YOur Servant. I'm afraid I may disoblige your Business: You seem to sit in a Posture of Thinking.

I am so: And without more Ce­remony for that Reason am glad to see you: For 'tis in your Power to assist me in the Argument I am upon.

I dare not say so. But pray what is it?

I was considering the Shortness of Life, and what ill Husbands we are of so [Page 2] slender a Fortune. We manage at that rate of Sluggishness and Neglect, as if we had a thousand Years for Leisure and Improve­ment. The greater Part enter only like Mutes, to fill the Stage. Sure they think themselves born to shew their Insignifican­cy: Why else do they make the Voyage of Life to so little Purpose, and spend their Taper in smoke and smother?

Look you! All Metals will not shine alike. Besides, the Generality want opportunity to brighten and burnish. They are disabled by Labour and Indigence, and cannot distinguish themselves with that Ad­vantage you seem to expect.

However if they would put on, they might be remarkable in their own way. Glow-worms will shine though un­der a Hedg; and when the Wine is gene­rous the least drop will sparkle. But, like Beggars, People are willing to dissemble their Ability, and charge their Sloth upon their Impotence: Whereas if they would rowse their Spirits, and awaken their Vi­gour, they might probably in a short time command the Force of Nature, reduce their Business to the Art of Clock-work, and make it strike of its own accord. For if you ob­serve, the Drudging part of Life is chiefly owing to Clumsiness and Ignorance; which either wants proper Tools, or Skill to use [Page 3] them. But this is not all: For in my Opi­nion the Credit of the Improvement would exceed the Convenience.

If every Body did their Best, and strain'd to the Extent of possibility, I grant you Things, and Persons, would be really valuable, and Admiration an Argument of Worth: But now, considering the Dege­neracy of Mankind, the common Cry signi­fies not much. If a Man does well, let him think so, and reward himself. To creep af­ter Applause, is a servile and precarious Sa­tisfaction.

Without Reflection; those who despise Fame seldom deserve it. We are apt to undervalue the Purchase we cannot reach, to conceal our Poverty the better.

What if 'tis held too high, or I don't need it; Is it any harm to say so?

It argues a Tincture of Conceit; for we cannot lessen the common Opinion, without preferring our own.

You know I am not singular; but if I were, I might modestly enough ap­peal from Numbers to Reason; for there the Cause must be tryed at last.

I am willing to cast it upon that Issue. And to my Thinking the general De­sire of Fame, if we had nothing more for't, proves it reasonable. People of all Condi­tions have a Regard for publick Esteem, and [Page 4] are willing to be remember'd as long, and to as much advantage as may be: Now Na­ture does not use to spread an Inclination so wide but for significant Purposes. It seems to be given for an Incitement to Industry, a Ferment thrown into the Blood to work it up to Action. It reconciles Men to Labour and Hazard, supports their Constancy, and helps them to shake off Sloth and Despair. And as there are few unaffected with it in some measure, so it takes the firmest hold of generous Minds. 'Tis a Spark which kindles upon the best Fuel, and burns brightest in the bravest Breast. Wealth and Pleasure are vulgar Aims, but 'tis Glory which is the Ambition of a Hero. And when Honour has once gained the Affections, they scorn to admit a Rival. Ease, and Luxury, and Love and all, must give way to the Favorite De­sire. The Man is not to be engaged by any Diversions, excepting those which second his Passion, and serve him in his Design. And it must be granted the World has not been a little obliged this way: The famous Generals, Historians, Poets, and Painters of Antiquity, whence were they produced but from this generous Principle? This was the Passion that pushed on Themistocles and Bra­sidas, that raised the Stile of Thucydides; that formed the Greatness of Philip and A­lexander. This is that which gives the Heart [Page 5] and the Head their last Improvement; shar­pens the Invention, and the Sword; and shews us all the Wonders of Art, of Con­duct, and Courage. Had it not been for this noble Ardour. Men would have stop'd at bare Convenience: The Growth of Sci­ence and Ingenuity had been check'd, and Life not graced with so much Ornament and Magnificence. The Rhodian Colossus had been lost; the Carian Mausoleum, and the Egyptian Pyramids unbuilt. Now why a Quality thus beneficial may not be che­rished and admired, is past my Under­standing.

After all your magnifying of Fame, I'm afraid 'twill not hold up to your Standard. 'Tis a rich Soil I grant you, but oftener cover'd with Weeds than Grain. You say it produces Heroes; so much the worse. 'Twas well if there were fewer of them: For I scarcely ever heard of any, ex­cepting Hercules, but did more Mischief than Good. These overgrown Mortals common­ly use their Will with their Right hand, and their Reason with their Left. Their Pride is their Title, and their Power puts them in Possession. Their Pomp is furnished from Rapine, and their Scarlet dyed with human Blood. To drive Justice, and Peace, and Plenty before them, is a noble Victory; and the progress of Violence goes for Extent of [Page 6] Empire. To mention some of your own Instances: Pray how did Philip's glorious Humour discover it self? Why mostly by debauching, outraging, and murthering his Neighbours. 'Tis true, the Man was brave; and had been severely handled by shewing it. He had fought himself almost to the Stumps, but still he went on: And had ra­ther have neither Limbs, nor Senses, than Greece should have any Liberty. And am I to admire a Man because he will use him­self ill, to use me worse? And as for Alex­ander, what extent of Country did he Ra­vage, and how many Thousands were sa­crificed to his Caprice? What Famine, what Inundation, what Plague, could keep pace with him? Did he not burn the Capital of an Empire in a Frolick? If his Power had been equal to his Ambition, God could scarcely have made the World faster than he would have destroyed it. If Wrecks, and Ruins, and Desolations of Kingdoms, are marks of Greatness; Why don't we wor­ship a Tempest, and erect a Statue for the Plague? A Panegyrick upon an Earthquake is every jot as reasonable, as upon such Con­quests as these. As for the active and pres­sing Industry of these Men, and the Hard­ships they submit to; what is it, in plain English, but indefatigable Ill-nature, and laborious Malice? And are we in love with [Page 7] a Wolf for his diligence, or a Highway-man for being on the Road late, and in bad wea­ther? But they have Courage too. What then? Courage, when 'tis only a Second to Injustice, and falls on without Provocation, is a Disadvantage to a Character. Is a Ty­ger to be courted for its Fierceness? Does the Strength of a Poyson make it the more Glorious? Or is a Fire to be commended for being so bold as to burn a House down? If you say they hazard their Persons, let them take what follows; that will not mend the matter, unless their Quarrel was more defensible. He that will venture the cutting his own Throat rather than not cut mine, shall ne're be a Hero of my making, I promise you. In a word; This thirst after Glory often transports Men into very dan­gerous Excesses, and makes them the Bane of the Age they live in. 'Tis true, it helps to keep the World from being over-stock'd, and if that be a Credit let them make their most on't. Your Improvement of Arts and Sciences I grant deserves Commendation, provided they were laboured to oblige the World. But if Men beat their Brains only to be talk'd of; I think their Skill can hard­ly exceed their Vanity▪ And as for those magnificent Structures you mentioned, I conceive them but small Additions to Those who built them. For what Connexion is [Page 8] there between a great heap of Stones, and a great Man? Or how can you infer the one from the other?

Certainly such a stupendous Pile bespeaks the Power of him that raised it.

Yes. It proves a Prince had Men and Money in abundance; and is that such a Wonder?

I thought the Nobleness and Cu­riosity of the Work had proved something more.

It does so. But the Credit of that does not belong to the Monarch, but the Mason.

However the Prince has the Name on't. Now methinks 'tis a glorious Privi­lege to have one's Memory honorably hand­ed down to after Ages; and to stand upon Record to the latest periods of Time. To be contented with Three or Fourscore years of Breath, looks like a vulgar Satisfaction.

As much Breath as you please: But pray let it come from my own Lungs, not from the Trumpet of Fame, for that's too thin to live on.

'Tis Life at second hand, and in some degree preferable to the first; because 'tis freer from Envy, and lasts longer into the bargain.

A Man is longer Dead than Li­ving; therefore it seems he had better be [Page 9] the first. This Logick won't do. And as for your second hand Living, before you depend too much upon it, you would do well to try it in a parallel Instance.

How is that?

Why by second hand Eating and Drinking, or doing it by Proxy. Be not surprized, the Cases are plainly alike: For if another Man's Talking can give me a Sort of Life, why not his Eating too, especially when 'tis done upon my Account? Now if you please I will act for you in this later Business, and then see how you will thrive upon the Representation.

Well! When you have said all▪ I would not have my Name thrown into my Coffin, if I could help it. Oblivion methinks looks like Annihilation: And not be Talk'd of, is almost not to Be.

Your Name! A Chimerical Ad­vantage! I'm sorry you are so solicitous to immortalize a Sound. What is Cesar the better for our knowing he was called so? Was it worth his while to charge in Fifty Battles, only to leave a few Letters of the Alphabet behind him?

A Name is but a weak Representation: And if the Piece was never so well finished, what signifies that which is never seen?

You mean by him for whom it was drawn?

Yes. For supposing a Man's Me­mory never so honorably treated at Iapan, if he was not to come there, nor receive in­telligence of the Respect, what could he make on't? Such an unknown Ceremony would signify just as much as Adoration to a Statue: He that is insensible of the Fact, must be insensible of the Pleasure.

Why cannot the Presumption of what is done give him some Satisfaction?

The Certainty of such an Advan­tage cannot be reasonably presumed. Many a one dyes and makes a large Provision for his Memory, and leaves it very rich in Tomb­stones, Pictures, Records, and such other Chattels of Reputation: But he is no sooner gone, but comes a Fire, a Deluge, or an Earthquake, sweeps away all the Distinc­tions of Condition, and buries the Great and Small in a common Obscurity. Now the Concern, for fear of such an Accident, must spoil the Pleasure of your Presump­tion. Besides, take Things at the best, you must expect your Memory will be much confined, and as it were banished from the greater part of the World. You are abso­lutely lost to all the Ages before you. And as for the rest, if you were a Prince, you would be farther unknown than known; [Page 11] which makes your Obscurity greater than your Renown. What tribute of Honour had the four Empires from China, or Ame­rica? How many Nations have there been which never so much as heard of the Roman Name? Alass! what can a private Man ex­pect at this rate? What a slender Portion must fall to his Share, and that without Security? The Customs of his Country may be changed, the Notions of Honour renversed, and the Language which should commend him worn out. Thus the con­quering Goths altered the State of Things, defaced the Monuments of Antiquity, ri­fled the Living and the Dead, and suffered no Marks of Greatness but their own.

These Casualties must be ven­tured; what may be, may be otherwise. Let us overshoot the Grave as far as we can, and make the most of our Materials.

What are those?

They are those Advantages of Person, Fortune, or Improvement, which every one values himself most upon.

Let's see then how durable and shining they are. Now take them in ge­neral, and you'll find them no more than some little Progress in Art, some Smatter­ings in Science, some Pretensions in Figure and Station; something remarkable it may be in Eating, Dressing, or Diversions. These [Page 12] are the Inclinations of no small Number: These are the Qualities they strive to excel in; and this oftentimes is the true Inven­tory of their Glory. And can they think it worth their while to be remember'd by such Tokens as these? I'm sorry they think their Understandings will be no better improved by Dying.

After all, there must be some­thing more in the Matter: For every one is striving to fortify against the Assaults of Time. You see Artificers, Men of Learn­ing and Fortune, get their Names wrought into their Works, and Estates, as far as they can: And for this reason the Bulk of the Inheritance is cast upon a single Person.

The Vanity of some Parents makes them unnatural, and act as if they were of kin to none but the Eldest Son. 'Tis true, their Project of perpetuating is com­mon and antient too. The Scripture (Psal. 49.) mentions some who called their Lands after their own Names, out of the same fan­ciful Prospect: But mark what follows, This is their Foolishness, and yet their Poste­rity praise their Saying; that is, they did as Foolishly too. Not that 'tis a Folly for a Man to leave his Name upon his Estate: But to imagine that this Provision will do him any service when he is Dead, There is the Weakness. People may talk what they [Page 13] please of Titles for ever, and Fees Simple; but to speak properly, there is none a Te­nant longer than for Life. If this be not Law, 'tis Sense, and that is as good.

To come closer. When People Dye, 'tis either very Well, or very Ill with them. If they miscarry they will take but little Plea­sure in the Ceremony and Civilities of the Living. Then they will understand them­selves too well to be flattered. Pray what would the Respect of the Company signify to a Man stretched upon the Rack? Alass! He is not to be relieved with such Fooleries. All the Homage and Rhetorick in the World can ne're perswade him out of his Misery. He that is contemn'd by the Wise, and pu­nish'd by the Mighty; what comfort can he receive by the Applause of the Little and Insignificant? The Acclamations of an In­fant, or a Parrot, would be a slender Satis­faction to one that lay bleeding under the Sentence of his Prince; that was degraded and stigmatiz'd, tortured with pain and ig­nominy. Now this is the Fate of those who raise themselves upon the ruins of Con­science, wrest their Figure from Law and Justice, and seize a Greatness God never meant them. And as for those who land on the right side of the Shore; they will have much bigger Company, much better Entertainment, than this World affords. [Page 14] They'll leave their childish Fancies behind them, out-grow the Stature of mortal De­sires, and scorn those little Amusements which pleased them here. All this is said on supposition that departed Spirits have the knowledg of human Affairs, which is not very probable. The other World, and this, seem too far asunder to be within Hearing. And for the Liberty of returning incognito, I believe 'tis no common Privi­lege. When we are once dead, in all like­lihood the Scene of this World is wholly withdrawn: And that we either have not the Curiosity, or the Power, to reco­ver it.

I must repeat, that this Earnest­ness for recommending the Memory to Posterity, is an unexstinguishable Desire. It governs in all Places, Times, and Condi­tions. And to think a little Philosophy can check the force and damm up the current of Nature, is a fanciful Undertaking. You might as good attempt to lay a Storm by Reasoning; and stop a Sea-Breach by pro­ving the Water gets nothing by overflow­ing.

There are several Diseases as uni­versal as the Desire you mention, and as much fixed in the Constitution; but be­cause they are natural, it seems we must not go about to cure them.—

One Word and I have done. I say then, To baffle the Expectations of Fame is to discourage Desert. It strikes Industry almost dead, damps the Spirits, and makes the Pulse beat lazily. If your Maxims should take Place, Mens Understandings would grow downwards; their Courage and Ca­pacity shrink up; and a little time would return us into the unpolish'd Ignorance of the first Ages.

No. Present Necessity, and Con­venience, would prevent that Consequence. And to silence your Fears more effectually, there are a great many other Motives to Merit still remaining.

A Man may affect an Excellency for the sake of Improvement; for the Satisfaction of Significancy. He may do it to excite an Emulation in others, to oblige his Posterity, to serve his Country; and to furnish out Life to the best Advantage. Discoveries of Truth, Defence of Justice, Examples of Courage, and such other distinguishing Qualities, are allowed to entertain the Owner, and reward him for the Expence of the Practice. We may please our selves by considering that our good Deeds will sur­vive us; and that the World is, and is like­ly to be, the better for our coming into it.

And if this will not satisfy you, as indeed it ought not, you may carry your Ambition [Page 16] to a nobler Height. I say, to a nobler Height; for I cannot help reminding you that the Opinion of poor Mortals signifies not much. They pronounce upon imper­fect Views, shoot their Bolt at random; and want either Strength or Steadiness to hit the Mark. Their Partialities spoil their Judgment, and make them Praise and Cen­sure without Reason or Measure. Like some Spectators in a Play, they are apt to Laugh and Admire in the wrong Place: To com­mend a Man for his Follies and his Faults; or for that which is not properly his own. But to speak familiarly, There are great People in the other World: For Rank, for Merit, and Sufficiency, extreamly valuable. The Respect of These I confess is worth the Working for. Their Commendation is a Title indeed; enough to affect the most mortified Humility. But if we expect this Honour, we must Live as it were under their Observation; and govern our Beha­viour by their Maxims. Taking this for a Rule, That with them, there is no being Great, and good for Nothing; no Posses­sing without Purchase; and nothing cur­rent, but Honesty and Virtue.

Good night.

I Shall say nothing concerning the The­ory of Musick: Those who have a mind to inform themselves about it, may consult Boethius, Glareanus, Galtruchius, and others, who have written upon this Sub­ject. My Business shall only be to touch a little upon the Antiquity, the Reputation, and the Force of this Science. The Anti­quity of Musick reaches beyond the Flood: Iubal, Noah's Brother, is said to be Father, or first Teacher, of those who handled the Harp, and the Organ. And how far a Ge­nius which lay that way might improve his Invention, in Seven or Eight hundred years of Life and Vigour, is not easy to imagine. So that for ought we know, an Antedilu­vian Air might as far exceed all the later Performances of Greece and Italy, as that World is supposed to have done the present. And how much soever This, as well as other entertaining Arts, might suffer by the Flood, by the Shortness of Life, and the Necessity [Page 18] of Labour; it was not long before it emer­ged again: As we may learn from the Song of Moses, and the Timbrel of Miriam. Iob likewise, who is supposed no less Antient than the other, mentions several Sorts of Musical Instruments, ( Cap. 21.) And which is observable, neither of these Divine Au­thors speak of them as Things newly inven­ted. As for the Heathen, They did not forget to divert themselves this way in those earlier Ages: Linus, and Amphion, and Or­pheus, and Chiron, who all lived before the Trojan War, were famous Musicians in their Times. Some of these Heroes were at the Head of the Argonautick Expedition. And therefore I cannot see why the Welch Harp, if it was Dubbed, might not make as ho­nourable a Knighthood as the Golden Fleece; especially since they would have Apollo for the Sovereign of their Order. To come a little Lower: Ho [...]er brings in Achilles relieving his Melancholy with his Lute. And Tully tells us, that the Antient Grecians, the most polished Nation at that time, did not think a Gentleman well Bred, unless he could perform his part at a Consort of Musick. In­somuch that Themistocles, though otherwise a great Person, was taxed for being defec­tive in this Accomplishment. 'Tis true, he turn'd off the Censure with a rough sort of a Jest. He knew how to take a Town, he [Page 19] said; but as for Thrumming upon a Fiddle, he left it to such Finical Sparks as they were. Musick was antiently used in the best Company, and upon the greatest Oc­casions. 'Twas the Entertainment of People of Quality: It bore a part in the Magnifi­cence of Triumphs, and in the Solemnities of Religion. The Heathen Liturgy consist­ed partly in Hymns, and their Sacrifices were offer'd up with Musick, as Plutarch in­forms us: The Jewish Service, though with a proper diversity, was likewise thus regu­lated. And by the Scripture-Descriptions seems to be performed with that Exquisite­ness, as if nothing but the New Ierusalem could reach the Harmony of the Old. The best Poets thought this Entertainment great enough for the Elysian Fields. And St. Iohn has brought it into Heaven, or into the Millennial Paradisiacal Earth, which is next to it. ( Rev. 14.) Indeed Musick, when rightly order'd, cannot be prefer'd too much. For it recreates and exalts the Mind at the same time. It composes the Passions, affords a strong Pleasure, and excites a No­bleness of Thought. But of this more af­terwards.

The Manner of the Conveyance of Sounds, which is as it were the Basis of Musick, is unintelligible. For what can be more Strange, than that the rubbing of a [Page 20] little Hair and Cat-gut together, should make such a mighty Alteration in a Man that sits at a Distance? But this Wonder of Perception is not peculiar to the Ear: For the Operations of all the Senses are in some respect incom­prehensible. The Sense of Hearing, as well as that of Sight, seems to be of a Superior Order to the rest. It commands a Satis­faction at a greater Distance, strikes a finer Stroke, and makes a single Object divide it self without Lessening. For Instance: A Man may see the Light of a Candle, and hear a Voice or Instrument, as well if there be Ten in the Room, as if he was there alone. The Stream of Sounds, though cut into se­veral Rivulets, comes as full to the Ear as if it had but one Chanel to feed. The Taste and Touch are, if one may say so, more nar­row Spirited. They engross an Object to themselves, and won't let the Company share with them. They take faster Hold 'tis true, but then they do not Salute so Ce­remoniously. They are, comparatively, a sort of Robust, Peasantly Senses. And those who indulge them are, in reality, of the lowest Rank of Mankind. The Force of Musick is more wonderful than the Con­veyance. How strangely does it awaken the Mind? It infuses an unexpected Vigour, makes the Impression agreable and spright­ly, and seems to furnish a new Capacity, as [Page 21] well as a new Opportunity of Satisfaction. It Raises, and Falls, and Counterchanges the Passions at an unaccountable Rate. It Charms and Transports, Ruffles and Be­calms, and Governs with an almost ar­bitrary Authority. There is scarcely any Constitution so heavy, or any Reason so well fortified, as to be absolutely proof a­gainst it. Ulysses, as much a Hero as he was, durst not trust himself with the Sy­rens Voices. He knew, if he had not waxed up his Ears, they would quickly have spoiled his Philosophy. I believe the softer Musick may be the more irresistible of the two; because the Soul has a sort of Ge­nerosity in it, which loves rather to be Courted than Stormed. However, the rougher Sounds are not without their Ef­fect. Have you not observed a Captain at the Head of a Company, how much he is al­ter'd at the Beat of a Drum? What a vi­gorous Motion, what an erected Posture, what an enterprizing Visage, all of a Sud­dain? His Blood charges in his Veins, his Spirits jump like Gunpowder, and seem impatient to attack the Enemy. The An­tients were much our Superiors in this My­stery. They knew how to Arm a Sound better, and to put more Force and Con­quest in it than we understand. To give an Instance or two: Timotheus, a Grecian, was [Page 22] so great a Master, that he could make a Man storm and swagger like a Tempest. And then, by altering the Notes, and the Time, he would take him down again, and sweeten his Humour in a trice. One time, when Alex­ander was at Dinner, this Man play'd him a Phrygian Air: The Prince immediately rises, snatches up his Lance, and puts himself in­to a Posture of Fighting. And the Retreat was no sooner Sounded by the Change of the Harmony, but his Arms were Ground­ed, and his Fire extinct, and he sat down as orderly as if he had come from one of Ari­stotle's Lectures. I warrant you Demosthenes would have been Flourishing about such a Business a long Hour, and may be not have done it neither. But Timotheus had a nearer Cut to the Soul: He could Neck a Passion at a Stroke, and lay it a Asleep. Pytha­goras once met with a Parcel of drunken Fellows, who were likely to be troublesom enough. He presently orders the Musick to play Grave, and chop into a Dorion: Upon this, they all threw away their Gar­lands, and were as sober and as shame-faced as one would wish.

That the Musick of the Antients could command farther than the Modern, is past Dispute. Whether they were Masters of a greater Compass of Notes, or knew the Se­cret of varying them more artificially: Whe­ther [Page 23] they adjusted the Intervals of Silence more exactly, had their Hands or their Voices farther improved, or their Instru­ments better contrived: Whether they had a deeper In-sight into the Philosophy of Nature, and understood the Laws of the Union of the Soul and Body more throughly; and from thence were enabled to touch the Passions, strengthen the Sense, or prepare the Medium with greater Ad­vantage: Whether they excell'd us in all, or in how many of these ways, Is not so Clear. However this is certain▪ That our Improvements of this kind are little bet­ter than Alehouse-Crowds, with respect to theirs.

'Tis likely this Declension of Musick has laid some Powers of the Soul perfectly a­sleep, for want of an Occasion strong enough to call them up▪ But possibly we are no great Loosers by it: For the Heathens often made an ill Use of this Advantage. The Fathers declaim against their Theatre Mu­sick, as Lewd and Licentious. No doubt 'twas capable of being reformed to Manly and Religious Purposes. And, on the other hand, 'tis no less probable we might have misemploy'd it as much as they did.

And here it may not be improper to con­sider, whether there may not be some Coun­ter Sounds; which may give the Mind as [Page 24] high a Disgust, as the other can a Pleasure. For the Purpose: I believe 'tis possible to invent an Instrument that shall have a quite contrary Effect to those Martial ones now in Use. An Instrument that shall sink the Spi­rits, and shake the Nerves, and curdle the Blood, and inspire Despair, and Cowardise, and Consternation, at a surprizing Rate. 'Tis probable the Roaring of Lions, the warb­ling of Cats and Schritch-Owls, together with a Mixture of the howling of Dogs, ju­diciously imitated and compounded, might go a great way in this Invention. Whe­ther such Anti-musick as this might not be of Service in a Camp, I shall leave to the Military Men to consider. To return.

Though the Entertainments of Musick are very Engaging; though they make a great Discovery of the Soul; and shew it capable of strange Diversities of Pleasure: Yet to have our Passions lye at the Mercy of a little Minstrelsy; to be Fiddled out of our Reason and Sobriety; to have our Courage depend upon a Drum, or our Devotions on an Organ, is a Sign we are not so great as we might be. If we were proof against the charming of Sounds; or could we have the Satisfaction without the Danger; or raise our Minds to what pitch we pleas'd by the Strength of Thinking, it would be a nobler Instance of Power and Perfection. But such [Page 25] an Independency is not to be expected in this World, therefore we must manage wisely and be contented.

One word of Church-Musick, and I have done. The End of Church-Musick is to re­lieve the Weariness of a long Attention; to make the Mind more chearful and com­posed; and to endear the Offices of Reli­gion. It should therefore imitate the Per­fume of the Iewish Tabernacle, and have as little of the Composition of common Use as is possible. There must be no Voluntary Maggots, no Military Tattoos, no Light and Galliardizing Notes; nothing that may make the Fancy trifling, or raise an im­proper Thought. This would be to Pro­phane the Service, and bring the Play-house into the Church. Religious Harmony must be Moving, but Noble withal; Grave, So­lemn, and Seraphick. Fit for a Martyr to play, and an Angel to hear. It should be contrived so as to warm the best Blood within us, and take hold of the finest part of the Affections: To transport us with the Beauty of Holiness; to raise us above the Satisfactions of Life, and make us am­bitious of the Glories of Heaven. And without doubt if the Morals of the Quire were suitable to the Design of the Musick, it were no more than requisite. To come [Page 26] reeling from a Tavern, or a worse Place, into a Church, is a monstrous Incon­gruity. Such irregular People are much fitter for the Exercises of Penance, than Exultation. The Use of them disserves the Interest of Religion: And is in effect little better than Singing the Praises of God, through the Organ of the Devil.

TO quarrel with the present State of Mankind, is an ungrateful Reflec­tion upon Providence. What if the Offices of Life are not so fine, and great, as we can fancy; they are certain­ly much better than we can challenge▪ What Pretence could Nothing have to insist upon Articles? As long as the Convenien­ces of Being may, if we please, exceed the Inconveniences, we ought to be thankful: For the Overplus of Advantage is pure un­merited Favour. He that repines because he is not more than a Man, deserves to be less: Indeed the very Complaint makes him so. But the Errours on this hand are not so common: People are not so apt to be too Big to Live, as too Little to Dye. They are much more frequently over-fond of the [Page 28] World, than asham'd on't. Not that there is a perfect Indifferency required. The Laws of Self-preservation, the long Acquaintance of Soul and Body, the untry'd Condition of a Separation, and Respect to our Friends, are sufficient Reasons not to turn our Backs upon Life out of an Humour. The very uneasiness of taking Leave, is a fair excuse to stay, when it may be done Handsomly: For No-body is bound to put himself to pain to no purpose. Now 'tis odds but that there will be a Pang at Parting. For though a Man is born into this World with his Mothers Labour, yet 'tis his own that must carry him to the other. Besides, He that does not go off with a good Conscience, must expect a very bad Reception. This Consideration was overlooked by most of the Heathen Philosophers. They thought Annihilation was the hardest of the Case. That Death would make a Man Caesar aut Nullus, Happy or Nothing. This Mistake made their Arguments bear up with a more negligent Romantick sort of Bravery, than otherwise they would have done. But Re­ligion, which gives us a Prospect of Horror beyond the Grave, should make us careful how we go thither. Life was given for noble Purposes; and therefore we must not part with it Foolishly. It must not be thrown up in a Pet, nor sacrificed to a Quar­rel, [Page 29] nor whined away in Love. Pride, and Passion, and Discontent, are dangerous Dis­eases to dye of. We are Lifted under Pro­vidence, and must wait till the Discharge comes. To Desert our Colours will be of more than mortal Consequence. He that goes into the other World before he is sent for, will meet with no good Welcome. On the other side, a Man may be too back­ward, as well as too forward, in Resigning. Life may be overvalued, as well as other Things; and he that buys it at the Expence of Duty, purchases too dear. Some People seem resolved to Spin out Life as long as they can: They are for going to the utmost Extent of Nature: And will not venture a single Pulse upon any Consideration. But to dote upon Breathing (for 'tis little more) at this rate, is to turn Slave to all Sorts of Meaness and Vice. Fright such a one but with the Fear of Death, and you may make him say or do what you please, though ne­ver so infamous or ridiculous. And if his Cowardize is not tryed thus far, yet this Lean Principle will be sure to keep him Ser­vile and Insignificant. He will never Touch at a great Proposal; nor run any generous Hazards for his Friends, or Country. And is it worth ones while thus to value Life, above the Ends and Purposes of Living? The Resolution of Pompey was much more [Page 30] becoming; who when he was disswaded from embarking because the Weather was tempestuous, replied very handsomely, Gentlemen, make no more Words on't. My Voyage is necessary, my Life is not so.

The true Estimate of Being is not to be taken from Age, but Action. A Man, as he manages himself, may dye Old at Thir­ty, and a Child at Fourscore. To nurse up the vital Flame as long as the Matter will last, is not always good Husbandry. 'Tis much better to cover it with an Extin­guisher of Honour, than let it consume till it burns Blew, and lies Agonizing within the Socket, and at length goes out in no Perfume. If the Sun were not to rise again, methinks it would look bigger for him to tumble from the Sky at Noon, with all his Light and Heat about him, than to gain a Course of four or five Hours, only to Lan­guish and Decline in.

When a noble Occasion presents; An Occasion that will bear a cool Debate, and stand the Test of Reason, and may be plea­ded to Advantage in the other World; When a Man is called upon to offer up himself to his Conscience, and to Resign to Justice and Truth: In such a Case, one would think, he should be so far from avoid­ing the Lists, that he should rather Enter with Inclination, and thank God for the Honour [Page 31] of the Opportunity. He should then be more solicitous about his Behaviour than his Life. Then,

Let him pray for Resolution to act up to the Height of the Occasion. That he may discover nothing of Meaness, or Dis­order; nothing that may discredit the Cause, tarnish the Glory, and weaken the Example of the Suffering. There are some Opportunities of going out of the World, which are very well worth ones while to come in for. The last Act of Life, is sometimes like the last Number in a Sum, Ten times greater than all the rest. To slip the Market when we are thus fairly offer'd, is great Imprudence: Especially consider­ing we must part with the Thing after­wards for Less. But is it not a sad Thing to fall thus plumb into the Grave? To be well one Minute, and dead the next? Not at all! If we are prepared, the shorter the Voyage is, the better. Is it not more eli­gible to come In with a smooth Gale, than to be tossed at Sea with a Storm, and then throwna Shore when the Vessel is wrack'd? Is it so desirable a Condition to run through a long Course of Pain, to consume by In­ches, and loose ones Blood by Drops? A Death-bed Figure is certainly the most [Page 32] humbling Sight in the World. To Set in so dark a Cloud, and to go off with Languor, Convulsions, and Deformity, is a terrible Rebuke to the Dignity of Hu­mane Nature. Besides, People are fright­ed by Phantoms of their own raising, and imposed on by Words and Things ill joyned together. A Natural Death is generally the most Violent. An Executioner does the Bu­siness more gently than a Disease. He that can conquer his Imagination, may possibly dye easier of a Faggot than of a Fever. And had better chuse to have the Fire kindled without, than within him.

To say Flesh and Blood cannot be recon­ciled to this, is a Mistake. People have sometimes too much Courage this way: How often does Revenge, and Poverty, and Disappointment, make Men force their Passage into the other State? A Slave has Stomach enough to kill himself: And he that is not Master of his Liberty, will be Master of his Life. There is no Age nor Sex, no Passion or Condition, so dispirited and low, but affords Instances of the Con­tempt of Death. The old Goths, from whence the Saxons are probably Descen­ded, were so hardy, that it was part of their Discipline and Religion to scorn their Lives. If they were afraid of any Thing, it was of dying in their Beds.

[Page 33]In Alexander's Time, the Indian Philo­sophers, when they were weary of Living, used to lye down upon their Funeral Pile, without any visible Concern. And after­wards, about the Reign of Adrian, Lucian mentions one Peregrinus, who jump'd into a fiery Furnace at the Olympick Games, only to shew the Company how far his Vanity could carry him. At this day, the Heathen Women under the Mogul, offer themselves to the Flames at the Death of their Husbands. 'Tis true, the Mahume­tans won't always let them have their Will: But they think they are hardly dealt with, when refused; and make all the Interest they have for the Honour. I need not mention the Primitive Christians, whose Fortitude was both General and Extraordi­nary. Insomuch that Lactantius, and o­thers, observe, That the Women and Chil­dren did not shew the least Signs of Com­plaint, either in Looks, Voice, or Motion, when they seemed to lye under the Extre­mity of Torture. But it may be replied, and that truly, That These were supported by supernatural Strength. However, the former Instances may suffice to shew, That there is a Greatness in humane Nature not to be over-awed by Death. The way to be possess'd of this Quality to purpose, is to live well. There is no such Bravery as [Page 34] that of a good Christian. He that can look the other World in the Face, needs fear nothing. But as for the Courage of Bullys and Town-Sparks, who are so hardy as to risque Body and Soul, upon a point of pretended Honour, There is no Lan­guage can reach their Extravagance. They are distempered beyond the Lunacy of Bedlam, and should be taken care of ac­cordingly.

THE Spleen is oftentimes nothing but a nice and exceptious Temper, which takes check at every little Disap­pointment. A Tincture of Conceit, will make a Man subject to this Distemper. Those who overvalue their Pretensions are apt, upon every little Occasion, to think they are ill used. That Quality should grow thus cheap, and Merit be thus over-look'd! Who could have imagined People so strangely stu­pid and unacknowledging? Well! I'll lock up my Face, and draw in my good Hu­mour, and do my self the Justice of a pri­vate [Page 35] Resentment. These Expostulations in Words would be ridiculous, and therefore they are suppressed; but they seem to be the Thoughts of some Persons. You need not provoke their Spirits by Outrages, ei­ther in Fame or Fortune, or by any Injury of a greater Size. A careless Gesture, a Word, or a Look, is enough to Disconcert them. Such a supposed Neglect, spreads a Gloominess upon their Humour, and makes them grow sullen and unconversa­ble. And when they are disturbed only by their own Weakness, and doing Penance for their Vanity, they lay the Fault upon their Constitution.

'Tis commonly said the Spleen is a Wise Disease, which I believe makes some fond of catching it. 'Tis possible it may be the only Symptom of Sense they have about them. But if a Man can show his Under­standing no better way, than by troubling himself and the Company, let him e'en pretend to it no longer; but rather make it his Business to be a Fool. However, it must be granted that these Fits of Chagrin proceed sometimes from natural Causes. The Fumes of Indigestion, insensible Abate­ments of Health, sudden Changes of Wea­ther, affect the Brain, though they make no sensible Impression elsewhere. This di­sturbs the Imagination, and gives a new [Page 36] and melancholy Complexion to the Appea­rances of Things. Wise Thinking and good Humour, unless People look to it, are pre­carious Advantages; a Cloud is enough to over-cast them; they rise and fall with the Mercury in the Weather-glass. Some Men can scarcely talk Sense, unless the Sun shines out. Understanding requires a kind Cli­mate, as well as Plants. And if a Man would make nice Remarks, he might al­most tell in what Latitude, Season, and Cir­cumstances, a Book was writ in. Gene­rally speaking, Northern and Southern Wit differ almost as much as Fruits; by Conse­quence, Summer and Winter must have a proportionable Influence. Ovid de Tristibus has nothing of the Air of his Metamorphosis; and Tully offer'd to prove himself not de­pressed by a Misfortune, by the Spirit he wrote with under it.

When outward Causes concur, the Idle, the Anxious, and the Unfortunate, are soonest seized by this Infection. At such a time, a Man should awaken himself; and immediately strike off into Business, or in­nocent Diversion. Next to Religion, there is nothing like a vigorous Mind. Resolu­tion, and Spirit, will quickly repel the Ma­lignity, and discuss the Humour. Now every one is bound in Honour, as well as Interest, to do his Best. For to lye at the [Page 37] Command of so many little Accidents, can be no pleasing Discovery. To lose the Comforts of Life in a few Vapours, and to be smoked and smothered out of ones Rea­son, are far from Circumstances of Credit. What wise Man would bring the Night­mare upon his Fancy; and conjure up Ap­paritions to frighten himself? Who would double his Misfortunes, and spoil the habit of his Body and his Mind, if he could help it? The Evils of Necessity are numerous enough, without being multiplied by those of Choice.

And as the Spleen has great Inconve­niences, so the Pretence of it is a handsom Cover for many Imperfections. It often hides a Man's Temper, and his Condition, from breaking out to Disadvantage. For the Purpose: One Man is press'd with un­usual Poverty, and looks, as he has reason, somewhat odly upon it. What makes this Alteration? Why his Blood is over-run with Melancholy; whereas if you examine farther, you will find the Seat of the Di­stemper lies in the Pocket. Another is se­verely mortified by some great Disappoint­ment, but this must not be owned: No. The Man is impregnable, he has his Mind in a String, but no body can command a Constitution. He that has dispirited him­self by a Debauch, drank away his good [Page 38] Humour, and it may be raised his Con­science a little upon him, has this Pretence to guard against Censure: A civil Guesser will believe him Hypocondriacal, and all is well. If he is silent and unentertaining to a Visiter, the Spleen is his Excuse, and con­veys his Pride or Disaffection out of Sight. In short, the Spleen does a great deal of Ser­vice in Conversation: It makes ill Nature pass for ill Health, Dulness for Gravity, and Ignorance for Reservedness.

The way to prevent this Distemper, and cure it when it lies in the Mind, is not to be over Expecting. If we take it amiss that our Acquaintance are not always ready to solicit our Business, to study our Incli­nations, and to compliment our Humour, we are likely to have work enough. To look for so obliging a World as this comes to, is to miscalculate extreamly. When all's done, most People will love themselves best. Therefore we should not be surpri­zed when we see them prefer their own In­terest, break a Jest at our Cost, or raise themselves by our Depression. 'Tis possible they may only make Reprizals, and return our own Usage upon us. However 'tis good not to build too much upon the Fairness of others. More especially; those who would be Easy, must not be Nice in trivial Mat­ters, nor insist on Punctualities in Beha­viour, [Page 39] nor be afflicted at the Omission of a little Ceremony. All People do not love to be tyed down to Forms, nor to walk in Trammels. If a Man values Regard, he needs not ask the Company, he may give it himself if he pleases. These Disputes commonly disorder none but Weak and Fantastick Minds, who have taken a Surfeit of Prosperity: And since God has sent them no Crosses, they are resolved to make some out of their own Indiscretion. To conclude: He that would live at Ease, should always put the best Construction on Business, and Conversation. He should not suppose there was Malice, or Contempt, meant him in every Action he does not understand. To interpret up to this Ri­gour, will make him often Mistaken, and always upon the Fret: And is the way neither to be just to others, nor kind to himself.

DEsire is a conscious Emptiness, an unsatisfied Capacity: It implies Want in the very Notion, and supposes the Absence of the Thing desired. Was our Power equal to our Will, Desire would be a short-lived Passion; it would generally begin and end at a single Thought. For then we should put our selves in Posses­sion, at the first Sight, of whatever we be­lieved agreable. Every intelligent Being, if its Force was not limited, would soon be Master of all known Perfections. And as Desires are the Consequence of Imper­fection, so 'tis likely they are naturally enlivened to awaken our Industry, and make us pursue an Advantage. Did our Wishes keep a due Proportion to the Good­ness [Page 41] of Things, and not mount above the probability of Success, all were well enough. But Men are apt to miscalculate, both upon the Value, and the Event: And then wrong Judgments, and visionary Hopes, always produce extravagant Desires. And how gay soever the Fancy may be made this way, yet there is great reason for Caution and Reserve. To Desire with Eagerness is a beggarly Condition: It argues a keen Sense of Want, and makes the Mind run strolling after foreign Objects, and grow clamorous and importunate. And he that begs hard, is either very poor, or very co­vetous. A wise Man should be satisfied with himself, and live upon the Fund of his own Sufficiency. He should keep his Inclina­tions within the Compass of his Power, and wish himself always just what he is. There is Freedom, and Greatness, and Plea­sure, in such a Management as this. But to over look the Entertainment before him, and languish for that which lies out of the way, is sickly and servile. To say, He must have such a Thing, is to say, he must be a Slave. It lays him at the Mercy of Chance and Humour, and makes his Hap­piness precarious. Now he that cannot give himself leave to be Easy, will hardly ever be so long together. If we examine these vio­lent Pursuits, we shall find they have more [Page 42] of Heat than Light in them. The Object is over-flourished by the Fondness of Fancy, which usually paints beyond the Life, and sticks in the outward Varnish, without ha­ving either Leisure or Capacity to discover the Coarsness underneath. How happy should I be, crys one, if I had such an Estate, such a Place at Court, or Post in the Army? 'T would suit my Genius, and my Humour exactly. Give me but That, and I have done Wishing for my Life time. You have it already, Ten times finer than 'tis any where else. Make much of your Imagination, for you'll scarcely ever Pat­tern it. 'Tis not possible to build up to the Model of the Brain: Nature does not Furnish so fast as we can Think. For often­times the Scenes of Fancy are richer than those of Creation. Gold shines no where so gloriously as in the Miser's Head: And Am­bition makes a Crown sparkle, more than the Jewels of the Indies. Nothing Draws so finely as Affection: There must be some Colouring extraordinary to justify the Ar­dour, and reconcile the Dotage to Sense. And thus Things are often half spoiled be­fore they are gained, and grow cheap un­der Use and Experiment. He that would relish Success to purpose, should keep his Passion cool, and his Expectation low; and then 'tis possible his Fortune might exceed [Page 43] his Fancy. Now an Advantage always rises by surprize, and is almost doubled by being unlooked for. Farther:

Strong Desires are commonly attended with Fears proportionable. The Man is kept waking, and solicitous: He starts at the least check in Motion; every Cloud over-casts him with the Spleen; and he is equally anxious both how to get and se­cure. And what can be expected in this Region of Inconstancy, where Accidents are so numerous, where Hopes appear and vanish like Phantoms, where neither Things nor Persons continue the same long to­gether?

Besides, To wish violently for Things, un­less we understood our selves and them bet­ter, is like running in the Dark; a Man may happen to justle a Post. However, the Hurry of the Pursuit will make but a shuffling Pace, and spoil the Gracefulness of the Motion. But the Lustre of the Surface dazles the Sense, and conceals the more inward Defects. People don't consider that the best Metal is not with­out Alloy, and that there are Spots in the Sun. To this we may add, That the Name of Misfortune is often misapplied: There are many Adventures would Plague more than Please, if they were driven Home. And yet when Men are rescued from the Dan­ger of their own Choice, they commonly [Page 44] want the Discretion to be either Easy or Thankful. But let the Event be never so lucky, the Satisfaction will wither, and the Appetite wear off in Time. Diamonds grow dim, by being long look'd on: And Musick may play till the Ears are almost grated.

To proceed: Strong Desires are Tempta­tions to the Use of ill Means. In the Tu­mults of Passion, Reason is seldom heard. He that will have a Thing, will have it, Right or Wrong. When Covetousness or Ambition are in their full Career, there is no stopping them with Notions. Si violan­dum est jus regnandi causa, violandum est, and there is an End. Ahab could neither Eat nor Drink, till he had the Vineyard. And therefore e'en left it to Iezebel's Con­science to put him in Possession. And if the Pursuit were never so innocent, the Pur­chase is not tanti: The Mind is over-pro­portioned to the Advantages of Life; they will not hold out to the Length of Desire. And since they are not big enough to satisfy, they should not be big enough to dissatisfy. Solomon tells us, All is but Vanity, and vexation of Spirit. And does any Man think to make more of the World than Solomon? Can he expect to command, or improve it farther than that wise and mighty Prince? We do but disturb our Quiet, and mispend [Page 45] our Thoughts, and make our selves Mean, by throwing away our Inclinations upon these Things. To make short work on't: Let a Man Desire to be Wise: And if he has this Wish, 'tis likely he may ne'er be troubled with another.

SIr, you are welcom to Town. Me­thinks 'tis almost an Age since I saw you last.

Sir, I thank you: I had been here sooner at your service, had I not been de­tained by a Misfortune.

I am sorry for the Occasion: Pray what is it?

I have lost my old Friend, on whose Acquaintance you have heard me value my self so much.

Is he dead? That is a Misfortune indeed! He was a most admirable Person, by the Report of all that knew him.

Yes. His Character could scarcely be raised too much. Were I not well assured he was removed to Advantage, I should pass my time extreamly Ill without him. But now I am almost ashamed to Grieve, because it looks more like Self-love, than Friendship.

Truly, to be sorry a Friend is not with us, when he is better from us, is a Sign we rate our Convenience highest; and mourn more for the Living than the Dead. However, 'tis customary to do so; and it passes for Affection well enough, and I be­lieve is so in a less perfect Degree.

I am glad you have made me an Ex­cuse; for I was carried off my Philosophy a little at first, do what I could.

Be not concern'd. A Sigh, or a Tear, just at Parting, is natural and generous. But you have quickly conquer'd the com­mon Infirmity, and resign'd your self to the Happiness of your Friend. I'm confident, he that acquits himself so handsomly, must have a just Idea to form his Practice: And I [Page 47] heartily wish you would please to lay it be­fore me.

You are resolved to treat People in Mourning with Ceremony. I thank you for your Civility, and for proposing so agreable a Subject. Were I qualified to de­scribe the Offices of Friendship, none could undertake it more willingly. Such an Em­ployment would affect me to that Degree, that I should almost fancy my Friend Alive again. But I think I had better decline the Task, than injure the Argument. How­ever, if you please to assist, and set me In: I will endeavour to recollect my self for a short Conference, as well as I can.

To begin then, since you will have it so. I remember tis a famous Saying in Aristotle, That he who is pleas'd with Solitude must be either a wild Beast, or a God. This Sentence, though it favours what we are upon in the Application, yet methinks it is a strange Paradox in the Position. But for the Credit of the Author, if it can be made serviceable, I should be glad to see it.

I confess it looks somewhat surpri­zing at first Sight; that Two such different Natures should agree in any Disposition, or Branch of Life. But with Submission, the Saying carrys a very significant Meaning: And imports, That those Beings who can [Page 48] live without a Sociable Correspondence, are extraordinary either in their Defects, or Per­fections. They must be under the Standard of humane Nature, or above it: And have something that is either Savage, or Divine, in their Composition. The first is not ge­nerous enough to relish such a Communi­cation; the other is above the Use of it. That humane Friendships are partly foun­ded upon the Wants and Imperfections of Nature, may be said without Disparage­ment to so noble a Relation. A Man has not every thing growing upon his own Soyl ▪ and therefore is willing to Barter with his Neighbour. This Exchange of Offices, when 'tis managed with Frankness and Fi­delity, excites native Generosity, and im­proves into Confidence and Affection. But God is all Things to himself: He needs no foreign Commerce to furnish his Happiness. And as he cannot receive an Advantage, so neither does his Satisfaction depend upon giving one.

As to what you remark upon the Divine Nature, I agree with you. But for the rest, if it is the Author's Meaning, I am not over-fond of it. To derive Friendship from Indigence, is in my Opinion to mi­stake its Original, and assign it too mean an Extraction. Inclination, and Esteem, and Generosity, seem more creditable and likely [Page 49] Causes of so noble a Production. 'Tis Worth, and Bravery, and good Humour, which engages one vertuous Person to another. These Qualities excite Admiration, and Admiration improves into Love, and Love proceeds to Intimacy and Union. And all this, without any little Expectations of Ad­vantage. To give Interest a Share in Friend­ship, is in effect to sell it by Inch of Candle. He that Bids most, shall have it. And when 'tis thus mercenary, there is no depending on't. 'Twill be always Shifting from one Point to another, and desert upon Danger and Distress; and when a Man has most need of his Friend, he may go look him.

Don't mistake me. I am far from giving Interest the Ascendant. I would have Honour and Inclination manage the Affair, over-rule the Choice, and govern in the Progress. But after all, I must say a Prospect of Advantage may come under a lower Consideration, without doing either Damage or Discredit. For why should not a just Regard be allow'd to that which bet­ters my Condition? The Appearance of Good moves the Will by natural Necessity: And that which excites Desire, will have a Weight in Consultation, and help to de­termine for the Design.

If Profit is at all concern'd. I won­der those who have least need of it, and seem [Page 50] most above it, should be most forward to engage? Are not the greatest Men often­times strongly dispos'd for Friendship? Do they not invite Fairly to it, and reward it Liberally? To give an Instance: What oc­casion had Laelius and Africanus for Assi­stance? Persons of their Fortune and Qua­lity could well have stood upon their own Legs, and needed not to lay in for Counte­nance and Support: And yet none closed more heartily, or carried their Friendship to a nobler Height.

Under favour, Great Men want Supporters as well as others, and wise Men will provide them. But allowing your In­stance: I grant you Money, or Protection, may not be always projected in Friendship. A Man may engage to entertain himself with a wise and agreable Acquaintance. Now Pleasure is an Interest of the highest kind. 'Tis the last End of Action and De­sire. Why does any Man take Pains, but to live easier either in his Mind, or some way else? Why is he fond of Wealth, of Power, or Company, but only to please himself? Now 'tis almost impossible to live pleasantly without Friendship. Humane Na­ture is imperfect. It has not Fund enough to furnish out a Solitary Life. Paradise, barr'd from all commerce, would be in­ [...]upportable, and make a Man run mad with [Page 51] his Happiness. But without a Friend a Man is almost alone in Company. Reserve, and Suspicion, and guarding against Miscon­struction, cramp the Freedom of Strangers, and dilute the Entertainment. I may add, That Vertue it self is not sufficient to at­tain its End single. A good Man often wants an Assistant to direct his Judgment, and quicken his Industry, and fortify his Spirits. Insomuch that the very Inclina­tion to an intimate Correspondence, seems contrived for Advantage.

As I take it, a Friend is called, Alter Idem. From whence I conclude the Mo­tives to Friendship and Self-love should be the same. Now a Man does not expect to make a Penny of himself. 'Tis not the Prospect of Reward which makes him af­fected to his Person, but stark Love and Kindness. And how then can we be just to the Relation we are treating, unless our Inclinations go upon the same generous Ground.

With Submission, your Objection goes upon a Mistake. For there is a great deal of Interest in Self-love. A Man is con­siderably paid for his Pains. The Case stands thus. Every one is more intimately sensi­ble of Pleasure or Pain, in his own Person, than in that of another. For this reason he will find himself extreamly concerned to [Page 52] cherish that, which entertains him so well. And unless he takes care, will give him the greatest Disturbance. Now Interest lies on­ly in a Proportion of Loss, or Gain: And where these run highest, as they do at Home, Interest is most concern'd. From whence it follows, That Self-love, is one of the most Mercenary Actions in Nature.

'Tis the first time I have heard so. I perceive, you are resolved to stick to your point of Interest: But since you have allow­ed it so moderate a Share, refined the No­tion, and corrected the Malignity, I shall e'en let it pass. And before we go any far­ther, give me leave to add, That Confor­mity of Judgment and Temper, seems no inconsiderable Motive to begin a Friend­ship.

Right. A Resemblance in Humour or Opinion, a Fancy for the same Business or Diversion, is oftentimes a Ground of Affec­tion: Men love to see their Thoughts and Inclinations approved. This confirms them in the good Opinion of themselves: And therefore they seldom fail of being grate­ful to the Occasion. Nature, like Narcissus, is strangely Taken with its own Reflexion. A Conformity of Opinion and Desire, looks like a Multiplication of ones Self. A Man sees his own Being, as it were, doubled and [Page 53] extended in his Friend; and then 'tis no wonder if he loves him.

I think now, we may have accoun­ted for the Ri [...]e of Friendship; I wish you would run over the Means of Cul [...]ivating and Preserving it, the Extent of the Offices, and the Advantages of the Relation. For now I have you engaged, I shall leave you to your self.

Then briefly to observe your Order. There goes a great many Qualifications to the compleating this Relation. There is no small Share of Honour, and Conscience, and Sufficiency, required. There will be Occa­sion for Largeness of Mind, and Agreable­ness of Temper. For Prudence of Beha­viour; for Courage and Constancy; for Freedom from Passion, and Self-conceit. A A Man that's fit to make a Friend of, must have Conduct to manage the Engagement, and Resolution to maintain it. He must use Freedom without Roughness, and Ob­lige without Design. Cowardise will betray Friendship, and Covetousness will starve it. Folly will be nauseous, Passion is apt to ruffle, and Pride will fly out into Contume­ly and Neglect. Pride is so unsociable a Vice, and does all Things with so ill a Grace, that there is no closing with it. A proud Man will be sure to challenge more than belongs to him. You must ex­pect [Page 54] him stiff in his Conversation, fulsom in Commending himself, and bitter in his Reproofs. 'Tis well if his Favours are not turn'd into Injury and Affront; spoiled ei­ther by the Contemptuous way of doing, or by upbraiding after they are done. Such Behaviour as this frights away Friendship, and makes it stand off in Dislike and Aver­sion. Friendship, though not nice and ex­ceptious, yet must not be coarsely treated, nor used with Distance or Disdain. A Cor­respondence managed at this Rate, may be supported by Necessity, but never by Incli­nation. The Man may be kept for some time, but the Friend is lost. Friendship, to make it true, must have Beauty as well as Strength: Charms to endear, as well as Power to supply. An obliging Air is a cir­cumstance of great Moment. 'Tis a good Sign of a benevolent Mind, which to speak properly gives the whole value to a Cour­tesy. To improve the Relation, there must be a Willingness to receive a Kindness, as well as to do one. He who always re­fuses, taxes the Profferer with Indiscretion, and declares his Assistance needless.

An inoffensive Pleasantness is another good Quality for the same purpose. This Talent enlivens Conversation, and relieves Melancholy, and conveys Advice with bet­ter Success than naked Reprehension. This [Page 55] guilding of the Pill, reconciles the Palat to the Prescription, without weakening the Force of the Ingredients. And he that can cure by Recreation, and make Pleasure the Vehicle of Health, is a Doctor at it in good Earnest.

Spare me a Word, or I shall lose the Opportunity of a Question. 'Tis said, That Friendship either finds People equal, or makes them so: Do you think it so much a Leveller as this comes to?

No. There is no more necessity for an Equality of Condition, than that their Knowledg, or Stature, should be of the same Proportion. I confess where the Difference is considerable, the Invitation must be the fairer. A Man must stoop his hand for his Friend, and raise him up towards his own Ground. The Advantage must be laid asleep. There must be no challenge of Su­periority, or discountenancing of Freedom, on the one hand: Nothing of Envy, or Repining, on the other. In my Opinion, Disparity in Age, seems a greater Obstacle to an intimate Friendship than inequality of Fortune. For the Humours, Business, and Diversions, of young and old Men, are ge­nerally very different. So that if they use a full Freedom, and let their Inclinations strike out, they will displease; if they balk them, they'll be uneasy. Besides, the Oc­casion [Page 56] of these different Thoughts, is not to be removed. A wealthy Person may cure the Indigence of his Friend, and make him as Rich as himself, if he pleases. But Age and Youth cannot be made over, or adjusted. Nothing but Time can take away Years, or give them. However, this Im­pediment does not always take place: So­crates and Alcibiades may serve for an In­stance. And old Laelius professes he had an extraordinary Kindness for several young People.

Now if you please to the Extent of the Office. How far is a Man obliged to serve his Friend?

As far as he is able, and the In­terest of the other requires it. As far as Op­portunity, Discretion, and former Prein­gagements will give leave. To Break upon the Score of Danger, or Expence, is to be mean and narrow Spirited. Provided al­ways the Assistance may be given without undoing a Man, or prejudice to a third Person; without Violations of Conscience, or Honour. Where the Thing is unlawful, we must neither Ask, nor Comply. All Im­portunities against Justice, are Feverish De­sires, and not to be gratified. Where Vertue is not made the Measure of a Correspondence, 'tis no better than that of Thieves and Py­rats. 'Tis a scandalous Excuse to say, I [Page 57] murther'd a Man, or betray'd my Country, at the Instance of a Friend. When Princi­ples and Duty lie thus at the Mercy of a little Ceremony, we are likely to have a good Time on't! He that would engage me unwarrantably, takes me for an ill Person. His Motion is an Affront, and I ought to renounce him for the Injury of his Opi­nion.

I am perfectly of your Mind; and shall go on to another Question. Is it fair to conceal any Thing from a Friend? Or must the Communication be entire, and without Limitation? Are not Secrets in Reserve, ungenerous Suspitions; and in­consistent with the Confidences of Friend­ship?

'Tis possible some People have strain'd Courtesy in this point: And made their good Nature over-ballance their Cau­tion. My Answer, since you are pleased to ask it, is This: Whatever my Friend is concerned to know, I ought to acquaint him with, and stand the hazard of the Dis­covery. But in other Cases, a Man may be allowed to keep a Corner of his Soul to himself. While the Secret is lodged at Home, it can never hurt me. For 'tis cer­tain I shall always be true to my own In­terest, and have a Kindness for my self: But I cannot so well Ensure the Constancy [Page 58] of another. And why then should I put my self in his Power to no Purpose?

To dispatch the whole Point. As far as Prudence and Justice will permit, we ought to use a Friend with all the Frankness and Generosity imaginable. There must be no stinting of Inclination, no computing upon Favours, for fear we should do more than we receive. This is to State Accounts, and looks more like Merchandize than Friendship. Exactness, and Management, and Observation, is a Sign of Indifferency and Distrust. It may do well enough a­mong Strangers, but a Friend should be treated at a nobler Rate; and used with more Confidence and Affection. We should examine his Occasions, and prevent his De­sires, and scarce give him time to think he wanted an Assistance. A Forwardness to ob­lige, is a great Grace upon a Kindness, and doubles the intrinsick Worth. In these Cases, that which is done with Pleasure, is always received so.

To pass on to the Advantages of Friend­ship: Now these are so noble, and so neces­sary, that Empire it self is insipid without it. Augustus, and Tiberius, had Loftiness enough in their Temper, and affected to make a Sovereign Figure; and had their Nature been more independent, would have liked a Solitary Pride very well. But [Page 59] this Distance would not do their Business. They were glad to part with the Singula­rity of their State in some Measure; to lay their Majesty aside, and to purchase Free­dom and Familiarity at the Expence of Pre­rogative. Where they saw the Disposition agreable, they made no Scruple to raise mean Subjects to the highest Honours, to qualify them for Intimacy and Conversa­tion. They found the Satisfactions of Great­ness imperfect, without the Additions of Friendship. They thought themselves un­safe without the Supports of Trust, and un­easy without the Permissions of Freedom. To appear in their Robes always, would be a troublesom Piece of State. Unless they can be contented with the Happiness of a Pageant, they must to some Persons at least condescend to the Habit, and wear the Hu­mour of other Mortals.

'Tis somewhat Remarkable what Com­mines observes of Charles Duke of Burgun­dy: This Prince was so very reserv'd, that he would impart his Secrets to No-body; especially those which troubled him most. Whereupon the Historian tells us, That this Closeness did Impair, and a little Perish his Understanding. Pompey's Ambition was as great as Cesar's; his Project was the same, but his Over-reservedness undid him. He might have been Master of the Enter­prize [Page 60] prize before Cesar's Competition: But he was so Mysterious, that his Party knew not what he would be at. And their having no Aim to direct and proportion their Assi­stance, was the Cause of his Miscarriage. But besides the Disappointments attending this Humour, the Uneasiness of it must be almost insupportable; especially to those who are in Business, or Trouble. Those who have no Friend to discharge their Cares, and their Grievances upon, are (if one may use so hardy an Expression) a Sort of Cannibals to themselves, and prey upon their own Vitals. A swelling Discontent is apt to Suffocate and Strangle, without Passage. Whereas those who live within the Communication of Friendship, have a Vent for their Misfortunes. They may safely go to the Bottom of the Matter, re­port the nicest Case, and expose the affec­ted Part to Cure and Compassion. Friend­ship has a noble Effect upon all Accidents and Conditions: It relieves our Cares, raises our Hopes, and abates our Fears. It doubles our Joys, and divides our Griefs. A Friend who relates his Success, talks him­self into a new Pleasure. And by opening his Misfortunes, leaves part of them behind him. Friendship, like some universal Me­dicine, works contrary ways, but always to the Benefit of Nature. And as the Union [Page 61] of Bodies fortifies the Action at Home, and weakens the Impressions of Violence, so there is a proportionable Improvement from the Union of Minds.

Neither is Friendship only serviceable to heighten our Pleasures, and compose our Passions: 'Tis likewise of Sovereign Use to the Understanding. The Benefit of Con­versation, if there was nothing else in it, would be no inconsiderable Improvement. Discourse (without Enthusiasm) creates a Light within us, and dispels the Gloom and Confusion of the Mind. A Man by tumb­ling his Thoughts, and forming them into Expressions, gives them a new kind of Fer­mentation; which works them into a finer Body, and makes them much clearer than they were before. A Man is willing to strain a little for Entertainment, and to burnish for Sight, and Approbation. The very Presence of a Friend, seems to inspire with new Vigor. It raises Fancy, and reinforces Reason; and gives the Productions of the Mind better Colour and Proportion. Conversation is like the Discipline of Drawing out, and Mu­stering; it acquaints a Man with his Forces, and makes them fitter for Service. Besides, there are many awakening Hints and Ren­counters in Discourse; which like the Col­lision of hard Bodies, make the Soul strike Fire, and the Imagination sparkle: Effects [Page 62] not to be expected from a solitary Endea­vour. In a word, The Advantage of Con­versation is such, that for want of Com­pany a Man had better talk to a Post, than let his Thoughts lie Smoking and Smother­ing in his Head.

Another Advantage of Friendship, is the Opportunity of receiving good Advice: 'Tis dangerous relying upon our own Opi­nion. Affection is apt to corrupt the Judg­ment. Men, like false Glasses, generally represent their Complexion better than Na­ture has made it. And as they are likely to over flourish their own Case, so their Flattery is hardest to be discover'd. For who would suspect such Treachery at Home? Who would imagine his Reason suborn'd against his Interest, and that himself was guilty of putting Tricks upon himself? Now nothing is so effectual to rescue a Man out of his own hands, as the plain Dealing of a Friend. For Instruction from Books, strikes the Imagination more faintly, than that which is delivered Viva voce. And observing resembling Miscarriages in others, may mislead us by the disparity of the In­stance. Besides, People are not fond of searching after their own Faults. To lie poring upon their Imperfections, and De­formities, is a dull Entertainment. A Man has no Pleasure in proving that he has [Page 63] play'd the Fool: And therefore had rather go upon any other Discovery. Accordingly we may observe, That they who are too Big, or too Wise, for Admonition, do a great many ill, unbecoming, and ridiculous Things. As for Business, the assistance of of a Friend is most useful; to form the Undertaking, and secure the Steadiness of the Conduct. In matters of Moment, our Hopes and Fears are commonly ill ballan­ced. A Man is apt to be too eagerly en­gaged, to make just Remarks upon the Progress and Probability of Things. No­thing so proper as a judicious Friend in such a Case; to temper the Spirits, and moderate the Pursuit: To give the Signal for Action, to press the Advantage, and strike the Critical Minute.

Foreign Intelligence may have a Spy in it, and therefore should be cautiously re­ceived. Strangers (I call all such excep­ting Friends) are often Designing in their Advice, and make a Property of their Cli­ent. And though their Inclinations are hearty, they may give wrong Measures, by mistaking the Case. An old Friend has the whole Scheme in his Head. He knows the Constitution and the Disease, the Strength and the Humour of him he assists: What he can do, and what he can bear. And therefore none so fit to prescribe; to di­rect [Page 64] the Enterprize, and secure the Main Chance.

Farther: Friendship is not confined to the consulting Part, it comes in likewise at the Execution. Some Cases are so nice that a Man cannot appear in them himself, but must leave the Soliciting wholly to his Friend. For the purpose: A Man cannot Recommend himself without Vanity, nor Ask many times without uneasiness. But a kind Proxy, will do Justice to his Merits, and relieve his Modesty, and effect his Bu­siness; and all without Trouble, Blushing, or Imputation.

These Considerations ought to make Friendship sacred, and guard off all Injury and Misunderstanding. 'Tis great Folly, as well as Injustice, to break off so noble a Relation; especially one which has stood the Test of a long Experience. For Friend­ship is one of those few Things which are the better for the Wearing. Alphonsus the Wise, King of Aragon, tells us, That all the Acquisitions and Pursuits of Men, excepting Four, were but Bawbles; i. e. old Wood to Burn, old Wine to Drink, old Books to Read, and old Friends to Converse with.

To part with a tryed Friend without great Provocation, is unreasonable Levity. It looks as if a Man's Spirits were turned Eager, and his good Humour worn out. [Page 65] Such Inconstancy of Temper, seems to be govern'd by Caprice, and Curiosity; and to turn more upon Interest than Affection. An ambiguous Expression, a little Chagrin, or a start of Passion, is by no means enough to take leave upon. The best People can­not be always Even, Awake, and Enter­taining. No Person performs at this rate of Exactness, and therefore should not re­quire it. The Accidents of Life, the In­dispositions of Health, the Imperfections of Reason, ought to be allow'd for. A Para­disiacal Temper is not to be expected from Postdiluvian Mortals. The bare inequality of the Seasons, is enough to give one the Spleen. And therefore your Islanders ought to bear with their Friends, more than those that live upon the Continent. A Man that would make the Best on't, must Live under the Aequator: And in that steady Climate, he may possibly find People always in the Humour. To be serious: Nothing but plain Malevolence can justify Disunion. Malevo­lence shewn either in a single Outrage un­retracted, or in habitual Ill-nature. Such Behaviour, I confess, is a notorious Breach of Articles; it strikes at the Fundamen­tals, and makes a Correspondence imprac­ticable.

When the Engagement proves thus un­lucky, the way is to Draw off by Degrees, [Page 66] and not come to an open Rupture. Let the Acquaintance be decently buried; and the Flame rather Go out, than be Smother'd. For as Cato well observes, though in the Phrase of a Taylor, Friendship ought not to be Unrip'd, but Unstitch'd.

POpularity, is a Courting the Favour of the People by undue Practices, or for unwarrantable Ends. By the People, I mean those who are under the Government of false Reasoning, or vitious Inclinations, let their Condition be what it will. The Po­pular Man's Designs are Power, Wealth, Reputation, or all together. He that is conscious how much his Vanity exceeds his Force, and that his Merit will never carry up to his Ambition; if he gets but a fa­vourable Juncture, and a rising Ground, to Work he goes. He pretends a great Con­cern for his Country, and a more than or­dinary Insight into Matters. Now such [Page 67] Professions as these, when they are set off with somewhat of Gravity and Figure, espe­cially when they are recommended by a Treat, are very proper to dispose an Au­dience to hear Reason. So that now he ventures to acquaint them with the Secret of their Privileges. That the People are the Original of Power: That Government is always convey'd with an Implication of Trust, and Reservation: That Governours are only the Executors and Administrators of the Peoples Will: That in strict Reason­ing, 'tis a nobler Prerogative to give a Crown than to wear it: That the Pomp of Princes is nothing but the Livery of the Subjects Bounty; and that the Greatness of their Wages, ought not to exempt them from the Condition of a Servant. This, with a little Flourish about Miscarriages and Arbi­trary Designs, is strangely Taking. He that has such a burning Zeal, and springs such mighty Discoveries, must needs be an admirable Patriot. What can a civil People do less than resign themselves up to his Conduct, and present him with their Un­derstandings?

To come from the State to the Church: He that would be an Agreable Ecclesiastick, must survey the Posture of Things, exa­mine the Ballance of Interests, and be well read in the Inclinations and Aversions of [Page 68] the Generality. And then his Business will be to follow the Loudest Cry, and make his Tack with the Wind. Let him never pre­tend to Cure an Epidemical Distemper, nor fall out with a Fashionable Vice, nor question the Infallible Judgment of the Multitude. Let him rather down with a Sinking Faction, charge a Stragling Party, and hang upon a Broken Rear. Let him Declaim against a Solitary Errour, and Bat­ter a Publick Aversion, and Press the People upon those Extremes, [...]o which of them­selves they are too inclinable. And when Fears and Jealousies become clamorous, when Discontents run high, and All grows Mutinous and Mad; Then especial Care must be taken not to dilate upon the Au­thority of Princes, or the Duties of Obe­dience. These are dangerous Points, and have ruined many a good Man, and are only to be Handled when there is least Oc­casion. There are other nice, though in­ferior Cases, in which a Man must Guard, if he intends to keep Fair with the World, and turn the Penny. For the Purpose: If he is in the City, he must avoid haranguing against Circumvention in Commerce, and unreasonable Imposing upon the Ignorance or Necessity of the Buyer. If you Meddle with Diana of the Ephesians, you must expect to lose Demetrius's Friendship. The Dues [Page 69] will come in but heavily at this Rate: But to be sure all the Voluntary Oblations in Presents and Respect, are absolutely lost. We are a Trading People, (say some of us) and must have no interfering between Business, and Religion. If the Pulpits and the Ex­change will not Agree, we must Live, and there is an End on't.

To proceed: If his Cure lyes among the Lawyers. Let their be nothing said against Entangling Property, Spinning out of Cau­ses, Squeezing of Clients, and making the Laws a greater Grievance than those who break them. No Rhetorick must be spent against Defending a known Injustice, against Cross-biting a Country Evidence, and frighting him out of Truth, and his Senses. 'Tis granted that Touching sometimes up­on these Heads, is the only way to improve the Audience: Such plain Dealing would either Recover, or Disarm them: Reform the Men, or Expose the Practice. But then you'll say, this Method goes too much to the Quick. This Divinity may bring the Benchers upon the Preacher, and make him fall under Censure and Discountenance. Now a Person of Discretion will take care not to Embarras his Life, nor Expose him­self to Calumny, nor let his Conscience grow too strong for his Interest, upon any Account.

[Page 70]To speak generally. A Popular Man al­ways swims down the Stream: He never Crosses upon a Prevailing Mistake, nor Op­poses any Mischief that has Numbers, and Prescription on its Side. His Point is to steal upon the Blind Side, and apply to the Affections: To flatter the Vanity, and play upon the Weakness of those in Power, or Interest; and to make his Fortune out of the Folly of his Neighbours.

Not that 'tis a Commendation to be of a Morose and Cynical Behaviour; to run counter to the innocent Humours and Cu­stoms of Mankind; to be Coarse or Unsea­sonable in Admonition; or to avoid the good Opinion of People, by Rustick Incom­pliance, by Peevishness or Singularity. But then neither ought a Man to Please another to his Prejudice, to fortify him in an Er­rour by an Over-officiousness, and to Ca­ress him out of his Safety, and Discre­tion.

And after all, the Success is no such mighty Matter. If one Considers, he'll find as little Credit as Conscience in the Purchase. For what sort of Reputation must that be, which is gained by Methods of In­famy? To debauch Men's Understandings in order to procure their good Word, is a most admirable Testimony of our Worth! A blind Man must needs be a fit Judg of [Page 71] Proportions and Colour. These Patents of Honour, which are Granted thus by Sur­prize, are always Recalled when the Party is better Advised. The Esteem gained this way, like a Love-Potion, works more by the Strength of Charm, than Nature; and if ever the Person Recovers, the Hatred will be much greater than the Affection.

The Truth is, if there was no Foul Play used, or the Artifice undiscovered, there would not be much to Brag of. For a Uni­versal Applause, is seldom little less than two Thirds of a Scandal. A Man may al­most Swear he is in the Wrong, when he is generally Cryed up. Either Incapacity or Prejudice, Negligence or Imposture, disor­ders the Judgment of the Multitude. Their Understandings are often too Weak, or their Passions too Strong, to Distinguish Truth, or Pronounce upon the Right of the Case. If a Great Man happens to make a false Step, and strikes out into a Sudden Irregularity, he needs not question the Re­spect of a Retinne. How is an Exploit of this Nature celebrated by the Crowd, and shouted Home with the Pomp of a Roman Triumph? In fine: To endeavour not to Please, is Ill-nature; altogether to Neglect it, Folly; and to Over-strain for it, Va­nity and Design.

I Have often thought what it is to Think; and the more I press the Enquiry, the farther I am from Satisfac­tion. The Operations of the Mind are so pe­culiar, so foreign to all the other Appearances of Nature, that 'tis hard to assign them a proper Original. Without Thinking, we can have no Sense of Being; and with it, we are we cannot tell what. So that the same Faculty seems to make us ac­quainted with, and Strangers to our selves.

I am surpriz'd to find you entan­gled in so slender a Difficulty. Thinking every Body knows is the Work of the Brain: That is the Forge in which all the Specula­tions of the Understanding, and the Appe­tites of the Will, are hammer'd out.

I confess Possibilities go a great way. But in my Opinion, the Brain has a very unpromising Aspect for such a Business. It looks like an odd sort of Bog for Fancy to paddle in. When I can see People tread Sense out of Mud, as they do Eels, then I may be enclined to believe that Brains and Reasoning are of Kin; in the mean time I desire to be excused.

I'm sorry your Conceptions are so Unphilosophical. You seem to forget that the Brain has a great many small Fibres, or Strings in its Texture; which according to the different Strokes they receive from the Animal Spirits, awaken a correspondent Idea, and give us those Notices of Things which we call Thoughts.

A little clearer, if you please.

You must know then, that the Nerves, which have their Origin in the Brain, are branched into a great many fine Subdivisions, and spread upon all the Surface of the Body. These are the Cha­nels in which the Animal Spirits move: So that as soon as any foreign Object presses [Page 74] upon the Sense; those Spirits which are posted upon the Out-guards, immediately take the Alarm, and scowr off to the Brain, which is the Head-Quarters, or Office of Intelligence, and there they make their Re­port of what has happen'd.

I suppose they return loaden like Bees, and disburthen themselves in the Cells much after the same manner?

I have told you the Information is convey'd by striking upon the Fibres, and giving them a particular Bent; which im­prints the Character of the Object upon the Mind.

I should almost as soon imagine, that the striking a Viol with the Bow, should entertain the Instrument with its own Mu­sick. But as I remember, some say the Spi­rits Tilt so violently, that they make Holes where they strike; which are no sooner open, but the Ideas run into them as fast as may be. And after they have lain there a little while, grow as drowsy as Dormice, unless they are rowsed by a new Sum­mons. By the way, what are Animal Spi­rits; methinks they perform strange Things?

They are a kind of little Pellets, wrought off the finer Parts of the Blood.

Then I perceive they are Bodies all this while.

Yes. But admirably furnish'd for Dispatch and Intelligence.

Let them be as Sleek, and well Timber'd, as those Atoms Epicurus made his Soul of; yet I'm afraid they are not al­together qualified for that Office you have put them in. For supposing a Bird sits be­fore me; these Mercurys immediately run up to the Center of Sensation, to give an Account of what is arrived. Now in doing this, either every single Animal Spirit must convey a whole Representation, which would multiply the Object, if not over-load the Carrier; or else they must divide the Image among them; and so lug off every one his Share. This I confess is the more equal way: But then when they have taken the Object to pieces, how they will set it toge-again, is hard to imagine. For they can­not strike all upon one Point; and if they could, they would jumble the Proportions, and run the Object all on heaps; where the later Impression would go near to deface the former. But if they impinge upon diffe­rent Parts, and make every Part sensible with the Stroke; 'Tis true then they have it among them, but which way the Whole should emerge, is still incomprehensible. For supposing the Image was painted in Order, without any Dislocation, vacant Intervals, or Interloping; yet the Parts of [Page 76] the Fibres being distinct, and impregnated by distinct Spirits, they can account no far­ther than their Share of Motion reaches: And therefore how they should club their particular Informations into a common Idea, is inconceivable. For Instance: If a Cake is broken among Twenty People, though there may be nothing lost in the Division, yet 'twill be next to impossible for each Person, from the View of a single Fragment, to understand what Relation ei­ther in Site, or Magnitude, his proportion bears to the whole. Besides, if any of the returning Spirits should happen to fall foul upon others which are outward Bound; (which is not unlikely:) These Counter-motions would over-set them, or occasion a later Arrival; either of which Accidents would maim the Image, and make it im­perfect.

These Rubs you see will lie in the way of Sensation: But then in the Business of Imagination, the Difficulty is still greater. For here are no external Impressions to be­gin the Motion. 'Tis true, outward Ob­jects will make us perceive them, whether we will or no. But the Exercises of Ima­gination are oftentimes purely voluntary. When the Passions are not violent, we may check or quicken, change or extinguish, the Operation as we please. Now I would [Page 77] gladly know the main Spring of the Mo­tion. What Power it is which opens the Scene, and gives Direction to the whole Management; which chalks out the Course of the Spirits, and limits their Commission, both as to Time, and other Circumstances of Action?

I perceive you imagine a Mecha­nical Solution impossible. But if you ex­amined the exquisite Fineness of the Ani­mal Spirits, and the exact Proportion be­tween them and the Fibres, to give and receive Impressions, I believe you would alter your Opinion: Especially considering this Hypothesis is supported by matter of Fact.

We'll examine your matter of Fact afterwards. At present let me tell you, since both the Fibres, and Spirits, are Ma­terial; I think it impossible for them to produce Effects, so much above the Vigour of the Cause. You may as well expect that two Bowls should grow sensible by Rubbing, as that the Rencounter of any Bodies, should awaken them into Perception and Reasoning. The whole Force of Mechanism, consists in Matter and Motion. Matter is nothing but Extention, that is, Length, Breadth, and Depth. And Motion implies no more than a Change of Situation in the Parts of Matter. Now these two Ingredients, though [Page 78] never so well mix'd, will not rise into the Composition of a Spirit. Thoughts, and Di­mensions, are the most incompatible, unre­sembling Things in Nature. To make the first out of the later, is a harder Metamor­phosis than any is in Ovid. Who ever heard of an Ounce of Pain, an Inch of De­sire, or an Ell of Contemplation.

I suppose you fancy if Matter and Motion can make a Thought; a Thought may make Matter and Motion.

Why not? What should hinder this Mercury from being fixed after Subli­mation, and thrown back into its former State? But as this won't do, so neither will the other. Take a Body and run it through all Shapes, and Changes; force it into all Cli­mates, and b [...]ndy it through the Universe; yet, like some young Travellers, 'twill come Home as dull, and unthinking, as it went out. For all this bustle amounts to no more than making the Parts and Motion greater, or lesser, than they were before; and giving them a new Neighbourhood.

I should have fancied that when the Parts were broken fine, and curiously filed, a brisk Touch of Motion would have quick­ned them into Thinking.

Motion make them Think! You may as well expect Discourse from a Tem­pest, or Consgration. And as for the Fine­ness [Page 79] of Parts, if that signifies any Thing, a Mite would have more sense than a Man. And to carry on the Improvement: One would think we might beat Spice till it felt the Pestil; and with a good Flint and Steel, strike Consciousness into a Tinder-box.

What makes you so positive against the Sensibility of Matter?

Because 'tis nothing but Extension variously figured.

Do you know all the Affections of Bodies? If not, why do you confine their Operations?

If you ask me whether I know all the Effects which may result from all the possible Combinations of Matter, and Mo­tion: I answer, No; neither is it neces­sary. But this I know, That all your Trans­mutations can never hunt a Body out of Extension. You may divide, or consolidate; alter the Superficies, the Bulk, or Place; quicken the Motion, or interrupt the Quiet; but after all 'twill have Longitude, Lati­tude, and Profundity, in spight of Fate. The Consequence is, That all the Revolu­tions in Nature, can give it nothing more than different Degrees of these Dimensions. And what affinity has Thinking with such Attributes as these? No more than there is between a Syllogism and a Yard-wand. In a word: If Thinking is Essential to Mat­ter, [Page 80] than all Matter must Think; and if so, Stocks and Stones will come in for their Share of Privilege. But if all Matter does not Think, none can; for the Essence of all Matter is the same.

Does it imply a Contradiction for Matter to Think?

Truly, in my Opinion, as much as for a Man to be a Horse.

Why so? Does Thinking extinguish Extension?

It extinguishes the Idea if you will; and that is sufficient proof it does not be­long to the Thing.

Because Extension and Cogitation are unallied in their Ideas, and this later is not implied in the Notion of Matter, you con­clude this Faculty does not belong to it.

Yes; and with good Reason. For how can the Distinction of Substances be known, but by the different Proprieties and Operations which proceed from them; and which way can these be discovered, but by the distinct Notions, and Sentiments, we have of them?

Are you sure your Idea of Matter is compleat?

That the full Notion of Corporeity is comprized within the Three Dimensions, is as clear as that Two and Two makes Four. To these Dimensions add what Dose of Mo­tion [Page 81] you please, and then you have raised the whole Posse of Mechanism. And when you have disciplined it in all Postures, and Figures, 'twill be Matter and Motion still. For you may better suppose, That a Mouse may produce an Elephant, than that Mat­ter and Motion should propagate out of their own Species. Now these two Principles fall vastly short of the Notion of Conscious­ness; and are no more like Perception, than Colours resemble Sound.

You take the Differences of Ideas, for Demonstrations of Distinction in Things; will that hold?

Yes; or else we have nothing to trust to. If clear and distinct Perception is not the infallible Mark of Truth, 'tis impos­sible to know any Thing. For all Reasoning is at last resolved into Self-evident Princi­ples: Now these Magisterial Propositions don't dispute for Belief, but demand it. They flash Conviction so powerfully that [...] there is no resisting them, unless you will suppose our Faculties are false: And then it will be Madness to argue about any Thing. To return: Don't you think the Whole is greater than any Part of it?

I allow it an indisputable Axiom; what follows?

Why as plain and as primary a [Page 82] Truth as it appears, 'tis but a Consequence of what I mentioned before.

What, that a Distinction of Ideas infers a Distinction in Things?

Yes. For do but attend, and you'll find that the reason why you pronounce the whole bigger than a Part; is because the first takes up a greater room in the Notion, and includes a more comprehensive Reality, than the later.

It seems then the Functions of Life and Reasoning, proceed from an immaterial Substance; and that the Body and Spirit, are perfectly distinct.

Nothing more certain. And if a Spi­rit has no Extension, it can have no Parts; from hence it becomes indivisible, and thence immortal.

I own these Consequences are very clear; but then they are embarrassed with some appendant Difficulties which shock a Man's Understanding.

Look you! We must not let go ma­nifest Truths, because we cannot answer all Questions about them. Objections are no good Evidence against positive Proofs. This scrupulous way would make us deny our Senses: For there is scarcely any thing we meet with, but puts our Reason to a stand, in some Circumstance or other. But pray where does the Pinch lye?

Why, by this Scheme all Commu­nication between Soul and Body is cut off; and yet nothing is more certain than that These two maintain a large Correspon­dence. You see we move our Limbs at our Pleasure, and receive various Impressions according to the Objects of Sense, and the Habits of Constitution. But how the Soul can move the Body, or be affected by it, without Extension, is past my Comprehen­sion. For all Motion is perform'd by Re­sistance, and Resistance supposes Contact, and Contact requires a Superficies, and this implies Extension; so that where Exten­sion is absent, the other Requisites must fail of Course. At this rate, a Soul may as soon push down a Church Steeple, as stir a single Atom.

I confess I can't tell you how this Affair is managed. 'Tis possible the Soul does not move the Body at all.

How then comes it to pass that Mo­tion is so perpetually consequent to our Will? For the Purpose: When I have a Mind to walk, the Muscles are immediately put into a Posture of Travelling, and do their Office at the least Notice imagi­nable.

I believe this mysterious Correspon­dence depends on the Laws of the Union; which by Sovereign Appointment are or­der'd [Page 84] to consist in a certain Reciproca­tion of Thoughts and Motions, and so vice versa.

You mean, when I would move my Finger, God directs the Organ for such a Performance: And on the other hand, gives me Ideas suitable to the Presence of sensible Objects, and to the State of the Union.

Right.

But why do you make use of this Supposition? Do you believe the Power of Exciting Motion exceeds the Force of the Soul?

'Tis not improbable it may. For if this Privilege lay within our reach, one would imagine we should know some­thing more of the Manner of using it. But I don't pretend to determine any Thing.

You don't think it impossible for a Spirit to move Matter?

By no means: If it were, there would be no such Thing as Motion. For Extension implies no Necessity of being Mo­ved: It supposes no more than a bare Ca­pacity for such an Event. Now that Power which brings this Possibility into Act, must be something distinct from Matter. Be­sides: The Regularity of Motion, visible in the great Variety and Curiosity of Bodies, and the constant and even Revolutions of [Page 85] some of them, is a Demonstration that the whole Mass of Matter is under the Conduct of a Mighty Intelligence.

By your Reasoning, I conceive you believe that the Power of Motion, is either an incommunicable Perfection of the Su­preme Being, or else a sort of Prerogative Royal, which he is pleased to keep in his Hands, that we may be the more sensible of our dependance.

I think that Opinion not impro­bable. You know the Apostle tells us, That in Him we Live, Move, and have our Being: Which Words 'tis likely will bear a more Literal Sense than is usually imagined.

May be so. But to return: If Matter be so uncapable of Thinking, as seems to have been proved; How comes it about that the Operations of Sense, and Reason, vary so much according to the Dis­position of the Organs? For if the Musick does not depend on the Instrument, what's matter whether 'tis in Tune, or not? Now you know any considerable Degrees of Sickness, or Age, flat the Senses, extin­guish the Memory, and weaken the Under­standing: So that the Vigour of the Mind seems almost stifled under these Corporeal Oppressions.

I grant the Powers of Sensation are contracted or enlarged, made keen [Page 86] or languid, according to the Temper of the Body. But 'tis likely these Circumstan­ces are no more than occasional Causes of this Variety. My Meaning is, That there is no natural Connexion between Thought, and Matter and Motion: Or that the Soul and Body do not act by direct Force upon each other. 'Tis true, Sensations and Pas­sions, seem to depend upon a particular Set of Motions: And the Body, on the other hand, seems to fall into different Postures by the Orders of the Mind; yet these Ef­fects may not result from any mutual A­gency, but meerly from the Will of a third Power. That this Supposition is possible, needs no proof. 'That 'tis matter of Fact, seems likely; because the two Parties are so essentially foreign and dissimilar, that they seem uncapable of entertain­ing any Commerce by virtue of their own Strength.

If the Operations of Life have no immediate dependance on the Quality of the Organ; why are our Senses worn up with Age, and decay with the visible Parts of the Body?

When the common Period of the Union is almost expired, 'tis likely Provi­dence gives us notice of it by such sensible Declensions; that we may disengage from [Page 87] the World by degrees, and prepare the better for so great an Alteration.

Why does Pain follow from Ob­structions, Dislocation, Discontinuity, &c. and Pleasure from those Actions which sup­port the Frame?

To encourage us to keep the Body in repair, and to prevent Dissolution.

Your answering in the Final Cause, makes me believe you are at a Loss for the Efficient.

As to that, 'Tis probable the Di­vine Oeconomy has settled such an inter­changeable Train of Thoughts, and Motions, between Soul and Body; that as soon as the occasional Hints spring out, the other will as constantly follow, as if they were pro­duced by the most immediate Causality. For Instance: If I cut my Finger, I shall as certainly feel Pain, as if my Soul was co-extended with the Limb, and had a Piece of it Sawn through. So when I am dispo­sed to Strike, the Action will be performed with the same Force and Regularity, as if it was conducted, and pushed on by the will, in the most corporeal Manner.

I mention this both to illustrate the Point, and to shew that we ought to guard upon both Parts of our Composition: That there may be nothing done which is un­becoming, [Page 88] or disagrees with the Intend­ments of Providence.

If the Soul and Body have no in­trinsick or essential Aptness to take or re­ceive Impressions from each other; why is the Structure of the later so curiously Fra­med? Why is there such variety of Parts, and such admirable Proportion? By your Scheme the Soul might have the same com­pass of Sentiment and Perception, and do every jot as well, if it were united to a Clod.

So it might, though it had never an Atom belong to it. However your Que­stion about the Curiosity of the Body, may be answer'd by saying, That 'tis probably so framed to shew the Wisdom and Power of the Architect, and to heighten the Beau­ty and Dignity of the Creature.

Do you say the Soul may be as hap­py without a Body, as with it?

I say 'tis possible to be so. Though God may order it otherwise, if he pleases; as in Effect he has done with respect to the Re­surrection. But let this last Dispute lie un­decided. And before I take my leave, I can't but observe to you, that there are a great many strange Appearances in Thoughts. Methinks, if it might be, I would gladly understand the Formation of a Soul, run it up to its Punctum Saliens, and see it beat [Page 89] the first conscious Pulse. These Thoughts! whence do they arise? What Stuff are they made of? And what Vigour is it that gives them such an Instantaneous Production? They are conceived in full Maturity, and step into Perfection at first. They scorn the Gradations of Bodies, and the heavy Succes­sions of Motion. They gain the Race at a Start, out-stretch the Speed of Gunpowder, and Distance Light and Lightning.

If they come up in that Perfection, why are some Thoughts said to be unfinished, and to require the working off with Labour and Time?

I grant you Projects, Harangues, and Chains of Reasoning, are not so quickly Wrought up. They include Multitude, and Order, and Choice; and therefore must have some Leisure for Ranging, and Invention. But as to single Ideas, Incon­nexions, and slight Touches, my Obser­vation holds good. For pray what Time does it take to raise the Notion of a Moun­tain? Or to Think from England to Iapan? A Man may set both the Poles together in his Head, without trouble; and Clutch the whole Globe at one Intellectual Grasp, if he pleases. To go on: Methinks the Con­veyance and Disposition of Things in the Mind, is very extraordinary. What Fa­culty is it which takes the Model of the [Page 90] largest Objects, and draws the Picture in Little? That reconciles all disagreing Qua­lities, and lodges Sympathy and Antipathy, Fire and Water, together without distur­bance? That contracts the Intervals of Space, unites the Distances of Time, and draws Past, Present, and Future, into a single View? How comes it to pass that such an infinite Number of Things are placed with such Order and Distinction in the Memory; notwithstanding the Tumults and Confu­sions, Marches and Counter-marches, of the Animal Spirits? What room is there for such variety of Characters, and length of Records? What is the reason some re­markable Passages will remain fresh and en­tire for Sixty Years together; when all the Furniture of the Head has been often re­newed in that Period?

I confess I can't explain the How to you, unless the impregnated Fibres, or Spi­rits, at their going off, deposit their Charge with those that remain.

They are very just if they do so: But I am afraid this handing of Notions from one Piece of Brain to another, is somewhat unintelligible. In short, If you reflect up­on the Liberty of Thought, the Extent, the Abstractions, and all the Singularities of its Operations; you'll be obliged to assign [Page 91] it a nobler Original than Matter, and Motion.

I am satisfied with what you say; and upon a through View, I find the System of a Mechanical Soul, wretchedly ridicu­lous.

All the Branches of Scepticism are so. If the Success of our Hobbists were no better than their Reasoning, they would have few Disciples. But some People are willing to be imposed upon. For loose Practises must have supporting Principles, otherwise there will be no Quiet.

Adieu.

THE Diversions of Reading, though they are not always of the strongest Kind, yet they generally Leave a better Effect than the grosser Satisfactions of Sense. For if they are well chosen, they neither dull the Appetite, nor strain the Capacity. On the contrary, they refresh the Inclinations, and strengthen the Power, and improve under Experiment. And which is best of all, they Entertain and Perfect at the same time; and convey Wis­dom and Knowledge through Pleasure. By Reading a Man does as it were Antedate his Life, and makes himself contemporary with the Ages past. And this way of running up beyond ones Nativity, is much better than Plato's Pre-existence; because here a [Page 93] Man knows something of the State, and is the wiser for it, which he is not in the other.

In conversing with Books we may chuse our Company, and disengage without Ce­remony or Exception. Here we are free from the Formalities of Custom, and Re­spect. We need not undergo the Penance of a dull Story, from a Fop of Figure; but may shake off the Haughty, the Imperti­nent, and the Vain, at Pleasure. Besides, Authors, like Women, commonly Dress when they make a Visit. Respect to them­selves makes them polish their Thoughts, and exert the Force of their Understanding more than they would, or can do, in ordinary Conversation. So that the Reader has as it were the Spirit and Essence in a narrow Compass; which was drawn off from a much larger Proportion of Time, Labour, and Expence. Like an Heir, he is born rather than made Rich; and comes into a Stock of Sense, with little or no trouble of his own. 'Tis true, a Fortune in Know­ledg which Descends in this manner, as well as an inherited Estate, is too often neglect­ed, and squandered away; because we do not consider the difficulty in Raising it.

Books are a Guide in Youth, and an En­tertainment for Age. They support us un­der Solitude, and keep us from being a [Page 94] Burthen to our selves. They help us to forget the Crosness of Men and Things; compose our Cares, and our Passions; and lay our Disappointments asleep. When we are weary of the Living, we may repair to the Dead; who have nothing of Peevish­ness, Pride, or Design, in their Conversa­tion. However,

To be constantly in the Wheel has neither Pleasure nor Improvement in it. A Man may as well expect to grow stronger by always Eating, as wiser by always Reading. Too much over-charges Nature, and turns more into Disease than Nourishment. 'Tis Thought and Digestion which makes Books serviceable, and gives Health and Vigour to the Mind. Neither ought we to be too Implicit or Resigning to Authorities, but to examine before we Assent, and preserve our Reason in its just Liberties. To walk al­ways upon Crutches, is the way to lose the Use of our Limbs. Such an absolute Sub­mission keeps us in a perpetual Minority, breaks the Spirits of the Understanding, and lays us open to Imposture.

But Books well managed afford Direction and Discovery. They strengthen the Or­gan, and enlarge the Prospect, and give a more universal Insight into Things, than can be learned from unlettered Observation. He who depends only upon his own Expe­rience, [Page 95] has but a few Materials to work up­on. He is confined to narrow Limits both of Place, and Time: And is not fit to draw a large Model, and to pronounce upon Bu­siness which is complicated and unusual. There seems to be much the same difference between a Man of meer Practise, and ano­ther of Learning, as there is between an Empirick and a Physician. The first may have a good Receipt, or two; and if Dis­eases and Patients were very scarce, and all alike, he might do tolerably well. But if you enquire concerning the Causes of Di­stempers, the Constitution of human Bodys, the Danger of Symptoms, and the Methods of Cure, upon which the Success of Medi­cine depends, he knows little of the Matter. On the other side: To take Measures wholy from Books, without looking into Men and Business, is like Travelling in a Map; where though Countrys and Cities are well enough distinguished, yet Villages and pri­vate Seats are either Over-looked, or too generally Marked for a Stranger to find. And therefore he that would be a Master must Draw by the Life, as well as Copy from Originals, and joyn Theory and Experience together.

COnfidence as 'tis opposed to Modesty, and distinguished from decent Assu­rance, proceeds from Self-opinion, occa­sioned by Ignorance or Flattery. When a Man over-rates himself by his own Folly, or the Knavery of others, he is presently for falling to work with his Privileges; and takes care upon all Occasions to do justice to his Merit. This Extravagance makes him over-forward in Business, assuming in Conversation, suddain and peremptory in his Answers, and afraid of nothing so much as to seem within the Possibility of a Mi­stake. 'Tis true, it sometimes happens that People who have the Wit to know they are good for little, set up notwithstanding for Men of Sufficiency. They are for trying if they can serve a Turn upon the Weakness of the Company. But this Trick seldom succeeds long together. For if a Man wants a good Opinion of himself, and is not sin­cere in his Vanity, he will be apt to want Spirits, and presence of Mind, to do his [Page 97] Business: A Diffidence of himself will make the Paint fall off, sink his Figure, and be­tray his Meaness; especially when he meets those who are his Superiors in Quality, or Sense. A Man must first put a Cheat upon himself, before he can expect to do any Good with other People: For he that is not conceited in his Conscience, is never likely to make a Coxcomb worth a Groat. But when the Mind is throughly tinctured, the Face will hold the same Colour; and the Man will be proof against all Oppositions of Sense and Difficulty. For as Malbranche ob­serves, Peoples Opinions of themselves, are commonly legible in their Countenances. Thus a kind Imagination, makes a bold Man have Vigour and Enterprize in his Air and Motion. It stamps Value and Signifi­cancy upon his Face, and tells the People he is to go for so much; who oftentimes being deceived by the wash, never examin the Metal, but take him upon Content. Not that Men are bound to look as Sheepishly as they can, for fear of an Imputation: For sometimes a Consciousness of Worth; a Nobleness and Elevation of Mind, together with Fineness of Constitution, gives Lustre and Dignity to the Aspect; and makes the Soul, as it were, shine through the Body. But to return: A Man of Confidence pres­seth forward upon every Appearance of Ad­vantage; [Page 98] and thinks nothing above his Ma­nagement, or his Merit. He is not easily discouraged by the Greatness of an Attempt, by the Quality of Rivals, or the Frequency of Miscarriage. He is ready to rally after a Defeat; and grows more troublesom up­on Denial. Thus where his Force is too feeble, he prevails by dint of Impudence: Thus People are stormed out of their Rea­son and Inclinations; plagued into a Com­pliance; and forced to yield in their own Defence. These Men of Forehead, are magnificent in their Promises, and infal­lible in their Prescriptions. They love to ensure a Cause, and seldom talk under Cer­tainty and Demonstration. This Talent makes them often succeed against modest Men of much greater Sufficiency, where the Competition is governed by a popular Choice. For though there is Reason in many Cases to decide Controversies by the Vote; yet 'tis no less true, on the other hand, that the Majority of Mankind is sel­dom the Wisest. The Multitude are more smitten with Appearances, than Things. The Noise, and Glitter, and Parade of a Pretender, calls up their Attention; and flashes upon their Weakness, at an irre­sistable Rate. It surprizes their Imagina­tion, and subdues their Judgment: So that a bold Undertaker gains mightily upon the [Page 99] People, especially at his first Setting out. Nay, wise Men are sometimes over-born, or imposed on this way, when they are taken at a Disadvantage. Indeed this Fa­culty is of great Use to play a Prize with, or carry on an Imposture; and therefore your Quacks, Figure-flingers, Petty-foggers, and Republican Plotters, cannot well live without it. It enables a Man to Flourish, Rail, and Romance, to Admiration. It makes Impertinencies shine, Impossibilities seem credible, and turns Rats-bane into Elixir Vitae. And when Matters are brought to a Pinch, and the Crowd drawn out, in Expectation of something extraordinary; then if the Mountain will not come to Ma­humet, he will for once condescend to go to the Mountain. And thus by entertain­ing the Company with a Jest; the Prophet's disengaged, and the Miracle adjourned to a more convenient Season. However, these Spar [...]s meet with their Mortifications: For when they happen to fall among People of Judgment, they are looked through im­mediately; and then the Discovery spreads apace. For Confidence is apt to expose it self; to over-grasp Business; to talk without thinking; and to fail in the Decencys of Conversation. Now when a bold Man is out of Countenance, he makes a very [Page 100] wooden Figure on't. He has no Hand at Blushing for want of Practise: And acts Modesty with so ill a Grace; that he is more ridiculous in the Habit of Vertue, than in that of Vice. To go on with him a little farther: One of this Character, is like an Out-landish Show; most admired at first Sight. He has Gloss, but without either Fineness, or Substance. And there­fore, like Cloath ill made, he looks bet­ter in the Shop, than he wears in the Suit. In a word, He is the Jest of wise Men, and the Idol of Fools: And com­monly his Patent runs for his Life-time.

ENvy is a Displeasure for some supposed Advantage in another. The Object of this Passion is something Desirable. And though Excellency, precisely considered, cannot occasion Dislike; yet Excellency misplaced may. The Envious believes him­self eclipsed by the Lustre of his Neighbour. [Page 101] That which is good in it self, becomes an Evil to him; which makes him wish it either Removed, or Extinguished. The Discovery of the Rise and Unreasonableness of Envy, and the way to prevent being ei­ther Active in it, or Passive under it, will comprehend the Argument. To begin with the first. Envy lies mostly between Beings equal in Nature, though unequal in Cir­cumstances. We don't envy Brutes, though they exceed us in many Respects not in­considerable. No Body is angry with a Bird because she can Fly. We are not of­fended with the Strength of an Elephant, or the Speed of a Horse; or with a Dog, for having a better Nose than his Master. These are all foreign Commodities, they are not look'd on as the Growth of our Soil; which makes them neither Expected, nor De­sired. Besides, we excel these Creatures in other Qualitys more valuable. So that up­on the whole Comparison, we remain their Superiours; which is sufficient to lay our Envy asleep. On the other hand, Men are not subject to repine at the higher Condi­tion of an Angel. They know there is a comparative Disadvantage in their first Composition: The Model of Humanity was Drawn less. Our Capacities, if they were all fill'd, are not large enough to hold so much Happiness. To this I may add, That [Page 102] the Angelick Grandeur is seldom seen. By being thus conceal'd, it does not awaken our Poverty, nor mortify our Littleness so much, as if it was always display'd before us. And lastly, our Hopes of rising to this Height hereafter, makes us bear our present Inferiority well enough.

But where the Essential Properties are alike, Pretensions are apt to Mount, unless seasonably check'd. ‘"I am (crys the En­vious) of the same Nature with the Rest, and why then should such a Man Top me? Where there is an Equality of Kind, there should be no Distinction of Privilege. I am as near of Kin to God Almighty as the Best; and he is certainly the Noblest An­cestor. I am cast in the same Mould, made up of the same Matter, and stamp'd with the same Impression; and why should I not pass equally in general Esteem? In taking Gold and Silver, 'tis not enquired what Mines they came from, nor how long they have been dig'd; If they answer the Qualities of the Metal, that's enough. Why then should one Piece of human Na­ture be thought so much worse than ano­ther; since it keeps within the Species, and shines true upon the Touch-stone?"’

In answer to this Expostulation; I shall only say, That though the Metal is the same, yet the Figure, the Quantity, and [Page 103] the Fineness, is often different, which makes a Difference in the Value. To pro­ceed.

Those antiently possess'd of Honour, are apt to envy others newly raised. The rea­son is, This later Promotion takes away the former Difference between the Persons. The Singularity of a Man's Greatness is in some measure destroy'd. He has fewer to look down upon than he had before: He has lost an Inferiour; which, without being well considered, will make him uneasy, like a Prince who has part of his Dominions won from him. But this Practice how common soever is unreasonable, where the later Rise is creditable. For all Quality that is good for any thing, is originally founded upon Merit. Now when a Man purchases Ho­nour at as great an Expence of Deserving as my self; why should not his Title be as good? And if so, why should I grudge him the Possession? To value Worth in my self, or my Family, and over-look it in ano­ther, is plain Partiality; and Partiality is always Injustice.

When Two start into the World toge­ther, he that is thrown behind, unless his Mind proves generous, will be displeased with the other. For the Success of the first, seems to press upon the Reputation of the later. For what will the World say? Why [Page 104] could not he hold up? What made him come on so heavily, but that he wanted either Management or Metal? With sub­mission, this Inference is not good, and therefore one should not grow Peevish about it. Success does not always attend Desert. Sometimes Favour, and Opportunity, and Fortune, run most on one Side. Sometimes a Man cracks his Conscience as a Horse does his Wind, by straining up the Hill.

But if the Advantage was fairly gained, 'tis unbecoming to complain. If my Friend charges in the Post of Honour, while I am sleeping in my Tent, 'tis great Injustice to envy him the Reward of his Bravery. In all likelihood I brought all my Limbs out of the Bed, which 'tis probable he has not done off the Breach. And if he has, his Merit should not be lessen'd by his good Fortune. He that hazards his Life upon an honourable Score, deserves the same Regard as if he had lost it.

Envy among Persons of the same Trade, is common. The Competition of Interest occasions this Malevolence. They Glean up Custom from their Neighbours; and so what one gets, the other loses.

But why should I grudge a Man the com­mon Advantage of his Employment? Why should I desire more than my Share of Busi­ness, and be sorry to see another thrive by [Page 105] his Industry? Here can be nothing but Co­vetousness at the bottom, and that is never to be satisfied. However, it must be gran­ted that all Concurrences of this Nature, whether for Money, Favour, or Power, are in danger of being displeased with a for­tunate Rival. The Pinch lyes here; The Matter in competition is often Indivisible. An Office, or a Mistress, can't be Appor­tion'd out like Common, and shared among distinct Proprietors. The Case is like a Lottery with one Prize, a single Ticket is only enrich'd, and the rest are all Blanks. So that they'll tell you, 'tis not so much ill Nature as Disappointment, which Sowres the Humour. Where the Objects of De­sire are more Communicative, there is no Exceptions taken. People don't like a Prospect the worse, because others have the Pleasure of it. They are seldom disturb'd, because their Neighbours hear the same Musick, or smell the same Perfumes with themselves. For here is enough for them all. The Satisfaction is so noble, that it spreads without Lessening; 'tis not the thinner for being Beaten: But if there was any interfering, if the Senses should engross, or balk one another, as in the Case of Eat­ing and Drinking, you would quickly see the Tables turn'd. If a fine Object should tarnish by having a great many See it; or [Page 106] the Musick should run mostly into one Man's Ears, these Satisfactions would be made In­closure as well as the rest. Farther.

Those Advantages, which 'tis no Discre­dit to want, are not usually envied in ano­ther. For Instance: He that does not pre­tend to Painting, is not Touched at the Commendation of a Master in that Profes­sion. A Woman does not envy a Man for fighting Courage; nor a Man a Woman for her Beauty. An old Man is not uneasy at the Strength and Activity of those who are younger; neither does Youth envy the Knowledg and Experience of Age. In these Cases, Reputation is unconcerned, and the Esteem of the Person is not sunk by being unfurnish'd. For either the Advantage is foreign to the Condition of Life, or Sex; either we have been possessed already, or have time enough to gain it afterwards. The Absurdity of this Passion has partly been discover'd already, and may be farther enlarged.

Envy is an ill-natured Vice; 'tis made up of Meaness and Malice▪ It wishes the Force of Goodness restrain'd, and the Mea­sure of Happiness abated. It laments over Prosperity, and sickens at the Sight of Health. Had Envy the governing of the Creation, we should have a sad World on't. How would it infect the Air, and [Page 107] darken the Sun; make the Seas unnaviga­ble, and blast the Fruits of the Earth? How would the Face of Nature be over-cast? How soon would Peace be banish'd, and Pleasure languish and expire? We should see Confusion without Settlement, Madness without Intervals, and Poyson without An­tidote. Discord, and Disappointment, and Despair, would then be the only Blessings and Entertainments of Life. Could the En­vious prevail, all noble Undertakings would be crush'd, and Invention nip'd in the Bud. Nothing extraordinary in Industry, Sense, or Bravery, would be endured. Whatever was Shining would soon be eclipsed. Beauty would be deform'd, and Courage turn'd into Cowardize. To excel either in Art or Nature would be a Crime: And none could be Safe, but the Ill, and the Useless.

Emulation is a handsom Passion, 'tis en­terprizing, but just withall: It keeps a Man within the Terms of Honour, and makes the Contest for Glory fair and generous. Here is nothing Malevolent and Insidious. The Advantage is gained by Improvement, not by Injury. The Man strives to excel, but then 'tis by raising himself, not by de­pressing another. But Envy oftentimes wants Spirit, as well as Good-nature. Like a cold Poyson, it benumns and stupifies. And thus as it were conscious of its own [Page 108] Impotence, it folds its Arms in Despair, and sits Cursing in a Corner. When Envy conquers, 'tis commonly in the Dark; by Treachery and Undermining, by Calumny and Detraction. The Envious are always ungrateful; they hate a noble Temper, though shewn upon themselves. If you oblige them, 'tis at your peril: They'll fly in the Face of a good Turn, and Out-rage where they ought to Reward. Has not many a brave Man been ruined, by being over-charged with Merit? What banish'd Themistocles, and sent Belisarius a begging, but doing too much for their Country? The comfort is, Envy is no less foolish than de­testable; 'tis a Vice which they say keeps no Holy-days, but is always in the Wheel, and working upon its own Disquiet. Envy, strictly considered, is a Mark of Inferiority. It supposes some Excellency in another which is wanting in it self. This is a cruel Mortification; for the Envious are generally Proud. 'Tis a strong Desire to be Above, which makes People uneasy Be­neath. Now to see a hated Person superior, and to lie under the anguish of a Disadvan­tage, is far enough from Diversion. Envy is of all others the most ungratifying and disconsolate Passion. There is Power for Ambition, and Pleasure for Luxury, and Pelf even for Covetousness; but Envy can [Page 109] give nothing but Vexation. 'Tis made up of Impotence and Malice; and where these two Qualities are well compounded, there needs no other Ingredients of Misery. Envy how carefully does it look? How meager and ill-complexioned? It preys upon it self, and exhausts the Spirits: 'Tis a Disease in its Constitution, and every Pulse is a Pain. Ease must be impracticable to the Envious: They lie under a double Misfortune; com­mon Calamities, and common Blessings, fall heavily upon them: Their Nature gives them a Share in the one, and their Ill-nature in the other. And he that has his own Troubles, and the Happiness of his Neigh­bours, to disturb him, is likely to have work enough. Envy looks ill under every Aspect. For if a Man be Good, he ought to be Loved; if Bad, to be Pitied. To envy a Superior, makes the Odds more smar­ting, and the Distance more sensible. To envy an Inferior, is to lose the higher Ground, and to set him upon a Level. To grudge any Man an Advantage in Person or Fortune, is to censure the Liberalities of Providence, and be angry at the Goodness of God.

And since Envy is so odious, and every way unlucky; and does so much mischief to it self, and others, it may not be im­proper [Page 110] proper to offer something more particular to prevent it.

First then let us consider, That Provi­dence has given the least of us more than we can pretend to. If we could make out a Title to more Privilege, to complain were not unreasonable. But I suppose no one is so hardy as to say, God is in his Debt; that he owed him a nobler Being, or a better Subsistance. For Existence must be antecedent to Merit. That which was not, could not oblige; and Nothing can claim Nothing. You'll say such a one is much better furnish'd than my self. Besides, I want several Conveniences which I could mention. And if I must not have them, I wish they had not come in my way. Look you! Are we to cry, like ill-managed Chil­dren, for every Thing before us? If I give a Beggar Six-pence, has he reason to grum­ble beause he has seen a Shilling, or knows how to spend a Crown? Let him give me leave to be Master of my Charity, and do what I please with my own. If bare Know­ledge would give Possession, and our Senses could Challenge all they lay hold of; there would be a strange World quickly. But these are wild and impracticable Supposi­tions. There is neither Justice, nor Con­venience, nor Possibility, in such an Expec­tation. Let us remember we are well dealt [Page 111] with; and then we shall not be troubled to see another in a better Condition. To consider we have more than we deserve, will help our Reason to silence our Murmur­ing, and make us ashamed to Repine. Just Thoughts, and modest Expectations, are easily satisfied. If we don't over-rate our Pretensions, all will be well. Humility dis­arms Envy, and strikes it dead.

Secondly, We should endeavour to im­prove our respective Abilities. Men natu­rally desire to stand fair in the Opinion of others: And to have something of Value to support them in their own Thoughts. When they are the worst of their Way, and fixt in the Fag-end of Business, they are apt to look not kindly upon those who go be­fore them. He that can be reconciled to the Character of an insignificant Person, has a mean Soul. To be easy, a Man should examin his Genius, and exert his Spirits, and try to make the most of himself. 'Tis true, every one cannot expect to distinguish himself in the highest Posts; To command an Army, or ride Admiral in a Fleet, or be at the Head of Iustice, or Religion: (Nei­ther is it material to the Point.) Notwith­standing there are few but may Shine in their own Orb, and be Remarkable in their Station; so far at least as to guard off Con­tempt, and secure a moderate Repute: And [Page 112] those that are easy at Home, will not be en­vious Abroad. Those that are Good for something themselves, will be contented that others should be so too. All Things considered, They have their Share of Re­gard, and let who will take the rest.

Thirdly, The proportioning Reward to Merit, (which will be done Hereafter) is a sufficient Expectation to remove Envy. The Perswasion of such a Regulation of Ho­nour, is certainly the most solid Principle for this purpose imaginable. For this way all the seeming Partialities of Birth, and For­tune, are set aside. And to speak familiar­ly, every one has a fair Turn to be as Great as he pleases. Here all People are upon equal Terms of Advantage: The Temple of Honour stands open to all Comers; and the Peasant has an Opportunity of being as great as a Prince. Thus Station and Hap­piness lies in every ones Power: The Ma­nagement of the Will determines the Prece­dency. A slender Share of present Advan­tage, will do no prejudice to future Preten­sions. For Men will not be valued by the Size of their Understandings, but their Ho­nesty. Not consider'd by the Height of their Character, but for the Decency of Personation. When the Scene of Life is shut up, the Slave will be above his Master, if he has acted better. Thus Nature and [Page 113] Condition, are once more brought to a Ballance: And as all Men were Equal at first, so they may be at last; if they take Care. This Consideration digs up Envy by the Roots; because no Man can be less than another, without his own Fault. The way

To prevent being Envied, (for that should be thought on too,) in a Privilege, is to shew it not undeserved. That 'tis either transmitted from worthy Ancestors, or ac­quired by Qualities extraordinary. He that rises above a common Performance, and goes far in an honorable Danger, may be thought to Earn the Distinction of his Circumstances. In such Cases, People are more inclined to commend the Merit, than repine at the Suc­cess: Especially if the Advantage be civilly managed. Conceit, and Arrogance, and Ostentation, spoils all. Pride, and ill Na­ture, will be hated in Spight of all the worth in the World. But he that is obliging in his Exaltation, and makes a modest Use of his Superiority, may sit secure, and have the Odds of good Wishes on his Side.

THE Countenance seems designed not only for Ornament, but Infor­mation. The Passions there dis­played make way for Commerce and Com­munication; and help to let one Man into the Sentiments and Affections of another. 'Tis true, the Soul is not altogether Disco­vered. If the Thoughts lay open to Obser­vation, there would great Inconveniences follow. Many good Designs would be de­feated: Many improper Aversions and De­sires would appear: The Business of Life would be disturbed, and Conversation made almost impracticable. In such Cases, People would chuse to converse in the dark, rather than trust themselves with the Sight of each other. However, though the Soul can't be all forced into the Face, yet there is no small part of it to be seen there; espe­cially when it comes of its own accord. Here the different Apprehensions of the Mind dis­cover themselves. I grant, they are not always fully distinguished in their Causes, [Page 115] and their Kind. But though they are not drawn at Length, you have something of the Colour, and Proportion. Here Joy and Grief, Resolution and Fear, Modesty and Conceit, Inclination, Indifferency and Disgust, are made legible. The Character is fairest and best marked in Children, and those who are unpractised in the little Hypo­crisies of Conversation. For when Nature has learnt to put on Art, and Disguise, the Forehead is not easily read. Now 'tis very Surprizing to see the Image of the Mind stamp'd upon the Aspect: To see the Cheeks take the Dye of the Passions thus naturally, and appear in all the Colours and Com­plexions of Thought. Why is this Variety of Changes confined to a single Place? What is the Reason a Man's Arm won't Smile and Frown, and do all the intellectual Postures of the Countenance? The Arm seems to have a finer Skin than the Face: 'Tis less ex­posed to the Weather; the Veins are larger, and more visible, and the Pulse beats stron­ger. In short, If Matter and Motion would do the Business, the Arm, excepting the Eye, seems to have the Advantage, and might put in for the Index and Interpreter of the Mind. And yet we see 'tis strangely uniform and unaffected upon every Acci­dent and turn of Thought; and nothing but a Blow, or a Pinch, can make it change [Page 116] Colour. But the Face being design'd to be uncloath'd, and in view, God has there fixed the Seat and Visibility of the Passions; for the better direction of Conversation. The suddain Alteration of the Countenance, is very remarkable. A forcible Object will rub out the freshest Colours at a stroke, and paint others of a quite different Appea­rance. A vigorous Thought, or a Surprize of good Fortune, dispels the Gloom, and brightens the Air, immediately. To me­tamorphose the Blood and Spirits thus ex­tempore, is not a little Strange. It argues an amazing Fineness and Curiosity in the Parts; that the least Touch of the Imagina­tion can alter them into almost what Ap­pearances it pleases. The Strength of the Representation, is another Circumstance worth considering. The inward Motions and Temper, are sometimes drawn with wonderful Life. The Advantages of Youth and Complexion, the particular Force of the Mind and Occasion, answer to the Fine­ness of the Colours, and the Skill of the Pain­ter. When all these Causes meet, the Pas­sions are marked with extraordinary Clear­ness, and Strength. What can be more significant than the suddain Flushing and Confusion of a Blush; than the Sparklings of Rage, and the Lightning of a Smile? The Soul is as it were Visible upon these Occa­sions; [Page 117] the Passions Ebb and Flow in the Cheeks; and are much better distinguished in their Progress, than the Change of the Air in a Weather-glass. Some People have an Air of Dignity and Greatness, and an unusual Vigour, in their Aspect. Others have a Sweetness and good Humour prin­ted upon them, which is very engaging: A Face well furnish'd out by Nature, and a little disciplined, has a great deal of Rheto­rick in it. A Graceful Presence bespeaks Acceptance, gives a Force to Language, and helps to Convince by Look; and Posture. But this Talent must be sparingly used, for fear of falling into Affectation; than which nothing is more nauseous. Of all the Ap­pearances, methinks a Smile is the most ex­traordinary. It plays with a surprizing A­greableness in the Eye; breaks out with the brightest Distinction, and sits like a Glory upon the Countenance. What Sun is there within us that shoots his Rays with so suddain a Vigour? To see the Soul flash in the Face at this rate, one would think might convert an Atheist. By the way, we may observe that Smiles are much more becom­ing than Frowns: This seems a natural En­couragement to good Humour. As much as to say, If People have a Mind to be Hand­som, they must not be Peevish, and Unto­ward.

[Page 118]Another Thing remarkable, is the Obse­quiousness of the Aspect. It goes as true to the Mind, when we please, as the Dial to the Sun. The Orders are publish'd as soon as given. 'Tis but throwing the Will into the Face, and the inward Direction appears immediately. 'Tis true, a Man cannot command the standing Features and Com­plexion; but the Diversities of Passion are under Disposal. The Image of Pleasure is never seen, when Anger was intended. No. The Sentiments are painted exactly, and drawn by the Life within.

And since 'tis in our Power not to give a wrong Sign, we should not pervert the In­tendments of Providence. To wash over a coarse or insignificant Meaning, is to coun­terfeit Natures Coin. We ought to be just in our Looks, as well as in our Actions; for the Mind may be declared one way no less than the other. A Man might as good break his Word, as his Face, especially upon some critical Occasions. It may so happen that we can converse no other way, for want of an Interpreter. But though I cannot tell what a Man says, if he will be sincere, I may easily know what he Looks. The Meaning of Sounds are uncertain, and tyed to particular Times and Places: But the Language of the Face is fixt, and univer­sal. Its Consents and Refusals, are every [Page 119] where alike. A Smile has the same Form and Sense in China, as with us. If Looks were as arbitrary as Words, Conversation would be more in the dark: And a Traveller would be obliged to learn the Countenan­ces, as well as the Tongues of Foreign Countries.

And as the Language of the Face is uni­versal, so 'tis very comprehensive. No La­conism can reach it. 'Tis the Short-hand of the Mind, and crowds a great deal in a little room. A Man may Look a Sentence, as soon as Speak a Word. The Strokes are small, but so Masterly drawn, that you may easily collect the Image and Proportions of what they resemble.

Whether Honesty and Dishonesty are dis­cernable in the Face, is a Question which admits of Dispute. King Charles the Se­cond thought he could depend upon these Observations. But with submission, I be­lieve an Instance might be given in which his Rules of Physiognomy failed. 'Tis true, the Temper and inward Disposition is some­times visible in the Countenance. Thus Salust tells us, Cataline had Rage and De­fiance in his Looks, even after he was dead. However, here the Impression was partly design'd, and voluntary. He had a Mind no question to appear as Fierce and Formi­dable as he could. But in Insincerity the [Page 120] Case is otherwise; for no Man is willing to be known for a Knave. Whether Men, as they say of Plants, have Signatures to dis­cover their Natures by, is hard to deter­mine. Some People fancy an honest Man looks plain, and open, and all of a Piece. And therefore when they see a shy and com­pounded Air, a remote and absconding kind of Countenance, they conclude it Cain's Mark. This, in their Opinion, is either a Caution given us by Providence, or the na­tural Effect of a crafty and suspicious Mind. A Knave, say they, is apprehensive of being Discover'd; and this habitual Concern puts an Odness into his Looks. But

After all, no Man's Face is Actionable. These Singularities are interpretable, from more innocent Causes. And therefore though there may be ground for Caution, there is none for Censure.

THE trouble of Despair always rises in proportion to the Evil that is feared. By consequence, the great­est Agonies of Expectation, are those which relate to another World. But I shall leave this Consideration to the Pulpits, and pro­ceed upon a lower Object. Now Despair, as it respects the Business and Events of Life, is an uneasy and impolitick Passion: It An­tedates a Misfortune, and Torments a Man before his Time. It spreads a Gloominess upon the Soul, and makes her live in a Dungeon beyond the Notion of Pre-ex­istence. It preys upon the Vitals, like Pro­metheus's Vultur; and eats out the Heart of all other Satisfactions. It cramps the Pow­ers of Nature, and cuts the Sinews of En­terprize, and gives Being to many cross Ac­cidents, which otherwise would never happen. To believe a Business impossible, is the way to make it so. How many fea­sible Projects have miscarried by Despon­dency, and been strangled in the Birth, by a cowardly Imagination? If Things will [Page 122] not do of themselves, they may let it alone; for he that Despairs is resolved not to help them: For who would work upon an Im­possibility? Such an Expectation, crys one, will never come to pass: Therefore I'll e'en give it up, and go and fret my self. How do you know that? Can you see to the utmost Limits of Nature? And are you acquainted with all the Powers in Being? Is it an easy Matter to pronounce upon all the Alterations of Time, and Accident? And to foretell how strangely the Ballance of Force and Inclination may be turned? Pray let us see whether 'twill or no, before we grow too positive, and give Sentence against our Interest. A very pretty Device you'll say! For at this rate, a Man must never De­spair while he lives! And pray where is the Harm on't, if it should be so? Is Despair so entertaining a Companion? Are the Plea­sures of it so inviting, and rapturous? Is a Man bound to look out sharp to plague him­self? And to take care that he slips no Op­portunity of Being unhappy? As long as there is Life, there is Hope: And if so, 'tis Prudence not to desert it. Hope is a vigo­rous Principle. 'Tis furnish'd with Light and Heat, to Advise and Execute: It sets the Head and the Heart on work, and ani­mates a Man to do his utmost. And thus by perpetual Pushing, and Assurance, it puts [Page 123] a difficulty out of Countenance, and makes a seeming Impossibility give way. At the worst, if the Success happens to fail; 'tis clear Gains, as long as it lasts. It keeps the Mind easy, and expecting; and fences off Anxiety and Spleen. 'Tis sometimes so Sprightly and Rewarding a Quality, that the Pleasure of Expectation exceeds that of Fruition. It Refines upon the Richness of Nature, and Paints beyond the Life: And when the Reality is thus out-shined by the Imagination, Success is a kind of Disap­pointment; and to Hope, is better than to Have. Besides, Hope has a creditable Com­plexion. It throws a generous Contempt upon ill Usage, and looks like a handsom Defiance of a Misfortune. As who should say, You are somewhat troublesome now, but I shall conquer you afterwards. And thus a Man makes an honourable Exit, if he does nothing farther. His Heart Beats against the Enemy when he is just Expiring, and Discharges the last Pulse in the Face of Death.

But Despair makes a despicable Figure, and descends from a mean Original. 'Tis the Off-spring of Fear, of Laziness, and Im­patience. It argues a defect of Spirits, and Resolution; and oftentimes of Honesty too. After all, the Exercise of this Passion is so troublesome, that methinks nothing but [Page 124] Dint of Evidence, and Demonstration, should force it upon us. I would not despair un­less I knew the irrevocable Decree was past. Unless I saw my Misfortune Recorded in the Book of Fate, and Signed and Sealed by Necessity. Indeed where the Act is unman­ly, or the Expectation immoral, or con­tradictious to the Attributes of God; we ought to drop our Hopes or rather never entertain them. And therefore I would nei­ther Hope to play the Fool, or the Knave, or be Immortal. But when the Object is defensible and fair, I would not quit my Hold, as long as it was within the Reach of Omnipotence. What then, must we Hope without Means? Yes; why not? When we cannot work them out of our own In­dustry. Pray what Means was there to make the World with? There was neither Timber nor Tools to raise the Building, and yet you see what a noble Pile it is. Why should we suppose a Miracle so strange a Thing, since Nature herself was produced this way? He that made Second Causes, can as easily work without, as with them.

— Quicquid Dii voluere peractum est. To Will, and to Do, is the same Thing with an Almighty Power. If we could Cure a Fever with a Wish, Decree up a House, and make what we would, consequent upon In­clination: In such a Case, we need not tye [Page 125] our selves to Application, and Materials. The bare Fiat of our Will would give Birth to the Idea: And make it start out into Exist­ence without any more ado.

To use the Ministrations of subordinate Causes, looks like a Going about. For where there is Matter and Motion, there must, in humane Apprehension, be Succes­sion of Parts, and Resistance, and Time, for the Performance. The Powers of Nature seem too Heavy, to keep Pace with Thought, and to drive out an Instantaneous Produc­tion: So that one would almost imagine, the Acting by immediate Omnipotence, was the most disencumber'd, as well as the most magnificent Method. But is it not extravagant to expect a Miracle? Not at all. I believe we are assisted with many more Miracles than we are aware of. For the purpose: A Man in a Storm prays that he may escape being Wreckt. I desire to know, whether he thinks it possible for him to be the better for his Devotions. If he does not, he is an impertinent Atheist for using them: If he does, he must believe that Providence will interpose, and disarm Nature, or divert her Violence. Now to check Second Causes in their Career, to change their Motion, or lay them Asleep before they are Spent, is no less a Miracle than to Act without them.

[Page 126]Let no Man therefore disquiet himself about the Future, nor quit a just Under­taking, out of Despondency. Honest People ought to be chearful, if it was only for the Credit of their Vertue: Let us not grow Melancholick upon a superficial View of Things; for that is as far as we can discover. 'Tis a much better way to do our own Parts carefully, and rest the Event with God Almighty.

I Thought I should have Dined with you to Day; what made you fail your usual Eating-house?

I ask your Excuse. I have been at a Miser's Feast: I went thither to enter­tain my Curiosity rather than my Palat; for you know that is a Sight which is not every day to be met with?

And was it as great as the Proverb makes it?

Every jot. I have not had my Sen­ses so regaled this long time: 'T was so in­viting, that I'm afraid the Founder has ta­ken a Surfeit.

You mean of the Expence. Fear it not, he will have a Lent after his Carni­val; that will cure him.

This Fit of Feasting comes upon him once a Year. If you did not know him, you'd think it was an Ague; he looks so desperately Pale, and Thin, for a great while after. And now, as you say, he will go into a Course of Abstinence, but I wish we could prevent the return of the Distemper; for in my Opinion, he is well neither Full, nor Fasting. In short, The Disease lies in his Mind, and how to reach it with a Recipe, I can't tell; for Covetousness is ge­nerally incurable.

I own 'tis difficulty removed, and uncreditable into the bargain; and there­fore I hope you will not Report it upon any Person, unless the Symptoms are very clear, and undisputed. Give me Leave to tell you, there are often great Mistakes in this Matter. Some think to screen their own Profuseness from Censure, by reproaching the Fruga­lity of their Neighbours. And others pro­nounce rashly out of Ignorance. With their [Page 128] good Favour, wise Men will look beyond their Nose, and take care of the main Chance, and provide for Accidents and Age. They know that Poverty is unfashion­able, and Dependance uneasy, and that a generous Mind cannot live upon Curtesy, with any great Relish. Besides some People do not decline Expence out of Parsimony, but because they do not care for the Trouble of a Figure. They do not care to be crow­ded with Visitors, to have their Table pe­stered with Flies and Flatterers, and to be always yoked in Ceremony. They don't believe any Master the more considerable by keeping a great many idle People about him; or that any true Greatness can be made out of that which is Little. And be­cause a Man is willing to have his House and his Head cool, and to keep his Time and his Liberty to himself, must he be called Cove­tous upon this Account?

I have no Intention to condemn a just Value for Money. And if any Man has more Sense and Sobriety than his Neigh­bours, I think it great Injustice to burlesque his Prudence, or represent him in any Cha­racter of Disadvantage. But then I must say, That some People have the Misfortune to fall into the Extremes, and that Cove­tousness does not lie only in Satyr, and Spe­culation.

I perceive you have a Mind to say something upon this Argument: With the Precautions above-mentioned, I am willing to hear you. Take your Method, and draw out into what Length you please; you will have no Interruption, for at present I am not in the disputing Humour.

To begin then. There is no need of giving a close Definition of this Vice; 'twill be sufficiently discovered in the De­scription. Covetousness has a relation to Wealth, or Fortune. Whether a Man has no more than a just Value for this Advan­tage, is seen in his Getting, Keeping, and Using it. A short Survey of the Mismanage­ment in these three Particulars, will take in the Compass of the Case.

But least you may think this Method somewhat too loose, I shall come a little nearer in a Word or two; and affirm, That he is Covetous who balks any part of his Duty, for fear he should grow the Poorer; and chuses rather to save his Money, than his Conscience. He that denies himself the Conveniences of Life, without either Ne­cessity or Religion. He that is anxious in Riches. He that sets his Interest above his Honour; and values insignificant Gains, which hold no Proportion with his For­tune,

[Page 130]As for the Getting part, a covetous Man never troubles himself with the Niceties of Morality. His Business is to secure the End, not to distinguish upon the Means. Let the Project be but Rich and Practicable, and he enquires no farther. Honour and Con­science are fine Things, but they seldom fill the Pocket. When They will Purchase any Thing, a good Manager can counterfeit them; but to be tyed down to a Set of No­tions, is the way to be a Begger. He that resolves to Thrive, won't be discouraged by a few hard Names. His Industry is not to be check'd by Fancys, and common Mi­stake. He will scarcely believe himself, when it makes against him. Inward Re­luctance, passes for Spleen, and Vapours; Shame, for an infirm Vanity that hangs too servilely upon foreign Opinion; Gene­rosity, is nothing but a ceremonious Pro­digality; and Pity, a foolish Tenderness. These Maxims remove the Difficulties of Business, and open the way for Expedition and Success.

Reason and Religion 'tis likely will inter­pose sometimes, but the covetous Man goes on for all that. And though he can't com­mand his Principles, he is Master of his Practise. Sometimes a Man gets only to spend: In that case, Covetousness is but a ministerial Vice; and serves under Luxury, [Page 131] or Ambition. But here I shall consider it as having the Ascendant. Now to recount the Disorders of Life, the Knavery, and little Pra­ctices that flow in upon us from this Spring, were almost infinite. Whence comes all circumvention in Commerce, adulterating of Wares, vouching and varnishing against all good Faith, and Honesty? 'Tis Covetous­ness that Brews and Dashes; gives you false Lights, and false Language; and shews many other Dexterities to get your Money. Now what can be Meaner, than to make Over-reaching a part of a Profession? And to impose upon the Ignorance, or Necessity, of a Neighbour? Let an Apprentice be bound to a Miser, and he might as good be Becalmed, or Besieged; for he is sure to be put to short Allowance. One would think Hunger was put in his Indentures, he is so constantly held to it. His Master will not let him grow to his Ioynts, nor Set up, with all the Flesh and Bones which Nature de­sign'd him; but is resolved to put part of his Limbs in his Pocket. What is the rea­son of racking of Tenants, and rigorous Sei­zures, that the Rich oppress the Poor, and the Poor steal from the Rich, but because they are not contented with their own?

Whence come Souldiers of Fortune, and Lawyers of Fortune; Men that will Fight and be Fee'd of any Side, and sometimes of [Page 132] Both? What makes the Courtier supplant his Friend, and betray his Master, and sell his Country? Why 'tis oftentimes nothing but the Love of Money, which makes the Court, and the Camp, and the Bar, thus Mean, and Mercenary. How many Trusts are abused, Wills forged, Orphans and Wi­dows rob'd and ruin'd, upon this Score? Where Avarice rules and rages, there is nothing of Humanity remaining. Hence it is that those who recover from the Plague dye sometimes of the Nurse; that the Shipwreckt are dispatched on Shore, that they may not claim their Goods; that Tra­vellers are murther'd in the Houses of Pro­tection and Entertainment. Things so bloudy and barbarous, that the Guilty are sometimes as it were discovered by Miracle, prosecuted by Apparitions, and pursued by Hue and Crys from the other World.

To leave these Extremities of Wicked­ness, and proceed to Instances of a lower Nature. What can be more ridiculously Little, than to see People of Figure, and For­tune, weigh an Interest to the utmost Grain? Haggle away Time and Credit about Tri­fles, and part with a Friend to keep a Shil­ling?

'Tis not Unentertaining to see Men how they can make their State truckle to their P [...]rsimony. How they will draw in their [Page 133] Figure upon the Road, sink their Titles to save their Purse, and degrade themselves to lye cheaper at an Inn. Covetousness is a most obliging Leveller; it mingles the Great and Small with wonderful Condescen­tion; and makes L—ds, and Valets, com­pany for one another. But these are but petty Indecencies. Covetousness will sink much lower, if there be but any Oar at the Bottom. It will solicit in the meanest Office, and submit to any infamous Dis­guise. It turns Lions into Jack-calls; en­gages Honour in the most scandalous In­trigues, and makes it under-pull to Cheats and Sharpers.

And as the Drudgery of this Vice is mean, so 'tis constant too. It keeps a Man always in the Wheel, and makes him a Slave for his Life-time. His Head or his Hands are perpetually employ'd: When one Pro­ject is finish'd, his Inclinations roll to ano­ther; so that his Rest is only variety of La­bour. This evil Spirit, throws him into the Fire, and into the Water; into all Sort of Hazards, and Hardships: And when he has reached the Tombs, he sits Naked, and out of his right Mind. Neither the Decays of Age, nor the Approach of Death, can bring him to his Senses, nor shew him the Extravagance of his Passion; on the con­trary, his Folly commonly encreases with [Page 134] his Years. Wolves, and other Beasts of prey, when they have once sped, can give over and be quiet till the return of Appetite. But Co­vetousness never lies down; but is ever Hungry, and Hunting. 'Tis perpetually harrassing others, or it self, without Respit, or Intermission. The Miser enlarges his Desires as Hell; he is a Gulph without a Bottom; all the Success in the World will never fill him. Sometimes the Eagerness of his Appetite makes him snap at a Sha­dow, and drop the Substance. Thus Crassus lost himself, his Equipage, and his Army, by over-straining for the Parthian Gold. Thus the Mareschal Balagny was outed of the Sovereignty of Cambray, by the Cove­tousness of his Lady, who sold the Spaniards the Stores which should have maintained the Garison. And thus the Bait of a cheap Bargain, or a large Interest, often helps a Man to stolen Goods, and crackt Titles. And if he has better Luck than he deserves, the possibility of a Miscarriage keeps him un­easy. The Miser is seldom without Pain: The Shortness of humane Foresight, and the Uncertainty of Accidents, and the Knavery of Men, haunt his Imagination with all the Possibilities of danger. He starts at every new Appearance, and is always waking and solicitous for fear of a Surprize. Like a Night Centinel, the least Noise alarms him, [Page 135] and makes him apprehensive of the Enemy. And let a Man's Fright be never so visionary in the Cause, the Trouble will be real in the Effect. But sometimes the Anxiety does not lye altogether in a Romance, but comes out of Life and Business. And then you may be sure his Fears will encrease with his Danger. The Loss of a Battle, or the Revolution of a Kingdom, don't affect him half so much, as the News of a Goldsmith's, or Money Scri­vener's, going aside. Here, though the Misfortune is remote, he is not insensible. Indeed 'tis the only Sympathy he seems ca­pable of. But then the Agonies he lies un­der, when he comes to be Touched in his own Case! When a Bond or a Mortgage fails, there is nothing can support his Spirits, or keep him within the Compass of Decency. How passionately does he lament over the Parchment Carkass, when the Soul of the Security is Departed? His Humour and his Face is put into Mourning, and so would the rest of his Person were it not for the Charge. However, a covetous Man is not easily baffled: He has a great many Tools to work with. If Deceit makes for his purpose, he will use it to the best of his Skill. If Cruelty will save a Penny, he will not stick to flay a poor Debtor for the Price of his Skin. No Turn either in State or Religion can Hurt him: He receives any [Page 136] Impression; and runs into any Mould the Times will cast him. He is a Christian at Rome, a Heathen at Iapan, and a Turk at Constantinople. What you will Without, and nothing Within. 'Tis a Jest in a Miser to pretend to be Honest. To resolve against Poverty, is in effect to forswear Justice and Truth. The Knavery of such People, is as indisputable as an Axiom; and ought to be supposed as a Postulatum in Business. They are false by necessity of Principle, and want nothing but an Occasion to shew it. Conscience and Covetousness are never to be reconciled: Like Fire and Water, they always destroy each other, according to the Predominancy of the Element.

Now one would think he that takes such Pains for a Fortune, and purchases so dear, should know how to use it. One would think the covetous Man had refined upon the Satisfactions of Life; and discovered some unheard of Mysteries of Epicurism. One would imagine his Appetites were more keen and lasting; his Capacities en­larged; and that he could please himself faster, and farther, than his Neighbours. For why should we put our selves to an un­common Trouble, for a common Advan­tage? But how can this be? How can An­xiety and Ease stand together? Strong Plea­sures and strong Fears are incompatible. A [Page 137] constant dread of Death, makes Life insi­pid. And he that is always afraid of Losing, has little Leisure to enjoy. Besides, a con­tinual load of Cares depresses the Vigour of the Mind, and dulls the Inclination, and clouds the Chearfulness of the Spirits. Like a Labourer worked down, he is too much tired for Entertainment.

But alass! were he never so much dis­pos'd, he has not the Courage to recreate his Senses, and reward his Industry. No. He has more respect for his Wealth, than to take those Freedoms. He salutes it at an humble Distance, and dares not be too fa­miliar with an Object of Worship. His Gold might as good have stay'd at Peru, as come into his Custody; for he gains nothing by Possession, excepting the Trouble of look­ing after it. 'Tis true, he can command the Sight on't this way; but if seeing an Estate would make one Rich, there's few but the Blind would be Poor. He calls it his own too; but with great Impropriety of Language. My own? What is my own? Why 'tis something that I eat, or drink, or put on. Something which makes my Body, or my Mind, the better. Something with which I serve my Friend, or my Country, or relieve the Poor. Property without Ap­plication to advantage, is meer Cant, and Notion. The best Metals will rust, by lying [Page 138] under Ground, and lose their Colour, unless brightned by Use. But where Covetous­ness governs, the Appetite is tyed up, and Nature is put under Penance. Like a Ma­lefactor, a Man has just enough to keep him alive in Pain; enough to Suffer with, but not to Please. The Covetous guards against himself, as well as against Thieves loves to step short of Necessity, and hates Conve­nience no less than a wise Man does Excess. And he that dares not Enjoy, wants that which he has, as well as that which he has not. The encrease of his Fortune, is but an addition to his Trouble. The more he has, the more he has to take Care for; and an Ass is as much enriched by his Burthen, as such a one is by his Estate. He may, like a Sumpter, carry Things of Value; but he never Wears them. He is only tired, and galled, with his Furniture. Nothing is more uneasy when 'tis on, nor looks more wretchedly when 'tis off. If a Man lays his Meat upon his Shoulder instead of putting it in his Stomach, the Quantity may load him if he will, but never nourish. And as 'tis easier, it would be more reputable for the Miser to be poor. The Pretence of Ne­cessity might cover a narrow Soul. A Coward will pass, when there is little tryal for Courage. Wealth does but serve to expose Covetousness, and make it more [Page 139] ridiculous. For what can be a more wret­ched Sight, than to see a Man mortify with­out Religion? To submit to such voluntary Hardships to no purpose, and lose the Pre­sent, without providing for the Future. But thus Covetousness revenges the Quarrels of others upon itself, and makes a sort of Re­prizals at Home. The truth is, if the Co­vetous did not make their Neighbours some amends, by using themselves thus ill, they were scarcely to be endured.

But they are generally fair enough to give Satisfaction this way. This Disease sometimes rises up almost to Lunacy and Di­straction: Sometimes it over-casts them with Gloom and Melancholy; and sometimes breaks out in the Clamours of Despair and Impatience. They are tortured with ra­ging Fears of Want; and the greatest Abun­dance is not able to keep them in tolerable Humour. To eat, or wear any Thing, till 'tis past the Best, is Luxury and Profuseness. They must have their Meat tainted, and their Bread mouldy, and their Cloaths moth eaten, before they dare venture on them. It would be great Charity to take them out of their own unmerciful Hands, and put them under Wardship. But 'tis likely the Laws leave them to their Liberty for a Pu­nishment. For as this Vice ought to be se­verely corrected, so there is scarce any [Page 140] Discipline sharper than its own. And if the Rigour should abate at Home, the Cen­sures of the Neighbourhood would help to do Justice. The covetous Man is Homo il­laudatus, A Man that you can say no Good of. He abuses all his Advantages either of Person, or Fortune. His Inclinations are ungenerous, his Understanding cheats, and his Power oppresses his Neighbour. He is not Big enough to Love, to Pity, or Assist? Neither Bloud, nor Honour, nor Huma­nity, can take any hold, where Interest comes in competition. So far from doing any Good, that he desires none. His Wishes are often malevolent; for Blasting and Mil­dew, for Rots and Murrain, for Storms and Shipwrecks; that he may put off his Stock, and his Stores the better. Upon these Ac­counts he generally receives as little Kind­ness as he does, and finds as few Friends as he deserves. Every one think themselves authorised to execute his Credit, to palt and lash him; and make him either the subject of their Anger, or their Scorn.

To sum up the Evidence. A covetous Man loves to be boring in the Earth, like an Insect; and lives always in a creeping and inglorious Posture. His Satisfactions are as Mean as his Figure. He has not the Heart to oblige any Body, no not himself; and therefore is both hated and despised.

Enough said. I think your Cor­rection is neither Excessive, nor Misplaced. If those concerned will not mend their Manners, they may e'en take it for their Pains.

BY Liberty, I mean a Latitude of Prac­tise within the compass of Law, and Religion. 'Tis a standing clear of inferiour Dependances, and private Juris­diction. He who is Master of his Time, and can chuse his Business and Diversions; He who can avoid disagreable Company, and be alone when his Humour or Occa­sions require it; is as Free as he ought to wish himself. 'Tis true, as the World stands, general Liberty is impracticable. If one had nothing but a Soul to keep, he need not go to Service to maintain it. But a Body at present is a very indigent sort of a Thing; it can't subsist upon its own Growth, but stands in want of continual Supplies. This Circumstance of Eating, and Drinking, is a [Page 142] cruel Check upon many a Man's Dignities; and makes him hold his Life by a Servile Tenure. However, he that lies under this Incumbrance should make his best on't, and not quarrel with the Order of Provi­dence. At the worst, Death will knock off his Chain shortly: In the mean time his Business is to play with it. But where the Necessaries of Life may be had at a cheaper Rate, 'tis Folly to purchase them this way. He that will sacrifice his Liberty to his Pa­lat, and convey over his Person for Super­fluities, is a Slave of his own making, and deserves to be used accordingly.

Dependance goes somewhat against the Grain of a generous Mind, and 'tis no wonder it should be so, considering the unreasonable Advantage which is of­ten taken of the Inequality of Fortune. The Pride of Superiors, and the wanton Exercises of Power, make Servitude much more troublesome than Nature intended. Some People think the Life of Authority consists in Noise and Imperiousness, in Me­nacing and Executions. To let their Ser­vants live easy, is in some measure to make them their Equals: Therefore they love to be always brandishing their Advantage, to part with nothing without a Stroke of Dis­cipline; and to qualify their Favours with Penance, and Mortification. But the being [Page 143] enfranchised from Arbitrariness and ill Hu­mour, is not the only Convenience of Li­berty. This State affords great Opportuni­ties for the Improvement of Reason. It gives Leisure for Reading and Contempla­tion; for an Acquaintance with Men and Things; and for looking into the History of Time and Nature. He that has the Bu­siness of Life at his own Disposal, and has no Body to account to for his Minutes but God and himself, may if he pleases be happy without Drudging for it. He needs not Flatter the Vain, nor be Tired with the Impertinent, nor stand to the Curtesy of Knavery, and Folly. He needs not Dance after the Caprice of an Humourist, nor bear a part in the Extravagance of another. He is under no Anxieties for fear of Displeasing, nor has any Difficulties of Temper to struggle with. His Fate does not hang up­on any Man's Face: A Smile will not tran­sport him, nor a Frown ruin him: For his Fortune is better fixed, than to flote upon the Pleasure of the Nice and Changeable. This Independance gives Easiness to the Mind, and Vigour for Enterprize, and Ima­gination. A Man has nothing to strike a Damp upon his Genius, to over-aw his Thoughts, and check the Range of his Fancy. But he that is embarrassed in his Liberty, is apt to be unassured in his [Page 144] Actions; palled and dispirited in his Hu­mour and Conceptions; so that one may almost read his Condition in his Conversa­tion. 'Tis true, a peculiar Greatness of Nature, or the Expectations of Religion, may relieve him; but then every one is not furnished with these Advantages. The Reason why Parmenio could not rise up to Alexander's Height of Thinking, was possi­bly because he was under his Command. Longinus observes, That there were no con­siderable Orators in Greece, after their Go­vernment was altered by the Macedonians and Romans. According to him, their Elo­cution and their Freedom seem'd to languish and expire together. When they were once enslaved, the Muses would keep them Com­pany no longer. The Vein of Rhetorick was seared up, the Force of Demosthenes spent, and no Sublime to be had for Love, nor Money.

Now though Freedom within a Rule is very desirable; yet there is scarcely any one Thing has done more Mischief than this Word misunderstood. Absolute Liberty is a Jest; 'tis a Visionary and Romantick Privilege, and utterly inconsistent with the present state of the World. The Generality of Mankind must have more Understanding, and more Honesty too, than they are likely to have as long as they Live, before they [Page 145] are fit to be at their own Disposal. To tell People they are free, is the common Artifice of the Factious and Seditious. These State-Gypsies pick the Pockets of the Ignorant with this specious Cant, and with informing them what mighty Fortunes they are all born to. And what is this fine Freedom after all that these Sparks can help them to? Why they are free to be out of their Wits, and to be undone, if they take their Advice; To lose their Conscience, their Credit and their Mony, and to be ten-times more press'd than they were before.

There is still a more extravagant Noti­on of Liberty behind. Some People are for Repealing the Laws of Morality, for throw­ing open the Inclosures of Religion, and Leaving all in Common to Licentiousness and Violence. They are for making their Inclinations the Rule, and their Power the Boundary of their Actions. They hate to let any Opportunity slip, or any Capa­city lie Idle: But are for grasping at all Possibilities of Pleasure, and Playing their Appetites at whatever comes in their way. To tye Men up from Enjoyment, and cramp them with Prohibitions, is an En­croachment upon the Rights of Nature. These ungenerous Impositions are it seems the Dotages of Age, the Results of Spleen and Impotence; or at best the Pretences of [Page 146] Designing Power, which lays an Embargo upon some Branches of Trade, to engross the Advantages to it self. I wonder why these Men don't improve their Principle farther. Why they don't dance upon the Battle­ments of Houses, Vault down the Monu­ment, and jump into a Furnace for Diver­sion. To forbear these Things are great Restraints upon the Liberties of Motion, and make many of the Faculties of Nature insignificant. They ought to step in to the Rescue of Feavers and Phrensy, and not let their Acquaintance lie under such an igno­minious Confinement, especially when their Spirits are up, and they are so well disposed for Satisfaction. Why do they not draw up a Remonstrance against Goals, Pillorys, and Executions; What! have they no Sense of the Grievances of their Fellow Subjects? Can they see their own generous Principle suf­fer, their very Magna Charta violated, and do nothing towards a Relief? They ask your Pardon; To embark in such Expe­ditions might endanger their Interest, and come home to them at last. And to speak Truth, they are for having this Arbitrary Privilege in no Hands but their own. For Touch them in their Honour or Pro­perty, and you'll find them sensible enough. A small Injury to themselves seems intole­rable, and fires them with a Zeal for Ju­stice [Page 147] and Restitution. Then the Laws are Defective, and give too little Damages; And therefore though they venture their Necks for it, they must have a Supplemen­tal Satisfaction. Their own Case, one would think, might shew them the unrea­sonableness of their Scheme; And that a Liberty against Virtue and Law, is only a Privilege to be Unhappy; And a License for a Man to murther Himself.

YOur Servant, This Visit is very obliging. If so good a Friend as you are can be more welcom at one time then another, you are so now. I was just going to send to you, to Beg a little of your Conversation.

Sir I thank you, you are always contriving to give your Friends a Pleasure, one way or other. But methinks you seem somewhat concern'd. I hope no Acci­dent has happen'd?

Nothing but what I'm affraid you'll smile at; and yet it sits pretty hard upon my Spirits.

I'm sorry for that; pray what's the Matter?

Then without any farther Pream­ble, I must challenge you upon your last Promise. You may remember we were talking about Old Age, and the Inconve­niences attending it. This Speculation has hung cruelly in my Head ever since. I think my Fancy is grown quite Grey up­on't.

If that be your Case, 'tis some­what unlucky; I have no Receipt against that Distemper. What would you be exempted from the common Fate, and have Nature alter'd, for your single Satis­faction?

With all my Heart, if I knew which way. Not but that I could wish the Advantage was Universal, as much as any Man. To be plain, I don't think my self over-furnish'd, and should be glad to keep up my Person in Repair as long as it lasts. In earnest, it troubles me to consider [Page 149] the greatest part of Life is no better than a slow Consumption; That we must shortly sink into a state of Weakness and Insignificancy, and grow unacceptable both to others, and our selves. When our Limbs and our Memory, and it may be our Understanding too, will fail us; when nothing but a Feaver will warm our Blood; and all the lively Perceptions are forced out of Pain. We begin Life with a slender Stock, and yet it improves strangly. I wonder when we are well­furnished we can't hold it: What! Turn Bankrupts when we have more Effects to Trade with, and more Skill to manage? A Flame well kindled and supplied, will burn for ever. When a Man is Rich, a little Care keeps him so. But Life, like an ill gotten Estate, consumes insensibly, in de­spight of all imaginable Frugality. Infan­cy is a state of Hope; and has the Ten­derness of Parents, or the Compassion of Strangers, to support it. Youth, like a Blossom, gives us Beauty in hand, and Fruit in prospect. But Age grows worse and worse upon the Progress; sinks deeper in Sorrow and Neglect, and has no Relief to expect but the Grave.

I think you are too Tragical up­on the Occasion; Health, and Vigour, and Sense, hold out sometimes to the length [Page 150] of a long Journey. Plato enjoyed them all at 80. And so if, you'll take his word for't, did Cato Major; and reckons you up a great many more. Tully was more than 60 when he wrote his famous Philippicks: In which his Rhetorick is not only more Correct, but more moving and tempestu­ous, than in his younger Orations. The Poetick Fire, which is soonest extinct, some­times rages beyond that Period. Of this I could give modern Proof, were it necessary. To go on; old Father le Moin writes now with all the Force, and Spirit, and Pleasant­ness of 35. And a Gentleman of our own Country, has the same Happiness. Now those that can Entertain others, are never ill Entertain'd themselves.

One Swallow makes no Summer. One had need have a Body and Soul made on purpose, to do these things you talk of. I am sure it is otherwise with the Genera­lity: And since Age seems a common Pe­nance imposed upon Mankind, I could al­most wish we had it sooner; and that the sweet Morsel of Life was left for the last.

That might engage your Appe­tite too much. What! you would be old when you are young, would you?

No; it may be I would be young after I am old.

Not in this World if you please; all old People have had their Time, they were young once, let that suffice.

Were young once! That is in plain English they have lost the Advan­tage; a very comfortable Reflexion! Were, serves only to trouble what we Are. Fuimus may make a good Motto, but in Life it is stark naught.

If the whole Business was as bad as you represent it, there is no help for't, therefore we should be contented.

Under favour, therefore we should not be contented. What! is Despair an Argument for Satisfaction?

For Patience it is, when we have other Considerations to support us. Besides; are no Favours valuable but those which last a Man's Life time? Does no­thing less than an Annuity, deserve Thanks? Certainly we ought to be of a more ac­knowledging Temper than this comes to; especially where we have nothing of Merit to plead. Upon the whole, I conceive the Consequence may be work'd another way to better Advantage.

How so?

Why, since we can avoid Old Age by nothing but Death; our business is to make it as easy as may be. If you▪ ask me which way? My answer is, we [Page 152] must Guard against those Imperfections, to which Old Age is most liable. By Im­perfections, I mean, Moral ones; for the other are not to be fenced off. In the se­cond place, let us consider, that Age is not altogether Burthen and Incumbrance. There are several peculiar Privileges and Dignities annext to this part of Life. A short View of the Reason of these Advan­tages, will help to relieve us under the Decays of the Body.

I am glad to hear it; pray go on with your Method.

To begin then with the Imper­fections. Not that they are as unavoid­able as Grey-Heirs; or to be charged upon Age without Exception. My meaning on­ly is, that without Care People are more in danger of them when they are old, than at any other time. The first I shall men­tion, is a Forwardness to be displeased up­on little occasions; to take things by the wrong Handle; and to put severe Con­structions upon Words and Actions. This unhappy Temper may be assigned to seve­ral Causes.

1 st. Old Persons, may be over-suspitious of being contemn'd. Long Experience has taught them that the World is gene­rally unbenevolent and narrow-spirited; that Self-Love, and Ill-Nature, are ex­treamly [Page 153] extreamly common, and that the Pleasures of too many are drawn from the Misfor­tunes of their Neighbours. These Remarks confirmed by repeated Instances, make no kind Impression. So that when a Man is conscious of his own Decay, when he grows less active and agreeable, when he can nei­ther Oblige, nor Punish, with the usual Advantage: When this happens, he is apt to fancy younger People are more ready to divert themselves with his Declension, than to pity it. This Apprehension makes him interpret with Rigour, conclude him­self injur'd upon a remote Appearance, and grow disgusted upon every Ambi­guity.

By the way, is Mankind capable of such Barbarity as this Jealousy supposes? Can they misapply their Passions at so scan­dalous a rate? Can they insult an un­avoidable Infirmity, and trample upon the Venerable Ruines of Humane Nature? This Insolence is foolish, as well as unna­tural. He that acts in this manner, does but expose his own future Condition, and laugh at himself before-hand.

You say well. But very ill Things are often done. And those who have seen most of them, are most Appre­hensive. On the other side, Those who are less acquainted with the Vanity and [Page 154] Vices of the World▪ and have met with fewer Disappointments, are inclin'd to a kinder Opinion.

A very charitable Ignorance! However I think your Remark not ill founded, for I have observed an unusual Sweetness of Temper in Children. Na­ture usually makes a very obliging Disco­very of her self in them. They throw themselves with entire Confidence upon Conversation. They act without Artifice or Disguise; and believe others as kind and undesigning as themselves. But when they once understand what a sort of World they are come into: When they find that Easiness of belief betrays them, and that they are losers by the openness of their Carriage; Then they begin to be up­on their Guard, to grow cautious and re­serv'd, and to stand off in Jealousy and Su­spition. Like Birds that are shot at, Na­ture grows wild by ill Usage; and neither Loves, nor Trusts, so much as Before.

Most certainly, unless Care be taken. For this Reason, if a Man does not use to reflect upon his Temper; if he does not shake off his Spleen, and check his Disgusts; if he does not strive to sweeten his Blood, and refresh his Generosity, his esteem of Mankind will abate too fast. This Humour, unless prevented, will slide [Page 155] into Indifferency and Disinclination; and make him have a kindness for nothing but himself. And because odd Discoveries, Ruffles and Discouragements, encrease up­on him in his Journey, the farther he Tra­vels, the less he will like the Company. And since the World has lost his good Opi­nion, a slender Presumption will be apt to awaken his Jealousy, make him suspect hard measure, and put the worst Inter­pretation upon Things.

May nor this Forwardness to be disobliged, proceed from the Infirmities of Age? The last part of Life is a perpetual Indisposition; you are seldom free from the Pain or the Weakness of a Disease. The Feaver of the Fit may sometimes intermit, but then your best days are short of Health. Such uneasy Discipline is apt to make the Spirits turn eager. When a Man is loaden a Feather is felt, and the least rub will make him complain.

I believe the difficulty of some Humours may be thus accounted for. And where this Reason fails, I think I could assign another.

What is that?

With Submission; I'm affraid old Persons may sometimes over-rate their own Sufficiency. 'Tis true, generally speaking, Knowledge is the Consequence [Page 156] of Time, and Multitude of Days are fittest to teach Wisdom. But this Rule, like o­thers, has its Exception. For all that, People are apt to fancy their Understand­ings move upon an Ascent, and that they must grow Wiser of course, as their grow Older. Thus they often take their Im­provement upon Content, without exami­ning how they came by it. As if the meer Motion of the Sun, or the running of an Hour-glass, would do the Business. Now a Mistake in this Case makes them impatient of Contradiction, and imagine themselves always in the Right. To ar­gue the Point, and debate their Opinions is to injure them. Younger Men ought to believe hard, and take Authority for the last Proof.

To proceed. Resting too much upon the Privilege of their Years, may be the occasion of a second Imperfection; i. e. In­compliance with the innocent Demands and Satisfactions of those who are Youn­ger. Their Opinions are the Standard of Truth, and their Desires the Measure of Agreeableness.

This Partiality of Thought, this indulg­ing their own Inclinations, makes them firm to Prepossession, and difficultly re­moved from those Customs which first en­gaged them. The bare Novelty of a [Page 157] Thing is enough to cast it: They con­demn the prudent Alterations of the pre­sent Age, and are too kind to the Errors of the former.

Under favour, I conceive this Method scarcely defensible. 'Tis true, they are old when they maintain these Opinions, but were they not young when they took them them up? And why should they prefer the Judgment of their own Youth, to that of a later Generation? Is it such an advantage to stand first up­on the Roll of Time? Or does Sense and Understanding wear out the farther a Line is continued? That a succeeding Age is born with the same Capacity with the former, that it may use the same Industry cannot be deny'd: Why then should we be barr'd the Privilege of our Fore Fathers? Why may we not Pronounce upon the state of Truth, upon the Decency of Cu­stom, and the Oeconomy of Life, with the usual Liberty? Is Humane Nature impro­ved to the utmost, or was Infallibility the Gift of those before us? If not, what harm is it to chuse for our selves? Why should we be servilely ty'd to their Rea­son, who used the Freedom of their own? Those who come last, seem to enter with Advantage. They are Born to the Wealth of Antiquity. The Materials for Judging [Page 158] are prepar'd, and the Foundations of Knowledge are laid to their Hands; why then may they not be allowed to en­large the Model, and Beautifie the Sru­cture? They View in a better Light than their Predecessors, and have more leisure to examine, to polish and refine. Be­sides, if the Point was try'd by Antiquity, Antiquity would lose it. For the present Age is really the Oldest, and has the larg­est Experience to plead.

If you please I'll go on to a third Misfortune incident to Old Age, and that is Covetousness. This, I confess, looks like so great a Paradox, that nothing but matter of Fact could force me to believe it. I have less Time to stay in the World, and less Capacity to enjoy it; therefore I must love it better than ever: What sort of Reasoning is this? To what purpose should a Man grasp so hard when he can take the least hold? Why should he make himself uneasy with so ill a Grace? Who could imagine that Appetite should thus exceed Digestion, and that the Age of Wisdom should make so preposterous a Judgment? If there were any just fears of Poverty, or the Provision was mode­rate, 'twas something. Fore-sight and Frugality are good Things. But alas! [Page 159] Covetousness in old People is often unfur­nished with these Excuses

Had you thought fit, I could have liked a Reason upon the Cause, as well as a Declamation upon the Effect.

To satisfie you, I'll give you my Conjecture; You know Age is not vigo­rous enough for Business and Fatiguing. 'Tis no Time to work up an Estate in, or to repair a Misadventure. A strain in an old Man's Fortune, like one in his Limbs, is seldom out-grown. And where La­bour is impracticable, and Recovery de­spaired of, Parsimony has the better Co­lour. Old Persons are apt to dread a Misfortune more than others. They have observed how Prodigality is punished, and Poverty neglected: These Instances hang like Executions before them, and often fright them into the other Extream. They are sensible their Strength decays, and their Infirmities encrease; and therefore conclude their Supplies should encrease too. They are best acquainted with the Uncertainty of Things, and the Deceit­fulness of Persons. They know People won't do their Duty out of meer good will, that Observance must be purchased, and that nothing Engages like Interest and Expectation. Now the natural Dif­fidence, and Anxiousness of Age, is apt [Page 160] to press the Reasons of Frugality too far, to be over-apprehensive of an Accident, and guard with too much Concern. Their Blood grows cool and dispirited; And un­less they relieve themselves by generous Thinking, they'll be in danger of falling into excessive Cares, unnecessary Provi­sions, and little Management. I have now laid the hardest of the Case before you. These are the worst Diseases of Age; And yet not so formidable neither, but that Pru­dence and Precaution may prevent them.

I hope so too. However your Inference from the decay of Constitution, does not please me; Because, I doubt, there is something more in it than what you mentioned.

Pray what do you mean?

Why, I'm affraid a Man may live so long till he wants Spirits to main­tain his Reason, and to Face an honour­able Danger. Some People will under­take to Bleed, or Fast a Man into Cowar­dice. Now if this may be done, the Con­sequence may be untoward. For the dis­advantages of Age seem no less than ei­ther of these Experiments. This Thought has sometimes made me uneasy. For what can be more wretched than to sur­vive the best part of our Character, and close up our Lives in Disgrace?

A Concern so generous as yours needs not fear the Event. Resolution lies more in the Head than in the Veins. A brave Mind is always Impregnable. True Courage is the Result of Reason­ing. A just Sense of Honour, and Infamy, of Duty and Religion, will car­ry us farther than all the Force of Me­chanism. The Strength of the Muscles, and the Ferment of the Humours, are no­thing to it. Innocence of Life, and Con­sciousness of Worth, and great Expecta­tions, will do the Business alone. These Ingredients make a richer Cordial than Youth can prepare. They warm the Heart at 80, and seldom fail in the Ope­ration. Socrates was advanced to the common Period of Life at his Tryal. But the Chilness of his Blood did not make him shrink from his Notions. He acted up to the height of his Philosophy, and drank off his Hemlock without the least Concern. Eleazar, a Jewish Scribe, was an older Man than he, and yet behav'd himself with admirable Fortitude under Extremity of Torture. ( Maccab.) St. Ig­natius and Polycarp were Martyrs after 80, and as fearless as Lions. In Military Men Instances of this kind are numerous; though I don't think Courage altogether so well try'd in a Field, as at a Stake.

The Reason of your Opinion.

Because in a Battle, the encou­raging Musick, the examples of Resolu­tion, the universal Tumult, will scarcely give a Man leave or leisure to be a Co­ward. Besides, the hopes of Escaping are no ordinary Support. Of this we have a famous Instance in Mareschal Biron. No Person Living could be braver in the Field than He. And when he was afterwards Tryed for Treason, his Spirit seem'd ra­ther too big than otherwise. He used the King roughly, and out-raged his Judges, and appear'd fortified at a won­derful rate. But when Death came near him, and he saw the Blow was not to be avoided, he sunk into Abjection; and dyed much to the disadvantage of his Character.

Now as to outward Appearance, the Case of Martyrdom is the same with that of the Duke of Biron's, and of­tentimes much harder. Here is the cer­tainty of Death, the Terror of the Exe­cution, and the Ignominy of the Punish­ment. And besides all this, leisure and cool Thoughts to contemplate the Melan­choly Scene. In earnest, these are all trying Circumstances, and make the dis­parity of the Proof very visible.

I can't deny what you say. But tho' a Soldier can't distinguish himself so well as a Martyr, he may do enough to shew himself no Coward. If you please, let us have an Instance or two from the Camp, to the Point in hand.

That you may a Hundred, were it necessary. I shall mention a few. To come to our own Times. The Basha of Buda, when it was last taken, was upwards of 70. But this did not hinder him from any Military Function: Like Aetna, he was Snow a Top, but all Fire within, For after a noble Defence he dy'd fighting upon the Breach. The late Prince of Conde, the Duke of Luxemburgh, and Ma­reschal Schombergh, were old Generals. For all that, upon occasion, they would Charge at the Head of the Army with all the Heat and Forwardness of the youngest Cavalier. In short, Courage is at no time impracticable. Providence has dealt more liberally with Mankind, than to make any Action necessary, which is Mean.

I am glad to hear it; You have reconciled me to Age much better than I was before. To deal freely, Cowardise makes a Man so insignificant, and betrays him to such wretched Practises, that I dreaded the Thoughts of it. If you please [Page 164] now, let's go on to the Privileges of Ho­nour, and examine how the Claim is made out.

That Age has a peculiar Right to Regard, is past dispute: Nature teach­es it, Religion enjoins it, and Custom has made it good. And in my Opinion, the Reasons of the Privilege are very satisfa­ctory. For

First, Old Age is most remarkable for Knowledge and Wisdom. When we first come into the World, we are unimproved in both parts of our Nature: Neither our Limbs, nor Understandings, are born at their full Length, but grow up to their stature by gradual Advances. —

So much the better: For if we were Infants in our Bodies, and Men in our Souls, at the same time, we should not like it. The Weakness, the Restraints, the Entertainment, and the Discipline of the first Years, would relish but indifferently: A Spirit of Age could hardly bear such Usage. Methinks I should be loath to Transmigrate into a Child, or lie in a Cradle, with those few Things I have in my Head.

You are safe enough. But to return: For the Reasons above-mention­ed; Those who have had the longest time to furnish and improve in, must be the [Page 165] wisest People: I mean, generally speaking, where Care and other Advantages are equal. Men of Years have seen greater variety of Events; have more Opportu­nities of remarking Humours and Interests. Who then can be so proper to draw the Model of Practise, and strike out the Lines of Business and Conversation? The History of themselves is not unserviceable. The Revolutions at Home will open the Scene in a great Measure. Thus they may trace their Actions to the first Exercises of Reason. This will shew them the Distin­ctions of Life, and the Complexion of eve­ry Period: How Novelty pleases, and In­clinations vary with the Progress of Age. And thus with some regard to the diver­sities of Circumstance; with some Allow­ance for Custom and Government, for Fortune and Education, for Sex and Tem­per; they may give probable guesses at the Workings of Humane Nature: They may reach the Meaning, and enterpret the Be­haviour, and Calculate the Passions of those they converse with. These Lights will almost force a Prospect into the Heart, and bring the Thoughts into View. This Advantage is of great Use, It helps us to Discover, and to Please; It directs us in our Application, and often prevents us from doing, or receiving an Injury. Far­ther; [Page 166] Old Persons have the best Opportu­nities for reviewing their Opinions, and bringing their Thoughts to a second Test. For trying what they took upon Trust, and correcting the Errors of Education. And thus their Judgment becomes more exact: They may know more Things, and know them better, and more usefully than others. This will appear farther by considering

A second Advantage of Old Age; and that is, freedom from violent Passions. This Advantage is partly the effect of Conviction and Experience. The Danger is consider'd better, and the Indecency more discover'd than formerly. The Con­stitution likewise contributes its Share. The Current of the Blood moves more gently, and the Heat of the Spirits abate. This Change makes the Mind more absolute, and the Counsels of Reason better regarded. The Object and the Faculty are easier parted. And thus the excesses of Anger and Desire grow less intemperate. Whereas younger People, as they are apt to contrive amiss, so they often fail in the Execution. Their Prospect is too short for the one, and their Passions too strong for the other. Either they are impatient to wait, or pursue too far, or divert too soon: And thus the De­sign often miscarries. But Age views the Undertaking on all sides, and makes fewer [Page 167] Omissions in the Scheme: It computes more exactly upon Hopes and Fears, and weighs Difficulty and Success with better Judgment. Now Men have Temper to stay for the Ripeness of Things; they don't over-drive their Business, nor fly off to unseasonable Pleasure. They can at­tend with Patience, and hold on with Con­stancy. In short, this is the time in which the Mind is most Discerning and Dispassionate; furnished with the best Materials for Wisdom, and best dis­posed to use them. For these Reasons Men of Years have generally been thought the most proper to preside in Councils, and to have the Direction of Affairs. Ari­stotle, as I remember, observes, that odds in Understanding seems to give a natural Right to Command. Corporal Force is a Ministerial Talent, and ought to be under Government. If this Privilege needed Prescription; we have all the Advantage of Time and Place. Age has set at the Helm so long, that the Name of Office and Authority is derived from thence; Witness the Jewish Elders, the Spartan [...], the Roman Senate, and the Saxon Aldermen. Not, but that younger Peo­ple were sometimes join'd in the Commis­sion. This Favour was sometimes earlier bestowed, either as a Reward to extraor­dinary [Page 168] Merit, or indulged to Quality, for Discipline and Improvement. Matters of Moment especially should be managed with Conduct and Temper; brought un­der the best Regulation; and put into the wisest Hands. 'Tis true, Order and Right must not be disturb'd; but where there is Liberty to chuse, Age has the clearest Pretences, and stands fairest for the Ho­nour. There is a great Deference due to the Judgment of Years; their bare Affir­mation and Authority should have its weight; especially when they Pronounce upon their own Experience and Employ­ment. Here the Incompliance of our Rea­son ought to be suspected, and nothing but Evidence should make us dissent.

3 ly. Old Persons deserve a more than ordinary Regard, because their Perfor­mances are supposed to have been more than ordinary: When nothing to the con­trary appears, Justice as well as Charity will Report kindly, and conclude in fa­vour of another. In such Cases we should presume People have understood their Op­portunities, and managed their Talent, and their Time to advantage. Upon this equitable Supposition 'twill follow, That those who have lived longest, have done most Good. And is it not reasonable that Returns and Benefits should keep a Pro­portion; and that those who have obliged [Page 169] most, should receive the fairest Acknow­ledgment? Old Persons have been upon Duty a great while, and served the Publick upon many Occasions. They are the Ve­terans of the State, and should be particu­larly consider'd. The Reasons of Order and Discipline, and Merit, require no less. And since Power must be kept in a few Hands: Since Property won't reach a ge­neral Distribution; since They can't be all gratified with Offices and Estates, let them be paid with Honour.

Methinks their very Infirmities look not unhandsomly. They carry something of Dignity in them, when well understood. They are not to be wholly attributed to the Force of Time: But partly to their ge­nerous Labours, to that constant Fatigue of Business, to that Expence of Thought and Spirits, for the Publick Advantage. Let not the Alterations in their Person be meerly thrown upon Age, and resol­ved into Decay. Let's rather consider them as honourable Scars, Marks of Hard­ship and repeated Action, in the Service of their Country. Under this Notion they'll shine upon the Understanding, and move more for Respect than Pity. I might now assign a Reason of a lower kind to the same purpose. And that is, meer Decency and Breeding, and good Nature, [Page 170] should make us respectful to Age. An old Man must shortly take his final Leave, and imbark for a Foreign Country; And therefore should be treated with the Ce­remony of a departing Friend. We should do something to shew that we are loath to lose him, and wish him happy in his Re­moval. Besides, something of Regard is due to his Condition: We should divert the Sense of his Declension, support his Spirits by Observance, and keep him easy by ob­liging Behaviour.

I confess, I think you have done some Justice to Age: You have proved its Privileges, and settled the Preference, upon Grounds not unsatisfactory. But supposing the young People should not do us Right, can't we relieve our selves with­out standing to their Courtesy?

Yes; There are two Things will do us a Kindness. First we may con­sider, that the Declensions of Age are commonly very gradual. Like the Shadow of a Dial, the Motion is too slow for the Eye to take notice of. Could the Decays in us be mark'd through all their Progress, Life would be more uneasy. But a Man looks at Night, as he did in the Morning. He does not see that when he is past his Prime; his Vigour is perpetually wearing off, that the Blood grows less florid, and the Spirits abate: That no day comes but [Page 171] pairs the Strength, and cramps the Moti­on, and tarnishes the Colour, and makes us worse for Service and Satisfaction than we were before. But our Senses are not fine enough to perceive the Lessening, and so all goes tolerably well. If we were thrown out of our Youth, as we are sometimes out of our Fortune, all at once; it would sen­sibly touch us. To go to Bed at Thirty, and rise with all the Marks of Eighty, would try one's Patience pretty severely. But we walk down the Hill so very gently, that the Change of Situation is scarcely perceiv'd, till we are near the Bottom. This Advantage lies ready to our Hands, and wants little Improvement. But the other which remains, and is the most con­siderable, depends upon Conduct.

Pray let's hear it.

Why, if we would enter upon Age with Advantage, we must take care to be regular and significant in our Youth. This is the way to make both the Mind and the Body more easy. I say the Body, for Intemperance antedates Infirmities, and doubles them. It revenges its own Excesses, and plunges us sooner and deeper in the Mire, than otherwise we should fall. He that would have his Health hold out, must not Live too fast. A Man should Husband his Constitution, and not throw [Page 172] away till he has done Living, if he can help it. Not to provide thus far is to be­tray our Senses, and prove false to the In­terest of Ease and Pleasure. And as to the Mind, a well managed Life will be of great Service. Such a Person will be more disengag'd from the Entertainments of Sense, and not miss his Youth so much as another. He won't be troubled with impracticable Wishes, but Strength and De­sire will fall off together. The Powers of Reason will improve by Exercise; and he that has govern'd a stronger Appetite, will easily govern a weaker. In short, if we would be well provided we must be­gin betimes. Habits of Virtue, and handsom Performances, are the best Pre­paratives. Lets lay in a stock of good Actions before-hand. These will secure our Credit without, and our Peace within. Are the spaces of Life not ill fill'd up? Is the World the better for us? Have we any ways answer'd the Bounties of Pro­vidence, and the Dignity of our Nature? These Questions well answer'd, will be a strong Support to Age; they'll keep off a great part of the weight of it; and make a Man's Years sit easy upon him. The Mind has a mighty Influence upon the Body; and operates either way, accord­ing to the quality of Reflexion. The dis­orders [Page 173] of Passion or Guilt, enflame a Di­stemper, envenom a Wound, and boil up the Blood to a Feaver. They often baffle the Vertue of Drugs and the Prescriptions of Art. On the other-hand; When the Review pleases, when we can look back­ward and forward with Delight; to be thus satisfied and composed, is almost a Cure of it self. 'Tis true, a good Con­science won't make a Man Immortal. But yet the quiet of his Mind often keeps him from wearing out so fast. It smooths his Passage to the other World, and makes him slide into the Grave by a more gentle and insensible Motion. And when the Body is shaken with Diseases, when it bends under Time or Accident, and ap­pears just sinking into Ruine; 'tis some­times strangely supported from within. The Man is prop'd up by the Strength of Thought; and Lives upon the Chear­fulness and Vigour of his Spirit.

Even Vanity, when strongly impress'd, and luckily directed, will go a great way. Thus Epicurus in Tully tells us, that the pleasure of his Writings, and the hopes of his Memory, abated the sharpness of his Pains, and made the Gout, and the Stone, almost sleep upon him.

Epicurus had a strong Fancy: Though I must own that pleasant Retro­spections, [Page 174] and easy Thoughts, and com­fortable Presages, are admirable Opiates: They help to asswage the Anguish, and dis­arm the Distemper; and almost make a Man despise his Misery. However I'm still a little concern'd that I must go less and less every day, and do the same things over again with abatements of Satisfacti­on. To live only to Nurse up Decays, to feel Pain, and wait upon Diseases, is somewhat troublesom and insignificant.

Pardon me there! Not insigni­ficant, if it should happen so.

To bear Sickness with Decency, is a noble Instance of Fortitude. He that Charges an Enemy does not shew himself more brave, than he that grapples hand­somly with a Disease. To do this with­out abject Complaints; without Rage, and Expostulation, is a glorious Combat. To be proof against Pain, is the clearest Mark of Greatness: It sets a Man above the dread of Accidents. 'Tis a State of Li­berty and Credit. He that's thus fenced, needs not fear nor flatter any thing. He that distinguishes himself upon these Oc­casions, and keeps up the Superiority of his Mind, is a Conqueror, though he dyes for't; and rides in Triumph into the other World. And when we are engag'd in these honourable Exercises, and proving [Page 175] the most formidable Evils to be tolerable; are we Insignificant all this while? Thus to teach Resignation and Greatness, and appear in the heights of Passive Glory, is, I hope, to live to some purpose. Other Performances, I grant, are more agree­able; but possibly none more useful. Be­sides every one has not this Tryal. Some­times the Senses are worn up, and the Materials for Pain are spent, and the Bo­dy is grown uncapable of being pleased, or troubled in any great degree. To re­lieve you a little farther; give me leave to add, That the more we sink into the In­firmities of Age, the nearer we are to Im­mortal Youth. All People are Young in the other World. That State is an Eter­nal Spring, ever fresh and flourishing. Now to pass from Midnight into Noon on the sudden: To be Decrepid one mi­nute, and all Spirit and Activity the next, must be an entertaining Change. Call you this Dying? The abuse of Language! To fly thus swiftly from one Extream to another; To have Life flow in like a Tor­rent, at the lowest Ebb, and fill all the Chanels at once; This must be a Service to the Case in hand. For this Reason old People will go off with advantage. At their first arrival they seem likely to bemore sen­sible of the difference. They seem better [Page 176] prepar'd to relish Liberty, and Vigour, and Indolence, than others. The Hard­ship of their former Condition rewards its own Trouble. It burnishes their Hap­piness, and awakens the Mind to take hold of it. Health after Sickness, and Plenty upon Poverty, gives double Plea­sure.

In short, Philebus to be affraid of grow­ing Old, is to be affraid of growing Wise, and being Immortal. As if we could be happy too soon! Pray what is there in this World to make us fond of? None yet were ever fully pleased with it. If the the Publick Interest was generally pursu­ed, and Men did their best to make each other happy, it would not do. Our Ideas of Satisfaction can meet with nothing to answer them. And as long as Fancy out­shines Nature, and Thoughts are too big for Things, we shall always be craving. I could draw up a Scheme of Happiness, if I could have it as easily, that should Mortifie the most fortunate Ambition; kill Alexander with Envy, and make Cae­sar pine away at his own Littleness And do we imagine God would make an Ap­petite without an Object? Must we be al­ways wishing for Impossibilities, and languish after an everlasting Nothing? No, Philebus, the Being of Happiness is [Page 177] more than a Dream. There are Enter­tainments which will carry up to Desire, and fill up all the Vacancies of the Mind. But these Things are not to be met with here. One would think we should be glad to go upon a farther Discovery; and that Curiosity should almost carry us into the other World. Happiness is sure well worth our Enquiry. Who would not try the most unknown Paths in search of so noble an Object? Who would not look into all the Regions of Nature; travel over the Sky, and make the Tour of the Uni­verse? And can we then be sorry to see our Voyage fixt, and start back when we are just Embarking? This is to be over­fond of our Native Country, and to hang about Life a little too meanly.

I thank you. I perceive my Ap­prehensions were unreasonable. Age has no such formidable Aspect, as I supposed. I am now convinced, that if the other parts of Life have been well managed, this will prove tolerable enough.

THat Pleasure, precisely consider'd, is an Advantage, must be granted by the most severe Philosophy: 'Tis the principal Intendment of Nature, and the sole object of Inclination. Every thing Good, is so far desirable. And why is it so? Because it affords a Satisfaction to him that has it. The only Reason why Being, is better than Not Being; is because of the agreeable Perceptions we have in the first, which are impossible in the latter. With­out Pleasure either in Hand, or in Remain­der, Life is no Blessing, nor Existence worth the owning. Were I sure never to be pleased, my next Business should be to unwish my self, and pray for Annihilation. For if I have nothing which delights me in my Being, the very Sense of it must be unacceptable; and then I had better be without it. He that can prove himself Something, by no other Argument than Pain, will be glad to be rid of the Conclu­sion. For the suppose that Misery is prefera­ble to Not Being, is, I believe, the wild­est [Page 179] Thought that ever entred the Imagi­nation. A very short Fit of Torture, and Despair, would convince the most Obsti­nate: Now though there are Degrees of Happiness or Misery, there is no Middle between them. A Man must feel one or the other. That which some Philosophers call Indolence, is properly a State of Plea­sure. For though the Satisfaction may be somewhat Drowsy, yet, like the first ap­proaches of Sleep, it strikes smooth and gently upon the Sense. To return; 'tis Pleasure, which is the last and farthest Meaning of every reasonable Action. 'Tis upon this Score that the Husband-man La­bours, and the Soldier Fights; and all the Hazards and Difficulties of Life are under­gone. Wealth and Honour, and Power, as Topping as they seem, are but Ministe­rial to Satisfaction. They are supposed to furnish a Man's Person, and fix him in a Place of Advantage. They feed his Ap­petites, and execute his Will, and make him valuable in his own Opinion, and in that of his Neighbour's. These Services they promise at least, which makes them so earnestly desired: 'Tis Pleasure which reconciles us to Pain. Who would sub­mit to the Nauseousness of Medicine, or the Torture of the Surgeon; were it not for the Satisfaction of receiving our Limbs, [Page 180] and our Health? Pleasure is pursued where it seems most renounced, and aimed at even in Self-denial. All voluntary Poverty, all the Discipline of Pennance, and the Mortifications of Religion, are undertaken upon this View. A good Man is content­ed with hard Usage at present, that he may take his Pleasure in the other World. In short, To dispute the Goodness of Plea­sure, is to deny Experiment, and contra­dict Sensation, which is the highest Evi­dence.

But there needs no more to be said in re­commendation of Pleasure. The greatest danger is, least we should value it too much. The Season, the Object, ahd the Proportion, are all Circumstances of Importance: A failure in any of them spoils the Entertain­ment. He that buys his Satisfaction at the Expence of Duty and Discretion, is sure to over purchase. When Virtue is sacrificed to Appetite, Repentance must follow, and that is an uneasy Passion. All unwarrant­able Delights have an ill Farewel, and de­stroy those that are greater. The main Reason why we have Restraints clap'd up­on us, is because an unbounded Liberty would undo us. If we examine Religion, we shall find few Actions forbidden, but but such as are naturally prejudicial to Health, to Reason, or Society. The Hea­then [Page 181] Philosophers, excepting some few of the Cyrenaicks, and Epicureans, were all agreed in the folly of forbidden Pleasure. They thought the very Question scanda­lous; and that it was in effect to dispute, whether 'twere better to be a Man, or a Beast.

The general Division of Pleasure, is into that of the Mind, and the other of the Bo­dy. The former is the more valuable up­on several Accounts. I shall mention some of them.

1 st. The Causes of these Satisfactions are more reputable than the other. Corpo­real Pleasures are comparatively Ignoble. They seem founded in Want and Imper­fection. There must be something of Un­easiness to introduce them, and make them welcom. When the Pain of Hunger is once over, Eating is but a heavy Entertain­ment. The Senses are some of them so mean that they scarce relish any thing, but what they Beg for. But Rational Delights have a better Original. They spring from noble Speculations, or generous Actions; from Enlargements of Knowledge, or In­stances of Virtue; from something which argues Worth, and Greatness, and Im­provement.

2 ly. The Satisfactions of the Mind are more at command. A Man may think of [Page 182] of a handsom Performance, or a Notion, which pleases him at his leisure. This Enter­tainment is ready with little Warning or Expence. A short Recollection brings it upon the Stage, brightens the Idea, and makes it shine as much as when 'twas first stamp'd upon the Memory. Thoughts, take up no Room. When they are right, they afford a portable Pleasure. One may Travel with it without any trouble, or In­cumbrance. The Case with the Body is much otherwise. Here the Satisfaction is more confin'd to Circumstance of Place, and moves in a narrower Compass. We cannot have a pleasant Taste or Smell, un­less the Object and the Sense, are near toge­ther. A little Distance makes the Delight withdraw, and vanish like a Phantosm. There is no Perfuming of the Memory, or regaling the Palate with the Fancy. 'Tis true, we have some faint confused Notices of these absent Delights, but then 'tis Ima­gination, and not Sense, which giveth it. I grant the Eye and Ear command farther, but still these have their Limits. And be­sides, they can only reach an Object Pre­sent, but not make it so. Whereas the Mind, by a sort of natural Magick, raises the Ghost of a departed Pleasure, and makes it appear without any dependence upon Space, or Time. Now the almost Omni­presence [Page 183] of an Advantage, is a Circum­stance of Value; it gives opportunity for Use and Repetition, and makes it so much the more one's own.

3 dly. Intellectual Delights are of a nobler kind than the other. They belong to Be­ings of the highest Order. They are the Inclination of Heaven, and the Entertain­ments of the Deity. Now God knows the choicest Ingredients of Happiness; He can command them without Difficulty, and compound them to Advantage. Omnipo­tence and Wisdom, will certainly furnish out the richest Materials for its own Con­tentment. 'Tis natural for every Being to grasp at Perfection, and to give it self all the Satisfactions within Thought and Power, Since therefore Contemplation is the De­light of the Deity, we may be assured the Flower and Exaltation of Bliss, lies in the Operation of the Mind.

To go no higher than the Standard of Humanity. Methinks the Satisfactions of the Mind are of a brighter Complexion, and appear with a distinguishing Greatness. There is a nothing of Hurry and Mistiness in them. The Perceptions are all clear, and stay for Perusal and Admiration. The Scene is dress'd up like a Triumph, the Fan­cy is Illuminated, and the Show marches on with Dignity and State. If the Senses have [Page 184] any Advantage, it lies in the Strength of the Impression. But this point may be fairly disputed. When the Mind is well awaken'd, and grown up to the Pleasures of Reason, they are strangly affecting. The Luxury of Thought, seems no less than that of the Palate: The discovery of a great Invention, may be as moving as Epicurism. The Entertainments of Plato were as high-season'd, as those of Apicius. And Archi­medes, by his Behaviour, seems to have passed his time as pleasantly, as Sardanapa­lus. The Charms of Authority, made Cato aver, that Old Age was none of the most undiverting Periods of Life. And in all likelihood the Victory at Pharsalia, trans­ported Caesar beyond all the Delights of the Roman Court.

The Senses seem not to be built strong enough for any great Force of Pleasure. A sudden Excess of Joy has sometimes prov'd Mortal. 'Tis as dangerous as Gun-powder, charge too high, and you split the Barrel. It flashes too hard upon the tender Organ, and stupifies more than pleases. To look upon the Sun strikes us blind. Thus a glorious Appearance from the other World, has often over-set the best Men. Nature sunk under the Correspondence, and was too weak to bear the Lustre of the Object.

[Page 185]The Body was not made to be Master in this Affair. This may appear from Self-denial, which has a mixture of something agreeable. 'Tis a Pleasure to refuse one. To arrest an importunate Appetite, to si­lence the Clamour of a Passion; and repel an Assault upon our Virtue, is a noble In­stance of Force, a handsom proof of Tem­per and Discretion. A brave Mind must be entertain'd by surveying its Conquests, and being conscious of its Soveraignty. And thus by frequent Resistance, and ge­nerous Thinking, the Forbearance grows an Equivalent to Fruition. And that which at first was almost too big for Opposition, is at last too little for Notice. These Sa­tisfactions of Restraint, are a fair proof of the Distinction of Soul and Body. And that we are made up of something greater than Matter and Motion. For that Atomes should Discipline themselves at this rate, check their own agreeable Progress, and clap one another under Hatches; is very unconceiveable. Atomes don't use to be so cross as this comes to. Pleasure, of what kind soever, is nothing but an Agreement between the Object and the Faculty. This Description well applied, will give us the true Height of our selves, and tell us what size we are of. If little Things will please us, we may conclude we are none of the [Page 186] biggest People. Children are as well known by their Diversions, as their Stature. Those Satisfactions which require Capacity and Understanding to relish them, which either suppose Improvement, or promote it, are of the better sort. On the other side: To be pleased with Gawdiness in Habit, with Gingles and false Ornament in Discourse, with antick Motions and Postures, is a sign that the Inclinations are trifling, and the Judgment vulgar and unpolish'd. There should be some what of Greatness and Pro­portion, and Curiosity in Things, to justi­fie our Appetite. To be gain'd by every little pretending Entertainment, does but shew our Meaness.

'Tis some what surprising to observe how easily we are some times engag'd, and one would think, when we were least in Humour. For the purpose. Here's a Man that has lately buried his only Son, and is embarrass'd with Debts and Disputes in his Fortune: How comes it about that he is so airy and unconcern'd on the sudden? No longer ago than this Morning, he was extreamly sensible of his Misfortune; what has made him forget it in so short a time? Why nothing, but he is just chop'd in with a Pack of Dogs, who are Hunting down a Hare, and all Opening upon the View. The Man needs no more to change his Passions. [Page 187] This Noise has drown'd all his Grief: He is Cured and made Happy Extempore. And if it would last, 'twas something. But alas, 'tis quickly over. 'Tis a Happiness with­out a Fond: 'Tis no more than a little mantling of the Spirits upon stirring: A Childish Exultation at the Harmony of a Rattle. It proceeds not from any thing rich or solid in Nature: 'Tis meer Levity of Mind, which snatches him a little from his Misery. The Cause of the Intermission is uncreditable. The Entertainment is not big enough for the Occasion. 'Tis true, the trouble is remov'd, and so far the Point is gain'd. But then the Satisfaction is so Fan­tastick and Feaverish, that the Cure it self is an ill Symptom, and almost worse than the Disease. Upon the whole, I think, we ought to be concern'd, that such Trifles can provoke our Appetite. And that we may be toss'd from one State to another, by so weak a Motion. The truth is, as we manage the Matter, our Diversions are oftentimes more uncreditable than our Troubles. However, since Health is kept up, and Melancholy discharg'd by these Amusements, they may be tolerable enough within a Rule. But to pursue them with Application, to make them our Profession, and boast of our Skill in these little Myste­ries, is the way to be useless and ridiculous.