[]DIALOGUES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, BETWIXT TWO INTIMATE FRIENDS.

I. Of MAN in general.

THERE are not (my dear Aemilius) two more com⯑mon words, nor a more com⯑mon diſtinction, than of Body and Soul. The Properties and Operations of theſe two are entirely different^*: and [4] nothing is more ſhameful and unfortunate than to confound them together.

MY dear Lucinus, you are intirely in the right: and we are farther ſaid to be made up of Body, Soul, and Spirit; a Diſ⯑tinction not only uſed by St. Paul, but which we have alſo from ^* good Heathen Philoſophers.

SENSATION is aſſign'd to the Body, tho' 'tis the Soul that properly feels thro' the bodily Organs; the Paſſions or Affections are appropriated to the Soul; and Truths, or Principles, are of the Province of the Mind or the Underſtanding; according to that Diſtribution of Antoninus.

BUT to go a degree lower than Sen⯑ſation (for Life may be conceived with⯑out any Operation of the Senſes, as when they are ſhut up in a deep Sleep) ſimple Life is a thing as different from Body, or Matter, as any thing we can imagine. And there⯑fore Life is ſometimes called by the Name of Spirit, and conſidered both as a Principle or Spring by which Matter (whoſe Pro⯑perty is to reſt) is moved, and the Body of [5] Animals kept (for a while) from Diſſolution and Corruption:‘—Dum Spiritus hos regit Artus.’

OF this ſort of Life or Spirit, every living Creature has a ſhare, a Worm as well as a Man; the particular Frailty of whoſe Life we may be eaſily convinc'd of, tho' the A⯑poſtle had not told us it is but a Vapour. And yet we have no other Barrier againſt that amazing State call'd Eternity! If the Thought of Death or ſimple Extinction raiſes Horror; what would the Proſpect of end⯑leſs Exiſtence raiſe, without ſome latent Hope, or Suppoſition of Happineſs! A Man makes this Suppoſition ſecretly when he thinks at all of that State, otherwiſe Nature could not bear the Proſpect: and we muſt confeſs our Quiet, or rather Indolence, as to an Article of ſuch importance, is chiefly owing to our Stupidity.

BUT notwithſtanding all the Stu⯑pidity and Weight that loads us, there is ſtill in our Nature ſome Expectation of Im⯑mortality, ſome Hopes of a future Life, and a more perfect Exiſtence after this Scene is over. To which, if we add our Deſire of Dominion and Eſteem, even in this World, we may conclude there is really ſomething of worth in us; and our Pride may be a ſort of Argument for our Dignity. [6] And this Elevation of Mind is not infus'd into us by Politicians, Divines, Officers of the Army, or any Set of Men whatſoever, but may be ſaid to be a part of our Conſti⯑tution.

DIOTREPHES loved Pre-eminence. Caeſar was not taught to deſire Dominion: every Man loves it (leſs or more) tho' not equally qualified to gain it, nor equally ſuc⯑ceſsful. Beſides, the Rewards promiſed by Politicians and Commanders rather re⯑ſpect the Conveniencies and Glory of this Life than the future. And whether the Re⯑ward be temporal or eternal, the encoura⯑ging or the amuſing People with the Hopes of it, ſuppoſes a Deſire in them before-hand of ſuch things; otherwiſe the deſigning Men could have no Fund to work upon, and might as well talk to Horſes.

I confeſs there are other Arguments be⯑ſides the Pride of Man, which may help to ſhew his Dignity. He grows weary of every thing here (Friendſhip only excepted) as if nothing were worthy of his Attention. But then, as nothing is able to ſatisfy him, any thing is ſufficient to amuſe him. So that we muſt conſider Man in different Lights, be⯑fore we can underſtand his Condition; and after all we can think about it, our Know⯑ledge muſt remain imperfect.

IT is by viewing Man in thoſe oppo⯑ſite Lights, that he is ſometimes called the Glory of the Creation, and ſometimes its Diſgrace; and both Epithets are true. There is ſtill in Human Nature ſomething that's bright and lovely, good and kind; ſome Remains of Excellency, ſome Ruins of Grandeur, ſome Sparks in the midſt of Aſhes and Rubbiſh.

THE Scripture informs us, that Man was made after the Image of God; and that we are his Offspring. 'Tis remarkable that St. Paul cites this Paſſage from a Heathen Poet: and there was great addreſs in it, ſince he was reaſoning with the polite Men of Athens. But if our Pride ſhould be apt to riſe from the Account the Scripture gives us of our Origin, we ſhall find in the ſame Books very different Characters to keep us low. We are call'd but Duſt, the Worms are our neareſt Kindred: 'tis told us, we are but Vanity in our beſt Eſtate, and that the Imaginations of our Heart are continually fooliſh and wicked: with much more to that purpoſe.

THE Philoſophers were much divided in their Opinions concerning Man. Some exalted him too high, others ſunk him too low; without conſidering the ſtrange Mix⯑ture of his Compoſition, which indeed ſeems [8] to make him a-kin to the higheſt and loweſt Beings, the lovelieſt and the hatefulleſt Things.

NOR is it to be forgot, that tho' Man⯑kind in general are made up of Contrarie⯑ties, yet, as my Lord Rocheſter ſays, Man differs more from Man, than Man from Beaſt.

NOT only ſo, but the ſame Man differs as much from himſelf at different times.

'TIS a ſtrange Compoſition, Human Nature! But thoſe who talk and write againſt the Dignity of Man, and the Im⯑mortality of the Soul; who affirm there is no Virtue, no Friendſhip, no Honour; can only argue from what they feel in them⯑ſelves, and what they obſerve in the World. The firſt Point might be readily yielded to them: tho' we are not abſolutely ſure but they may have a greater belief of Virtue, and more Conſcience than they own; as there are others who may have leſs of either than they pretend to. And as to the Obſerva⯑tion of the Decay of Virtue in the World, there is nothing oftner mention'd in the Scripture than that. In ſhort, whatever the Opinions of particular Perſons may be, hu⯑man Nature will ſtill remain in its Rank: and the unhappy Choices of the Multitude [9] will ſerve to confirm the ſacred Text, Man that is in honour, and underſtandeth not, is like the Beaſts that periſh.

II. The BODY.

WHAT do you think of this Body of ours?

IT is by this wonderful piece of Mechaniſm, that we hold Correſpondence with the viſible World about us.

THE Body, as to its outward Figure, is certainly beautiful. Few are ſo fantaſti⯑cal, as to find fault with the human Shape. Nor are the Parts within leſs wonderful in their Contrivance and Uſe. Many Engines are conſtantly playing. With what incredi⯑ble force does the Heart ſend out the Blood! And how much work is done within us (as Antoninus ſaid) and we feel nothing of it! When we feel leaſt of it, we are in the beſt health.

ANATOMISTS tell us, there is hardly an Inſtrument in Mechanicks or Hydroſta⯑ticks but we meet with in the human Body; and indeed in the Body of inferiour Ani⯑mals: ſcarce any part of a Houſe or a Ship, hardly a common Utenſil, but we find in [10] this ſurprizing Fabrick. They talk of Le⯑vers, Wedges, Pullies, Ropes, Sieves, Strain⯑ers, Beams, Tubes, Vaſes, Receptacles, and more things than I have Engliſh for. You may ſee ^* Boerhaave.

SOME of thoſe laborious, pene⯑trating, honeſt Inquirers into Nature, have really made great diſcoveries; and there re⯑mains ſtill much to be diſcovered. Any body may know thus far, that this outward Vehicle of ours is made up of an infinite number of Parts, Organs, or Inſtruments curiouſly adjuſted, and acting in a mutual Subſerviency each Part to another, as well as for the Safety and Pleaſure of the whole Syſtem.

FLESH, and Blood, and Skin, and Bones, are familiar Words, and we think very little about the Compoſition and Tex⯑ture of the things. But we are ſurprized when we hear that Fleſh itſelf is but a Col⯑lection of ſmall Fibres; that every Muſcle may be divided into leſſer ones, and theſe again into leſſer, till they become too ſmall for Diſcovery; ^† ſurpaſſing even the force of Imagination.

[11] THE Action of the Muſcles, and the Motions perform'd by their means, is a new Matter of wonder. As ſome of theſe Mo⯑tions are voluntary, there are others without any deſign of ours. The voluntary Motions are often accompanied with Satisfaction, as the Mind directs them either to real Uſe or Vanity: and we are beholden to the Muſ⯑cles for Dancing, as well as Walking: to theſe the Politician owes his Shrugs, and the nice Lady her Geſtures.

BUT at the ſame time, that we ad⯑mire the Texture of the Fleſh, we ſee evi⯑dent Marks of Frailty ſtampt upon it, or ſomething worſe. The mixture of Blood and other Fluids makes the Conſiſtency the more difficult to be preſerved: and upon the Breach of ſo many Canals and Veſſels, which a very ordinary Wound may occaſion, we ſee a conſiderable Diſorder, and have even ſome horror at the ſight. A putrify⯑ing Sore is ſtill more diſagreeable.

IT were prudence in us however, to view our Conſtitution ſometimes on its weak ſides, that we may not forget the Materials we are made of, or imagine a Statue of Plaiſter to be a Statue of Braſs. The Wiſ⯑dom of the Maker is ſtill ſeen in the ad⯑mirable Contrivance of the Machine, tho' it were to laſt but a day; and we have good [12] reaſon to ſubſcribe to that Text, We are fearfully and wonderfully made.

WONDERFULLY indeed! but then the Tenderneſs of our Frame muſt not ſo frighten us, as if it were every moment to fall to pieces; and conſequently under the notion of ſhunning Danger, make us ſhun the Duties of Society. The Body is ſtrongly fenced, and can bear conſiderable Shocks after all. We are only to keep our Brittleneſs in view, as a guard to Sobriety and Temperance. For there is certainly a good deal of Truth in that common Pro⯑verb, Surfeiting deſtroys more People than the Sword.

How Intemperance (a general Term for all Exceſs) comes to be ſuch a Ruin to the poor Fabrick, is no hard matter to account for. The Bones, 'tis true, have a Firmneſs: but then, how are they join'd together! and how many ſmall Veſſels are employ'd in conveying Nouriſhment even to them! The whole Body may be called but a Bundle of Pipes and Veſſels wrapt up in Skin. Some of the Fluids run in larger Channels, and with greater briskneſs, whilſt others na⯑turally are but ſlowly filtrated. What a Preſſure muſt a Surcharge of Meat and Drink occaſion! How muſt the various Ca⯑nals be affected! Here a Ferment, there [13] Stagnation. The Ideas would be a little nauſeous, if purſued farther.

BUT ſince 'tis much more agreeable to conſider things in their good Order, than in their Corruption, it may be very enter⯑taining to look into ſome Books of Anato⯑my; wherein ſuch Diſcoveries are given, as cannot fail to raiſe Admiration and Delight. And there is this moral Inference to be made, that as all the Parts of the Body (united, as St. Paul ſays, by Joints and Bands) contri⯑bute to the good of the whole in a mecha⯑nical way: ſo all Men ought to ſerve one another freely and chearfully, as Members of one Body or Society: and the good Em⯑peror has an uſeful Criticiſm upon the dif⯑ference between the words Member and Part, the former implying a more vital U⯑nion than the latter; for inſtance, a Branch of a Tree, or any inanimate thing, is ſeparated from the Body without Pain, which is far otherwiſe in the loſs of an Arm, or in the leaſt hurt of any animated part of the Body. This Example might be much farther pur⯑ſued with great pleaſure: all the Members being found to act in Concert and Harmony. No Schiſm, no Appropriation, no Con⯑tempt, no Oppreſſion.

FEW Criticiſms are of ſo much uſe. But notwithſtanding all the agreeable things that are to be obſerv'd in the Contrivance of [14] the Body, its Charms lie principally in the Outſide. The figure of the inward Parts, and the endleſs Branchings of the Veins, are look'd at with more Complacency in Wax⯑work and Copper-plate than in their Reality; which muſt give the Diſſecters themſelves ſome Uneaſineſs, not to be entirely over⯑come by the longeſt Practice. But the Shape and Air ſtrike a Reverence, the Skin and Features a Delight: the Features more than the Skin, and the Air more than the Fea⯑tures: ſo that the Air gives Delight and Re⯑verence both. We ſhall leave more Obſer⯑vations to Lovers. In the mean time, we muſt do the Soul the Juſtice to confeſs that 'tis ſhe that's properly the Miſtreſs. No Man can be in love with the fineſt Statue. Nor would Life, added to Beauty, be the Attraction, if ſome Qualities of the Mind were not ſuppos'd. This muſt hold, with⯑out diſpute, in rational Love: and as to the ſimple Impreſſions on the Eye (which irra⯑tional Animals may ſhare in, for any thing we know to the contrary) whatever is a⯑greeably felt, if it is not excited by the Soul, is at leaſt felt by the Soul; and to it we muſt have recourſe, as the Seat of Life itſelf, as well as of Senſation and Reflexion.

I ſay we muſt have recourſe to ſome other thing than the Body, for all our Perceptions and Faculties, of what kind ſoever. The Bo⯑dy is but a Vehicle enliven'd. We cut and [15] mangle a dead Body without much Com⯑paſſion, and without any Injury, as if it were a Log of Wood.

WHAT it is that ties two things to⯑gether ſo different in their Natures, Men have no notion of: We ſee in fact, and ſometimes to our great affliction, a deplo⯑rable Alteration in the Body, or the viſible Part, from whence we conclude a Separa⯑tion of the Inviſible; or that the Soul or Spirit has withdrawn we know not whither.

THE Diſſolution of the Body ſhews a little of its Compoſition. As it returns to the Duſt, ſo it is of the Duſt. But into this ſtrange Compoſition the four Ele⯑ments may be ſaid to enter, and other things often mention'd by Philoſophers and com⯑mon Men, Oil, Sulphur, &c. It muſt be own'd too, that theſe Ingredients are more happily mixed in ſome Perſons than others, as Shakeſpear obſerves of Brutus; from whence may proceed the difference of Con⯑ſtitutions, and even of Tempers. And this ſhould engage People to pity one another, or to be very civil at leaſt. If a Man thinks his Neighbour has too much Fire, he ſhould conſider whether he himſelf may not have too much Phlegm; and on the contrary.

IF ſome People heard us, they would be apt to think there is too much ſaid con⯑cerning [16] the Body; others, that there is too little: and I am of the latter opinion; conſidering that 'tis the Body which takes up the moſt of our Care: in ſo much, that Antoninus calls Death a Releaſe from the Drudgery about a Carcaſs.

III. The SOUL.

YOU ask'd me what I thought of the Body. Pray what do you think of the Soul?

MANKIND being ſo much in the dark, as to the Nature of all things, can only conſider them in ſome of their Properties and Operations.

IT ſeems the loweſt Operation we can conceive of the Soul, is to give Life and Motion to an organiz'd Body, which the moſt curious Organs cannot give; ſince they are but Matter reduced into Shape and Pro⯑portion. 'Tis agreeable to ſee a Fly making its Motions in the Air, or cleaning its little Legs, by ſome Principle foreign to its light Body. But a ſmall Touch puts an end to the Activity.

IT is an odd ſort of Enquiry, whether Matter might not have Thought ſuperadded [17] to it? 'Tis eaſy, and no leſs true, to ſay that infinite Power can do every thing it pleaſes. But then, Men ſhould take care, under the appearance of Modeſty (or however real it may be) not to make impertinent Suppoſi⯑tions. If Life were ſuperadded, Matter would be enliven'd; and if Thought were ſuperadded, Matter would be thinking: whereas the ſettled Idea of Matter is ſome⯑thing that's inanimate, unactive, and inca⯑pable of thinking.

IF we were to ſearch for mere Life, or if any Perſon could tell us where it is to be found, I believe the Anſwer would be, not in the ſmalleſt Fibres; for they are but Threads: neither in the thinneſt Membranes, for they are but Threads woven together. If Gen. 9. it is in the Blood, as the Scripture ſeems to intimate, it ſtill eſcapes our Diſcovery; and the Blood itſelf muſt be reckon'd but a Vehicle for the Life.

ANOTHER Text in the ſame Book ſays Gen. 2. God breathed into Man the Breath of Life, and he became a living Soul. We muſt content ourſelves with an Hiſtorical Ac⯑count of our own Being, inſtead of a Philo⯑ſophical: and if we ſhould want to know how Life has been inſuſed into the meaneſt Animals, we muſt only conclude that the Fountain of Life has communicated to them their Portion of it ſome way or other; and [18] without grudging them their manner of Exiſtence (many of them having the advan⯑tage of us in ſome Faculties) we ought to ſtudy to make the beſt and the thankfulleſt uſe of our own.

THAT which is called the Vegetable Life, conſiſts chiefly in a Circulation of Fluids, in order to the Support and Growth of the Body they belong to, without any power of Senſation. Vegetation is but Growing: and even Stones and Metals (ſome think) have a Growth of their own.

BAGLIVI is of that opinion^*.

PLANTS are Bodies organized to admiration. They draw Nouriſhment from the Earth by their Roots: they ſeem to be nouriſhed alſo by the Air, and may be killed by the Air; they have Perſpiration, but no Reſpiration, which ſeems to be peculiar to the Animal Life, and is the loweſt of its Operations.

LIVING Creatures can move from one place to another, and have their Roots within themſelves for their Nouriſhment. Which [19] Roots (ſays Mr. Boerhaave) are the abſor⯑bent Veins in the Mouth, Stomach, and Inteſtines.

Some Animals, fix'd in their Shells to Rocks, are an Exception from that Power of local Motion: tho' they have ſtill ſome inward Spring of their own, and may be ſaid to move in their own Houſes.

LIFE certainly, in the loweſt view we can have of it, implies ſomething more than Matter, or Matter and Motion together, and may be called immaterial, or a thing that cannot fall under the cognizance of any of the five Senſes. 'Tis finer and quicker than Flame: it cannot be extracted by the beſt Chymiſts, nor kept in Glaſſes. Mr. Hobbes triumph'd over the Expreſſion immaterial Subſtance, as an inſtance of in⯑ſignificant Speech: and he would have had reaſon on his ſide, if he had firſt prov'd that there was no Subſtance, nor any thing in the Univerſe, but what we can ſee and touch, &c.

SNEERING is no Proof.

BUT now, tho' all Life may be call'd immaterial, it cannot upon that ac⯑count be call'd immortal or unextinguiſhable. Immortality is a Term appropriated to the Soul. The Beaſts have a Life as well as [20] Men, and are unwilling to part with it; yet the Scripture ſpeaks as if it ended with the Deſtruction of their Body, and they are ſaid to periſh. 'Tis true, Solomon ſpeaks of the Spirit of Man, and the Spirit of the Beaſt, that the one goes upward, and the other downward; and I think ſome Philoſo⯑phers talk of different Principles, to which higher and lower Spirits are united, after quitting their reſpective Bodies. But when Revelation ſtops ſhort, Conjectures are often very unſatisfying, and often very improper.

IT ſtill bears a good moral meaning, that the Spirit of Man tends to ſomewhat of a ſuperior kind than the Beaſts are capa⯑ble of; Nature having made them groveling, as Saluſt expreſſes it, Prona atque Ventri Obedientia.

THIS we know for certain, that the Life of Man and Beaſt is ſubject to Ruin, and un⯑der great Neceſſities, while it ſubſiſts; eſpe⯑cially the Life of Man, who not only wants Food, but Raiment. Sleep is a want com⯑mon to all Animals on this Earth; as if ſome Operations of Life needed to be ſuſpended, to keep it from wearing out: for other Operations go on; we breathe, the Blood circulates, Digeſtion advances, &c. Mean time 'tis remarkable, that the preſent Wants of Mankind (and Sleep in particular) con⯑tribute very much to any Peace and Quiet [21] they enjoy: Soldiers muſt reſt on their Mar⯑ches, and the plodding Stateſman drops aſleep in the midſt of a Project that would have embroil'd Europe.

BUT of our Neceſſities ſome are real, others only imaginary: both of which ſubject us to great Dependence. By the real Neceſſities, all Men depend upon one ano⯑ther, and the higheſt Ranks depend moſt upon the loweſt, who work both for their own Subſiſtence, and for theirs that are idle. By the imaginary Neceſſities, ſome put them⯑ſelves under the Dependence of Men in power, and ſometimes do very dirty work for the Wages they receive. But in all our Wants, whether imaginary or real, the Bo⯑dy wants nothing; for it feels nothing. 'Tis properly the bodily Life that wants Meat and Cloathing, and 'tis Luxury and Pride that want Delicacies and Ornaments.

HOW Life comes to fail, notwithſtand⯑ing all the Repairs it is conſtantly getting, and all our anxiety about it, is only to be reſolv'd into the Will and Appointment of its Author. 'Tis juſt ſuch another Myſtery, that the bodily Frame wears out, and be⯑comes no longer a fit Habitation for the Soul.

CERTAINLY it might have laſted lon⯑ger: and we hear of Lives in the beginning of the world, near a thouſand years old. That [22] ſome of the ſofter parts harden too much with time, and the Strainers cannot perform their functions, is what Experience ſhews: but a new Queſtion may ariſe, why that hardning of the ſofter parts? Beſides, we often ſee the Machine deſtroy'd before it is half worn, even in Infancy; and this with⯑out any violent Accidents. Man is the pooreſt Creature in the world, in many in⯑ſtances: we may judge how it becomes him to be proud. Pride was not made for Man.

POOR ignorant Man! The difficul⯑ty is as great to know how Life is kindled, as how it goes out. That it enters into the Body, is but a way of ſpeaking: perhaps the Body and it are form'd together. I have ſometimes thought Men have been too pry⯑ing with their Glaſſes, and their Enquiries. Whatever be of that, they diſcover nothing to leſſen their difficulties. Nature ſtill keeps her Myſteries to herſelf.

WE ſee indeed, in a groſs manner, how we are thrown into this World with the di⯑ſtreſs of our Mothers, and pain to ourſelves, tho' we have no remembrance of it. Our ſtay muſt be ſhort, from the nature of our bodily Frame. The Cords are loos'd, and the Wheels broken. Death comes, and puts an end to our Labours, our Deſigns and our Impertinencies.

[23] THIS Life is a ſtate of tryal, and has many Epithets. 'Tis call'd a Voyage, a Paſ⯑ſage, an Inn, a Pilgrimage; ſometimes a Play, and a Farce, but it always concludes in a Tragedy. A little earth is caſt upon the Head (ſays Mr. Paſcal) & en voila pour jamais.

IV. SENSATION.

BUT how little have we ſeen of the Soul of Man! that Principle of Reaſon, that immortal Spirit capable of inexpreſſible Joy and Sorrow even here, and of both theſe hereafter in a degree infinitely higher, when this Clog of a Body is thrown off!

IF you pleaſe, we will talk a little more of our inferiour State and Condition. As Life is a conſiderable Remove from Mat⯑ter and Motion, Senſation carries us a ſtage beyond Life, and as it were into another Region; but ſtill a very low one. How⯑ever, if Men cannot account for ſimple Life, no wonder they cannot account for Senſe and Feeling. 'Tis much if Mr. Hobbes was in earneſt in what he ſays of the Cauſe of Senſe. You may ſee how far it is ſatis⯑fying^*.

SOMETIMES one would hardly know whether to laugh or be angry at Hobbes. But tho' the Cauſe of Senſation is hid from us, the Advantages of it are very obvious. The Senſes are the Canals of Plea⯑ſure: they may be ſaid to bring Intelligence to the Soul, and to the whole Man Safety and Delight. They are noble Preſents from our Creator, and we ſee what a loſs it is to be deprived of any one of them. If they are ſometimes the Conveyances of Pain, this is owing to ſome Accidents they are not an⯑ſwerable for; and very often the Pain is of our own procuring.

IF the Organs are indiſpoſed, the Senſes muſt be ſo likewiſe: and if they are loſt the Senſes are loſt. 'Tis the Body that furniſhes theſe Organs, which probably has made the Emperor aſſign the Senſes to the Body.

THE bodily Senſes are alſo called the ex⯑ternal Senſes, as they ſerve us in the com⯑merce with things in this viſible World. They are commonly reckon'd five: and this number has obtain'd a ſort of Preſcription. In our Engliſh Apocrypha they are call'd the ^* five Operations: and tho' Feeling is [25] a word that may be applied to them all, yet in common diſcourſe it is appropriated to one of theſe five Powers in particular: ſome⯑times we ſay, a Sight ſtrikes the Eye, a Sound the Ear. But 'tis the Hand that's uſually ſaid to touch. And hence Touching, and the other four Senſes, are conſider'd as active; becauſe they can be applied to par⯑ticular Objects, as the Mind directs; by whoſe orders they alſo ſuſpend their Opera⯑tions. A Man may ſhut his Eyes when he thinks fit. But upon the matter, all the Senſes are rather paſſive than active, which I believe you will readily grant.

BUT tho' the number of thoſe Operations has been limited to five, the number of Sen⯑ſations or Perceptions may be call'd infinite, both as to the Objects and the Degrees. By the Degrees I mean the higher and lower Senſations of Pleaſure and Pain, two words that include every thing that delights us or afflicts us; tho' in this place 'tis only what concerns the Body that's under conſideration.

OF thoſe five Operations (you know) the Sight and Hearing are reckon'd the nobleſt; probably becauſe they are of a [26] greater reach, and ſerve more eminently for conveying Knowledge to the Mind. The Eye can take in half the Firmament, the Ear can hear at a great diſtance, and both can receive inſtruction by words: whereas the other three Senſes (eſpecially the Touch and Taſte) can only act by an immediate Ap⯑plication to the Object.

THERE is a remarkable difference between the two laſt named Senſes in one reſpect, that the Taſte is for one's ſelf alone, and ſo may be call'd but a poor ſolitary Plea⯑ſure: whereas the Touch is a means of union with another Perſon, and in ſo far may be call'd a ſocial Pleaſure; and it ſerves often as a Conveyance of Friendſhip.

YOU deſign to be merry.

NEITHER merry nor grave. You muſt have had the Women in your head yourſelf, and I don't deny that they were in mine: but ſetting them aſide, I'll appeal to any Man, if he would not prefer the Kiſs of a Friend's Cheek to the beſt Wine upon Earth.

HE muſt be a ſorry Friend that would not.

THE greateſt Obſervers have only diſcover'd the Organs or Inſtruments belong⯑ing to each Senſe; and 'tis probable they [27] have not diſcover'd them all neither. Thus Touching and Taſting are but faintly ex⯑plain'd by the diſcovery of certain ^*Nipples under the Skin (differing in their figures) as the proper Inſtruments of theſe two Sen⯑ſes; tho' the ſmall Inſtruments are indeed deſcrib'd with great labour and exactneſs. And as we know but ſome of the Inſtru⯑ments, ſo we know but ſome of the Occa⯑ſions or Conditions (not the Cauſes) requi⯑ſite to affect us ſo many ways as we find we are affected. So that the greateſt Philoſo⯑phers have recourſe only to the ^† Appoint⯑ment of the Adorable Creator. The cauſe of ſimple Life is not to be reach'd; much leſs the cauſe of Senſation: and the cauſe of Pleaſure or Pain leſs ſtill.

FEELING or Senſibility (it ſeems) is diffuſed thro' all the Body, without and within, and ſo is conſider'd as the Founda⯑tion [28] of what is moſt uſually and ſtrictly call'd Pleaſure and Pain. The reſt of the Senſes convey what is agreeable (the Eye Sights, and the Ear Sounds, for inſtance) but they are not ſaid to create that ſevere racking preſſure which goes under the name of Pain or Tor⯑ture, nor that gentle agreeable Impreſſion call'd Pleaſure. A new wonder ariſes,

'TIS remarkable how much the pre⯑ſent Frame of the Body is liable to Pain, and often ſeiz'd with it to extremity.

'TIS remarkable too, that the Ex⯑tremes of Pleaſure are much fewer than thoſe of Pain, from which no Fibre of the Body can promiſe to be exempt; and as to the Point of duration, Pleaſure has but lit⯑tle to boaſt of. Intenſe Pain may continue long, intenſe Pleaſure cannot.

MANKIND are in ſome deluſion as to that point. Mr. Boerhaave and others are very good, for ſhewing the Frame and Tex⯑ture of the Organs belonging to each Senſe. Mean time the Touch and Taſte are gene⯑rally moſt gratified, and the Taſte yet more than the former. And to theſe two Senſes may be referr'd all that's call'd Luxury: the [29] Smell is but gratified in a manner for diver⯑ſion. Elegance is properly the purſuit of the Eye. Sometimes, 'tis true, all Extrava⯑gance is call'd Luxury: as the Luxury of Building, Gardening, Apparel, &c.

TO enter into all the bad Conſequences of indulging the Senſes, were an endleſs Af⯑fair. There are few Perſons but know too much of it from their own Experience; with relation to their Eſtate, their Character, and the Body itſelf. And if they want Authori⯑ties they may ſee what Horace ſays of the Ef⯑fects of gratifying a ſweet Tooth, as Dr. Cheyne calls it: Dulcia ſe in bilem vertunt.

BUT the Inconvenience of Senſuality is one thing, and the Injuſtice of it another. Mere ſelfiſh Gratification, without regard to Society and Friendſhip (ſuppoſing the Heart not to be engaged in the Pleaſure) is a thing below Humanity, but 'tis infinitely more agreeable to think of what Nature has done for our ſupport and delight, than what we do our ſelves to our uneaſineſs, our de⯑ſtruction, and our diſhonour. We have the Benefits and Pleaſures of all the Senſes to think of, and we can never think of them enough. Mr. Boerhaave is in ^* Raptures, [30] ſpeaking of the very Organs: How much more ſatisfaction muſt it give to reflect on the Uſes, the Delights, and the Certainty of the Operations themſelves? To ſuppoſe them fallacious, were to give our ſelves the lye, as well as to unhinge all Society, Law and Commerce. A Man diſtinguiſhes his Friend well from a Stranger, he knows his very foot before entring the Room. Witneſſes are admitted upon their Knowledge of Facts: and a Judge, from his Conviction of the Proof, acquits the Innocent or condemns the Guilty: To ſay nothing of more fami⯑liar Diſtinctions, known to young and old.

SOMETIMES, you know, we muſt have recourſe to one Senſe for confir⯑ming another, or rectifying its miſtakes. But this can never overthrow the certainty of the Senſes in general. If a Stick appears crooked in the Water, there needs no more but to take it out, to be convinc'd that it is ſtreight. 'Tis the Philoſophers that perplex people, or rather confound themſelves, with their Subtilties and their Marks of Certain⯑ty: an honeſt Farmer is at no loſs to know whether he is ſleeping or waking.

THE Quickneſs of the Senſes, as well as the Health of the Body, depends very much on Sobriety and good Rules; tho', to be ſure, there are higher motives for So⯑briety than Health and Pleaſure. And be⯑ſides that the Body is thus kept righter for the Exerciſe of its proper Functions, the Mind is freed from an exceſſive trouble in ſeeking after thoſe ſeeming Neceſſities of Luxury which grow upon us the more they are indulg'd, and make us delicate and fret⯑ful, uneaſy to ourſelves and others.

BESIDES the five Senſes, the Na⯑turaliſts generally ſpeak of a Senſorium, or common Senſe, which they reckon the ground of all Senſation, or a Medium, as it were, for modifying the Impreſſions and conveying them to the Mind. The Eye, ſay they, knows not that it ſees, nor the Ear that it hears, till this common Senſe inter⯑poſes its Verdict.

THIS makes no addition to the number of our Senſes, whether it be granted or de⯑nied; it only ſerves, as a new Inſtrument, to account in ſome dark manner for their Ope⯑rations. And perhaps it is owing to this Me⯑dium or Canal, among other things, that having two Eyes and two Ears we do not ſee nor hear double.

[32] MANY other things belong to the animal Life, which we may call indifferently Sen⯑ſations, Actions, Powers, Faculties. Phy⯑ſicians ſpeak of the action of the Stomach, as well as that of Eating and Drinking. What name ſhall we give Sleeping, which puts a ſtop to moſt of our Powers and Ac⯑tions? What ſhall we ſay of Hunger and Thirſt? Some have call'd them internal Sen⯑ſes: Senſations they are at leaſt, and ſome⯑times extreme Preſſures; and our Pleaſures ariſe moſtly from ſuch uneaſy preceding Sen⯑ſations. Thus Reſt and Motion are agreea⯑ble by turns: and that Faculty of moving from one place to another may be ſaid to enlarge our Confinement, (for we are but Priſoners here on Earth) ſo that the taking a walk becomes a Pleaſure, were it but in a Chamber. In ſhort, we are ſo wonderfully contriv'd, that we can hardly ſpeak ſenſe when we attempt to give any Deſcription of our ſelves; and muſt leave many things un⯑touch'd after all. We feel our Wants, and are eager to ſatisfy them right or wrong. We have indeed ſtrong Arguments within us of our Indigence. Without Nouriſh⯑ment the poor Animal ſtarves in a very little time. Without Sleep he is intolerably un⯑eaſy, and 'tis as great a neceſſity upon him as the former. But let us ſuppoſe all that's neceſſary for the Subſiſtence of the animal Life, Meat, Drink, Clothes, Sleep, Lodging, [33] and all theſe to the full, and of the beſt: what ſhould poor Man do without Objects to entertain the reſt of his Senſes! How me⯑lancholly muſt he be, and how little Joy would his fineſt Ideas often give him? I ſay often, becauſe ſometimes there is a pleaſure in them: but no body can promiſe himſelf the continuance of that Pleaſure, and ſome⯑times a Man would quit it for a Pipe of To⯑bacco. And if Ideas yield to the Senſes, theſe muſt yield to the Affections. For if the Affections are not gratified, or any one of them that chances to have the Dominion for the time, what good could the whole Earth do us? Let a Man in ſuch a ſituation try how he can ſuffice himſelf, and make the beſt of his Self-Love that he can, he'll find ſo little pleaſure from that Fountain, that he would wiſh he were out of Exiſtence.

V. IMAGINATION.

SELF is indeed a poor Center, as Ba⯑con ſays. But our Imagination im⯑poſes upon us, I know not how.

WE hardly know what Imagina⯑tion is.

'TIS a dark Affair indeed. This Faculty has ſuch a Dependence upon the [34] Senſes, that Mr. Hobbes calls it nothing but decaying Senſe; and he compares it to the toſſing of Water after the Wind ceaſes. But the Compariſon is lame. A thouſand things are imagin'd that never enter'd into the Senſes: and the Images of former Impreſſions are recalled at plea⯑ſure.

FANCY is another word for the ſame Faculty; and both words are taken promiſ⯑cuouſly for the Faculty and the Act, and ſometimes for the thing imagined. Thus we ſay a mere Imagination, a mere Fancy.

SOMETIMES this Faculty is taken for Invention, and is diſtinguiſhed from Judg⯑ment: the one laying the Materials in order, which the other collects. And ſometimes Fancy is taken for Choice or Taſte: We ſay a Perſon of a good or bad Fancy.

I believe the Fancy is a real Fa⯑culty of the Soul: you know ^* Milton calls it ſo, and deſcribes it finely.

[35] IT ſerves to recall the Images of Things formerly perceiv'd, and ſo they are more lan⯑guid than in the firſt Impreſſion; as the Idea of the Sun and Light is very poor and imper⯑fect at Midnight.

BUT as we can recall abſent Images, they come ſometimes upon us uncall'd in a very tumultuous and irregular manner, and when we would gladly be rid of them; ſo that we may be ſaid to dream even in the day-time. It may be called Dreaming, tho' we do not entertain theſe Imaginations vo⯑luntarily, ſince they are for the moſt part but Caſtles in the Air. Nor is it future Pro⯑ſpects only that intrude upon our Imagina⯑tion: there's hardly a Trifle that we have done or heard of, twenty years ago, but what breaks in upon us, and often the moſt unſeaſonably in the World. 'Tis difficult to fix the Attention ſo long as not to wander before the Lord's Prayer can be repeated. All which argues ſome Diſtemper in our in⯑ternal Frame, and yet very few I believe are ſenſible of it.

THAT may be call'd involuntary Imagination. One and the ſame Faculty may be ſaid to be both paſſive and active. The Mind has certainly a Power of raiſing Images or Appearances of things within it⯑ſelf, and it often feels them rais'd it knows not how.

BUT tho' we can tell many things the Fancy can do, 'tis impoſſible to tell every thing. It adds, it pares, it joins, it ſepa⯑rates, it mixes, it jumbles, it builds, it razes; in ſhort, it works wonders in its own Shop, and the beſt Deſcription will ſtill be inferior to its power. It can frame new Ideas upon the model of old ones: as when we ſuppoſe a Perſon we have not ſeen, to reſemble one we have ſeen; and when we frame an Idea of Conſtantinople from what we have ſeen of London, or perhaps but from a Map of London. This ſort of coining is very often a forging. Nor muſt it ever be forgot, that ſuch images are quite wrong, or rather no Images at all; that are form'd when the par⯑ticular Senſe is wanting or hurt: as in the known Story of the blind Man, that rec⯑kon'd Scarlet was like the Sound of a Trumpet.

HOW the Imagination impoſes upon us when the Senſes are entire, is ſtill harder to explain. But ſometimes we ſay, the Ima⯑gination [37] is impos'd upon, when 'tis the Senſe that's miſtaken; as when the Stick appears crooked in water: but the Error lies neither in the Sight nor in the Fancy, but only in our pronouncing too haſlily. Hence we may ſee the advantage of that great Rule, Not to judge according to Appearances; eſpecially in things relating to Religion and common Life. As to Religion, 'tis well known how haſtly Imaginations, or rather haſty Concluſions, bring all things into ca⯑lamity and ruin. And the bad effects of raſh Judgment are no leſs ſeen in Life: we ſee others in a glittering ſituation, we im⯑mediately pronounce them Happy: and by a natural conſequence think ourſelves miſe⯑rable, if we have not the like Finery. Ben Johnſon makes Fungoſo faint away, upon ſeeing another Beau get into the Faſhion be⯑fore him. The ſame ſort of judging obtains in houſhold Furniture, Equipage, and Titles. 'Tis true, it may be call'd Staring rather than Judging, when we have no other Stan⯑dard of Felicity but to gape and admire with the Mob,‘Qui ſtupet in Titulis—’ But ſuch is really the caſe, and ſuch in⯑fluence has Imagination both on private Quiet and the publick, that the want of a Rib⯑bon may endanger a Government. Pride in⯑deed mixes with the Admiration: from what [38] other ſource can it proceed, that a Man in perfect Health is not eaſy to travel the length of a Street, unleſs he have a Coach? and that another is not eaſy in a very fine Coach, becauſe it has not a Coronet?

'TIS this Faculty of Imagination, however, that makes the greateſt Figure in Life, eſpecially in Company, and ſtill more when there is a ſtock of Memory along with it. 'Tis alſo the Work-houſe of Poetry, and ſometimes of Politicks. Examples are need⯑leſs.

TO make a Figure in Company, there muſt be alſo a ſtock of Confidence.

NOTHING truer. Mean time In⯑vention has much the advantage of bare Ima⯑gination: and every Man either wiſhes for it, or boaſts of it. Some Perſons indeed have a very ready Talent. But even in this readi⯑neſs of Invention a Man has nothing to call his own: for tho' Expedients come in his head, yet he is not Maſter of that Art when he pleaſes; and 'tis a very common way of ſpeaking, ſuch a thing did or did not occur. So that the hitting on a good Thought may be reckon'd as much an ac⯑cident, as the unexpected meeting with a Friend. And then, how many things do occur, that are very impertinent! Falſe Hu⯑mour, Ribaldry, and dull Conceits! And [39] 'tis very vexatious when all this is paſſed for Wit.

THE chief Buſineſs of Wit ſeems to be in ordinary Converſation and Scribling, whereas Invention is extended to all Affairs and Offices in Life; from the firſt Miniſter of State to the loweſt Mechanick, or the pooreſt Maſter of a Family.

ROCHESTER has pleaſantly ob⯑ſerv'd, that Riches and Power were very un⯑equally ſhared among Mankind, but that it was quite otherwiſe as to Wit; at leaſt that every one was well ſatisfied with his own Portion:

And tho' his Lordſhip (whoſe ſhare indeed was very great) ſaid this only for his Diver⯑ſion, yet really the Diviſion is more equal than is generally believed. One ſhall hear very good Jeſts and Repartees among People of the meaneſt condition: they have their ſmart Lads, their witty Laſſes, and their ſa⯑tyrical Old Men.

What paſſes moſt currently for Wit in this Iſland, is properly but Humour, and often of a very low kind. But true Humour is when the Fancy puts different things toge⯑ther, [40] which have no outward Reſemblance, nor Connection in Nature. Thus Butler ſays of his learned Champion,

Again, when things in tolerable eſteem, are apply'd to the moſt vulgar uſes:

IN ſuch a jumble of Images, ſome Ridi⯑cule naturally falls upon one of the things for its being in company with the other. And ſuch a merry burleſque Vein may be pretty allowable when it brings no contempt on Things or Perſons that ought to be more reſpectfully treated: for in that caſe it is like the hanging naſty Rags upon a fine Sta⯑tue. Mr. Hobbes lays down ſome Regula⯑tions and Remarks with reference to this tickliſh Affair, which ſhew the greatneſs of his Genius beyond many that have ſucceeded him, and which likewiſe ſhew the unſucceſs⯑fulneſs of any Genius, when it meddles in a deciſive manner with things out of its reach. You may compare what he ſays in the eighth [41] Chapter of his Leviathan, with what he had ſaid of the Cauſe of Senſation in the firſt.

‘"THE ſecret Thoughts of a Man run over all things, holy, prophane, clean, obſcene, grave, and light, without ſhame or blame; which verbal Diſcourſe can⯑not do, farther than the Judgment ſhall approve of the Time, Place, and Perſons. An Anatomiſt, or a Phyſician, may ſpeak or write his Judgment of unclean things [natural things] becauſe he is not to pleaſe, but profit: but for another Man to write his extravagant and pleaſant Fancies of the ſame, is as if a Man, from being tumbled into the dirt, ſhould come and preſent himſelf before good Company. And 'tis the want of Diſcretion that makes the difference. Again, in profeſt remiſſneſs of Mind, and familiar Company, a Man may play with the Sounds and equivocal Signification of Words; and that many times with Encounters of extraordinary Fan⯑cy: but in a Sermon, or in publick, or be⯑fore Perſons unknown, or whom we ought to reverence, there is no jingling of words that will not be accounted Folly: and the difference is only in the want of Diſcre⯑tion. So that where Wit is wanting, it is not Fancy that is wanting, but Diſcre⯑tion. Judgment therefore without Fan⯑cy is Wit, but Fancy without Judgment not."’

I was ſtill mightily pleas'd with that Paſſage.

IF many Books (as well as Conver⯑ſation) were examined by that Standard, they would run a great hazard. I would only differ from Hobbes in one of his Con⯑cluſions, that Judgment without Fancy is Wit. For it is the Exuberance of Fancy which produces the thing call'd Wit in ge⯑neral: the office of Judgment being to keep that Current within its due Limits. All poetical Compoſitions (whether in Verſe or Proſe, the Adventures of Telemachus, as well as the Iliad, or Aeneid) are Works of Wit and Judgment both, but are more properly referred to the Claſs of Wit; be⯑cauſe of the Invention and Fancy that pre⯑vails in them. A Hiſtory is the pure work of Judgment and Memory. But to do Mr. Hobbes juſtice, if Wit were taken accord⯑ing to the ſignification of the Latin and French Terms Ingenium and Eſprit, or ac⯑cording to our Engliſh word Genius, it were hard to refuſe the Epithet of Wit to a good Hiſtory, or to any Compoſition that's good in its kind.

IN comparing poetical Works to⯑gether, ſome of them are obſerved to abound moſt in Judgment, others in Fancy; as Fan⯑cy is reckon'd to prevail in Homer, and [43] Judgment in Virgil. In the French Per⯑formance 'tis hard to diſcover whether Fan⯑cy or Judgment prevails moſt; all is ſo well adjuſted, temper'd, and mix'd together. I do not mean to derogate from the Praiſe gi⯑ven to Milton's Paradiſe Loſt, a Perfor⯑mance of a quite different nature.

I muſt own, I have often thought Milton has given too much ſwing to his Ima⯑gination.

I ſhall not diſpute that with you.

IN many Compoſitions, Humour is what appears more than either Judgment or Fancy: and often it deſerves not the name of Humour, but rather of Ribaldry. And this Obſervation ſeems to hold pretty well, that Wit in the moſt uſual Acceptation of it is an edg'd Tool, and generally hurtful to thoſe who have moſt of it. 'Tis a ſort of in⯑voluntary, incontinent, deriſive Spirit, which muſt burſt out either in Converſation, or on Paper, from a mixt deſire of pleaſing and of being admired; accompanied with a cer⯑tain Pleaſure of disburthening. The ſame Lord Rocheſter ſays very truly,

[44] But this deſire of pleaſing is not very diſin⯑tereſted.

VI. The PASSIONS.

THE Force and Activity of the Soul appears much more in the Paſſions than in the bodily Senſes, which are but paſſive and languid in compariſon of thoſe violent Commotions, or even in compariſon of the more gentle Affections. When the Paſſions break looſe, they are like Hurricanes and Eruptions of Fire: and they are fitly call'd Paſſions, becauſe we ſuffer under their Dominion. But then, as they are bad Maſters, they are excellent Ser⯑vants; as we uſe to ſay of Fire and Water: and without Paſſions, Life would be a very inſipid thing. For let us ſuppoſe a Man poſſeſt of a Fortune ſufficient to give him all the Gratifications of the Senſes, and that in the moſt elegant way imaginable: let him have Ragoûts and Burgundy, and Dogs and Hor⯑ſes, and what elſe he has a mind for: yet if we ſuppoſe him in the bare ſtate of Senſuality, without Love and Friendſhip; no deſire of Knowledge, no reliſh of giving or receiving Obligations, neither ſatisfaction in Virtue, nor indignation at Vice: ſuch a Man would be reckon'd by moſt People to paſs his time very dully.

[45] ON the other hand, let us ſuppoſe a Man heartily animated with one ſingle Paſſion, it will keep him at leaſt awake; and the pro⯑ſpect of ſatisfying it, will be to him inſtead of the moſt delicious Senſualities, and ſome⯑times inſtead of the Neceſſaries of Life.

IT is ſometimes reckon'd, the ſtronger the Paſſions are, the better, provided they are under due Regulations. Be angry, and ſin not. But this I ſuppoſe can mean only a vigorous Conſtitution of Soul, to love heartily what we ought to love, and to hate heartily what we ought to hate. For there muſt be an Exception as to ſuch Paſſions, or ſuch Forms of them as can produce no good effect. For inſtance, Fear and Revenge: the latter is diabolical, and the former often very baſe. Such a Fear I mean, as is ſaid to give a body to our Imaginations, to diſcon⯑cert our moſt valuable Faculties; and which may be called an Alienation of Mind while it laſts: and ſuch a Fear alſo as makes us re⯑cede from any Duty that would expoſe us to the Cenſure of the unthinking World. Such Paſſions we had better wiſh extinguiſhed.

THE Paſſions, you know, are alſo called Affections of the Soul: for tho' Affection is taken particularly for Love (which word too has its different ſignifications) yet Affec⯑tion or Paſſion denotes any Motion or [46] Feeling, whether agreeable or diſagreeable. And thus the Paſſions are commonly divi⯑ded into the concupiſcible and the iraſcible, two old-faſhion'd words, but which intimate to us that all the various and variable Mo⯑tions of the Soul turn upon theſe two Hin⯑ges, Deſire and Averſion.

THIS Diviſion of our Paſſions, or fetch⯑ing them from two Sources, gives indeed no Idea either of Virtue or Vice; but only a general notion of Pleaſure and Pain in the Soul, without any conſideration of Merit or Demerit: ſo that there had need to be ano⯑ther Diviſion of the Paſſions, into the Vir⯑tuous and Vicious. But becauſe this way of claſſing them would be inſignificant to thoſe, who will not allow the diſtinction of Virtue and Vice; it will be enough to di⯑vide them into the Social Paſſions, and the Selfiſh, or the Diſintereſted and the Inte⯑reſted. 'Tis true, thoſe Perſons will not al⯑low there is ſuch a thing as Diſintereſtedneſs neither: but they'll at leaſt allow there is ſuch a thing as Compaſſion, Tenderneſs, Kindneſs, (they may chuſe their word) and ſo the Paſſions might be diſtinguiſhed into the Kind and Unkind, which I ſuppoſe would paſs current with all the World: ſince the greateſt Advocates for Self-Love do not deny that Men can be friendly, but only affirm that their Friendſhip is founded upon their own Intereſt.

I think this may be ſaid too, that as Deſire and Averſion (eſpecially when they come the length of Paſſion) imply Want, Uneaſineſs, Trouble, and violent Motion in the Soul; ſo Joy is the Satisfaction, Delight, and Acquieſcence that enſues on our meeting with our Deſires, or even on getting free of our Averſions. Joy is to the Soul what Pleaſure is to the Senſes: (and Sorrow may be called its Pain) with this difference, that true Joy and Sorrow of the rational Soul are ſtill founded upon Reaſon. And in all the Paſſions the Will has ſome more power than in the bodily Feelings, which we cannot augment nor leſſen: the greateſt Stoick muſt feel the Gout; the moſt abſtemious Recluſe cannot put a ſtop to his Taſting, while the Glaſs is at his mouth. Whereas in the Paſſions or Feelings of the Soul, a Man can either cheriſh them, and conſequently raiſe them higher, or he can make ſome Efforts againſt them, and we ſee they die the ſooner.

SIMPLE Deſire, and ſimple Averſion, are juſtly reckon'd blind. And if Fancy may be ſaid to enter often into our Deſires, it enters yet oftner into our Averſions: for we can generally give a better Reaſon why we like, than why we diſlike. So that ma⯑ny of our Averſions are much owing to ſome diſorder in ourſelves, or our being out of [48] Tune; which appears remarkably in thoſe Averſions and Diſguſts that are perſonal.

I believe Hope and Fear iſſue from Deſire and Averſion, according to the Views, or the Apprehenſions which the Mind hath of meeting with things agreeable or vexatious. Hope and Fear therefore are ſuppos'd to be attended with ſome reaſon: the pannick Fear excepted as before, becauſe it concludes the dreadful thing to be already preſent. Our Hopes ſeldom impoſe ſo far upon us: tho' they riſe very high, and from very narrow Foundations in ſome Tempers, and not the worſt ones neither. But if we conſider Hope as a rational Expectation of the Mind, it will rather come under the Liſt of the Virtues than of the Paſſions.

THE natural Fear of Death is wiſely im⯑planted in us, for the Preſervation of our bodily Frame: and neither the fear of Death nor of Pain is ſhameful, unleſs it make us ſhun what we ought to do, or do what we ought to ſhun. Luxury and ſoft Living muſt neceſſarily increaſe Fear, and magnify Dan⯑ger: as 'tis told of an honeſt Gentleman, who thought to have join'd King Charles I. but could not reſolve to lie out of his own Bed.

POOR Gentleman!

I was thinking that as the Mind from ſimple Deſire and Averſion, Appetite and Abhorrence, proceeds to Hope and Fear: ſo when theſe are accompliſhed, or come to their period, it would ſeem to proceed no farther, but to reſt on the Enjoyment, or in the Affliction; tho' Affliction or Sorrow is not properly a State of Reſt.

JOY, no doubt, is Acquieſcence and Delight. When we are told that Joy is of ſhort continuance, I ſuppoſe we are to underſtand it of the Pleaſure of the Senſes and of the Imagination: for the Soul ſeems to be capable of infinite Joy, both as to Duration and Extent; and no leſs capable of Sorrow.

BUT how hard is it to give the Ana⯑tomy of the Soul, and to reduce all its Mo⯑tions into a regular Syſtem! I know not whether our Terms or our Ideas fail us ſooneſt. How many little Baſtard-Paſſions are there that go under the name of Ill-Hu⯑mour! Fretting, Diſguſt, Chagrin, Con⯑tradiction, &c. ſhall we refer theſe to the Article of Anger or of Pride? Or are they not rather made up of both?

HOWEVER, we muſt never blame Na⯑ture; as if ſhe had put ſo many ſources of Trouble and Diſquiet within us: for we [50] have likewiſe other Sources, or Funds of Satisfaction, if we would cultivate them faithfully; but this we can never do, till we endeavour to change the Principle of our Deſires and Actions.

I confeſs 'tis the Principle, or Cauſe, our Paſſions proceed from, that makes them deſerve either Praiſe or Blame. Thus Grief is ſhameful, when it proceeds from the loſs of Money; but honourable, in the loſs of a Friend.

NUMBERLESS Obſervations might be made on the Paſſions, each whereof would require a Book, if one was to conſider their Riſe, their Progreſs, their Decay, their Ex⯑tinction, their Riſing again, their giving way to other Paſſions quite oppoſite, their Combinations, their Force, their Subtilty, their Enchantment, &c. All which are but the different turnings of Human Nature.

THE Duke of Rochefoucault would throw them all into the bottomleſs Pit of Self-Love.

IT will be good to conſult the beſt Authors who have wrote of our ſeveral Powers and Propenſions, if they write good Senſe, and make a true report of Nature; whatever their Profeſſion be, Clergyman or Laick: and the Sex by no means to be ex⯑cepted, [51] ſince we have from their hands ſome of the fineſt Compoſitions upon the moſt delicate and important Subjects.

INDEED the Paſſions (like every thing elſe) are better known by feeling than de⯑ſcription. What better can be ſaid of Love, than that 'tis Love? 'Tis difficult even to give a Liſt of them. Nor do I find people agreed either as to their Number or their Claſſes.

^*MR. Hobbes has treated of a great many Motions of the Soul under one Head of the Paſſions. And the long train he there mentions, are but Modes, and Diverſi⯑fications of five or ſix primary Motions, which he calls the Simple Paſſions, and perhaps fitly enough, viz. Appetite, Deſire, Love, Averſion, Hate, Joy, and Grief. I think he proceeds in his Scheme thus:

[52] HE diſcuſſes other Paſſions or Tenden⯑cies after the ſame Aphoriſtical manner, and (it would ſeem) juſt as they have come into his head; ſuch as Ambition, Puſillanimity, Magnanimity, Valour, Liberality, Miſe⯑rableneſs, [Churliſhneſs] Love, Jealouſy, . . . Curioſity, Religion, . . . . Pannick Terror, . . . Glory, . . . Dejection, . . . . Laughter, . . . . Shame, . . . Impudence, Pity, Cruelty, E⯑mulation, Envy. He ſpeaks of certain Tendencies that I do not remember, and I wonder he ſaid nothing of others, ſince he was giving the Hiſtory of Man; for inſtance, Affectation. But 'tis hard for one to know what he ſhould write, or what he ſhould not write: and there is ſomething ſo like Pe⯑dantry in all thoſe diſcuſſions, that perhaps Mr. Hobbes has been glad to diſpatch them off as ſoon as he could; and it muſt be own'd, he often writes in a very natural way. I cannot, however, ſubſcribe to all his Apho⯑riſms or Definitions; for inſtance, that con⯑ſtant Hope is a confidence in our ſelves: for it may proceed as naturally from a con⯑fidence in another. And as to Religion, he places both the true and the falſe only in Fear: ‘"Fear of Power inviſible feigned by the Mind, or imagined from Tales pub⯑lickly allowed, Religion; not allowed, Superſtition: and when the Power ima⯑gined is truly ſuch as we imagine, True Religion."’

A poor account of true Religion!

We find by Experience that the Paſ⯑ſions domineer by turns; and when two, or more of them, are in competition at once, the weakeſt muſt certainly yield, unleſs Reaſon interpoſeth. But the Duke of Ro⯑chefoucault obſerves, that Sloth or Indo⯑lence (tho' it deſerves not the name of a Paſſion) often gets the better of them all, and triumphs equally over our Vices and our Virtues.

THERE is another of his Maxims which I cannot ſo eaſily join with, that the Paſ⯑ſions are but different Degrees of Heat and Cold in the blood. That I think were a little too mechanical: tho' we are undeni⯑ably under a ſort of Mechaniſm, and are drawn like Puppets by Strings, as Antoninus has expreſt it. We may be literally ſaid upon ſome occaſions to be tranſported and inflamed. Nothing is more common even in the ſacred Writings than ſuch Expreſſions.

THE Degrees of every Paſſion are infinite: a Man may eaſily ſuppoſe himſelf capable of greater Sorrow, or greater Joy, than ever he has yet felt. And an extreme violence of any one of the Paſſions is more than enough to ſeparate the Soul from the Body.

VII. COMPLEXION, DISPOSITION, HUMOUR.

THE Conſtitution of the Body is reckon'd to depend much on the Fibres, the Blood, and the ſolid Parts and the Fluids; from the good or bad Tem⯑perament or Habit of all which, we may expect the better or worſe Health, the long⯑er or ſhorter Life. The Complexion im⯑plies ſomething more a-kin to the Soul, tho' it ſeems alſo to depend on the more or leſs happy mixture of the Elements, and certain Chymical Ingredients in us.

THERE is a ſtrange Variety among Mankind: but to give the preference to one Complexion above the reſt, might be thought too forward and partial. Each Complexion has its advantages, and each has its defects. The ſanguine Perſon would think it hard to be reproach'd for the haſtineſs of his Temper, which ſometimes indeed flies out like Gun-powder; but when he cools and comes to himſelf, he is all kindneſs and civility. It is moſt adviſable for the Complexions not to diſpute too much about their ſeveral Prerogatives: for in all ſuch Reckonings, each Party comes off with loſs.

AND there is nothing a Man diſ⯑parages in another that he has not a part of himſelf, and ſometimes the largeſt part.

THE Complexion and Diſpoſition ſeem to differ in this point, that the latter is a more internal thing than the former. We ſhall find two Perſons equally ſanguine or equally phlegmatick, and yet the one re⯑markably prouder than the other. Pride is not reckon'd a complexional thing, but to lie deeper in the Soul: (the ſame may be ſaid of Covetouſneſs) and ſome Souls have a remarkable Tendency to ſome predomi⯑nant thing, almoſt from the Cradle.

BUT whatever Inclination prevails in the Soul for the time being, the Wits are ſet at work to bring it about. Men are both drawn by Pleaſure, and purſue it: the ſame Perſon, as it were, going out of him⯑ſelf, for what he cannot find within. 'Tis true, 'tis for his own ſake that he goes thus out of himſelf: but then he often goes on the Errands of a Fool, or a Madman: ſo that the Term Self-Love might be with as great propriety chang'd into Self-Will; and 'tis in this view that the Duke of Rochefoucault takes it when he ſays, it will purſue things not only frivolous, but deſtructive, merely becauſe it will.

THIS Quality of the Mule muſt be purely unreaſonable, and Butler ſays ex⯑cellently:

But it is not always from Pride that this Obſtinacy ariſes: for it acts often without any Reflection on its own Qualifications, or any regard to Conſequences.

THERE is another Diſpoſition no leſs hard to account for, not leſs hard to conquer; and that is, Inconſtancy. The Soul grows weary; and loaths, and knows not why: the Object has loſt nothing of its agreeableneſs, and yet can no longer pleaſed And this happens as ſuddenly as frequently.

Heaps of Verſe and Proſe might be pro⯑duced on this Subject. And it may be ſaid the Paſſions and Opinions excite one another, tho' the Paſſions or Inclinations are the greater Favourites; and ^† we take it more impatiently to have our Inclinations condemn'd than our Opinions. We are [57] alſo for the moſt part as forward to ſhew our Opinions, as we are unwilling to ſhew our Inclinations; in which reſpect theſe laſt may not be very ill compar'd to a dirty Shirt.

THO' it is not poſſible to find words for all the Motions of the Soul, yet we may diſcover what things Men are moſt naturally carried to, when we diſcover their Differen⯑ces of Complexion and Diſpoſition. And it were very profitable for us to make thoſe Diſcoveries at home: but we are ſeldom at leiſure for that; nor indeed is the Study ve⯑ry agreeable. The Patrons of Self-love would have fewer Proſelytes, if People were more inclin'd to Self-examination. But whether we look at home or abroad, the nature of things will continue the ſame: and we may make this general Concluſion as to the difference between the Complexion and the Diſpoſition, that 'tis the Complexion which makes us quicker or ſlower, war⯑mer or colder, and the like: as 'tis from the Diſpoſition, that we are more or leſs proud, humble, cruel, mild, covetous, honeſt, and whatever falls under the Denomination of Vice or Virtue.

THE Knowledge of Tempers and Diſpoſitions ſeems to be very neceſſary for a firſt Miniſter, in order to deal with his particular Men, to gratify one with Money, another with a Ribbon, and ſo on.

SOME are even gratified with a Nod or a Smile.

HUMOUR is a word that ſeems to imply ſomething different both from Com⯑plexion and Diſpoſition, which are reckon'd ſettled things; whereas Humour changes like the Weather, and may be call'd the Mother of Freaks, Whims, Frolicks, and even of Moaping, the reverſe of theſe. Good Humour, or good Temper is more properly good Diſpoſition; and to be in good humour, and good-humour'd, are different things; the worſt-temper'd Perſon being ſometimes in good humour. But in all the Turns and Caſts of Human Nature (whatever ſource they come from) there is ſuch an endleſs va⯑riety, that every Perſon may be juſtly called an Original.

VIII. LIBERTY.

AFTER what we have obſerv'd of the Paſſions, and Inclinations, their in⯑ſinuating Power and open Violence, and from what is daily to be ſeen in the world; we might be induced to think there is no ſuch thing as Liberty in Man, but that he were a piece of Clock-work, or an Engine actuated by Fire, Wind or Water.

SOME have refuſed Liberty even to the Deity, ſubjecting their Jupiter to Fate: and our Moderns borrow from old Opi⯑nions.

OTHERS, thinking Liberty the Prerogative of the Almighty alone, cannot allow it to Mankind, leſt their abuſe of it might ſeem to alter the Purpoſes of Heaven, or leſt too much ſhould be aſcrib'd to Creatures in pro⯑curing their own happineſs. But no ſuch Conſequences can be apprehended from all the Liberty that we ſuppoſe to be in weak Man: 'tis nothing but ſuch a Power as the opening or ſhutting his Eyes, not of ſeeing without Light, a Power only to accept or reject what is freely offer'd him, and which he could by no means furniſh to himſelf; no more than he can make the fruits to grow for the Subſiſtence of his natural Life, tho' few will deny that he can ſow and plant.

LIBERTY, no doubt, is a pure Gift from Heaven: and in all Creatures it is only a Power to uſe their Faculties for the Purpoſes they were given. In this general acceptation of it, the meaneſt Creature that has Life has Liberty. And we ſee among Beaſts and Birds great marks of Deliberation and Choice.

IN rational Creatures, Liberty muſt be ſuppoſed not only as a Foundation of [60] Virtue, but of Reaſon itſelf: ſince the niceſt Engine in the World cannot be ſaid to act rationally, nor ſo much as to act freely. Mr. Hobbes, indeed, propoſes to reconcile Liberty and Neceſſity by the Compariſon of a River which is ſaid to run freely when nothing hinders its courſe. But this is mere playing with words. A River will hardly be called a free Agent: and I think it may be affirm'd, that thoſe who make Self-Love the ſole Spring, or Motive, of human Actions, allow no more Liberty to a Man than to a River. There is only this diffe⯑rence of Conſciouſneſs between them, the one knows what it is doing, the other not: but both are under a like overbearing unvir⯑tuous Neceſſity.

ANOTHER Term for Liberty is Free-Will, which imports no more than a freedom of Choice. But ſometimes People confound the Will with the Inclinations; and theſe having ſo much the upperhand in us, 'tis no wonder if Liberty is abſolutely deny'd. But as we do many things from our Inclinations, ſo we do many things againſt them; but can ſtrictly be ſaid to do nothing againſt our will.

^*'TIS but a Jeſt that Butler ſays on ſwearing. The acting againſt our Inclina⯑tions is a pretty good proof of our Liberty.

THE Term Liberum Arbitrium ſuppoſes the Underſtanding to act without any byaſs, or rather without any thing that may darken it; in which caſe it may be ſaid, to act freely and neceſſarily both: freely, be⯑cauſe it is not hinder'd, as Mr. Hobbes ſays of the River; and neceſſarily, becauſe its na⯑ture is to ſee and judge. But there is ſtill a further Power of chuſing, after all Tryal and Examination is made. If it be alledged that this choice it ſelf is determined; it may be ask'd by what? If'tis by the reaſonableneſs of the thing, then the choice is as it ought to be; but it cannot be ſaid to be neceſſarily determin'd, becauſe it might have been (and often is) otherwiſe; that is, contrary to Reaſon.

MAN then ſeems to have got a Power or a Spring within himſelf to deter⯑mine him: if this Spring be called the Will, it muſt be free, ſince a forc'd Will is no Will.

THE unhappy Diſputes concer⯑ning Liberty being rather with reference to things moral than natural, it might help to ſhorten them, if it were referred to every man's Breaſt, whether in any thing he ever did that was wrong, he could not have done otherwiſe? Unleſs this Queſtion be [62] anſwer'd in the Affirmative, what Foundation can there be for Remorſe, or even for Guilt, or for Juſtice in puniſhing it? All Divines admit of Moral Evil: wherein can it con⯑ſiſt but in the abuſe of Liberty, or the making a wrong choice! St. Auguſtine ſearching for the Origin of Sin, lodges it only in the Free-Will of the Creature: being well aſſured that Blame (which muſt fall ſomewhere) cannot fall on the Author of all Good. The Gnoſticks indeed maintain'd with a bare face that God was the Author of Sin: and 'tis probable, the abſurdity of that Thought has given riſe to the other, the two Eternal Principles.

THE Scripture too always ſpeaks of Man as a Creature endow'd with Freedom of Choice. Hence ſo many Exhortations, Threatnings, Expoſtulations, and expreſs Declarations of his Liberty, and that his Ruin is only of himſelf. Many Texts might be adduced: but I ſhall only read you a few Lines of Milton, who founds the moſt of that excellent Work of his on Scripture Autho⯑rity. He ſuppoſes the Almighty to declare that Man will be deceived by the Suggeſtions of a more crafty revengeful Spirit.

HAPPY Genius!

IT would be an idle thing to make any Commentary upon ſo clear Senſe. It muſt only be remember'd, that the Liberty of Created Beings is rather a Power of making themſelves miſerable, if they will needs do it, than any Power of making themſelves happy, tho' they have ever ſo great a mind, without a higher Support, and a Compliance with the Conditions upon which Happineſs is yet before them.

Theſe two words Fate and Fortune ill underſtood, have helped to perplex Men in their diſputes upon Liberty and other Sub⯑jects. Neither of them are words current in Sacred Writ: but Fate, which is the ſame thing as Edict, is ſometimes taken for the Decree of the Supreme Being, as it relates to the happineſs of intelligent Creatures; and it is alſo conſider'd as the ſettled Order of Nature, and the connection of Cauſes with their Effects. A Stone goes to the bottom, whilſt a piece of Wood floats above: the Fire melts Metals, hardens the Clay, and reduces Wood to aſhes: and Nature is ano⯑ther word for this Conſtitution of things. To uſe Scripture-Images, if a Man takes a Coal in his Boſom, he muſt be burnt with it; and if he touches Pitch, it will ſtick to him. Such neceſſary conſequences might therefore be called Fate, and eternal Decrees: to which may be added the Pleaſures and Pains of the Mind, from a review of its good or bad actions: Remorſe is an natural as Sick⯑neſs; and the Torture of the Mind may be⯑come ſo great, that a Man may be ſaid to be in Hell.

All ſuch Conſequences, and the whole Courſe of Nature, are really of the Divine Eſtabliſhment; and Liberty is ſo in a parti⯑cular manner. So many Faculties without the power of uſing them to the right purpo⯑ſes, [66] would be a much ſorer Evil than what So⯑lomon obſerv'd, of a Man to whom God had given Riches, but had not given him power to eat thereof. But the laſt part of the Verſe is not to be preciſely taken: for the gifts of God are compleat and perfect. You know what ^* Prudentius has ſaid on this head of Liberty, after he had laid the Objection as ſtrong againſt it as poſſible. And it ſeems Homer has had it much at heart, that the Abuſe of Liberty ſhould not be charged a⯑gainſt the Gods.

Is it not ſo that Mr. Pope has it?

I think ſo. Some have made ſtrange work with the Decrees of God!

BUT thoſe Opinions are wearing out in this Iſland.

THE word Nature has alſo occa⯑ſioned Diſputes among Men, ſome having confounded it with the Author himſelf; whereas it is only to be look'd upon as his Divine Art. Some of the Stoicks fail'd much in this point, and Spinoza improv'd upon it, to the total excluſion of the Deity. All that [67] Nature implies, is but the Birth or Produc⯑tion of things, which ſtill ſuppoſes a Pro⯑ducer or Author, who was (according to the Expreſſions of the Pſalmiſt) before the Mountains were brought forth.

FORTUNE is a more inſignificant Term than either Nature or Fate: Juve⯑nal ſays, 'tis only we that make her a God⯑deſs. And indeed when the Word is right⯑ly conſidered, there's nothing at all in it; no more than in Chance, Hit, Accident, and the like, which can produce nothing; as all the different Materials for building collected together could not put up the Houſe, with⯑out the Contriver and the Workman. There's a trifling Exception of a Pencil A⯑pelles is ſaid to have thrown in his anger, which perform'd what he wanted to have added to the Piece: but 'tis to be remem⯑bred the Colours were already prepared by the Hand, and the Pencil thrown by it; ſo the Hand ſtill gave the Direction, tho' out of the common way. There is a large Field for ſuch Accidents as that, if we conſider the Freaks of Man, and the preſent State of things. Inſtances of ſucceſsful Raſhneſs are very common.

SOMETIMES our exterior Situa⯑tion, or Circumſtances in this Life, is called Fortune: and ſome Perſons being ſo unex⯑pectedly rais'd, and others depreſs'd, with⯑out [68] much to be aſcrib'd either to their Skill or Merit; thoſe who have not recourſe to Providence are induced to think with Sal⯑luſt, that Fortune certainly rules in every thing. But there is no loſs tho' particular words ſtand, if people are but convinc'd of an inviſible unerring Direction and Super⯑intendency in the Government of the Uni⯑verſe, and in the Concerns of every indivi⯑dual Perſon. Our Saviour has deſign'd we ſhould be much perſuaded of this, when he told us the Hairs of our Head are all num⯑bered.

THE Belief of an over-ruling Provi⯑dence is mighty comfortable, and Liberty is very conſiſtent with it: 'tis agreeable to find that Gift aſſerted; for without admitting Li⯑berty, Men can hardly be brought to con⯑demn themſelves. 'Tis only the Atheiſts that formally deny it, others diſpute rather about the Extent and the Conſequences of it. But 'tis remarkable, that the ſame Mil⯑ton makes thoſe Diſputes the Amuſement of ſome of the fallen Angels; and ſo an Amuſement, one would think, to be avoided.

IX. REASON.

HITHERTO we have chiefly conſider'd Human Nature with reference to the Senſes and Affections, ac⯑cording to that Diviſion of Body, Soul and Spirit; the laſt of which I will be glad to have your opinion of. For tho' the Soul is often taken for the higheſt thing that can be ſuppoſed in Man, and is to be conſidered as an immortal thinking Principle, of an in⯑expreſſible Activity, and of a quite different Creation and Conſtitution from unactive life⯑leſs Matter; yet according to the Plan a⯑bove mentioned, there is a ſuperiour Region in Man, called indifferently by the Philoſo⯑phers Mind, Spirit, or the governing Part: and what they call Spirit, St. Paul takes in a higher ſenſe ſtill.

HERE is my Opinion without cere⯑mony. In the Body itſelf mention is made of three Regions, the Belly, the Breaſt, and the Head; which bears ſome analogy to the Senſes, the Affections, and the Underſtand⯑ing. But as there is no fix'd Standard for moſt words, ſometimes the Heart, and ſome⯑times the Bowels, is made uſe of, to ſignify thoſe Sentiments of Tenderneſs and Pity, and alſo the Seat of them; the Head being [70] generally taken for the Seat of the Judg⯑ment, as well as for the Judgment it ſelf.

ACCORDING to theſe three Regions in the Body, the Pleaſures are generally claſ⯑ſed, and denominated. Thoſe of Senſe be⯑ing the loweſt, are ſent down to the Belly: whoſe God is their Belly, ſays St. Paul, and he gives a Character of the Inhabitants of Crete ^* from one of themſelves. The Chi⯑neſe God of Pleaſure is alſo repreſented like a diſmal Creature, all Belly. But theſe Re⯑preſentations and Expreſſions are only figu⯑rative, and not deſign'd to be taken accor⯑ding to the preciſe Letter. The Pleaſure of the Taſte it ſelf is far from the Belly. The Pleaſure of the Eye has yet leſs connection with it; ſo that the Epithet of the Cretians ſeems deſign'd to expreſs their Luxury in general, tho' perhaps they have been parti⯑cularly remarkable for eating and drinking.

MEAN-TIME the Body, which we ſtu⯑dy to ſoak in Pleaſure like a Sponge, is of it ſelf but a mere dead Husk, and drops off at laſt: and a Man reckons upon it no farther, than as a Machine for bringing him Pleaſure, and would ſometimes be content to change it for another Body, if he could, and does often wear it out before its natu⯑ral period.

[71] BUT to come to the higheſt Region in Man. The Mind, or Underſtanding, is con⯑ſider'd as a Principle of Light or Diſcerning; as the Senſes and Affections are ſuppoſed to be blind. The Mind ſees the Order and Value of Things, their Relations, and Pro⯑perties; and this either by immediate Intui⯑tion, like the bodily Eye, or by a ſort of Proceſs, which conſiders one thing after ano⯑ther; and ſo is called both Reaſoning and Reaſon.

THUS Reaſon, or Judgment, is taken both as a Faculty and as an Act. We ſay a Perſon of Judgment, or of no Judgment; a Judgment given, and the like.

YOU know Reaſon is alſo taken for the Cauſe or Motive; as ſuch a Law is founded upon ſuch a Reaſon, and ſuch a thing has no Reaſon in it, or no Senſe in it. The ſame words are uſed promiſcuouſly for diffe⯑rent things, and 'tis but a dry affair to adjuſt their Significations.

IT ſeems one great uſe of the rea⯑ſoning Faculty is to ſupply the want of In⯑tuition, which is ſeeing at a glance. For this purpoſe the Mind puts things in a certain order, as Figures in Cyphering, that we may find out the Sum, the Remainder, the Proportion, or whatever we want to [72] know about them. Theſe three Operations of numbering, weighing, and meaſuring, ſeem to anſwer to the ſeveral Exerciſes of Reaſon; and ſo 'tis compared ſometimes to a Ballance, ſometimes to a Line.

REASON then muſt fall into the groſſeſt Miſtakes, when it meddles in things beyond its Line, or out of its Sphere: in this caſe 'tis like an incompetent Judge, and the Con⯑cluſions muſt be abſurd. ^* Buchanan's Pa⯑raphraſe on the ſeventy-third Pſalm is very applicable to this purpoſe. It miſtakes alſo in things within its Sphere, when it is im⯑poſed upon by the Affections, like a Judge that's corrupted. And nothing is truer than that Obſervation, the Underſtanding is the Dupe of the Inclinations.

BUT the Underſtanding, or Reaſon, however often miſ-led, may ſtill (in ſome reſpect) be called the leading Faculty, and ſuppoſed to be free of any byaſs; all Light, without any Heat. Pure Deliberation, aſſent⯑ing, denying, chuſing, rejecting, &c. im⯑ply the operation of the Head only, as if the Heart had no intereſt in the thing: for cer⯑tainly [73] we judge thus coolly on ſome occa⯑ſions. And as Liberty was conſidered but as a power to make uſe of our Faculties in ge⯑neral, ſo the laſt ſtep of Reaſon is to make its choice, which it does (in ſound un⯑byaſs'd Minds) according to the nature of Things; or, in other words, according to the Truth.

AT preſent, we are ſuppoſing Reaſon to be entire, ſo far as it goes, without con⯑ſidering the narrowneſs of its Limits, nor the Clogs that are upon it, nor whether theſe Clogs are moſt owing to the Appetites or the Paſſions. All ſuch Diſcuſſions are endleſs.

TAKING Reaſon therefore only for the natural Light of the Mind, we may well enough conclude, that natural Truths, or Principles, belong to it, as viſible Objects belong to the Eye. Knowledge is but the ſeeing things as they are, or in the way they are deſign'd to appear to us: for, ſtrictly ſpeaking, we ſee few things as they really are, no more than we ſee the Sun in the Firmament as he is.

WE may thus have ſome little Idea of Faith, Reaſon, and Revelation; the laſt of which (like the drawing of a Curtain) gives a Diſcovery of what the na⯑tural Powers of Man, or the preſent Frame of his Underſtanding could not find out, [74] By Revelation Men might be inform'd of the ſtate of Things, paſt, preſent, and to come; of Things relating to the viſible World and the inviſible, of Things in Earth, and Things in Heaven.

WE may likewiſe ſee how Faith is taken in different Senſes: one acceptation of it is Truſt, Confidence, Dependence; another acceptation is Honeſty and Fair-dealing, bona fides. But the acceptation relating moſt to the preſent purpoſe, is that Divine Convic⯑tion of the Underſtanding, whereby we can⯑not refuſe our aſſent. And tho' we ſee but through a glaſs darkly, as St. Paul ſays, (and how few ſee like him!) yet the leaſt remove from Infidelity is a kind of Faith: and if there is but an honeſt Heart to receive it into, it will grow like the greateſt Trees from the leaſt of Seeds. Nor is a Man to be diſcouraged if he does not perceive its growth; and even tho' he ſhould think he had no Faith at all. Such a dark uncertain ſtate, as it is very afflicting, may perhaps alſo be purifying. But to ſay the truth, moſt people are in the contrary ſtate, rather inclin'd to think their Faith greater than it is, than leſs: and ſuch Perſons would do well to conſider what Faith is, and examine their own by St. Paul's Definition, who calls it the Subſtance of Things hoped for, and the Evidence of Things not ſeen. We [75] ought to take great care that our Faith be not found to be bare Opinion.

THUS we ſee alſo that there is a difference between Faith and Reaſon, or that ſome things are ſpiritually diſcerned, and others natu⯑rally. I only wiſh it were conſider'd how Religion and Society ſuffer by ſetting theſe two Gifts at variance. Religion ſuf⯑fers when things are obtruded as Articles of Faith, and an Aſſent required to them under the higheſt Pains, without ſatisfying the Mind that ſuch Articles are of the boaſted Importance, or even that they are not re⯑pugnant to common Senſe. 'Tis true, Re⯑ligion cannot properly ſuffer: but Society, or the particular Members of it, ſuffer ma⯑ny different ways; Perſecution and Obſti⯑nacy mutually exciting each other. All Hiſtories, eccleſiaſtick and civil, are the me⯑lancholly Regiſters of mutual Oppreſſion, Bigotry, and Contempt among all Parties. And yet all Parties muſt make uſe of Reaſon, either true or falſe, when they argue for their Faith; otherwiſe there muſt be nothing for it but an Act of Parliament, and a Stand⯑ing Army. The Proteſtants are profeſſed Admirers of Reaſon, their Faith hangs upon it; and the Papiſts, who ſay they believe upon the Authority of the Church, muſt make uſe of Reaſon to prove the Church is infallible.

RELIGION even ſuffers by ſuch Diſ⯑putes and Hatred, in ſo far as occaſion is gi⯑ven to its profeſt Enemies to deſpiſe it; and to the negligent part of Mankind to be ſtill the more careleſs about it. I have in⯑terrupted you.

To ſee Things as they are (even the Things of Nature) there muſt be ano⯑ther Light than the natural. How little do we know about the Things we ſee and handle? only ſome of their outward Pro⯑perties, Colour, Hardneſs, and the like; as Mr. Locke inſtances in Gold, its Yellow⯑neſs, Ductility, and other Qualities; with⯑out any Knowledge of the Eſſence, as 'tis called, or the Subſtratum. Again, how little do we know about ourſelves? Can we tell, as Dr. Garth ſays,

And Dr. Burnet, who was as much a Free⯑thinker as a Man ſhould be, takes notice how little we know of Things that are Ob⯑jects of Faith. Shall I read you a few of his elegant Expreſſions?

WITH all my heart.

‘—"Theſe Revelations, as moſt in Sacred Writ, are ſhort and in⯑compleat: [77] as being deſign'd for Practice more than for Speculation, or to awaken and excite our Thoughts, rather than to ſatisfy them. Accordingly we read in Scripture of a Trium Deity: of God made Fleſh, in the Womb of a Virgin; barba⯑rouſly crucified by the Jews: deſcending into Hell: viſibly aſcending into Heaven: and ſitting at the right hand of God the Father, above Angels and Arch-angels. Theſe great Things are imperfectly re⯑veal'd to us in this Life; which we are to believe ſo far as they are reveal'd; in hopes theſe Myſteries will be made more intelligible in that happy State to come"—’

THAT Article of the Crucifixion, and the other of the Aſcenſion, are indeed two Points of Fact which Reaſon may be ſatis⯑fied about, by enquiring into the Character of the Witneſſes, and other things relating to Proof. The Crucifixion is a piece of Hiſtory, and a much leſs ſurpriſing Event than the Aſcenſion. But the Myſtery is, that ſuch a Barbarity ſhould have been per⯑mitted againſt the Son of God: This is to the Jews a ſtumbling-block, and to the Greeks Fooliſhneſs. And ſo a new Enquiry ariſes, if Jeſus Chriſt was the Perſon aim'd at in the Prophecies? To be ſatisfied about which, the Prophecies muſt be conſider'd, and the Old and New Teſtament compared together, and both theſe with the Doctrine [78] and the Works. In all ſuch things Reaſon may modeſtly exert itſelf, and we are guilty of ſloth if it be not exerted. But we muſt be in the dark about many things ſtill: So the Doctor ſubjoins;

‘"IN like manner, how little is it we un⯑derſtand concerning the Holy Ghoſt? That he deſcended like a Dove upon our Sa⯑viour: like cloven Tongues of Fire upon the Apoſtles—Theſe things we know as bare Matter of Fact, but the method of theſe Operations we do not at all under⯑ſtand. Who can tell us now, what that is which we call Inſpiration? What change is wrought in the Brain, and what in the Soul; and how the Effect follows?—Theſe Things we ſee darkly, and hope they will be ſet in a clearer light, and the Doctrines of our Religion more fully expounded to us in that future World, &c. ^*"’ This is an inſtance of great Ho⯑neſty in that ingenious Man, ſo frankly to confeſs his Ignorance, when far meaner Heads take upon them to explain the deepeſt Myſteries! As a ſtrange turn appears in others, who will not admit of the poſſibi⯑lity of a thing, becauſe they cannot con⯑ceive how it is! Reaſon would at leaſt tell them thus much, that every thing is poſſi⯑ble to the Almighty, which does not im⯑ply a Contradiction.

IT muſt certainly be very ill ſervice done both to Religion and Society, to make an Oppoſition between Faith and Reaſon, as if they were two Contraries, like White and Black, or Fire and Water; whereas they ſeem to differ more in the degree than in the kind: the natural Light itſelf being from God, as well as the divine; there is one Glory of the Sun, and another Glory of the Moon. And then the ſame thing may be the Object of Faith and Reaſon both; for inſtance, the Fall of Adam: it is indeed reveal'd as a Fact that has happen'd, and is conſequently an Object of Faith: we do not hear that it occur'd to the Philoſophers, (tho' ſome⯑thing like it is imply'd in the opinion of the Pre-exiſtence of the Soul) and this Ignorance of the Fall made their Syſtems ſo imperfect and claſhing. But after getting a hint of that unfortunate Hiſtory, many Men are ſa⯑tisfied of the Truth of it by their natural Reaſon; as they are alſo of the Creation of the Heavens and the Earth. And this may be called a mixture of hiſtorical and rational Faith, but cannot be ſaid to come up to di⯑vine Faith, which carries along with it a more forcible Conviction, and may be rec⯑kon'd ſuch a thing as the ^* intellectual Sen⯑ſation of the Platoniſts.

HOWEVER, the Faith of common Chriſtians is not to be deſpiſed. Our Sa⯑viour's Diſciples believed in him becauſe of the Miracles they ſaw him perform. This does not derogate from the Divine Opera⯑tion upon their Hearts: but it was very na⯑tural for them to think, and reaſon with themſelves, that no Man could do ſuch Works if God was not with him. But he ſays himſelf upon another occaſion to St. Pe⯑ter, that Fleſh and Blood had not revealed theſe things to him, &c.

'TIS no better ſervice done Religion and Society, to put Faith and Works at va⯑riance together. There is a natural enough Agreement between the two, if the Scrip⯑tures were well conſidered: and they may be ſaid to be two things God has joined, and which therefore no man ought to ſepa⯑rate. St. James and St. Paul are in perfect harmony with one another; and with the reſt of the Apoſtles, upon this Subject. Faith without Works is dead: that is, with⯑out the Works of Charity. The Works St. Paul ſeems moſt to run down, in his diſputes with the Jews, are the Works of the Law, upon the Obſervance of which they valued themſelves to an exceſs; as they did alſo upon their Free-will, and natural Powers: which perhaps may be a Key to [81] ſome of the darkeſt of that Apoſtle's Wri⯑tings. You may conſult Smith's Diſcourſes.

IT is remarkable that both the Par⯑tiſans of Faith and Infidelity have high Pre⯑tences to Reaſon, and each ſide accuſes the other of Pride and Lazineſs. 'Tis certainly as reaſonable to aſſent when the Proofs are clear; as to deny when they are not; and to be in ſuſpenſe when the Probabilities ſeem to be equal. But, I know not how, 'tis thought a prettier thing to contradict than to agree to RECEIV'D OPINIONS, and ſo 'tis natural for thoſe who ſet up to make a Figure in the World to fall into that way; as it is as natural too not to be at much pains to en⯑quire into the Proofs and Preſumptions that are adduced: Excepting always out of the number of the Lazy ſome laborious old Un⯑believers, who are as indefatigable as Miſ⯑ſionaries.

THERE is ſtill a worſe Quality in Man than the two former, which is Inſin⯑cerity: but as this Character is not level'd at any particular Perſon, it is ſo very baſe in it ſelf, that I ſhall not inſiſt any farther upon it.

WHAT is beſt and higheſt in Man, is certainly the moſt agreeable to be thought on. He has a Mind made for the ſearch af⯑ter Truth, the Diſcovery of it, and the de⯑lighting [82] in it: and all this may be granted even to the natural Man. We have St. Paul's word for it, that the Gentiles who had not the Law, did by Nature the Things contain'd in the Law. But he tells us alſo, the natural Man knoweth not the Things of God, and even that they are fooliſhneſs to him. Upon which account the natural Man (if he would be a wiſe Man) ought to be very humble; and tho' he had come to all the Knowledge and Virtue of St. Paul himſelf, to follow his advice, to take care leſt he fall.

IN ſhort, as the natural Underſtanding, or the Mind, was conſidered by ſome Philo⯑ſophers both as the Diſcoverer of Truths, and the Director of the Affections, (and the Horſes will be confeſs'd to be very unruly) ſo the Spirit, in St. Paul's ſenſe, muſt be look'd upon as the Director of the Under⯑ſtanding it ſelf, and as it were a Deity with⯑in us: and thoſe Philoſophers even look'd on Man as a Temple where ſome Divine Genius reſided, and have almoſt made uſe of St. Paul's Expreſſions, grieve not the Spi⯑rit, &c.

WHAT if this ſhould be called En⯑thuſiaſm, and a high Flight?

IF it ſhould, let St. Paul and the Philoſophers anſwer for it. It is indeed a high Flight, if Men can get into that true [83] Spirit to ſee things as they are, to put the eſtimate upon them they deſerve, to love them according to their dignity, and from the proper motives. This is truly a Flight, above Self-Love; and what Human Nature, as it is now fetter'd, cannot poſſibly attain unto, without ſuperiour aſſiſtance. But the bare Speculation of the thing is no more than one of thoſe Truths or Principles which natural Reaſon can be convinc'd of.

BUT as to the Compariſon of Faith and Reaſon; when they are conſidered as two Lights of the Mind, the principal dif⯑ference between them ſeems to be with re⯑lation to their Objects. The natural Man receiveth not the things of God. This na⯑tural Man is not denied by the Apoſtle to have the Faculty of Reaſon: but for all that, the things of God are fooliſhneſs to him; and he adds, neither can he know them, be⯑cauſe they are ſpiritually diſcerned. There muſt be another Faculty therefore in Man for knowing the Things of God, whatever Term be uſed to expreſs it; and ſo the Spi⯑rit of Man may be ſaid to receive intelli⯑gence from the Spirit of God, concerning ſuch things as his natural Underſtanding is not capable of.

I ſhould not indeed wiſh to add to the number of our Faculties: ſince it were the ſame thing, as to our Happineſs, whether we [84] had many or but one, if that one could per⯑form all the Offices of the reſt. So if it be alledged that what is called Divine Illumi⯑nation is nothing but the making new Diſ⯑coveries to the old natural Underſtanding; I ſhould readily enough give up the Argu⯑ment, if it were own'd that it was impoſſi⯑ble for Man to make thoſe Diſcoveries him⯑ſelf: but then I know not what to make of thoſe expreſs words of St. Paul above men⯑tion'd, whoſe words the Clergy at leaſt will grant me are not to go for nothing.

BUT tho' Reaſon be confin'd to natural Knowledge, its province is ſtill very exten⯑ſive: it can examine ſeveral things concern⯑ing Revelation it ſelf; for inſtance, ^*whe⯑ther a Propoſition ſaid to be divine (and which really may be ſo) is conſiſtent with what we know already of the Divine Na⯑ture: it can alſo ſearch into Records, and judge if they are authentick or ſpurious; here is large ſcope for exerciſing Reaſon, and for baffling it.

THE ſearching into Records would ſeem the firſt thing to be done in point of [85] Order, tho' few have time for it: but Pro⯑vidence ſupplies the loſs to the Poor and the Well-intention'd.

WHERE I ſaid it differ'd from Faith rather in the Degree than in the Kind, I meant not to make their difference conſiſt only in more and leſs, as one Man may have more Reaſon than another; but that they were both a kind of ſeeing, the one ſuper⯑natural, the other not.

X. The MEMORY.

THEY who make the Soul to con⯑ſiſt of three Powers (taking the Soul in the ſame ſenſe with the Mind, and in a direct oppoſition to the Body) have claſs'd this power of the Memory with the Underſtanding and the Will; tho' it does not come up to the Dignity of the other two. Every body complains of his Memory, but no body complains of his Judgment. A bad Will is the worſt of all.

BESIDE the advantage of a good Memory, as it ſerves for making a figure in Converſation, it is ſtill valuable upon better Reaſons; ſince it may be made a Store⯑houſe of the moſt profitable and agreeable things. If it is for the moſt part but a Ma⯑gazine [86] of Traſh, the Gift itſelf is ſtill to be eſteemed; and a Man has his own bad choice to blame, for making ſuch a Collec⯑tion.

THE Memory is not only a Re⯑giſter of Tales, and Names, and Fictions, (the Materials of common Diſcourſe) but may be called a Regiſter of every thing that enters into the Senſes and the Imagination. But what ſhall we think of this ſtrange Sieve, which lets ſome things paſs through, and retains others; and often retains the moſt unprofitable? To forget, is certainly among the Defects of our Nature: and yet, as things go, it were a kind of Happineſs to forget the moſt part of what we hear; and we ſhould be at no loſs to forget even ſeveral things that we read: tho' we may blame our ſelves more for what we read than what we hear, not having at all times the choice of our Company.

INDEED I have often thought it a misfortune to have a Memory of ſuch a caſt, as not to be capable of forgetting any thing, not ſo much as the pooreſt Scandal; a Me⯑mory of that kind may very well be rec⯑kon'd an unhappy Memory.

BUT what ſhall we think of this odd Treaſury, which retains things during a certain time, and then loſes them, even be⯑fore [87] the Infirmities of Age come on? We ſay a thing has dropt out of our head: (where does it drop?) and it drops in again when we leaſt expect it. What Corners do thoſe Images lurk in? and how do they caſt up? What portion of Matter, and of what figure, are they united to? and what Ca⯑nals are they convey'd in? I hardly expect theſe Queſtions will be reſolved; and the propoſing them is only deſign'd to keep my ſelf in mind of our Ignorance, both of the Defects, and the remaining Excellencies of our Nature.

THE Memory being conſider'd as a Regiſter of Things, whether perceived or imagined, theſe Things are uſually called Ideas; or, in plainer Engliſh, Images; and are accounted the Materials of Science: when they are exact, our Knowledge is exact, and not otherwiſe.

OUR Perception, or Reception of Ideas, even in the firſt inſtance, is but ſuperfi⯑cial and defective; and when we recall them from our Memory, 'tis but a Picture form'd in abſence of the Original.

As to the firſt Entry of Ideas into the Mind, you know Ariſtotle has been blamed for affirming that nothing is in the Under⯑ſtanding which was not before in the Sen⯑ſes. But there ſeems to be no great danger [88] in that Opinion, if we do not limit the Sen⯑ſes to too ſmall a number. You remember Mr. Locke's Account of their Entry?

NOT well.

'TIS to this purpoſe: ‘"The Senſes at firſt let in particular Ideas, and furniſh the yet empty Cabinet: and the Mind, by degrees growing familiar with ſome of them, they are lodg'd in the Memory, and Names got to them, &c."’

Obſcurum per Obſcurius. The queſtion is, how this Familiarity ariſes? and how the Cabinet comes to be ſenſible of any thing that's put into it? A Scritore knows nothing of the Papers which the careful Banker locks up in it? Or a Glaſs, tho' it may be ſaid to receive the Image of a Beau, and he really ſees ſomewhat of him⯑ſelf in it; yet it can hardly be ſaid to ſee any thing of him. It would rather ſeem the Mind had ſome native Light of its own, which is awaken'd we know not how, and flies out, as it were, thro' the Senſes to the things it apprehends or lays hold on.

THIS might be the Foundation of a Diſpute like that they ſay was in Holland, Whether the Bait catches the Fiſh, or the Fiſh catches the Bait. And truly moſt Diſ⯑putes are of that ſort—de Lana Caprina. [89] But one would think it might eaſily be gran⯑ted that the Mind is of an inconceivable activity, and yet may be called paſſive, in its admittance or reception of what comes into it. Nor does it lay hold and take in at random, but has a diſtinguiſhing perception of one thing from another; to ſay nothing of a farther Power ſtill, of judging, accept⯑ing, and rejecting.

THO' Ideas, or Images, would ſeem applicable only to the Senſe of Seeing; yet all the Senſes have their reſpective Ideas, or Notices, (if the laſt Word be liked bet⯑ter) ſo that one may be ſaid to have the Idea of a Sound, as well as of a Sight: and on hearing a Tune one had heard twenty Years before, one knows and remembers that 'tis the very ſame: and ſo of the reſt of the Senſes.

XI. SPEECH.

MR. LOCKE was an ingenious Man.

HE was really ſo. Pray what ac⯑count does he give of Speech?

I proteſt I don't know. But 'tis pity this Interpreter of the Thoughts ſhould not always interpret fairly, or that the Mind [90] and the Words ſhould not agree together. But the Gift is ſtill to be admired, and its uſes cannot be thought of without pleaſure.

To ſay nothing of the common Advan⯑tages of Speech in the Commerce of Life, how is the Mind inſtructed and calm'd by it! How ſweet are the Words of a Friend!

EXCELLENT Gift ill uſed! The Concurrence of all the Organs, by which Speech is formed, with the Air that carries it, and gives it a ſort of Body, would be ex⯑traordinary ſurprizing, if the thing (being ſo common) were not quite overlook'd. You may ſee what Mr. Boerhaave has ſaid in his Inſtitutions we have ſo oft mentioned, where he alſo refers to ^* a curious little Treatiſe printed at Amſterdam in the Year 1700.

THE Abuſes of Speech are but the natural Conſequences of an unhappy Diſpo⯑ſition; and the Tongue is blamed for the Vice of the Man. But the Tongue is only one of the Inſtruments of Speech, tho' a principal one; and may be compared to a Pump that brings up either clean Water or foul. Out of the abundance of the Heart the Mouth ſpeaketh.

WORDS therefore may be called Thoughts in Vehicle. We find Ideas are [91] convey'd to the Ear by certain Sounds, and to the Eye by the more arbitrary Daſhes of a Pen or a Stamp. How Minds are agreed about the meaning of theſe Sounds and Strokes, is not eaſy to conceive, without having recourſe to the Inſtruction of Heaven in the firſt Pa⯑rents. We ſee how it goes now by Imitation: the Organs of Speech are form'd in Children by degrees inſenſibly; and their Minds ripen the ſame way, to find out the meaning of what is ſaid to them. But it is not conceive⯑able how any number of old People meet⯑ing together, who had not learn'd to ſpeak in their Infancy, ſhould be able to contrive any Language at all: it would be nothing but Cries, and Signs, and Confuſion. For, admitting that the ſtrongeſt, and the loudeſt Perſon ſhould force the reſt to call a thing by the ſame Name he took in his head to ex⯑preſs it by, what ſhould become of all the intermediate Parts of Speech neceſſary to connect thoſe arbitrary Terms together? The Invention will appear impracticable on a very little reflection.

I had a little diſpute on this head with a Friend, who thought a Language might be artificially contriv'd: but as we could not convince one another, nor were at much pains about it, we agreed that it might be left as a moot Point.

THE uſe of Letters is alſo reckon'd by many, to have been taught Mankind from Heaven. For, altho'Figures and Shapes (like the Egyptian Hieroglyphicks) might have been fallen upon to expreſs ſome Pre⯑cepts and Inſtructions, yet this could give no notion of Letters, which are rather the Marks and Figures of Sounds than of Things: and here is a great Conveniency, that ſo few of them are needed; ſo that from the va⯑rious Combination of this ſmall number of Characters, or Letters, ariſes the infinite number of Words that make up the diffe⯑rent Languages; and more new Languages might ariſe without end.

THOSE Characters are a happy In⯑vention for conveying Thoughts from one end of the Earth to the other. Thus we are informed of the Welfare of a Friend in the Indies! and thus we are inſtructed, as well as delighted! 'Tis needleſs to enter into the Abuſes of Writing and Printing, ſo often made the Conveyances of Error and Deceit, they proceed (like the Abuſes of Speech) from a bad Heart; but the Faculties and In⯑ventions are ſtill to be valued and admired.

XII. A REVIEW of the foregoing ARTICLES.

FROM what we have obſerv'd of Man, Body and Soul and all his Faculties, it will eaſily be perceiv'd that of himſelf he is a mere Void, and all that is in him precarious and dependent.

To apply this to the Body: as it is faſhio⯑ned we know not how, ſo it muſt have Life infuſed into it, to put it out of the Con⯑dition of ſo much dead weight, an unac⯑tive Lump of Matter. And as Life can be call'd nothing but the inconceivable Knot that holds Body and Soul together, ſo nei⯑ther can Death be called any thing but the Diſſolution of that Union; 'tis but a Ceſſation of Life, or the retiring of the Soul, which is often in great concern and horrour to think of being driven out of its Lodging.

Animula vagula Blandula, &c.

POOR Adrian! what did his Em⯑pire ſignify then?

As the Body is ſo dependent upon the Soul for its ſhort duration and exiſtence [94] in this World, the Soul is no leſs dependent upon the ſupreme Being for all its Opera⯑tions and Enjoyments both here and here⯑after. David ſays upon good ground, He holdeth our Souls in Life. For tho' Im⯑mortality is natural to the Soul made after the Image of God, yet it may be conceiv'd capable of extreme anguiſh without Objects to nouriſh and delight it; ſo that a ſtate of that kind were rather to be called Death than Life, and is ſo called in ſacred Writ.

NOT only are the Objects of our Fa⯑culties to be reckon'd Gifts from our Crea⯑tor, but the Faculties themſelves are Gifts. We ſee ſome of them taken away, or loſt we know not how, both the external Ope⯑rations, and the internal: and ſuppoſing them to be ever ſo durable, Man is ſtill but a Void, and ſo cannot be the Object of his own Love. Love always ſuppoſes an Union with, or a deſire after ſome other thing than the Subject that loves; ſo that, Self-Love would be found an Impropriety, if one had a mind to quarrel with common Expreſſions. For what is it that a Man calls Self, or Him⯑ſelf, but a Creature endued with certain Appetites, Deſires, Qualities, or whatever they may be called? And what can he make of himſelf, without Objects adapted and pro⯑portion'd to his Wants? Again, what can he owe to himſelf farther than Care and Be⯑nevolence, which every animated Creature, [95] in ſome meaſure, has a ſhare of; and in which there is nothing to be blamed or praiſed? If it be ſaid, a Man owes himſelf Re⯑ſpect; this is not as he is ſuch a particular Per⯑ſon, but as he is one of the Human Species: and he had beſt take care not to think too often of his particular Qualifications, leſt they appear to him greater than they do to others, and make him alſo overlook his Defects.

WITHOUT all queſtion Love is moſt eminently due to God, or He is to be loved with our whole Heart, Strength, and Mind. And this is even reaſonable on our own account (no other Object being able to ſatisfy our infinite Deſires) as well as juſt, with regard to Him. Inferiour rational Ob⯑jects are only to be loved with a Love that may be called Relative, or ſubordinate, as we have often agreed on, by which Juſtice and Order are not violated.

WE only condemn'd Self-love, where Self is made the Center: and what is thus condemn'd is properly Self-intereſt. What⯑ever is loved from that Principle, is not loved according to Juſtice. For the prefer⯑ring greater Delight to leſſer, and endleſs Joys to tranſient, would indeed argue good Judg⯑ment; but where is the Righteouſneſs of it, and the Piety? It is but Wiſdom for a Man's Self; which Sir F. Bacon calls a left-handed [96] Wiſdom. But Love makes no Bar⯑gains, and has no Limitations. Moſes was willing to be blotted out of the Book of Life; and St. Paul to be an Anathema for his Brethren: it were ſtrange, after two ſuch Inſtances, to deny a diſintereſted Love to the Saviour of the World; or to draw In⯑ferences from a falſe Reading of a Text of Scripture, as if the Love of his Father, and even of Mankind, was not the prevailing Motive when he made the choice of enduring the Croſs, and deſpiſing the Shame. Nor is it any Argument againſt the Purity and the Force of Love, that in a Competition of eternal and temporal Delights (as in the caſe of Moſes, with the Delights of Egypt) the preference is given to the eternal; ſince the Clearneſs of the Underſtanding cannot be ſuppoſed to exclude the Love and Obe⯑dience of the Heart.

THE Dignity of Man appears con⯑ſpicuouſly in the Power of Loving, and in the Object that can only ſatisfy his Love: if it center'd in himſelf, it would be wretchedly directed, and no acquieſcence could enſue. The lower Appetites are ſatisfied for a time: the Belly being full, demands no more till the Digeſtion is over, and the Fibres of the Stomach irritated anew. It is not ſo with the Eye and the Ear, as Solomon informs us; nor with the Mind neither, for it muſt be conſtantly amuſed with new Diſcoveries and [97] Tales: there is a Fund of Curioſity in Man, or a Deſire of knowing, which muſt be ſa⯑tisfied one way or other; ſo that Knowledge may be called the Food of the Underſtanding.

NATURAL Affection, Love, and Friendſhip are ſatisfied by the Solaces and Endearments proper to the Soul and Body; and were it not for the ſelfiſh Principle, many of our Satisfactions would be much greater than they are. 'Tis true, the broken State of things makes all our Enjoyments very uncertain, and we often find our ſelves unexpectedly bereaved and deſolate. But if the higheſt Faculty in Man were exerted, or, which is much the ſame, if his Love were principally directed to the higheſt Object, perfect Satisfaction would readily follow; at leaſt Man would be in the State of Order, and where he ſhould be: if divine Conſo⯑lations were denied or ſuſpended, it would be but for a while, and the reſign'd Soul would have Contentment in the Divine Will, whatever Deſertion or Pain it might ſuffer. The bearing our natural Afflictions is recommended upon the ſame Principle.

IT muſt be own'd, this State of Mind, in which God is loved for himſelf, is not at preſent natural, like our other deſires: we naturally love created things, or deſire them for our Convenience; but the Love of the Creator may be call'd a ſtranger to us: it [98] cannot dwell with Self-Love, for either the one or the other muſt give place.

MOST certainly. Mean time in this Review of Man, the Diſtinction of Body, Soul, and Spirit, may ſtill be had recourſe to; or the Senſes, the Affections, and the Underſtanding. This laſt is called the go⯑verning Part by Antoninus, who makes little account of the inferiour Powers, as being in common with the Beaſts. He makes a kind of Diffection of ſome Plea⯑ſures (perhaps a little too far) and ſpeaks of them with diſparagement. But every Sen⯑ſation, as well as every Motion of the Soul, is ſurprizing to think of. Even Smelling, which is counted the moſt frivolous of all the Senſes, is of more uſe than we can ima⯑gine; and in fact we ſee it can raiſe the Spirits as it were by Magick.

'Tis generally in favour of the Senſes that the Paſſions are exerted; theſe are a⯑larm'd and riſe in arms, when our Pleaſures are in danger. It belongs to the Under⯑ſtanding to regulate the Paſſions or Affec⯑tions; or, in other words, to keep the Plea⯑ſures in order: for it cannot alter our Sen⯑ſations or Feelings. And if it be ſaid that the Underſtanding, which is but paſſive it ſelf, like the bodily Eye, cannot be called the Leader of the reſt of the Faculties; it muſt be granted, that (ſtrictly ſpeaking) it [99] is rather the Light than the Guide: for if we conſider it in the ^*three Operations mention'd by the Logicians, 'tis ſtill but one Light operating in three different manners. The governing Power therefore muſt be ſomething of Life, Force, and Activity, which ſets all the other Faculties at work; and tho' the Will is a more vital Principle than the Underſtanding and the Memory, the Spirit may be conſider'd as ſomewhat ſuperiour to the Will it ſelf, ſince the ſame Perſon may have a very different Will at different times. Sometimes the Will is ma⯑nageable, ſometimes obſtinate; a Man will not ſo much as hearken: What is it that makes him reflect and yield? Sometimes the Perſuaſion is addreſs'd to the Underſtand⯑ing, ſometimes to the Heart; and Intreaty commonly prevails more than Reaſoning. The Memory is only applied to as a Regiſter.

SHALL we ſay then, that there is a firſt Mover within us, a Mind, Rector, or preſiding Faculty over the reſt? Indeed we may be indifferent what is concluded in ſuch Speculations, for it will not alter the ſtate of the things. People frequently do ſpeak of ſuch a leading Principle, and of a Spirit in Man: and then this Spirit is as fre⯑quently denominated, or receives its Cha⯑racter, from any Quality that appears moſt prevailing, not only with regard to the mo⯑ral [100] Diſpoſitions, but even the Complexion, Temper, Genius, and whatever is moſt ob⯑ſervable in the Perſon: thus we ſay, a proud Spirit, a violent Spirit, an active Spirit, and many other kinds of Spirits (ſome bet⯑ter, ſome worſe) that are to be met with in the world.

To aſſert the Superiority of the Hu⯑man Spirit (or if it ſhall only be called the Human Nature) above that of other Ani⯑mals upon this earth, has been the endea⯑vour of many Perſons, who (I cannot but think) have made their Syſtem more cohe⯑rent than thoſe who have endeavour'd to put Men and Beaſts upon a level. Some of this laſt Party indeed acknowledge the ad⯑vantage that Mankind have from the Frame of the Body and its Organs, which they pre⯑tend makes all the difference. But what Texture of the Brain is ſufficient to perform all the various Operations they aſſign to it, Senſation, Reflection, Wiſhing, Loving, Ha⯑ting? Of what figure are the Cells for Po⯑etry, and thoſe for Mathematicks? And what Lodgings of the Brain are Honeſty and Knavery to be found in?

WHATEVER Senſations and Pow⯑ers inferiour Creatures may be endued with, the bodily Organs are but the Inſtruments of their Operations; and it muſt be ſome⯑thing even within them, that ſets thoſe En⯑gines [101] a going. The Bee and the Elephant have little reſemblance of each other in their outward figure, and there may be ſup⯑poſed as little in the Texture of their Brain: but each performs very remarkable things; for which there had need to be recourſe to ſome inward Principle actuating their diffe⯑rent Machines.

THE ſame Concluſion holds as to Man: whatever is perform'd in him, bate⯑ing ſome Actions called Vital, ſuch as thoſe of the Heart and other inward Parts, is pro⯑perly the Action of the Soul upon the Body, and the Change is firſt made within; the Soul is touched before the Blood fluſhes out in the Face, to proclaim either Baſhfulneſs or Anger: and the Notion of a Contact, and reciprocal Action betwixt the Soul and the Body, is but a way of ſpeaking; for if it were ſtrictly true, the Soul would depend as much on the Body, as the Body does upon it; or rather, all would be reduced to Bo⯑dy, according to Lucretius:

The truer Philoſophy ſeems to be ^* tangitur Corpus, ſentit Anima.

[102] 'TIS pretty evident the Soul moves the Body, as the Hand moves the Glove; but that the Body moves the Soul, is not evi⯑dent. If they ſay Muſick ſtrikes the Soul, and raiſes different Paſſions, and Muſick is Sound, and Sound is Body; and therefore, &c. it may be granted that bare Senſation is excited by the means of bodily things, as all Sounds make impreſſion upon the Hear⯑ing: but in Muſick you know all Ears are not equally affected, ſome People only hear⯑ing the bare Sound, without being ſenſible of the Harmony, and ſo are ſaid to have no Ear. Much leſs is it mere Sound that raiſes any Paſſion in us, but ſome other thing that we have no name for; as it is not mere Words that touch the Heart, even in friend⯑ly Expreſſions, but the Perſuaſion we have of ſome Friendſhip deſign'd by them, com⯑mon Compliments affecting us but little.

BUT in all this, they'll ſay, the Superio⯑rity of Man does not appear, the Beaſts hav⯑ing Senſations and Paſſions as well as He: a Dog or a Horſe is ſenſible of a kind Word and a gentle Stroak.

THAT is very true; but 'tis ſel⯑dom affirm'd that Dogs and Horſes have as high a Senſe of Friendſhip as Mankind. If any were really of that opinion, we ſhould eaſily know what eſtimate to put upon their Friendſhip.

THAT which is call'd moral Senſe, implies both a Tenderneſs of Affection, and a Reliſh of Juſtice; or Benevolence and Ho⯑neſty. And 'tis remarkable that this Ten⯑derneſs, or Benevolence it ſelf, muſt be re⯑gulated by Juſtice, as appears in that Pre⯑cept, Not to reſpect the Perſon of the Poor: for in a Claim of two Perſons, the one in great Poverty, the other flowing in Riches, there would be a natural Byaſs in the poor Man's favour; which would alſo be increaſed, if he were found to be the honeſter Man: and yet both theſe Con⯑ſiderations muſt be over-ruled, and Right take place. The ſame Rule, every body grants, ſhould be followed if a Man were one of the Parties himſelf, where the bene⯑volent Byaſs may yet be ſuppos'd ſtronger: but becauſe of this Byaſs, neutral Judges are apply'd to, tho' it has ſometimes hap⯑pen'd that mutual References have been made by each Party to the other, and both Intereſts equally ſafe.

THIS ſhews there is ſuch a thing as Diſintereſtedneſs, and it ſeems to be the higheſt Quality in Man: an honeſt Heart implies a great deal. Nor is there any weight in the Objection, that this Honeſty is only from Conſiderations of the next World: for ſuch an Inclination to Juſtice may be found, where the Belief of another World is not [104] very ſtrong. And if the peeviſh Objection be puſh'd farther, that 'tis for the ſake of a Character in this World; this is nothing but an Aſſertion without proof, and the contrary may be aſſerted with more proba⯑bility. Every one muſt judge for himſelf.

WHAT is moſt valuable in Man, is certainly his kind Affections and his Senſe of Equity: He has even inferiour Faculties, which alſo diſtinguiſh him from other Ani⯑mals. I wiſh every body may make the beſt uſe of their Faculties that they can; and that it may be remember'd they are all but Gifts, as well as the Objects of them; that Man conſequently is but a mere Void, and muſt be miſerable if he hath not Objects to ſatisfy him; that, in the placing his Eſteem and his Affection, the Giver is to be conſider'd above all Gifts; Theſe, and many other Truths would naturally preſent themſelves to the Mind, if it were compoſed and free of diſtraction.

'TIS ſtrange, that ſo natural Re⯑flections come ſo ſeldom into the Mind. They muſt certainly be very obvious, be⯑cauſe the very mentioning them is often te⯑dious and ſhocking.

THERE are other Reaſons for that. You know People have their Heads taken up for the moſt part with their Buſineſs or their [105] Amuſement: and then they don't love it ſhould be thought they wanted Inſtruction.

THEY ſhall never be inſtructed by me.

NOR by me: but there is no reaſon why two Friends may not talk together of whatever they pleaſe.

I know none.

I. The WORLD taken in different Senſes.

SOMETIMES by the World is meant the whole Creation, vi⯑ſible and inviſible; 'tis alſo cal⯑led the Univerſe. Sometimes there is a diſtinction of the Natural World, and the Moral; and among ſome Perſons we find much Talk of the Polite World.

[107] THE Natural World is juſtly acknow⯑ledged to be a beautiful and harmonious Syſtem, as implied in the ^*very Names of it. We are obliged to the Aſtronomers for the Accounts they have given of the Motions and Order of the Planets, and to the Natural Philoſophers for their Diſcove⯑ries of the Productions of this Earth: but a great deal of Beauty lies open to the Eye of the ſimpleſt Beholder. The Sun and the Fields are delightful to the Farmer, as well as the Philoſopher. Every Animal and every Vegetable have their Beauties, both to conſider them in whole, and in the parts that make them up; a Leaf of the meaneſt Plant is a Demonſtration of an in⯑finite Wiſdom.

THIS Earth of ours is but a ſmall Part of the World, notwithſtanding all the Diſputes about it, and often about very uſe⯑leſs Parcels of it. Dr. Burnet ^† ſpeaks of the whole Globe as meanly as if it were a Tur⯑nip: the Great-ones (ſays he) ſlice it among them. He ſhews alſo the Ruins and bro⯑ken State of it ſince the Flood; to which another excellent Theoriſt^‖ aſcribes the ſame Ruins. This latter Author reckons it has ſuffer'd more by the Fall, than the [108] former takes notice of. And not only has the Earth ſuffer'd in its Make and Luſtre, but all the Creatures upon it are ſaid to groan^*.

There are, however, great Excel⯑lencies and Beauty remaining in this lower World; and no Deformity can be found, except in the Manners of Men.

'TIS this Moral World therefore we are chiefly to conſider, in order to diſcover our Duty, to ſhun what we ought to ſhun, and follow what we ought to follow. I call it the Moral World (tho' there is little Morality in it) only to ſhew that it is with reference to Mens Manners or Actions, that inſpired Writers exhort us not to be confor⯑med to the World; giving us this good reaſon, that all that is in the World is the Luſt of the Eye, &c. They exhort us, 'tis true, not to love the World, meaning the Love of the Creatures, as well as the Love of the Faſhion; becauſe it is not in their Nature to ſuffice our Hearts; and they contribute to nouriſh in us that Principle of Self-Love, by which we covet every thing without Juſ⯑tice and common Senſe.

II. The WORLD divided into two Cities.

TIS a fine Paſſage of St. Auguſtine, ^* Two Loves have made two Ci⯑ties; Self-Love makes the City of the World, which is alſo called Babylon, even to the Contempt of God: The Love of God, which is called Jeruſalem, makes the City of God, to the Contempt of Self. He has been very happy in this Thought, as in many others; for it lets us into the Cauſes both of Strife and Concord in this World, and ſhews the Foundation of Miſery and Happineſs in the next, as we cultivate the one or the other of thoſe two Loves or Principles.

SELF-LOVE will be readily acknow⯑ledged to be the cauſe of Strife and Confu⯑ſion in the World, if we conſider it but in the leaſt impetuous of its Streams, Senſuality. But what is meant by Senſuality? and why is it leſs impetuous than Pride and Cove⯑touſneſs? Senſuality may indeed include the Pleaſures of all the Senſes; and ſo the Luſt of the Eye may be Senſuality, as well as the Luſt of the Fleſh: and the Fleſh is often taken for all the Deſires of the natu⯑ral Man, and put in oppoſition to the Spi⯑rit. But 'tis probable that by the Luſt of the Fleſh St. John means what is generally [110] underſtood by Voluptuouſneſs in Eating and Drinking, and all Pleaſure and Indulgence of the Body, abſtractly from Elegance and Parade, which are properly the purſuit of the Eye, and are peculiar to the Human Kind, as well as Pride; the Beaſts contenting them⯑ſelves with plain Senſualities.

COVETOUSNESS ſuppoſes both a de⯑ſire of fine things, and a ſuperfluous abun⯑dance of them; Pride a deſire of Diſtinction and Superiority.

SENSUALITY alone, without ſuppoſing Covetouſneſs and Pride in company with it, is look'd upon as an inoffenſive thing; and if a Man falls into Intemperance of any kind, all the harm is ſaid to be done to himſelf.

BUT it rarely happens that Senſuality is free of the other two Vices. Our Fancy ſuggeſts to us imaginary Wants; and alſo makes us think Nature is not ſo eaſily con⯑tented as we find upon Experience it is. Thus we covet things both as to Quality and Quantity: and then our Pride, which is ſel⯑dom aſleep, wants to have Witneſſes of our Magnificence, and of our elegant Taſte. 'Tis ſaid Luxury wants many things, and Covetouſneſs all things; but Pride is cer⯑tainly the moſt inſatiable of the three.

WHAT is condemn'd under the name of Senſuality, is not the Senſation of Pleaſure, for there is no Crime in Feeling; but in the exorbitant Deſire of Pleaſure, and the Exceſs of the Indulgence, by which the Mind is indiſpoſed for other Attainments. Antoninus allows Man to indulge his Na⯑ture as he is an Animal, but with this cau⯑tion, that it make not his Nature worſe, as he is an Animal endow'd with Reaſon and deſign'd for Virtue.

IN this View, the harſh Idea of Self-de⯑nial would be ſoftened, as contributing to our higher Intereſts, tho' its proper and ſo⯑lid Foundation is only upon Juſtice.

BUT why did you call Senſuality leſs impetuous than the two other Streams of Self-Love?

BECAUSE we ſee theſe make more miſchief and deſolation in the World. Par⯑ticular Perſons are indeed carried away by certain Pleaſures, but the general Compe⯑tition is for Riches and Honour. Wars are now ſeldom made for a Miſtreſs; and even few Duels are fought in that Quarrel.

VERY true, luxurious People may agree together better than the Covetous can be ſuppoſed to do. For the natural Effect [112] of Covetouſneſs is to diſunite and alienate Men from one another; every Individual aiming at nothing leſs than to engroſs what belongs to the whole Society. Such Men, ſays the Prophet, would add Field to Field, till there be no place; that they themſelves may be placed alone in the midſt of the Earth. The covetous Man would leave the World to ſtarve, whereas the Luxurious, tho' without deſigning it, is an Inſtrument in the hand of Providence for ſupporting many, who would otherwiſe be deſtitute; and ſo Luxury in ſome manner ſupplies the place of Charity. Indeed the Luxurious cannot be acquitted of Injuſtice; for it is not Fair-dealing that one Man ſhould drink as much Wine, or any other Liquor, as would cheriſh the Hearts of twenty; and that the Expence of adorning his ſingle Per⯑ſon, might keep a greater number from go⯑ing naked.

OF all the three Branches of Self-Love, Covetouſneſs has ſomething in it ſo peculiarly graſping and appropriating, that a covetous and a ſelfiſh Perſon are almoſt convertible Terms. What is moſt remark⯑able, is, that this graſping ſelfiſh Temper ſometimes produces a ſort of illegitimate Self-denial, and renders the poor Miſer hard-hearted and uncompaſſionate to himſelf. You know how Mr. . . . . . lives.

THERE have been Inſtances of this Diſeaſe of the Mind in all Ages, ingenious Men have exerciſed their Wit upon it long ago; but ſuch Diſeaſes ſeldom yield either to Raillery or Argument.

IN this caſe Money is the Object of the Love, not becauſe it anſwereth all things, but becauſe it is Money; and ſo this Love of Money can hardly be reduced to Self-Love, becauſe the Deſire ſeems wholly to terminate upon the Metal.

IT muſt be granted, however, that Covetouſneſs is for the moſt part attended with Luxury and Pride, or it may be ſaid as properly to attend upon them; for 'tis very natural for the Profuſe and the Ambitious to deſire much Money, and to take many ways of getting it. ^*Thoſe Extremes in Cati⯑line's Character are often united. Prodiga⯑lity makes ſome Atonement for Covetouſ⯑neſs in the World: but when this laſt Vice is predominant, 'tis the moſt contemn'd of any, and is indeed the leaſt reſtrain'd by Shame, and creeps the loweſt.

BUT at the ſame time that the Love of Money is deſpiſed, the Poſſeſſion of it generally draws Reſpect. Saluſt was ſenſible of this in one of his Diſcourſes to [114] Caeſar, where he propoſes, as a great ſtop to Reformation in the Commonwealth, to take away the Reſpect given to Money, pe⯑cuniae Decus; concluding ‘^*"that the pay⯑ing ſuch Honour to it, proves the con⯑tempt of all Virtues."’ But how to bring about that point of Reformation, is not ea⯑ſy to conceive.

NOT eaſy indeed. The ſhorteſt way to Wealth would be plain Stealing and Rob⯑bing: but theſe being too hazardous, cun⯑ning people have recourſe to the ſafer Arts of Tricking and Deceit: and hence all thoſe Infidelities in Truſts and Contracts, thoſe Diſappointments in Trade and Politicks; and ſometimes this Love of Money produ⯑ces Diſappointments yet more delicate and vexatious.

IS not Pride the third branch or ſtream of Self-Love, the moſt raging and impetuous of all?

NO doubt: it makes Cities and Kingdoms deſolate, and the Earth a Field of Blood.

THIS Spirit alſo diſcovers it ſelf moſt univerſally. Mr. Paſcal ſays, ‘"Va⯑nity [115] has taken ſo firm a hold on the Heart of Man, that a Porter or a Turnſpit can talk big of himſelf, and is for having his Admirers: Philoſophers do but refine upon the ſame Ambition."’

WE ſee therefore that Pride, which may be called the eldeſt Daughter of Self-Love, has ſtill a more ample dominion than either Covetouſneſs or Senſuality: it enters into the privateſt Houſes, it breaks the cloſeſt Tyes: Covetouſneſs divides Friends, but Pride divides nearer Friends.

THE difference between Pride and Vanity is ſeen in the different appearances of Men; and ſometimes by their appearances we may know what they have moſt at heart. A Man that delights in fine Clothes, ſhews them upon his back: ſo that Vanity conſiſts in outward Shew and Oſtentation in general, and a Man's Vanity appears in the finery of his Servants, and all his Parade without doors and within. Pride is a ſtur⯑dier kind of thing, and lies deeper in the Heart: thus, ſays the Duke of Rochefoucault, ‘"Pride always ſaves its intereſt, even when it renounces Vanity."’

SOMETIMES Pride aims at do⯑minion over others, ſometimes barely at their applauſe; and 'tis ſtrange to ſee what ſome people will endure for this light thing. [116] Self-Love, or rather Pride, is ſaid to live upon nothing, and to find its account in Auſ⯑terities and voluntary Mortifications, from that deſire of applauſe; tho' Pride ſeldom takes that way of ſhewing itſelf in this Iſland.

INDEED the exceſſive deſire of Eſteem, without doing ſomething for it, argues ſmall experience of the World; for it is ſeldom ſo good-natur'd as to give praiſe for doing nothing.

THE deſire of Eſteem, and the fan⯑cy that we are eſteem'd, are very different things: the former may be without the latter, but the latter is never without the former.

AS the fancy that we are eſteem'd when we are not, ariſes from Self-conceit, ſo the ſame turn of Mind makes us eager to ſhew our ſelves upon all occaſions: we run into every company, and affect to ſhine in every converſation. But ſometimes we think to ſhew our ſelves more ſuperior by a profound ſilence, and then we are the proudeſt.

YOU are a little ſevere. But what⯑ever way our Pride diſcovers it ſelf to others, it muſt be a torture to the ſoul that's poſſeſt with it, and an Inlet to many diſturbances, [117] of which it may be called the Parent. The proud Man is the apteſt to fall into Jealouſy, which he would have to be thought a juſt concern for a delicate part of his Property; not perceiving that it is ra⯑ther Pride than either Juſtice or Love that tortures him. Could Jealouſy be ſtript of Pride, it would neither be ſo racking nor ſo ugly.

BUT what do you think of Envy?

'TIS a more ſhameful Ulcer of the Soul than Jealouſy, and more viſibly the ef⯑fect of Pride; and the more unaccountable, that it grieves at the good of another, when we our ſelves loſe nothing by it. This, 'tis true, is the Idea of pure Envy; but ge⯑nerally there is in it a mixture of other Paſſions, which render it ſomewhat more excuſable, ſuch as Anger or Grief ariſing from competition or diſappointment: how⯑ever, there is nothing a man labours more to conceal, than that he has any Envy at all.

I believe we are at no leſs pains to conceal our Hypocriſy, tho' it is a more voluntary thing, and all over art and de⯑ſign rather than infirmity; and having a more extenſive view than Envy, it runs more through our whole Life and Actions.

WE are got into a ſad Field.

THERE are other effects of Pride more undiſputed, to wit, Hatred and Re⯑venge; the Pulpit declares againſt theſe: and the Stage, tho' it does not always ſpeak ſo diſhonourably of them as they deſerve, yet it ſhews many of their bad conſequen⯑ces. Nor does the Stage fail to expoſe ill humour, not ſo much indeed becauſe it is the effect of Pride, as upon account of the Ridicule that is found in it: Vanity is alſo expoſed upon the ſame account. And this ſhews us another part of our Conſtitution called Shame, which ſome reſolve wholly into Pride: but there is a Right and a Wrong in every thing. We ſee from ^* fine Spirits of old, the diſtinction betwixt two kinds of Shame and Honour, which ſome Moderns ſtruggle hard to get free of, and take help from ſome old Hands. And they forget another diſtinction, betwixt the ſenſe of Shame and the exceſſive fear of being ri⯑dicul'd. We ſee how People are laugh'd out of their Virtue, and ſometimes out of their Life: they drink for fear of being thought abſtemious, and they fight for fear their Cou⯑rage ſhould be called in queſtion; as my Lord Rocheſter honeſtly acknowledges.

THIS puts me in mind of a contrary Suppoſition of the Characteriſticks, which does not ſhew ſo much knowledge of the World. ‘"I can very well ſuppoſe (ſays that ^* Author) "Men may be frighted out of their wits: but I have no apprehen⯑ſion they ſhould be laugh'd out of them. I can hardly imagine that in a pleaſant way they ſhould ever be talked out of their Love for Society, or reaſon'd out of Humanity and common Senſe."’ Now an appeal may be made to the World, if the reverſe of this be true. Indeed Men cannot well be ſaid to be reaſon'd out of Huma⯑nity and common Senſe, but they are cer⯑tainly talk'd and laugh'd out of both. We have a more natural account from ^† Que⯑vedo, where (ſpeaking of thoſe in the right⯑hand way) he ſays, ‘"ſome of them ſtopt their ears and went on without minding our Raillery: others we put out of coun⯑tenance, and they came over to us."’

'TIS certainly the fear of being put out of countenance, and ſuffering con⯑fuſion, that keeps Mankind (eſpecially thoſe who affect moſt Politeneſs) in ſuch a ſub⯑jection to one another, notwithſtanding their contempt of one another. This is the foun⯑dation of many troubleſome Modes and [120] Points of Decency, invented by no body knows who, and yet obſerv'd with a rigo⯑rous exactneſs.

'TIS indeed very remarkable that many who ſet up for an univerſal Indepen⯑dency and Exemption from all Rules, ſhould be govern'd at ſo eaſy a rate.

IT tends much to preſerve ſome Quiet and good Order in the World: and 'tis really a ſatisfaction to obſerve, that vain extravagant Man is ſo eaſily govern'd, that a Straw is ſufficient to bind him.

A little Experience of the World, and careful obſervation of what paſſes within our ſelves (where indeed we ſhould pro⯑perly begin) join'd to the information of ſome of the beſt Books and the beſt Com⯑pany, will let us ſee what the World is, and how we ought to behave in it.

III. The Mixt STATE of Things.

HAD not the Doctrine of the Fall ſome footing among the Heathens?

IT had: but not being ſo thoroughly receiv'd and underſtood by them, the ac⯑counts [121] that many of them gave of the World and of Human Nature were ſo much the more defective. Some who have enquired into the ſentiments of remoteſt Antiquity, inform us there was a pretty general belief of a former State, wherein Juſtice and In⯑nocence prevail'd, which they call'd the gol⯑den Age, without any diſorder in the Ele⯑ments; perfect Health and perpetual Spring. They ſpoke alſo of a Revolt, which reduc'd things into the preſent confuſion and weak⯑neſs; and that all would be renewed and brought again into the primitive Beauty and Perfection.

A few indeed among the Ancients did argue for the preſent State of things, as if it were the beſt State they could poſſibly be in; and ſo they concluded ‘"there was no Evil nor Defect in the Univerſe, but that every thing contributed to the perfection of the Whole."’

THE laſt part of the Concluſion may be true in ſome ſenſe. But what could they make of Sickneſs and Death? 'tis hard⯑ly natural to ſay they are things indifferent, much leſs that they are really good. Every body knows this Doctrine of Fatality landed in Atheiſm, and how Spinoza improv'd the Notion of the Univerſe to exclude the Ma⯑ker and Governour of it; a deſign Antoni⯑nus is never ſuſpected of. The Characte⯑riſticks, [122] who have taken much of their Scheme from that Emperor, are at great pains to perſuade the World that 'tis they who do the greateſt juſtice to God in ba⯑niſhing Evil from the Creation; affirming, ‘"that to ſuppoſe it to have enter'd into his Works, the Government of the World is arraign'd and the Deity made void."’

IT muſt be left to the publick Judg⯑ment, who are the beſt Apologiſts for the Deity (if any Apologies are needed) they who ſpeak in the common way, and acknow⯑ledge there is Evil both Natural and Moral; or they who acknowledge neither? If the inference were certain, to wit, that there is no God if there be any Evil, the laſt part of the Propoſition wou'd be contradicted by few. And truly the Arguers againſt Evil expoſe themſelves much to the ſcorn of a⯑nother Set of People, who are as adverſe to reveal'd Religion as they themſelves can be. There is one thing remarkable, the old Stoicks did not deny there was ſuch a thing as Pain, but only maintain'd that Pain was no Evil: ſo if their Followers ſay no further, the diſpute is only about Words.

WE are told by Moſes that mo⯑ral Evil enter'd firſt: Man abuſed his Li⯑berty, and fell into Diſobedience. The fault is ſpecified. Whatever Allegory may [123] be in that Hiſtory, there muſt be Truth alſo in the Letter. Now the outward State of Man being ſtill to be ſuited to the inward, his Body to his Spirit; this Spirit is con⯑demn'd to inhabit a frail, heavy Body, ve⯑ry unlike to what it ſeems to have been in the firſt State, and ſtript of ſeveral advan⯑tages which the Bodies of many Animals have at preſent. Moreover, the Earth is ſaid to have been curſed, by which a con⯑ſiderable change may be ſuppoſed in its Beauty as well as its Fertility; but this alte⯑ration is alſo wiſely adapted to the condi⯑tion of Man now become mortal and proud, who muſt work hard both for his Life and his Humiliation.

ST. Auguſtin has preſerv'd to us a paſſage of ^* Cicero, which ſhews at leaſt the preſent State of Man in lively colours: 'tis to this purpoſe, ‘"that Nature has brought Man into the World rather as a Step⯑mother than a Mother, his Body naked, frail, and infirm; his Mind anxious, ti⯑morous, and ſoft; prone to Luſts: but that nevertheleſs there is a divine Fire of Genius and Spirit, tho' in a manner bu⯑ried."’ [124]After which Quotation he adds, ‘"Cicero ſaw the thing, but knew not the cauſe; for he was ignorant why the hea⯑vy Yoke was laid on the Children of Adam."’ The ſame Father had ſaid in his Confeſſions, which ſome reckon the moſt uſeful of all his Works^*, ‘"that Man carries his Mortality about with him as a Teſtimony that God reſiſteth the Proud."’

THE beſt Authors are far from be⯑ſtowing flattery upon Man. You know what Dr. Burnet ^† ſays in particular.

I remember ſome of his words. But as to this heavy infirm Machine of a Body, tho' it is very ſoon to be void of all Senſa⯑tion, and reduc'd to a State of great Diſ⯑grace, yet St. Paul informs us it is raiſed in Honour; and in another place he ſays, Je⯑ſus Chriſt ſhall change our vile Body, that it may be faſhion'd like unto his glorious Body.

As we are inform'd that Man's Pride brought ſuch diſgrace upon him, ſo we are inform'd by the ſame ſacred Hiſtory (tho' in few words) that he was tempted and ſeduced by a Spirit of more cunning. 'Tis much eaſier therefore to account for the Sin of Adam, than for that which hap⯑pen'd firſt. Only St. Jude ſpeaks of the Angels who kept not their firſt ſtation, and a Prophet mentions Lucifer's affecting an equality with the moſt High: by which Pride is generally believ'd to be the firſt Sin. But the difficulty ſtill remains how it could ever have enter'd. Ingenious Men have given their Conjectures, but it ſeems to be one of thoſe ſecret things which be⯑long to God.

WE know how things ſtand at preſent with regard to Man, all his Faculties, the Earth he treads on, and the Elements that ſerve him, and often maſter him. It were an endleſs, as well as a melancholy Task, to enumerate all the Infirmities and Diſeaſes of the human Body alone; ſome of theſe ſo very painful and loathſome, that Nature ſhrinks at the very thought of them. If we are told that Pain is confin'd to that Senſe alone which is call'd Feeling; 'tis very true that racking Pain or Torture, and indeed all thoſe uneaſy Senſations which commonly go under the name of Pain, are [126] confin'd to that Senſe; the Nerves being ſtretch'd out of their natural Poſition, or whatever be the cauſe: but the reſt of the Senſes have their uneaſy Senſations too; the Smell, the Taſte, the Eye and the Ear are grated and offended, or in general ren⯑der'd very uneaſy, whatever Term the un⯑eaſineſs is expreſs'd by. A delicate Perſon would be ſhock'd to find himſelf led into an Hoſpital, or to have a Liſt of Diſeaſes laid before him; all repreſentations of Pain and Naſtineſs are diſagreeable, two things (however) the Body in its preſent State is very liable to. And the general tendency of all Bodies, animate and inanimate, to Corruption and Diſſolution, is very con⯑ſpicuous.

IF the Diſorders of the Mind were inquir'd into, they would be found in no ſmaller number; and the diſcovery no leſs unpleaſant. The Diſorders of the Imagina⯑tion are the moſt harmleſs, but often exceed⯑ing melancholy to behold; as any body will acknowledge, who has ever ſeen a Mad⯑man. Even the common Diſtempers of the Fancy in thoſe that are not reckon'd quite out of their Senſes (we may ſay in their beſt Senſes) are not the marks of an ori⯑ginal State. And it were pretty well, if all that could be ſaid of a Perſon, were, that he is a little fanciful: Dark, Sullen, Pee⯑viſh, are leſs agreeable Epithets; Unjuſt and Cruel leſs ſtill.

[127] BUT 'tis beſt not to dwell upon Evils, and what is ſhocking, and afflicting; if we turn our Eye to the other ſide, we ſhall find ma⯑ny fine things ſtill left, and alſo be forc'd to acknowledge that the diſagreeable things mixed with them, are the effects of Wiſ⯑dom and Goodneſs in the ſupreme Gover⯑nour, whoſe purpoſes of doing good re⯑main invariable, and whoſe Mercies are o⯑ver all his Works.

INFALLIBLY ſo. The contri⯑vance of the divine Artificer appears in the frame of the meaneſt Animal, nay of the meaneſt Vegetable, which is made up too of its Fibres and Canals, and woven and join'd together with Order and Beauty. How agreeable does this Still Life appear, from the Cedar to the Hyſop! How gay are the Flowers! how ſweet, how refreſhing! This ſingle Subject would be a large Pro⯑vince for declaiming, to any who had that Talent. Nor is the Wiſdom leſs conſpi⯑cuous in the care taken for the propaga⯑tion of all theſe inanimate Beauties, as ſo many Philoſophers and Divines have ob⯑ſerved, whoſe Works are in every body's hands: Cicero, Ray, Derham, and many more.

BUT as the Idea of Goodneſs is more endearing than that of Wiſdom, ſo every [128] thing that has Life and Fecling does actual⯑ly feel the effects of the former Attribute of the Deity; and rational Creatures both feel, and can reflect with Pleaſure and Love. It would ſeem to be this Capacity in Man that made Ovid call him a more holy Crea⯑ture than the reſt.

I know not what Ovid has meant by Holineſs. But theſe two words, Righ⯑teouſneſs and Holineſs are very near a-kin: moſt Actions that are called impure, are only ſuch becauſe they are unjuſt, and it were eaſy to give examples. I am ſtill glad to ſuppoſe there is ſome Righteouſneſs remaining even after the Fall. Nor will this claſh with St. Peter, in the character he gives of the new Earth wherein dwelleth Righteouſneſs; for tho' it is to dwell there openly and in tri⯑umph, a little of it may lurk here under a Cloud. There is yet ſome Honeſty and Friendſhip in the World, which is a very uſeful Conſideration in a dark Fit of the Spleen.

THERE are really ſo many good things remaining after the Fall, that one would ſometimes think there had been no Curſe. Nor muſt we take that word for an execration, ſince it is chiefly to be taken for a change to an inferior from a ſuperior State. We cannot indeed know how great the [129] change is (and 'tis much for our eaſe) the Scripture being ſo ſhort in the Deſcription of the former State. To conſider only the Body: tho' it is called both frail and vile, yet ſtill it has its attractions, and whatever is ſhocking about it, is well diſpoſed of, out of ſight; to ſay nothing of the uſefulneſs of thoſe things that may be counted the vileſt, as the Gall it ſelf. Then, with re⯑lation to the Spirit which inhabits this Bo⯑dy, as there is a congruity that ſuch a Spi⯑rit ſhould be ſo lodged, or impriſon'd, let it be conſider'd what diſorders would be committed if this Vehicle were not ſo groſs and heavy as it is: what would greater de⯑grees of Strength and Agility have produced but more miſchief. How good is it for the publick Quiet that we are ſubjected to Hun⯑ger and Thirſt, Cold, Wearineſs, and all the reſt! And if we are deſign'd for a higher State after this, ſuch Defects and Vexations ſeem alſo deſign'd to keep us from doating upon this Jayl: for, as Sir Thomas More uſed to ſay, ‘"to aim at Honours here, is ſetting a Coat of Arms over a Priſon-Gate."’

THERE are ſo many ſmiling things ſtill in the World, and really pleaſant and good, that many would wiſh to live in it for ever; even when their ſhare of Com⯑forts appears to be very ſmall, and when they confeſs this to be a State of Tryal [130] and Diſcipline, as the State before the Fall was a State of Tryal alone. Mr. Locke calls this Life a Probationerſhip: this ſuppoſition would be of great uſe, both for regulating our own Conduct, and vindicating the Au⯑thor of Nature, when the Humour ariſes of criticizing his Works.

BUT moral Evil (ſay they) is har⯑der to digeſt.

WITHOUT doubt; and it is cer⯑tainly a more melancholy thing to think of: but there is a great difference betwixt ſome moral Evils and others, betwixt a flaſh of Anger (for inſtance) and deliberate Ma⯑lice. Thoſe little Humours, and Whims, and Oppoſitions of Temper, ſo common in the World, do contribute to the mutual Diſ⯑cipline of its Inhabitants, beſide what they muſt all ſuffer from the diſorders of the E⯑lements and the infirmity of their own Bo⯑dies. Indeed when inſtances of Cruelty and Fraud are objected, this is a greater blot upon the divine Workmanſhip; and a ſeve⯑rer Diſcipline ſtill: but who could ever ſay he was forced to be a Villain?

The good Emperor, 'tis true, ſpeaks of ^* neceſſary Raſcals, yet any body may take [131] the liberty to ſay, the World would be bet⯑ter without them. A Government, indeed, may find ſome advantage from Spies and In⯑formers, and other Servants: but thoſe ne⯑ceſſary Men are only ſo at times, and the Miniſtry could fall on a more agreeable way of imploying the Money. Many things therefore call'd neceſſary are only conveni⯑ent in certain Situations and Caſes, as one Poiſon is made uſe of for driving out an⯑other.

WE have but one of three Opi⯑nions to follow, That things could not poſ⯑ſibly have been in a more perfect State than they are at preſent; or to believe what the Scripture ſays of a Fall: or, laſtly, to ſup⯑poſe that Man was created with all the cor⯑ruptions of Soul and Body that we find in us, and the Earth and all other things a⯑bout it to have been always as they are at preſent.

THE firſt Opinion will have few fol⯑lowers that know any thing of the World, and are acquainted with Complaints and Groans: 'tis much if the moſt unthinking Beau that's carried in a Chair can believe it. The third Opinion (tho' not blaſphe⯑mous) does not ſeem honourable for the Deity, whoſe Works can ſcarce be ſuppoſed to have been made imperfect originally; tho' if that were true, it would make no [132] alteration upon the duty of rational Crea⯑tures, who ſhould ſtill do the beſt they can, and ſtruggle with their Infirmities and bad Tendencies, which way ſoever they have come. The ſecond Opinion therefore ſeems moſt rational, that Evil has enter'd, tho' we cannot comprehend how.

IV. Remains of VIRTUE.

'TIS agreeable to leave the gloom, and to conſider what remains after ſuch a melancholy Shipwreck. We did not indeed ſpeak much of the Fall, nor can it be repreſented by Mortals. If ſuch an Event had been capable of deſcription, Milton's Ima⯑gination had bidden fair for it. Paſcal's reaſoning to evince the fact, ^* from the Con⯑trarieties of human Nature, is very fine.

ALL he writes is ſo.

BUT to come to what remains after the ſad Overthrow, external Nature is ge⯑nerally granted to abound with good things; no body denies the Beauties of the Spring, Summer and Harveſt; the Winter itſelf has its Beauties. The great diſpute is concer⯑ning the moral State, and two ſorts of Au⯑thors are at war with one another upon this [133] Point. The Controverſy was pretty ancient, as Paſcal obſerves, between the Stoicks and Epicureans, and other claſhing Sects of Phi⯑loſophers. Among the Moderns the Duke of Rochefoucault is thought too rigid in his Sentiments upon Virtue: but he only reckons the thing a greater rarity than the pretences to it. Monſieur Bayle is indeed ſeverer, and ſeems to reſolve it wholly into Complexion and Education; upon which, a delicate Affair (the Women's Chaſtity) has been brought upon the Carpet. Bayle may be put at the head of the Moderns, who ſtrike againſt Vir⯑tue in general; and my Lord Shaftesbury (becauſe of his Quality) may get the com⯑mand of the other Party, who reckon the ballance of the Paſſions may be ſo eaſily kept, and all the Virtues to be of our own growth.

IT may be granted to the ſevere Men, that whatever is the bare reſult of Complexion is no Virtue; 'tis but a mecha⯑nical ſort of thing, nor can it be called Vice neither, as being but a tendency of Nature to its Relief or Pleaſure, without any reflec⯑tion of the Mind upon the Moral Good or Evil. One may have naturally a greater Thirſt than another, and drink more to ſa⯑tisfy it, and yet be as ſober as the other. There are very different Conſtitutions in both Sexes, and it was an injury done the Wo⯑men to place their chief Virtue in the point [134] of Chaſtity, as if it were their greateſt Diffi⯑culty and Trouble; whereas Men have much more to ſtruggle with of that kind, and in⯑dulge themſelves without much blame from the World. The Sex are at another loſs in that way of reckoning, they are tempted to believe this ſingle Virtue may give them a diſpenſation from obſerving all the reſt. The Men therefore have themſelves to blame, in making their Syſtem of Virtue ſo imperfect, which ſeems to have ariſen from their Jealouſy and Pride.

SOME of Bayle's followers have kept no meaſures with the Sex at all, and would ſeem to have forgot the difference betwixt being capable of Love and being Lewd. He at leaſt keeps the appearances of Civility, and is much more a Maſter in the Art of ^*Sneering. But in ſhort, when rude Hands [135] attempt to draw the Picture of both Sexes, it looks as if Proſtitutes had ſit to the one, and Cowards and Sharpers to the other.

THE reſtraints of Pride and Shame are evident enough: but why may not Vir⯑tue have its attractions as well as Vice? not is it properly Vice, but Pleaſure, that has the Charm; as in the Story of Hercules. Sir Thomas More is of opinion, that Virtue is [136] attractive, and I'll read you his account of the Sentiments of the Utopians. ‘"They think not Felicity to reſt in all Pleaſure, but only in that Pleaſure that is good and honeſt, and that hereto, as to perfect Bleſ⯑ſedneſs, our Nature is allured and drawn even of Virtue, whereto only they that be of the contrary Opinion do attribute Felicity. For they define Virtue to be a Life order'd according to Nature, and that we be hereunto ordain'd of God. . . . His Utopians ſet up much for harmleſs Plea⯑ſures, and a merry Life: but (he adds) in all things this Counſel they uſe, that a leſs Pleaſure hinder not a bigger; and the Pleaſure be no cauſe of diſpleaſure, which they think to follow of neceſſity if the Pleaſure be diſhoneſt," &c.’ Here are dif⯑ferent Ideas of Pleaſant and Honeſt, and Conſcience and Remorſe ſuppoſed. They had already contemn'd the fooliſh Pleaſures of the Imagination (Gewgaws and common Honours) and preferr'd the Pleaſures of the Mind to thoſe of the Body; ſaying, ‘"the chief part of them doth come of the Exerciſe of Virtue, and Conſcience of good Life, &c."’

BY this account of Human Nature, which may be admitted to be pretty juſt, before bad Example and Habits have added a ſecond cor⯑ruption to it; we ſee the Oppoſition is not be⯑twixt Virtue and Pleaſure, but betwixt honeſt [137] and diſhoneſt Pleaſure: nor is the Oppoſition betwixt the Pleaſures of the Body and thoſe of the Mind, no Pleaſures being diſhoneſt that are natural; but that which ſpoils all, is the bad Principle from which the Actions and Intentions proceed.

WHAT do you think of thoſe that call Virtue a thing ſo much of our own growth?

I differ very much from them. But ſuppoſe it were yielded; the Conſequences would not be ſo dangerous, if it were con⯑ſider'd that whatever we have that's good is free Gift, and that of our ſelves we cannot think a good Thought, no more than we can keep our ſelves in Life and Health. The only Queſtion is, whether we are not born with ſome Tendencies to Virtue as well as to Vice? I ventur'd to ſay above, that there is ſtill ſome Honeſty and ſome Friendſhip in the World, which ſome of the Advocates for Self-Love do not deny, maintaining only that 'tis all for our own ends: but I would beg leave to put the following Queſtions.

MAY not a Judge give a juſt ſentence without any view to Applauſe, or any fear of Cenſure? He may be ſuppoſed to be in ſuch Circumſtances, that his Name ſhall ne⯑ver be heard of; and his belief of a future State can likewiſe be ſuppoſed to be very lit⯑tle, [138] or nothing. May not a Merchant give up a fair Account, when he might give up a wrong one without all poſſibility of Diſ⯑covery? We can ſuppoſe the ſame of all Truſ⯑tees, and whoſe Belief may be ſometimes of the ſame ſize with the Judge's. So much for Honeſty in dealing. Then may not a Man eat and drink moderately and unexpen⯑ſively, from a better motive than the Fear of being ſick, or for ſaving his Money? And, to ſuppoſe a greater Temptation, may he not abſtain from violating the tendereſt Right of another, when he might encroach with all the ſafety imaginable to his own Perſon? It were hard if the ſame favourable Suppo⯑ſition could not be made for the Sex, as if the Fear of Diſcovery were their only Re⯑ſtraint. Have not they the ſame Senſe of Juſtice, and a much greater Senſe of Mo⯑deſty, implanted in their Nature? But to talk of ourſelves, if a Man had two Women in his power, and equally charming, but the one free, and the other not; it were a ſtrange perverſeneſs to go deliberately to his Neighbour's Property, merely for the ſake of encroaching. It was Caeſar's Opinion, that if Right was to be violated, it was only to be for the ſake of a Crown: which ſhews a natural tendency to Juſtice when there is no temptation to the contrary; and I ſhall eaſily grant that Men are overcome with very ſmall temptations. But it is enough in the preſent Enquiry, if it can be ſaid that [139] they would naturally go the ſtraight Road, if there was nothing to allure and ſeduce them. Even when we are deceiv'd 'tis under ſome ſpecious appearance or other; decipimur ſpe⯑cie Recti—So that if we ſhould allow that a Man might be ſo perverſe as to wrong his Neighbour in the point already mention'd, we may ſuppoſe him to have been previouſly deluded by falſe Ideas of Glory and Gal⯑lantry; he has imagin'd it a pretty thing to break thro' all Laws, 'tis a ſort of Conqueſt too, and he can talk of Favours he has ob⯑tain'd, and of more than he has obtain'd.

IT ſeems when the Springs of Acti⯑ons are laid open, it will be found that 'tis Vanity or the Love of Glory which deter⯑mines Men, rather than the Love of pure Vice, or the doing Ill for Ill's ſake. If it be ſaid, that Men in their honeſt Actions are nei⯑ther determin'd by Ill nor Good, but by mere Chance; this word has nothing in it that can make it to be the motive of any Action whatſoever. And when we ſee Men acting in the ſame uniform way, as we have ſuppo⯑ſed in the Caſe of your honeſt Accountant, it may be fairly concluded that the natural Love of Honeſty, which alſo implies an ab⯑horrence of Roguery, is the determining Principle, tho' it may not be much reflected on by the Perſon himſelf.

AS to Friendſhip, it will perhaps be alledged, there are ſo many endearing things in it, that we are ready to do good Offices to our Friends becauſe we are fond of their Perſons; ſo that in this affection there can be no Virtue: a Man would not cheat his Friend, no more than he would cheat his Son, becauſe he loves him, &c.

IT muſt be confeſs'd, that where there is true Friendſhip there is ſurety enough for fair dealing, and all the good that can be done beſides; Love is the ſtrongeſt of all tyes. But if an honeſt Man ſhould have to do with known Cheats (a thing that may readily happen) will he not find himſelf ob⯑lig'd to give them fair play? 'Tis true, my Lord Rocheſter ſays, ^* You'll be undone, and one may really be at a loſs: but this lively piece of Poetry (every body knows) is not to be ſet up as a ſtandard of Virtue, and at the bottom it is rather a banter upon Vice.

I believe 'tis difficult to determine whether Men are more capable of Honeſty or of Friendſhip: both are comprehended in Virtue, and both ſeem to be natural. But Men differ from one another very much in their Tempers and Diſpoſitions; ſome are ſtrictly honeſt to all, but very limited in their Affection. If the Benignity be uni⯑verſal, it will draw Honeſty along with it: [141] but the contrary cannot be affirmed. How⯑ever, Virtue in general may ſo far be ſaid to be innate, or of our own growth, (let the Word paſs) that all the Inſtances of it are pleaſant to hear of, Friendſhip and all other Sentiments of Humanity, Juſtice and all that falls under the Idea of Honour; ſome of which Sentiments are upon occaſions actu⯑ally exerted in Minds corrupt enough, good Offices are honeſtly done; and perhaps none are born ſo very corrupt, as not to wiſh they could do better. The Underſtanding ſees very often what is right: if the Will follows it but ſeldom, there are at leaſt Intervals of regret, and a Man is angrier with himſelf than with all the World.

HAD not the Author of our Nature implanted in us ſome tendency to Virtue, we might have had ground to complain of our unhappy Conſtitution and of his Seve⯑rity (greater than that of the Egyptian Task⯑maſters) in requiring ſo much, and furniſhing ſo little. ^* Milton ſays,

Which had not been the caſe, if all our na⯑tural Byaſſes had been entirely to the wrong ſide. But the Moral Senſe extends both to the Underſtanding and the Heart, tho' every [142] body knows which of the two proceeds with the moſt warmth: the one barely approves or diſapproves, the other loves or abhors. When they act in concert, and under the right direction, then all is right.

BUT that vain Man may not imagine him⯑ſelf to be ſomething, he will do well to con⯑ſider the weakneſs and diſorder of all his Fa⯑culties. A very little Self-examination would ſoon undeceive us. If we have ſometimes a pleaſure in doing good, and the kind Affec⯑tions ſtir in us, we too often find what may be called unkind Affections; we are affected with Anger and Reſentment, and feel a ſort of joy in proſecuting thoſe unhappy Mo⯑tions. Man's Heart is compar'd to a Seed-plot, where very oppoſite things ſpring up toge⯑ther, and the worſt Plants need no cultiva⯑tion; as the beſt and tendereſt are brought up with difficulty, and ſoon choaked.

SOMETIMES this Soil is almoſt incapable of producing any thing either good or bad: ſtupid Sloth extinguiſhes all. We are all Fire or all Ice by turns. This is ſome little account of our Heart. As to the Un⯑derſtanding, the ſhortneſs of its Reach agrees with the ſlowneſs of its Apprehenſion; and how often are we but dazled and deceived, when we think we ſee beſt! The Fall has produced very contrary Effects upon us, we are fanciful, ſtupid, giddy, timorous, ſtub⯑born, [143] impatient, &c. In ſhort, if we would dwell at home (as Perſius ſays) we ſhould find our houſhold Furniture very poor and ſcanty.

BUT after all, we have ſomething given us to cultivate and improve. Mr. Locke does not deny the vis inſita, you know: 'tis on the Title-Page of his Book of Education; and in his Eſſay on Human Underſtanding, he does not deny neither, ‘"^*That there are natural Tendencies im⯑printed on the Minds of Men."’ . . . He ſays indeed, (§. 4) ‘"Another reaſon that makes me doubt of any innate practical Principles, is, that I think there cannot any one moral Rule be propoſed, whereof a Man may not juſtly demand a Reaſon."’ . . . And he adds, ‘"ſhould that moſt unſhaken Rule of Morality, and Foundation of all ſocial Virtue, That one ſhould do as he would be done unto, be propoſed to one who had never heard it before, but yet is of Capacity to underſtand the meaning; might he not without any abſurdity ask a Reaſon why? And were not he that pro⯑poſed it bound to make out the Truth and Reaſonableneſs of it to him?"’

IT would be ſtrange, I think, if a Man of capacity to underſtand the meaning of that Rule could really want a Reaſon for [144] obſerving it. It muſt be ſuppoſed he has ſome Notion of Right and Wrong, or he can ne⯑ver ſee the Obligation of any moral Rule, let it be put in any Shape or Terms what⯑ſoever. If he has any Notion then or Senſe of Equity, his Friend the Propoſer can have ſome acceſs to his Mind, and will be able to make out the Reaſonableneſs of that Rule to him in ſome other form of words more adapted to the ſlowneſs of his apprehenſion; for the Defect muſt be only there. The Principle is innate, only a particular Propo⯑ſition may not chance to be aſſented to on the firſt hearing; or there may be no innate Idea of a moral Propoſition, any more than of a mathematical one, before the firſt hearing, and even not 'till certain ſteps are made for getting at the bottom of it. But as to that ſacred Rule of doing as we would be done unto, 'tis highly probable, that having been given by the Saviour of the World, and ſpo⯑ken to the ſimpleſt Multitude, every Man will ſee the Reaſonableneſs of it at a glance, and alſo wiſh (if he is not wholly abandon'd) to be able to put it in practice.

V. Helps to RELIGION.

I Suppoſe, tho' all Virtues are compre⯑hended in Religion, yet there are ſome of them that muſt properly be call'd Divine [145] and Spiritual, and conſequently not of our own Growth, or natural to us ſince the Fall.

No doubt: and upon this ſeems to be founded the Diſtinction of the Virtues of Nature, and thoſe of Grace or Religion.

AGAIN, the Virtues of Religion itſelf are all comprehended in Charity or the Love of God, without which they would ſignify nothing.

BUT this divine Love ſeems to be quite loſt ſince the Sin of Adam, Faith which is previous to that Virtue being now ex⯑tinguiſhed. Before we can love we muſt be⯑lieve, ſince (according to the old Maxim) there is no deſire of a thing unknown. All the Faith natural Men can pretend to, is work'd up by their Reaſon, ^* the things of God appearing Fooliſhneſs to them. We may ſee God indeed in his Works, for the Heavens declare his Glory, and there may be an impreſſion of his almighty Power upon our minds ſome other way than by our own Reaſoning or making Inferences from the things that ſtrike our Senſes: but this is only what they call believing à poſteriori, and we could give no Demonſtration of the Ex⯑iſtence of God to others who doubt of it, but that either they muſt believe it, or they [146] muſt believe a Contradiction; as Dr. Clarke very well argues in his Diſcourſes upon Mr. Boyle's Eſtabliſhment; the ſubſtance of which is this.

‘"EITHER there has always exiſted ſome independent Being, the Author of all o⯑thers, or elſe there has been an infinite Succeſſion of dependent Beings produced one from another. If this ſuppoſition were true, there would be nothing Self-exiſtent: and then what ſhould have de⯑termin'd ſuch a Succeſſion of Beings from all Eternity? Neceſſity is already ex⯑cluded, becauſe there is nothing ſuppos'd neceſſarily exiſting: Chance is but an in⯑ſignificant word, and can produce nothing. So of two Caſes equally poſſible, to wit, whether any thing or nothing ſhould have exiſted, the one is determin'd rather than the other, by pure nothing, which is a palpable Contradiction. And therefore ſome unchangeable and independent Be⯑ing muſt have exiſted from all Eternity."’

THIS Reaſoning (which does better in the Doctor's own words) is ſtill but reaſon⯑ing, and an ignorant Countryman may have as ſtrong an impreſſion of an eternal Author of all things; but the impreſſion is ſtill faint in compariſon of true Faith, which may be called a ſpiritual Senſation; as St. Paul ſpeaks of things that are ſpiritually diſcer⯑ned: [147] he alſo calls Faith the Evidence of things not ſeen.

HOW weak the Belief of inviſible things is at preſent, may be eaſily gathered from the Practice of the World, even of thoſe who make a profeſſion of believing. We are much more determin'd by the Love of things on this contemptible Earth, which we are ſo ſoon to leave, and the Fear of what a few of our Fellow-Mortals will ſay of us, than by all the Encouragements and Threat⯑nings of the Goſpel. Our Hopes and Fears are confin'd to this Life. We are ſo far from believing an immortal Life to come, that we hardly believe we ſhall die; notwithſtand⯑ing we have carried many of our Acquain⯑tance to the Grave! and yet upon the leaſt Fit of Sickneſs we are in fear of Death, but hardly fear any thing after it; and hard⯑ly wiſh for any thing after it! Sometimes, 'tis true, there is a confuſed ſort of Fear of things inviſible, but it rarely operates ſo far as the Fear of natural Death, or of bodily Pain, or common Cenſure.

BEING thus ſtupid, and without ſenſe of future and inviſible things, Faith is the firſt thing we have need of in Reli⯑gion: but as it is itſelf a part of Religion, and contains ſeveral Articles, we have need to cultivate our natural Faculties, to employ our Reaſon, and exert our Activity (ſo far [148] as it can go) in proper Enquiries and Re⯑ſearches, in order to obtain this lively Faith.

BUT is there not alſo a Neceſſity of praying, in order to obtain our Wants of all kinds?

No doubt: For tho' our Pride is un⯑willing to acknowledge our Wants, yet Prayer is among the firſt Helps to Religion, and a part of it alſo. Then every body knows that Prayer ſignifies nothing without Sincerity, by which I mean an upright In⯑tention of obſerving whatever we ſhall be⯑lieve our Duty, and to do the beſt we can in our Uncertainty about it. As Prayer there⯑fore is ſuppos'd previous to Faith, Sincerity is previous to Prayer; or the firſt ſtep of all is to wiſh to do well.

I know not what Thoughts would occur to us, and what we would do in a meer natural State, without the advantage of ſome Inſtruction. Mr. Wollaſton has given a Scheme of the Religion of Nature very handſomely, and towards the end of it, confeſſes he wants a Guide: but then he had Plato and Cicero, and the Rabbins, to be Guides to Him, as they had others before them: ſo that unleſs a Man was wri⯑ting who had ſeen no Books, and had re⯑ceived no verbal Inſtruction, we can hardly [149] tell what his ſelf-taught Opinions would have been; perhaps of very ſmall conſe⯑quence. It would ſeem enough to allow to Man a Power within himſelf of diſcerning things after they are preſented to him in [...]ordinary way, or a Capacity of being in⯑ſtructed, which irrational Creatures have not. And if the uſual means of Inſtruction ſhould be denied, (as in the caſe of a Man brought up, by ſome ſtrange Accident, among wild Beaſts) we can ſet no Limits to the Source of Light, the Eternal Reaſon, which may communicate it ſelf in ſuch Circum⯑ſtances; and very eaſily ſupply the loſs of all ordinary means whatſoever. But theſe Enquiries are of no great uſe.

SOME would ſay you were a Quaker, and an Aſſertor of the Light within.

I'M pretty eaſy. I have heard o⯑thers ſay that Truth is ſplit, and each Party had got a bit of it. But to return to the Helps of Religion: Sincerity and common Senſe being ſuppoſed, a Perſon that finds himſelf ſo indigent and out of order, will naturally have recourſe to Prayer, either with words or without them. Finding that he is far from being ſelf-ſufficient, he will readily ask the Aſſiſtance of the Almighty; for it is here likewiſe ſuppoſed that he has ſome Belief of the ſupreme Being, and a [150] Confidence in his Goodneſs, Faith implying both theſe.

AGAIN, ſuppoſing our imperfect Be⯑liever to have been born in a Chriſtian Coun⯑try, and to have read the Bible, he will ſee more poſitive Marks of the divine Goodneſs, which will incline him to Praiſe and Thankſ⯑giving, as well as to Prayer: Fear would ſeem to be the Source of the latter, as Love is of the former. Even the Writings of ſome Philoſophers, (Plato's in particular) ſhew us the propereſt kind of Prayer, which is, to refer to the Deity to chuſe what is beſt for us. His Dialogue named the ſecond Alcibiades is well known, and upon that Model ^* Juvenal and Perſius have form'd two admirable Poems. Epictetus ^† makes Praiſe the chief Character and Buſineſs of a rational Creature. Indeed, true Prayer and true Praiſe are much of the ſame nature, and each of them is accompanied with Love of the Object to which the ſolemn Addreſſes are made.

No doubt, the Eminence and Pu⯑rity of that Love is the End of all Religion, as appears from many clear Paſſages in the old and new Teſtament. For tho' Faith and Prayer, and other Duties, are call'd Parts of Religion, yet ſince they lead to [151] that Charity, which is the end of the Com⯑mandment, the Diſtinction betwixt the End and the Means is very obvious. And among the Means themſelves, there is a Diſtinction betwixt thoſe things that are to be done, and thoſe that are to be avoided. But there are ſtill things of an inferiour Claſs, which are only to be called Helps to Religion, and therefore not properly Parts of it, as any body may ſee.

IF the Love of God be the Point, or Stage to which we muſt arrive, Self-Love ſeems to be the Stage from which we muſt ſet out; thoſe two Loves, as St. Auguſtin tells us, having made two Cities. They are certainly two States of Mind diametrically oppoſite, (the one alſo contemning the o⯑ther) or two contrary Principles, by which we are determined: but as they are not for the moſt part in their utmoſt force, but the one ſometimes weaker than the other, and ſometimes ſtronger, ſo we may be ſaid to be Inhabitants of both Cities, and to go from the one to the other by turns: which of the two we are ofteneſt found in, is eaſy to diſcover.

THE removing of Hindrances is much a-kin with the Helps to Religion, and both theſe are ſo numerous, that we can⯑not enter into the Detail: every body talks [152] of bad Company, and the Example of the World, as being very pernicious.

EVERY body likewiſe ſpeaks of greater and leſs Duties, and of Religion or the Tye that binds us to all Duties, as the word im⯑ports. If ſome contemn this Tye, or pro⯑feſs to contemn it, the Number of ſuch Pro⯑feſſors is very ſmall, and 'tis but in ſome random Expreſſions over a Bottle, or elſe from a ſingular Affectation of being impu⯑dent. The Profeſſors on the other ſide are vaſtly more numerous.

I believe this may be farther ob⯑ſerved, that among the ſeveral Parties into which the Chriſtian World is now divided, moſt People are mightily pleaſed with their own choice, which (God knows) is very ac⯑cidental: but the wonder is not ſo great, that they ſhould like their own Opinions, as that they ſhould hate the Perſons, who differ from them; and this ſometimes, when there is no Intereſt to interfere, to make the Quar⯑rel look a little ſolid.

BUT moſt People having juſt as much Religion as to make them hate one another, and to go to their particular Houſes of De⯑votion, the wonder ceaſes that they load each other with Names of Contempt, viz. Su⯑perſtition, Enthuſiaſm, Bigotry: There are, no doubt, ſuch Characters in the World, [153] but to whoſe ſhare they ſhould fall heavieſt, would not be eaſy to know, without more labour than People commonly are at before they cenſure. A reaſonable Diffidence therefore of our ſelves, and a due reſpect for others, may be reckon'd among the chief Helps to Religion, tho' they are properly two States of the Mind which produce one an⯑other; and the Eſteem we bear our Neigh⯑bours contributes to make us love them, which is a great part of our Duty accom⯑pliſh'd, and without which the other part is impracticable: for He that loveth not his Brother whom he hath ſeen, how can he love God whom he hath not ſeen?

IT were to be wiſh'd that they who own the ſacred Authority of the Scriptures would apply themſelves more to the ſtudy of theſe Books, wherein they will find a great variety of things; ſome for Speculation, I mean the Exerciſe of the Underſtanding, but more for Practice, which is by far the moſt im⯑portant. Perhaps Curioſity will ſometimes take it ill to be ſtopt ſhort and put to a non⯑plus: but Impatience becomes a Reader ill, who has once aknowledged a Writing to be Divine. His Inattention argues diſreſpect of a different kind, and it cannot well be de⯑nied that Folly accompanies both the one and the other.

VI. The EQUALITY of Men by Nature.

'TIS a current Maxim, that all Men are born free, equal and independent.

THE Equality is more eaſily made out than the other two: for all Men are born helpleſs, and many ways in ſubjection. If by Freedom is meant the Liberty of the Mind, there would ſeem to be little ground for Diſ⯑pute about that; no man having any power over his Neighbour's Thoughts, farther than he can perſuade him either by Reaſon or So⯑phiſtry: for in compliances from Fear or Pro⯑fit, the opinion ſtands much as it was.

THE natural Equality therefore ſhould be granted, both as to the Mind and the Body; all Creatures of the ſame kind are in that reſpect equal. There are indeed dif⯑ferences of Complexion, Genius, Diſpoſi⯑tion, and Temper, all which may be called Natural, as appearing very early, and con⯑tinuing very late; but theſe differences are only in the particular Conſtitution of Souls and Bodies, or in the Degrees of certain Qua⯑lities, every Man having leſs or more of the ſame Quality; as for inſtance, Pride, Com⯑paſſion, Hatred, Joy, Curioſity, Penetra⯑tion, [155] &c. for of every Quality or Power relating to the Affections, the Underſtand⯑ing, or the five Senſes, every Man has ſome⯑what.

EVERY Man has ſomething in him of the Mathematician, the Mechanick, the Lawyer, the Stateſman, the Mountebank; and ſo of all other Trades or Profeſſions. A Man, no doubt, may miſtake his Genius, and enter upon a wrong Trade; but ſtill he may know ſome little thing of his Buſineſs, tho' as little as you pleaſe. ^*Mr. Paſcal obſerves, ‘"There is a wide difference be⯑tween a Genius for the Mathematicks, and a Genius for Buſineſs or Policy."’ The French word is Fineſſe, which is not always taken in a bad ſenſe. He ſhews at ſome length the different Principles on which thoſe Profeſſions are founded; and drawing to a concluſion, he ſays, ‘"^†But then 'tis certain, between both, that a falſe Genius will neither make a Geome⯑try Profeſſor, nor a Privy Counſellor."’

NATURAL Differences are no leſs remarkable in things relating to the Heart, than in things relating to the Genius: you ſhall meet with one Man whom you would not truſt with a Half-penny, another whom [156] you could frankly and ſafely truſt with all you have. 'Tis true, bad Education and Example are often to blame; and even Good Natures, Bene-nata, are corrupted: but ſtill there are natural Differences; and if it ſhould be ask'd, Whence do they come? or what makes one Man differ from ano⯑ther? no Anſwer can be given, but that in fact it may be ſaid, one Man has got two Talents, and another ten. St. Paul's Que⯑ſtion is very much to be remembred, What haſt thou, O Man, that thou haſt not re⯑ceived? But I believe People are not ſo much inclined to think that what they have received is not freely given, as that their Gifts are greater than in reality they are.

THE natural Equality of Mankind appears moſt of all in certain unavoidable States and Appointments of the great Law⯑giver. It is appointed for all Men once to die, and after this the Judgment. The firſt part we ſee. The Midwives know how equal Men are at their birth, and the Grave⯑makers at their burial. And in all the paſ⯑ſages between, or the ſtates intervening, the Equality is not diſputed. If any Man ar⯑rives at the Weakneſſes of Old Age, he muſt paſs thro' the raw State of an Infant, the Sillineſs of a Child, the Raſhneſs of Youth; in ſhort, the common Follies and Miſeries adhering to all the Periods of Life.

OUTWARD Vexation and Trouble is another point of Equality, not only af⯑fecting the ſeveral Periods of Life, but all the Situations and Circumſtances which Men can be placed in.—^* Great Travail is cre⯑ated for every man . . . . . from him that weareth Purple and a Crown, to him that is clothed with a linnen Frock.

BUT beſides the Troubles annex'd to the different Circumſtances of Fortune, every Man has a particular State of his own, which few are or can be acquainted with. And there are ſome little things that may be call'd the Troubles of the Day: the French call them les Occaſions journalieres; and upon theſe daily or hourly Incidents the Quiet of our Life is obſerv'd very much to depend. Thoſe that are in the higheſt Sta⯑tions will be the moſt ſenſible of ſuch name⯑leſs Difficulties.

THERE is one thing to ſhew the na⯑tural Equality among Men, which may help alſo to ſweeten ſome uneaſy Reflections upon Life; and that is, the natural Prompt⯑neſs of contracting Friendſhip. (I believe, we obſerv'd it before.) We ſhall find Men engaged in the cloſeſt Tyes of Good-will and Fidelity, from the pureſt Accidents ima⯑ginable, a Stage-Coach, or a Track-Scout. [158] 'Tis true, as St. Paul ſaid to the Athenians, God made all Nations of one Blood; which ſhews a common Relation among Men, as well as an Equality: but how this Relation is minded, every body knows. The very words Relation and Blood are confin'd to certain narrow Degrees of Kindred, into which ſome Perſons are admitted with great reluctancy, or truly becauſe they cannot be diſown'd.

AND among thoſe who admit each other into that Diſtinction, the Friendſhip is ſeldom very warm: ſo that we often find it the moſt hearty, when it has riſen the moſt accidentally. I ſay, without Blood, without any Combination of Intereſt, any Deſign of overturning Governments, or of quietly making rich under them, or any private View whatſoever, we ſhall ſee Friend⯑ſhips contracted, which can only end with Death; if they end then.

VII. Accidental Characters.

THERE are Differences among Men by Nature, which may be call'd natural Characters; as the Differen⯑ces occaſion'd by Fortune may be call'd ac⯑cidental Characters. Tho' all Power is from God, yet to us it appears a great Acci⯑dent [159] that one Man ſhould have been a King, another an Archbiſhop, another a Colonel of Horſe, and ſo of other Offices and Em⯑ployments.

WHICHSOEVER way Power comes into a Man's hands, 'tis natural for him to endeavour to keep it, and even to increaſe it; as the Deſire of it is pretty na⯑tural to all Men. Theſe are new Inſtances of their Equality; and many other Inſtan⯑ces of it may appear in their accidental Si⯑tuations.

POWER and Dominion ſeem to have been appropriated before any Property could be fixed in Goods and Money. The natural Power of Parents is not to be call'd Appropriation, becauſe the Safety of the Young depends upon the Care of the Old; and this is a Dominion founded in Love. But if we could ſuppoſe a Company of any grown-up People to have met together by ſome uncommon Chance, unleſs they agree that one or more of themſelves ſhall have the Rule, there is great likelihood of War to enſue among them. If every one ſhould ſuppoſe himſelf as fit to govern as his Neigh⯑bour, and had an equal ſtock of Courage to back his Pretenſions, whoſe hands would the Government fall into? But we ſee even among Pyrates there is Command and Sub⯑jection, and great need for it. How far [160] Cunning or Force, or a mixture of both, are uſed in the forming of Governments, is needleſs to mention; nor how they go on afterwards (for ſome time) pretty regularly like a piece of Clock-Work. In both In⯑ſtances there is more to be aſcrib'd to Provi⯑dence than is commonly imagin'd. You know Philip de Comines aſcribes a good deal to it.

EVEN Horace acknowledges that the Dominion of this World is from the Powers above:

IT were a difficult Task to enquire in⯑to all the different Forms of Government, and much more to adjuſt the Prerogatives and Privileges of the Governours and the Go⯑verned. 'Tis enough that every body is ſa⯑tisfied of the Neceſſity of Government, and that, whatever the Form be, it muſt be ab⯑ſolute; tho' this laſt Point is not ſo much taken notice of, becauſe of the Diſagreeable⯑neſs of the Sound. One Deſign of Govern⯑ment, no doubt, is to ſecure Property, but then the Governours will call for ſuch a Quo⯑ta as they ſhall find expedient: for no body has yet ſaid that eight Shillings in the Pound may not be demanded as well as Four. All the queſtion is, where this great Truſt ſhall [161] be lodged? And here an Opportunity might be taken of extolling the Britiſh Conſtitution, but that 'tis needleſs; moſt People being agreed that 'tis a very good one. All Panegyricks upon an Adminiſtra⯑tion are yet more to be avoided, ſince they are liable to be ſuſpected either of Flattery, or a deſign of reproaching with ſafety.

PRIVATE Property being ſecured by the Government, there ariſes a mighty equality among the Subjects as to that point in a Free Country; every Man being al⯑lowed to get as much Money as he can, provided he keep within the bounds of the Laws.

WHY do you call it private Property?

BECAUSE the Governours muſt determine in the firſt place what is neceſſary for the Support of the Government. But tho' the Subjects are equally allowed to get all the Money they can, there is a great in⯑equality in the Hits of Fortune, which cre⯑ates diſtinctions without number. Hence Nobility and Gentry of ſeveral Claſſes and Denominations: hence Officers of the Church, the State, the Army, the Exciſe, and the reſt. But ſtill every Man has his chance for Preferment, and moſt Men are ſtill climbing, and ſtill many breaking their necks.

BUT Men venture for Money as well as for Preferment; and no wonder, ſince Money anſwers all things, and that a good deal of it would purchaſe an Empire; as it actually happen'd at Rome, where the Empire was put to ſale by the Soldiers, and bought by a ſubſtantial Citizen.

MEN venture a great deal alſo to ſhun Poverty, or rather the Contempt of it:

BY the way, the Change of the Roman Taſte is remarkable between the firſt Ages of the Commonwealth and the Age in which Horace makes his Obſervation. And Livy makes a boaſt in his Preface, that there was no People among whom Poverty was held in ſo much honour, and for ſo long a time. This Poverty does not mean Beggary, but Food and Raiment, with which theſe old Heathens were content.

PROPERTY being an excluſive Right to uſe and diſpoſe of the Goods one has ac⯑quired, or is Maſter of for the time; it might be thought that when great Eſtates are got, they would be kept for ever: but it ſeems in the Courſe of things there is a natural Ten⯑dency to Equality or a Level, as Heaps arti⯑ficially [163] piled up, fall almoſt by their own weight. If Men were determin'd by Cove⯑touſneſs alone, they would have a fairer Chance for keeping their Goods, and tranſ⯑mitting them to their Repreſentatives; but having Vanity and other Inclinations alſo at heart, the far greater part of their Wealth, muſt be for others who aſſiſt them in thoſe Gratifications: and thus when the Eſtates are tolerably good, there is an Opportunity for Shop-keepers and Taylors, and a world of other Trades, to make ſomething for them⯑ſelves, till the Profits ariſing from the ſeve⯑ral Bubbles produce a new one, that is, a new Family, to make a Figure and to be ſerv'd like the old ones.

IT ſeems the word Bubble has two Significations, and both agreeing to the Sub⯑ject.

THERE is an Univerſal Circula⯑tion: Ranks muſt be ſtill ſhifting about, new Meteors appearing, and forgetting their old Acquaintance, and even their Blood-Relations. But in the humour of taking care of Relations, People differ very much: ſome are willing at leaſt to ſee their Friends, and to do for them what they can. Others are of a different humour, and conclude that thoſe who are already under the hatches, ſhould be kept under.

BUT Fortune often takes care of thoſe whom Nature forgets. Some who are born to nothing, and ſometimes (one may ſay) of no body, make a mighty ap⯑pearance. Inſtances of the preſent time would be diſobliging: I ſhall only mention two, neither very modern nor very ancient, Sextus Quintus, and Caſtruccio Prince of Lucca; the latter a Foundling, and the former a Keeper of Hogs. Their Friends indeed could do no better for them: the Pope uſed to jeſt upon his Family, and call himſelf the Deſcendant of an illuſtrious Houſe, becauſe the Light came through the Roof for want of Tyling. But Fortune takes care of many who have not ſuch me⯑tal as thoſe two had: One would often wonder how ſome are raiſed ſo unexpected⯑ly, while others are as unexpectedly de⯑preſſed! And this unequal Proceedure of Fortune has made her ſometimes be called a Goddeſs, and ſometimes (eſpecially by thoſe ſhe neglects) a blind Gypſy.

BUT to talk of the matter ſoberly, it would ſeem there is a ſecret Direction in the Affairs of very private Perſons, either to make them beneficial to others, or for their own particular Diſcipline; ſecond Cau⯑ſes being ſtill allowed to work. If ſome are ſaid to be raiſed up to be Scourges to others, it certainly may be called a particu⯑lar misfortune to themſelves. However, [165] the Abuſes of Power and Diſtinction are not of ſo bad conſequence, as the want of them would be in the preſent Diſpoſition of Men. ^*Mr. Paſcal has a pretty Illuſtra⯑tion of this Subject, which Mr. Kennet tranſlates with ſome Humour.

BUT the odds of four Footmen to one, is a real Diſtinction of Power as well as of Figure; 'tis a ſort of Life guard to a great Man. 'Tis even remarkable how far a bare Name will go, without much At⯑tendance, or much Money, to ſecure a Man from Inſults, and to keep thoſe who have a dependence upon him in ſome order among themſelves. So that Name and Rank have a magical kind of Power in the World, which, as things now ſtand, is of no ſmall benefit.

MONS. Domat, who has very good Reflections on the Nature of Society, and the Diſtinction of Ranks, gives us a view of the different Orders of Perſons who com⯑poſe [166] the State or Commonwealth, as they are rank'd in his polite Nation. ^*They ſtand thus:

AFTER the general Diſtinction of the Clergy and Laity, in which the Clergy has the preference, the firſt Order among the Laicks is that of the Officers of the Army; the ſecond, the Council of the Prince; the third, the Adminiſtration of Juſtice; the fourth, the Finances; the fifth, the Scien⯑ces and Liberal Arts; the ſixth, Trade; the ſeventh, Handy-Crafts; the eighth and laſt Order, Husbandry and the Care of Flocks. He ſeems to make an Apology for putting Agriculture in the laſt place, and makes a ſufficient Encomium upon it; yet he ^† adds, ‘"But as this Labour is very painful, and employs the greateſt part of Men, and removes them farther than any other from Ranks and Precedency, thoſe who exer⯑ciſe it are placed in the laſt Rank."’

THIS way of claſſing Men, we ſee, is pretty arbitrary: Domat ſays on Place, as if he had ſaid Cuſtom has ſo determin'd; and that's all.

INDEED in all Nations there is ſcarce any other Rule of living than as Cuſ⯑tom determines; People ſeldom enquiring [167] any farther than whether a thing is done, or is not done? But to ſay nothing of the Hardſhips of putting Men in the laſt Rank, becauſe they have the moſt Toil, which af⯑fects only thoſe who work at the Plough and other Parts of Husbandry, and many other Trades have as hard Labour too; if Agriculture were to be conſider'd in the view of taking a Leaſe of a Piece of Ground, the Farmer may be look'd upon as a Party-Contracter with the Proprietor, and ſome⯑times he may be the richeſt Man of the two, and may do as little Work as his Landlord: in this caſe his Employment will ſcarce be reckon'd derogatory. And if there is any Honour in being independent, the Farmer is more upon that Lay than the Followers of the Sciences and liberal Arts. Illuſtra⯑tions upon this Head would not be very agree⯑able neither. But ſome Gentlemen's Sons would probably make more of their Patri⯑mony by laying it out upon a good Farm, than in ſeveral Trades they take to; and if it once become faſhionable, it would have a double Advantage.

SOME have made a Diviſion of Man⯑kind into the good People, that is, the People of Faſhion, and the Mob. If this Diviſion has no great Foundation in Nature, it has a good deal in the Appearance; for it is very eaſy to diſcern who is of the Mob by one's Clothes. But Mr. Cowley, (if I remember [168] well) makes a Diſtinction between the great Vulgar, and the ſmall: and he has ^* Se⯑neca's Authority upon his ſide. With theſe two and ſome others, 'tis the Qualities of the Mind, and not the Clothes, that raiſes Perſons from the Character of the Vulgar; but this reckoning would be a little dan⯑gerous.

THE Canaille, or Rabble, is another Term for the great Body of the inferiour People: 'tis much the ſame with the Mob or the Mobile, which denotes Inconſtancy and Giddineſs; and in this Character alſo many of the rich and faſhionable might be included. But the Mob ſignifies principally the Croud got together, ſometimes for bare Curioſity, ſometimes to make Diſturbance, and of which King William uſed to ſay, the Mob is not always in the wrong. Indeed the common People may be ſaid to ſee pretty exactly within certain Limits, tho' they can⯑not be ſaid to ſee far. The Canaille is moſtly applied to the Dregs, or the worth⯑leſleſt of all.

'TIS pity that People are ſo ready to look with Contempt upon others of an inferior Rank, which I ſuſpect they will do ſtill; but they would do well to reflect upon the Equality by Nature: tho' this may be [169] attended with ſome other Reflections a little uneaſy; for if they once begin, (ſuppoſing Pride to keep a while out of the way) they will probably regret the ſenſeleſs Faſhion of the World, which has ſeparated them from the great Body of Mankind, and ſo has de⯑prived them of the Familiarity of ſome Per⯑ſons who would have made excellent Friends, had it not been for the Coarſeneſs of their Clothes. Marriage ſuffers by this Confine⯑ment as well as Friendſhip, and the Choice in that State is ſtill more confined thro' par⯑ticular Views of Money or Alliance. 'Tis pity the Appearances of Good-Humour, (tho' ſometimes they are but Appearances) and the Reports of a good Education are ſo much neglected. I believe I have been up⯑on this head before.

YOU have ſo. I wiſh the World may not take you for a Leveller.

YOU know I'm pretty cautious in declaring my Sentiments to the World. And truly any body will eaſily ſee, that tho' all Ranks by ſome Miracle were reduced, the E⯑quality would not continue half a Day. And for the renouncing of Property, it will be reaſonable to wait till one ſees the A⯑poſtles, at whoſe Feet the Goods are to be laid.

WE have as yet talked of the dif⯑ferent Characters among Mankind, chiefly with regard to their Fortunes, and 'tis theſe indeed which make their natural Characters appear more remarkably; ſo that the ſame may be call'd natural and accidental both.

WITH reference to Religion: Every Body knows 'tis accident, for the moſt part, that makes us of one Religion, rather than another. 'Tis either the Religion of our Parents, or the Religion of the Times; and our Parents ſeem to have been deter⯑min'd the ſame way that we are. This is with reference to Forms and Syſtems. Thoſe Defects and Blemiſhes in Religion, called Superſtition, Enthuſiaſm, and the like, are owing to the particular Temper of Perſons, and not to the Syſtem they eſpouſe: for we ſhall find ſome of the ſame Profeſſion very warm, and others very indifferent.

THERE is hardly a Pamphlet comes out, that does not take notice of thoſe two Characters. Both the Superſtitious and the Enthuſiaſts, I believe, have a deſign of pleaſing the Almighty, and the Enthuſiaſts imagine they pleaſe him better than they do: the Superſtitious have more of Fear than Pride, and ſo they are rigid Obſervers of little things, without which they think there is no Salvation. Both Characters may meet [171] in the ſame Perſon, but 'tis the prevailing one that gives the Denomination. Enthu⯑ſiaſm is apt to deſpiſe all Obſervances, Su⯑perſtition to magnify and multiply them.

THE Diſeaſe of Enthuſiaſm has more or leſs dangerous Effects, both for Society and the Perſons themſelves, accord⯑ing to the Tempers it ſeizes. If a Man whoſe Pride is not exceſſive ſhould fancy himſelf inſpir'd, or cloathed with ſome ex⯑traordinary Commiſſion from Heaven, the Government may be pretty ſafe from his Attempts: but if one ſhould think himſelf God's peculiar Favourite, and that his Com⯑miſſion was given him on account of his ſingular Merit, or even tho' his Fancy ſhould not carry him to the Extremity of Inſpira⯑tion, if he but thinks himſelf a peculiar Fa⯑vourite, it will be enough to make him ſet up for temporal Dominion, and fight, (if he have Courage) like John of Leyden.

BIGOTRY and Zeal may be call'd the Offſpring of Superſtition and Enthuſiaſm.

CARELESSNESS in Religion, is much the ſame as the having no Religion: it pro⯑ceeds partly from Stupidity, and partly from the Love of Pleaſure. The Contempt of Religion is chiefly from Pride, or the Love of Independency. Hence, 'tis eaſy to trace the Sources of Atheiſm and Deiſm.

IF the Atheiſts are ſincere in their Profeſſion, they muſt be very dull. The Deiſts may be ſuſpected of affecting more Unbelief than they have: nor can they be altogether freed of the Character of Dull⯑neſs. But then their Antipathy at the Cler⯑gy, whoſe Poſt they envy either for its Eaſe or its Grandeur, added to the Pain they have to enquire any farther, makes them take up with very weak Arguments againſt revealed Religion. Sometimes they put on reſpect⯑ful Airs, and call it in Irony their moſt holy Religion, pretending to differ from thoſe Scepticks, who think ^* the holy Records were compil'd by an intereſted Party, in behalf of the richeſt Corporation or Mono⯑poly that could be erected.

THAT'S Shaftesbury. But theſe are poor Doings.

BUT they're ſufficient to make a young Gentleman ſwear 'tis all a Trick, the Prieſts contriv'd the Bible. But I can never believe the Prieſts would have contriv'd it ſo well. If one ſhould ask the Lad what Prieſts did contrive it? the Popiſh Prieſts, or the Proteſtant? he will be a little at a ſtand, when 'tis told him the Books are older than Popery it ſelf. Again, if he reflects that [173] ſome of thoſe Books are called the Old Teſtament, and others of them the New; he will find the Old was in the keeping of the Jews long before Chriſtianity was heard of. It would perhaps be ſome loſs, if the Deiſts were hindered from writing againſt Chriſtianity; for their Arguments are ſome⯑times of more uſe to help a weak Faith, than ſome Arguments that are brought in its behalf. But in return for this Privilege of writing, they ought to do it in a fair honeſt way.

VANITY and Ill-Humour being known to be the Springs of moſt of the doings of Men, there needs little to be ſaid concerning the Characters of moſt other Pro⯑feſſions. As every Man has got a particular Stamp from Nature, ſo every Trade or Pro⯑feſſion has its particular Air or Appearance: the Military Men have their Airs, the Cler⯑gymen theirs, the Courtiers theirs, and ſo on. There is alſo the Air of a Rake, and the Air of a Deiſt: but this Rank of Men are beſt diſcover'd by their Converſation and their Writings.

IT may be ſome help towards keep⯑ing one's ſelf in good humour, to conſider the Equality of Mankind, both as to their Nature and their Proceedure, and to give allowance alſo for Accidents: if all deſire Eſteem, it can be no ſurprize that they take [174] the way to obtain it that appears to them the fitteſt. And if a Man happens to be remark⯑ably ſaucy, perhaps he might have been leſs ſo in a different Poſt, or had he not been ſpoil'd with Flattery

ALLOWANCES indeed ought to be given. And the Conſideration of natu⯑ral Equality will likewiſe help People to ſome Humanity and make them wiſh at leaſt that every body were eaſy in their different Sta⯑tious▪ In this view there will be ſome care taken of the meaneſt Servant.

ONE thing muſt indeed be granted, that if this Life be deſign'd as a State of Tryal and Diſcipline, the Inequality of For⯑tunes and Humours anſwers that End very well.

'TIS very remarkable too, that the ſame Principle of Self-Love, which divides Men from one another, and produces ſuch a variety of fanciful Diſtinctions, ſhould yet in ſome meaſure unite them again, their Ne⯑ceſſities making them ſubſervient to one an⯑other; and, which is ſtill more remarkable, the inferiour Ranks often ſerving their Su⯑periours chearfully, and without the leaſt diſ⯑dain. Domat has very good Obſervations upon this Head, in his Treatiſe of the Law, ſhewing how out of Self-Love, which is the Poiſon of Society, God brings Remedies for [175] its ſubſiſtence. And there ſeems to be the like Impreſſion on the Minds of the gene⯑rality of Mankind, very much to the ho⯑nour of the divine Wiſdom, that God draws Order out of Confuſion.

THERE is farther a certain Mildneſs to be obſerv'd in the Conduct of Providence, Sapientia diſponit omnia ſuaviter: by which Society not only hangs together, but the great Body of it, upon whom the drudgery of Labour is thrown, has an Equivalent of ſounder Sleep, and (generally ſpeaking) more Contentment.

THAT divine Truth is of an extent that reaches to the whole Creation: à fine ad finem pertingit fortiter.

VIII. CONVERSATION.

THE thing generally underſtood by Converſation is that grand amuſe⯑ment of Talking, when People meet toge⯑ther, either by chance or deſign, to paſs the time; or, as the French ſay, to murder it. Drinking or Gaming does that pretty effec⯑tually: the former making the Converſation very tumultuous, as the latter confines it to narrow bounds.

THE Perſons who have moſt time on their hands, are they whoſe indulgent Pa⯑rents, or their own particular good Luck, have left them Rents to live on, without the neceſſity of working either without doors or within.

THE Labourers in the Field, and Tradeſ⯑men (Handy-crafts, Mechanicks, Artificers) generally work the moſt part of the day; they eat their Meals with a good appetite, they ſpeak little, and ſleep ſound.

MEN of publick Employment, ſuch as Officers of State, Judges, Lawyers, Clergy⯑men, &c. have more or leſs time for Con⯑verſation, according to the Nature of their Employments and their Diligence in them.

IT were neither kind nor civil in this Argument, to forget the Women; for they can ſpeak too. But to ſay the truth, Idle⯑neſs and ſpeaking for ſpeaking ſake is not their general Character: they are more active, more foreſeeing, and better Mana⯑gers than we. If a fooliſh Education ſome⯑times ſpoils them (as whom does it not ſpoil?) the fault ſhould be laid where it ought.

BUT ſince there is ſuch an Equality in both Sexes as to the Operations of Self-Love, [177] that the ſame Principles only ſeem to act in a ſofter or rougher skin; the ſame Motives to Converſation, and the ſame Errors in it muſt prevail in both.

THE firſt Project, before Vanity begins to ſtir, is to make Life eaſy; and this is founded on Self-Inſufficiency, as it may be called: but ſuppoſing People once met together, 'tis natural enough to endea⯑vour to ſhine a little, and to be glad to be in ſuch Companies, where one ſhines moſt. Eſt quod gaudeas te in iſta loca veniſſe, &c.

IT were too ſevere, however, to af⯑firm that a Man never opens his mouth but out of vanity, and that he never goes into Company, but with the View of leaving a reſpectful Impreſſion of himſelf. Such Reflections wou'd lead to Melancholy. They ſerve but to imbitter Life, or at beſt to make it taſteleſs. Nor are they true in fact; for a great deal of that Talk or Super⯑fluity of Words which ſeems to proceed from Vanity, is often but meer Habit or In⯑firmity. And juſt ſo in the caſe of Detrac⯑tion, which tho' it ſeems to ſpring from Ill⯑nature and Vanity both, yet is rather a ſenſe⯑leſs Cuſtom than any thing elſe: indeed the Duke of Rochefoucault ſays, 'tis more from Vanity than Ill-nature that we are Slan⯑derers; which is a milder Conſtruction than he generally makes of Actions: but I humbly [178] think he might have been a little milder ſtill.

THERE are certainly other In⯑ducements to Converſation than Vanity and Ill-nature. There is Curioſity, Amuſe⯑ment and Friendſhip. The Mind naturally deſires Knowledge, tho' there was no plea⯑ſure in ſhewing it to others. That Curio⯑ſity which is the bare Itch of hearing a new thing, is much the ſame with Amuſement. But Friendſhip may concur with both, or it may be alone the Inducement of going into Company; there being a pleaſure in the very ſight of Faces, where no great Information is to be expected.

To turn this Affair to ſome account, there muſt be a good deal of Familiarity, and ſome little Philoſophy. I believe we obſerv'd it before, that Horace lays down a very good Plan of Converſation, wherein he tells what his Friends and he talk'd of, and what they did not talk of. One can⯑not think of it too often.

AGAIN,

HERE is a good deal of Scandal and many frivolous things cut off, and uſe⯑ful things inſiſted on: but they would be too philoſophical for moſt Converſations. One muſt often hear Stories of a Cock and a Bull, and talk of them too, with an Air of Contentment, when one cannot make better of it. 'Tis in familiar Converſation, and chiefly between two, that free Senti⯑ments can be exchang'd upon grave Subjects. In promiſcuous Company, ſuch Diſcourſe muſt be avoided, leſt it ſhould look like Cant, and give a Diſguſt.

BUT care muſt be taken in familiar Chat, not to fall into Detraction, to which it muſt be confeſt there is a natural Tendency, e⯑ſpecially when two Heads are got together. This Whiſpering puts one in mind of the [180] hiſſing of Serpents, and for the moſt part ſome body is ſtung. But in this there is much of Habit, as was ſaid before; tho' it is a very unlucky Habit, and often produces very bad Effects.

AMONG the ſeveral Abuſes of Speech mention'd in the Government of the Tongue, there is none the Author deſires People more to beware of, than that of Detraction; giving this Reaſon for it, that few ſeem to be ſenſible of its Guilt. He ſays, ‘"many who would ſtartle at an Oath, whoſe Sto⯑machs as well as Conſciences recoil at an Obſcenity, do yet ſlide glibly into a De⯑traction, &c."’ The good Author probably has had the Sex in his eye, when he men⯑tion'd the recoiling at an Obſcenity: But upon the matter, what is it but Obſcenity, that's ſo currently talk'd under the peculiar Term of Scandal? The talking of Baſtards has a great reſemblance of Obſcenity. What are the Scandals about Court, or in the neareſt Village, which will do juſt as well for Diſcourſe, but Obſcenity? And yet this is a great Subject of Converſation among much commended Women!

AMONG Gentlemen, 'tis of uſe to have ſome knowledge of Hiſtory, the common News running ſoon out; where⯑as Hiſtory can laſt a while, and can be as little ſuſpected of Vanity as any Subject a Man [181] can talk of: for it chiefly requires the Me⯑mory, which few are ready to value them⯑ſelves upon, and it gives Opportunity to o⯑thers in the Company to tell what they re⯑member too; and even thoſe who have read very little, can keep their Countenance, by putting in a Word, or asking a Queſtion. But to dwell too much upon Hiſtory will not be diverting, and therefore Allowance muſt be given to ſomething that's more fa⯑miliar, and tending a little to Mirth; with this Caution always, that it be at no body's expence, either in the Company or out of it.

HERE a Queſtion might ariſe con⯑cerning Jeſting, whether it be conſiſtent with the Rules of Chriſtianity? Some are apt to conclude it is not, from the Words of St. Paul to the ^* Epheſians: But For⯑nication, and all Uncleanneſs, let it not be once named among you, as becometh Saints: neither Filthineſs nor fooliſh Talking, nor Jeſting, which are not convenient: but ra⯑ther giving of Thanks, &c. 'Tis hard to underſtand the preciſe Senſe of the two laſt things to be avoided, at this diſtance of time; tho' the Chriſtians in thoſe days have been at no loſs to know it: but among us Fooliſh Talking is an undefin'd Expreſſion, and if nothing were to be admitted into Diſcourſe but what is wiſe, there would be [182] little talking at all. As to Jeſting, People are not agreed even about the Tranſlation of the ^*Word; it may mean either Scur⯑rility, or Quaintneſs, or Buffoonery. Caſ⯑tellio tranſlates it Facetia, but Facetiouſneſs has not a hard meaning in Engliſh, nor do I know who can juſtly condemn it: I'm ſure very grave Perſons, and who have a great regard for Chriſtianity, ſometimes uſe it. On the other hand, who can take upon them to give formal Allowances, when they are not abſolutely ſure but it may contradict the meaning of an Apoſtle? For St. Paul, after he had exhorted the Epheſians to ab⯑ſtain from bad Actions and bad Diſcourſe, tells them how they ought to employ their time, to wit, in giving of Thanks; which agrees with the Directions of St. James, Is any of you afflicted? let him pray; is any chearful? let him ſing Pſalms. But every body knows theſe Directions are not for common Converſation, wherein too great Gravity is to be avoided, as well as too great Liberty. How hard is it to keep the Mid⯑way! 'Tis Vanity to pretend to it: all we are to endeavour, is to keep as near it as we can.

I think inſtead of inconvenient, (ver. 4.) our Tranſlators might have put un⯑becoming, or impertinent, which ſeems to agree better with the Greek Word. All I would infer, is, that there is ſuch a thing as [183] Decency, as well as Religion: and tho' we cannot now ſo well judge of what becometh Saints, yet we may know what is becoming or unbecoming to be ſaid in honeſt Com⯑pany. And therefore all Traſh, Scandal, and Detraction will be carefully ſhunn'd, where the Taſte is not already vitiated by ill Habit: for it muſt be own'd, that ſome things have a Reliſh, or Smack, beyond others; as Scandal, in compariſon of com⯑mon Prate: and even in theſe 'tis well known how much precious time is waſted.

WASTED indeed!

BUT as to Jeſting, when it has no worſe Tendency than to keep the Company in good humour, or from falling aſleep, ſome grave enough Perſons have not de⯑clared againſt it: and there may be as little Vanity in that ſort of Diſcourſe, as in any other. There is an advantage too, that to tell any merry thing ſaid by any other Per⯑ſon is all one to the Company, as if the Jeſt were the Repeater's own; and in this he only ſhews a little of his Memory, which gene⯑rally ſucceeds better than when he endea⯑vours to ſhew his Wit; as we find little Tales are more taking than Quirks, and Raillery, and other Things that are call'd ſmart.

THERE is one thing that may juſ⯑tify a harmleſs Jeſt, and it is the natural [184] Diſpoſition Men have to laugh; which o⯑ther Creatures have not, nor the Faculty it ſelf. Monkeys can grin, but it hardly comes up to laughter? I ſhall not however affirm, that it is one of the diſtinguiſhing Characters of a rational Creature, ſince it often ariſes without Reaſon, the Fancy be⯑ing only tickled, and an unvoluntary, con⯑vulſive Motion produced, little better than coughing or ſneezing.

SOLOMON ſays of Laughter, that it is Madneſs. We muſt allow, that be⯑ſides his inſpir'd Character, he was in a ſi⯑tuation to know the value of things better than moſt Men, and had left nothing un⯑tried. It might therefore be concluded from his Words, that Laughing ſhould have no place in this Valley of Tears. But it ſeems more probable that the wiſe King ſpoke only againſt Exceſſes, and that he would not have refuſed a little innocent Laughter to poor heavy Mankind, no more than taking the Air to revive their Spirits.

I ſhall not ſet up to be a Caſuiſt; but we ſee in Fact, that one of the greateſt Plots in Life is to laugh: even drinking would go heavily down without it, tho' Men are not wholly indifferent about the Liquor neither; yet to laugh, ſeems more to be the End of their meeting, than to drink.

BUT however allowable Laughter may be, it had need to be put under Regu⯑lations; and as to theſe, Prudence and Good Manners muſt judge, pro re natâ.

THE moſt allowable as well as agreeable kind of laughing, is that which proceeds from chearful Good-Humour: the Perſon that laughs is pleas'd, and no body offended; the Satisfaction even runs thro' the whole Company. On the other hand, the Laughter that proceeds from Contempt, argues a Diſturbance of Soul, and gives a quite different Air to the Countenance: 'tis really an Effect of the Spleen, Nature taking that way to relieve it ſelf, tho' there is ſomething involuntary in it too; the Fancy being touch'd uneaſily, not tickled.

A very diſagreeable kind alſo of laughing to the Beholders, is that which is affected, wherein the Fancy is not touched at all, and the Sides are only ſhaken artifi⯑cially, or rather aukwardly; as well as the Face is put in a fooliſh Set, without any Charm or Life: ſuch is the Laughter of thoſe who ſtudy to pleaſe, Attendants upon Levees, Pages, Chamber-Maids, and many others.

THAT which makes Boys and Girls, and generally young People, more [186] ready to laugh than the older, ſeems to pro⯑ceed from the Temperature of the Body, as well as the State of the Mind; ſince we ſee all young Creatures are merry and ſportive. Care muſt be taken however, both in young and old, that this Mirth degenerate not into Inſolence and Deriſion; young Women ar⯑riving ſooner at their Wit and Mettle, are apt to laugh at young Men, and are great Obſervers in general of what is heavy and blundering, or any way ridiculous either as to Perſons or Things. Sometimes Children are corrected, but who ſhall correct the ol⯑der? Mean time 'tis remarkable, that the Exceſs of Laughter is generally ſucceeded with Lowneſs of Spirits, Uneaſineſs, and Pain in the Breaſt and Sides; concerning which Mechaniſm, the Anatomiſts may be conſulted.

IT were to make too great a Pane⯑gyrick upon Laughing, even the beſt ſort of it that can be imagin'd, to ſay that it gives the greateſt Pleaſure in Converſation; for People are truly better pleaſed, when the Underſtanding is well inform'd, than when the Imagination is tickled: and then a kind Word is more delightful than the greateſt Diſcoveries of Speculation. The Under⯑ſtanding and the Heart are very different Re⯑gions. Indeed in common Converſation a Laugh is the beſt Fruit we can propoſe to reap: but to be convinc'd there is no great [187] Excellency in it, we have but to conſider that 'tis only frivolous Things that make us laugh moſt; a Word out of joint, an odd Geſture, and the like. And which is ſtill more unphiloſophical, we ſometimes fall a laughing alone, on the Remembrance of ſome of thoſe out-of-the-way Things we have ſeen or heard. Nay, a thing will tickle the fooliſh Fancy, that was never ſeen nor heard before.

WHAT ſhall we make of that readineſs to laugh, when one ſlips a Foot and tumbles over? We are even afraid he is hurt, and yet cannot refrain from laughing! In very ſmall Inſtances we may diſcover plain Evidences of our Diſorder.

WHAT do you think of Smiling?

SMILING may be called Laugh⯑ter in its Infancy, and ſometimes it is moſt agreeable when it goes no farther. The Difference between a natural Smile, and an artificial, is eaſily perceived; for tho' the ſame Muſcles ſeem to be imployed in both, yet there is a Sweetneſs and Vivacity want⯑ing in the artificial Smile, which one needs not go to the Drawing-Room to be con⯑vinc'd of, but may diſcover it upon all Oc⯑caſions.

THE tedious Drawing-Room!

IT ſeems Sneering is meant both of ſcornful laughing and ſcornful ſpeaking, and is far from being a pleaſant Thing. There is a Severity in it, as it expoſes a weak ſide, or a Ridicule, a thing that no body is reckon'd to be free of. 'Tis a ſtand⯑ing Maxim, that every Man has his Whim and his Ridicule. There is likewiſe na⯑tional Ridicule as well as perſonal; and there is the Ridicule of every Profeſſion: but it belongs rather to the Play-houſe, than private Converſation, to lay open theſe Infirmities. 'Tis true, the Stage is ſeldom ſucceſsful in the Cure: but it is at leaſt of ſome uſe to let People ſee the Follies of their Neighbours, and if they will not look at home, the Stage cannot help it. But as new Queſtions ariſe at every turn, it may be ask'd who ſhall correct the Stage when it goes wrong it ſelf? I know no Cure for Dullneſs; but plain Immorality is a ſtaring thing; and the Wiſdom of the Legiſlature muſt take notice of that, the beſt way it can.

As Hiſtory is among the proper Materials for Converſation, ſo the more particular the better: ſuch as Memoirs and Lives, if they be well done; becauſe the Nature of Man, and the Springs of Actions are there beſt diſcovered. Travels afford good Materials too, as the different Cuſtoms [189] of Nations, their Climates, and what they produce.

WHAT ſhall become of Roman⯑ces?

IN ſome caſes I'm very unwilling to give a preciſe Anſwer; ſo I muſt ask again, who would part with Virgil and Milton? Was not Telemaque writ by the Biſhop of Cambray? Who would even part with Hudibras, and ſeveral other Performances? The old voluminous Ro⯑mances are well out of faſhion.

SOME Novels are even but dull.

AS to the Attention that ſhould be given to frivolous Diſcourſe, 'tis enough if one appears to give attention to it; he may take ſome liberty of thinking with himſelf of what he has a mind, and a Nod now and then will be enough. There ſhould be ſome Appearance of Attention, or elſe it would be very mortifying; like what is told of the Prince of Lucca, who hearing a tedious Diſcourſe one day, of which he took little notice, and the poor Man, who began to perceive it, making an Apology for having ſpoke ſo much; anſwer'd, ‘"You need make no Apology, for I hardly know what you were talking of."’—This [190] was a little ſevere, but perhaps the Prince had reaſon.

BUT 'tis much eaſier to know how to hear others, than what to ſay our ſelves. The Government of the Thoughts is pre⯑vious to the Government of the Tongue. How ſhall the Wheel of the Imagination that's continually in motion, be either ſtop'd or regulated? But ſince the Tongue muſt talk of what is rumbling in the Head, it were to be wiſh'd, that every one ſhould empty his Head of the high Opinion of himſelf, and the Contempt of others. I think Cardinal de Retz ſays, ‘"A Man ought to be much upon his guard againſt the Pleaſure he is apt to take in Raillery; for upon many Occaſions it coſt the Prince of Conde dear."’ It ſeems, Con⯑tempt and Deriſion are very ill to digeſt: when 'tis to one's face, 'tis hard to ſhun a Quarrel; and when it is behind the back, it uſually comes round again, to the diſtur⯑bance of both Parties: ſo that Jeſting is of⯑ten inconvenient, according to our Tranſla⯑tion.

COMPLAINING is alſo a poor thing; and when groundleſs, very unjuſt, But as Affectation is ready to enter into every thing, theſe Complaints are put on, to pro⯑cure Sympathy and a little Eſteem, as being the Due of a patient Sufferer. It is not [191] prudent however to be ſtill complaining, eſpecially of unkind Uſage, becauſe People may be apt to think there is not much in it, or that 'tis taking the firſt word.

'TIS really ſtrange, how Affecta⯑tion runs thro' our whole Behaviour! We are every thing by turns. We affect to be weak, and we affect to be ſtrong; we affect to be poor, and we affect to be rich; we affect to be temperate, and we affect to be debauch'd: the Deſire of Eſteem ſtill work⯑ing in us, and producing it ſelf, as ſeems moſt likely to turn to the preſent account.

IX. BOOKS.

HERE is another Amuſement, which thoſe that are at leiſure have more at their hand, than thoſe that are haraſs'd with hard Labour, or with Buſineſs. 'Tis true, a Book may be for more uſe than bare Amuſement; but that depends upon the Qualities of the Performance, ſome Books being good for very little.

IF a Man were to conſider for what End Life is given him, quidnam vic⯑turi gignimur, he would readily enquire after the Books that could direct him beſt. But in this he is apt to meet with very dif⯑ferent [192] Advices. If he be already ſworn to a Party, he muſt be directed by his Maſters; and if he's only to follow the Starts of his own Fancy, he can hardly have a worſe Guide. If again he is to ask Counſel from every Party, he muſt be much divided about what he ſhall chuſe. Here is one fixt Point however, as to Books of Religion, all Par⯑ties of Chriſtendom acknowledge one Book, which is called the Bible, as the Standard of all Belief and Practice: and tho' it is called but one Book, yet it is a Collection of many, and has a Variety of Subjects, which I need not enumerate. There is alſo a Variety in the Style, according to the Cha⯑racter of the Writers. That Irony does not ſignify much, ^*that in the Compoſition there is nothing miraculous or ſelf-convin⯑cing. A miraculous Style is a new Phraſe: but the Style of the Scriptures is by moſt People acknowledged to be natural, and by ſome even to be ^† ſublime. Conviction muſt alſo come another way than from the Words of a Book: a ſelf-convincing Style is another Curioſity.

BUT the deepeſt Objections are a⯑gainſt the Authority of thoſe ſacred Books: I ſhould have called them Inſinuations ra⯑ther than Objections, for generally they are [193] nothing elſe; and where any Arguments have been really form'd againſt any parti⯑cular Book or ſingle Prophecy, they have been anſwered by very good hands, and the impartial Reader will judge whoſe Argu⯑ments are the ſtrongeſt. But for thoſe who acknowledge the Scriptures both to be Au⯑thentick and Divine, and who may want to know the beſt Rules of living in order to be happy in the next World, and even in this; ſuch Perſons, I believe, will find in that neg⯑lected Collection of Writings, what will be uſeful for both theſe Ends, and an Agree⯑ableneſs of Style very diſtinguiſhing. I could name ſeveral Books wherein Plainneſs or Simplicity has been ſtudied; but the Authors have not been able to hinder the Art from appearing.

WHEN a Perſon happens to have ſuch a Value for the Bible, he will of con⯑ſequence make it a good part of his Study; and will approve of other Books on Reli⯑gion, as they ſhall appear to agree to that Standard. Let him dip in Commentaries and Sermons, and where-ever he thinks his weak Faith may be beſt aſſiſted. And tho' he may chance to think ſome of thoſe reli⯑gious Books a little heavy, he ſhould not reject them all in a lump: for that which he may ſuppoſe to be the Effect of his deli⯑cate Taſte, may be in reality but the Weak⯑neſs of his Appetite. Nor let him think [194] that Dullneſs is confin'd to the Labours of the Pulpit, and Works of Divinity; ſince not only the Workmen for the Stage, who muſt labour for their Bread, but even fine Gentlemen who might live at their eaſe, and yet labour for Eſteem, do often pro⯑duce Works of great heavineſs. It is alſo to be conſider'd in behalf of the Clergy, that they are ſo limited to a few Topicks, and theſe often inſiſted on, that their Fancy has little ſcope to exert it ſelf, in compa⯑riſon of the Authors whoſe aim is Ridi⯑cule, and ſometimes Ribaldry, (things that rarely do well in a Sermon;) and ſo they whoſe Profeſſion is Seriouſneſs, muſt be at a conſiderable loſs, and therefore ought to have the Allowances that Juſtice requires.

AFTER Books that treat expreſſly of Religion, thoſe of Morality have the next place. Perhaps Mr. Cowley, when he recommended to Dr. Sprat to publiſh no⯑thing in his Compoſitions that might be offenſive either to Religion or Good Man⯑ners, has by Good Manners chiefly meant Decency; becauſe Morality has a higher meaning, and is a Part of Religion: and 'tis remarkable, that there was nothing found in the Works of that fine Gentleman, which a worthy Divine could have any ſcruple to publiſh.

MORALS and Divinity are by no means to be ſeparated. And as to thoſe Wri⯑tings that are properly called Books of Mo⯑rality, 'tis among the old Philoſophers they are principally to be ſought after. Not to ſay but ſome of thoſe great Men have alſo left many Inſtructions concerning Religion, and Diſcoveries of the divine Nature; as a ſmall Acquaintance with Plato and ſome others will teſtify. Tho' Socrates wrote nothing himſelf (in which he reſembles the great Inſtructor of Mankind) yet we have his Sentiments and his Manner of Life re⯑corded by thoſe who were familiar with him, and at the ſame time the fineſt Hands in the World. Epictetus wrote none neither, but we have that Loſs ſupplied by Simplicius and Arrian. Nor are the Poets to be overlook'd among thoſe ancient Wri⯑ters, Morality being their aim too in ano⯑ther Dreſs. It would ſeem, the earlieſt Au⯑thors have wrote beſt. Horace recom⯑mends thoſe who were counted Ancients in his time, as being worthy to be read day and night.

AS to modern Authors, a Man is to make the beſt uſe of them he can, without diſ⯑paraging or over-valuing them. All Searches are painful, and much rubbiſh muſt be turn'd over before coming at the beſt Books, and before coming at what is excellent in ſeveral [196] Books that are not deſpicable. This I mean of ſome Books where Inſtruction is open⯑ly intended: where it is intended more covertly, the Authors have a better Excuſe to plead for the Rubbiſh that muſt be turn'd over. And the Reader's Intention being often Amuſement, he will ſtill find his ac⯑count leſs or more, even in that View. All then, it ſeems, muſt be look'd into, even the common Performances of the Time. Wit is always Wit, and Dullneſs always Dull⯑neſs.

IT ſeems you have a mind to keep the Ballance between the Moderns and the Ancients.

'TIS true: but I have ſome Biaſs to the Ancients. But, non noſtrum eſt tantas componere Lites.

THERE is one Point in which a Reader has a conſiderable advantage of an Author; any Dullneſs he has is apparent, whereas the Reader's is beſt known to him⯑ſelf, unleſs he ſet up (againſt his Stars) as a Critick, and give his Opinion mal à propos. It may happen alſo, that what has been writ in good Humour, ſhall be read in bad Hu⯑mour; which is another Diſadvantage of an Author. And there is ſtill ſomething ex⯑pected that's new, which is a hard Demand upon one hand, and a fooliſh Pretence on [197] the other. Such Authors (who are to blame in their turn) ſhould mind honeſt Chaucer:

PRETENDING is very ſilly. When a Book is brought into another Lan⯑guage, 'tis a Tranſlation of the Words; and when the Thoughts of one Book are brought into another Book, this is but a Tranſlation ſtill.

THERE can be no better Deſcrip⯑tion given of ſome Books upon all Subjects, than Ovid gives of the Chaos, for five or ſix Lines together;‘—rudis indigeſtaque Moles, &c.’

BUT a Reader cannot always free him⯑ſelf either of want of Penetration or want of Attention; ſo that Authors have a harder Fate than is imagin'd.

WRITING is indeed a tickliſh ſort of Affair: for the ſame advances by which one grows into a Familiarity with [198] the World, are apt to make him forget the Reſpect he owes it; and on the other hand, to bring him into Contempt with it.

SINCE Amuſement is the great De⯑ſign of Converſation, no wonder it is the Deſign of Reading: and why not of Wri⯑ting? I think Horace calls it playing with Paper. Yet ſometimes he ſeems to have been weary of writing upon ludicrous Sub⯑jects^*, and to have bid farewell to it, be⯑cauſe of ſome bad Conſequences.

BUT Horace might have writ what he pleas'd, and have been pretty ſure of Approbation: others ought to risk but mo⯑derately. Nor can there be a greater Miſ⯑take than to think of pleaſing People of quite oppoſite Taſtes, the ſincere and the ſcornful, the wiſe and the fooliſh. But there is a certain Incontinence of Fancy, which often proves too hard-mouth'd for the Judgment, as the Tale of a Tub ho⯑neſtly acknowledges. 'Tis pity Mr. Hobbes's ^† Cautions upon this Head were not more obſerv'd than they are. A witty Man hap⯑pens to let ſome Flings at Religion and the Scripture, for both which he has a real Value; and his Words are treaſur'd up by ſhallow Heads, and retail'd againſt his In⯑tention. [199] But what Help? They have a mind to ſhine by the repeating, as the Au⯑thor could not ſhun it in the writing.

IN a Country of Liberty, whatever is publiſhed will be read; and it were hard to take away this Privilege, tho' it were practicable. As to that of Publiſhing, it muſt be left to the Diſcretion of the Legiſla⯑ture: and whatever Difficulty there might be in reſtraining the Liberty of the Preſs, there would be much more in reſtraining the private Uſe of Pen, Ink, and Paper; and therefore one would think it were not unworthy of the Care of the Government to appoint a moderate Sallary for ſome who have a little Scholarſhip and common Senſe, to enable them to tranſlate the moſt approved Books whether ancient or mo⯑dern. This would keep them from a cer⯑tain Theft, and tranſmit to us the Senti⯑ments of thoſe Standard-Performances entire and unmixt.

I wiſh that were done.

THERE are two kinds of Books al⯑moſt exploded a while ago, the voluminous Romances and School-Divinity. It was pity ſome of the School-men had not em⯑ploy'd their Talents upon more ſolid Things, for they have been great Men, and had a Senſe of Religion; but their metaphyſical [200] Subtilties made their Writings of little uſe to the World, and ſerv'd principally to nouriſh Diſpute and Contradiction. The Writers of large Romances had ſome very good Ideas of Virtue; but all was loſt in tedious Narratives: and ſometimes they gave too favourable Ideas of Vice, as Re⯑venge in particular. Our Novels deal moſt in Scandal.

CONSIDERING the great Va⯑riety of Humours, 'tis no wonder there is the ſame as to Books. But when a Man reflects on the Variety in the former, it will hinder him from preſcribing or recom⯑mending Entertainments in the latter, con⯑cluding that People are generally beſt pleas'd with their own Choice. You will ſee, I have here chiefly in view the Books deſign'd for Amuſement. Harmleſs Rail⯑lery is univerſally acceptable. Gibing is pretty paſſable, and 'tis the more honeſt when it diſcovers itſelf in the very Title of the Performance; for inſtance, the Praiſe of Folly, a Tale of a Tub, and the like. If a daſh of unlucky Humour happens to mingle, 'tis what an Author cannot always help. Sneering is ſeldom taking, becauſe of the Air of Inſincerity that attends it: there is ſomewhat more agreeable even in Writings of profeſt Remiſſneſs, to uſe Mr. Hobbes's Expreſſion. I ſhall not ſay poſi⯑tively that all Books are to be read, but every [201] body will agree that many of them may be read with very little Attention. . . . . . . I'm ſorry I can't ſee you again for ſome days, be⯑ing obliged to go a little into the Country.

PRAY return as ſoon as you can.

YOU know how uncertain all Things are: but I'll endeavour to ſee you in a few days.