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 ESSAYS, 
 
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 VATTENE IN PACE AtMA BEATA & BEttA 1 . 
 
 VATTENE IN PACE A LA SUPERNA SIDE, 
 
 S I.AfCIA AL MONDO ESEMPIO Dl TVA FEDK ! 
 
 A RIO S 'TO. 
 
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 flf
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ' I ^HE following Poems and Effays 
 -* were written to relieve the tedious 
 hours of pain and iicknefs. The Reader 
 who feeks for amufement only, may pof- 
 fibly receive no gratification from the 
 perufal of them; but for fuch readers they 
 are not intended. 
 
 To the humble and pious Chriftian, 
 
 xvho feels the preflfure of diftrefs, and feeks 
 
 in religion for that fupport and confola- 
 
 tion which nothing elfe can beftowj to 
 
 A 2 him 
 
 764318
 
 ft-iv;] 
 
 him is prefented an example of patience 
 ^resignation which no fufferings could 
 bi<r& nc l uer - & Jioq 
 
 }jsrft ' -- nstlo 
 
 eaftoHe-will not find in the following pages 
 f? $$ipride of Stoicifm, or the cold precepts 
 of unfeeling profperity. The Author of 
 thefe EfTays felt, with the keeneft fenfibi- 
 lity, the uncommon misfortune which 
 condemned her for ten years, in the prime 
 of life, to conftantly increafing fufferings - 3 
 but fhe found, in the principles which are 
 here laid down, fuch motives of confo- 
 lation as rendered her fuperior to all the 
 forrows of life, and to the lingering tor- 
 tures of a moil painful death. 
 
 They
 
 [ v ] 
 
 - They who were prefent at that axv^ul 
 feene, can need no other evidence in fup- 
 port of a truth which the reader will find 
 often repeated in thefe Effays, viz. that 
 * e though Religion cannot prevent lofles 
 " and difappointments, pains and forrows; 
 " yet in the midft of them all, and when 
 "every earthly 'pleafure fails, it com- 
 '" 'imand-s, it mftm6fo, it enables us to 
 
 4< be happy." 
 j?.gnm1ti 
 
 3is fix -iU m t bnuo^ 3ff> 
 
 olne --cr riaul t nwob bifil 
 
 $dl {' >d b^sbnyi ZF> n 
 
 fiom s lo 
 
 CONTENTS.
 
 o 3 
 
 ' 
 
 O "iM io rhft^T' 
 
 li 7 *ioflDriJB& IB 9lsV di loi f s j 1 fisj 
 
 ^Y ow} nsrfj ,~^ - sliM oT 
 
 ifi^Y wsVI ddJ nO 
 
 
 sD
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Ode to Hope I 
 
 Elegy on the Death of Mr. Garrick 9 
 
 A Ballad 15 
 
 Subje& Love, for the Vafe at Batheafton Villa 23 
 
 To Mifs , then two Years old 27 
 
 Louifa ; a Tale 33 
 
 Envy; a Fragment - 51 
 
 On the New Year - 59 
 
 E S S J T S. 
 
 On SenfibUity - - - 75 
 
 On the Character of Laetitia 119 
 
 On Politenefs - 149 
 
 On the Charader of Curio 191 
 
 On Candour - 201
 
 [ I ] 
 
 OEMS. 
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 JL RIEND to the wretch whofe bofom knows no joy! 
 Parent of blifs beyond the reach of fate ! 
 Celeftial HOPE, thou gift divine! 
 Sweet balm of grief, O ftill be mine ! 
 When pains torment, and cares annoy, 
 Thou only canft their force abate, 
 And gild the gloom which {hades this mortal 'ftate. 
 Tho' oft thy joys are falfe and vain, 
 Tho' anxious doubts attend thy train, 
 6
 
 2 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 Tho' difappointment mocks thy care, 
 And points the way to fell defpair, 
 Yet ftill my fecret foul fhall own thy pow'r, 
 In forrow's bittereft pang, in pleafure's gayeft hour, 
 For from the date of Reafon's birth 
 
 That wond'rous pow'r was given, 
 To foften every grief on earth, 
 To raife the foul from thoughtlefs mirth, 
 
 And wing its flight to heaven : 
 Nor pain, nor pleafure, can its force deftroy, 
 In every varied fcene it points to future joy. 
 
 II. tytH: 
 
 Fancy, wave thy airy pinions, 
 
 Bid the foft ideas rife, 
 Spread o'er all thy wide dominions 
 
 Vernal fweets and cloudlefs ikies. 
 And lo ! on yonder verdant plain 
 
 A lovely youthful train appear, 
 Their gentle hearts have felt no pain, 
 
 Their guiltlefs bofoms know no fear:
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 In each gay fcene fome new delight they find, 
 Yet fancy gayer profpefts ftill behind. 
 
 Where are the foft delufions fled ? 
 
 Muft wifdom teach the foul to mourn? 
 Return, ye days of ignorance, return ! 
 Before my eyes your fairy vifions fpread! 
 
 Alas ! thofe vifions charm no more, 
 
 The pleafing dream of youth is o'erj 
 Far other thoughts muft now the foul employ, 
 It glows with other hopes, it pants for other joy. 
 
 III. 
 
 The trumpet founds to war j 
 Loud fhouts re-echo from the mountain's fide, 
 The din of battle thunders from afar, 
 The foaming torrent rolls a crimfon tide 
 The youthful warrior's breaft with ardour glows, 
 In thought he triumphs o'er ten thoufand foes; 
 Elate with hope he nifties on, 
 The battle feems already won, 
 62
 
 4 O d E TO H P . 
 
 The vanquifh'd hofts before him fly, 
 - His heart exults in fancied viaory, 
 Nor heeds the flying fhaft, nor thinks of danger nigh. 
 Me'thinks I fee him how 
 
 Fallen 'his creft his glory gone 
 The opening laurel faded oh Ms trow 
 Silent the trump of his afpiring fame 
 
 No future age fiiall hear his name, 
 But darknefs fpread around her fable gloom, 
 And deep oblivion reft iipoh Ills tomb. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thro' feas unknown, to diftant lands, 
 In queft of gain the bold adventurer goes, 
 Fearlefs roves o'er Afric's fainds, 
 India's heats , or Zembla's fnows: 
 Each riling d&y his dang'rous toil -renews ; 
 But toils and dangers check his courle in vain, 
 Chear'd by HOPE he ft ill purfues, 
 Fancy'd good thro' real pain, 
 Still in thought enjoys the prfoe, 
 And future happy days in Jong fucceffion rife; 
 
 laV. )
 
 O D E TO H O P E. 5 
 
 Yet all his blifs a moment may deftroy, 
 Frail are his brighteft hopes, uncertain all his joy. 
 
 V. 
 Hark ! the fprightly voice of Pleafure 
 
 Calls to yonder rofy bow'r, 
 There fhe fcatters all her treafure, 
 There exerts her magic povv'r. 
 Liften to the pleafing call, 
 Follow, Mortals, follow all, 
 Lead the dance, and fpread the feaft, 
 Crown with rofes every gueft : 
 Now the fprightly minftrels found, 
 Pleafure's voice is heard around, 
 And Pleafure's fprightly voice the hills and dales refound. 
 
 Whence rofe that fecret figh? 
 What fudden gloom o'erclouds thy chearful brow ? 
 Say, does not every pleafure wait thee now, 
 That e'er could charm the ear, or court the eye? 
 In vain does Nature lavifh all her ftore, 
 The confcious fpirit ftill afpires, 
 Still purfues fome new defires, 
 And every wifti obtain'd, it fighs and pants for more.
 
 6 O D E TO H O P E. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Are thefe, O HOPE, the glories of thy reign, 
 The airy dreams of Fancy and of Youth ? 
 Muft all thy boafted pleafures lead to pain? 
 Thy joys all vanifh at the light of truth ? 
 Muft wretched man, led by a meteor lire, 
 
 To diftant bleflings ftill afpire ? 
 Still with ardour ftrive to gain, 
 Joys he oft purfues in vain, 
 
 Joys which quickly muft expire ? 
 And when at length the fatal hour is come, 
 And death prepares th' irrevocable doom, 
 Mourn all his darling hopes at once deftroy'd, 
 And figh to leave that blifs he ne'er enjoy'd ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Rife, heavenly vifions, rife! 
 And every vain delufive fear controul ! 
 Let real glory charm my wond'ring eyes, 
 
 And real happinefs enchant my foul ! 
 Hail glorious dawn of everlafting day ! 
 
 Tho' faintly feen at diftance here, 
 
 Thy beams the finking heart can chear,
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 7 
 
 And light the weary pilgrim on his way: 
 For not in vain did heaven infpire 
 That ative fpark of facred fire, 
 Which ftill with reftlefs ardour glows; 
 In pain, in pleafure, ftill the fame, 
 It feeks that heav'n from whence it came, 
 
 And fcorns all meaner joys, all tranfiqnt woes. 
 The foul for perfed blifs defign'd 
 Strives in vain that blifs to find, 
 'Till wing'd by HOPE at length it flies 
 Beyond the narrow bounds of earth, and air, and fkies. 
 
 VIII. 
 Still unmov'd, let HOPE remain 
 
 Fix'd on true fubftantial joy: 
 Dangers then fhall threat in vain, 
 
 Pains torment, or cares annoy: 
 Then (hall ev'ry guiltlefs pleafure 
 
 Smile with charms unknown before, 
 HOPE, fecure in real treafure, 
 
 Mourn her blafted joys no more:
 
 8; O D E TO H O P E. 
 
 Then thro' each revolving year ; 
 Tho' earthly glories fade away, 
 Tho' youth, and ftrength, and life itfelf decay ; 
 Yet ftill more bright the profpeit {hall appear, 
 Happier ftill the lateft day, 
 Brighteft far the parting ray. 
 O'er life's laft fccne celeftial beams (hall fliine, 
 
 'Till death at length fhall burft the chain, 
 While fongs of triumph found on high; 
 Then fhall HOPE her power refign, 
 
 Loft in endlefs extafy, 
 And never fading joy, in heaven's full glories reign.
 
 [ 9 3 
 
 Gin tie >&$> of 
 
 MR. G A R R I C- K. 
 
 ' 
 
 JL HE laft fad rites were done the facred ground 
 Was clos'd and GARRICK'S duft to duftreturn'd: 
 In life, in death, with general honours crown'd, 
 A nation own'd his worth applauded mourn'd. 
 
 For who, like him, could every fenfe controul, 
 To SHAKESPEARE'S felf, new charms, new force, 
 
 impart, 
 
 Bid unknown horrors (hake the finneft foul, 
 And unknown feelings melt the hardeft heart?
 
 io ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Oft when his eye with more than magic pow'r 
 
 Gave life to thoughts which words could ne'er reveal, 
 
 The voice of praife awhile was heard no more, 
 All gaz'd in filence, and could only feel. 
 
 Each thought fufpended in a general paufe, 
 All fhar'd his paflions, and forgot their own 
 
 *THI rous'd at length, in thunders of applaufe, 
 Th' accordant dictates of each heart were known. 
 
 HP 
 
 ij 
 
 O loft for ever to our wond'ring view ! 
 
 Yet faithful memory (hall preferve thy name, 
 
 Even diftant times thy honours fhall renew, 
 And GARRICK ftill fhall (hare his SHAKESPEARE'S 
 fame. 
 
 Thus mufmg thro' the lonely ifle I ftray'd, 
 Recall'd the wonders of his matchlefs pow'rs, 
 
 And many a former fcene in thought furvey'd, 
 While all unheeded pafs'd the filent hours.
 
 MR. G A R R I C K. ir 
 
 With mournful awe I trod the facred ftones, 
 Where kings and heroes fleep in long repofe, 
 
 And trophies mould'ring o'er the warrior's bones, 
 Proclaim how frail the life which fame beftows. 
 
 Now funk the laft faint beam of clofing day, 
 
 Each form was loft, and hufh'd was ev'ry found, 
 
 All, all was filent as the fleeping clay, 
 And darknefs fpread her fable vail around. 
 
 At once, methought, a more than midnight gloom 
 With death-like horror chill 'd my throbbing breaft, 
 
 When lo ! a voice deep murmuring from the tomb, 
 Thefe aweful accents on my foul imprefs'd: 
 
 ** Vain are the glories of a nation's praife, 
 
 " The boaft of wit, the pride of genius, vain; 
 
 " A long, long night fucceeds the tranfient blaze, 
 " Where darknefs, folitude, and filence, reign. 
 B 4
 
 12 ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 ** The fhouts of loud applaufe which thoufands gave, 
 " On me, nor pride, nor pleafure now beftow 
 
 u Like the chill blaft that murmurs e'er my grave, 
 *' They pafs away nor reach the duft below. 
 
 *' One virtuous deed, to all the world unknown, 
 " Outweighs the higheft blifs which thefe can give, 
 
 " Can cheer the foul whenjo,u,th and ftrcngth are flown, 
 " In ficknefs, triumph, an^ in, death furvive. 
 
 " What tho' to thee, in life's remoteft fphere, 
 " Nor nature's gifts, nor fortune's are confign'd, 
 
 " Let brighteft profpefts to thy foul appear, 
 *' And hopes immortal elevate thy mind. 
 
 " The fculptur'd marble (hall diflolve in duft, 
 
 "And fame, and wealth, and honours, pafs away: 
 
 Not fuch the triumphs of the good and juft, 
 " Not fuch the glories of eternal day.
 
 MR. G A R R I C K. 13 
 
 " Thefe, thefe (hall live, when ages are no more, 
 " With never-fading luftre (till fhall fhine: - 
 
 ' Go then, to heaven devote thy utmoft powV, 
 
 " And know whoe'er thou art the prize is Thine."

 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 "T? 
 
 JLV 
 
 , return, my haplefs fpoufe, 
 " Nor feek the fatal place 
 " Where thoughtlefs crowds expe&ing ftand, 
 " To fee thy child's difgrace. 
 
 * This little POEM was occafioned by the following facT: : A poft- 
 boy was apprehended on fufpicion of ftealing a bank-note from a letter, 
 which the author, at the requeft of a friend, had conveyed to the 
 poft-office. This circumftance obliged her to appear as an evidence 
 againft the unfortunate young man, where (he was witneft to the dif- 
 trefs of his aged parents, who were waiting at the door of the Hall, to 
 learn the event of a trial which was to decide on the life of an only fon. 
 The innocence of his intentions appearing very evident, the youth was 
 acquitted.
 
 16 A BALLAD. 
 
 " Methinks I fee the judges fet, 
 " The council all attend, 
 
 " And Jemmy trembling at the bar, 
 " Bereft of every friend. 
 
 " How fhall a mother's eye fuftain 
 " The dreadful fight to fee? 
 
 " Return, return, my haplefs fpoufe, 
 " And leave the tafk to me. 
 
 " Perfuade me not, my faithful love, 
 " Perfuade me not, to go, 
 
 " But let me fee my Jemmy's face. 
 " And fhare in all 'his woe. 
 
 I'll kneel before his judge's feet, 
 " And prayers and tears employ 
 
 " For pity take my wretched life, 
 " But fpare rny darling boy.
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 ' When trembling, proftrate in the duft, 
 
 " My heartfelt forrows flow, 
 " Sure, Cure, the hardeft heart will melt 
 
 " To fee a mother's woe. 
 
 " How did I watch his infant years 
 " Thro' fond affection blind ! 
 
 " And hop'd the comfort of my age 
 " In Jemmy's love to find. 
 
 " Oft when he join'd the youthful train, 
 . " And rov'd the woods among, 
 " Full many a wifhful look I fent, 
 " And thought he ftaid too long. 
 
 * And when at length I faw my boy 
 " Come bounding o'er the plain, 
 
 (The fprightlieft of the fprightly throng, 
 " The foremoft of the train. ) 
 B
 
 i8 A BALLAD. 
 
 " How have I gaz'd with fond delight, 
 
 " His harmlefs joy to fee, 
 "As home he brought a load of flow'rs, 
 
 " And chofe the beft for me. 
 
 " Why would'ft thou feek the noify town, 
 " Where fraud and cunning dwell? 
 
 " Alas ! the heart that knows no guile 
 " Should choofe the humble cell. 
 
 " So might I ftill with eager joy 
 
 u Expect my child's return ; 
 " And not as now, his haplefs fate 
 
 " In bitter forrow mourn. 
 
 " Laft night when all was dark and ftill, 
 
 " (O wond'rous tale to tell) 
 " I heard a mournful folemn found 
 
 " Methought 'twas Jemmy's knell.
 
 A BALLAD. 19 
 
 And oft amidft the dreary gloom 
 
 " I heard a difmal groan 
 " And oft I felt a clay-cold hand 
 
 '.' Which fondly prefs'd my own. 
 
 " Anon I heard the found confus'd 
 
 Of all the niftic train, 
 \ '* And Jemmy's fainting trembling voice 
 " For pity begg'd in vain. 
 
 Methought I faw the fatal cord, 
 
 ' I faw him dragg'd along 
 " I faw him feiz'd" She could no more, 
 
 For anguifh ftopp'd her tongue. 
 
 Her faithful partner gently ftrove 
 
 Her finking heart to cheer, 
 But while his lips of comfort fpoke, 
 
 He could not hide a tear. 
 c *
 
 20 A BALLAD. 
 
 But now the voice of joy or woe 
 
 To her alike was vain ; 
 Her thought ftill dwelt on Jemmy's fate, 
 
 Her lips on Jemmy's name. 
 
 Thus on, the mournful pair advahc'd, 
 
 And reach'd the fatal place, 
 Where thoughtlefs crowds were gather'd round 
 
 To fee their child's difgrace. 
 
 Such crowds as run with idle gae 
 
 Alike to every fhew; 
 Nor heed a Wretched father's tears, 
 
 Nor feel a mother's woe. 
 
 Sudden (he ftopp'd for now in view 
 
 The crowded Hall appear'd 
 Chill horror feiz'd her ftiffen'd frame, 
 
 Her voice no more was heard.
 
 
 A BALLAD. 21 
 
 She could not move, {he could not weep, 
 
 Her hands were clafp'd on high ; 
 And all her foul in eager gaze 
 
 Seem'd ftarting from her eye. 
 
 For her the hufband trembled now 
 
 With tender, anxious fear! 
 
 " O Lucy, turn and fpeak to me!" 
 
 But Lucy could not hear. 
 
 Still fix'd (he flood in filent woe, 
 
 Still gazing on the door ; 
 When lo ! a murmur thro' the croud 
 
 Proclaimed the trial o'er. 
 
 At once the blood forfook her cheek, 
 
 Her feeble fpirits fled; 
 When Jemmy flew into her arms, 
 
 And rais'd her drooping head.
 
 22 A BALLAD. 
 
 The well-known voice recall'd her foul, 
 She clafp'd him to her breaft : 
 
 O joy too vaft for words to tell ! 
 Let Fancy paint the reft.
 
 L 23 ] 
 
 5 U B J E C r, 
 LOVE. 
 
 For the VASE, at BATH-EASTON VILLA. 
 
 VV ITH bow unftrung, and arrows broke, 
 
 Young Cupid to his mother ran, 
 And tears faft flowing as he fpoke, 
 He thus his fad complaint began : 
 
 " Ah ! where is now that boafted pow'r, 
 " Which kings and heroes once confefs'd? 
 
 " I try my arrows o'er and o'er, 
 
 " But find they cannot reach the breaft.
 
 LOVE. 
 
 " I feek the rooms, the play, the ball, 
 
 " Where beauty fpreads her brighteft charms ; 
 
 " But loft in crowds my arrows fall, 
 " And Pleafure flights my feeble arms. 
 
 " Yet real pleafure is not there, 
 " A phantom ftill deludes their aim; 
 
 " In Difiipation's carelefs air 
 
 " They feek her charms, but feek in vain. 
 
 " Here Pride eflays my darts to throw, 
 " But from her hand they ne'er can harm, 
 
 For ftill fhe turns afide the blow; 
 " Not Beauty's felf with Pride can charm. 
 
 " Coquetry here with roving eyes, 
 
 " Quick darts a thoufand arrows round ; 
 
 " She thinks to conquer by furprize 
 *' But ah ! thofe arrows never wound.
 
 LOVE. 25 
 
 " Here Cunning boafts to guide their courie 
 
 " With cautious aim and fly deiign; 
 " But ftill fhe checks their native force 
 
 " Touch'd by her hand, they drop from mine. 
 
 " Here Affectation taints the fmile, 
 
 " Which elfe had darted LOVE around. 
 
 " The charms of Art can ne'er beguile : 
 
 11 But where {hall Nature's charms be found ? 
 
 " While thefe their various arts efTay, 
 " And vainly ftrive to gain the heart, 
 
 " Good-Senfe difdainful turns away, 
 And Reafon fcorns my pointlefs dart. 
 
 " Yet they to LOVE were once ally'd, 
 " For LOVE could ev'ry joy difpenfe, 
 
 " Sweet Pleafure fmil'd by Virtue's fide, 
 " And LOVE was pair'd with Innocence,
 
 26 LOVE, 
 
 " Fair Venus clafp'd her darling child, 
 " And gendy footh'd his anxious breaft; 
 
 " Refume thy darts," fhe faid, and fmil'd, 
 " Thy wrongs fhall quickly be redrefs'd." 
 
 " With ardefc blufh and gentle mein, 
 ** With charms unknowing pride or care, 
 
 " With all the graces in her train, 
 " My lovely *ANNA fhall appear. 
 
 M Go then, my bey, to earth again, 
 Once more aflume defpotic pow'r, 
 
 " For Modefty with her fhall reign, 
 " And Senfe and Reafon fhall adore." 
 
 * Mifs ANNE M LL j now Mrs.
 
 THEN TWO YEARS OLD. 
 
 bloflbm, opening to the beams of day! 
 Dear objeft of affe&ion's tender care ! 
 For whom (he gently fmooths the painful way, 
 Infpires the anxious wifh, the ardent pray'r ! 
 
 How pleafmg in thy infant mind to trace 
 The dawn of reafon's force, of fancy's fire, 
 
 The foft impreflion of each future grace, 
 And all a parent's warmeft hopes defirej
 
 28 To MISS. : 
 
 How fweet that fmile unknown to cv'ry art, 
 Infpir'd by innocence, and peace, and joy ! 
 
 Kow pure the tranfports of thy guiltlefs heart, 
 Which yet no fears alarm, no cares annoy! 
 
 No airy phantoms of uncertain woe, 
 
 The bleflings of the prefent hour allay; 
 o empty hopes a fancied good beftow, 
 Then leave the foul to real grief a prey. 
 
 Gay pleafure fparkles in thy gentle eye, 
 
 Some new delight in every fcene appears- 
 Yet foft affection heaves a fecret figh, 
 
 And fends an anxious look to diftant years. 
 
 While thofe dear fmiles with tender love I view, 
 And o'er thy infant charms enraptur'd bend, 
 
 Does my fond hope a real good purfue ? 
 And do thefe arms embrace a future friend ?
 
 THEN TWO YEARS OLD. 29 
 
 Should heaven to me a lengthen'd date aflign, 
 Will e'er that love thy gentle heart engage 
 
 With friendship's pureft flame to anfwer mine, 
 And charm the languor of declining age? 
 
 Yet not for me thefe ardent wifhes rife 
 Beyond the limits of my fleeting years, 
 
 For thee, dear babe, my prayers afcend the fkies, 
 And pleafmg hope my anxious bofom cheers. 
 
 May innocence ftill guard thy artlefs youth, 
 Ere vice and folly's fnares thy breaft alarm, 
 
 While fweetnefs, modefty, and fpotlefs truth, 
 Beam from thy foul, and brighten ev'ry charm ! 
 
 May heaven to thee its choiceft gifts impart, 
 Beyond what wealth beftows, or pride purfues, 
 
 With ev'ry virtue animate thy heart, 
 And raife thy efforts to the nobleft views !
 
 30 To MISS : 
 
 In tranfport wrapt may each fond parent fee 
 Thro' rifing years thofe virtues ftill improve, 
 
 While every tender care now felt for thee, 
 Thy heart repays with never-ceafmg love. 
 
 When pleafure fmiles, and ftrews thy path with flow'rs, 
 
 And youthful fancy doubles ev'ry joy, 
 May brighter hopes attend thy gayeft hours, 
 
 And point to blifs which time can ne'er deftroy ! 
 
 And when the pangs of woe thy breaft muft tear, 
 When pleafure fades, and fancy charms no more, 
 
 Still may thofe hopes the gloomy profpecl: cheer, 
 Unmov'd by grief, unchang'd by fortune's pow'r. 
 
 May love, efteem, and friendship, crown thy days, 
 With joys to guilt unknown, from doubt fecure, 
 
 While heavenly truth infpires the voice of praife, 
 And bids that praife beyond the world endure!
 
 THEN TWO YEARS OLD. 3! 
 
 Thro' life to virtue's facred di&ates true, 
 Be fuch thy joys as angels muft approve, 
 
 Such as may lead to raptures ever new, 
 To endlefs peace, an<l pureft blifs above! 

 
 [ 33 
 
 OU 
 
 TALE. 
 
 LEND your wings, ye fav'ring gales, 
 " And gently wave the fea, 
 " And fwell my hufband's fpreading fails, 
 " And waft him home to me ! 
 
 " His toils and dangers all are paft, 
 And bleft with fortune's ftore 
 
 " From diftant climes he comes at laft 
 " To view his native fhore. 
 D
 
 34 LOUISA. 
 
 " And with him comes the faithful youth, 
 " Who gain'd my daughter's love, 
 
 " Whofe virtue, conftancy, and truth, 
 " The coldeft heart might move. 
 
 '* May all the graces wait around, 
 " And heighten all her charms ! 
 
 " He comes with wealth and glory crown'd 
 " To my LOUISA'S arms. 
 
 " Now Fancy flies to diftant days, 
 
 " And views the lovely pair, 
 " And hears the voice of general praife 
 
 " Their matchlefs worth declare. 
 
 " How mall thy mother's heart expand 
 " With joys unknown before, 
 
 " When thoufands blefs the bounteous hand 
 " That gave thee wealth and pow'r !
 
 U I S A. 35 
 
 Do I not fee a diftant fail 
 " O'er yonder waves appear ? 
 
 " Our ardent vows at length prevail, 
 " My heart proclaims them near. 
 
 " With us in every joy to fhare, 
 " Our much-lov'd heroes come 
 
 " Propitious heaven, O hear our pray'r, 
 And guide them fafely home !" 
 
 " Propitious heaven, O hear our pray'r," 
 
 LOUISA trembling cry'd, 
 For ah ! the chill Waft wav'd her hair, 
 
 The rifing cloud (he fpy'd. 
 
 Near and more near the tempeft drew, 
 The clouds obfcur'd the fky, 
 
 The winds inf hoarfer rrturmtrrs blew, 
 The waves were tofsM on high: 
 Dx
 
 36 LOUISA. 
 
 And now they dafh againft the fhore, 
 And fhake the folid ground ; 
 
 The thunder rolls, the torrents roar, 
 The lightnings flalh around. 
 
 Ah ! who can paint LOUISA'S fear, 
 
 Her agonies impart ? 
 The fhrieks of death aflail her ear, 
 
 And horror chills her heart. 
 
 At length the raging tempeft o'er, 
 
 She view'd the fatal coaftj 
 A wreck appear'd upon the fliore 
 
 She funk, in terror loft. 
 
 " My life ! my joy ! my only love!" 
 A voice at diftance cries : 
 
 That voice her inmoft foul could move, 
 She ftarts with wild furprize.
 
 LOUISA. 37 
 
 Now o'er the beach with eager hafte 
 
 She fees her HENRY fly: 
 No more (he feels her terrors paft, 
 
 'Twas blifs 'twas extafy. 
 
 Her aged father too appears, 
 
 He prefs'd her to his heart ; 
 But as he prefs'd, his ftreaming tears 
 
 Some fecret grief impart. 
 
 His much-lov'd wife in tranfport flies 
 
 In all their joy to fhare j 
 Yet views her lord with anxious eyes, 
 
 And feels a tender fear. 
 
 The fond embrace he oft renews, 
 
 And oft, with grief opprefs'd, 
 The fatal wreck again he views, 
 
 And fmites his trembling breaft,
 
 33 LOUISA. 
 
 " Lo ! there/' he cry'd, " the fad remains 
 
 " Of my once boafted ftore, 
 " For all the fruit of all our pains 
 
 " Is funk to rife no more. 
 
 " Yet fhould this breaft np'er heave a groan 
 " For all my frujtlefs pares / isri b' 
 
 " Did forrow fei?e en me alone-, 
 " My woes I well could bear: 
 
 " But ah ! for thee my heart mufr. grieve, 
 For thee I priz'd my gain; 
 
 " And did I then my child decejye 
 " With hopes believ'd in vain: 
 
 *' Still to our humble home confin'd, 
 
 *' Muft rural taflfs employ 
 f J 
 
 tl A nymph to fhine in courts defign'd, 
 
 9 
 
 " And brighten ev'ry ipy. 
 /j /
 
 LOUISA. 39 
 
 " In thought, by pleafing hope infpir'd, 
 
 " I faw my child appear, 
 " By all belov'd, by all admir'd, 
 
 " The faireft of the fair. 
 
 " I faw her rais'd to pomp and ftate, 
 
 *' And rich in Fortune's ftore: 
 " I heard the praifes of the great, 
 
 " The bleflings of the poor. 
 
 " With fond delight my bofom, glow'd, 
 
 " By foothing Fancy led, 
 And heaven the wifh'd fuccefs beftow'd 
 
 But ah ! the dream is fled. 
 
 " And thou, dear partner of each care, 
 
 " This anxious heart has known j 
 " Thou too, with me, haft felt thjr fhare 
 
 ** Of hopes, for ever gone.
 
 40 LOUISA. 
 
 " Thy thoughts, like mine, in time to come, 
 
 " A fcene of blifs enjoy 'd, 
 " 'Till one fad moment's fatal doom 
 
 " The airy good deftroy'd. 
 
 " And thou, with me, our lofs muft mourn, 
 " Thy tears with mine defcend; 
 
 " And thus, alas ! my wifh'd return 
 te Our tranfient joy muft end." 
 
 While thus with agonizing fighs 
 
 They view'd the fatal place, 
 LOUISA'S mild, yet ftedfaft eyes 
 
 Were fix'd on HENRY'S face. 
 
 By her own heart, his heart flie knew, 
 
 She read his virtues there: 
 Ah ! bleft indeed the chofen few 
 
 Who thus each thought can fliare !
 
 LOUISA. 41 
 
 Serene and firm their joys fhall prove, 
 
 And every change endure, 
 No mean fufpicion taint their love, 
 
 In juft efteem fecure. 
 
 And now her foul with tranfport glows, 
 
 And animates each grace, 
 A fmile, beyond what pleafure knows, 
 
 Adorns her lovely face. 
 
 ' And is it thus, my friends," (he cry'd, 
 
 " When every ftorm is pail, 
 " When all our fears at once fubfide, 
 
 " Thus do we meet at laft? 
 
 " O lift with me your hearts to Heav'n 
 
 " In ftrains of ardent praife, 
 " With tranfport own the bleffings giv'n, 
 
 *' To crown our future days.
 
 42 LOUISA. 
 
 " How oft my fervent prayers arofe 
 " While terrors fhook my foul, 
 
 " To Him who could the ftorm compofe, 
 " And winds and waves controul ? 
 
 " My prayers are heard my fears are gone, 
 " My much-lov'd friends I fee, 
 
 " I feel a joy till now unknown, 
 
 " And can ye grieve for me ? 
 
 " Content I fhar'd an humble fa(;e, 
 " Nor wifh'd in courts to fhine;-^ 
 
 " The airy dream which pleas'd of late, 
 " With joy I now refign. 
 
 " What tho' no feenes, of gay delight 
 
 " Amufe each idle gueft, 
 ** No coftly luxuries invite 
 
 * To fhare the fplendtd feaft,
 
 LOUISA. 43 
 
 " Yet Peace and Innocence (hall fmile, 
 
 And purer joys afford, 
 " And Love fecure from doubt or guile 
 
 " Shall blefs our humble board. 
 
 " What tho' we boaft nor wealth nor pow'r, 
 
 " Each forrow to relieve, 
 " A little, from our little ftore, 
 
 " The poor fhall yet receive; 
 
 " And words of peace fhall foothe the woe 
 
 " Which riches could not heal, 
 " And fweet benevolence beftow 
 
 " An aid which all muft feel; 
 
 " Beyond the reach of fortune's pow'r, 
 
 " Her gentle force extends, 
 " She chears affliction's darkeft hour, 
 
 " And joy her fteps attends,
 
 44 LOUISA. 
 
 " Tho here to narrow bounds confin'd, 
 " Ordain'd to lowly views, 
 
 " For ever free, the virtuous mind 
 " Her glorious path purfues; 
 
 " In profp'rous ftate, o'er all fhe fhow'rs 
 " The various bleffings given; 
 
 " In humble life exerts her pow'rs 
 " And trufts the reft to Heav'n. 
 
 " The lofty dwellings of the great 
 " Full many a wretch contain, 
 
 " Who feel the cares of pomp and ftate, 
 " But feek their joys in vain: 
 
 " Yet ftarting from his fhort repofe 
 
 " Alarm'd at ev'ry blaft, 
 * c With anxious fear he dreads to lofe 
 
 " That good he ne'er could tafte*
 
 LOUISA. 45 
 
 " And oft beneath the filent fhade 
 
 " A noble heart remains, 
 " Where Heaven's bright image is difplay'd, 
 
 " And ev'ry virtue reigns: 
 
 " Sweet peace and joy that heart (hall find 
 
 " Unmov'd by grief or pain, 
 " Be fuch the lot to us affign'd, 
 
 " And fortune's frowns are vain. 
 
 " O ye who taught me firft to know 
 
 " Bright Virtue's facred flame, 
 " To whom far more than life I owe, 
 
 " Who more than duty claim r 
 
 Ah ! let me dry each tender tear, 
 
 " And ev'ry doubt deftroy, 
 " Difpel at once each anxious fear, 
 
 " And call you back to joy.
 
 4 6 LOUISA. 
 
 " And thou, my HENRY, dearer far 
 " Than fortune's richeft prize, 
 
 " I know thy heart and thou canft dare 
 
 " Her treafures to defpife : 
 
 " A purer blifs that heart fliall prove 
 " From care and forrow free, 
 
 " Content with innocence and love, 
 With poverty and Me." 
 
 In tranfport loft^ and freed from fears, 
 
 The happy parents fmil'd, 
 And blufhihg dry'd the falling tears, 
 
 And clafp'd their matchlefs child. 
 
 Her HENRY fix'd in fileht gaze 
 
 Beheld his lovely bride, 
 " O Heav'n, accept my humble praife !" 
 
 At length entranc'd he ery'd.
 
 LOUISA. 47 
 
 To all my ftdrtns and dangers paft, 
 
 " If joys like thefe fucceed, 
 " My utmoft wifh is crown'd at laft, 
 
 " And I am rich indeed. 
 
 " Then rife, ye raging tempefts, rife, 
 
 " And fortune's gifts deftroy 
 " Thy Henry gains the nobleft prize, 
 
 " He feels the pureft joy. 
 
 " Extatic blifs his heart (hall prdve 1 , 
 
 " From care and forrow free, 
 " While bleft with Innocence and Love, 
 
 " With boundlefs wealth iri thee. 
 
 Sweet Hope o'er every morn (hall fhed 
 
 " Her foul-enliv'ning ray, 
 c Celeftial Peace, by virtue led, 
 
 " Shall cheer each clofing day.
 
 4 8 LOUISA. 
 
 " Far from ambition's train remov'd, 
 " And pleafure's giddy throng, 
 
 " Our blamelefs hours, by Heav'n approv'd, 
 " Shall gently glide along. 
 
 " O may I catch that facred fire 
 " Which animates thy breaft ! 
 
 " Like thee to nobleft heights afpire, 
 " Like thee be truly bleft ! 
 
 " Thus fhall the pleafing charm of love 
 " Bright Virtue's force increafe 
 
 " Thus every changing fcene fhall prove 
 " The road to lafting peace : 
 
 " And thus, thro' life, our hearts fhall know 
 
 " A more than mortal joy, 
 " Beyond what fortune. can beftow, 
 
 " Or time, or death, deftroy."
 
 C 49 ] 
 
 E N V Y, A FRAGMENT. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 ENVY, her character; her dwelling near the road that leads 
 to the Temple of VIRTUE. A fruit tree gives flicker and re- 
 frefhment to travellers, {he tears all the buds to prevent it, &c. 
 A lamb takes flicker from the fnow in her hut ; flie tears down 
 the roof that it may not protect him, and leaves it fo, that none 
 may ever find flicker there. Difturbs all travellers. Schemes 
 laid to defeat her. Nothing will do but the fliield of Truth, 
 which is fo bright that none dare carry it, becaufe they cannot 
 themfelves ftand it. At laft INNOCENCE, attended by MODESTY, 
 undertakes it. ENVY attacks them with FURY, throws a dart, 
 which inftead of hurting, only ftrikes off the veil which hid the 
 face of MODESTY, and makes all the world admire her. ENVY 
 blufhes for the firft time; INNOCENCE holds up the fliield. 
 ENVY is dazzled, and becomes almoft blind ; flie flees from 
 them, and wanders about the world, trying to hurt every body, 
 but being too blind to direct her darts, though they fometimes 
 do harm, yet they always recoil upon herfelf, and give her the 
 ievereft wounds,
 
 ENVY, 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 I. 
 
 Y 
 
 A E pleafing dreams of heavenly Poefy, 
 Which oft have footh'd my throbbing heart to reft, 
 And in foft {trains of fweeteft minftrelfy 
 Have lull'd the tumults of this anxious breaft, 
 Or charm'd my foul with pleafures unpoflefs'd: 
 How fweet with you to wander all the day 
 In airy fcenes, by Fancy's pencil drefs'd, 
 To trace the windings of her devious way, 
 To feel her magic force, and own her boundlefs fway. 
 2
 
 52 ENVY. 
 
 II. 
 
 See at her call the awful forms arife 
 Of ancient heroes, moulder'd in the tomb ; 
 Again Vice trembles thro' her deep difguife, 
 And Virtue triumphs in a dungeon's gloom, 
 Or fmiles undaunted at a tyrant's doom. 
 
 Again fhe waves on high her magic wand 
 
 The faded glories rife of Greece and Rome, 
 
 The heavenly mufes lead a tuneful band, 
 
 And Freedom's fearlefs fons unnumber'd hofts vvithftand. 
 
 Ill, 
 
 And now to fofter fcenes my fteps (he leads, 
 The fweet retreats of Innocence and Love, 
 Where freftieft flow'rets deck th' enamell'd meads, 
 And Nature's mufic warbles through the grove, 
 'Mongft rocks and caverns now fhe loves to rove 
 And mark the torrents tumbling from on high, 
 And now fhe foars on daring wings, above 
 The vaft expanfe of yon etherial fky, 
 Or darts thro' diftant time, and long futurity.
 
 ENVY, 53 
 
 IV. 
 
 And oft when weary nature finks opprefs'd 
 
 Beneath the load of ficknefs and of pain, 
 
 When fweeteft mufic cannot lull to reft, 
 
 And prefent pleafure fpreads her charms in vain, 
 
 Bright Fancy comes and burfts the mental chain, 
 
 And bears the foul on airy wings away, 
 
 Well pleas'd it wanders o'er her golden reign, 
 
 Enjoys the tranfports of fome diftant day, 
 
 And Pain's fufpended force a moment owns her fway. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ev'n in the lonelieft wild, the deepeft (hade, 
 
 Remote from ev'ry pleafing, focial fcene, 
 
 New wonders rife, by Fancy's pow'r difplay'd ; 
 
 She paints each heavenly grace with gentle mein, 
 
 Celeftial Truth, and Innocence ferene, 
 
 And Hope, exulting ftill in future joy, 
 
 Tho' dangers threat and tempefts intervene j 
 
 And Patience, ever calm tho' cares annoy, 
 
 And f\yeet Benevolence, whofe pleafures ne'er can cloy.
 
 54 ENVY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In dangers firm, in triumphs ever mild, 
 
 The awful form of Fortitude appears, 
 
 Pure joy, of heavenly Piety the child, 
 
 Serenely fmiles, unmov'd by grief or fears, 
 
 Soft Mercy dries Affliction's bitter tears, 
 
 Still bleft in ev'ry blefling fhe beftows: 
 
 While Friendship's gentle voice each forrow cheers, 
 
 Sweet are her joys, and pleafing e'en her woes, 
 
 When warm'd by Virtue's fire the facred ardour glows. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thus Fancy's pow'r in folitude can charm, 
 Can roufe each latent virtue in the heart, 
 Preferve the heavenly fpark for ever warm, 
 And guiltlefs pleafures ev'ry hour impart. ^ 
 
 Yet oh ! beware left Vice with fatal art 
 Should taint the gift for Virtue's aid defign'd j 
 Left Fancy's fting fhould point Affliction's dart, 
 Or empty fhadows check th' afpiring mind, 
 By vain delights fubdu'd, or vainer fears confin'd.
 
 ENVY. 55 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For oft when Virtue prompts the gen'rous deed, 
 And points the way to gain the glorious prize, 
 Imagin'd ills her upward flight impede, 
 And all around fantaftic terrors rife: 
 Ev'n Vice itfelf can Fancy's pow'r difguife 
 Wiih borrow'd charms, enchanting to betray : - 
 Oh then let Reafon watch with cautious eyes, 
 Secure its active force in Virtue's way, 
 Then flack the rein at will, and free let Fancy ftray. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thus mufing late at evening's filent hour, 
 
 My wandring footfteps fought the lonely fhade, 
 
 And gently led by Fancy's magic pow'r, 
 
 A'lethought at once, to diftant realms convey'd, 
 
 New fcenes appear'd, by mortal ne'er furvey'd; 
 
 Such as were fabled erft in fairy land, 
 
 Where elfin knights their prowefs oft difplay'd, 
 
 And mighty Love infpir'd.the warlike band 
 
 To feek adventures hard at Beauty's high command.
 
 56 R N V Y. 
 
 X. 
 
 Full many a path there was on ev'ry fide, 
 
 Thefe wafte and wild, and thofe befet with flow'rs ; 
 
 Where many a pilgrim wander'd far and wide, 
 
 Some bent to feek gay Pleafure's rofy bow'rs, 
 
 And fome to gain Ambition's lofty tow'rs; 
 
 While others view their labours with difdain, 
 
 And prize alone the gifts which Fortune fhow'rs ; 
 
 With carelefs fteps fome wander o'er the plain, 
 
 And fome with 'ardor ftrive bright Virtue's hill to gain. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But many foes in ev'ry path were feen 
 
 Who ftrove by ev'ry art to ftop the way; 
 
 Here Indolence appear'd with vacant mein, 
 
 And painted forms of terror and difmay ; 
 
 And there the Paffions rofe in dread array, 
 
 And fill'd with clouds and darknefs all the air; 
 
 While empty fears and hopes alike betray, 
 
 And Pride with Folly join'd, deftructive pair ! 
 
 Drew many from each path, then left them to defpair.
 
 ENVY. 57 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet {till diftinguifh'd o'er the hoftile band, 
 
 By all detefted, and to all a foe, 
 
 Pale Envy rofe ; while trembling in her hand, 
 
 Her poifon'd (haft ftill aim'd fome deadly blow, 
 
 Her eyes ftill wander'd in purfuit of woe : 
 
 For her, in vain rifes the cheerful morn, 
 
 In vain the flow'rs with freflieft luftre glow, 
 
 Vain all the charms which Nature's face adorn, 
 
 They cannot cheer a heart with ceafelefs anguifli torn. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Befide the way that leads to Virtue's fhrine, 
 This wicked hag her fav'rite dwelling chpfe, 
 Around her walls did baneful nightfhade twine, 
 And twifted thorns did all her hut compofe; 
 And ftill from morning's dawn to ev'ning's clofe, 
 Some horrid purpofe would her thoughts employ; 
 For never could her heart enjoy repofe, 
 Nor e'er her reftlefs fpirit tafte of joy, 
 Save when her cruel arts could others' peace deftroy.
 
 58 ENVY. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The fprightly voice of guiltlefs Pleafure's train, 
 The pleafing fmile which Peace and Virtue wear, 
 Whofe gentle force might charm the fenfe of pain, 
 Sufpend diftrefs, and fmooth the brow of care, 
 Still with new pangs her cruel heart would tear: 
 But when (he heard Affliction's bitter cries, 
 Or view'd the horrid form of dark Defpair, 
 A tranfient gladnefs lighten'd in her eyes 
 But tranfient ftill and vain are Envy's wretched joys.
 
 [ 59 
 
 ON THE 
 
 NEW YEAR. 
 
 IS paft another year for ever gone 
 Proclaims the end of all ; with aweful voice 
 It calls the foul to thought: Awhile fhe turns 
 From prefent fcenes, and wanders o'er the paft j 
 Or darting forward ftrives to pierce the veil 
 Which hides from mortal eyes the time to come. 
 
 O Thou, to grateful mem'ry ever dear! 
 Whom fond affection ftill delights to name! 
 Whom ftill my heart exults to call my Friend! 
 In Fancy yet be prefent, Oft with Thee,
 
 60 ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 In many a lonely walk and filent fhade, 
 
 My foul holds converfe ; oft recalls the hours 
 
 "When pleas'd attention hung upon thy voice, 
 
 While the pure dictates of celeftial Truth 
 
 In Friendfhip's gentleft accents charm'd my ear, 
 
 And footh'd each anxious thought, and fhew'd the way 
 
 Which leads to prefcnt peace, and future blifs: 
 
 Tho' now far diftant, yet in thought be near, 
 
 And {hare with me Reflection's facred hour. 
 
 And oh ! to Thee may each revolving year 
 
 Its choiceit blelfings bring ! May heavenly peace 
 
 To every thoughtlefs mind unknown purfued 
 
 In vain thro' fcenes of vifionary good 
 
 That peace which dwells with piety alone 
 
 Still on thy fteps thro' every ftage attend! 
 
 And pureft joy from Virtue's facred fource 
 
 Bleft in the thought of many a well-fpent day, 
 
 Bleft in the profpecT: of unbounded blifs, 
 
 Cheer every hour, and triumph in the laft! 
 
 As when a traveller, who long has rov'd 
 Through many a varied path, at length attains .
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 61 
 
 Some eminence, from whence he views the land 
 Which late he pafs'd groves, ftreams, and lawns 
 
 appear, 
 
 And hills with flocks adorn'd, and lofty woods ; 
 And ev'ry charm which Nature's hand beftows 
 In rich profufion decks the fmiling fcene 
 No more he views the rugged thorny way, 
 The fteep afcent, the flippery path, which led 
 High o'er the brink of fome rude precipice ; 
 
 Unnumber'd beauties fcarce obferv'd before 
 
 
 
 At once combine to charm his raptur'd view, 
 And backward turning, oft in tranfport loft, 
 His toils and dangers paft no more are felt, 
 But long and tedious feems the road to come. 
 
 Thus oft, when youth is fled, when health decays, 
 And cares perplex, and trifling pleafures cloy, 
 Sick of vain hopes, and tired of prefent fcenes, 
 The foul returns to joys (he feels no more, 
 And backward cafts her view: then Fancy comes, 
 In Memory's form, and gilds the long-paft days, 
 Recalls the faded images of joy,
 
 62 ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Paints every happy moment happier frill; 
 But hides each anxious fear, and heartfelt pang, 
 Each pleafure loft, and hope purfued in vain, 
 Which oft o'erfpread with gloom the gayeft hour, 
 And taught ev'n Youth and Innocence to mourn. 
 
 O Happinefs, in every varied fcene, 
 Thro' toil, thro' danger, and thro' pain, purfued ! 
 Yet oft when prefent fcarce enjoy'd; when paft, 
 Recall'd to wound the heart, to blaft the fweets 
 
 Yet given to life: How are thy votaries, 
 
 Mifledby vain delufions, thus deceiv'd? 
 Let rifing Hope for ever on the wing 
 Still point to diftant good, to perfect blifs ; 
 While confcious of fuperior pow'rs, the foul 
 Exulting hears her call, and longs to foar 
 To fcenes of real and unfading joy. 
 Yet while on earth, fome feeble rays are fhed 
 
 To cheer the mournful gloom : O let not man 
 
 Rejedt the proffer'd gift! with innocence 
 And gratitude enjoy'd, each prefent good 
 Beyond the fleeting moment may extend
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 63 
 
 Its pleafmg force. When Nature's varied charms 
 
 In all the gayeft luftre of the fpring 
 
 Delight the wond'ring view; while every grove 
 
 With artlefs mufic hails the rifing morn, 
 
 The fportive lambkins play, the fhepherd fmgs, 
 
 Creation fmiles, and every bofom feels 
 
 The general joy : O fay, from fcenes like thefe 
 
 Shall not the fweet impreffions ftill remain 
 
 Of Innocence, and Peace, and focial Love, 
 
 To blefs the future hour? When the glad heart 
 
 Exulting beats at Friendftiip's facred call, 
 And feels what language never can exprefs ; 
 While every joy exalted and refin'd, 
 And each tumultuous paflion charm'd to peace, 
 Owns the fweet influence of its matchlefs power j 
 (That power which ev'n o'er grief itfelf can fhed 
 A heavenly beam, when pleafure courts in vain, 
 And wealth and honours pafs unheeded by :) 
 Shall joys like thefe, on Virtue's bafis rais'd, 
 Like Fancy's vain delufions pafs away? 
 O no ! Nor time nor abfence (hall efface 
 The ever. dear remembrance ; ev'n when paft % '
 
 64. ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 When deep Affliction mourns the bleffing gone, 
 Yet fhall that blefling be for ever priz'd, 
 For ever felt. When heaven-born Charity 
 Expands the heart, and prompts the liberal hand 
 To foothe diftrefs, fupply the various wants 
 Of friendlefs poverty; and dry the tears 
 Which bathe the widow's cheek, whofe deareft hope 
 Is fnatch'd away, and helplefs orphans afk 
 That aid (he cannot give; Say, mail the joy 
 (Pure as the facred fource from whence it fprings) 
 Which then exalts the foul, mail this expire ? 
 The grafs fhall wither, and the flower fhall fade, 
 But Heaven's eternal word fhall ftill remairt, 
 And Heaven's eternal word pronounc'd it blefr. 
 
 Ye calm delights of Innocence and Peace ! 
 Ye joys by Virtue taught, by Heaven approved ! 
 Is there a heart, which loft in felfifh views 
 Ne'er felt your pleafmg force, ne'er knew to fhare 
 Another's joy, or heave a tender figh 
 For forrows not its own; which all around 
 Beholds a dreary void, where Hope perhaps
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 6 
 
 /Vlay dart a feeble ray, but knows not wherq 
 To point its aim, for real good, unknown, 
 While prefent is purfued, but ne'er attain'd ? 
 Is there a heart like this? At fuch a fight. 
 Let foft Companion drop a filent tear, 
 And Charity reluctant turn away 
 From woes (he ne'er {hall feel, nor can relieve- 
 But oh ! Let thofe whom heaven has taught to feel 
 The pureft joys which mortals e'er can know, 
 With gratitude recall the bleflings given, 
 Tho' grief fucceed, nor e'er with envy view 
 That calm which cold indifference feems to fhare, 
 And think thofe happy who can never lofe 
 That good they never knew; for joys like thefe 
 Refine, ennoble, elevate the mind, 
 And never, never fhall fucceeding woes 
 Efface the bleft impreffion ; Grief itfelf 
 Retains it ftill ; while Hope exulting comes 
 To fnatch them from the power of Time and Deatn, 
 And tell the foul They never /ball decay.
 
 66 ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 When Youth and Pleafure gild the fmiling morn, 
 And Fancy fcatters rofes all around, 
 What blifsful vifions rife ! In profpeft bright 
 Awhile they charm the foul : but fcarce attain'd, 
 
 The gay delufion fades. Another comes, 
 
 The foft enchantment is again renew'd, 
 And Youth again enjoys the airy dreams 
 
 Of fancied good. But ah ! how oft ev'n thefe 
 
 By ftern Affliction's hand are fnatch'd away, 
 Ere yet experience proves them vain, and fhews 
 That earthly pleafures to a heavenly mind 
 Are but the fhadows of fubftantial blifs? 
 But Pleafure rais'd by Virtue's powerful charm 
 Above each tranfient view, each meaner aim, 
 Can blefs the prefent hour, and lead the foul 
 To brighter profpe&s, rich in every good, 
 Which man can feel, or heaven. itfelf beftow. 
 
 While thus returning o'er the long-paft fcenes 
 Of former life, the mind recalls to view 
 The ftrange viciflitudes of grief and joy, 
 O may the grateful heart for ever own
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 67 
 
 The various bleffings given; nor dare repine 
 At ills which all muft fharej or deem thofe ills 
 From chance or fate (thofe empty names which veil 
 The ignorance of man) could ever flow; 
 But warn'd alike by Pleafure and by Pain, 
 That higher joys await the virtuous mind 
 Than aught on earth can yield : in every change 
 Adore that Power which rules the whole, and gives, 
 In Pleafure's charms, in Sorrow's keeneft pangs, 
 The means of good, the hope the pledge of blifs. 
 
 Thou rifing year, now opening to my view. 
 Yet wrapp'd in darknefs whither doft thou lead ? 
 
 What is Futurity? It is a time 
 
 When joys, unknown to former life, may fhed 
 Their brighteft beams on each fucceeding day ; 
 When Health again may bloom, and Pleafure fmile 
 (By Pain no more allay'd,) and new delights 
 On every changing feafon ftill attend; 
 Each morn returning wake the foul to joy 
 From balmy flumbers, undifturb'd by care;
 
 63 ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Succefs ftill wait on Hope, and every hour 
 
 In peace and pleafure gently glide away. 
 
 But ah ! how rare on earth are years like this ! 
 
 In the dark profpedl of Futurity 
 
 Far other fcenes than thefe may yet remain ; 
 
 Affliction there may aim her keeneft marts 
 
 To tear the heart, while pain and ficknefs wafte 
 
 The feeble frame by flow confuming pangs, 
 
 And eafe and comfort loft are fought in vain j 
 
 For there, perhaps, no friendly voice may cheer 
 
 The tedious hours of grief, but all around 
 
 Expiring joys and blafted hopes appear, 
 
 New woes fucceed to woes, and every good 
 
 On earth be fnatch'd away.. How then mall man 
 
 Salute the rifing year? Shall cheerful hope 
 
 Receive the welcome gueft? or terror wait 
 
 In fpeechlefs anguifh the impending florm ? 
 
 Prcfumptuous mortal, ceafe : O turn thine eyes 
 
 On the dark manfions of the filent dead, 
 
 And check the bold enquiry ; never more 
 
 The rifing fun may fhed its beams on thee ; 
 
 Perhaps, even now, the fatal hour is come
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR; 69 
 
 Which ends at once thy earthly hopes and fears, 
 
 And feals thy doom thro' vaft eternity. 
 
 How awful is the thought ! and who (hall fay 
 
 It is not juft? What mortal fhall difclofe 
 
 The dark decrees of heaven? But grant, to life 
 
 A longer date afllgn'd, another year 
 
 On earth beftow'd, in deepeft fhades conceal'd 
 
 Its good or ill remains, no mortal hand 
 
 Can draw the veil which hides it from thy view: 
 
 Hence then, ye airy dreams by fancy led ! 
 
 Vain hopes, and vainer fears deceive no more I 
 
 In native luftre bright let Truth appear, 
 
 With her pure beams illume the dark unknown, 
 
 And mew what man of future days can know. 
 
 What is Futurity? It is a time 
 By heaven in mercy given, where all may find 
 Their beft, their trueft good, the means, the power, 
 To elevate their nature, to exert 
 Each nobler faculty, and ftill to rife 
 
 In every virtue.- Here the beft may find 
 
 Improvement : for what mortal e'er attain'd
 
 ;o ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Perfection's utmoft point? And here ev'n thofe 
 Who long by vice and folly led aftray 
 Forfook the paths of wifdom and of truth, 
 May yet return, and with new ardour feek 
 That long-neglected good, which, though defpis'd, 
 Rejected once, may here be yet attain'd. 
 
 Know then, whoe'er thou art on whom high heaven 
 Another year of life will now beftow, 
 That year may lead thee to eternal peace, 
 May cancel follies paft, redeem the time 
 In thoughtlefs diffipation once abus'd, 
 Difpel the fhades of vice, the gloom of care, 
 Call forth each latent virtue, and impart 
 New ftrength, new hopes, and joys which ne'er fhall fail. 
 
 Then hail, bright profpecl of the rifing year ! 
 The fchool of virtue, and the road to blifs ! 
 No more the (hades of doubt are fpread around ; 
 No more ideal pleafures deck the fcene 
 With airy forms of good, which Fancy's felf 
 Scarce dares enjoy j no more by terror ld
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 71 
 
 A train of woes in long fuccefllon rife, 
 And deepeft horror o'er the time to come 
 Extends her baleful influence ; by the power 
 Of Truth fubdued, at once they difappear, 
 And furer hopes, and brighter views, arife, 
 Than Pleafure e'er could give, or Pain deftroy, 
 To chafe each vain delufion far away, 
 And fhew the glorious prize which future days 
 
 May yet attain. This, this alone is fure : 
 
 The reft, involv'd in dark uncertainty, 
 
 But mocks our fearch: But oh! how bleft the path 
 
 (Whate'er it be) which leads to endlefs reft! 
 
 Then, let Affliction come; fhall man complain 
 Of feeming ills, which heaven in mercy fends 
 To check his vain purfuits, exalt his views, 
 Improve his virtues, and direct the foul 
 To feek that aid which ne'er can fail, that aid 
 Which all who feek fhall find ? Oh ! in the hour 
 Of deepeft horror, when the throbbing heart 
 Opprefs'd with anguifli can fuftain no more, 
 May Patience ftill, and Refignation, come
 
 ^ ON THE NEW YEAH. 
 
 To cheer the gloom! not fuch as his who boafls 
 
 Superior powers, a mind above the reach 
 
 Of human weaknefs, yet with ardour feeks 
 
 The frail fupport of tranfitory praife ; 
 
 Or his, who trembling at an unknown power, 
 
 Submits in filence to Omnipotence, 
 
 And ftruggling checks the murmurs of his bread j 
 
 But that Tweet peace, that heartfelt confidence 
 
 (By heavenly hope and filial love infpir'dj 
 
 In Truth's inviolable word fecure) 
 
 Which pain and forrow never can deftroy ; 
 
 Which fmile triumphant in the gloom of woe, 
 
 And own a Father's power, a Father's love 
 
 O'er all prefiding. Bleft in thoughts like thefe 
 
 The mourner's heart iftill feels a fecret joy 
 
 Which pleafure ne'er could yield: no murmurs now 
 
 Difturb its peace j but every wifh refign'd 
 
 To wifdom, power, and goodnefs infinite, 
 
 Celeftial hope and comfort beam around 
 
 O'er all the profpecl of fucceeding time, 
 
 And never-fading glories clofe the (eerie-,
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 73 
 
 O THOU, great fource of every good! by whom. 
 This heart was taught to beat, thefe thoughts to range 
 O'er the wide circuit of the univerfe, 
 To foar beyond the fartheft bounds of time, 
 And pant for blifs which earth could ne'er beftow; 
 While worlds unnumber'd tremble at thy power, 
 And hofts celeftial own their loftieft {train 
 Too weak to tell thy praife ; O how fhall mam 
 
 E'er lift his voice to Thee ? Yet at thy call 
 
 Thy fervant comes. O hear my humble prayer: 
 
 By thy Almighty power direcl, fuftain 
 
 My feeble efforts; and whate'er the lot 
 
 To me on earth aflign'd, O guide me ftill, 
 
 By the bleft light of thy eternal truth, 
 
 Thro' every varied fcene of joy or woe ; 
 
 Support my weaknefs by thy mighty aid, 
 
 And lead my foul to Peace to Elifs to Thee !
 
 ESSAY 
 
 O N 
 
 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 T T is a common obfervation, that in this world 
 \ve fland more in need of comforts than 
 of pleafurcs. Pain, ficknefs, lorTcs, difap- 
 pointments, forrovvs of every kind, are fown fo 
 thick in the path of life, that^thofe who have at- 
 tempted to teach the way to be happy, have in 
 general bellowed more attention on the means of 
 fupporting evil, than of feeking good; nay, 
 many have gone fo far as to recommend infenli- 
 
 bilit/
 
 7 6 ON SENSIBILITY. 
 
 bility as the moft defirablc flate of mind, upon 
 a fuppofition, that evil (or the appearance of 
 evil) fo far predominates, that the good, in ge- 
 neral, is not fufficient to counterbalance it, and 
 that therefore, by leflening the fenfe of both, we 
 fhould be gainers on the whole, and might pur- 
 chafe conftant cafe, and freedom from all anxi- 
 ety, by giving up pleafures which are always 
 uncertain, and often lead to the fevereft fuffer- 
 ings: and this, taking all circumftances toge- 
 ther, it has been thought would be a defirable 
 exchange. 
 
 On the fame principle much ferious advice 
 has been beflowed on the young, the gay, and 
 the happy, to teach them to be moderate in 
 their purfuits and wifhes, that they may avoid 
 the pangs of difappointment in cafe they mould 
 not fucceed; to allay the pleafure they might 
 receive from the enjoyment of every good they 
 
 poffefs,
 
 OAT SENSIBILITY. 77 
 
 poffefs, by dwelling continually on the thought 
 of its uncertainty ; to check the bed affections 
 of their hearts, in order to fecure themfelves from 
 the pain they may afterwards occafion ; in fhort, 
 to deprive themfelves of the good they might 
 enjoy, from a fear of the evil which may follow : 
 which is fomething like advifing a man to 
 keep his eyes conftantly ihut, as the mod certain 
 \vay to avoid the fight of any difagreeable object. 
 
 Thofe on the other hand who are in a ftate 
 of affliction, are advifed to moderate their grief, 
 by coniidering that they knew before-hand the 
 uncertainty of every good they pofTeffed ; that 
 nothing has befallen them but what is the com- 
 mon lot of mankind; that the evil confilts 
 chiefly in the opinion they form of it; that 
 what is independent on themfelves, cannot really 
 touch them but by their own fault, and their 
 concern cannot make things better than they 
 
 are.
 
 7 s ON SENSIBILITY: 
 
 are. Many other confiderations of the fame kind 
 are added, to which probably no perfon, under 
 the immediate influence of real affliction, ever 
 paid the leaft attention, and which, even if they 
 are allowed their greateft force, could only filence 
 complaints, and lead the mind into a ftate of 
 infallibility, but could never produce the fmalleft 
 degree of comfort, or of happinefs. 
 
 In order to determine whether this be really 
 the way to pafs through life with the greateft 
 eafe and fatisfaction, it may not be ufelefs to 
 enquire in what ftate the mind of man would 
 be, fuppofing it really to have attained that in- 
 fenfibility both as to pain and pleafure, which 
 \\yts been reprefented as fo defirable : I fpeak of 
 a mind pofTefled of its full powers and faculties, 
 and capable of exerting them; for there may be 
 fome who from natural incapacity, or want of 
 education, are really incapable of it, and can. 
 
 drudge
 
 OK SENSIBILITT. 79 
 
 drudge on through life with fcarce any feelings 
 or apprehenfions beyond the prefent moment: 
 But if thefe are fuppofed to be the happieft of 
 mankind, then the end of the argument will be, 
 
 " In happinefs the beaft excels the man, 
 
 " The worm excels the beaft, the clod the worm.* 
 
 And it feems fcarce poflible to fuppofe any rati- 
 onal creature (not under the immediate influence 
 of paflion) to be really fo far convinced of this, 
 as to wifh to exchange his fituation in the fcalc 
 of being, with the beafl, or the clod. If then 
 we fuppofe the mind in. full pofleflion of its 
 powers, is it poflible to fuppofe, that the way 
 to enjoy happinefs, or even peace, is by prevent- 
 ing their exertion? If pofitive pain and plea- 
 fure are taken away, if all the objects propofed 
 to it make no imprefiion, will the mind there- 
 fore be at eafe? Far from it furely. On the con- 
 trary, it will be torn in pieces by wiflics which 
 
 'will
 
 So O N S E N S 1 E 1 L I r i; 
 
 \vill have no object whereon to fix; it will feel 
 in itfelf powers and capacities for happinefs, 
 but finding nothing to make it happy, thofe 
 very powers will make it miferable; having no 
 motive for adion, no object to purfue, every rifmg 
 day will prcfent a blank which it will be im- 
 pofiible to fill up with any thing that can give 
 pleafure ; and the wifh. of every morning will be 
 that the day were paft, though there is no prof- 
 pect that the next will produce any thing more 
 fatisfactory. Could it be poflible for any perfon 
 really to have attained to fuch a ftate as. this, 
 inftead of finding it a ftate of eajfe and fatis- 
 faflion, we mould fee him weary of himfelf and 
 all around him, unhappy with nothing to com- 
 plain of, and without any hope of being ever 
 otherwife, becaufe he would have no determinate 
 wifh, in the accomplifhment of which he could 
 promifc himfelf any enjoyment, 
 
 But
 
 ON SENSIBILITT. 81 
 
 But, happily for mankind, a (late like this is 
 not to be attained by any thinking perfon ; and 
 thofe who place their notion of happinefs in 
 mere freedom from fuffering, mufl be reduced 
 to envy the happinefs of the beads of the field ; 
 for it is not the happinefs of man. 
 
 Thofe indeed, who, from a (late of exceflive 
 fuffering, are fuddenly relieved, and reftored to 
 eafe of body and mind, may, at the time, feel 
 more joy from that eafe than they would have 
 felt from the greateft pofitive pleafure; but then 
 that joy will be tranfient indeed, fince it arifes 
 only from a comparifon of paft fufferings, the 
 fenfe of which is quickly loft; and as foon as 
 the mind returns to its natural ftate, it feels again 
 the want of that enjoyment for which it was 
 formed, and becomes miferable, not from any 
 pofitive fufferings, but merely from the want of 
 happinefs. 
 
 G Thofe
 
 8i O AT S 
 
 Thofe who take pleafure in arguments which 
 anfwer no other purpofe but to exercife their 
 ingenuity, may amufe themfelves with difputing 
 Xvhether this inextinguifhable third after happi- 
 nefs be really a defirable gift, and whether it 
 might not have been happier for man, to have 
 been formed without that activity of mind which 
 prompts him continually to feek for fome en- 
 joyment; but to thofe who feel its force, it 
 is furely a more important point to enquire 
 how it may bed be fatisfied; and whether it 
 may not be poffible to regulate thofe affections 
 which they cannot fupprefs, and, by directing 
 them to proper objects, to find in them a fource 
 of happinefs, which, though it can neither pre- 
 vent fufferings, nor take away the fenfe of them, 
 may yet be felt at the fame time, and ferve 
 in a great degree to counterbalance the effect 
 of them. 
 
 It
 
 ON SENSIBILITT. 83 
 
 It muft, I believe, be allowed, that every man 
 who reflects on his own fituation, will find that 
 it has its plcafures and its pains, unmixed hap- 
 pinefs or mifery not being the lot of this life* 
 but referved for a future ftate: the happinefs 
 of life muft then be eftimated by the proportion 
 its joys bear to its forrows; and if what has 
 been before fuppofed concerning the ftate of the 
 the mind be juft, he will not be found to be the 
 happieft man who has the feweft forrows, but 
 he whofe joys overbalance his forrows in the 
 greateft degree. 
 
 This then fhould be our aim in the purfuit of 
 happinefs : not to conquer the fenfe of fuffering, 
 for that is importable ; not to fupprefs our de- 
 fires and hopes, for that (if it were poflible) 
 would only debafe the mind, not make it happy: 
 but to cultivate every faculty of the foul 
 which may prove a fource of innocent delight, 
 G 2 to
 
 84 ON SENSIBILITY. 
 
 to endeavour as far as pofllble to keep the mind 
 open to a fenfe of pleafure, inftead of fullenly 
 rejecting all, becaufe we cannot enjoy exactly 
 what we wifh ; above all, to fecure to ourfelves 
 a lafting fund of real pleafures, which may com- 
 penfate thofe afflictions they cannot prevent, and 
 make us not infenfible, but happy in the midft 
 of them. 
 
 It is very certain that nothing can fully do 
 this, except Religion, and the glorious profpects 
 it offers to our hopes; this is the only foun- 
 dation of lafting happinefs, the only fource of 
 never-failing comfort. While our beft affections 
 are fixed on any thing in this world, they mull 
 always give us pain, becaufe they will find nothing 
 which can fully fatisfy them ; but when once they 
 are fixed on infinite Perfection as their ultimate 
 object, the fubordinate exercifes of them will 
 furnilh many fources of pleafure and advantage, 
 
 and
 
 ON SENSIBILITY 85 
 
 and fhould be cultivated, both with a view to 
 prefent and future happinefs. 
 
 It feems ftrange to obferve, that there are 
 few, if any, in the world, who enjoy, all the 
 bleffings which are beftowed upon them, and 
 make their (ituation in life as happy as it might 
 be. Wherever the felnfh paflions are indulged 
 to excefs, this muft always be the confequence ; 
 for none can be happy while they make others 
 miferable. Whoever is poflefled of any degree 
 of power, from the greateft monarch on the 
 throne, to the mafter of the meaneft cottage, 
 muft depend for his happinefs on thofe over 
 whom that power is exercifed, and whether he 
 will or no, muft lhare in the furjerings which he 
 inflicts, and feel the want of that fatisfadion, 
 which he might have received from a different 
 mployment of his power. The truth of this 
 obfervation has been experienced by all who ever 
 G 3 endea-
 
 86 ON SENSIBILirr. 
 
 endeavoured to purchafe their own happinefs at 
 at the expence of that of others : but even where 
 this is not the cafe, where the intentions arc 
 good, and the pleafures of life are not embit- 
 tered by the fenfe of guilt, it often happens, 
 that difappointments bring on difguft ; the plea- 
 fures which were expected are not found, and 
 therefore thofe which might be found, are under- 
 valued; the mind is diffatisfled, and feeks for 
 reafons to juftify itfelf for being fo, and when 
 fbrrows are fought for, it is not difficult to find 
 them. Such a difpofition can poifon every 
 pleafure, and add numberlefs imaginary evils 
 to thofe which muft inevitably be met with in 
 the path of life. By degrees the activity of the 
 foul is loft ; every forrow appears infupportable ; 
 every difficulty unconquerable; no object is 
 thought worth purfuing ; and life itfelf becomes 
 a burden.
 
 ON SENSIBILITY. 8 7 
 
 To guard againft the fatal effects which dif- 
 appointments are apt to have upon the mind, 
 is a point of the utmoft confequence toward* 
 pafling through life with any tolerable degree 
 of comfort and fatisfaction ; for difappoint- 
 ments, more or lefs, muft be the lot of all. 
 
 At the firft entrance into the world, when the 
 imagination is active, the affections warm, and 
 the heart a ftranger to deceit, and confequently 
 to fufpicion, what delightful dreams of happi- 
 nefs are formed ! Whatever may be the object 
 in which that happinefs is fuppofed to confift, 
 that objecl: is purfued with ardour; the gay 
 and thoughtlefs feek for it in diflipation and 
 amufement; the ambitious, in power, fame, and 
 honours; the affectionate, in love and friend- 
 ihip: but how few are there who find in any 
 of thefe objects that happinefs which they ex- 
 pected? Pleafure, fame, &c. even when they
 
 8.8 ONSEttSIBILirr. 
 
 are in any degree obtained, ftill leave a void in 
 the foul, which continually reminds the pof~ 
 feflbr, that this is not the happinefs for which 
 he was formed ; and even the beft affections are 
 liable to numberlefs difappointments, and often 
 productive of the fevereft pangs. The unfuf- 
 pecting heart forms attachments before reafon 
 is capable of judging whether the objects of 
 them are fuch as are qualified to make it happy; 
 and it often happens, that the fatal truth is not 
 difcovered till the affections are engaged too far 
 to be recalled, and then the difappointment muft 
 prove a lafting forrow. 
 
 But it is not necefTary to enumerate the difap- 
 pointments which generally attend on the pur- 
 fuits of youth, and indeed the profpect is too 
 painful to dwell upon ; the intention of mention- 
 ing them is only to guard againft the effects 
 they may produce. 
 
 The
 
 O AT S E N S I B I L I r K 89 
 
 The imagination has painted an object which 
 perhaps is not to be found in this world ; that 
 object has been purfued in vain: but (hall we 
 therefore conclude, that no object is worth pur- 
 luing, and fink into a liftlefs, inactive flate, in 
 which We muft grow weary of ourfelves, and all 
 the world? 
 
 The young are too apt to fancy that the af- 
 fections of their hearts will prove the fource of 
 nothing but pleafure; thofe who are farther ad- 
 vanced in life, are much too apt to run into the 
 contrary extreme. The error of the firft, even 
 taking it in the worft light, is productive of fome 
 pleafure as well as pain ; that of the laft, ferves 
 only to throw a damp over every pleafjrc, and 
 can be productive of nothing but pain. It leads 
 indeed to the moft fatal confequences, fmce it 
 tends to make Jelf the only object, and the heart 
 which is* merely felfifh muft ever be incapable 
 
 of
 
 9 o ON SENSIBILITr. 
 
 of virtue and of happinefs, and a ftranger to 
 all the joys of affection and benevolence, without 
 which the happieft ftate in this world mud be 
 iniipid, and which may prove the fource of 
 many pleafures, even in the midft of the fevereft 
 afflictions. 
 
 In every ftate of life, in fpite of every difap- 
 pointment, thefe fhould ftill be cheriflied and 
 encouraged; for though they may not always 
 beftow fuch pleafures as the romantic imagi- 
 nations of youth had painted, yet they will ftill 
 beftow fuch as can be found in nothing elfe 
 in this world; and indeed they are neceffary in 
 order to give a relifh to every enjoyment. 
 
 I mention an affectionate and a benevolent dif- 
 polkion together, becaufe I believe, when they are 
 genuine, they never can be feparated^and, per- 
 s, the difappointments fo often complained 
 
 of,
 
 ON SENSIBILirr. 91 
 
 of, may fometimes be occafioned by a miftake 
 upon this fubjectj for there is a felftih attach- 
 ment which often ufurps the name of friend- 
 fhip, though it is indeed fomething totally dif- 
 ferent. It is an attachment like that which a 
 mufician feels for his inftrument, or a virtuofo 
 for his pictures and his ftatues ; the affection is 
 not fixed on the object itfelf, but merely on the 
 pleafure received from it. Such an attachment 
 as this is liable to numberlefs little jealoufies 
 and uneafinefles ; the fmalleft doubt is fufficient 
 to awaken its fears, the mod trifling error excites 
 its refentment, and that refentmcnt is immedi- 
 ately exprefled by complaints, and oftea by 
 upbraidings. 
 
 True friendfhip is not indeed lefs quick- 
 fighted j it watches with a tender and anxious 
 folicitude to promote the welfare and happi- 
 nefs of the object which it loves; it is a kind 
 
 Qf
 
 92 ON SENSIBILITr. 
 
 of microfcope which difc overs every fpeck, 
 but then the difcovery does not excite anger 
 and refentment, ftill lefs could it lead to un- 
 kindnefs and upbraidings; it infpires a con- 
 cern like that which we feel for our own errors 
 and imperfections, and produces an earneft de- 
 fire, and iincere endeavour to remove them. 
 
 With fuch a friend, the heart may appear juft 
 as it is, and enjoy the pleafure of an unbounded 
 confidence; but with thofe whofe affection is 
 founded on a regard to themfelves, every word 
 and action muft be weighed, and the fear of 
 giving offence muft throw a reftraint over every 
 converfation. 
 
 The real friend will be difpofed to love all 
 thofe who are any way connected with the object 
 of his affection, he will be fmcerely interefted 
 for their welfare, and will wifh to gain their 
 affection and promote their happinefs.
 
 ON SENSIBILITT. 
 
 93 
 
 The felfifh will view them with a jealous 
 eye, continually apprehenlive that they may rob 
 him of fome part of a treafure which he would 
 wiih to engrofs. 
 
 . It would be eafy to carry on the contraft much 
 farther; for indeed it might be mewn in almoft 
 every inftance. But what has been faid may be 
 fufficient to (hew how very wide is the difference 
 between that fort of artachment of which a fel- 
 fifh heart is capable, and that which alone de- 
 ferves the name of real friendship, though it is 
 often too indifcriminately given to both: the 
 one is an enemy to general benevolence ; the 
 other flows from the fame fource, and belongs 
 to the fame character. 
 
 Such a difpofition, it muft be allowed, may 
 prove the fource of many plea fu res ; but it may 
 be objected, that it will prove the fource of 
 
 many
 
 94 O JV S E N S I B I L I T T. 
 
 many forrows alfo: and indeed, in this imper- 
 fect ftate, this truth is too certain to be difputed. 
 But if it can be proved that on the whole it af- 
 fords more joys than forrows, that will be fuffi- 
 cient to the prefent purpofe ; if it be allowed 
 that the- -happinefs of man muft confift in pofi- 
 tive enjoyment, not in mere freedom from fuffer- 
 ing. And furely much more than this might 
 eafily be proved, fince it not only can afford 
 pleafures of the moft exalted kind, and give new 
 relifh to every -other pleafure, but even in the 
 midft of the moft painful fufferings it ever oc- 
 caiioned, it can at the fame time infpire a fecret 
 fatisfmSiofl, of which thofe who never felt it, 
 can hardly form any idea. 
 
 . 
 
 With fuch a difpofition, power and riches 
 iiiay be real bfeffings : fince they furnifh frequent 
 opportunities of beftowing happinefs, and con- 
 fequently of enjoying it in the higheft degree. 
 
 But
 
 ON' SENSIBILITT. 95 
 
 But even without thefe advantages, the truly be- 
 nevolent, in whatever fituation in life they may 
 be placed, will find numberlefs fources of plea- 
 fure and delight, which to others muft be for 
 ever unknown. All the happinefs they fee, be- 
 comes in fome fort their own; and even under 
 the prefliire of the greateft afflidions, they can 
 rejoice at the good which others enjoy ; and far 
 from repining at the comparifon, they find in 
 the thought of it, a pleafure and fatisfaclion to 
 which no fuffering of their own can render them 
 infenfible; but which, on the contrary, prove 
 a powerful cordial to help them to fupport thofe 
 fufterings. 
 
 Even the face of inanimate nature fills them 
 with a fatisfadion which the infenfible can 
 never know, while they are warmed with grati- 
 tude to the Giver of every good, and joy at the 
 thought that their fellow- creatures mare thofc 
 
 blefling
 
 96 O N SENSIBILirr. 
 
 bleflings with them. They may even experi- 
 ence fomething like the pleafure of bellowing 
 happinefs, while they rejoice in all that is be- 
 ftowed, and feel in their hearts that they would 
 beftqw it if they could. 
 
 It is true indeed, that they muft fhare in the 
 forrows of others, as well as in their joys ; but 
 then this may often lead to the heavenly plea- 
 fure of relieving them, if not as fully as they 
 could wifli, yet at leaft in fome degree; for true 
 benevolence can difcovcr numberlefs methods 
 of relieving diftrefs, which would efcape the 
 notice of the carelefs and infenfible. When re- 
 lief is not in their power, fome expreffions of 
 kindnefs, and the appearance of a defire to give 
 comfort and affiftance, may at leaft contribute 
 to foothe the wounded mind, and they may ftill 
 enjoy the pleafure which attends on every en- 
 deavour to do good, even on the unfuc.cefsful; 
 
 and
 
 ON SENSIBILITr. 97 
 
 and when they are placed beyond the reach of 
 this, and can only offer up a fee ret prayer for 
 thofe whofe fufferings they cannot alleviate, 
 even this will be attended with a heartfelt fatis- 
 facliion, more than fufficient to fupprefs every 
 wifh that they could behold the forrows of others 
 with indifference, if it were poflible that fuch a 
 wifh could ever arife in a truly benevolent heart. 
 
 Such a difpofition will be a powerful prefer- 
 vative againft that wearinefs of mind t which is 
 fo often an attendant on what is generally 
 efteemed a happy lituation in this world. 
 
 Thofe who are freed from cares and anxieties, 
 who are furrounded by all the means of enjoy- 
 ment, and whofc pleafures prefent themfelves 
 without being fought for, are often unhappy in 
 the midft of all, merely becaufe that activity of 
 mind, in the proper exercife of which our hap- 
 H pinefs
 
 9 8 ON SENSIBILITT. 
 
 pinefs confifts, has in them no object on which 
 it may be employed. But when the heart is 
 fmcerely and affectionately interefted for the 
 good of others, a new fcene of action is conti- 
 nually open, every moment may be employed in 
 fome pleafing and ufeful purfuit. New oppor- 
 tunities of doing good are continually prefent- 
 ing themfelves ; new fchemes are formed, and 
 ardently purfued; and even when they do not 
 fucceed, though the difappointment may give 
 pain, yet the pleafure of felf-approbation will 
 remain, and the purfuit will be remembered 
 with fatisfaction. The next opportunity which 
 offers itfelf will be readily embraced and will 
 furnifh a frefh fupply of pleafures; fuch plea- 
 fures as are fecure from that wearinefs and dif- 
 guft, which fooner or later are the confequences 
 of all fuch enjoyments as tend merely to gratify 
 the felfifh pafllons and inclinations, and which 
 always attend on an inactive Hate of mind, from 
 
 whatever
 
 ON SENSIBILITY 
 
 99 
 
 whatever caufe it may proceed ; whether it may- 
 be the effect of fatiety or difappointment, of 
 profperity or defpair. 
 
 Even in the moft trifling fcenes of common 
 life, the truly benevolent may find many plea- 
 fures which would pafs unnoticed by others ; 
 and in a converfation, which to the thoughtlefs 
 and inattentive would afford only a trifling 
 amufement, or perhaps no amufement at all, 
 they may find many fubjects for pleafing and 
 ufeful reflections, which may conduce both to 
 their happinefs and advantage; and that not 
 only by being continually upon the watch for 
 every opportunity of doing good to others, even 
 in the moft trifling inftances, (which alone 
 would afford a conftant fource of pleafure) but 
 alfq by the enjoyment of all the good they can 
 obferve in others. 
 
 H 2 If
 
 ioo ON SENSIBILITT. 
 
 If any action is related, or any expreflion 
 dropped, which indicates true goodnefs of heart, 
 they will be heard with fatisfaction; the moft 
 trifling inflance of kindnefs and attention will 
 be received with a fort of pleafure, of which the 
 felfifh can form no idea. Every appearance or 
 defcription of innocent happinefs will be en- 
 joyed, every expreflion of real friendfhip and 
 affection will be felt, even though they are not 
 the objects of it. 
 
 In fhort, all the happinefs, and all the virtues 
 of others, are fources of delight to them; and it 
 is a pleafing, as well as ufeful exercife to the 
 mind, to be employed, when engaged in fociety, 
 in feeking out for thefe; to trace to their fpring 
 the little expreflions of benevolence which often 
 pafs unnoticed; to difcover real merit through 
 the veil which humility and modefty throw over 
 it ; to admire true greatnefs of mind, even in 
 
 the
 
 ON SENSIBILITY. 10 i 
 
 the meaneft fituation in life, or when it exerts 
 itfelf upon occafions fuppofed to be trifling, and 
 therefore, in general, but little attended to. 
 
 In thefe, and in numberlefs inftances of the 
 fame kind, much real pleafure might be found, 
 which is too generally overlooked, and which 
 might prove the fource of many advantages 
 both to ourfelves and others; for thofe who 
 really enjoy the good of others, will certainly 
 wilh and endeavour to promote it. And by fuch 
 cxercifes as thefe, the beft affedlions f the 
 heart are continually called forth to action, and 
 the pleafures which they afford may be enjoyed 
 and improved in every different fituation in life; 
 for thefe are pleafures, which, more or lefs, are 
 within the reach of all. 
 
 In thefe, the rich and profperous may find 
 
 that fatisfadion which they have fought in vain 
 
 H 3 in
 
 102 
 
 ON S E N S I B I L I 
 
 in felfifti gratifications; and the afflicted may 
 yet enjoy that happinefs which they are too apt 
 to imagine is entirely loft : but the felfifh heart 
 can neither enjoy profperity, nor fupport afflic- 
 tion ; it will be weary and diflatisfied in the firft, 
 and totally dejected in the laft. 
 
 In order to adminifter confolation to the af- 
 flicted, the ufual methods are, either to endeavour 
 to leffen their fenfe of the evil, by mewing 
 them that it is not really fo great as they imagine; 
 or by comparing it with greater evils endured 
 by others; or elfe to drive it from the thought 
 by the hurry of diflipation and amufement. 
 
 The firft of thefe methods may ferve to difplay 
 the talents of the perfon who undertakes it, and 
 perhaps fuch arguments may fometimes prevail 
 upon vanity to aflume an appearance of forti- 
 tude. But how can he, whofe heart feels the 
 
 pangs
 
 ON S'E NS I B I L I Tr. 103 
 
 pangs of real affliction, be convinced by argu- 
 ment that he does not feel it? or what relief can 
 it give to his fufferings, to be told that another 
 fuffers more? Korean diflipation and amufe- 
 ment afford a more efficacious remedy, fince in 
 thefe the heart has nothing to do : in the midft 
 of the gayeft fcenes, and furrounded by all that 
 the world calls pleafure, it will fhrink into it- 
 felf, and feel its own bitternefs with redoubled 
 force. 
 
 It is vain to endeavour to take from the 
 wretched, the fenfe of fuffering; pain and grief 
 mud be felt ; they can neither be fubdued by 
 argument, nor loft in diflipation ; and while they 
 remain, it is impoflible to enjoy that eafe which 
 by fome is reprefented as the greateft good of 
 
 man they muft exclude it: But muft they 
 
 therefore exclude all pofitive happinefs? Surely 
 
 no. The wounded heart may Hill be open to 
 
 H 4 enjoyment,
 
 104 ON SENSIBILITT. 
 
 enjoyment, and here it muft feek for confola- 
 tion; it cannot indeed be infenfible of pain, 
 but it may yet be fenfible of pleafure. And 
 happy indeed are they who have acquired a re- 
 lifh for fuch pleafures as pain and forrow cannot 
 take away; fince thefe, fooner or later, muft 
 be the lot of all. 
 
 Of this kind are the pleafures of affedion 
 and benevolence; they enlarge the heart, they 
 prevent it from dwelling on its own forrows, 
 and teach it to feek for happinefs in the good of 
 others; and thofe who in their happieft days 
 were accuftomed to do this, will not become 
 infenfible to fuch pleafures, becaufe they are 
 themfelves in a ftate of fuffering. Every in- 
 fiance of kindnefs, every friendly endeavour to 
 give eafe and comfort, will ftill rejoice the 
 heart; the pleafure of feeing others virtuous 
 and happy, may ftill be felt; the earneft defire 
 
 to
 
 ON SENSIBILirr. 105 
 
 to make them fo, may ftill be cherimed; and 
 that defire is in itfelf a pleafing fenfation. The 
 endeavour which it excites affords ftill higher 
 pleafure; and when that endeavour is bleffed 
 with fuccefs, the benevolent heart will feel a real 
 joy, to which it's own fufferings cannot render 
 it infenfible. 
 
 By every fuch exertion, the mind will gain 
 new ftrength, and enjoy new pleafure; its native 
 vigour, which forrow had depreffed, and which 
 no interested views could have called forth to 
 action, will be reftored by benevolence; the 
 wounded heart may feel the delight of felf-ap- 
 probation; in fhort, the afflicted may enjoy 
 the beft pleafures of the happy. 
 
 . But after all, it muft be allowed that all our 
 pleafures, in this imperfect ftate, even thofe of 
 the moft refined and exalted kind, are liable 
 
 to
 
 ic6 ON SENSIBILITY 
 
 to numberlefs forrows and difappointments: - 
 Friends may be removed by abfence, or by 
 death; the faults and imperfections of thofe we 
 love, may wound the heart; affection may be 
 repaid with unkindnefs, and benefits with in- 
 gratitude ; the moft earneft endeavour to relieve 
 the diftreffed, may prove unfuccefsful ; and the 
 fmcereft defire to promote the happinefs of 
 others, may mifs its aim: in fhort, every pur- 
 fuit in this world may end in difappointment. 
 And this thought might indeed be fufficient to 
 check the ardour of the mind, and difcourage 
 the beft endeavours, had we not a never-failing 
 refource in that ailiftance and fupport which 
 religion offers. 
 
 It is in the power of every one to fecure to 
 himfelf a Happinefs of which nothing in this 
 world can deprive him ; a Hope which is not 
 liable to difappointment; a Friend who never 
 
 will
 
 ONSENSIBILITT. 107 
 
 will forfake him, and who will be always wil- 
 ling and able to aflift him. 
 
 Thofe who are placed in a happy fituation in 
 this world, if at the fame time they can rejoice 
 in fuch thoughts as thefe, may enjoy the good 
 which they poffefs: Every blefling beftowed 
 upon them will fill their hearts with love and 
 gratitude to Him from whom it comes, and 
 thefe fentiments will add new relifh to every 
 pleafure, and make them become real and lad- 
 ing advantages ; means to promote their eternal 
 felicity, not hindrances to ftop them in their 
 way, as, by the perverfe ufe of them, they too 
 often are. 
 
 Prompted by the fame love and gratitude, 
 they will indeed rejoice in giving the belt proof 
 of them, by an earned endeavour to do good 
 to others; and in this aim they cannot be dif- 
 
 appointed,
 
 ioS ON SENSIBJLirr. 
 
 appointed, though they Ihould prove unfuc- 
 cefsful; for the honeft endeavour they may be 
 certain will be accepted. The fear of loling 
 the bleffings they poflefs, will not deprive them 
 of the pleafure of enjoying them; for they re- 
 member in whofe hands they are; they know 
 they ihall enjoy them as long as is really beft 
 for them; and that if all elfe were taken from 
 them, they are fecure of an unfailing refource, 
 an Almighty Comforter. 
 
 They conlider their beft enjoyments as inde- 
 pendent on this world ; the pleafures of friend- 
 mip and benevolence, though here allayed by 
 difappointment, and interrupted by death, they 
 hope will be renewed hereafter, and enjoyed, 
 pure and unmixed, through eternity. 
 
 The love and gratitude they feel, the delight 
 {hey take in every means of exprefling them, 
 
 will
 
 ON S E N S I B I L I T 1~ 109 
 
 will conftitute a part of their happinefs hereaf- 
 ter. The heavenly contemplations which exalt 
 their minds, and make them feel that they were 
 formed for higher enjoyments than this world 
 affords, will raife their hopes to that date where 
 alone they can find objects fuited to them. 
 
 And thus every bleffing beftowed upon them 
 will be fo received, that it will be truly enjoyed 
 here, and will prove a fource of real and lading 
 happinefs: and the prefent good will neither 
 be allayed by anxiety, nor fucceeded by weari- 
 nefs and difguft. While it remains, it will be 
 enjoyed to the utmoft; and when it is taken 
 away, it will not be immoderately regretted, 
 lince that to which it owed its greateft relifli 
 will ftill remain, and prove a fource of happi- 
 nefs in the days of affliction and difappoint- 
 ment, as well as in thofe of profperity and 
 fuccefs. 
 
 It
 
 no OAr SENSIBILITT. 
 
 It is very certain that there are few, if any, 
 either amongft the afflicted, or amongft the 
 happy, who enjoy to the utmoft all the bleflings 
 which are beftowed upon them. Thofe who 
 take a view of their own fituation in life, with a 
 lincere defire to make the beft of it, will pro- 
 bably find much more happinefs within their 
 power, than in the moments of uneafinefs and 
 difcontent they are apt to imagine. This ob- 
 fervation is generally true, even of the greatefl 
 fufferers. 
 
 But let us fuppofe that this were not the 
 cafe, for it mull be allowed to be poflible that 
 all earthly comforts may be taken away: A 
 perfon who has long been ftruggling againft 
 the fevereft afflictions of body and of mind, 
 may have met with nothing but difappoint- 
 ments; and in the midft of all, he may find "no 
 friend to afiift and fupport him, and beftow 
 
 that
 
 ON SENSIBILITT. in 
 
 that tender foothing confolation, which can al- 
 moft convert afflictions into pleafures ; or w hat 
 is Hill more painful, the friend from whom he 
 expected this may change, and embitter thofe 
 fufferings he mould alleviate; the endeavours 
 to do good which benevolence infpires, may 
 prove unfuccefsful: in a word, all in this world 
 may fail. 
 
 This is indeed a cafe rarely, if ever, to be 
 met with ; but as it muft be allowed to be pofli- 
 ble, let us take things in the worft light ima- 
 ginable, and then confider the happinefs which 
 yet remains to balance thefe afflictions, in the 
 heavenly comforts which religion offers. 
 
 The moft unhappy may yet find a Friend to 
 whom they may freely unbofom all their for- 
 rows with the fulleft confidence, and reft fecure 
 of finding that confolation which is really beft 
 
 for
 
 ii2 ON SENSIB1LITT. 
 
 for them, fmce he is both able and willing to 
 beftow it : this is a happinefs of which none 
 but themfelves can ever deprive them. Though 
 flighted and neglected, perhaps opprefled and 
 injured by the world, yet are they certain that 
 he regards their fufferings, he hears their pray- 
 ers, and will reward their patience. 
 
 When they confider that all events are at 
 his difpofal, and thefe fufferings are permitted 
 for their greater good, their fubmiflion, inftead 
 of being full of terror and anxiety, will be art 
 act of love and confidence; even the wilh that 
 they could choofe their own lot, will be fup- 
 prefled, and they will rejoice in the thought that 
 Infinite Wifdom and Goodnefs will do it for 
 them. 
 
 When they remember that all afflictions arc 
 trials, and that, by bearing them as they ought, 
 
 they
 
 ON SENSIBILITT. 113 
 
 they may beft exprefs their love and gratitude, 
 andfecure his favour and protection; the acti- 
 vity of their minds will be again awakened, 
 and their utmoft efforts again exerted, with 
 a pleafure and fatisfaction which can attend on 
 no other purfuit, fince all but this are liable to 
 difappointment. Here the intention, not the 
 fuccefs, will be confidered, and the fincere wifh, 
 when nothing more is in their power, will be 
 accepted. 
 
 If we are engaged in the fervice of a friend, 
 every difficulty becomes a fource of pleafure ; we 
 exert ourfelves with delight in finding means 
 to conquer it; we even enjoy any fuffering which 
 can procure his advantage, or exprefs our af- 
 fection. 
 
 A fatisfaction of the fame kind may conti- 
 nually be enjoyed by the afflicted. It is true 
 I their
 
 ii 4 ON SENS1BILITT. 
 
 their fufferings can bring no advantage to their 
 Creator; his happinefs can receive no addition 
 from the feeble efforts of his creatures j yet frill, 
 to a heart full of love and gratitude, there is a 
 plcafure in exerting every effort to exprefs thofe 
 fentiments, in doing or fuffering any thing which 
 may conduce to that end. In this view, afflic- 
 tions may be received with real fatisfaction, 
 fince they afford continual opportunities of ex- 
 preflmg our readinefs to conform to his will, 
 even when it is moft contrary to our own ; and 
 this is the ftrongeft proof of love and confidence 
 we are able to give; and therefore, to the heart 
 which truly feels them, mufl be attended with a 
 fatisfadion fuch as pleafure cannot beftow. 
 
 When we read the hiftories of thofe who 
 have voluntarily undergone the moft painful fuf- 
 ferings, rather than tranfgrefs their duty, we 
 admire their virtues, and efteem them happy. 
 
 Thofe
 
 ON SENSIBILITY. ,15 
 
 Thofe who receive as they ought the trials which 
 are fent them, do all in their power to follow 
 their examples, and may, in a great degree, en- 
 joy the fame happinefs ; their aims, their wimes, 
 are the fame ; like them, they blefs Him M ho 
 permits the trial; they would deteft the thought 
 of efcaping from it, by being guilty of the 
 fmalleft crime; they rejoice in fuffering for his 
 fake, and depend, with entire confidence, on 
 his afliftance and fupport. 
 
 If at any time the affliction feems too feverc 
 to be fupported, and nature almoft fmks under 
 the trial, let them anticipate the future time, and 
 think with what fentimems they fhall look back 
 upon it; think, if they can, what joy it will af- 
 ford them to reflect, that no fufferings could ever 
 make their refolution; that their love to their 
 Almighty Father, and delire to be conformable 
 to his will, have been ftill the ruling principles 
 I 2 of
 
 n6 ON SENSIBILirr. 
 
 of their hearts, even in the midft of the fevereft 
 trials; that their afflictions have not made them 
 neglect their duty to him, or to their fellow- 
 creatures ; that their beft endeavours have been 
 ftill exerted, and their entire confidence ever 
 placed in him. 
 
 Then let them look farther ftill, and think of 
 the time when all earthly joys and forrows will 
 be for ever pafled away, and nothing of them 
 will remain but the manner in which they have 
 beert received ; let them think of the happinefs 
 of thofe who have been " made perfect through 
 " fufferings," and who will then look forward 
 to an eternity of blifs. 
 
 Will they then wifh that they had fufFered 
 lefs? Or who would wifh it now, if fuch are 
 the bleffed fruits of fufferings ? And it depends 
 on ourfelves to make them Ib : for the afliftance 
 
 of
 
 ON SENSIBILITY. n 7 
 
 of Him who alone can fupport our weaknefs, 
 will never be wanting to thole who feek it. 
 
 Such reflections, fuch hopes, as thefe, can 
 furely afford pleafures more than fufficient to 
 over-balance any afflictions to which we may be 
 liable in this world: and thefe are pleafures 
 which the greateft fufferer may feel, and in 
 which the moft unhappy may rejoice. 
 
 To conclude: Religion cannot prevent lofles 
 and difappointments, pains and forrows; for to 
 thefe, in this imperfect ftate, we muft be liable; 
 nor does it require us to be infenfible to them, 
 for that would be impoffible; but in the midft 
 of all, and even when all earthly pleafures fail, 
 it commands it inftructs it enables us to be 
 happy. 
 
 13
 
 ON THE 
 
 CHARACTER of L^TITIA, 
 
 TN the midft of a chearful and animated con- 
 verfation, the attention of a large company 
 was fuddenly called off by the tolling of a neigh- 
 bouring bell, and the appearance of a funeral 
 parting by the windows. An enquiry was made 
 whofe it was? with that fort of indolent curiofity 
 which is fometimes excited by things fuppofed 
 to be no way interefting, and which hardly at- 
 tends to the anfwer ; but a gloom was fpread 
 over every countenance, when it was known to 
 be the funeral of the young and beautiful 
 Laetitia, who had lately been the ornament of 
 I 4 every
 
 120 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 
 
 every aflembly in which fhe appeared, the ad- 
 miration of all beholders, and the delight of all 
 who knew her intimately. 
 
 As feveral in the company had been acquainted 
 with Laetitia, the converfation naturally turned 
 upon her character : The thought of youth and 
 beauty thus nipped in their bloom, impreffes an 
 awful, yet tender melancholy in the minds even 
 of indifferent perfons, which difpofes them to 
 ferious thoughts, and makes them anxious to 
 know particulars : and the accounts now given 
 of her engaged the attention of all who were 
 prefent. 
 
 Laetitia had juft entered her eighteenth year, 
 her perfon was uncommonly beautiful, animated 
 by all the vivacity which is natural to that age, 
 and all the fweetnefs of the mofl amiable cha- 
 racter. Her youthful fpirits had never been 
 
 damped
 
 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 121 
 
 damped by ill health, nor checked by unkind- 
 nefs and feverity; her tender parents, far from 
 reftraining her pleafures, had only endeavoured 
 to fecure them by innocence, improve them by 
 virtue, and exalt them by religion. 
 
 The peace and joy of her heart diffufed a 
 charm on every object which furrounded her, 
 and every employment in which me was engaged, 
 afforded her new pleafures; fhe purfued her 
 ftudies, and enjoyed her amufements, with the 
 fame fpirit and alacrity; every kindnefs me 
 received filled her heart with gratitude, and all 
 (he could beftow was felt by her with that inno- 
 cent exultation which true benevolence infpires, 
 and in which vanity claims no part, 
 
 In the fulnefs of her heart fhe might have 
 related fome inftance of diftrefs which fhe had 
 relieved, with the fame fentiments with whirl; 
 
 flie
 
 122 CHARACTER OF LJETITIA. 
 
 fhe related any other circumftance that afforded 
 her the greateft pleafure ; for it never entered her 
 thoughts tc admire herfelf for fuch things, or 
 talk of them as if fhe was furprized at herfelf for 
 doing them. They appeared to her fo natural, 
 that fhe imagined every one would have done 
 the like, and only thought herfelf more fortunate 
 than others, when an opportunity prefented itfelf 
 for indulging her inclination. 
 
 From the fame principle proceeded her endea- 
 vours to pleafe in fociety; fhe wimed to make 
 all as happy as fhe could, fhe wifhed to deferve 
 and gain affection; but fhe never thought of 
 fupplanting others, or endeavouring to aiTume a 
 fuperiority : and far from defiring to leflen their 
 merits in order to raife herfelf by the compari- 
 fon, {he was eager to procure for all, the good 
 which (he valued herfelf, and therefore difpofed 
 to reprefent all in the moft favourable light: 
 
 Indeed
 
 CHARACTER OF LJETITIA. 123 
 
 Indeed, it coft her no difficulty to do fo, 
 becaufe all appeared to her in that light. 
 Happy in herfelf, and difpofed to be pleafed, 
 her attention was naturally turned to the moil 
 pleafmg circumftances, in every event, and 
 every character. 
 
 She often appeared delighted with things 
 which others might have considered as trifles, 
 and that not only in her amufements, but in the 
 characters of thofe with whom me converfed. 
 Her imagination was difpofed to magnify every 
 good and amiable quality, and every little in- 
 ftance of kindnefs and attention beftowed upon 
 herfelf; but her affections, though warm and 
 lively, were far from being indifcriminately la- 
 vifhed on all; her heart felt a kind word or 
 look often much more ftrongly than it deferved, 
 but its tendered attachments were referred for a 
 chofen few; and her friendlhip, like her bene- 
 volence,
 
 124 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA, 
 
 volence, was ardent, animated, and difpofed to 
 run almoft into excefs. 
 
 The fame difpofition appeared in other in- 
 (tances: fhe enjoyed amufements as much as 
 thofe who think of nothing but purfuing them, 
 and even found pleafures where many would 
 have thought they (hewed fuperior fenfe by being 
 tired ; but from the mid ft of the gay eft afiembly, 
 where her vivacity infpired pleafure to all around 
 her, me would have flown at the call of benevo- 
 lence, friendfhip, duty, or religion ; and far from 
 thinking fhe made a facrifke by doing fo, would 
 have enjoyed the opportunity of exchanging a 
 pleafure which only amufed her fancy, for one 
 which touched her heart. 
 
 In common converfation, her innocent fprighu 
 linefs, and artlefs fweetnefs of manners, won 
 the hearts of thofe who might have been inclined 
 
 to
 
 CHARACTER OF LJETITIA. 11$ 
 
 to envy her uncommon excellencies. There 
 was a gentle earneftnefs in her folicitude to 
 pleafc, which animated every look and action, 
 and was far different from the ftudied difplay 
 of vanity, and the artificial infmuations of flat- 
 tery; it fpoke her true and genuine fentimcnts, 
 kept her continually upon the watch for every 
 opportunity of exprefling her attention and 
 regard for others, and added a charm which 
 can hardly be defcribed, even to the moft tri- 
 fling inftances of them. 
 
 The worft tempers were foftened in her pre- 
 fence, and the moft gloomy difpofitions could 
 hardly avoid (haring in her pleafures; yet the 
 greateft flow of fpirits could never, even for a 
 fingle moment, make her lay afide the gentlenefs 
 and modefty of her character ; (he even felt in 
 a great degree that timidity which is natural to 
 a delicate mind, but it ferved only to render 
 
 her
 
 J26 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 her converfation more engaging and interefting; 
 it was a diffidence of herfelf, not a fear of 
 others. 
 
 In the midfl of the moft playful fallies of her 
 lively fancy, and while (he was gaining the ad- 
 miration of all, far from appearing to lay claim 
 to it, her looks and manner feemed continually 
 to folicit their indulgence, and mewed that me 
 thought fiie ftood in need of it ; yet accuftomed 
 to encouragement from her infancy, and judging 
 of the benevolence of others by her own, flie was 
 difpofed to feel a confidence in all, and to be 
 very unguarded in her converfation; but the in- 
 nocence of her heart afforded her a fecurity 
 which the greateft caution cannot fupply ; ihe 
 knew no difguife, but me had need of none. 
 
 She felt for the fuiVerings of others with the 
 tendered fenlibility, but flic expreffed it not by 
 
 boafting
 
 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 127 
 
 boafting of a fentiment which has no merit 
 except in its application, but by an eagernefs to 
 affift and relieve, which made her ready to 
 attempt even impoflibilities, and by thofe gen- 
 tle foothing attentions, from which even hopelefs 
 diftrefs muft receive fome degree of pleafure. 
 
 Her difpofition to enjoy every pleafure to the 
 utmoft, made even the lead fuccefs in her endea- 
 vours of this kind appear to her a happinefs 
 which could hardly be too dearly purchafed. 
 Her early piety, far from allaying her pleafures, 
 had added to every enjoyment the pleafmg fen- 
 timent of love and gratitude to Him by whom 
 they were beftowed, and the animating hope of 
 brighter joys hereafter. She daily offered up 
 the affections of her innocent heart to Him who 
 made it, and implored his afiiftance and protec- 
 tion, with that delightful confidence which true 
 religion can alone infpire; without this, her 
 
 greateft
 
 128 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 greateft pleafures would have wanted their 
 higheft relifh, and their beft. .fecurity ; with it, 
 Ihe could enjoy them without anxiety, and con- 
 lid er them as the earneft of future happinefs. 
 
 Such was Lsetitia : when in the full bloom of 
 youth and health, which feemed to promife 
 many happy years, (he was feized with a fudden 
 illnefs, which in a few days brought her to the 
 grave. 
 
 An account like this could not fail to excite 
 in the mind of every hearer, reflections of the 
 moft ferious kind : fuch ftrokes as thefe, when 
 youth, beauty, and gaiety, are thus fuddenly 
 matched away, are felt even by the moft thought- 
 lefs characters. The young are warned to con- 
 fider the uncertainty of the advantages they 
 poflefs, the vanity of every earthly pleafure, and 
 the tranfient nature of thofe qualities which are 
 
 at
 
 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 129 
 
 at prefent the objects of general admiration ; 
 while thofe who are farther advanced in life, are 
 taught ftill more powerfully the neceflity of pre- 
 paring for a change, from which even youth and 
 health are no fecurity. The importance of the 
 prefent moment is imprelTed on every mind, by 
 the thought of the uncertainty of the next. All 
 acknowledge the foliy of fetting our hearts on 
 pleafures juft ready to efcape from us, and the 
 necellity of providing fuch comforts, as may fup- 
 port us in that awful hour which perhaps is 
 now at hand, and fuch hopes as death itfelf 
 cannot take away. 
 
 Such are the reflections which naturally occur 
 when a fudden ftroke brings home the thought 
 of death to every mind ; efpecially when it has 
 fallen where there was lead reafon to expect it, 
 and when youth and beauty render the object 
 peculiarly interesting. Such reflections afford an 
 K important
 
 130 CHARACTER OP L/ETITIA. 
 
 important and affecting lefTon, which all muft 
 feel for the time, and of which all mould en- 
 deavour to preferve the impreflion. 
 
 ' 
 
 In fuch a ftate of mind, when we coniider 
 religion as our fupport and comfort in the hour 
 of death, and as affording us a happinefs which 
 mall laft beyond the grave, all muft be fenfible 
 of its value, and wjm to feel its force, and obey 
 its precepts, that they may mare in thofe blef- 
 lings which that religion can beftow. But the 
 thought of death, even when attended with the 
 moft ftriking circumftances, feldom makes a 
 lafting impreflion; and thofe who are merely 
 awed into religion by that confideration, may be 
 too apt to lay it afide, when a variety of other 
 objects fucceed, and call off their attention ; or 
 may connect the thought of it with a gloomy 
 idea, which difturbs their purfuits and their 
 enjoyments, and which therefore they are glad 
 
 to
 
 CHARACTER OF L.^ETITIA. iji 
 
 to drive away. They feel themfelves well and 
 happy; they converfe with others who are fo; 
 new fcenes arife, and prefent objects make a 
 ftrong impreflion; and in the hurry of bufinefs, 
 or of pleafure, the funeral of Laetitia is quickly 
 forgotten. ' 
 
 But it is not from her funeral alone that 
 inftruction may be derived: The thought of 
 her early and unexpected death muft indeed 
 imprefs an awe on every mind, and lead to 
 many reflections of the higheft importance to 
 all, and which, by fuch a ftroke, are Ihewn in 
 the ftrongeft and moft affecting light; but thofe 
 excited by her life and character may alfo afford 
 many ufeful leflbns, which, though lefs obvious 
 and (Inking, are yet well worthy of our attention. 
 
 The pleafures of youth are often confidered 
 
 by thofe who are farther advanced in life, with a 
 
 K 2 mixture
 
 132 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 mixture of pity and contempt, as being the 
 effects of ignorance of the world, and of a kind 
 of enthufiafm, which embellifhes every object, 
 and feafts on imaginary enjoyments. This opi- 
 nion is certainly in fome degree true; for none 
 ever lived to maturity, without feeling and 
 lamenting the difappointment of their youthful 
 hopes, and the lofs of that pleafing illufion, 
 which once led the mind from one enjoyment 
 to another, and filled up the many tedious va- 
 canciea of real life ; but the difappointment of 
 too fanguine hopes is very apt to lead to a con- 
 trary extreme. 
 
 The pleafures of youth are indeed greatly 
 owing to the difpofitions of the youthful mind ; 
 and thefe, it muft be owned, are often the effects 
 of illufions, which time and experience muft 
 difpel; but they are far from being always fo; 
 and many of thofe difpofitions on which the 
 
 pleafures
 
 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 133 
 
 pleafures of youth are founded, are fuch as the 
 wife would wifh, and endeavour to prefervc, 
 through every period of life. 
 
 That expedition of being pleafed, which 
 prevails fo much in young perfons, is one great 
 fource of their enjoyments. All are felt before- 
 hand, and their hopes are not eafily given up ; 
 the conviction that they mall be pleafed, makes 
 a ftrong imprefiion on the imagination, which 
 often lafts long enough to make them really 
 be fo; when otherwife they would have found 
 little reafon for it. This illufion cannot indeed 
 be preferved in its full force, but the fame dif- 
 pofition to be pleafed may yet remain; and there 
 is hardly any thing of fb much importance to 
 the happinefs of life. 
 
 
 We fee people feek for forrows, as if they were 
 
 fomething very fcarce and valuable, which it 
 K 3 would
 
 134 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 would be a misfortune to overlook. Would 
 they but employ as much attention in feeking 
 for the innocent pleafures which every different 
 fituation might afford, and accuftom themfelves 
 to conlider every thing in the moft favourable 
 light ; fuch a ftate of mind would in itfelf be 
 pleafing, and would lead to many pleafures 
 which are too often loft, merely for want of at- 
 tending to them. 
 
 That defire to pleafe, which is fo natural to 
 youth, may indeed be difcouraged by difap- 
 poinfments, but if preferved through life, will 
 prove a fource of pleafures to ourfelves and 
 others. It can make even trifles appear agree- 
 able and engaging, and will in a great degree 
 fupply the want of every other talent, and render 
 thofe who poflefs it always acceptable in fociety ; 
 often indeed much more fo than thofe who are 
 far fuperior to them in every other refpecl, but 
 
 who
 
 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 135 
 
 who negledt or defpife thofe little attentions 
 which this difpofition will naturally infpire: 
 Thefe mould, however, always be diftinguifhed 
 from artifice and flattery, which are the in- 
 ftruments of vanity, not the expreflions of be- 
 nevolence. 
 
 &u:: , 
 
 In youth, the affections of the heart are warm 
 and lively; the pleafures, and even the hopes 
 which they afford, are purfued, and enjoyed, to 
 the utmoft; probably they may lead to forrows 
 and difappointments ; but they know little of 
 their own interefts, who endeavour to avoid 
 thefe, by checking that activity of the mind, 
 which is neceflary to its improvement, as well 
 as its happinefs ; or by fupprefiing fentiments on 
 which our enjoyments muft depend, and which 
 (rightly direded) may prove the means of hap- 
 pinefs here and hereafter. 
 
 K 4 The
 
 136 CHARACTER OF 
 
 The innocence of youth is another great 
 fource of its pleafures; but this is a happinefs, 
 which, like that of health, is generally eftimated 
 by its tofs. It is not neceflary to confider the 
 fituation ofaperfon who has been guilty of great 
 crimes, all muft be fenfible that it is wretched : 
 but many things, which, taken feparately, may 
 appear trifles, are yet fufficient to deftroy that 
 purity of heart without which every pleafure 
 muft be attended with forae allay. 
 
 . . . OHOT 
 
 This indeed, in the ftricleft fenfe of the 
 words, is not to be found in this imperfect Hate, 
 even in youth itfelf; ftill Ids can it be expected 
 in thofe who are farther advanced in life. But 
 innocence of intention, .integrity of heart, and a 
 ilncere endeavour to. do right, are qualities which 
 all may poffefs, and. which afford a fecurity and 
 peace of mind, fuch as they can never enjoy wh$ 
 are in any degree wanting in them; whofe pro- 
 
 feflions
 
 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 137 
 
 fefTions differ from their fentiments; and who 
 indulge themfelves in thofe little arts which va- 
 nity or felf-intereft fo often fuggeft, and which 
 are fo common in the general intercourse of fo- 
 ciety, that the particular Inftances of them are 
 feldom made the objects of attention, or confi- 
 dered in the light of real faults. 
 
 The candour of mind, and unfufpecting tern- 
 per fo natural to youth, are alfo productive of 
 many pleafures which painful experience muft 
 in fome degree deftroy. But how many, by the 
 thought of this, , are led into errors far more 
 pernicious, and often not lefs diftant from the 
 truth; for fufpicion can deceive, as well as 
 limplicity, and frequently miffes the mark as 
 effectually, by going beyond it. How greatly 
 is the peace of fociety difturbed, by offences 
 taken which never were intended, by groundleft 
 doubts and apprehenfions, and by the imputa- 
 tion
 
 138 CHARACTER OF L^B-TITIA* 
 
 lion of faults and bad intentions, which never 
 in reality exifted. 
 
 To avoid all error is certainly defirable, but 
 the one extreme is liable to it, as well as the 
 other; and that difpolition of mind, which 
 in cafes that can admit a doubt inclines rather 
 to the moft favourable fide, is certainly by far 
 the happieft for the poffeffor, to fay nothing of 
 the obligations which benevolence and charity- 
 lay upon us in this refpecl:. 
 
 . 
 
 Such reflections as thefe may naturally arife 
 from the consideration of a Character like that 
 of Lcetitia. Her youth affords many ufeful 
 leffons to grey hairs, as well as to thofe who 
 like herfelf are juft entering into life, and who 
 perhaps, like her, may be allowed only a few 
 Ihort years to prepare themfelves for eternity. 
 Her death fets in a ftrong light the neceffity of 
 
 fucft
 
 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 139 
 
 fuch preparation; her life (hews at the fame 
 time the happinefs of it. 
 
 That Religion is neccfTary to our comfort in 
 the time of affliction, and our fupport in the 
 hour of death, all who have any fcnfe of it are 
 ready to allow ; but if conlidered merely in trial 
 light, it is too apt to be neglected in the days 
 of health and profperity, or obeyed with a cold, 
 and often reluctant fubmiffion, as a refrrsint 
 with which it is necefiary to comply, in order 
 to obtain the happinefs of a future (late. Few 
 confider fufficiently its importance to happinefs, 
 even in this life, and the prefent pleafures, as* 
 well as future hopes, which it may afford to thofe 
 in whom it is not merely a conviction of the 
 underftanding, but a real fentiment of the heart. 
 
 Let us then reprefent to ourfelves the fituation 
 of rhofe on whom tfce great truths which Religion 
 
 reveals
 
 140 -CHARACTLR. OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 reveals have made a juft impreflion; who feel 
 that love and gratitude which are due to Infinite 
 Perfection and Infinite Goodnefs ; and in whom 
 thefe fentiments are the leading principles and 
 animating motives for every action. 
 
 -nil *jd vrm ?notJn;}}fli 
 To fuch perfons, how delightful is the thought 
 
 that they are under the guidance and protection 
 of an indulgent Father, who can and will order 
 all things for their real good; that every blef- 
 fing bellowed in this life is not merely a prefenr 
 enjoyment, but an inftance of his goodnefs, a 
 call to that ever pleating fentiment affectionate 
 gratitude, and an earned of future happinefs ! 
 Such thoughts give a fecurity to all pleafures? 
 they are no longer enjoyed with trembling 
 anxiety, from a dread that the next moment 
 may fnatch them away; for the next moment 
 depends on an Almighty Friend, with whom 
 we can fafely entruft our deareft interefls. 
 
 It
 
 CHARACTER 'OF 
 
 It has been well 'obferved, by an excellent 
 writer, " Qu'il ny a point de fentimcnt plus doux 
 au cceur de 1'normrie que la confiance;" but if 
 this be true even in our intercourfe with frail and 
 imperfect beings, in whom we may be miftaken; 
 and who, though their intentions may be fin- 
 cerely good, are often unable to help us, and 
 ignorant of what is beft for us ; how much greater 
 enjoyment muft it afford, when fixed where it 
 
 can never be mifcaken or difappointed ! 
 
 >ft'xJ gnfl 
 
 How encouraging is the certainty, that He 
 who fees the deepeft recedes of the heart, will 
 obferve and accept the fecret good intention 
 which could not be brought to effect, and the 
 fmcere endeavour which has been difappointed, 
 and perhaps mifmterpreted in this world. To 
 relie^ c clnireis, to do good to others and pro- 
 mote their happinefs, muft give pleafure to every 
 one who is not loft to all fenfc of goodnefs; but 
 
 how
 
 142 CHARACTER OF L^TITIA. 
 
 how greatly is this" pleafure iiicreafed, if the ob~.. 
 jecl on whom it is exercifed be endeared to us 
 by particular affection, or has been recom- 
 mended to us by one who is fo, and to whom 
 we can in this manner exprefs our affection! 
 What fpirit does this confideration give to our 
 endeavours, and what an exalted pleafure attends 
 their fuccefs! 
 
 This pleafure, in the higheft degree, religion 
 adds to every exertion of benevolence; it 
 ftrengthens the ties of natural philanthropy, by 
 ihewing us in all mankind the children of one 
 Common Parent, the objects of the fame Redeem- 
 ing Love, and the candidates for the fame eter- 
 nal happinefs. In every fcene of diftrefs to 
 which we can afford relief, it reminds us that 
 our beft Friend has allured us, that whatever is 
 done to one of the leaft of thefe his brethren, 
 wiH be confidered as done unto himfelf: and 
 
 this
 
 CHARACTER OF LJETITIA. " 143 
 
 this pleafure depends not on fuccefs ; for the 
 endeavour, and even the &$>, will be accepted as 
 a proof of love arid gratitude. 
 .- 
 
 From the fame consideration, Religion becomes 
 the only fure foundation of that good-humour 
 which is the charm of focial life. Can beings 
 who hope in a few years, perhaps in a few hours, 
 to be united in eternal love and happinefs, be 
 difpofed to be angry with each other about tri- 
 fles, and find a fatisfaction in faying or doing 
 what may give pain? 
 
 Were thefe truths felt as well as acknow- 
 ledged, they muft not only put an end to all 
 violent hatred and animofity, but muft alfo fofren 
 all thofe little irregularities of temper, which fo 
 frequently prevent even good people from being 
 .as happy in each other as they ought to be. 
 
 - 
 
 At
 
 144 CHARACTER OF LJETITIA. 
 
 At the fame time when we are hurt by fuch 
 things in others, particularly in thofe we truly 
 love and value, (and from whom, therefore, a 
 trifle can give pain) how pleafing to look for- 
 ward to the time when all thefe imperfections 
 fhall be ended, and we ihall find nothing to allay 
 the pleafures of affection and efteem, which in 
 this life can never be enjoyed in their utmoft 
 perfection, from the mixture of human frailty, 
 which is found in a greater or lefler degree even 
 "in truly worthy characters* 
 
 But when friendfhip rifes to its purefl heights, 
 and meets with as little of fuch allay as is pofli- 
 ble in this imperfect ftate, ftill how greatly are 
 even the refined pleafures which it affords, im- 
 proved and exalted by religion ! How delight- 
 ful is the tie which unites two worthy characters 
 in the nobleft purfuits, when each is ftrength- 
 ened and animated by the other; and their plea- 
 fures,
 
 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 145 
 
 fures, far from being allayed by the continual 
 dread of reparation, are heightened by the hope 
 that they will be lading as eternity. 
 
 When the mind is engaged in the purfuit of 
 improvement, and pleafed with any little advance 
 it can make; or when it delights itfelf with the 
 conlideration of what is beautiful and amiable in 
 the natural or moral fyftem ; how greatly is the 
 pleafure increafed by looking forward to a time 
 when every faculty fhali be improved beyond 
 what we can at prefent conceive, when we (hall 
 be qualified for the moft exalted enjoyments, and 
 all our contemplations employed on the moft 
 perfect objects! 
 
 But when we endeavour to enlarge on a fubject 
 like this, we muft find all our expreflions fall 
 flioit of what we wifli to defcribe. 
 
 L Thefe
 
 146 CHARACTER OF L^ETITIA. 
 
 Thefe are but a few inftances of the advan- 
 tages which may be derived from Religion, even 
 in the happieft ftate, a faint fketch of its power 
 to refine, exalt, and fecure our pleafures : happy 
 they to whom experience mail give a more per- 
 fect idea of it ! They will not be reduced, in the 
 day of affliction, to feek for comforts with which 
 they were before unacquainted, and pleafures 
 which they know not how to enjoy; for the beft 
 pleafures of their happieft days will remain, un- 
 allayed by any misfortune that can befall them; 
 and the mind, long accuftomed to dwell on them 
 and enjoy them, will grow more attached to 
 them, as other pleafures fail, and be enabled to 
 look forward to the ftroke which mail match 
 them all away, not only with calm refignation, 
 but with joyful hope. 
 
 Far be it ever from us to limit the mercies oi 
 the Almighty, or difcourage any from having 
 
 recourfe
 
 CHARACTER OF L/ETITIA. 147 
 
 recourfe to them, even in their lateft moments. 
 Far be it alfo from us to judge of the future hap- 
 pinefs of any, by their prefent ftate of mind. An 
 old age of languor and dejection, a death of ter- 
 ror and anxiety, may often be fucceeded by an 
 eternity of blifs. 
 .I'otrfv rbrw ftiolmoo TO) fezl o* ,noiiffil 
 
 But let thofe who now enjoy health and prof- 
 perity never forget, that they can have no reafon 
 to depend on finding Religion their comfort in 
 the hour of death, if they do not find it their 
 
 happinefs in life. 
 
 o 'orn woig Hiw .rrrrfi 
 
 " ' ':/'''. 
 
 , no ton 
 
 !u 
 
 . 
 L2 ON
 
 O N 
 
 POLITENESS. 
 
 T 5 HYPOCRISIE eft un hommage que Ic 
 -*"^ " vice rend a la vertu," fays LA ROCHE- 
 FoucAULT; and in one fenfe it certainly is fo, 
 for it is an acknowledgment of the fuperior ex- 
 cellence of virtue; and one who viewed mankind 
 with the eyes of La Rochefoucault, muft conlider 
 Hypocrify as an advantage to all. 
 
 ROUSSEAU, quoting this paflage, adds " Oui 
 
 " comme celui des aiTaflins de Cefar, qui fe 
 
 " profternoient a fes pieds pour 1' egorger plus 
 
 " furement; couvrir fa mechancete du dange- 
 
 L 3 " reux
 
 150 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 " rcux manteau de 1* Hypocrifie, ce n' eft point 
 " honorer la Vertu, c'eft I' outrager en profanant 
 " fes enfeignes." It is indeed the homage of an 
 enemy: and of all the enemies of virtue there is 
 perhaps none whofe attacks have been more per- 
 nicious ; and that not only by throwing a difguife 
 over vice, but by fetting up an artificial image 
 in the place of real virtue, and confounding the 
 idea of the one with the other, till every ap- 
 pearance is fufpected, and the exiftence of that 
 which is true and genuine, is rendered doubtful 
 to thofe whofe hearts do not bear teftimony to 
 it's certainty. 
 
 . 
 
 There is hardly any thing which (confidered 
 abftra&edly) appears fo natural as Sincerity. 
 Speech was given us to exprefs our thoughts and 
 feelings; and to ufe it to exprefs what we do not 
 think and feel, is an evident pejrverlion of it. 
 But alas ! man, fallen from his native innocence, 
 
 now
 
 ON POLITENESS. 151 
 
 now dares not be fincere; confcious of guilt, he 
 feeks difguife ; and confcious of difguife in him- 
 felf, he is ready to fufped: it in others. 
 
 Thus infincerity firft made its way amongft 
 mankind, and by fuch confiderations it has fince 
 been cherilhed and encouraged, though every 
 heart in fecret bears teftimony againft it; and 
 even amongft the greateft hypocrites, few would 
 venture openly to defend it in matters of import- 
 ance : in thefe all are ready to declare againft it, 
 and fincerity is a quality to which all lay claim ; 
 yet in the daily occurrences of common life, 
 it feems to be laid alide by a kind of tacit 
 agreement: few make any fcruple of deviating 
 from it themfelves, or feem to expecl: a confor- 
 mity to it in others ; but deceit is praclifed when 
 it can anfwer any purpofe, and even acknow- 
 ledged on many occaiions, as if it were in itfelf 
 a matter of the greateft indifference. 
 
 L 4 It
 
 152 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 It is much too common, in every inftance, to 
 judge of a&ions, not according to what they 
 really are, but according to the impreflion they 
 make upon us. The man who would be mocked 
 at he thought of being a butcher, will feel no 
 remorfe at impaling a butterfly; and he who 
 would fcorn to tell a folemn lie, will make no 
 fcruple of profefling efteem and regard which 
 he does not feel, or of encouraging an unexperi- 
 enced young woman in follies which in his heart 
 he defpifes, and which he knows will render her 
 ridiculous. Yet the merit of actions depends 
 not on their apparent effects, nor are we fuffici- 
 ently acquainted with the confequences which 
 may attend them, to be qualified to judge how 
 far they may extend. .-torh ' : 
 
 6rt t k3'->no3 on pid03iglib gnirij'j.n 
 
 When once we deviate from the ftraight path, 
 hov/ever fmall the deviation may be, and how- 
 ever ftrong the reafons for it, we can never 
 
 know
 
 ON POLITENESS. 153 
 
 know how far we may be led aftray, nor what 
 may be the confequences of that deviation. 
 Could thefe be known at once, the fault which 
 was conlidered merely as a trifle, would often 
 appear mocking, even to thofe who paid leaft at- 
 tention to it, though in fact they can make no 
 difference in its real nature. 
 ttfin rjyifte n 
 
 If infmcerity be in itfelf a tault, it muft be fo 
 independent of the confequences which may 
 follow from it ; yet the moft trifling consideration 
 feems often to be thought a fufficient excufe for 
 it, and we even hear it pleaded for, as necef- 
 fary to the peace and pleafure of fociety. But 
 to whom can it be neceifar) ? Surely to none 
 but thofe who have fomething criminal, or at 
 leaft fomething difagreeable, to conceal, and 
 whofe real characters witi not bear the light. 
 The good and amiable qualities want only to 
 be feen as. they are, in order to be plealing and 
 
 ufeful;
 
 154 AT P L 1 r E N E \S ft 
 
 ufeful ; and if every heart were fuch as it ought 
 to be, the delight of fociety would be to throw 
 afide all difguife, let every one exprefs his genu- 
 ine fentiments, and appear to others fuch as he 
 really is. 
 snfft iy$ 
 
 But it is eafier to polilh the manners, than 
 to reform the heart; to difguife a fault, than to 
 conquer it. He who can venture to appear as 
 he is, xmuft be what he ought to be ; a difficult 
 and arduous tafk, which often requires the facri- 
 fice of many a darling inclination, and the exer- 
 tion of many a painful effort : and if there can be 
 any hope of attaining the fame end by a morter 
 and eafier method, it is not wonderful that num- 
 bers are glad to have recourfe to it. 
 
 This is, in fact, the principal caufe of that 
 infincerity which prevails fo much in the ordi- 
 nary intercourfe of fociety, though there are 
 
 many
 
 ON POLITENESS. 155 
 
 many others which contribute to it. Pride 
 makes men endeavour to feem better than they 
 really are, by afTuming an appearance of thole 
 virtues which they want, and endeavouring to 
 difguife thofe vices which they cheriih. Sel- 
 ifhnefs makes them wifh toengrofs a larger mare 
 of efteem and regard than is beftowed on others, 
 this introduces Flattery, which is in fact, an en- 
 deavour to -purchafe efteem, and even affection, 
 with counterfeit coin. It is playing upon the 
 weaknefles of others for our o\vn advantage, and 
 running the hazard of encouraging them in folly, 
 and even in vice; and thereby doing -them a. 
 real and material injury, merely for the* fake of 
 gaining to ourfelves the trifling fa tis faction of 
 unmerited approbation^ , ziad 
 
 This, to a peribn of any delicacy, mould' give 
 more pain than pkafure, from a confcrcufa&&of 
 having indeed defcrved the contrary avfor who 
 
 that
 
 I5 6 O AT POLITENESS. 
 
 that is not loft to every generous fentiment, could 
 bear to receive a tribute of gratitude and good- 
 will, in return for profeflions of efteem which 
 he never felt, and kindnefs which he never 
 intended? 
 
 'jriLsijnalb aiafiib li girfo nl 
 
 He may indeed defjpjTe the folly and vanity 
 
 of thofe who can be pleafed with fuch pro- 
 feffions, and pofTibly they may often be de- 
 ferving of contempt ; but this is no alleviation 
 of his fault, nor can even this excufe be always 
 pleaded. An innocent heart may be pleafed 
 with the flattery, (without giving entire credit to 
 it) when it is confidered as an expreffion. of real 
 kindnefs; confcious that its own fentiments are 
 warm, lively, and apt to run into exeefs, it may 
 naturally fuppofe the fame of others; and thus 
 the poifon is received under a pleafing difguife, 
 till by degrees it grows familiar, and may produce 
 .the moft fatal effects, 
 
 True
 
 ON POLITENESS. 157 
 
 True Politenefs, like true Benevolence the 
 fource from which it flows, aims at the real good 
 of all mankind, and fincerely endeavours to 
 make all eafy and happy, not only by confidcra- 
 ble fervices, but by all thofe little attentions which 
 can contribute to it. In this it differs eiTentially 
 from that artificial politenefs which too often 
 aflumes its place, and which confifts in an endea- 
 vour, not to make others happy, but to fcrve the 
 interefts of our own vanity, by gaining their fa- 
 vour and good opinion, though at the expence 
 of truth, goodnefs, and even of their happincfs, 
 if the point in view can be obtained by de- 
 ftroying it. 
 
 Flattery is an elFcntial part of this fort of 
 politenefs, the means by which it generally fuc- 
 ceeds : but true politenefs Hands in need of no 
 fuch affiftance; it is the genuine expreflion of 
 the heart, it feeks no difguife, and -will never 
 
 flatter.
 
 flatter. He whov*<3s from this principle, will 
 exprefs to all \vhat he truly feels, a real good- 
 will, a fincere concern for their happinefs, and 
 an earned defire to promote it. He will not 
 exprefs admiration for a fool, nor efteem for a 
 bad man; but he will exprefs benevolence to 
 all, becaufe he feels it; and he will endeavour to 
 do them good, as far as may be in his power, 
 becaufe he fmcerely wifhes it. 
 
 Flattery is direclly contrary to this; it feeks 
 Its own ends without conlidering what may be 
 the confequence with regard to others. It is 
 alfo effentially different from that regard which 
 is paid to real merit, for that is a tribute which 
 is certainly its due, and may be both paid and 
 received with innocence and pleafure ; but the 
 exprcflions of this, will generally 'be fuch s 
 efcape undefignedly from the heart, and are far 
 different from the ftudied language of flattery. 
 
 bhow Indeed
 
 ON- POLITE NESS. 159 
 
 Indeed flattery is not, in general, addrefled 
 to real and ackowledged merit. It has been 
 obferved by one who feems to have ftudied it 
 as a fcience, that a profefled beauty miift not be 
 complimented upon her perfon, but her under- 
 ftanding, becaufe there Ihe may be fuppofed to 
 be more doubtful of her excellence ; while one 
 whofe pretenfions to beauty are but fmall, will 
 be mod flattered by compliments on her per- 
 fonal charms. 
 
 .ijsH 
 
 The fame may be obferved as to other qua- 
 lities: for though moft people would conlider 
 flattery as an infult, if addrefled to fuch qualities 
 as they know they do not poiTefs ; yet in general 
 they are beft pleafed with it where they feel - 
 any degree of doubt, or fufpecl that others may ' 
 do fo. When Cardinal RICHELIEU expreffed ' 
 more defire to be admired as a poet and a critic, " 
 than as one of the greateft politicians in the * 
 
 world,
 
 160 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 world, we cannot fuppofe it was becaufe he 
 thought thefe talents of more confequence in a 
 prime minifter, but he was certain of his excel- 
 lence in one refpect, and wanted not to be told 
 what all the world muft think of him; in the 
 other he wifhed to excel, and was not fure of 
 fucccfs. 
 
 The fame may probably be the reafon of the 
 partiality which fome writers are faid to have 
 expreffed for their worft performances. It feems 
 fcarce pofiible to fuppofe that MILTON really 
 preferred his Paradife Regained to his Paradife 
 Loft; but if he had any doubts of its fuccefs, it 
 Vas very natural for him to feel more anxiety 
 about it, and to endeavour to perfuade others, 
 and even himfelf, of its fuperior merit. 
 
 This is a weaknefs in human nature, of which 
 flattery generally takes advantage, without con* 
 
 fidering
 
 OJV POLITENESS. 161 
 
 fidering that by fuch means if: not only encou- 
 rages vanity in thofc to whom it is addrefied, but 
 may alfo draw them in, to make themfelves 
 appear ridiculous, by the affectation of qualities 
 to which they have little or no pretenfions. 
 
 Noj does this artificial kind of flattery gene- 
 rally ftop at fuch qualities as are in themfelves 
 indifferent ; it is too often employed (and per- 
 haps ftill more fuccefsfully) in difguifing and 
 palliating faults, and thereby affording encou- 
 ragement to thofe whofe inclinations were 
 reftrained by fome degree of remorfe. 
 
 It is unjuft, as well as ill-natured, to take ad- 
 vantage of the weakneffes of others, in order to 
 obtain our own ends, at the hazard of rendering 
 them ridiculous ; but it is fomething far worfe 
 to lend a helping hand to thofe who heiitate at 
 engaging in the paths of vice, and feel a painffil 
 M conflict
 
 i62 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 conflict between their duty and their inclina- 
 tion ; or to endeavour to leiTen the fenfe of duty 
 in thofe who are not free from fome degree of 
 remorfe, and defire to amend. Yet thefe are, in 
 general, the perfons to whom flattery is moft 
 acceptable; it fooths their inclinations, and 
 difpels their doubts, at the fame time that it 
 gratifies their vanity; it frees them from a pain- 
 ful fenfation, and faves them the trouble of a 
 difficult talk, while it affords them a prefent 
 pleafure ; and if it does not entirely conquer 
 their fcruples, at lead it removes one reftraint 
 which lay in their way, the fear of being cen- 
 fured. Yet how often is all this done by thofe 
 who would think themfelves infufferably in- 
 jured if they were to be fuppofed capable of 
 picking a pocket, though in that cafe the injury 
 might perhaps be trifling, and hardly worth 
 a thought. 
 
 If
 
 ON POLITENESS. 163 
 
 If " he who filches from me my good name," 
 has made " me poor indeed," what (hall we fay 
 of him, who from felfifh views, perhaps merely 
 for the fake of obtaining a trifling gratification 
 of his vanity, has done what may lead me to 
 deferve to forfeit that good name, even in the 
 fmalleft inftance? And if he has done this by 
 deceit, and has found means to gain affection or 
 efleem in return for it, what other acl: of difho- 
 nefty can exceed the bafenefs of fuch a pro- 
 ceeding? But thefe things are too apt to make 
 little impreflion when pradifed in what are 
 called trifles, though that circumftance makes no 
 change in their real nature, and none can fay 
 how far the confequences, even of trifles, may 
 extend. 
 
 . 
 
 Thofe who make no fcruple of fuch methods 
 as thefe, if at the fame time, by being much 
 accuftomed to polite company, they have acqui- 
 
 M 2 red
 
 164 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 red a certain elegance of manners, and facility 
 of expreflmg themfelves, will feldom fail to 
 pleafe, upon a flight acquaintance; but the beft 
 after will find it difficult always to keep up to 
 his part. He who is polite only by rule, will 
 probably, on fome occafion or other, be thrown 
 off his guard ; and he who is continually pro.- 
 f effing fentiments which he docs not feel, will 
 hardly be able always to do it in fuch a manner 
 as to avoid betraying himfelf. 
 
 Whatever degree of affection or efteem is 
 gained without being deferved, though at firft it 
 may be both paid and received with pleafure, 
 will probably, after a time, vanifh into nothing, 
 
 or prove a fource of difappointment and morti- 
 ^snm * r 
 
 iication to both parties: and even while the 
 
 1 
 
 delufion lafts, it is fcarce poflible it mould be 
 attended with entire fatisfaclion to the deceiver ; 
 for deceit of all kinds, from the greateft to the 
 
 moft
 
 ON POLITENESS. 165 
 
 moft trifling inftance of it, muft be attended 
 with a degree of anxiety, and can never enjoy 
 that perfcft cafe and fecurily \vhich attends on 
 thofe whofe words and actions are the natural 
 undifguifed expreffions of the fentiments of 
 the heart. 
 
 But as mankind are apt to run from one 
 
 . 
 extreme to another, we fometimes fee that from 
 
 a diflike to this artificial policenefs, which is 
 continually glofling over faults, both in thofe 
 who practife it, and thofe they practife it upon, 
 a roughnefs, and even brutality, of manners is 
 adopted, and dignified with the title of fmcerity. 
 Some perfons pique themfelves upon faying all 
 they think, and are continually profeffing to do 
 fo, and as a proof of this, they will fay things 
 the moft (hocking to others, and give them pain 
 without the leaft remorfe, for fear of being fuf- 
 pected of flattering them. 
 
 M 3 But
 
 1 66 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 But is this then the language of their heart? 
 Alas ! if it is fo, let them fet about reforming it, 
 and make it fit to be feen, before they make 
 their boaft of expofing it to publick view : yet 
 perhaps, there may be as much affectation in 
 this conduct, as in the contrary extreme. Pride 
 may think to gain its own ends by an appearance 
 of fmgularity, and by fetting itfelf above the ap- 
 probation of others, as vanity does by conde- 
 fcending to the meaneft methods, in order to 
 obtain it. 
 
 i 
 
 That fincerity which is difplayed with often- 
 tation, is generally to be fufpected ; the conduct 
 which an honeft heart infpires, flows naturally 
 from it, and thofe who fay rough things in order 
 to convince others of their fincerity, give fome 
 reafon to doubt of their being perfectly convin- 
 ced of it themfelves. 
 
 & ;3lusl 5 gj it moil noitemb i 
 
 Both
 
 ON POLITENESS. ify 
 
 Both thefe extremes are not only pernicious to 
 the prefent peace and pleafure of fociety, but 
 may alfo lead to very fatal confequences. The 
 flatterer encourages vice and folly, undermines 
 the principles of virtue, and gains by fraud and 
 artifice a degree of efteem and regard to which 
 he has no title ; the other does what he can to 
 frighten every one from what is right, for if 
 fmcerity difcovers fuch a heart, difguife muft 
 appear defircable j and few conlider fufficiently 
 how much the caufe of virtue muft fuffer, when- 
 ever a good quality is made to appear in an 
 unamiable light. 
 
 1 01 ylljmcteg i 
 
 Sincerity is indeed the ground-work of all 
 that is good and valuable: however beautiftil 
 in appearance the ftru&ure may be, if it ftand 
 not on this foundation, it cannot laft. But fm- 
 cerity can hardly be called- a virtue irt^it&ifc 
 though a deviation from it is a fault; a man 
 M4 may
 
 i'6i ON POL IT E NE S S. 
 
 may be fmcere in his vices as well as in his 
 virtues; and he who throws off all reftraiht of 
 remorfe or {hame, and even makes a boaft of 
 his vices, can claim no merit from the fincerity 
 he exprefles in fo doing. 
 
 If he Who \sftncefe cannot appear amialk, his 
 heart is wrong, and his fincerity, far from being 
 a virtue, ferves only to add to the reft of his 
 faults that of being willing to give pain to 'others, 
 and able to throw afide that fhame which mould 
 attend on eVery fault, whether great or fmall, 
 and which is fometimes a reftraint to fuch as 
 are incapable of being influenced by nobler 
 motives. 
 
 ^lirfomo: 
 
 Roughnefs of manners is in faft fo far from 
 being in itfelf a mark of fincerity, 'that it is 
 merely the natural expretfion of one character, 
 as gentlenefs is of Motbfr, and it ihbuld always 
 
 be
 
 ON POLITENESS. 169 
 
 be remembered, that, to conned the idea of a 
 good quality with a difagreeable appearance, is 
 doing it a real injury, and leads to much more 
 pernicious confequences than may at firft be ap- 
 prehended. Yet this is too often done, in many 
 inftances, not only by thofe who are interefted to 
 promote fuch a deception, but alfo by thofe Vvho 
 take up maxims upon credit, and believe what 
 others have believed, without enquiring into the 
 grounds of fuch opinions : and this is too much 
 the cafe with the w r orld in general. 
 
 Much has been faid and written on the fub- 
 jecl of Politenefs; but thofe who attempt to teach 
 it generally begin \vhcre they fliould end ; and 
 the inftru&ion they give, is fomething like 
 teaching a fet of elegant phrafes in a language not 
 underftood, or inftru&ing a perfon in mufick by 
 making him learn a few tunes by memory, with- 
 out any knowledge of the .grounds of the fcience. 
 
 The
 
 f? p O A' P L I r E N E S $. 
 
 The polifh of elegant manners is indeed truly 
 pleafmg, and neceffary in order to make the 
 worthieft character compleatly amiable; but it 
 mould be a poli/Jj, and not a varnijh, the ornament 
 of a good heart, not the difguife of a bad one. 
 
 & irn^i , jrf3,^flK4^n30i|3^g^i? 
 
 , ^JVhere a truly benevolent heart is joined with 
 a delicate mind, and both are directed by a folid 
 and refined understanding, the natural expreffion 
 of thefe qualities will be the eflential part of 
 true politenefs; all the reft is mere arbitrary 
 cuftom, which varies according to the manners 
 of different nations, and different times; a con- 
 formity to this is however highly neceiTary, and 
 thofe who neglect to acquire the knowledge and 
 practice of it betray the want of fome of tli 
 above-mentioned qualities. 
 
 -ifiBsm on Y/J e^nirto 3i t snob ei \iu\ni 
 A ^^P^^^^\l^M^i^fp^^ the 
 language O o^ 3 Sft u B!C&^ ^SP^P 1 /: ^ its 
 
 cuftoms,
 
 ON POLITENESS. 171 
 
 cuftoms, in matters of indifference ; like it they 
 are figns, which though unmeaning perhaps in 
 themfelves, are eftablifhed by general ccnfent to 
 exprefs certain fentiments, and a want of atten- 
 tion to them would appear to exprefs a want 
 of thofe fentiments, and therefore, in regard to 
 others, would have the fame bad effect.. But 
 though the neglect of thefe things is blameable, 
 thofe who confider them as the effential part of 
 true politenefsj are much wider of the mark, for 
 they may be ftrictly obferved, where that is en- 
 tirely wanting. 
 
 a ib brifi / r "ii3rliblo 
 
 To wound the heart, to miflead the under- 
 ftanding, to difcourage a timid character, to 
 expofe an ignorant, though perhaps an innocent 
 one, with numberlefs other inftances in which a 
 real injury is done, are things by no means in- 
 confiftent with the rules of politenefs, and are 
 often done by fuch as would not go out of the 
 
 room
 
 i 7 2 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 room before the perfon they have been treating 
 in this manner; for though doing fuch things 
 openly might be confidered as ill-manners, there 
 are many indirect ways which are juft as effectual, 
 and which may be praclifed without any breach 
 of eftablifhed forms. Like the Pharifees of old, 
 they are fcrupulous obfervers of the letter of the 
 law in trifles, while they neglect the fpirit of it ; 
 and their obfervance of forms, far from giving 
 any reafon to depend on them, on the contrary, 
 often ferves them only as a flicker, under which 
 
 they can do fuch things as others would not dare 
 \o gni 
 
 to venture upon. 
 
 This is alfo, in general, only put on (like their 
 beft drefs) when they are to go into company; 
 for whenever politenefs is not the natural expref- 
 fion of the heart, it rnuft be in fome degree a 
 reftraint, and will therefore probably be laid 
 afide in every unguarded hour, that is to fay, in 
 
 all
 
 ON POLITENESS. I73 
 
 all their intercourfe with thofe whom it is of 
 mod confequence to them to endeavour to 
 make happy ; and the unhappinefs which fome- 
 times reigns in families who really poflefs many 
 good qualities, and are not wanting in mutual 
 affection, is often entirely owing to a want of 
 that true and fmcere politenefs which mould ani- 
 mate the whole conduct, though the manner of 
 exprefling it muft be different according to dif- 
 ferent circumftances. Politenefs is always ne- 
 ceflary to compleat the happinefs of" fociety in 
 every fituation, from the accidental meeting of 
 ftrangers, to the moil intimate connections of 
 families and friends ; but it muft be the genuine 
 expreflion of the fettled character, or it cannot 
 be conftant and univerfal. 
 
 Let us then endeavour to confider the true 
 foundation of that evsr-pleafing quality diftin- 
 guifhed by the name of true Politenefs, leaving 
 
 the
 
 i 7 4 O# POLITENESS. 
 
 the ornamental part of it, like other ornaments, 
 to be determined by the fafhion of the place 
 and time. 
 
 To enter fully into the detail of fuch a cha- 
 racter, would be an arduous tafk indeed; but 
 the flighteft fketch of what is truly pleafing, 
 cannot fail to afford fome fatisfaction ; and there 
 can hardly be a more ufeful exercife to the 
 mind, than to dwell on the coniideration of good 
 and amiable qualities, to endeavour to improve 
 upon every hint, and raife our ideas of excel- 
 lence as high as poflible. We may then apply 
 them to our own conduct in the ordinary occur- 
 rences of life; we may obferve in what inftances 
 we fall fhort of that perfection we wiih to attain,, 
 endeavour to trace the caufe of the want of it 
 in thofe inftances, and learn not to difguife our 
 faults, but to amend theqwu- 
 
 ^riBlorfJ ,dbr -.rrft.ihw 
 
 True
 
 ON P O L I T^E KEX ' S\ ir 5 
 
 True benevolence infpires a fmcere defire to 
 promote the happinefs of others ; true delicacy 
 enables us to enter into their feelings ; it has 
 quick fenfe of what may give pleafure or pain, 
 and teaches us to purfue the one, and avdid 
 the other; and a refined underftanding points- 
 out the fureft means of doing this, in different 
 circumftances, and of fuiting our conduct to 
 the perfons with whom we are concerned. The 
 union of all thefe will conftitute that amiable 
 character, of which true politenefs is the - ge- 
 nuine and natural expreflion. "d iv 
 
 E figirf &B 3DnaI 
 
 The perfon who has not thefe qualities may 
 indeed, by other means, attain to fomething like 
 politenefs on fome occafions; but the perfon 
 who poffefles them in perfection, can ri^ei 6 ^ 
 wanting in it, even for a moment, in any mftance, 
 or in any company ; with' faperiors artd infe- 
 riors, with ftrangers and with friends, the fame 
 
 character
 
 176 ON POLITENESS 
 
 character is full preferred, though exprcfled in 
 different ways. Thofe pjeafmg attentions, which 
 ire the charm of fociety, are continually paid 
 with eafe and fatisfa&ion, for they are the na- 
 tural language of fuch fentimentsj and to fijch 
 a character it would be painful to omit them ; 
 while every thing that can give unneceffary 
 pain, even in the final left degree, is eonftantly 
 avoided, becaufe directly contrary to it; for no 
 pain can be inflicled by a perfon of fuch a difpo- 
 iition, without being ftrongly felt at the fame 
 time. 
 
 A fuperipr degree of delicacy may often be 
 the caufe of much pain to thofe who poflefs it ; 
 they will be hurt at many things which would 
 make no impreflion upon others; but from that 
 very circumftance, they will be taught to avoid 
 giving pain on numberlefs occaiions, when others 
 might do it. Whenever an excefs of fenfibility 
 
 is
 
 ON POLITENESS. 17; 
 
 is fuppofed to produce a contrary effect, we may 
 be certain it is, in fad, an excefs of felfimnefs. 
 
 True delicacy feels the pain it receives, but 
 it feels much more ftrongly the pain it gives ; 
 and therefore will never give any, which it is 
 poffible to avoid. Far from being the caufe 
 of unreafonable complaints, uneafmefs, and fret- 
 fulnefs, it will always carefully avoid fuch things; 
 it will know how to make allowances for others, 
 and rather fuffer in filence, than give them un- 
 neceffary pain. It will infpire the gentlejl and 
 moft engaging methods of helping others to 
 amend their faults, and to correct thofe irregula- 
 rities of temper which difturb the peace of 
 fociety, without expofmg them to the humili- 
 ation of being upbraided, or even of being made 
 fully fenfible of the offence they give; which 
 often difpofes people rather to feek for excufes, 
 than to endeavour to amend. In ihort, it en- 
 N lightens
 
 178 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 lightens and directs benevolence j difcovers num- 
 berlefs occafions for the exertion of it, which are 
 too generally overlooked j and points out the 
 fureft and moft pleafing means of attaining thofe 
 ends which it purfues. 
 
 This earned delire to promote the happinefs 
 of all, which is effential to true politenefs, mould 
 always be carefully diftinguifhed from that defire 
 of pleafing, in which felf-love is in fact the ob- 
 ject; for though this may fometimes appear to 
 produce the fame effects with the other, it is by 
 no means fufficient fully to fupply its place. It; 
 is indeed a natural fentiment, which is both plea- 
 ling and ufeful when kept within due bounds. 
 To gain the good-will of others, is foothing 
 to the heart; and they muft be proud or infen- 
 fible, in a very uncommon degree, who are not 
 defirous of it ; but much more than this is ne- 
 cefTary to infpire true and conftant politenefs in 
 
 every
 
 ON POLirENESS. 179 
 
 every inftance; and this defire, carried to excefs, 
 may produce very pernicious confequences. 
 From hence fometimes proceed endeavours to 
 fupplant others in the favour of thofe we wifh to 
 pleafe, and to recommend ourfelves at their 
 expence, together with all the train of evils 
 which attend on envy and jealoufy. From hence 
 alfo flattery, and all thofe means of gaining 
 favour, by which the real good of others is fa- 
 crificed to our own intereft; and from hence 
 much of the infincerity which prevails in com- 
 mon converfation. Falfe maxims are adopted, 
 and the real fentiments difguifed ; a difpofition 
 to ridicule, cenforioufnefs, and many other faults, 
 are encouraged; and truth and goodnefs are fa- 
 crificed to the fear of giving offence ; and thus 
 an inclinatioa in itfelf innocent, and calculated 
 to promote the pleafure and advantage of fo- 
 ciety, is made productive of much evil, by being 
 fuffered to act beyond its proper fphere, and to 
 N 2 take
 
 xfc ON POLITENESS 
 
 take place of others which fhould always be 
 preferred beford'Jtf)Bdu> 
 s Iliw *> 
 
 But even confidered in the moft favourable 
 light, thcdefire of plcafmg others falls far fhort 
 of that endeavour to make them happy which 
 benevolence infpires; for the one is only ex- 
 erted in fuch inftances as can gain obfervation ; 
 the other extends to every thing within its power, 
 and can facrifice even the defire of pleafing, to 
 that of doing real good, ; \yhenevtr the one is 
 iriconfiftent with the other. 1 .Yet where this i* 
 done with that true pcditenefs whkh is the effe 
 ef thofe qualities already mentioned, it is very- 
 likely to fucceed better ifi the end* v even as to 
 gaining favour with- ail thofe whofey favour is 
 truly valuable; but it .depends iiot pn.,fuch.cir- 
 cumftances, it is a fettled character, which is 
 naturally difplayed ia-ev^r/ inftance without art 
 or ftudy. 
 
 It
 
 ON POLITENESS. iSt 
 
 It may alfb be obferved, that though a great 
 degree of affection may fubiift where this quality 
 is wanting, yet that want will always prove an 
 allay to the pleafure of it. We fee perfons who 
 really feel this affedion, who would do and 
 fuffer a great deal to ferve each other, and 
 would conlider a feparation by abfence or death 
 as one of the greateft of evils; and who yet, 
 merely from the want of this quality, lofe a 
 thoufand opportunities of promoting the hap- 
 pinefs of thofe they truly love and value, and 
 often give them real pain, without ever fufpecl:- 
 ing themfelves of being wanting in regard and 
 affection, becaufe they feel that they would be 
 ready to 'exert themfelves in doing them any 
 eflential fcrvke. Thus the pleafure of fociety 
 is deffroyed, and the fuppofed confcioufnefs of 
 poflefling good qualities (for the exertion of 
 which it is poflible no opportunity may ever 
 offer) is thought to make amends for the 
 N 3 want
 
 1 8i JV POLITENESS. 
 
 want of fuch as are truly pleating and ufeful in 
 every day and hour of our intercourfe with each 
 other. 
 
 Happinefs confifts not in fome extraordinary 
 inftance of good fortune, nor virtue in fome 
 illuftrious exertion of it ; for fuch things are in 
 the power of few \ but if they are true and ge- 
 nuine, the one muft be practifed and the other 
 enjoyed in the conftant and uniform tenor of 
 our lives. The perfon who, on fome extraordi- 
 nary occalion, does another fome lignal piece 
 of fervice, is by no means fo great a benefactor 
 as one who makes his life eafy and happy by 
 thofe pleafing attentions, the iingle inftances of 
 which too often pafs unnoticed, but which al- 
 together form the delight of focial intercourfe, 
 and afford a calm and ferene pleafure, without 
 which, the moft profperous fortune can never 
 beftow happinefs. 
 
 There
 
 ON POLITENESS. igg 
 
 There is a fecurity in all our intercourfe with 
 perfons of this character, which banifhes that 
 continual anxiety, and dread of giving offence, 
 which fo often throw a restraint on the freedom 
 of converfation. Such perfons wifh all mankind 
 to be amiable and happy, and therefore would 
 certainly do their utmoft to make them fo; and 
 far from taking offence where none was intended, 
 they will be difpofed to fee ail in the mpft fa- 
 vourable light; and even where they cannot 
 approve, they will never be fevere in their cen- 
 fures on any, but always ready to endeavour to 
 bring them back to what is right, with that gen- 
 tlenefs and delicacy, which mew it is for their 
 fakes they wilh it, and not in refentment of an 
 injury received, or with a view to arTume to 
 themfelves a fuperiority over them. They will 
 
 make allowances for all the little peculiarities of 
 
 r 
 
 humour, all the weaknelfes, and even the faults, 
 
 as far as poflible, of thofe with whom they con- 
 
 N 4 verfe,
 
 184 ON POLITENESS. 
 
 verfe, and carefully avoid \vhatever may tend to 
 irritate and aggravate them, which is often done 
 by fuch things as would be trifling and indiffe- 
 rent in other circumftances. 
 HI nojjjorti iBig ^n/i fanrl i 
 
 This not only has a bad effect, by giving 
 prefent uneafinefs, but ferves to ftrengthen a 
 bad habit ; for every fault (particularly a fault 
 of the temper) is increafed by exercife, and tri- 
 fles, which might have been immediately forgot- 
 ten, are kept up by being taken notice of till 
 they become real evils. They will alfo carefully 
 avoid expofing peculiarities and weaknefTes, and 
 never engage in the cruel fport of what is called 
 " playing off a character," by leading others 
 to betray their own follies, and make themfelves 
 ridiculous without fufpecting ir. 
 
 Such an amufement is by no means incon- 
 fiftent with artificial politenefs, becaufe the 
 
 perfon
 
 ON POLITENESS. 185 
 
 perfon who fuffers by it is not fenfible of the 
 injury ; but it is directly contrary to that politc- 
 nefs which is true and fmcere, becaufe none of 
 the qualities on which it is founded could ever 
 infpire fuch conduct, or find any gratification in 
 it. On the contrary, they would give a feeling 
 of the injury of which the perfon who fuffers it 
 is infcnfible. There is indeed fomething parti- 
 cularly ungenerous in this conduct; it is like a 
 robbery committed in breach of truft, and not 
 only the benevolent, but the honeft heart muft 
 be mocked at it. To fay it is deferved, is no 
 excufej a punifhment may often be deferved, 
 but it can never be a pleafure to a benevolent 
 heart to inflict it. 
 
 But it is impoflible to enter into a particular 
 detail of the conduct which this fmcere polite- 
 nefs would infpire on -every, occafion. Its mo- 
 tive remaining always the fame> the manner of 
 
 exprelling
 
 i86 ON P O L I r E N E S S. 
 
 expreffing it will readily be varied as different 
 circumftances may require; it will obferve 
 forms, where a neglect of them would give 
 offence; it will be gentle, mild, and unaffected 
 at all times; compaffionate, and tenderly at- 
 tentive to the afflicted ; indulgent to the weak, 
 and ready not only to bear with them without 
 impatience, but to give them all poflible aflirr- 
 ance. Ever difpofed to make the beft of all, 
 eafyj chearful, and even playful in familiar inter- 
 courfe, and on fuitable occalions ; lince far from 
 being a reflraint upon the freedom of fociety, 
 it is indeed the only way of throwing afide all 
 reftraint, without introducing any bad confe- 
 quences by doing fo. It needs no artifice and 
 difguife; it purfues no finifter aims, no felfiih 
 views 5. but feeks the real good of all, endea- 
 vours to exprefs A\ hat it feels, and to appear fuch 
 as it truly is.
 
 ON P O L I T E N E S S. 187 
 
 How pleating were general fociety, if fuch a 
 difpolition prevailed! How delightful all fa- 
 mily intercourfe, if it were never laid afide! 
 Even friendfhip itfelf cannot be compleatly 
 happy without it : even real affection will not 
 always fupply its place. It is an univerfal 
 charm, which embellifhes every pleafure in focial 
 life, prevents nnmberlefs uneafinefles and dif- 
 gufts which fo often difturb its peace, and foftens 
 thofe which it cannot entirely prevent. It adds 
 luftre to every good and valuable quality, and 
 in fome degree, will atone for many faults, and 
 prevent their bad effects. 
 
 But it may be aflced, how is this quality to be 
 attained ? And it muft indeed be owned, that 
 to pofTefs it in its utmoft perfection requires a 
 very fuperior degree both of delicacy and good 
 fenfc, with which all are not endowed. But this 
 ihould never difcouragc any from the endeavour; 
 
 for
 
 i8 O2V POLITENESS. 
 
 for all may improve their talents if they will 
 exert them, and by aiming at perfection, may 
 fnake continual advances towards it. Every 
 good quality is beft underilood by endeavouring 
 to practife it. 
 
 .** *ri 3f?.i : 
 
 Let us confider what conduct the fentiments 
 defcribed would dictate on every different occa- 
 on ; let us endeavour to form to ourfelves the 
 beft notion of it we are able; and then watch for 
 .opportunities to put it in practice. Such an 
 attention will difcover many which were over- 
 Jooke-d before; it will Ihew us where we have 
 been wanting, and to what caufe it has been 
 owing; and point out to us thofe qualities in 
 which we are deficient, and which we ought to 
 endeavour to cultivate with the greateft care, 
 Our Iphere of action will be enlarged, and many 
 things, too generally confidered as matters of in- 
 difference, will become objects of attention, and 
 
 afford
 
 ON P L IT^EtfE S S. 189 
 
 afford means of improving ourfelvcs, and bene- 
 fiting others. Nothing will be neglected as tri- 
 tiing > if it can do this even in the fmalleft degree, 
 lince in that view even trifles become valuable. 
 Our ideas of excellence will be raifed by conti- 
 nually aiming at it, and the heart improved by 
 the thoughts of being thus employed. 
 
 Above all, let us fubdue thofe paffions which 
 Ib often oppofe what reafon approves, and what 
 would afford the trueft pleafures to the heart; 
 and let us fix all that is good and amiable on 
 the only fure and immoveable foundation 
 the precepts of that Religion which alone can 
 teach us conftant, univerfaU and difinterefled 
 Benevolence, 
 
 u -jfh rfoiw stevnlu:) oj luov^br^ 
 is .bo*>tfilflo 3d Hiw noiibjj'io rarlql luO 
 
 O M
 
 ON THE 
 
 CHARACTER of CURIO- 
 
 s h^ way," faid Alcander, as CURIO 
 went out of the room : " indeed my 
 
 " friend, you muft not mind it, he is an honeft 
 
 " fellow as ever lived." 
 
 " It may be fo," replied Hilario, " but really 
 " his honefty is nothing to me; and had he 
 " picked my pocket, and converfed with good 
 " humour, I mould have fpent a much more 
 " agreeable evening. He has done nothing 
 " but vent his fplcen againfl the world, and 
 
 " contradict
 
 192 CHARACTER OF CURIO. 
 
 " contradict every thing that was faid ; and you 
 ' would have me bear with all this, becaufe he 
 " does not deferve to be hanged 1" 
 
 * Indeed," faid Alcander, " you do not know 
 " him; with all his roughnefs, he has a worthy, 
 " benevolent heart ; his family and friends 
 " muft bear with the little peculiarities of his 
 " temper, for in efTential things he is always 
 " ready to do them fervice, and I will venture to 
 fay, he would beftow his laft ihilling to aflift 
 " them in diftrefs. I remember, a few weeks 
 " ago, I met him on the road in a violent rage 
 " with his fervant, becaufe he had neglected 
 " fome trifle he expected him to have done ; 
 " nothing he did could pleafe him afterwards, 
 " and the poor fellow's patience was almoft 
 ** exhaufled, fo that he was very near giving 
 " him warning. Soon after, the fervant 's horfe 
 " threw him, and he was very dangeroufly hurt. 
 
 " Curio
 
 CHARACTER OF CURIO. 193 
 
 " Curio immediately ran to him, carried him 
 ** home in his arms, fent for the beft affiftancc, 
 *' and attended him conftantly himfelf, to fee 
 " that he wanted for nothing ; he paid the whole 
 " cxpencej and as he has never recovered fo far 
 " as to be able to do his work as he did before, 
 " Curio has taken care to fpare him upon every 
 <f occafion, and has increafed his wages, that he 
 " may be able to afford the little indulgencies 
 " he wants." 
 
 " How lucky it was," replied Hilario, " that 
 " the poor fellow happened to meet with this 
 " terrible accident, for otherwife he would never 
 " have known that he had a good mafter, but 
 " might have gone to his grave with the opinion 
 " that he was an ill-natured churl, who cared for 
 nobody but himfeif. The other day I met one 
 " of his nephews who had juft been at dinner 
 " with him ; the young fellow was come to town 
 O " from
 
 1^4 CHARACTER OF CURIO. 
 
 f< from Cambridge, for a few days, and had been 
 " to vifit his uncle, but happening unfortunately 
 " to be drefled for an aflembly, the old gentle- 
 " man was difpleafed with his appearance, and 
 " began railing at the vices and follies of the 
 " age, as if his nephew had been deeply engaged 
 " in them, though I believe no one is lefs in- 
 " clined to them ; but every thing he did or 
 " faid was wrong through the whole day, and 
 " as he has really a refpecl: for his uncle, he 
 " came away quite d ejected and mortified at his 
 " treatment of him," 
 
 " And a few days after," replied Alcander, 
 " when that nephew called to take leave of him, 
 " he flipt a bank-note of one hundred pounds 
 " into his hands at parting, to pay the expences 
 " of his journey, and ran out of the room to 
 " avoid receiving his thanks for it." 
 
 "'So
 
 CHARACTER oF : GuRio. 195 
 
 So then," returned Hilario, " if the young 
 <c man is of a fordid difpofition, and thinks 
 " money a better thing than friendfhip, good- 
 " humour, and all the amiable qualities which 
 " render life agreeable, he has reafon to be per- 
 " fectly fatisfied with his uncle ; if he is not, the 
 " old gentleman has done his part to make him 
 " fo, by (hewing him, that according to his 
 " notions, kindnefs confifts in giving money. 
 " For my part, if ever I mould be a beggar, 
 c< and break my bones, I may perhaps be glad 
 " to meet with your friend again j but as I hope 
 " neither of thofe things are ever likely to hap^ 
 " pen to me, I am by no means ambitious of 
 "the honour of his acquaintance : his good 
 <f qualities are nothing to me, and his bad ones 
 * f are a plague to all who come in his way." 
 
 " One may bear with them," replied Alcander, 
 
 " where there is fo much real worth ; the whole 
 
 O2 " world
 
 196 CHARACTER o* CURIO, 
 
 " world could not bribe that man to do a bafc 
 " aftion." 
 
 So much the better for him," returned Hila- 
 rioj "but really, as I faid before, it is nothing 
 " to me ; and after all, whatever excufes your 
 " good-nature may find for him, there fnuft be 
 " fomething wrong in the heart, where the man- 
 " ners are fo unplcafant." 
 
 " He has not a good temper," faid Alcander, 
 " and every man has not the fame command 
 " over himfelf, but indeed he has a good heart, 
 " and if you knew him as Well fcs I d6, you rnuft 
 ** love him with all his oddities." 
 
 " His oddities Arc quite enough for me,'* 
 returned Hilario, " and I delire to know no 
 " more of him; he might make me efteeft him, 
 " but he could never make me hve him, and it 
 
 " is
 
 CHARACTER OF CURIO. 197 
 
 u is very unpicafant to feel one of thefe where 
 " one cannot feel the other." 
 
 Alcander could not but be fenfible of the 
 truth of many of Hiiario's obferv ations ; he 
 fighed in fecret for the friend whofe good qua- 
 lities he valued, and whofe foibles gave him 
 pain; and could Curio have known what his 
 friend felt for him at that moment, it might 
 perhaps have gone farther than all he ever read 
 or thought upon the fubjecT:, towards correcting 
 a fault for which he often blamed himfelf, but 
 which he ftill continued to indulge, and to ima- 
 gine himfelf unable to fubdue. 
 
 Perhaps neither of the parties concerned in 
 this difpute were well qualified to judge as to 
 thefubjecl of it. Efteemand regard influenced 
 the one, and added ftrength to his good-nature ; 
 while the other, whofe patience was wearied 
 63 out
 
 298 CHARACTER OF CURIO. 
 
 out by the ill-humours of. a ftranger, of whofe 
 merits he was ignorant, was naturally difpofed 
 to view them in an unfavourable light. But 
 fuch a converfation muft induce every indiffe- 
 rent perfon to reflect on the importance of a 
 quality which could oblige a friend to blufti 
 for the perfon he efteemed, and make an enemy 
 at firft light of one by no means wanting in 
 good-nature, who came into company with a 
 difpofition to pleafe and to be pleafed, and 
 whofe difguft was occalioned by a difappoint- 
 ment in that aim. 
 
 Can fuch a quality be a matter of little con- 
 fequence, which thofe who are punctual in their 
 duty in more effential points may be permitted 
 to neglect ? Can it be a difpolition fo ftrongly 
 implanted in the heart of any man, that his 
 
 -utmoft efforts cannot conquer it? The firft 
 
 iuppofition might furnifh an excufe for giving 
 
 way
 
 CHARACTER OF CURIO* 199 
 
 way to any fault, fince all may fancy they have 
 virtues to counterbalance it. The laft would 
 reduce us almoft to mere machines, and diC- 
 courage every effort to reform and improve 
 the heart, without which, no real and folid 
 virtue can be attained.
 
 Sffi lOtxj 
 
 k 
 
 E ^jlKrn OT -^^bto ni. t orlw t K^i> 
 . fj/if. t drrfurfi RirJ lo -jxi). orfj >lcjoi t ii>7il!i,r^ 
 prfj i nomoqoiq n ^ffj Jigrfj I, 
 
 jo jrfj^n snK)l mo 
 >i arfj jr; 
 
 oj gnifaio'jDJi fjDnno) jibod iJi: 
 
 MTT girf;i t noiJ'!'>quiq 
 .itftoqqul
 
 O N 
 
 N D O U R, 
 
 are many people who take the 
 meafure of a character, like the taylor in 
 Laputa, who, in order to make a fuit of cloaths 
 for Gulliver, took the fize of his thumb, and 
 concluded that the reft was in proportion ; they 
 form their judgment from fome flight circum- 
 ftance, and conclude that the reft of the cha- 
 racter muft be of a piece with it. 
 
 Were all bodies formed according to the 
 exact rules of proportion, this method of taking 
 the meafure would be infallible, fuppofmg the 
 
 U>lor
 
 202 ON CANDOUR. 
 
 tayior perfectly acquainted with thofe rules; 
 but in order to find the fame certainty in this 
 method of judging of characters, we muft not 
 only fuppofe that the perfon who is to judge of 
 them is equally well informed of all the diffe- 
 rent -variations, but we rnuft alfo fuppofe that 
 the fame motives regularly produce the fame 
 actions, and that the fame feelings are always 
 exprefled in the fame manners and a very little 
 obfervation is fufficient to mew that this is far 
 from being the cafe. 
 
 Human nature, it is faid, is always the fame. 
 But what is human nature? and who could 
 ever enumerate all its various powers, inclina- 
 tions, affections, and paffions, with all the diffe- 
 rent effects they may produce by their different 
 combinations, the objects on which they may 
 be employed, and the variety of circumftances 
 which may attend them? 
 
 This
 
 'JV CANDOUR. 203 
 
 This leaves a wide field for imagination to 
 exert itfelf; but attention and obfervation might 
 ferve to perplex and make us diffident of our 
 own judgment; and as it is much eafier, as well 
 as more flattering to vanity, to judge from a 
 firft impreffion, than from reafon and reflection, 
 a favourable or unfavourable prejudice is apt to 
 take the lead in the opinions formed of the 
 actions of thofe about whom we are much inte- 
 refted ; and where this is not the cafe, moft 
 people meafure by a certain line of their own, 
 beyond which they know not how to go; and 
 when they meet with refinements of which they 
 are incapable, they can form no idea of them 
 in another ; and therefore, by aligning fome 
 other motive to fuch actions, they reduce them 
 to their own ftandard; and being then able to 
 comprehend what was unintelligible before, 
 they conclude that their prcfent opinion, muft - 
 certainly be right, and form their judgment of 
 the reft of the character according to it.
 
 $04 O & CANDOUR. 
 
 From thefe, and many other caufes which 
 might be afligned, it appears that there muft 
 always be great uncertainty in the opinions we 
 form of the actions of others, and in the infe- 
 rences we draw from particular actions con- 
 cerning the general character; the obvious 
 conclulion from which is, that we mould be 
 always upon our guard againft forming an hafty 
 judgment, or laying too much ftrefs upon thofc 
 judgments which we cannot help forming, and 
 be very cautious that we do not fuffer our own 
 prejudices and fancies to acquire the force of 
 truth, and influence our opinions afterwards. 
 
 ; 
 Yet ftill, whilft we live in this world, and 
 
 converfe with others, it is impoflible to avoid 
 forming fome opinion of them from their 
 words and actions, and it is not always eafy to 
 afcertain the juft bounds within which this 
 opinion ought to be confined, and to diftinguilh 
 
 between
 
 O N C A N D U R. ^05 
 
 between the didlates of reafon, and thofe of 
 prejudice and imagination. 
 
 Since then we cannot {hut our eyes, it may- 
 be ufeful to us to procure as much light as we 
 can; not that we may be continually prying into 
 what does not concern us, but that where we 
 cannot avoid forming fome judgment, we may 
 do it with juftice and candour j that we may- 
 learn to avoid being pofitive, where we muft be 
 uncertain; and to fee and confefs our error, 
 where we may have been wrong. 
 
 A benevolent heart, ever defirous of confider- 
 ing the actions of others in the moft favourable 
 light, will indeed be lefs liable than any other to 
 the bad confequences which may follow from 
 the difficulties attending on our judgments of 
 others : for an error on the favourable fide is 
 far lefs pernicious to them, or to ourfelves, than 
 
 the
 
 206 O N CANDOUR. 
 
 the contrary would be; yet every error is liable 
 to bad confequences. The perfon who has 
 formed an hafty favourable judgment, may 
 probably in time be convinced of his miftake ; 
 having been deceived, he may grow fufpicious, 
 till eveiy appearance of good is miftrufted, and 
 he falls by degrees into the contrary extreme: 
 for error cannot ,be the foundation of real and 
 lafting good, lince, fooner or later, it muft be 
 fhaken, and then the fuperftructure, however 
 beautiful in appearance, will fall to ruins. 
 
 '\ - 1 
 
 True Chanty and Benevolence certainly do 
 not confift in deceiving ourfelves and others ; 
 they do not make us blind and infenfible, nor do 
 they give a falfe light, to lead us aftray from the 
 truth, and then leave us bewildered in darknefs 
 and error, feeking in vain to return, and mif- 
 trufting every appearance of light which would 
 condud; us back again. Like all other virtues, 
 -anq tnev
 
 ON CANDOUR. 207 
 
 they flow from the Source of Eternal Truth; 
 they muft be firmly rooted in the heart, and con- 
 tinually exercifed in every different lituation, 
 not merely the tranfient effect of good fpirits and 
 good-humour, which fometimes make a perfort 
 difpofed to be pleafed with others, only becaufe 
 he is pleafed with himfelf -, for then he will be 
 dilpleafed again, with as little reafon, whenever 
 the prefent humour gives place to another. 
 Still lefs arc they the effect of weaknefs of judg- 
 ment, and want of difcernment and penetration, 
 which, in fact, are more likely to lead to the 
 contrary extreme. 
 
 That they are fometimes confidered in this 
 laft point of view, may perhaps be one of the 
 chief reafons for that want of them which fi> 
 often appears in general converfation. The 
 vanity of difplaying fupcrior talents, is very- 
 prevalent, and it is often much more from this 
 
 principle,
 
 208 AT CANDOUR. 
 
 principle, than from real ill-nature, that the 
 faults and imperfections of the abfent are ex- 
 pofed. To gain admiration is the object of 
 purfuit j any other way by which it might be 
 attained, would anfwer the purpofe juft as well ; 
 but unfortunately all others are more difficult, 
 while this is within the reach of all ; for the 
 weakeft have penetration enough to difcover 
 imperfections in thofe whofe excellencies arc 
 far above their reach. 
 
 Thofe who have no folid virtues of their own 
 may aflume a temporary fuperiority, by declaim- 
 ing againft the faults of others ; and thofe who 
 have neither wit, nor any talents to amufe, 
 may yet raife a laugh by expofing what is ri- 
 diculous, or may be made to appear fo. A 
 little more of that penetration which they are fo 
 defirous of being thought to poflefs, might help 
 to a farther infight into themfelvcs and others, 
 
 and
 
 ON CANDOUR. 209 
 
 and they might perhaps find . that they, . have 
 only been expofmg what was obvious to every- 
 body, and gaining the reputation of iU-naturit, 
 in fact without ; deer\ing it (any otherwife than 
 by inattention ;); for admiration was their point 
 in view, and it is very pofllble that the confe- 
 quences of what they fa,id, might never enter 
 their thoughts ; and that ;they would have been 
 really mocked had they confidered them in their 
 true light. But railing themfelves, not depreci- 
 ating others, was the object of their purfuit; and 
 the means of attaining it were conlidered merely 
 as fuch, without any attention to their confe- 
 quences. 
 
 Perhaps fome rigid cenfor, who heard the 
 converfation, may fall into an error of the fame 
 kind with their own, and for want of fufficiently 
 penetrating their motives, may fuppofe them 
 loft to all fenfe of candour and benevolence, and 
 P aduated
 
 210 ON CANDOUR. 
 
 actuated folely by malice and ill-nature ; while 
 a perfon of real difcernment would have avoided 
 the errors of both 5 and not from weaknefs, but 
 from ftrength of judgment, would have adted a. 
 more charitable part : for nothing is more juft 
 than the obfervation of an excellent author: 
 " Ce n'eft point au depens de 1'eiprit qu'on eft 
 " bon." The faults and follies are often the 
 moil obvious parts of a character, while many 
 good qualities remain unnoticed by the gene- 
 rality of the \vorld, unlefs fome extraordinary 
 occafion call them forth to adion. 
 
 
 
 It is wonderftU t^pjbferve, how many unfa- 
 vourable and unjuft opinions are formed, merely 
 lay not fufficiently confidering the very different 
 lights in which the fame adtion wilt appear to 
 different perfons on different occafions. How 
 many things are. fald in general converfation, 
 from thoughtlelfnefs and inattention, from a flow 
 
 of
 
 ON CANDOUR. 2ri 
 
 of fpirits, and a defire to fay fomething, which 
 will not (land the teft of a fevere cenfure, and 
 which, considered feparately, may appear in 
 fuch a light as the fpeaker never thought of! 
 Not only the ill-natured, but the fuperncial 
 obferver, may often be mifled by fuch appear- 
 ances, and Ihocked at things which want only 
 to be underftood in order to fecure them a more 
 favourable judgment. 
 
 . >GC<;v 
 
 The difpofition of the hearer, as well as that 
 of the fpeaker, may atfo contribute greatly to 
 make things appear different from what they 
 really are? and great allowances fhould be made 
 for his own paflions and prejudices, as well as 
 for thofe of others; for though they may be 
 fuppofed to be better known to him, yet it is 
 evident that every one, while under their imme- 
 diate influence, is very ill qualified to jiK$ge \ho\v 
 far they may affeft his opinions ^nguorfj mop. 
 P 2 A perfon
 
 212 ON CANDOUR. 
 
 A perfon who is under any particular dejection 
 of fpirits, and feels that a kind word or look 
 would be a cordial to his heart, may be over- 
 come by the mirth of a cheerful fociety, and in- 
 clined to attribute to infenfibility what perhaps 
 was merely owing to ignorance of his fituation, 
 and the lively impreflion of prefent pleafure; 
 while another, .whofe heart is elated by.fome. 
 little fuccefs which his imagination has raifed 
 far above its real value, may be mocked at the 
 coldnefs of thofe, who being more rational, and 
 lefs interefted, fee the matter , in its true light, 
 and therefore cannot mare in his joy in the 
 manner he expects and wifhes. 
 
 What multitudes of unfavourable and unjuft 
 opinions would beat once removed, if we could 
 put ourfelves in the place of others, and fee 
 things in the'light in which they appear to them, 
 the only way of forming aright eftimate of 
 
 their
 
 ON. CANDOUR. 213 
 
 their conduct in regard to them. But while we 
 judge of the a&ions of others by our own feelings, 
 or rather by our own reafonings, upon what we 
 choofe to fuppofe would be our feelings on the 
 like occafion, we muft be liable to continual 
 miftakes. 
 .'?*/' 
 
 . To feel for others, is a quality generally 
 claimed by all, and which certainly, in fome de- 
 gree, feems to be implanted in human nature; 
 they muft be infenilble indeed, or fomething far 
 worfe, who can fee others happy without being 
 pleafed, or miferable, without fympathiling in 
 their furTerings, and wiihing to relieve them. 
 But to enter fully into the feelings of others, to 
 be truly fenfible of the impreflion every circum- 
 ftance makes in their iituation, is much more 
 difficult, and more uncommon, than at firft fight 
 may appear ; and yet, unlefs we could do this, 
 there muft always be great uncertainty in our 
 P 3 opinions
 
 4*4 O N> C AN DOUR. 
 
 opinions of their condudj and it may afford no 
 frnall fatisfaction to a perfon of true benevolence, 
 when he feels the pain of being obliged to think 
 unfavourably of another, to coniider at the fame 
 time, that if he knew all, he might find many 
 reafons to abate the feverity of the cenfure which 
 he hears pronounced by others, and to which 
 he is unable to give a fatisfactory anfwer, be- 
 caufe, according to appearances, it feems to 
 have been deferved. 
 
 Moil people act much more from their feelings, 
 than from reafon and reflection j thofe who con- 
 fider coolly of circumftances in which they are 
 no way interefted, may lay a plan of conduct 
 which may appear to them fo rational and na- 
 tural, that they wonder <how any one could mifs 
 it; while thofe who are engaged in action, are 
 often hurried on by the impulfe of the prefent 
 moment, and without having any bad intention, 
 
 may
 
 O ..AT' CANDOUR. 215 
 
 may fall into fuch errors as the cool reafoner 
 would think almoft impoffible; or perhaps fome- 
 times, without confidering the matter, they may 
 rife to heights of excellence which would never 
 have occurred to him, and which, for that rea- 
 fon, he may probably be unable to comprehend, 
 and therefore very liable to mifmterpret. 
 
 It may generally be obferved, that in every 
 fcience a flight and fuperficial knowledge often 
 makes a perfon vain and pofitive, while long and 
 attentive ftudy, and a deep infight into the real 
 nature of things, produce a contrary effect, and 
 lead to humility and diffidence; this may be 
 partly owing to that defire of difplaying what 
 they pofiTefs, which is often found in thofe who 
 poffefs but little, and are therefore ambitious of 
 making the moft of it, in order to impofe upon 
 the world by falfe appearances, and prevent a 
 difcovery of that poverty which they wifh to 
 P 4 conceal ,-
 
 2i6 ON CANDOUR, 
 
 conceal; but it is alfo often owing to a real 
 mifapprehenfion of things. 
 
 The fuperficial obferver confiders the objecl: 
 only in one point of view, which perhaps is new 
 to him, and therefore ftrikes his imagination 
 ftrongly ; and it does not occur to him that it 
 may be confidered in other lights, and that, upon 
 farther enquiry, he might find reafon to change 
 his opinion, or at lead to doubt of what at firft 
 appeared to him clear and evident. Pleafed 
 with what he has acquired, and ignorant of what 
 farther might be acquired, he is fatisfied and 
 poiitive ; while thofe who are farther advanced,, 
 fee a vaft field of knowledge open before them, of 
 which they are fenfible that they can explore only 
 a very fmall part; and by taking an enlarged 
 view of things, and obferving how often they 
 have been deceived by conlidering them in 
 u -falfe light, are taught to avoid being pofi- 
 
 tive,
 
 *O -AT CANDOUR. 217 
 
 live, where they are fenfible their knowledge 
 is imperfect. 
 
 This may be applied to the ftudy of the 
 human heart, as well as to every other, in which 
 we can only judge from appearances. Thofe who 
 know leaft are often moft ready to decide, und 
 moft pofitive in their decifions; and pofitivenefe 
 generally gains more credit than it deferves. 
 The confequences of this are perhaps more per- 
 nicious in regard to this fubject than any other, 
 becaufe it requires much lefs penetration to dif- 
 cover faults and weaknefles, than real and folid 
 good qualities. 
 
 From hence may appear the injuftice of fup- 
 pofing, that perfons of deep knowledge and 
 obfervation of mankind are to be avoided, as 
 being inclined to pafs the fevered judgments 
 on the conduct of others. Thofe indeed who 
 
 harbour
 
 218 ON C AND O U R. 
 
 harbour any criminal defigns, and conceal vice 
 under the mafk of hypocrify, may tremble under 
 the eye of a keen obferver ; for fuch an one may 
 fee through their deepeft difguifes, and expofe 
 them in their true light when it is neceflary, 
 in order to prevent the mifchief they might do. 
 He may alfo detect the fallacy of an allumed 
 merit, and falfe virtue, which have pafled upon, 
 the world for real; but he will fee at the fame 
 time the allowances which candour may make 
 for every fault and weaknefs ; he will difcover 
 many an humble excellence which feeks not to 
 difplay itfelf to the world, and many an inftance 
 of true goodnefs of heart, and delicacy of fenti- 
 ment, exprefled in trifling circumftances, which 
 would pafs unobferved, or perhaps be totally 
 mifmterpreted, by a perfon of lefs obfervation 
 and . knowledge of mankind; he will alfo be 
 more open to conviction, and ready to acknow- 
 ledge amiftake, becaufe he is not under the ne- 
 
 ceffity
 
 ON CANDOUR. 219 
 
 ceflity of endeavouring to impofe upon the 
 world by a falfe appearance of knowledge, which 
 always indicates a deficiency in what is true 
 and genuine. 
 
 Ignorance alone pretends to infallibility. A 
 perfon of real knowledge is fenfible that he 
 mud be liable to error, and has not the fame 
 reafon to be afraid of acknowledging it in any 
 particular inftance; and if his knowledge be 
 joined with true benevolence, he will be conti- 
 nually watching for an opportunity to change 
 his opinion, if that opinion has been formed on 
 the unfavourable lide, or at leaft to difcover 
 fome good qualities which may counterbalance 
 the fault he could not help obferving. For the 
 fame reafons, he will be always ready and wil- 
 ling to obferve an alteration for the better in 
 thofe of whom he has thought moft unfavour- 
 ably, inftead of being glad (as is fometimes the 
 
 cafe
 
 220 O tf C A N D O U . 
 
 cafe \vith others) of any new inftance whick 
 may ferve to confirm the opinion formerly pro- 
 nounced, and afraid of any thing which may 
 contradict it. He will always remember, that 
 the worft character may improve -, and the fe- 
 vereft judgments ever pronounced by the igno- 
 rant and ill-natured, even thofe which have 
 been aflented to with regret by the fenfible and 
 benevolent, may afterwards be changed: but 
 the firft will be afraid and unwilling to acknow- 
 ledge that they have been obliged to change 
 their opinion; the laft will be ever ready to do it, 
 and not afhamed to own it, when they can 
 obferve a change of conduct. 
 
 aUh. 
 
 .Knowledge is indeed quick-fighted, but igno-. 
 ran ft improperly reprefented as being blind; 
 it, rather furnifhes a falfe light, which leads into 
 a thoufand errors and miftakes. The difference 
 between them does not confift in the number of 
 
 their
 
 O N CANDOUR. 221 
 
 their obfervations, but in the truth and juftnefs 
 of them. Penetration may difcover thofe faults 
 and weaknefTes which really exift, but ignorance 
 will fancy it has difcovered many which never 
 exifted at all ; and it is difficult indeed to con- 
 vince ignorance of a miftake. 
 
 . 
 
 It may alfo be obferved, that thofe qualities 
 which difpofe us to make a right ufe of the 
 knowledge of mankind, contribute at the fame 
 time to increafe that knowledge. The heart 
 which is merely felfim does not underftand the 
 language of benevolence, difintereftednefs, and 
 generofity, and therefore is very liable to milin- 
 terpret it; while thofe who feel themfelves capable 
 of great and worthy actions, will find no diffi- 
 culty in believing that others may be fo too, 
 and will have an idea of a character which can 
 hardly ever be perfectly underftood by thofe 
 who feel nothing like it in themfelves. 
 
 Vice,
 
 222 AT C A ,V DOUR. 
 
 Vice, even in fpite of itfclf, 'muft pay a re- 
 verence to virtue, confidered in general, but 
 the mod exalted heights, and moft refined in- 
 ftances of it, are far above its comnrehenfion. 
 This obfervation holds not only in regard to 
 fuch characters as are entirely abandoned to 
 vice, but to all the lefler degrees of it, which 
 always, more or lefs, tend' to infpire fuff>icion, 
 and make it difficult to underftand an oppofite 
 character, or believe it to be fuch as to art 
 honeft and good heart it would immediately 
 
 aprelrl B " n - r 
 
 aa*y; 
 
 ^Hl?5ft 'impoffifek 'to read or hear the obferva- 
 tions of thofe who arc cefdbrated for the deepeft 
 knowledge of mankind, without being hurt to 
 obfcrve that vice and folly, with the means of 
 pKjf&^'upcm them, and 1 making advantage of 
 them, are madetrteerieral objedb of attention; 
 while true goodnefo of heart, and redlitude of 
 
 character,
 
 ON CANDOUR. 223 
 
 character, are hardly ever mentioned. And yet, 
 if fuch things can exift, (and what muft his 
 heart be who believes they do not) he who leaves 
 them entirely out in his account, muft have but 
 an imperfect knowledge of mankind. 
 
 . 
 
 Another way in which a flight and fupcrficial 
 knowledge of mankind is very apt to rniflcad, is 
 that love of reducing every thing to general rules 
 which is always found in thofe whofe views 
 are not very extenfive. A few fuch rules are 
 eafily remembered; and they have an appear- 
 ance of conveying a great deal of knowledge at 
 once, which often- procures them a favourable 
 reception, not only from thofe who are defirqus 
 of concealing their ignorance under an appear- 
 ance of knowledge, but even from fuch as might 
 be capable of detecting their fallacy, if they 
 would give themfclves the trouble of examining 
 them. 
 
 To
 
 224 Q N C 4.N DOUR. 
 
 To fay that all men ad from prick^ felf-intereft, 
 &c. and then to explain every action accordingly, 
 is much eafier than to trace the motives of dif- 
 ferent actions in different characters, and difcover 
 the various fources from whence they fpring -, 
 and this is much more flattering to vanity, than to 
 acknowledge ourfelves unable to explain them. 
 A general rule, which has been found to anfwer 
 in fome inftances, is a moft valuable acquifition 
 to thofe who talk more than they think, and arc 
 more defirous of the appearance of knowledge 
 and penetration, than of the reality; and fuch 
 rules are often repeated from- one to another, 
 without being futriciently examined, till they 
 gain the force of truth, and are received as 
 maxims, which it would be thought unreafonablc 
 to controvert. 
 
 The ncccflity of uiing metaphorical language, 
 lo cxprefs the, fentimcnts of the heart, may per- 
 haps
 
 ON CANDOUR. 225 
 
 haps often have given occafion to miftakes of 
 this kind; the qualities which belong to the 
 literal fenfe of the word, are applied to it when 
 ufed metaphorically; and from a habit of con- 
 ne&ing the word with thofe qualities, fuch 
 reafonings often pafs current, though a little 
 attention might eafily have difcovered the mi f- 
 take on which they are founded. This is ftili 
 more likely to happen when the fame metaphor 
 is ufed to exprefs different fentiments, which 
 from the poverty of language upon fuch fubjects 
 muft fometimes happen. 
 
 The words warmth and heat, (for example) 
 originally denoting the properties of firs, have 
 been metaphorically ufed to exprefs thofe of affec- 
 tion, and thofe of anger or refentment. This 
 circumftance alone has probably given rife to an 
 obfervation often repeated, and very generally 
 received, " chat a warm friend will be equally 
 
 " warm
 
 226 ON CANDOUR. 
 
 " warm in his anger and refentment, arid confe- 
 " quently will be a bitter enemy. " It would be juft 
 as rational to fay, " he will burn your fingers;" for 
 it is only from reafoning upon words without ideas, 
 that either the one or the other can be aflerted. 
 
 That tender affectionate difpofition, which 
 conftitutes the character of a warm friend, and 
 dilpofes him even to forget himfelf for the fake 
 of the object beloved, is not more different from 
 the qualities of natural fire, than from that proud 
 and felfifli fpirit which infpires violent anger 
 and refentment. To the firft (according to the 
 expreflion of an elegant writer) " la haine feroit 
 <f un tourment;" but the laft finds his fatis- 
 faction (if that word can ever be applied to fuch 
 a character) in the indulgence of his hatred, 
 and the endeavour to exprefs it. 
 
 srh 
 A very little attention to the real qualities of 
 
 t-hefc characters, might forely be fufficient te
 
 -V C A N D OUR. 227 
 
 ihew that they are widely different, though the 
 habit of uiing the fame words to exprefs them, 
 has led to an habitual connexion of the ideas, 
 and prevents this difference from ftriking us at 
 firft fight. 
 
 The fame would be found to be the cafe in 
 many other inftances, where general obfervations 
 have been received, merely becaufe they found 
 plaufible, and are repeated fo often that they are 
 
 believed of courfe, without enquiring into the 
 
 \ Tjr 
 truth and juftice of them. And when fuch are 
 
 made the ground-work of the judgments formed 
 in particular inftances, thofe judgments mufl be 
 liable to numberlefs errors, which will eafily gain 
 
 ground, becaufe they favour a received opinion. 
 
 i (.-mtojnsrb , 
 
 That this method of judging by general rules, 
 
 on fubjeds fo various and complicated as the 
 
 difpoiitions of the human heart, is very liable to 
 
 Qj2 >
 
 v (I V. *, 3 y k o 
 228 O- -V CANDOUR. 
 
 -#3rft oJ av'jol Y^nr ni/;v 
 error, fliould alone be fufficient to put us on our 
 
 guard againft it; but there is an additional 
 reafon for this, from the probability that they 
 may be founded on obfervations drawn from the 
 moft unfavourable views of human nature; the 
 eflfecls of bad qualities being in general, more 
 extend ve, and more apparent, than thofe of good 
 ones, lince the laft are frequently employed in 
 preventing mifchief, and they are fcarce ever 
 taken notice of. They alfo make the deepeft 
 impreffion for all are fenfible of the evils they 
 have fuffered ; few pay fufficient attention to 
 thofe they have efcaped. 
 
 Whenever, therefore, the application of a 
 general rule difpofes us to an unfavourable 
 judgment in any particular inilancc, that cir- 
 cumftance fliould render it fufpected, and make 
 us lefs ready to admit the conclufions which 
 may be drawn from it. 
 
 This
 
 ON C A N D U & 229 
 
 e & \3 (I VL V 3 
 
 This again may feive to fhew that perfons of 
 
 enlarged views, and cxtcniive knowledge, are far 
 from being on that account difpofed to be fe- 
 vere, but on the contrary, if they make a right 
 ufeofthem, will thereby be enabled to correct 
 the errors of others, and be led to a more candid 
 and liberal way of judging than the reft of the 
 
 world. 
 
 <ii .te'/alqma yfarajjpej'ft 3i& ilsl s/h asml 
 
 They cannot indeed retain that difpofition to 
 think well of every-body, which is fometimes 
 found in thofe who are juft entering into life, 
 and know not how to fufpect any infmcerity in 
 words, or bad delign in actions; this belongs 
 only to youth and inexperience, and therefore 
 cannot laft long in any one. A little knowledge 
 of mankind muft deftroy the pleafmg illufion, 
 and fhew a world far different from what the 
 imagination of an innocent and benevolent heart 
 had reprefentcd it. 
 
 >i raoi iwjab sd
 
 230 O N C AND OUR. 
 
 Such a difcovery is unavoidable. That there 
 arc vices and follies in the world muft be evident 
 to all who are not quite ftrangers to it j and 
 there can be no dependance on a favourable 
 opinion founded on ignorance, and which time 
 muft deftroy. It is when this ignorance is dif- 
 pelled (as it muft be) that the profpecT: of the 
 world is opened before us, and opinions are 
 formed upon obfervation; and then the worft 
 parts of it, the confequences attending vice and 
 folly, are in general moft expofed to view, while 
 a greater degree of attention and penetration is 
 neceffary, to difcover the humble excellence, and 
 fecret influence of virtue, to convince us that 
 actions are often far different from what they 
 appear to be, that our judgments of them muft 
 always be uncertain, and that therefore reafon 
 and juftice require us to be very diffident of 
 them j while candour teaches us to make every 
 allowance which the circumftauces of the cafe 
 
 (according
 
 O AT C A -A* DOUR. 231 
 
 (according to the beft view we are able to take) 
 can admit ; and charity gladly cherimes the 
 hope that we might find reafon for many more, 
 if we were able to look into the heart. 
 
 But while we admire this candid and liberal 
 way of judging, which belongs to an enlarged 
 mind and a benevolent heart, we mould at the 
 fame time be careful not to confound it with a 
 falfe kind of benevolence, which fometimes 
 afTumes the appearance of the true, and tends to 
 produce very pernicious effects. This is, when 
 faults^ notperfons, are made the objects of what 
 is called good-nature j and excufes are found for 
 them, (confidered in themfelves) not for the 
 perfons who are, or appear to be guilty of them. 
 
 To juftify, or even palliate vice, is inconfiflent 
 
 with truth, and beneath the dignity of virtue, 
 
 and therefore can never belong to real Candour, 
 
 Qj. which
 
 23S$ ON CANDOUR. 
 
 wlgch 'is /exercifed oh. the circumftances of the 
 perfbn,> ndt- on the crime itfelf. It is by no 
 means improbable, that many may have fallen 
 into 'errors' of this kind with very good inten- 
 tion^ ^deceived by an appearance of indulgence 
 towards others, which gratifies their good-nature; 
 but fuch fhould .remember, that whatever tends 
 to leffen the horror: of vice, muft be a general 
 injury to all mankind, for which no advantage to 
 particular pcrfons can make amends; and per- 
 haps few are fufficiently fenfible, how greatly the 
 progrefs of vice is promoted, by the foftening 
 terms fo generally ufed in fpeaking of it, and 
 the favourable light in which it is fo often 
 reprefented. .By iiich means the mind by de- 
 grees grows, familiar with what it would have 
 confidcred as an qhject of deteftation, had it 
 been Ihewn in its true colours ; and none can 
 fay^how .fa,? thfe confequences of this may 
 
 orb 
 
 Others
 
 ON CANDOUR. ajj 
 
 Others again are led into this wa of judging 
 by their own intereft, and are glad to find ex- 
 cufes for what they are confcious of in them- 
 felves, and to fhelter their felf-indulgence under 
 a pretence of indulgence towards others. It is 
 even poffible that they may impofe upon them- 
 felves, as well as the world, by this method of 
 proceeding, and may perfuade themfelves that 
 the favourable judgments they pronounce on 
 their neighbours, are really the effects of true 
 benevolence. 
 - 
 
 Self-indulgence is not the only bad effe& 
 which is likely to follow from hence ; for others, 
 who obferve their fentiments artd conduct, and 
 are fenfible of the bad cohfequences they arc 
 likely tr> produce, may from thence be difpofed 
 to run into a contrary extreme, and to believe 
 that a fuperior j-egard to virtue is fhewn by being 
 very fevere in their cenfures upon the conduct
 
 ^34- O- N C A N D O U JR.- 
 
 of others, v and condemning, without mercy, all 
 thofe who appear to be in any degree blame* 
 worthy. 
 
 - 
 
 But it ihould always be carefully obferved, 
 as a great and difcriminating character of true 
 candour, by which it may be diftinguifhed from 
 ail falfe pretences, that the motives by which it 
 teaches us to be indulgent towards others, are 
 fuch as cannot have that effect when applied to 
 ourfelves, if we fhould ever indulge ourfelves in 
 tkofe faults which we condemn in others. 
 
 We cannot fee their hearts, and know their 
 motives; -and it is . very potfible that many an 
 action which is generally condemned, might, if 
 all, the circumftances were known, appear to be 
 really <deferving of commendation. Perhaps 
 they could explain it, and clear themfelves from 
 the blame thrown on them, but are retrained 
 
 from
 
 O AT C A -N D U R. 235 
 
 from doing it by confideration for 'others, or 
 fome other good and charitable motive, which 
 makes them willingly fubmit to the cenfure they 
 might avoid, and dare to do right, not only 
 without the fupport of that approbation which 
 mould be the confequence of it, but even when 
 they know it will expofe them to the contrary. 
 r. d 
 
 Perhaps from real and unavoidable ignorance 
 of circumftances which are known to us, they 
 may have been induced to confider the matter 
 in a very different light, and with very good 
 intentions may have done what appears to us 
 unjuftifiable. 
 
 From fuch confiderations as thefc, it will often 
 appear, that what would be a fault in our fitua- 
 tion and circumftances, is really far otherwife 
 in thofe of others, or at leaft may be fo, for 
 ought we can poflibly know to the contrary. 
 
 But
 
 236 ON C A H D U X . 
 
 But even where there is no room for any 
 confiderations of this fort, and where we cannot 
 doubt that what we condemn was really a fault, 
 ftili the cafe is widely different between the faults 
 of others, and our own. Their's might proceed 
 from ignorance, prejudice, mifapprehenfion, and 
 a thoufand other caufes, which he who con- 
 demns it can never plead in his own excufe, if 
 lie Ihould be guilty of the like. They may 
 have been hurried or> to act without reflection; 
 but he who obferves and cenfures their conduct, 
 cannot pretend that this is the cafe with him. 
 They may not have been aware of the confe- 
 quences which would attend their action; but he 
 
 fees them, and condemns the caufe of 
 them, may furely be upon his guard againft it. 
 After the greateft faults, and the longeft devia- 
 tions from what is right, they may become fen- 
 lible of their errors, and reform their lives ; but 
 lie who dares wilfully indulge himfelf even 
 
 in 
 
 '
 
 - - - 
 
 O N CANDOUR. 137 
 
 in the fmalleft fault, with a view to this, will 
 find his talk become continually more and more 
 difficult, and has little reafon to expect fehat he 
 fhalleveraccomplifnit. 
 
 Thus reafon and juftice teach us to be candid, 
 by mewing us how very uncertain our judgments 
 on the actions of others mud always be; and 
 how many circumftances, with which we cannot 
 poilibly be fully acquainted, may contribute to 
 alleviate their faults, though they cannot have 
 that effect in regard to our own. They teach 
 us to check that pride which would decide upon 
 every thing, and exalt ourfelves at the expence 
 of others ; to be fenfible that there are many 
 things of which we cannot judge, and that the 
 fmalleft deviation from what is right, is inex- 
 cufable in ourfelves, though the greateft (for 
 ought we know) may admit of many cxcu-fes ia 
 the cafe of others. 
 
 But
 
 238 O N CANDOUR. 
 
 But true charity goes farther ftill j it (hews 
 us in all mankind our brethren and fellow-crea- 
 tures, for whom we fhould be truly and affecti- 
 onately interefted. It teaches us to grieve for 
 their faults as well as for their fufferings, and 
 ilncerely and earncftly to wiih their welfare, 
 and endeavour to promote it. 
 
 ' 
 
 He who fees the faults of others with real 
 concern, will not be inclined to aggravate them, 
 nor can he delight to dwell upon them. He 
 who enjoys all the good he fees, will naturally 
 wim to fee all in the moil favourable light, and 
 that wi/j will contribute greatly to enable him 
 to do fo. It will extend even to thofe by whole 
 faults he is himfelf a fufferer ; far from being 
 defirous of revenge, he will grieve for the of- 
 fender, in this cafe, as in every other, and 
 endeavour by the gentleft means to bring him 
 back to what is right. 
 
 Our
 
 O N C A N -D-O U' R. 
 
 Our pallions may oppofe what reafbn and 
 judgment approve; and without being able ta 
 filence them, may yet often prove too ftrong 
 for them: but that charity which religion in- 
 fpires, muft be firmly rooted in the heart. It 
 exalts the affections to the highefl object, and 
 fubdues the excefs of pafiion by nobler and 
 ftronger inclinations. It extends its influence 
 over the whole character, and is exprefled in 
 the moft trifling converfation, as well as in the 
 mod important actions. It is the fource of alt 
 thofe difpofitions which are moft amiable and 
 pleafmg in fociety, which contribute moft "to 
 the happinefs of ourfelves and others here, "and 
 which will make us infinitely happy hereafter. 
 
 1 
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