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were two women, extremely beautiful, though in a different kind; the one having a very careful and compofed air, the other a fort of fmile and ineffable sweetness in her countenance: the name of the first was Difcretion, and of the other Complacency. All who came out of this gate, and put themselves under the direction of thefe two fifters, were immediately conducted by them into gardens, groves, and meadows, which abounded in delights, and were furnished with every thing that could make them the proper feats of hap pinefs. The fecond gate of this temple let out all the couples that were unhappily married; who came out linked together by chains, which each of them ftrove to break, but could not. Several of these were fuch as had never been acquainted with each other before they met in the great walk, or had been too well acquainted in the thicket. The entrance to this gate was poffeffed by three fifters, who joined themselves with thefe wretches, and occafioned most of their miferies. The youngest of the fifters was known by the name of Levity; who, with the innocence of a virgin, had the drefs and behaviour of a harlot: the name of the fecond was Contention, who bore on her right arm a muff made of the skin of a porcupine, and on her left carried a little lap-dog, that barked and fnapped at every one that paffed by her. The eldest of the fifters, who feemed to have an haughty and imperious air, was always accompanied with a tawny Cupid, who generally marched before her with a little mace on his fhoulder, the end of which was fashioned into the horns of a flag: her garments were yellow, and her complexion pale: her eyes were piercing, but had odd cafts in them, and that particular diftemper which makes perfons who are troubled with it see objects double. Upon enquiry, I was informed that her name was Jealousy.

Tailer.

§ 86. The Temple of Luft. Having finished my obfervations upon this temple, and its votaries, I repaired to that which flood on the left hand, and was called the Temple of Luft. The front of it was raised on Corinthian pillars, with all the meretricious ornaments that accompany that order; whereas that of the other was compofed of the chafte and matronlike Ionic. The fides of it were adorned with feveral grotefque figures of goats,

fparrows, heathen gods, fatyrs, and mot fters, made up of half men, half beast. The gates were unguarded, and open to all that had a mind to enter. Upon my going in, I found the windows were blinded, and let in only a kind of twilight, that ferved to discover a prodigious number of dark corners and apartments, into which the whole temple was divided. I was here ftunned with a mixed noise of clamour and jollity: on one fide of me I heard finging and dancing; on the other, brawls and clafhing of fwords: in fhort, I was fo little pleafed with the place, that I was going out of it; but found I could not return by the gate where I entered, which was barred against all that were come in, with bolts of iron and locks of adamant; there was no going back from this temple through the paths of pleasure which led to it: all who paffed through the ceremonies of the place, went out at an iron wicket, which was kept by a dreadful giant called Remorse, that held a fcourge of fcorpions in his hand, and drove them into the only outlet from that temple. This was a parfage fo rugged, fo uneven, and choaked with fo many thorns and briars, that it was a melancholy fpectacle to behold the pains and difficulties which both fexes fuffered who walked through it: the men, though in the prime of their youth, appeared weak and infeebled with old age: the women wrung their hands, and tore their hair, and feveral loft their limbs, before they could extricate themselves out of the perplexities of the path in which they were engaged.-The remaining part of this vifion, and the adventures I met with in the two great roads of Ambition and Avarice, must be the subject of another paper. Ibid.

§ 87. The Temple of Virtue. With much labour and difficulty I paffed through the first part of my vifion, and recovered the centre of the wood, from whence I had the profpect of the three great roads. I here joined myself to the middle-aged party of mankind, who marched behind the standard of Ambition. The great road lay in a direct line, and was terminated by the Temple of Virtue. It was planted on each side with laurels, which were intermixed with marble trophies, carved pillars, and statues of lawgivers, heroes, statesmen, philofophers, and poets. The perfons who travelled up this great path, were fuch whose thoughts

were

were bent upon doing eminent fervices to mankind, or promoting the good of their country. On each fide of this great road, were feveral paths that were alfo laid out in ftraight lines, and ran parallel with it: these were most of them covered walks, and received into them men of retired virtue, who propofed to themselves the fame end of their journey, though they chofe to make it in fhade and obfcurity. The edifices, at the extremity of the walk, were fo contrived, that we could not fee the temple of Honour, by reafon of the temple of Virtue, which flood before it: at the gates of this temple, we were met by the goddefs of it, who conducted us into that of Honour, which was joined to the other edifice by a beautiful triumphal arch, and had no other entrance into it. When the deity of the inner ftructure had received us, the prefented us in a body, to a figure that was placed over the high altar, and was the emblem of Eternity. She fat on a globe, in the midst of a golden zodiac, holding the figure of a fun in one hand, and a moon in the other: her head was veiled, and her feet covered. Our hearts glowed within us, as we stood amidst the fphere of light which this image caft on every fide of it.

Tatler.

88. The Temple of Vanity. Having feen all that happened to the band of adventurers, I repaired to another pile of buildings that flood within view of the temple of Honour, and was raised in imitation of it, upon the very fame model; but, at my approach to it, I found that the ftones were laid together without mortar, and that the whole fabric ftood upon fo weak a foundation, that it fhook with every wind that blew. This was called the Temple of Vanity. The goddefs of it fat in the midst of a great many tapers, that burned day and night, and made her appear much better than the would have done in open day-light. Her whole art was to fhew herself more beautiful and majeftic than fhe really was For which reafon the had painted her face, and wors a cluster of falfe jewels upon her breast: but what I more particularly obferved, was the breadth of her petticoat, which was made altogether in the fashion of a modern fardingal. This place was filled with hypocrites, pedants, free-thinkers, and prating politicians, with a rabble of thofe who have only titles to make them great men. Female votaries crowded the tem

ple, choaked up the avenues of it, and were more in number than the fand upon the fea-fhore, I made it my bufinefs, in my return towards that part of the wood from whence I firft fet out, to obferve the walks which led to this temple; for I met in it feveral who had begun their journey with the band of virtuous perfons, and travelled fome time in their company: but, upon examination, I found that there were feveral paths, which led out of the great road into the fides of the wood, and ran into fo many crooked turns and windings, that thofe who travelled through them, often turned their backs upon the temple of Virtue, then croffed the ftraight road, and fometimes marched in it for a little fpace, till the crooked path which they were engaged in again led them into the wood. The feveral alleys of thefe wanderers, had their particular ornaments: one of them I could not but take notice of, in the walk of the mischievous pretenders to politics, which had at every turn the figure of a perfon, whom, by the infcription, I found to be Machiavel, pointing out the way, with an extended finger,like a Mercury.

Ibid.

§ 89. The Temple of Avarice.

I was now returned in the fame manner as before, with a defign to obferve carefully every thing that paffed in the region of Avarice, and the occurrences in that affembly, which was made up of perfons of my own age. This body of travellers had not gone far in the third great road, before it led them infenfibly into a deep valley, in which they journied several days, with great toil and uneafinefs, and without the neceffary refreshments of food and fleep. The only relief they met with, was in a river that ran through the bottom of the valley on a bed of golden fand: they often drank of this ftream, which had fuch a particular quality in it, that though it refreshed them for a time, it rather inflamed than quenched their thirst. each fide of the river was a range of hills full of precious ore; for where the rains had washed off the earth, one might fee in feveral parts of them long veins of gold, and rocks that looked like pure filver. We were told that the deity of the place had forbad any of his votaries to dig into the bowels of thefe hills, or convert the treafures they contained to any use, under pain of ftarving. At the end of the valley itood the Temple of Avarice made after

On

the manner of a fortification, and furrounded with a thousand triple-headed dogs, that were placed there to keep off beggars. At our approach they all fell a barking, and would have much terrified us, had not an old woman, who had called herself by the forged name of Competency, offered herself for our guide. She carried under her garment a golden bow, which the no fooner held up in her hand, but the dogs lay down, and the gates flew open for our reception. We were led through an hundred iron doors before we entered the temple. At the upper end of it, fat the god of Avarice, with a long filthy beard, and a meagre ftarved countenance, inclosed with heaps of ingots and pyramids of money, but half naked and hivering with cold: on his right hand was a fiend called Rapine, and on his left a particular favourite, to whom he had given the title of Parfimony; the first was his collector, and the other his cashier. There were feveral long tables placed on each fide of the temple, with refpective officers attending behind them: fome of thefe I enquired into: at the first table was kept the office of Corruption. Seeing a folicitor extremely bufy, and whifpering every body that paffed by, I kept my eye upon him very attentively, and faw him often going up to a perfon that had a pen in his hand, with a multiplication-table and an almanack before him, which, as I afterwards heard, was all the learning he was mafter of. The folicitor would often apply himself to his ear, and at the fame time convey money into his hand, for which the other would give him out a piece of paper, or parchment, figned and fealed in form. The name of this dexterous and fuccefsful folicitor was Bribery. At the next table was the office of Extortion: behind it fat a perfon in a bob-wig, counting over a great fum of money: he gave out little purfes to feveral, who, after a fhort tour, brought him, in return, facks full of the fame kind of coin. I faw, at the fame time, a perfon called Fraud, who fat behind the counter, with falfe fcales, light weights, and fcanty measures; by the fkilful application of which inftruments, fhe had got together an immenfe heap of wealth: it would be endlefs to name the feveral officers, or defcribe the votaries that attended in this temple: there were many old men, panting and breathless, repofing their heads on

bags of money; nay many of them actually dying, whofe very pangs and convulfions (which rendered their purfes ufelefs to them) only made them grasp them the fafter. There were fome tearing with one hand all things, even to the garments and flesh of many miferable perfons who ftood before them; and with the other hand throwing away what they had feized, to harlots, flatterers, and panders, that ftood behind them. On a fudden the whole affembly fell a trembling; and, upon enquiry, I found that the great room we were in was haunted with a spectre, that many times a day appeared to them, and terrified them to diffraction. In the midst of their terror and ainazement, the apparition entered, which 1 immediately knew to be Poverty. Whether it were by my acquaintance with this phantom, which had rendered the fight of her more familiar to me, or however it was, he did not make fo indigent or frightful a figure in my eye, as the god of this loathfome temple. The miferable votaries of this place were, I found, of another mind: every one fancied himself threatened by the apparition as fhe ftalked about the room, and began to lock their coffers, and tie their bags, with the utmoft fear and trembling. I muft confefs, I look upon the paffion which I faw in this unhappy people, to be of the fame nature with thofe unaccountable antipathies which fome perfons are born with, or rather as a kind of phrenzy, not unlike that which throws a man into terrors and agonies at the fight of so useful and innocent a thing as water. The whole affembly was furprized, when, inftead of paying my devotions to the deity whom they all adored, they faw me addrefs myself to the phantom. «Oh! Poverty! (faid I) my firit petition to thee is, that thou wouldeft never appear to me hereafter; but, if thou wilt not grant me this, that thou wouldeft not bear a form more terrible than that in which thou appearest to me at prefent. Let not thy threats or menaces betray me to any thing that is ungrateful or unjuft. Let me not shut my ears to the cries of the needy. Let me not forget the perfon that has deferved well of me, Let me not, from any fear of Thee, defert my friend, my principles, or my honour. If Wealth is to vifit me, and come with her ufual attendants, Vanity and Avarice, da thou, O Poverty! haften to my refcue; but bring along with Thee

thy

thy two fifters, in whofe company thou art always chearful, Liberty and Innocence." Tailer.

§ 90. The Virtue of Gentleness not to be confounded with artificial and infincere Politeness.

Gentlenefs corrects whatever is offenfive in our manners; and, by a constant train of humane attentions, ftudies to alleviate the burden of common mifery. Its office, therefore, is extensive. It is not, like fome other virtues, called forth only on peculiar emergencies; but it is continually in action, when we are engaged in intercourfe with men. It ought to form our addrefs, to regulate our speech, and to diffuse itself over our whole behaviour.

I must warn you, however, not to confound this gentle wifdom which is from above, with that artificial courtesy, that studied smoothness of manners, which is learned in the school of the world. Such accomplishments, the moft frivolous and empty may poffefs. Too often they are employed by the artful, as a fnare; too often affected by the hard and unfeeling, as a cover to the bafenefs of their minds. We cannot, at the fame time, avoid obferving the homage which, even in fuch inftances, the world is constrained to pay to virtue. In order to render fociety agreeable, it is found neceffary to affume fomewhat that may at leaft carry its appearance: Virtue is the univerfal charm; even its fhadow is courted, when the fubftance is wanting; the imitation of its form has been reduced into an art; and, in the commerce of life, the firft ftudy of all who would either gain the esteem, or win the hearts of others, is to learn the fpeech, and to adopt the manners of candour, gentleness, and humanity; but that gentenefs which is the characteristic of a good man, has, like every other virtue, its feat in the heart: and, let me add, nothing except what flows from it, can render even external manners truly pleafing; for no affumed behaviour can at all times hide the real character. In that unaffected civility which fprings from a gentle mind, there is a charm infinitely more powerful than in all the ftudied manners of the moft finithed courtier.

Blair.

91. Opportunities for great Acts of Beneficence rare, for Gentleness continual. But, perhaps, it will be pleaded by fome,

That this gentlenefs on which we now infift, regards only thofe fmaller offices of life, which, in their eyes, are not effential confefs, on flight occafions, of the governto religion and goodness. Negligent, they ment of their temper, or the regulation of their behaviour, they are attentive, as they pretend, to the great duties of beneficence; and ready, whenever the opportunity prefents, to perform important fervices to their fellow-creatures. But let fuch perfons reflect, that the occafions of performing thofe important good deeds very rarely occur. Perhaps their fituation in life, or the nature of their connections, may, in a great measure, exclude them from fuch opportunities. Great events give scope for great virtues; but the main tenor of human life is compofed of fmall occur. rences. Within the round of thefe, lie the materials of the happiness of most men; the fubjects of their duty, and the trials of their virtue. Virtue must be formed and fupported, not by unfrequent acts, but by daily and repeated exertions. In order to its becoming either vigorous or useful, it must be habitually active; not breaking forth occafionally with a tranfient luftre, like the blaze of the comet; but regular in its returns, like the light of the day; not like the aromatic gale, which fometimes feafts the fenfe; but, like the ordinary breeze, which purifies the air, and renders it healthful.

Years may pafs over our heads, without affording any opportunity for acts of high beneficence, or extenfive utility. Whereas, not a day paffes, but in the common tranfactions of life, and especially in the intercourfe of domestic fociety, gentleness finds place for promoting the happiness of others, and for ftrengthening in ourselves the habit of virtue. Nay, by feafonable difcoveries of a humane fpirit, we fometimes contribute more materially to the advancement of happiness, than by actions which are feemingly more important. There are fituations, not a few, in human life, where the encouraging reception, the condefcending behaviour, and the look of fympathy, bring greater relief to the heart, than the moft bountiful gift: While, on the other fide, when the hand of liberality is extended to bestow, the want of gentleness is fufficient to fruftrate the intention of the be

nefit; we four thofe whom we meant to oblige; and, by conferring favours with oftentation and harshness, we convert them into injuries. Can any difpofition, then

be held to poffefs a low place in the fcale of virtue, whofe influence is fo confiderable on the happiness of the world.

Gentleness is, in truth, the great avenue to mutual enjoyment. Amidft the ftrife of interfering interefts, it tempers the violence of contention, and keeps alive the feeds of harmony. It foftens animofities, renews endearments, and renders the countenance of a man, a refreshment to a man. Banish gentleness from the earth; fuppofe the world to be filled with none but harth and contentious fpirits, and what fort of fociety would remain? the folitude of the defart were preferable to it. The conflict of jarring elements in chaos; the cave, where fubterraneous winds contend and roar; the den, where ferpents hifs, and beafts of the foreft howl; would be the only proper reprefentations of fuch affemblies of men. Strange! that where men have all one common intereft, they fhould fo often abfurdly concur in defeating it! Has not nature already provided a fufficient quantity of unavoidable evils for the ftate of man? As if we did not fuffer enough from the ftorm which beats upon us without, muft we confpire alfo, in those societies where we affemble, in order to find a retreat from that storm, to harrafs one another? Blair.

$92. Gentleness recommended on Confiderations of our own İntereft,

But if the fenfe of duty, and of common happiness, be infufficient to recommend the virtue of gentleness, then let me defire you to confider your own intereft. Whatever ends a good man can be fuppofed to purfue, gentleness will be found to favour them; it prepoffeffes and wins every heart; it perfuades, when every other argument fails; often difarms the fierce, and melts the ftubborn. Whereas, harfhnefs confirms the oppofition it would fubdue; and, of an indifferent perfon, creates an enemy. He who could overlook an injury committed in the collifion of interefts, will long and feverely refent the flights of a contemptuous behaviour. To the man of gentlenefs, the world is generally difpofed to afcribe every other good quality. The higher endowments of the mind we admire at a distance, and when any impropriety of behaviour accompanies them, we admire without love: they are like fome of the diftant ftars, whofe beneficial influence reaches not to us. Whereas, of the in

fluence of gentlenefs, all in fome degree partake, and therefore all love it. The man of this character rifes in the world without ftruggle, and flourishes without envy. His misfortunes are univerfally lamented; and his failings are easily forgiven.

But whatever may be the effect of this virtue on our external condition, its influence on our internal enjoyment is certain and powerful. That inward tranquillity which it promotes, is the firft requifite to every pleasurable feeling. It is the calm and clear atmosphere, the ferenity and funfhine of the mind. When benignity and gentlenefs reign within, we are always leait in hazard of being ruffled from without; every perfon, and every occurrence, are beheld in the most favour. able light. But let fome clouds of difguft and ill-humour gather on the mind, and immediately the fcene changes; Nature feems transformed; and the appearance of all things is blackened to our view. The gentle mind is like the smooth stream, which reflects every object in its just proportion, and in its faireft colours. The violent fpirit, like troubled waters, renders back the images of things distorted and broken; and communicates to them all that disordered motion which arifes folely from its own agitation.

Ibid.

§ 93. The Man of gentle Manners is fuperior to frivolous Offences and flight Provocations.

As foon may the waves of the fea ceafe to roll, as provocations to arife from human corruption and frailty. Attacked by great injuries, the man of mild and gentle fpirit will feel what human nature feels; and will defend and refent, as his duty allows him. But to thofe fight provocations, and frivolous offences, which are the most frequent caufes of difquiet, he is happily fuperior. Hence his days flow in a far more placid tenor than thofe of others; exempted from the numberlefs difcompofures which agitate vulgar minds. Infpired with higher fentiments; taught to regard, with indulgent eye, the frailties of men, the omiffions of the careless, the follies of the imprudent, and the levity of the fickle, he retreats into the calmnefs of his fpirit, as into an undisturbed fanctuary; and quietly allows the ufual current of life to hold its course.

Ibid.

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