us; and they who can indulge any vice in the presence of each other, are become obdurate in guilt, and insensible to infamy.

Reverence thyself, is one of the sublime precepts of that amiable philosopher whose humanity alone was an incontestable proof of the dignity of his mind. Pythagoras, in his idea of virtue, comprehended intellectual purity; and he supposed, that by him who reverenced himself, those thoughts would be suppressed by which a being capable of virtue is degraded: this divine precept evidently presupposes a reverence of others, by which men are restrained from more gross immoralities; and with which he hoped a reverence of self would also cooperate as an auxiliary motive.

The great Duke of Marlborough, who was perhaps the most accomplished gentleman of his age, would never suffer any approaches to obscenity in his presence; and it was said by the late Lord Cobham, that he did not reprove it as an immorality in the speaker, but resented it as an indignity to himself; and it is evident, that to speak evil of the absent, to utter lewdness, blasphemy, or treason, must degrade not only him who speaks, but those who hear; for surely that dignity of character which a man ought always to sustain is in danger when he is made the confidant of treachery, detraction, impiety, or lust: for he, who in conversation displays his own vices, imputes them; as he who boasts to another of a robbery presupposes that he is a thief.

It should be a general rule, never to utter any thing in conversation which would justly dishonour us if it should be reported to the world: if this rule could be always kept, we should be secure in our own innocence against the craft of knaves and parasites, the stratagems of cunning, and the vigilance of envy.

But after all the bounty of nature and all the labour of virtue, many imperfections will be still discerned in human beings, even by those who do not see with all the perspicacity of human wisdom: and he is guity of the most aggravated detractica who reports the weakness of a good mind discovered in an unguarded hour; something which is rather the effect of negligence than design; rather a folly than a fault; a saily of vanity rather than an eruption of malevolence. It has, therefore, been a maxim inviolably sacred among good men, never to disclose the secrets of private conversation; a maxim, which though it seems to arise from the breach of some others, does yet imply that general rectitude which is produced by a consciousness of virtuous dignity, and a regard to that reverence which is due to ourselves and others: for to conceal any immoral purpose, which to disclose is to disappoint; any crime, which to hide is to countenance; or any character, which to avoid is to be safe; as it is incompatible with virtue, and injurious to society, can be a law only among those who are enemies to both.

Among such, indeed, it is a law which there is some degree of obligation to fulfill; and the secrets even of their conversation are, perhaps, seldom disclosed without an aggravation of their guilt; it is the interest of society, that the veil of taciturnity should be drawn over the mysteries of drunkenness and lewdness; and to hide even the machinations of envy, ambition, or revenge, if they happen to mingle in these orgies among the rites of Bacchus, seems to be the duty of the initiated, though not of the profane.

If he who has associated with robbers, who has reposed and accepted a trust, and whose guilt is a pledge of his fidelity, should betray his associates for hire; if he is urged to secure himself, by the

anxiety of suspicion, or the terrors of cowardice, or to punish others by the importunity of resentment and revenge; though the public receives benefit from his conduct, and may think it expedient to reward him, yet he has only added to every other species of guilt, that of treachery to his friends he has demonstrated that he is so destitute of virtue as not to possess even those vices which resemble it; and that he ought to be cut off as totally unfit for human society, but that as poison is an antidote to poison, his crimes are a security against the crimes of others.

It is, however, true, that if such an offender is stung with remorse, if he feels the force of higher obligations than those of an iniquitous compact, and if urged by a desire to atone for the injury which he has done to society, he gives in his information, and delivers up his associates, with whatever reluctance, to the laws; by this sacrifice he ratifies his repentance, he becomes again the friend of his country, and deserves not only protection but esteem: for the same action may be either virtuous or vicious, and may deserve either honour or infamy, as it may be performed upon different principles; and indeed no action can be morally classed or estimated without some knowledge of the motive by which it is produced.

But as there is seldom any other clue to the motives of particular actions than the general tenor of his life by whom they are performed; and as the lives of those who serve their country by bringing its enemies to punishment are commonly flagitious to the highest degree; the ideas of this service and the most sordid villany are so connected that they always recur together: if only this part of a character is known, we immediately infer that the whole is infamous; and it is, therefore, no wonder,

that the name by which it is expressed, especially when it is used to denominate a profession, should be odious; or that a good man should not always have sufficient fortitude to strike away the mask of dissimulation, and direct the sword of justice.

But whatever may be thought of those who discharge their obligations to the public by treachery to their companions; it cannot be pretended, that he, to whom an immoral design is communicated by inadvertence or mistake, is under any private obligation to conceal it: the charge which devolves upon him he must instantly renounce: for while he hesitates his virtue is suspended: and he who communicates such design to another, not by inadvertence or mistake, but upon presumption of concurrence, commits an outrage upon his honour and defies his resentment.

Let none, therefore, be encouraged to profane the rites of conversation, much less of friendship, by supposing there is any law which ought to restrain the indignation of virtue, or deter repentance from reparation.

END OF VOL. I.

C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick.