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IGnorantly thankfull Crea∣ture, thou begg'st in such a way, that by what would appear an antedated Gra∣titude, if it were not a designless Action, the manner of thy Petitioning, before-hand
rewards the Grant of thy Request; thy Addresses and Recompence being so made and order'd, that the Meat I cast thee may very well feed Religion in me. For, but observe this Dogg, I hold him out Meat, and my inviting Voice loudly en∣courages and invites him to take it: 'Tis held indeed higher than he can Leap; and yet, if he Leap not at it, I do not give it him; but if he do, I let it fall half way into his Mouth. Not unresemblingly deals God with us; He shews and holds forth to us (the Soul's true Aliment) Eter∣nal Glory, and his most Gracious Word summons and animates us to attempt it. Alas! it is far above the reach of our Endeavours, and our Deserts, and yet if we aspire not to it, and strive not for it, in vain do we expect it; but if we faith∣fully do what in us lies, and our Endea∣vours strain themselves to their utmost, God mercifully allows the VVill for the Effect, measures our performances by what they aim'd at, and favourably ac∣cepting what we can do, for what we should do, He supplies the imperfecti∣ons of our faint, but yet aspiring At∣tempts, by stooping Condescentions; and what our Endeavours want of reaching
up to, his Grace and Acceptation brings down. Piety is the condition, though not the price, of Heaven; and (like the VVedding Garment in the Parable) though it give us not a Right to the Bea∣tifick Feast, is, yet, that without which none shall be admitted as a duely qua∣lify'd Guest: For though we cannot reach Heaven by our good Works, we shall not obtain it without them.
ONe that knew how well I love the scent of Roses, and were ignorant of the Uses of this way of Distillation, would, questionless, think me very ill advis'd, thus hastily to deprive my self of the Flowers I most love, and em∣ploy Art to make them wither sooner than Nature would condemn then to do; but those that know, both the fa∣ding condition of Flowers, (which, un∣improv'd by Art, delight but whilst they
are, what they cannot long be, fresh) and the exalting Efficacy of this kind of Distillation, will think this Artificial way, that Chymists take, of spoiling them, is an effect as well of their Providence as their Skil: For that pleasing and sprightly scent, that makes the Rose so welcome to us, is as short-liv'd and perishing, as the Flower, that harbours it, is fading; and though my Limbick should not, yet a few days inevitably would, make all these Roses wither. But by this way of ordering my Roses, though I cannot preserve them, I can preserve that Spirituous and Ethereal part of them, for whose sake it is, that I so much prize and cherish this sort of Flowers; which, by this means, I preserve, not indeed in the fading Body, but in the nobler and abstracted Quintessence; which purer and lastinger Portion of them, will be more highly fragrant than ordinary Roses are wont to be, ev'n whilst they are fresh, in that Season, when those Flowers, that have not been thus early and purposely destroy'd, will, according to the course of Nature, whereto they are left, wither and putrifie.
Thus he that sees a charitable Per∣son, liberally part with that Money, which others are so fond of, if he be a stranger to the Operations of Faith, and the Promises of the Gospel, he will be apt to mistake the Christian's Libe∣rality for Folly, or Profusion, and to think that he is fallen out with his Money: But he that remembers how clear a Prospect, and how absolute a Disposal of the future, the Scripture of Truth (to use an Angel's expression) as∣cribes to him, that bid his Disciples make themselves Friends with the uncer∣tain (or unfaithfull) Mammon, (for so the use I sometimes meet with of the Greek word, together with the Con∣text, invites me to render it) That when we fail, they may receive us into ever∣lasting Habitations; and he that shall likewise consider, not only the transi∣tory Nature of VVorldly Possessions, (from which their Perishing, or ours, will be sure e'r long to Divorce us) but the inestimable Advantage, with which we shall receive in Heaven whatever we employ in pious Uses here on Earth, will conclude this way of parting with our VVealth, the surest and gainfullest
way of preserving it; since the Christian, by parting but with what (however) he could not long keep, shall, through God's munificent Goodness, obtain a much more valuable Treasure, that he shall never lose: So that thus to sa∣crifise Wealth to Charity, is not an early loss of it, but the right way of securing it; for by this gainfull way, when we shall, in another VVorld, be past the possibility of possessing our Ri∣ches in Kind, such an Employment of them may help us to enjoy them, though not in the capacity of Riches, yet in that noble capacity of Goods, under which No∣tion alone they are desirable; and thus laid up, they may there procure us, what they could never here afford us, Happi∣ness.
HOw have I travell'd all this while upon the Brink of the Grave! I thought only to be out of my Way, but little dream'd to be so near the end of all my Journeys, in that of my Life; by Traversing to and fro amongst those deep and cover'd Pits, upon any one of which if my Horse had but chanc'd to stumble, (and the very Mine-men I at length met with, think it a kind of Mi∣racle he did not) I had been Kill'd and Bury'd at once, and my Fate had been for ever as much conceal'd from my Friends as my Body: And all this es∣cape a VVork so totally of God's Good∣ness, that I did not so much as know my Danger till I was past it; so that it seem'd, sent, but to give me occasion of rejoy∣cing in my Deliverance. How vast a Debt of Gratitude then do I owe to
God? and how extremely do I fall short of acquitting my self of it? since, be∣sides, that I make him but very unsuita∣ble Returns for the Blessings I know I have receiv'd, I receive from him signal Bles∣sings, that I do not so much as know of, and which consequently I am very un∣like particularly to acknowledge. But this gracious Rescue, from so great and unexpected a Hazard, shall, I hope, teach me henceforth to beware, both of secu∣rity, since I often fall into Dangers that I know not, and of Distrusts of God's Providence, since I have found it so watchfull to deliver me from those that I fear'd not.
HEre is a patch of way, to which any less smooth than a Bowling∣green were rugged, and in which it seems not only so unlikely, but so diffi∣cult, for a Horse to trip, that nothing could have made me believe a Horse could have stumbled here, but that mine has dangerously done so. This Jade has this very Evening carry'd me safely through ways, where stumbles were so much to be expected, that they were to have been forgiven; and now in a place so smooth, that sure he could not faulter in it, only out of Curiosity and Trial, he falls under me so Lubberly, that I as much admir'd my Escape as Danger: But 'tis too usual with us, unfaultringly to traverse Adversities rough ways, and stumble in Prosperities smoothest paths. The Ob∣servation is almost as Old as Pros∣perity, That Fortune ruins more Per∣sons
whilst she Embraces them, than whilst she would Crush them: But though the Observation be very com∣mon, it is not more so, than 'tis to see ev'n those that make it, add to the instances that justifie it. I have seldome yet been so fortunate as to be obnoxious to that less frequently pittied than disarming Danger: Fortune has sel∣dome yet vouchsaf'd to turn Syren to pervert me; and she has hitherto gi∣ven me much more Exercise for my Constancy than for my Moderation. I think too, that without slandering my self, I may confess, that I have some∣times wisht my self in the Lists with that bewitching Enemy, Prosperity; and increas'd the Number of those many, who never think so fair an Adversary formidable till they find themselves Vanquish'd by her: But upon second Thoughts, I judge it better, to leave the choice of my Antagonist to him, who not only best knows my Strength, but gives it me; especially, when I consider, that as we are all of us naturally such Stumblers, that (as Solomon speaks in somewhat another sence) even the just Man falls seven times a Day, Pro. 24. 16.
so it is observ'd in Stumblers, that they are most so in fair way; into which, if Providence lead my steps, I shall think it seasonable to pray, and lead us not into Temptation; and shall not think it unseasonable to remember, That Ice is at once the smoothest and the slipperest of ways, and that (the Jadishness of our Natures well consi∣der'd) there is no way wherein we ought to Travel with more heed, than that whose treacherous Evenness would divert us from taking heed to our way.
BEhold this fore-most Wretch, whose strange Deformity and ghastly Sores equally exact our Pity and our Hor∣rour; he seems so fit an Object for Compassion, that not to exercise it to∣wards him can scarce proceed from any other Cause than the not having any at all: The sadness of his Condition is aug∣mented by his want of Eyes to see it; and his Misery is such, that it calls for an increase of Pitty, by his being so Distracted, as to desire a longer Life, or rather longer Death: He sues more movingly to the Eye than to the Ear; and does Petition much less by what he says, than what he is: Each seve∣ral Member of his tortur'd Body is a new Motive to Compassion, and every Part of it so loudly pleads for Pitty, that (as of Scoulds) it may (in ano∣ther sence) be said of him, that he is
all Tongue. But yet this other Beggar thinks not his Condition the less de∣plorable for his Companions being the more so: He finds in the Diseases of his Fellow as little Consolation, as Cure; nor does he at all think him∣self supply'd with a deficient hand, be∣cause the other wants one. And there∣fore, he is as importunate for Relief, as if all Miseries were not only heap'd on him, but confin'd to him: His fel∣lows Burthen lightens not his Load; and if Fortune never had persecuted any other, he could not more deplore nor resent her Persecutions; so that, if we should judge of their Miseries rather by the Ear than by the Eye, this latter's sadder Complaints would move us to decree him the Advantage in point of Wretchedness.
Translate now (O my Soul) all this unto Spirituals; and as we measure the straightness of Lines, not by a Ramms Horn, but a Ruler; so be not thou so Rash, as to infer thy Health from others more forlorn and desperate Diseases: Let not the greater difficulty of another's Cure, lessen the sollicitousness of thy Care for thine, nor make thee the less
earnest in the Imploring and Labouring for Relief. In so deprav'd an Age as Ours, one may (and perhaps in vain too) search Hell to find wickeder Men than are to be, but too frequently, met with upon Earth: He will scarce be innocent, that will think himself so as long as he finds a Man more culpable than he; and he shall scarce ever judge himself Guilty, whom the sight of a Guiltier will absolve: Nor will that Man (till 'tis perhaps too late) be apt to attempt an Escape from the Pollutions of the World, that stays till he can see none more inextricably intangl'd in them than himself. Do not therefore, O my Soul, content thy self with that poor comparative Innocence that in Heaven (which it will never bring thee too) has no place, by reason of the absence of all vitious Persons; and in Hell it self (which it secures not from) can afford only the ill Natur'd consolation of not being altogether as Miserable as the wretchedest Person in that place of Tor∣ment.
AS fast as this Coach goes, I sit in it so much at Ease, that whilst its ra∣pid Motion makes others suspect that I am running for a VVager, this lazy Po∣sture, and this soft Seat, do almost as much invite me to Rest, as if I were A-bed. The hasty VVheels strike fire out of the Flints they happen to run over, and yet this self-same swiftness of these VVheels, which, were I under them, would make them Crush my Bones themselves into Splinters, if not into a Jelly, now I am seated over them, and above their reach, serves but to carry me the faster towards my Journey's end. Just so it is with outward Accidents, and Conditions, whose restless Vicissitudes but too justly and too fitly resemble them to VVheels: VVhen they meet with a Spirit that lies prostrate on the Ground, and falls Groveling beneath them, they disorder and oppress it: But he, whose high Reason, and exalted Piety,
has, by a noble and steddy Contempt of them, plac'd him above them, may enjoy a happy and a setled Quiet, in spight of all these busie Agitations, and be so far from resenting any prejudicial discomposure from these inferiour Revolutions, that all those changes, that are taken for the Giddy turns of Fortune's VVheel, shall serve to approach him the faster to the blest Mansion he would arrive at.
YOur Eyes, Gentlemen, have been so long fix'd upon this Wind-mill, that in spight of the Barren∣ness of the Subject, I cannot but suspect it may have afforded one, or each of you▪ an Occasional Meditation.
To justifie your Conjecture, Genorio, I will confess to you, That I was considering with my self, that if one, who knew not the Miller's Trade, and Design, should look upon this Structure, he would
think the Owner worthy of so incommo∣dious a Mansion, if not of a Room in Bed∣lam; for we see he has chose to erect this Fabrick in a Solitary place, and upon the cold and bleak top of a swelling Ground, where nothing shelters it from the Violence of a Wind, whilst its high Scituation ex∣poses it to the successive Violences of them all: But he that is acquainted with the Exigencies of the Miller's Design, and Trade, will think he has made a very pro∣per choice, in scating himself in a place where no Wind can blow, that he shall not be able to make an Advantage of. And having consider'd this, Genorio, my Thoughts, when you interrupted them, were making this Application of it, That we ought not to be too forward to censure Men, other∣wise Virtuous, and Discreet, for engaging themselves upon some accounts to trouble∣some and unsettling Employments; for if th' end be not mischosen, the means are to be estimated by their tendency there∣unto; and though a calmer condition of Life, might be in it self more desirable, yet when a more expos'd one, can make him that is qualify'd for such Employments more serviceable in his Generation, this may, upon that account, be more Eligible than the other, since, as it exposes him to
more hardships, so, in those very hard∣ships, it affords him more Opportunities of prosecuting his Aims, so that his Station is recommended to him by those very Cir∣cumstances that make other Men dislike it.
But may not I also know what Thoughts this worthy Theme suggested to Lindamor?
I was, Genorio, taking notice, that this whole Fabrick is indeed but a large Engine, where almost every thing, as well as the Sails and the Wheels, is fram'd and fitted for the Grinding of Corn: But, though this whole Structure be Artificially enough contriv'd, yet it can now do nothing in order to its end, for want of such a light and Airy thing as a breath of VVind, to put all this into Motion; And, Genorio, this VVind-mill, thus consider'd, brought into my Mind the condition of a great Lord, that you and I not long since Visited, and who is far from being the only Person to whom the Reflection may be applicable; for one that not knowing his Humour, and his Aims, should see how great a Provi∣sion his plentifull Fortune, and his Skil to manage it, have laid together, of those things which are wont to be thought the chiefest Instruments (and perchance the
chief Parts) of Happiness, would be apt to envy his Condition, as discerning nothing that is wanting to it. But alas! the Man expects and covets Esteem, and Reputa∣tion; and though Fame have these Re∣semblances to the VVind, that 'tis an Airy and Unsolid thing, which we must receive from others, and which we are not only unable to procure for our selves, but know not how long we shall keep it when we have it, yet the want of this alone makes all the rest utterly insufficient for his sa∣tisfaction. Thus the not so Great, as Am∣bitious Alexander, after all the Blood he had spilt in Conquering the VVorld, is said to have shed Tears, that he had Con∣quer'd but one, when a Philosopher told him there were more. And all the Favours that the greatest Potentate upon Earth, could heap upon proud Haman, were, by his own Confession, unable to make him think himself happy, as long as he could not neglect a Captives neglect of him; all his Greatness did him no good, if but one Man had the Courage not to Bow to it; and an unsatisfy'd Appetite of Revenge, quite spoild the Rellish of the great Mo∣narch's Favours, and the fair Hester's Ban∣quets. Nor do I doubt, Genorio, that we often marvel, if not repine, at Providence
upon a great Mistake; for by refusing to be God's Servants, Men usually become▪ so to their own unruly Passions, and Af∣fections. And therefore, we often very causelesly Envy the Great and Rich, as if they were as happy as the Advantages vouch∣saf'd them, would make a wise and good Man; whereas perhaps the Man courts a Reputation, that is not to be acquir'd by what Men have, but by what they are, and do; or else he is in love with a Lady that loves not him, or loves another better: And the Coyness of a Mistress, the greater Title of a Neighbour, or some such tri∣fling accident, that another would either not be subject to, or not be much concern'd for, will keep him from Enjoying any of those very things, for which By-standers Envy him: So just it is, that in Estima∣ting a Man's condition, we should not only consider what Possessions he has, but what Desires.
HOw prettily has curious Nature paint∣ed this gawdy Fruit? Here is a green that Emeralds cannot, and Flora's self might boast: And Pomona seems to have affected, in the fresh and lively Vermilion that adorns this smooth Rind, an Emulation at Rubies themselves, and to have aim'd at manifest∣ing, That she can give her Vegetable pro∣ductions, as Lovely, and Orient, though not as lasting, Colours as those that make Jewels pretious Stones; and if, upon the hearing the Praises this Scarlet deserves▪ her Blushes ennoble her own Cheeks with so Vivid a Colour▪ perhaps such a Livery of her Modesty might justifie her Pride. In a word, such pure and tempting Green and Red dye this same polish'd Skin, that our Vulgar boldness must be no longer question'd, for rendring that Fruit an Ap∣ple, that inveagled our first Parents: But though these winning Dyes delight me strangely, they are Food for my Eye alone, and not my Stomach; I have no Palate for Colours, and to rellish this Fruit well, and know whether it performs to the Taste
what it promises to the Sight, and justifie that Platonick definition which styles Beauty the Lustre and Flower of Goodness; all this Gay out-side is cut and thrown away, and passes but for Parings. Thus in Opinions, though I look with Pleasure on that neat fashionable Dress, that smoother Pens so finely Cloath them with, and though I be delighted with the pretty and spruce Expressions, that Wit and Eloquence are wont to trick them up with; yet when I mean to examine their true Rellish, that, upon liking, I may make them mine, I still strip and devest them of all those flattering Ornaments (or cheating Disguises rather) which so often conceal or mis-represent their true and genuine Nature, and (be∣fore e'r I swallow them) after they have been admitted by the more delusible faculty we call Fancy, I make them pass the severer scrutiny of Reason.
HEre, for ought I can guess, my stay is like to be long enough, to afford
me the leisure of a Reflection on it: For I have found already, in this narrow Lane, a very large Scene to exercise my Patience in; and this Churlish Dray-man seems resolv'd to be as tedious to me, as Ludgate-hill is to his Horse, when his Cart is over∣loaden. They that are going on Foot to the same place this Coach should carry me to, find not their Passage hindred, or their Way obstructed by that which keeps me here; and were I dispos'd to leave my Coach behind, and Foot it after them, I might in their Company sooner reach the place my Designs and Affairs call me to, than I shall (probably) be supply'd with hopes of getting quickly out from hence. Alas! How frequently falls it out thus in our Journeys towards Heaven? Those whom their adverse Fortune, or a Noble Scorn, hath stript of, or releas'd from, these troublesome and intangling Externals, may tread the Paths of Life nimbly, and cheer∣fully, being unstopt by many Obstacles, that intercept the Progresses of others. But those stately Persons, whose Pride or Effeminacy will not permit them to move an Inch towards Heaven, unless they may be carry'd thither in Pleasure's easie Coa∣ches, and who will not bate a Superfluity, or lay by the least Circumstance or Pun∣ctilio
of Grandezza, to lessen themselves into a capacity of entring in at the strait Gate, may soon find these treacherous and over-lov'd Conveniences turn'd into cum∣bersome Cloggs, and real Impediments, that will, if not Block up, at least Obstruct the passage to the Seat of so much Joy; that ev'n to be cast Ashore there, by Ship∣wrack, were a Blessing; and that he is thought unworthy to be admitted there, that cannot think it his Happiness to reach that place himself, though he leave all behind him to get thither.
THis Glass does indeed approach the distrusted Vessel, but it approaches her only to our Eyes, not to our Ship; if she be not making up to us, this harmless Instrument will prove no Loadstone to draw her towards us, and if she be, it will put us into a better readiness to receive her. Such another Instrument in relation
to Death, is the Meditation of it; (by Mortals so much, and so causelesly, ab∣horr'd) for though most Men as studiously shun all Thoughts of Death, as if, like nice Acquaintances, he would forbear to Visit where he knows he is never thought of, or as if we could exempt our selves from being Mortal, by forgetting that we are so; yet does this Meditation bring Death nearer to us, without at all lessening the real di∣stance betwixt Us and Him: If that last Enemy be not yet approaching us, this inno∣cent Glass will no more quicken his pace, than direct his steps; and if he be, without hastning his Arrival, it will prepare us for his Reception: For my part, my Beardless Chin allows me to presume, that by the course of Nature, I have yet a pretty stock of Sand in the upper part of my Hour-glass; Wherefore, though I am too Young to say with Isaac, behold, now I am Old, And I know not the Day of my Death, Gen. 27. 2. yet since the Youngest and Lustiest of us all, has cause to say with the Mirrour of Pati∣ence, When a few Years are come, then shall I go the way whence I shall not return, Job. 16. 22. and since 'tis the wise Man's Counsel, Not to boast our selves of to Morrow, because we know not what a Day may bring forth. I will endeavour (to use our Saviour's
tearms) To take heed to my self, least at any time that Day come upon me unawares, Luke 21. 34. And as the only safe Expedient in order thereunto, I will (in imitation of holy Job) All the Days of my appointed time wait till my Change come, Job 14. 24.
THis Visit, (Dear* 1.2 So∣phronia) which you in∣tended but for an act of Kindness, proves also one of Charity; for though it be not many hours since we parted, and though you left me free from any other discomposure than that which your leaving me is wont to give me; yet this little time has made so great a change in my Condition,
as to be, I doubt not, already visible in my Looks: For whilst I was sitting quietly in my Chamber, and was as far from the Thoughts of Sickness, as from any such disorders as are wont to be the occasions of it; and whilst I was delightfully enter∣tain'd, by an Out-landish Virtuoso that came to Visit me, with an Account of the several attempts that are either made, or design'd▪ in foreign Parts, to produce Curiosities, and improve Knowledge; I was suddenly surpris'd with a Chilness, and a Shivering, that came so unexpected, and increas'd so fast, that it was heightned into a down∣right Fit of an Ague, before I could satisfie my self what it was. But I confess, that this unwelcome accident had not amaz'd me, as well as troubled me, if I had suffi∣ciently consider'd to what a strange number and variety of Distempers these frail Car∣casses of ours are Obnoxious; for, if I had call'd to mind what my Curiosity for Dis∣sections has shown me, and remembred how many Bones, and Muscles, and Veins, and Arteries, and Grisles, and Ligaments, and Nerves, and Membranes, and Juices, a humane Body is made up of, I could not have been surprised, that so curious an En∣gine, that consists of so many pieces, whose Harmony is requisite to Health, and where∣of
not any is superfluous, nor scarce any insensible, should have some or other of them out of order, it being no more strange that a Man's Body should be subject to Pain, or Sickness, than that an Instrument with above a thousand Strings (if there were any such) should frequently be out of Tune, especially since the bare change of Air may as well discompose the Body of a Man, as untune some of the Strings of such an Instrument; so that ev'n the in∣imitable Structure of humane Bodies is scarce more admirable, than that such cu∣rious and elaborate Engines can be so con∣triv'd, as not to be oftner out of order than they are; the preservation of so nice and exact a Frame being the next wonder to its Work-man-ship. And indeed, when I consider further, how many outward acci∣dents are able to destroy the Life, or, at the least, the Health, ev'n of those that are care∣full to preserve them; and how easily the Beams of a warm Sun, or the Breath of a cold VVind, or too much, or too little Ex∣ercise, a Dish of green Fruit, or an infecti∣ous Vapour, or ev'n a sudden Fright, or ill News, are able to produce Sickness, and perhaps Death; and when I think too, how many evitable Mischiefs our own Appe∣tites,
or Vices, expose us to, by acts of In∣temperance, that necessitate the Creatures to offend us, and practices of Sin, where∣by we provoke the Creator to punish us; when I say, I consider all this, and conse∣quently how many Mischiefs he must escape that arrives at Gray-hairs; I confess, the commonness of the Sight cannot keep me from thinking it worth some wonder, to see an Old man, especially if he be any thing Healthy. But these kinds of Thoughts (Sophronia) are seldome entertain'd, un∣less they be excited by some unwelcome Occasions; and when we are long accu∣stomed to Health, we take it for granted, that we shall enjoy it, without taking it for a Mercy that we are so; we are not sensible enough of our continual need and depen∣dance on the divine Goodness, if we long and uninterruptedly enjoy it; and by that unthankfull heedlesness we do, as it were, necessitate Providence to deprive us of its wonted supports, to make us sensible that we did enjoy, and that we always need them: It being but fit that Mercies should cease to be constant, which, their constancy only, that should be their indearment, keeps us from entertaining as Mercies; I will therefore (Sophronia) endeavour to de∣rive
this advantage from this sudden Fit of Sickness, to make me thankfull for Health, when God shall be pleas'd to restore it me, and to keep me from reckoning confidently upon the lastingness of it: For though we are very unapt to take ev'n the Wise man's Counsel, where he forbids us to boast our selves of to Morrow, because we know not what a Day may bring forth; yet by such accidents I find, that Solomon spoke much within compass, and had not done other∣wise, if for a Day he had substituted an Hour: For so many, and so various are the unfore-seen accidents to which we poor Mortals are expos'd, that the continuance of our Health, or Prosperity, do much more merit our thanks, than the interrup∣tion of them can deserve our wonder. And I must confess, (Sophronia) that though my falling Sick may be but my unhappiness, my being so much surpris'd at it was my fault.
ONe that, not knowing what Ails me, should come in, and see me in this soft Bed, not only cover'd, but almost op∣press'd, with Cloaths, would confidently conclude, that, whether or no I be distress'd by the contrary Quality, I cannot at least be troubled with Cold; and if he himself were so, he will be apt to Envy me. And if instead of coming in my Cold fit, he should Visit me in my Hot one, and see me with my Shoulders and Arms quite unco∣ver'd, and nothing but the single Sheet on the rest of my Body; he would be apt to think, that I must lye very cool. But alas! in spight of all that lies upon me, an inter∣nal Frost has so diffus'd it self through every Part, that my Teeth chatter, and my whole Body does shake strongly enough to made the Bed it self do so; and, though I still wish for more Cloaths, yet those that are heap'd on me, can so little controle this praeternatural Cold, that a Pile of them might sooner be made great enough to Crush than to VVarm me: So that when
I Travell'd ev'n in frosty Nights, the VVin∣ter had nothing near so strong an Operation on me. And as that external Cold was far more supportable whilst it lasted, so it was incomparably more easie for me, by Exer∣cise, and otherwise, to deliver my self from it.
Thus, when a Great or Rich Man's mind is distemper'd with Ambition, Avarice, or any immoderate Affection, though the By∣standers, that see not what disquiets him, but see what great store of Accommoda∣tions fortune has provided for him, may be drawn to Envy his Condition, and be kept very far from suspecting that he can want that Contentment, the means of which they see him so Richly supply'd with: And yet alas! as the Colder heat of the external Air is much less troublesome to a Man in Health, though furnished with an ordinary proportion of Cloaths, than the Cold or Hot fit of an Ague, with a pile of Blankets first, and then a single Sheet; so to a Vigorous and Healthy constitution of mind, External inconveniences are much more supportable than any Accommoda∣tions can make the condition of a distem∣per'd Soul. Let us not then judge of Men's happiness, so much by what they have, as by what they are, and consider both, that
Fortune can but give much, and it must be the Mind that makes that much enough: And that, as 'tis more easie to endure Win∣ter, or the Dog-days in the Air, than in the Blood; so a Healthfull mind, in spight of Outward inconveniences, may afford a Man a condition preferrable to all External ac∣commodations without that.
WHen the cold Fit first seiz'd me, me-thought it was rather melted Snow than Blood that Circulated in my Veins, where it mov'd so Inordinately, and maintain'd the vital Flame so Penuriously, that the greatest Sign which was left to distinguish this Cold from that of Death, was, its making me shake strong enough to shake the Bed I lay on. I call'd for more and more Cloaths, only because I needed them, not because I found any relief by them: I fancy'd the torrid Zone to be of a far more desirable Constitution than that we call the Temperate; and as little as I am wont to reverence vulgar Chymists, I
then envy'd their Laborants, whose imploy∣ment requires them to attend the Fire: But when the Cold Fit was once over, it was quickly succeeded by a Hot one, which after a while I thought more troublesome than it. I threw off the Cloaths much faster than my former importunity had procur'd them to be laid on me; and I, that could a little before scarce feel all that had been heap'd on me, could not now sup∣port a single Sheet, but thought its weight oppress'd me.
I envied the Inhabitants of Norway, and Iceland, far more than those that dwell either in the richest Province of East-India, or of the Golden Coast it self: And of all Creatures, not Rational, I thought the Fishes the happiest, since they Live in a cool Stream, and, when they please, may Drink as much as they List.
If then (Sophronia) the self-same Per∣son may, within less than two hours, have such different apprehensions of his own Condition, as now to complain of that as a sad Grievance, which but an hour before he wish'd for as a Relief; we may well acknowledge, that we frequently mistake in estimating the Hardships and Afflictions we complain of, and find them not so un∣easie as we make them, whilst we not only
endure the whole Affliction that troubles us, but often increase it, by repining at the envied Condition of others.
An afflicted Man is very apt to fancy, that any kind of Sickness, that for the pre∣sent troubles him, is far less supportable than if it were exchang'd for another Dis∣ease; and imagines his case to be so singular, that one cannot say to him in Saint Paul's Language, No Temptation has befallen you, but that which is common to Men, 1 Cor. 10. 13. He presumes, that he could far more easily support his Crosses, if instead of his present Disease, he had this or that other, though, if the Exchange were made, he would perchance wish for his first Sickness, if not be as much troubled at his own Folly, as with the Disease. He that is tor∣mented with the Gout, is apt to envy any Sick man that is exempted from that Roa∣ring pain, and able to VValk about; He that is swell'd with the Dropsie, fancies all Persons happy whose Diseases allow them Drink to quench their Thirst: And the Blind man envies both these, and thinks no Persons so miserable in this VVorld as those that cannot see the VVorld. Feavers burn us, Agues shatter us, Dropsies drown us, Phrensies unman us, the Gout tortures us, Convulsions wrack us, Epilepsies fell us,
Collicks tear us; and in short, there is no considerable Disease that is not very trou∣blesome in it self, how ever Religion may sanctifie and sweeten it: For as a Fortress, whose Defendants are not Treacherous, can scarce be taken otherwise than either by Famine, or Storm; so Life, for whose preservation Nature is so faithfully sollici∣tous, cannot be extinguish'd, unless either Chronical Diseases do Lingringly destroy, or some Acute do hastily snatch it away. And indeed, if a Disease prove Mortal, 'tis no more than is to be expected, if it tire out the Patient with tedious Languish∣ments, or else dispatch him with dismal Symptoms: Nor is it in point of Sickness only, that we are often more unhappy than we need, by Fancying our selves more un∣happy than we should be, if we were al∣low'd to exchange that which now troubles us, for any thing which does not. But there are Evils, which, though exceeding contrary in appearance, and circumstances, do yet agree in being extremely trouble∣some; as the possest Wretch our Saviour cured in the Gospel, though he were some∣times cast into the Fire, and sometimes into the VVater, yet in both states was tor∣mented by the same Divel, who in variety of Inflictions still express'd the same Ma∣lice.
But we should make a righter Esti∣mate of suffering, if we did but consider, that much uneasiness is annex'd to an Af∣flicted condition in general; and that there∣fore, which we are sensible of, may pro∣ceed rather from the general nature of Sick∣nesses, and Crosses, than from the particular Kind and Degree of ours. And indeed, if a Man were permitted to exchange his Disease with those of others, he would often find his granted wishes to bring him a variety of Mischiefs, rather than an Ex∣emption from them; and many of those that we Envy, as thinking them far less Sufferers than our selves, do look with in∣vidious Eyes on us, and do but dissemble their Grievances more handsomely than we, not find them more easie than ours. And that of Saint Peter may be more ge∣nerally apply'd, than most Men think, where he exhorts to constancy, upon this conside∣ration, That the same Sufferings are accom∣plish'd upon our Brethren in the World, 1 Pet. 5. 9. For 'tis all one as to the Efficacy of this Lenity, whether our Afflictions be the same with those of others, in Kind, or not Superiour to them in Degree: And I doubt not, but we should support many of our Grievances as easily as those for which we wish them exchang'd, if the chief account
upon which they trouble us, were not ra∣ther that they are the present ones, than the greatest.
ONe of the most troublesome Symp∣toms in almost all Feaverish Distem∣pers, is wont to be Thirst; and in mine it was importunate to a degree, that made me very much so, in frequently solliciting those that were about me for Drink, which, in the heat of the Fit, seem'd so desirable an Object, that it then much lessen'd my wonder at that parch'd King's agreement, who, urg'd with Thirst, sold his Liberty for a full Draught of cold VVater. But alas! I sadly found, that the Liquor I swallow'd so Greedily, afforded me but a very tran∣sient Relief, the latter being gone almost as soon as the former had pass'd thorow my Throat, so that not only it did but amuse me, not Cure me; but, which is worse, Drinking it self increas'd my Thirst, by encreasing the Feaver, whose uneasie Symptom that was. Wherefore, seeing all the cooling Juleps that could be admini∣ster'd,
did free me from nothing but the Expectation of being much reliev'd by such slight and palliative Medicines; the Do∣ctor thought himself this Day oblig'd to a quite contrary, and yet a more generous Remedy; and order'd, that, instead of gi∣ving me Drink, they should take away Blood, as judging it the best and far the surest course to take away the uneasie Symp∣tom, by removing that which Foments the cause.
Thus when the Mind is distemper'd with turbulent Commotions, and the disquieted Appetite does too restlessly and eagerly crave Objects, which, though perhaps in themselves not absolutely Bad, are at least made, by a Conjunction of Circumstances, unfit and dangerous for the Person that longs for them: VVe, like unskilfull or un∣ruly Patients, fondly imagine, that the only way to appease our Desires, is, to grant them the Objects they so Passionately tend to. But the wise and soveraign Physitian of Souls, who considers not so much what we do wish, as what we should wish, often discerns, that this praeternatural Thirst in∣dicates and calls for a Lancet, rather than a Julep, and knows it best to attempt the Cure, rather by taking away somewhat that we have than by giving us that which
only a Spiritual superfluity reduces us to want: And in effect, we often see, that as a few Ounces of Blood taken away in a Feaver, does cool the Patient more than the giving him ten times as much Drink would do; so a few Afflictions, by partly letting out, and partly moderating our cor∣rupt Affections, do more compose and ap∣pease a Mind molested with inordinate Appetites, than the Possession of a great many of the Objects we impotently desire. VVhilst our Appetites are roving, and un∣reasonable, and insatiate, the obtaining of this or that particular Object does but amuse the Patient, not take away the Dis∣ease; whereas seasonable, and sanctify'd Crosses, that teach us to know our selves, and make us sensible how little we deserve, and how little the things we are so Greedy of could make us happy, if obtain'd, may reduce us to a Resignation, and Tranquility of Mind, preferrable to those over-valu'd things, which, as it keeps us from enjoying, so it keeps us from needing. Thus Zacheus, who, whilst a Publican never thought he had enough, when he had once entertain'd our Saviour, though he offer'd to make a quadruple Restitution of what ever he had fraudulently acquir'd, was, upon a sudden, by being freed from Avarice, grown so
Rich, that he was forward to give no less than half he had to the Poor; as if his Divine Guest had wrought upon his Goods, such Miracles as he had done upon the five Loaves, and two Fishes, of which the Re∣mains amounted to more than the whole Provision was at first.
THe last bitter Potion that I took, (Sophronia) was, I remember, sweet∣ned with the hopes were given me with it, that it might prove the last I should need to take, and would procure me a set∣led and durable Health: But I find by sad Experience, That the benefit I deriv'd from it is nothing near so lasting as it was wel∣come; for I am now reduc'd to take Physick agen, and I fear must often do so, before I shall be able to dislodge this troublesome Ague that haunts me: For though the last Physick I took, wrought so well, that I hop'd it had brought away not only the ill Humours themselves, but the very sources of them; yet by the effect of what I took this Morning, I not only find
there is as much to be purged away now as there was then, but, what is sadder, I can scarce hope this Physick will excuse me from the need of taking more again ere long: But though 'tis a troublesome thing, and must be often repeated, yet 'tis a salu∣tary thing too, and cannot be more unplea∣sant than 'tis usefull; and as Loathsome as it is, a Sickness were far worse. Thus when a relenting Sinner has endeavour'd to wash away his Sins with his Tears, he may possibly think himself so throughly wash'd in that abstersive Brine, (which yet owes its cleansing Virtue not to its own Nature, but to the Blood of Christ) that if he be a new Convert, and be entertain'd with those Ravishing delights wherewith God is often pleas'd to engage such return∣ing Prodigals, (as the Kind Father wel∣com'd his Riotous Son with Feasting, and with Musick) that he is apt to fancy Re∣pentance to be like Baptism, which, being receiv'd once for a Man's whole Life, needs never be renewed. But though, during such transports, an unexperienc'd Convert may be apt to cast the Gauntlet to the VVorld, saying in his Spiritual prosperity, that he shall never be mov'd; yet, as our Saviour speaks, The Spirit indeed is willing, but the Flesh is weak; and too commonly our Reso∣lutions
flagg with our Joys, and those that a while before imagin'd they despis'd the World, find themselves Worsted, if not Captivated, by it; and find it far more difficult than they thought it, to Live in the Company of Sinners without being of their Number, and in so defil'd a World without being spotted by it.
And as the same David, who said in his Prosperity, he should never be mov'd, said in his Distress, he should one Day perish by the hand of Saul: So many of those, that whilst their Tears of Repentance, and of Joy, are not yet dry'd off their Eyes, are apt to defie and contemn all the Ghostly enemies, and difficulties, that oppose their present zealous Resolutions, will perhaps in a while after, when they meet with unex∣pected Impediments, and Foyls, change their confidence into despair, and think those very Enemies, whom they lately look'd on as Despicable, to be Insuperable: But as Physick, that does good for a time, ought not to be rejected, because it does good but for a time; nor should we re∣ject the only sure means of our present Recovery, for fear of future Relapses; so, though we sadly find that Repentance must be repeated, and that after we have pra∣ctis'd it often, we must have need of it
agen; yet since 'tis the only proper means to recover a Soul out of a state of Sin, which is worse than any Disease, and leads to the worst of Deaths, we must never suffer our selves to be so far Discouraged, as to forgo so necessary and so profitable a Duty, and must not more frequently Re∣lapse into faults, than renew our Sorrow for them, and our Resolves against them: For Innocence indeed is far more desirable than Repentance, as Health is than Physick. But as Physick is more Eligible than the continuance of Sickness, so is Repentance more Eligible than continuing in the state of Sin: And as the Drinking ev'n of a bitter Potion is a less Evil than the heat, and thirst, and restlesness of an Ague; so to lament for Sin here, is a far less uneasie thing than to do it in a place where there is nothing but remediless VVailing, and Gnashing of Teeth. 'Tis true, that our Souls are in this too like our Bodies, that our whole Lives are spent betwixt Purging away of naughty Humours, and accumu∣lating them: And me-thinks I hear the Flesh still saying unto the Spirit, as Ruth did to Naomi, The Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but Death part thee and me, Ruth 1. 14. But although there are Defile∣ments, which, though often wash'd off, will
as often come again to blemish us;* 1.3 and though the Deeds of the* 1.4 Body, will scarce all of them perfectly be put to Death, but with the Body it self; yet next to an uninterrupted state of Health, frequent and early Recoveries are desirable: And though the shamefull necessity of needing to beg many pardons for the same fault, may justly make an ingenious Christian cry out with Saint Paul, O! Wretched Man that I am, who shall deliver me from the Body of this Death; yet the same sense of his own frailty, that puts this Exclamation into his Mouth, may comfort his Heart, by its being a pledge, that he shall one Day be able Exultingly to say with the same Apostle in another place, Thanks be to God which giveth us the Victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. 15. 57.
THis complaisant Physitian (Sophro∣nia) is you see very sollicitous, that his Remedies should as well gratifie the Patient, as oppose the Disease: And be∣sides,
that this Julip is ting'd with Sirrup of Clove-gilly-flowers, that it may at once delight the Palate, and the Eye; some of these other Remedies are sweetned with as much Sugar, as if they came not from an Apothecaries Shop, but a Confectioners. But my Mouth is too much out of Taste to rellish any thing that passes through it; and though my Sickness makes this Flat∣tering of the Palate almost necessary to the rendring these Medicines takable by me, yet upon the account of the same Distem∣per, all that the Doctor's tenderness and skil could do to make them Pleasant, can at most but keep them from being Loath∣some. And therefore, you will easily be∣lieve, Sophronia, that I enjoy these sweet things upon a score, that if it does Imbitter them, does at least, as to me, deprive them of their Nature: So that he, that for the sake of these Sirrups, and Electuaries, should, notwithstanding the Malady that needs them, envy me, might be suspected to be troubled with a worse Disease than an Ague is, a Frensie.
Thus there are many Favourites of For∣tune, whose seeming Enjoyments may perchance be Envy'd by those that do but Gaze on their Condition, whilst 'tis rather pitty'd by those that know it: To be
brought by Greatness of Power, or Riches, and Effeminacy of Mind, to that pass, that they seldome hear any thing but their own Praises, ev'n when their Actions merit Re∣prehension, and that they can rellish nothing that is not sweetned with so much of Flat∣tery, as quite to disguise, and perhaps per∣vert, its Nature. These, as I was going to say, and such other unhappy Priviledges, are things, which (whatever Fools may think) will not recommend Greatness to a considering Man, and are far more fit to procure the Possessour's ruine, than wise Men's envy: And besides, that a vain and impotent Soul is, by those disquieting Qualities, molested with greater Distem∣pers than those Gratifications can make amends for, and which often hinder the full Rellishing of these or any other Plea∣sure. The delight these treacherous Deli∣cacies afford, is so much less considerable than the Weakness they suppose; that 'tis far more Eligible to be without them than to need them.
AH! Dear Sophronia, in spight of all the care, and officiousness of those diligent Attendants, that you were pleas'd to send to watch with me, I have Slept all Night as little as I do now, or as I shall desire to do whilst you stay here.
This unwelcome leisure brought me as much a Necessity as an Opportunity to spend the time in entertaining my Thoughts, which on this occasion were almost as Va∣rious, and seem'd too as Wild, as, if I had Slept, my Dreams themselves would have been: And therefore, I presume you will not wonder, if I can now recall but few of them, and if the rest be as easily Vanish'd out of my Memory, as they came abruptly into my Mind.
The first Thought that I remember en∣tertain'd me, was that which was the most naturally suggested by the condition I was in: For when I found how tedious and wearisome each hour was, and observ'd how long a time seem'd to intervene be∣twixt the several Divisions that the striking
of the Clock made of a Night, that must at this time of the Year be much shorter than the Day, I could not but consider, how insupportable their condition must be, to be cast into outer Darkness, where tor∣mented Wretches lye, not as I do upon a soft Bed, but upon Fire and Brimstone, where no attendance of Servants, or kind∣ness of Friends, is allow'd them, that need it as much as they deserve it little; and, which is worst of all, where no Beam of hope is permitted to Consolate them, as if the Day should Dawn after so Dismal a Night, though protracted to Millions of Ages, each of whose miserable hours ap∣pears an Age.
The next thing I was considering, was, How defective we are in point of Gratitude to God; I now Blush that I cannot call to Mind the time, when I ever thought that his having vouchsaf'd me the power of Sleeping, deserv'd a particular Acknow∣ledgment. But now I begin to see that 'tis our Heedlesness, not their Uselesness, that keeps us from daily being thankfull for a multitude of Mercies, that we take no notice of; Though it be injurious, That that only commonness that heightens the Benefit, should keep us from being sensible of the Greatness of it. I confess I was
very lately one of them, who look'd upon Sleep as one of those inconveniencies of humane Nature, that merit a Consolation; and I very little apprehended, that I should ever complain of the want of Sleep, as of a Grievance, the necessity of it being what I always look'd upon under that No∣tion: But I now perceive, he was a Wise man, who said, That God made every thing Beautifull in its Season. And yet, when I consider the Affinity betwixt Sleep and Death, whose Image it is, I cannot but think it very unlikely, that this Life should be design'd for our Happiness, since not to lose almost half of it were an Infelicity.
Another thing I remember I was consi∣dering, was this, That though want of Sleep be one of the uneasiest accidents that attend on Sickness, yet in many cases it proves as usefull as it can be unwelcome: For there is a sort of Jolly people, far more Numerous than I could wish them, who are at utter defiance with Thinking, and do as much fear to be alone, as they should to do any course that is naturally productive of so unmanly a fear: And the same Sin∣full employments, or Vain pastimes, that make them afraid of being alone, do so much keep them from the necessity of be∣ing so, that they keep them almost from
the very Possibility of it: For in the time of Health, Visits, Businesses, Cards, and I know not how many other Avocations, which they justly stile Diversions, do suc∣ceed one another so thick, that in the Day there is no time left for the distracted Per∣son to converse with his own Thoughts: And ev'n, when they are Sick, though they be debarr'd of many of those wonted Di∣versions, yet Cards and Company will give them enough to prove a Charm against Thinking, which the Patient is so willing, or rather sollicitous, to decline, the need of that Sickness less troubles him, as it keeps his Body from going abroad, than as it tends to drive his Thoughts home; so that Sickness does little or nothing towards the making such Men consider, by casting them upon their Beds, unless it also hinder them from Sleeping there. But in the long and tedious Nights, when all the Praters, and the Gamesters (who are usually call'd good Companions, but seldome prove good Friends) are withdrawn, and have left our Patient quite alone, the Darkness of the Night begins to make him discern, and take some notice of his own Condition▪ and his Eyes, for want of outward Objects, are turn'd inwards, he must, whether he will or no, during the Silence of the Night, hear
those Lessons, which by the Hurry and Avocations of the Day he endeavour'd to avoid. And though this be a very unwel∣come Mercy, yet 'tis a Mercy still, and perhaps the greater for being so unwel∣come: For if he could Sleep in Sickness, as he us'd to do in Health, he were in great danger of having his Conscience laid A∣sleep, till it should be Awak'd by the Flames and Shriecks of Hell. And the design of God in chastning, being to reclaim and amend us, we not only do, by our want of Reflecting, indure the trouble of Sick∣ness, without reaping the benefit of it, but also by our shunning to consider, we are so Ill-natur'd to our selves, as to lengthen the Sickness, we are so Impatient of; which is in us as foolish as 'twould be in a nice Patient, after having been made to take a bitter, but a salutary Potion, to send unsea∣sonably for Cordials and Julips to hinder the working of it, and so by such unruli∣ness lose the benefit of the Operation, and lengthen his Pain and Sickness, to avoid the far less trouble of complying with the Na∣ture of the Medicine, and the Designs of the Physitian: So that Repentance being necessary to Recovery, and the considering of a Man's own ways as necessary to Repen∣tance, the want of Sleep, which both al∣lows
us time, and imposes on us a necessity to think, may well be look'd upon as a happy Grievance, since it very much tends to the shortning of our Afflictions, by the disposing us to Co-operate towards God's aims in sending them.
THe same Violence of my Fit, that made me very much need Sleep, allow'd me so little of it, that I think I miss'd not hearing one stroke of the Clock all the Night long. But since you know, Sophronia, that the Clock is kept by the Souldiers that are Quarter'd in the place where it stands, you will easily believe, that 'tis not very carefully look'd to, espe∣cially since they are not only wont to let it go Ill, but do oft times make it do so on purpose, and as may best comply with the Officers occasions, and as they would have the Guards that are to be set here, or to be sent hence, sooner or later Reliev'd. Of this uncertain going of the Clock, I never had occasion to take so much notice
as the last Night, when, lying too constant∣ly awak'd, I began to observe, that though all the hours were so tedious, as to seem every one of them extraordinary long, yet they manifestly appear'd to me not to be equally so; and therefore, when the Clock struck Eleven, to satisfie my self whether it did not mis-inform me, I call'd to one that sat up by me for the VVatch I use to measure the time with in nice Experiments, and found it to want but very little of Mid∣night; and not much above an hour after, when by my VVatch it was but about one, those that kept the Clock, whether out of Negligence, or Design, or to make amends for past Slowness, made it strike two, which seem'd to me to hint a not unusefull Rule in estimating the length or shortness of Dis∣courses: For there are Cases, where the difficulty or importance of the Subject is such, that though it cost a Man many words, yet, if what he says be not sufficiently fit∣ted to the Exigency of the Occasion, and the Theam, he may speak much, without saying enough. But on the other hand, if (as it often happens) a Man speak either Unseasonably, Erroneously, or Im∣pertinently, he may, though he say little, talk too much; The paucity or number of VVords, is not, as many think it, that
which is in such cases to be chiefly consi∣der'd; for 'tis not many, or few, that are requir'd, but enough. And, As our Clock struck not so often as it should have done, when it struck Eleven, and yet struck a while after too often when it struck but two, because the first time it was Mid-night, and the second time it was but one of the Clock; so to estimate whether what is said have its due length, we are not so much to look whether it be little, or much, as whether a Man speak in the right time, and say neither more nor less than he should.
THe occasion I had (Sophronia) to compare the Clock and my Watch, suggested to me this other Reflection, That the Dyal-plate of the Clock being I know not how many times larger than that of the Watch, the Circle on which the hours were mark'd in the one, did by vast Odds exceed the correspondent Circle of the other: And yet, though the Index of the Clock had then past through a far greater
quantity of space than that of the Watch, this little Index, being, when it was in∣deed Mid-night, arriv'd at the mark of the twelfth hour, when the greater Index was come but to that of the eleventh, I justly concluded, That the VVatch did not only go truer, but more forward than the Clock.
Thus in estimating Men's Lives, there is something else to be look'd at than the meer duration of them: For there are some Men, who having Loyter'd and Tri∣fled away very many Years in the VVorld, have no other Argument of their Age, than the Church-books of their Gray-hairs; and as little do they indeed Live, that waste a number of insignificant Years in successive or perpetual Diversions from the true busi∣ness and end of Life. These, and many other kinds of Persons, that consume much Time to little purpose, may be said rather to have Lasted long, than to have Liv'd long: As the careless VVanderer, who, instead of Travelling, does nothing but stray from one wrong way to another, though he do so at Midsummer from Morn∣ning to Night, may be said to have been long a Horse-back, but not to have per∣form'd a long Journey; whereas he, that by thriftily Husbanding his time, and indu∣striously
Improving it, has early dispatch'd the business for which he was sent into the VVorld, needs not Gray-hairs to be re∣puted to have Liv'd long enough, and con∣sequently longer than those that wear Gray-hairs, only because they were Born many Years before him. In a word, to one of these sorts of Men we may attribute a longer Time, but to the other a longer Life; (for ev'n the Heathen could say, Non est vivere sed valere Vita) and within how narrow a compass soever a Man's Life be confin'd, if he have Liv'd so long, as before he comes to the end of Life he have reach'd the ends of Living; The attain∣ment of that Measure of Knowledge, and the practice of those Graces and Virtues that fit a Man to glorifie God in this short Life, and to be Glorified by him in that which shall have no End.
THe silence of the Night, and my being unable to Sleep, disposing me to have my attention very easily excited; I chanc'd to take notice, that the Dim light
of the Candle, which the Curtains were not drawn so close as to exclude every where out of the Bed, was on a suddain considerably increas'd, and continued so long in that condition, that, for fear of some mischance, I put my Head out of the Bed to see whence it was that this new and un∣expected increase of Light proceeded; but I quickly found, that 'twas from a Thief (as they call it) in the Candle, which by its irregular way of making the Flame blaze, had melted down a good part of the Tallow, and would have spoil'd the rest, if I had not call'd to one of those that Watch'd with me, to rescue the remains by the removal of the Thief. But I had scarce done this, when, I confess to you, (Sophronia) I found my self invited to make some Reflections upon what I had done, and to read my self a new Lesson by the Beams of this new Light: For though this Thief made the Candle shine more strongly, and diffuse a much greater Light than it did before; yet because it made a great and irregular waste of the Candle, I order'd it to be taken away; and on this occasion me-thought I might justly make use of that saying of Pharaoh's forgetfull Butler, I do remember my Faults this Day, Gen. 41. 9. For though I find no great
difficulty in abstaining from other kinds of Intemperance, yet to that of Studying, my Friends, and especially my Physitians, have often accus'd me of being too Indulgent: Nor can I altogether deny, but that in men∣tal Exercises, there can be Exorbitancies, and Excesses, I may have sometimes been Guilty of them; and that the things for which I think Life valuable, being the satis∣faction that accrues from the improvement of Knowledge, and the exercise of Piety, I thought it allowable, if not commen∣dable, to consume or hazard it for the at∣tainment of those Ends; and esteem'd Sick∣ness more formidable for its unfitting me to learn, and to teach, than for its being attended with pain and danger, and look'd upon what it made me forbear, as far more troublesome than what ever else it made me endure. But I find my Body is a Jade, and tyres under my Mind, and a few hours fix'd Contemplation does sensibly so spend my Spirits, as to make me feel my self more weary that the Riding post for twice as many hours has ever done. Where∣fore, since, though the proper use of a Candle be to consume it self, that it may give others Light, I yet thought fit to have the Thief taken away, because, though it made the Candle give more Light, it would
have wasted it too fast, and consequently made it expire too soon; I see not how I can resist their perswasions, that would have me husband better the little stock of strength Nature has given me, and the rather, by a moderate expence of it, endea∣vour to make it shine longe, though but Dimly, then consume it to fast, though for a while to keep up a Blaze: I will there∣fore endeavour to learn of this Sickness, and of this Accident, what the Doctors hitherto could never teach me, and injoyn my self an Abstinence, which to me is more uneasie, than if Wine, or VVomen, or other sensual Pleasures were to be the Objects of it; but if in so difficult an Ex∣ercise of Self-denial, I do not always per∣form what I am now perswaded to, 'tis like I shall easily forgive my self, for but a little hastning the end of my Life to attain the ends of it.
I Know that Physitians are wont after their Master Hypocrates, to tell us, That
Feavers which intermit are devoid of Dan∣ger: But though an Ague, whilst it con∣tinues such, could not be a mortal Disease; yet why may it not degenerate into such a one? And for my part, who take the Prognosticks of Physitians to be but Guesses, not Prophesies, and know how backward they are to bid us fear, till our Condition leave them little hopes of us: I cannot but think that Patient very ill ad∣vis'd, who thinks it not time to entertain thoughts of Death, as long as his Doctor allows him any hopes of Life; for in case they should both be deceiv'd, 'twould be much easier for the mistaken Physitian to save his Credit, than for the unprepar'd Sinner to save his Soul.
Wherefore, Sophronia, finding my Dis∣ease attended with unusual threatning Symptoms, not knowing where they would end, I last Night thought it fit to suppose they might end in Death: And two things especially made me the more ready for such an entertainment of my Thoughts.
One, That we can scarce be too carefull and diligent in fitting our selves for the Acting of a part well, that we can never Act but once; For where the Scripture tells
us, It is appointed for all Men once to Dye; it is immediately subjoyn'd, That after that comes Judgment; and if we Dye ill once, we shall never be allow'd to Dye again, to see if we would Dye better the second time than we did the first: But as the Wise man Allegorically speaks, Where the Tree falls there shall it lye: So that the faults com∣mitted in this last and importantest of hu∣mane Actions, being irreparable, I think the only safe way is to imitate him, who, having said, If a Man Dye, shall he Live a∣gain? presently annex'd by way of Infe∣rence and Resolution: All the Days of my appointed Time will I wait till my Change come.
The other consideration that recom∣mended to me the Thoughts of the Grave, was this, That we may be often sollicitous to provide against many Evils and Dangers that possibly may never reach us; and many endure from the Anxious fears of contin∣gent Mischiefs that never will befall them, more Torment than the apprehended Mis∣chiefs themselves, though really suffer'd, would inflict. But Death will sooner or later infallibly come, and never finally de∣ceive our Expectations, and therefore the fore-thoughts of it are an imployment which may prove, we know not how soon,
of use, and will (however) prove of excellent Advantage: The frequent Medi∣tation of the end of our Lives, conducing so much to make us lead them well, that the expectation of Death brings not less Advantages to those that scape the Grave, than to those that descend into it.
Such like considerations (Sophronia) having put me upon the thoughts of Death, I presume you may have some Curiosity to know what these Thoughts were; and therefore, though I have neither Fitness, nor Inclination to mention to you those that almost every Sober person would have upon a Death-Bed, as a Man, and as a Christian, I will only take notice to you of those few that were suggested to me, by the less general Circumstances of my con∣dition. And I am the more willing to sa∣tisfie you Curiosity now, because I have my self been very inquisitive on the like occasion: For the approach of Death will (if any thing can) make Men serious and considerate, being for good and all to go off the Stage; they make a truer and sin∣cerer Judgment of the World they are ready to leave, and then have not the wont∣ed Partiality for the pleasures and profits of a Life they are now abandoning. And as the Mind looks with other Eyes upon
the World, when Death is ready to shut those of the Body; so Men are then wont as well to speak their Thoughts more franckly, as to have them better grounded. Death stripping most Men of their Dissimu∣lation, as well as of other things it makes them part with; and indeed it is then high time for the Soul to put off her Disguises, when she is ready to put off the very Body it self.
One thing then that I was considering, (Sophronia) was, in how wretched a con∣dition I should now be, if I had been of the same Mind with the generality of those, who are of the same Age with me: For these presume, That Youth is as well made for Pleasures, as capable of them, and is not more a Temptation to Vanity, than an Excuse for it. They imagine themselves to do a great Matter, if, whilst Youth lasts, they do so much as resolve to grow better when it is gone; and they think, That for a Man to be otherwise than Intentionally Religious before his Hair begin to change Colour, were not only to lose the privi∣ledges of Youth, but to incroach upon those of old Age. But alas! How few are Destroy'd by that incurable Disease, in comparison to those that Dye before they attain it? And how little comfort is it upon
a Death Bed, to think, that by the course of Nature, a Man might have Lived lon∣ger, when that very Thought might justly prove Dismal to an unprepar'd Man, by suggesting to him, that this early Death may argue the Measure of his Iniquities exceeding great, and that this untimely End is not so much a Debt due to Nature, as a Punishment of Sin. All the fruition of these deluding Pleasures of Sin, cannot countervail the Horrour that a Dying Man's Review of them will create, who not only sees himself upon the point of leaving them for ever, but of suffering for them as long. And on the contrary, the Review of Youthfull pleasures declin'd for Virtue's or Religion's sake, will afford a Dying Man far higher Joys than their Fruition would ever have afforded him.
ANd one thing more there is, (Sophro∣nia) that I dare not conceal from you, how much cause soever I have to blush at the disclosing it; And it is, That I judge quite otherwise of a competent
preparation for Death now I am near it, than I did when I was in health. And therefore, if one, that, since his Conscience was first thorowly awakened, still resolv'd to be a Christian, and though he too often broke those good Resolutions, never re∣nounc'd them, but tripp'd and stumbled in the way to Heaven, without quitting his purpose of continuing in it, finds a formi∣dableness in the approach of Death: How uncomfortable must that approach be to those that have still run on in the ways of Sin, without once so much as seriously in∣tending to forsake them? A Youth free from Scandal, and sometimes productive of Practices that were somewhat more than Negative piety, is not so frequent among those that want not opportunities to enjoy the Vanities and Pleasures of the World, but that the Charity of other being secon∣ded by that great inward flatterer Self-love, made me imagine that I was in a Condition fitter to wish for Death, than to fear it. But now I come to look on Death near at hand, and see beyond the Grave, that is just under me, that bottomless Gulf of Eter∣nity; me-thinks it is a very hard thing to be sufficiently prepar'd for a Change, that will transmit us to the Barr of an Omni∣scient Judge, to be there Doom'd to an end∣less
state of infinite Happiness or Misery. There is no Art of Memory like a Death-Bed's Review of ones Life; Sickness, and a nearer Prospect of Death, often makes a Man remember those Actions wherein Youth and Jollity made him forget his Duty; and those frivolous Arguments, which when he was in Health, and free from Danger, were able to excuse him to his own indulgent Thoughts, he himself will scarce now think Valid enough to ex∣cuse him unto God, before whom, if the sinless Angels cover their Faces, sinfull Mor∣tals may justly tremble to be brought to appear. VVhen the approach of Death makes the Bodily eyes grow Dim, those of the Conscience are enabled to discern, That as to many of the Pleas we formerly acquiesc'd in, it was the prevalence of our Senses that made us think them Reason: And none of that Jolly company, whose examples prevail'd with us to joyn with them in a course of Vanity, will stand by us at the Barr to excuse the Actions they tempted us to: And if they were there, they would be so far from being able to justifie us, that they would be condemn'd themselves. 'Tis true, (Sophronia) if we consider Death only as the conclusion of Life, and a Debt all Men sooner or later
pay to Nature, not only a Christian, but a Man, may entertain it without Horrour: But if one consider it as a change, That after having left his Body to rot in the Grave, will bring his Soul to the Tribunal of God, to answer the miscarriages of his whole past Life, and receive there an unal∣terable Sentence that will Doom him to endless and unconceivable Joys, or ever∣lasting and inexpressible Torments; I think 'tis not inconsistent either with Piety or Courage, to look upon so great a change with something of Commotion: And many that would not fear to be put out of the VVorld, will apprehend to be let into Eternity.
ANother thing, Sophronia, which my present state suggested to me, was, a Reflection on the great mistake of those that think a Death-Bed the fittest and op∣portunest place to begin Repentance in: But sure these Men are very little acquaint∣ed, either with the disadvantages of a dan∣gerous Sickness, or the nature of Repen∣tance.
'Tis true, that Sin and Death do more easily frighten one, when they are look'd on as both together: But I much doubt whether the being frighted by Hell, be sufficient to give a Man a well-grounded hope of Heaven: For when we see Sin and Torment at one view, and so near one to another, 'tis not so easie to be sure which of the two it is that, as we presume, scares the Sinner towards Heaven. And surely Repentance, which ought to be the change of the whole Man, and in some sense the work of the whole Life, is very improper∣ly begun, when Men have finished that course, which it should have guided them in: Nor have Men cause to presume, that when God is severely punishing them for their Sins, he will vouchsafe them so great a Grace as that of Repentance, which they would none of, till it could not make them serviceable to him. And as for the oppor∣nity 'tis hop'd an expiring State may give Men for Repentance, they must needs be great Strangers to great Sicknesses, that can promise themselves so unlikely a matter: VVho can secure them, that the Acuteness of the Disease will not invade the Brain? and as Deliriums and Phrensies are not un∣frequent in Feavers, and other acute Dis∣eases, so in case they happen to persevere,
the VVretch'd patient is cast into a despe∣rate condition, ev'n on this side the Grave, and as near as the Body is to its Dissolution, the Man may be Dead a pretty while before it.
But supposing he escape these Accidents, which make Repentance impossible, a dan∣gerous Sickness has other Circumstances enough to make it very uneasie: For the Organical faculties of the Mind cannot but be dull'd and prejudic'd by the Discompo∣sure of the Spirits, by which their Fun∣ctions are to be exercis'd; and the sense of Pain, the troublesome prescriptions of Physitians, the loathsome and bitter Poti∣ons, the weakning Operation of Physick, the Languishments produced by want of Spirits, the Restlessness proceeding from Heat and want of Sleep, the distracting Importunity of those interested Persons, especially if any of them be suspected to hover about the Dying Man's Bed, as Birds of Prey that wait for a Carcass, the Sighs and Tears of Friends and Relations that come to take their last Farewell, and to Im∣bitter it, The Lawyer that must be di∣rected to draw up the VVill, the Divine that must be allowed to say something con∣cerning the Soul, and the affrighted Con∣science, that alone brings more disquiet
than all the rest put together, do make a Dying Man's condition so Amazing, so Dismal, and so Distracting, that to think this an Opportune time to begin such a work, (which may well enough imploy the whole Man in his calmest state of mind) is a Madness as great as any, that ev'n a Death-Bed can, by the translation of the Humours into the Brain, occasion: For my part, I think it so wild, and so unadvisable a thing to put off the beginning to provide all Graces to a Death-Bed, that I think it uneasie enough so much as to exercise then those that were acquir'd before; Men being in that state commonly unable so much as to Reap the consolation they have been Sowing all along a pious Life.
And this (Sophronia) brings into my mind a consideration, which being taken from the very nature of a Death-Bed Re∣pentance, should me-thinks very much deterr Men from resolving before hand to rely on it; And it is this, That granting those (Socians, and others) to be mista∣ken, that think so late a Repentance to come too late to be available; yet the Dying Sinner, though he may be kept from dispair of passing to Heaven, can scarce in an ordinary way have a comfortable assu∣rance of getting thither! For though it be
said, That a true Repentance cannot come too late, yet it is a hard thing to be certain, that so late a Repentance is true. Since Repentance confessedly importeth an aban∣doning and renouncing of Sin, at least in Hearty purpose and resolution; 'tis very difficult for an habitual Sinner, that remem∣bers what vows and purposes of change of Life, Sicknesses or Dangers have for∣merly induc'd him to make, which were forgotten, or violated, when the appre∣hensions that occasion'd them were over; 'tis hard I say for such a One to be sure, that his present Repentance is not of the same ignoble and uncurrent kind, since he has no Experience to satisfie him that it would be ordinarily, though not constantly, prevalent over the opposite Temptations; and since also (which is mainly to be con∣sider'd) 'tis so easie for a Man to mistake for the true hatred of Sin, and the love of God, a horrour of Sin springing from the present painfull sense of the Mischief pro∣cur'd by it, together with the great fear of the approaching Torments that it threatens, and a strong desire of going to Heaven, when seeing himself unable to stay any lon∣ger on Earth, he must get thither to escape Hell. And as it is thus difficult, when a Man already feels much Punishment for
Sin, and sees himself in danger of more, to discern clearly upon what account it is, that he is sorry for what he has committed; so it must be certainly a state unspeakably anxious and uncomfortable to find ones self dragg'd to the Grave, without know∣ing whether the last Trumpet shall call him thence to Heaven, or to Hell: And if he should be deceiv'd in judging of the Validity of his Repentance, the fatal er∣rour would be remediless, and the mistake far sadder and more horrid than that of the Syrians, who, when they thought they were arriv'd Victorious at Dothan, found themselves at the mercy of their Enemies in Samaria, 2 Kings 6. 18. To conclude, (Sophronia) he that resolves not to re∣nounce his Sins, till he thinks Christ ready to renounce him for them, may very pro∣bably lose his Soul, and has most certainly lost his Ingenuity; and that will appear a very sad loss for a Man, that being by Death denied the opportunities of actually lead∣ing a new and pious Life, must derive his comfort from the assurance that he sincerely intends it.
I Have now at length, Eusebia, by the goodness of God, regain'd that measure of Health, which makes the Doctor allow me to return to my former Studies, and Recreations, and Dyet; and in a word, to my wonted course of Life, so that the Phy∣sitian having dismiss'd himself, nothing seems more seasonable and pertinent to my present Condition, than that of our Saviour to the Paralitick Man, to whom he gave both Recovery, and an Admonition, which, if he obey'd, he found the more advan∣tagious of the two; Behold, thou art made whole, Sin no more, least a worse thing come unto thee. But I am not so free from the apprehensions of an Ague, as my Friends think me from the danger of it: For ha∣ving sadly Experienc'd the uneasiness of Sickness, I am thereby brought, though at no easie Rate, to set a high Value upon Health, and be a very Jealous Preserver of so great a Blessing; and those petty Chil∣nesses that formerly I regarded not, but was apt to impute to nothing but Fumes of the Spleen, or Melancholy Vapours, are now
able to give me hot Alarms, and make me apt to fancy them the fore-runners, if not the beginners, of the Cold fit of an Ague, the first Invasion of that Disease having been preceded by the like Distempers; and accordingly, I carefully avoid the least Ir∣regularities in point of Dyet, or of any other kind that may any ways endanger a Relapse into the Disease that once handl'd me so ill. But why should I be more ap∣prehensive for my Body than my Mind; and if at any time (as it may but too often happen) any Sin should come to be pre∣valent in my Mind, why should I not be sollicitously afraid of all the occasions and approaches of it, and tremble at these Com∣motions of the Appetite, which would not else perhaps be formidable to me, in case I have found that such Beginnings indulg'd or neglected have ended in actual Sin, the real Disease of the Soul; and as dange∣rous Sicknesses do for the most part leave a crasie Disposition behind them, which threatens Relapses, so Sins once prevalent, though afterwards supprest, do yet leave behind them a secret Disposition or Pro∣pensity to the Repetition of the same faults; and as 'tis less difficult to find examples of Bodily Diseases, than of Spiritual ones, where the Patient is protected from Re∣lapses,
so I think we should be more watch∣full against falling back into the Sins, than into the Sicknesses, we have once found our selves subject to, unless we would think, that a greater Danger, and of a Nobler part, deserv'd less of our care.
EIther my Curiosity, Sophronia, or my Value of Health, has made it my Custom, when I have pass'd through a course of Physick, to review the particu∣lars it consisted of; That taking notice by what Remedies I found most good, and by what, little or none; if I should fall into the like Distemper for the future, I might derive some advantage from my past Ex∣perience. In compliance with this Custom, as I was this Day reviewing and putting together the Doctor's several Prescriptions sent me back by the Apothecary; Good God! said I, in my self, what a multitude of unpleasant Medicines have I been or∣der'd to take: The very Numbring, and
Reading them were able to Discompose me, and make me almost Sick, though the ta∣king of them help'd to make me VVell. And certainly, if when I was about to enter into a course of Physick, all these loath∣some Medicines, and uneasie Prescriptions, had been presented to me together, as things I must take, and comply with, I should have utterly despair'd of a Recovery that must be so obtain'd, and should not perhaps have undertaken so difficult and tedious a Work, out of an apprehension that it would prove impossible for me to go tho∣row with it. Thus when a Man considers the Duties, and the Mortifications, that are requisite to a recovery out of a state of Sin, into a state of Grace, he must be resolute enough, if he be not deterr'd from under∣taking the conditions that Piety requires, by so many and great difficulties as will present themselves to his affrighted Ima∣gination: But let not this make him De∣spondent; for 'tis true, that these dis∣composing Medicines, if I must have taken so much as a tenth part of them in one Day, would have either dispatch'd me, or dis∣abled me to endure the taking any the next. But then, although I now see these trouble∣some Prescriptions all at once, I did not use them so, but took only one or two harsh
Remedies in one Day, and thereby was enabled to bear them, especially being as∣sisted by moderate Intervalls of Respite, and supported both by other seasonable Cordials, and by that highest Cordial, the Hope that the use of these troublesome means of Recovery would soon free me from the need of them. And thus, though the hardships of Piety are, by the Ghostly and Carnal enemies of it, wont to be re∣presented to one that begins to grow a Convert, so great and formidable a Multi∣tude as to be insuperable; yet if he con∣sider, that though his fore-sight meet with them all at once, yet he will need to grap∣ple with them but one after another, and may be as well able to overcome a Temp∣tation this Day, or to Morrow, as he did another Yesterday: So that to this case also may in some sense be applied, that (either Counsel, or Precept) of our Sa∣viour, not to be sollicitous for to Morrow, but to charge no more upon a Day than the trouble that belongs to it. And if he con∣siders too, That as a wise Physitian has al∣ways a great care, that his Remedies be not disproportionate to the Patient's Strength, and after harsh Physick to relieve him with Cordials, so God will not suffer those that intrust themselves to him to be
tempted above what they are able; but will allow them Cordials after their Suffer∣ings, in case he do not turn the Sufferings themselves into Cordials. If (I say) our new Convert shall consider things of this Nature, he will not be much discou∣rag'd by the appearance of difficulties, that will as much ennoble and indear his success, as they can oppose it; and he will never despair of Victory in an engage∣ment, where he may justly hope to have God for his Second, and Heaven for his Reward.
THere is amongst us a sort of vain and flanting Grandees, who for their own Unhappiness, and their Age's, do but too much resemble these painted Clouds; for both the one and other are Elevated to a Station, that makes most Men look upon them, as far above them; and their Conspicuousness is often increas'd by the bright Sun-shine of the Prince's favour, which, though it really leaves them Crea∣tures of the same frail Nature that it found them of▪ does yet give them a Lustre and a Gawdiness, that much attracts the Eyes,
and perhaps the Envy and Respect of those superficial Gazers upon things, that are wont to be Amus'd, if not Dazl'd, with their insignificant Out-sides. But the Parallel holds further; for as, in spight of these Clouds sublimity and conspicuousness, they are but Aëry and Unsolid things, consisting of Vapours, and steer'd by every VVind: So the fine People I am comparing them too, in spight of their Exaltation, and of all the Shew they make, are really but slight Persons, destitute of intrinsick and solid worth, and guided either by their own blind Lusts, and Passions, or else by Inte∣rests as fickle as those, (to which it will be no addition to say) or as variable as the VVind. And as these Clouds, though they seem Vast as well as High, and are perhaps able, for a while, to make the Sky somewhat Dark, have usually but a short duration, and either quickly fall down in Rain, or are quite dissipated, and made to disappear: So these Titled persons, what Shew soever their Greatness makes, do oftentimes, either by a voluntary Humility and Repentance, as it were, descend of their own accord, and, by doing of good, endeavour to ex∣piate and make amends for their former Uselesness, if not Mischiefs; or else, after having been for a while stared at, they do
(some of them more slowly, and some more abruptly) vanish, without leaving behind them any thing that can so much as entertain our Sight in the very place, where before they Ingross'd it: And this Ruine sometimes happens to the most Elevated persons, from that very Prince, whose fa∣vour made them attract so many Eyes; as Clouds are oftentimes dispers'd before Night, by the same Sun that had rais'd and gilded them in the Morning.
HOW many fruitless Blasts have I been spending upon this sullen Fire! 'Twas not, though, the Greenness of this VVood▪ that made it so uneasie to be Kindled; but, 'twas alone the greatness of the Loggs, on which the Fire could take no hold, but by the intervention of such smaller Sticks as were at first wanting here: VVitness▪ that I had no sooner laid on a little Brush∣wood, but the Flame, from those kindled Twiggs, invading and prevailing on the Billets▪ grew suddenly great enough to
threaten to make the House it self part of its Fuel, and turn it to such Ashes as it makes haste to reduce the VVood into. Me-thinks the blaze of this Fire should light me to discern something instructive in it: These Blocks may represent our Ne∣cessary, these Sticks our less important, Religious practices, and this aspiring Flame, the subtile Inhabitor of that of Hell. 'Twil be but succeslesly, that the Devil can attempt our grand Resolves, till he have first Master'd our less considerable ones; and made his successes against these, not only Degrees, but Instruments, in the De∣stroying of the other: Our more neglected and seemingly trivial Affections, having once receiv'd his Fiery impressions, do easily impart them to higher Faculties, and serve to Kindle solider Materials. It is therefore the safest way, to be faithfull ev'n to our lesser Determinations, and watchfull over our less predominant Passions, and when∣soever we find our selves tempted to vio∣late the former, or neglect the latter, not so barely to cast one Eye upon the seem∣ing inconsiderableness of what we are in∣tic'd to, as not to fix the other upon the Consequences that may attend it; and therein, to consider the importance of what such slighted things may, as they are ma∣nag'd,
prove Instrumental, either to endan∣ger, or preserve.
DUring my stay at Home, whilst every Body this Cur chanc't to meet, made so much of their Landlord's Spaniel, that they seem'd to have added to Oracles that Proverb of Love me, love my Dogg, the cajoll'd Cur would never keep at home; but being welcom'd to so many places a∣broad, made me few Visits, that cost me not the trouble of sending for him. But now, that we are in a place, where he sees not more Men than Strangers, he stirrs not from my Heels, and waits so close, and carefully, that it were now more difficult to lose him, than it was formerly to keep him from wandring. Thus doth it gene∣rally fare with us; whilst we are Environed with numerous outward Objects, which, smiling on us, give our Gaddings to them, the Temptation of an inviting welcome; how inclin'd are we to forget and wander from our great Master: But when we are
depriv'd of those Enveigling Courters, our Maker too is freed from those seducing Rivals, and our undistracted Affections are brought to settle on their noblest Object, by the removal, and the displacing, as well as they would be by the Knowledge and the Undervaluation, of inferiour ones. Lord! when I lose a Friend, or any outward Idol of my Fondness, teach me to reduce him to leave thee his Heir, by taking that loss for a Summons, to transfer and settle my whole Love on Thee; and if Thou but vouchsafe to make me so happy, I shall think my self enough so, not to Envy him, to whom the loss of his Asses prov'd an occasion of his finding a Crown; and shall not so much Regret what thy Dispensations shall have taken from me, as Gratulate to my self their having reduc'd me unto Thee.
HOw strangely unseasonable is this Melancholy weather! and how tedi∣ous
a Winter have we indur'd this Sum∣mer? More than these few last Weeks have not afforded us half as many Days, wherein we were neither troubl'd with Showry, or threaten'd by Cloudy, weather; and we in England have great Temptations to envy Nature's Kindness unto Rhodes,* 1.5 if it be true what Geographers relate of that Island, that 'tis a Rarity for the Inhabitants to see a Day pass without their seeing the Sun: For among us, the Confusions of our Country seem to have infected our very Air, and Serenity is as great a Rarity in the Sky, as in Men's Consciences; so that those, who are wont to make Fires, not against Winter, but a∣gainst Cold, have generally displac'd the florid, and the verdent Ornaments of their Chimneys, and think Vulcan more proper there than Flora; and some begin to doubt, whether our Almanacks be not mistaken, by calling this Moneth July instead of No∣vember. But notwithstanding all this ap∣pearance of Winter above our Heads, yet whilst we see, that Cherries, and Straw∣berries, and other Summer fruits, do grow, and, though but slowly, make a Progress to∣wards Maturity in our Orchards, we doubt
not that 'tis Summer, and expect that these Fruits, though they will not be Early ones, will at length come to be Ripe ones.
Thus, for Reasons, which, though we know not yet, our knowing of God may assure us to be both VVise, and Just, a pious Soul may sometimes be reduc'd to so sad a Condition, that the Face of Heaven does to Her appear perpetually over-cast; and the Tokens of God's Displeasure do so closely follow one another, that, to bor∣row Solomon's Phrase, The Clouds return after the Rain: But if, notwithstanding all this, the seemingly deserted Soul, do, like the good Ground mention'd in the Gospel, bring forth Fruit with Perseverance; if Prayer, Charity, Resignation, and those other Divine Graces, that are wont to be the proper and genuine Productions of God's Spirit, do flourish, and prosper in the Soul, we may safely conclude that Soul, though never so Disconsolate, to be in the state of Grace, and that she really receives the blest Assistances of Him, who can alone give the Increase (to the Seeds of Piety and Virtue) though not in the glad and conspicuous way of an unclouded Heaven, yet in the effectual, though secret, Method of fructifying Influences; and we may reasonably hope, That He that has not
only begun a good Work, but carry'd it on thorow such Impediments, and Disadvan∣tages, will perfect it, by bringing the slow, but yet gradually, ripening Fruit to the due Perfection: For those that are the humble Christian's proper Graces do so much de∣pend upon the Author, that, if they Flourish, his hiding himself in Clouds need not make us doubt the Fruits we see, to be the Productions of the Son of Righteousness, though we see Him not. VVe must not hastily conclude it VVinter with the Soul, though the Heaven be Lowring, provided the Earth be Fruitfull; but remember, that the saving Influence of God's Spirit may be, where his comfortable Presence is not perceiv'd: The Living in sensible Comforts and Joys, is rather a part of our Reward, than of our Duty; and that (con∣sequently) it may save many Modest and Pious persons a great deal of Disquiet, if they would learn to judge of their Spiritual condition, rather by the Duties, and Ser∣vices, they pay God, than by the present Consolations he vouchsafes Them; or, in a word, rather by what they do, than by what they feel.
THorow many hands hath this Plate passed, before it came to mine; and yet, though I bow'd to every one of those that helpt to Conveigh it, I kept my chief and solemnest Acknowledgment for the fair Lady that sent it. VVhy should'st thou not, O my Soul, instruct thy Gratitude to tread in the steps of thy Civility? VVhen thou receivest any Blessing from that Father of Lights, from whom every good and perfect Gift comes down, pay a fitting share of thy thanks to them that hand it to thee; but thorow all those means, look principally to that God that sends it: Let not the Pipe usurp upon the Spring, (that were as ab∣surd, as 'twere for me to Kiss my hand to the Plate, or at best, to those that helpt to conveigh it, with a neglect of the Lady) but so pay thy due Acknowledgment to the Reachers, that thou be sure to reserve thy principal Thanks, and highest strains of Gratitude, for the Giver.
THis Glass, has a Frame so curi∣ous, and so rich, that though I could scarce, if I would, with-hold my Eyes from Gazing here; yet, I believe, the Operation it has on my Curiosity, is no more than what it generally has on that of others; and by the attention with which I saw, ev'n you, Gentlemen, surveigh it, I am easily perswaded, that one needs not be a Lady, not to pass by such a Looking∣glass without repairing to it.
I am much of your opinion, Lin∣damor, and such a sight as this has often made me a greater Friend, than many se∣verer Persons are, to Eloquence in Ser∣mons: For as if this very Glass had been plac'd here in a mean or common Frame, it would scarce have stopp'd us in our Pas∣sage through the Room, or have invited us to consult it; so a Sermon, may, by the nicer sort of Auditors, be left unregarded, though it be for Substance excellent:
VVhen, as the Frame, though it be not part of the Glass, nor shews us any part of our Faces, does yet, by its curious Work-man∣ship, attract our Eyes, and so invite us to consult the Glass, that is held forth in it; so the Wit, and fine Language, wherein it is Dress'd up, though it be no Essential or Theological part of the Sermon, yet it is often that which invites Men to hear, or read it.
I think indeed, Eugenius, that Wit and Eloquence do highly recommend Sermons, and devout Composures, to the Curiosity and Attention of some, that else would scarcely mind them; and upon that account, I allow of your Comparison, but give me leave to carry it on a little further, by observing, That as the curious Frame doth as well please, as attract, the Eye, with∣out representing to it the lively Image of the beholders Face; so the fine Expressions you applaud, are commonly parts of a Ser∣mon that have no specular Virtue in them, I mean, that have no Power, like a good Looking-glass, to acquaint the Beholder with the true Image or Representation of his own Complexion, and Features: Nor will this Gaudy frame shew him what is otherwise than it should be, the discovery of which, nevertheless, in order to the
rectifying what is amiss, is the principal and genuine use of a Looking-glass; and therefore, as no skilfull Man will judge of the goodness of a Glass, by the fineness of the Frame, but rather by its giving him a true Representation of his Face, without liking it the worse, for shewing him its Moles, and Warts, or other Blemishes, if it have any; so no wise Christian will judge of a rowsing Sermon, rather by the Language, than the Divinity, or will think the worse of a good Book, for discovering his Faults, or making him think the worse of his own, or other Men's, ill courses.
Let me add, Gentlemen, that as when a Glass has a rich and gawdy Frame, Children's Eyes are oftentimes so enter∣tain'd and amus'd with it, that they are re∣gardless of any thing else; and for the sake of that part, which they can but see, they are unmindfull to consult that usefuller part, whose Office it is, to discover to them, themselves: So, when there is too much of Rhetorick in a Sermon, many, that should not be Children, have their Attention, not only so attracted, but so detain'd, by that, that they are not thereby invited to consult, but diverted from regarding, the more in∣structive part of the Discourse. And the more VVitty and Critical sort of Auditors,
are so much more accustom'd to judge of Sermons, than to judge of themselves by them, that they deal with them, as if, in this Glass, a Man should only praise or dis∣commend the VVork-man-ship of the um∣boss'd Images of the Frame, without caring to make use of the Glass it self, to mend any thing he finds out of order about him: For thus, these Fastidious and Censorious hearers, make no other Use nor Repetition of Sermons, than to censure or applaud the Expressions, and Contrivance, (which should be look'd upon but as the Ornaments of it) without minding the Doctrine, or caring to amend what that has discover'd to be amiss in them. But it must be con∣fess'd, though I must Grieve and Blush, it can be truly so, that it is but too often, as the Scripture somewhere complains, like People, like Priest; and that there is a sort of Preachers, and those of the most Cele∣brated, who take a Course more likely to encourage, than reform, such Hearers, and which would, perhaps, make Men such, if it did not find them so: For one of this sort of Preachers (for I am loath to call them Divines) appears more sollicitous to make his Expressions, than to make his Hearers, good. And whereas, these that are con∣cern'd for the winning, or the saving, of
Souls, think it a less sure sign of a good Sermon, that it makes the Hearers applaud the Preacher, than that it makes them con∣demn themselves: The Orator I am men∣tioning, had much rather hear their Praises, than their Sighs; and accordingly, is more sollicitous to tickle their Ears, than, how much need soever there be of it, to launce their Consciences: He may, with far more Truth than Piety, invert the Profession of Saint Paul, and say, that he Preaches not Christ crucify'd, but himself; and though now and then he seem very Vehemently to declaim against Vices, yet one may easily enough perceive, that 'tis but a personated Anger, and that he rather fences with Sin, than is concern'd to Destroy it, and speaks against it rather to shew Skil, than to exer∣cise Hatred; and as he affects to appear rather an Orator, than a Divine, so he is well enough content, his Auditors should rather admire his good Language, than fol∣low his best Counsel: And, as if all that belongs to Ministers, and their Flocks, could be perform'd in the Pulpit, and the Pew, he is more carefull to remember his Ser∣mons before he has deliver'd them, than to keep his Auditors from forgetting them afterwards; and unconcern'd for their Pro∣ficiency, seeks but their Praises, scarce ever
aiming at so much as his own Discharge. In a word, in such kind of Sermons, there is little spoken, either from the Heart, or to the Heart; the Orator and the Auditory tacitely agreeing to deceive themselves; and the Conversion of Sinners, being nei∣ther the effect, nor the aim, of such florid, but unedifying, Discourses, the business is translated on both sides, as if the Preacher thought he had done his part, when he has shewn his VVit, and the Hearers thought they had done theirs, when they have com∣mended it.
POor Cur! How importunate is he to be imploy'd about bringing me this Glove? and with what Clamours, and how many Fawnings, does he court me to fling it him? I never saw him so eager for a piece of Meat, as I find him for a Glove: And yet he knows it is no Food for him, nor is it Hunger that creates his Longings for it; for now I have cast it him, he does nothing else with it, but (with a kind of Pride to be sent for it, and a satisfaction which his
glad Gestures make appear so Great, that the very use of Speech would not enable him to express it better) brings it me back again; as he meant to shew me, he desir'd it not to keep it for himself, but only to have it in his power, to return it as a present to his Master. But he must not bring me thus an empty Glove; it is in thee, my Soul, to fill this Accident with Instruction, by learning from Religion, as dis-interess'd a Behaviour towards God, as Nature taught this Brute Creature towards me. I will in my ad∣dresses, for Externals, less earnestly implore them for the service they may do me, than for the service I may do God with them; and (as Princes Commands are look'd upon by Courtiers as Honours, and as Fa∣vours) contenting my self with the Satis∣faction of being trusted, and imploy'd by Him, I will rejoyce at the liberaller Ex∣pressions of his Love, as they may be im∣prov'd into proportionable Expressions of mine, and will beg no Largess of his Bounty, without a design of referring it to his Glory.
JUst so does God usually deal with his Servants; when he vouchsafes them ex∣traordinary Measures of Grace, they are to look for Employments that will exercise it, or Temptations that will try it.
Thus that great Captain of our Salvation, Heb. 12. 2. whom the Scripture so much and so deservedly exhorts us to have our Eyes on, When at his solemn Inaugura∣tion into his Prophetick Office, the Hea∣vens were open'd, from whence the Spirit of God did in a Bodily shape, descend like a Dove upon him, accompany'd with a Heavenly Voice, proclaiming him the Be∣loved Son of God, in whom the Father is well pleas'd, Matth. 4. Then, I say, that is (as Saint Mark tells us) imme∣diately,* 1.6 Jesus (being, as another Evan∣gelist has it, full of the Holy Ghost, Luk. 4. 1.) was led up of the Spirit into the Wil∣derness to be Tempted of the Devil. That wise and mercifull Disposer of all things, who will not suffer his Children to be Tempted
above what they are able, seasonably fortifies them by these preparatory Provisions and Consolations, for the Labours and Diffi∣culties they are to be expos'd to. But whereas, if these Horses had reason where∣with to fore-see the Journey in order whereunto the Provender is so plentifully given them, they would (if not be troubl'd at their good Cheer) at least lose much of the Pleasure of it, by thinking of the Labour to ensue; with the Servants of God the case is much otherwise. For such is his Goodness to those he is pleas'd thus to deal with, in proposing and reserving them a Crown in some sort proportionate to, and yet inestimably out-valuing, the Toils and Difficulties requisite to obtain it; that as advantageous, and as welcome as his Pre∣paratory Vouchsafements can be, the pious Soul may well think them less Favours upon their own Account, than as they en∣able the Receiver to do the more Service to the Giver.
THose that Lust fascinates are apt to imagine, that if they can suppress its visible Effects, and sensible Heat, that will be sufficient to free them from all the Mischiefs, they need fear from it: But Lust is so pernicious a Guest, that not only he is very watchfull to intrude again where he has once been entertain'd, but, notwith∣standing his Absence, he may continue to do Mischief to those that seem to have quite expell'd him. For as Wood that is once thorowly set on Fire, may afterwards have that Fire quite choak'd, and extin∣guish'd, and yet by those changes be turn'd into Charcoal, whereby it is not only made Black, but dispos'd to be far more easily Kindled, and Consum'd than before; so those, who have once had their Hearts thorowly possest by the pernicious Flames of Lust, (which is indeed, to imploy an inspir'd Expression, to be set on Fire of Hell) ev'n when they have stifled these crimi∣nal Flames, and feel no more of their Heat,
may not only have their Reputation irre∣coverably blemish'd by what is past, but commonly carry about with them an un∣happy Disposition to be re-inflam'd, and to have by a few Sparks, and a little Blow∣ing, those destructive Fires so re-kindled, as to Rage more fatally than ever.
THis more than flattering Glass, a∣dorns all the Objects I look on thorow it, with a Variety of Colours, whose Vividness does as much charm my Sense, as their Nature poses my Reason; Without the help of the Sun, and Clouds, it affords me as many Rain-bows as I please. And not only when I look on Trees, and Meadows, and Gardens, and such other Objects that are of themselves acceptable to the Sight; this Glass lends them Or∣naments above any they are beholden for, either to Nature, or Art: But when I cast my Eyes upon courser, and homely
things, and ev'n on Dunghills, this favou∣rable Interposer presents them to me in such curious and gawdy Colours, that it does not so properly hide their Defor∣mities, as make them appear Lovely; so that which way soever I turn my Eyes, I find them saluted, as if I were in some Rich Jewellers Shop, with Saphires, To∣pazes, Emerauds, and other Orient Gems, the Vividness of whose Colours, may ju∣stifie those that think Colours to be but disguised Light, which, by these various Reflections, and Refractions, comes to be rather Dy'd than Stain'd.
But this Glass must as well afford me In∣struction, as Delight, and ev'n by deceiving me, teach me: For thus, sinful Christians, when God looks upon them in themselves, must needs seem too Polluted, and Dis∣figur'd, not to appear Loathsom to Him, Who is of purer Eyes than to behold Inquity without Abhorrency; but when Christ interposes betwixt his Eyes and Us, we then seem far other things than otherwise we should, and not only we do not appear Filthy, but we do appear Lovely, if not Glorious. And as though, some Objects, as things purely White, and Flames, look better through this Glass, than homely and dirty ones;
yet ev'n these, look'd upon through this Glass, are more Richly adorn'd, than the others beheld without it: So, whatever Difference there may be betwixt Persons that are either Innocent, or Exemplary, upon the bare account of Morality; and those ignorant or frail Children of God, that, in themselves consider'd, would be much inferiour to those newly mention'd; yet when these are look'd upon thorow Christ, they are much more acceptable in God's Eyes, than the others consider'd out of him. And I shall add this further, that, whereas my looking upon Objects through the Prism, however it makes them appear to my Eyes, does work no real Change in the things themselves, but leaves those that were homely and foul before, foul and homely still; God's gracious looking upon us in Christ, makes us by degrees become fit for his Goodness to take delight in, and has an improving and transfiguring Power on us, like the Sun, that cherishes Green and unblown Flowers, and paints them with their curiousest Colours, by his looking on them. Since then, the Scrip∣ture tells us, that we are not only reconcil'd to God, but, if I may so express it, are ingratiated and endeared to him in the Be∣loved;
How much do we owe to that blessed Saviour, upon whose Account we enjoy the invaluable Priviledge to appear (and grow fit to do so) pleasing in God's Eyes? which besides, that it is the highest Honour, leads to the highest Happiness; or rather, is the one as well as the other.
THe Sun had as yet but approach'd the East, and my Body as yet lay move∣less in the Bed, whilst my roving Thoughts were in various Dreams, rambling to di∣stant places, when, me-thought, I heard my name several times pronounc'd by a not unknown Voice; This noise made me, as I was soon after told, half open my Eyes, to see who it was that made it, but so faint∣ly, that I had quickly let my Self fall asleep gaain, if the same Party had not the second
time call'd me louder than before, and ad∣ded to his Voice the pulling me by the Arm. But though this wak'd me so far, as to make me take notice that I was call'd upon to rise, yet my Drowsiness, and my Unwillingness to forgo a not unpleasant Dream, keeping me from discerning di∣stinctly, who it was that call'd me, made me briskly enough bid him, what ever his business were, let me alone; But though at the same time I turn'd away my Head to shun the Light, though dim, which at the half open'd Curtain shone in upon me, yet the Party instead of complying with my desires, did by throwing open the Curtains, further let in so much more Light upon my Face, that finding it would not serve my turn to keep my Eyes shut, I open'd them to see who it was that gave me this unwelcome Disturbance. This I had no sooner done, than I perceiv'd that 'twas Eusebius, who with Lindamor, and two or three other Friends, was come to call me to go a Fish∣ing, to a place, where by appointment we were to meet about Sun-rising. The re∣spect I paid Eusebius, and the value I plac'd upon his Conversation, covered me with Blushes to be thus surpris'd by him, and oblig'd me to satisfie him as well as I could, how much I was troubl'd and asham'd to
have the favour of his Company brought me to my Bed-side, which I ought, and intended to have waited on him. And thus, whilst I was making him my Apologies, and he was pleasantly reproaching me for my Laziness, and Laughing at the disorder I had not yet got quite out of, I made a shift hastily to get on my Cloaths, and put my self into a condition of attending him and the Company to the River-side.
Whilst we were walking thither-ward, and Lindamor was minding Eusebius of the promise he had made the Day before, to exercise, upon most of the things that should occur to us, his Art of making Occasional Reflections, I was delighting my self with the deliciousness of that promising Morn∣ing, and indeed the freshness of the Air, the verdure of the Fields and Trees, and the various and curious Enammel of the Mea∣dows, the Musick of the numerous Birds, that with as melodious as chearfull Voices welcom'd so fair a morning. The curious and orient Colours wherewith the rising Sun embellish'd the Eastern part of the Sky, and above all that source of Light, who, though he shews us all that we see of glo∣rious and fair, shews us nothing so fair and glorious as himself, did so charm and trans∣port me, that I could not hold expressing
my satisfaction in tearms that, Eugenius was after pleased to say, needed not Rhymes to make them Poetical. And the sense of this invited me to add, that I now would not for any thing have miss'd being wak'd, and thought my self hugely oblig'd to Eusebius's freedome, that would not suffer me to sleep out so glorious a Morning, nor lose the sa∣tisfaction of such desirable Company.
Eusebius, who was but a little way off in discourse with Lindamor, over-hearing a good part of what I had said, thought fit to take thence a Rise, to begin complying with his Friends requests, and accordingly, walk∣ing up towards me, and addressing himself to me, he told me, you are unconcern'd enough, Philaretus, in what I am about to say, to make it allowable for me to tell Lindamor, that what has this Morning hap∣pen'd to you, puts me in mind of what I have several times observ'd on another oc∣casion. For when a Man is so lull'd asleep by sensual pleasures, that like one that sleeps, he has but the faculty, not the ex∣ercise of Reason, and takes his Dreams for realities, if some serious Divine, or other devout Friend, concern'd for the Sinner's soul, or his glory that Dy'd to redeem it, endeavour to awaken him, and rowse him out of that State wherein he lies so much at
ease; such attempts are wont at first to be look'd upon by the lazy Sinner, enamour'd of his ease, and present condition, but as pieces of unseasonable, if not uncivil offici∣ousness, and entertaining the Light it self but as an unwelcome Guest, he obstinately shuts his Eyes against that which alone makes them usefull, and instead of looking upon the Attempter as his Friend, he checks him, and expostulates with him, and uses him almost as an Enemy; Insomuch, that too often those that love the welfare of Souls too little, or their own ease too much, forgo, with their hopes, their endeavours to reclaim him. But if by God's blessing, upon the constancy of this kindness, and the let∣ting in of so much Light upon the Sinner, that he finds himself unable to continue his Slumber any longer with it, he comes to be thorowly awak'd, he quickly grows sen∣sible that he is brought out of the Kingdome of Darkness into a true and marvellous Light, and instead of those empty fleeting Dreams, which did before amuse and de∣lude him, and which to rellish, and be fond of, the Eyes of his Mind must be as well clos'd as those of his Body, he is admitted to noble and manly entertainments, such as Reason chuses, Conscience applauds, and God himself approves. And this change of
his condition he finds so advantageous, that he would not for all the World return again to that, he was at first so angry to be disswaded from, and he does not forgive, but thank the Person that disquieted him, and blushes at the Remembrance of his having reduc'd others to importune him to be happy: And betwixt shame and grati∣tude, the sense of his present, and of his past condition possessing him, how much he has reason to make his Rescuer as well a∣mends for what he indur'd, as retributing for what he acted for him, he does per∣chance, especially in the first fervours of his Zeal, think himself as much oblig'd to his Awakener, as Philemon was to Saint Paul, to whom the Scripture says, that he ow'd even himself. And sometimes such a new Convert, as I am speaking of, will think his Obligation to the Instrument of his change so suitable to the transcendent satisfaction he finds in the change it self, that he would despair of seeing his Benefactor sufficiently recompens'd, if he did not remember a saying of the Prophet, (That those that turn others to Righteousness, shall shine as the Stars for ever and ever,) that gives him ground to hope that God himself (whose plenty as well as bounty is inexhausted) will make the Recompence his work.
Wherefore, concludes Eusebius, if you chance to have any Friends, (as 'tis odds most Men have) that stand in need of this as great as unwelcome expression of kind∣ness, let us not be too soon discourag'd, by finding the effects of our friendship coldly received, and possibly too look'd upon as disturbances; for besides, that the less they are desir'd, and the worse they are enter∣tain'd, the more they needed: a Christian is not bound so much to concern himself in the success of his endeavours, as to leave it in the power of every one that will be ob∣stinate, to make him unhappy, when the business one way or other come to an end, he may miss his aim, without losing his la∣bour, since he serves a Master that is as ready to reward, as able to discern Inten∣tions; and in case your indeavours do succeed, you will at once make a Man your Friend, and worthy to be so. And you shall scarce ever find Men more affectionate to you, than those you have made your Friends, by making them Enemies to Vice.
THe agreement we had made at our setting forth, that the motion of our Tongues should not hinder that of our Feet towards the River-side, was the cause, that the past Discourses not having discontinued our Walk, by that time they were ended, we began to Traverse certain plow'd Lands, that lay in the way betwixt us and the River. But we had scarce entred those Fields, when our Ears were saluted with the melodious Musick of a good number of Larks, whereof some mounted by de∣grees out of Sight, and others hovering and singing a while over our Heads, soon after lighted on the ground, not far from our Feet.
After we had a while enjoy'd this cost∣less, and yet excellent Musick, both Eusebius and I, chancing to cast our Eyes towards Eugenius, observ'd that his did very at∣tentively wait upon the motions of a Lark, that, singing all the way upwards, and mounting by degrees out of sight, not long after descended and lighted among some
clods of Earth, which being of the colour of her Body, made us quickly loose sight of her. Whereupon Eusebius, who was full as willing to hear as speak, and in the Occasional Reflections that he made, was wont at least as much to aim at the exciting others thoughts, as the venting of his own, begg'd Eugenius to tell us what it might be, which his attentiveness to the motions of the Lark made us presume he was thinking on.
Eugenius after a little backwardness, which he thought Modesty exacted of him, soon answer'd us in these tearms.
Among all Birds that we know, there is not any that seems of so elevated, and I had almost said Heavenly a Nature as the Lark, scarce any give so early and so sweet a wel∣come to the Springing day. And that which I was just now gazing on, seem'd so pleas'd with the unclouded Light, that she sung as if she came from the place she seem'd to go to, and during this charming Song, mounted so high, as if she meant not to stop, till she had reach'd that Sun, whose Beams so cherish'd and transported her; and in this aspiring flight she rais'd her self so high, that though I will not say, she left the Earth beneath her very Sight, yet I may say, that she foar'd quite out of Ours.
And yet when from this towring height she stoop'd to repose or solace her self upon the Ground, or else when to seise upon some worthless Worm, or other wretched Prey, she lighted on the Ground, she seem'd so like the Earth that was about her, that I believe you could scarce discern her from its Clods. And whereas other Birds that fly not half so high, nor seem any thing near so fond of the Sun, do yet build their Nests upon Trees, the Lark does as well build hers upon the Ground, as look like a part of it.
Thus I have known, in these last and worst times, many a Hypocrite, that when he was conversant about sublimer Objects, appear'd, as well as he call'd himself, a Saint; nothing seem'd so welcome to him as new Light; one might think his Lips had been touch'd with a coal from the Altar, his Mouth did so sweetly shew forth Gods praise, and sacred dispensations. In sum, take this Hypocrite in his fit of Devotion, and to hear him talk, you would think, that if he had not been already in Heaven, at least he would never leave mounting, till he should get thither.
But when the Opportunities of advan∣taging his lower Interests call'd him down to deal about Secular affairs here below,
none appear'd more of a piece with the Earth than he, for he look'd as if he had been besmear'd all over with the Earth round about him, and he seem'd, in provi∣ding for his Family, to be of a meaner and a lower Spirit, than those very Men whom in discourse he was wont to undervalue, as being far more Earthy than himself.
Since we know, says Eusebius, that the best things corrupted prove the worst, it can be no disparagement to Piety, to ac∣knowledge that Hypocrisie is a Vice which you cannot too much condemn. And when the pretending of Religion grows to be a thing in request, many betake themselves to a form of Religion, who deny the Power of it; And some perchance, have been pre∣ferr'd less for their Jacobs voice, than for their Esaus hands.
But, Eugenius, let us not to shun one ex∣tream, fondly run into the other, and be afraid or asham'd to profess Religion, be∣cause some Hypocrites did but profess it; His course is ignoble, and praeposterous, that treads the paths of Piety, rather be∣cause they lead to Preferment than to Hea∣ven; But yet 'tis more excusable to live free from scandal for an inferiour end, than not to live so at all: And Hypocrites can as little justifie the profane, as themselves.
It may be, that all that own Religion are not Pious; but 'tis certain, that he that scorns to own it must less be so. And if scoffers at Piety should succeed the Pretenders to it, they cannot be said (as sometimes they would be thought) to be an innocent sort of Hypocrites, that are better than they seem; for Scandal is a thing so criminal, and contagious, that whosoever desires, and en∣deavours to appear evil, is so: To refuse to be Religious, because some have but pro∣fessed themselves to be so, is to injure God, because he has been injur'd. A skilfull Jeweller will not forbear giving great rates for Neck-laces of true Pearl, though there be many Counterfeits for one that is not so; Nor are the right Pearls a whit the less Cordial to those that take them, because the artificial Pearl made at Venice, consist∣ing of Mercury and Glass, for all their fair shew, are rather Noxious, than Medicinal. And indeed our knowledge, that there are Hypocrites, ought rather to commend Piety to us, than discredit it with us; since as none would take the pains to counterfeit Pearls, if true ones were not of Value; So Men would not put themselves to the constraint of personating Piety, if that it self were not a noble Quality. Let us then, Eugenius, fly as far as you please from
what we detest in Hypocrites: But then let us consider, what it is that we detest; which being a bare, and therefore false pre∣tence to Religion, let us only shun such a pretence, which will be best done by be∣comming real Possessors of the thing pre∣tended to.
EUgenius, who was not at all indispos'd to listen to Exhortations of this Na∣ture, not only imbrac'd this made him by his Friend, but with earnestness enough con∣tinu'd the Conference to explain his mean∣ing, and satisfie Eusebius, that he did not think Piety fit to be discountenanc'd, though he thought Hypocrisie was so, and that he was no Enemy to the Profession of Reli∣gion, but to those that blemish'd it by un∣suitable Practices. And with such kind of Discourses we continu'd our Walk, till be∣ing come to a Style, over which we were to pass out of one Meadow into another, I chanc'd to stop, and turn about to pay Lin∣damor the Respect of desiring him to lead
me the way over: But not finding him there, I hastily cast my Eyes all over the Field, till at length they discover'd him a good way off, in a Posture that seem'd ex∣tremely serious, and wherein he stood as immoveable as a Statue. This sight soon carry'd me towards him, and I had dis∣patch'd half my way before his changing his Posture gave him an opportunity to dis∣cover me, which as soon as he did, he im∣mediately came to meet me, and almost before I had ask'd him the occasion of what I had seen; Whilst (reply'd he) Eugenius was purging himself from a fault that none that knows him will suspect him to be guilty of, I was detain'd a little behind you by the Musick of one of those Larks, whose melody was so charming, that I could not find in my heart to make haste from it: But whilst I was listening to it, my Attention was diverted by a nobler Object, for I heard, from the further corner of this Mea∣dow, a Voice, which, though not govern'd with Skil, did so repair the want of it by its native sweetness, that Art was absent with∣out being miss'd, and I could not but have some Curiosity to see who was the Possessor of so much power to please; turning then my steps towards that part of the Field whence the Voice came, my Eyes quickly
ceas'd to envy my Ears, for they discover'd, kneeling by a Cow, and singing to her whilst she milk'd her, a Person, who, in the habit of a Milk-maid, seem'd to disguise one of those Nymphs that Poets are wont to de∣scribe us. And that you may not wonder, continues Lindamor, at what I shall say to you of a country Girle, Know, that me∣thought I saw in her Face something more like Hermione, before she prov'd inconstant, than I expected to find in any of her Sex: I will not tell you, that this fair Creature had the Blushes of the Morning in her Cheeks, the Splendour of the Sun in her Eyes, the freshness of the Fields in her Looks, the whiteness of the Milk she ex∣press'd in her Skin, and the melody of the Larks, we were admiring, in her Voice, least you should think Mr. Boyls Seraphick Love had lost its Operation on me. But I may perhaps without much Hyperbole, give you this Account of her, that though her Cloaths are almost as course as cleanly, and though they are suited to her Condition, yet they are very ill suited to her Beauty, which, as if Nature intended a Triumph over For∣tune, has, without any assistance of Orna∣ment, more distress'd my Liberty, than others have been able to do with all their most curious Dresses. And this fair Crea∣ture,
continues Lindamor, as she is rich in Natures bounty, appear'd as well by the chearfulness of the Tune she sung, as by the manner of her Singing it, so satisfy'd with the unpurchas'd Treasures she possesses, that she seem'd almost as much pleas'd as I was to look upon her. This Character of Lindamors inviting me to go see, whether or no it were deserv'd, and the frequent Experience I have had, that ev'n upon such bright Eyes as Poets, and Lovers, call'd Suns, I could gaze undazel'd enough to ap∣prove my self a right Eagle, assuring me I might safely do it, I fearlesly, but softly, approach'd the place where the fair Milk-maid was solliciting the Udder of a fresh Cow, and I found, that though indeed some Resemblance she had to Hermione, had made Lindamor flatter her, yet she look'd at once so innocently, and prettily, that she seem'd like to do Mischief, without at all intending it; and I could not but fancy, that if some Ladies that are much cry'd up, and are very imperious Mistresses, because they are so, were bound to change Dresses with this unsophisticated and unadorn'd Maid, the one would appear to owe her Beauty to Art, and the other to be beholden for hers to nothing but Nature. But, Lin∣damor, who is not naturally indispos'd to be
Amorous, did not think that this Imagina∣tion of mine did that pretty Creature right: for when I told him she would eclipse a hundred of our fine Ladies, if she had but the Dress of one of them; Why, that (re∣plies he, with a kind of Indignation) she can do without it, and perhaps, subjoyns he, as much as with it: For her present habit leaves her most her self, and Bravery would but disguise, or hide what it cannot adorn. And I am confident, (continues he) that should such a genuine Beauty appear among the Gallants, she would really captivate many, ev'n of those wary ones that do but pretend to be so, to the designing and applauded Ladies: For though Skil may encounter the Wiles of Art, it would scarce be able to resist the Charms of Nature. But whilst Lindamor was thus Comple∣menting with what he fancy'd the Picture of his once lov'd Hermione, and had his Eyes as much fix'd upon her, as dazl'd ones could be, the lovely Milk-maid, (who, all this while having not taken notice of us, was as regardless of Lindamor, as he seem'd to be of all things but her) having dis∣patch'd what she was doing, took up her Pail to carry it homewards: But her way chancing to lye by that part of the Meadow where we were yet standing, she could not
but discover us, and judging by our Cloaths, and more by Lindamors Meer, that we were of a Quality differing from theirs she was wont to converse with, she gave us a Salute low enough to let us see that she forgot not her Condition, but attended with so much Gracefulness, as made Lindamor conclude she merited a better, and, as she pass'd by him, to return the gesture of Respect, which he thought so much Beauty had a right in any habit to exact; she vouchsaf'd him a Smile, which, I after told him, would have made him happy, if he had thought it had proceeded from Kindness, not Civility; and she went away with a Look so serene, as well as taking, that she seem'd to carry home with her far more quiet, than she left him possess'd of. But I that had lost sight of her, without losing any thing with it, save the expectation of seeing in haste so fair a Milk-maid, was going to Railler with Lindamor, about what had pass'd, when I was restrain'd, by perceiving that the sight of a Person that seem'd so contented, toge∣ther with the native pleasantness of that place, and of that glorious Morning, had such an operation upon him, that he could not forbear to celebrate the happiness and innocency of a Country life. And after he had with much Transport, and Fluency,
repeated the substance of what Ovid and other antient Poets had in their strain de∣liver'd concerning the felicity of the Gol∣den Age, he began to apply as much of it as the Matter would bear, to the recom∣mending of a Rural life, and was very sol∣licitous to make me acknowledge, that though we are wont to look upon Villagers as an inferiour and wretched sort of Peo∣ple, yet they are the persons of the World, whose condition is the most proper, not only to keep them innocent, but to make them happy: Their cheap and simple way of Living, allowing them to rest contented, with what bounteous Nature has provided for them, or an easie Industry can procure them. Whereas among Men nobly Born, or Persons of Quality, 'tis look'd upon as want of Breeding, for a Man not to think himself unhappy, as long as he hath not a thousand Pound a Year.
Lindamor, though he here made a Pause to take breath, would yet perhaps have pro∣secuted his Discourse, had he not been pre∣vented by the intervening of Eusebius, who a while after we had left him, having miss'd us, had follow'd us to the palace he found us in, and who, when he drew nigh, having over-heard Lindamor speaking, stood still a while at some distance off, to listen to what
he said, and so became an unsuspected Au∣ditor of the last part of his Friends Dis∣course. Whereupon taking him by the hand, and leading him towards the River, he told him, with a serious, not to call it a severe Look; I had thought, Lindamor, you had made righter Estimates of the se∣veral courses of Life, than, by what I have newly over-heard you say, I now suspect you do. Know then, Lindamor, (adds he) That Innocence and Contentment depend more upon a Man's mind, than upon his condition: To manifest this to you, I shall in the first place observe, that 'tis not always the Occasion, or the Object, but ra∣ther the Degree that makes an Affection of the Mind unruly and troublesome; Nor is it according to the intrinsick value of things, which none save the Wise can discern; but the Rate, how unskilfully soever fixt, which we put upon them, that they operate upon our passions. And therefore, you shall see a Child take on more sadly for the scape of a Sparrow, or the breaking of a Rattle, than some will do for the loss of a good Estate, nay, of a Friend; and Haman, for the want of a Bow from Mordecai, complain'd more in his Place, than Job, till his miserable comforters had exasperated his grief, did for the loss of the biggest Fortune in the
East, and of the Children he reserv'd it for, and valu'd far above it.
And then, Lindamor, (continues Euse∣bius) do not imagine, that though Cour∣tiers and Gallants have more spendid and glittering Temptations to Sin and Discon∣tent, Country people are exempted from Temptation to either: Theirs may be as great, though not the same, nor so specious as the other; their Faults and Infelicities are indeed less taken notice of, because their Persons and Conditions are obscure, and their Poverty conceals their Vices, as well as their Virtues, from our Eyes; as in a sharp Winter the Snow does as well hide their Dunghills, as cover their Gardens. But if your Quality allow'd you to acquaint your self with the true state of this inferiour sort of People, you would soon perceive, that ev'n of rural Families, there is scarce any, that, as far as their Wits will reach, has not its several Parties, and little Intrigues; Nor is there any Cottage so low, and nar∣row, as not to harbour Care, and Malice, and Covetousness, and Envy, if those that dwell in it have a mind to entertain them: And what Envy alone may do to produce Crimes and Discontents, we may conje∣cture by what happen'd betwixt Cain and Abel, since their being heirs to the whole
World, could not keep two Brothers at peace, whilst one of them was envious: And there are some sordid Vices, which are more incident to the meaner and more ne∣cessitous sort of Men, as Spiders and Cob∣webs are wont to abound more in thatch'd Cabbins, than in great Mens houses. I should perhaps (says Eusebius) think these people happy, if I found they thought them∣selves so; but the Pomp and Vanities of the World have oftentimes stronger allure∣ments for them, than for the Grandees and Courtiers themselves: For those that are possess'd of these imaginary Joys, are dis∣abus'd by their own Experience; and those that live among these Theatrical persons, are near enough to discern that they are but causelesly envy'd. As (for my part) when I had occasion to be conversant in great Mens Families, and the honour to preach in Princes Courts, the sight of their course of Life did as thorowly convince me of the Vanity of the World, as my Sermons en∣deavour'd to convince them. Whereas Country people see but the glittering and deluding outside of Greatness, and behold∣ing it but at a distance, see it in the favou∣rablest light which Men can behold it in, and consequently are strongly tempted to envy what they admire, and repine at their own
condition, for the want of it: Nay, every gawdy trifle, that those that live in Towns and Cities chance to make shew of, is wont to make a Country man envy, as well as gape; And 'tis odds, but that very Milk-maid, whose condition you are pleas'd to think so happy, envies some Neighbouring Farmers Daughter for a piece of taudry Ribbon, or a black Hood: Nor are they so much more priviledg'd from the assaults of Temptation, than Men of higher rank; For 'tis not so much a Mans outward condition, as his inward disposition and temper of mind, that makes Temptations either to sin, or to discontent, prevalent, or unsuc∣cessfull. When Joseph was sold into Egypt, and sollicited by a Woman that would needs be his Mistress upon more scores than one, though his condition expos'd him more to hopes and fears, than almost any other condition could expose another Man, And though his Youth made him very capable of rellishing the pleasures that his Beauty made him courted to receive, by giving them; yet this chast Youth chose rather to be Imprison'd any where, than in a fair La∣dies Arms, and preferr'd the being made a Captive, before the Captivating of his a∣morous Mistress. But whilst young Joseph was thus chast in the Aegyptian Potiphar's
House, his eldest Brother Reuben was In∣cestuous in good Jacob's whose Family was then the visible Church of God; and Lot, who was chast and temperate in Sodom it self, was Drunk and committed Incest in a Cave; so much more does the success of Temptations depend upon the temper of a Man's mind, than upon the place he lives in.
I know not (says Eugenius) whether the Innocence of Rural people be more easie than that of great Men, but sure it is not so commendable: For as a Woman that has never yielded, because she was never sol∣licited, may be call'd rather Innocent than Virtuous; so their condition, that owe their not being Inveigl'd by the Vanities of the World, to their Ignorance of them, has more in it of good fortune than of merit. I thank you for that consideration, (sub∣joyns Eusebius) for I confess I think there is a great Disparity betwixt an unacquain∣tedness with the bewitching pleasures of the World, and a contempt of them. And he is the truly heroick Spirit, that can (as David could) plentifully enjoy all those sensual Delights and Vanities he chose to reject: For he could feast a Nation, and prefer Temperance before all that Abun∣dance; He could gain strange Victories at
once over his outward Enemies, and over the Temptations he was expos'd to by such successes; He could Build stately Palaces, and then profess himself to be but a Stran∣ger, and a Sojourner upon Earth; He could afford Humility room to sit with him on his Throne, and could listen to her Memento's amidst all the Acclamations of his People, and the Panegyricks of his Courtiers; He was not to be resisted by Beauties, that to others were irresistible, when he postpon'd the fairest Objects that could here charm his Eyes, to such as were visible only to those of Faith; He had got together the greatest Treasure, that for ought I remember we read of in any History, and yet seems never to have been much pleas'd with it, but when he dedicated it to the Building of the Temple, and made the fruits of his Valour the oblations of his Piety. To be short, he was the greatest Person upon Earth, when he was content to leave it; and was wil∣ling to descend from the Throne into the Grave, whilst he look'd upon that as the place whence he must ascend to the Man∣sion of his God; so much did he, ev'n whilst he wore an earthly Crown, aspire to an Heavely one. And though (continues Eusebius) we must now a days as little ex∣pect to meet with a Man of David's con∣dition,
as of his temper, yet proportio∣nably we may put a vast Difference betwixt those that but escape the sight of the World's allurements, and those that reject the Pro∣fers of them.
Eusebius was in this part of his Dis∣course, when we were come near enough to the River, to discover it within a little way of us: And therefore finding by his silence, that he thought it seasonable to de∣sist, I only ventur'd to tell him, with a low Voice, as we continu'd our Walk, that I suspected, that in some of the things he had been saying, he had a design rather to check Lindamor a little, and keep up the Discourse, than to deny, that a retir'd and rural Life has great advantages towards Contenta∣tion: To which, that he might conclude what he had to say, before we reach'd the River, he made haste to reply in the same Tone, That I was not altogether mistaken: For (says he) I think the case may be pretty well represented, by saying, that as there are some Airs very much wholesomer than others, and fitter to preseve Men from Dis∣eases; so a very private and quiet condition of Life, does much more easily than a more expos'd and turbulent one, protect most sorts of Men from Vices and Disquiets. But then on the other side, as there are some
Men of such sound and strong Constitu∣tions, that they will enjoy their Health in the worst Airs, when Men of tender and vitiated Complexions will be Sickly in the best; so there are some generous and steady Souls, that will pass thorow the most trou∣blesome and most expos'd courses of Life, with more of both Innocence and Content∣ment, than others can enjoy in a condition far remoter from Disturbances and Temp∣tations. And, annexes Eusebius, (purposely raising his Voice) as for these Villages that Lindamor thought so happy, I must dissent from him as long as I see they can admire, and almost worship, a Man for wearing a Gaudy suit of Cloaths, or having two or three Foot-men behind his Coach, before they know whether he be not a Knave, or a Fool, or both: For I shall scarce think, that he, who is himself posses'd with Envy, de∣serves mine.
BEing at length come to the River-side, we quickly began to fall to the sport, for which we came thither, and Eugenius
finding the Fish forward enough to bite, thought fit to spare his Flies, till he might have more need of them, and therfore ty'd to his Line a Hook, furnish'd with one of those counterfeit Flies, which in some Nei∣bouring Countries are much us'd, and which being made of the Feathers of Wild∣fowl, are not subject to be drench'd by the water, whereon those Birds are wont to swim. This Fly being for a pretty while scarce any oftner thrown in, than the Hook it hid was drawn up again with a Fish fa∣stened to it, Eugenius looking on us with a smiling Countenance, seem'd to be very proud of his success; which Eusebius taking notice of, Whilst, (says he) we smile to see, how easily you beguile these silly Fishes, that you catch so fast with this false Bait, possibly we are not much less unwary our selves; And the Worlds treacherous pleasures do little less delude both me and you: For, Eugenius, (continues he) as the Apostles were Fishers of men in a good sense, so their and our grand adversary is a skilfull Fisher of men in a bad sense; And too often in his attempts, to cheat fond Mortalls, meets with a success as great and easie, as you now find yours. And certain∣ly, that Tempter, as the Scripture calls him, does sadly delude us, even when we
rise at his best Baits, and, as it were, his true Flies: For, alas! the best things he can give, are very worthless, most of them in their own nature, and all of them in com∣parison of what they must cost us to enjoy them. But however, Riches, Power, and the delights of the Senses are real goods in their Kind, though they be not of the best Kind: Yet alas, many of us are so fitted for deceits, that we do not put this subtle Angler, to make use of his true Baits to catch us! we suffer him to abuse us much more grossly, and to cheat us with empty titles of Honour, or the ensnaring Smiles of great ones, or disquieting Drugeries disguis'd with the specious names of great imployments. And though these, when they must be obtain'd by sin, or are pro∣pos'd as the recompences for it, be, as I was going to say, but the Devils counterfeit Flies; Yet, as if we were fond of being deceiv'd, we greedily swallow the Hook, for Flies, that do but look like such; so Dim-sighted are we, as well to what Vice shews, as to what it hides. Let us not then (concludes Eusebius) rise at Baits, where∣by we may be sure to be either grossly, or at least exceedingly deceiv'd; For who ever ventures to commit a Sin, to taste the luscious sweets, that the fruition of it
seems to promise, certainly is so far de∣ceiv'd, as to swallow a true Hook for a Bait, which either proves but a counterfeit Fly, or hides that under its alluring shew, which makes it not need to be a counterfeit one to deceive him.
FOrtune soon offer'd Eusebius a fair Op∣portunity to confirm this last part of his Reflection, for he had scarce made an end of it, when a large Fish, espying the Fly that kept my Hook swimming, rise swiftly at it, and having greedily chop'd it up, was ha∣stily swimming away with it, when I struck him, and thereby stopt for a while his Pro∣gress; but finding himself both Arrested and Wounded, he struggl'd with so much violence, that at length he broke my slender Line, (that was fitted but for weaker Fi∣shes) and carry'd away a part of it, toge∣ther with the annexed Hook, and Bait. If Philosophers (says hereupon Eusebius) be not too liberal in allowing Brutes to think, we may well suppose that this Fish
expected a great deal of Pleasure from the Bait he fell upon so greedily, and that when once he had got it into his Mouth, he might well look upon it as his own, and those other Fishes that saw him swallow it, and swim away with it, did probably envy his good Fortune; but yet indeed he does not enjoy his wish, though he seem to have the thing wish'd for within his power, for by the same action in which he suck'd in the Fly, he likewise took in the Hook, which does so wound and tear his tender Gills, and thereby put him into such restless pain, that no doubt he wishes that the Hook, Bait, and all, were out of his torn Jaws a∣gain, the one putting him to too much tor∣ture to let him at all rellish the other. Thus men, which do what they should not, to obtain any Object of their sensual De∣sires, whatever Pleasure they may before hand fancy to themselves in their success, are oftentimes, ev'n when they obtain then ends, disappointed of their expectations; sometimes Conscience, Reason, or Honour, making them, ev'n when their desires are not of the worst sort, do as David did, when he had, more vehemently than became a pious General, long'd for Water out of the Well at Bethlehem, and by the strange Venterousness of his bold and affectionate
Officers obtain'd it, could not find in his heart to Drink it, but pour'd it untasted on the Ground. But when the things we so long for must be criminally obtain'd, then it not only often fares with them, as it did with Amnon, who immediately upon the incestuous fruition of his ravish'd Sister, hated her more than before he had lov'd her; but it sometimes happens to those that sin more heinously in this matter, as it did to Judas, who, after having betray'd a Ma∣ster, that was incomparably more worth than all the World, and thereby for ever lost himself for a few pieces of Silver, seem'd to have it in his power, without ha∣ving it in his will, to enjoy them, and in a desperate, but unseasonable, fit of anguish and remorse, did of his own accord disbur∣then himself of that Money, which he had sold his Conscience to get; so that though he had what he sought, he had not what he expected: And when what he coveted was in his possession, he had the guilt of acqui∣ring it, without the power of enjoying it. And ev'n in cases far less heinous, (con∣cludes Eusebius) when Men seem to have got what they aim'd at, and to have carry'd it away as their Booty, in spight of all oppo∣sition, the Wound thereby inflicted on in∣jur'd Conscience, puts them to so much of
deserved pain, that the wishes they are thus criminally possest of, they do not enjoy, but detest.
THe fight of some Fishes playing to and fro upon the top of the VVater, diverted us from prosecuting our Confe∣rence, and drew us to apply our selves at∣tentively to the catching of them, in which accordingly we spent some part of the Morning; yet whilst we continu'd Angling, not far from one another, we often cast our Eyes (as is usual in such cases) upon each others fishing Corks, to learn as well the successes of our Friends, as in what places the Fish were forwardest to bite: As I chanc'd to look towards that Cork at which Euse∣bius's Hook was hanging, I perceiv'd that it was divers times drawn under VVater, without his endeavouring thereupon to strike that Fish that made thus bold with his Bait; wherefore laying down my Angle a while, I went softly towards Eusebius, to see what it was that made him so regardless
of his Sport, whilst yet, by the posture be continu'd in, he seem'd to be intent upon it: But approaching near enough, I quickly per∣ceiv'd, That instead of minding his Hook, his Eyes were fixt sometimes upon his own Picture, reflected from the smooth Surface of the gliding stream, and sometimes upon the Shadow projected by his Body, a little beside the Picture upon the same River.
The unwilling noise I made in coming so near, having oblig'd Eusebius to take notice of me, I thought fit, since I found I was discover'd, to ask him smilingly, whether he were Narcissus-like, making Love to his own Shadow.
Eusebius ghessing by these words, that I had conjectur'd what he was doing, an∣swer'd me with a look somewhat more seri∣ous than that I had spoken to him with; I was indeed, Philaretus, attentively enough considering, sometimes my Picture, which the VVater presents me with, and some∣times the Shadow, which the Sun and I to∣gether cast upon the Water; But (says he, with a half Smile) I look'd upon both these, not with the Eyes of a Narcissuss, (for that would make me much Madder than he was) but with those of a Christian: For I was considering, that one of the Dif∣ferences betwixt the Law, and the Gospel,
might not be ill represented by the Diffe∣rence betwixt a common Looking-glass, and that afforded me by this Crystal stream: For though both being specular Bodies, I can see my Face in either; yet if my Face be spotted with Dirt, or grown Pale by reason of the Faintness usual in such hot VVeather, a common Looking-glass will indeed discover those things to me, but will not otherwise assist me to remedy them; whereas, when I consult this Stream, if it shew me any spots in my Face, it supplies me with water to wash them off, and by its cooling, and refreshing VVaters, can re∣lieve me from that Faintness that reduces me to look Pale.
Thus the Law, which is commonly, and which seems ev'n by an Apostle to be com∣pared to a Looking-glass, shews us indeed the pollutions of our Souls, and discovers to us the effects of our spiritual I anguid∣ness, and Faintness; but the Gospel does not only do so, but tells the Embracers of it, by Saint John's mouth, If any Man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father Jesus Christ, the Righteous, who is the Propitiation for our sins, and whose Blood cleanses us from all sin. And the Author of the same Gospel invites all those, that find themselves tired and thirsty, to come unto him, and to be re∣freshed.
By this time, Lindamor, who was Ang∣ling not very far off, perceiving us stand together, as if we were engaged in some Discourse, laid by his Rod a while, and came to listen to what he expected he might learn from Eusebius; who pausing here, I put him in mind, that he had also mentioned to me the sight of his Shadow upon the face of the River, as another object of his Con∣templations, and that therefore my curi∣osity (wherein I knew Lindamor, as soon as I should acquaint him with the occasion, would share) made me very desirous to know what thoughts had been suggested to him, by a Subject that seem'd so slight and barren.
Since you will needs know, (replies Eusebius) I will confess to you, that my Thoughts were Theologically enough em∣ploy'd, and therefore, least you should think, I affect to Preach out of the Pulpit, I will but succinctly mention some of these Various things, that this Shadow, as des∣picable as you think it, suggested to me: But since I was only entertaining and ex∣citing my self, not discoursing with Natu∣ralists, or disputing with Atheists, I pre∣sume you will not wonder, that I take the Doctrine of the Creation for granted, as it is acknowledged by Christians in general, and particularly by You.
I was then considering, that this Shadow, related to me, might in some particulars be no unfit one of the Universe in reference to God: And indeed, perhaps the VVorld may without much extravagance be tearmed the Shadow of him, of whose Attributes, or Perfections, it exhibites to an attentive considerer divers excellent Impresses, and the resemblance may thus far be advanc'd, that as though it represents the Shape and Out-lines of my Body, which projects it, yet it represents but them, and consequent∣ly this Shadow in reference to it is but a superficial and worthless thing; so the VVorld, though it be not destitute of seve∣ral Impresses, and as it were Lineaments or Features of the Divine Wisdome and Power, yet for all this, its representations of the Divine Author of it, are but very Imperfect, Superficial, and Dark, and the Excellency of the Adorable Author of things, keeps him infinitely above all the works that he has made.
But to mention some of the Compari∣sons I took notice of: In the first place we may consider, that I make this Shadow here without taking the least pains to do so,* 1.7 and with as little toyl God made the VVorld: He spake, and it was done; He commanded, and it
stood fast, (says the Psalmist, speaking of the Creation) and elsewhere the Scripture says,* 1.8 That the everlast∣ing God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the Earth fainteth not, neither is weary, and therefore that Rest ascrib'd him on the seventh Day, is to be understood but a Cessation from Creating, not a Repose from Labour, for all disproportions to the power of created Agents, are so equally inconsiderable, in reference to one that is Infinite, that Omnipotence may make even the World without Toyl.
Secondly, To make this Shadow, I nei∣ther use nor need Colours, nor Pencil; I digg no Quarries, nor fell no Trees to per∣fect this work, and employ no Materials about it; As little had God any Pre-existent matter to contrive into this vast Fabrick: Our Creed proclaims him the Creator of Heaven and Earth;* 1.9 the Angel, that holds the Book, in the Reve∣lations, describes him resembling∣ly; and the Apostle tells us, That through Faith we understand that the Worlds were framed by the word of God;* 1.10 so that things which are seen, were not made of things that do appear: And in∣deed it became an Omnipotent Architect, not to be beholden but to himself for his
Materials. He that calleth things that are not, as though they were, makes them by calling them; He brought forth Light out of Darkness, by calling for Light, and there was Light; he spake it, and it was done, says the Psalmist; and the VVorld was, if I may so express it, but the real Eccho of that pro∣ductive, FIAT.
The next thing, I was considering, was, that, to destroy this Shadow, I needed nei∣ther Sword, nor Pistol, the withdrawing of my self under the Neighbouring Trees be∣ing sufficient to make the Shadow disap∣pear, and leave behind as little shape of it, as if there never had been any. And thus, as the VVorld could not have had a begin∣ning, without having been provided by God, so for the continuance of the Being it enjoys, it depends altogether, and every moment, upon the will and pleasure of its first Author, of whom Saint Paul tells us, That in Him, we not only live, and move, but have our being; and to the same purpose I think one may allege that place, where the Scripture says of God, not only,* 1.11 That he has made Hea∣ven, the Heaven of Heavens with all their Hoast, the Earth and all things that are thereon, the Seas and all that is there∣in; but adds, That he preserveth them all,
as our Translatours English it; for in the Hebrew I remember it is, Vivifies them all, that is, sustains them in that improper Kind of Life, or that Existence, which, whilst their Nature lasts, belongs unto it; so that if God should at any time withdraw his pre∣serving Influence, the World would pre∣sently Relapse, or Vanish into its first No∣thing, as there are many Notions of the Mind such, as that of Genus, and Species, which are so the Creatures of Reason, that they have no longer an Existence in the nature of things, than they are actually up∣held therein, by being actually thought upon by some Intellectual Being; And God is so the preserver of all his Creatures, that one may say of the rest, as the Psalmist speaks of many of them, where addressing himself to God, he says, Thou hidest thy Face,* 1.12 they are troubled; Thou takest away their Breath, they Dye, and return to their Dust; Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are Created, &c.
I was also taking notice, (pursues Euse∣bius) that to produce what changes I pleas'd, in all, or any part of this Shadow; I needed not employ either Emissaries, or Instruments, nor so much as rowse up my self to any difficult Exertion of my own strength, since, by only moving this or that
part of my own Body, I could change at pleasure in the twinkling of an Eye, the figure and posture of what part of the Sha∣dow I thought fit: And thus, when God had a mind to work those Miracles, we most admire, as when at Josuah's prayer he stop'd the course of the Sun, and at He∣zekiah's, made him go back, we Men are apt to imagine that these prodigious Effects must needs cost their Author much, and that he must strain his Power, and be necessita∣ted to a troublesome Exertion of his Omni∣potence, to be able to produce them, where∣as to that Divine Agent, those things that would be to all others impossible, are so far from being difficult, and the Creatures have so absolute and continual a dependance on him, that 'tis as easie for him to effect the greatest Alterations in them, as to resolve to do so, And even those Miraculous changes of the course of Nature, that do the most astonish us, do so naturally and necessarily flow from the Motions of his own Will, that to decree, and to execute, (whether or no they require powers other∣wise than Notionally differing) are alike easie to him: And that irresistible Agent finds as little more difficulty to produce the greatest changes among the Creatures, than to produce the least; as I find it harder to
move the whole Arm of my Shadow, than to move its little Finger. And this conside∣ration (subjoyns Eusebius) might be, me∣thought, consolatory enough to his Church, who by reposing an entire trust in her God, entitles her self to the protection of him, that can as easily produce changes in the VVorld, as resolve on them, and can with the same facility destroy her and his greatest Enemies, as decree their Destruction.
I was also further considering, (says Eusebius) That though the little wat'ry Bodies, that make up this River, and con∣sequently those that glided along by me, were in a restless Motion, the hindmost al∣ways urging on, and chasing those that were before them, yet my Shadow was as com∣pleat and stable upon the fugitive Stream, as if it had been projected on the water of a Pond, or rather as if all the parts of VVater, whereon 'twas Visible, had been fixt and moveless; of which I made this Application, that though we may say with Solomon, in a larger sence than his, That one Generation goes, and another comes, the VVorld being maintained by perpetual Vi∣cissitudes of Generation and Corruption, yet the Wisdome and Providence of God does so far confine the Creatures to the establish'd Laws of Nature, that though
vast Multitudes of Individualls are always giving place to others, yet the particular Creatures, which do at any time make up the VVorld, do always exhibit the like Pi∣cture of its divine Original.
But yet lastly, (says Eusebius) I was considering too, that though this Shadow have some kind of resemblance to that, whose Shadow it is, yet the Picture is but very superficial and obscure; And if we should suppose, the Fishes that inhabit this Stream, to be endued with reason, they could even from Lindamors shadow but col∣lect, that the Original is a Man, and not a Brute; but they could not hence make any discovery of what manner of Man he is, nor know any thing of his Virtues, or his Thoughts, or his Intention, nor consequent∣ly have that Notion of him, that I (pur∣sues Eusebius, turning to him, and a little Smiling on him) do harbour and cherish, who having the happiness to converse with him, have the opportunity and the justice to admire him. Thus, where I formerly ventured to call the VVorld Gods Shadow, I did not forget, how imperfect a Picture a Shadow is wont to be: And though this dark Representation, that God has vouch∣saf'd Men of himself in the Universe, be sufficient to convince us, that it was not
made by chance, but produced by a Power∣full and Intelligent Being; the eternal Power and God-head of the Great Author of Nature, as the Scripture seems to teach us, being manifested to attentive and rati∣onal Considerers, in the visible productions of his Power and VVisdome; yet how short and dim a Knowledge must they have of him, that have no other than these Cor∣poral Instructors. How many of his glo∣rious Attributes are there, for whose Know∣ledge we must be beholden, rather to his VVritten, than his Created Word? and how little will humane Intellects, without Revelation, discover of that manifold VVis∣dome of God, which the Scripture teaches us,* 1.13 That even to the Angels it must be made known by the Church. And if those Illuminated persons, such as Moses and Saint Paul himself, who had both extraordinary Revelations from God, and intimate Communion with him, con∣fessed, that in this Life they saw him but Darkly, and, as it were, in a Glass; sure the Dim light of meer Nature will give us but extremely imperfect, and detracting Idea's of him, whom the like Limitedness of our Nature will allow us to know but very imperfectly, in Heaven it self, though as we shall there see him Face to Face, our
apprehensive Faculties will as well be in∣larged, as the dazling and ravishing Object be disclosed.
But, (says Eusebius) though I forget, that I am not in the Pulpit, I hope you re∣member, that I told you at first, how little I pretended these kind of Reflections would endure a rigorous Philosophical Examen, and that I am not so Indiscreet, as to expect that they should work Conviction in an Infidel, though I hope they may excite good Thoughts in a Believer.
These last words of our Friend being not followed by any other; Lindamor, having waited a while to ascertain himself, that Eusebius had ended his Discourse, began a∣nother, by saying:
I perceive, Eusebius, with much more satisfaction than surprise, that the same Subject, and at the same time, did, as 'twas fit, suggest very differing considerations to you and me; for whilst your Shadow af∣forded you the rise of sublime Speculations, I was making but a moral Reflection upon mine: For taking notice, (continues he) that the Shade my Body projected, near Noon, was almost as much shorter than it, as in the Morning it was longer, prompted me to think, how foolish it were for me, who know by sure ways of measuring my
own Statute, that it is moderate enough, not to be either proud of, or complain'd of, should imagine that I am either as Tall as a Gyant, or as Low as a Dwarf, because I see my Shadow either exceeding long, or ex∣treamly short; and I was further consider∣ing, pursues Lindamor, that if Philosophers, as well as the Vulgar, have rightly called Fame or Glory the Shadow of Virtue, it would be as irrational to estimate ones self not by the testimonies of ones Conscience, which is the Authentick standard of Intrin∣sick worth, but by the sickle Opinions of others, (which oftentimes flatter, and oft∣ner detract) but very seldome give a just and impartial estimate of merit: The Fame may have its encrease, and decre∣ments, whilst the Person continues the same, and loses nothing of substance with the Shadow. And for a Man that should exa∣mine himself, and judge of himself by his own designs, and actions, not other Mens words, to suffer himself to be puff'd up by vulgar applause, or dejected by unmerited censures, were to mistake a Shadow for a Standard.
IT was not long after this, that Eugenius chancing to spy a little Nook, which seem'd to promise him a more convenient Station for his Angling, he invited Linda∣mor to share the advantage with him, and began to walk thitherward along the Rivers Brink, which the abundant moisture of the Waters that glided by it, had adorn'd with a pleasant Verdure; But he had not marcht very far, when chancing to tread on a place, where the course of the Water had worn off the Bank, and made it hollow under∣neath, he found the Earth falter under him, and could not hinder his Feet from slipping down with the Turf that betray'd him; nor could he have escaped so, had not his in∣deavours to cast the weight of his Body towards the Bank been assisted by Lindamor, who though not so near the Brink as to be in danger, was not so far off but that he was able to catch hold of him, and draw him to the firm Land. The noise that Lindamor made, when he saw his Friend falling, quickly drew Eusebius and me thither,
where, after I had a while made my self merry with the Disaster, I found to have been so harmless; Eusebius (who arriv'd there a little later) as'd him how he came to fall, and Eugenius answering, that he thought he had trod upon firm Ground, be∣cause he saw the Bank look to the very edge as if it differ'd not from the rest of the Field, which it terminated; Eusebius took occasion from thence to tell him, You may from this take notice, that 'tis not safe Tra∣velling upon the confines of what is Law∣full, and what is Sinfull, no more than upon the Borders of two Hostile Nations: VVhen we suppose, that thus far we may go towards that which is Sinfull, without committing it, we are wont with more boldness than considerateness to conclude, that we need not scruple to venture, or ra∣ther that we shall run no venture, having firm footing all the way. But 'tis much to be feared, that when we allow our selves to come as far as the utmost Verge of what is Lawfull, and to do that which in the Ca∣suists Language, is, tantum non to Sin, the natural Proclivity of our minds to Evil, which carries them downwards, as weight does our Bodies, will sometime or other make us find hollow Ground, where we presume to find it firm: He that to Day
will go towards Sin as far as he thinks he may, is in danger of going to Morrow fur∣ther than he should; And it is far more easie for him to be secure than to be safe, that walks upon the Brink of a Precipice. He was a wise Man, that as soon as he had forbidden his Son to enter into the path of the Wicked, and to go in the way of Evil men, subjoyns, as the best course to con∣form to the Prescription, avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away: God's indulgence leaves us a Latitude to comply with our Infirmities, and Necessities, and to give us opportunities of exercising a pious Jealousie over our selves, and of shewing how much we fear to offend him. But a wary Christian will say in this case, as Saint Paul did in almost a like, All things are Lawfull for me, but all things are not Expe∣dient; And he must often go further than he can with Prudence, that will always go as far as he thinks he can with Innocence.
THis Discourse being ended, we All, as it were, by common Consent, ap∣ply'd our selves again to prosecute the Sport that had invited us to the River: But we had not Angl'd very long, before we were Disturb'd by a loud and confus'd Noise, which we soon discover'd to pro∣ceed from a Ship, that, together with some Barges, and other lesser Boats, were, by the help of a favourable Breath of Wind, Sailing up the River towards London. The sight of these Laden-Vessels, together with the prospect of the Thames, Which, (as it happen'd in that place) seem'd, in various Windings and Meanders, wantonly to fly, and to pursue it self: This sight, I say, toge∣ther with that of the rich and flourishing Verdure, which the Waters, in their passage, bestow'd upon all the Lands that were on either side any thing near their Banks, invited Eugenius, to fall upon the praises of that Excellent River, which not only imparts Fertility and Plenty, here at home, by Inriching all the places that have the ad∣vantage
to be near it; but helps to bring us Home, whatever the Remoter parts of the World, and the Indies themselves, whe∣ther East or VVest, have of Rare or Use∣full.
Lindamor, having both applauded and recruited these Commendations, Me-thinks, (says he) That amongst other good things, wherewith this River furnish us, it may supply us with a good Argument against those Modern Stoicks, who are wont, with more Eloquence than Reason, to Declaim against the Passions, and would fain per∣swade Others, (for I doubt whether they be so perswaded themselves) That the Mind ought to deal with its Affections, as Pharaoh would have dealt with the Jews-Males, whom he thought it wise to Destroy, least they might, one Day, grow up into a con∣dition to Revolt from him. But, because the Passions are (sometimes) Mutinous, to wish an Apathy, is as unkind to us, as it would be to our Country, To wish we had no Rivers, because (sometimes) they do Mischief, when great or suddain Rain swells them above their Banks.
VVhen I consider, (says Eusebius) That of the Immaculate and Divine Lamb him∣self, 'tis recorded in the Gospel, That He look'd round about, upon certain Jews, with In∣dignation,
being griev'd for the Hardness of their Hearts; So that two Passions are as∣crib'd to Christ himself in one Verse: And when I consider too, the Indifferency, and (consequently the Innocence) of Passions in their own Nature, and the Use that VVise and Virtuous Persons may make of them, I cannot think we ought to throw away (or so much as wish away) those Instru∣ments of Piety, which God and Nature has put into our Hands: But am very well content we should retain them, upon such conditions as Abraham did, Those Dome∣sticks he bought with his Money, whom the Scripture tells us, He both Circumcis'd, and kept as Servants.
But, (continues Eusebius) As I do not altogether disallow Lindamors Compari∣son, between Rivers and Passions, so he must give me leave to add this to it, That as Rivers, when they over-flow, Drown those Grounds, and Ruine those Husband∣men, which whilst they flow'd Calmly be∣twixt their Banks, they Fertiliz'd and En∣rich'd: So our Passions, (when they grow Exorbitant and Unruly) destroy those Vir∣tues, to which they may be very Service∣able whilst they keep within their Bounds.
Instances of this truth, (pursues Euse∣bius) are but too Obvious; 'tis said, That
Valour is Anger's Whetstone; and our being Councell'd by the Apostle, To be Angry, and not to Sin, argues, that Passion not to be Incompatible with Innocence, whilst 'tis confin'd within the limits of Moderation. But when once Anger is Boyl'd up into Rage, or Choler into an habitual Fury, or appetite of Revenge, it makes more Havok in the VVorld than Beasts and Inundati∣ons: The greatest part of those Rivers of Blood, that are shed in Battels, (though spilt by Anger) do rather Irritate than Ap∣pease the unnatural Thirst of that insa∣tiate Fury: The burning of Cities, the sinking of Fleets, and the Desolations of Provinces, and of Kingdoms, make but part of the Tragick effects of this Inhumane Passion, when it once thorowly possesses those that wield Scepters, and handle Swords.
I will not tell Lindamor, That ev'n that noblest and best of Passions, Love, as gen∣tle and amiable as it appears, when once it comes to degenerate by growing Unruly, or being Misplac'd, is guilty of far more Tragedies than those that have the fortune to be Acted on Theatres, or to furnish the VVriters of Romances; and that which (perchance at first) seems to be but an Innocent Love, being not duely watch'd, and regulated, may, in time, grow to disobey,
or deceive Parents, to violate Friendships, to send Challenges, and fight Duels, to be∣tray the Honour of harmless Virgins, and of the noblest Families, to Rebel against Kings, procure the Ruine of Monarchies and Common-wealths; And, in a word, To make thousands miserable, and those it possesses most of all, and thereby to bring Credit to, if not also to Surpass, the Ficti∣ons of Poets, and the Fabulous stories of Romances.
And as for the desire of Excelling others, as great and noble things as it makes Men undertake, whilst it aspires only to a Trans∣cendency in Virtue, and in Goodness, when that Passionate desire, by making Men too greedy of Superiority in Fame and Power, degenerates into Ambition; How many Vices are usually set a work by this one Passion! The contempt of the Laws, the Vilation of Oaths, the Renouncing of Al∣legiance, the Breach of Leagues and Com∣pacts, the Murther of ones nearest Rela∣tion, (if they be more nearly related to a Crown) and all the other Crimes and Miseries, that are wont to beget or attend civil VVarrs, are the usual as well as dis∣mal Productions of this aspiring Humour in a Subject; Nor does it less Mischief when Harbour'd in a Prince's Breast, for the
Undoing of his own People, the Subversion of his Neighbour's States, the Sacking of Cities, the Slaughter of Armies, the Dis∣peopling of some Provinces, and the Peo∣pling of others with VViddows and Or∣phanes, are Sacrifices that are more fre∣quently offer'd up to Ambition, than able to satisfie it: For what can quench his Thurst of Rule and Fame, or hinder the Attempts to which it stimulates him, that can find in his Heart to destroy Armies, and ruine Provinces, only that he may be taken notice off to be able to do so.
Certainly (subjoyns Eusebius) he knew very well the Frame of humane Spirits, that said by the Pen of an Apostle; From whence comes Warrs and Brawl∣ings among you?* 1.14 Come they not hence, ev'n of your Lusts that War in your Mem∣bers: And I doubt whether Plagues, Wars and Famines have done more mischief to Mankind, than Anger and Ambition, and some other inordinate Passions; for these do frequently bring upon Men those pub∣lick and other fatal Calamities, either as Judgments, which they provoke God to Inflict, or as Evils, which as proper conse∣quents naturally flow, from those Mischie∣vous practices, to which unbridl'd Passions hurry the criminally unhappy Persons they have Inflav'd.
VVherefore, (concludes Eusebius, cast∣ing his Eyes upon Lindamor) As the use∣fulness of a River hinders us not from ma∣king good the Banks, and, if need be, ma∣king Damms, to confine it within its Li∣mits, and prevent its Inundations; So the usefulness of the Passions should not hinder us from watchfully employing the Methods and Expedients afforded us by Reason and Religion, to keep them within their due Bounds, which they seldome over-flow without shewing to our Cost, that, as 'tis observed of Fire and VVater, they cannot be so good Servants, but that they are worse Masters.
THis last Discourse, to which the Ri∣ver had afforded the occasion, invi∣ting me to Survey as much of it as was within my View, a little more attentively, gave me the opportunity of taking notice of a manifest difference betwixt the Lands that lay near it, and those whose Situation was remoter from it, and having acquainted
Eusebius with what I had observ'd, which his own Eyes could not but presently bear witness to; One (says he) that should only consider how swiftly this Stream runs a∣long these flowery Meadows, and how great a quantity of Water passes through them, and from them, towards the Sea, would be apt to conclude, that certainly these Grounds retain none of the Water which runs from them so hastily, and so plentifully, espe∣cially since we can see no Chanels, nor other manifest Inlets, and Receptacles, that should divert and retain the fugitive Wa∣ter, so that the Grounds confining on the River, must be but little advantag'd by its Neighbourhood. But, (continues Euse∣bius) though these Grounds have not any patent Passages, whereby to derive Water and Fatness from the River, and therefore must suffer the greatest part of it to run by them undiverted, yet still some of the Cherishing and Fertilizing moisture is from time to time soak'd in by the Neighbouring Ground, and (perhaps by blind Pores, and crooked Chanels) so dispersed thorow the whole Fields, that they have thereby Wa∣ter, and in that vehicle Fertility convey'd to them, which you will not doubt, if you do but with me take notice, how much the Lands that lye on both sides near the Course
of the River, are more Verdant, and Flou∣rishing, and more Rich than those less happy Grounds, to whom their Remoteness denies the advantage of so improving a Neighbour∣hood.
Thus (resumes Eusebius) many a pious Person that is an Assiduous attendant on the means of Grace, and has a care to place himself as it were in the way, by which the Ordinances of God, especially those of Reading, and Expounding of the Scriptures, are wont freely and copiously to flow, is (especially upon any fit of Melancholy, or distress of Mind) apt to be extremely discourag'd from prosecuting that course of Duties, and by looking upon the little that he remembers of so many excellent Ser∣mons as he has heard, he is often inclined to conclude not only he has lost all the good Sermons that he has heard already, but that at least for such as he there is little to be expected from them for the future.
But though to lose so much of a thing, so precious as the Doctrine of Salvation, be that, which is oftentimes a fault, and al∣ways an unhappiness, yet 'tis a far less Mischief to forget Sermons than to for∣sake them, the one may be but an effect of a weak Memory, the other is that of a depraved Will, perverted by Laziness, Im∣patience,
or some greater fault, we should scarce allow it for a Rational proceeding; if one in a Consumption, or Disentery, because he grows not Fat with Feeding, should resolve to renounce Eating and Drinking.
But this (says Eusebius) is not that which I chiefly intended: For Pious, but melan∣choly Persons, are oftentimes too Partial against themselves, to be competent Judges of their own Estate, they seem not to for∣get any Sermon so much as that, Charity should begin at home; And they are much more carefull not to accuse any body wrong∣fully than themselves, though they might remember, that in the Estimate of Christ himself, all Grounds are not equally Fruit∣full that are good, some bringing forth hun∣dred, some sixty, some but thirty Fold, and yet to all he vouchsafes the title of Good; and though, as mad Men that have quite lost their VVits, seldome or never complain of the want of them; so those that have forfeited, or are devoid of Grace, rarely bemoan themselves of the weakness of it. And 'tis no mean sign of Proficiency in Piety, to be apt to deplore ones unpro∣ficiency; 'Tis true, that Preaching is not always, and I fear not so much as often, the Savour of Life unto Life, the Perversness
of the Hearers making it but too frequently the Savour of Death unto Death. But yet, speaking in the general, though it aggravate the Sins committed in spite of it, yet it usually hinders many others from being committed; and he that twice a VVeek is told of God, and Duty, and Heaven, and Hell, has his Conscience more awak'd than he that never hears of any of these things. And if you but compare one of these de∣spondent Christians, we are considering, with the careless Sensualists, that fly a row∣zing Sermon, as they should do what it would deter them from; you will easily discern a sufficient disparity between them, to invite you to conclude, that the Instru∣ctiveness of Preaching may, like the moi∣sture of the River, be convey'd but by little and little at a time, and by unperceived Passages, and yet be able to impart Fer∣tility: For though much run by, yet com∣monly something will stick, which we may safely conclude, if though we can discern it no other way, it disclose it self by the Effects; for 'tis not always to those that remember the most of them, that Sermons do the most good, as VVater retained in Ponds makes not the Bottom flourishing, but the Banks, and the Efficacy of a Ser∣mon is better to be collected from the Im∣pression
it has on the Understanding, and Affections, than from that it leaves on the Memory, whether we retain the Particu∣lars faithfully or no, and carry them home with us; yet if a Sermon leave us Devou∣ter than it found us, if we go from God's Ordinances, with a love to them, and a rellish of them, and a purpose to frequent them, we may be Despondents, but are not altogether Non-proficients; that incor∣ruptible Seed by which we are Regenerated, being once thrown into an honest Heart, may, as our Saviour intimates, grow up we know not well how, and though perhaps by insensible degrees, yet at length attain Maturity. To dispatch, (concludes Euse∣bius) whether or no a Man can orderly repeat all the Particulars that composed the Sermon, it does him good, if it either makes him good, or keeps him so: And its Operation is to be estimated, not so much by what we Remember, as by what we Resolve.
What you have been saying, (subjoyns Lindamor) when he perceived that Euse∣bius had done speaking, suggests to me a Reflection, that till now I did not dream of; And though it differ from that where∣with you have been pleased to entertain us, yet because 'tis applicable to the same pur∣pose,
and occasioned by the same River, I shall without scruple, though after your Discourse, not without Blushes, tell you, that it is this; I, among many others that Live near it, have often resorted in hot Weather to this River, to bathe my self in it, and after what I have been hearing, I now begin to consider, that though incom∣parably the greater part of the River run by me, without doing me any good, and though when I went out of it, I carried away little or none of it with me; yet whilst I stayed in it, that very Stream, whose Waters run so fast away from me, washed and carried off whatever Foulness it might find sticking to my Skin: And be∣sides, not only cooled me, and refreshed me, by allaying the intemperate heat that discomposed me, and made me faint, but also help'd me to a good Stomach for some while after.
Thus (resumes Lindamor) I have some∣times found, that a moving Sermon, though it did not find me qualified to derive from it the Advantages it questionless afforded better Auditors, and when I went from it, I found I had retained so little of it, that it seemed to have almost totally slipt out of my Memory, yet the more Instructive and Pathetick passages of it had
that Operation upon me, as to cleanse the Mind from some of the Impurities it had contracted, by Conversing to and fro in a defiling World, without suffering Pol∣lutions to stay long, and settle where they began to be Harboured; And besides, I found that a course of such Sermons, as I have been mentioning, did oftentimes (and if it had not been my own fault, would have always done so) both allay those Inordi∣nate heats that tempting Objects are but too apt to Excite; refresh my drooping Spirits, that continually needed to be re∣vived, and raise in me an Appetite to the means of Grace, which are Piety's (and consequently the Soul's) true and impro∣ving Aliments. So that, (concludes Lin∣damor) though I seldome let Sermons do me all the good they may, and should, yet I dare not forsake them, because I forget them; since 'tis to do a Man some good, to make him less bad than he was, and to give a Value and Inclination for the means of growing better than he is.
THis Reflection of Lindamor's was soon follow'd by another of the same Gentleman's, who seeing many Fishes rise one after another, and bite at Eugenius's Bait, which he let them sometimes run a∣way with, that he might be the surer to be able to draw them up, as he afterwards did several of them; See, (says Lindamor, as one of the Fishes had just swallowed the Hook) how yonder silly Fish, having at length seized the beloved Bait, he has been Courting, posts away with it as his obtained wish, little dreaming of being himself ta∣ken: Thus (continues the same Speaker) when greedy Mortals have an opportunity to obtain forbidden things, they joyfully run away with them as the Goods they aimed at, and when they fondly think they have caught, they are so, and whilst they imagine themselves to carry away a Booty, they be∣come a Prey; for that he is in his Judg∣ment that never errs, who, whatever he gets into the Bargain, loses himself.
The Scripture, (subjoyns Eusebius) men∣tions,
among other properties of Vice, that which it calls the Deceitfulness of Sin. And the wise Man tells us, that Wine is a Mocker; and it may be one of the reasons of these Expressions, that when we think our selves possessed of a sinfull Pleasure, we are indeed possessed by it, as Doeme∣niacks are possessed by the Divel, who serves many other Sinners, though less perceived∣ly, as he serves Witches, whom he gets the Power to command, by seeming to obey them, and to comply with their criminal desires; And, if we compare this, with what I was just now observing to you, on the occasion of the counterfeit Fly, we may add, That even when Sin seems the Kind∣est and most Obsequious to us, and to an∣swer if not exceed our Desires, our case may be but like the Canaanitish General's, who though he had Milk brought him by Jael instead of the Water he only request∣ed, was but thereby invited to Sleep the Sleep of Death,* 1.15 and to have his Fears more surpass'd than his Desires had been.
But, (pursues Eusebius) this may supply us with another Reflection; for though this Fish seems to have devoured the Hook and Bait it swallowed, yet in effect it is taken thereby; so the Divel, when he had played
the Serpent and the Lion, when he had brought the Jews and Gentiles to conspire against their common Saviour, and had made Herod and Pilate friends to make them joynt Enemies to Christ, and when by these means he seemed to have obtained his end, by employing their hands to Kill the for∣midablest of all his Enemies, this pursued Prey destroyed the seeming Conquerour; and Death appearing to swallow the Lord of Life, was, if I may so speak, choaked by the Attempt, since he not only was quickly able to say in the Apostles Trium∣phant Language: O Death,* 1.16 where is thy Sting?* 1.17 O Grave, where is thy Victory? but did by Death conquer him that had the power of Death, that is, the Divel; nay, and made all his followers so much sharers in the ad∣vantages of his Conquest, as by the same way (which we are informed by the same Text) to deliver those whom the restless fear of Death perpetually kept from reli∣shing the Joys of Life.
THis Discourse being ended, Eugenius, who was look'd upon by us all as the most Experienc'd as well as concerned Angler among us, descrying at a good di∣stance a place which he judged more con∣venient for our Sport, than that we there were in, where the Fish began to bite but slowly; He invited the Company to this new Station, but when we were come thi∣ther, finding in a short time, that either it was ill stock'd with Fish, or that the Season of their Biting in the places thereabouts was over, he thought it concerned him to provide us some better place; and accor∣dingly, whilst we were yet, by the pleasure of mutual conversation, endeavouring to keep the Fishes sulleness from proving an Exercise to our patience, he walk'd on along the River, till he lighted upon a Youth, that by his Habit seem'd to belong to some Boat or other Vessel; and having enquir'd of him, whether he could not be our Guide to some place where the Fish would bite quick, he replied, that he easily could, if
we would take the trouble of coming to a place on the other side of the River, which his Master, who was a Fisher-man, had Baited over Night, and would questionless let us make use of for a small Gratification; Eugenius, being very well content, call'd away the Company, which were led by the Youth to a Boat belonging to his Master, into which being entred, the old Man, who was owner of the Boat, hoys'd up Sails, and began to steer the Boat with one of his Oars, to a place he shewed us at a good distance off, but did it so unskilfully, that since a Mariner of his Age could scarce mistake so grossly for want of Experience in the River, we began to suspect, that he had too plentifully tasted a far stronger Li∣quor than that which was the Scene of his Trade; and as the old Man was half Drunk, so the Youth appeared to be a meer Novice, both which we had quickly occasion to take notice off: For some Clouds that were gathering out of the Sea, passing over our Vessel, rais'd in their passage, as is usual enough, a temporary Wind, that to such a slight Boat as ours was, might almost pass for a kind of Storm; For then the old Man gave out his directions so ill, and the Youth was so little able to execute them punctually, that two of the Company of∣fended
at their unskilfulness, began by an∣gry and unseasonable Expostulations and Clamours, to confound the already disor∣der'd Boat-man, and being got up, with no small hazard to the Boat, they would per∣chance, by crossing the VVater-men in their endeavours, have made it miscarry, had not Lindamor, whose Travels had made him well acquainted with such cases, ear∣nestly requested them to sit still, and let the VVater-men do their own work as well as they could, affirming, that he had seen more than one of those easily over-set Boats cast away by the confused and disagreeing en∣deavours of the VVater-men and Passen∣gers to preserve it: This counsel was thought very reasonable, since the greater the VVind was, and the less the Steerman's dexterity, the more necessary it appear'd, that we should be orderly and quiet, and by leaning our Bodies sometimes one way, and sometimes another, as occasion re∣quir'd, do what in us lay to keep the Vessel upright, and herein we were so prosperous, that soon after the Cloud was passed, and the Shower it brought with it was over, the VVind grew moderate enough to allow us to make some calm Reflections on what had happened: This Lindamor, from the thanks that were given him for his advice, took
occasion to do in these tearms: Since States-men and Philosophers are wont to compare a Common-wealth to a Ship, I hope the Reflection suggested to us by what had just now happen'd, will be the easier pardon'd. The skil of ruling Nations, is an Art no less difficult than noble; for whereas Statuaries, Masons, Carpenters, and other Artificers work upon inanimate Materials, a Ruler must manage free Agents, who may have each of them interests or designs of their own, distinct from those of the Prince, and many times repugnant to them: And the Prizes that are contended for in Government, either are, or (which is in our case all one) are thought, so Valuable, and the concur∣rents are so Concern'd, and consequently so Industrious to drive on each his own de∣sign, that without mentioning any of those many other things which make good Go∣vernment difficult, these alone may suffice to make it more our trouble than our won∣der, that the Rulers of States and Com∣mon-wealths should oftentimes mis-govern them. But the publick Infelicities of de∣clining States, are not always wholly due to the Imprudence of the Ruler, but often∣times those that most resent such Impru∣dency, even by those very Resentments, encrease the publick Disorders they appear
so much troubled at; and it may be a que∣stion, Whether it be more prejudicial to Common-wealths, to have Rulers that are mean States-men, than to have a Multitude of Subjects, that think themselves to be VVise ones, and are forward to Censure what is done by their Magistrates, either because it is done by their Superiours, or because 'tis not done by themselves.
Yet it may well be doubted, (says Eu∣genius) whether the Reverence and Sub∣mission we owe to Senates, or Princes, ex∣tend to our very Reasons, and our inward Thoughts: For the Right, and the Skil to Govern, are two very distinct things; nor does the one confer the other: A Crown, how pretious soever, adorns but the out∣side of the Head, without enriching the in∣side; and its Splendour will scarce dazle a VVise beholders Eyes, though it but too often does theirs that wear it: No, the Tribunal of reason has a Jurisdiction that reaches to Thrones themselves, and what you well observed just now concerning the difficulty of avoiding faults in Govern∣ment, will, I presume, make you think it excusable, if I confess that I think, Sove∣raigns do now and then do what you con∣fess 'tis so hard for them to avoid doing; Nor is it more a Breach of Loyalty, not to
think a weak Governour a Prudent one, than not to think him Tall, or Streight, or Sharp-sighted, if Nature have made him Low, or Crooked, or Purblind. A Senate or a Monarch may indeed command my Life and Fortune; but as for my Opinions, whether of Persons, or things, I cannot in most cases command them my self, but must suffer them to be such as the Nature of the things I judge of requires; and therefore, the thinking all things done with VVisdome that are done by Men in Pow∣er, is too great an Impossibility to be a Duty; and besides, it would lessen the Merit of Obedience, which otherwise would not appear to be paid to the Authority of the Magistrate, since we readily obey the Injunction of Lawyers and Physitians, as long as we think them Prudently fram'd for our good, though we acknowledge not these Persons to have any right to Com∣mand us.
But though (continues Eugenius) I take Reason to be so supream a thing, that as even the greatest Princes Actions should be regulated by it, so they may be judg'd by it; yet I allow lawfull Authority a Jurisdiction over my Actions, that I deny it over my Opinions; and though I can obey the Or∣ders that have the Impresses of VVisdome,
as well as the stamp of Authority, with more hope and alacrity, yet I can obey those wherein I think Power is unguided by Prudence, with no less Punctualness and Fidelity: I would not resist a Magistrate when I cannot esteem him; and though I dare discern Folly even in the greatest Princes, yet I can reverence Authority in the weakest.
I know Eugenius too well (says Lin∣damor) not to believe him: But though I confess, that to do what you say, is to do much, and to do that which I fear is not usually done, yet me-thinks it were well if we did somewhat more; for whereas most humane Actions, especially about Matters political, are attended with great variety of Circumstances, according to some or other of which, they may be differingly considered, and estimated, as 'tis not very difficult to make many, if not most Actions appear politick or unwise, according as they are Cloathed with those of their Cir∣cumstances, that may be applied to excuse them, or with those that are fit to discom∣mend them; so I would take a care to put the favourablest Constructions on those publick Counsels, that are capable of more Constructions than one, and use the Parents of my Country, as Noah's two dutifull
Children did their distemper'd Father, whose Nakedness when they had once dis∣covered, they covered too; and that in such a way, as shewed they were unwilling to see more of it than was necessary to en∣able them to hide it. And I say this, (con∣tinues Lindamor) with Relation to Euge∣nius, and such as he; for as to the Vulgar, who yet make up the far greatest and loudest part of those that would intrude them∣selves into State-affairs, upon the pretence of their being ill managed by their Supe∣riours; I cannot but think, that whatever the course of Affairs be, these cannot but be incompetent Judges of their being Po∣litick, or the contrary: For to judge of things barely by success, were somewhat to forget that there is a supream and absolute disposer of Events, and has been a practice always rejected by the Wise, as both dis∣couraging Wisdome and affronting it; And as for the Counsels, by which indeed the Prudence or Imprudence of publick Actions is to be estimated, the Vulgar is rarely admitted to have such a Prospect into the true State of Affairs, as is requisite to enable them to judge of the Expedience or unadvisedness of them, being unac∣quainted with the frame and Motives of the Prince's Counsels and Designs: Ordinary
Men may often think that Imprudent, whil'st they consider it only in it self, which its congruity to the rest of the Prince's de∣signs may make Politick enough, and a pri∣vate Whisper, or the Intimation from an unsuspected Spy, or an intercepted Letter, or divers other things unperceiv'd, and per∣haps undreamt of, by those that are not of the State-Cabal, may make it wise to do several things, which to those that look only at the Actions, without knowing the Mo∣tives, may appear Unpolitick, and would indeed be so, were it not for these Reasons, which yet ought to be as little Divulged as Disobey'd: So that the Peoples for∣wardness, to quarrel with the Transactions of their Prince, is usually compounded of Pride and Ignorance, and is most incident to those, that do not sufficiently understand either State-affairs or themselves; and whil'st they judge upon incompetent Infor∣mation, even when their Superiours are in the fault, they may be so, for censuring them.
I must not now dispute, (says Eusebius) whether such as you, Gentlemen, whom their Conditions, Parts and Opportunities qualifie to discern the Interests and Designs of Princes, may not be allowed to judge of their Counsels, and see their Errours; As
our late Astronomers, being assisted with good Glasses, are allowed to tell us, that they discern Spots even in the Sun it self. But certainly, the Ambition of Pragmatical Inferiours, to make themselves States-men, upon pretence that those that sit at the Helm do not Govern it as wisely as these would do, if they were in the same places, is a fault no less prejudicial to any State, than Epidemical in some of them: For whil'st the Government is thus Decryed, the same disadvantageous Representatations em∣bolden Strangers and Forrainers to attempt the Subversion of a State, and make the dispondent Subjects despair of preserving it, little considering that there are scarce ever any Imprudences in a Government, that can prove any thing near so Prejudicial to the Generality of the Subjects, as would the Subversion of it, whether by Forain Conquest, or by Intestine Jarrs; such changes seldome doing less than entail up∣on unhappy Countries the fears and mis∣chiefs of Warr. And that though it be granted, that the right of Governing does not confer the Skil, yet 'tis much better to stick to the former, than oppose or desert it, because it wants the latter: For a right to a Crown, is that, which for the most part manifestly belongs but to one, and is sel∣dome
plausibly pretended to by above two or three, whereas the Skil to Govern is so undetermined, and so uncertain a thing, that Mens Innate pride and Self-love would encline almost every Man to claim it for himself, especially, since by challenging that, he might put for no less than Sove∣raignty: And in a State thus abandoned to the craftiest or the strongest, there would never want disturbing Vicissitude of Go∣vernments, as well as Governours, since whoever could get Interest enough in the Souldiery, or the Multitude, would quickly devise and impose such a frame of Govern∣ment, as may put the Management of Af∣fairs into his and his Parties hands, and give them the Authority that have the Pow∣er. But (resumes Eusebius) I must re∣member, that not Politicks, but Divinity is my Profession, and therefore without en∣larging upon the confusion that is inevitable in a State, where the right of Governing being not heeded, or at least not ascertain∣ed, every Man would pretend to Counsel or Command, and none would think him∣self bound to Obey; I shall only mind you, that Magistracy having been instituted by God, for the good of Mankind, we may in obeying our Lawfull Magistrates, though perhaps less Wise than we could wish
them, not only participate the Advantages naturally accruing from Obedience to Su∣periours, but divers peculiar Blessings that God oftentimes vouchsafes to our Obedi∣ence to his Vice-gerents, and his Institu∣tions. Let Subjects therefore (says Euse∣bius) wish for wise Princes, but submit to those the Providence of God, and the Laws of their Country, may have given them: Let us, if by any just way we be called to it, assist a Prince with the wisest Counsels we can; if not, let us assist him to make the best of the unwise Counsels he has taken, without adding our Factiousness, or our Passions to his Misgovernment, remembring that, at least in my Opinion, to the happi∣ness of a Common-wealth, it is not only requisite that the Prince know how to com∣mand well, but that the Subjects obey well; and that even weak Counsels, faithfully assisted, and as much as may be rectified or repaired by those that are to Execute them, may less prejudice the publick, than the froward and jarring endeavours of Men, that perhaps would be wiser Rulers if they had a right to be so. It may be (continues Eusebius) that affection and diligence in the publick Service, may, in spight of the Governments miscarriages, prevent, or at least retard and lessen, the Ruine of the
State. But however, (concludes he) it will be no small satisfaction to an honest Man, and a loyal Subject, not to be con∣scious to himself of having contributed to the publick Calamities, either by his own Provocations, or his Factious indignation at the Princes faults; if a Man have done his utmost to hinder the Ruine he comes to be involved in, the publick Calamity will be far lighter to him, being not clogged by private Guilt; and he will support the misfortune of it with far the less trouble, if he be to support nothing else. Nay, since the Service we do to whatever Prince is rightfully set over us, upon the score of his being Gods Vice-gerent, is ultimately directed to that Supream, and as the Scrip∣ture calls him, Only Potentate, whose Ma∣nificence is as inexhausted as his Treasure; we may safely expect, that whatever pre∣judice we here sustain upon the account of the Prince's commands, will hereafter be advantageously considered to us in the re∣ward of our Obedience.
THis Discourse had already lasted so long, that as well my Unwillingness that one Theme should detain us any lon∣ger, as my Desire to keep Eugenius from making any Reply, which on such an occa∣sion might perchance have begot some Dis∣pute, made me forward to divert the Dis∣course, by inviting the Company to take notice of a black Cloud that was coming towards us, which soon after, in its passage under the Sun, interpos'd betwixt our Sight and that gloriousest Object of it. Lindamor then having a while attentively enough con∣sider'd it, took thence an occasion to say: This Cloud, Gentlemen, whensoever it shall fall down in Rain, will sufficiently shew that it was before but VVater, which whilst it lay mingl'd with the rest of the River, or the Sea, whence 'tis Exhal'd, may be sup∣pos'd as Clear and Limpid as any of the rest; but now that the Sun has by its pow∣full Beams elevated this VVater in the form of Vapours, and drawn it near it self, we see it Composes a Cloud, which does no
longer receive or transmit the Light, but robs the Earth of it, and eclipses the Sun that rais'd it, and sometimes too, produces dismal storms of Rain, and Wind, and Hail. Thus (pursues Lindamor) there are many, who while they continu'd in a low and private Fortune, were as blame∣less as others; and yet, when by a peculiar Vouchsafement of Providence, they are rais'd from that humble state to a conspi∣cuous height, they seem to have as much chang'd their Nature as their Fortune, they grow as much worse than meaner Men, as their condition is better than that of such; and the principal things by which they make their Exaltation be taken notice of, are, the Prejudice they do to their Inferiours, and the Ingratitude they exercise towards that Monarch of the VVorld, that rais'd them above others. Of so perverting a Nature, is so high a Station, that the gaining of an Earthly Crown, is very far from being a furtherance to the acquiring of an Heavenly one: And many, whom an humble condi∣tion of Life kept as Innocent as Lowly, are, by the highest Advancement in point of Fortune, impair'd in point of Morality; and these supreme Dignities, which the ambitious World so fondly Courts and Envies, do so often manifest those that
have attain'd them, to be unworthy of them.
I know not whether Eugenius imagin'd that Lindamor did in this Discourse make some little Reflection, upon what we had lately said on the behalf of Princes: But I afterwards suspected, that it was partly to reply to this Observation, as well as en∣tertain the Company with a new one that he subjoyn'd. As this Cloud has furnish'd Lindamor with one Reflection, so that which lately brought us the Showr of Rain, whose marks are yet upon our Hats, may supply us with another, which may shew, that Themes of this Nature are applicable to very differing purposes, according as one or other of their Circumstances happens to be consider'd and employ'd: For as far (pursues he) as we can judge by the Neighbourhood of the Sea, and by that Cloud's being driven hither by a VVind blowing thence, it consisted of the Sea-water rais'd in the form of Vapours. But though the Water of the Ocean is Salt and Brackish, Unpleasant and Unwholesome whilst it lies there Unelevated; yet that Water which has the Advantage of being rais'd to the second Region of the Air, ap∣pears, when 'tis turn'd into Rain, to have left all its Brackishness behind it, and proves
both wholesome for Mens Bodies, and fer∣tilizing to their Fields.
Thus (continues Eugenius) we some∣times see, that Men, who in a private con∣dition were subject to divers Vices, devest them when they are advanc'd to the honour of putting on Royal Robes, as Silk-worms leave their Husks behind them, when by acquiring Wings they turn into (a nobler sort of Creatures) flying Animals; as most Men change, so some improve their Minds with their Condition, and seem to have mis-behav'd themselves in a lower Station, but because they were Born to a higher, and were, whilst beneath it, detain'd out of their proper Sphere. And indeed, as a Throne exposes those that sit on it to peculiar Temptations to Vice, so does it afford them peculiar Engagements to Vir∣tue, as so Elevated a Station is apt to make Men giddy, so is it proper to make them circumspect, by letting them see that all the VVorld sees Them; the Sublimity of such a Condition would make any Soul, that is not very mean, despise many mean things that too often prevail upon Inferiour per∣sons. If Princes have any sense of Shame and Honour, it will be a great Curb to them, to consider, that, as there are too many Eyes upon them to let their Vices be
secret, so their Faults can as little escape Censure as Discovery; and Men will be the more severe to their Reputations, be∣cause 'tis the only thing wherein Subjects can punish their Soveraigns. If they have any thing of Generosity in their Natures, their very Condition, by placing them above other Objects, will make them aspire to Glory, and that is a Mistress, that ev'n Monarchs cannot successfully court, but with great and good Actions. And if they have withall a sense of Piety, they cannot, but, in Gratitude to him, whose Vice∣gerents they are, endeavour to promote his Interests that made them so, and so make themselves as like him as they can in his other Attributes of Clemency, Justice, and Bounty, as he has vouchsaf'd to make them in his Power and Authority: And besides, that the actual Possession of an Earthly Grown leaves them nothing worth aspi∣ring to but a Heavenly one: The conside∣ration of the great Advantages they have above other Men of doing Good, and the Exemplariness and Influence as well of their Vices as of their Virtues, will make them tremble at the thoughts of the Ac∣count they must one Day render of so many Thousands, perhaps of so many Millions, (of Subjects) committed to their Charge,
if, as they are sure it will be a great one, they shall not make it a good one. Nor (pursues Eugenius) is History altogether unfurnish'd with Examples of those whom a Throne has as well Improv'd as Dignify'd:* 1.18 Saul was not the only Person, who when he was created King had another Spirit, and became another Man; That Titus, who was the Head of it, was justly styl'd the Darling of Mankind, though his Virtue and Noble∣ness did, more than his Crown, keep the greatest part of Posterity from taking no∣tice of any thing in him, but an Obliging∣ness proportionate to his Greatness: Yet I find in some antient VVriters, to whom Truth was more dear than ev'n this Favou∣rite of Mankind, that before he came to that supreme Pitch of humane Dignity, his course of Life did not promise the Roman World the happiness it deriv'd from his Government; His Life before he came to be Emperour, having not been so free from Blemishes of Lust and Blood: But that I may, in writing his Character, invert what the Roman Historian said of one of his Pre∣decessours, and say, that Titus had been thought Indignus Imperio nisi imperasset. And, without going as far as Rome, our own Hi∣story affords us a Henry the Fifth, who,
before he came to the Kingdome, was scarce thought worthy to Live in it, and did so degrade himself to the Practices of the meanest Malefactors, that a Judge, that was then his Fathers Subject, was fain to use him at that Rate; and yet this Prince, as soon as he had Seated himself in the Throne, did as suddenly as if the Place it self had some secret Virtue to improve those it admitted, behave himself as a Per∣son worthy of it; and not only Conquer'd France, but, which was a Nobler, as well as a more difficult Victory, his own Resent∣ments too, by preferring that Judge, when King, that had Imprison'd him, when Prince; and evincing by so memorable an Action, that he preferr'd Virtue above himself, and renouncing the Pleasure of Revenge, he scrupl'd not to promote one whom he could not commend without condemning him∣self; were it not, that in this Prince, accor∣ding to what I was saying, the King was become another Man than the Subject. And perhaps, (concludes Eugenius, a little Smiling) I could proceed to give you other Examples enough to keep it from being improbable; that one main Reason, why there are but few good Princes, is, because there are but few Princes; were it not that I see the VVater-man prepare to Land
us: And in effect, we were now come so near the place, where the Fisher-man de∣sign'd to set us Ashore, that whether or no Lindamor had a mind to return any thing to what Eugenius had said, it would then have appear'd unseasonable, either to resume the Debate, or prosecute the Discourse.
WHen we were now come to the place where we were to be Lan∣ded, least the Boat should be carried away by the Stream before we could step Ashore, the Owner of it reach'd out his long Pole, and by means of the Crook, taking fast hold of the Bank, he drew the Pole towards him with all his might, and thereby brought the Boat to Shore. This endeavour of the VVater-man's, and the effect of it, inviting Eusebius to smile a little, gave me the Cu∣riosity, as soon as we were Landed, to en∣quire why he did so: It is almost as ordi∣nary, (answers Eusebius) for Men to think themselves wiser than God, as 'tis impossi∣ble for them really to be so. Those that study nothing but to obtain their Ends, and
that scruple at nothing they judge condu∣cive to them, do oftentimes lay their de∣signs and plots with so much Artifice and Subtilty, that they do not doubt, that, what∣ever may become of Gods designs, and of his promises, and threats, those which themselves have laid so Politickly cannot but succed. And even pious and well-mean∣ing Persons, that have the opportunity to discern the Politick ways that these Men take to compass their Ends, are oftentimes tempted to needless Fears, that Divine pro∣vidence will be puzzl'd and distress'd by them; and to think, that for Reasons se∣cret, though just, Providence may be put by these Mens craft to play an after-game in the VVorld to come. But in such cases, it often fares with these grand Designers, as it did just now with our VVater-man: He had fastened his Grapling-Iron to the Shore, and putting to his utmost strength, did so forcibly endeavour to draw it to∣wards him, that one, that did not know that the Shore was fixt, might expect this Lusty Fellows endeavours capable to put into Motion whatever he so forcibly drew towards him: But the Shore being fixt, and immoveable, instead of making that come to him, his very strainings drew him and his Boat to that. Thus the contrivers
of the proud Pile of Babel, whereby they meant (not, as most imagine, to secure themselves against a second Flood; the Text being silent as to that Aim, and a Plain being a very improper place for such a purpose, but) to make themselves a Name, and prevent Dispersion. These ambitious Contrivers, who had laid their Plot so hopefully, that they had engag'd no less than Mankind, and who probably had Designs as rais'd as their intended Fabrick, since those Expressions of him, that knew their Hearts,* 1.19 (And this they be∣gin to do, and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do) seem'd me-thinks to warrant my Conjecturing, that those had designs very aspiring, that intended but to make a Rise to their soaring flight of a Tower, whose Top should reach unto Hea∣ven. But the Policy of these ambitious Builders being contrary to the charitable decree of God, to have the Earth Peopl'd, he made use of that very conspiracy, that brought them together, to effect that which they conspir'd to prevent; so, that now the remotest Parts of the Inhabited World are but the Colonies of Babel, whose scattered Architects have indeed made themselves a Name, but upon a quite contrary Account
than they intended or expected. Thus the Purblind envy of Joseph's Brethren, having made them resolve to prevent his future Dreams of Superiority over them, made them think, that by Selling him for a Slave, they had taken sufficient Order he should never come to be their Master. And yet we see, that Joseph's being sold into Egypt, was made use of by the wise Orderer of humane Affairs, to make him in effect Lord of that rich and populous Kingdome; and thereby, of his envious Brethren, Pharoah's Dreams having advantageously made him amends for the hardships his own had ex∣pos'd him to. So the proud Favourite of Ahasuerus questionless thought he could scarce miss his Ends, when, by the Counsel of his Friends, and, as he fondly thought, of his Gods too, he provided for Mordecai that fatal Gibbet, which probably he might have escap'd, if he had not erected it. Thus the High Priest and Sanhedrin of the Jews, seem'd to Act with much Policy, though no Justice, when they resolv'd upon the Death of our Saviour, least, as the Gospel tells us, the Romans should come and Destroy their Temple, and Nation, which whether indeed it did not rather procure than divert the coming of the Romans, the Church-History can inform you. Nay, the Old
Serpent himself, that Arch-politician, that was the Instructer of those others I have been naming, even in his chiefest Master-piece, found himself the most Over-match'd by him, to whom the Scripture ascribes the taking of the VVise in their own Crafti∣ness. For questionless, he highly applauded his own Subtilty, and seem'd to have taken the directest and most prosperous way to his impious Ends, that could be devis'd, when, having made Herod and Pilate Friends upon such tearms, that the Lamb of God should be the Victim of their new Confe∣deracy, he had engag'd both Jews and Gentiles in a ruinous and tragick Conspi∣racy to Kill the Prince of Life, and by that unparallel'd Crime at once destroy the Divels chief Enemy, and make God theirs: And yet the Event has sufficiently mani∣fested, that the Apostle might well affirm, that Christ by his Death destroy'd him that had the Empire of Death, the Divel, and that Satan's Kingdome never receiv'd so deadly a Wound, as that which pierc'd our Crucify'd Saviour's side. VVherefore in short, (concludes Eusebius) the Decrees of Providence are too solid and fixt to have Violence offered them by humane At∣tempts, how specious soever they be; and those that think to bring God to their Bent,
will find at long Running, that they have to do with One, whose Power and Wisdome are so Over-ruling, that not only he can frustrate their utmost endeavours, but make those very endeavours frustrate themselves, and employ Mens subtilest Policies to ac∣complish those very things they were de∣sign'd to defeat.
AS soon as we were come to the place the Fisher-man told us of, we found it as plentifully stor'd with Fish as he had fore-told us, and caught more in some few Minutes than we had taken in a whole hour before: But we did not half so much mar∣vel at this, as we were pleas'd with it, be∣cause the Fisher-man inform'd us, that he had liberally Baited the place over-night with Corn, as well as VVorms; whil'st this pleasant Exercise lasted, Eusebius mark∣ing how great a Resort of Fishes there was in that place, and how fast we drew them up, upon comparing what he saw happen, with the Occasion of it, thus acquainted
us with the thoughts thereby suggested to him. Those (says he) that Yester-day in the Evening might see this Man (point∣ing at the Fisher-man) throw in his Baits by handfulls into this place, and then de∣part, as minding them no more, were pro∣bably, if they knew not his Design, and the Custom of Fishers, tempted to think him a wastfull Prodigal, or at best a venturous Fool, to bury his Corn in the River, and throw his Baits to be caught up by Fishes, that for ought he knew would never come back to thank their Host. But those that know (what we now find) how profitable a Course this is wont to prove, would, in stead of thinking such a practice a piece of Folly, look upon it as a piece of Pro••i∣dence: For though he be sure not to recover in kind the things he cast upon the Waters, yet such a loss is wont to prove very gainfull unto him, whilst he loses but a Grain of Corn, or a Worm, to obtain Fishes of far more Value. Thus, though the purblind World may think a liberal Almes-giver, or a generous Con∣fessor, a Fool, or a Prodigal, whil'st they only consider him as one that throws away what he has in present Possession, and seems not so much as to hope for the reco∣very of the same Goods, or any of the like
Nature; yet those whose Eyes being Illu∣minated with a Heavenly light, are thereby enabl'd to look into the vast and distant Regions of the future, and to descry there the final Issues of all Temporal things, will be so far from thinking him unwise, for parting with unsatisfying Trifles, to pro∣cure the highest and most permanent Goods, that they will think his Proceedings far more justifiable in point of Prudence, than we now think the Fisher-man's: Nor will the parting with a greater Fortune, as freely as with a lesser, any more alter the Case, than the Fisher-mans throwing in his bigger VVorms, and grains of Corn, with no more scruple than his lesser: For Heaven does as well incomparably out∣vaue the greatest, as the least Goods poor Morals can lay out for it; and he, who has all things to give, and is infinitely more than all himself, has promis'd, that those that Sow plentifully, shall Reap so too; and though the least of future Acquists would incomparably transcend the greatest Price that can be here given for it, yet the future Rewards will betwixt one another bear a proportion to the Occasions of them; and as the Fisher-man is sure to lose what he throws into the Water, and is not sure to get by it any thing of greater Value than
some Fishes; the Christian-Adventurer, (if I may so call him) may hope, though not confidently promise himself, in this World the hundred fold mention'd by our Saviour, as well as in the VVorld to come Life everlasting. And therefore, if we do indeed in Saint Paul's Language, look, not to the things which are seen, which are but Temporary, but to the Invisible ones which are Eternal, we shall think that Exhorta∣tion of his very Rational, as well as very Pious, where, having Discours'd of the fu∣ture and glorious State of the true Chri∣stians, he concludes, Wherefore, my beloved Brethren, be ye stedfast, immoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; for as much as you know, that your Labour is not in vain in the Lord.
WE had not yet dismiss'd the Water∣man, when Eugenius chancing to express a Curiosity, to know what a Clock it was, when we had freshly begun to Angle at our new Station; as Lindamor and the
rest drew their VVatches to satisfie his Question, so the Boat-man took out of his Pocket a little Sun-Dyal, furnished with an excited Needle to direct how to Set it, such Dyals being used among Mariners, not only to show them the hour of the Day, but to inform them from what quarter the VVind blows; upon the sight of this Dyal, my natural Curiosity invited me, after it had told me the hour, to try whether the Magnetick Needle were well touched, by drawing a little Penknife out of a pair of Twises I then chanc'd to have about me, and approaching it to the North point of the Needle, which according to the known custom of such Needles, readily followed it, or rested over against it, which way so∣ever I turned the Penknife, or whereabout soever I held it still; Eusebius seeing me give my self this Diversion, came up to me to be a sharer in my sight, which no Fami∣liarity can keep from being a VVonder: But after a while, he look'd upon it in a way that made me think it presented him somewhat else than the hour of the Day, or the corner of the VVind; and I was confirm'd in that thought, by seeing him ap∣ply to it the case of Lindamor's VVatch, and then a Diamond-ring pluck'd from his own Finger, and in effect, he soon began to tell
me; Me-thinks, Philaretus, this Needle may afford us a good direction in the choice of Companies: And that is a matter of such moment, that some Divines perhaps would question, whether or no the di∣rection it gives Navigators to find the Poles, be of much greater Importance: For not only it has been truly observed, that the choice of ones Company does exceedingly discover whether a Man be Good, or Bad, VVise, or Foolish; but I shall venture to add, that it does very much contribute to make him what others say it declares him: For an assiduous Converse does insensibly dispose and fashion our Minds and Manners to a resemblance with those we delight to converse with, and there are few that have so much Resolution, as to disobey Customs and Fashions, especially when embraced by Persons that we love, and would be esteem∣ed by, and from whose Opinions and Pra∣ctices we can scarce dissent constantly with∣out impressing a Dislike, that threatens to make them dislike us. For my part, (says Lindamor) I have always thought there is great difference betwixt keeping Com∣pany with some Men, and choosing to do so; For whilst we Live in this VVorld, we must often have to do with the Lovers of the VVorld: But though to be cast by
the Exigencies of our Callings upon bad Company, be an Infelicity without being a Fault, yet certainly, to choose such Com∣pany, and prefer it before that of wise and good Men, is in a high Degree both the one and the other. And I confess, (continues he) I cannot think, that the proper use of Conversation is but to pass away our time, not to improve it.
You are certainly much in the right, (subjoyns Eusebius) for though too many of those that are now cried up for good Company, do either so disswade us from good and serious things, or so divert us from them, that 'tis oftentimes counted a piece of Indiscretion to say any thing that may either inrich Men's Understandings, or a∣waken their Consciences; yet I cannot but think, that Conversation may be, as well as ought to be, rescued from being an Instru∣ment to promote Idleness and Vice; and, if Men were not wanting to themselves, I doubt not, it may be so ordered, that Con∣versation, which so often robs Men of their time, and so frequently of their Devotion, might be made a great Instrument of Piety, and Knowledge, and become no less Usefull than 'tis wont to be Pleasant.
To make Companies (replies Linda∣mor) such as you think they may be, they
must grow very different from what most commonly they are: For, not to speak of those loose and profane ones, where Virtue and Seriousness are openly derided, and any thing, how contrary soever to Piety, or right Reason, may be used, not only with tolle∣ration, but applause, if Men can bring it out, I say not in Jest, (for they are seldome more in earnest) but neatly wrapt up in Raillery; even in those civiller sorts of Company, where Vice is not professedly maintained, you shall seldome, during a long stay, hear any thing that is really worth carrying away with you, or remembring when you are gone. And to Discourse of any thing that is Grave enough, either to exercise Men's Intellects, or excite their Devotion, is counted a piece of Indiscre∣tion, that is wont to be more carefully avoided than almost any thing that is really such; so, that even in such Companies, the Innocentest use that we are wont to make of our time, is, to lose it: And really, (continues Lindamor) when I consider how ensnaring the worser sort of Compa∣nies are, and how little, even those that do not openly defie Piety and Knowledge, are wont to cherish either of them; I begin to be reconciled to Hermites, who fly from such Conversations as are so apt to make
Men either Vitious, or at least Idle into those Solitudes, where they are not like to be Tempted, either to renounce their De∣votion, or to suppress it, to entertain idle Thoughts, or stifle good ones: Nor could I without much Scruple, as well as Impa∣tience, allow my self to spend some part of my time in such kind of entertainments as many spend most of theirs in, were it not, that looking upon Civility as a Virtue, and Hospitality as in some cases a Duty, and upon both of them as things of good report, I can think those hours they make me spend, may be justly cast upon their ac∣count, and that the Ceremonious and In∣significant conversations whereto they ob∣lige me, may be undergone upon some such account as that, on which serious Parents converse and oftentimes play with their Children; for, as though the things they do, are in themselves trivial, and useless, yet they may be justifiable Effects of a pa∣ternal care to still a Child, or keep him from harming himself; so the Duty of ex∣ercising of Civility makes me look upon as justifiable, though unpleasant, those Ex∣pressions of it, which, in themselves con∣sidered, I could not Reflect on without Indignation, and could not but think very much below any Man, whom Education has
fitted for the exercise of Reason, or whom Religion has elevated to the hopes of Hea∣ven.
But it may (says Eusebius) on the other side be represented, that since 'tis scarce possible not to meet sometimes with Com∣panies that are not of the best sort, we should look upon those Necessities, as calls of Providence, to improve those Oppor∣tunities for the advantage of them we are engaged to converse with; for Nature, as well as Christianity, teaches us, that we are not Born only for our selves, and therefore, as we ought often to converse with the best Men, to acquire Virtue and Knowledge, so we must sometimes converse with others, that we may impart them, and learn how much we are beholden to God's Goodness, that has so much discriminated us from other Men; and though we do not find that our Conversation does immediately and visibly reform those we converse with, yet it will not presently follow, that it is alto∣gether ineffectual on them: For, besides that the seeds of Virtue and Knowledge, as well as those of Plants, may long seem to lye dead, even in those Soils wherein they will afterwards Flourish and Fructifie, there may be at present a Good, though not a Conspicuous, Effect of your Discourse and
Example. For when Men are hasting to Hell, he does them no small Service, that does so much as Retard their course, as Cordials, and other Medicines, may do good even to decrepid Old men, whom they cannot perfectly cure.
And trust me, Lindamor, 'tis no such useless performance as you may think it, for a Man of known Piety and Parts, by conversing with the Children of this Gene∣ration, To dare to own Religion among those that dare to deride it; To keep alive and excite a witness for God and Good things in their Consciences; To let them see, and make them (at least inwardly) acknowledge, the Beauty of a pious, Indu∣strious, and well-ordered course of Life; To convince them, that it is not for want of knowing the Vanities they dote on, that he despises them; To shew, that a Man, that denies himself their sinfull Jollities, can Live contented without them: And, (to dispatch) To manifest, by a real and visible Demonstration, that a virtuous and dis∣creet Life is no unpracticable, no more than Melancholy thing, ev'n in Bad times, and among Bad men. And says, Eusebius, to me it seems very considerable, that our Saviour himself, the great Author of our Faith, and Exemplar of our Piety, did not choose an
Anchorites, or a Monastique Life, but a sociable and an affable way of conversing with Mortals, not refusing Invitations, even from Publicans, or to Weddings, and by such winning Condescensions gained the Hearts, and thereby a Power to reform the Lives, of multitudes of those he vouchsaf'd to converse with.
Other considerations (pursues Eusebius) might be represented to the same purpose with these: But since I promised you something of Direction, I suppose you will expect I should tell you, not what I could say, but what I do think. I will tell you then in few words, that though I think it as well possible as fit for Men of radicated Virtue, and fine Parts, to make sometimes a good use of bad Company, especially when their lawfull occasions cast them into it; yet for others to be often engag'd in such Company, though it may be but an Infelicity, is a very great one; and to choose such Company, is, what is worse than an Unhappiness, a Fault: But generally speak∣ing, I would distinguish three sorts of Companies; for there are some, that not only are unable to improve me, but are un∣willing to be improved themselves; A se∣cond sort there is, that are as well ready to learn, as able to instruct: And there are
others, that, though they are not Proficients enough to teach me things worth my Learn∣ing, are yet desirous to be taught by me, the little that I know, and they ignore. Now, as the Magnetick Needle we were looking on, and which affords us the Theam of this Discourse, if you should apply a Load∣stone to it, would be most powerfully at∣tracted by that, because it can receive fresh Virtue from it; and even, if you approach a piece of Steel to it, the Needle will, though not so studiously, apply it self to it, from which, though it receives no Magne∣tick virtue, it can impart some to it: But if you offer it the Silver case of your Watch, or the Gold that makes up your Ring, or the Diamonds that are set in it, none of all these, how Rich or Glittering soever, will at all move the Needle, which suffers them to stand by unregarded; So I shall with the most of Cheerfulness, and Application, seek the Company of those that are qua∣lify'd, to impart to me the Virtue or the Knowledge they abound with: Nor shall I refuse to entertain a Society with those few, that being such small Proficients as to need to learn of me, are also forward to do so. But those that can neither teach me any thing that is Good, nor are disposed to let me teach it them, how great a shew so∣ever
they make, among those that make choice of their Companions by their Eyes; I may be cast-upon their Conversation, but shall very hardly choose it.
I Had almost forgot to relate, that not far from the place where we went on Shore, and which we had not yet quitted, we saw divers heaps of Quick-lime, some Smoak∣ing, and some that had not yet been Drench'd in Water; and upon Enquiry of those that look'd to it, we were soon in∣form'd, that the conveniency of the Neigh∣bouring River, both for slacking of Lime, and conveying Mortar, had made the Own∣ers bring their Lime thither, to be temper'd and made fit for the Reparation of some Houses that we saw a little way off: But while we were talking, one of the Work∣men began to throw Water upon one of the heaps that had not yet been Slack'd, and afterwards pour'd on so much more as serv'd quite to drown the Lime; and Eus••bius marking, both what he did, and what en∣su'd upon it, took thence occasion to say to
us; He that should see only the Effect of the first Effusion of cold Water upon quick Lime, would think, that by a kind of Anti∣peristesis, the Internal heat of the Lime is rather encreas'd than suffocated by the Coldness and Moisture of the VVater; for that which before was not taken notice of, to manifest any sensible warmth, as soon as its Enemy the VVater begins to invade it, acquires a new heat and new forces in the Conflict, and not only shews a great Im∣patience, or Enmity, to that cold Liquor, by acting furiously upon it, and throwing off many parts into the Air, but prevails so far as to heat that cold Element it self, to that degree, as to make it Smoak and Boyl. But this Conflict is seldome near so lasting as 'tis eager; for if you have but the Pati∣ence to stay a while, you shall see the Lime, after it has spent its occasional Ardour, and after its Fire is quench'd, lye quietly with, nay under, the VVater, as cold and as moveless as it. Thus, when a devout Man, (especially if his Fervour be adven∣titious from Education, or Custom, as the Fire in the Lime from the Calcination) first falls into the Company of Persons, either Profane, or otherwise grossly Viti∣ous, we often see, that his Zeal, instead of being smother'd by such a rude and unac∣custom'd
Opposition, seems rather to be excited and kindl'd thereby, and possibly seems more likely to impart the warmth of his Devotion to its Enemies than to lose any of it himself; but when he is constant∣ly, or at least frequently, surrounded with such Company, you will too often see him lose as well his own Ardour as the en∣deavours of communicating it; and with those very Persons, that did at first kindle and exasperate his Zeal, you shall at last see him Live very quietly, and perhaps ma∣nifest as little of Religious warmth as they; and that which at first did so strangely ex∣asperate and discompose him, becomes after a while so familiar, as not at all to move him.
WE had possibly dwelt longer upon such Reflections, had I not been suddenly diverted by the repeated Cla∣mours of a Voice, which each of us ima∣gin'd he had very often heard: VVhere∣upon, as it were, by common consent, we began to look round about us, to see if any
of our little Company were missing, and finding that Eugenius was so, we readily concluded the Voice we heard, though somewhat alter'd by distance, and other circumstances, to be his; and accordingly we hasted towards the place, whence we judg'd the Voice to proceed, that in case he were in any Distress, or had met with any Disaster, we might rescue or relieve him: But when we came near, we could now and then distinctly hear him speak some words so loud, and yet so incoherent and unable to compleat a Sense, as if he meant that all thereabouts should hear him, and no Body understand him. This made us double our Curiosity, and our Pace, till at length we descry'd him all alone in a solitary corner, wherein yet his Loudness kept us from be∣lieving he sought privacy: But as soon as he discover'd us, he seem'd both surpris'd and troubl'd at it; coming to meet us, he first begg'd our pardon, if having been Lou∣der than he thought, he had put us to a trouble he did not intend; and then Laugh∣ing, ask'd us, if we did not think him Mad: But Eusebius smiling, told him, that before we could answer that Question, we must ask one of him, which was, what he had been doing. VVhilst you, (answers Euge∣nius) were (I doubt not) better em∣ploy'd,
my natural Curiosity seduc'd me to spend some time in Ranging about the places near the River-side, and as I was passing by this Field, the accidental Lowing of an Ox made me take notice, that this Neighbouring Hill and Wood, furnish this place with an excellent Eccho, which I at first try'd only by VVhooping and Hol∣lowing; but afterwards diverted my self by framing my Questions so, as to make that Babling Nymph (for so you know the Poets will have Eccho to be) to Discourse with me.
For my part, (says Lindamor) I should by no means like her Conversation, because that two Qualities she has, which to me would very much discommend it: And to prevent our asking him what those Quali∣ties were, One of them, (says he) is, that she vouchsafes to Discourse indiscriminally with all commers that Talk to her, provided that they make Noise enough.
You are much in the right, (says Euge∣nius) for that easiness of admitting all kind of Company, provided Men have boldness enough to intrude into ours, is one of the uneasiest Hardships, (not to say Martyr∣doms) to which Custom has expos'd us, and does really do more Mischief than most Men take notice off; since it does not only
keep impertinent Fools in countenance, but encourages them to be very troublesome to wise Men. The VVorld is pester'd with a certain sort of Praters, who make up in Loudness what their Discourses want in Sense; and because Men are so easie Na∣tur'd as to allow the hearing to their Im∣pertinencies they presently presume that the things they speak are none; and most Men are so little able to discern in Dis∣course betwixt Confidence and Wit, that like our Eccho, to any that will but talk loud enough they will be sure to afford an∣swers. And, (which is worse) this rea∣diness to hazard our Patience, and certainly lose our Time, and thereby incourage others to multiply idle words, of which the Scrip∣ture seems to speak threatningly, is made by Custom an Expression, if not a Duty, of Civility; and so even a Virtue is made accessary to a Fault.
For my part, (subjoyns Eugenius) though I think these Talkative people worse pub∣lick Grievances than many of those for whose prevention, or redress, Parliaments are wont to be assembled, and Laws to be enacted; and though I think their Robbing us of our time as much a worse Mischief than those petty Thefts for which Judges condemn Men, as a little Money is a less
valuable Good than that precious Time, which no sum of it can either purchase or redeem; yet I confess, I think that those of our great Lords and Ladies, that can admit this sort of Company, deserve it: For if such Persons have but minds in any measure suited to their Qualities, they may safely, by their Discountenance, banish such pitifull Creatures, and secure their Quiet, not only without injuring the Reputation of their Civility, but by advancing that of their Judgment. And I fear, (continues Eugenius) that those who decline this Im∣ployment (and indeed Improvement) of their Titles, or other kinds of Eminency, do by their Remisness more harm than they imagine; For though the Judgment and Company of such Persons, be not always the best grounded, or the best chosen, yet their Quality or Station in the VVorld makes it usually the most conspicuous, and the most consider'd. And I doubt not, there is no such Multitude of dis-interest Lovers of Good things, but that there will be the fewer found Studious to express VVit and Virtue in Conversation, when they see, that in the Estimate of those that are look'd up∣on as the chief Judges of what is or is not good Company, the most empty and im∣pertinent Prattle with confidence, or loud∣ness,
procures a Man at least as good a Reception as the best and most rational Discourse without it. And, which is yet worse, that Tyrannous thing, which we mis∣name Civility, has so degraded Reason, as well as displac'd Piety, in Conversation, that if there be never so many Persons to∣gether, entertaining themselves with rati∣onal or instructive Discourse, in case there come in but one impertinent Creature that is below it, all these shall sink themselves to his Level, and as much debase their Dis∣course, as if they believ'd it fitter, that all the rational Conversers should fore-go the Exercise and the Benefit of their VVit and Virtue, than that a Fool should not appear to talk as wisely as any of them; and thus they seem'd asham'd of their Attainments, instead of making him asham'd of his Igno∣rance, and reducing him to improve himself into a capacity of being fit for their Com∣pany; whereas, from a contrary practice, they might derive the great Advantage, either of freeing themselves from uninvited Companions, or of making them worth the having.
But, (subjoyns Lindamor) I remember I told you there was a second Quality, that I dislik'd in the Nymph I found you enter∣taining, and that is, that, when I will, I can
make her speak to me, just what I please. I know (replies Eugenius) that a moderate degree of Complaisance, is not only in many cases allowed us by Discretion, but necessary to keep up the Pleasantness, not to say the very Peace, of humane Societies; For if all Men, at all times, spake their Minds freely, and did not soften one another by concealing their mutual Dislikes, and Dis∣sents, and by certain outward Expressions of Kindness, or Respect, made by Com∣plements and Gestures, Men have so many Imperfections, and so much Self-love with all, that scarce any two of them would en∣dure one another; Nay, and in spight of that Indulgence, which provident Nature has implanted in all Animals, for the pre∣servation of their Species, in that of the Individuals that compose it, and as much as our own Faultiness has added to that Fond∣ness; yet, I doubt, we shall scarce find one Man of a thousand, that would endure so much as himself, if we did not for the most part exercise Complaisance within our own Breasts, and did not as much flatter our selves, and disguise our selves, to our selves, as we flatteringly disguise our selves to others.
But, (continues Eugenius) when all this is said, I may endure, but I shall scarce
choose and prize a Companion, that, like an Eccho, uses no liberty of his own, but al∣lows me to direct whatever I would have to be answered me: And I know not whe∣ther I could not better like one that would ever dissent from me, than one that would never do so; I cannot look upon him either as my Friend, or as Person worthy to be made so, who never evinces his being more concerned to advantage me, than to please me, by making use of the liberty of a Friend, and thereby shewing, that he con∣siders not barely himself, but me; besides, that as there is no true Friendship where there is not an Union of Affections, so me∣thinks there can be no good Company where there is not sometimes a Dissent in Opinions.
Eusebius, that was a Friend to Serious∣ness, without being an Enemy to Pleasant∣ness, gathering from the long Pause made by his Friends, that they designed not the prosecuting of this Discourse any further; Me-thinks, Gentlemen, (says he, Smiling) you are very severe to a harmless Nymph, who is so modest, and reserved, that she will never put you upon beginning a Con∣ference with her, and so Complaisant in it, that 'tis your own fault if ever she says any thing to you, that displeases 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and for
my part, (continues he) I have that opi∣nion of humane things, that as I think there are very few so perfect, but that we may find something in them fit to be shunn'd, so there are not many so imperfect, but that they may suggest to us somewhat or other, that may not be unworthy of our imitation; and as Lindamor has taken notice of two Qualities in our Eccho, which discommen∣ded it to him, so I have observed as many, that I rather approve than dislike.
For, in the first place, 'tis evident, that our Nymph (however Eugenius has been pleased to mis-call her a Babler) is much less Talkative than most of her own Sex, or indeed of ours; for she never begins to talk with any Body, not speaking unless she be spoken to. He that considers how much of the Discourse that wastes Men's time, and entertains the most Companies with the most applause, consists of Talk that tends either to flatter those that are present, or detract from the absent, or to censure our Superiours, or our Betters, or to express our own Profaneness, or to excite the Pride or Carnality of others; and he that shall consider, that though by these and many other ways we are extremely apt to offend in words, yet we must give an Account for that kind of words, what sort soever be∣meant
by them, which our Translators ren∣der Idle ones; and that the Judge himself tells Men, that they shall by their words, as well as by their actions, be justified, or condemned; will easily believe, that if Silence were as much in Fashion as 'tis cha∣ritable to Mankind to wish it, the Regions of Hell would be far thinlier Peopled than now they are like to be.
I could tell you, that Silence discovers Wisdome, and conceals Ignorance, and 'tis a property that is so much belonging to wise Men, that even a Fool, when he hold∣eth his peace, may pass for one of that sort; And I could easily add I know not how much in the commendation of this excellent Quality, if I knew how at the same time to praise Silence, and to practise it; so that it may well pass for an excellency in the Nymph, whose Apology I am ma∣king, that she does not speak but when it is necessary she should, I mean, when she is spoken to, in such a way as does exact her answer.
But this is not all the good qualities of our Eccho; for as she rarely speaks but when 'tis expected she should, so she seldome re∣peats above a small part of what is said to her; this I account a very seasonable piece of Discretion, especially in such treacherous
and fickle times as ours, where, almost as if he thought himself fit to be an universal States-man, such a one concerns himself very needlessly for almost all the publique Quarrels in Christendome, and shews him∣self zealous for a party which will receive no advantage by his disquiets; and not content like a Merchant-venturer, his Passion may upon this account make him a Sufferer by what happens in the Remotest parts of the World; In our own fatal Differences, (which 'tis almost as unsafe to speak freely of, as 'tis unhappy to be in∣volv'd in them) he will on needless occa∣sions declare, with his Opinion, his want of Judgment, and perhaps Ruine himself with those under whose Protection he lives, by spreading Reports, and maintaining Dis∣courses, that rendred him suspected among those, who think that a Man must wish their Forces should be beaten, if he can think they may have been so; Nay, I have known some, that, though put into considerable Employments, could not hold talking of their own Party, at a rate of freedome which those that have so much Innocence as not to deserve it, will scarce have so much Goodness as to support it: So that me-thinks, these Men deal with their For∣tunes as Children oftentimes do with
their Cards, when having taken a great deal of pains to build fine Castles with them, they themselves afterwards ruine them with their Breath.
It may be a greater without being a more prejudicial price of Folly, to believe all that one hears, than to report all that one believes; and especially, those are to be censured for want of our Nymphs reser∣vedness, by whom it loses that name; for though those kind of Men make sure by their way of Talking, to make others take notice how much they are confided in by their own party, yet sure they would take a discreeter course, if they did but con∣sider, that the proof they give, that they are trusted with secrets, is, that they are unfit to be so.
THese thoughts of Eusebius suggested so many to Lindamor, and me, that to entertain our selves with them, we walk'd silently a good way along the River-side; but at length, not hearing any more the Noise
his Feet were wont to make in going, turning my self to see what was become of him, I perceiv'd him to be a pretty way behind me upon the Rivers brink, where he stood in a fixt Posture, as if he were very in∣tent upon what he was doing. And 'twas well for him, that my curiosity prompted me to see what it was that made him so attentive; for, before I could quite come up to him, me-thought I saw him begin to stagger, and though that sight added wings to my Feet, yet I could scarce come time enough to lay hold on him, and, by pulling him down backwards, rescue him from fal∣ling into the River. The shrieck I gave at the sight of my Friends danger, was, it seems, loud enough to reach Eusebius's Ears, who, turning his Eyes towards the place whence the Noise came, and seeing Lindamor upon the Ground, made hastily towards us, and came up to us by that time I had help'd Lindamor up, and before I had receiv'd from him the obliging Acknowledgments he was pleas'd to make me for a piece of service that I thought had in it more of Recompence than Merit. Eusebius hearing what pass'd betwixt us, joyn'd his thanks to Lindamor's, and at the same time congra∣tulated my Friend for his escape, and me for having, to use his Expressions, had the
honour and satisfaction to be such a Person as Lindamor's Deliverer. But after our Expressions of Joy for his escape were over, Eusebius and I had both a curiosity to learn particularly the occasion of his Danger, which he told us in these words; As I was thinking, Eusebius, on your last Reflection, I was diverted from prosecuting my Walk in Philaretus's Company, by happening to cast my Eyes on a part of the River, where the Stream runs far more swiftly than I have all this Day taken notice of it to do any where else, which induc'd me to stop a while, to observe it the more leisurely: And coming nearer, I found the Rapidness of the Current to be such, notwithstanding the depth of the Water, that I stood think∣ing with my self, how hard it were for one to escape, that should be so unlucky as to fall into it: But whilst I was thus musing, and attentively looking upon the Water, to try whether I could discover the Bot∣tom, it happened to me, as it often does to those that gaze too stedfastly on swift Streams, that my Head began to grow gid∣dy, and my Leggs to stagger towards the River, into which questionless I had fell, if Philaretus had not seasonably and obliging∣ly prevented it. Something like this (says Eusebius) does not unfrequently happen in
the unwary consideration of some sorts of sinfull Objects, especially those suggested by Atheism and Lust: For not only we oftentimes consider Atheistical suggestions, and entertain Libidinous fancies, without any intention to quit our Station, or the secure and solid Basis of Religion, and Chastity; but we are often inclinable to think, that we converse with these Objects only to discern their Formidableness the better, and fortifie our Resolutions to shun them. And yet such is the pernicious Na∣ture of Atheism, and of Lust, that they turn our Brains, and oftentimes, if Providence, or Christian prudence, do not seasonably in∣terpose, we may unawares fall into the Mischief, even by too attentively surveying its greatness, and may be swallowed up by the danger, even whilst we were consider∣ing how great it is. To parley with such fascinating Enemies, though with a design to refuse them, and strengthen our Aversion to them, is against the Laws of our Chri∣stian warfare: And though it be not as criminal, may often prove as fatal, as to hold Intelligence with the Enemy. 'Tis true, that the deformity of both these Sins is such, that all their Ugliness cannot be taken notice of at first sight: But the dis∣covery is more dangerous than necessary,
since a little knowledge of their Hideous∣ness is enough to make every honest Heart abhor them. And since their less obvious Deformities are more dangerous to be pry'd into, than necessary to be known, let us fear to learn of these deluding Sins, more than we need know to hate them, and remember, that even those that are frighted by seeing Faces recently mark'd with the small Pox, may, notwithstanding that fear, catch the Disease with that sight.
WE were by this time come back to the Baited places we had left, when Eugenius, to whom his Rambling up and down, added to the heat of the Day, had given a vehement Thirst, spying a place where the Banks were very low, and almost level with the Surface of the Water, left us for a little while to repair thither; and Kneeling upon the Ground, he took up with his Hat, which by Cocking the Brims he turn'd into a kind of Cup, such a propor∣tion of Water that he quench'd his Thirst
with it; and carelessly throwing the rest upon the Ground, quickly return'd towards the Company, which he found he had not left so silently, but that our Eyes had been upon him all the while he was absent; and that sight afforded Eusebius an occasion to tell us, Our friend Eugenius, might, if he had pleased, by stooping lower with his Head, have Drank immediately out of the entire River; but you see he thought it more safe, and more convenient, to Drink out of a rude extemporary Cup; and that this way suffic'd him fully to quench his Thirst, we may easily gather, by his pouring away of some remaining Water as superfluous: And 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he should tell us, that he could not have quench'd his Thirst with a sufficient quan∣tity of Water, because he Drank it not out of the River, but out of his Hat; I doubt not, you would think him troubl'd with a more formidable Distemper than Thirst, and conclude him in a greater need of Phy∣sick than of VVater.
Thus (resumes Eusebius) to a sober Man, provided he have a Competency of Estate suited to his Needs and Condition, it matters not very much whether that Competency be afforded him by a mode∣rate or by an exuberant Fortune, and often∣times 'tis more safe and convenient, and no
less satisfactory, to receive this Compe∣tency out of that which is but a little, than out of that which is a great deal more than enough; for not only the necessities of Nature are few, but her capacities are li∣mited. And therefore, how much soever you have of Meat, and Drink, and the like accommodations; the Body of a Man can enjoy but a certain, and that too no very great, Measure of them, proportion'd to the Cra∣vings of our stinted Nature, by more than which 'tis not the Body, but the unruly Fancy, that is Gratify'd; as when the Sto∣mach is satisfy'd, a Table full of untouch'd Dishes feeds but a Man's Eye, or his Pride; and if he should Cram a little part of it into his Stomach, it would but be Nau∣seated at first, and afterwards breed ill Hu∣mours and Diseases. And accordingly, 'tis no less than Solomon that says, When Goods encrease, they are encreas'd that Eat them; and what Good is there to the Owners thereof, sa∣ving the beholding of them with their Eyes? I dare not absolutely (pursues he) con∣demn those that think not the necessities of Nature the only Measures of a Compe∣tency of Fortune; for though he that wants not them, wants a just cause to quarrel with Providence, yet Custom has so Entail'd some ways of Expence upon some Stations
in the World, that since a Man can scarce Live without Them, and yet without Dis∣grace, there are but few who are so great Stoicks, or such mortify'd Christians, as not to think, that what is more than enough for one, may be less than enough for another, and as not to estimate their having or wanting a Competency, not only by the Exigencies of Nature, but by those of a Man's particular Quality, or Station. But (subjoyns Eusebius) he that has, in this li∣beral sence, a sufficiency of outward Goods, is me-thinks but ill advis'd, as well as un∣thankfull, if he repine at his Portion, be∣cause it is inferiour to those of the famously Rich: For though an unwieldy Affluence may afford some empty Pleasure to the Imagination, (for to the Body it scarce affords any at all) yet that small Pleasure is far from being able to countervail the Im∣bittering cares that attend an over-grown Fortune: For whatever the unexperienc'd may imagine, the frequent and sad Com∣plaints of the Rich themselves sufficiently manifest, that 'tis but an uneasie Condition, that makes our Cares necessary for things that are meerly superfluous; and that Men, whose Possessions are so much spread and display'd, are but thereby expos'd the fairer and wider Marks that may be hit in
many places by misfortune. Nor will Carelesness secure them, since a provident concern of a Man's Estate, though it be great, being by the Generality of Men look'd upon as a Duty, and a part of Pru∣dence, he cannot suffer himself to be wrong'd or cheated of that, without losing, with his Right, his Reputation.
For my part, (says Lindamor) I do the more wonder to see Men so greedy of La∣ding themselves, as the Scripture speaks, with thick Clay, that they Hoard up their Treasures from those uses which alone make Riches worthy the Name of Goods, and Live by a temper quite contrary to that of Saint Paul, As having all things, and possessing nothing. When I consider the things they pretend to by this as mean as unchristian Appetite; The two chief of these, are wont to be, The keeping of a great House, and the leaving their Children great Mat∣ches. As to the former, though others are too much advantag'd by it not to extol it, and though it be sometimes indeed in some cases a decent, and almost necessary, piece of Greatness, yet 'tis in my opinion one of the most unhappy Attendants that retain to it; for the Laws of Hospitality, and much more those of Custom, turns him that keeps a great Table into an Honourable Host,
subjects him to comply with the various and oftentimes unreasonable Humours of a succession of Guests, that he cares not for at all, and that care as little for him; it brings him in a world of Acquaintance, to whom he must own himself oblig'd, be∣cause they come to Eat his Meat, and must really requite them, by giving them the pre∣tiousest thing he has to part with, his Time: And a full Table, together with the Liber∣ties that Custom allows at it, if not exacts there, tempt him both to Indulgence to his Appetite, prejudicial to his Health, and if they do not prevail with him to speak, do often at least to dispose him to hear, and to connive at, such free Discourses as are prejudicial to his Interests; so that there is more than one account upon which a great Entertainer may be involv'd in David's Curse, against his mortal Enemy, of having his Table become a Snare.
And for the design (continues Linda∣mor) of laying up vast Estates for a Man's Children; if they be Sons, he thereby but encreases their Temptation to wish the Father Dead, and provides Incentives to their Vice, and Fuel for their Excesses, when he is so: And if they be Daughters, not to repeat the newly mention'd Inconveni∣ences; how many unhappy young Women
have we seen, who, upon the score of the vast Portions left them by their Parents, have been betray'd, and sold by their Guar∣dians, or by those Relations that should have been, as they were call'd, their Friends? and how often have we also seen, that an un∣wieldy Fortune has been so far from Pur∣chasing the Heir to it a good Husband, that it has procur'd her a Bad one, by making her think her self oblig'd and qualify'd to Match with some high Title, and procuring her to be Haunted by some, whose Vices perhaps alone have reduc'd him to Sell himself to redeem his Fortune, and to make an Address which aims but at the Portion, not the Person; and accordingly, when he has got the one, he slights the other, and despises her for the want of that high Ex∣traction she priz'd in him, and perchance hates her too, for confining him from some former and more than pretended Passion.
I perceive then, Lindamor, (says Euse∣bius) that you are, as well as I, dispos'd to think him not a meer Fool, that pray'd God to give him neither Poverty, nor Riches, but to supply him with things suitable to his Con∣dition, Prov. 30. 8. (That seeming to be the meaning of the Hebrew Phrase;) A pinching Poverty, and a luxuriant Fortune (though different Extremes) being liable
to almost equal Inconveniences, and a Competency affording us enough to en∣gage us to Thankfulness, without Admini∣string such Temptations to Sensuality and Pride.
THe Sun was yet so near the Meridian, that if the Attention Eusebius's Dis∣couses excited, had not diverted us from minding the heat of the VVeather, we should have found it troublesome; and in effect, soon after we had left listning to the conferences I have been repeating, we be∣gun to feel a heat, uneasie enough to oblige us to retire from it: But taking several ways, as Chance or Inclination directed us, to shun the same inconvenience, it was my Fortune to hold the same course with Lindamor, and both of us, by following no Guide, but the design of shunning all beaten Paths, and unshelter'd Grounds, that being the likeliest way to reach our double end of Coolness and Privacy; after we had a while walk'd somewhat near the River-side, we were at length brought to a Shady place,
which we should have found, as well as we wish'd it, a Solitude, if others had not con∣curr'd with us in the same hopes; for the Expectation of Privacy had brought thither divers, whom the Suns scorching heat invi∣ted to that cool and retir'd part of the River, where they hop'd to shun all other Eyes, as well as that of Heaven; among those Swimmers we observ'd some No∣vices, who, to secure their first Attempts, had Bladders ty'd under their Arms, to keep them from sinking any lower. This sight (says Lindamor, after he had a while mus'd upon it) hath Circumstances in it, that me-thinks are applicable enough to the Edu∣cation of many of the young Ladies of these times; of whose faults, the Excel∣lent Celia, and all the others, that you and I can think worth our Concern, are free enough to let me entertain you without Rudeness of them; the Commonness of these Blemishes ennobling those few that are exempted from them. You cannot then (continues Lindamor) but have observ'd with me, that many of those young Ladies, whose Parents, out of a mistaken Zeal, condemn that which at the Court was wont to be call'd good Breeding, and Principles of Honour, as things below a Christian, and insufficient to bring their Possessours to
Heaven, are so unluckily Bred, and so ill Humour'd, as well as Fashion'd, that an almost equally unhappy Education is re∣quisite to make their Company tolerable: Civility, which is almost as Essential to a compleat Lady, as her Sex, they are per∣fect Strangers to, or rude Despisers of it; and not only their Minds are not Imbu'd with those Principles of Friendship, Gene∣rosity, and Honour, which make some of their Sex so Lovely, and so Illustrious in Story, and of which more Ladies would be capable, if more were taught them; but these are utterly uninstructed in the Laws of what the French call Bein seance, and are altogether unpractis'd in that Civility, and suppleness of Humour, which is requisite to endear Conversation, and is so proper to the softer Sex. I must confess, (pursues Lindamor) that I never have been more puzzl'd how to behave my self then in their Company: The serious sort of Discourse, (ev'n such as is to be found in our fresher and more polish'd Romances) they are ut∣terly incapable of; And in the trifling and pitifull Prattle that alone is not above them, they are so Unsociable, so Indiscreet, and oftentimes so Bold, that in spight of the respect, such as Celia gives me for her Sex, I find in their Conversations as much Exer∣cise
for my Patience as my Chastity, and being tempted to put off the respect that belongs to Ladies, as they do the modesty, I find it more difficult to retain my Civi∣lity than my Liberty. The Bladders (re∣sumes Lindamor) which young Swimmers use, are, 'tis confess'd, but light and empty things, that are easily made useless; nay, though they help beginners, they are Cloggs to skilfull Swimmers, and yet these Trifles are they that hinder Novices from sinking into the Mud: Thus Honour, though it be an Airy unsolid thing, nay, though it often∣times proves a hinderance to great Pro∣ficients in Christianity, yet to Persons that have not yet attain'd to higher Principles, it is an excellent support, and hinders them from sinking into many Meannesses, and Miscarriages, into which, those especially of the fairer Sex, that want a due sense of Honour, are too apt to be precipitated: You know what Lord told his accused Lady, that he knew she was too proud to be a Whore. And certainly, though Princi∣ples of Gallantry include not all Virtues, yet they avert those they sway from grosser Vices: And though to be well Bred, be not to be a Saint, but incomparably inferiour to it; yet to be both, is more desirable than to be the latter only: And they are very
unwise, who, before they are sure their Children will admit the higher and more perfect Principles of Religion, neglect to give them that Education that may render Moral Accomplishments acceptable to Them, and Them to well bred Company, least by proving indispos'd to Spiritual graces, their not having been taught the Moral Ornaments of the Mind, leave them destitute of all good Qualities.
NOtwithstanding the Serenity and Pro∣misingness of the Morning we came out in, we have already upon the Water had one proof of the unsettl'dness of the Weather, and now upon the Land we meet with another: For, by that time Linda∣mor was come somewhat near the end of his Discours, he was oblig'd to hasten to it, by the approach of a Cloud, whose Largeness and Blackness threatned us with an imminent Showr: Nor did it give us a false Alarm, for by that time we could re∣cover
the next Shelter, the Showr we fled from, began to fall violently enough upon the Trees, we were retir'd to. And this unwelcome accident reducing us all to look about us, we quickly saw, to our Grief, that not only the Rain but the Clouds were in∣creas'd, and the Sky being almost every where over-cast, left us no way to escape the inconveniences it threatned us with, but the making with what haste we could to∣wards the place, over which we perceiv'd smoke enough, to conclude there was some Village beneath it: And finding at our Ar∣rival thither, as good an Inn, as we could reasonably expect in such a place, after we had a while dry'd our selves by the Fire, Eugenius (to whom Exercise and the time of the Day had given a good Stomach) mov'd the Company, that in spight of the meanness of the House, we might rest our selves there, till we had Drest the Fish we had taken, to make up the best Dinner the place would afford: This motion I did not alone readily assent to, but seconded it, by representing, that probably by that time we had Din'd, we should either recover some fair Weather, or lose the hopes of regain∣ing it for that Day. To which I added other considerations to perswade the Company, though, That indeed which prevail'd with
me, was, the expectation of having an op∣portunity while Dinner was providing, to retire, as I soon after did, into another Room, and set down in short hand, what I have hitherto been relating, least either de∣lay should make the particulars vanish out of my Memory, or they should be confoun∣ded there by the accession of such new Re∣flections, as, in case a fair Afternoon should invite us to return to the River, Eusebius would probably meet with Occasions of presenting us. But before I could hand∣somely slink away, I happen'd to be enter∣tain'd a while with some things of the like Nature with those I was about to set down: For this unwelcome change after so glorious and hopefull a Morning, did naturally sug∣gest to all of us, some thoughts of the Mu∣tability and Fickleness of Prosperity, and how easily, as well as quickly, we may be depriv'd of that we cannot easily part with. But whilst the rest of us were enter∣taining themselves with these thoughts, Eugenius, who was more concern'd than any other of us, for the sport he came for, having a good while look'd with melan∣choly Eyes upon this change, began to re∣pine and murmur at the interruption, which the persisting Rain continued to give him in it: Whereupon Lindamor took occasion to
say, for my part, if I could dissipate these Clouds with a wish, I should scruple at the Ridding my self of them, ev'n at so easie a Rate: For I see, that the Gaping clefts of the parched Ground do, as it were with so many Mouths, proclaim its need of the Rain you repine at. And I always (continues he) am ready to joyn with the Husband∣man in his wishings, as well for Rainy as for fair Weather, and am so much a Com∣mon-wealths Man, that I had rather at any time not escape a Showr, than let him want it.
You are I confess, (says Eugenius) now I think a little better on it, in the right, and have more reason to be discontented at my Impatience, than I at the Weather; for we should, ev'n in these lesser Occasions, as well as on greater, Exercise self-denial, and prefer a publick good to our private con∣veniences: And indeed it were far better, that I should miss some Fishes, than that thousands of Families should miss of Bread.
Eusebius, that had hitherto listen'd to what was said, being unwilling, that his Friends Ingenuity should make him any longer accuse himself, told him, (to divert the Discourse) This accident, Eugenius, was suggesting to me, a thought, wherewith I shall not scruple to acquaint you, and the Company. For (continues he) as pleasant,
and as much desir'd, as fair Weather is wont to be, and as much as we use to be discontented at a lowring and dropping sky, yet the one is no less necessary nor useful in its season, than the other. For too uninter∣rupted a course of Heat, and Sun-shine, would make the season fruitful in nothing, but in Caterpillars, (or such kind of Ver∣mine) and in Diseases, and is far more pro∣per to fill Graves, than Barns: Whereas seasonable vicissitudes of Clouds, and clou∣dy Weather, make both the Ground fruitful, and the Season healthful. Thus in our out∣ward Condition, too long and constant a prosperity is wont to make the Soul Barren of all, but such Wantonnesses as 'tis ill to be fruitful of, and the interposition of season∣able Afflictions is as necessary, and advan∣tageous, as it can be unwelcome. But (persues Eusebius) the consideration that chiefly entertain'd me, was this, That as here, to make the Earth fruitful, the face of Heaven must be now and then obscur'd, and over-cast, we must be depriv'd of the wel∣come pleasure of the Sun to receive the fer∣tilizing Benefit of the Rain; so such is our condition here below, that our perverseness makes it necessary, that God should often-times appear to frown upon us, to make us fruitful in those Works, to which he is pleas'd to vouchsafe his smiles. But, Oh!
(concludes Eusebius, lifting up his eyes and hands towards Heaven) how happy shall we be in that glorious and everlasting Day, when our Condition shall be as blessed in not requiring Vicissitudes as in not being subject to them. When the Sun-shine alone shall perform all that is wont to be done here both by it, and by the Rain; and the Soul, like Aegypt, being fruitful without the assistance of the Clouds, we shall not need to have our joys Eclips'd, to have our Graces kept from being so, or to make our Light shine the brighter: But each blessed Soul shall be emblem'd by that Vision in the Revelations, where St. John saw an Angel standing in the Sun, we shall not then need to have our Love wean'd from inferiour or undue Objects, by any Experience of their Imperfections; since the clear Discovery that God will vouchsafe us of his own Ex∣cellencies will abundantly suffice to confine our Affections to them: And since the works wherein we are to be fruitful in Hea∣ven will be but to admire and thank him, that is infinite in Beauty, and in goodness, the perfecter sight and fruition we shall have of his astonishing as well as ravishing Attributes, will but proportionably increase our Wonder, and our Praises, and will naturally make us as Grateful For such a state as happy In It.
ONE that did not know the Medicinal Vertues of Violets, and were not acquainted with the Cha∣ritable Intentions of the skilful person, that is making a Syrup of them, would think him a very great Friend to Epicurism: For his Imployment seems wholly design'd to gra∣tifie the senses. The things he deals with are Flowers and Sugar, and of them he is solicitous to make a Composition that may delight more than one or two Senses; For
in One Syrup he endeavours to please the Eye, by the loveliness of the Colour; the Nose, by the perfume of the Scent; the Taste, by as much sweetness as Sugar can impart. But he that knowing that Violets, though they please the Palate, can purge the Body, and notwithstanding their good smell, can expel bad humours, knows also that the Preparer of these fragrant Plants, in making their Juice into a Syrup, is careful to make it acceptable, that its pleasantness might re∣commend it, and invite ev'n those to prove its Vertues, who had rather continue sick, than make Trial of a disgusting Remedy; will not blame his Curiosity, but com∣mend his prudent Charity; since he doubly obliges a Patient, that not onely presents him Remedies, but presents him Allure∣ments to make use of them.
If I see a person that is Learned and Eloquent, as well as Pious, busied about giving his Sermons, or other devout Com∣posures, the Ornaments and Advantages which Learning or Wit do naturally confer upon those productions of the Tongue, or Pen, wherein they are plentifully and ju∣diciously emploi'd; I will not be forward to condemn him of a mis-expence of his Time or Talents; whether they be laid out upon Speculative Notions in Theology,
or upon Critical Inquiries into Obsolete Rites, or Disputable Etymologies; or upon Philosophical Disquisitions or Experiments; or upon the florid Embellishments of Lan∣guage; or (in short) upon some such other thing as seems extrinsecal to the Doctrine that is according to Godliness, and seems not to have any direct tendency to the pro∣moting of Piety and the kindling of Devo∣tion. For I consider, that as God hath made man subject to several wants, and hath both given him several allowable appetites, and endowed him with various faculties and abilities to gratifie them; so a man's Pen may be very warrantably and usefully em∣ploi'd, though it be not directly so, to teach a Theological Truth, or incite the Reader's Zeal.
And, besides what I have been alledging, there is a further and more principal Con∣sideration which belongs to this matter. For ev'n wise men may prosecute the same design, without doing it all of them the same way; and the several Means and Me∣thods they imploy, notwithstanding a great Difference in other particulars, may agree in this, That the Respective Chusers of them had each of them a good Aim, and proceeded in a rational way. Though there∣fore I see a man of good parts, studious of
learning, or of practising, the Precepts of Eloquence, and spend much time in reading florid Composures, or in making such; I dare not be forward to censure him, for an effeminate or useless Writer. For there are so many things pious or laudable, and so many ways whereby some or other of them may either be directly promoted, or indirectly serv'd, by removing Objections, or other Impediments, that 'tis not easie to be sure that a Rational Man cannot have as well a Rational as a well-meant design to instruct, if not reform, in those very Com∣posures that seem fitted onely to delight. There being a Nicer sort of Readers which need Instruction (and to whom 'tis there∣fore a Charity to give it) who are so far from being likely to be prevailed on by Discourses not tricked up with Flowers of Rhetorick, that they would scarce be drawn so much as to cast their eyes on them.
A while before Esther made that generous Attempt, wherein, to rescue the people of God, she hazarded a Throne, to which above an hundred other Peoples paid ho∣mage, and ventur'd at once the greatest Crown and the fairest Head in the world; One that had seen onely what she was do∣ing, without knowing why she did it, would
perchance have thought her emploi'd, more like a Disciple of Epicurus, than of Moses, whose People and her own was then in a forlorn and gasping condition. For the Scripture telling us,* 1.20 that she put on her Royal apparel, and the Tenour of the story inti∣mating with what aim she did it, we may well suppose that she was not sparing in Jewels, and other of the richest Ornaments, on an Occasion where her Quality exacted that she should appear with a Magnificence befitting the greatest Princess in the world; and that she was very curious in a Dress that was to heighten her Beauty, when by That, with the Giver's assistance, she was upon her knees to dazle the world's grea∣test Monarch on his Throne, and make Him pay Homage to her Charms, to whom above an hundred Nations had presented their fairest Productions, (the brightest Nymphs of the East.) And those that have read any thing of the Asiatick Luxury, will easily believe our pious Queen to have been also very sollicitous about the choice and ordering of her Sweet-meats, when she was to treat an Asian Monarch, who had treated the whole People of the chief City of the world for many days together, and as many Princes as made up the Noblest part of Mankind for above twenty times as
long: and yet this Magnificent Queen, th••a seem'd busi'd about none but sensual Imploi∣ments, had so commendable a Design both in her Ornaments and in her Banquets, that so meritorious an Imploiment of her Great∣ness shew'd her to be worthy of it; and as it appear'd in the Event, that her Banquets did co-operate with her Fasts, and her Royal Robes with Mordecay's Sack-cloth and Ashes, to that happy rescue of her Na∣tion, for which, after so many Ages, it doth to this day yearly celebrate her Memory. So whilst she seem'd busied to gratifie others sensuality and her own pride, her Disposition of Mind was so worthy the Success that crown'd her Attempt, that at the same time she was providing all that Pomp and those Delicacies, she was also providing to give them up, and sacrifize them, for the Interest of God's Church, and her People; generously venturing for the service of Heaven a Height of prosperity, for whose loss nothing but Heaven it self could make her amends.
IF the Air were calm and quiet, this Kite would lie unregarded ev'n by those very Youths, that now look at nothing else. But the wind that blows away straws and feathers, and throws down leaves, does even by its being contrary, help to raise this Paper-Engine to that admired heighth, which makes it be gaz'd at by many others, than Boys, and not onely attract our eyes, but sometimes soar out of their reach. Thus, if a great Person, for Courage, or Parts, or both, have the ill fate to live in quiet, and peaceful times, he may long enough languish unregarded in an Age that needs him not. But if the times grow trou∣blesome and dangerous, his generous spirit will not onely surmount the difficulties that are wont to attend them, but be rais'd by them, and turn them into steps to Glory and Preferment.
Me-thinks, Eugenius, these Kites may afford us no less fit a resemblance of
the fate of some Errours about Religion, especially if they chance to be maintain'd by Men that are resolute, and viceless. For there are some of these conceits so fond, and groundless, that they could not long subsist of themselves, and would soon cease to tempt a solemn Opposition, if they did not too soon meet with it. And as you were observing to another purpose, that these artificial Kites, which men take no no∣tice of in calm weather, are both elevated and kept aloft by the blasts of contrary winds, so these erroneous Opinions I speak of, would, if they were let alone, grow quickly unregarded, whereas needless or ill manag'd Persecutions of Doctrine, not prejudicial to Government, (for 'tis onely such that I mean) bring them into every body's Eye, and give them a Repute, that nothing else would have procur'd them, and make them be look'd upon as things of a sublime and celestial nature, that lead to that Heaven, they seem to aspire to. To thrive by Persecution, though it be a great Advantage, yet it is not the incommuni∣cable Prerogative of Divine Truths; And though it be certain that they get most by it, yet even Errors do often gain by it too, there being certain Advantages that accrue to Opinions, by being persecuted, without
distinguishing whether they be true, or false. For men that are persecuted for their Religion, are generally careful to instruct themselves throughly in it, and furnish themselves with Arguments to defend it. The frowns of the Magistrate, and the watchful Eyes of their Adversaries, are strong Disswasives to them from doing any thing that may arm his hand, or provoke other's tongues against their Sect, to which they know their personal faults will be im∣puted. And above all this, their sufferings entitle them to popular commiseration, which is a thing that distress does so much invite, that even condemn'd Malefactors seldome want a share in it. And to some of these men Persecution is the more favou∣rable, because it puts them upon fighting with the weapons they can best handle. For some are far better at Suffering, than at Disputing, and can more easily endure a Prison, than answer a Syllogism. And as this Constancy is often their best Argument, so is it an Argument, that the Generality of Men best understand, and consequently is likely to be most wrought on by, so that the more harsh than effectual way wherein they are dealt with, gives them the opportunity to display a Resoluteness, that makes most men think them well meaning, and in ear∣nest,
and their own Party cry them up for Martyrs, or at least Confessors; which, in case that (as it happens in most States) scandalous sins be left unpunished at the same time, that Harmless Errours are so severely dealt with, gives them the fairer opportunity to insinuate into the minds of the people, that their Persecutors had ra∣ther see men vitious, than inquisitive. And, generally speaking, any personal sufferings that a well-meaning man undergoes for what he judges his Conscience, is but such a kind of burden to his mind, as feathers are to an Eagle, or a Falcon, which though in themselves consider'd they have a weight, yet instead of clogging him, they not onely help him to support himself, but enable him to soar towards Heaven, and reach a heighth that makes him prais'd or wonder'd at.
LOng and patiently did I wait for this unlucky Crow, wallowing in the slut∣tish Trough, (whose sides kept him a great while out of the reach of my Gun) and gorging himself with no less greediness, than the very Swinish Proprietaries of the Feast, till at length having guzzl'd and croak'd enough, when by hovering over his beloved Dainties, he had rais'd himself high enough, to prompt me to fire at him, my no less unexpected, than fatal shot, in a moment struck him down, and turning the Scene of his Delight into that of his Pangs, made him abruptly alter his Note, and change his triumphant Chant for a dismal and tragick Noise. This Method is not un∣usual to Divine Justice towards brawny and incorrigible Sinners, whose Souls no less Black, than this inauspitious Bird's feathers, do wear already the Livery of the Prince of Darkness, and with Greediness do the
works of it, whose Delights are furnish'd (as the Feasts of Crows are by Carrion) by their own filthy lusts, or other people's faults, and who by the Oaths and Curses wherewith they offend Christian ears whilst they live, and by the ill odour they leave behind them when they are dead, do but too much justifie my resembling them to these hateful Creatures. Such sensual and obdurate Epicures, I say, God oft∣times suffers to run on their long Carier, in paths of their own chusing, without checking them in the fruition of those Joys, which are to be their onely Portion, till at length their iniquity filling up the determi∣nate measure,* 1.21 he cuts them off, in the heighth of their Injoyments, and employing oft-times their own sins for their Execu∣tioners, or at least Instruments of their De∣struction, precipitates them headlong from the Pinacle of their Delights, into the bot∣tomless Pit, which one of their Predeces∣sors (the rich man in the Parable) call'd, as he sadly found it,* 1.22 the Place of Torment, where the luscious sweets of sin, are so dearly reckon'd for, and afford so much Bitterness in the latter end,* 1.23 that their sense sadly convinces them, of (what their sensu∣ality kept them from believing) the folly of gaining any thing at the rate of losing
their own Souls. Thus the Israelitish Prince found a Nemesis bold enough to violate the Sanctuary, even of his Mistress's arms, and (regardless of its charms) enter that lovely Circle, their Kindness clos'd him in,* 1.24 to snatch him thence, and extinguish the lustful flames that lighted him thither, with the cold blasts of Death. Thus the mu∣tinous Loathers of Manna, and lusters after flesh, had their wish severely granted, for they had indeed Quails serv'd in by fields∣full, but attended with so sudden and sharp a Reckoning,* 1.25 that whilst the flesh was yet be∣tween their teeth, ere it was chew'd, Death hindred them to swallow it, choak'd them with it, and devour'd them as greedily, as they did those Birds. Thus the insolent Philistins found themselves ill protected by their vainly celebrated God,* 1.26 and his (much stronger) Temple, though in the latter there were thousands of them, without any other Enemy, than one, they had sent for to be a friend to their Mirth. For in the very midst of all the Triumphs of a solemn Festival (which had more properly been kept to Dililah) whil'st they were insulting over captive Samson's Blindness, they could not see their own approching Destiny, though it were then so near, that the next fit of Laughter had not time to pass to their
Mouths, ere an unexpected Vengeance (the provok'd Deity lending an Omnipo∣tent Arm to Samson's hand) confounded in one Ruine, the Idol with the Worshippers, and suddenly turn'd the whole Temple into an Altar, with which the Priests themselves, fell surprized Sacrifices to that tragical So∣lemnity. And thus (to hasten from so sad a Theme) the revelling Belshazzar, in the midst of his Magnificent and Royal Feast, saw an intruding hand, which by its man∣ner of appearing, as well as by what it wrote, was able to mar the Supper, with∣out impairing the Dainties. And that Mo∣narch, whom even a Siege could not reduce below a condition of Feasting, though he were carouzing in the consecrated Cups, had such a Brimmer of trembling put into his hand, as both presag'd and perchance began the Destiny approaching him under the Ensigns of the Noble Cyrus, whose Con∣quering Sword, guided by Providence, and made the Sword of Justice, did that very same night, let out his Wine, and Bloud, and Life together.
'TIs hard on such an occasion to avoid making some Reflection upon the Mutability of worldly Conditions! How little did this Crow imagine, a quarter of an hour since, that in so short a time, his Body should be as senseless, and as stinking Carrion, as that he was wont to feed it with; that his feathers should wear so un∣lucky a kind of Mourning for his Destru∣ction, and that I should write his Epitaph with one of his own Quils! Sure since a few minutes can turn the healthiest Bodies into breathless Carkases, and put those ve∣ry things into the hands of our Enemies, which were they that we principally re∣li'd on, for our safety, it were little less than Madness, to repose a distrustless Trust in these transitory Possessions, or treache∣rous Advantages, which we enjoy but by so fickle a Tenure. No; we must never ven∣ture to wander far from God, upon the Presumption that Death is far enough from us, but rather in the very height of our Jol∣lities, we should endeavour to remember, that they who feast themselves to-day, may themselves prove Feasts for the Worms to∣morrow.
IF this unhappy Worm had been as des∣picable as the other reptils that crept up and down the Hedge, whence I took him, he might, as well as they, have been left there still, and his own Obscurity, as well as that of the Night, had preserv'd him from the confinement he now suffers. And if, as he sometimes for a pretty while withdrew that Luminous Liquor, that is as it were the Candle to this small dark Lan∣thorn, he had continued to forbear the dis∣closing of it, he might have deluded my search, and escap'd his present Confine∣ment.
Rare Qualities may sometimes be Pre∣rogatives, without being Advantages. And though a needless Ostentation of ones Ex∣cellencies may be more glorious, a modest Concealment of them is usually more safe: And an unseasonable disclosure of flashes of Wit, may sometimes do a Man no other service, than to direct his Adversaries how they may do him a mischief.
And as though this Worm be lodg'd in a Crystalline Prison, through which it has the Honour to be gaz'd at by many Eyes, and among them, by some that are said to shine far more in the Day than this Crea∣ture do's in the Night; yet no doubt, if he could express a sense of the Condition he is in, he would bewail it, and think himself unhappy in an excellency, which procures him at once Admiration and Captivity, by the former of which he does but give others a Pleasure, while in the latter he himself resents a Misery.
This oftentimes is the fate of a great Wit, whom the Advantage he has of ordi∣nary Men in Knowledge, the Light of the Mind exposes to so many effects of other Men's Importunate Curiosity, as to turn his Prerogative into a Trouble: The light that ennobles him, tempts Inquisitive Men to keep him, as upon the like score we do this Glow-worm, from sleeping: And his Conspicuousness is not more a Friend to his fame, than an Enemy to his quiet; for Men allow such much Praise, but little Rest. They attract the Eyes of others, but are not suffer'd to shut their own, and find, that by a very disadvantagious Bargain, they are reduc'd for that imaginary good, call'd Fame, to pay that real Blessing, Liberty.
And, as though this Luminous Creature be himself imprison'd in so close a Body as Glass, yet the Light that ennobles him, is not thereby restrain'd from diffusing it self: So there are certain Truths, that have in them so much of native Light or Evidence, that by the personal Distresses of the pro∣poser, it cannot be hidden, or restrain'd; but in spight of Prisons, it shines freely, and procures the Teachers of it Admira∣tion, ev'n when it cannot procure them Li∣berty.
have made in this place, since I last saw you here, tempts you to question whether or no this be the Court.
Yet, I fear, Eusebius will scarce doubt, that you, and these other Gentlemen are Courtiers, whil'st he sees how much you dissemble in personating sadness: For though your Cloaths look mournful, your Faces do not, and you talk to one another as unconcern'dly, as when you wore lighter Colours; and your Grief is so slight, that it has not an Influence so much as upon your looks, and words, which yet are things that Courtiers are said to be able to dis∣guise without an over-difficult constraint.
But, I hope, Lindamor, I need not labour to persuade such as you, that, when we seem to mourn, without doing it, we may be thought guilty of dissimulation without being so: For what Duty is there, that you and I should be really troubled for the Death of a Prince, whose Subjects we were not, who never obliged us, and who perhaps did onely keep the Power of doing Good, which himself never us'd, from a Successor that had the will to employ it. But you will demand, why then we put on Black, To which, the Answer is easie, that Custom having establish'd that Ceremony in the Courts of Princes, in Amity with
each other, the Omission would be look'd upon as an Affront, and be a Provocation. And therefore, the Blacks we wear, are not meant to express a Grief for the Dead, but a Respect to their living Relations: And thus, this as heartless as solemn shew of Mourning, is not put on by Hypocrisie, but by Prudence, or Civility. And in this case, I would appeal to Eusebius himself, but that I perceive some Object or other, has ever since we began to talk, engross'd his Attention, as well as seal'd up his Lips.
I have taken notice of it, as well as you, Genorio, and I confess, I would give much to learn his Thoughts.
'Tis odds then, Lindamor, that you would over-purchase so worthless a Knowledge: And to satisfie your Curi∣osity, at an easier rate, I will tell you, that I was observing, how a Gentleman, who, it seems, does not much frequent the Court, chancing to come in a Colour'd suit, that, but last Week, would have been thought a fine one, was star'd at by all in the room, except your selves, whose Faces chanc'd to be turn'd from him, like a Man of ano∣ther Country, (not to say of another World) which the poor Gentleman at length perceiving, he soon grew so sensible of it, that in spight of the Richness and
Newness of his Cloaths, with many Blushes he slunk out of the Court, to which he found Men's gazing at him concluded him to be a Stranger.
But this, Eusebius, is onely to tell us, what you observ'd, not what Reflections you made upon it, and you know, that which I was inquisitive after, was your Thoughts.
I will add then, Lindamor, since you will have it so, that I was considering, that there has been no Law made by the State to forbid any, much less Strangers, to appear in this Court in Colour'd cloaths: And those, which the Gentleman I was speaking of, had on, were such, both for fineness, and fashionableness, as would very well become a greater Court, if it were not in Mourning. But, now the Prince, and those that have the Honour to belong to him, or to frequent this place, have put themselves into Blacks, to appear in another, though in a finer Habit, is, to betray ones not belonging to the Court, nor using to come to it; and among so many, that think they have a Right to give Laws in point of Cloaths, a Lac'd, or an Imbroider'd suit, though last Week in request, would now they have laid them by, make a Man look not so much like a Courtier, as a Player.
And this Reflection invited me to consider further, what a strange Influence fashions have on Mankind, and what an happy change might be easily made in the World, if they, who have it in their Power to introduce Customs, would make it their Endeavour to introduce good ones.
I am so much of your mind, Eu∣sebius, that I confess, I envy not Princes so much for the Splendour and the Pleasures that they live in, nor for the Authority of raising Armies, nor perchance for the Hap∣piness of making them Victorious, as for the power of imposing and reforming of Fashions. And I think it a less improvable Prerogative, to be able to coyn any Metal into mony, or call it in at pleasure, than by the stamp of their Authority to introduce good Customs, and make them current.
But, do not Princes enough, when they take care to make good Laws, and see them well executed.
I will not dispute, whether by That, they do all they ought, but sure I am, they do not all they may: For humane Laws being made for the civil Peace of humane Societies, they are wont to be fram'd not for the making Men virtuous, but the restraining them from being mis∣chievous; they consist far more of Prohi∣bitions
than Commands, and ev'n their Prohibitions reach but to a little part of what is ill; the Business of Laws being to provide, not against all Evils, but those grosser ones, that are prejudicial to civil Societies: So that there are a thousand Rules of Reason, or Christianity, which States have not thought fit to turn into Laws. For Pride, Envy, Covetousness, Gluttony, Intemperance, Effeminateness, Oaths, Idleness, and I know not how many other Sins, contrary to the Laws of Na∣ture, and of Christ, are so little provided against by humane Sanctions, that one may be a bad Christian, and a bad Man, without being a bad Citizen; There being nothing more easie, nor I fear more usual, than for Multitudes to pass uncited before Man's Tribunal, to receive their Condemnation at God's. But though a Prince can scarce, as a Legislator, prevent, or suppress such Sins, yet, as a Pattern, he may do much towards it: For by his Example, his Opinions, his Encouragements, and his Frowns, he may reform an hundred particular things, which the Laws do not (and perhaps cannot) reach. His declar'd Esteem of such and such Practices, joyn'd with his particular Actions suited to it, and his profest dislike of those Sinful or Dishonourable courses,
he finds the Rifest, back'd with a steddy and resolute discountenance of those that do not decline them, will, in a short time, bring those that are about him, to conform their Actions and Behaviour to what Men are satisfi'd, he desires, or likes. And those whom their nearness to Him, or their Em∣ployments, make the conspicuous and ex∣emplary Persons, being thus model'd, their Relations and Dependants will quickly be so too, and then that which is in request at Court, being upon that very account look'd upon as the Fashion, it will by degrees be imitated by all those on whom the Court has Influence; since, as we just now saw in the Instance of Eusebius's gawdy Gentle∣man, Men will be asham'd to be unlike those, whose Customs and Deportments pass for the Standards, by which those of other Men are to be measur'd.
THe Jarring strings made so unplea∣sant a noise, whil'st the Instrument was tuning, that I wonder not at the Story
that goes of a Grand Signior, who being invited by a Christian Embassadour to hear some of our Musick, commanded the Fidlers to be thrust out of his Seraglia, upon a mis-apprehension that they were playing, when they were but tuning. But this rare Artist had no sooner put an end to the short exercise he gave our Patience, than he put us to the Exercise of another Virtue: For his nimble and skilful Fingers make one of the innocentest Pleasures of the Senses to be one of the greatest, and this Charming melody (for which Orpheus or Orion themselves might envy him) do's not so properly delight as ravish us, and render it difficult to moderate the Transports of our Passions, but impossible to restrain the praises that express our satisfaction: So that if this Musitian had been discourag'd by the unpleasant Sounds that were not to be avoided, whil'st he was putting his Lute in Tune, from proceeding in his work, he had been very much wanting to himself, and to save a little pains, had lost a great deal of Pleasure and Applause.
Thus, when the faculties and passions of the Mind, either through a native unruli∣ness, or the remisness of Reason and Con∣science are discompos'd, he that attempts to bring them into order, must expect to
meet at first but an uneasie Task, and find the beginning of a Reformation more trou∣blesome, for the time, than the past disorders were: But he is very little his own Friend, if he suffers these short-liv'd difficulties to make him leave his Endeavours unprose∣cuted: For when once they have reduc'd the untun'd Faculties and Affections of the Soul to that pass▪ which Reason and Reli∣gion would have them brought to, the tun'd or compos'd Mind affords a satisfaction, whose greatness do's ev'n at present abun∣dantly recompence the Trouble of procu∣ring it, and which is yet but a praelude to that more ravishing Melody, wherein the Soul (already Harmonious within it self) shall hereafter bear a part, where the Harps of the Saints accompany the glad Voices that sing the Song of the Lamb, and the Hallelujahs of the rest of the Caelestial Quire.
HEre is indeed a Present, for which I must still think my self this fellow's Debtor, though he thinks I have over-paid him. 'Tis pity these Rarities were not more suitably address'd, and worn by some of Natures other Master-pieces, with whom they might exchange a graceful Lustre, and have the Ornament they confer reflected back upon them. But one that had never been a Lover, would perhaps say, that that wish were more civil to the Flowers, than the Ladies, of whom there are few, which these soft polish'd Skins, and Orient Tinctures, would not easilier make Foils, than prove such to them: For (not to name the Rest) this Lovely fra∣grant Rose here, wears a Blush that needs not do so, at any Colour the Spring it self can, amongst all her Charming Rarities, shew. Yes, here are Flowers above the flattery of those of Rhetorick; and besides,
two or three unmingled Liveries, whose single Colours are bright, and taking enough to exclude the wish of a diversity; here is a variety of Flowers, whose Dyes are so dexterously blended, and fitly checquer'd, that every single Flower is a variety. I envy not Arabia's Odours, whil'st that of this fresh Blusher charms my sense, and find my Nose and Eyes so ravishingly enter∣tain'd here, that the Bee extracts less sweet∣ness out of Flowers; which were they but less frail, I fear would make me more so (than yet I am.) Surely this Gard'ner leads a happy Life! He inherits nothing of Adam, but that Primitive profession that imploy'd and recompenc'd his Innocence, and such a Gay and priviledg'd Plot of his Eden, as seems exempted from the general Curse, and instead of the Thorns and Thistles that are the unthankful Earths won∣ted productions, brings him forth Lillies and Tulips, and gratefully crowns his Culture (for Toil I cannot think it) with chaplets of Flowers.
I perceive, (Lindamor) that you judge of the Delightfulness of this Man's calling, onely by these Lovely and Fragrant productions of it. And you see these curi∣ous Flowers in their prime, without seeing by what practices, and degrees, they have
been brought from despicable seeds to this perfection and lustre. And perhaps, if you consider'd, that a Gardener must be digging in the violent heats of the Summer, and must be afraid of the bitter cold of the Winter, and must be watchful against sur∣prising frosts in the Spring, and must not onely prune, and water, and weed his Ground, but must, to obtain these gawdy and odoriferous Flowers, submit to deal with homely and stinking Dung; If (Lindamor) you would take notice of these and of some other Toils and Hardships that attend a Gardener's Trade, you would (I doubt not) confess, that his Imployments, like his Bushes, bring him Thorns as well as Roses.
And now give me leave (Lindamor) to tell you, that this may be appli'd to the condition of some studious persons, that you and I know. For when we hear a Learn∣ed or Eloquent Sermon, or read some Book of Devotion, or perhaps some Occa∣sional Discourse handsomely written, we are apt to envy the Preacher or the Wri∣ter, for being able to say some things thar instruct or please us so much. But alas, (Lindamor) though we see not these Pro∣ductions of the Brain till they are finish'd, and consequently fitted to appear with their full Advantages abroad, yet to bring them
to that pass, the Author may perhaps under∣goe many a trouble that we dream not of. For he that has to do with difficult or weighty Subjects cannot present us a good Book, or a Fine Discourse, with the same ease that a rich man can present us a fine pair of Gloves, or a fine Collation, which may be had at an hour's warning from the next Milleners or Confectioners. For to be able to write one good Book on some Subjects, a man must have been at the trouble to read an hundred: To grow capable to give a better rendring of a Greek Text, he must perchance have perus'd Suidas, Stephanus, Hesychius, and I know not how many Lexicographers and Scholiasts: To be qualifi'd to make a Translation of an Hebrew Word or Phrase, that shall illu∣strate a dark Text, or clear a Difficulty, or more fitly agree with his notion, or accom∣modation of a place in Scripture, a man must have not onely like a School-Boy learn'd an Hebrew Grammar, and turn'd over Buxtorf's Schindler's, and other Di∣ctionaries, but (which is worse) he must in many cases hazard his eyes and his patience in conversing with such Jewish Writings, not onely as Elias his Tishbi, and Kimchi's Michlol; but to gain a little Rabbinical Learning, and find out some unobvious sig∣nification
of a Word or Phrase, he must devour the tedious and voluminous Rha∣psodies that make up the Talmud, in many of which he can scarce learn any thing but the Art of saying nothing in a multitude of words; and in others, which are not so use∣less, the most he will find in I know not how many dull pages, (written with as little Wit as Truth) will perhaps be an Account of some wild Opinion, or some obsolete Custom, or some superstitious Rite of a generation of people, whose Fancies and Manners scarce any thing makes worth our inquiring after, but their having liv'd many Ages since. And even when a man sets himself to write those smooth Com∣posures, where Eloquence is conspicuous, and seems to be chiefly design'd, the Au∣thor seldom comes by his Contentment on as easie terms as the Readers come by theirs. For, not to mention, that sometimes Peri∣ods that in a well printed Book look very handsomely, and run very evenly, were not in the written Copy without interlining and Transcriptions. Those that are Schollars themselves can hardly write without having an ambition, or at least a care, to approve their Discourses to them that are so too. And in the judgment of such Perusers, to be able to write well, one must not onely have
skill in the Subject, but be well skill'd in the way of writing, lest the Matter be blemish'd by the manner of Handling it. And al∣though to shew ones self a Master in treating of variety of Themes with a florid style, and even in those Composures that are de∣sign'd chiefly to express Wit and move Affections, one may think that Nature may be well let alone to supply any she has been kind to, with all they need, yet even in these cases there are some Toils and un∣easinesses that are scarce to be avoided; since a discreet man, though never so rich in Na∣tures's gifts, will think himself oblig'd to study Rhetorick, that he may be sure he does not transgress the Laws of It. For though an Author's Natural parts may make his Book abound with Wit, yet without the help of Art he will scarce make it free from faults. And to be well stock'd with Comparisons, which when skilfully ma∣nag'd make the most taking passages of fine Pieces, one must sometimes survey and range through the works of Nature and Art, which are the chief Ware-houses, where variety and choice of Similitudes is to be had, and to obtain those pleasing Orna∣ments there is oftentimes requir'd no less pains than to devise useful Notions. As one must search the Ditches amongst Briars and
Weeds, not onely to find Medicinable Herbs, but to gather Prim-roses and Vio∣lets. So that (Lindamor) to conclude, if we consider the trouble that applauded Composures do oftentimes cost their Au∣thors, we should be sensible we owe more than most men think we do to those to whom we owe good Books. But then un∣less they find some Recompence for their Labours, in the satisfaction of promoting piety, or in the well-natur'd Pleasure they feel themselves in pleasing others, I should scarce doubt but that some of the Writers, we think so happy, may rather deserve our Esteem than our Envy.
I Remember P. S. did once, upon just the like Theme, discourse to the following purpose.
Amongst those numerous Eyes, that these fair Lights attract in so clear a night as this, there are not perhaps any that are more de∣lighted with them, than this Child's seem to be. And those Persians that ador'd the rising Sun, could not be more charm'd with
that glorious Object, than this Child is with these twinkling Lights, that need his ab∣sence to become so much as visible. But his is a pleasure, that is not more great than un∣quiet, for it makes him querulous, and un∣ruly, and because he cannot by his struggling, and reaching forth his little hands, get pos∣session of these shin∣ing Spangles,* 1.30 that look so finely, their fires produce water in his eyes, and cries in his mouth, that are very little of kin to the Musick the Platonists fanci'd in the Spheres he looks at. Whereas, though my inclinations for Astronomy make me so di∣ligent a Gazer on the Stars, that in spight of my great Obnoxiousness to the inclemency of the nocturnal air, I gladly spend the coldest hours of the night in contemplating them; I can yet look upon these bright Or∣naments of Heaven it self, with a mind as calm and serene, as those very nights that are fittest to observe them in.
I know divers men for whom Nature seems to have cut out too much work, in giving them, in an unconfinedly amorous Disposition of mind, strong Appetites for almost all the fair Objects that present themselves to their sight: These amorous Persons may be, I grant, very much de∣lighted
when they first gaze upon a Cor∣stellation of fair Ladies, but the Heart commonly pays dear for the Pleasure of the Eye, and the eager desires that Beauty creates, are in such men excited too often not to be frequently disappointed, and are wont to be accompani'd with so many jea∣lousies, and fears, and repulses, and diffi∣culties, and dangers, and remorses, and despairs, that the unhappy Lovers (if those that love more than one can merit that Ti∣tle) do rather languish than live, if you will believe either their own querulous words, or their pale and melancholly looks, which would make one think they were just en∣tring into the Grave, or bad been newly digged out of it. Whereas a person that has his Affections, and Senses, at that com∣mand, which Reason and Religion require, and confer, can look upon the same Objects with pleas'd but not with dazl'd Eyes: He considers these bright and curious Pro∣ductions, as fair animated Statues of Na∣ture's framing, and contenting himself to ad∣mire the workmanship, adores onely the Divine Artificer, whose infinite amiable∣ness is but faintly shadow'd forth even by such lovely Creatures. And therefore what has been said of Mistresses, may be more justly applicable to all the other Objects
of Men's too eager Passions. To be short, looking upon these curiousest Productions of Nature, with a Philosopher's and a Christian's Eyes, he can cast them on those bright Objects with pleasure, and yet with∣draw them without trouble, and allowing Beauty to contribute to his Delight, with∣out being able to create him any Disquiet; though it afford him a less transporting Plea∣sure than it sometimes do's the Amorist, yet, all things consider'd, it may afford him a greater Pleasure, by being more innocent, more untroubl'd, and more lasting; And there may be such a Difference betwixt the Contentment of this calm admirer of Beauty, and that of a greedy and unconfin'd Prostituter of his Heart to it, as there is betwixt the unquiet Pleasure that the sight of the Stars gives to this Child, and the rational Contentment it may afford to an Astronomer.
IS not this Closet strangely fine, Eusebius? Here is such a variety of pretty and taking Objects, that they do as well distract the Eye as delight it; the abundance, the choice, and the Order, do as well disclose the fair Posssessors skill, as Her magnificence, and shew at once, that she both has plenty, and deserves it, by know∣ing so well how to make use of it. Those things that are here solitary, or single, will scarce be elsewhere matched, and all the rest are so pretty, and so excellent in their several Kinds, that the number of fine things that make up this curious Collection, can∣not hinder any of them from being a Ra∣rity. And in a word, the Embellishments, that adorn and ennoble this delightful place, are such, that I believe the Possessor of them, as welcome as she is unto the best Companies, scarce ever looks upon finer things, than she can see in her Closet, un∣less when she looks into her Glass. But,
me-thinks, Eusebius, you hear and view all this with a silent seriousness, which begins to make me suspect, that what I thought might be an Effect of your Wonder, may be so of your Dislike.
The Collection, Lindamor, is, I confess, very curious in its Kind, and such, as if the Mistress of it were less handsome than she is, might give her as well Cause to be jealous of these fine things, as to be proud of them, since a Beauty, that were but ordinary, could not divert a Spectator's Eye from Objects, whereof many are not so. But, Lindamor, I must freely tell you, that I like both the Lady, and the Closet, much better than the Custom; such sights as these are introducing among Ladies of furnishing such Kind of Closets: I know that Youth may in certain cases, excuse some of the Impertinencies 'tis wont to occasion; And it is not strange to me, that Persons of the fairer Sex, should like, in all things about them, that handsomness for which they find themselves to be the most lik'd; Nor would I forbid, ev'n such of them, as are not of a very high Qua∣lity, to have a retiring place so neatly a∣dorn'd, as may invite them to be alone, and with-draw to it, to read, or meditate, pro∣vided these Ornaments be not so costly, as
to rob Charity, or so gawdy, as to distract the Devotion they should but accommo∣date. And in case Circumstances should so conspire, as that Youth and Quality should be attended by such a plentiful For∣tune, as that after all, that either Justice, Prudence, or Decency can challenge, there remains yet enough, both to relieve the Poor, and purchase Rarities themselves: I will not be so severe, as to condemn Per∣sons so circumstanc'd, nor fall out with those that are able to reconcile Sumptuous∣ness and Charity. But the number of such Ladies, especially so soon after a long civil War, must needs be but small, and I fear much inferiour to that of those, who will consider more what they see done before their Eyes, than they will the disparity of Circumstances betwixt their own Con∣dition, and that of those they Aemulate: And the greater appearance of Ingenious∣ness, as well as Innocence, there is in the practice I am disapproving, the more dan∣gerous it is, and the more fit to be exa∣mined and decri'd. For as the old Serpent has variety of Wiles, so he fits them to the various tempers of the Persons he assays to work upon; and when he meets with Ladies virtuously disposed, since he cannot quite eradicate their inclinations to the best
part of Religion, Charity, he will at least blast and render them fruitless; and he just∣ly thinks, he has reach'd no small part of his end, if though he cannot seduce them to do ill, he can at least hinder them from doing good. And this he has of late at∣tempted but too prosperously, by persua∣ding us to take those for the standard and examples of our Expences, that making none of the score of Piety, have the more left for their Vanities and their Appetites, which they gratifie at such high rates, that those that think themselves bound to imi∣tate them in those Excesses, that are mis∣nam'd Gallantry, shall have as little ability, as the other have will, to apply any conside∣rable part of their Estates to those Uses, which chiefly God granted them those E∣states for; and by that time, the Lady her self, and the House, and the Closet, are fur∣nished with all the Ornaments that Vanity and Emulation call for, there is nothing left for Charity to dispose of, nay, perhaps not for Justice; the Creditor being oftentimes turned back empty as well as the Beggar, if not also made a Beggar by ruinous de∣lays. And greater fortunes, than most La∣dies have, may be exhausted, by gratifying such an ambition, as that of a Closet, to whose Costliness nothing can put limits, till
Discretion do: Custom it self having not yet regulated a piece of Vanity, which, as im∣posing as Custom is wont to be, it has not yet dar'd to enjoyn.
Me-thinks, Eusebius, you are some∣what forward to accuse those fair Creatures, that though they should want Innocence, would scarce want Advocates; and you are to good a Casuist to ignore, that they are wont to alledge, that the Bravery you are so severe to, is no where expressly prohibited in the Scripture, and this unforbiddenness they think sufficient to evince, that the Sumptuousness you so condemn, is not ab∣solutely, and in its own nature, Sinful.
I can readily believe, that Lin∣damor has Wit and Amorousness enough to make him find it more easie to defend fair Ladies, than to defend himself against them: And I know, 'tis said, that these sumptuous Closets, and other Vanities, are not simply unlawful in their own Nature; but I know too, that divers things, not in their own Nature unlawful, may be made so by circumstances, and if so, then I fear, That that can be no other than ill, which makes a Man needlessy disable himself to do good. The Apostle, that discounte∣nanc'd Woman's wearing of Gold, or pre∣cious things upon their Bodies, would sure
have opposed their having more sumptuous Ornaments upon their Walls: These can∣not pray for us, but the poor and distressed, they keep us from relieving, may either successfully pray to God for us, or cry to him against us. The Scripture that repre∣sents Dives in Hell, without saying that he oppressed or defrauded any, gives no other account of his Doom, than that living at a high rate, and going richly dress'd, he neg∣lected to relieve the starving poor. A few such Closets as this Ladies, might be easily enlarged, and contrived into an Hospital: A small part of these Superfluities would relieve the necessities of many Families, and a liberal Heart might purchase Heaven at an easier rate, than the furniture of this Closet cost the Owner of it. Nor is this practice so unallied to a fault, as to escape a punishment even in this World; these Courtiers of Applause being oftentimes re∣duced to live in want, even in the midst of a plentiful Fortune; these costly trifles so engrossing all that they can spare, that they must sometimes deny themselves things convenient, and perhaps almost necessary, to flaunt it out with those that are neither the one nor the other, and being frequently enough fain to immolate their own incli∣nations and desires, though perchance strong
and innocent, to their Vanity. And those that have once found the happiness there is in making others happy, will think their Treasure better bestowed in feeding hungry Mouths, than idle Eyes: The costly Pra∣ctice I am yet censuring, does not onely offend Charity, but starve it, by substracting from it that which should feed it, and en∣able it to act like it self. And for my part, I think, he that devises, and by his Example brings Credit to, a new Expensive way of Vanity, does really destroy more Poor, than if he usurped an Alms-house, or ruined an Hospital. And by the ill President he leaves, he takes the way to be uncharitable, even after Death, and so do harm, when Misers and Usurers themselves are wont (by their Legacies) to do some good. To conclude, 'tis no very Christian practice to disobey the Dictates of Piety, without having so much to plead for so doing, as the pretence of following the Dictates of Cu∣stom: And 'tis a great deal better to be without a gay Closet, than to be without Charity, which loveliest of Christian vir∣tues, she must sure very much want, that will needlessly begin an new Example to give a bad one.
POor Bird! thou wert just now so high upon the Wing, that the tir'd Gazers fear'd thou hadst lost thy self in Heaven, and in thy fatal stooping seem'st to have brought us thence a Message, that so rellishes of that place, that I should be troubl'd to see thee so rudely entertain'd, if that Circumstance were not necessary to the Instructions of thy Message; some Birds, you know, Lindamor, we usually be∣guile with Chaff, and others are generally drawn in by appropriated Baits, and by the Mouth, not the Eye. But the aspiring Lark seems compos'd of more sprightly, and refin'd Materials, she is ever a Natural, though no Native, Persian, and the Sun makes not a cloudless Visit to our Horizon, which that grateful Creature gives not a welcome to, both by Notes, which, could he hear them, he would think worthy of him, and by a flight as aspiring as if she
meant he should hear them; and, in a word, so conspicuous is this Creatures fondness of Light, that Fowlers have devis'd a way to catch her by it, and pervert it to her Ruine: For placing broken Looking-glasses upon a moveable Frame betwixt their Nets, the unwary Bird, while she is gazing upon that glittering Light the Glass reflects, and sporting her self in those Beams, which de∣rive a new Glory from their very being broken, heedlessly gives into the Reach of the surprizing Nets, which suddenly cover her, and which the Light it self kept her from seeing. The Devil is like this Fowler, Lindamor, and you, or I, had perhaps re∣sembl'd the unhappy Lark, if sometimes Providence did not both graciously, and sea∣sonably, interpose, and ev'n when we were come near enough to have been cover'd by the Nets, rescu'd us from them; for it has ever been that old Serpent's Policy, and practice, to take the exactest measure of our Inclinations, that he may skilfully suit his Temptations to them; well knowing, that that Dexterity gains him a Devil within us, that conspires with him without us, to make us Instances of that Truth which re∣presents Things divided against themselves as ruinous. If therefore, the Tempter find by Experience, that you are indispos'd to
be wrought upon by common Temptations, to forget the Practice of Religion, that you have Unconcern'dness enough not to be much distracted with the empty and trifling Chaff, Youth is wont to be caught with, (which perhaps seldome employ any of your Thoughts so much as those of Scorn, and Pity) that the very Gain and solider Goods of this World (for which many thought wise Men lose those of the next) cannot make you so greedy, nor so fond of them, as he desires. If, I say, the Devil have sufficiently observ'd how uneasie it were to intice you with common Baits, he will alter his Method strait, and attempt to catch you with Light. He knows as well as I do, that you have a Curiosity, or rather a Greediness of Knowledge, that is impatient of being confin'd by any other Limits than those of Knowledge it self; and accord∣ingly, seldome, or perhaps never disturbing or frightning you, he will let you freely sport your self about the glittering Intelle∣ctual Glass, Men call Philosophy, and suffer you not onely to gaze upon all its pieces, and survey a pretty Number, but peradventure, pry into more than one; and among so numerous, and delighting Objects, I fear, that if you will frankly own what my own Guilt makes me suspect you of,
you must confess, That he had made you so share your Time, that you should scarce have left your self any for Heavenly Themes, and the Meditation of Death, (which consequently might have then sur∣pris'd you, had it invaded you) if Provi∣dence had not mercifully snatch'd you out from between the Nets you were allur'd to, before you were quite involv'd in them; and by Sickness, or else, by Means (in other cases) so unlikely, as outward Di∣stractions, call'd your Thoughts home by driving them away from those enchanting Studies, whose Light might much likelier have betrai'd you into the Net, than have shewn it you.
Though I am not surpris'd to hear Eusebius, yet I am glad to hear a Scholar talk at this rate, and believe with you, that many a one that was neither Crow, nor Wood-cock, has perish'd in this Snare; and we have known but too many great Scholars, so intirely taken up with writing, and reading of Books, with learning this Science, and with teaching that, that by setting themselves such Tasks, as requir'd and imploi'd the whole Man, Death has undiscernedly stoll'n upon them, and una∣wares intruded into their Studies, where their restless Ambition to inrich the Mind
never left them the leisure to prepare it, to leave the Body, but either made them sur∣pris'd Instances of that sad (but true) Observation of Seneca, Plerosque in ipso Vitae apparatu Vita destituit, or else made their Condition like that of Archimedes, who was so busie in tracing his Circles, that he took no notice of that victorious Enemy that came to dispatch him.
I allow, that 'tis the Innocence, as well as Pleasure of Knowledge, that deceives those Learned Men; but they, as well as others, must remember, that ev'n the wholsomest Meats may be surfeited on, and there is nothing more unhealthy, than to feed very well, and do but very little Exer∣cise. And I take it to be as true of the In∣tellectual, as the Material World, that it profits not a Man if he gain the whole World, and lose his own Soul. Whatsoever there∣fore Philosophers do tell us, of a wise Man, that he is no where banish'd, because he is a Citizen of the World; I must think a Christian every where in Exile, because he is a Citizen of the Heavenly Jerusalem, and but a Stranger and a Sojourner here. It was not absolutely in the capacity of the Father of Lies, that the Devil boasted, that the Earth was his Dominion; for, as our Saviour himself stil'd him, The Prince of this
World, I find, that he has all things here so much at his Devotion, that there is no place that he cannot lay an Ambush in, since he can pervert ev'n Light it self, to hide his Snares. Let us, therefore, hereafter indea∣vour still to stand upon our Guard, as re∣membring our selves to be in an Enemy's Country, where Distrust is the onely Mo∣ther of safety; and since Providence has so graciously presented us a Lesson, our Books would not have taught us, against such a fondness of them, as is injurious to Piety, and dangerous to the Soul; Let us justifie, better than this silly Lark has done, that saying of Solomon, Surely in vain the Net is spread in the sight of any Bird. Let not Philosophy any more take up our Life so, as not to leave us leisure to prepare for Death, and study a Science which shall most benefit us in another World, and which a∣lone will do so there: No, we may visit Athens, but we should dwell at Jerusalem; we may take some turns on Parnassus, but should more frequent Mount Calvary, and must never so busie our selves about those many things, as to forget that Unum Necessa∣rium, that good part which shall not be taken away from us.
THis Child is so much one in his humour, that despising meer Bread, though never so nourish∣ing and whole∣some, his Mother is fain to disguise the Ma∣terials of it into Cake, out of a belief that the toothsome, would make the nutritive
part go smoothly down. But this lickerish Chit, I see, defeats her plot, and knows al∣ready how to nibble off the bait from the hook, and casting by the Meat, make his whole Meal of what was meant onely for Sauce, to give a Rellish to what he rejects for it. This puts me in mind of the unwel∣come fate those Papers of mine, that treat of Devotion, have met with: For when I first was so unacquainted with the world, as to expect that Piety and Vertue were able, by their native charms, so much to endear my dress, as to win themselves adorers in a plain, or even a severe one; I ventur'd some of them abroad, though not in Print, yet among my Acquaintance, in a careless Matron-like habit, in which I soon found they almost frighted most of those I had de∣sign'd them to work the quite contrary ef∣fects on. But when my Acquaintedness with the Genius of the Age had sadly taught me, that I was to alter my Method, that the Eloquence of Vertues Sermons was that which must attract an Auditory, and engage Attention to them; and that those orders of hers, in which she employ'd not Rhetorick for her Secretary, could not be so much as listen'd to, much less obey'd, I endeavour'd to cloath Vertue, though not in a gawdy, in a Fashionable Habit, and devesting her not
onely of her Sack-cloth, but her Blacks, where I saw she appear'd in them with Disadvantage, I endeavour'd to give her as much of the modern Ornaments of a fine Lady, as I could without danger of being accus'd to have dress'd her like a Curtizan. This Attempt having not prov'd so unsuc∣cessful, but that many were pleas'd to as∣sure me, I had not been unlucky in it, I spent some time in the self-denying Exer∣cise of minding Words, and improving a Style, I hop'd to be able to improve to Vir∣tue's service, and subduing my Inclinations to be fit to Teach, as I had done to Learn, her Precepts; I some times, for her sake, tri'd my Pen in a smoother, and more flo∣rid style, than that which the nature of the Studies I was most addicted to, made the most familiar to me, flattering my self with a Belief, that since my Writings had usually the good fortune not to be ill approv'd, I might so happily mingle and interweave Instructions with Delight, as to necessitate my Readers to swallow both together, or at least bribe them by the latter to entertain the former.
You have better luck, as well as better skill, than many others, if you find it not often to fare with the Fishers of Men as it did with those other Fishers, that first
were honoured with that glorious Title, when they complained to our Saviour, that we have toiled all the night,* 1.32 and have taken nothing. For I see that men are grown witty enough to elude what they cannot despise, and resemble the deaf Adder that stops her spiritual ears from hearkening to the voice of Charmers, be the Charmer never so cun∣ning. And the best Reception that the moving'st Eloquence, that pleads for Piety, can obtain of them, is but such as may serve to make that applicable to the Preacher, which God once said to a Prophet, Lo thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well upon an Instrument; For they hear thy words, but they do them not. But the best is, that you serve a Master, that is as inclinable to re∣ward, as able to discern, Intentions, and does not make his Estimates by Events, but judges of our Performances, not by the Ef∣fects they produce, but the Affections they flow'd from, and the Ends they aim'd at.
The Disciple is not above his Ma∣ster, nor the Servant above his Lord. And therefore, Lindamor, as I dare not repine at the unsuccessfulness of my Endeavours, so I dare think, that whilst it proceeds but from the Obstinacy of others, 'tis not likely to be imputed to me by Him that com∣plain'd
plain' Himself, That all the day long he had stretch'd forth his hands to an unpersuadable and gain-saying people. Otherwise, I confess, I should not have much cause to be satisfi'd with the Return that all my Indeavours have hitherto brought me home. For I see that men can read a Book of Devotion as un∣concern'dly as they do a Romance or a Play, in both of them culling out onely what they call Wit, and making no better use of it than either to exercise or improve their own. They hear the most pathetick Ser∣mons, not as Christians but Oratours, and if in such Discourses they have been so just as to praise the Rhetorick, they think they may well be excus'd if they over-look the Divinity: In short, nothing but what gratifies their Fancy can leave any Impressions on their Memory, and that it self, if it tend to reform them, makes none on their Affe∣ctions. And some whose happier Pens al∣low them to do it far more justly than I can, do complain, That if a devout Book have not good store of witty passages, they will not mind it at all, and if it have, they will mind nothing else.
So that, Lindamor, I should sometimes be discourag'd from prosecuting Endea∣vours, which, though they now and then succeed, are oft-times so unprosperous, if
I did not think, with you, that they who la∣bour to win Souls to God, are set on work by him, that having no need of our Perfor∣mances, seeks in our services but the op∣portunities of exercising his own Goodness.
THE shape and colours of the best Sweet-meats of these kinds, are here so luckily represented by a skilful Hand, that Art seems to have design'd rather to ri∣val Nature, than barely to imitate Her, and a Lover of Junkets that approches not too near to these, must have much quickness of sight, or but little of appetite, if such in∣viting Objects do not tempt him both to mistake and to desire them. But, though at this distance these alluring Sweet-meats ap∣pear very pleasing; yet if one should be so unadvis'd as to endeavour to eat them, in∣stead of enjoying them more fully by the taste than he did by the sight, he would both spoil and disfigure them, and perhaps be so near choaking himself, that he would more earnestly wish them out of his
mouth, than ever he wish'd them in it.
There are some pleasures and conditions too in the world, which make so fine a shew at a distance, that in those that gaze at them aloof off, they frequently beget envy at them, and wishes for them; and yet he that calmly beholds them takes the best way of enjoying them: since that which whilst 'tis but aim'd at, is expected to be very satisfactory upon a nearer and fuller fruition, would be so far from proving so, and would so little be as sweet to the pa∣late as specious to the eye, that it would not onely cease to afford them any delight, but would make them wish they had let those deluding Sweets alone, and would make attainments more uneasie and trouble∣some than even desire was.
WHilst every body else is com∣mending these Oysters, either with his Tongue or with his Teeth, so that one of the Company sticks not to say, that
they are as much worth as if they contain'd each of them a Pearl, you onely seem as unconcern'd a Spectator, as if you thought their proper use, like that of Flowers, were, rather to be looked on than to be eaten.
I confess, Eugenius, that I found my self more inclinable to reflect on what you are doing, than to keep you company in it, and whilst I saw such persons so gust∣fully swallow these extoll'd Fishes, the sight lead me to take more notice than perhaps you have done of the strange power of Edu∣cation and Custom.
And what, I pray you, has Custom to do with Oysters?
You will soon know that, if I tell you, that I was considering, on this occasion, how forward we are to think other Nations absurd or barbarous for such practices, that either the same, or little better, may be found unscrupled at among our selves; and I acknowledge it to be one of the chief ad∣vantages I account my self to have obtain'd by my Travels, that as I do not easily ad∣mire, so I am not forward to deride, the Practice of any People for being New, and am not apt to think, their Customs must be therefore worse than ours, because they widely differ from them.
I could give you store of Instances to ju∣stifie
this impartiality, but because the cir∣cumstances of eating and drinking are those which make men, with the greatest con∣fidence, term other Nations Brutish and Barbarous, I will confine may self to some Examples of that nature.
We impute it for a barbarous custom to many Nations of the Indians, that like Beasts they eat raw Flesh. And pray' how much is that worse than our eating raw Fish, as we do in eating these Oysters? Nor is this a practice of the rude Vulgar onely, but of the politest and nicest persons among us, such as Physicians, Divines, and even Ladies. And our way of eating seems much more barbarous than theirs, since they are wont to kill before they eat, but we scruple not to devour Oysters alive, and kill them not with our Hands or Teeth, but with our Stomachs, where (for ought we know) they begin to be digested be∣fore they make an end of dying. Nay some∣times when we dip them in Vinegar, we may, for sauce to one bit, devour alive a schole of little Animals, which, whether they be Fishes or Worms, I am not so sure, as I am, that I have, by the help of conve∣nient Glasses, seen great numbers of them swimming up and down in less than a Saw∣cer full of Vinegar.
We detest and despise some other Na∣tions, for feeding upon Caterpillars, Grass-hoppers, and other Insects; and others, for feeding upon Carrion, and stink∣ing food.
And do not many of us do as bad, when we not onely eat, but extoll, rotten Cheefe, whose Livid Colour sufficiently betrays its Putrefaction, and whose odious smell of∣fends most mens Noses, and turns some mens Stomachs? Nay, when this Cheese is grown to that high degree of rottenness that our critical palats like it best in, we then devour whole hundreds of Mites, which are really crawling Insects, bred out of Putrefaction, and these too are so nume∣rous and little, that our greediness makes us swallow many of them alive.
Among the Savagest Barbarians we count the Cannabals, and as for those among them that kill men to eat them, their inhumane cruelty cannot be too much de∣tested; but to count them so barbarous merely upon the score of feeding on man's flesh and bloud, is to forget that woman's milk, by which alone we feed our sucking Children, is, according to the received Opinion, but blanched Bloud; and that Mummy is one of the usual Medicines commended and given by our Physicians
for falls and bruises, and in other cases too. And if we plead that we use not Mummy for food, but Physick, the Indians may ea∣sily answer, that by our way of using man's flesh, we do oftentimes but protract sick∣ness and pain, whereas they by theirs maintain their health and vigour. And there is no reason why it should be allowable to eat Broth, for instance, in a Consumption, and be condemnable to feed upon it to main∣tain health.
But lastly, as the highest degree of Bru∣tishness, our Travellers mention the pra∣ctice of the Soldanians at the Cape of Good hope, who not onely eat raw meat, but, if they be hungry, eat the guts and all of their Cattle, with the Dung in them. I will not answer, that I know several among us, (and perhaps some fair Ladies too) that to pre∣vent the Scurvy and the Gout, drink their own or Boy's Urine: nor that women themselves do oftentimes take Parmacitty inwardly, though the Latin name (Sperma Ceti) sufficiently declare what excretion of a Whale it is (though perhaps mistakenly) believed to be: nor yet that under the name of Album Graecum, Dogs dung is commonly given to Patients of all sorts and qualities against sore Throats: nor will I mention, that in Holland 'tis usual, as I have seen my
self, to mingle Sheep's dung with their Cheeses, onely to give them a colour and a relish: But I will rather demand, how much less we do our selves, than what we abominate in those Savages, when we de∣vour Oysters whole, guts, excrements, and all; nay, when not for Physick, but onely for Delicacies, our Courtiers and Ladies themselves are wont to make sawce for the bodies of Lobsters of that green stuff, which is indeed their Dung: And to these I could add other Examples, if I were not afraid to divert you too long from so much pleasure as the Company seems to take in eating raw Fish.
You put me in mind of a fancy of your Friend Mr. Boyle, who was saying, that he had thoughts of making a short Roman∣tick story, where the Scene should be laid in some Island of the Southern Ocean, go∣vern'd by some such rational Laws and Customs as those of Utopia or the New At∣lantis, and in this Country he would intro∣duce an Observing Native, that upon his re∣turn home from his Travels made in Europe, should give an account of our Countries and manners, under feign'd Names, and frequently intimate in his Relations, (or in his Answers to Questions that should be made him) the reasons of his wondring to
find our Customs so extravagant and dif∣fering from those of his Country. For your Friend imagin'd, that by such a way of pro∣posing many of our practices, we should our selves be brought unawares to con∣demn, or perhaps laugh at them, and should at least cease to wonder to find other Na∣tions think them as extravagant, as we think the manners of the Dutch and Spa∣niards, as they are represented in our Tra∣vellers Books.
I dislike not the project, and wish it were prosecuted by some Body, that be∣ing impartial were more a friend to Fables. For when I consider, that the name of Bar∣barian was given by the two Noblest Peo∣ples of the Earth, the Greeks and Romans, not onely to all the rest of the World, but to one another, though both those Nations were highly civiliz'd, and the courtly Per∣sians, and other voluptuous Asiaticks, were perhaps no less so than they; I doubt that most Nations in stileing one anothers Man∣ners extravagant and absurd, are guided more by Education and Partiality than Rea∣son, and that we laugh at many Customs of Strangers onely because we never were bred to them, and prise many of our own onely because we never consider'd them. And we may well believe that Custom has
much a larger Empire than men seem to be aware of, since whole Nations are wholly swai'd by it, that do not reckon themselves among its Subjects, nor so much as dream that they are so.
AS there are few Controversies more important, so there are not many, that have been more curiously and warmly disputed, than the Question, Whether a publick or a private life be preferrable? But perhaps this may be much of the nature of the other Question, Whether a marri'd life or a single ought rather to be chosen? that being best determinable by the Cir∣cumstances of particular cases. For though indefinitely speaking, one of the two may have advantages above the other, yet they are not so great, but that special Circum∣stances may make either of them the more eligible to particular persons. They that find themselves furnish'd with Abilities to serve their Generation in a publick capa∣city, and Vertue great enough to resist the
Temptations, to which such a condition is usually expos'd, may not onely be allow'd to embrace such an Employment, but oblig'd to seek it. But he whose parts are too mean to qualifie him to govern others, and perhaps to enable him to govern him∣self, or manage his own private Concerns, or whose Graces are so weak, that 'tis less to his Vertues or to his ability of resisting, than to his care of shunning the occasions of sin, that he ows his escaping the Guilt of it, had better deny himself some opportunities of doing Good, than expose himself to pro∣bable Temptations. For there is such a kind of difference betwixt Vertue shaded by a private, and shining forth in a publick life, as there is betwixt a Candle carri'd aloft in the open air, and inclosed in a Lanthorn; in the former place it gives more light, but in the latter 'tis in less danger to be blown out.
I See the general Expectation that there will be here this night a Magnificent Ap∣pearance, has produc'd one. And as it of∣ten happens in publick Shews, that the chief part of them is made by those that come to see them: so here, besides them whose Du∣ty obliges them to attend at the Solemnity, there is a greater concourse of fine people of either Sex, than any thing of this nature has for these many years occasion'd. And not onely many of the Ladies wear in their Ribbands little less vivid colours, than those of their faces, and are set out with Jewels almost as sparkling as their Eyes, (which yet the Courtiers think were able to warm the Russian hearts, though all the Ice and Snow of their Country guarded them) but the Men themselves are many of them as finely and as richly dress'd, as if even they came as well to be seen as to see. And if the Embassadour be, what a man of his Em∣ployment should be, (and what some say
he is) a Person acquainted with the Man∣ners of Men, he cannot but know, That we, as other's Nations, value our own Fa∣shions enough, to look upon Men disguis'd by the Russian dress, as little better than An∣ticks, if not as some new kind of Northern Animals. But for all this Gazing throng of Gawdy spectators, that were able to put an ordinary Stranger out of Countenance, to appear in a Habit differing from theirs; the Embassadour, and those that come along with him, think it not fit to decline the Russian habit or Ceremonies, for the Eng∣lish, but keep to the Ceremonies us'd in Muscovy, as strictly as if the Monarch of it that sent them hither saw them here; and are not discourag'd from this Manly pro∣ceeding, by seeing themselves star'd at for it by a number of Gawly spectators, that wear Cloaths, and use Ceremonies, so dif∣fering from theirs. And what ever those may think of the Embassadour, that are wont to estimate Men by the fashionableness of their Cloaths; yet the Wiser and more Intelligent do not blame him, for refusing to disparage the Fashions of his own people, by appearing asham'd of them; but, do rather think it prudent in him, to prefer the pleasing of his Master, and his own Coun∣try-men, before the gratifying of Strangers,
since 'tis not here, but at home, that he ex∣pects the recompence of his Behaviour, and Embassy.
Thus, when a Christian, who belongs to a Celestial King, and whose Citizen-ship is in Heaven, being but a Stranger upon Earth, converses among the Men of the World, though in Matters indifferent, there is oft∣times requir'd by Prudence, as much of Compliance as is allow'd by Innocence; yet, when there happens an Occasion, wherein he cannot comply with the de∣prav'd Customs of those among whom he Lives, without disobeying Him for whom he Lives, and whose Servant he is, or doing something that would derogate from the Dignity of a Person related to such a Ma∣ster, he will then less consider what may be thought of him by a Multitude, than what Account he is to render to him, who has forbidden Men to follow a Multitude to do Evil. And, as he knows, That his reward would be much less than he reckons upon, if it were a thing to be receiv'd on Earth, not in Heaven: So, how strange and unfa∣shionable soever his Conformity to the Orders of his own Soveraign may appear, he chuses rather to displease Men than God, and acts, as both seeing, and being seen by, Him that is Invisible.
ANd this ought to be more easie to him, than their Singularity is to the Russi∣ans, I have been mentioning; for whereas these, if they be knowing, and impartial, refuse our Modes and Rites, not because they are worse, but onely because they are other than those of their Country; he re∣fuses to conform to the forbidden fashions of this World, not for their being different from those of the Kingdome he belongs to, but for their being bad, and condemn'd by Him that cannot err: Whereas, of the opposite practices, the same infallible Judge pronounces by the mouth of a Person by him inspir'd, that these are the good things, and the profitable unto Men.* 1.33 And whereas, these Strangers see nothing in this magni∣ficent Assembly, whose Fashions they de∣cline, fit to be despised, but see some Per∣sons in it, to whom they pay a great re∣spect, and who deserve it upon another account, than that of their wearing Crowns; those that are Loyal to Virtue, have cause to look upon those they refuse to be like, with a noble, and just Indignation, as Per∣sons that have degraded themselves, and by
unworthy Practices blemish'd, and almost forfeited, the Dignity of their Nature, and the nobler Title of Christians. And, whereas these Muscovites are morally cer∣tain, that we shall never prefer their Fa∣shions to our own; the Christian has as great an assurance, that those, whose Pra∣ctices he dissents from, will one day re∣pent, that theirs dissented from his, and will wish they had imitated what they now seem to scorn. And however, when he shall come to the celestial City he belongs to, he will be in no danger to be derided for the sake of Piety, since those, that deride Piety, will not be admitted there. And as these Russians could not take a better way than that of not sneaking, to avoid the ha∣ving their Rites and Persons undervalu'd; so for a Christian, not to blush at his unfa∣shionablest Practices, seems the hopefullest way to keep them and him from being scorn'd, especially with those, who having themselves no Quality better than Confi∣dence, value it most in others. And sure it were a very unlikely way to keep others from despising the Customs of the Heavenly Jerusalem, for him that belongs to it to appear asham'd of them himself. Nor have pious Persons cause to be out of Coun∣tenance, at the singularity ev'n of a strictly
virtuous Deportment, since, being (as the Scripture tells us such Men in general are) fellow Citizens with the Saints and Dome∣sticks of God, they cannot justly be blam'd, if they aspire to be as like as they can here, to those, whom they desire and hope to be perfectly like hereafter. And if the An∣gels (as the Scripture in several places seems to intimate) are witnesses of our Actions, the smallest number of unfashi∣onable good Men, may, upon that score, say to one another, as the Prophet did to his Servant, upon the account of the Heavenly Host that surrounded him, Fear not, for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.* 1.34 And the approbation of these illu∣minated, happy, and glorious Spirits, is sure more considerable than that of mortal, and, which is worse, of sensual Men, whe∣ther we consider their Number, or their Judgments. And however, the Day will come, when those that despise his Singula∣rity, will envy his Happiness; one wel∣coming smile from Christ will make him amends for all the scornful smiles of Sinful men; And the sentence of Absolution, and Bliss, solemnly pronounc'd before God, Angels, and Men, will not onely recom∣pence him for the World's Disesteem, but shew that he did not deserve it.
'TIs so uncommon a thing to see Tulips last till Roses come to be blown, that the seeing them in this Garden grow together, as it deserves my notice, so me∣thinks it should suggest to me some Refle∣ction or other on it. And perhaps it may not be an improper one, to compare the difference betwixt these two kinds of Flow∣ers, to the disparity which I have often ob∣serv'd, betwixt the Fates of those young Ladies, that are onely very handsome, and those that have a less degree of Beauty re∣compenc'd by the Accession of Wit, Dis∣cretion, and Virtue: For Tulips, whil'st they are fresh, do indeed by the Lustre, and Vividness, of their Colours, more delight the Eye than Roses; but then they do not alone quickly fade, but as soon as they have lost that freshness, and gawdiness, that solv indear'd them, they degenerate into things not onely undesirable, but distastful; where∣as Roses, besides the moderate Beauty they disclose to the Eye, (which is suffici∣ent
to please, though not to charm it) do not onely keep their Colour longer than Tulips, but when that decays, retain a per∣fum'd Odour, and divers useful Qualities, and Virtues, that survive the Spring, and re∣commend them all the Year. Thus those unadvis'd young Ladies, that because Na∣ture has given them Beauty enough, despise all other Qualities, and ev'n that regular Diet which is ordinarily requisite to make Beauty it self lasting, not onely are wont to decay betimes, but as soon as they have lost that Youthful freshness, that alone en∣dear'd them, quickly pass from being Ob∣jects of Wonder, and Love, to be so of Pity, if not of Scorn; Whereas those that were as sollicitous to enrich their Minds, as to adorn their Faces, may not onely with a mediocrity of Beauty be very desirable whil'st that lasts, but notwithstanding the recess of that, and Youth, may, by the fra∣grancy of their Reputation, and those Vir∣tues and Ornaments of the Mind, that Time do's but improve, be always sufficiently endear'd to those that have merit enough to discern, and value, such Excellencies; and whose Esteem and Friendship is alone worth their being concern'd for. In a word, they prove the happiest, as well as they are the wisest, Ladies, that whil'st they possess the
desirable Qualities that Youth is wont to give, neglect not the acquist of those that Age cannot take away.
THE present and future condition of a Christian, especially of a Martyr, is not ill represented by what we take notice of in Corral; for whilst that Shrub yet lives, and remains fastned to its native earth or soil, it grows in an obscure Region of the world, and is perpetually surrounded, and over-flown, by the brackish and unpleasant waters of the Sea, and oftentimes expos'd to the irregular agitations of its waves. Besides, the substance of this Plant (as those that should know inform us) is but soft and tender under water, and its colour but sad and unlively: nor is it, like the Tu∣lip or the Rose-bush, adorn'd with any plea∣sant verdure, and much less does it flourish
with gawdy colours. And whilst it remains under water, the excellency of it does so little disclose it self, that men sail over it without suspecting or dreaming they have any thing of precious under their feet; and by the fishes, in whose Region, or rather Ele∣ment, it grows, 'tis pass'd by wholly un∣regarded: But when this unheeded Corral comes to be torn off from its root, and pluck'd out of his soil, and so is kill'd in the capacity of a Plant, it then exchanges the dark and unquiet place it was confin'd to, for a more elevated and lightsome Region; and instead of sharing the fate of common Shrubs and Flowers, first to degenerate in∣to fading colours and offensive smells, and then to perish, either by rottenness or fire, our Corral, by the violence offer'd to it, acquires a delightful redness, together with a solidity and a durableness, that makes it a thing so lovely and immortal, that it serves for an Ornament, for the Cabinets of the Curious; and what stupid Fishes do not at all regard, those nobler Creatures, Men, do so highly prise, that oftentimes it finds place even among the Rarities of Princes.
Thus, a true Christian, whilst he is yet confin'd to the Region of the Animal Life, lives oftentimes in an obscure and low con∣dition, and far from that prosperous state
wherein the world's Favourites are wont to flourish, he is almost perpetually ex∣pos'd to pressures and afflictions, and either most men consider him not at all, or those that look at his out-side onely are apt to despise him because it is so homely. And he is not onely in such a (seemingly forlorn) condition, as made the Psalmist complain of himself, that all the waves pass'd over him; but (like those Plants of Corral, that, not growing so near the shoar, are constantly cover'd with water, as well as sometimes disorder'd by storms) the calamities that do, as it were, over-whelm him, are never altogether remov'd, even in the intervals of those tempestuous Fits which increase his Distresses: But when the violence of sick∣ness, or the fury of a Persecutor shall have taken away his life, he must be then tran∣slated into a higher and happier Region, Afflictions and Distresses will be all left be∣hind. And when the sensual Idolizers of their Bodies shall be condemn'd to have those as loathsome as were their Minds, and as restless as their guilty Consciences, His Body will obtain new and glorious Qua∣lities like that of his Redeemer, and his Soul shall find no less happy a Transfigu∣ration, * 1.36the mortal part will be swallowed up of life,* 1.37 that perfection which is but in part
shall be done away. And these newly ac∣quir'd Excellencies of the whole man, will never after vanish or decay. And he that liv'd unregarded by the stupid Inhabitants of the earth, shall be joyfully welcom'd in∣to the blest society of Celestial Spirits, and, what is infinitely more, be graciously wel∣com'd and dignifi'd by the Son of God himself. Men should not therefore, by a Christians present state, take their measures of his future fate, but rather should re∣member that he who said of such,* 1.38 They shall be mine in the day when I make up my* 1.39 special treasures, is one whose Estimate of Persons and Conditions we may safely rely upon, since he is able to make any of them infalli∣bly such as he pleases to pronounce them, and consequently we may look upon the constant Christian's differing condition, with his eyes that said,* 1.40 We are now the Sons of God, and it does not (indeed) yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like HIM; who would be like himself alone, did not his goodness vouchsafe to exalt those that love him, to a likeness, which makes them very unlike the gloriousest things we here ad∣mire, by incomparably transcending them.
IT is a fault incident to many good men, to be too much indispos'd to entertain the Precepts of Vertue, as such excellent things deserve, in case those that teach them do not practise them. There are too many that do not think themselves oblig'd to take even the wholesomest advice from those, whom they see more careful to give it others, than to follow it themselves. And some of them are so nice, that they will scarce read a Book of Devotion, unless it come, like that St. John eat in the Apocalypse, from the hand of an Angel. But for my part, though I hope I both value and desire Religious Preachers as much as the rest of my Brethren, yet I think it would be much to the injury of Scripture and of Reason, if we should suffer the personal faults of men to keep them from doing that good, their nature fits them for. The Etymology of the Gospel importing its being welcome news, 'tis pity that any one that teaches it should not have a title to the Character David
gave Ahimaaz, of whom he said, that he is a good man, and brings good tidings. But my desirousness of piety in a Preacher is more for others sake than mine. For I know not why Truth, which is an intellectual thing, should lose its nature by any moral vitious∣ness in the Proposer. I know there is some∣thing extraordinary in the case of Noah, who awoke from his Wine and immedi∣ately prophesied, and yet the Event verifi'd his Predictions. Our Saviour instructing his Disciples about the Scribes and Pharisees, who sate in Moses's Chair, at the same time commands them to conform to their Do∣ctrine, when he forbids them to imitate their Example. The Wise-men did not the less find Christ at Bethlehem, though the Priests and Pharisees sent them without ac∣companying them thither. And the Assy∣rian General was cured of his Leprosie by following the Prophet's prescription con∣vey'd him by that Gehazi, who, by his un∣worthy carriage in that business, trans∣planted (if I may so speak) that foul Disease into himself and his posterity. I will there∣fore consider Sermons more than Preach∣ers: For as in a Burning-glass, though the Sun-beams do but illustrate, not heat, it in their passage, they may yet, by its assistance, kindle subjects that are more disposed to
receive their action: So those very Truths and Notions of a learned Preacher, which do but enlighten him, may inflame his Hearers, and kindle in their hearts the love of God. And as if a Perfume be set on fire by the Beams projected through a Burning-glass (which they do not so much as warm in their passage) the Scent is no less odori∣ferous and grateful, than if it had been produc'd by an actually burning coal. So neither is that Devotion which is kindled by the Eloquence of an indevout Preacher, any whit the less acceptable to God for their not being themselves affected with the Zeal they beget in others. And what the Book of Kings relates of Elisha's Bones, contains a far greater Miracle in the Historical, than in the Allegorical sense, in which 'tis no such wonder to see a man rais'd to life by a dead Prophet.
THe common people of this Country have a Tradition, that 'tis a lucky thing to find a Horse-shoe. And though
'twas to make my self merry with this fond conceit of the superstitious Vulgar, I stoop'd to take this up; yet now I observe in it a Circumstance that may, for ought I know, somewhat justifie the Tradition. For I take notice, that though Horse-shoes are by travelling worn out, yet if they had a sense of their own condition, it might afford them some consolation in it, that the same Journeys that waste them make them both useful and bright. Whereas, though the Horse-shoe I have taken up have not been consum'd upon the account of travelling, it has been eaten up by rust, which wastes it as well as Attrition would have done, but does not give it the lustre it would have receiv'd from that. I meet with many, who, very unmindful that He who was justly styl'd the Wise-man, whose counsel it was, that what ever our hand finds to do, we should do it with all our might, &c. make it the main business of their life merely to lengthen it, that are far more sol∣licitous to live long, than well, and would not undergo the least labour, or endure the least hardship, to do the greatest Good, but had rather lose an hundred opportunities of serving God, or obliging Men, than one Entertainment, or an hours sleep, and all this under the pretence of minding their
Health, and complying with the Dictates of Self-preservation. But I have often observ'd too, that ev'n these jolly People that seldome have a serious Thought, but how to avoid serious Imployments, may, by making their whole Lives a Succession of Divertisements, or rather a constant Di∣version from the true end of them, make their Lives indeed thereby useless, but not at all immortal. And truly, Feavers, Plu∣risies, and other acute Diseases, that are home-bread, besides those numerous fatal ones that are caught by Contagion, and a multitude of Casualties, do cut off so many before they reach old Age, in comparison of those, that the Diligence, and Industry, impos'd by Religion, or Curiosity, destroy, that I think so great a fear of using the Body for the interests of the Soul, and of him to whom we owe both, do's very little become his Disciples, who said, That 'twas his Meat to do the Will of God that sent him,* 1.41 and to accomplish his Work. The trouble of Thirsting, and Sweating, and Undressing, would to an ingenious Man be but just recompenc'd by the bare pleasures of Eating, and Drinking, and Sleeping, to confine an honest and inquisitive Person from those, which he looks upon as the al∣most onely Manly employments, the exer∣cise
of Virtue, and the pursuit of Know∣ledge, by telling him, that such a forbear∣ance may protract his Life, is, to promise a thing upon a condition that destroys the end and use of it; and he will look upon it, as if you should offer him a Horse, pro∣vided he will not ride him, or a Perspective-glass, upon condition he shall not draw it out, for fear the Air should, as it some∣times do's, impair the Glasses. A Heaven-born Soul would scarce think it worth while to stay here below, if its work must be, not to imploy the Body, but to tend it. Those that are so unreasonably afraid to spend their Spirits, are in some regards less excusable than Misers themselves; for though both hoard up things that cannot be better in∣joy'd than by being parted with, the chief uses for which they were intrusted with them; yet in this, those I blame are more censurable than the Covetous themselves, since these, by their Niggardliness, can avoid spending their Money, but the others, by their Laziness, cannot avoid the Consump∣tion of their time. I know a Man may be Prodigal of himself, as well as his Estate, and that both those Profusions are faults, and therefore fit to be declin'd. But if I could not shun both the Extremes, certain∣ly, since we all must Dye, and the question
is not whether or no we will Live for ever, (for the most that can be hop'd for, is not to be priviledg'd from Death, but onely to be longer repriv'd) but whether we will rather indeavour to lead a Life, mean, and unprofitable, a few more days, or a glorious Life, for a somewhat less number of them? I should rather chuse to spend my Life quickly, than uselessly; for he that lays out himself for Eternity, if he lose any Portion of his time upon that account, is the sooner put into possession of an In∣exhaustible stock of it; whereas those, who, that they may Live long, meanly forgo the ends of Living, and seek, by Laziness, to protract an insignificant stay on Earth, would, should they reach their Aim, add ra∣ther to their Years than to their Life.
HEre is a deceitful Shop of Beau∣ty, where many that come but
to wonder, meet with Love, and ev'n when they buy, not what they like, pay their Hearts for it; the Shop being so well fur∣nish'd, that Beauty seems here to have assum'd all the variety of Features, and Complexions, she can be dress'd in, and so exquisitly to have fitted all Gazers, with proportionate and attractive Objects, that nothing but an absolute Incapability of Love, is here able to protect them from that Passion, which, not to resent among so many inspiring Wonders, were one. If in these Faces, the Originals equal the Transcripts, if Art have not flatter'd Na∣ture, and attempted more to instruct than imitate her; and if the Painter have not elected, rather to have his Pieces lik'd, than like, here are Apologies for Love, that can procure it, not onely Pardons, but Prose∣lites. I must (in that case) add, that there are more Suns than one, whose Bright∣ness, ev'n by Reflection, can dazle; here are Princesses more illustrious for the Blood that lightens in their Cheeks, than for that which runs in their Veins, and who, like victorious Monarchs, can conquer at a di∣stance, and captivate by Proxie.
I fear, Genorio▪ that you are so transported with your Text, that you will quite forget (if ever you intended it) to
make a Homily upon it: For you talk at such a rate, as if you were about to lose, to the Pictures of Ladies, the liberty, your Friend Mr. Boyle would be thought to have ever defended against their Originals, and fanci'd, that it might add to the other Re∣semblances you so admire betwixt them, if both of them were made Enemies to seriousness.
I presume, Genorio will willingly allow me, to serve him at this turn; for whether or no he meant us a Reflection, some charms or other he has met with in these Pictures, seem to have so arrested his Thoughts, as well as his Looks, that we shall not have them hastily deliver'd from so pleasing a Captivity; and the Know∣ledge I alone, of us three, have of the Drawer of these Pictures, supplies me with a Circumstance, without which, I should not, when Eusebius is by, offer at an Occa∣sional Meditation: But upon this advan∣tage, I shall venture to tell you, That the thing I was considering, was, that though the Limner have drawn some Pieces, as handsome as Lovers think, or wish their Mistresses, and some (as they tell me) so like, that an actual Confrontation of the Artist's works, and Nature's, would scarce distinguish them, (since the former would
appear to differ from the later, but in that silence, which the laters admiration, to see themselves so perfectly represented, would impose) yet is the Painter himself so de∣formed a Creature, that he might draw a lovelier Face ev'n than any here, by drawing one perfectly unlike his own. Alas, this discloses the difference there may be be∣twixt the being able to write fine Chara∣cters of Virtue, and the possessing of it. How ridiculous should I esteem this Lim∣ner, if with all this ugliness, he should esteem himself handsome, because his Pen∣cil can draw Faces that are so! As absurd were it for us, to grow proud of our devout Composures, and fancy Piety ours, be∣cause our Discourses can possibly inamour others of it. The Devil sometimes do's unmolestedly suffer us to write well, if he can but persuade us we need do no more, and that good Pens may dispense us from good Actions. Our Paper-warrs against Vices, are oftentimes like Alexander's, a∣gainst the Neighbouring Nations, not out of Hatred, but Glory, not to Extirpate, but to Conquer them, and manifest to the World the sufficiency of our Parts, by a Victory, after which, we often treat the vanquish'd Enemy with greater Courtesie, than those whose Quarrel we undertook.
Discourses against Vices, may be as well indited by Vanity, as by Zeal, and meant to express Wit, not persuade Piety. And if (as it chanceth but too frequently) we grow proud of them, we do, like Witches turning Exorcists, onely comply with Satan to cast out the Devil.
To second your pious, Reflection Lindamor, with some thoughts suitable to my Profession, I will add, that in the case you put, it happens to us as it once did to Gideon,* 1.43 who, of the spoils of God and Israels conquered Enemies, made an Idol, which prov'd, in the end, his, and his houses Snare. 'Twas a most instructive Check, and divine admonition, that our Saviour gave his Apostles, when, in the account they brought him of their Em∣bassy, they joyfully related their excer∣cis'd power, of dispossessing Devils; Notwithstanding (answer'd Christ) in this rejoice not, that Spirits are subject to you, but rather rejoice that your names are written in Heaven. In effect, though Judas were one of the Persons, invested with this miraculous power of casting Devils out of others, yet we read that Satan afterwards enter'd into Judas, and that it had been good for him, that he had never been born. And though, as Solomon tells us, He that winneth
Souls, is wise, yet it is he only that shall do, as well as teach, the Commandments that shall be call'd great in the Kingdom of Heaven.* 1.44 And the Judge himself informing us, that, at the worlds last day, many will plead their having in his name not only prophesy'd or preach'd, but cast out De∣vils, and shall yet be disclaim'd by him; sufficiently intimates,* 1.45 that 'tis as possible, as unavailable, to do many wonderful works (for Religion) and to be workers of Iniquity. The true Christian should, Lin∣damor, be willing to impart any useful Dis∣coveries that God shall please to vouch∣safe him; but he will ever consider the taking'st Notions he can frame of vertue, more as Engagments to it, than Argu∣ments of it; and since there is not any thing in which Charity ought more to be∣gin at home than in devout Instructions, he will endeavour to make himself as much Piety's Votary, as Advocate; to imitate those truly Wisemen, that as they inform'd those of Jerusalem, of the Starr they had seen in the East, did themselves follow it, till it brought them unto Christ; to entitle himself to that of our Saviour, A good man,* 1.46 out of the good treasure of his heart, brings forth good things; and (finally) to take his Celebrations of vertue from his
Experience, not his Fancy; as Nurse first feed themselves, to nourish their suck∣ing Infants, to whom they give no meat, which they have not in their own Breasts first digested into Milk, lest (like the Car∣penters that toyl'd to build the Ark to save Noah from the Deluge, themselves perisht in,)* 1.47 when he has preach'd to others, himself should prove a Cast-away.
SUre, Gentlemen, 'tis a happy thing to be able to convert the meanest things to the noblest uses, and make whatever one pleases, subservient to Piety, by skilfully imploying ev'n slight and unpromising Occasions, to re∣present her, which the Advantages of a va∣ry'd and surprizing Dress, whereby you may procure that Vertue lovers, and your selves friends: For her Votary's are so ingenu∣ous and disintress'd in their Amours, that they have as well as kindness for their Ri∣vals, as their Mistress.
I will not deny but that there may be Persons so inflam'd with heaven∣ly Love, that their Devotion is able, like the last fire, that is to refine or destroy
the World, to turn all things into Fuel for its victorious flames, and who, when they are once ingag'd in Meditation, can make their pious thoughts excite themselves and flame up higher, and higher, without the assistance of other Incentives, than what their own fervency procures them; as 'tis observed, that when the fire has seiz'd up∣on a Town, by how small a spark so∣ever it have been kindl'd, if the flame come to be very great, though the air be very calm, the fire it self will produce a wind, that, without the help of Bellows, shall strongly blow it, and make it blaze the more, and aspire towards Heaven. But, Genorio, when-ever (for I answer but for my self) I shall meet with any such happy Contemplators, I shall have the Justice to be one of their Admirers, without ha∣ving the vanity to pretend to be one of their number.
And I, for my part, shall tell you, Genorio, that though there may be divers charitable persons, besides your self, that by the Expressions it becomes me to use in some of my Meditations, and other com∣posures of the like Nature, may be apt to fancy that I am my self, as devout as I indeavour to make my Readers, yet you must not imagine that my mind, like one of
those Writing's, has no other thoughts than Religious, or at least moral ones; For those may be the productions, not of a con∣stant frame of mind, but of Occasional Fits of Devotion: And you may read a greater number of such Reflections in an hour than perhaps I have made in a month, not to say, in a year. And I must ingenious∣ly confess to you, that I think it more easie to make ten good Sermons than to practise one, and to declaim against all sins than to relinquish any: There goes much lesse self-denial to conform to the Precepts of Cicero, than to those of Christ, and I find it so much less difficult to excite other mens passions, than to command my own, that if you will not suffer your charity too much to injure your judgment, You must look upon the devouter pas∣sages you may have met with among my Composures, as Expressions of what I aim at, rather than of what I practise.
Sailing betwixt Roterdam and Graves-end on Easter-day, 1648.
A name often given by the Au∣thor to his excellent Si∣ster R. who was almost always with him during his Sickness.
Rom.. 8. 13.
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
At Rhodes the Air is ne∣ver so Dim and Cloudy, but one hour or other the Sun shineth out, Pliny, l. 2. c. 62. Where he also says the same of Sy∣racusa.
Merit 1. 12.
Psal. 33. 9.
Isaiah 40. 28.
Revel. 10. 6.
Hebr. 11. 8.
Nehemiah the 9. and the 6.
Psal. 104. 29, 30.
Ephes. 3. 10.
James 4. 1.
Judges 4. 29.
2 Cor. 15. 15.
Hebr. 2. 14, 15.
1 Sam. 10. 6. 9.
Genes. 11. v. 6.
Est. 5. 1.
Gen. 15. 16
Luk. 16. 28
2 Sam. 2. 26.
Num. 25
Num. 11. 33.
Judges 16.
At Lees.
Hague 1648.
For there was a se∣cond part of this Re∣flection, but when it was to be sent to the Press it could not be found, nor would the Presses haste, and the Authors occasions, allow him either to stay till it were found, or write a new one.
Thus in a Starry night fond Children cry For the rich Spangles that adorn the sky.Mr W.
A. D. 1651.
Luke 5. 5.
Titus 3. 8.
2 Kin. 6. 16▪
An un∣publish'd Piece of the Au∣thor's.
2 Cor 5. 4.
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
Mal. 3. 17.
Segullah.
Joh. 3. 2.
Joh. 4. 34.
At the Hague.
Judges 8. 24. 25. 26. &c.
Mat. 5. 19.
Mat. 7. 22. 23.
Luk. 6. 45.
1 Cor. 9. 27.