IN considering these words, I shall endeavour to show.

1 st, That if the ways of religion are ways of plea­santness, and all her paths the paths of peace, mankind must have a right to do what they will.

2 dly, I shall prove that there is no pleasure in the practice of any one virtue whatsoever, and conse­quently that virtue can be no part of that religion whose ways are ways of pleasantness.

3 dly, I shall answer some objections, and so conclude.

In the first place I am to show, that if the ways of religion are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are paths of peace, mankind must have a right to do what they will.

[Page 77] There is no proposition more evident, no maxim more generally [...]anted, than that liberty is essential to happiness. This therefore I hope will not be con­tested with me. Now I shall endeavour to prove, that the very essence of liberty consists in doing what one will. Man is a free agent; observe, I beseech you, the strength and conciseness of my reasoning; man, I say, is a free agent. Now whatsoever is a free agent, must be supposed in all circumstances to have a liberty of acting or not acting; therefore every man has a liberty of doing what he will. But some of you perhaps will object, that there is a difference between the liberty of doing what one will, and the right of so doing. Now, tho' the reasoning of the pu [...]pit might very well countenance me in such [...] trifling inaccuracy, yet I scorn to take sanctuary under so poor an indulgence. I will make this matter so plain, that the meanest capacity in this congregation shall most easily comprehend it. I love to preach to the common level of the common people; and this ought to be the rule of every preacher, who has not more at heart the ostentation of his own learning, than the instruction of his hearers. But to the point. Mankind have a right to happiness; liberty is essential to happiness; therefore every man has a right to li­berty. Now if every man has a right to liberty, and and the very offence of liberty consists (as before assert­ed) in doing what one will, then every man has un­doubtedly a right so to do. This reasoning is so d [...]ong and conclusive, that I am under no apprehen­sion of its being thought that the privilege of the pulpit alone secures me from contradiction. The thing speaks itself, and every action we do confirms the truth of it. How ready are we upon all occasions to cry out, I will do so and so, or I will not do so [Page 78] and so? Now if mankind had not a right to do what they will, these phrases would be absurd and ridiculous. Besides, we have the authority of scripture to support this our opinion. St. Paul, speaking of a young man, says, let him do what he will he sinneth not. In the twelfth chapter of Deu­teronomy it is written, we do here this day every man whatsoever is right in his own eyes. And in the twenty-fifth chapter of Leviticus, the Jews are com­manded to proclaim liberty (that is, a right of doing what they will) throughout all the land, and to all the inhabitants thereof. N [...]y David, the man after God's own heart, declares, Psalm cxix. ver. 45. that he will walk at liberty. Now if any man shall pre­tend to say that these texts are not fairly quoted, I will show him a hundred texts in the very gravest authors more perversly quoted by half. And thus I think I have sufficiently prov'd, both from reason and scripture, that mankind have an undoubted right to do what they will.

2 dly, I am to prove. That there is no pleasure in the practice for any one virtue whatsoever, and con­sequently that virtue can be no part of that religion whose ways are ways of pleasantness.

Every body is sensible of, and cries out upon the mischiefs which arise from religious disputes. The warmth and animosity with which men are divided against each other, and the rage and fury with which they hate and persecute each other on account of their different opinions, are melancholy considerations. Happy were it for mankind, if a way could be found to put an end to th [...] tumu [...]uous extravagance, to tune their j [...]rring p [...]ssions, and unite them all [...] brotherly love and affection; and well would that [Page 79] man deserve from his fellow creatures who should accomplish the glorious task. Let us try what can be done.

It has been allow'd by the best divines, that the only end, or at least the chief motive, which God could have for creating us, was our own happiness: I shall therefore take this for granted, without en­quiring any farther into the truth of it, and confine myself only to seek by what means this great end is best to be acquir'd.

Some late writers have made a great stir with vir­tue, the real, the intrinsick pleasures of virtue. But I am in hop [...]s that one single observation will be suf­ficient to establish it in the minds of all this good congregation, that pleasure and virtue are two diffe­rent things. It is this: Mankind are natu [...]ally prone to seek their own pleasure or happiness, this is allow'd, this they are upbraided with, and on all hands blam'd for; but if their hypothesis is to be granted, who place happiness or pleasure in the practice of virtue, it will evidently follow that mankind are prone to virtue; which I am persuaded, my dear brethren, you all know and feel to be so far from truth, that I need not insist any further on the falsity of it. No, I believe it will easily be granted me, that the strongest bent of mankind is to what some call vices, but what I shall call natural pleasures, and which, if happiness is the end of our creation, must consequently be al­lowed to be the readiest means of accomplishing that end. But I am now, for the sake of some few who may be obstinate in this error of the happiness of vir­tue, and harden'd infidels with respect to the duty of natural pleasure; for the sake of such as these, I say, I am now to prove more particularly, that there is no [Page 81] such thing as happiness in the practice of any one virtue whatsoever.

Let us first try Charity.

Charity, according to St. Paul's definition of it [...] beareth all things, hopeth all things, believeth all things. Now I w [...]nder where the happiness or the sense of pract [...]sing such a virtue as this can lie? I appeal to all mankind, whether he that bea [...]eth all th [...]gs is not a great fool, whether he that hopeth all things is not a greater fool, and whether he that believeth all things is not the greatest fool of all? But ch [...]rity is said [...] cover a multitude of sins; so does hypocrisy, my be­loved, as I doubt not but you all very [...]ll know: and if that is all that can be said for it, I think I have dispatch'd this pretended virtue with great dexteri [...]y▪

Let us try next what pleasure there is [...] the prac­tice of Justice. Justice is that virtue which enjoins us to do and say what is right to every one with whom we converse or have any dealings. But do you think, my brethren, that it would be a very pleasant thing to be calling fool or knave at every turn? Now I [...] afraid this must be the case if we were to do strict justice to the greatest part of those with wh [...] [...] converse. And what would be the consequence? perpetual broils and quarrels. And can this be con­sistent with that religion, whose ways are way [...] of pleasantness, and all whose paths are peace? [...] persuaded, my beloved, you are convinced of the contrary; and that you will never be so foolish a [...] to practise this virtue in so obstinate a manne [...] as to [...] yourselves into such unpleasant and unpeaceful [...]. Besides, do but observe the common [...] of the world: Are all our nobles honourable? [...] [Page 82] all our clergy reverend? Who is there that sup­poseth it? Yet who refuseth them the titles? Nay, should we but direct a common letter to the disho­nourable Lord A, or to the irreverend Parson B, however justly they might be directed, 'tis ten to one a Prosecution might ensue for scandal and defa­mation; so dangerous, [...]o imprudent, so unsafe is the practice of justice.

Let us hear next what Chastity can say for itself; that impudent virtue, which dares to contradict the very first command of God almighty, encrease and multiply. This virtue relates only to our commerce with the other sex; and would a man recommend himself to any woman by telling her that he was chaste? I fancy not. It is a cold uncomfortable quality, and the man that is born with it will do wisely to conceal his infirmity from all the world. But it will be said, perhaps, this virtue belongs in a more peculiar manner to the female sex. Let me ask you, my beloved; would any of you like a wo­man the better for coldness and indifference? I tell ye no. If then this pretended virtue will neither re­commend a man to his mistress, nor a lady to her lover, of what use is it in the world? You will say, the honour of families is concerned in it; perhaps it may; let every man look to that as well as he can: but sure the peace and harmony of families depend on something else. I could, my beloved, but at present I will not push this virtue any further; but shall leave it to your own pious endeavours, and doubt not but to the utmost of your abilities you will strive to push it out of the world.

Let us now hear what the sneaking virtue of tem­perance can pretend to. Nature has given us appe­tites, [Page 83] and the goodness of heaven has abundantly fur­nished the world with agreeable gratifications; but this stern, this rigid pretender would debar us the enjoyment of them; would impiously contradict the good and gracious designs of heaven, and condemn us to fasting and mortification. But be not deceived with idle pretences; almighty wisdom has created nought in vain: the good things of this world were made to be enjoyed, and all our appetites were given to be indulg'd therein. Let us eat then, my beloved, and drink without measure; always remembering the words of the wise son of Sirach, What life is there to a man that is without wine? for it was good to make men glad. Yea, let us treasure up in our hearts that golden saying of Solomon, the wisest man on earth, There is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and make his soul enjoy made in his labour: for God giveth to a man that is good in his sight, wisdom and knowledge, and JOY. Thus you see, my bre­thren, that the wisdom and knowledge which God giveth is accompanied with joy; and he that pre­tendeth to either without out, his knowledge is vain, his wisdom is a misery and a burden unto him.

I could go on with great facility to all the other virtues; I could show the stupidity of Patience, the poor-spiritedness of Humility, the weakness of Good­nature, the folly and danger of Courage, and the ab­solute madness of Sincerity; but I doubt not that what I have said is sufficient to confirm you all in the worthy principles which have hitherto influenced all your actions. I appeal to your hearts, my beloved, whether I have not spoken their own sentments, and whether what I have said is not secretly whisper'd to every one of you from his own soul. I doubt not [Page 84] therefore of your hearty acquiescence in my second proposition, that there is no pleasure in the practice of any one virtue whatsover, and consequently that virtue can be no part of that religion whose ways are ways of pleasantness.

I proceed, then, in the third-and last place, to an­swer some trifling objections, and so conclude. And first, it may perhaps be objected on the behalf of Charity, that it is humane and generous to feel and compassionate the distresses and misfortunes of our fellow creatures. If a man is so utterly lost to all steadiness and fortitude of soul, as to be affected, or in the least moved with any thing that does not con­cern himself; to that man I have nothing to say; his heart perhaps may be so strangely constituted, that for aught I know it may be a pleasure to him to p [...]ty and relieve the miseries of others; but his case is so very uncommon, and so directly contrary to the general practice of the world, that it is not worth while to take up your time in exp [...]sing his weakness▪ especially as I am [...]ully persuaded there are but sew of you, if any, that envy him his pleasure, or will imitate him in it.

In the next place, it may be objected wi [...]h regard [...]o Justice, that the man that is not just and fair in all his dealings, very often runs the hazard of his life, and always of his character. I cannot help ow [...]ing there is some [...]uth in this objection, which I am persuaded you are all very sorry for. However, I hope you have sagacity enough to render it of no force, no consideration. The rule which I shall give you is only this; take particular care never to be [...]; For to confess the truth, it is not a desirable thing to be [...]ang'd, neither is it quite prudent to lose one's character.

[Page 85] Thirdly, it may perhaps be urg'd against the plea­sures of Luxury and Concupiscence, that they expose a man to many incoveniences, such as the loss of time, health, fortune, character, and some few more such trifles as these. I am afraid we must also allow that there is some weight in this objection. But what then? the man that has not spirit enough to sacrifice these trifling considerations to the sublime pleasures of eating, drinking, and whoring, is undeserving of them. What are the pains of a fever or a [...]ur [...]eit, or what the loss of health, strength, and [...], in comparison with the voluptuous pleasures of a table, or the sprightly joys of midnight bowls? Is the loss of a nose to be brought in competition wi [...]h the dear delights that occasion'd it? The wretch who can be so ungrateful to think so, is unworthy to wear the honourable scar.

In fine, it may perhaps be objected against all man­ner of Vices in general, that they are the constant parents of anxiety, care, repentance and misery; and that [...] on the contrary is forever attended with health, peace, and pleasure. The contrast is strong, my beloved, it must be confess'd; but whe­ther it is just or not, I am persuaded none of you know. What then shall I advise? or how shall I direct you? Suppose for once you should try, and enter on a course of Virtue: It cannot be more dis­agreeable than a course of physick, perhaps not so much so; and then, to use the doctor's phrase, it is perfectly safe, and cannot possibly do you any [...]. At first indeed, as you are quite strangers to the re­lish of it, it may seem something nauseous and unpa­latable; but if you once get over the difficulty of the first trial, who knows, thro' custom, how agreeable [Page 86] it may become? Should it operate kindly, you will be as a man whose appetite thro' a long course of sick­ness has been so viciated as to nauseate every thing which would nourish and support him; and how de­lightful must be his surprize to find, upon his reco­very, every thing that is good and wholesome, agree­able to his palate, and the establishment of his health following the rectitude of his appetite! If this should be your condition, who knows but you may live to be enamour'd of VIRTUE, to court her beauteous form, and cry out with the wise man in my text, Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

AT the time that Monsieur de Comminges was ambassador from the most Christian King to his M [...]jesty of Great Britain, there came to London a physician, who called himself an Irishman: This person passed for a great philosopher, and a mighty performer of wonders, according to the opinion of the credulous, and his own persuasion; and the method he took to cure the distemper'd, made him to be sus­pected in many places [...]or a magician.

Some persons of quality having intreated Monsieur de Comminges to send for him to his house, in order to see some of his prodigies, he was very willing to grant them that satisfaction, as well to gratify his natural curi [...]sity, as his complai [...]ance for them. So he sent notice to this pretended magician, to come to his home.

Upon the noise, which this news made in all parts of the town, the [...] of Monsieur de Comminges was soon filled with sick people, who came with a full assurance to be cured.

The Irishman made them wait for him some time; and after an impatient expectation, the s [...]k and curious saw him [...]rive with a grave, but simple c [...]tenance, which carried in it not the least mark of an impostor.

[Page 92] Monsieur de Comminges prepared himself to ex­amine him nicely, hoping he should be able to enlarge himself at pleasure upon all that he had read in Van-Helmont and Bodin: but he could not effect it, to his great concern: for the crowd became so trouble-some, and the infirm pressed on so eagerly to be cured first, that they had much ado with menaces, and even force, to regulate their ranks.

This Irish physician ascribed all indispositions to spirits; and all infirmities, according to him, were possessions.

The first man that was presented to him, was one troubled with the gout and rheumatisms, which he had in vain endeavour'd to get cured of. Which our wonder-maker observing, "I have seen long ago, says he, this sort of spirits in Ireland. They are water-spirits which bring coldness, and excite super­fluities of humours in these poor bodies. Thou evil spirit, who hast left the habitation of the waters, to come and afflict this miserable body, I command thee to abandon thy new abode, and to return to thy ancient habitation." Having said this, the sick man retired; and another was brought in his room, who complain'd he was tormented with melancholy vapours.

Indeed he was one of those whom we commonly call hypocondriacks, and sick of imagination, although they are but too much [...]o in effect. "Airy spirit, says the Irishman, Return into the air to exercise thy trade in raising of tempests, and stir up no more hur­ricanes in this sad and miserable body."

[Page 93] This sick person gave way to another who was disturbed, according to the opinion of our physician, with a puny hobgoblin, who would not have force enough to withstand his discourse a moment. He apprehended that he had found him out by certain marks, which did not appear to us; and smiling upon the assembly. "This sort of spirits, says he, are seldom troublesome, and almost always diverting."

In short, he knew every thing that related to spirits. He was acquainted with their numbers, their ranks, their names, their employments and functions; nay, he boasted that he understood the intrigues of de­mons, much better than the affairs of men.

You cannot imagine what a reputation he gain'd in a very little time. Catholicks and protestants came to him from all parts; and you would have said that the power of heaven was lodged in the hands of this man, when an unexpected adventure, destroyed the wonderful opinion which the puplic had entertain'd of him.

An English gentleman and his lady, who had been married for some time, came to seek some relief in his miracle-working virtue against certain spirits of discord, said they, which disturbed their marriage, and ruined the peace of their family.

The gentleman was about 45 years old, and look'd like a person of estate and quality. Methinks I have the lady yet before my eyes. She was about thirty years old, and was personable enough; but one might easily read in her face, that she had been much more handsome formerly. I have named the husband first, [Page 94] for the dignity of his rank; yet the wife would speak first, whether it was because she believ'd her self to be most tormented by her spirit, or that she was only excited with that ambition of talking, which is so natural to her sex.

"My husband, said she, is one of the best men in the world, I give him a thousand disquiets, and he gives me no fewer in his turn. I would willingly live comfortably with him, and should not fail of my desires, if a strange spirit, with which I feel myself possessed at certain times, did not make me so peevish and ill▪humour'd, that there's no enduring me. After these agitations are over, I return to my natural good humour; I then omit nothing that may serve to oblige my husband: But his demon possesses him, when mine forsakes me; and this husband of mine, who bears my transports so patiently, is a down-right fury to me, when I am myself. And alas! I endure no less from him, than he from me." Here stopt our lady, who in all appearance, stated her case truly; and the husband, who seem'd to be no less sincere then his wi [...]e, began his discourse, as follows:

"Whatever reason I have to complain of my wife's devil, I am however obliged to him, that he has not taught her to lie; for I must own that she has said nothing but what is lit [...]ally true. All the time that she appears to me [...]o be in these agitations, I am composed; but as soon as her spirit leaves her in peace, mine torments me in its turn; and as it inspires [...] with rew co [...]age, and new forces, I make her then know the dependance of a wife, and the [...] of a husband. Thus our lives pass in perpetual wa [...], [...]ither [...] or [...], which makes our [Page 95] condition as miserable as can be imagin'd. Thus Doctor, I have acquainted you with our case, and if you have a remedy for it, I desire you to be our de­liverer. The cure of a distemper so strange as this of ours, will bring you no little honour."

"These are neither hobgoblins nor fairies, said the Irishman, they are spirits of the first order, and belong to Lucifer's legion: Proud demons, great enemies to obedience, and very hard to expel. You will not take it amiss, gentlemen, pursued he, turning to the assembly, if I examine my books a little; for I have occasion for words that are out of the common road." Upon this he withdrew into a close, in order to turn over his books and papers; and after he had tried a hundred forms, as too weak to combat such powerful enemies, he pitch'd at last upon one, that was able, as he pretended, to confound and expel all the devils in hell.

The first effect of the conjuration was upon him­self; for his eyes began to rowl in his head, with so many grimaces and convulsions, that his patients might very well take him for a distracted man.

After he had stared and looked about him, he fixed his eyes at length upon this virtuous couple, and striking both of them with a wand, which cou'd not be without virtue: "Begone, ye spirits of dissen­tion, says he, and exercise discord in hell, and by your departure let that happy union be re-established, which you have so impiously broken. Then he ap­proached softly to the ears of the pretended possessed, and raising the tone of his voice, I hear you murmur devils, at the obedience which ye are forced to pay [Page 96] to me: But were ye to burst with madness ye must be gone. Depart, depart, and you my friends, go and enjoy that repose, which ye have been deprived of so long. 'Tis done, gentlemen, and I protest to you that I am all over in a sweat with the fatigue, which the opposition of these obstinate devils has given me. I believe I have had to do with two thousand spirits in my time, who all together have not given me so much pain and trouble as these." After this our Irishman retired, and all the company went out of the house, and our good couple returned to their lodgings, with a satisfaction more miraculous than the prodigy, which had been wrought in their favour.

When they came home, every thing appeared agreeable to them upon this new alteration of mind, which created a new disposition in their senses: They found a smiling air in every thing; they lookt upon themselves with pleasure, and were not wanting in sweet and tender words to express their love. But, vain delights, how little dependance is there upon your duration! And how unseasonably, do persons that are born to misfortunes rejoice, when they ob­tain one short moment of happiness.

Such was their tranquillity, when a lady of their acquaintance came, to acquaint them with the general joy of the town for their cure.

They answered this civility in a very obliging manner, and the usual compliments on this occasion being made and returned, the husband began a very pertinent conversation upon the happy condition they were now in, after so many miseries as they had [Page 97] endured. Our wife, either to cause a greater admira­tion of this miracle, or else to please her own malici­ous humour, enlarged herself with satisfaction upon the tricks which her devil had suggested to her, to torment her husband. Upon which, the husband jealous of the honour of his devil, or at least, of his own authority, gave her to understand, That she talked too feelingly of things past, the remembrance whereof was troublesome to him. He added, That considering all was now well, she ought to think of nothing else, but that obedience which a wife owes to her husband; as he would only consider on his side, how to make a lawful use of his privileges, in order to make their condition as happy for the future, as it had been unfortunate till now.

Our wife, who deeply resented the word obedience; but especially the cruel injunction to hold her tongue, brought all the arguments she cou'd think of, to prove an equality in marriage, saying, That the devils were not at such a distance, but they might be re­called, in case this equality was violated.

The lady above-mention'd, who was as discreet and judicious as any of her sex, wisely represented to her the duty of wives, and at the same time preach­ed up the conduct and good management, that husbands are obliged to use. But her reasons, instead of composing, did but more incense her, so that she became more insupportable than before. You are in the right, dear wife, replied the husband, "The devils were not gone so far, but they might easily be recalled; or rather, you have been so kind to yours, that he resolves to continue with you, notwithstanding the positive command that was laid upon him to [Page 98] leave you. I am too weak of myself to be concerned alone with you and him; which obliges me to retire, exposed as I am to such an unequal combat. And I likewise retire, says she, with this spirit, that will not abandon me. He must be a very ill humour'd [...]ort of a devil indeed, if he is not more tractable than so troublesome a husband. Then turning towards her friend: Before I go, said she to her. I am glad I have an occasion, madam, to tell you freely, that I expect­ed quite another treatment from your friendship, and that you have forgot the interest which obliges you, to take a wife's part against the ill usage of her hus­band. 'Tis a very strange thing that I should be run down by one that ought to have espoused my quarrel. Adieu, madam, adieu; your visits do me a great deal of honour, but one may very well be with­out them, if this is all the good they do."

Our good, but too discreet lady was extremely surpriz'd at this compliment; being now convinced by her own experience, that even wisdom may over­shoot itself, and that for the most part we make an ill use of our reason with those who have none.

You may imagine she did not stay long alone in a house, where nothing was talked of but devils, and nothing done but what was extravagant to the highest degree.

The husband passed the rest of the day and all the night in his chamber, ashamed of the short-liv'd joy he had received, vexed at the present state of his affairs, and reflecting, with great anxiety of mind upon what he might expect from this sudden return of his wife's distemper:

[Page 99] As the agitation of the wife had been much more violent, so it continued not so long; and returning soon to herself, she made some reflections upon the loss of those pleasures, of which she saw herself depriv'd.

A certain restless spirit that shall be nameless, suffer'd few moments to pass without demanding a reason of the spirit of discord, why it should sacrifice its interest and pleasure to it thus to no purpose. This spirit, which particularly influenceth those of the fair sex, but chiefly a-nights when they cannot sleep, had its desired effect upon our lady, so that resigning herself up purely to the conduct of nature, she awaked her husband as soon as was day, designing to ascribe all past disorders to a strange power, which is neither natural nor human. "I am satisfied, said she, in the lucid interval I enjoy at present, that our spirits did not immediately leave us, when our Irish Doctor commanded them to be gone; but if you'll take my advice, my dear, but too unhappy husband, we will go again and ask him for a stronger and more effectual charm."

The poor husband, oppressed with grief, as he was, and fainting under the severity of his destiny, judge if he was not very glad to find so unexpected a calm, and tenderly affected with this amorous return in his spouse: "Let us bemoan, my dear, says he to her, Let us bemoan our common misfortunes, and go a second time to scarch a remedy, which at first we could not obtain."

The wife was agreeably surprized at this discourse; for instead of a troublesome demon whose insults she [Page 100] expected, she happily found a man tender and com­passionate, who gave her com [...]ort for that very uneasi­ness she had given him; and of which he himself had bore the greatest share.

They spent an hour or two to possess one another with a mutual confidence, and placing all their hopes in the mighty skill of the physician, they returned to the house of Monsieur de Comminges, in order to procure a more powerful relief, than that which they had tried before.

Scarce were they entered into the house, but the Irishman perceived them, and calling them pretty loud, that he might be heard by all the company; "Come, says he to them, Publish the miracle which has been effected in you, and make your acknow­ledgments to that all puissant power, which has delivered you from the wretched slavery under which ye groaned."

The wife immediately replied of her own head, That as for the testimony he demanded of them, they were ready to give him one of the obstinacy of the devils, but not of his skill. "For in truth, ve­nerable father, added she; since your [...] operation they have tormented us, as it were out of spite, more violently then ever."

"You are incredulous, cried out our good Irishman in a wonderful passion, or at least ungrateful, who maliciously deny those benefits ye have received. Approach hither, approach; that I may convict you of incredulity, or malice.

[Page 101] When they came near him, he nicely examined all the lines of their faces. He particularly observed their looks, and as if he had discovered in the apple of their eyes some impression of these spirits; "you are in the right, says he, all amaz'd; you are in the right they are not yet dislodg'd. They are too deeply rooted in your bodies to surrender at the first sum­mons, but they must hold fast indeed, if the words I am going now to pronounce, don't eject them.

‘Leave, you accursed race, an habitation of re­pose too good for you, and go and rave for ever in places, where dwell horror, madness, and despair.’

'Tis done, my friends, you are most certainly de­livered: But return no more, I intreat ye. I owe my time to all the world, and you have had as much of it as comes to your share."

Now our patients supposed themselves at the end of all their misfortunes: This day seemed as happy to them as the first of their marriage, and the night was expected with the same impatience, as that of their nuptials had been formerly. This night so much desired came, but alas! How ill did it answer their expectations!

Too much love causes the shame of lovers, and I leave the reader to imagine the great confusion of an adventure,

[Page 102] 'Twas happy for the husband, that his wife accused the devils that were innocent; for she was now satisfied that our famous physician was a true Irish­man, who, for all his pretences, had not skill enough to conjure down an Ignis Fatuus. Sometimes she imputed to herself this non-performance of her hus­band, after the example of the Spanish women, who attribute to themselves, in these occasions, the failings of their lovers; as being persuaded that the force of their charms ought neither to submit to the infir­mity of nature, nor to the power of witchcraft.

Thus our wife, who accused her husband in every thing else, where he was most innocent, justifies him where he was most deficient, in paying the conjugal tribute; and rather chose to impute a want of love in him, to a want of charms in herself, than to a real defect, which would prove eternally destructive of her pleasures. But as a lady doth not willingly enter­tain a thought that hurts the interest of her beauty, she immediately recalled in her mind the malice of the devils, and turn'd her confusion into anger against the Irishman, who had not skill enough to eject them.

"We have, says she, with anger sparkling in her eyes, we have been too long made fools of by this sorry Bogg-Trotter, but now I find that 'tis nonsense to expect our deliverance from him. However it is not enough that we are undeceived; justice obliges us to undeceive others as well as ourselves, and to make known to the world, the roguery of these quacks."

"My dear, reply'd the husband, 'Tis undoubtedly true, that the misfortune of this night is purely owing [Page 103] to our devils. The Irishman thought to banter, but they resolved to ridicule him and us in their turn. You know me, and I know myself; such a strange impotence cou'd not naturally happen, I say it cou'd not naturally happen, and I dare swear there was witchcraft in the case. But my dear, continued he, when you take the impostor to task, don't mention the particulars; and let nothing slip, which may tend to our shame. All family secrets ought to be concealed: But this in a more particular manner."

The wife had like to have relapsed into one of her old fits to see herself suspected of such an indiscretion: But not to embroil things anew, that were tending to a good accommodation, she promis'd so to manage herself, that none but the Irishman should find fault with her.

We usually seek the night to conceal our shame, but the day here appeared to disperse it; and these unhappy persons who were not yet well recovered of their misfortune, got up with the sun, who enlivens all things, in hopes their affairs wou'd change for the better.

They rose out of their bed with more tranquillity, than they had found there, and after a small breakfast, and a little conversation to fortify their bodies, and reconcile their minds, they went in peace and good union towards the house, whither they had gone twice with confidence, and from whence they had twice returned without any relief. They received advice there, that the Irishman was gone to St. James's to perform some wonders there, at the instance of Monsieur d'Aubigny, so well known to all the world, [Page 104] for one of the most agreeable men that ever was▪ Behold then some of the prodigies which I remarked at St. James's, with less credulity than the multitude, and with less prejudice than Monsieur d'Aubigny.

Already did the blind suppose they saw that light they did not see; already did the deaf imagine they heard, and heard not; the lame already thought they were grown well; and the impotent reassumed in imagination the first use of all their limbs. A strong idea of health had made the sick forget their dis­tempers; and imagination which was no less active in the curious, than in the sick, gave the first a false prospect through their desire of seeing, as it gave a false cure to the second, through their desire of being cured.

Such was the power of the Irishman upon our minds: Such was the force of our minds upon our senses. Thus nothing was talked off but prodigies; and these prodigies came from so great an authority, that the astonished multitude receiv'd them with submission, whilst some more knowing persons durst not reject them by their knowledge.

A timorous and slavish knowledge always pays respect to an imperious and authoriz'd error: The soul was weak when the understanding was sound, and those who saw best into these imaginary cures, durst not speak their real sentiments among a preju­diced and deluded herd of believers.

Such was the triumph of the Irishman, when our couple couragiously broke through the crowd, to come and insult him in all his majesty. "Art not [Page 105] thou ashamed, said the wife to him, to abuse the simple and credolous people as thou dost, by pretending to a power, which thou never hadst? Thou hast enjoin'd our devils to leave us in repose, and they have but torment [...]ed us the more for't. Thou hast commanded them to be gone, yet they still persecute us, not with­standing thy orders, and equally deride our sottish credulity, and thy ineffectual impotence."

The husband continued the same reproaches with the same contempt so far as to refuse him the name of impostor, because there was need of capacity, said he, for an impostor, and this miserable wretch wanted even that; which was only supported by the super­stitious belief people had of him, that spirits were at his command.

Our prophet lost his speech with losing the autho­rity which made him venerable; and this formidable power, came to nothing, so soon as there appeared persons bold enough to disown it; thus surpriz'd, non-plust and confounded, our Irishman withdrew, and went out at the back door.

His confusion extremely mortified the assembly, there being nothing that a man receives with so much satisfaction, as the opinion of a miracle, nor leaves with more difficulty and concern.

As for Monsieur d'Aubigny, he soon reckon'd this prophet in the same class with others, whom he had tried; being resolv'd for the future to keep to those of the country, without any inclination to make use of new comers, merely because they were strangers.

[Page 106] All the company retired, ashamed of their easiness to be abus'd, and yet ve [...]ed at the loss of their error. Our married couple, glorious and triumphant, enjoyed the pleasures of victory, without any further thoughts of the devils; and Monsieur d'Aubigny, who easily passed from one opinion to another, quitted his former belief of our miracle-monger, to give himself the pleasure of laughing with me, at what had hap­pen'd.

At my breaking out into a sudden fit of laughter, the husband turned his head towards us, and perceiv­ing Monsieur d'Aubigny, he came civilly up to him to excuse himself for what he had done in his house, without asking his permission. Mr. d'Aubigny an­swered him very courteously, and gave him thanks, not only for disabusing the public, but also for unde­ceiving himself in particular.

The wife immediately took her part in the conver­sation, which did not render it less agreeable; for although she was really extravagant, yet it was a sort of extravagance which proceeded rather from her humour than her mind: But now she took care to conceal it; and we talk'd of nothing but mirth and pleasantry, when Mr. d'Aubigny entertain'd them with the gravest discourse in the world, which I little expected.

"I am, says he, a person of an acknowledging temper, and should be ungrateful if I did not draw you out of your error, after I have been oblig'd to you for drawing me out of mine. As it was not enough for your own minds to torment you, and that there must be something else besides a long marriage [Page 107] to give you that uneasiness which has persecuted you so long. There is no man but is sometimes at a loss with himself. Is it possible you should believe that you were possess'd with evil spirits? The wisest are weary of themselves, a [...]ter they have been weary of others: And would you have a husband and wife, who are always of different minds, and different humours, to live eternally together without disgust, without vexation, and without disputes? Believe me, sir, of a hundred married couples, fourscore and ten at least are possessed, after your fashion, without any of the devil's assistance to make them so. The only difference I find between them and you is, that they suffer their misfortunes with patience, and conceal them with discretion, whereas you importune heaven and hell for yours, in laying your unhappiness on demons that are innocent, and in seeking a superna­tural assistance when there is no occasion for it."

What may pass for a real prodigy, was the sudden alteration in the husband and his wife, upon the dis­course of Mr. d'Aubigny; they look'd upon them­selves with astonishment, asham'd of having been their own devils, when there was nothing of possessi­on, but only contrariety of humours in the case.

The husband was the first who returned from his confusion to give a thousand thanks to Mr. d'Aubigny, for having given them the true knowledge of their misfortune. "But, Replied the wife, doth this know­ledge make us er'e the less unhappy? And don't we as much want a remedy against the torment of mar­riage, as we thought we did against that of the devils?

[Page 108] When I observed M [...]. d'Aubigny ready to say something pleasant upon so merry a subject, I had a mind to preserve to him the merit of a gravity, which was not ordinary with him. Whereupon I immedi­ately took up the discourse.

"Of all the remedies one can use to alleviate the troubles of marriage, I know none said I to them, more sure, nor more wisely practised, than that of believi [...]g one's self more happy than others; and to remain in this error, in case one is mistaken in it. You will like an English proverb, better than all the reasons I can alledge to you, ‘He that lives in this world without being deceived, is an unhappy man.’ To convince you how far the pleasure of deceit goes, the greatest of your enemies makes him­self agreeable, when he imposes upon you, and the best of your friends seldom undeceive you, but you are offended with them.

Monsieur d'Aubigny, weary of his gravity, was now minded to end the conference; and after the usual civilities at parting, every one returned to his home, extremely well satisfied.