diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-8.txt | 16494 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 332255 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 463185 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h/13588-h.htm | 16278 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h/images/plate1.gif | bin | 0 -> 28876 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h/images/plate2.gif | bin | 0 -> 21770 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h/images/plate3.gif | bin | 0 -> 26688 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588-h/images/plate4.gif | bin | 0 -> 38063 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588.txt | 16494 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13588.zip | bin | 0 -> 332209 bytes |
10 files changed, 49266 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/13588-8.txt b/old/13588-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5db8d34 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16494 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and +English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant + +Author: John Hamilton Moore + +Release Date: October 3, 2004 [EBook #13588] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + + + + + + + +THE _YOUNG GENTLEMAN AND LADY's_ + +MONITOR, + +AND + +_ENGLISH TEACHER's_ + +ASSISTANT: + +BEING + +A COLLECTION OF SELECT PIECES + +FROM OUR BEST MODERN WRITERS; + +CALCULATED TO + +Eradicate vulgar Prejudices and Rusticity of Manners; Improve the +Understanding; Rectify the Will; Purify the Passions; Direct the Minds +of Youth to the Pursuit of proper Objects; and to facilitate their +Reading, Writing, and Speaking the English language, with Elegance and +Propriety. + +Particularly adapted for the use of our eminent Schools and Academies, +as well as private persons, who have not an opportunity of perusing the +Works of those celebrated Authors, from whence this collection is made. + +DIVIDED INTO SMALL PORTIONS, FOR THE EASE OF READING IN CLASSES. + + +THE LATEST EDITION. + +_BY J. HAMILTON MOORE_, + +AUTHOR OF + +THE PRACTICAL NAVIGATOR AND SEAMAN'S NEW DAILY ASSISTANT. + + +1802. + + + + +PREFACE. + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_THE EDITOR_. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + Pursuit of Knowledge recommended to Youth, + Directions how to spend our Time, + Mispent Time how punished, + Modesty, + Affectation, + The same continued, + Good humour and Nature, + Friendship, + Detraction and Falshood, + The Importance of Punctuality, + Exercise and Temperance the best Preservative of Health, + The Duty of Secrecy, + Of Cheerfulness, + On the Advantages of a Cheerful Temper, + Discretion, + Pride, + Drunkenness, + Gaming, + Whisperers and Giglers complained of, + Beauty produced by Sentiments, + Honour, + Human Nature, + The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper Dignity, + Custom a second Nature, + On Cleanliness, + The Advantages of a good Education, + The Disadvantages of a bad Education, + Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or Fortune, + On the Absurdity of Omens, + A good Conscience, &c. + On Contentment, + Human Miseries chiefly imaginary, + A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure, + Virtue rewarded, + The History of Amanda, + The Story of Abdallah and Balsora, + Rashness and Cowardice, + Fortitude founded upon the Fear of God, + The Folly of youthful Extravagance, + The Misery of depending upon the Great, + What it is to see the World, + The Story of Melissa, + On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together with the + Immensity of his Works, + Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and + Omnipresence of the Deity, + Reflections on the third Heaven, + The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to the + Happiness of a future one, + On the Immortality of the Soul, + On the Animal World, and the Scale of Beings, + Providence proved from Animal instinct, + Good-Breeding, + Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, + Genteel Carriage, + Cleanliness of Person, + Dress, + Elegance of Expression, + Small Talk, + Observation, + Absence of Mind, + Knowledge of the World, + Choice of Company, + Laughter, + Sundry little Accomplishments, + Dignity of Manners, + Rules for Conversation, + Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, + Entrance upon the World, + Advice to a young Man, + The Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human Life, + Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of Basra, + Of the Scriptures, as the Rule of Life, + Of Genesis, + Of Exodus, + Of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, + Of Joshua, + Of Judges, Samuel, and Kings, + Of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah; and Esther, + Of Job, + Of the Psalms, + Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the Prophecies, and + Apocrypha, + Of the New Testament, + Of the Example set by our Savior, and his Character, + A comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the last Day, and the + Inference to be drawn from it, + Character of St. Paul, + Of the Epistles, + The Epistle of St. James, + Epistles of St. Peter, and the first of St. John, + Of the Revelations, + True Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure, + A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the common Use of + a School, + An Evening Prayer, + + + APPENDIX. + + Of Columbus, and the Discovery of America, + Speech of Romulus after founding Rome, + Speech of Quinctius Capitolinus, + Caius Marius to the Romans, + Demosthenes to the Athenians, + The perfect Speaker, + On the Duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious Rollin, + Columbia.--A Poem, + The Choice of a Rural Life.--A Poem, + Hymns and Prayers, + Character of Man, + Winter, + Douglas's Account of himself, + ------how he learned the Art of War, + Baucis and Philemon, + On Happiness, + Speech of Adam to Eve, + Soliloquy and Prayer of Edward the Black Prince, before the battle of + Poictiers, + Invocation to Paradise Lost, + Morning Hymn, _ibid._ + The Hermit, by Dr. Beatie, + Compassion, + Advantages of Peace, + The Progress of Life, + Speeches in the Roman Senate, + Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul, + Hamlet's Meditation on Death, + + + _Select Passages from Dramatic Writers._ + + Joy,----_Distressed Mother,_ + Grief,----_Distressed Mother,_ + Pity,----_Venice Preserved,_ + Fear,----_Lear,_ + Awe and Fear,----_Mourning Bride,_ + Horror,----_Scanderberg,_ + Anger,----_Lear,_ + Revenge,----_Merchant of Venice,_ + Admiration,----_Merchant of Venice,_ + Haughtiness,----_Tamerlane,_ + Contempt,----_Fair Penitent,_ + Resignation,----_Jane Shore,_ + Impatience,--_Volpone_ + Remorse and Despair,--_Busiris_, + Distraction,--_Jane Shore_, + Gratitude,--_Fair Penitent_, + Intreaty,--_Jane Shore_, + Commanding,--_Rinaldo and Armida_, + Courage,--_Alfred_, + Boasting,--_Every Man in his Humour_, + Perplexity,--_Tancred and Sigismunda_ + Suspicion,--_Julius Cæsar_, + Wit and Humour,--_2d Henry_ 4, _1st Henry_ 4, + Ridicule,--_Julius Cæsar_, + Perturbation--_Lear_, + + + ELEMENTS OF GESTURE. + + Section I, + Section II. + Section III. + + + On Reading and Speaking, + + * * * * * + + + + + +THE + +YOUNG GENTLEMAN + +AND + +LADY'S MONITOR, + +AND + +ENGLISH TEACHERS ASSISTANT, + + + + +_Pursuit of Knowledge recommended to Youth_. + +1. 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 +_British_ youth lose their figure, and grow out of fashion, by that time +they are five and twenty. + +2. As soon as the natural gaiety and amiableness of the young man wears +off, they have nothing left to recommend them, but _lie by_ the rest of +their lives, among the lumber and refuse of the species. + +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 _lay in_ 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. + +3. 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. _Julius Cæsar_ and _Alexander_, 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. + +4. As for the latter, it is a known saying of his, that he was more +obliged to _Aristotle_, who had instructed him, than to _Philip_, who +had given him life and empire. There is a letter of his recorded by +_Plutarch_ and _Aulus Gellius_, which he wrote to _Aristotle_, 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 _Persian_ conquests. + +5. "ALEXANDER _to_ ARISTOTLE, _Greeting_. + +"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. +_Farewell_." + +6. We see by this letter, that the love of conquest was but the second +ambition in _Alexander_'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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. The story of _Solomon_'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. + +10. 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. + +11. In _Gibeon_ the Lord appeared to _Solomon_ in a dream by night: and +God said, "Ask what I shall give thee." And Solomon said, "Thou hast +shewed unto thy servant _David_, 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." + +12. "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." + +13. "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 _David_ did walk, then I will +lengthen thy days." And Solomon awoke and behold it was a dream. + +14. 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 _Hercules_, recorded by +_Xenophon_, where _Pleasure_ and _Virtue_ are represented as real +persons making their court to the hero with all their several charms and +allurements. + +15. _Health_, _Wealth_, _Victory_ and _Honor_ are introduced +successively in their proper emblems and characters, each of them +spreading her temptations, and recommending herself to the young +monarch's choice. _Wisdom_ 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 _Wisdom_, _Health_, _Wealth_, +_Victory_ and _Honor_ should always wait an her as her handmaids. + + + + +_Directions how to spend our Time._ + + +1. We all of us complain of the shortness of time, saith _Seneca_, 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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: + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. The stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble and +useful entertainments, were it under proper regulations. + +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. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. + +SPECTATOR, No. 93. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _Lucian_ where I amused my thoughts for about an hour among +the dialogues of the dead, which in all probability produced the +following dream: + +23. I was conveyed, methought, into the entrance of the infernal +regions, where I saw _Rhadamanthus_, one of the judges of the dead, +seated in his tribunal. On his left hand stood the keeper of _Erebus_, +on his right the keeper of _Elysium_. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. After about half an hour's pause, she told him that she had been +playing at crimp: upon which _Rhadamanthus_ 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. + +26. 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 +_Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +27. _Rhadamanthus_ smiled at the simplicity of the good woman, and +ordered the keeper of _Elysium_, 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 _Elysium_; the other caught hold of her to +carry her away to _Erebus_. + +28. But _Rhadamanthus_ 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. + +29. 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 _Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +30. Madam, says _Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. _Rhadamanthus_, who knew the value of the old lady +smiled upon her in such a manner, that the keeper of _Elysium_, 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. + +33. A young woman observing that this officer, who conducted the happy +to _Elysium_, was so great a _beautifier_, 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. + +34. 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--_Rhadamanthus_, without hearing her out, gave the sign to take +her off. Upon the approach of the keeper of _Erebus_ her colour faded, +her face was puckered up with wrinkles, and her whole person lost in +deformity. + +35. 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 _Rhadamanthus_ would spoil their mirth; but at their +nearer approach the noise grew so very great that it awakened me. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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 +_Barbeyrac_. 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. + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + + + + +_Modesty_. + + +Modesty is the citidel of beauty and virtue. The first of all virtues is +innocence; the second is modesty. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. The pretty, and witty, and virtuous _Simplicia_, was, the other day, +visiting with an old aunt of her's, that I verily believe has read the +_Atalantis_; 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. The author of _Cato_, 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 _Cato_, where the character of +_Marcia_ 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. + +12. 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. + +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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. Others again, with more art, will _modestly_ 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. + +23. 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 _him_ a liar; for I would not wish to think him a beast. + +24. These and many more are the follies of idle people, which, while +they think they procure them esteem, in reality make them despised. + +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. + + + + +_Affectation_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The learned Dr. _Burnet_, 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +'DEAR SIR, + +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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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, + +SIR, + +Your humble servant.' + +SPECTATOR, Vol. 1. No. 38. + +19. 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. + +20. In like manner it is in the disposition of society: the civil +oeconomy 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. _Cleanthes_ had good sense, a great memory, and a constitution +capable of the closest application: in a word, there was no profession +in which _Cleanthes_ 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. + +24. _Cleanthes_ reads plays, dances, dresses, and spends his time in +drawing rooms, instead of being a good lawyer, divine, or physician; +_Cleanthes_ 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. + +25. 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 _Valerio_. + +26. _Valerio_ had an universal character, was genteel, had learning, +thought justly, spoke correctly; 'twas believed there was nothing in +which _Valerio_ did not excel; and 'twas so far true, that there was but +one: _Valerio_ had no genius for poetry, yet was resolved to be a poet; +he writes verses, and takes great pains to convince the town, that +_Valerio_ is not that extraordinary person he was taken for. + +27. If men would be content to graft upon nature, and assist her +operations, what mighty effects might we expect? _Tully_ would not stand +so much alone in oratory, _Virgil_ in poetry, or _Cæsar_ 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. _Cicero's_ genius inclined him to +oratory, _Virgil_'s to follow the train of the muses; they piously +obeyed the admonition, and were rewarded. + +28. Had _Virgil_ attended the bar, his modest and ingenuous virtue would +surely have made but a very indifferent figure: and _Tully_'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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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 _Cælia_ and _Iras_. _Cælia_ has all the charms of person, together +with an abundant sweetness of nature, but wants wit, and has a very ill +voice: _Iras_ is ugly and ungenteel, but has wit and good sense. + +31. If _Cælia_ would be silent, her beholders would adore her; if _Iras_ +would talk, her hearers would admire her; but _Cælia_'s tongue runs +incessantly, while _Iras_ gives herself silent airs and soft languors; +so that 'tis difficult to persuade one's self that _Cælia_ has beauty, +and _Iras_ wit: each neglects her own excellence, and is ambitious of +the other's character: _Iras_ would be thought to have as much beauty as +_Cælia_, and _Cælia_ as much wit as _Iras_. + +32. 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. + +33. If _Semanthe_ would have been satisfied with her natural complexion, +she might still have been celebrated by the name of the olive beauty; +but _Semanthe_ has taken up an affectation to white and red, and is now +distinguished by the character of the lady that paints so well. + +34. In a word, could the world be reformed to the obedience of that +famed dictate, _follow nature_, which the oracle of _Delphos_ pronounced +to _Cicero_ when he consulted what course of studies he should pursue, +we should see almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere as +_Tully_ 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. + +35. 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 _Tully_ expresses it) like the sin of +the giants, an actual rebellion against heaven. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. VI. No. 404. + + + + +_Good Humour and Nature_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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 _Roger_'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. + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. Of this kind is the life of that extraordinary couple, _Harry +Tersett_ and his lady. _Harry_ was, in the days of his celibacy, one of +those pert creatures who have much vivacity and little understanding; +Mrs. _Rebecca Quickly_, whom he married, had all that the fire of youth +and a lively manner could do towards making an agreeable woman. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. _Varilas_ 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 _Varilas_ 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. + +14. 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 +_Varilas_ 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. II. No. 100. + + + + +_Friendship_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. _Tully_ 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 _Francis Bacon_ +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. + +6. 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 _Confucius_ +or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher; I mean the little Apocryphal +Treatise, entitled the Wisdom of the Son of _Sirach_. + +7. 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. + +8. 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." + +9. "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." + +10. 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. + +11. "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." + +12. 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. + +13. 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." + +14. 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." + +15. 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 _Horace_ and _Epictetus_. There are +very beautiful instances of this nature in the following pages, which +are likewise written upon the same subject: + +16. "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." + +17. 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 _Cicero_ calls it, _morum comitas_, a pleasantness +of temper. + +18. 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. + +19. There are several persons who, in some certain periods of their +lives, are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as odious and +detestable. _Martial_ has given us a very pretty picture of one of these +species in the following epigram: + + _Difficilis facilas, jocundus, acerbus, es idem_, + _Nec tecum possum vivere; nec sine te_. Epig. 47. 1. 12. + + In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, + Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; + Hast so much wit and mirth, and spleen about thee, + There is no living with thee nor without thee. + +20. 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. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. 1. No. 68. + +21. "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. + +22. 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. + +Love and esteem are the first principles of friendship, which always is +imperfect where either of these two is wanting. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. _Achilles_ has his _Patroclus_, and +_Æneas_ his _Achates_. + +26. In the first of these instances we may observe, for the reputation +of the subject I am treating of, that _Greece_ was almost ruined by the +hero's love, but was preserved by his friendship. + +27. The character of _Achates_ 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. + +28. I do not remember that _Achates_, who is represented as the first +favourite, either gives his advice, or strikes a blow through the whole +_Æneid_. + +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. + +29. _Atticus_, one of the best men of ancient _Rome_, 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 +_Marius_, whose father was declared an enemy of the commonwealth, he was +himself one of _Sylla's_ chief favourites, and always near that general. + +30. During the war between _Cæsar_ and _Pompey_, he still maintained the +same conduct. After the death of Cæsar, he sent money to _Brutus_, in +his troubles, and did a thousand good offices to _Anthony's_ wife and +friends, when the party seemed ruined. Lastly, even in that bloody war +between _Anthony_ and _Augustus_, _Atticus_ still kept his place in both +their friendships; insomuch, that the first, says _Cornelius Nepos_, +whenever he was absent from _Rome_, 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +_Detraction and Falsehood_ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. _Jack Triplett_ came into my Lady _Airy_'s about eight of the clock. +You know the manner we sit at a visit, and I need not describe the +circle; but Mr. _Triplett_ 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. + +8. I say _Jack Triplett_ 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. + +9. 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. + +10. You were telling of? says _Jack_; 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. _Triplett_! When Mrs. _Lofty_, 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. + +11. 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. _Triplett_ 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. _Triplett_ was beaten +from one limb and feature to another, till he was forced to resign the +whole woman. + +12. In the end, I took notice _Triplett_ 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. + +13. Mr. _Triplett_, 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. +_Triplett_ 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. + +14. Thus, Mr. _Spectator_, 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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: + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +31. When _Aristotle_ was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering +falsehoods? he replied, "not to be credited when he shall tell the +truth." + +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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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 _Thomas Brown_, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies; nor can the society of +hell subsist without it." + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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. + +39. It is remarked by Sir _Kenelm Digby_, "that every man has a desire +to appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what +they have not seen." + +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. + +40. 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! + +41. 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. + +42. 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? + +45. 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. + +44. 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. + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. There is, I think, an ancient law in _Scotland_, by which +_Leasing-making_ 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. + + + + +_The Importance of Punctuality_. + + +1. It is observed in the writings of _Boyle_, 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. + +2. 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 +_Cajucius_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. _Aliger_ 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. + +10. _Aliger_ 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +This character, however contemptible, is not peculiar to _Aliger_. + +16. 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. + + + + +_Exercise & Temperance the best Preservative of Health._ + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. My friend Sir _Roger_ 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. + +8. 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. + +9. Sir _Roger_ 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. + +10. The perverse widow, whom I have given some account of, was the death +of several foxes; for Sir _Roger_ 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. + +11. 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. _Sydenham_ is very lavish in +its praise; and if the _English_ 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 _Medicina Gymnastica_. + +12. 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. + +13. 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 _Latin_ +treatise of exercise, that is written with great erudition: It is there +called the _Skimachia_, 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. + +14. I could wish that several learned men would lay out that time which +they employ in controversies, and disputes about nothing, in _this +method_ 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. + +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. + +15. There is a story in the _Arabian Nights Tales_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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 +_Diogenes_, 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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 _William Temple:--The first glass for myself, the second +for my friends, the third for good humour, and the fourth for my +enemies_. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that _Socrates_, +notwithstanding he lived in _Athens_ 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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 _Lewis Cornaro_, the _Venetian_; which I the rather +mention, because it is of undoubted credit, as the late _Venetian_ +ambassador, who was of the same family, attested more than once in +conversation, when he resided in _England_. _Cornaro_, 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 _English_, under the title of, _Sure and certain methods +of attaining a long and healthy Life_. + +29. 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. + + + + +_The Duty of Secrecy._ + + +1. It is related by _Quintus Curtius_, that the _Persians_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. Whether, by their settled and avowed scorn of thoughtless talkers, +the _Persians_ 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 +_Persepolis_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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 +_Montaigne_'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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. The confidence which _Caius_ has of the faithfulness of _Titius_ is +nothing more than an opinion which himself cannot know to be true, and +which _Claudius_, who first tells his secret to _Caius_, may know, at +least may suspect to be false; and therefore the trust is transferred by +_Caius_, 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, _Caius_ 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. + +14. 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 _Titius_ 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. + +15. 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 _Caius_, +in admitting _Titius_ to the affairs imparted only to himself, violates +his faith, since he acts contrary to the intention of _Claudius_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + + + + +_Of Cheerfulness._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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? + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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? + +13. The consciousness of such a being spreads a perpetual diffusion of +joy through the soul of a virtuous man, and makes him look upon himself +every moment as more happy than he knows how to conceive. + +The second source of 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. + +14. In short, we depend upon a Being, whose power qualifies him to make +us happy by an infinity of means, whose goodness and truth engage him to +make those happy who desire it of him, and whose unchangeableness will +secure us in this happiness to all eternity. + +Such considerations, which every one should perpetually cherish in his +thoughts, will banish from us all that secret heaviness of heart which +unthinking men are subject to when they lie under no real affliction, +all that anguish which we may feel from any evil that actually oppresses +us, to which I may likewise add those little cracklings of mirth and +folly, that are apter to betray virtue than support it; and 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. + + + + +_On the Advantages of a Cheerful Temper_. + +[SPECTATOR, No. 387.] + + +1. 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. + +2. I scarce remember in my own observation, to have met with many old +men, or with such, who (to use our _English_ phrase) _were well_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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 _cheerful_. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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 _French_ +novelist, in opposition to those who begin their romances with a flowery +season of the year, enters on his story thus: _In the gloomy month of_ +November, _when the people of_ England _hang and drown themselves, a +disconsolate lover walked out into the fields_, &c. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. This interspersion of evil with good, and pain with pleasure, in the +works of nature, is very truly ascribed by Mr. _Locke_ in his Essay upon +Human Understanding, to a moral reason, in the following words: + +_Beyond all this, we may find another reason_ why _God hath scattered up +and down_ several degrees of pleasure and pain, in all the things that +environ and effect us, _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_, with whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right +hand are pleasures for evermore. + + + + +_Discretion_. + + +1. 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. + +2. _Tully_ 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 _Sirach_ 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. 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 +_Polyphemus_ in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible +force, which for want of sight, is of no use to him. + +5. 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. + +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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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, "_Wisdom_ is +glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is easily seen of them that +love her, and found of such as seek her." + +12. "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." + + + + +_Pride_. + + +1. 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. + +2. I have been always wonderfully delighted with that sentence in holy +writ, _Pride was not made for man_. There is not, indeed, any single +view of human nature under its present condition, which is not +sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret seeds of pride; and, on +the contrary, to sink the soul into the lowest slate of humility, and +what the school-men call self-annihilation. Pride was not made for man, +as he is, + +1. A sinful, + +2. An ignorant, + +3. A miserable being. + +There is nothing in his understanding, in his will, or in his present +condition, that can tempt any considerate creature to pride or vanity. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. If there be any thing which makes human nature appear _ridiculous_ to +beings of superior faculties, it must be pride. They know so well the +vanity of those imaginary perfections that swell the heart of man, and +of those little supernumerary advantages, whether in birth, fortune, or +title, which one man enjoys above another, that it must certainly very +much astonish, if it does not very much divert them, when they see a +mortal puffed up, and valuing himself above his neighbours on any of +these accounts, at the same time that he is obnoxious to all the common +calamities of the species. + +6. 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! + +7. 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? + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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 _French_ poet, of those +pismires that people this heap of dirt, which human vanity has divided +into climates and regions. + +GUARDIAN, Vol. II. No. 153. + + + + +_Drunkenness_. + + +1. 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. _Anarcharsis_, 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: + +2. 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 _Will Funnell_, 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. + +3. I question not but every reader's memory will suggest to him several +ambitious young men, who are as vain in this particular as _Will +Funnell_, and can boast of as glorious exploits. + +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: + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. _Bonosus_, 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. + +7. This vice has very fatal effects on the mind, the body and fortune of +the person who is devoted to it. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _Seneca_, that drunkenness does not produce, but discover faults. +Common experience teaches the contrary. + +10. 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 _Publius Syrus, +He who jests unto a man that is drunk, injures the absent_. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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? + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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, _Provided also, That the above-mentioned_ A.B. +_shall not drink before dinner during the term mentioned in this +indenture_. + +20. 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: + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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 _Astræa_, +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 _Astræa_ to +that bacchanal. + +24. 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. + +TATLER, Vol. IV, No. 241. + + + + +_Gaming_. + + +SIR, + +1. '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. + +2. 'You who converse with the sober family of the _Lizards_, are, +perhaps, a stranger to these viragoes; but what would you say, should +you see the _Sparkler_ 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; + +YOUR HUMBLE SERVANT.' + +3. I should ill deserve the name of _Guardian_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +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? + +7. 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. + +8. 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 _Pam_ than of her husband. + +9. My friend _Theophrastus_, 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. + +10. 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? + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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 _dipped_, if the creditor be very +importunate, I leave my reader to consider the consequences. + +15. 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. + + + + +_Whisperers_. + +SIR, + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _Bonna Deo_, 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. + +4. Single words, indeed, now and then broke forth; such as _odious_, +_horrid_, _detestable_, _shocking_, 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." + +5. 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. _Sancho_, +when he was forbid to eat of a delicious banquet set before him, could +scarce appear more melancholy. + +6. 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 _Brentford_. + +7. Modest men, Mr. _Town_, 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _aside_.--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. + +10. 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. + +11. It were also to be wished, that the ladies would be pleased to +confine themselves to whispering in their _tete-a-tete_ conferences at +an opera or the play-house; which would be a proper deference to the +rest of the audience. In _France_, we are told, it is common for the +_parterre_ 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. + +12. The wit and humour of a _Vanbrugh_, or a _Congreve,_ 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 _Romeo_ and _Juliet_, grin over the anguish of a _Monimia_, or +_Belvidera_, and fairly laugh king _Lear_ off the stage. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. If the misconduct which I have described, had been only to be +found, Mr. _Town_, 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. + +17. Some excuse may perhaps be framed for this ill-timed merriment, in +the fair sex. _Venus_, the goddess of beauty, is frequently called +_laughter-loving dame_; and by laughing, our modern ladies may possibly +imagine, that they render themselves like _Venus_. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. _Paul's_, or in +the famous whispering place in _Gloucester_ cathedral, where two +whisperers hear each other at the distance of five-and-twenty yards. + +_I am, Sir, + +Your humble Servant._ + + + + +_Beauty_. + +1. 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." + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +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. + +19. A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call _Lætitia_ and +_Daphne_. 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. _Lætitia_ 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. + +20. The consciousness of her charms has rendered her insupportably vain +and insolent towards all who have to do with her. _Daphne_, 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. + +21. Poor _Daphne_ 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 _Lætitia_ was listened +to with partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she +conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say. + +22. These causes have produced suitable effects, and _Lætitia_ is as +insipid a companion as _Daphne_ is an agreeable one. _Lætitia_, +confident of favour, has studied no arts to please: _Daphne_, despairing +of any inclination towards her person, has depended only on her merit. +_Lætitia_ has always something in her air that is sullen, grave and +disconsolate. + +23. _Daphne_ has a countenance that appears cheerful, open and +unconcerned. A young gentleman saw _Lætitia_ 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 _Lætitia_; while _Daphne_ used him with the good +humour, familiarity, and innocence of a sister. + +24. Insomuch that he would often say to her, _Dear Daphne, wert thou but +as handsome as Lætitia!_--She received such language with that ingenious +and pleasing mirth, which is natural to a woman without design. He still +sighed in vain for _Lætitia_ but found certain relief in the agreeable +conversation of _Daphne_. At length, heartily tired with the haughty +impertinence of _Lætitia_, and charmed with repeated instances of good +humour he had observed in _Daphne_, he one day told the latter, that he +had something to say to her he hoped she would be pleased with. + +25. ----_Faith Daphne_, continued he, _I am in love with thee, and +despise thy sister sincerely_. The manner of his declaring himself gave +his mistress occasion for a very hearty laughter.--_Nay_, says he, _I +knew you would laugh at me, but I'll ask your father_. 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. + +26. I do not know any thing that has pleased me so much a great while, +as this conquest of my friend _Daphne's_. 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. + +27. 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. + +'Monsier St. _Evrement_ 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. + +28. '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. + +29. 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 _South Britain_, 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 _Europe_, owe the first raising +of his fortune to a cosmetic wash. + +30. '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. + +31. 'In order to do this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be +necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims, _viz._ + +That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more +she can be witty only by the help of speech. + +That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more +terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox. + +That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of +being false. + +And, that what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a mistress. + +32 '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. _Dryden_ 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. + +33. '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? + +34. 'How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when +compared with the real loveliness of _Sophronia's_ 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'. + +35. '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. + +'When _Adam_ is introduced by _Milton_ describing _Eve_ 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 _Grecian Venus_, by her +shape of features, but by the lustre of her mind which shone in them, +and gave them their power of charming. + +36. + + Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye, + In all her gestures dignity and love: + +'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. + +'I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph, written by +_Ben Johnson_ with a spirit which nothing could inspire, but such an +object as I have been describing. + + 'Underneath this stone doth lie, + As much virtue as could die; + Which when alive did vigour give + To as much beauty as could live.' + + +_I am, Sir_ + +_Your most humble Servant_, + +R.B. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No.33. + + + + +_Honour_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. '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. + +4. '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. + +5. 'The religious man _fears_, the man of honor _scorns_ to do an ill +action. The former considers vice as something that is beneath him, the +other as something that is offensive to the Divine Being. The one as +what is _unbecoming_, the other as what _forbidden_. Thus _Seneca_ +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. + +6. 'I shall conclude this head with the description of honor in the part +of young _Juba_. + + Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, + The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, + That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, + And imitates her actions where she is not. + It ought not to be sported with.-- CATO. + +7. '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. + +8. '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. + +9. 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. + +10. _Timogenes_ was a lively instance of one actuated by false honor. +_Timogenes_ 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. +_Timogenes_ 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. + +11. _Timogenes_ took away the life of a young fellow in a duel, for +having spoken ill of _Belinda_, a lady whom he himself had seduced in +his youth, and betrayed into want and ignominy. To close his character, +_Timogenes_, 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. + +12. 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 _Syphax_, 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. + +13. These are generally persons, who, in _Shakspeare's_ phrase, are +_worn and hackney'd in the ways of men_; whose imaginations are grown +callous, and have lost all those delicate sentiments which are natural +to minds that are innocent and undepraved. Such old battered miscreants +ridicule every thing as 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. + +14. 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 _honor_ by any other way than through that of _virtue_. + +GUARDIAN, Vol. II. No. 161. + + + + +_Human Nature_. + + +Mr. SPECTATOR, + +1. '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. + +2. 'Hence it was that the oracle pronounced _Socrates_ 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. + +3. '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. + +4. 'We shall no more admire at the proceedings of _Cataline_ and +_Tiberius_, 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. + +5. '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. + +6. '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. + +7. '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. + +8. '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. + +9. '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. + +10. '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. + +11. 'I remember _Machiavel_ 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. + +12. '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. + +13. '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. + +14. '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. + +15. 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. + +16. '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. + +17. '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. + +18. '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. + +_I am, Sir_, + +_Your affectionate admirer_ + +T.B. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. IV. No. 408. + + + + + +_The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper Dignity_. + +TATLER, No. 198. + +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. + +1. 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. _Bitterton_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +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. + +5. 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. + +6. In short, it is impossible to read a page in _Plato_, _Tully,_ 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 +_French_ 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. + +7. 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 _Rochefoucault_, who is the great philosopher for +administering of consolation to the idle, the envious, and worthless +parts of mankind. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _Trey_ 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 +_Middle Temple_. + +10. 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. + +11. I think it is one of _Pythagoras's_ golden sayings, _that a man +should take care above all things to have a due respect for himself_; +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. + +12. Poetry carries on this great end more than all the rest, as may be +seen in the following passages taken out of Sir _Francis Bacon's +Advancement of Learning_, which gives a true and better account of this +art than all the volumes that were ever written upon it. + +"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." + +13. "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." + +14. "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." + +15. "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." + +16. 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. + + + + +_Custom a Second Nature_. + +1. 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. + +2. Dr. _Plot_, in his history of _Staffordshire_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. Not only such actions as were at first indifferent to us, but even +such as were painful, will by custom and practice become pleasant. + +8. Sir _Francis Bacon_ 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. + +9. 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 _Virgil_ or _Cicero_. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. In the second place, I would recommend to every one the admirable +precept which _Pythagoras_ is said to have given to his disciples, and +which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have +enlarged upon: _Optimum vitæ genus eligito nam consuctudo facict +jucundissimum._ Pitch upon that course of life which is the most +excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful. + +13. 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. + +14. In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and +irreligious man to overlook those hardships and difficulties, which are +apt to discourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. The Gods, +said _Hesiod_, have placed labour before virtue; the way to her is at +first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy, the 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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 _Tillotson_ and Dr. _Sherlock_; +but there is none who has raised such noble speculations upon it as Dr. +_Scott_, 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. + + + + +_On Cleanliness_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 631. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. This adventure occasioned my throwing together a few hints upon +_cleanliness_, which I shall consider as one of the half virtues, as +_Aristotle_ 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. + +5. 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 +_Hottentot_ with an _English_ beauty, to be; satisfied with the truth of +what hath been advanced. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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 _Mecca_. +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. + + + + +_The Advantages of a good Education_. + +1. 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. + +2. 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 _Aristotle_ 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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? + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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 _Phidias_ or _Prixiteles_ could not give several nice touches +and finishings. + + + + +_The Disadvantages of a bad Education._ + + +SIR, + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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 _Frisk_ did not keep me that afternoon to watch her +squirrel. + +12. 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. + +13. I cannot but think, Mr. _Rambler_, 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. + +I am, &c. _Florentulus_. + +[RAMBLER.] + + + + +_Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or Fortune_. + + +GUARDIAN, No. 155. + +1. 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? + +2. 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. + +3. The excellent lady, the lady _Lizard_, 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. _Tillotson's_ 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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 _Copia +Verborum_, 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. + +6. 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? + +7. 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 +_Pythagorians_, notwithstanding most of that philosophy consisted in +keeping a secret, and that the disciple was to hold her tongue five +years together. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + + + + +_On the Absurdity of Omens_. + + +SPECTATOR. + +1. 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. + +2. 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.' + +3. 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. + +4. 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.' + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + + + + +_A good Conscience the best Security against Calumny and Reproach_. + +GUARDIAN, No. 135. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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! + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The way to silence calumny, says _Bias_, is to be always exercised in +such things as are praise-worthy. _Socrates_, 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. + +6. _Anytus_ and _Melitus_, 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. + +7. 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 _Aristotle's_ +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. + +8. 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. + +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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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.' + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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? + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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.' + + + + +_On Contentment_. + + +SPECTATOR, No. 574. + +1. I was once engaged in discourse with a Rosicrucian about the _great +secret_. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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.' + +11. 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.' + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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.' + +15. 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. + +16. 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 _scheme_ of Providence would be +troubled and perverted were he otherwise. + +17. 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.' + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + + + + +_Human Miseries chiefly imaginary._ + +1. It is a celebrated thought of _Socrates_, 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. _Horace_ 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. + +2. As I was ruminating-on these two remarks, and seated in my elbow +chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was +a proclamation made by _Jupiter_, that, every mortal should bring in his +griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a +large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the 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. + +3. 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. + +4. Her name _Fancy_. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, +after having, very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and +laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see my +fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burthens, and to +consider that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay before me. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. When the whole race of mankind had thus cast their burthens, the +_phantom_, 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. As we were regarding very attentively this confusion of miseries, +this chaos of calamity, _Jupiter_ issued out a second proclamation, that +every one was now at liberty to exchange his affliction, and to return +to his habitation with any such other bundle as should be delivered to +him. + +15. Upon this, _Fancy_ began again to bestir herself, and parcelling out +the whole heap, with incredible activity, recommended to every one his +particular packet. The hurry and confusion at this time was not to be +expressed. Some observations which I made upon the occasion, I shall +communicate to the 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. _Jupiter_, at length, taking +compassion on the poor mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down +their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. + +25. 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 _Jupiter_. + +25. Her name was _Patience_. 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. + +27. 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. + + + + +_A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure, exemplified in the +Choice of Hercules_. + + +TATLER, No. 97. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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: + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. By this time the other lady was come up, who addressed herself to the +young hero in a very different manner. + +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. + +8. 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: + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + + + + +_Virtue rewarded; The History of Amanda_. + + +SPECTATOR, No. 375. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. SIR, + +'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. + +'_I am_, &c.' + +9. 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: + +10. _Dearest Child_, + +'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. + +'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. + +'_Thy affectionate mother_--.' + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +MADAM, + +'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, + +MADAM, + +_Your obedient humble servant_--.' + +14. 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. + + + + +_The Story of Abdallah and Balsora._ + +GUARDIAN, No. 167. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. '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.' + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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.' + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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 _Khacan_. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +Helim was too good a father to let him want any thing that might conduce +to make his retirement pleasant. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +_On Rashness and Cowardice._ + +RAMBLER, No. 25. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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? + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. But of all the bugbears by which the _infantes barbati_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + + + + +_Fortitude founded upon the fear of God._ + + +GUARDIAN, No. 167. + +1. Looking over the late edition of Monsieur _Boileau's_ works, I was +very much pleased with the article which he has added to his notes on +the translation of _Longinus_. 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 _Racine_. + +2. When _Abner_, one of the chief officers of the court, represents to +_Joad_ the high priest, that the queen was incensed against him, the +high priest, not in the least terrified at the news, returns this +answer: + + _Celui que met un frein à la fureur des flots, + Scait aussi des méchans arréter les complots; + Soumis avecs respect à sa volutté sainte, + Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, & n'ai point d'autre crainte._ + +3. '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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. There is no example of this kind in Pagan history which more pleases +me than that which is recorded in the life of _Timoleon_. This +extraordinary man was famous for referring all his successes to +Providence. _Cornelius Nepos_ 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 +_Plutarch_. + +11. Three persons had entered into a conspiracy to assassinate +_Timoleon_ 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 _Timoleon's_ feet, and +confessed the whole matter. + +12. 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. + +13. _Plutarch_ 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. + +14. For my own part, I cannot wonder that a man of _Timoleon's_ religion +should have this intrepidity and firmness of mind, or that he should be +distinguished by such a deliverance as I have here related. + + + + +_The folly of youthful Extravagance._ + +RAMBLER, No. 26. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. _Dash_, 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +_I am, &c._ + + + + +_The Misery of depending upon the Great._ + +RAMBLER, NO. 27. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. _Vagrio_ 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. + +6. 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. + +7. I was once very near to preferment by the kindness of _Charinus_; +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. At last I thought my solicitude at an end, for an office fell into +the gift of _Hippodamus_'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. _Hippodamus_ therefore +set forward with great expedition, and I expected every hour an account +of his success. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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 _Hilarius_, the celebrated orator, renowned equally for the +extent of his knowledge, the elegance of his diction, and the acuteness +of his wit. + +15. _Hilarius_ 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. + +16. 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 _Hilarius_, 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. + +17. I was then taken into the familiarity of _Argurio_, 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. My next patron was _Eutyches_ 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +_I am_, &c. + +EUBULUS. + + + + +_What it is to see the World; the Story of Melissa._ + +RAMBLER, No. 75. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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? + +18. 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. + +19. 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? + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. This, Mr. Rambler, is _to see the world_. 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. + +_I am_, &c. MELISSA. + + + + +_On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together with the +Immensity of his Works._ + + +1. 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. + +2. The _Galaxy_ appeared in its most beautiful white. To complete the +scene, the full moon rose at length in that clouded majesty, which +_Milton_ takes notice of, and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, +which was more finely shaded, and disposed among softer lights, than +that which the sun had before discovered to us. + +3. As I was surveying the moon, walking in her brightness, and taking +her progress among the constellations, a thought rose in me which I +believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and +contemplative natures. _David_ himself fell into it in that reflection, +_When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and +stars which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of +him, and the son of man, that thou regardest him!_ + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. We see many stars by the help of glasses, which we do not discover +with our naked eyes; and the finer our telescopes are, the more still +are our discoveries. _Huygenius_ carries 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! + +7. 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. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought, of +our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and +the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly +employed, if we consider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent, +and in the second, that he is omniscient. + +If we consider him in his omnipresence; his being passes through, +actuates and supports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and every +part of it, is full of him. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather +the habitation of the Almighty; but the noblest, and most exalted way of +considering this infinite space, is that of Sir _Isaac Newton_, who +calls it the _sensorium_ of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their +_sensoria_, or little _sensoriums_, 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. + +14. 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. _Oh that I knew where I might find him_! says Job. _Behold I go +forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; +on the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth +himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him._ In short, reason as +well as revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent from us, +notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us. + +15. 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. + + + + +_Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and +Omnipresence of the Deity._ + +SPECTATOR, No. 571. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +_First_, 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! + +3. _Secondly_, 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! + +_Thirdly_, 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! + +4. _first_, 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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, _secondly_, 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! + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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 _Job_, when for the real trial of +his patience, he was made to look upon himself in this deplorable +condition! _Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee so that I am +become a burden to myself?_ But _thirdly_, 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! + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. The light of nature could direct _Seneca_ to this doctrine in a very +remarkable passage among his epistles; _Sacer inest in nobis spiritus, +bonorum malorumque custos et observator; et quemadmodum nos illum +tractamus, ita et ille nos_. '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: _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_. + + + + +_Reflections on the third Heaven_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 580. + + +1. 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. + +2. This is that place which is marked out in scripture under the +different appellations of _Paradise, the third Heaven, the throne of +God, and the habitation of his glory_. 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. If you look into _Homer_, that is, the most ancient of the _Greek_ +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? + +5. 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 _Greeks_ and _Romans_, 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. + +6. As in _Solomon's_ temple there was the _Sanctum Sanctorum_, 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. + +7. 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 _Hiram_ 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. + +8. It is to this majestic presence of God we may apply those beautiful +expressions in holy writ: _Behold even to the moon, and it shineth not; +yea, the stars are not pure in his sight_. 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. + +9. 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! + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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, _which +neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, nor can it enter into the heart of +man to conceive_! + +15. _I knew a man in Christ_ (says St. Paul, speaking of himself) _above +fourteen years ago_ (_whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out +of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth_) _such a one caught up to the +third heaven. And I knew such a man_ (_whether in the body or out of the +body, I cannot tell: God knoweth_) _how that he was caught up into +Paradise, and heard unspeakable words which it is not possible for a man +to utter_. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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 _Adam_, though he had +continued in a state of innocence, would, in the opinion of our divines, +have kept holy the _Sabbath day_, 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + + + + +_The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to the +Happiness of a future one_. + +SPECTATOR; No. 575. + + +1. A lewd young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefoot, +_Father_, says he, _you are in a very miserable condition, if there is +not another world. True son_, said the hermit; _but what is thy +condition if there is_? 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +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? + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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? + +6. 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? + +7. 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. + +8. 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? + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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? + +12. 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? + +13. 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. + + + + +_On the Immortality of the Soul_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 111. + + +1. 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. + +2. I considered those several proofs drawn: _First_, 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. + +_Secondly_, 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. + +3. _Thirdly_, From the nature of the Supreme Being, whose justice, +goodness, wisdom and veraveracity, are all concerned in this point. + +But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the +soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its +perfection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a +hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others +who have written on this subject, though it seeras to me to carry a very +great weight with it. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. But can we believe a thinking being; that is in a perpetual progress +of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after +having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few +discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom and power, must perish at +her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her enquiries? + +A man considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world to +propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and +immediately quits his post to make room for him. + + + ----_Hæres. +Hæredem alterius velut unda supervenit undam._ + + HOR. Ep. 2. 1. 2. v. 175 + +----Heir crowds heir, as in a rolling flood +Wave urges wave. + CREECH. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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! + + + + +_On the Animal World, and the Scale of Beings_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 519. + + +1. 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. + +The material world, is only the shell of the universe: the world of life +are its inhabitants. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. The author of the _Plurality of Worlds_ draws a very good argument +from this consideration, for the _peopling_ 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +3. 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. + +10. 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 _specified_ in his +creation every degree of life, every capacity of being. + +11. 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? + +12. 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. + +13. 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. _Locke_, +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. + +14. _That there should be more_ species _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_. + +15. _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_ species _are linked +together, and differ but, in almost insensible degrees_. + +16. _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_ species _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_ species _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._ + +17. 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 _Nexus utriusque mundi_. 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 _corruption, Thou +art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister_. + + + + +_Providence proved from Animal Instinct._ + +SPECTATOR, No. 120. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +The most violent appetites in all creatures are _lust_ and _hunger_; the +first is a perpetual call upon them to propagate their kind; the latter +to preserve themselves. + +3. 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. + +4. 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 _imitation_; 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 _reason_; 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. + +5. 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? + +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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + + + + +_Good-Breeding._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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 _Shakspeare_ reckons among other +evils under the sun) + + "--The poor man's contumely, The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of the unworthy takes," + +than from the more real pains and calamities of life. The only method to +remove these imaginary distresses as much as possible out of human life, +would be the universal practice of such an 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." + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. 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. + +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. + +5. 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. _James's_, would pass for +foppery or banter in a remote village; and the homespun civility of that +village would be considered as brutality at court. + +6. 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 _Hannibal_, 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. If _France_ exceeds us in that particular, the incomparable author +of _L'Esprit des Loix_ 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + + +WORLD, No. 143. + +_Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son._ + +15. 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." + +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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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 _French_ +frequently cover! + +My Lord _Bacon_ 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. + +20. A man of good-breeding should be acquainted with the forms and +particular customs of courts. At _Vienna_ men always make courtesies, +instead of bows, to the emperor; in _France_ nobody bows to the king, or +kisses his hand; but in _Spain_ and _England_ 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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 _agrémens_ 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +_Genteel Carriage._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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 _sir_ for _my lord_; to begin a story without +being able to finish it, and break off in the middle, with "I have +forgot the rest." + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + + +_Cleanliness of Person._ + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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 _whole_ 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. + + +_Dress_. + +19. Neatness of person I observed was as necessary as cleanliness; of +course some attention must be paid to your dress. + +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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _flash_ 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + + +_Elegance of Expression._ + +25. Having mentioned elegance of person, I will proceed to elegance of +expression. + +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. + +26. 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. + +27. '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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +Now, if it is necessary to attend so particularly to our _manner_ of +speaking, it is much more so with regard to the _matter_. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +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. + +34. 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 _vastly_ angry, _vastly_ kind; _devilish_ ugly, +_devilish_ handsome; _immensely_ great, _immensely_ little. + +35. Even his pronunciation carries the mark of vulgarity along with it; +he calls the earth _yearth_; finan' ces, _fin' ances_, he goes _to +wards_, 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. + +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. + + +_Small-Talk_. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +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. + +38. 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 _you_ are so." + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + + + + +_Observation_. + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _absence of mind_--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. + +4. 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. _Why_ 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. + +5. 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. + + + + +_Absence of Mind_. + + +1. Having mentioned absence of mind, let me be more particular +concerning it. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _Isaac Newton_ or Mr. +_Locke_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Knowledge of the World._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The time should also be judiciously made choice of. Every man has his +particular times when he may be applied to with success, the _mollia +tempora fandi_: 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. + +6. 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, _do as you would be done by_, +take care not to let another feel your superiority, if you have it, +especially if you wish to gain his interest or esteem. + +7. 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. + +_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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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 _your humble servant_ at the +bottom of a challenge; they are universally understood to be things of +course. + +18. Wrangling and quarreling are characteristics of a weak mind: leave +that to the women, be _you_ 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _Pope_, a _Newton_, or a +_Bollingbroke_, 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +36. 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. + +27. 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 _them_ 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. + +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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +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. + + + + + +_Choice of Company._ + + +1. The next thing to the choice of friends is the choice of your +company. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +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. + +4. 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 _literati_, which, however respectable in name, is not the way to +rise or shine in the fashionable world. + +5. But the company, which, of all others, you should carefully avoid, is +that, which, in every sense of the word, may be called _low_; 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 _you_, and who will flatter your follies, nay, your very +vices, to keep you with them. + +6. Though _you_ may think such a caution unnecessary, _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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +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. + + + + + +_Laughter._ + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Sundry little Accomplishments._ + + +1. I have had reason to observe before, that various little matters, +apparently trifling in themselves, conspire to form the _whole_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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." + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _woman_ 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. A gentleman has ever some regard also to the _choice_ 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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 _one_ likes, and to remove what the _other_ 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +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. + +33. 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. + +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. + +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. + +34. 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. + + + + +_Dignity of Manners_. + + +1. A certain dignity of manners is absolutely necessary, to make even +the most-valuable character either respected or respectable in the +world. + +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. + +2. 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. + +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. + +3. 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 _had_ (as the phrase is) for the sake of any +qualification, singly, is merely that thing he is _had_ for, is never +considered in any other light, and, of course, never properly respected, +let his intrinsic merits be what they will. + +4. You may possibly suppose this dignity of manners to border upon +pride; but it differs as much from pride, as true courage from +blustering. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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 _will_ 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. + +9. 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. + + + + +_Rules for Conversation._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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 +_Jack's_ 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. + +3. Upon which the _Sparkler_ 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. _Jack_ gained his point; for the +mother was pleased, and all the servants stared at the learning of their +young master. _Jack_ 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. + +4. 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 +_Jack_, of no colour at all. My Lady _Lizard_ 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, _Jack_ +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 +_Jack_ did not imagine he made the whole family wiser than they were +before. + +5. 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 _Jack_ 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 _Jack's_ 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. + +6. I all this while looked upon _Jack_ 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. + +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," +_Jack's_, 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +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. + +9. The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so much for want of +wit and learning, as of good-breeding and discretion. + +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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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? + +12. A man may equally affront the company he is in, by engrossing all +the talk, or observing a contemptuous silence. + +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. + +If you have not a talent for humour, or raillery, or story-telling, +never attempt them. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +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. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. _Cowley_ 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. + +18. 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. + +Women are frightened at the name of argument, and are sooner convinced +by an happy turn, or, witty expression, than by demonstration. + +19. 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. + +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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. When an argument is over, how many weighty reasons does a man +recollect, which his heat and violence made him utterly forget? + +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. + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +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. + +33. 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. + +_Further Remarks taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son._ + +34. 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. + +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. + +35. 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. + +36. In relating any thing, keep clear of repetitions, or very hackneyed +expressions, such as, _says he_, or _says she_. 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. + +37. Digressions, likewise, should be guarded against. A story is always +more agreeable without them. Of this kind are, "_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_." Or, "_He was an upright tall old gentleman, who +wore his own long hair; don't you recollect him_?"--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. + +38. 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. + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + +42. 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. + +43. 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. + +44. 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. + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. 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. + +48. 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. + +49. 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. + +50. 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. + +51. 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. + +52. 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. + +53. 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. + +54. 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. + +55. 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. + +56. 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. + +57. Jokes, _bon-mots_, 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. + +58. 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." + +59. 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 may be wrong, but--I won't be positive, +but I really think--I should rather suppose--If I may be permitted to +say_--and close your dispute with good humour, to shew you are neither +displeased yourself, nor meant to displease the person you dispute with. + +60. 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. + +61. 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 am sure_, +says Scrub, _they were talking of me, for they laughed consumedly_." + +62. 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. + +63. 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. + +64. 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. + +65. 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 _corps_ 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. + +66. 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. + +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. + +67. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Entrance upon the World_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + + + + +_Advice to a young Man._ + + +1. 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! + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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." + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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, +_John_ xiv 6. "No man cometh to the father but by me." + +8. 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. + +9. 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, _Prov_. x. 4. 22. +Rich in the treasures of body or mind, of time or eternity. + +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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +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. + + + + +_The Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human Life._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + + + + +_Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of Basra._ + +IDLER, No. 99. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Of the Scriptures, as the Rule of Life._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + + +_Of Genesis._ + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + + +_Of Exodus._ + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + + +_Of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy._ + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + + +_Of Joshua._ + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + + +_Of Judges, Samuel, and Kings._ + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + + +_Of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther._ + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. Nehemiah carries on the history for about twelve years, when he +himself was governor of Jerusalem, with authority to re-build the walls, +&c. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + + +_Of Job._ + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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. + + +_Of the Psalms._ + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + +42. 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. + +43. 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. + +44. 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 +_him_, 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. + + +_Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the Prophecies, and +Apocrypha._ + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. 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. + +48. 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. + +49. 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. + +50. 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. + + +_Of the New Testament, which is constantly to be referred to as the Rule +and Direction of our moral Conduct._ + +51. 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. + +52. 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. + +53. 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. + + +_Of the Example set by our Saviour, and his Character._ + +54. 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." + +55. 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. + +56. 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. + +57. 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. + +58. 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. + +59. 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. + + +_A Comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the Last Day, and the +Inference to be drawn from it._ + +60. 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. + +61. 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! + +62. 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! + +63. 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? + +64. 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. + +65. 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. + +66. 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. + + +_Character of St. Paul._ + +67. 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. + +68. 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. + +69. 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. + +70. 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. + + +_Of the Epistles._ + +71. 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. + +72. 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. + +73. 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. + +74. 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. + +75. 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. + +76. 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. + + +_The Epistle of St. James._ + +77. 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. + + +_Epistles of St. Peter, and the first of St. John._ + +78. 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. + +79. 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. + + +_Of the Revelations._ + +80. 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. + + + + +_True Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + + +_A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the common Use +of a School._ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Give us grace to be diligent in our studies, and that whatever we read +we may strongly mark, and inwardly digest it. + +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. + +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. + +Accept our endeavours, and pardon our defects through the merits of our +blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ our Lord. _Amen._ + + +_An Evening Prayer._ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. +_Amen._ + + + + +_APPENDIX._ + +_Of Columbus, and the Discovery of America._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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? + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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? + +18. 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." + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +37. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +Romulus _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_: + +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. + + + + +_While_ Quinctius Capitolinus _and_ Agrippa Furius _were Consuls at_ +Rome, _the differences betwixt the Senate and people ran so high, that +the_ Æqui _and_ Volsci, _taking advantage of their intestine disorders +ravaged the country to the very gates of_ Rome, _and the Tribunes of the +people forbad the necessary levies of troops to oppose them_. Quinctius, +_a Senator, of great reputation, well beloved, and now in his fourth +consulate, got the better of this opposition, by the following speech._ + +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 _you_ 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 _us_, you +seize the Aventine hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. + +The enemy is at our gates, the Æsquiline is near being taken, and nobody +stirs to hinder it. But against _us_ you are valiant, against _us_ 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, _then_ 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. + +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. + + + + +CAIUS MARIUS _to the_ ROMANS. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +DEMOSTHENES _to the_ ATHENIANS. + +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. + +'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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + + +THE PERFECT SPEAKER. + + +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! + + + + +_On the duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious_ + +ROLLIN. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." _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._ + +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." +_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._ + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + +_COLUMBIA._ + +_BY THE REVEREND DR. DWIGHT._ + + + Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, + The queen of the world, and child of the skies! + Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, + While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. + Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, + Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; + Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, + Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy fame. + + To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire; + Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; + Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, + And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. + A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws, + Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause; + On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise; + Extend with the main and dissolve with the skies. + + Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, + And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star, + New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar + To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is no more; + To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd, + Shall fly from all nations, the best of mankind; + Here, grateful to Heaven, with transports shall bring + Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring. + + Nor less, shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, + And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend; + The graces of form shall awake pure desire, + And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire; + Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd, + And virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind, + With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow, + And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. + + Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display, + The nations admire, and the ocean obey; + Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, + And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. + As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, + And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow; + While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd, + Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. + + Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, + From war's dread confusion, I pensively stray'd-- + The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd; + The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd; + Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along, + And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: + "Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, + The queen of the world, and the child of the skies" + + + + +THE CHOICE OF A RURAL LIFE. + +_A POEM_, + +Written by W.L. Esq. Gov. of N.J. + + +_THE ARGUMENT_. + +_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._ + + +PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, &c. + + Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, + Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; + To shining palaces let fools resort, + And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at court: + Mine be the pleasure of a _rural_ life, + From noise remote, and ignorant of strife; + Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau, + The lawless masquerade and midnight show; + From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars, + Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars. + + Full in the centre of some shady grove, + By nature form'd for solitude and love; + On banks array'd with ever-blooming flow'rs, + Near beaut'ous landscapes, or by roseate bow'rs, + My neat, but simple mansion I would raise, + Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days; + Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd, + With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd. + + No costly furniture should grace my hall; + But curling vines ascend against the wall, + Whose pliant branches shou'd luxuriant twine, + While purple clusters swell'd with future wine + To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distill, + From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill. + Along my mansion spiry firs should grow, + And gloomy yews extend the shady row; + + The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise + Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies: + Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs play, + And crouding trees exclude the noon-tide ray; + Whereon the birds their downy nests should form, + Securely shelter'd from the batt'ring storm; + And to melodious notes their choir apply, + Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky: + While all around the enchanting music rings, + And every vocal grove reponsive sings. + + Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses guide, + Where nature wanton's in her virgin pride, + To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flow'rs, + Elysian fields and amaranthian bow'rs; + T' ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills, + To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and funny hills. + + Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms + Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms! + Ye forests hail! ye solitary woods! + Love-whispering groves and silver-streaming floods! + Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale! + Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties hail! + Oh how I long with you to spend my days, + Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays! + + No trumpets there with martial clangor found, + No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground; + No groves of lances glitter in the air, + Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war; + but white-rob'd peace, and universal love + Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry grove, + There all the beauties of the circling year, + In native ornamental pride appear; + Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and _April_ show'rs; + Wake from the womb of earth the rising flow'rs: + In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the plain, + And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden grain; + The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales + Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales: + The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom, + Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume; + On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise. + And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes. + In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous day, + Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay; + From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove, + Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove, + Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades + Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades. + + There from the polish'd fetters of the great, + Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state; + Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves; + Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves; + From all the vain formality of fools, + An odious task of arbitrary rules; + The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy, + The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy, + The visionary bliss the world can lend, + The insidious foe, and false designing friend, + The seven-fold fury of _Xantippe_'s soul, + And _S----_'s rage that burns without controul; + I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene, + Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen. + + Yet not a real hermitage I'd chuse, + Nor wish to live from all the world recluse; + But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul, + In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl. + With cheerful _W----_, serene and wisely gay, + I'd often pass the dancing hours away; + He skill'd alike to profit and to please, + Politely talks with unaffected ease; + Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust, + Mature in science, and severely just; + Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd, + Breathing benevolence to all mankind; + Cautious to censure, ready to commend, + A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: + In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod, + In early youth a minister of God: + Each pupil lov'd him when at _Yale_ he shone, + And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone. + Dear _A----_, too, should grace my rural seat, + Forever welcome to the green retreat: + Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd + His florid genius, and capacious mind: + Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng, + Celestial truths devolving from his tongue; + High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand, + Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand: + With such becoming grace and pompous sound, + With long-rob'd senators encircled round, + Before the Roman bar, while _Rome_ was free, + Nor bow'd to _Cæsar's_ throne the servile knee; + Immortal _Tully_ pleads the patriot cause, + While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause. + Next round my board should candid _S----_ appear, + Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere, + Averse to discord party-rage and strife, + He sails serenely down the stream of life. + With these _three friends_ beneath a spreading shade, + Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade; + Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs, + In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hours; + Or gravely talk, or innocently sing, + Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string. + + Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding streams, + _Druids_ and _Bards_ enjoy'd serenest dreams. + Such was the seat where courtly _Horace_ sung: + And his bold harp immortal _Maro_ strung: + Where tuneful _Orpheus_' unresisted lay, + Made rapid tygers bear their rage away; + While groves attentive to th' extatic sound + Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd around. + Such feats the venerable _Seers_ of old + (When blissful years in golden circles roll'd) + Chose and admir'd: e'en Goddesses and Gods + (As poets feign) were fond of such abodes: + Th' imperial consort of fictitious _Jove_, + For fount full _Ida_ forsook the realms above. + Oft to _Idalia_ on a golden cloud, + Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, _Venus_ rode; + The num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd, + And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows prefer'd, + While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train) + With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign. + The silver-shafted _Huntress_ of the woods, + Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods. + In palmy _Delos_, by _Scamander_'s side, + Or when _Cajister_ roll'd his silver tide, + Melodious _Phoebus_ sang; the _Muses round_ + Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound. + E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode, + High thron'd in gold, of Gods the sov'reign God, + Oft time prefer'd the shade of _Ida_'s grove + To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd cups above. + + Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning dawn, + In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn! + Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream, + Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim. + Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs + Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs, + Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow + With all the colours of the show'ry bow + The industrious bees their balmy toil renew, + Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew. + But yonder comes th'illustrious God of day, + Invests the east, and gilds the etherial way; + The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing, + Echo the mountains and the vallies ring. + + Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and fire, + That bids each sable shade of night retire! + Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd, + Darting a deluge of effulgence round! + Wak'd by thy genial and praline ray, + Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay; + Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants revive, + The groves reflourish, and forests live. + Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore + Confesses thy consolidating pow'r: + Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould + The fusile silver and the ductile gold: + Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield + Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field. + If thou so fair with delegated light, + That all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight; + With what effulgence must the ocean glow! + From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow! + Th' exhaustless force whose single smiles supplies, + Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies! + + Oft would I view, in admiration lost, + Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host; + With level'd tube and astronomic eye, + Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky: + Immeasurable vaults! where thunders roll, + And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole. + Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey + Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day, + Th' harmonious structure of this vast machine, + And not confess its Architect divine? + Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be thy soul, + Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl; + Plunge into vice, humanity resign, + Go, fill the stie, and bristle into swine? + + None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise + Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies + He made the whole; at his omnific call, } + From formless chaos rose this spacious ball, } + And one ALMIGHTY GOD is seen in all. } + By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread + With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread. + What countless wonders doth the earth contain! + What countless wonders the unfathom'd main! + Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine, + Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine. + JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round. + In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound; + Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing, + And praise their Maker while they hail the spring: + The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar, + While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore. + But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind, + His Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd; + To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise, + And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise. + + When rising _Phoebus_ ushers in the morn, + And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn: + Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods, + Or the soft music of the waving woods; + Rising from sleep with the melodious quire, + To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre. + Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on my tongue, + Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song: + (Delightful task! with dawning light to sing, + Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.) + Some courteous angel should my breast inspire, + Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire, + While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound, + Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round; + While mazy streams meand'ring to the main + Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly strain; + And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng, + Attentive listen to the tuneful song. + + Father of _Light_! exhaustless source of good! + Supreme, eternal, self-existent God! + Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray, + Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day; + Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd light, + Shone queen amid the silver host of night; + High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord, + By suppliant angels worship'd and ador'd. + With the celestial choir then let me join, + In cheerful praises to the pow'r Divine. + To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! inspire, + A mortal breast with more than mortal fire; + In dreadful majesty thou sit'st enthron'd, + With light encircled, and with glory crown'd; + Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign, + For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain; + But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky, + Thy _Omnipresence_ fills immensity. + Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring, + And radient Martyrs hallelujahs sing: + Heav'n's universal host their voices raise, + In one _eternal chorus_, to thy praise; + And round thy awful throne, with one accord, + Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord. + At thy creative voice, from ancient night, + Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of light: + Thou spak'st--the planetary Chorus roll'd + And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold; + _Let there be light_, said GOD--Light instant shone, + And from the orient, burst the golden Sun; + Heav'n's gazing hierarchies, with glad surprise, + Saw the first morn invest the skies, + And straight th' exulting troops thy throne surround, + With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound: + Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!) + Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains: + _Great are thy works_, they sing, and, all around, + _Great are thy works_, the echoing heav'n's resound. + The effulgent sun, insufferably bright, + Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light; + The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd, + Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world; + Thou bow'st the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod; + Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God; + Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast, + And impious kings in horror breath their last. + To this great God alternately I'd pay, + The evening anthem, and the morning lay. + + For sov'reign _Gold_ I never would repine, + Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine. + What tho' high columns heave into the skies, + Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise; + Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn, + The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn! + Or what, alas! avails the gay attire, + To wretched man, who breathes but to expire! + Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd, + To shew their meanness in the sight of God. + High from a dung-hill, see a _Dives_ rise, + And, _Titan_-like, insult th' avenging skies: + The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord, + By thousands courted, flatter'd, and ador'd: + In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys, + No higher thought his grov'ling foul employs: + The poor he scourges with an iron rod, + And from his bosom banishes his God. + But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom, + Deluded man is fated to the tomb! + For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour flies, + And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes: + Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan, + Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him gone; + His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r, + Deplores his death--yet hails the dying hour. + Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die! + Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy! + His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light, + Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night: + "And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er, + "And cold in death thy bosom beats no more, + "Thy foul exulting shall desert its clay, + "And mount, triumphant, to eternal day." + But to improve the intellectual mind, + Reading should be to contemplation join'd. + First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring, + What muses dictate, and what poets sing.-- + _Virgil_, as Prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown, + And other bards pay homage to his throne; + The blood of heroes now effus'd so long, + Will run forever purple thro' his song. + See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes, + On planets rides, and talks with demi-gods! + How do our ravish'd spirits melt away, + When in his song _Sicilian_ shepherds play! + But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye, + When _Dido_ shines in awful majesty! + Embroider'd purple clad the _Tyrian_ queen, + Her motion graceful, and august her mein; + A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd, + A golden quiver rattled by her waist. + See her proud steed majestically prance, + Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance! + In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, + Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold! + He champs the bitt, and throws the foam around, + Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground. + How stern _Æneas_ thunders thro' the field! + With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield! + Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, + Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain. + Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie, + Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die. + Thro' the thick squadrons see the Hero bound, + (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!) + All grim with rage, he frowns o'er _Turnus'_ head, + (Re-kindled ire! for blooming _Pallas_ dead) + Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade-- + The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade! + + The far-fam'd bards that grac'd _Britannia's_ isle, + Should next compose the venerable pile. + Great _Milton_ first, for tow'ring thought renown'd, + Parent of song, and fam'd the world around! + His glowing breast divine _Urania_ fir'd, + Or GOD himself th' immortal Bard inspir'd. + Borne on triumphant wings he take this flight, + Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light: + In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train, + While warring myriads shake th' etherial plain. + First _Michael_ stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest; + With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest: + Impenetrable arms his limbs unfold, + Eternal adamant, and burning gold! + Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight, + Rebellious _Satan_ animates the fight: + Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke, + All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook, + To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, + _Messiah_ sparkled in refulgent arms; + In radient panoply divinely bright, + His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring light, + On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road + Thunder'd the chariot of thy _Filial_ God; + The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd, + With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd. + Lo! the apostate host, with terror struck, + Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean shook! + Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold, + Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion roll'd; + Till, from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd, + Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal world. + + Then tuneful _Pope_, whom all the nine inspire, + With _saphic_ sweetness, and _pindaric_ fire. + Father of verse! melodious and divine! + Next peerless _Milton_ should distinguish'd shine. + Smooth flow his numbers when he paints the grove, + Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love. + But when the night and hoarse resounding storm, + Rush on the deep, and _Neptune's_ face deform, + Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar + Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore. + But when he sings th' exhilerated swains, + Th' embow'ring groves, and _Windsor's_ blissful plains, + Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene, + Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green: + His lays the verdure of the meads prolong, + And wither'd forests blossom in his song; + _Thames'_ silver streams his flowing verse admire, + And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre. + + Next shou'd appear great _Dryden's_ lofty muse, + For who would _Dryden's_ polish'd verse refuse? + His lips were moisten'd in _Parnassus'_ spring, + And _Phoebus_ taught his _laureat_ son to sing. + How long did _Virgil_ untranslated moan, + His beauties fading, and his flights unknown; + Till _Dryden_ rose, and, in exalted strain, + Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man? + Again the _Trojan_ prince with dire delight, + Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight: + Again _Camilla_ glows with martial fire, + Drives armies back, and makes all _Troy_ retire. + With more than native lustre _Virgil_ shines, + And gains sublimer heights in _Dryden's_ lines. + + The gentle _Watts_, who strings his silver lyre + To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling fire; + Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage, + And mounts yon sparkling worlds with hallow'd rage, + Compels my thoughts to wing the heav'nly road, + And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God; + No fabled _Nine_ harmonious bard! inspire + Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire; + But prompting _Angels_ warm thy boundless rage, + Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page. + Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd, + Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd; + Blest man! from gay delusive scenes remov'd, + Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd; + To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays, + Nor meanly blush to sing _Jehovah's_ praise. + Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight, + To paint _Religion_ in her native light, + Not then with _Plays_ the lab'ring' press would groan, + Nor _Vice_ defy the _Pulpit_ and the _Throne_; + No impious rhymer charm a vicious age, + Nor prostrate _Virtue_ groan beneath their rage: + But themes divine in lofty numbers rise, + Fill the wide earth, and echo through the skies. + + These for _Delight_;--for _Profit_ I would read, + The labour'd volumes of the learned dead: + Sagacious _Locke_, by Providence design'd + T' exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind. + Th' unconquerable _Sage_,[A] whom virtue fir'd, + And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd, + When victor _Cæsar_ freed unhappy _Rome_, + From _Pompey's_ chains, to substitute his own. + _Longinius_, _Livy_, fam'd _Thucydides_, + _Quintillian_, _Plato_ and _Demosthenes_, + Persuasive _Tully_, and _Corduba's Sage_,[B] + Who fell by _Nero's_ unrelenting rage; + _Him_[C] whom ungrateful _Athens_ doom'd to bleed, + Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead. + _Raleigh_ I'd read with ever fresh delight, + While ages past rise present to my fight: + Ah man unblest! he foreign realms explor'd, + Then fell a victim to his country's sword! + Nor should great _Derham_ pass neglected by, } + Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye } + Nature's stupendous works expanded lie. } + + Nor he, _Britannia_, thy unmatch'd renown! + (Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown) + Who on the solar orb uplifted rode, + And scan'd th' unfathomable works of God, + Who bound the silver planets to their spheres, + And trac'd th' elliptic curve of blazing stars! + _Immortal Newton_; whole illustrious name + Will shine on records of eternal fame. + + [Footnote A: Cato.] + + [Footnote B: Seneca.] + + [Footnote C: Socrates.] + + By love directed, I wou'd choose a wife, + T' improve my bliss and ease the load of life. + Hail _Wedlock!_ hail, inviolable tye! + Perpetual fountain of domestic joy! + Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight, + Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite. + In _Eden_ first the holy state begun, + When perfect innocence distinguish'd man; + The human pair, th' Almighty Pontiff led, + Gay as the morning to the bridal bed; + A dread solemnity th' espousals grac'd, + _Angels_ the _Witnesses_, and GOD the PRIEST! + All earth exulted on the nuptial hour, + And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r! + The joyous birds, on ev'ry blossom'd spray, + Sung _Hymenians_ to th' important day, + While _Philomela_ swell'd the sponsal song, + And Paradise with gratulations rung. + + Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find + A blooming virgin with an angel mind, + Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin quire + That fed, _O Rome!_ thy consecrated fire; + By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good, + Averse to vice, and zealous for her God? + Relate, in what blest region can I find + Such bright perfections in a female mind? + What _Phoenix_-woman breathes the vital air, + So greatly greatly good, and so divinely fair? + Sure, not the gay and fashionable train, + Licentious, proud, immoral and prophane; + Who spend their golden hours in antic dress, + Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease.-- + + Lo! round the board a shining train appears, + In rosy beauty, and in prime of years! + _This_ hates a flounce, and _this_ a flounce approves, + _This_ shews the trophies of her former loves; + _Polly_ avers that _Sylvia_ dress in green, + When last at church the gaudy Nymph was seen; + _Chloe_ condemns her optics, and will lay + 'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey; + _Lucy_ invested with judicial pow'r, + Awards 'twas neither--and the strife is o'er. + + Then parrots, lap-dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaus, + Fans, ribbands, tuckers, patches, furbaloes, + In quick succession, thro' their fancies run, + And dance incessant on the flippant tongue. + And when fatigued with ev'ry other sport, + The belles prepare to grace the sacred court, + They marshal all their forces in array, + To kill with glances and destroy in play. + Two skilful _maids_, with reverential fear, + In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair; + Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples pour + The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial show'r; + One pulls the shape-creating stays, and one + Encircles round her waist the golden zone: + Not with more toil t' improve immortal charms, + Strove _Juno_, _Venus_, and the _Queen of Arms_, + When _Priam's_ Son adjudg'd the golden prize + To the resistless beauty of the skies. + At length equip'd in love's enticing arms, + With all that glitters and with all that charms, + Th' ideal goddesses to church repair, + Peep thro' the fan and mutter o'er a pray'r, + Or listen to the organ's pompous sound, + Or eye the gilded images around; + Or, deeply studied in coquetish rules, + Aim wily glances at unthinking fools; + Or shew the lilly hand with graceful air, + Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair: + And when the hated discipline is o'er, + And _Misses_ tortur'd with _Repent_ no more, + They mount the pictur'd coach, and to the play + The celebrated idols hie away. + + Not so the _Lass_ that shou'd my joys improve, + With solid friendship, and connubial love: + A native bloom, with intermingled white, + Should set features in a pleasing light; + Like _Helen_ flushing with unrival'd charms. + When raptur'd _Paris_ darted in her arms. + But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek, + A downy bosom, or a snowy neck! + Charms ill supply the want of innocence, + Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence: + But in her breast let moral beauties shine, + Supernal grace and purity divine: + Sublime her reason, and her native wit + Unstrain'd with pedantry and low conceit; + Her fancy lively, and her judgment free, + From female prejudice and bigotry: + Averse to idle pomp, and outward show, + The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau. + + The fop's impertinence she should despise, + Tho' _sorely wounded by her radient eyes_; + But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind + By learning polish'd, and by wit refin'd, + Who all her virtues, without guile, commends, + And all her faults as freely reprehends. + Soft _Hymen's_ rites her passion should approve, + And in her bosom glow the flames of love: + To me her foul, by sacred friendship turn, + And I, for her, with equal friendship burn; + In ev'ry stage of life afford relief, + Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief; + Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful road, + Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode; + Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n, + Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heav'n. + This be the partner, this the lovely wife + That should embellish and prolong my life; + A nymph! who might a second fall inspire, + And fill a glowing _Cherub_ with desire! + With her I'd spend the pleasurable day, + While fleeting minutes gaily danc'd away: + With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green, + Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene, + Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs, + Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs, + Imparadis'd within my eager arms, + I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms: + Oft on her panting bosom would I lay, + And, in dissolving raptures, melt away; + Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest, + My blooming fair should slumber at my breast. + + And when decrepid age (frail mortals doom!) + Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb, + No warbling _Syrens_ should retard my flight, + To heav'nly mansions of unclouded light; + Tho' death, with his imperial horrors crown'd, + Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd, + Offences pardon'd, and remitted sin, + Should form a calm serenity within: + Blessing my _natal_ and my _mortal_ hour, + (My soul committed to th' eternal pow'r) + Inexorable death should smile, for I, + Who _knew_ to LIVE, would never _fear_ to DIE. + + + + +HYMNS + + +HYMN I. + + Begin the high celestial strain, + My ravish'd soul, and sing, + A solemn hymn of grateful praise + To heav'n's Almighty King. + Ye curling fountains, as ye roll + Your silver waves along, + Whisper to all your verdant shores + The subject of my song. + Retain it long y' echoing rocks, + The sacred sound retain, + And from your hollow winding caves + Return it oft again. + Bear it, ye winds, on all your wings, + To distant climes away, + And round the wide extended world + My lofty theme convey. + Take the glad burden of his name, + Ye clouds, as you arise, + Whether to deck the golden morn, + Or shade the ev'ning skies. + Let harmless thunders roll along + The smooth etherial plain, + And answer from the crystal vault + To ev'ry flying strain. + Long let it warble round the spheres, + And echo through the sky, + Till Angels, with immortal skill, + Improve the harmony. + While I, with sacred rapture fir'd, + The blest Creator sing, + And warble consecrated lays + To heav'n's Almighty King. + + +HYMN II--ON HEAVEN. + + Hail sacred Salem! plac'd on high, + Seat of the mighty King! + What thought can grasp thy boundless bliss, + What tongue thy glories sing? + Thy crystal tow'rs and palaces + Magnificently rise, + And dart their beaut'ous lustre round + The empyrean skies. + The voice of triumph in thy streets + And acclamations found, + Gay banquets in thy splendid courts + And purest joys abound. + Bright smiles on ev'ry face appear, + Rapture in ev'ry eye; + From ev'ry mouth glad anthems flow, + And charming harmony. + Illustrious day for ever there, + Streams from the face divine; + No pale-fac'd moon e'er glimmers forth, + Nor stars nor sun decline. + No scorching heats, no piercing colds, + The changing seasons bring; + But o'er the fields mild breezes there + Breathe an eternal spring. + The flow'rs with lasting beauty shine, + And deck the smiling ground, + While flowing streams of pleasures all + The happy plains surround. + + +HYMN III.--THE CREATION. + + Now let the spacious world arise, + Said the creator Lord: + At once th' obedient earth and skies + Rose at his sov'reign word. + Dark was the deep, the waters lay + Confus'd, and drown'd the land; + He call'd the light, the new-born day + Attends on his command. + He bids the clouds ascend on high; + The clouds ascend, and bear + A wat'ry treasure to the sky, + And float on softer air. + The liquid element below, + Was gather'd by his hand; + The rolling seas together flow, + And leave a solid land: + With herbs and plants (a flow'ry birth) + The naked globe he crown'd, + Ere there was rain to bless the earth, + Or sun to warm the ground. + Then he adorn'd the upper skies, + Behold the sun appears, + The moon and stars in order rise, + To mark our months and years. + Out of the deep th' Almighty King + Did vital beings frame, + And painted fowls of ev'ry wing, + And fish of ev'ry name, + He gave the lion and the worm + At once their wond'rous birth; + And grazing beasts of various form + Rose from the teeming earth. + Adam was form'd of equal clay, + The sov'reign of the rest; + Design'd for nobler ends than they, + With God's own image blest. + Thus glorious in the Maker's eye, + The young Creation stood; + He saw the building from on high, + His word pronounc'd it good. + + +THE LORD'S PRAYER. + + Father of all! we bow to thee, + Who dwells in heav'n ador'd; + But present still thro' all thy works, + The universal Lord. + All hallow'd be thy sacred name, + O'er all the nations known; + Advance the kingdom of thy grace, + And let thy glory come. + A grateful homage may we yield, + With hearts resigned to thee; + And as in heav'n thy will is done, + On earth so let it be. + From day to day we humbly own + The hand that feeds us still; + Give us our bread, and we may rest + Contented in thy will. + Our sins and trespasses we own; + O may they be forgiv'n! + That mercy we to others shew, + We pray the like from Heav'n. + Our life let still thy grace direct, + From evil guard our way, + And in temptation's fatal path + Permit us not to stray. + For thine the pow'r, the kingdom thine, + All glory's due to thee: + Thine from eternity they were, + And thine shall ever be. + + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.--_BY MR. POPE_. + + Father of all, in ev'ry age, + In ev'ry clime ador'd; + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. + Thou great First Cause, least understood; + Who all my sense confin'd, + To know but this, that thou art good, + And that myself am blind: + Yet gave me in this dark estate, + To see the good from ill; + And binding Nature fast in fate, + Left free the human Will. + What conscience dictates to be done, + Or warns me not to do, + This, teach me more than hell to shun, + That, more than heav'n pursue. + What blessings thy free bounty gives; + Let me not cast away; + For God is paid when man receives, + T' enjoy is to obey. + Yet not to earth's contracted span + Thy goodness let me bound, + Or think thee Lord alone of Man, + When thousand worlds are round: + Let not this weak unknowing hand + Presume thy bolts to throw, + And deal damnation round the land, + On each I judge thy foe. + If I am right, thy grace impart, + Still in the right to stay; + If I am wrong, O teach my heart + To find that better way. + Save me alike from foolish pride, + Or impious discontent, + At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, + Or aught thy goodness lent. + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others shew, + That mercy show to me. + Mean though I am, not wholly so, + Since quicken'd by thy breath; + Oh lead me wheresoe'er I go, + Through this day's life or death. + This day be bread and peace my lot: + All else beneath the sun, + Thou knowst if best bestow'd or not, + And let thy will be done. + To thee, whose temple is all space, + Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! + One chorus let all being raise! + All nature's incense rise! + + + + +CHARACTER OF MAN. + + Know then thyself; presume not God to scan + The proper study of mankind, is man. + Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, + A being darkly wise, and rudely great; + With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, + With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, + He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; + In doubt, to deem himself a God, or beast; + In doubt, his mind or body to prefer; + Born, but to die; and reas'ning, but to err: + Alike in ignorance, his reason such, + Whether he thinks too little or too much: + Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd; + Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd: + Created, half to rise, and half to fall; + Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all: + Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; + The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! + + + + +WINTER. + + See! Winter comes, to rule the varied year, + Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, + Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme; + These, that exalt the soul to solemn thought, + And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms! + Congenial horrors, hail! With frequent foot, + Pleas'd, have I, in my cheerful morn of life, + When, nurs'd by careless solitude, I liv'd, + And sung of nature with unceasing joy. + Pleas'd, have I wand'red through your rough domain; + Trod the pure virgin snows, myself as pure; + Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; + Or seen the deep fermenting tempest brew'd + In the grim evening sky. Thus pass the time, + Till, through the lucid chambers of the south, + Look'd out the joyous spring, look'd out, and smil'd. + + + + +DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. + + My name is Norval. On the Grampian Hills + My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain, + Whose constant cares were to increase his store, + And keep his only son, myself, at home. + For I had heard of battles, and I long'd + To follow to the field some warlike lord: + And heav'n soon granted what my sire deny'd. + This moon, which rose last night, round as my shield, + Had not yet fill'd her horns, when by her light, + A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills + Rush'd, like a torrent, down upon the vale, + Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled + For safety and for succour. I alone, + With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, + Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd + The road he took; then hasted to my friends; + Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, + I met advancing. The pursuit I led, + Till we o'ertook the spoil encumber'd foe. + We fought--and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn, + An arrow, from my bow, had pierc'd their chief, + Who wore, that day, the arms which now I wear. + Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd + The shepherd's slothful life: and having heard + That our good king had summon'd his bold peers, + To lead their warriors to the Carron side, + I left my father's house, and took with me + A chosen servant to conduct my steps-- + Yon trembling coward who forsook his master. + Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers; + And, heaven directed, came this day, to do + The happy deed, that gilds my humble name. + + + + +DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF THE MANNER IN WHICH HE LEARNED THE ART OF WAR. + + Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote + And inaccessible by shepherds trod, + In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, + A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man, + Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains, + Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, + Did they report him; the cold earth his bed, + Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. + I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd + With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake, + And, entering on discourse, such stories told, + As made me oft revisit his sad cell. + For he had been a soldier in his youth, + And fought in famous battles, when the peers + Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, + Against th' usurping infidel display'd + The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. + Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire + His speech struck from me; the old man would shake + His years away, and act his young encounters. + Then having shewn his wounds; he'd sit him down. + And all the live long day, discourse of war. + To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf + He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts: + Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use + Of the deep column and lengthen'd line, + The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm; + For, all that Saracen or Christian knew + Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. + Unhappy man! + Returning homeward by Messina's port, + Loaded with wealth and honours bravely won, + A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea + Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought; + The stranger fell, and with his dying breath, + Declar'd his name and lineage! Mighty God! + The soldier cry'd, my brother! Oh! my brother! + They exchanged forgiveness: + And happy, in my mind, was he that died; + For many deaths has the survivor suffer'd, + In the wild desart on a rock he sits, + Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks, + And ruminates all day his dreadful fate. + At times, alas! not in his perfect mind! + Hold's dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost; + And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch, + To make sad orisons for him he slew. + + + + +BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. + + In ancient times, as story tells, + The saints would often leave their cells, + And stroll about; but hide their quality, + To try good people's hospitality. + + It happened, on a winter night, + As authors on the legend write, + Two brother hermits, saints by trade; + Taking their tour in masquerade, + Disguis'd in tattered habits, went + To a small village down in Kent; + Where, in the stroller's canting strain, + They begg'd from door to door, in-vain; + Tri'd every tone might pity win, + But not a soul would let them in. + + Our wandering saints, in woeful state, + Treated at this ungodly rate, + Having through all the village pass'd, + To a small cottage came at last, + Where dwelt a good old honest yoeman, + Call'd in the neighbourhood, Philemon; + Who kindly did these saints invite + In his poor hut to pass the night; + And, then, the hospitable sire + Bid goody Baucis mend the fire; + While he, from out the chimney, took + A flitch of bacon off the hook, + And, freely from the fattest side, + Cut out large slices to be fry'd: + Then stept aside, to fetch them drink, + Fill'd a large jug up to the brink; + Then saw it fairly twice go round; + Yet (what is wonderful) they found, + 'Twas still replenish'd to the top, + As if they had not touch'd a drop. + + The good old couple were amaz'd, + And often on each other gaz'd; + For both were frighten'd to the heart, + And just began to cry--What art! + Then softly turn'd aside to view, + Whether the lights were turning blue, + The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't, + Told them their calling and their errand; + "Good folks you need not be afraid; + "We are but saints," the hermit said; + "No hurt shall come to you or yours; + "But for that pack of churlish boors, + "Not fit to live on Christian ground, + "They, and their houses shall be drown'd; + "While you see your cottage rise, + "And grow a church before your eyes." + + They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft, + The roof began to move aloft; + Aloft rose every beam and rafter; + The heavy wall climb'd slowly after. + The chimney widen'd, and grew higher, + Became a steeple with a spire. + The kettle to the top was hoist; + With upside down, doom'd there to dwell, + 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell. + A wooden jack, which had almost + Lost, by disuse, the art to roast, + A sudden alteration feels, + Increas'd by new intestine wheels; + And strait against the steeple rear'd, + Became a clock, and still adher'd; + And, now, in love to household cares, + By a shrill voice the hour declares, + Warning the housemaid not to burn + The roast-meat which it cannot turn. + The easy chair began to crawl, + Like a huge snail along the wall; + There, stuck aloft in public view, + And, with small change, a pulpit grew. + A bed-stead of the antique mode, + Made up of timber many a load, + Such as our ancestors did use, + Was metamorphos'd into pews: + Which still their ancient nature keep, + By lodging folks dispos'd to sleep. + + The cottage by such feats as these, + Grown to a church by just degrees, + The hermits then desir'd their host + Old goodman Dobson of the green, + Remembers, he the trees has seen; + He'll talk of them from morn to night, + And goes with folks to shew the sight. + On Sundays, after ev'ning prayer, + He gathers all the parish there; + Points out the place of either yew: + "Here Baucis, there Philemon grew; + "Till, once, a parson of our town, + "To mend his barn, cut Baucis down; + "At which, 'tis hard to be believ'd; + "How much the other tree was griev'd; + "Grew scrubby, died a-top, was stunted; + "So the next parson stubb'd, and burnt it." + + + + +ON HAPPINESS. + + Oh happiness! our being's end and aim; + Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er they name, + That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, + For which we bear to live, or dare to die: + Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, + O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise: + Plant of celestial seed! if drop'd below, + Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow: + Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine; + Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine? + Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, + Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field? + Where grows? where grows it not? If vain our toil, + We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. + Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere? + 'Tis no where to be found, or every where. + + Order is heaven's first law: and this confest, + Some are, and must be, greater than the rest; + More rich, more wise. But, who infers from hence + That such are happier, shocks all common sense; + Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, + If all are equal in their happiness. + But mutual wants this happiness increase; + All natures difference keeps all natures peace. + Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; + Bliss is the same, in subject, or in king; + In who obtain defence, or who defend; + In him who is, or him who finds a friend. + + Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, + And these be happy call'd, unhappy those; + But heaven's just balance equal will appear, + While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear; + Nor present good or ill, the joy or curse, + But future views of better, or of worse. + + Oh sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, + By mountains pil'd on, mountains, to the skies? + Heaven still, with laughter, the vain toil surveys, + And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. + + Know, all the good that individuals find, + Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, + Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, + Lie in three words--Health, Peace, and Competence. + + + + +SPEECH OF ADAM TO EVE. + + Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime + Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, + When Adam wak'd; so custom'd; for his sleep + Was airy light, from pure digestion bred, + And temperate vapours bland, which the only found + Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, + Lightly dispers'd, and the thrill matin song + Of birds on ev'ry bough. So much the more + His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve + With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek. + As through unquiet rest. He, on his side + Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial love, + Hung over her enamour'd; and beheld + Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, + Shot forth peculiar graces. Then, with voice + Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, + Her hand soft touching, whispered thus; "Awake, + "My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found: + "Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight, + "Awake!--The morning shines, and the fresh field + "Calls us. We lose the prime; to mark how spring + "Our tended plants; how blows the citron grove: + "What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed; + "How nature paints her colours; how the bee + "Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet." + + + + +SOLILOQUY AND PRAYER OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE, BEFORE THE BATTLE OF +POICTIERS. + + The hour advances, the decisive hour, + That lifts me to the summit of renown, + Or leaves me on the earth a breathless corse, + The buzz and bustle of the field before me; + The twang of bow-strings, and the clash of spears: + With every circumstance of preparation; + Strike with an awful horror!--Shouts are echo'd, + To drown dismay, and blow up resolution + Even to its utmost swell.--From hearts so firm, + Whom dangers fortify, and toils inspire, + What has a leader not to hope! And, yet, + The weight of apprehension sinks me down-- + "O, soul of Nature! great eternal cause, + "Who gave, and govern's all that's here below! + "'Tis by the aid of thy almighty arm + "The weak exist, the virtuous are secure. + "If, to your sacred laws obedient ever + "My sword, my soul, have own'd no other guide, + "Oh! if your honour, if the rights of men, + "My country's happiness, my king's renown, + "Were motives worthy of a warrior's zeal, + "Crown your poor servant with success this day: + "And be the praise and glory all thy own." + + + + +INVOCATION TO PARADISE LOST. + + Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit + Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste + Brought death into the world, and all our woe, + With loss of Eden, till one greater man + Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, + Sing heav'nly muse! that on the sacred top + Of Oreb, or of Sinai, did'st inspire + That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, + In the beginning, how the heav'ns and earth + Rose out of chaos: or, if Sion hill + Delight thee more, and Silo's book that flow'd. + Fast by the oracle of God; I thence + Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song, + That, with no middle flight, intends to soar + Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues + Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme + And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost prefer + Before all temples, th' upright heart and pure, + Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou, from the first, + Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread, + Dove-like sat'st brooding o'er the vast abyss, + And mad'st it pregnant; what in me is dark, + Illumine: what is low, raise and support; + That, to the height of this great argument, + I may assert eternal providence, + And justify the ways of God to men. + + + + +MORNING HYMN. + + These are thy glorious works, Parent of good! + Almighty! thine this universal frame, + Thus wond'rous fair: thyself, how wond'rous, then, + Unspeakable! who fit'st above these heav'ns, + To us invisible, or dimly seen + In these thy lowest works; yet these declare + Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine-- + Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, + Angels!--for ye behold him, and, with songs + And choral symphonies, day without night, + Circle his throne, rejoicing. Ye in heav'n!-- + On earth, join all ye creatures, to extol + Him first, him last, him midst, and without end, + Fairest of stars! last in the train of night, + If better then, belong not to the dawn, + Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn + With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, + While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. + Thou fun! of this great world both eye and foul, + Acknowledge him thy greater: found his praise + In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, + And when high noon has gain'd, and when thou fall'st, + Moon! that now meet'st the orient fun, now fly'st + With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies; + And ye five other wand'ring fires! that move + In mystic dance, not without song; resound + His praise, who out of darkness, call'd up light. + Air, and ye elements! the eldest birth + Of nature's womb, that, in quaternion, run + Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix + And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change + Vary, to our great Maker, still new praise, + Ye mists and exhalations! that now rise + From hill or streaming lake, dusky or grey, + Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, + In honour to the world's great Author, rise; + Whether to deck with clouds, th' uncolour'd sky, + Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs, + Rising, or falling, still advance his praise. + His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters blow, + Breathe soft or loud! and wave your tops, ye pines! + With ev'ry plant, in sign of worship, wave, + Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow, + Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise.--- + Join voices, all ye living souls. Ye birds, + That, singing, up to heaven-gate ascend, + Bear, on your wings, and in your notes, his praise.-- + Ye, that in waters glide! and ye, that walk + The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep! + Witness, if I be silent, morn or ev'n, + To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, + Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.-- + Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still, + To give us only good: and, if the night + Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd-- + Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. + + + + +THE HERMIT.--_BY DR. BEATIE_. + + At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, + And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove; + When nought, but the torrent, is heard on the hill; + And nought, but the, nightingale's song, in the grove; + 'Twas then, by the cave of the fountain afar; + A hermit his song of the night thus began; + No more with himself, or with nature at war, + He thought as a sage, while he felt as a man. + + 'Ah! why thus abandon'd to darkness and woe? + 'Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain? + 'For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, + 'And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. + 'Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not thy lay; + 'Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; + 'Oh! soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away, + 'Full quickly they pass--but they never return. + + 'Now, gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, + 'The moon, half extinguish'd, her crescent displays; + 'But lately I mark'd; when majestic: on high + 'She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. + 'Roll on, thou fair orb! and with; gladness pursue + 'The path that conducts thee to splendor again-- + 'But man's faded glory no change shall renew: + 'Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain. + + ''Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; + 'I mourn; but ye woodlands! I mourn not for you: + 'For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, + 'Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. + 'Nor, yet, for the ravage of winter I mourn; + 'Kind nature the embryo blossom will save-- + 'But, when shall spring visit the mould'ring urn? + 'O! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!' + + 'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd, + That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind; + My thoughts want to roam, from shade onward to shade, + Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. + 'O! pity, great father of light!' then I cry'd, + 'Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee; + Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride: + From doubt, and from darkness, thou only canst free.' + + And darkness, and doubt, are now flying away, + No longer I roam, in conjecture forlorn, + So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, + The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. + See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, + And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! + On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending, + And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb, + + + + +COMPASSION. + + Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, + Whole trembling limbs have borne him to your door; + Whole days are dwindled to the shortest span, + Oh! give relief and heav'n will bless your store, + These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak, + Those hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; + And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek + Has been the channel to a flood of tears. + You house erected on the rising ground, + With tempting aspect, drew me from my road, + For plenty there a residence has found, + And grandeur a magnificent abode. + Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor! + Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their bread, + A pamper'd menial drove me from the door, + To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. + Oh! take me to your hospitable dome; + Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold: + Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, + For I am poor and miserably old. + Should I reveal the sources of my grief, + If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, + Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, + And tears of pity would not be represt. + Heav'n sends misfortunes; why should we repine? + 'Tis heav'n has brought me to the state you see; + And your condition may be soon like mine, + The child of sorrow and of misery. + A little farm was my paternal lot, + Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the morn: + But, ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot, + My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. + My daughter, once the comfort of my age, + Lur'd by a villain from her native home, + Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide stage, + And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. + My tender wife, sweet soother of my care, + Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, + Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to despair, + And left the world to wretchedness and me. + + Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, + Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door; + Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, + Oh! give relief, and heav'n will bless your store. + + + + +ADVANTAGES OF PEACE. + + Oh, first of human blessings and supreme, + Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful, thou! + By whose wide tie, the kindred sons of men, + brothers live, in amity combin'd, + And unsuspicious faith: while honest toil + Gives ev'ry joy; and, to those joys, a right, + Which idle barbarous rapine but usurps. + Pure is thy reign; when, unaccurs'd by blood, + Nought, save the sweetness of indulgent show'rs, + Trickling, distils into the vernant glebe; + Instead of mangled carcases, sad scene! + When the blythe sheaves lie scatter'd o'er the field; + When only shining shares, the crooked knife, + And hooks imprint the vegetable wound; + When the land blushes with the rose alone, + The falling fruitage, and the bleeding vine. + Oh! peace! then source and soul of social life! + Beneath whose calm inspiring influence, + Science his views enlarges, art refines, + And swelling commerce opens all her ports-- + Bless'd be the man divine, who gives us thee! + Who bids the trumpet hush its horrid clang, + Nor blow the giddy nations into rage; + Who sheathes the murd'rous blade; the deadly gun + Into the well-pil'd armory returns; + And, ev'ry vigour from the work of death + To grateful industry converting, makes + The country flourish, and the city smile! + Unviolated, him the virgin sings; + And him, the smiling mother, to her train. + Of him, the Shepherd, in the peaceful dale, + Chaunts; and the treasures of his labour sure, + The husbandman, of him, as at the plough, + Or team, he toils. With him, the Tailor soothes, + Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave; + And the full city, warm, from street to street, + And shop to shop, responsive rings of him. + Nor joys one land alone: his praise extends, + Far as the sun rolls the diffusive day; + Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of peace; + Till all the happy nations catch the song. + + + + +PROGRESS OF LIFE. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts; + His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, + Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms; + And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel, + And shining morning face, creeping like snail + Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover, + Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad + Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier + Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, + Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, + Seeking the bubble reputation, + Ev'n in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice, + In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd; + With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, + Full of wise saws and modern instances, + And so he plays his part. The sixth age foists + Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side. + His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide + For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice + Turning again towards childish treble, pipes. + And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all + That ends this strange eventful history, + Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; + Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. + + + + +_SPEECHES IN THE ROMAN SENATE_. + + CATO.--Fathers! we once again are met in council. + Cæsar's approach, has summon'd us together, + And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. + How shall we treat this bold aspiring man? + Success still follows him, and backs his crimes, + Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has since + Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's. + Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, + And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands + Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decree + What course to take. Our foe advances on us, + And envies us ev'n Lybia's sultry deserts. + Fathers, pronounce your thoughts. Are they still fix'd + To hold it out and fight it to the last? + Or, are your hearts subdu'd, at length, and wrought; + By time and ill success, to a submission?-- + Sempronius, speak. + + SEMPRONIUS.--My voice is still for war. + Gods! can a Roman senate long debate + Which of the two to chuse, slav'ry or death? + No--let us rise at once; gird on our swords; + And, at the head of our remaining troops, + Attack the foe; break through the thick array + Of his throng'd legions; and charge home upon him. + Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the rest, + May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. + Rise, Fathers, rise! 'Tis Rome demands your help; + Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens, + Or share their fate! The corpse of half her senate + Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we + Sit here, delib'rating' hi told debates, + If we should sacrifice our lives to honour, + Or wear them out in servitude and chains. + Rouse up, for shame: Our brothers of Pharsalia + Point at their wounds, and cry aloud--to battle! + Great Pompey's shade complains that we are flow; + And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us! + + CATO.--Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal + Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason. + True fortitude is seen in great exploits, + That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides; + All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction. + Are not the lives of those who draw the sword + In Rome's defence, entrusted to our care? + Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, + Might not th' impartial world, with reason, say + We lavish'd, at our deaths, the blood of thousands; + To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious? + Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. + + LUCIUS.--My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace, + Already have our quarrels fill'd the world + With widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns + Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions + Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. + 'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare mankind, + It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers! + The gods declare against us, and repel + Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, + (Prompted by a blind revenge and wild despair) + Were, to refuse th' awards of providence, + And not to rest in heav'n's determination. + Already have we shewn our love to Rome; + Now, let us shew submission to the gods. + We took up arms not to revenge ourselves, + But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, + Arms have no further use. Our country's cause, + That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands, + And bids us not delight in Roman blood + Unprofitably shed. What men could do + Is done already. Heav'n and earth will witness, + If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. + + CATO--Let us appear, not rash, nor diffident, + Immoderate valour swells into a fault; + And fear, admitted into public councils, + Betray like treason. Let us shun 'em both.-- + Father's, I cannot see that our affairs + Are grown thus desp'rate. We have bulwarks round us; + Within our walls, are troops inur'd to toil + In Afric heats, and season'd to the sun. + Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, + Ready to rise at its young prince's call. + While there is hope, do not distrust the gods: + But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near approach + Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late + To sue for chains, and own a conqueror. + Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time? + No--let us draw our term of freedom out + In its full length, and spin it to the last: + So shall we gain still one day's liberty. + And, let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment, + A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, + Is worth a whole eternity of bondage. + +CATO, solus, _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_. + + It must be so--Plato, thou reason'st well!-- + Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, + This longing after immortality? + Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, + Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul + Back on herself, and startles at destruction? + 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; + 'Tis heav'n itself, that points out--an hereafter, + And intimates--eternity to man. + Eternity!--thou pleasing--dreadful thought! + Through what variety of untry'd beings, + Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! + The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me-- + But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.-- + Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us, + (And that there is all nature cries aloud + Through all her works) he must delight in virtue; + And that which he delights in must be happy. + But, when! or where! this world--was made for Cæsar. + I'm weary of conjectures--this must end 'em. + [_Laying his hand on his sword_. + + Thus am I doubly arm'd; my death and life, + My bane and antidote are both before me: + This, in a moment, brings me to an end; + But this informs me I shall never die. + The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles + At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. + The stars shall fade away, the sun himself + Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; + But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, + Unhurt amid the war of elements, + The wrecks of matter; and the crush of worlds. + What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? + This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? + Nature oppress'd, and harrass'd out with care; + Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her; + That my awaken'd soul may take her flight, + Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life; + An offering fit for Heav'n. Let guilt or fear + Disturb man's rest; Cato knows neither of 'em; + Indiff'rent in his choice, to sleep or die. + + + + +HAMLET'S MEDITATION ON DEATH. + + To be--or not to be!--that is the question.-- + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer + The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune; + Or to take arms against a siege of troubles, + And, by opposing, end them?--To die--to sleep-- + No more;--and, by a sleep, to say we end + The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to--'tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die--to sleep-- + To sleep--perchance to dream--aye, there's the rub.-- + For, in that sleep of death what dreams may come; + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil; + Must give us pause.--There's the respect + That makes calamity of so long a life + For, who would bear the whips and scorns o' th' time, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of the unworthy takes; + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, + To groan and sweat under a weary life; + But that the dread of something after death + (That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne + No traveller returns) puzzles the will; + And makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others that we know not of; + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprizes of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn away, + And lose the name of action. + + + + +SELECT PASSAGES FROM DRAMATIC WRITERS, EXPRESSIVE OF THE _PRINCIPAL +EMOTIONS AND PASSIONS_. + + + + +JOY. + + Then is Orestes blest! My griefs are fled! + Fled like a dream! Methinks I tread in air!-- + Surprising happiness! unlook'd for joy! + Never let love despair! The prize is mine!-- + Be smooth, ye seas! and, ye propitious winds, + Blow from Epirus to the Spartan coast! + + + + +GRIEF. + + I'll go; and in the anguish of my heart--- + Weep o'er my child--If he must die, my life + Is wrapt in his; I shall not long survive. + 'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd life; + Groan'd in captivity; and outliv'd Hector.-- + Yes, my Astyanax! we'll go together; + Together--to the realms of night we'll go. + + + + +PITY. + + Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how, at last, + Thy beauties, Belvidera, like a wretch + That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping forth, + Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she lean'd, + Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew sad! + E'en the lewd rabble, that were gather'd round + To see the sight, stood mute when they beheld her, + Govern'd their roaring throats--and grumbled pity. + + + + +FEAR. + + Come on, Sir,--here's the place--stand still,-- + How fearful 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! + The crows and coughs, that whig the midway air, + Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down, + Hangs one that gathers samphire--dreadful trade! + Methinks he seems no bigger than one's head, + The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, + Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark + Seems lesson'd to a cock; her cock, a buoy + Almost too small for fight. The murmuring surge; + That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chases, + Cannot be heard so high.--I'll look no more, + Lest my brain turn and the disorder make me + Tumble down headlong. + + + + +AWE AND FEAR. + + Now, all is hush'd and still as death-- + How reverend is the face of this tall pile, + Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, + To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous roof, + By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable, + Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe + And terror on my aking sight. The tombs, + And monumental caves of death look cold, + And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. + Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice-- + Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear + Thy voice--my own affrights me with its echoes. + + + + +HORROR. + + Hark!--the death-denouncing trumpet founds + The fatal charge, and shouts proclaim the onset. + Destruction rushes dreadful to the field, + And bathes itself in blood. Havock, let loose. + Now, undistinguish'd, rages all around; + While Ruin, seated on her dreary throne, + Sees the plain strew'd, with subjects truly her's, + Breathless and cold. + + + + +ANGER. + + Hear me, rash man; on thy allegiance hear me, + Since thou hast striven to make us break our vow, + Which, nor our nature, nor our place can bear, + We banish thee forever from our sight + And kingdom. If, when three days are expir'd, + Thy hated trunk be found in our dominions, + That moment is thy death---Away! + + + + +REVENGE. + + 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. + + + + +ADMIRATION. + + What find I here? + Fair Portia's counterfeit?--What demi-god + Hath come so near creation! Move these eyes! + Or, whether, riding on the balls of mine, + Seem they in motion?--Here are sever'd lips, + Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar + Should sunder such sweet friends.--Here, in her hair, + The painter plays the spider, and hath woven + A golden mesh, t' entrap the hearts of men + Falter than gnats in cobwebs.--But her eyes-- + How could he see to do them! having made one, + Methinks it should have power to steal both his, + And leave itself unfinish'd! + + + + +HAUGHTINESS. + + Make thy demands to those that own thy power! + Know, I am still beyond thee. And tho' fortune + Has strip'd me of this train, this pomp of greatness; + This outside of a king, yet still my soul, + Fix'd high, and on herself alone dependant, + Is ever free and royal: and, even now, + As at the head of battle--does defy thee! + + + + +CONTEMPT. + + Away! no woman could descend so low, + A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are; + Fit only for yourselves. You herd together; + And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts, + You talk of beauties that you never saw, + And fancy raptures that you never knew. + + + + +RESIGNATION. + + Yet, yet endure--nor murmur, O my foul! + For, are not thy transgressions great and numberless? + Do they not cover thee, like rising floods? + And press then, like a weight of waters, down? + Does not the hand of righteousness afflict thee? + And who shall plead against it? who shall say + To Pow'r Almighty, Thou hast done enough; + Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance it stay?-- + Wait, then, with patience, till the circling hours + Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest + And lay thee down in death. + + + + +IMPATIENCE. + + Oh! rid me of this torture, quickly there, + My Madam, with the everlasting voice. + The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er made + Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion. + ---------------------------------All my house, + But now, steam'd like a bath, with her thick breath, + A lawyer could not have been heard, nor scarce + Another woman, such a hail of words + She has let fall. + + + + + +REMORSE AND DESPAIR. + + Henceforth, let no man trust the first false step + Of guilt. It hangs upon a precipice, + Whose deep descent in last perdition ends. + How far am I plung'd down, beyond all thought + Which I this evening fram'd-- + Consummate horror! guilt beyond, a name!-- + Dare not, my soul, repent. In thee, repentance + Were second guilt; and 'twere blaspheming Heav'n + To hope for mercy. My pain can only cease + When gods want power to punish.--Ha!--the dawn-- + Rise never more, O fun!--let night prevail: + Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene-- + And hide me from myself. + + + + +DISTRACTION. + + Mercy!--I know it not--for I am miserable. + I'll give thee misery--for here she dwells, + This is her house--where the sun never dawns: + The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof; + Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom; + And nought in heard, but wailings and lamenting. + Hark!--something cracks above;--it shakes--it totters! + And see--the nodding ruin falls to crush me!-- + 'Tis fallen--'Tis here!--I feel it on my brain! + A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me! + And now 'tis out--and I am drown'd in blood.-- + Ha! what art thou? thou horrid headless trunk!-- + It is my Hastings--See, he wafts me on! + Away I go!--I fly!--I follow thee! + + + + +GRATITUDE. + + My Father! Oh! let me unlade my breast; + Pour out the fullness of my soul before you; + Shew ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful thought, + This wond'rous goodness stirs. But 'tis impossible, + And utt'rance all is vile; since I can only + Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. + + + + +INTREATY. + + Reward him for the noble deed, just Heavens! + For this one action, guard him, and distinguish him + With signal mercies, and with great deliverance, + Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame, + Let never-fading honours flourish round him; + And consecrate his name; ev'n to time's end. + Let him know nothing else, but good on earth + And everlasting blessedness hereafter. + + + + +COMMANDING. + + Silence, ye winds! + That make outrageous war upon the ocean: + And then, old ocean? lull thy boist'rous waves. + Ye warring elements! be hush'd as death, + While I impose my dread commands on hell. + And thou, profoundest hell! whose dreary sway, + Is given to me by fate and demogorgon-- + Hear, hear my powerful voice, through all thy regions + And from thy gloomy caverns thunder the reply. + + + + +COURAGE. + + A generous few, the vet'ran hardy gleanings + Of many a hapless fight, with a, fierce + Heroic fire, inspirited each other: + Resolv'd on death, disdaining to survive + Their dearest country. "If we fall," I cry'd, + "Let us not tamely fall, like passive cowards! + No--let us live, or let us die--like men! + Come on, my friends. To Alfred we will cut + Our glorious way: or as we nobly perish, + Will offer to the genius of our country-- + Whole hecatombs of Danes." As if one soul + Have mov'd them all, around their heads they flash'd + Their flaming falchions--"lead us to those Danes! + Our Country!--Vengeance!" was the general cry. + + + + +BOASTING. + + 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. + + + + +PERPLEXITY. + + --Let me think-- + What can this mean--Is it to me aversion? + Or is it, as I feared, she loves another? + Ha! yes--perhaps the king, the young count Tancred? + They were bred up together--surely that, + That cannot be--Has he not given his hand, + In the most solemn manner, to Constantia? + Does not his crown depend upon the deed? + No--if they lov'd, and this old statesman knew it, + He could not to a king prefer a subject. + His virtues I esteem--nay more, I trust them-- + So far as virtue goes--but could he place + His daughter on the throne of Sicily-- + O! 'tis a glorious bribe; too much for man! + What is it then!--I care not what it is. + + + + +SUSPICION. + + Would he were fatter--but I fear him not. + Yes, if my name were liable to fear, + I do not know the man I should avoid, + So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much-- + He is a great observer--and he looks + Quite through the deeds of men. + He loves no plays: he hears no music. + Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, + As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit, + That could be moved to smile at any thing. + Such men as he be never at heart's ease, + Whilst they behold a greater than themselves-- + And, therefore, are they very dangerous. + + + + +WIT AND HUMOUR. + + +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. + + 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? [_Drinks._ + + 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. [_Drinks._ + + 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--_ecce + signum!_ 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. [_Drinks_. + + + + +RIDICULE. + + 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. + + 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. + + + + +PERTURBATION. + + Vengeance! death! plague! confusion! + Fiery! what quality?---Why, Gloster, Gloster! + I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife: + The King would speak with Cornwall---the dear father + Would with his daughter speak; commands her service. + Are they inform'd of this?---My breath and blood! + Fiery! the fiery Duke! Tell the hot Duke-- + No' but not yet: may be he is not well: + I beg his pardon: and I'll chide my rashness, + That took the indisposed and sickly fit. + For the sound man,---But wherefore sits he there?-- + Death on my state! this act convinces me, + That this retiredness of the Duke and her + Is plain contempt--Give me my servant forth-- + Go tell the Duke and's wife I'd speak with 'em: + Now: instantly--Bid 'em come forth and hear me; + Or, at their chamber-door, I'll beat the drum-- + 'Till it cry--Sleep to death. + + + + +Elements of Gesture. + + + + +SECTION I. + +_On the Speaking of Speeches at Schools_. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PLATE I.] + +[Illustration: PLATE II.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PLATE III.] + +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. + +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. + + + + +SECTION II. + +_On the Acting of Plays at School_. + + +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. + +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 _jeu de theatre_, 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. + +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 +_theatrical_. It is an old trick to depreciate what we can not attain, +and calling a spirited pronunciation _theatrical_, 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. + +[Illustration: PLATE IV.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +SECTION III. + +_Rules for expressing with Propriety, the principal Passions and Humours +which occur in Reading or public Speaking_. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_Tranquility_, or _apathy_, 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. + +_Cheerfulness_, adds a smile, opening the mouth a little more. + +_Mirth_, or _laughter_, 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. + +_Raillery_, 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. + +_Buffoonery_ 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. + +_Joy_, 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. + +_Delight_, or _pleasure_, 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. + +_Gravity_, or _seriousness_, 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. + +_Enquiry_ into an obscure subject, fixes the body in one posture, the +head stooping, and the eye poring, the eyebrows drawn down. + +_Attention_ 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. + +_Modesty_, or _submission_, 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. + +_Perplexity_, or _anxiety_, 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. + +_Vexation_, 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. + +_Pity_, 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 _Suffering_) 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. + +_Grief_, 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. + +_Melancholy_, 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. + +_Despair_, 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. + +_Fear_, 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. + +_Shame_, 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. + +_Remorse_, 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. + +_Courage_, 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. + +_Boasting_, 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. + +_Pride_, 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. + +_Obstinacy_ adds to the aspect of pride, a dodged sourness, like that of +malice. See _Malice_. + +_Authority_, opens the countenance, but draws down the eyebrows a +little, so far as to give the look of gravity. See _Gravity_. + +_Commanding_ 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. + +_Forbidding_, 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. + +_Affirming_, 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. + +_Denying_ is expressed by pushing the open right hand from one, and +turning the face the contrary way. See _Aversion_. + +_Differing_ in sentiment may be expressed as refusing. See _Refusing_. + +_Agreeing_ in opinion, or _Conviction_, as granting. See _Granting_. + +_Exhorting_, 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. + +_Judging_ 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. + +_Reproving_ puts on a stern aspect, roughens the voice, and is +accompanied with gestures not much different from those of +_Threatening_, but not so lively. + +_Acquitting_ 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 _Dismissing_. + +_Condemning_ assumes a severe look, but mixed with pity. The sentence is +to be expressed as with reluctance. + +_Teaching_, 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. + +_Pardoning_ 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 _Granting_. + +_Arguing_ requires a cool, sedate, attentive aspect, and a clear, slow, +emphatical accent, with much demonstration by the hand. It differs from +teaching (see _Teaching_) in that the look of authority is not wanting +in arguing. + +_Dismissing_, 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. + +_Refusing_, 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. + +_Granting_, 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. + +_Dependence_. See _Modesty_. + +_Veneration_, or _Worshipping_, 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. + +_Respect_ for a superior, puts on the looks and gesture of modesty. See +_Modesty_. + +_Hope_ 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. + +_Desire_ 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. + +_Love_ (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 _Desire_ 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 +_Joy_.) 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 _Perplexity_ and _Melancholy_. + +_Giving_, _Inviting_, _Soliciting_. 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. + +_Wonder_, or _Amazement_, (without any other _interesting_ passion, as +_Love_, _Esteem_, &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 _Fear_.) 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 _Fear_.) The first excess of this passion stops all utterance; but +it makes amends afterwards by a copious flow of words, and exclamations. + +_Admiration_, a mixed passion, consisting of wonder, with love or +esteem, takes away the familiar gesture and expression of simple love. +(See _Love_.) Keeps the respectful look and gesture. (See _Modesty_ and +_Veneration_.) 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. + +_Gratitude_ puts on an aspect full of complacency. (See _Love_.) If the +object of it is a character greatly superior, it expresses much +submission. (See _Modesty_.) The right hand pressed upon the breast, +accompanies, very properly, the expression of a sincere and hearty +sensibility of obligation. + +_Curiosity_, 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 _Admiration_. See also _Desire_, +_Attention_, _Hope_, _Enquiry_, and _Perplexity_. + +_Persuasion_ puts on the looks of moderate love. (See _Love_.) Its +accents are soft, flattering, emphatical and articulate. + +_Tempting_, or _Wheedling_, expresses itself much in the same way, only +carrying the fawning part to excess. + +_Promising_ 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. + +_Affectation_ 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. + +_Sloth_ 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. + +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. + +_Intoxication_ 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. + +_Anger_, (violent) or _Rage_ 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. + +_Peevishism_ or _Ill-nature_ 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. + +_Malice_ or _Spite_, 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. + +_Envy_ is a little more moderate in its gestures than malice, but much +the same in kind. + +_Revenge_ expresses itself as malice. + +_Cruelty_. See _Anger_, _Aversion_, _Malice_ and the other irrascible +passions. + +_Complaining_ 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. + +_Fatigue_ from severe labour, gives a general languor to the whole body. +The countenance is dejected. (See _Grief_.) The arms hang listless; the +body (if sitting or lying along be not the posture) stoops, as in +old-age. (See _Dotage_.) 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. + +_Aversion_, or _Hatred_, 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. + +_Commendation_, or _Approbation_ 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. + +_Jealousy_ 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 _Love_, _Hatred_, +&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. + +_Dotage_ or _infirm old age_, 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. + +_Folly_, 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. + +_Distraction_ 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. + +_Sickness_ 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. + +_Fainting_ 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: + +_Death_ 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. + +_Lower_ 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. + +_Mixed_ passions, or emotions of the mind, require a mixed expression. +_Pity_, 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. + +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 _Anger_) 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. + +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. + + + + +_On Reading and Speaking_. + +FROM BLAIR'S LECTURES. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +If it be pronounced thus; Will _you_ ride to town to-day? the answer may +properly be, no; I shall send my son. If thus; Will you _ride_ to town +to-day; Answer, no; I intend to walk. Will you ride to _town_ to-day? +No; I shall ride into the country. Will you ride to town _to-day_? No; +but I shall to-morrow. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_FINIS_. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's +Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + +***** This file should be named 13588-8.txt or 13588-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/5/8/13588/ + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/old/13588-8.zip b/old/13588-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be5afa2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-8.zip diff --git a/old/13588-h.zip b/old/13588-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5de9cdc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h.zip diff --git a/old/13588-h/13588-h.htm b/old/13588-h/13588-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..42ecdd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h/13588-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16278 @@ +<!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=us-ascii"> +<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> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and +English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant + +Author: John Hamilton Moore + +Release Date: October 3, 2004 [EBook #13588] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<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> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's +Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + +***** This file should be named 13588-h.htm or 13588-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/5/8/13588/ + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/old/13588-h/images/plate1.gif b/old/13588-h/images/plate1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f64aa5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h/images/plate1.gif diff --git a/old/13588-h/images/plate2.gif b/old/13588-h/images/plate2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a07259 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h/images/plate2.gif diff --git a/old/13588-h/images/plate3.gif b/old/13588-h/images/plate3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1949d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h/images/plate3.gif diff --git a/old/13588-h/images/plate4.gif b/old/13588-h/images/plate4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bbd473c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588-h/images/plate4.gif diff --git a/old/13588.txt b/old/13588.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..19586fa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16494 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and +English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant + +Author: John Hamilton Moore + +Release Date: October 3, 2004 [EBook #13588] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + + + + + + + +THE _YOUNG GENTLEMAN AND LADY's_ + +MONITOR, + +AND + +_ENGLISH TEACHER's_ + +ASSISTANT: + +BEING + +A COLLECTION OF SELECT PIECES + +FROM OUR BEST MODERN WRITERS; + +CALCULATED TO + +Eradicate vulgar Prejudices and Rusticity of Manners; Improve the +Understanding; Rectify the Will; Purify the Passions; Direct the Minds +of Youth to the Pursuit of proper Objects; and to facilitate their +Reading, Writing, and Speaking the English language, with Elegance and +Propriety. + +Particularly adapted for the use of our eminent Schools and Academies, +as well as private persons, who have not an opportunity of perusing the +Works of those celebrated Authors, from whence this collection is made. + +DIVIDED INTO SMALL PORTIONS, FOR THE EASE OF READING IN CLASSES. + + +THE LATEST EDITION. + +_BY J. HAMILTON MOORE_, + +AUTHOR OF + +THE PRACTICAL NAVIGATOR AND SEAMAN'S NEW DAILY ASSISTANT. + + +1802. + + + + +PREFACE. + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_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._ + +_THE EDITOR_. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + Pursuit of Knowledge recommended to Youth, + Directions how to spend our Time, + Mispent Time how punished, + Modesty, + Affectation, + The same continued, + Good humour and Nature, + Friendship, + Detraction and Falshood, + The Importance of Punctuality, + Exercise and Temperance the best Preservative of Health, + The Duty of Secrecy, + Of Cheerfulness, + On the Advantages of a Cheerful Temper, + Discretion, + Pride, + Drunkenness, + Gaming, + Whisperers and Giglers complained of, + Beauty produced by Sentiments, + Honour, + Human Nature, + The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper Dignity, + Custom a second Nature, + On Cleanliness, + The Advantages of a good Education, + The Disadvantages of a bad Education, + Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or Fortune, + On the Absurdity of Omens, + A good Conscience, &c. + On Contentment, + Human Miseries chiefly imaginary, + A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure, + Virtue rewarded, + The History of Amanda, + The Story of Abdallah and Balsora, + Rashness and Cowardice, + Fortitude founded upon the Fear of God, + The Folly of youthful Extravagance, + The Misery of depending upon the Great, + What it is to see the World, + The Story of Melissa, + On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together with the + Immensity of his Works, + Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and + Omnipresence of the Deity, + Reflections on the third Heaven, + The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to the + Happiness of a future one, + On the Immortality of the Soul, + On the Animal World, and the Scale of Beings, + Providence proved from Animal instinct, + Good-Breeding, + Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, + Genteel Carriage, + Cleanliness of Person, + Dress, + Elegance of Expression, + Small Talk, + Observation, + Absence of Mind, + Knowledge of the World, + Choice of Company, + Laughter, + Sundry little Accomplishments, + Dignity of Manners, + Rules for Conversation, + Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, + Entrance upon the World, + Advice to a young Man, + The Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human Life, + Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of Basra, + Of the Scriptures, as the Rule of Life, + Of Genesis, + Of Exodus, + Of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, + Of Joshua, + Of Judges, Samuel, and Kings, + Of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah; and Esther, + Of Job, + Of the Psalms, + Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the Prophecies, and + Apocrypha, + Of the New Testament, + Of the Example set by our Savior, and his Character, + A comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the last Day, and the + Inference to be drawn from it, + Character of St. Paul, + Of the Epistles, + The Epistle of St. James, + Epistles of St. Peter, and the first of St. John, + Of the Revelations, + True Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure, + A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the common Use of + a School, + An Evening Prayer, + + + APPENDIX. + + Of Columbus, and the Discovery of America, + Speech of Romulus after founding Rome, + Speech of Quinctius Capitolinus, + Caius Marius to the Romans, + Demosthenes to the Athenians, + The perfect Speaker, + On the Duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious Rollin, + Columbia.--A Poem, + The Choice of a Rural Life.--A Poem, + Hymns and Prayers, + Character of Man, + Winter, + Douglas's Account of himself, + ------how he learned the Art of War, + Baucis and Philemon, + On Happiness, + Speech of Adam to Eve, + Soliloquy and Prayer of Edward the Black Prince, before the battle of + Poictiers, + Invocation to Paradise Lost, + Morning Hymn, _ibid._ + The Hermit, by Dr. Beatie, + Compassion, + Advantages of Peace, + The Progress of Life, + Speeches in the Roman Senate, + Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul, + Hamlet's Meditation on Death, + + + _Select Passages from Dramatic Writers._ + + Joy,----_Distressed Mother,_ + Grief,----_Distressed Mother,_ + Pity,----_Venice Preserved,_ + Fear,----_Lear,_ + Awe and Fear,----_Mourning Bride,_ + Horror,----_Scanderberg,_ + Anger,----_Lear,_ + Revenge,----_Merchant of Venice,_ + Admiration,----_Merchant of Venice,_ + Haughtiness,----_Tamerlane,_ + Contempt,----_Fair Penitent,_ + Resignation,----_Jane Shore,_ + Impatience,--_Volpone_ + Remorse and Despair,--_Busiris_, + Distraction,--_Jane Shore_, + Gratitude,--_Fair Penitent_, + Intreaty,--_Jane Shore_, + Commanding,--_Rinaldo and Armida_, + Courage,--_Alfred_, + Boasting,--_Every Man in his Humour_, + Perplexity,--_Tancred and Sigismunda_ + Suspicion,--_Julius Caesar_, + Wit and Humour,--_2d Henry_ 4, _1st Henry_ 4, + Ridicule,--_Julius Caesar_, + Perturbation--_Lear_, + + + ELEMENTS OF GESTURE. + + Section I, + Section II. + Section III. + + + On Reading and Speaking, + + * * * * * + + + + + +THE + +YOUNG GENTLEMAN + +AND + +LADY'S MONITOR, + +AND + +ENGLISH TEACHERS ASSISTANT, + + + + +_Pursuit of Knowledge recommended to Youth_. + +1. 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 +_British_ youth lose their figure, and grow out of fashion, by that time +they are five and twenty. + +2. As soon as the natural gaiety and amiableness of the young man wears +off, they have nothing left to recommend them, but _lie by_ the rest of +their lives, among the lumber and refuse of the species. + +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 _lay in_ 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. + +3. 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. _Julius Caesar_ and _Alexander_, 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. + +4. As for the latter, it is a known saying of his, that he was more +obliged to _Aristotle_, who had instructed him, than to _Philip_, who +had given him life and empire. There is a letter of his recorded by +_Plutarch_ and _Aulus Gellius_, which he wrote to _Aristotle_, 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 _Persian_ conquests. + +5. "ALEXANDER _to_ ARISTOTLE, _Greeting_. + +"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. +_Farewell_." + +6. We see by this letter, that the love of conquest was but the second +ambition in _Alexander_'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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. The story of _Solomon_'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. + +10. 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. + +11. In _Gibeon_ the Lord appeared to _Solomon_ in a dream by night: and +God said, "Ask what I shall give thee." And Solomon said, "Thou hast +shewed unto thy servant _David_, 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." + +12. "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." + +13. "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 _David_ did walk, then I will +lengthen thy days." And Solomon awoke and behold it was a dream. + +14. 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 _Hercules_, recorded by +_Xenophon_, where _Pleasure_ and _Virtue_ are represented as real +persons making their court to the hero with all their several charms and +allurements. + +15. _Health_, _Wealth_, _Victory_ and _Honor_ are introduced +successively in their proper emblems and characters, each of them +spreading her temptations, and recommending herself to the young +monarch's choice. _Wisdom_ 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 _Wisdom_, _Health_, _Wealth_, +_Victory_ and _Honor_ should always wait an her as her handmaids. + + + + +_Directions how to spend our Time._ + + +1. We all of us complain of the shortness of time, saith _Seneca_, 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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: + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. The stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble and +useful entertainments, were it under proper regulations. + +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. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. + +SPECTATOR, No. 93. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _Lucian_ where I amused my thoughts for about an hour among +the dialogues of the dead, which in all probability produced the +following dream: + +23. I was conveyed, methought, into the entrance of the infernal +regions, where I saw _Rhadamanthus_, one of the judges of the dead, +seated in his tribunal. On his left hand stood the keeper of _Erebus_, +on his right the keeper of _Elysium_. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. After about half an hour's pause, she told him that she had been +playing at crimp: upon which _Rhadamanthus_ 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. + +26. 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 +_Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +27. _Rhadamanthus_ smiled at the simplicity of the good woman, and +ordered the keeper of _Elysium_, 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 _Elysium_; the other caught hold of her to +carry her away to _Erebus_. + +28. But _Rhadamanthus_ 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. + +29. 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 _Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +30. Madam, says _Rhadamanthus_, 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. _Rhadamanthus_, who knew the value of the old lady +smiled upon her in such a manner, that the keeper of _Elysium_, 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. + +33. A young woman observing that this officer, who conducted the happy +to _Elysium_, was so great a _beautifier_, 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. + +34. 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--_Rhadamanthus_, without hearing her out, gave the sign to take +her off. Upon the approach of the keeper of _Erebus_ her colour faded, +her face was puckered up with wrinkles, and her whole person lost in +deformity. + +35. 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 _Rhadamanthus_ would spoil their mirth; but at their +nearer approach the noise grew so very great that it awakened me. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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 +_Barbeyrac_. 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. + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + + + + +_Modesty_. + + +Modesty is the citidel of beauty and virtue. The first of all virtues is +innocence; the second is modesty. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. The pretty, and witty, and virtuous _Simplicia_, was, the other day, +visiting with an old aunt of her's, that I verily believe has read the +_Atalantis_; 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. The author of _Cato_, 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 _Cato_, where the character of +_Marcia_ 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. + +12. 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. + +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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. Others again, with more art, will _modestly_ 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. + +23. 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 _him_ a liar; for I would not wish to think him a beast. + +24. These and many more are the follies of idle people, which, while +they think they procure them esteem, in reality make them despised. + +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. + + + + +_Affectation_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The learned Dr. _Burnet_, 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +'DEAR SIR, + +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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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, + +SIR, + +Your humble servant.' + +SPECTATOR, Vol. 1. No. 38. + +19. 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. + +20. In like manner it is in the disposition of society: the civil +oeconomy 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. _Cleanthes_ had good sense, a great memory, and a constitution +capable of the closest application: in a word, there was no profession +in which _Cleanthes_ 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. + +24. _Cleanthes_ reads plays, dances, dresses, and spends his time in +drawing rooms, instead of being a good lawyer, divine, or physician; +_Cleanthes_ 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. + +25. 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 _Valerio_. + +26. _Valerio_ had an universal character, was genteel, had learning, +thought justly, spoke correctly; 'twas believed there was nothing in +which _Valerio_ did not excel; and 'twas so far true, that there was but +one: _Valerio_ had no genius for poetry, yet was resolved to be a poet; +he writes verses, and takes great pains to convince the town, that +_Valerio_ is not that extraordinary person he was taken for. + +27. If men would be content to graft upon nature, and assist her +operations, what mighty effects might we expect? _Tully_ would not stand +so much alone in oratory, _Virgil_ in poetry, or _Caesar_ 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. _Cicero's_ genius inclined him to +oratory, _Virgil_'s to follow the train of the muses; they piously +obeyed the admonition, and were rewarded. + +28. Had _Virgil_ attended the bar, his modest and ingenuous virtue would +surely have made but a very indifferent figure: and _Tully_'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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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 _Caelia_ and _Iras_. _Caelia_ has all the charms of person, together +with an abundant sweetness of nature, but wants wit, and has a very ill +voice: _Iras_ is ugly and ungenteel, but has wit and good sense. + +31. If _Caelia_ would be silent, her beholders would adore her; if _Iras_ +would talk, her hearers would admire her; but _Caelia_'s tongue runs +incessantly, while _Iras_ gives herself silent airs and soft languors; +so that 'tis difficult to persuade one's self that _Caelia_ has beauty, +and _Iras_ wit: each neglects her own excellence, and is ambitious of +the other's character: _Iras_ would be thought to have as much beauty as +_Caelia_, and _Caelia_ as much wit as _Iras_. + +32. 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. + +33. If _Semanthe_ would have been satisfied with her natural complexion, +she might still have been celebrated by the name of the olive beauty; +but _Semanthe_ has taken up an affectation to white and red, and is now +distinguished by the character of the lady that paints so well. + +34. In a word, could the world be reformed to the obedience of that +famed dictate, _follow nature_, which the oracle of _Delphos_ pronounced +to _Cicero_ when he consulted what course of studies he should pursue, +we should see almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere as +_Tully_ 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. + +35. 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 _Tully_ expresses it) like the sin of +the giants, an actual rebellion against heaven. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. VI. No. 404. + + + + +_Good Humour and Nature_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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 _Roger_'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. + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. Of this kind is the life of that extraordinary couple, _Harry +Tersett_ and his lady. _Harry_ was, in the days of his celibacy, one of +those pert creatures who have much vivacity and little understanding; +Mrs. _Rebecca Quickly_, whom he married, had all that the fire of youth +and a lively manner could do towards making an agreeable woman. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. _Varilas_ 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 _Varilas_ 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. + +14. 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 +_Varilas_ 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. II. No. 100. + + + + +_Friendship_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. _Tully_ 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 _Francis Bacon_ +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. + +6. 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 _Confucius_ +or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher; I mean the little Apocryphal +Treatise, entitled the Wisdom of the Son of _Sirach_. + +7. 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. + +8. 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." + +9. "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." + +10. 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. + +11. "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." + +12. 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. + +13. 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." + +14. 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." + +15. 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 _Horace_ and _Epictetus_. There are +very beautiful instances of this nature in the following pages, which +are likewise written upon the same subject: + +16. "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." + +17. 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 _Cicero_ calls it, _morum comitas_, a pleasantness +of temper. + +18. If I were to give my opinion upon such an exhausted subject, I +should join to these other qualifications a certain aequibility 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. + +19. There are several persons who, in some certain periods of their +lives, are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as odious and +detestable. _Martial_ has given us a very pretty picture of one of these +species in the following epigram: + + _Difficilis facilas, jocundus, acerbus, es idem_, + _Nec tecum possum vivere; nec sine te_. Epig. 47. 1. 12. + + In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, + Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; + Hast so much wit and mirth, and spleen about thee, + There is no living with thee nor without thee. + +20. 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. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. 1. No. 68. + +21. "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. + +22. 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. + +Love and esteem are the first principles of friendship, which always is +imperfect where either of these two is wanting. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. _Achilles_ has his _Patroclus_, and +_AEneas_ his _Achates_. + +26. In the first of these instances we may observe, for the reputation +of the subject I am treating of, that _Greece_ was almost ruined by the +hero's love, but was preserved by his friendship. + +27. The character of _Achates_ 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. + +28. I do not remember that _Achates_, who is represented as the first +favourite, either gives his advice, or strikes a blow through the whole +_AEneid_. + +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. + +29. _Atticus_, one of the best men of ancient _Rome_, 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 +_Marius_, whose father was declared an enemy of the commonwealth, he was +himself one of _Sylla's_ chief favourites, and always near that general. + +30. During the war between _Caesar_ and _Pompey_, he still maintained the +same conduct. After the death of Caesar, he sent money to _Brutus_, in +his troubles, and did a thousand good offices to _Anthony's_ wife and +friends, when the party seemed ruined. Lastly, even in that bloody war +between _Anthony_ and _Augustus_, _Atticus_ still kept his place in both +their friendships; insomuch, that the first, says _Cornelius Nepos_, +whenever he was absent from _Rome_, 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +_Detraction and Falsehood_ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. _Jack Triplett_ came into my Lady _Airy_'s about eight of the clock. +You know the manner we sit at a visit, and I need not describe the +circle; but Mr. _Triplett_ 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. + +8. I say _Jack Triplett_ 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. + +9. 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. + +10. You were telling of? says _Jack_; 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. _Triplett_! When Mrs. _Lofty_, 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. + +11. 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. _Triplett_ 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. _Triplett_ was beaten +from one limb and feature to another, till he was forced to resign the +whole woman. + +12. In the end, I took notice _Triplett_ 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. + +13. Mr. _Triplett_, 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. +_Triplett_ 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. + +14. Thus, Mr. _Spectator_, 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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: + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +31. When _Aristotle_ was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering +falsehoods? he replied, "not to be credited when he shall tell the +truth." + +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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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 _Thomas Brown_, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies; nor can the society of +hell subsist without it." + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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. + +39. It is remarked by Sir _Kenelm Digby_, "that every man has a desire +to appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what +they have not seen." + +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. + +40. 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! + +41. 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. + +42. 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? + +45. 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. + +44. 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. + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. There is, I think, an ancient law in _Scotland_, by which +_Leasing-making_ 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. + + + + +_The Importance of Punctuality_. + + +1. It is observed in the writings of _Boyle_, 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. + +2. 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 +_Cajucius_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. _Aliger_ 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. + +10. _Aliger_ 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +This character, however contemptible, is not peculiar to _Aliger_. + +16. 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. + + + + +_Exercise & Temperance the best Preservative of Health._ + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. My friend Sir _Roger_ 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. + +8. 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. + +9. Sir _Roger_ 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. + +10. The perverse widow, whom I have given some account of, was the death +of several foxes; for Sir _Roger_ 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. + +11. 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. _Sydenham_ is very lavish in +its praise; and if the _English_ 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 _Medicina Gymnastica_. + +12. 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. + +13. 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 _Latin_ +treatise of exercise, that is written with great erudition: It is there +called the _Skimachia_, 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. + +14. I could wish that several learned men would lay out that time which +they employ in controversies, and disputes about nothing, in _this +method_ 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. + +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. + +15. There is a story in the _Arabian Nights Tales_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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 +_Diogenes_, 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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 _William Temple:--The first glass for myself, the second +for my friends, the third for good humour, and the fourth for my +enemies_. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that _Socrates_, +notwithstanding he lived in _Athens_ 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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 _Lewis Cornaro_, the _Venetian_; which I the rather +mention, because it is of undoubted credit, as the late _Venetian_ +ambassador, who was of the same family, attested more than once in +conversation, when he resided in _England_. _Cornaro_, 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 _English_, under the title of, _Sure and certain methods +of attaining a long and healthy Life_. + +29. 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. + + + + +_The Duty of Secrecy._ + + +1. It is related by _Quintus Curtius_, that the _Persians_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. Whether, by their settled and avowed scorn of thoughtless talkers, +the _Persians_ 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 +_Persepolis_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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 +_Montaigne_'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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. The confidence which _Caius_ has of the faithfulness of _Titius_ is +nothing more than an opinion which himself cannot know to be true, and +which _Claudius_, who first tells his secret to _Caius_, may know, at +least may suspect to be false; and therefore the trust is transferred by +_Caius_, 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, _Caius_ 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. + +14. 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 _Titius_ 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. + +15. 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 _Caius_, +in admitting _Titius_ to the affairs imparted only to himself, violates +his faith, since he acts contrary to the intention of _Claudius_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + + + + +_Of Cheerfulness._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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? + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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? + +13. The consciousness of such a being spreads a perpetual diffusion of +joy through the soul of a virtuous man, and makes him look upon himself +every moment as more happy than he knows how to conceive. + +The second source of 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. + +14. In short, we depend upon a Being, whose power qualifies him to make +us happy by an infinity of means, whose goodness and truth engage him to +make those happy who desire it of him, and whose unchangeableness will +secure us in this happiness to all eternity. + +Such considerations, which every one should perpetually cherish in his +thoughts, will banish from us all that secret heaviness of heart which +unthinking men are subject to when they lie under no real affliction, +all that anguish which we may feel from any evil that actually oppresses +us, to which I may likewise add those little cracklings of mirth and +folly, that are apter to betray virtue than support it; and 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. + + + + +_On the Advantages of a Cheerful Temper_. + +[SPECTATOR, No. 387.] + + +1. 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. + +2. I scarce remember in my own observation, to have met with many old +men, or with such, who (to use our _English_ phrase) _were well_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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 _cheerful_. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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 daemon that haunts our island, and often +conveys herself to us in an easterly wind. A celebrated _French_ +novelist, in opposition to those who begin their romances with a flowery +season of the year, enters on his story thus: _In the gloomy month of_ +November, _when the people of_ England _hang and drown themselves, a +disconsolate lover walked out into the fields_, &c. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. This interspersion of evil with good, and pain with pleasure, in the +works of nature, is very truly ascribed by Mr. _Locke_ in his Essay upon +Human Understanding, to a moral reason, in the following words: + +_Beyond all this, we may find another reason_ why _God hath scattered up +and down_ several degrees of pleasure and pain, in all the things that +environ and effect us, _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_, with whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right +hand are pleasures for evermore. + + + + +_Discretion_. + + +1. 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. + +2. _Tully_ 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 _Sirach_ 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. 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 +_Polyphemus_ in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible +force, which for want of sight, is of no use to him. + +5. 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. + +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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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, "_Wisdom_ is +glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is easily seen of them that +love her, and found of such as seek her." + +12. "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." + + + + +_Pride_. + + +1. 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. + +2. I have been always wonderfully delighted with that sentence in holy +writ, _Pride was not made for man_. There is not, indeed, any single +view of human nature under its present condition, which is not +sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret seeds of pride; and, on +the contrary, to sink the soul into the lowest slate of humility, and +what the school-men call self-annihilation. Pride was not made for man, +as he is, + +1. A sinful, + +2. An ignorant, + +3. A miserable being. + +There is nothing in his understanding, in his will, or in his present +condition, that can tempt any considerate creature to pride or vanity. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. If there be any thing which makes human nature appear _ridiculous_ to +beings of superior faculties, it must be pride. They know so well the +vanity of those imaginary perfections that swell the heart of man, and +of those little supernumerary advantages, whether in birth, fortune, or +title, which one man enjoys above another, that it must certainly very +much astonish, if it does not very much divert them, when they see a +mortal puffed up, and valuing himself above his neighbours on any of +these accounts, at the same time that he is obnoxious to all the common +calamities of the species. + +6. 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! + +7. 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? + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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 _French_ poet, of those +pismires that people this heap of dirt, which human vanity has divided +into climates and regions. + +GUARDIAN, Vol. II. No. 153. + + + + +_Drunkenness_. + + +1. 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. _Anarcharsis_, 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: + +2. 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 _Will Funnell_, 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. + +3. I question not but every reader's memory will suggest to him several +ambitious young men, who are as vain in this particular as _Will +Funnell_, and can boast of as glorious exploits. + +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: + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. _Bonosus_, 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. + +7. This vice has very fatal effects on the mind, the body and fortune of +the person who is devoted to it. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _Seneca_, that drunkenness does not produce, but discover faults. +Common experience teaches the contrary. + +10. 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 _Publius Syrus, +He who jests unto a man that is drunk, injures the absent_. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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? + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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, _Provided also, That the above-mentioned_ A.B. +_shall not drink before dinner during the term mentioned in this +indenture_. + +20. 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: + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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 _Astraea_, +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 _Astraea_ to +that bacchanal. + +24. 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. + +TATLER, Vol. IV, No. 241. + + + + +_Gaming_. + + +SIR, + +1. '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. + +2. 'You who converse with the sober family of the _Lizards_, are, +perhaps, a stranger to these viragoes; but what would you say, should +you see the _Sparkler_ 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; + +YOUR HUMBLE SERVANT.' + +3. I should ill deserve the name of _Guardian_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +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? + +7. 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. + +8. 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 _Pam_ than of her husband. + +9. My friend _Theophrastus_, 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. + +10. 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? + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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 _dipped_, if the creditor be very +importunate, I leave my reader to consider the consequences. + +15. 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. + + + + +_Whisperers_. + +SIR, + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _Bonna Deo_, 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. + +4. Single words, indeed, now and then broke forth; such as _odious_, +_horrid_, _detestable_, _shocking_, 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." + +5. 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. _Sancho_, +when he was forbid to eat of a delicious banquet set before him, could +scarce appear more melancholy. + +6. 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 _Brentford_. + +7. Modest men, Mr. _Town_, 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _aside_.--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. + +10. 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. + +11. It were also to be wished, that the ladies would be pleased to +confine themselves to whispering in their _tete-a-tete_ conferences at +an opera or the play-house; which would be a proper deference to the +rest of the audience. In _France_, we are told, it is common for the +_parterre_ 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. + +12. The wit and humour of a _Vanbrugh_, or a _Congreve,_ 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 _Romeo_ and _Juliet_, grin over the anguish of a _Monimia_, or +_Belvidera_, and fairly laugh king _Lear_ off the stage. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. If the misconduct which I have described, had been only to be +found, Mr. _Town_, 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. + +17. Some excuse may perhaps be framed for this ill-timed merriment, in +the fair sex. _Venus_, the goddess of beauty, is frequently called +_laughter-loving dame_; and by laughing, our modern ladies may possibly +imagine, that they render themselves like _Venus_. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. _Paul's_, or in +the famous whispering place in _Gloucester_ cathedral, where two +whisperers hear each other at the distance of five-and-twenty yards. + +_I am, Sir, + +Your humble Servant._ + + + + +_Beauty_. + +1. 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." + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +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. + +19. A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call _Laetitia_ and +_Daphne_. 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. _Laetitia_ 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. + +20. The consciousness of her charms has rendered her insupportably vain +and insolent towards all who have to do with her. _Daphne_, 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. + +21. Poor _Daphne_ 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 _Laetitia_ was listened +to with partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she +conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say. + +22. These causes have produced suitable effects, and _Laetitia_ is as +insipid a companion as _Daphne_ is an agreeable one. _Laetitia_, +confident of favour, has studied no arts to please: _Daphne_, despairing +of any inclination towards her person, has depended only on her merit. +_Laetitia_ has always something in her air that is sullen, grave and +disconsolate. + +23. _Daphne_ has a countenance that appears cheerful, open and +unconcerned. A young gentleman saw _Laetitia_ 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 _Laetitia_; while _Daphne_ used him with the good +humour, familiarity, and innocence of a sister. + +24. Insomuch that he would often say to her, _Dear Daphne, wert thou but +as handsome as Laetitia!_--She received such language with that ingenious +and pleasing mirth, which is natural to a woman without design. He still +sighed in vain for _Laetitia_ but found certain relief in the agreeable +conversation of _Daphne_. At length, heartily tired with the haughty +impertinence of _Laetitia_, and charmed with repeated instances of good +humour he had observed in _Daphne_, he one day told the latter, that he +had something to say to her he hoped she would be pleased with. + +25. ----_Faith Daphne_, continued he, _I am in love with thee, and +despise thy sister sincerely_. The manner of his declaring himself gave +his mistress occasion for a very hearty laughter.--_Nay_, says he, _I +knew you would laugh at me, but I'll ask your father_. 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. + +26. I do not know any thing that has pleased me so much a great while, +as this conquest of my friend _Daphne's_. 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. + +27. 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. + +'Monsier St. _Evrement_ 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. + +28. '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. + +29. 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 _South Britain_, 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 _Europe_, owe the first raising +of his fortune to a cosmetic wash. + +30. '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. + +31. 'In order to do this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be +necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims, _viz._ + +That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more +she can be witty only by the help of speech. + +That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more +terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox. + +That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of +being false. + +And, that what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a mistress. + +32 '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. _Dryden_ 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. + +33. '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? + +34. 'How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when +compared with the real loveliness of _Sophronia's_ 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'. + +35. '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. + +'When _Adam_ is introduced by _Milton_ describing _Eve_ 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 _Grecian Venus_, by her +shape of features, but by the lustre of her mind which shone in them, +and gave them their power of charming. + +36. + + Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye, + In all her gestures dignity and love: + +'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. + +'I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph, written by +_Ben Johnson_ with a spirit which nothing could inspire, but such an +object as I have been describing. + + 'Underneath this stone doth lie, + As much virtue as could die; + Which when alive did vigour give + To as much beauty as could live.' + + +_I am, Sir_ + +_Your most humble Servant_, + +R.B. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No.33. + + + + +_Honour_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. '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. + +4. '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. + +5. 'The religious man _fears_, the man of honor _scorns_ to do an ill +action. The former considers vice as something that is beneath him, the +other as something that is offensive to the Divine Being. The one as +what is _unbecoming_, the other as what _forbidden_. Thus _Seneca_ +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. + +6. 'I shall conclude this head with the description of honor in the part +of young _Juba_. + + Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, + The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, + That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, + And imitates her actions where she is not. + It ought not to be sported with.-- CATO. + +7. '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. + +8. '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. + +9. 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. + +10. _Timogenes_ was a lively instance of one actuated by false honor. +_Timogenes_ 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. +_Timogenes_ 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. + +11. _Timogenes_ took away the life of a young fellow in a duel, for +having spoken ill of _Belinda_, a lady whom he himself had seduced in +his youth, and betrayed into want and ignominy. To close his character, +_Timogenes_, 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. + +12. 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 _Syphax_, 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. + +13. These are generally persons, who, in _Shakspeare's_ phrase, are +_worn and hackney'd in the ways of men_; whose imaginations are grown +callous, and have lost all those delicate sentiments which are natural +to minds that are innocent and undepraved. Such old battered miscreants +ridicule every thing as 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. + +14. 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 _honor_ by any other way than through that of _virtue_. + +GUARDIAN, Vol. II. No. 161. + + + + +_Human Nature_. + + +Mr. SPECTATOR, + +1. '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. + +2. 'Hence it was that the oracle pronounced _Socrates_ 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. + +3. '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. + +4. 'We shall no more admire at the proceedings of _Cataline_ and +_Tiberius_, 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. + +5. '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. + +6. '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. + +7. '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. + +8. '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. + +9. '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. + +10. '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. + +11. 'I remember _Machiavel_ 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. + +12. '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. + +13. '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. + +14. '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. + +15. 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. + +16. '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. + +17. '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. + +18. '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. + +_I am, Sir_, + +_Your affectionate admirer_ + +T.B. + +SPECTATOR, Vol. IV. No. 408. + + + + + +_The Advantages of representing Human Nature in its proper Dignity_. + +TATLER, No. 198. + +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. + +1. 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. _Bitterton_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +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. + +5. 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. + +6. In short, it is impossible to read a page in _Plato_, _Tully,_ 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 +_French_ 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. + +7. 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 _Rochefoucault_, who is the great philosopher for +administering of consolation to the idle, the envious, and worthless +parts of mankind. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _Trey_ 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 +_Middle Temple_. + +10. 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. + +11. I think it is one of _Pythagoras's_ golden sayings, _that a man +should take care above all things to have a due respect for himself_; +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. + +12. Poetry carries on this great end more than all the rest, as may be +seen in the following passages taken out of Sir _Francis Bacon's +Advancement of Learning_, which gives a true and better account of this +art than all the volumes that were ever written upon it. + +"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." + +13. "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." + +14. "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." + +15. "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." + +16. 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. + + + + +_Custom a Second Nature_. + +1. 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. + +2. Dr. _Plot_, in his history of _Staffordshire_, 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. Not only such actions as were at first indifferent to us, but even +such as were painful, will by custom and practice become pleasant. + +8. Sir _Francis Bacon_ 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. + +9. 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 _Virgil_ or _Cicero_. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. In the second place, I would recommend to every one the admirable +precept which _Pythagoras_ is said to have given to his disciples, and +which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have +enlarged upon: _Optimum vitae genus eligito nam consuctudo facict +jucundissimum._ Pitch upon that course of life which is the most +excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful. + +13. 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. + +14. In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and +irreligious man to overlook those hardships and difficulties, which are +apt to discourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. The Gods, +said _Hesiod_, have placed labour before virtue; the way to her is at +first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy, the 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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 _Tillotson_ and Dr. _Sherlock_; +but there is none who has raised such noble speculations upon it as Dr. +_Scott_, 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. + + + + +_On Cleanliness_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 631. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. This adventure occasioned my throwing together a few hints upon +_cleanliness_, which I shall consider as one of the half virtues, as +_Aristotle_ 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. + +5. 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 +_Hottentot_ with an _English_ beauty, to be; satisfied with the truth of +what hath been advanced. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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 _Mecca_. +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. + + + + +_The Advantages of a good Education_. + +1. 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. + +2. 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 _Aristotle_ 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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? + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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 _Phidias_ or _Prixiteles_ could not give several nice touches +and finishings. + + + + +_The Disadvantages of a bad Education._ + + +SIR, + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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 _Frisk_ did not keep me that afternoon to watch her +squirrel. + +12. 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. + +13. I cannot but think, Mr. _Rambler_, 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. + +I am, &c. _Florentulus_. + +[RAMBLER.] + + + + +_Learning a necessary Accomplishment in a Woman of Quality or Fortune_. + + +GUARDIAN, No. 155. + +1. 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? + +2. 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. + +3. The excellent lady, the lady _Lizard_, 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. _Tillotson's_ 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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 _Copia +Verborum_, 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. + +6. 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? + +7. 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 +_Pythagorians_, notwithstanding most of that philosophy consisted in +keeping a secret, and that the disciple was to hold her tongue five +years together. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + + + + +_On the Absurdity of Omens_. + + +SPECTATOR. + +1. 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. + +2. 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.' + +3. 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. + +4. 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.' + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + + + + +_A good Conscience the best Security against Calumny and Reproach_. + +GUARDIAN, No. 135. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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! + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The way to silence calumny, says _Bias_, is to be always exercised in +such things as are praise-worthy. _Socrates_, 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. + +6. _Anytus_ and _Melitus_, 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. + +7. 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 _Aristotle's_ +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. + +8. 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. + +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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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.' + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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? + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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.' + + + + +_On Contentment_. + + +SPECTATOR, No. 574. + +1. I was once engaged in discourse with a Rosicrucian about the _great +secret_. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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.' + +11. 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.' + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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.' + +15. 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. + +16. 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 _scheme_ of Providence would be +troubled and perverted were he otherwise. + +17. 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.' + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + + + + +_Human Miseries chiefly imaginary._ + +1. It is a celebrated thought of _Socrates_, 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. _Horace_ 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. + +2. As I was ruminating-on these two remarks, and seated in my elbow +chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was +a proclamation made by _Jupiter_, that, every mortal should bring in his +griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a +large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the 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. + +3. 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. + +4. Her name _Fancy_. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, +after having, very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and +laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see my +fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burthens, and to +consider that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay before me. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. When the whole race of mankind had thus cast their burthens, the +_phantom_, 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. As we were regarding very attentively this confusion of miseries, +this chaos of calamity, _Jupiter_ issued out a second proclamation, that +every one was now at liberty to exchange his affliction, and to return +to his habitation with any such other bundle as should be delivered to +him. + +15. Upon this, _Fancy_ began again to bestir herself, and parcelling out +the whole heap, with incredible activity, recommended to every one his +particular packet. The hurry and confusion at this time was not to be +expressed. Some observations which I made upon the occasion, I shall +communicate to the 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. _Jupiter_, at length, taking +compassion on the poor mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down +their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. + +25. 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 _Jupiter_. + +25. Her name was _Patience_. 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. + +27. 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. + + + + +_A Life of Virtue preferable to a Life of Pleasure, exemplified in the +Choice of Hercules_. + + +TATLER, No. 97. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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: + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. By this time the other lady was come up, who addressed herself to the +young hero in a very different manner. + +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. + +8. 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: + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + + + + +_Virtue rewarded; The History of Amanda_. + + +SPECTATOR, No. 375. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. SIR, + +'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. + +'_I am_, &c.' + +9. 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: + +10. _Dearest Child_, + +'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. + +'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. + +'_Thy affectionate mother_--.' + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +MADAM, + +'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, + +MADAM, + +_Your obedient humble servant_--.' + +14. 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. + + + + +_The Story of Abdallah and Balsora._ + +GUARDIAN, No. 167. + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. '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.' + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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.' + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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 _Khacan_. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +Helim was too good a father to let him want any thing that might conduce +to make his retirement pleasant. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +_On Rashness and Cowardice._ + +RAMBLER, No. 25. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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? + +5. 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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. But of all the bugbears by which the _infantes barbati_, 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + + + + +_Fortitude founded upon the fear of God._ + + +GUARDIAN, No. 167. + +1. Looking over the late edition of Monsieur _Boileau's_ works, I was +very much pleased with the article which he has added to his notes on +the translation of _Longinus_. 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 _Racine_. + +2. When _Abner_, one of the chief officers of the court, represents to +_Joad_ the high priest, that the queen was incensed against him, the +high priest, not in the least terrified at the news, returns this +answer: + + _Celui que met un frein a la fureur des flots, + Scait aussi des mechans arreter les complots; + Soumis avecs respect a sa volutte sainte, + Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, & n'ai point d'autre crainte._ + +3. '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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. There is no example of this kind in Pagan history which more pleases +me than that which is recorded in the life of _Timoleon_. This +extraordinary man was famous for referring all his successes to +Providence. _Cornelius Nepos_ 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 +_Plutarch_. + +11. Three persons had entered into a conspiracy to assassinate +_Timoleon_ 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 _Timoleon's_ feet, and +confessed the whole matter. + +12. 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. + +13. _Plutarch_ 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. + +14. For my own part, I cannot wonder that a man of _Timoleon's_ religion +should have this intrepidity and firmness of mind, or that he should be +distinguished by such a deliverance as I have here related. + + + + +_The folly of youthful Extravagance._ + +RAMBLER, No. 26. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. _Dash_, 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +_I am, &c._ + + + + +_The Misery of depending upon the Great._ + +RAMBLER, NO. 27. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. _Vagrio_ 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. + +6. 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. + +7. I was once very near to preferment by the kindness of _Charinus_; +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. At last I thought my solicitude at an end, for an office fell into +the gift of _Hippodamus_'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. _Hippodamus_ therefore +set forward with great expedition, and I expected every hour an account +of his success. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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 _Hilarius_, the celebrated orator, renowned equally for the +extent of his knowledge, the elegance of his diction, and the acuteness +of his wit. + +15. _Hilarius_ 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. + +16. 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 _Hilarius_, 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. + +17. I was then taken into the familiarity of _Argurio_, 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. My next patron was _Eutyches_ 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +_I am_, &c. + +EUBULUS. + + + + +_What it is to see the World; the Story of Melissa._ + +RAMBLER, No. 75. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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? + +18. 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. + +19. 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? + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. This, Mr. Rambler, is _to see the world_. 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. + +_I am_, &c. MELISSA. + + + + +_On the Omniscience and Omnipresence of the Deity, together with the +Immensity of his Works._ + + +1. 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 aether was exceedingly heightened and enlivened +by the season of the year, and by the rays of all those luminaries that +passed through it. + +2. The _Galaxy_ appeared in its most beautiful white. To complete the +scene, the full moon rose at length in that clouded majesty, which +_Milton_ takes notice of, and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, +which was more finely shaded, and disposed among softer lights, than +that which the sun had before discovered to us. + +3. As I was surveying the moon, walking in her brightness, and taking +her progress among the constellations, a thought rose in me which I +believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and +contemplative natures. _David_ himself fell into it in that reflection, +_When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and +stars which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of +him, and the son of man, that thou regardest him!_ + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. We see many stars by the help of glasses, which we do not discover +with our naked eyes; and the finer our telescopes are, the more still +are our discoveries. _Huygenius_ carries 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! + +7. 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. + +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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought, of +our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and +the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly +employed, if we consider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent, +and in the second, that he is omniscient. + +If we consider him in his omnipresence; his being passes through, +actuates and supports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and every +part of it, is full of him. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather +the habitation of the Almighty; but the noblest, and most exalted way of +considering this infinite space, is that of Sir _Isaac Newton_, who +calls it the _sensorium_ of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their +_sensoria_, or little _sensoriums_, 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. + +14. 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. _Oh that I knew where I might find him_! says Job. _Behold I go +forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; +on the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth +himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him._ In short, reason as +well as revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent from us, +notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us. + +15. 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. + + + + +_Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from the Omniscience and +Omnipresence of the Deity._ + +SPECTATOR, No. 571. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +_First_, 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! + +3. _Secondly_, 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! + +_Thirdly_, 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! + +4. _first_, 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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, _secondly_, 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! + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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 _Job_, when for the real trial of +his patience, he was made to look upon himself in this deplorable +condition! _Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee so that I am +become a burden to myself?_ But _thirdly_, 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! + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. The light of nature could direct _Seneca_ to this doctrine in a very +remarkable passage among his epistles; _Sacer inest in nobis spiritus, +bonorum malorumque custos et observator; et quemadmodum nos illum +tractamus, ita et ille nos_. '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: _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_. + + + + +_Reflections on the third Heaven_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 580. + + +1. 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. + +2. This is that place which is marked out in scripture under the +different appellations of _Paradise, the third Heaven, the throne of +God, and the habitation of his glory_. 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. If you look into _Homer_, that is, the most ancient of the _Greek_ +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? + +5. 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 _Greeks_ and _Romans_, 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. + +6. As in _Solomon's_ temple there was the _Sanctum Sanctorum_, 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. + +7. 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 _Hiram_ 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. + +8. It is to this majestic presence of God we may apply those beautiful +expressions in holy writ: _Behold even to the moon, and it shineth not; +yea, the stars are not pure in his sight_. 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. + +9. 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! + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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, _which +neither eye hath seen, nor ear heard, nor can it enter into the heart of +man to conceive_! + +15. _I knew a man in Christ_ (says St. Paul, speaking of himself) _above +fourteen years ago_ (_whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out +of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth_) _such a one caught up to the +third heaven. And I knew such a man_ (_whether in the body or out of the +body, I cannot tell: God knoweth_) _how that he was caught up into +Paradise, and heard unspeakable words which it is not possible for a man +to utter_. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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 _Adam_, though he had +continued in a state of innocence, would, in the opinion of our divines, +have kept holy the _Sabbath day_, 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + + + + +_The present Life to be considered only as it may conduce to the +Happiness of a future one_. + +SPECTATOR; No. 575. + + +1. A lewd young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefoot, +_Father_, says he, _you are in a very miserable condition, if there is +not another world. True son_, said the hermit; _but what is thy +condition if there is_? 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +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? + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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? + +6. 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? + +7. 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. + +8. 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? + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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? + +12. 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? + +13. 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. + + + + +_On the Immortality of the Soul_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 111. + + +1. 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. + +2. I considered those several proofs drawn: _First_, 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. + +_Secondly_, 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. + +3. _Thirdly_, From the nature of the Supreme Being, whose justice, +goodness, wisdom and veraveracity, are all concerned in this point. + +But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the +soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its +perfection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a +hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others +who have written on this subject, though it seeras to me to carry a very +great weight with it. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. But can we believe a thinking being; that is in a perpetual progress +of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after +having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few +discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom and power, must perish at +her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her enquiries? + +A man considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world to +propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and +immediately quits his post to make room for him. + + + ----_Haeres. +Haeredem alterius velut unda supervenit undam._ + + HOR. Ep. 2. 1. 2. v. 175 + +----Heir crowds heir, as in a rolling flood +Wave urges wave. + CREECH. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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! + + + + +_On the Animal World, and the Scale of Beings_. + +SPECTATOR, No. 519. + + +1. 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. + +The material world, is only the shell of the universe: the world of life +are its inhabitants. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. The author of the _Plurality of Worlds_ draws a very good argument +from this consideration, for the _peopling_ 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +3. 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. + +10. 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 _specified_ in his +creation every degree of life, every capacity of being. + +11. 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? + +12. 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. + +13. 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. _Locke_, +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. + +14. _That there should be more_ species _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_. + +15. _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_ species _are linked +together, and differ but, in almost insensible degrees_. + +16. _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_ species _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_ species _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._ + +17. 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 _Nexus utriusque mundi_. 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 _corruption, Thou +art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister_. + + + + +_Providence proved from Animal Instinct._ + +SPECTATOR, No. 120. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +The most violent appetites in all creatures are _lust_ and _hunger_; the +first is a perpetual call upon them to propagate their kind; the latter +to preserve themselves. + +3. 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. + +4. 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 _imitation_; 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 _reason_; 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. + +5. 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? + +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? + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + + + + +_Good-Breeding._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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 _Shakspeare_ reckons among other +evils under the sun) + + "--The poor man's contumely, The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of the unworthy takes," + +than from the more real pains and calamities of life. The only method to +remove these imaginary distresses as much as possible out of human life, +would be the universal practice of such an 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." + +3. 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. + +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. + +4. 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. + +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. + +5. 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. _James's_, would pass for +foppery or banter in a remote village; and the homespun civility of that +village would be considered as brutality at court. + +6. 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 _Hannibal_, 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. If _France_ exceeds us in that particular, the incomparable author +of _L'Esprit des Loix_ 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + + +WORLD, No. 143. + +_Further Remarks, taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son._ + +15. 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." + +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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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 _French_ +frequently cover! + +My Lord _Bacon_ 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. + +20. A man of good-breeding should be acquainted with the forms and +particular customs of courts. At _Vienna_ men always make courtesies, +instead of bows, to the emperor; in _France_ nobody bows to the king, or +kisses his hand; but in _Spain_ and _England_ 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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 _agremens_ 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +_Genteel Carriage._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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 _sir_ for _my lord_; to begin a story without +being able to finish it, and break off in the middle, with "I have +forgot the rest." + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + + +_Cleanliness of Person._ + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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 _whole_ 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. + + +_Dress_. + +19. Neatness of person I observed was as necessary as cleanliness; of +course some attention must be paid to your dress. + +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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _flash_ 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + + +_Elegance of Expression._ + +25. Having mentioned elegance of person, I will proceed to elegance of +expression. + +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. + +26. 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. + +27. '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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +Now, if it is necessary to attend so particularly to our _manner_ of +speaking, it is much more so with regard to the _matter_. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +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. + +34. 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 _vastly_ angry, _vastly_ kind; _devilish_ ugly, +_devilish_ handsome; _immensely_ great, _immensely_ little. + +35. Even his pronunciation carries the mark of vulgarity along with it; +he calls the earth _yearth_; finan' ces, _fin' ances_, he goes _to +wards_, 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. + +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. + + +_Small-Talk_. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +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. + +38. 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 _you_ are so." + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + + + + +_Observation_. + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _absence of mind_--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. + +4. 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. _Why_ 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. + +5. 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. + + + + +_Absence of Mind_. + + +1. Having mentioned absence of mind, let me be more particular +concerning it. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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 _Isaac Newton_ or Mr. +_Locke_, 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Knowledge of the World._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. The time should also be judiciously made choice of. Every man has his +particular times when he may be applied to with success, the _mollia +tempora fandi_: 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. + +6. 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, _do as you would be done by_, +take care not to let another feel your superiority, if you have it, +especially if you wish to gain his interest or esteem. + +7. 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. + +_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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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 _your humble servant_ at the +bottom of a challenge; they are universally understood to be things of +course. + +18. Wrangling and quarreling are characteristics of a weak mind: leave +that to the women, be _you_ 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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 _Pope_, a _Newton_, or a +_Bollingbroke_, 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +36. 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. + +27. 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 _them_ 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. + +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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +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. + + + + + +_Choice of Company._ + + +1. The next thing to the choice of friends is the choice of your +company. + +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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +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. + +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. + +4. 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 _literati_, which, however respectable in name, is not the way to +rise or shine in the fashionable world. + +5. But the company, which, of all others, you should carefully avoid, is +that, which, in every sense of the word, may be called _low_; 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 _you_, and who will flatter your follies, nay, your very +vices, to keep you with them. + +6. Though _you_ may think such a caution unnecessary, _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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +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. + + + + + +_Laughter._ + + +1. 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. + +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. + +2. 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. + +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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Sundry little Accomplishments._ + + +1. I have had reason to observe before, that various little matters, +apparently trifling in themselves, conspire to form the _whole_ 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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." + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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 _woman_ 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. A gentleman has ever some regard also to the _choice_ 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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 _one_ likes, and to remove what the _other_ 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +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. + +33. 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. + +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. + +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. + +34. 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. + + + + +_Dignity of Manners_. + + +1. A certain dignity of manners is absolutely necessary, to make even +the most-valuable character either respected or respectable in the +world. + +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. + +2. 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. + +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. + +3. 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 _had_ (as the phrase is) for the sake of any +qualification, singly, is merely that thing he is _had_ for, is never +considered in any other light, and, of course, never properly respected, +let his intrinsic merits be what they will. + +4. You may possibly suppose this dignity of manners to border upon +pride; but it differs as much from pride, as true courage from +blustering. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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 _will_ 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. + +9. 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. + + + + +_Rules for Conversation._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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 +_Jack's_ 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. + +3. Upon which the _Sparkler_ 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. _Jack_ gained his point; for the +mother was pleased, and all the servants stared at the learning of their +young master. _Jack_ 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. + +4. 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 +_Jack_, of no colour at all. My Lady _Lizard_ 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, _Jack_ +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 +_Jack_ did not imagine he made the whole family wiser than they were +before. + +5. 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 _Jack_ 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 _Jack's_ 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. + +6. I all this while looked upon _Jack_ 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. + +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," +_Jack's_, 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +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. + +9. The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so much for want of +wit and learning, as of good-breeding and discretion. + +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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +11. 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? + +12. A man may equally affront the company he is in, by engrossing all +the talk, or observing a contemptuous silence. + +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. + +If you have not a talent for humour, or raillery, or story-telling, +never attempt them. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +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. + +16. 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. + +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. + +17. 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. _Cowley_ 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. + +18. 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. + +Women are frightened at the name of argument, and are sooner convinced +by an happy turn, or, witty expression, than by demonstration. + +19. 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. + +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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. When an argument is over, how many weighty reasons does a man +recollect, which his heat and violence made him utterly forget? + +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. + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +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. + +33. 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. + +_Further Remarks taken from Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son._ + +34. 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. + +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. + +35. 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. + +36. In relating any thing, keep clear of repetitions, or very hackneyed +expressions, such as, _says he_, or _says she_. 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. + +37. Digressions, likewise, should be guarded against. A story is always +more agreeable without them. Of this kind are, "_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_." Or, "_He was an upright tall old gentleman, who +wore his own long hair; don't you recollect him_?"--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. + +38. 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. + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + +42. 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. + +43. 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. + +44. 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. + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. 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. + +48. 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. + +49. 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. + +50. 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. + +51. 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. + +52. 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. + +53. 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. + +54. 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. + +55. 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. + +56. 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. + +57. Jokes, _bon-mots_, 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. + +58. 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." + +59. 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 may be wrong, but--I won't be positive, +but I really think--I should rather suppose--If I may be permitted to +say_--and close your dispute with good humour, to shew you are neither +displeased yourself, nor meant to displease the person you dispute with. + +60. 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. + +61. 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 am sure_, +says Scrub, _they were talking of me, for they laughed consumedly_." + +62. 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. + +63. 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. + +64. 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. + +65. 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 _corps_ 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. + +66. 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. + +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. + +67. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Entrance upon the World_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + + + + +_Advice to a young Man._ + + +1. 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! + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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." + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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, +_John_ xiv 6. "No man cometh to the father but by me." + +8. 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. + +9. 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, _Prov_. x. 4. 22. +Rich in the treasures of body or mind, of time or eternity. + +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. + +10. 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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +11. 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. + +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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +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. + + + + +_The Vision of Mirza, exhibiting a Picture of Human Life._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + + + + +_Riches not productive of Happiness: The Story of Ortogrul of Basra._ + +IDLER, No. 99. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +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. + + + + +_Of the Scriptures, as the Rule of Life._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + + +_Of Genesis._ + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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. + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + + +_Of Exodus._ + +16. 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. + +17. 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. + +18. 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. + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + + +_Of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy._ + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + + +_Of Joshua._ + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +27. 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. + + +_Of Judges, Samuel, and Kings._ + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + + +_Of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther._ + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. Nehemiah carries on the history for about twelve years, when he +himself was governor of Jerusalem, with authority to re-build the walls, +&c. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + + +_Of Job._ + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + +38. 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. + + +_Of the Psalms._ + +39. 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. + +40. 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. + +41. 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. + +42. 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. + +43. 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. + +44. 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 +_him_, 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. + + +_Of the Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Solomon's Song, the Prophecies, and +Apocrypha._ + +45. 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. + +46. 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. + +47. 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. + +48. 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. + +49. 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. + +50. 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. + + +_Of the New Testament, which is constantly to be referred to as the Rule +and Direction of our moral Conduct._ + +51. 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. + +52. 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. + +53. 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. + + +_Of the Example set by our Saviour, and his Character._ + +54. 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." + +55. 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. + +56. 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. + +57. 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. + +58. 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. + +59. 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. + + +_A Comparative View of the Blessed and Cursed at the Last Day, and the +Inference to be drawn from it._ + +60. 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. + +61. 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! + +62. 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! + +63. 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? + +64. 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. + +65. 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. + +66. 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. + + +_Character of St. Paul._ + +67. 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. + +68. 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. + +69. 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. + +70. 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. + + +_Of the Epistles._ + +71. 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. + +72. 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. + +73. 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. + +74. 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. + +75. 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. + +76. 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. + + +_The Epistle of St. James._ + +77. 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. + + +_Epistles of St. Peter, and the first of St. John._ + +78. 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. + +79. 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. + + +_Of the Revelations._ + +80. 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. + + + + +_True Devotion productive of the truest Pleasure_. + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + + +_A Morning Prayer for a young Student at School, or for the common Use +of a School._ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Give us grace to be diligent in our studies, and that whatever we read +we may strongly mark, and inwardly digest it. + +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. + +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. + +Accept our endeavours, and pardon our defects through the merits of our +blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ our Lord. _Amen._ + + +_An Evening Prayer._ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. +_Amen._ + + + + +_APPENDIX._ + +_Of Columbus, and the Discovery of America._ + + +1. 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. + +2. 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. + +3. 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. + +4. 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. + +5. 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. + +6. 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. + +7. 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. + +8. 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. + +9. 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. + +10. 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. + +11. 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. + +12. 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. + +13. 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? + +14. 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. + +15. 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. + +16. 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. + +17. 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? + +18. 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." + +19. 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. + +20. 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. + +21. 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. + +22. 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. + +23. 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. + +24. 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. + +25. 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. + +26. 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. + +37. 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. + +28. 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. + +29. 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. + +30. 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. + +31. 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. + +32. 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. + +33. 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. + +34. 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. + +35. 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. + +36. 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. + +37. 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. + + + + +Romulus _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_: + +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. + + + + +_While_ Quinctius Capitolinus _and_ Agrippa Furius _were Consuls at_ +Rome, _the differences betwixt the Senate and people ran so high, that +the_ AEqui _and_ Volsci, _taking advantage of their intestine disorders +ravaged the country to the very gates of_ Rome, _and the Tribunes of the +people forbad the necessary levies of troops to oppose them_. Quinctius, +_a Senator, of great reputation, well beloved, and now in his fourth +consulate, got the better of this opposition, by the following speech._ + +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 AEqui 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 _you_ 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 _us_, you +seize the Aventine hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. + +The enemy is at our gates, the AEsquiline is near being taken, and nobody +stirs to hinder it. But against _us_ you are valiant, against _us_ 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, _then_ at last sally out at the +AEsquiline 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. + +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. + + + + +CAIUS MARIUS _to the_ ROMANS. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +DEMOSTHENES _to the_ ATHENIANS. + +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. + +'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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + + + + +THE PERFECT SPEAKER. + + +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! + + + + +_On the duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious_ + +ROLLIN. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." _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._ + +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." +_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._ + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + + + + +_COLUMBIA._ + +_BY THE REVEREND DR. DWIGHT._ + + + Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, + The queen of the world, and child of the skies! + Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, + While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. + Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, + Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; + Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, + Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy fame. + + To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire; + Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; + Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, + And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. + A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws, + Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause; + On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise; + Extend with the main and dissolve with the skies. + + Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, + And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star, + New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar + To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is no more; + To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd, + Shall fly from all nations, the best of mankind; + Here, grateful to Heaven, with transports shall bring + Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring. + + Nor less, shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, + And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend; + The graces of form shall awake pure desire, + And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire; + Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd, + And virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind, + With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow, + And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. + + Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display, + The nations admire, and the ocean obey; + Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, + And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. + As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, + And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow; + While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd, + Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. + + Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, + From war's dread confusion, I pensively stray'd-- + The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd; + The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd; + Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along, + And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: + "Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, + The queen of the world, and the child of the skies" + + + + +THE CHOICE OF A RURAL LIFE. + +_A POEM_, + +Written by W.L. Esq. Gov. of N.J. + + +_THE ARGUMENT_. + +_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._ + + +PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, &c. + + Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, + Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; + To shining palaces let fools resort, + And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at court: + Mine be the pleasure of a _rural_ life, + From noise remote, and ignorant of strife; + Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau, + The lawless masquerade and midnight show; + From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars, + Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars. + + Full in the centre of some shady grove, + By nature form'd for solitude and love; + On banks array'd with ever-blooming flow'rs, + Near beaut'ous landscapes, or by roseate bow'rs, + My neat, but simple mansion I would raise, + Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days; + Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd, + With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd. + + No costly furniture should grace my hall; + But curling vines ascend against the wall, + Whose pliant branches shou'd luxuriant twine, + While purple clusters swell'd with future wine + To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distill, + From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill. + Along my mansion spiry firs should grow, + And gloomy yews extend the shady row; + + The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise + Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies: + Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs play, + And crouding trees exclude the noon-tide ray; + Whereon the birds their downy nests should form, + Securely shelter'd from the batt'ring storm; + And to melodious notes their choir apply, + Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky: + While all around the enchanting music rings, + And every vocal grove reponsive sings. + + Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses guide, + Where nature wanton's in her virgin pride, + To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flow'rs, + Elysian fields and amaranthian bow'rs; + T' ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills, + To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and funny hills. + + Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms + Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms! + Ye forests hail! ye solitary woods! + Love-whispering groves and silver-streaming floods! + Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale! + Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties hail! + Oh how I long with you to spend my days, + Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays! + + No trumpets there with martial clangor found, + No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground; + No groves of lances glitter in the air, + Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war; + but white-rob'd peace, and universal love + Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry grove, + There all the beauties of the circling year, + In native ornamental pride appear; + Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and _April_ show'rs; + Wake from the womb of earth the rising flow'rs: + In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the plain, + And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden grain; + The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales + Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales: + The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom, + Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume; + On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise. + And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes. + In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous day, + Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay; + From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove, + Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove, + Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades + Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades. + + There from the polish'd fetters of the great, + Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state; + Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves; + Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves; + From all the vain formality of fools, + An odious task of arbitrary rules; + The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy, + The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy, + The visionary bliss the world can lend, + The insidious foe, and false designing friend, + The seven-fold fury of _Xantippe_'s soul, + And _S----_'s rage that burns without controul; + I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene, + Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen. + + Yet not a real hermitage I'd chuse, + Nor wish to live from all the world recluse; + But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul, + In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl. + With cheerful _W----_, serene and wisely gay, + I'd often pass the dancing hours away; + He skill'd alike to profit and to please, + Politely talks with unaffected ease; + Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust, + Mature in science, and severely just; + Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd, + Breathing benevolence to all mankind; + Cautious to censure, ready to commend, + A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: + In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod, + In early youth a minister of God: + Each pupil lov'd him when at _Yale_ he shone, + And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone. + Dear _A----_, too, should grace my rural seat, + Forever welcome to the green retreat: + Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd + His florid genius, and capacious mind: + Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng, + Celestial truths devolving from his tongue; + High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand, + Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand: + With such becoming grace and pompous sound, + With long-rob'd senators encircled round, + Before the Roman bar, while _Rome_ was free, + Nor bow'd to _Caesar's_ throne the servile knee; + Immortal _Tully_ pleads the patriot cause, + While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause. + Next round my board should candid _S----_ appear, + Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere, + Averse to discord party-rage and strife, + He sails serenely down the stream of life. + With these _three friends_ beneath a spreading shade, + Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade; + Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs, + In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hours; + Or gravely talk, or innocently sing, + Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string. + + Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding streams, + _Druids_ and _Bards_ enjoy'd serenest dreams. + Such was the seat where courtly _Horace_ sung: + And his bold harp immortal _Maro_ strung: + Where tuneful _Orpheus_' unresisted lay, + Made rapid tygers bear their rage away; + While groves attentive to th' extatic sound + Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd around. + Such feats the venerable _Seers_ of old + (When blissful years in golden circles roll'd) + Chose and admir'd: e'en Goddesses and Gods + (As poets feign) were fond of such abodes: + Th' imperial consort of fictitious _Jove_, + For fount full _Ida_ forsook the realms above. + Oft to _Idalia_ on a golden cloud, + Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, _Venus_ rode; + The num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd, + And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows prefer'd, + While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train) + With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign. + The silver-shafted _Huntress_ of the woods, + Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods. + In palmy _Delos_, by _Scamander_'s side, + Or when _Cajister_ roll'd his silver tide, + Melodious _Phoebus_ sang; the _Muses round_ + Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound. + E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode, + High thron'd in gold, of Gods the sov'reign God, + Oft time prefer'd the shade of _Ida_'s grove + To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd cups above. + + Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning dawn, + In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn! + Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream, + Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim. + Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs + Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs, + Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow + With all the colours of the show'ry bow + The industrious bees their balmy toil renew, + Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew. + But yonder comes th'illustrious God of day, + Invests the east, and gilds the etherial way; + The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing, + Echo the mountains and the vallies ring. + + Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and fire, + That bids each sable shade of night retire! + Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd, + Darting a deluge of effulgence round! + Wak'd by thy genial and praline ray, + Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay; + Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants revive, + The groves reflourish, and forests live. + Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore + Confesses thy consolidating pow'r: + Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould + The fusile silver and the ductile gold: + Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield + Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field. + If thou so fair with delegated light, + That all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight; + With what effulgence must the ocean glow! + From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow! + Th' exhaustless force whose single smiles supplies, + Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies! + + Oft would I view, in admiration lost, + Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host; + With level'd tube and astronomic eye, + Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky: + Immeasurable vaults! where thunders roll, + And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole. + Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey + Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day, + Th' harmonious structure of this vast machine, + And not confess its Architect divine? + Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be thy soul, + Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl; + Plunge into vice, humanity resign, + Go, fill the stie, and bristle into swine? + + None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise + Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies + He made the whole; at his omnific call, } + From formless chaos rose this spacious ball, } + And one ALMIGHTY GOD is seen in all. } + By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread + With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread. + What countless wonders doth the earth contain! + What countless wonders the unfathom'd main! + Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine, + Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine. + JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round. + In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound; + Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing, + And praise their Maker while they hail the spring: + The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar, + While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore. + But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind, + His Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd; + To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise, + And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise. + + When rising _Phoebus_ ushers in the morn, + And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn: + Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods, + Or the soft music of the waving woods; + Rising from sleep with the melodious quire, + To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre. + Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on my tongue, + Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song: + (Delightful task! with dawning light to sing, + Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.) + Some courteous angel should my breast inspire, + Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire, + While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound, + Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round; + While mazy streams meand'ring to the main + Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly strain; + And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng, + Attentive listen to the tuneful song. + + Father of _Light_! exhaustless source of good! + Supreme, eternal, self-existent God! + Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray, + Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day; + Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd light, + Shone queen amid the silver host of night; + High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord, + By suppliant angels worship'd and ador'd. + With the celestial choir then let me join, + In cheerful praises to the pow'r Divine. + To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! inspire, + A mortal breast with more than mortal fire; + In dreadful majesty thou sit'st enthron'd, + With light encircled, and with glory crown'd; + Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign, + For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain; + But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky, + Thy _Omnipresence_ fills immensity. + Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring, + And radient Martyrs hallelujahs sing: + Heav'n's universal host their voices raise, + In one _eternal chorus_, to thy praise; + And round thy awful throne, with one accord, + Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord. + At thy creative voice, from ancient night, + Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of light: + Thou spak'st--the planetary Chorus roll'd + And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold; + _Let there be light_, said GOD--Light instant shone, + And from the orient, burst the golden Sun; + Heav'n's gazing hierarchies, with glad surprise, + Saw the first morn invest the skies, + And straight th' exulting troops thy throne surround, + With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound: + Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!) + Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains: + _Great are thy works_, they sing, and, all around, + _Great are thy works_, the echoing heav'n's resound. + The effulgent sun, insufferably bright, + Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light; + The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd, + Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world; + Thou bow'st the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod; + Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God; + Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast, + And impious kings in horror breath their last. + To this great God alternately I'd pay, + The evening anthem, and the morning lay. + + For sov'reign _Gold_ I never would repine, + Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine. + What tho' high columns heave into the skies, + Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise; + Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn, + The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn! + Or what, alas! avails the gay attire, + To wretched man, who breathes but to expire! + Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd, + To shew their meanness in the sight of God. + High from a dung-hill, see a _Dives_ rise, + And, _Titan_-like, insult th' avenging skies: + The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord, + By thousands courted, flatter'd, and ador'd: + In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys, + No higher thought his grov'ling foul employs: + The poor he scourges with an iron rod, + And from his bosom banishes his God. + But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom, + Deluded man is fated to the tomb! + For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour flies, + And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes: + Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan, + Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him gone; + His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r, + Deplores his death--yet hails the dying hour. + Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die! + Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy! + His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light, + Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night: + "And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er, + "And cold in death thy bosom beats no more, + "Thy foul exulting shall desert its clay, + "And mount, triumphant, to eternal day." + But to improve the intellectual mind, + Reading should be to contemplation join'd. + First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring, + What muses dictate, and what poets sing.-- + _Virgil_, as Prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown, + And other bards pay homage to his throne; + The blood of heroes now effus'd so long, + Will run forever purple thro' his song. + See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes, + On planets rides, and talks with demi-gods! + How do our ravish'd spirits melt away, + When in his song _Sicilian_ shepherds play! + But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye, + When _Dido_ shines in awful majesty! + Embroider'd purple clad the _Tyrian_ queen, + Her motion graceful, and august her mein; + A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd, + A golden quiver rattled by her waist. + See her proud steed majestically prance, + Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance! + In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, + Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold! + He champs the bitt, and throws the foam around, + Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground. + How stern _AEneas_ thunders thro' the field! + With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield! + Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, + Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain. + Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie, + Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die. + Thro' the thick squadrons see the Hero bound, + (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!) + All grim with rage, he frowns o'er _Turnus'_ head, + (Re-kindled ire! for blooming _Pallas_ dead) + Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade-- + The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade! + + The far-fam'd bards that grac'd _Britannia's_ isle, + Should next compose the venerable pile. + Great _Milton_ first, for tow'ring thought renown'd, + Parent of song, and fam'd the world around! + His glowing breast divine _Urania_ fir'd, + Or GOD himself th' immortal Bard inspir'd. + Borne on triumphant wings he take this flight, + Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light: + In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train, + While warring myriads shake th' etherial plain. + First _Michael_ stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest; + With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest: + Impenetrable arms his limbs unfold, + Eternal adamant, and burning gold! + Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight, + Rebellious _Satan_ animates the fight: + Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke, + All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook, + To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, + _Messiah_ sparkled in refulgent arms; + In radient panoply divinely bright, + His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring light, + On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road + Thunder'd the chariot of thy _Filial_ God; + The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd, + With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd. + Lo! the apostate host, with terror struck, + Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean shook! + Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold, + Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion roll'd; + Till, from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd, + Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal world. + + Then tuneful _Pope_, whom all the nine inspire, + With _saphic_ sweetness, and _pindaric_ fire. + Father of verse! melodious and divine! + Next peerless _Milton_ should distinguish'd shine. + Smooth flow his numbers when he paints the grove, + Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love. + But when the night and hoarse resounding storm, + Rush on the deep, and _Neptune's_ face deform, + Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar + Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore. + But when he sings th' exhilerated swains, + Th' embow'ring groves, and _Windsor's_ blissful plains, + Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene, + Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green: + His lays the verdure of the meads prolong, + And wither'd forests blossom in his song; + _Thames'_ silver streams his flowing verse admire, + And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre. + + Next shou'd appear great _Dryden's_ lofty muse, + For who would _Dryden's_ polish'd verse refuse? + His lips were moisten'd in _Parnassus'_ spring, + And _Phoebus_ taught his _laureat_ son to sing. + How long did _Virgil_ untranslated moan, + His beauties fading, and his flights unknown; + Till _Dryden_ rose, and, in exalted strain, + Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man? + Again the _Trojan_ prince with dire delight, + Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight: + Again _Camilla_ glows with martial fire, + Drives armies back, and makes all _Troy_ retire. + With more than native lustre _Virgil_ shines, + And gains sublimer heights in _Dryden's_ lines. + + The gentle _Watts_, who strings his silver lyre + To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling fire; + Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage, + And mounts yon sparkling worlds with hallow'd rage, + Compels my thoughts to wing the heav'nly road, + And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God; + No fabled _Nine_ harmonious bard! inspire + Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire; + But prompting _Angels_ warm thy boundless rage, + Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page. + Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd, + Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd; + Blest man! from gay delusive scenes remov'd, + Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd; + To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays, + Nor meanly blush to sing _Jehovah's_ praise. + Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight, + To paint _Religion_ in her native light, + Not then with _Plays_ the lab'ring' press would groan, + Nor _Vice_ defy the _Pulpit_ and the _Throne_; + No impious rhymer charm a vicious age, + Nor prostrate _Virtue_ groan beneath their rage: + But themes divine in lofty numbers rise, + Fill the wide earth, and echo through the skies. + + These for _Delight_;--for _Profit_ I would read, + The labour'd volumes of the learned dead: + Sagacious _Locke_, by Providence design'd + T' exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind. + Th' unconquerable _Sage_,[A] whom virtue fir'd, + And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd, + When victor _Caesar_ freed unhappy _Rome_, + From _Pompey's_ chains, to substitute his own. + _Longinius_, _Livy_, fam'd _Thucydides_, + _Quintillian_, _Plato_ and _Demosthenes_, + Persuasive _Tully_, and _Corduba's Sage_,[B] + Who fell by _Nero's_ unrelenting rage; + _Him_[C] whom ungrateful _Athens_ doom'd to bleed, + Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead. + _Raleigh_ I'd read with ever fresh delight, + While ages past rise present to my fight: + Ah man unblest! he foreign realms explor'd, + Then fell a victim to his country's sword! + Nor should great _Derham_ pass neglected by, } + Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye } + Nature's stupendous works expanded lie. } + + Nor he, _Britannia_, thy unmatch'd renown! + (Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown) + Who on the solar orb uplifted rode, + And scan'd th' unfathomable works of God, + Who bound the silver planets to their spheres, + And trac'd th' elliptic curve of blazing stars! + _Immortal Newton_; whole illustrious name + Will shine on records of eternal fame. + + [Footnote A: Cato.] + + [Footnote B: Seneca.] + + [Footnote C: Socrates.] + + By love directed, I wou'd choose a wife, + T' improve my bliss and ease the load of life. + Hail _Wedlock!_ hail, inviolable tye! + Perpetual fountain of domestic joy! + Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight, + Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite. + In _Eden_ first the holy state begun, + When perfect innocence distinguish'd man; + The human pair, th' Almighty Pontiff led, + Gay as the morning to the bridal bed; + A dread solemnity th' espousals grac'd, + _Angels_ the _Witnesses_, and GOD the PRIEST! + All earth exulted on the nuptial hour, + And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r! + The joyous birds, on ev'ry blossom'd spray, + Sung _Hymenians_ to th' important day, + While _Philomela_ swell'd the sponsal song, + And Paradise with gratulations rung. + + Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find + A blooming virgin with an angel mind, + Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin quire + That fed, _O Rome!_ thy consecrated fire; + By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good, + Averse to vice, and zealous for her God? + Relate, in what blest region can I find + Such bright perfections in a female mind? + What _Phoenix_-woman breathes the vital air, + So greatly greatly good, and so divinely fair? + Sure, not the gay and fashionable train, + Licentious, proud, immoral and prophane; + Who spend their golden hours in antic dress, + Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease.-- + + Lo! round the board a shining train appears, + In rosy beauty, and in prime of years! + _This_ hates a flounce, and _this_ a flounce approves, + _This_ shews the trophies of her former loves; + _Polly_ avers that _Sylvia_ dress in green, + When last at church the gaudy Nymph was seen; + _Chloe_ condemns her optics, and will lay + 'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey; + _Lucy_ invested with judicial pow'r, + Awards 'twas neither--and the strife is o'er. + + Then parrots, lap-dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaus, + Fans, ribbands, tuckers, patches, furbaloes, + In quick succession, thro' their fancies run, + And dance incessant on the flippant tongue. + And when fatigued with ev'ry other sport, + The belles prepare to grace the sacred court, + They marshal all their forces in array, + To kill with glances and destroy in play. + Two skilful _maids_, with reverential fear, + In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair; + Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples pour + The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial show'r; + One pulls the shape-creating stays, and one + Encircles round her waist the golden zone: + Not with more toil t' improve immortal charms, + Strove _Juno_, _Venus_, and the _Queen of Arms_, + When _Priam's_ Son adjudg'd the golden prize + To the resistless beauty of the skies. + At length equip'd in love's enticing arms, + With all that glitters and with all that charms, + Th' ideal goddesses to church repair, + Peep thro' the fan and mutter o'er a pray'r, + Or listen to the organ's pompous sound, + Or eye the gilded images around; + Or, deeply studied in coquetish rules, + Aim wily glances at unthinking fools; + Or shew the lilly hand with graceful air, + Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair: + And when the hated discipline is o'er, + And _Misses_ tortur'd with _Repent_ no more, + They mount the pictur'd coach, and to the play + The celebrated idols hie away. + + Not so the _Lass_ that shou'd my joys improve, + With solid friendship, and connubial love: + A native bloom, with intermingled white, + Should set features in a pleasing light; + Like _Helen_ flushing with unrival'd charms. + When raptur'd _Paris_ darted in her arms. + But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek, + A downy bosom, or a snowy neck! + Charms ill supply the want of innocence, + Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence: + But in her breast let moral beauties shine, + Supernal grace and purity divine: + Sublime her reason, and her native wit + Unstrain'd with pedantry and low conceit; + Her fancy lively, and her judgment free, + From female prejudice and bigotry: + Averse to idle pomp, and outward show, + The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau. + + The fop's impertinence she should despise, + Tho' _sorely wounded by her radient eyes_; + But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind + By learning polish'd, and by wit refin'd, + Who all her virtues, without guile, commends, + And all her faults as freely reprehends. + Soft _Hymen's_ rites her passion should approve, + And in her bosom glow the flames of love: + To me her foul, by sacred friendship turn, + And I, for her, with equal friendship burn; + In ev'ry stage of life afford relief, + Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief; + Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful road, + Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode; + Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n, + Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heav'n. + This be the partner, this the lovely wife + That should embellish and prolong my life; + A nymph! who might a second fall inspire, + And fill a glowing _Cherub_ with desire! + With her I'd spend the pleasurable day, + While fleeting minutes gaily danc'd away: + With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green, + Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene, + Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs, + Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs, + Imparadis'd within my eager arms, + I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms: + Oft on her panting bosom would I lay, + And, in dissolving raptures, melt away; + Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest, + My blooming fair should slumber at my breast. + + And when decrepid age (frail mortals doom!) + Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb, + No warbling _Syrens_ should retard my flight, + To heav'nly mansions of unclouded light; + Tho' death, with his imperial horrors crown'd, + Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd, + Offences pardon'd, and remitted sin, + Should form a calm serenity within: + Blessing my _natal_ and my _mortal_ hour, + (My soul committed to th' eternal pow'r) + Inexorable death should smile, for I, + Who _knew_ to LIVE, would never _fear_ to DIE. + + + + +HYMNS + + +HYMN I. + + Begin the high celestial strain, + My ravish'd soul, and sing, + A solemn hymn of grateful praise + To heav'n's Almighty King. + Ye curling fountains, as ye roll + Your silver waves along, + Whisper to all your verdant shores + The subject of my song. + Retain it long y' echoing rocks, + The sacred sound retain, + And from your hollow winding caves + Return it oft again. + Bear it, ye winds, on all your wings, + To distant climes away, + And round the wide extended world + My lofty theme convey. + Take the glad burden of his name, + Ye clouds, as you arise, + Whether to deck the golden morn, + Or shade the ev'ning skies. + Let harmless thunders roll along + The smooth etherial plain, + And answer from the crystal vault + To ev'ry flying strain. + Long let it warble round the spheres, + And echo through the sky, + Till Angels, with immortal skill, + Improve the harmony. + While I, with sacred rapture fir'd, + The blest Creator sing, + And warble consecrated lays + To heav'n's Almighty King. + + +HYMN II--ON HEAVEN. + + Hail sacred Salem! plac'd on high, + Seat of the mighty King! + What thought can grasp thy boundless bliss, + What tongue thy glories sing? + Thy crystal tow'rs and palaces + Magnificently rise, + And dart their beaut'ous lustre round + The empyrean skies. + The voice of triumph in thy streets + And acclamations found, + Gay banquets in thy splendid courts + And purest joys abound. + Bright smiles on ev'ry face appear, + Rapture in ev'ry eye; + From ev'ry mouth glad anthems flow, + And charming harmony. + Illustrious day for ever there, + Streams from the face divine; + No pale-fac'd moon e'er glimmers forth, + Nor stars nor sun decline. + No scorching heats, no piercing colds, + The changing seasons bring; + But o'er the fields mild breezes there + Breathe an eternal spring. + The flow'rs with lasting beauty shine, + And deck the smiling ground, + While flowing streams of pleasures all + The happy plains surround. + + +HYMN III.--THE CREATION. + + Now let the spacious world arise, + Said the creator Lord: + At once th' obedient earth and skies + Rose at his sov'reign word. + Dark was the deep, the waters lay + Confus'd, and drown'd the land; + He call'd the light, the new-born day + Attends on his command. + He bids the clouds ascend on high; + The clouds ascend, and bear + A wat'ry treasure to the sky, + And float on softer air. + The liquid element below, + Was gather'd by his hand; + The rolling seas together flow, + And leave a solid land: + With herbs and plants (a flow'ry birth) + The naked globe he crown'd, + Ere there was rain to bless the earth, + Or sun to warm the ground. + Then he adorn'd the upper skies, + Behold the sun appears, + The moon and stars in order rise, + To mark our months and years. + Out of the deep th' Almighty King + Did vital beings frame, + And painted fowls of ev'ry wing, + And fish of ev'ry name, + He gave the lion and the worm + At once their wond'rous birth; + And grazing beasts of various form + Rose from the teeming earth. + Adam was form'd of equal clay, + The sov'reign of the rest; + Design'd for nobler ends than they, + With God's own image blest. + Thus glorious in the Maker's eye, + The young Creation stood; + He saw the building from on high, + His word pronounc'd it good. + + +THE LORD'S PRAYER. + + Father of all! we bow to thee, + Who dwells in heav'n ador'd; + But present still thro' all thy works, + The universal Lord. + All hallow'd be thy sacred name, + O'er all the nations known; + Advance the kingdom of thy grace, + And let thy glory come. + A grateful homage may we yield, + With hearts resigned to thee; + And as in heav'n thy will is done, + On earth so let it be. + From day to day we humbly own + The hand that feeds us still; + Give us our bread, and we may rest + Contented in thy will. + Our sins and trespasses we own; + O may they be forgiv'n! + That mercy we to others shew, + We pray the like from Heav'n. + Our life let still thy grace direct, + From evil guard our way, + And in temptation's fatal path + Permit us not to stray. + For thine the pow'r, the kingdom thine, + All glory's due to thee: + Thine from eternity they were, + And thine shall ever be. + + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.--_BY MR. POPE_. + + Father of all, in ev'ry age, + In ev'ry clime ador'd; + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. + Thou great First Cause, least understood; + Who all my sense confin'd, + To know but this, that thou art good, + And that myself am blind: + Yet gave me in this dark estate, + To see the good from ill; + And binding Nature fast in fate, + Left free the human Will. + What conscience dictates to be done, + Or warns me not to do, + This, teach me more than hell to shun, + That, more than heav'n pursue. + What blessings thy free bounty gives; + Let me not cast away; + For God is paid when man receives, + T' enjoy is to obey. + Yet not to earth's contracted span + Thy goodness let me bound, + Or think thee Lord alone of Man, + When thousand worlds are round: + Let not this weak unknowing hand + Presume thy bolts to throw, + And deal damnation round the land, + On each I judge thy foe. + If I am right, thy grace impart, + Still in the right to stay; + If I am wrong, O teach my heart + To find that better way. + Save me alike from foolish pride, + Or impious discontent, + At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, + Or aught thy goodness lent. + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others shew, + That mercy show to me. + Mean though I am, not wholly so, + Since quicken'd by thy breath; + Oh lead me wheresoe'er I go, + Through this day's life or death. + This day be bread and peace my lot: + All else beneath the sun, + Thou knowst if best bestow'd or not, + And let thy will be done. + To thee, whose temple is all space, + Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! + One chorus let all being raise! + All nature's incense rise! + + + + +CHARACTER OF MAN. + + Know then thyself; presume not God to scan + The proper study of mankind, is man. + Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, + A being darkly wise, and rudely great; + With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, + With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, + He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; + In doubt, to deem himself a God, or beast; + In doubt, his mind or body to prefer; + Born, but to die; and reas'ning, but to err: + Alike in ignorance, his reason such, + Whether he thinks too little or too much: + Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd; + Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd: + Created, half to rise, and half to fall; + Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all: + Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; + The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! + + + + +WINTER. + + See! Winter comes, to rule the varied year, + Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, + Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme; + These, that exalt the soul to solemn thought, + And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms! + Congenial horrors, hail! With frequent foot, + Pleas'd, have I, in my cheerful morn of life, + When, nurs'd by careless solitude, I liv'd, + And sung of nature with unceasing joy. + Pleas'd, have I wand'red through your rough domain; + Trod the pure virgin snows, myself as pure; + Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; + Or seen the deep fermenting tempest brew'd + In the grim evening sky. Thus pass the time, + Till, through the lucid chambers of the south, + Look'd out the joyous spring, look'd out, and smil'd. + + + + +DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. + + My name is Norval. On the Grampian Hills + My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain, + Whose constant cares were to increase his store, + And keep his only son, myself, at home. + For I had heard of battles, and I long'd + To follow to the field some warlike lord: + And heav'n soon granted what my sire deny'd. + This moon, which rose last night, round as my shield, + Had not yet fill'd her horns, when by her light, + A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills + Rush'd, like a torrent, down upon the vale, + Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled + For safety and for succour. I alone, + With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, + Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd + The road he took; then hasted to my friends; + Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, + I met advancing. The pursuit I led, + Till we o'ertook the spoil encumber'd foe. + We fought--and conquer'd. Ere a sword was drawn, + An arrow, from my bow, had pierc'd their chief, + Who wore, that day, the arms which now I wear. + Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd + The shepherd's slothful life: and having heard + That our good king had summon'd his bold peers, + To lead their warriors to the Carron side, + I left my father's house, and took with me + A chosen servant to conduct my steps-- + Yon trembling coward who forsook his master. + Journeying with this intent, I pass'd these towers; + And, heaven directed, came this day, to do + The happy deed, that gilds my humble name. + + + + +DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF THE MANNER IN WHICH HE LEARNED THE ART OF WAR. + + Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote + And inaccessible by shepherds trod, + In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, + A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man, + Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains, + Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, + Did they report him; the cold earth his bed, + Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. + I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd + With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake, + And, entering on discourse, such stories told, + As made me oft revisit his sad cell. + For he had been a soldier in his youth, + And fought in famous battles, when the peers + Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, + Against th' usurping infidel display'd + The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. + Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire + His speech struck from me; the old man would shake + His years away, and act his young encounters. + Then having shewn his wounds; he'd sit him down. + And all the live long day, discourse of war. + To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf + He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts: + Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use + Of the deep column and lengthen'd line, + The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm; + For, all that Saracen or Christian knew + Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. + Unhappy man! + Returning homeward by Messina's port, + Loaded with wealth and honours bravely won, + A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea + Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought; + The stranger fell, and with his dying breath, + Declar'd his name and lineage! Mighty God! + The soldier cry'd, my brother! Oh! my brother! + They exchanged forgiveness: + And happy, in my mind, was he that died; + For many deaths has the survivor suffer'd, + In the wild desart on a rock he sits, + Or on some nameless stream's untrodden banks, + And ruminates all day his dreadful fate. + At times, alas! not in his perfect mind! + Hold's dialogues with his lov'd brother's ghost; + And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch, + To make sad orisons for him he slew. + + + + +BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. + + In ancient times, as story tells, + The saints would often leave their cells, + And stroll about; but hide their quality, + To try good people's hospitality. + + It happened, on a winter night, + As authors on the legend write, + Two brother hermits, saints by trade; + Taking their tour in masquerade, + Disguis'd in tattered habits, went + To a small village down in Kent; + Where, in the stroller's canting strain, + They begg'd from door to door, in-vain; + Tri'd every tone might pity win, + But not a soul would let them in. + + Our wandering saints, in woeful state, + Treated at this ungodly rate, + Having through all the village pass'd, + To a small cottage came at last, + Where dwelt a good old honest yoeman, + Call'd in the neighbourhood, Philemon; + Who kindly did these saints invite + In his poor hut to pass the night; + And, then, the hospitable sire + Bid goody Baucis mend the fire; + While he, from out the chimney, took + A flitch of bacon off the hook, + And, freely from the fattest side, + Cut out large slices to be fry'd: + Then stept aside, to fetch them drink, + Fill'd a large jug up to the brink; + Then saw it fairly twice go round; + Yet (what is wonderful) they found, + 'Twas still replenish'd to the top, + As if they had not touch'd a drop. + + The good old couple were amaz'd, + And often on each other gaz'd; + For both were frighten'd to the heart, + And just began to cry--What art! + Then softly turn'd aside to view, + Whether the lights were turning blue, + The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't, + Told them their calling and their errand; + "Good folks you need not be afraid; + "We are but saints," the hermit said; + "No hurt shall come to you or yours; + "But for that pack of churlish boors, + "Not fit to live on Christian ground, + "They, and their houses shall be drown'd; + "While you see your cottage rise, + "And grow a church before your eyes." + + They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft, + The roof began to move aloft; + Aloft rose every beam and rafter; + The heavy wall climb'd slowly after. + The chimney widen'd, and grew higher, + Became a steeple with a spire. + The kettle to the top was hoist; + With upside down, doom'd there to dwell, + 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell. + A wooden jack, which had almost + Lost, by disuse, the art to roast, + A sudden alteration feels, + Increas'd by new intestine wheels; + And strait against the steeple rear'd, + Became a clock, and still adher'd; + And, now, in love to household cares, + By a shrill voice the hour declares, + Warning the housemaid not to burn + The roast-meat which it cannot turn. + The easy chair began to crawl, + Like a huge snail along the wall; + There, stuck aloft in public view, + And, with small change, a pulpit grew. + A bed-stead of the antique mode, + Made up of timber many a load, + Such as our ancestors did use, + Was metamorphos'd into pews: + Which still their ancient nature keep, + By lodging folks dispos'd to sleep. + + The cottage by such feats as these, + Grown to a church by just degrees, + The hermits then desir'd their host + Old goodman Dobson of the green, + Remembers, he the trees has seen; + He'll talk of them from morn to night, + And goes with folks to shew the sight. + On Sundays, after ev'ning prayer, + He gathers all the parish there; + Points out the place of either yew: + "Here Baucis, there Philemon grew; + "Till, once, a parson of our town, + "To mend his barn, cut Baucis down; + "At which, 'tis hard to be believ'd; + "How much the other tree was griev'd; + "Grew scrubby, died a-top, was stunted; + "So the next parson stubb'd, and burnt it." + + + + +ON HAPPINESS. + + Oh happiness! our being's end and aim; + Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er they name, + That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, + For which we bear to live, or dare to die: + Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, + O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise: + Plant of celestial seed! if drop'd below, + Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow: + Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine; + Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine? + Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, + Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field? + Where grows? where grows it not? If vain our toil, + We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. + Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere? + 'Tis no where to be found, or every where. + + Order is heaven's first law: and this confest, + Some are, and must be, greater than the rest; + More rich, more wise. But, who infers from hence + That such are happier, shocks all common sense; + Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, + If all are equal in their happiness. + But mutual wants this happiness increase; + All natures difference keeps all natures peace. + Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; + Bliss is the same, in subject, or in king; + In who obtain defence, or who defend; + In him who is, or him who finds a friend. + + Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, + And these be happy call'd, unhappy those; + But heaven's just balance equal will appear, + While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear; + Nor present good or ill, the joy or curse, + But future views of better, or of worse. + + Oh sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, + By mountains pil'd on, mountains, to the skies? + Heaven still, with laughter, the vain toil surveys, + And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. + + Know, all the good that individuals find, + Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, + Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, + Lie in three words--Health, Peace, and Competence. + + + + +SPEECH OF ADAM TO EVE. + + Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime + Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, + When Adam wak'd; so custom'd; for his sleep + Was airy light, from pure digestion bred, + And temperate vapours bland, which the only found + Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, + Lightly dispers'd, and the thrill matin song + Of birds on ev'ry bough. So much the more + His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve + With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek. + As through unquiet rest. He, on his side + Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial love, + Hung over her enamour'd; and beheld + Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, + Shot forth peculiar graces. Then, with voice + Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, + Her hand soft touching, whispered thus; "Awake, + "My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found: + "Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight, + "Awake!--The morning shines, and the fresh field + "Calls us. We lose the prime; to mark how spring + "Our tended plants; how blows the citron grove: + "What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed; + "How nature paints her colours; how the bee + "Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet." + + + + +SOLILOQUY AND PRAYER OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE, BEFORE THE BATTLE OF +POICTIERS. + + The hour advances, the decisive hour, + That lifts me to the summit of renown, + Or leaves me on the earth a breathless corse, + The buzz and bustle of the field before me; + The twang of bow-strings, and the clash of spears: + With every circumstance of preparation; + Strike with an awful horror!--Shouts are echo'd, + To drown dismay, and blow up resolution + Even to its utmost swell.--From hearts so firm, + Whom dangers fortify, and toils inspire, + What has a leader not to hope! And, yet, + The weight of apprehension sinks me down-- + "O, soul of Nature! great eternal cause, + "Who gave, and govern's all that's here below! + "'Tis by the aid of thy almighty arm + "The weak exist, the virtuous are secure. + "If, to your sacred laws obedient ever + "My sword, my soul, have own'd no other guide, + "Oh! if your honour, if the rights of men, + "My country's happiness, my king's renown, + "Were motives worthy of a warrior's zeal, + "Crown your poor servant with success this day: + "And be the praise and glory all thy own." + + + + +INVOCATION TO PARADISE LOST. + + Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit + Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste + Brought death into the world, and all our woe, + With loss of Eden, till one greater man + Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, + Sing heav'nly muse! that on the sacred top + Of Oreb, or of Sinai, did'st inspire + That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, + In the beginning, how the heav'ns and earth + Rose out of chaos: or, if Sion hill + Delight thee more, and Silo's book that flow'd. + Fast by the oracle of God; I thence + Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song, + That, with no middle flight, intends to soar + Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues + Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme + And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost prefer + Before all temples, th' upright heart and pure, + Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou, from the first, + Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread, + Dove-like sat'st brooding o'er the vast abyss, + And mad'st it pregnant; what in me is dark, + Illumine: what is low, raise and support; + That, to the height of this great argument, + I may assert eternal providence, + And justify the ways of God to men. + + + + +MORNING HYMN. + + These are thy glorious works, Parent of good! + Almighty! thine this universal frame, + Thus wond'rous fair: thyself, how wond'rous, then, + Unspeakable! who fit'st above these heav'ns, + To us invisible, or dimly seen + In these thy lowest works; yet these declare + Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine-- + Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, + Angels!--for ye behold him, and, with songs + And choral symphonies, day without night, + Circle his throne, rejoicing. Ye in heav'n!-- + On earth, join all ye creatures, to extol + Him first, him last, him midst, and without end, + Fairest of stars! last in the train of night, + If better then, belong not to the dawn, + Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn + With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, + While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. + Thou fun! of this great world both eye and foul, + Acknowledge him thy greater: found his praise + In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, + And when high noon has gain'd, and when thou fall'st, + Moon! that now meet'st the orient fun, now fly'st + With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies; + And ye five other wand'ring fires! that move + In mystic dance, not without song; resound + His praise, who out of darkness, call'd up light. + Air, and ye elements! the eldest birth + Of nature's womb, that, in quaternion, run + Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix + And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change + Vary, to our great Maker, still new praise, + Ye mists and exhalations! that now rise + From hill or streaming lake, dusky or grey, + Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, + In honour to the world's great Author, rise; + Whether to deck with clouds, th' uncolour'd sky, + Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs, + Rising, or falling, still advance his praise. + His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters blow, + Breathe soft or loud! and wave your tops, ye pines! + With ev'ry plant, in sign of worship, wave, + Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow, + Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise.--- + Join voices, all ye living souls. Ye birds, + That, singing, up to heaven-gate ascend, + Bear, on your wings, and in your notes, his praise.-- + Ye, that in waters glide! and ye, that walk + The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep! + Witness, if I be silent, morn or ev'n, + To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, + Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.-- + Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still, + To give us only good: and, if the night + Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd-- + Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. + + + + +THE HERMIT.--_BY DR. BEATIE_. + + At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, + And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove; + When nought, but the torrent, is heard on the hill; + And nought, but the, nightingale's song, in the grove; + 'Twas then, by the cave of the fountain afar; + A hermit his song of the night thus began; + No more with himself, or with nature at war, + He thought as a sage, while he felt as a man. + + 'Ah! why thus abandon'd to darkness and woe? + 'Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain? + 'For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, + 'And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. + 'Yet, if pity inspire thee, ah! cease not thy lay; + 'Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; + 'Oh! soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away, + 'Full quickly they pass--but they never return. + + 'Now, gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, + 'The moon, half extinguish'd, her crescent displays; + 'But lately I mark'd; when majestic: on high + 'She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. + 'Roll on, thou fair orb! and with; gladness pursue + 'The path that conducts thee to splendor again-- + 'But man's faded glory no change shall renew: + 'Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain. + + ''Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; + 'I mourn; but ye woodlands! I mourn not for you: + 'For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, + 'Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. + 'Nor, yet, for the ravage of winter I mourn; + 'Kind nature the embryo blossom will save-- + 'But, when shall spring visit the mould'ring urn? + 'O! when shall it dawn on the night of the grave!' + + 'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd, + That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind; + My thoughts want to roam, from shade onward to shade, + Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. + 'O! pity, great father of light!' then I cry'd, + 'Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee; + Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride: + From doubt, and from darkness, thou only canst free.' + + And darkness, and doubt, are now flying away, + No longer I roam, in conjecture forlorn, + So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, + The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. + See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, + And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! + On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending, + And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb, + + + + +COMPASSION. + + Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, + Whole trembling limbs have borne him to your door; + Whole days are dwindled to the shortest span, + Oh! give relief and heav'n will bless your store, + These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak, + Those hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; + And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek + Has been the channel to a flood of tears. + You house erected on the rising ground, + With tempting aspect, drew me from my road, + For plenty there a residence has found, + And grandeur a magnificent abode. + Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor! + Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their bread, + A pamper'd menial drove me from the door, + To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. + Oh! take me to your hospitable dome; + Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold: + Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, + For I am poor and miserably old. + Should I reveal the sources of my grief, + If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, + Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, + And tears of pity would not be represt. + Heav'n sends misfortunes; why should we repine? + 'Tis heav'n has brought me to the state you see; + And your condition may be soon like mine, + The child of sorrow and of misery. + A little farm was my paternal lot, + Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the morn: + But, ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot, + My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. + My daughter, once the comfort of my age, + Lur'd by a villain from her native home, + Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide stage, + And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. + My tender wife, sweet soother of my care, + Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, + Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to despair, + And left the world to wretchedness and me. + + Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, + Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door; + Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, + Oh! give relief, and heav'n will bless your store. + + + + +ADVANTAGES OF PEACE. + + Oh, first of human blessings and supreme, + Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful, thou! + By whose wide tie, the kindred sons of men, + brothers live, in amity combin'd, + And unsuspicious faith: while honest toil + Gives ev'ry joy; and, to those joys, a right, + Which idle barbarous rapine but usurps. + Pure is thy reign; when, unaccurs'd by blood, + Nought, save the sweetness of indulgent show'rs, + Trickling, distils into the vernant glebe; + Instead of mangled carcases, sad scene! + When the blythe sheaves lie scatter'd o'er the field; + When only shining shares, the crooked knife, + And hooks imprint the vegetable wound; + When the land blushes with the rose alone, + The falling fruitage, and the bleeding vine. + Oh! peace! then source and soul of social life! + Beneath whose calm inspiring influence, + Science his views enlarges, art refines, + And swelling commerce opens all her ports-- + Bless'd be the man divine, who gives us thee! + Who bids the trumpet hush its horrid clang, + Nor blow the giddy nations into rage; + Who sheathes the murd'rous blade; the deadly gun + Into the well-pil'd armory returns; + And, ev'ry vigour from the work of death + To grateful industry converting, makes + The country flourish, and the city smile! + Unviolated, him the virgin sings; + And him, the smiling mother, to her train. + Of him, the Shepherd, in the peaceful dale, + Chaunts; and the treasures of his labour sure, + The husbandman, of him, as at the plough, + Or team, he toils. With him, the Tailor soothes, + Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave; + And the full city, warm, from street to street, + And shop to shop, responsive rings of him. + Nor joys one land alone: his praise extends, + Far as the sun rolls the diffusive day; + Far as the breeze can bear the gifts of peace; + Till all the happy nations catch the song. + + + + +PROGRESS OF LIFE. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts; + His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, + Mewling and puking in his nurse's arms; + And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel, + And shining morning face, creeping like snail + Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover, + Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad + Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier + Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, + Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, + Seeking the bubble reputation, + Ev'n in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice, + In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd; + With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, + Full of wise saws and modern instances, + And so he plays his part. The sixth age foists + Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side. + His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide + For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice + Turning again towards childish treble, pipes. + And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all + That ends this strange eventful history, + Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; + Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. + + + + +_SPEECHES IN THE ROMAN SENATE_. + + CATO.--Fathers! we once again are met in council. + Caesar's approach, has summon'd us together, + And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. + How shall we treat this bold aspiring man? + Success still follows him, and backs his crimes, + Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has since + Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's. + Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, + And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands + Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decree + What course to take. Our foe advances on us, + And envies us ev'n Lybia's sultry deserts. + Fathers, pronounce your thoughts. Are they still fix'd + To hold it out and fight it to the last? + Or, are your hearts subdu'd, at length, and wrought; + By time and ill success, to a submission?-- + Sempronius, speak. + + SEMPRONIUS.--My voice is still for war. + Gods! can a Roman senate long debate + Which of the two to chuse, slav'ry or death? + No--let us rise at once; gird on our swords; + And, at the head of our remaining troops, + Attack the foe; break through the thick array + Of his throng'd legions; and charge home upon him. + Perhaps, some arm, more lucky than the rest, + May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. + Rise, Fathers, rise! 'Tis Rome demands your help; + Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens, + Or share their fate! The corpse of half her senate + Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we + Sit here, delib'rating' hi told debates, + If we should sacrifice our lives to honour, + Or wear them out in servitude and chains. + Rouse up, for shame: Our brothers of Pharsalia + Point at their wounds, and cry aloud--to battle! + Great Pompey's shade complains that we are flow; + And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us! + + CATO.--Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal + Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason. + True fortitude is seen in great exploits, + That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides; + All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction. + Are not the lives of those who draw the sword + In Rome's defence, entrusted to our care? + Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, + Might not th' impartial world, with reason, say + We lavish'd, at our deaths, the blood of thousands; + To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious? + Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. + + LUCIUS.--My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace, + Already have our quarrels fill'd the world + With widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns + Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions + Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. + 'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare mankind, + It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers! + The gods declare against us, and repel + Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, + (Prompted by a blind revenge and wild despair) + Were, to refuse th' awards of providence, + And not to rest in heav'n's determination. + Already have we shewn our love to Rome; + Now, let us shew submission to the gods. + We took up arms not to revenge ourselves, + But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, + Arms have no further use. Our country's cause, + That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands, + And bids us not delight in Roman blood + Unprofitably shed. What men could do + Is done already. Heav'n and earth will witness, + If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. + + CATO--Let us appear, not rash, nor diffident, + Immoderate valour swells into a fault; + And fear, admitted into public councils, + Betray like treason. Let us shun 'em both.-- + Father's, I cannot see that our affairs + Are grown thus desp'rate. We have bulwarks round us; + Within our walls, are troops inur'd to toil + In Afric heats, and season'd to the sun. + Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, + Ready to rise at its young prince's call. + While there is hope, do not distrust the gods: + But wait, at least, till Caesar's near approach + Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late + To sue for chains, and own a conqueror. + Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time? + No--let us draw our term of freedom out + In its full length, and spin it to the last: + So shall we gain still one day's liberty. + And, let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment, + A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, + Is worth a whole eternity of bondage. + +CATO, solus, _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_. + + It must be so--Plato, thou reason'st well!-- + Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, + This longing after immortality? + Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, + Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul + Back on herself, and startles at destruction? + 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; + 'Tis heav'n itself, that points out--an hereafter, + And intimates--eternity to man. + Eternity!--thou pleasing--dreadful thought! + Through what variety of untry'd beings, + Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! + The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me-- + But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.-- + Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us, + (And that there is all nature cries aloud + Through all her works) he must delight in virtue; + And that which he delights in must be happy. + But, when! or where! this world--was made for Caesar. + I'm weary of conjectures--this must end 'em. + [_Laying his hand on his sword_. + + Thus am I doubly arm'd; my death and life, + My bane and antidote are both before me: + This, in a moment, brings me to an end; + But this informs me I shall never die. + The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles + At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. + The stars shall fade away, the sun himself + Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; + But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, + Unhurt amid the war of elements, + The wrecks of matter; and the crush of worlds. + What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? + This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? + Nature oppress'd, and harrass'd out with care; + Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her; + That my awaken'd soul may take her flight, + Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life; + An offering fit for Heav'n. Let guilt or fear + Disturb man's rest; Cato knows neither of 'em; + Indiff'rent in his choice, to sleep or die. + + + + +HAMLET'S MEDITATION ON DEATH. + + To be--or not to be!--that is the question.-- + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer + The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune; + Or to take arms against a siege of troubles, + And, by opposing, end them?--To die--to sleep-- + No more;--and, by a sleep, to say we end + The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to--'tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die--to sleep-- + To sleep--perchance to dream--aye, there's the rub.-- + For, in that sleep of death what dreams may come; + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil; + Must give us pause.--There's the respect + That makes calamity of so long a life + For, who would bear the whips and scorns o' th' time, + Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office, and the spurns + That patient merit of the unworthy takes; + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, + To groan and sweat under a weary life; + But that the dread of something after death + (That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne + No traveller returns) puzzles the will; + And makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others that we know not of; + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprizes of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn away, + And lose the name of action. + + + + +SELECT PASSAGES FROM DRAMATIC WRITERS, EXPRESSIVE OF THE _PRINCIPAL +EMOTIONS AND PASSIONS_. + + + + +JOY. + + Then is Orestes blest! My griefs are fled! + Fled like a dream! Methinks I tread in air!-- + Surprising happiness! unlook'd for joy! + Never let love despair! The prize is mine!-- + Be smooth, ye seas! and, ye propitious winds, + Blow from Epirus to the Spartan coast! + + + + +GRIEF. + + I'll go; and in the anguish of my heart--- + Weep o'er my child--If he must die, my life + Is wrapt in his; I shall not long survive. + 'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd life; + Groan'd in captivity; and outliv'd Hector.-- + Yes, my Astyanax! we'll go together; + Together--to the realms of night we'll go. + + + + +PITY. + + Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how, at last, + Thy beauties, Belvidera, like a wretch + That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping forth, + Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she lean'd, + Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew sad! + E'en the lewd rabble, that were gather'd round + To see the sight, stood mute when they beheld her, + Govern'd their roaring throats--and grumbled pity. + + + + +FEAR. + + Come on, Sir,--here's the place--stand still,-- + How fearful 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! + The crows and coughs, that whig the midway air, + Shew scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down, + Hangs one that gathers samphire--dreadful trade! + Methinks he seems no bigger than one's head, + The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, + Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark + Seems lesson'd to a cock; her cock, a buoy + Almost too small for fight. The murmuring surge; + That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chases, + Cannot be heard so high.--I'll look no more, + Lest my brain turn and the disorder make me + Tumble down headlong. + + + + +AWE AND FEAR. + + Now, all is hush'd and still as death-- + How reverend is the face of this tall pile, + Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, + To bear aloft its arch'd and pond'rous roof, + By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable, + Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe + And terror on my aking sight. The tombs, + And monumental caves of death look cold, + And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. + Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice-- + Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear + Thy voice--my own affrights me with its echoes. + + + + +HORROR. + + Hark!--the death-denouncing trumpet founds + The fatal charge, and shouts proclaim the onset. + Destruction rushes dreadful to the field, + And bathes itself in blood. Havock, let loose. + Now, undistinguish'd, rages all around; + While Ruin, seated on her dreary throne, + Sees the plain strew'd, with subjects truly her's, + Breathless and cold. + + + + +ANGER. + + Hear me, rash man; on thy allegiance hear me, + Since thou hast striven to make us break our vow, + Which, nor our nature, nor our place can bear, + We banish thee forever from our sight + And kingdom. If, when three days are expir'd, + Thy hated trunk be found in our dominions, + That moment is thy death---Away! + + + + +REVENGE. + + 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. + + + + +ADMIRATION. + + What find I here? + Fair Portia's counterfeit?--What demi-god + Hath come so near creation! Move these eyes! + Or, whether, riding on the balls of mine, + Seem they in motion?--Here are sever'd lips, + Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar + Should sunder such sweet friends.--Here, in her hair, + The painter plays the spider, and hath woven + A golden mesh, t' entrap the hearts of men + Falter than gnats in cobwebs.--But her eyes-- + How could he see to do them! having made one, + Methinks it should have power to steal both his, + And leave itself unfinish'd! + + + + +HAUGHTINESS. + + Make thy demands to those that own thy power! + Know, I am still beyond thee. And tho' fortune + Has strip'd me of this train, this pomp of greatness; + This outside of a king, yet still my soul, + Fix'd high, and on herself alone dependant, + Is ever free and royal: and, even now, + As at the head of battle--does defy thee! + + + + +CONTEMPT. + + Away! no woman could descend so low, + A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are; + Fit only for yourselves. You herd together; + And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts, + You talk of beauties that you never saw, + And fancy raptures that you never knew. + + + + +RESIGNATION. + + Yet, yet endure--nor murmur, O my foul! + For, are not thy transgressions great and numberless? + Do they not cover thee, like rising floods? + And press then, like a weight of waters, down? + Does not the hand of righteousness afflict thee? + And who shall plead against it? who shall say + To Pow'r Almighty, Thou hast done enough; + Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance it stay?-- + Wait, then, with patience, till the circling hours + Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest + And lay thee down in death. + + + + +IMPATIENCE. + + Oh! rid me of this torture, quickly there, + My Madam, with the everlasting voice. + The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er made + Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion. + ---------------------------------All my house, + But now, steam'd like a bath, with her thick breath, + A lawyer could not have been heard, nor scarce + Another woman, such a hail of words + She has let fall. + + + + + +REMORSE AND DESPAIR. + + Henceforth, let no man trust the first false step + Of guilt. It hangs upon a precipice, + Whose deep descent in last perdition ends. + How far am I plung'd down, beyond all thought + Which I this evening fram'd-- + Consummate horror! guilt beyond, a name!-- + Dare not, my soul, repent. In thee, repentance + Were second guilt; and 'twere blaspheming Heav'n + To hope for mercy. My pain can only cease + When gods want power to punish.--Ha!--the dawn-- + Rise never more, O fun!--let night prevail: + Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene-- + And hide me from myself. + + + + +DISTRACTION. + + Mercy!--I know it not--for I am miserable. + I'll give thee misery--for here she dwells, + This is her house--where the sun never dawns: + The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof; + Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom; + And nought in heard, but wailings and lamenting. + Hark!--something cracks above;--it shakes--it totters! + And see--the nodding ruin falls to crush me!-- + 'Tis fallen--'Tis here!--I feel it on my brain! + A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me! + And now 'tis out--and I am drown'd in blood.-- + Ha! what art thou? thou horrid headless trunk!-- + It is my Hastings--See, he wafts me on! + Away I go!--I fly!--I follow thee! + + + + +GRATITUDE. + + My Father! Oh! let me unlade my breast; + Pour out the fullness of my soul before you; + Shew ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful thought, + This wond'rous goodness stirs. But 'tis impossible, + And utt'rance all is vile; since I can only + Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. + + + + +INTREATY. + + Reward him for the noble deed, just Heavens! + For this one action, guard him, and distinguish him + With signal mercies, and with great deliverance, + Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame, + Let never-fading honours flourish round him; + And consecrate his name; ev'n to time's end. + Let him know nothing else, but good on earth + And everlasting blessedness hereafter. + + + + +COMMANDING. + + Silence, ye winds! + That make outrageous war upon the ocean: + And then, old ocean? lull thy boist'rous waves. + Ye warring elements! be hush'd as death, + While I impose my dread commands on hell. + And thou, profoundest hell! whose dreary sway, + Is given to me by fate and demogorgon-- + Hear, hear my powerful voice, through all thy regions + And from thy gloomy caverns thunder the reply. + + + + +COURAGE. + + A generous few, the vet'ran hardy gleanings + Of many a hapless fight, with a, fierce + Heroic fire, inspirited each other: + Resolv'd on death, disdaining to survive + Their dearest country. "If we fall," I cry'd, + "Let us not tamely fall, like passive cowards! + No--let us live, or let us die--like men! + Come on, my friends. To Alfred we will cut + Our glorious way: or as we nobly perish, + Will offer to the genius of our country-- + Whole hecatombs of Danes." As if one soul + Have mov'd them all, around their heads they flash'd + Their flaming falchions--"lead us to those Danes! + Our Country!--Vengeance!" was the general cry. + + + + +BOASTING. + + 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. + + + + +PERPLEXITY. + + --Let me think-- + What can this mean--Is it to me aversion? + Or is it, as I feared, she loves another? + Ha! yes--perhaps the king, the young count Tancred? + They were bred up together--surely that, + That cannot be--Has he not given his hand, + In the most solemn manner, to Constantia? + Does not his crown depend upon the deed? + No--if they lov'd, and this old statesman knew it, + He could not to a king prefer a subject. + His virtues I esteem--nay more, I trust them-- + So far as virtue goes--but could he place + His daughter on the throne of Sicily-- + O! 'tis a glorious bribe; too much for man! + What is it then!--I care not what it is. + + + + +SUSPICION. + + Would he were fatter--but I fear him not. + Yes, if my name were liable to fear, + I do not know the man I should avoid, + So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much-- + He is a great observer--and he looks + Quite through the deeds of men. + He loves no plays: he hears no music. + Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort, + As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit, + That could be moved to smile at any thing. + Such men as he be never at heart's ease, + Whilst they behold a greater than themselves-- + And, therefore, are they very dangerous. + + + + +WIT AND HUMOUR. + + +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. + + 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? [_Drinks._ + + 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. [_Drinks._ + + 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--_ecce + signum!_ 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. [_Drinks_. + + + + +RIDICULE. + + 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 Caesar refused the crown, + that it had almost choaked Caesar, 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. + + 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 Caesar had stabbed their + mothers they would have done no less. + + + + +PERTURBATION. + + Vengeance! death! plague! confusion! + Fiery! what quality?---Why, Gloster, Gloster! + I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife: + The King would speak with Cornwall---the dear father + Would with his daughter speak; commands her service. + Are they inform'd of this?---My breath and blood! + Fiery! the fiery Duke! Tell the hot Duke-- + No' but not yet: may be he is not well: + I beg his pardon: and I'll chide my rashness, + That took the indisposed and sickly fit. + For the sound man,---But wherefore sits he there?-- + Death on my state! this act convinces me, + That this retiredness of the Duke and her + Is plain contempt--Give me my servant forth-- + Go tell the Duke and's wife I'd speak with 'em: + Now: instantly--Bid 'em come forth and hear me; + Or, at their chamber-door, I'll beat the drum-- + 'Till it cry--Sleep to death. + + + + +Elements of Gesture. + + + + +SECTION I. + +_On the Speaking of Speeches at Schools_. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PLATE I.] + +[Illustration: PLATE II.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration: PLATE III.] + +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. + +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. + + + + +SECTION II. + +_On the Acting of Plays at School_. + + +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. + +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 _jeu de theatre_, 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. + +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 +_theatrical_. It is an old trick to depreciate what we can not attain, +and calling a spirited pronunciation _theatrical_, 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. + +[Illustration: PLATE IV.] + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +SECTION III. + +_Rules for expressing with Propriety, the principal Passions and Humours +which occur in Reading or public Speaking_. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_Tranquility_, or _apathy_, 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. + +_Cheerfulness_, adds a smile, opening the mouth a little more. + +_Mirth_, or _laughter_, 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. + +_Raillery_, 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. + +_Buffoonery_ 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. + +_Joy_, 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. + +_Delight_, or _pleasure_, 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. + +_Gravity_, or _seriousness_, 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. + +_Enquiry_ into an obscure subject, fixes the body in one posture, the +head stooping, and the eye poring, the eyebrows drawn down. + +_Attention_ 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. + +_Modesty_, or _submission_, 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. + +_Perplexity_, or _anxiety_, 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. + +_Vexation_, 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. + +_Pity_, 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 _Suffering_) 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. + +_Grief_, 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. + +_Melancholy_, 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. + +_Despair_, 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. + +_Fear_, 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. + +_Shame_, 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. + +_Remorse_, 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. + +_Courage_, 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. + +_Boasting_, 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. + +_Pride_, 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. + +_Obstinacy_ adds to the aspect of pride, a dodged sourness, like that of +malice. See _Malice_. + +_Authority_, opens the countenance, but draws down the eyebrows a +little, so far as to give the look of gravity. See _Gravity_. + +_Commanding_ 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. + +_Forbidding_, 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. + +_Affirming_, 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. + +_Denying_ is expressed by pushing the open right hand from one, and +turning the face the contrary way. See _Aversion_. + +_Differing_ in sentiment may be expressed as refusing. See _Refusing_. + +_Agreeing_ in opinion, or _Conviction_, as granting. See _Granting_. + +_Exhorting_, 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. + +_Judging_ 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. + +_Reproving_ puts on a stern aspect, roughens the voice, and is +accompanied with gestures not much different from those of +_Threatening_, but not so lively. + +_Acquitting_ 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 _Dismissing_. + +_Condemning_ assumes a severe look, but mixed with pity. The sentence is +to be expressed as with reluctance. + +_Teaching_, 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. + +_Pardoning_ 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 _Granting_. + +_Arguing_ requires a cool, sedate, attentive aspect, and a clear, slow, +emphatical accent, with much demonstration by the hand. It differs from +teaching (see _Teaching_) in that the look of authority is not wanting +in arguing. + +_Dismissing_, 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. + +_Refusing_, 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. + +_Granting_, 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. + +_Dependence_. See _Modesty_. + +_Veneration_, or _Worshipping_, 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. + +_Respect_ for a superior, puts on the looks and gesture of modesty. See +_Modesty_. + +_Hope_ 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. + +_Desire_ 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. + +_Love_ (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 _Desire_ 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 +_Joy_.) 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 _Perplexity_ and _Melancholy_. + +_Giving_, _Inviting_, _Soliciting_. 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. + +_Wonder_, or _Amazement_, (without any other _interesting_ passion, as +_Love_, _Esteem_, &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 _Fear_.) 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 _Fear_.) The first excess of this passion stops all utterance; but +it makes amends afterwards by a copious flow of words, and exclamations. + +_Admiration_, a mixed passion, consisting of wonder, with love or +esteem, takes away the familiar gesture and expression of simple love. +(See _Love_.) Keeps the respectful look and gesture. (See _Modesty_ and +_Veneration_.) 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. + +_Gratitude_ puts on an aspect full of complacency. (See _Love_.) If the +object of it is a character greatly superior, it expresses much +submission. (See _Modesty_.) The right hand pressed upon the breast, +accompanies, very properly, the expression of a sincere and hearty +sensibility of obligation. + +_Curiosity_, 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 _Admiration_. See also _Desire_, +_Attention_, _Hope_, _Enquiry_, and _Perplexity_. + +_Persuasion_ puts on the looks of moderate love. (See _Love_.) Its +accents are soft, flattering, emphatical and articulate. + +_Tempting_, or _Wheedling_, expresses itself much in the same way, only +carrying the fawning part to excess. + +_Promising_ 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. + +_Affectation_ 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. + +_Sloth_ 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. + +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. + +_Intoxication_ 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. + +_Anger_, (violent) or _Rage_ 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. + +_Peevishism_ or _Ill-nature_ 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. + +_Malice_ or _Spite_, 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. + +_Envy_ is a little more moderate in its gestures than malice, but much +the same in kind. + +_Revenge_ expresses itself as malice. + +_Cruelty_. See _Anger_, _Aversion_, _Malice_ and the other irrascible +passions. + +_Complaining_ 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. + +_Fatigue_ from severe labour, gives a general languor to the whole body. +The countenance is dejected. (See _Grief_.) The arms hang listless; the +body (if sitting or lying along be not the posture) stoops, as in +old-age. (See _Dotage_.) 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. + +_Aversion_, or _Hatred_, 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. + +_Commendation_, or _Approbation_ 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. + +_Jealousy_ 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 _Love_, _Hatred_, +&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. + +_Dotage_ or _infirm old age_, 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. + +_Folly_, 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. + +_Distraction_ 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. + +_Sickness_ 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. + +_Fainting_ 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: + +_Death_ 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. + +_Lower_ 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. + +_Mixed_ passions, or emotions of the mind, require a mixed expression. +_Pity_, 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. + +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 _Anger_) 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. + +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. + + + + +_On Reading and Speaking_. + +FROM BLAIR'S LECTURES. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +If it be pronounced thus; Will _you_ ride to town to-day? the answer may +properly be, no; I shall send my son. If thus; Will you _ride_ to town +to-day; Answer, no; I intend to walk. Will you ride to _town_ to-day? +No; I shall ride into the country. Will you ride to town _to-day_? No; +but I shall to-morrow. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +_FINIS_. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Gentleman and Lady's +Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant, by John Hamilton Moore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONITOR *** + +***** This file should be named 13588.txt or 13588.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/5/8/13588/ + +Produced by Stephen Schulze and the Online Distributed Proofreaders +Team. Scans courtesy of University of Pittsburg. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/old/13588.zip b/old/13588.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..44011c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13588.zip |
