They contemplate the drefs, not the characters, of the company they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play, than to the sense of it; and to the ceremonies of a court, more than to its politics. Such an employment of time is an abfolute lofs of it.

Lord Chesterfield's Letters. ̧ ̧

§ 18. The bad Effects of Indolence.

No other difpofition, or turn of mind, fo totally unfits a man for all the focial offices of life, as Indolence. An idle man is a mere blank in the creation: he feems made for no end, and lives to no purpofe. He cannot engage himself in any employment or profeffion, becaufe he will never have diligence enough to follow it: he can fucceed in no undertaking, for he will never purfue it; he must be a bad husband, father, and relation, for he will not take the leaft pains to preferve his wife, children, and family, from ftarving; and he must be a worthlefs friend, for he would not draw his hand from his bofom, though to prevent the deftruction of the univerfe. If he is born poor, he will remain fo all his life, which he will probably end in a ditch, or at the gallows: if he embarks in trade, he will be a bankrupt: and if he is a perfon of fortune, his stewards will acquire immenfe eftates, and he himself perhaps will die in the Fleet.

It should be confidered, that nature did not bring us into the world in a state of perfection, but has left us in a capacity of improvement; which should feem to intimate, that we should labour to render ourfelves excellent. Very few are fuch abfolute idiots, as not to be able to become at leaft decent, if not eminent, in their feveral ftations, by unwearied and keen application: nor are there any poffeffed of fach tranfcendent genius and abilities, as to render all pains and diligence unneceffary. Perfeverance will overcome difficulties, which at first appear infuperable; and it is amazing to confider, how great and numerous obftacles may be removed by a continual attention to any particular point. I will not mention here, the trite example of Demofthenes, who got over the greateft natural impediments to oratory, but content myfelf with a more modern and familiar inftance. Being at Sadler's Wells a few nights ago, I could not but admire the furprifing feats of activity there exhibited; and at the fame time reflected, what incredible pains and labour it muit

have coft the performers to arrive at the art of writhing their bodies into fuch various and unnatural contortions. But I was moft taken with the ingenious artist, who, after fixing two bells to each foot, the fame number to each hand, and with great propriety placing a cap and bells on his head, played feveral tunes, and went through as regular triple peals and bobmajors, as the boys of Chrift-church Hofpital; all which he effected by the due jerking of his arms and legs, and nodding his head backward and forward. If this artist had taken equal pains to employ his head in another way, he might perhaps have been as deep a proficient in numbers as Jedediah Buxton, or at least a tolerable modern rhymer, of which he is now no bad emblem: and if our fine ladies would ufe equal diligence, they might fashion their minds as fuccefsfully, as Madam Catharina diftorts her body.

There is not in the world a more useless, idle animal, than he who contents himself with being merely a gentleman. He has an eflate, therefore he will not endeavour to acquire knowledge: he is not to labour in any vocation, therefore he will do nothing. But the misfortune is, that there is no fuch thing in nature as a negative virtue, and that abfolute idleness is impracticable. He, who does no good, will certainly do mifchief; and the mind, if it is not ftored with useful knowledge, will certainly become a magazine of nonfenfe and trifles. Wherefore a gentleman, though he is not obliged to rife to open his fhop, or work at his trade, fhould always find fome ways of employing his time to advantage. If he makes no advances in wisdom, he will become more and more a flave to folly; and he that does nothing, because he has nothing to do, will become vicious and abandoned, or, at beft, ridiculous and contemptible,

I do not know a more melancholy object, than a man of an honeft heart, and fine natural abilities, whofe good qualities are thus deftroyed by indolence. Such a perfon is a conftant plague to all his friends and acquaintance, with all the means in his power of adding to their happiness; and fuffers himfelf to take rank among the lowest characters, when he might render himfelf confpicuous among the higheft. Nobody is more univerfally beloved and more univerfally avoided, than my friend Carclefs. He is an humane man, who never did a beneficent action; and a man

of

of unfhaken integrity, on whom it is impoffible to depend. With the best head, and the best heart, he regulates his conduct in the most abfurd manner, and frequently injures his friends; for whoever neglects to do justice to himself, muft inevitably wrong thofe with whom he is conpected; and it is by no means a true maxim, that an idle man hurts nobody but himself.

Virtue then is not to be confidered in the light of mere innocence, or abftaining from harm; but as the exertion of our faculties in doing good: as Titus, when he had let a day flip undiftinguished by fome act of virtue, cried out, I have loft a day.' If we regard our time in this ligt, how many days fhall we look back upon as irretrievably loft! and to how narrow a compafs would fuch a method of. calculation frequently reduce the longeft life! If we were to number our days, according as we have applied them to virtue, it would occafion ftrange revolutions in the manner of reckoning the ages of men. We should fee fome few arrived to a good old age in the prime of their youth, and meet with feveral young fellows of fourfcore.

Agreeable to this way of thinking, I remember to have met with the epitaph of an aged man four years old; dating his existence from the time of his reformation from evil courfes. The infcriptions on moft tomb-itones commemorate no acts of virtue performed by the perfons who lie under them, but only record, that they were born one day, and died another. But I would fain have thofe people, whofe lives have been useless, rendered of fome fervice after their deaths, by affording leffons of inftruction and morality to thofe they leave behind them. Wherefore I could wish, that, in every parish, several acres were marked out for a new and fpacious burying-ground: in which every perfon, whole remains are there depofited, should have a fmall stone laid over them, reckoning their age, according to the manner in which they have improved or abused the time allotted them in their lives. In fuch circumftances, the plate on a coffin might be the highest panegyric which the deceafed could receive; and a little fquare ftone inscribed with Ob. Ann. Æta. 80, would be a nobler eulogium, than all the lapidary adulation of modern epitaphs. Connoiffeur.

$19. The innocent Pleafures of Childhood. As it is afual with me to draw a fecret unenvied pleasure from a thousand incidents overlooked by other men, I threw myfelf into a fhort tranfport, forgetting my age, and fancying myself a school-boy.

This imagination was ftrongly favoured by the prefence of fo many young boys, in whofe looks were legible the fprightly paffions of that age, which raised in me a fort of fympathy. Warm blood thrilled through every vein; the faded memory of those enjoyments that once gave me pleasure, put on more lively colours, and a thousand gay amusements filled my mind.

It was not without regret, that I was forfaken by this waking dream. The cheapnefs of puerile delights, the guiltless joy they leave upon the mind, the blooming hopes that lift up the soul in the ascent of life, the pleasure that attends the gradual opening of the imagination, and the dawn of reafon, made me think most men found that stage the most agreeable part of their journey.

When men come to riper years, the innocent diverfions which exalted the spirits, and produced health of body, indolence of mind, and refreshing flumbers, are too often exchanged for criminal delights, which fill the foul with anguish, and the body with difeafe. The grateful employment of admiring and raifing themselves to an imitation of the polite ftile, beautiful images, and noble fentiments of ancient authors, is abandoned for law-latin, the lucubrations of our paltry news-mongers, and that fwarm of vile pamphlets which corrupt our tafte, and infeft the public. The ideas of virtue, which the characters of heroes had imprinted on their minds, infenfibly wear out, and they come to be influenced by the nearer examples of a degenerate age.

In the morning of life, when the foul first makes her entrance into the world, all things look fresh and gay; their novelty surprises, and every little glitter or gaudy colour tranfports the ftranger. But by degrees the fenfe grows callous, and we lofe that exquifite relish of trifles, by the time our minds fhould be fuppofed ripe for rational entertainments. I cannot make this reflection without being touched with a commiferation of that fpecies called beaus, the happiness of those men neceffarily ter

minating

minating with their childhood, who, from a want of knowing other pursuits, continue a fondness for the delights of that age, after the relish of them is decayed.

Providence hath with a bountiful hand prepared a variety of pleafures for the various stages of life. It behoves us not to be wanting to ourselves in forwarding the intention of nature, by the culture of our minds, and a due preparation of each faculty for the enjoyment of thofe objects it is capable of being affected with.

As our parts open and difplay by gentle degrees, we rife from the gratifications of fenfe, to relish thofe of the mind. In the fcale of pleasure, the loweft are fenfual delights, which are fucceeded by the more enlarged views and gay portraitures of a lively imagination; and thefe give way to the fublimer pleafures of reafon, which discover the caufes and defigns, the frame, connection, and fymmetry of things, and fill the mind with the contemplation of intellectual beauty, order, and truth.

Hence I regard our public fchools and univerfities, not only as nurseries of men for the fervice of the church and ftate, but also as places defigned to teach mankind the most refined luxury, to raise the mind to its due perfection, and give it a tafte for thofe entertainments which afford the highest tranfport, without the groffness or remorse that attend vulgar en joyments.

In thofe bleffed retreats men enjoy the fweets of folitude, and yet converfe with the greatest genii that have appeared in every age; wander through the delightful mazes of every art and fcience, and as they gradually enlarge their sphere of knowledge, at once rejoice in their prefent poffeffions, and are animated by the boundless profpect of future difcoveries. There, a generous emulation, a noble thirst of fame, a love of truth and honourable regards, reign in minds as yet untainted from the world. There, the flock of learning, tranfmitted down from the ancients, is preferved, and receives a daily increase; and it is thence propagated by men, who, having finished their ftudies, go into the world, and fpread that general knowledge and good tafte throughout the land, which is fo diftant from the barbarifin of its ancient inhabitants, or the fierce genius of its invaders. And as it is evident that our literature is owing to the fchools and univerfities; fo it cannot be

denied, that these are owing to our religion.

It was chiefly, if not altogether, upon religious confiderations that princes, as well as private perfons, have erected colleges, and affigned liberal endowments to ftudents and profeffors. Upon the fame account they meet with encouragement and protection from all christian states, as being esteemed a neceffary means to have the facred oracles and primitive traditions of chriftianity preferved and understood. And it is well known, that, after a long night of ignorance and fuperftition, the reformation of the church and that of learning began together, and made proportionable advances, the latter having been the effect of the former, which of courfe engaged men in the ftudy of the learned languages and of antiquity." Guardian.

20. On Chearfulness.

I have always preferred chearfulness to mirth. The latter I confider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. Mirth is fhort and tranfient, chearfulness fixed and permanent. Thofe are often raised into the greatest transports of mirth, who are fubject to the greatest depreffions of melancholy: on the contrary, chearfulness, though it does not give the mind fuch an exquifite gladness, prevents us from falling into any depths of forrow. Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment; chearfulnefs keeps up a kind of daylight in the mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual ferenity.

Men of auftere principles look upon mirth as too wanton and diffolute for a ftate of probation, and as filled with a certain triumph and infolence of heart that is inconfiftent with a life which is every moment obnoxious to the greatest dangers. Writers of this complexion have obferved, that the facred Perfon who was the great pattern of perfection, was never feen to laugh.

Chearfulness of mind is not liable to any of thefe exceptions; it is of a serious and compofed nature; it does not throw the mind into a condition improper for the prefent ftate of humanity, and is very confpicuous in the characters of those who are looked upon as the greatest philofophers among the heathens, as well as among thofe who have been defervedly esteemed as faints and holy men among Chriftians.

If we confider chearfulness in three lights, with regard to ourselves, to thofe we converfe with, and to the great Author of our being, it will not a little recommend itself on each of these accounts. The man who is poffeffed of this excellent frame of mind, is not only easy in his thoughts, but a perfect mafter of all the powers and faculties of the foul: his imagination is always clear, and his judgment undisturbed; his temper is even and unruffled, whether in action or folitude. He comes with a relish to all thofe goods which nature has provided for him, taftes all the pleafures of the creation which are poured about him, and does not feel the full weight of thofe accidental evils which may befal him.

If we confider him in relation to the perions whom he converses with, it naturally produces love and good-will towards him. A chearful mind is not only dif pofed to be affable and obliging, but raifes the fame good-humour in those who come within its influence. A man finds himself pleafed, he does not know why, with the chearfulness of his companion: it is like a fadden funshine, that awakens a fecret deligat in the mind, without her attending to it. The heart rejoices of its own accord, and naturally flows out into friendship and benevolence towards the person who has fo kindly an effect upon it.

When I confider this chearful state of mind in its third relation, I cannot but look upon it as a conftant habitual gratitude to the great Author of nature. An inward chearfulness is an implicit praise and thanks giving to Providence under all its difpenlations. It is a kind of acquiefcence in the ftate wherein we are placed, and a fecret approbation of the divine will in his conduct towards man.

There are but two things, which, in my opinion, can reasonably deprive us of this chearfulness of heart. The first of these is the fenfe of guilt. A man who lives in a state of vice and impenitence, can have no title to that evennefs and tranquillity of mind which is the health of the foul, and the natural effect of virtue and innocence. Chearfulness in an ill man deserves a harder name than language can furnish us with, and is many degrees beyond what we commonly call folly or madness.

Atheism, by which I mean a disbelief of a Supreme Being, and confequently of a future ftate, under whatfoever title it fhelters itfelf, may likewife very reasonably deprive a man of this chearfulness of tem

per. There is fomething fo particularly gloomy and offenfive to human nature in the profpect of non-existence, that I cannot but wonder, with many excellent writers, how it is poffible for a man to outlive the expectation of it. For my own part, I think the being of a God is fo little to be doubted, that it is almost the only truth we are fure of, and fuch a truth as we meet with in every object, in every occurrence, and in every thought. If we look into the characters of this tribe of infidels, we generally find they are made up of pride, fpleen, and cavil: it is indeed no wonder, that men, who are uneasy to themselves, fhould be fo to the rest of the world; and how is it poffible for a man to be otherwife than uneasy in himself, who is in danger every moment of lofing his entire existence, and dropping into nothing?

The vicious man and Atheist have therefore no pretence to chearfulness, and would act very unreasonably, should they endeavour after it. It is impoffible for any one to live in good-humour, and enjoy his prefent exiftence, who is apprehenfive either of torment or of annihilation; of being miferable, or of not being at all.

After having mentioned these two great principles, which are deftructive of chearfulness in their own nature, as well as in right reason, I cannot think of any other that ought to banish this happy temper from a virtuous mind. Pain and fickness, fhame and reproach, poverty and old age, nay death itself, confidering the shortness of their duration, and the advantage we may reap from them, do not deferve the name of evils. A good mind may bear up under them with fortitude, with indolence, and with chearfulness of heart. The toffing of a tempeft does not difcompofe him, which he is fure will bring him to a joyful harbour.

A man, who uses his best endeavours to live according to the dictates of virtue and right reason, has two perpetual fources of chearfulness, in the confideration of his own nature, and of that Being on whom he has a dependence. If he looks into himself, he cannot but rejoice in that exitence, which is fo lately bestowed upon him, and which, after millions of ages, will be ftill new, and ftill in its beginning. How many felf-congratulations naturally arife in the mind, when it reflects on this its entrance into eternity, when it takes a view of thofe improveable faculties, which

in a few years, and even at its first setting out, have made fo confiderable a progrefs, and which will be still receiving an increafe of perfection, and confequently an increase of happiness! The conscioufnefs of fuch a being fpreads a perpetual diffufion of joy through the foul of a virtuous man, and makes him look upon himself every moment as more happy that he knows how to conceive.

The fecond fource of chearfulness to a good mind is, its confideration of that Being on whom we have our dependence, and in whom, though we behold him as yet but in the first faint difcoveries of his perfections, we fee every thing that we can imagine as great, glorious, or amiable. We find ourfelves every where upheld by his goodness, and furrounded with an immenfity of love and mercy. In short, we depend upon a Being, whofe power qualifies him to make us happy by an infinity of means, whofe goodness and truth engage him to make thofe happy who defire it of him, and whofe unchangeablenefs will fecure us in this happiness to all eternity.

Such confiderations, which every one fhould perpetually cherish in his thoughts, will banish from us all that fecret heaviness of heart which unthinking men are fubject to when they lie under no real affliction, all that anguifh which we may feel from any evil that actually oppreffes us, to which I may likewife add thofe little cracklings of mirth and folly, that are apter to betray virtue than fupport it; and establish in us fuch an even and chearful temper, as makes us pleafing to ourselves, to thofe with whom we converfe, and to him whom we are made to please. Spectator.

§ 21. On the Advantages of a chearful

Temper.

Chearfulness is, in the first place, the beft promoter of health. Repinings and fecret murmurs of heart give imperceptible strokes to thofe delicate fibres of which the vital parts are compofed, and wear out the machine infenfibly; not to mention thofe violent ferments which they ftir up in the blood, and thofe irregular difturbed motions, which they raife in the animal fpirits. I fcarce remember, in my own obfervation, to have met with many old men, or with fuch, who (to ufe our English phrafe) wear well, that had not at least a certain indolence in their humour, if not

a more than ordinary gaiety and chearfulnefs of heart. The truth of it is, health and chearfulnefs mutually beget each other; with this difference, that we seldom meet with a great degree of health which is not attended with a certain chearfulness, but very often fee chearfulness where there is no great degree of health.

Chearfulness bears the fame friendly regard to the mind as to the body: it ba nifhes all anxious care and discontent, foothes and compofes the paffions, and keeps the foul in a perpetual calm. But having already touched on this last confideration, I fhall here take notice, that the world in which we are placed, is filled with innumerable objects that are proper to raise and keep alive this happy temper of mind.

If we confider the world in its fubferviency to man, one would think it was made for our ufe; but if we confider it in its natural beauty and harmony, one would be apt to conclude it was made for our pleasure. The fun, which is as the great foul of the universe, and produces all the neceffaries of life, has a particular influence in chearing the mind of man, and making the heart glad.

Thofe feveral living creatures which are made for our fervice or fuftenance, at the fame time either fill the woods with their mufic, furnish us with game, or raise pleas ing ideas in us by the delightfulness of their appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, are as refreshing to the imagination, as to the foil through which they pafs.

There are writers of great diftinction, who have made it an argument for Providence, that the whole earth is covered with green, rather than with any other colour, as being fuch a right mixture of light and fhade, that it comforts and ftrengthens the eye inftead of weakening or grieving it. For this reafon, feveral painters have green cloth hanging near them, to cafe the eye upon, after too great an application to their colouring. A famous modern philofopher accounts for it in the following manner: All colours that are more luminous, overpower and diffipate the animal fpirits which are employed in fight; on the contrary, thofe that are more obfcure do not give the animal fpirits a fufficient exercife; whereas, the rays that produce in us the idea of green, fall upon the eye in fuch a due proportion,

that