has occasion to +speak of himself, or to introduce conscience, or somewhat +sentimental. He does not start back, unless he wants to express +horror or aversion. He does not come forward, but when he has +occasion to solicit. He does not raise his voice, but to express +somewhat peculiarly emphatical. He does not lower it, but to +contrast the raising of it. His eyes, by turns, according to the +humour of the matter he has to express, sparkle fury, brighten into +joy, glance disdain, melt into grief, frown disgust and hatred, +languish into love, or glare distraction.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name='On_Reading_and_Speaking' id="On_Reading_and_Speaking"></a> +<h2><i>On Reading and Speaking</i>.</h2> +<h3>FROM BLAIR'S LECTURES.</h3> +<p>The first object of a reader or speaker, is, to be clearly +understood by his hearers. In order for this, it is necessary that +he should pronounce his words distinctly, and deliberately; that he +should carefully avoid the two extremes of uttering either too +fast, or too slow; and that his tone of voice should be perfectly +natural.</p> +<p>A reader or speaker should endeavor to acquire a perfect command +of his voice; so as neither to stun his hearers by pitching it upon +too high a key; nor tire their patience by obliging them to listen +to sounds which are scarcely audible. It is not the loudest +speaker, who is always the best understood; but he who pronounces +upon that key which fills the space occupied by the audience. That +pitch of voice, which is used in ordinary conversation, is usually +the best for a public speaker.</p> +<p>Early attention ought to be paid to the pauses; but the rules +for these are so indefinite and arbitrary, and so difficult to be +comprehended, that long experience is necessary in order to acquire +a perfect knowledge of their use. With regard to the length of the +several pauses, no precise rules can be given. This, together with +the variety of tones which accompany them, depends much upon the +nature of the subject.</p> +<p>Perhaps nothing is of more importance to a reader or speaker, +than a proper attention to accent, emphasis, and cadence. Every +word in our language, of more than one syllable, has, at least, one +accented syllable. This syllable ought to be rightly known, and the +word should be pronounced by the reader or speaker in the same +manner as he would pronounce it in ordinary conversation.</p> +<p>By emphasis, we distinguish those words in a sentence which we +esteem the most important, by laying a greater stress of voice upon +them than we do upon the others. And it is surprising to observe +how the sense of a phrase may be altered by varying the emphasis. +The following example will serve as an illustration.</p> +<p>This short question, "Will you ride to town to-day?" may be +understood in four different ways, and consequently, may receive +four different answers, according to the placing of the +emphasis.</p> +<p>If it be pronounced thus; Will <i>you</i> ride to town to-day? +the answer may properly be, no; I shall send my son. If thus; Will +you <i>ride</i> to town to-day; Answer, no; I intend to walk. Will +you ride to <i>town</i> to-day? No; I shall ride into the country. +Will you ride to town <i>to-day</i>? No; but I shall to-morrow.</p> +<p>This shows how necessary it is that a reader or speaker should +know where to place his emphasis. And the only rule for this is, +that he study to attain a just conception of the force and spirit +of the sentiments which he delivers. There is as great a difference +between one who lays his emphasis properly, and one who pays no +regard to it, or places it wrong, as there is between one who plays +on an instrument with a masterly hand, and the most bungling +performer.</p> +<p>Cadence is the reverse of emphasis. It is a depression or +lowering of the voice; and commonly falls upon the last syllable in +a sentence. It is varied, however, according to the sense. When a +question is asked, it seldom falls upon the last word; and many +sentences require no cadence at all.</p> +<p>In addition to what has been said, it is of great importance to +attend particularly to tones and gestures. To almost every +sentiment we utter, more especially, to every strong emotion, +nature has adapted some peculiar tone of voice. And we may observe, +that every man, when he is much in earnest in common discourse, +when he is speaking on some subject which interests him nearly, has +an eloquent or persuasive tone and manner.</p> +<p>If one were to tell another that he was very angry, or very much +grieved, in a tone which did not suit such emotions, instead of +being believed, he would be laughed at. The best direction which +can be given, is, to copy the proper tones for expressing every +sentiment from those which nature dictates to us in conversation +with others.</p> +<p>With respect to gesture, the few following hints may be of some +service. When speaking in public, one should endeavor to preserve +as much dignity as possible in the whole attitude of the body. An +erect posture is generally to be chosen; standing firm so as to +have the fullest command of all his motions. Any inclination, which +is used, should be forwards towards the hearers, which is a natural +expression of earnestness.</p> +<p>As for the countenance, the chief rule is, that it should +correspond with the nature of the discourse; and when no particular +emotion is expressed, a serious and manly look is always the best. +The eyes should never be fixed close on any one object, but more +easily round upon the whole audience.</p> +<p>In the motions made with the hands consists the chief part of +gesture in speaking. The right hand should be used more frequently +than the left. Warm emotions demand the motion of both hands +corresponding together. All the gestures should be free and easy. +Perpendicular movements with the hands, that is, in a straight line +up and down are seldom good. Oblique motions are, in general, the +most graceful.</p> +<p>Motions made with the hands should proceed rather from the +shoulders than from the elbows; for they appear much more easy. Too +sudden and nimble motions should be avoided. Earnestness can be +fully expressed without them. Above all things, a speaker should +guard against affectation, which is always disgustful.</p> +<h2><i>FINIS</i>.</h2> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13588 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/13588-h/images/plate1.gif b/13588-h/images/plate1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f64aa5 --- /dev/null +++ b/13588-h/images/plate1.gif diff --git a/13588-h/images/plate2.gif b/13588-h/images/plate2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a07259 --- /dev/null +++ b/13588-h/images/plate2.gif diff --git a/13588-h/images/plate3.gif b/13588-h/images/plate3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1949d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/13588-h/images/plate3.gif diff --git a/13588-h/images/plate4.gif b/13588-h/images/plate4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bbd473c --- /dev/null +++ b/13588-h/images/plate4.gif |
