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of our nature-whether our judgment is without its bias from our fears.

Let our seriousness be exhibited to us in that odd figure, which wit and humour can easily give it; we shall be insensibly led to judge of it, according to its appearance, as thus overcharged; and under the disadvantage in which it is shewn us: we shall, first, seem unconcerned at the greater liberties that others take, and, by degrees, proceed to take the very same ourselves.

The person, whom we most highly and justly honoured, if the buffoonery of our companions were constantly levelled at him, would soon have his worth overlooked by us; and, though we might not be brought to think of him as contemptibly as they appeared to do, our reverence of him would certainly, at length, abate, and both his advice and example have much less influence upon us.

Of this you shall have an instance in my next.

I will here only add what Jamblicus mentions as practised by Pythagoras, before he admitted any into his school-He inquired, "Who were their intimates❞— justly concluding, that they, who could like bad companions, would not be much profited by his instructions.

SIR,

Dean Bolton.

$127. LETTER VIII.

What follows will discharge the promise which I made you at the conclusion of my last.

S. was the oracle of his county; to whatever point he turned his thoughts, he soon made himself master of it. He entered, indeed, so early upon business, that he had little time for books; but he had read those which best deserved his perusal, and his memory was the faithful repository of their contents.

The helps, that he had not received from reading, he had abundantly supplied the want of, by observation and conversation. The compass of his knowledge was amazing. There was scarce any thing, of which one in his station ought to be informed, wherein he appeared to be ignorant. Long experience, great sagacity, a ready apprehension, a retentive memory, the resort to him of all sorts of people, from whom any thing could be learned, and an intimacy with some of the worthiest persons of every profession, enabled

him to speak on most points with such justness and copiousness, as might induce you to conclude, upon first being with him, that the topic on which his discourse turned, was what he had particularly and principally attended to. Though he owned himself never to have so much as looked into the writings of atheists or deists; yet, from the promiscuous company he had been obliged to keep, and the freedom with which all spoke their sentiments to him, there was not, perhaps, a material objection to the Christian religion, of which he was not apprised, and which he had not well considered.

Sensible of his strength, and ever desirous to use it in the best of causes-in the service of that truth, which operates on men's practice, and would, if attended to, rectify it throughout; he did not discou rage the most free speakers: he calmly and willingly heard what they could say against his faith, while they used reason and argument; but drollery and jest he failed not, though with great good-humour, to reprove, as a species of misrepresentationas a sure evidence, that truth was not sought-as an artifice, to which none would apply, who were not conscious of their weakness, who did not despair of supporting their notions by rational proofs.

Virtue and true religion had not, perhaps, an abler advocate than this gentleman; but whatever service his tongue might do them, his manners, certainly, did them far greater: he convinced you of their excellency, by exhibiting to your senses their effects-he left you no room to question how amiable they were when it was from their influence upon him, that he so much engaged your esteem and affection; he proved undeniably, how much they should be our care, by being himself an instance, how much they contributed to our happiness.

Never, certainly, did piety sit easier upon any man-Never, perhaps, was any man more esteemed by the very persons, between whose practice and his there was the widest difference.

The superior talents he discovered, and his readiness to employ them for the benefit of all, who applied to him, engaged alike their admiration and their love.

The obligations, conferred by him, obtained the height of complaisance towards his son. Invitations were made the youth from all quarters; and there was not a young man of any figure near him, who

was not introduced to him, and directed to pay him particular civility. They, who sought to attach him closest to them by consulting his humour, were never without their arguments for licensing it. "True it "was, this or that pursuit might not be to "the taste of his father; but neither did "it suit his years-When he was a young "man, he, undoubtedly, acted as one; he "took the diversions, allowed himself in "the gratifications, to which youth in"clines: no wonder that he should now "censure what he could not relish-that ❝he should condemn the draught, which ❝his head could not bear, and be indiffe" rent to the features, which he could not "distinguish without his spectacles."

When this kind of language had abated the reverence due to so excellent an instructor, the buffoon interposed still further to weaken his influence; gave an air of affectation to his decorum of hypocrisy to his seriousness of timorousness to his prudence of avarice to his wise œconomy-burlesqued the advice, that he might be supposed to give, the arguments with which he was likely to support it, and the reproof he would naturally use, when he did not see a disposition to follow it.

Soon as the young man had attained the age, at which the law supposes us sufficient ly discreet, he expressed a most earnest desire to have an opportunity of appearing 50. Repeated promises were made, that if a proper allowance was settled on him, and leave given him to chuse a place of abode, there should not be the least mismanagement; the income assigned him should answer every article of expense.

The son's importunity was seconded by the fond mother's, and their joint solicitations prevailed. The youth was now accessible, at all times, to the most profligate of his acquaintance: and one part of their entertainment usually was, to set his excellent father's maxims and manners in the most disadvantageous light. This failed not to bring on a disregard to both-so entire a disregard to them, that the whore and the card-table took up all the hours which the bottle relieved not.

Thus fell the heir of one of the worthiest of our countrymen !-It was to no purpose, that such an admirable example had been set him by the person he was most likely to regard that such particular care had been taken to reason him into a discharge of his duty-that he had been present, when the most subtile advocates for irre

ligion either were silenced, or induced to acknowledge their principles to be much less defensible, than they had hitherto thought them. None of the impressions of what had been done for him, or said to him, or had passed before him, could hold out against ridicule; it effaced every trace of them, and prepared him to be as bad, as his worst companions could be inclined to make him. How great a neglect of him ensued! They who had laughed him out of the reverence due to his parent's worth, rendered him soon despised by all whose esteem could profit or credit him; and he died in the 70th year of his constitution, when but in the 25th of his age.

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My last gave you a melancholy instance of the hurt done by ridicule, to the heir of a most worthy man, not many miles from you. What influence it had towards the condemnation of him, to whom the epithet of divine might perhaps be more properly applied, than to any one who ever lived under the sole guidance of reason, has long, you know, been matter of dispute. I will only observe, concerning the comic writer's ridicule of Socrates

1. That, when such a representation could be made of so excellent a person, it demonstrates, that no degree of worth can secure any person from an attempt to destroy his credit; and that they whose capacities fully enable them to discern this worth, may be its spitefullest enemies, and bend their wits to disparage it

2. That, when such a representation could be made by a man of good parts, with any confidence of success, it is, further, an evidence of the probability, that the highest and most just reputation may suffer from ridicule, and that it may bring into contempt what is entitled to the greatest esteem and honour

3. That if the Athenians were so well pleased with the means used to lessen the character of this ornament, not only to his country, but his species, as to render the interposition of a powerful party in the state necessary, to prevent the poet's abuse from meeting with all the success he promised himself in it; we are fully taught, what may be the pernicious effects of ingenious drollery-how much it may weaken the force of any instruction, or any example.

Where

Where violent methods are pursued, in order to withdraw us from any religious practice or opinion; they who thus oppose it shewing thereby, that they look upon it as somewhat of great importance, teach us to do the same; and often increase our attachment to it-render us more earnest about it, than we otherwise should have been. But where such practice or opinion is treated as a matter of jest-where it meets with all the slight that scoffing and laughter can express, we scarcely know how to preserve our regard to it, as a thing of much consequence; and from esteeming it of little moment, we easily proceed to judge of it as of none at all.

The force that is offered us, on account of our persuasion, either occasions such an aversion from him, who applies to it, as prevents his having any influence upon us : or engages us in so careful an attention to the grounds, upon which we formed our judgment, as fixes us in the resolution not to alter it. But when all passes under the appearance of good humour-when only mirth and pleasantry are exerted against us, we neither contract that hatred towards those, by whom we are thus treated, which will be our security from any bad impressions they can make upon us; nor are we excited to any examination of our principles that can confirm us in them. The freedom which our companions use, in sporting with what we have hitherto reverenced, will tempt us to conclude, that its importance is far from being obvious; nor, indeed, can it fail, unless our minds have a more than ordinary firmness, to raise at length some doubt in us, whether we have not been too fanciful or too credulous. And as "The woman, who delil erates, is lost." we may fear the man will be so likewise, who suffers himself to question how well founded his seriousness is, merely because his associates are continually deriding it.

Would you not, industriously, keep out of the way of those who had power to torture you, and whom you knew ready to do it; if you would not be guided by them, but was determined to think and act as your own reason should direct? Believe me, sir, the scoffer should be as much shunned by the friend of virtue, as the inquisitor by the friend of truth. Whoever would attain or preserve a just sense of his duty, should have as little intercourse as

possible with those who would discourage sincerity-who would oppose it, either by the faggot, or the fair, of *Smithfield. Á very uncommon resolution is required to be steady to the principles, from avowing which we must expect to be the heroes in a farce: though we need not apprehend that it will make us victims to the flames.

What your temper may be, I cannot affirm; but I really think that, with great numbers, drollery is not only persecution, but the most dangerous kind of it: they would as soon be scourged, as mocked; be burthened with the cross, as habited with the purple. You can scarcely be enough aware of the risk you run from being jested with, as a visionary or a bigot-as one of much whim, or very little penetration.

But enough of the inducements, that vicious companions would be under to corrupt you, and the means they would use to do it.

The care you should take, in the choice of your company, will be the subject of but one letter more from Dean Bolton.

SIR,

$129. LETTER X.

All I have to add, on what has lately been the subject of my correspondence with you, will be contained in this letter. I will not lengthen it by apologizing for it.

Might I suppose you so fortified by a right disposition, a wise education, good sense, and a thorough knowledge of the reasonableness of the practice enjoined by your religion, that every attempt to corrupt your morals would miscarry; this hurt, however, you would be sure to find from being much in the company of vicious men, that you would be less careful to become eminently virtuous-you would be less careful to fulfil your obligations, than you otherwise would be. While you saw others so much worse than yourself; you would not consider how much better you ought to be, than you at present are.— While their gross faults were avoided, you would not consider how much there is in you that ought to be amended.

We measure what is, in any way, commendable, by comparing our share of it with that of our neighbour: we do not re

* Bartholomew fair, during which plays and farces were formerly, from morning to night, the entertainment of the populace.

gard

gard in what degree, as to itself, we possess the good, but in how greater a degree it is possessed by us, than by others. Among a very ignorant people, a scholar of the lowest form will pass, both in their and his own judgment, for an adept. You would, I am sure, pronounce of any gentleman, who kept mean company, that there was little hope of his ever acting a part, which would greatly credit him: while he loved to be chiefly with those, who would own, and do homage to his superiority; you would think him by no means likely to cultivate much real worth. And were it to be said, that you should make such a judgment of him, not because of any impression he would receive from his companions, but because of the disposition he showed in the choice of them; I should be glad to know, how that man must be thought affected towards religion and virtue, who could be willingly present, where he was sure that they would be grossly depreciated. Whoever could bear a disparagement of them, must have so little sense of their worth, that we must justly conclude him ill prepared for resisting the attempt, to deprive them wholly of their influence upon him. And, therefore, we may as fitly determine, from the disposition evidenced by him who keeps tad company, what his morals will at length be; as we can determine from the turn of mind, discovered by one who keeps mean company, what his figure in the world is likely to be.

Those among us, whose capacities qualify them for the most considerable attain. ments-who might raise themselves to an equality with the heroes in literature, of the last century, sit down contented with the superiority they have over their contemporaries-acquiesce in furnishing a bare specimen of what they could do, if their genius were roused, if they were to exert their abilities. They regard only the advantage they possess over the idle and illiterate, by whom they are surrounded; and give way to their ease, when they may take it; and yet appear as considerable in their times, as the learned men, we most admire, did in their respective ages.

How many could I mention, to whom nature has been most liberal of her endowments, who are barely in the list of authors, who have only writ enough to shew how much honour they would have done their country, had their application been called out, and if their names must have

been no better known than those of their acquaintance, unless their diligence had equalled their capacity.

What is thus notoriously true of literary desert, is equally so of moral the persons, to whom we allot a greater share of it, than has long been found in any in their stations, how have they their sense of right with-held from exerting itself, by the few they meet with disposed to animate them to any endeavour towards correcting the general depravity-by the connexions they have with such numbers, whose rule is their inclination-by that utter disregard to duty, which they see in most of those with whom they have an intercourse!

Alas! in the very best of us, a conviction of what becomes us goes but a little way in exciting us to practise it. Solicitations to be less observant of it are, from some or other quarter, perpetually offering themselves and are by no means likely to be withstood, if our resolutions are not strengthened by the wise counsels and correspondent examples of our associates.

"Behold! young man-You live in "an age, when it is requisite to fortify the "mind by examples of constancy."

This Tacitus mentions as the speech of the admirable Thrasea to the quæstor, sent to tell him he must die; and by whom he would have it remarked, with what composure he died.

Nor is it only when our virtue endangers our life, as was then the case, that such examples are wanted. Wherever there is a prevailing corruption of manners; they who would act throughout the becoming part, must be animated to it by what they hear from, and see in, others, by the patterns of integrity which they have before them.

We are easily induced to judge some deviation from our rule very excusable; and to allow ourselves in it: when our thoughts are not called off from our own weakness and the general guilt: but while we are conversant with those, whose conduct is as unsuitable, as our own, to that of the multitude; we are kept awake to a sense of our obligations-our spirits are supported-we feel the courage that we behold- we see what can be done by such as share our frail nature; and we ashamed to waver, where they persevere.

are

Aristotle considers friendship as of three kinds; one arising from virtue, another from pleasure, and another from interest; but justly determines, that there can be no

true

true friendship, which is not founded in

virtue.

The friendship contracted from pleasure or profit, regards only the pleasure or profit obtained thereby; and ceases, when these precarious motives to it fail: but that, to which virtue gives birth, not having any accidental cause-being without any dependence on humour or interestarising wholly from intrinsic worth, from what we are in ourselves, never fluctuates, operates steadily and uniformly, remains firm and uninterrupted, is lasting as our lives. That which is the essential qualification of a friend, should be the chief recommendation in a companion. If, indeed, we have any concern for real worth: with whom should we be more desirous to converse, than with those who would accompany us, and encourage us, in the pursuit of it?

The same writer, mentioning the use that friends are of to us in every part of life, remarks the benefit which young men find from them to be-"That they keep them in their duty."

Had he thought, that any thing could have been urged more in behalf of friendship; he, undoubtedly, would have observed it. And when such is the language of so able an instructor, and of one who guided himself in his instructions only by the certain, the present advantage, that would attend a conformity to them; the lesson we have here for the choice of company, must appear worthy the notice even of those, who will have no other guides

but reason and nature.

If to keep us steady to our duty be the best office that can be done us-If they, who are our friends, will be thus serviceable to us-If the virtuous alone can be our friends, our conversation should be chiefly with the virtuous; all familiarity with the vicious should be avoided; we should consider those, who would destroy our virtue, as our enemies-our very worst enemies, whilst endeavouring to deprive us of the greatest blessing, that it is in our power to obtain. Dean Bolton.

130. On Intemperance in Eating.
SECT. I.

This respects the quantity of our food, or the kind of it: if in either of these, we have no regard to the hurt it may do us, we are guilty of intemperance.

From transgressing in the quantity of our food, a speedier mischief ensues than

from doing so in the quality of it; and therein we never can transgress, without being directly admonished of it by our very constitution. Our meal is never too large, but heaviness comes on-the load on our stomach is our instant tormentor; and every repetition of our fault is a caution to us, that we do not any more thus offend. A caution, alas, how unheeded by us!Crammed like an Englishman, was, I find, a proverbial expression in Erasmus's days above two hundred years ago.

An error barely in the kind of our aliment gives us, frequently, no present alarm; and, perhaps, but a very slight one, after we have, for some years, continued in it. In the vigour of youth, scarce any thing we eat appears to disagree with us we gratify our palate, with whatever pleases it: feeling no ill consequence, and therefore fearing none. The inconveniences, that we do not yet find, we hope we shall always escape; or we then propose to ourselves, a restraint upon our appetite, when we experience the bad effects of indulging in it.

With respect to the quantity of our food; that may be no excess in one man, which may be the most blameable in another: what would be the height of gluttony in us, if of a weak and tender frame, may be, to persons of much stronger constitution, a quite temperate meal. The same proportions of food can, likewise, never suit such, as have in them dispositions to particular diseases, and such, as have no evils of that nature to guard against: nor can they, further, suit those, who are employed in hard labour, and those, who live wholly at their ease-those, who are frequently stirring and in action, and those, whose life is sedentary and inactive. The same man may, also, in the very same quantity be free from, or guilty of excess, as he is young or old-healthy or diseased-as he accustoms his body to fatigue, or to repose.

The influence that our food has upon our health, its tendency to preserve or to impair our constitution, is the measure of its temperance or excess.

It may, indeed, so happen, that our diet shall be, generally, very sparing, without allowing us any claim to the virtue of temperance; as when we are more desirous to save our money, than to please our palates, and, therefore, deny ourselves at our own table, what we eat with greediness, when we feed at the charge of others, as,

likewise

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