Delphi Complete Works of Sir Richard Steele Illustrated E-Book

Sir Richard Steele

• Herausgeber: Delphi Publishing Ltd
• Serie: Delphi Series Fourteen
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 9211

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The eighteenth century essayist, dramatist, journalist and politician Sir Richard Steele is best known today as the principal author of the periodicals ‘The Tatler’ and ‘The Spectator’. One of the most compelling figures of his time, Steele adopted a prose technique characterised by its easy, rapid, humorous and sincere style. His publications represented a new approach to journalism, offering cultivated essays on contemporary manners, establishing a pattern that would influence the course of English literature. This eBook presents Steele’s complete works, with numerous illustrations, rare texts, informative introductions and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 1)

* Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Steele’s life and works
* Concise introductions to the major texts
* All the major tracts, with individual contents tables
* Features rare essays appearing for the first time in digital publishing
* Images of how the texts were first published, giving your eReader a taste of the original texts
* Excellent formatting of the texts
* The complete plays and poetry, with superior formatting
* Includes the complete run of both ‘The Tatler’ and ‘The Spectator’
* Features two biographies – discover Steele’s literary life
* Ordering of texts into chronological order and genres

CONTENTS:

The Prose
The Christian Hero (1701)
The Spectator Club (1711)
The Englishman’s Thanks to the Duke of Marlborough (1712)
The Importance of Dunkirk Consider’d (1713)
The Crisis (1714)
Mr. Steele’s Apology for Himself and His Writings (1714)
The Englishman: Being the Close of the Paper So-Called No. 57 (1714)
An Account of the Fish-Pool (1718)
The Crisis of Property (1720)
A Nation a Family (1720)
Isaac Bickerstaff: Physician and Astrologer (1887)
Miscellaneous Tracts

The Dramatic Works
The Funeral (1701)
The Lying Lover (1703)
The Tender Husband (1705)
The Conscious Lovers (1723)
The School of Action (1725)
The Gentleman (1809)
Prologues to Plays by Other Writers

The Poem
The Procession (1695)

The Journalism
The Tatler (1709-1711)
The Spectator (1711-1712)

The Biographies
Richard Steele (1894) by G. A. Aitken
Sir Richard Steele (1900) by Henry Austin Dobson

Leseprobe

The Complete Works of

SIR RICHARD STEELE

(1671-1729)

Contents

The Prose

The Christian Hero (1701)

The Spectator Club (1711)

The Englishman’s Thanks to the Duke of Marlborough (1712)

The Importance of Dunkirk Consider’d (1713)

The Crisis (1714)

Mr. Steele’s Apology for Himself and His Writings (1714)

The Englishman: Being the Close of the Paper So-Called No. 57 (1714)

An Account of the Fish-Pool (1718)

The Crisis of Property (1720)

A Nation a Family (1720)

Isaac Bickerstaff: Physician and Astrologer (1887)

Miscellaneous Tracts

The Dramatic Works

The Funeral (1701)

The Lying Lover (1703)

The Tender Husband (1705)

The Conscious Lovers (1723)

The School of Action (1725)

The Gentleman (1809)

Prologues to Plays by Other Writers

The Poem

The Procession (1695)

The Journalism

The Tatler (1709-1711)

The Spectator (1711-1712)

The Biographies

Richard Steele (1894) by G. A. Aitken

Sir Richard Steele (1900) by Henry Austin Dobson

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The Complete Works of

SIR RICHARD STEELE

By Delphi Classics, 2024

COPYRIGHT

Complete Works of Sir Richard Steele

First published in the United Kingdom in 2024 by Delphi Classics.

© Delphi Classics, 2024.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

ISBN: 978 1 80170 172 3

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The Prose

Map of Dublin, Ireland, 1610 — Sir Richard Steele was born in Dublin in 1671.

Sir Richard Steele by Godfrey Kneller, National Portrait Gallery, London, c. 1712

The Christian Hero (1701)

Richard Steele was born in Dublin in 1671 to Richard Steele, a wealthy attorney, and Elinor Symes, a celebrated beauty. He was the grandson of Sir William Steele, Lord Chancellor of Ireland. His father died when he was four and his mother a year later, so Steele was largely raised by his uncle and aunt, Henry Gascoigne (secretary to James Butler, 1st Duke of Ormonde), and Lady Katherine Mildmay. As a member of the Protestant gentry, he was educated at Charterhouse School in Smithfield, London, where he first met Joseph Addison, who would become a close friend and future collaborator. After starting at Christ Church, Oxford, Steele went on to Merton College, Oxford, before joining the Life Guards of the Household Cavalry to support King William’s wars against France. Steele was commissioned in 1697 and rose to the rank of captain within two years.

His first prose work, The Christian Hero, was written in 1699 when Steele was on active duty near London as an Ensign of the Guards. The work was addressed to “Men of Wit and Gallantry,” particularly to his fellow soldiers, and was dedicated to his colonel, Lord Cutts, one of Marlborough’s most trusted generals. The text is structured as a moral essay and a manual of piety, which he wrote “with a design principally to fix upon his own Mind a strong Impression of Virtue and Religion.”

The general theme of the tract is the superiority of the Christian religion over pagan philosophy. Steele places himself with the moralists that deprecated neo-Stoicism. The work sets about proving that the early Christians were the “most truly Gallant and Heroick that ever appeared to Mankind.” In the first chapter, Steele reviews the lives of Cato, Caesar and Brutus, arguing how their philosophy was inferior in times of crisis. The second chapter provides an account of the heroic elements in the life of Christ, while the third eulogises the precepts and conduct of the early Christians, especially the teachings of Saint Paul. The fourth and final chapter analyses the value of religious motives to all men aspiring to greatness, culminating with a tribute to King William, presented here as a modern hero.

Steele was especially proud of this tract, of which he made more revisions than to any other of his other prose works. Twenty editions were published before the end of the eighteenth century, serving as testimony to its popularity with contemporary readers. Today, the tract is valued for its sincerity and grace of expression, featuring the first expressions of chief ideas later elaborated upon in The Tatler and The Spectator, outlining important tenets of moral theory.

The first edition’s title page

CONTENTS

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CUTTS

PREFACE.

CHAP. I.

CHAP. II.

CHAP. III.

CHAP. IV.

Portrait of William III by Godfrey Kneller, c. 1690 — also widely known as William of Orange, William III was King of England, Ireland and Scotland from 1689 until his death in 1702.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CUTTS

COLONEL OF HIS MAJESTY’S COLD-STREAM REGIMENT OF GUARDS, &C.

MY LORD,

THE ADDRESS of the following Papers is so very much Due to your Lordship, that they are but a mere Report of what has past upon my Guard to my Commander, for they were Writ upon Duty, when the Mind was perfectly Disengag’d and at Leisure in the Silent Watch of the Night, to run over the Busy Dream of the Day; and the Vigilance which Obliges us to suppose an Enemy always near us, has Awaken’d a Sense that there is a Restless and Subtle one which constantly attends our Steps, and meditates our Ruin.

Thoughts of this Nature, a Man may with Freedom Acknowledge to Your Lordship, who have ever been so far from running into the Fashionable Vice of Exploding Religion, that your Early Valour first appear’d against the Profess’d Enemies of Christianity; and Buda had Transmitted you to late Posterity, but that you your self have Obliterated your Part in that Glorious Scene by the fresher Memory of you, at Limerick and Namure.

With one honest purpose of Life, and constant Service of one Interest, and one Cause, in what Country have you not Fought? in what Field have you not Bled? but I know I here Offend you, nor will you allow Warmth in Commendation to be like a Friend; but if, my Lord, to speak you Generous, Honest and Brave be not so, I do assure you ’tis the only thing I’ll ever do in common with your Enemies.

I said your Enemies, but if there are any who have Ignorance or Malice enough to be such, their little Hates must be lost in the Distinction the better World allow you, and that Country (whose Discerning is refin’d by a Learned and Elegant University) has done you so great an Honour, in making you Unanimously their Representative in Parliament, that they who would Oppose your Reputation, do but confess they are Unacquainted with what passes in the World, and Strangers to the Residence of Knowledge and Virtue.

’Twas there you receiv’d those Rudiments of Honour, which have render’d your Life Conspicuous enough to make you appear a worthy Descendant of an Ancient and Distinguish’d Family, which has Serv’d the Crown in the most Eminent Stations, and been equally Favourites of their Country; ’twas there you Receiv’d  those Impressions which Inspire that true Use of your Being, which so justly divides your Time, between Labour and Diversion, that the one does but Recreate for the other, and which give a generous Contempt of both, when they come  in Competition with the Service of that Country which you Love, and that God whom you Worship.

Go on, my Lord, thus to Contemn, and thus to Enjoy Life; and if some great English Day does not call for that Sacrifice, which you are always ready to Offer, may you in a Mature Age go to Sleep with your Ancestors, in Expectation not of an Imaginary Fame, but a Real Immortality.

As for the Present I now make you, if you’ll Accept it with your usual Goodness and Affection to me, I shall Entertain no further Hopes; for as your Favour is my Fortune, so your Approbation is my Fame,

  I am,

      MY LORD,

           Your Lordship’s

                  Tower-Guard,

                     March 23. 1701.

                                 Most Obedient, most Faithful and most Humble Servant,

                                                Richard Steele

PREFACE.

THE WORLDISdivided between two sorts of People, the Men of Wit and the Men of Business, and these have it wholly in their Power; but however Mighty the latter may esteem themselves, they have much the less share in the Government of Mankind, and till they can keep the others out of Company as well as Employment, they will have an almost Irresistible Dominion over us: For their Imagination is so very quick and lively, that in all they enjoy or possess, they have a Relish highly Superior to that of slower Men; which fine Sense of things they can communicate to others in so prevailing a manner, that they give and take away what Impressions they please; for while the Man of Wit speaks, he bestows upon his Hearers, by an apt Representation of his Thoughts, all the Happiness and Pleasure of being such as he is, and quickens our heavier Life into Joys we should never of our selves have tasted, so that we are for our own sakes his Slaves and Followers: But indeed they generally use this charming Force with the utmost Tyranny, and as ’tis too much in their Power, misplace our Love, our Hatred, our Desires and Aversions, on improper Objects; so that when we are left to our selves, we find Truth discolour’d to us, and they of Faculties above us have wrapt things, in their own nature of a dark and horrid Aspect, in so bright a Disguise, that they have stamp’d a kind of Praise and Gallantry on some Vices, and half persuaded us that a Whore may be still a Beauty, and an Adulterer no Villain.

These Ills are supported by the Arbitrary Sway of Legislative Ridicule, while by, I know not what Pedantry of good Breeding, Conversation is confin’d to Indifferent, Low, or perhaps Vitious Subjects ; and all that is Serious, Good or Great, almost Banished the World: For in Imitation of those we have mentioned, there daily arise so many Pretenders to do Mischief, that what seem’d at first but a Conspiracy, is now a general Insurrection against Virtue; and when they who really have Wit lead the way it is hardly to be prevented, but that they must be followed by a Crowd who would be such, and make what shift they can to appear so, by helping one Defect with another, and supplying want of Wit with want of Grace, and want of Reputation with want of Shame.

Thus are Men hurry’d away in the Prosecution of mean and sensual Desires, and instead of Employing their Passions in the service of Life, they spend their Life in the service of their Passions; yet tho’ ’tis a Truth very little receiv’d, that Virtue is its own Reward, ’tis surely an undeniable one, that Vice is its own Punishment; for when we have giv’n our Appetites a loose Rein, we are immediately precipitated by ’em into unbounded and endless Wishes, while we repine at our Fortune, if its Narrowness curbs ’em, tho’ the Gratification of ’em were a Kindness, like the Indulgence of a Man’s Thirst in a Dropsy; but this Distemper of Mind is never to be remedied, till Men will more unreservedly attempt the Work, and will resolve to value themselves rather upon a strong Reason to allay their Passions, than a fine Imagination to raise ’em.

For if we best Judge of things when we are not actually engag’d or concern’d in ’em, every Man’s own Experience must inform him, that both the Pleasures we follow; and the Sorrows we shun, are in Nature very different from what we conceive ’em, when we observe that past Enjoyments are Anxious, past Sufferings pleasing in the Reflection ; and since the Memory of the one makes us apprehend our Strength, the other our Weakness, it is an Argument of a trivial Mind to prefer the Satisfactions that lead to Inquietude before Pains that lead to Tranquility.

But if that consists (as it certainly does) in the Mind’s enjoyment of Truth, the most vexatious Circumstance of its Anguish, is that of being in Doubt; from which Men will find but a very short Relief, if they draw it from the Collections or Observations of sedentary Men, who have been call’d Wise for proposing Rules of active Life, which they cannot be supposed to understand: For between the Arrogant and Fanatiek Indolence of some, and the false and pleasurable Felicity of others (which are equally Chimæras) a Man is so utterly divided, that the Happiness of Philosophers appears as Fantastisk as the Misery of Lovers.

We shall not, ’tis hop’d, be understood by saying this, toImagine that there is a sufficient Force in the short following Essay, to stem the Universal and Destructive Torrent of Error and Pleasure; it is sufficient if we can stand without being carry’d away with it, and we shall very willingly resign the Glory of an Opposition, if we can enjoy the Safety of a Defence; and as it was at first attempted to disengage my own Mind from deceiving Appearances, so it can be publish’d for no other end, but to set others a thinking with the same Inclination: Which whoever will please to do, will make a much better Argument for his own private Use, than any body else can for Him: For ill Habits of the Mind, no more than those of the Body, are to be cur’d by the Patient’s Approbation of the Medicine, except He’ll resolve to take it; and if my Fellow-Soldiers (to whose Service more especially I would direct any Thoughts I were capable of) would form to themselves, (if any do not) a constant Reason of their Actions, they would find themselves better prepar’d for all the Vicissitudes they are to meet with, when instead of the Changeable Heat of mere Courage and Blood, they acted upon the firm Motives of Duty, Valour, and Constancy of Soul.

For (however they are dis-esteem’d by some Unthinking, not to say, Ungrateful Men) to Profess Arms, is to Profess being ready to Die for others; nor is it an Ordinary Struggle between Reason, Sense, and Passion, that can raise Men to a calm and ready Negligence of Life, and animate ’em to Assault without Fear, Pursue without Cruelty, and Stab without Hatred.

But Virtuous Principles must infallibly be not only better than any other We can Embrace, to Warm us to great Attempts, but also to make Our Days in their Ordinary Passage slide away Agreeably: For as nothing is more daring than Truth, so there is nothing more Chearful than Innocence; and indeed I need not have been beholden to the Experience of a various Life to have been convinc’d, that true Happiness is not to be found but where I at present place it; For I was long ago inform’d where only it was to be had, by the Reverend Dr. Ellis, my ever Honour’d Tutor; which Great Obligation I could not but Mention, tho’ my Gratitude to Him is perhaps an Accusation of my self, who shall appear to have so little Profited by the Institution of so Solid and Excellent a Writer, tho’ he is above the Temptation of (what is always in his Power) being Famous.

CHAP. I.

To make a Great Man

IT ISCERTAINLYthe most useful Task we can possibly Undertake, to rescue our Minds from the Prejudice with which a false and unreasonable Fondness of our selves has enslaved us. But the Examination of our own Bosoms is so ungrateful an Exercise, that we are forc’d upon a Thousand little Arts, to lull our Selves into an imperfect Tranquility, which we might obtain sincere and uninterrupted, if we had Courage enough to look at the ghastly Part of our Condition: But we are still Flatterers to our selves, and Hypocrites the wrong way, by chusing, instead of the solid Satisfaction of Innocence and Truth, the returning Pangs of Conscience, and working out our Damnation as we are taught to do our Happiness, with Fear and Trembling.

But this Misfortune we owe, as we do most others, to an unjust Education, by which we are inspir’d with an Ambition of acquiring such Modes and Accomplishments, as rather enable us to give Pleasure and Entertainment to others, than Satisfaction and Quiet to our selves: So Phantastical are we as to dress for a Ball when we are to set out on a Journey, and upon Change of Weather, are justly derided, not pitied by the Beholders. How then shall we prepare for the unaccountable Road of Life, when we know not how long or how short it will prove, or what Accidents we shall meet in our Passage? Can we take any thing with us that can make us chearful, ready and prepar’d for all Occasions, and can support us against all Encounters? Yes, we may (if we would receive it) a Confidence in God. Yet, lest this be impos’d upon Men by a blind force of Custom, or the Artifice of such Persons whose Interest perhaps it may be to obtrude upon our Mirth, and our Gaiety, and give us a melancholy Prospect (as some Men would persuade us)  to maintain themselves in the Luxury’ they deny us ; let us not be frighted from the liberal use of our Senses, or meanly resign our present Opinions, ‘till we are convinc’d from our own Reflection also, that there is something in that Opinion which can make us less insolent in Joy, less depress’d in Adversity, than the Methods we are already engag’d  in. And indeed the chief Cause of Irresolution in either State, must proceed from the want of an adæquate Motive to our Actions, that can render Men Dauntless and Invincible both to Pleasure and Pain.

It were not then, methinks, an useless Enquiry to search into the Reason that we are so willing to arm our selves against the Assaults of Delight and Sorrow, rather with the Dictates of Morality than those of Religion; and how it has obtain’d, that when we say a thing was done like an old Roman, we have a generous and sublime Idea, that warms and kindles in us, together with a certain Self-disdain, a desire of Imitation; when, on the other side, to say, ’twas like a Primitive Christian, chills Ambition, and seldom rises to more than the cold approbation of a Duty that perhaps a Man wishes he were not oblig’d to. Or, in a word, why is it that the Heathen struts, and the Christian sneaks in our Imagination: If it be as Machiavil says, that Religion throws our Minds below noble and hazardous Pursuits, then its Followers are Slaves and Cowards; but if it gives a more hardy and aspiring Genius than the World before knew, then He, and All our fine Observers, who have been pleas’d to give us only Heathen Portraitures, to say no worse, have robb’d their Pens of Characters the most truly Gallant and Heroick that ever appear’d to Mankind.

About the time the World receiv’d the best News it ever heard, The Men whose Actions and Fortunes are most pompously array’d in Story, had just acted or were then performing their Parts, as if it had been the Design of Providence to prepossess at that time, after a more singular manner than ordinary, the Minds of Men, with the Trappings and Furniture of Glory and Riches, to heighten the Virtue and Magnanimity of those who were to oppose ’em all, by passing through Wants, Miseries and Disgraces; and indeed the shining Actions of these illustrious Men do yet glare so much in our Faces, that we lose our Way by following a false Fire, which well consider’d is but a delusive Vapour of the Earth, when we might enjoy the leading constant Light of Heav’n.

To make therefore a just Judgment in our Conduct, let us consider two or three of the most eminent Heathen, and observe whether they, or we, are better appointed for the hard and weary March of human Life; for which Examination we will not look into the Closets of Men of Reflection and Retirement, but into the Practice and Resolution of those of Action and Enterprize. There were never Persons more conspicuously of this latter sort, than those concern’d in the Fortunes and Death of Cæsar and since the Pulse of Man then beat at the highest, we will think it sufficient to our Purpose carefully to review Him, and Them, as they March by us, and if we can see any apparent Defect in their Armour, find out some way to mend it in our own. But it will require all our Patience, by taking notice of the minutest Things, to come at (what is absolutely necessary to us) the Recesses of their Hearts, and Folds of their Tempers.

Sallust has transmitted to us two very great, but very different Personages, Cæsar and Cato, and plac’d them together in the most judicious Manner for appearing to advantage, by the alternate Light and Shade of each other: Cæsar’s Bounty, Magnificence, Popular and Sumptuous Entertainments stole an universal Affection; Cato”s Parsimony, Integrity, Austere and Rigid Behaviour commanded as universal Reverence: None could do an ungentile thing before Cæsar, none a loose one before Cato : To one ’twas Recommendation enough to be Miserable, to the other to be Good: To Cæsar all Faults were pardonable, to Cato none: One gave, oblig’d, pity’d and succour’d indifferently; t’other blam’d, oppos’d, and condemn’d impartially:

Cæsar was the Refuge of the Unhappy, Cato the Bane of the Wicked: Cato had rather be, than seem Good; Casar was careless of either, but as it serv’d his Interests: Cato’s Sword was the Sword of Justice, Cæsar”s that of Ambition: Cæsar had an excellent common Sense and right Judgment of Occasion, Time and Place; the other blunt Man understood not Application, knew how to be in the Right, but was generally so, out of Season: Cæsar’s Manner made even his Vice charming, Cato’s even his Virtue disagreeable: Cæsar insinuated 111, Cato intruded Good: Cæsar in his Sayings, his Actions and his Writings was the first and happiest of all Men: In his Discourse he had a constant Wit and right Reason; in his Actions, Gallantry and Success; in his Writings, every thing that any Author can pretend to, and one which perhaps no Man else ever had ; he mentions himself with a good Grace. Thus it was very natural for Cæsar, adorn’d with every Art, Master of every necessary Quality, either for Use or Ornament, with a steady and well-plac’d Industry to out-run Cato, and all like him, who had none and desir’d none, but (an ever weak Party) the Good for his Friends.

Now this sort of Men were Cæsar and Cato, and by these Arts they arriv’d at that height, which has left one’s Name proverbial for a Noble and Princely Nature, t’other’s for an Unmov’d and Inexorable Honesty: Yet, without following ’em thro’ all the handsome Incidents and Passages of Life, we may know ’em well enough in Miniature, by beholding ’em only in their manner of Dying: For in those last Minutes, the Soul and Body both collect all their Force, either bravely to oppose the Enemy, or gracefully receive the Conqueror, Death.

Cæsar, by a long Tract of Successes, was now become apparent Master of his Country, but with a Security, that’s natural to gallant Men, Heroically forgave the most inveterate of his Opposers: Now was He follow’d with Applause, Renown, and Acclamation: His Valour had subdued the Bodies, his Clemency the Minds of his Enemies: And how bless’d must the Earth be under his Command, who seems to court Dominion for no other end, but to indulge an insatiable Mind in the glorious Pleasures of bestowing and forgiving? This was the Figure Cæsar bore in the World’s Opinion, but not in Cato’s. He was there a Tyrant in spite of the Gloss of Success and of Fortune, which could not create Appearances bright enough to dazzle his Eyes from seeing the Traitor in the Conqueror: He knew to give a Man his own as a Bounty was but a more impudent Robbery, and a Wrong improv’d by the Slavery of an Obligation: He justly and generously disdain’d that his Fellow-Citizen shou’d pretend to be his Lord; to his honest Mind a Pardon was but a more arrogant Insult, nor could he bear the Apprehension of seeing his Equal inflict upon him a tyrannical Forgiveness: What then must this unhappy good Man do ? Whither shall oppress’d Virtue fly from Slavery? From Slavery? No. He is still Free Lord of Himself, and Master of his Passions; Cæsar is the Captive, He is Shackl’d, He is Chain’d, and the numerous Troops which he boasts the Companions of his Triumphs, and his Glories, are but so many Witnesses of his Shame and Confusion, to whom he has by an open Usurpation manifested his broken Faith, false Profession, and prostituted Honour. But how far this Impression of intrinsiek Glory and Happiness in sincere, tho’ distress’d Virtue, and the sense of a wicked Man’s abject, tho’ prosperous Condition (which Cato’s Philosophy gave Him) did avail in his afflicted Hours; the Resolution he is going to take will demonstrate.

He had now at Utica fresh and shocking Intelligence of the gathering Adherents to his Enemy, and could read, in his own Company, the mere Followers of Fortune in their Countenance, but observ’d it with a negligent and undaunted Air, concern’d only for the Fate of others, whose weak Pity of themselves made ’em the Objects of his Compassion also. It was visible by a thousand little officious things he did, he was resolv’d to leave this bad World: For he spent the Day, which he design’d should be his last, in a certain Vanity of Goodness: He Consulted, Persuaded, and Dispatch’d all he thought necessary for the Safety of those that were about him; which Services they receiv’d from him, whose Intent they saw, with Tears, and Shame, and Admiration.

He continued the whole Evening this affected Enjoyment of his Friends Anxiety for him, which he rais’d by set Discourses, and abated, or rather confirm’d by a studied Indifference, ‘till he went to Bed, where he read Plato’s Immortality, and Guesses at a future Life: At last he enquir’d for his Sword, on purpose mis-laid by his Son; they did not immediately bring it, which he seem’d to take no notice of, but again fell to his Book: After his Second Lecture, he again wanted his Sword: Their Hesitation in letting him have it, threw him into an unseemly Rage, and Expostulation with his Friends, whose obliging Sorrow withheld it: What has he done, what has he committed, to be betray’d into the Hands of his Enemy? Had Catos Wisdom so far left him, that he must be disarm’d, like a Slave and a Madman? What had his Son seen so indiscreet in his Father, that he was not to be trusted with himself? To all this cruel and intemperate Qustion, he was answer’d with the humblest Behaviour, tenderest Beseeching, and deepest Esteem; They implor’d his Stay amongst ’em as their Genius, their Guardian, and Benefactor; Among the rest, a fond Slave was putting in his Resistance, and his Affliction, for which he dash’d the poor Fellow’s Teeth out with his Fist, and forc’d out of the Room his lamenting Friends, with Noise, and Taunt, and Tumult; a little while after had his Hand with which he struck his Servant dress’d, lay down, and was heard to Snore; but sure we may charitably enough believe, from all this unquiet Carriage, that the Sleep was dissembled, from which as soon as he awak’d, he Stabb’d himself, and fell on the Floor; His Fall alarm’d his wretched Dependants, whose help he resisted by tearing open his own Bowels, and rushing out of Life with Fury, Rage and Indignation.

This was the applauded Exit of that Noble Roman, who is said with a superior and invincible Constancy to have eluded the Partiality of Fortune, and escap’d the Incursion upon the Liberty of his Country: It seems then, had he liv’d, his own had been lost, and his calling himself still Free, and Cæsar the Usurper, a Bond-man and Slave, were but mere Words; for his Opinion of things was in reality Stunn’d by Success, and he dy’d Disappointed of the Imaginary Self-Existence his own Set of Thoughts had promis’d him, by an Action below the Precepts of his Philosophy, and the Constancy of his Life.

Thus did Cato leave the World, for which indeed he was very unfit, in the Hands of the most Skilful Man in it, who at his entrance on its Empire excell’d his past Glorious Life, by using with so much Temper and Moderation what he had purchas’d with so much Bloodshed and Violence: But we must leave, at present, this busie and Incessant Mind to the Meditation of Levelling inaccessible Mountains, Checking the Course of the Ocean, and correcting the Periods of Time: We must leave him employ’d in Modeling the Universe (now his own) in the secure Enjoyment of a Life hitherto led in Illustrious Hazards, and now every way safe, but where ’tis its Beauty to lye open, to the Treachery of his Friends.

Among the many Pretenders to that Character was Cassius, an able and experienc’d Soldier, bound to him by no less an Obligation, than the giving him Life and Quarter in Battel; He was of a Dark, Sullen and Involv’d Spirit, quick to receive, but slow to discover a Distaste; His Anger never flew into his Face, but descended to his Heart, which rankled, and prey’d upon it self, and could not admit of Composure, either from Religion or Philosophy; but being a perfect Epicurean, and fancying there were none, or if any, only Lazy and Supine Deities, must necessarily Terminate his Hopes and Fears in himself, and from his own Arm expect all the Good and Evil of which his Life was capable: This Man, in his Temper uneasie, and piqu’d by a certain Partiality of Cæsar s to his Disadvantage, could not satisfie a Sedate Bloody Humour by any less Reparation than his Ruin ; and having  a revengeful Biass of Mind, a short Memory of Kindnesses, and an indelible Resentment of Wrongs, resolv’d to cancel an odious Benefit, by a pleasing Injury: To this Determination he was prompted by the worst only Good Quality a Man can have, an undaunted Courage, which fermented in Him a restless and Gnawing Meditation of his Enemy’s, that is, his Benefactor’s Death; A Thought befitting the Greatness of his Ambition, and the Largeness of his pernicious Capacity; His Capacity which consisted in a skilful Dissimulation of his Faults; for being full of those Vices which nearly approach, and easily assume the Resemblance of Virtue, and seldom throw a Man into visible and obvious Follies, he so well accommodated his ill Qualities to the good ones of those with whom he Convers’d, that he was very well with the best Men by a Similitude of their Manners; His Avarice obtain’d the Frugal; his Spleen, and Disrelish of Joy, the Sober and Abstinent; His Envy, and Hatred of Superiors, the Asserters of Publick Liberty: This considerable Wretch skilfully warm’d and urg’d some of his own Temper, whom he knew ready for any great Mischief, to pull down the Overgrown Cæsar, and ensnar’d others by the specious Pretence of a sincere Love to his Country, to meet all Hazards for her Recovery; These illustrious Ruffians, who were indeed Men of the most Weight, and the boldest Spirits of the Roman Empire, design’d to dispatch him in the Eye of all the World, in open Senate; but neither their Quality or Accomplishments were great enough to support “em in so Nefarious an Attempt, without there could be an Expedient thought of, to give it a more sacred Esteem, than any of their Characters could inspire: ’Twas therefore necessary to make Marcus Brutus of the Conspiracy.

This Gentleman possess’d the very Bosom of Cæsar, who having had a Notorious Intrigue with his Mother, was believ’d to have thought him his Son ; but whether that, or an Admiration of his Virtue, was the cause of his Fondness, He had so tender a regard for him, that at the Battel of Pharsalia he gave it in Orders to the whole Army, if he would not take Quarter to let him escape: He was, like Cæsar, addicted to Letters and Arms, and tho’ not equal to him in his Capacity for either, above him in the use of both. He never drew his Sword but with a design to serve his Country, nor ever Read with any other purpose but to subdue his Passions, so that he had from Books rather an habit of Life than a Faculty of Speech; in his Thoughts as well as Actions he was a strict Follower of Honesty and Justice; all he said, as well as all he did, seem’d to flow from a Publick and unbiass’d Spirit: He had no occasion for the Powers of Eloquence to be able to persuade, for all Men knew ’twas their Interest to be of his Mind; and he had before he spoke that first Point, the  good will of his Audience, for every Man’s Love of himself made him a Lover of Brutus. He had this Eminence without the least taint of Vanity, and a great Fame seem’d not so much the Pursuit, as the Consequence of his Actions: Thus should he do a thing which might be liable to Exception, Men would be more apt to suspect their own Judgment than his Integrity, and believe whatever was the Cause of the Action, it must be a good one since it mov’d him: And tho’ a perfect Love of Mankind was the Spring of all he acted, thatHuman Temper never threw him into Facility, but since he knew an ungrounded Compassion to one Man might be a Cruelty to another, mere Distresses without Justice to plead for ’em could never prevail upon him, but, all Gentle as he was, he was impregnable to the most repeated Importunity, even that of his own good Nature.

Such was the Renown’d Brutus, and one would think a Man who had no ill Ambition to satisfie, no loose Passions to indulge, but whose Life was a Regular, Easie, and Sedate Motion, should be in little Temptation of falling into a Plot; but ill Men, where they cannot meet a convenient Vice, can make use of a Virtue to a base purpose.

He was Lineally Descended from the famous Brutus, that extinguish’d the Tar quins, whose Debauches and Cruelties made a Regal Name in Rome as justly odious, as that of the Bruti venerable for the Extirpation of it; and Cæsar had very lately, in the midst of an absolute and unlimited Power, betray’d a Fantastick Ambition of being call’d King, which render’d him Obnoxious to the Malice of the Conspirators and the Virtue of Brutus. This was the Place where the Magnanimity of that Patriot seem’d most accessible, for ’twas obvious, that He who wanted nothing else to spur him to Glorious Attempts, must be also Animated by the Memory of Illustrious Ancestors, and not like narrow and degenerate Spirits, be satisfied with the Fantask of Honour deriv’d from others, from whom, without a Similitude of Virtue, ’tis an unhappy distinction to descend.

Yet however hopeful this Handle appear’d, they could not so abruptly attempt upon his awful Character, as immediately to propose the Murder to him, without some distant Preparation of Mind to receive it. There were therefore these Words frequently dropt in his way, from unknown Hands: Thou art no longer Brutus ; Thou art asleep, Brutus ; and the like; by which Artifice he grew very Thoughtful and busie with himself, about the purpose of these Advertisements; One of such Moments Cassius took hold of, and opened to him the great Design for the Liberty of his Country from Cæsar s Usurpation: There needed no more to make him do a thing, but his Belief that ’twas Just; He soon consented that Cæsar deserv’d to Die, and since he did, to Die by his Hand: Gaining this Personage, made all ripe for Execution, and Cassius possess’d a full Satisfaction, in that he had engag’d a Man in the Attempt, who in the Eyes of the People, instead of being sully’d by it, would stamp a Justice and Authority upon the Action; whose confirm’d Reputation was sufficient to expiate a Murder, and consecrate an Assassination.

Yet tho’ his Justice made him readily consent to Cæsar’s Death, his Gratitude upon Reflection shook his Resolution to Act in it; all which Conflict with himself we cannot view without the Incident of Porcia’s Story.

This Lady observ’d her Husband fall on a sudden from an easie, placid and fond, into a troubled, short and distracted Behaviour; she saw his Mind too much employ’d for the conjugal Endearments, and kind Tendernesses, in which she was usually happy, yet upon this Observation grew neither Jealous or Sullen, but mourn’d his Silence of his Affliction to her with as deep a Silence: This Lady, I say, this noble Roman Wife turn’d all her Suspicion upon her self, and modestly believ’d ’twas  her Incapacity for bearing so great a Secret, as that which discompos’d the stedfast Brutus, made him conceal from her an Affliction, which she thought she had a Title to participate; and therefore resolv’d to know of her self, whether his Secrecy was a Wrong to her before she would think it so; to make this Experiment, she gave her self a deep Stab in the Thigh, and thought if she could bear that Torture, she could also that of a Secret; the Anguish and Concealment of her Wound threw her into a Fever, in that condition she thus spoke to her Husband.

‘ I, Brutus, being the Daughter of Cato, was given to you in Marriage, not like a Concubine, to partake only of the common Civilities of Bed and Board, but to bear a Part in all your good and all your evil Fortunes; and for my part, when I look on you, I find no Reason to repent this Match; But from Me, what Evidence of my Love, what Satisfaction can you receive, if I may not share with you in your most hidden Griefs, nor be admitted to any of your Counsels, that require Secrecy and Trust; I know very well, that Women seem to be of too weak a Nature to be trusted with Secrets, but certainly, Brutus, a Virtuous Birth and Education, and a Conversation with the Good and Honourable, are of some force to the forming our Manners and strengthning our Natural Weakness; and I can boast that I am the Daughter of Cato, and the Wife of Brutus. In which two great Titles, tho’ before I put too little Confidence, yet now I have try’d my self, I find that even against Grief and Pain I am Invincible.’ [see Mr. Duke”s Translation of the Life of Brutus]

She then told him what she had done, but it is  not easie to represent the kind Admiration such a Discourse must give a Husband, and the sweet Transport that was drawn from their mutual Affliction, is too delicate a touch of Mind to be understood but by a Brutus and a Porcia. Yet tho’ he was not too Wise to be tender to his Wife, when he had unbosom’d himself, in spite of this last Action, and a thousand nameless things, that occur’d to his Memory to soften him, he left his Illustrious Heroin in her Pains and her Sorrows, to pursue his Publick Resolutions. But he is gone, and she can burst into those Tears which the Awe of his Virtue had made her smother; for how alas shall the Heart of Woman receive so harsh a Virtue, as to gratifie her Husband’s Will, by consenting to his Ruin ? How shall she struggle with her own Weakness and his Honour? But while she lay in his Bosom she learn’d all the Gallantry of it, and when she ponders his Immortal Fame, his Generous Justice, and Roman Resolution, her Mind enlarges into a Greatness, which surmounts her Sex, and her Affection: When she views him in the conspicuous part of Life, she can bear, nay Triumph in his Loss; but when she reflects and remembers their Tenderer Hours, thus would he Look, thus would he Talk, such was his Gesture, Mein, the Mirth, the Gaiety of the Man she Lov’d (which Instances are more intimate Objects of Affection, than Mens greater Qualities) then she is all Woman, she resigns the great but laments the agreeable Man; Can then my Brutus leave me? Can he leave these longing Arms for Fame? She has no just Notion of any higher Being to support her wretched Condition, but however her Female Infirmity made her languish, she has still Constancy enough to keep a Secret that concerns her Husband’s Reputation, tho’ she melts away in Tears, and pines into Death in Contemplation of her Sufferings.

Such must have been the Soliloquy of this Memorable Wife, who has left behind her an everlasting Argument, how far a Generous Treatment can make that tender Sex go even beyond the Resolution of Man, when we allow that they are by Nature form’d to Pity, Love and Fear, and we with an Impulse to Ambition, Danger and Adventure.

The World bore a Gloom and heavy Presage of Cæsar s approaching Fate. ’Tis said Wild Beasts came into the most frequented Parts of the City, Apparitions in the Streets, unusual Illuminations in the Skies, and inauspicious Sacrifices damp’d the Hearts of all Men, but the Assassins, who with an incredible Calm of Mind expected the opportunity of Satiating their Vengeance in the Blood of the Usurper; yet was not Cassius himself wholly unconcern’d, for tho’ he was as great an Atheist as any among Us can pretend to be, he had the Weakness and Superstition at that time, to invoke a Statue of Pompey for his Assistance. It is as  observable, that Cæsar, the Evening before his Fate, in a Supper-conversation (at one of his Murderers Houses) on the subject of Death, pronounc’d a sudden one to be the most desirable, and a little shogg’d with reiterated ill Omens, and touch’d with the foreboding Dreams and Frights of a tender Wife, resolv’d to forbear going to the Senate on the Morning appointed for his Execution ; which Difficulty D. Brutus undertook to get over; a Gentleman so superlatively excellent that way, that he could not only upon such an occasion appear Compos’d, but also in very good Humour; this sneering Ruffian rallied away his Fears, and with a very good Mein conducted his Friend to his Murder.

When he came into the Senate, they rose to him, and with a pretended joint Petition for a Banish’d Man, the Assassins press’d about him, as soon as he was Seated: He severally check’d their Importunity, but while they were thus imploy’d, one of ’em gave the Sign by throwing his Robe over his Neck, another oppress’d with the Grandeur of the Attempt, made at him an irresolute Pass: He briskly oppos’d the Villain, and call’d him so; They all rush’d on him with drawn Ponyards, still he resisted ‘till he saw Brutus coming on, then with a generous and disdainful Resignation, yielded to the stroke of a Pardon’d, Oblig’d and Rewarded Friend. But there are in England a Race of Men, who have this Action in the most profess’d Veneration, and who speciously miscall the Rancour, Malice and Hatred of all Happier and Higher than themselves, (which they have in common with Cassius”) Gallantry of Mind, Disdain of Servitude, and Passion for Publick Good, which they pretend to with Brutus ; and  thus qualified with 111, set up for Faction, Business, and Enmity to Kings. But ’tis to be hop’d these Men only run round ‘till they’re giddy, and when all things turn too, fancy themselves Authors of the Motion about ’em, and so take their Vertigo for their Force; for sure they have a futile Pretence to a good Publick Spirit, who have an ill private one.

But there lies the Mighty Cæsar, an Eternal Instance how much too Generous and too Believing those unhappy Princes are, who depend upon the tie of Mens Obligations to ’em, without having their Opinions on their side; for nothing hinders a Man’s walking by the Principles of his Soul, but an Opportunity to exert ’em; when that occurs, the secret Enemy throws off his Mask and draws his Dagger.

Yet Reflections of this nature are somewhat foreign to our Purpose, we must therefore follow these bloody Men, to a Fate as violent as they gave their Benefactor; for ’twas in Providence to frustrate their Counsels, by turning that Virtue to their Ruin, which they had ensnared for their Protection. The fearless Brutus had too much Clemency, to make this Blow safe by the Execution of the nearest Adherents to Cæsar ; His Safety consisted in his unbiass’d Mind and undaunted Resolution, which would not let him stoop to the taking away  any Life, below that of the Greatest of Mankind.

However this Injury was repair’d to Cæsar, for he was voted a God in the very Place where he ceas’d to be a Man, which had been a good saving Clause, coud they have persuaded his Successor Octavius also, to have been contented with Omnipotence; but the young Scholar was so much enamour’d with this World, that he left his Book to disturb and rule it; and to compass his End, took upon him the hopeful Resolution of sparing no Man, from a Reflection perhaps that his Uncle was Ruin’d by Mercy in his Victories.

But it is  not our Business, to fall into an Historical Account of the various Occurrences, which happen’d in the War between the Cæsarian Army and that of the Conspirators, any farther than it is necessary for judging how far the Principles they walk’d by were useful to ’em in their greatest Extremities: As Brutus one Evening sate Pensive and Revolving, the Passages of Life, and the Memory of Cæsar, occurr’d to him, now perhaps not as a Traitor, a Tyrant, or Usurper, but as one he Lov’d, and Murder’d; an Apparition appear’d (or he thought appear’d to him) which told him he was his Evil Genius and would meet him at Philippi, to which he calmly answer’d, I’ll meet thee there : But he communicated a sad Impression which this made upon him to Cassius, who in an Epicurean manner gave him a Superficial Comfort, by Discourses of the Illusions, our Fancies our Dreams and our Sorrows Imprint upon the Mind, and make an imaginary a real Torment. Yet the Night before the Fatal Battel, he enquir’d (in case of a Defeat) his Resolution as to Flight and Death. To which Brutus:

‘ When I was Young, Cassius, and unskilful in Affairs, I was Engag’d I know not how into an Opinion of Philosophy, which made me accuse Cato for killing himself, as thinking it an Irreligious Act against the Gods, nor any way Valiant amongst Men, not to submit to Divine Providence, nor be able fearlessly to receive and undergo whatever shall happen; but to fly from it: But now in the midst of Dangers I am quite of another Mind, for if Providence shall not dispose what I now Undertake according to our Wishes, I resolve to try no farther Hopes, nor make any more Preparations for War, but will Die contented with my Fortune, for I already have given up my Life to the Service of my Country on the Ides of March, and all the time that I Lived since, has been with Liberty and Honour.” [seeVid. Mr. Duke”s Translation of the Life of Brutus. Plut.]

However Gallant this Speech may seem at first Sight, it is upon Reflection a very mean one; for he urges no manner of Reason for his Desertion of the noble Principle of Resignation to the Divine Will, but his Dangers and Distresses ; which indeed is no more than if he had plainly Confess’d, that all the Schemes we can form to our selves in a Compos’d and Prosperous Condition, when we come to be oppress’d with Calamities, vanish from us, and are but the Effects of luxuriant Ease and good Humour, and  languish and die away with ’em: But to make this a fair deduction from his Discourse, let us Impartially (but with Tenderness and Pity) look at him in his last Pangs: At the Battel of Philippi, Brutus Commanded the Right, Cassius the Left of the Line: The first broke the opposite Wing of the Enemy, the second was himself forc’d. But by a Failure in their Orders and Intelligence, each was Ignorant of the other’s Fortune; Brutus follow’d his Blow, and his Heat drove him too far before he thought of Cassius, whom at last, with a strong Detachment, he returns to Relieve. His Friend Retreated to a rising Ground, to View and Bewail the Fate of their Cause, and Commanded an Officer to observe that Body marching towards him: The Gentleman soon found ’em Friends, and confidently Rid in amongst ’em; they as kindly enclos’d him to enquire News: Upon seeing this, the miserable Cassius concluded him taken by the Enemy, and giving all for lost, retir’d into a Tent, where he was by his own order Kill’d by a Servant.

Here Brutus, whom neither the Fondness of an excellent Wife, Obligations to a generous Friend, or a Message from the Dead cou’d Divert from meeting all Encounters, sinks and falls into the most extream Despair.

He, with some others that escap’d the Pursuit, retir’d to a Thicket of a Wood, where also finding they were trac’d, ’twas propos’d still to Fly: But he, after having express’d  a Satisfaction (but a false one, since he could not live with it) in his Integrity, which he preferr’d to the Successes of his Enemies, ran upon his Sword, and transfix’d that great Heart with a superfluous Blow, which sure was before Stabb’dwith the killing Reflection upon Et tu Brute?

Here let us throw a Veil over this mistaken Great Man, and if possible cover him from Human Sight for ever, that his seduc’d and Ambiguous Virtue may be no more Prophan’d, as an Umbrage to the Counsels of Perjur’d Friends, Sacrilegious Regicides, and implacable Desperadoes.

Now the use we make of these Reflections, is, that since we have seen the mighty Cæsar himself fall into Superstition at the Thought of his Exit, since Cato”s firm Constancy, Brutus his  generous Zeal, and Cassius his  steady Malice, all ended in the same Dereliction of themselves, and Despondence at last, we may justly conclude, that whatever Law we may make to ourselves, from the Greatness of Nature or the Principles of Philosophy  for the Conduct and Regulation of Life, is it self but an Artificial Passion, by which we vainly hope to subdue those that are Natural, and which will certainly rise or fall with our Disappointment or Success, and we that are liable to both are highly concern’d to be prepar’d for either: At which Perfection there is no nearer way to arrive, but by attending our own Make, and observing by what means human Life, from its simple and rural Happiness, swell’d into the weighty Cares and Distractions with which it is at present Enchanted; and from this Knowledge of our Misery, Extract our Satisfaction.

CHAP. II.

MAN ISACreature of so mix’d a Composure, and of a  Frame so Inconsistent and Different from Its self, that it easily speaks his Affinity to the highest and meanest Beings ; that is to say, he is made of Body and Soul, he is at once an Engine and an Engineer: Tho’ indeed both that Body and Soul act in many Instances separate and independent of each other: For when he Thinks, Reasons and Concludes, he has not in all that Work the least Assistance from his Body: His finest Fibres, purest Blood, and highest Spirits are as brute and distant from a Capacity of Thinking as his very Bones ; and the Body is so mere a Machine, that it Hungers, Thirsts, Tastes and Digests, without any exerted Thought of the Mind to command that Operation: Which when he observes upon himself, he may, without deriving it from Vapour, Fume or Distemper, believe that his Soul may as well Exist out of, as in that Body from which it borrows nothing to make it capable of performing its most perfect Functions. This may give him hopes, that tho’ his Trunk return to its native Dust he may not all Perish, but the Inhabitant of it may remove to another Mansion; especially since he knows only Mechanically that they have, not Demonstratively how they have, ev’n a present Union.

And since this Mind has a Consciousness and superior Reflection upon its own Being and Actions, and that Thoughts flow in upon it, from it knows not what Source, it is not Unnatural for it to conceive, that there is something of a Nature like it self, which may, Imperceptibly, act upon it, and where it cannot deduce its reasonable Performances from any corporeal Beginning, draw Hopes or Fears from some Being thus capable to Impress Pleasure or Torment; which Being it cannot but suppose its Author.

But this its Author is Incomprehensible to the Soul (which he has thought fit to Imprison in Sense and Matter) but as he is pleas’d to reveal himself, and bestow upon it an Expectation of its Enlargement; yet were we to take the Account which Poetical writers give, and suppose a Creature with these Endowments wandring among other wild Animals, the Intelligent Savage would not be contented with what Rapine or Craft could gain from his Brethren Beasts, but his Condition would still be as necessitous for his better Part; and his dark natural Enquiry would make him, for want of a more just Knowledge of his Creator, fall into Superstition, and believe every Fountain, Grove and Forest inhabited by some peculiar Deity, that bestow’d upon Mankind the Stream, the Shade and the Breeze.

But we are inform’d that the  wonderful Creator of all Things, after he had given the Rivers to Flow, the Earth to bring Forth, and the Beasts to Feed, saw and approv’d his Work, but thought a dumb Brute and Mechanick World an imperfect Creation ‘till inhabited by a conscious  Being, whose Happiness should consist in Obedience to, and a Contemplation on him and his Wonders.

For this Reason Man was created with intellectual Powers and higher Faculties, who immediately beheld with Joy and Rapture, a World made for the Support and Admiration of his new Being; how came he into this happy happy State! whence the Order! the Beauty! the Melody of this Living Garden! Are the Trees Verdant? Do the Birds Sing? Do the Fountains Flow for no other reason but to Delight and Entertain him? How does he pass through the most bright and delicious Objects, and how does he Burn to utter himself upon the Extatick Motions which they give him! In such sweet Inquietude werethe first Hours of the World spent, and in this Lassitude of Bliss and Thought our Parent fell into a profound Sleep, when his Maker, who knew how Irksome a lonely Happiness was to a sociable Nature, form’d out of his Side a Companion, Woman: He awak’d, and by a secret Simpathy beheld his Wife: He beheld his own rougher Make soften’d into Sweetness and temper’d into Smiles: He saw a Creature (who had as ‘twere Heav’ns second Thought in her Formation) to whom he cou’d communicate his Conceptions, on whom he could Glut his Eyes, with whom he could Ravish his Heart: Over this Consort his Strength and Wisdom claim’d, but his Affection resign’d, the Superiority: These both Equal and both Superior were to live in a perfect Tranquility, and produce as happy a Progeny: The Earth and all its Fruit were theirs, Except only one Tree: Which light Injunction was all that was requir’d of ’em as an Instance of their Obedience and Gratitude to his Bounty, who had giv’n ’em everything else. But such was their Vanity and Ingratitude, that they soon forgot the Dependance suitable to a Borrow’d Being, and were deluded into an empty hope of becoming by their Transgression like their Creator, and (tho’ just Born of the Dust) proud enough from that No- Existence to disdain one that was Precarious: They did  therefore Eat and were Undone; they offended God, and like all their succeeding Criminals against him, were conscious that they did so. Innocence and Simplicity were banish’d their Bosoms, to give way to Remorse and Conviction. Guilt and Shame are the new Ideas they have pluck’d from the Tree of Knowledge: Their affronted Creator pronounces upon ’em a Sentence which they now think more supportable than the Pain of his offended Presence, which he withdrew; and commanded Nature to give ’em no further voluntary Obedience; so that he was now to extort from her the continuance of their wretched Condition by Toil and Labour, and she to bring forth Heirs to it with Pangs and Torture.

This is the Account we have from a certain neglected Book, which is call’d, and for its genuine Excellence above all other Books deservedly call’d THE SCRIPTURE: And methinks we may be convinc’d of the Truth of this History of our Parents, by the infallible Spots and Symptoms of their Hereditary Disease in our Tempers, Pride and Ingratitude: For what is more natural to us, than by an unreasonable Self-opinion, (tho’ we cannot but feel that we are but mere Creatures and not of our selves) to assume to our selves the Praise and Glory of our Capacities and Endowments! and how Lazy, how unwilling are we to Eradicate the deep and Inward Satisfaction of Self-admiration ? However, it must be confess’d, that ’tis the most senseless and stupid of all our Infirmities, for ‘till you can remember and recount to us, when that Thinking, Throbbing Particle within, first resolv’d to Wear a Body, when it spun out its Arteries, Fibres and Veins, contriv’d the warm circulating Stream that runs through ’em, when you first ventur’d to let the Heart pant, the Lungs suck Air, and at last to lanch the whole tender Machine into the hazard of Motion; ‘till, I say, you can acquaint us with all this, you must kneel and fall dov/n before him, by whom you were thus Fearfully and Wonderfully Made.