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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. 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