Here will I hold. If there is a Pow'r above us,(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud,Thro' all her Works) He must delight in Virtue;And that which he delights in must be Happy.—Cato.
Here will I hold. If there is a Pow'r above us,(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud,Thro' all her Works) He must delight in Virtue;And that which he delights in must be Happy.—Cato.
Here will I hold. If there is a Pow'r above us,(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud,Thro' all her Works) He must delight in Virtue;And that which he delights in must be Happy.—Cato.
Philada,Nov. 20: 1728
FIRST PRINCIPLES
I believe there is one supreme, most perfect Being, Author and Father of the Gods themselves. For I believe that Man is not the most perfect Being but one, rather that as there are many Degrees of Beings his Inferiors, so there are many Degrees of Beings superior to him.
Also, when I stretch my Imagination thro' and beyond our System of Planets, beyond the visible fix'd Stars themselves, into that Space that is every Way infinite, and conceive it fill'd with Suns like ours, each with a Chorus of Worlds forever moving round him, then this little Ball on which we move, seems, even in my narrow Imagination, to be almost Nothing, and myself less than nothing, and of no sort of Consequence.
When I think thus, I imagine it great Vanity in me to suppose, that theSupremely Perfectdoes in the least regard such an inconsiderable Nothing as Man. More especially, since it is impossible for me to have any positive clear idea of that which is infinite and incomprehensible, I cannot conceive otherwise than that hethe Infinite Fatherexpects or requires no Worship or Praise from us, but that he is even infinitely above it.
But, since there is in all Men something like a natural principle, which inclines them toDEVOTION, or the Worship of some unseen Power;
And since Men are endued with Reason superior to all other Animals, that we are in our World acquainted with;
Therefore I think it seems required of me, and my Duty as a Man, to pay Divine Regards toSomething.
I conceive then, that theInfinitehas created many beings or Gods, vastly superior to Man, who can better conceive his Perfections than we, and return him a more rational and glorious Praise.
As, among Men, the Praise of the Ignorant or of Children is not regarded by the ingenious Painter or Architect, who is rather honour'd and pleas'd with the approbation of Wise Men & Artists.
It may be that these created Gods are immortal; or it may be that after many Ages, they are changed, and others Supply their Places.
Howbeit, I conceive that each of these is exceeding wise and good, and very powerful; and that Each has made for himself one glorious Sun, attended with a beautiful and admirable System of Planets.
It is that particular Wise and good God, who is the authorand owner of our System, that I propose for the object of my praise and adoration.
For I conceive that he has in himself some of those Passions he has planted in us, and that, since he has given us Reason whereby we are capable of observing his Wisdom in the Creation, he is not above caring for us, being pleas'd with our Praise, and offended when we slight Him, or neglect his Glory.
I conceive for many Reasons, that he is agood Being; and as I should be happy to have so wise, good, and powerful a Being my Friend, let me consider in what manner I shall make myself most acceptable to him.
Next to the Praise resulting from and due to his Wisdom, I believe he is pleas'd and delights in the Happiness of those he has created; and since without Virtue Man can have no Happiness in this World, I firmly believe he delights to see me Virtuous, because he is pleased when he sees Me Happy.
And since he has created many Things, which seem purely design'd for the Delight of Man, I believe he is not offended, when he sees his Children solace themselves in any manner of pleasant exercises and Innocent Delights; and I think no Pleasure innocent, that is to Man hurtful.
Ilovehim therefore for his Goodness, and Iadorehim for his Wisdom.
Let me then not fail to praise my God continually, for it is his Due, and it is all I can return for his many Favours and great Goodness to me; and let me resolve to be virtuous, that I may be happy, that I may please Him, who is delighted to see me happy. Amen!
ADORATION
Prel.Being mindful that before I address the Deity, my soul ought to be calm and serene, free from Passion and Perturbation, or otherwise elevated with Rational Joy and Pleasure, I ought to use a Countenance that expresses a filial Respect, mixed wtha kind of Smiling, that Signifies inward Joy, and Satisfaction, and Admiration.
O wise God, my good Father!
Thou beholdest the sincerity of my Heart and of my Devotion; Grant me a Continuance of thy Favour!
1. O Creator, O Father! I believe that thou art Good, and that thou artpleas'd with the pleasureof thy children.—Praised be thy name for Ever!
2. By thy Power hast thou made the glorious Sun, with his attending Worlds; from the energy of thy mighty Will, they first received [their prodigious] motion, and by thy Wisdom hast thou prescribed the wondrous Laws, by which they move.—Praised be thy name for Ever!
3. By thy Wisdom hast thou formed all Things. Thou hast created Man, bestowing Life and Reason, and placed him in Dignity superior to thy other earthly Creatures.—Praised be thy name for Ever!
4. Thy Wisdom, thy Power, and thy Goodness are everywhere clearly seen; in the air and in the water, in the Heaven and on the Earth; Thou providest for the various winged Fowl, and the innumerable Inhabitants of the Water; thou givest Cold and Heat, Rain and Sunshine, in their Season, & to the Fruits of the Earth Increase.—Praised be thy name for Ever!
5. Thou abhorrest in thy Creatures Treachery and Deceit, Malice, Revenge, [Intemperance,] and every other hurtful Vice; but Thou art a Lover of Justice and Sincerity, of Friendship and Benevolence, and every Virtue. Thou art my Friend, my Father, and my Benefactor.—Praised be thy name, O God, for Ever! Amen!
[After this, it will not be improper to read part of some such Book as Ray'sWisdom of God in the Creation, orBlackmore on the Creation, or the Archbishop of Cambray'sDemonstration of the Being of a God, &c., or else spend some Minutes in a serious Silence, contemplating on those Subjects.]
Then sing
MILTON'S HYMN TO THE CREATOR
"These are thy Glorious Works, Parent of Good!Almighty, Thine this Universal Frame,Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!Speak ye who best can tell, Ye Sons of Light,Angels, for ye behold him, and with SongsAnd Choral Symphonies, Day without Night,Circle his Throne rejoicing you in Heav'n,On Earth join all ye creatures to extolHim first, him last, him midst, and without End."Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night,If rather Thou belongst not to the Dawn,Sure Pledge of Day! thou crown'st the smiling MornWith thy bright Circlet, Praise him in thy SphereWhile Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.Thou Sun, of this great World, both Eye and Soul,Acknowledge him thy greater; Sound his PraiseIn thy eternal Course; both when thou climb'st,And when high Noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st,With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies,And ye five other wandering Fires, that moveIn mystic Dance not without Song; resoundHis Praise, that out of Darkness called up Light.Air! and ye Elements! the eldest BirthOf Nature's womb, that in Quaternion runPerpetual Circle, multiform, and mixAnd nourish all things, let your ceaseless ChangeVary to our great Maker still new Praise.Ye mists and Exhalations, that now riseFrom Hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold,In honour to the World's Great Author rise;Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolor'd sky,Or wet the thirsty Earth wthfalling show'rs,Rising or falling still advance his Praise.His Praise, ye Winds! that from 4 quarters blow,Breathe soft or Loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines!With every Plant, in sign of worship wave.Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flowMelodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.Join voices all ye living souls, ye Birds!That singing, up to Heaven's high gate ascend,Bear on your wings, & in your Note his Praise;Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walkThe Earth! and stately tread or lowly creep;Witnessif I be silent, Ev'n or Morn,To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or Fresh Shade,Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise."
"These are thy Glorious Works, Parent of Good!Almighty, Thine this Universal Frame,Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!Speak ye who best can tell, Ye Sons of Light,Angels, for ye behold him, and with SongsAnd Choral Symphonies, Day without Night,Circle his Throne rejoicing you in Heav'n,On Earth join all ye creatures to extolHim first, him last, him midst, and without End."Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night,If rather Thou belongst not to the Dawn,Sure Pledge of Day! thou crown'st the smiling MornWith thy bright Circlet, Praise him in thy SphereWhile Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.Thou Sun, of this great World, both Eye and Soul,Acknowledge him thy greater; Sound his PraiseIn thy eternal Course; both when thou climb'st,And when high Noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st,With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies,And ye five other wandering Fires, that moveIn mystic Dance not without Song; resoundHis Praise, that out of Darkness called up Light.Air! and ye Elements! the eldest BirthOf Nature's womb, that in Quaternion runPerpetual Circle, multiform, and mixAnd nourish all things, let your ceaseless ChangeVary to our great Maker still new Praise.Ye mists and Exhalations, that now riseFrom Hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold,In honour to the World's Great Author rise;Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolor'd sky,Or wet the thirsty Earth wthfalling show'rs,Rising or falling still advance his Praise.His Praise, ye Winds! that from 4 quarters blow,Breathe soft or Loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines!With every Plant, in sign of worship wave.Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flowMelodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.Join voices all ye living souls, ye Birds!That singing, up to Heaven's high gate ascend,Bear on your wings, & in your Note his Praise;Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walkThe Earth! and stately tread or lowly creep;Witnessif I be silent, Ev'n or Morn,To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or Fresh Shade,Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise."
[Here follows the Reading of some Book, or part of a Book, Discoursing on and exciting to Moral Virtue.]
PETITION
Inasmuch as by Reason of our Ignorance We cannot be certain that many Things, which we often hear mentioned in the Petitions of Men to the Deity, would prove real Goods, if they were in our Possession, and as I have reason to hope and believe that the Goodness of my Heavenly Father will not withold from me a suitable share of Temporal Blessings, if by a Virtuous and holy Life I conciliate his Favour and Kindness, Therefore I presume not to ask such things, but rather humbly and with a Sincere Heart, express my earnest desires that he would graciously assist my Continual Endeavours and Resolutions of eschewing Vice and embracing Virtue; which Kind of Supplications willat least be thus far beneficial, as they remind mein a solemn manner of my Extensive duty.
That I may be preserved from Atheism & Infidelity, Impiety, and Profaneness, and, in my Addresses to Thee, carefully avoid Irreverence and ostentation, Formality and odious Hypocrisy,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be loyal to my Prince, and faithful to my country, careful for its good, valiant in its defence, and obedient to its Laws, abhorring Treason as much as Tyranny,—Help me, O Father!
That I may to those above me be dutiful, humble, and submissive; avoiding Pride, Disrespect, and Contumacy,—Help me, O Father!
That I may to those below me be gracious, Condescending, and Forgiving, using Clemency, protectinginnocent Distress, avoiding Cruelty, Harshness, and Oppression, Insolence, and unreasonable Severity,—Help me, O Father!
That I may refrain from Censure, Calumny and Detraction; that I may avoid and abhor Deceit and Envy, Fraud, Flattery, and Hatred, Malice, Lying, and Ingratitude,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be sincere in Friendship, faithful in trust, and Impartial in Judgment, watchful against Pride, and against Anger (that momentary Madness),—Help me, O Father!
That I may be just in all my Dealings, temperate in my Pleasures, full of Candour and Ingenuity, Humanity and Benevolence,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be grateful to my Benefactors, and generous to my Friends, exercising Charity and Liberality to the Poor, and Pity to the Miserable,—Help me, O Father!
That I may avoid Avarice and Ambition, Jealousie, and Intemperance, Falsehood, Luxury, and Lasciviousness,—Help me, O Father!
That I may possess Integrity and Evenness of Mind, Resolution in Difficulties, and Fortitude under Affliction; that I may be punctual in performing my promises, Peaceable and prudent in my Behaviour,—Help me, O Father!
That I may have Tenderness for the Weak, and reverent Respect for the Ancient; that I may be Kind to my Neighbours, good-natured to my Companions, and hospitable to Strangers,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be averse to Talebearing, Backbiting, Detraction, Slander, & Craft, and overreaching, abhor Extortion, Perjury, and every Kind of wickedness,—Help me, O Father!
That I may be honest and open-hearted, gentle, merciful, and good, cheerful in spirit, rejoicing in the Good of others,—Help me, O Father!
That I may have a constant Regard to Honour and Probity, that I may possess a perfect innocence and a good Conscience, and at length become truly Virtuous and Magnanimous,—Help me, good God; help me, O Father![G]
And, forasmuch as ingratitude is one of the most odious of vices, let me not be unmindful gratefully to acknowledge the favours I receive from Heaven.
[G]At this point the original MS ends. The subsequent paragraph, including the "Thanks," is found only in William Temple Franklin's transcript, now in the Library of Congress. [Smyth's note.]
[G]At this point the original MS ends. The subsequent paragraph, including the "Thanks," is found only in William Temple Franklin's transcript, now in the Library of Congress. [Smyth's note.]
THANKS
For peace and liberty, for food and raiment, for corn, and wine, and milk, and every kind of healthful nourishment,—Good God, I thank thee!
For the common benefits of air and light; for useful fire and delicious water,—Good God, I thank thee!
For knowledge, and literature, and every useful art, for my friends and their prosperity, and for the fewness of my enemies,—Good God, I thank thee!
For all thy innumerable benefits; for life, and reason, and the use of speech; for health, and joy, and every pleasant hour,—My good God, I thank thee!
Tuesday, February 4th, 1728/9
Mr. Andrew Bradford,
I design this to acquaint you, that I, who have long been one of your Courteous Readers, have lately entertain'd some Thoughts of setting up for an Author mySelf; not out of the least Vanity, I assure you, or Desire of showing my Parts, but purely for the Good of my Country.
I have often observ'd with Concern that your Mercury is not always equally entertaining. The Delay of Ships expected in, and want of fresh Advices from Europe, make it frequently very Dull; and I find the Freezing of our River has the same Effect on News as on Trade. With more Concern have I continually observ'd the growing Vices and Follies of my Country-folk; and, tho' Reformation is properly the concern of every Man; that is, Every one ought to mend One; yet 'tis too true in this Case, that what is every Body's Business is nobody's Business; and the Business is done accordingly. I therefore, upon mature Deliberation, think fit to take Nobody's Business wholly intomy own Hands; and, out of Zeal for the Publick Good, design to erect mySelf into a Kind ofCensor Morum; proposing, with your Allowance, to make Use of theWeekly Mercuryas a Vehicle in which my Remonstrances shall be convey'd to the World.
I am sensible I have in this Particular undertaken a very unthankful Office, and expect little besides my Labour for my Pains. Nay, 'tis probable I may displease a great Number of your Readers, who will not very well like to pay 10s. a Year for being told of their Faults. But, as most People delight in Censure when they themselves are not the Objects of it, if any are offended at my publickly exposing their private Vices, I promise they shall have the Satisfaction, in a very little Time, of seeing their good Friends and Neighbours in the same Circumstances.
However, let the Fair Sex be assur'd that I shall always treat them and their Affairs with the utmost Decency and Respect. I intend now and then to dedicate a Chapter wholly to their Service; and if my Lectures any Way contribute to the Embellishment of their Minds and brightning of their Understandings, without offending their Modesty, I doubt not of having their Favour and Encouragement.
'Tis certain, that no Country in the World produces naturally finer Spirits than ours; Men of Genius for every kind of Science, and capable of acquiring to Perfection every Qualification that is in Esteem among Mankind. But as few here have the Advantage of good Books, for want of which, good Conversation is still more scarce, it would doubtless have been very acceptable to your Readers, if, instead of an old out-of-date Article from Muscovy or Hungary, you had entertained them with some well-chosen Extract from a good Author. This I shall sometimes do, when I happen to have nothing of my own to say that I think of more Consequence. Sometimes I propose to deliver Lectures of Morality or Philosophy, and (because I am naturally enclin'd to be meddling with Things that don't concern me) perhaps I may sometimes talk Politicks. And if I can by any means furnish out a Weekly Entertainment for the Publick that will give a rational Diversion, and at the same Time be instructiveto the Readers, I shall think my Leisure Hours well employ'd: And if you publish this, I hereby invite all ingenious Gentlemen and others (that approve of such an Undertaking) to my Assistance and Correspondence.
'Tis like by this Time, you have a Curiosity to be acquainted with my Name and Character. As I do not aim at publick Praise, I design to remain concealed; and there are such Numbers of our Family and Relations at this Time in the Country, that tho' I've sign'd my Name at full Length, I am not under the least Apprehension of being distinguish'd and discover'd by it. My Character, indeed, I would favour you with, but that I am cautious of praising mySelf, lest I should be told my Trumpeter's dead: And I cannot find in my Heart at present, to say any Thing to my own Disadvantage.
It is very common with Authors, in their first Performances, to talk to their Readers thus; "If this meets with aSUITABLEReception; Or, If this should meet withDUEEncouragement, I shall hereafter publish, &c." This only manifests the Value they put on their own Writings, since they think to frighten the Publick into their Applause, by threatning, that unless you approve what they have already wrote, they intend never to write again; when perhaps it mayn't be a Pin Matter whether they ever do or no. As I have not observ'd the Criticks to be more favourable on this Account, I shall always avoid saying any Thing of the Kind; and conclude with telling you, that, if you send me a Bottle of Ink and a Quire of Paper by the Bearer, you may depend on hearing further from, Sir, your most humble Servant,
The Busy-Body.
Tuesday, February 11, 1728/9
All fools have still an itching to deride,And fain would be upon the laughing side.—Pope.
All fools have still an itching to deride,And fain would be upon the laughing side.—Pope.
All fools have still an itching to deride,And fain would be upon the laughing side.—Pope.
Monsieur de la Rochefoucault tells us somewhere in his Memoirs, that the Prince of Condé delighted much in ridicule,and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day together in his chamber, with a gentleman that was his favorite, purposely to divert himself with examining what was the foible or ridiculous side of every noted person in the court. That gentleman said afterwards in some company, that he thought nothing was more ridiculous in anybody, than this same humour in the Prince; and I am somewhat inclined to be of this opinion. The general tendency there is among us to this embellishment, which I fear has too often grossly imposed upon my loving countrymen instead of wit, and the applause it meets with from a rising generation, fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future reputation of my country. A young man of modesty (which is the most certain indication of large capacities) is hereby discouraged from attempting to make any figure in life; his apprehensions of being out-laughed will force him to continue in a restless obscurity, without having an opportunity of knowing his own merit himself or discovering it to the world, rather than venture to oppose himself in a place where a pun or a sneer shall pass for wit, noise for reason, and the strength of the argument be judged by that of the lungs.
Among these witty gentlemen let us take a view of Ridentius. What a contemptible figure does he make with his train of paltry admirers! This wight shall give himself an hour's diversion with the cock of a man's hat, the heels of his shoes, an unguarded expression in his discourse, or even some personal defect; and the height of his low ambition is to put some one of the company to the blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share of the reckoning with himself. If such a fellow makes laughing the sole end and purpose of his life; if it is necessary to his constitution, or if he has a great desire of growing suddenly fat, let him eat; let him give public notice where any dull stupid rogue may get a quart of four-penny for being laughed at; but it is barbarously unhandsome, when friends meet for the benefit of conversation and a proper relaxation from business, that one should be the butt of the company, and four men made merry at the cost of the fifth.
How different from this character is that of the good-natured,gay Eugenius, who never spoke yet but with a design to divert and please, and who was never yet baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight in applying the wit of his friends, than in being admired himself; and if any one of the company is so unfortunate as to be touched a little too nearly, he will make use of some ingenious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another way, choosing rather to make himself a public jest, than be at the pain of seeing his friend in confusion.
Among the tribe of laughers, I reckon the petty gentlemen that write satires, and carry them about in their pockets, reading them themselves in all company they happen into; taking an advantage of the ill taste of the town to make themselves famous for a pack of paltry, low nonsense, for which they deserve to be kicked rather than admired, by all who have the least tincture of politeness. These I take to be the most incorrigible of all my readers; nay, I expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. However, the only favour he begs of them is this, that if they cannot control their overbearing itch of scribbling, let him be attacked in downright biting lyrics; for there is no satire he dreads half so much as an attempt towards a panegyric.
Tuesday, February 18th, 1728/9
Non vultus instantis TyranniMente quatit solidâ,—neque Auster,Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.—Hor.
Non vultus instantis TyranniMente quatit solidâ,—neque Auster,Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.—Hor.
Non vultus instantis TyranniMente quatit solidâ,—neque Auster,Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.—Hor.
It is said that the Persians, in their ancient Constitution, had publick Schools in which Virtue was taught as a Liberal Art or Science; and it is certainly of more Consequence to a Man, that he has learnt to govern his Passions; in spite of Temptation to be just in his Dealings, to be Temperate in his Pleasures, to support himself with Fortitude under his Misfortunes, to behave with Prudence in all Affairs, and in every Circumstance ofLife; I say, it is of much more real Advantage to him to be thus qualified, than to be a Master of all the Arts and Sciences in the World beside.
Virtue alone is sufficient to make a Man Great, Glorious, and Happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as I am, cannot help thinking as I do now, and will acknowledge he deserves the Name, without being honour'd by it. Cato is a Man whom Fortune has plac'd in the most obscure Part of the Country. His Circumstances are such, as only put him above Necessity, without affording him many Superfluities; Yet who is greater than Cato? I happened but the other Day to be at a House in Town, where, among others, were met Men of the most Note in this Place. Cato had Business with some of them, and knock'd at the Door. The most trifling Actions of a Man, in my Opinion, as well as the smallest Features and Lineaments of the Face, give a nice Observer some Notion of his Mind. Methought he rapp'd in such a peculiar Manner, as seem'd of itself to express there was One, who deserv'd as well as desir'd Admission. He appear'd in the plainest Country Garb; his Great Coat was coarse, and looked old and threadbare; his Linnen was home-spun; his Beard perhaps of Seven Days' Growth; his Shoes thick and heavy; and every Part of his Dress corresponding. Why was this Man receiv'd with such concurring Respect from every Person in the Room, even from those who had never known him or seen him before? It was not an exquisite Form of Person, or Grandeur of Dress, that struck us with Admiration.
I believe long Habits of Virtue have a sensible Effect on the Countenance. There was something in the Air of his Face, that manifested the true Greatness of his Mind, which likewise appear'd in all he said, and in every Part of his Behaviour, obliging us to regard him with a Kind of Veneration. His Aspect is sweetened with Humanity and Benevolence, and at the same Time enboldned with Resolution, equally free from a diffident Bashfulness and an unbecoming Assurance. The Consciousness of his own innate Worth and unshaken Integrity renders him calm and undaunted in the Presence of the most Great and Powerful, and upon the most extraordinary Occasions. Hisstrict Justice and known Impartiality make him the Arbitrator and Decider of all Differences, that arise for many Miles around him, without putting his Neighbours to the Charge, Perplexity, and Uncertainty of Law-Suits. He always speaks the Thing he means, which he is never afraid or asham'd to do, because he knows he always means well, and therefore is never oblig'd to blush, and feel the Confusion of finding himself detected in the Meanness of a Falsehood. He never contrives Ill against his Neighbour, and therefore is never seen with a lowring, suspicious Aspect. A mixture of Innocence and Wisdom makes him ever seriously chearful. His generous Hospitality to Strangers, according to his Ability; his Goodness, his Charity, his Courage in the Cause of the Oppressed, his Fidelity in Friendship, his Humility, his Honesty and Sincerity, his Moderation, and his Loyalty to the Government; his Piety, his Temperance, his Love to Mankind, his Magnanimity, his Publick-Spiritedness, and in fine, his consummate Virtue, make him justly deserve to be esteem'd the Glory of his Country.
"The Brave do never shun the Light;Just are their Thoughts, and open are their Tempers;Freely without Disguise they love and hate;Still are they found in the fair Face of Day,And Heaven and Men are Judges of their Actions."—Rowe.
"The Brave do never shun the Light;Just are their Thoughts, and open are their Tempers;Freely without Disguise they love and hate;Still are they found in the fair Face of Day,And Heaven and Men are Judges of their Actions."—Rowe.
Who would not rather chuse, if it were in his Choice, to merit the above Character, than be the richest, the most learned, or the most powerful Man in the Province without it?
Almost every Man has a strong natural Desire of being valu'd and esteem'd by the rest of his Species, but I am concern'd and griev'd to see how few fall into the Right and only infallible Method of becoming so. That laudable Ambition is too commonly misapply'd, and often ill employ'd. Some to make themselves considerable pursue Learning, others grasp at Wealth; some aim at being thought witty; and others are only careful to make the most of an handsome Person; But what is Wit, or Wealth, or Form, or Learning, when compar'd with Virtue?'Tis true, we love the handsome, we applaud the Learned, and we fear the Rich and Powerful; but we even Worship and adore the Virtuous. Nor is it strange; since Men of Virtue are so rare, so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to become Good as to make ourselves Great, we should become really Great by being Good, and the Number of valuable Men would be much increased; but it is a Grand Mistake to think of being Great without Goodness; and I pronounce it as certain, that there was never yet a truly Great Man, that was not at the same Time truly Virtuous.
O Cretico! thou sowre Philosopher! Thou cunning Statesman! Thou art crafty, but far from being Wise. When wilt thou be esteem'd, regarded, and belov'd like Cato? When wilt thou, among thy Creatures, meet with that unfeign'd respect and warm Good-will, that all Men have for him? Wilt thou never understand, that the cringing, mean, submissive Deportment of thy Dependents, is (like the worship paid by Indians to the Devil) rather thro' Fear of the Harm thou may'st do to them, than out of Gratitude for the Favours they have receiv'd of thee? Thou art not wholly void of Virtue; there are many good Things in thee, and many good Actions reported of thee. Be advised by thy Friend. Neglect those musty Authors; let them be cover'd with Dust, and moulder on their proper Shelves; and do thou apply thyself to a Study much more profitable, The knowledge of Mankind and of thySelf.
This is to give Notice, that the Busy-Body strictly forbids all Persons, from this Time forward, of what Age, Sex, Rank, Quality, Degree, or Denomination soever, on any Pretence, to enquire who is the Author of this Paper, on Pain of his Displeasure, (his own near and Dear Relations only excepted).
'Tis to be observ'd, that if any bad Characters happen to be drawn in the Course of these Papers, they mean no particular Person, if they are not particularly apply'd.
Likewise, that the Author is no Party-man, but a general Meddler.
N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring Province.
Tuesday, February 25, 1728/9.
Ne quid nimis.
In my first Paper I invited the Learned and the Ingenious to join with me in this Undertaking, and I now repeat that Invitation. I would have such Gentlemen take this Opportunity (by trying their Talent in Writing) of diverting themselves and their Friends, and improving the Taste of the Town. And because I would encourage all Wit of our own Growth and Produce, I hereby promise, that whoever shall send me a little Essay on some moral or other Subject, that is fit for publick View in this Manner, (and not basely borrow'd from any other Author,) I shall receive it with Candour, and take care to place it to the best Advantage. It will be hard if we cannot muster up in the whole Country a sufficient Stock of Sense to supply theBusy-Bodyat least for a Twelvemonth.
For my own Part, I have already profess'd, that I have the Good of my Country wholly at Heart in this Design, without the least sinister View; my chief Purpose being to inculcate the noble Principles of Virtue, and depreciate Vice of every kind. But, as I know the Mob hate Instruction, and the Generality would never read beyond the first Line of my Lectures, if they were actually fill'd with nothing but wholesome Precepts and Advice, I must therefore sometimes humor them in their own Way. There are a Set of Great Names in the Province, who are the common Objects of Popular Dislike. If I can now and then overcome my Reluctance, and prevail with myself to satyrize a little one of these Gentlemen, the Expectation of meeting with such a Gratification will induce many to read me through, who would otherwise proceed immediately to the Foreign News. As I am very well assured the greatest Men among us have a sincere Love for their Country, notwithstanding its Ingratitude, and the Insinuations of the Envious and Malicious to the contrary, so I doubt not but they will chearfully tolerate me in the Liberty I design to take for the End above mentioned.
As yet I have but few Correspondents, tho' they begin now to increase. The following Letter, left for me at the Printer's, is one of the first I have receiv'd, which I regard the more for that it comes from one of the Fair Sex, and because I have myself oftentimes suffer'd under the Grievance therein complain'd of.
"TO THE BUSY-BODY"Sir,"You having set yourself up for aCensuror Morum, (as I think you call it), which is said to mean a Reformer ofManners, I know no Person more proper to be apply'd to for Redress in all the Grievances we suffer from Want ofManners, in some People. You must know I am a single Woman, and keep a Shop in this Town for a Livelyhood. There is a certain Neighbour of mine, who is really agreeable Company enough, and with whom I have had an Intimacy of some Time standing; but of late she makes her visits so excessively often, and stays so very long every Visit, that I am tir'd out of all Patience. I have no Manner of Time at all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise Man, must needs be sensible that every Person has little Secrets and Privacies, that are not proper to be expos'd even to the nearest Friend. Now I cannot do the least Thing in the World, but she must know all about it; and it is a Wonder I have found an Opportunity to write you this Letter. My Misfortune is, that I respect her very well, and know not how to disoblige her so much as to tell her I should be glad to have less other Company; for if I should once hint such a Thing, I am afraid she would resent it so as never to darken my Door again."But alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my Affliction. She has two Children, that are just big enough to run about and do pretty Mischief; these are continually along with Mamma, either in my Room or Shop, if I have ever so many Customers or People with me about Business. Sometimes they pull the Goods off my low Shelves down to the Ground, and perhaps where one of them has just been making Water. My Friend takes up the Stuff, and cries, 'Eh! thou little wicked mischievousRogue! But, however, it has done no great Damage; 'tis only wet a little;' and so puts it up upon the Shelf again. Sometimes they get to my Cask of Nails behind the Counter, and divert themselves, to my great Vexation, with mixing my Ten-penny, and Eight-penny, and Four-penny, together. I endeavour to conceal my Uneasiness as much as possible, and with a grave Look go to Sorting them out. She cries, 'Don't thee trouble thyself, Neighbour: Let them play a little; I'll put all to rights myself before I go.' But Things are never so put to rights, but that I find a great deal of Work to do after they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have all the Trouble and Pesterment of Children, without the Pleasure of—calling them my own; and they are now so us'd to being here, that they will be content nowhere else. If she would have been so kind as to have moderated her Visits to ten times a Day, and stay'd but half an hour at a Time, I should have been contented, and I believe never have given you this Trouble. But this very Morning they have so tormented me, that I could bear no longer; for, while the Mother was asking me twenty impertinent Questions, the youngest got to my Nails, and with great Delight rattled them by handfuls all over the Floor; and the other, at the same Time, made such a terrible Din upon my Counter with a Hammer, that I grew half distracted. I was just then about to make myself a new Suit of Pinners; but in the Fret and Confusion I cut it quite out of all Manner of Shape, and utterly spoil'd a Piece of the first Muslin."Pray, Sir, tell me what I shall do; and talk a little against such unreasonable Visiting in your next Paper; tho' I would not have her affronted with me for a great Deal, for sincerely I love her and her Children, as well, I think, as a Neighbour can, and she buys a great many Things in a Year at my Shop. But I would beg her to consider, that she uses me unmercifully, Tho' I believe it is only for want of Thought. But I have twenty Things more to tell you besides all this: There is a handsome Gentleman, that has a Mind (I don't question) to make love to me, but he can't get the least Opportunity to—O dear! here she comes again; I must conclude, yours, &c."Patience."
"TO THE BUSY-BODY
"Sir,
"You having set yourself up for aCensuror Morum, (as I think you call it), which is said to mean a Reformer ofManners, I know no Person more proper to be apply'd to for Redress in all the Grievances we suffer from Want ofManners, in some People. You must know I am a single Woman, and keep a Shop in this Town for a Livelyhood. There is a certain Neighbour of mine, who is really agreeable Company enough, and with whom I have had an Intimacy of some Time standing; but of late she makes her visits so excessively often, and stays so very long every Visit, that I am tir'd out of all Patience. I have no Manner of Time at all to myself; and you, who seem to be a wise Man, must needs be sensible that every Person has little Secrets and Privacies, that are not proper to be expos'd even to the nearest Friend. Now I cannot do the least Thing in the World, but she must know all about it; and it is a Wonder I have found an Opportunity to write you this Letter. My Misfortune is, that I respect her very well, and know not how to disoblige her so much as to tell her I should be glad to have less other Company; for if I should once hint such a Thing, I am afraid she would resent it so as never to darken my Door again.
"But alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my Affliction. She has two Children, that are just big enough to run about and do pretty Mischief; these are continually along with Mamma, either in my Room or Shop, if I have ever so many Customers or People with me about Business. Sometimes they pull the Goods off my low Shelves down to the Ground, and perhaps where one of them has just been making Water. My Friend takes up the Stuff, and cries, 'Eh! thou little wicked mischievousRogue! But, however, it has done no great Damage; 'tis only wet a little;' and so puts it up upon the Shelf again. Sometimes they get to my Cask of Nails behind the Counter, and divert themselves, to my great Vexation, with mixing my Ten-penny, and Eight-penny, and Four-penny, together. I endeavour to conceal my Uneasiness as much as possible, and with a grave Look go to Sorting them out. She cries, 'Don't thee trouble thyself, Neighbour: Let them play a little; I'll put all to rights myself before I go.' But Things are never so put to rights, but that I find a great deal of Work to do after they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have all the Trouble and Pesterment of Children, without the Pleasure of—calling them my own; and they are now so us'd to being here, that they will be content nowhere else. If she would have been so kind as to have moderated her Visits to ten times a Day, and stay'd but half an hour at a Time, I should have been contented, and I believe never have given you this Trouble. But this very Morning they have so tormented me, that I could bear no longer; for, while the Mother was asking me twenty impertinent Questions, the youngest got to my Nails, and with great Delight rattled them by handfuls all over the Floor; and the other, at the same Time, made such a terrible Din upon my Counter with a Hammer, that I grew half distracted. I was just then about to make myself a new Suit of Pinners; but in the Fret and Confusion I cut it quite out of all Manner of Shape, and utterly spoil'd a Piece of the first Muslin.
"Pray, Sir, tell me what I shall do; and talk a little against such unreasonable Visiting in your next Paper; tho' I would not have her affronted with me for a great Deal, for sincerely I love her and her Children, as well, I think, as a Neighbour can, and she buys a great many Things in a Year at my Shop. But I would beg her to consider, that she uses me unmercifully, Tho' I believe it is only for want of Thought. But I have twenty Things more to tell you besides all this: There is a handsome Gentleman, that has a Mind (I don't question) to make love to me, but he can't get the least Opportunity to—O dear! here she comes again; I must conclude, yours, &c.
"Patience."
Indeed, 'tis well enough, as it happens, that she is come to shorten this Complaint, which I think is full long enough already, and probably would otherwise have been as long again. However, I must confess, I cannot help pitying my Correspondent's Case; and, in her Behalf, exhort the Visitor to remember and consider the Words of the Wise Man, "Withdraw thy Foot from the House of thy Neighbour, lest he grow weary of thee, and so hate thee." It is, I believe, a nice thing, and very difficult, to regulate our Visits in such a Manner, as never to give Offence by coming too seldom, or too often, or departing too abruptly, or staying too long. However, in my Opinion, it is safest for most People in a general way, who are unwilling to disoblige, to visit seldom, and tarry but a little while in a Place, notwithstanding pressing invitations, which are many times insincere. And tho' more of your Company should be really desir'd, yet in this Case, too much Reservedness is a Fault more easily excus'd than the Contrary.
Men are subjected to various Inconveniences meerly through lack of a small Share of Courage, which is a Quality very necessary in the common Occurrences of Life, as well as in a Battle. How many Impertinences do we daily suffer with great Uneasiness, because we have not Courage enough to discover our Dislike? And why may not a Man use the Boldness and Freedom of telling his Friends, that their long Visits sometimes incommode him? On this Occasion, it may be entertaining to some of my Readers, if I acquaint them with theTurkishManner of entertaining Visitors, which I have from an Author of unquestionable Veracity; who assures us, that even the Turks are not so ignorant of Civility and the Arts of Endearment, but that they can practise them with as much Exactness as any other Nation, whenever they have a Mind to shew themselves obliging.
"When you visit a Person of Quality," (says he) "and have talk'd over your Business, or the Complements, or whatever Concern brought you thither, he makes a Sign to have Things serv'd in for the Entertainment, which is generally, a little Sweetmeat, a Dish of Sherbet, and another of Coffee; all whichare immediately brought in by the Servants, and tender'd to all the Guests in Order, with the greatest Care and Awfulness imaginable. At last comes the finishing Part of your Entertainment, which is, Perfuming the Beards of the Company; a Ceremony which is perform'd in this Manner. They have for the Purpose a small Silver Chaffing-Dish, cover'd with a Lid full of Holes, and fixed upon a handsome Plate. In this they put some fresh Coals, and upon them a piece ofLignum Aloes, and shutting it up, the smoak immediately ascends with a grateful Odour thro' the Holes of the Cover. This smoak is held under every one's Chin, and offer'd as it were a Sacrifice to his Beard. The bristly Idol soon receives the Reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy Steam, that it retains the Savour of it, and may serve for a Nosegay a good while after."This Ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing, but it passes among theTurksfor a high Gratification. And I will say this in its Vindication, that its Design is very wise and useful. For it is understood to give a civil Dismission to the Visitants, intimating to them, that the Master of the House has Business to do, or some other Avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as they please, and the sooner after this Ceremony the better. By this Means you may, at any Time, without Offence, deliver yourself from being detain'd from your Affairs by tedious and unseasonable Visits; and from being constrain'd to use that Piece of Hypocrisy, so common in the World, of pressing those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your Heart you wish a great Way off for having troubled you so long already."
"When you visit a Person of Quality," (says he) "and have talk'd over your Business, or the Complements, or whatever Concern brought you thither, he makes a Sign to have Things serv'd in for the Entertainment, which is generally, a little Sweetmeat, a Dish of Sherbet, and another of Coffee; all whichare immediately brought in by the Servants, and tender'd to all the Guests in Order, with the greatest Care and Awfulness imaginable. At last comes the finishing Part of your Entertainment, which is, Perfuming the Beards of the Company; a Ceremony which is perform'd in this Manner. They have for the Purpose a small Silver Chaffing-Dish, cover'd with a Lid full of Holes, and fixed upon a handsome Plate. In this they put some fresh Coals, and upon them a piece ofLignum Aloes, and shutting it up, the smoak immediately ascends with a grateful Odour thro' the Holes of the Cover. This smoak is held under every one's Chin, and offer'd as it were a Sacrifice to his Beard. The bristly Idol soon receives the Reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy Steam, that it retains the Savour of it, and may serve for a Nosegay a good while after.
"This Ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing, but it passes among theTurksfor a high Gratification. And I will say this in its Vindication, that its Design is very wise and useful. For it is understood to give a civil Dismission to the Visitants, intimating to them, that the Master of the House has Business to do, or some other Avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as they please, and the sooner after this Ceremony the better. By this Means you may, at any Time, without Offence, deliver yourself from being detain'd from your Affairs by tedious and unseasonable Visits; and from being constrain'd to use that Piece of Hypocrisy, so common in the World, of pressing those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your Heart you wish a great Way off for having troubled you so long already."
Thus far my Author. For my own Part, I have taken such a Fancy to this Turkish Custom, that for the future I shall put something like it in Practice. I have provided a Bottle of right French Brandy for the Men, and Citron-Water for the Ladies. After I have treated with a Dram, and presented a Pinch of my best Snuff, I expect all Company will retire, and leave me to pursue my Studies for the Good of the Publick.
ADVERTISEMENT
I give Notice, that I am now actually compiling, and design to publish in a short Time, the true History of the Rise, Growth, and Progress of the renowned Tiff-Club. All Persons who are acquainted with any Facts, Circumstances, Characters, Transactions, &c. which will be requisite to the Perfecting and Embellishment of the said Work, are desired to communicate the same to the Author, and direct their Letters to be left with the Printer hereof.
The Letter, sign'd "Would-be-Something," is come to hand.
October 2, 1729
The Pennsylvania Gazette being now to be carry'd on by other Hands, the Reader may expect some Account of the Method we design to proceed in.[23]
Upon a view of Chambers's great Dictionaries, from whence were taken the Materials of theUniversal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences, which usually made the First Part of this Paper, we find that besides their containing many Things abstruse or insignificant to us, it will probably be fifty Years before the Whole can be gone thro' in this Manner of Publication. There are likewise in those Books continual References from Things under one Letter of the Alphabet to those under another, which relate to the same Subject, and are necessary to explain and compleat it; these taken in their Turn may perhaps be Ten Years distant; and since it is likely that they who desire to acquaint themselves with any particular Art or Science, would gladly have the whole before them in much less time, we believe our Readers will not think such a Method of communicating Knowledge to be a proper One.
However, tho' we do not intend to continue the Publication of those Dictionaries in a regular Alphabetical Method, as has hitherto been done; yet as several Things exhibited from themin the Course of these Papers, have been entertaining to such of the Curious, who never had and cannot have the Advantage of good Libraries; and as there are many Things still behind, which being in this Manner made generally known, may perhaps become of considerable Use, by giving such Hints to the excellent natural Genius's of our Country, as may contribute either to the Improvement of our present Manufactures, or towards the Invention of new Ones; we propose from Time to Time to communicate such particular Parts as appear to be of the most general Consequence.
As to the "Religious Courtship," Part of which has been retal'd to the Publick in these Papers, the Reader may be inform'd, that the whole Book will probably in a little Time be printed and bound up by itself; and those who approve of it, will doubtless be better pleas'd to have it entire, than in this broken interrupted Manner.
There are many who have long desired to see a good News-Paper in Pennsylvania; and we hope those Gentlemen who are able, will contribute towards the making This such. We ask Assistance, because we are fully sensible, that to publish a good News-Paper is not so easy an Undertaking as many People imagine it to be. The Author of a Gazette (in the Opinion of the Learned) ought to be qualified with an extensive Acquaintance with Languages, a great Easiness and Command of Writing and Relating Things clearly and intelligibly, and in few Words; he should be able to speak of War both by Land and Sea; be well acquainted with Geography, with the History of the Time, with the several Interests of Princes and States, the Secrets of Courts, and the Manners and Customs of all Nations. Men thus accomplish'd are very rare in this remote Part of the World; and it would be well if the Writer of these Papers could make up among his Friends what is wanting in himself.
Upon the Whole, we may assure the Publick, that as far as the Encouragement we meet with will enable us, no Care and Pains shall be omitted, that may make the Pennsylvania Gazette as agreeable and useful an Entertainment as the Nature of the Thing will allow.
[From thePennsylvania Gazette, June 23, 1730.][24]
Philocles.My friendHoratio! I am very glad to see you; prithee, how came such a Man as you alone? and musing too? What Misfortune in your Pleasures has sent you to Philosophy for Relief?
Horatio.You guess very right, my dearPhilocles! We Pleasure-hunters are never without 'em; and yet, so enchanting is the Game! we can't quit the Chace. How calm and undisturbed is your Life! How free from present Embarrassments and future Cares! I know you love me, and look with Compassion upon my Conduct; Shew me then the Path which leads up to that constant and invariable Good, which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem so fully to possess.
Phil.There are few Men in the World I value more than you,Horatio! for amidst all your Foibles and painful Pursuits of Pleasure, I have oft observed in you an honest Heart, and a Mind strongly bent towards Virtue. I wish, from my Soul, I could assist you in acting steadily the Part of a reasonable Creature; for, if you would not think it a Paradox, I should tell you I love you better than you do yourself.
Hor.A Paradox indeed! Better than I do myself! When I love my dear self so well, that I love every Thing else for my own sake.
Phil.He only loves himself well, who rightly and judiciously loves himself.
Hor.What do you mean by that,Philocles! You Men of Reason and Virtue are always dealing in Mysteries, tho' you laugh at 'em when the Church makes 'em. I think he loves himself very well and very judiciously too, as you call it, who allows himself to do whatever he pleases.
Phil.What, though it be to the Ruin and Destruction of that very Self which he loves so well! That Man alone loves himself rightly, who procures the greatest possible Good to himself thro' the whole of his Existence; and so pursues Pleasure as not to give for it more than 'tis worth.
Hor.That depends all upon Opinion. Who shall judge what the Pleasure is worth? Supposing a pleasing Form of the fair Kind strikes me so much, that I can enjoy nothing without the Enjoyment of that one Object. Or, that Pleasure in general is so favorite a Mistress, that I will take her as Men do their Wives, for better, for worse; mind no Consequences, nor regarding what's to come. Why should I not do it?
Phil.Suppose,Horatio, that a Friend of yours entred into the World about Two-and-Twenty, with a healthful vigorous Body, and a fair plentiful Estate of about Five Hundred Pounds a Year; and yet, before he had reached Thirty, should, by following his Pleasures, and not, as you say, duly regarding Consequences, have run out of his Estate, and disabled his Body to that Degree, that he had neither the Means nor Capacity of Enjoyment left, nor any Thing else to do but wisely shoot himself through the Head to be at rest; what would you say to this unfortunate Man's Conduct? Is it wrong by Opinion or Fancy only? Or is there really a Right and Wrong in the Case? Is not one Opinion of Life and Action juster than another? Or, one Sort of Conduct preferable to another? Or, does that miserable Son of Pleasure appear as reasonable and lovely a Being in your Eyes, as a Man who, by prudently and rightly gratifying his natural Passions, had preserved his Body in full Health, and his Estate entire, and enjoy'd both to a good old Age, and then died with a thankful Heart for the good Things he had received, and with an entire Submission to the Will of Him who first called him into Being? Say,Horatio! are these Men equally wise and happy? And is every Thing to be measured by mere Fancy and Opinion, without considering whether that Fancy or Opinion be right?
Hor.Hardly so neither, I think; yet sure the wise and good Author of Nature could never make us to plague us. He couldnever give us Passions, on purpose to subdue and conquer 'em; nor produce this Self of mine, or any other self, only that it may be denied; for that is denying the Works of the great Creator himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I suppose you mean by Prudence, seems to me not only absurd, but very dishonourable to that Supreme Wisdom and Goodness, which is supposed to make so ridiculous and Contradictious a Creature, that must be always fighting with himself in order to be at rest, and undergo voluntary Hardships in order to be happy: Are we created sick, only to be commanded to be Sound? Are we born under one Law, our Passions, and yet bound to another, that of Reason? Answer me,Philocles, for I am warmly concerned for the Honour of Nature, the Mother of us all.
Phil.I find, Horatio, my two Characters have affrighted you; so that you decline the Trial of what is Good, by reason: And had rather make a bold Attack upon Providence; the usual Way of you Gentlemen of Fashion, who, when by living in Defiance of the eternal Rules of Reason, you have plunged yourselves into a thousand Difficulties, endeavour to make yourselves easy by throwing the Burden upon Nature. You are,Horatio, in a very miserable Condition indeed; for you say you can't be happy if you controul your Passions; and you feel yourself miserable by an unrestrained Gratification of 'em; so that here's Evil, irremediable Evil, either way.
Hor.That is very true, at least it appears so to me: Pray, what have you to say,Philocles! in Honour of Nature or Providence; methinks I'm in Pain for her: How do you rescue her? poor Lady!
Phil.This, my dearHoratio, I have to say; that what you find Fault with and clamour against, as the most terrible Evil in the World, Self-denial; is really the greatest Good, and the highest Self-gratification: If indeed, you use the Word in the Sense of some weak sour Moralists, and much weaker Divines, you'll have just Reason to laugh at it; but if you take it, as understood by Philosophers and Men of Sense, you will presently see her Charms, and fly to her Embraces, notwithstanding her demure Looks, as absolutely necessary to produce even your own darlingsole Good, Pleasure: For, Self-denial is never a Duty, or a reasonable Action, but as 'tis a natural Means of procuring more Pleasure than you can taste without it so that this grave, Saint-like Guide to Happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been made to appear, is in truth the kindest and most beautiful Mistress in the World.
Hor.Prithee,Philocles! do not wrap yourself in Allegory and Metaphor. Why do you teaze me thus? I long to be satisfied, what this Philosophical Self-denial is, the Necessity and Reason of it; I'm impatient, and all on Fire; explain, therefore, in your beautiful, natural easy Way of Reasoning, what I'm to understand by this grave Lady of yours, with so forbidding, downcast Looks, and yet so absolutely necessary to my Pleasures. I stand ready to embrace her; for you know, Pleasure I court under all Shapes and Forms.
Phil.Attend then, and you'll see the Reason of this Philosophical Self-denial. There can be no absolute Perfection in any Creature; because every Creature is derived, and dependent: No created Being can be All-wise, All-good, and All-powerful, because his Powers and Capacities are finite and limited; consequently whatever is created must, in its own Nature, be subject to Error, Irregularity, Excess, and Disorder. All intelligent, rational Agents find in themselves a Power of judging what kind of Beings they are; what Actions are proper to preserve 'em, and what Consequences will generally attend them, what Pleasures they are form'd for, and to what Degree their Natures are capable of receiving them. All we have to do then,Horatio, is to consider, when we are surpriz'd with a new Object, and passionately desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that Passion be consistent with the gratifying other Passions and Appetites, equal if not more necessary to us. And whether it consists with our Happiness To-morrow, next Week, or next Year; for, as we all wish to live, we are obliged by Reason to take as much Care for our future, as our present Happiness, and not build one upon the Ruins of t'other. But, if thro' the Strength and Power of a present Passion, and thro' want of attending to Consequences, we have err'd and exceeded the Bounds which Nature or Reasonhave set us; we are then, for our own Sakes, to refrain, or deny ourselves a present momentary Pleasure for a future, constant and durable one: So that this Philosophical Self-denial is only refusing to do an Action which you strongly desire; because 'tis inconsistent with your Health, Fortunes, or Circumstances in the World; or, in other Words, because 'twould cost you more than 'twas worth. You would lose by it, as a Man of Pleasure. Thus you see,Horatio! that Self-denial is not only the most reasonable, but the most pleasant Thing in the World.
Hor.We are just coming into Town, so that we can't pursue this Argument any farther at present; you have said a great deal for Nature, Providence, and Reason: Happy are they who can follow such divine Guides.
Phil.Horatio!good Night; I wish you wise in your Pleasures.
Hor.I wish,Philocles! I could be as wise in my Pleasures as you are pleasantly Wise; your Wisdom is agreeable, your Virtue is amiable, and your Philosophy the highest Luxury. Adieu! thou enchanting Reasoner!
[From thePennsylvania Gazette, July 9, 1730.]
Philocles.DearHoratio! where hast thou been these three or four Months? What new Adventures have you fallen upon since I met you in these delightful, all-inspiring Fields, and wondred how such a Pleasure-hunter as you could bear being alone?
Horatio.OPhilocles, thou best of Friends, because a Friend to Reason and Virtue, I am very glad to see you. Don't you remember, I told you then, that some Misfortunes in my Pleasures had sent me to Philosophy for Relief? But now I do assure you, I can, without a Sigh, leave other Pleasures for those of Philosophy; I can hear the WordReasonmentioned,and Virtue praised, without Laughing. Don't I bid fair for Conversion, think you?
Phil.Very fair,Horatio! for I remember the Time when Reason, Virtue, and Pleasure, were the same Thing with you: When you counted nothing Good but what pleas'd, nor any thing Reasonable but what you got by; When you made a Jest of a Mind, and the Pleasures of Reflection, and elegantly plac'd your sole Happiness, like the rest of the Animal Creation, in the Gratifications of Sense.
Hor.I did so: But in our last Conversation, when walking upon the Brow of this Hill, and looking down on that broad, rapid River, and yon widely-extended beautifully-varied Plain, you taught me another Doctrine: You shewed me, that Self-denial, which above all Things I abhorred, was really the greatest Good, and the highest Self-gratification, and absolutely necessary to produce even my own darling sole Good, Pleasure.
Phil.True: I told you that Self-denial was never a Duty but when it was a natural Means of procuring more Pleasure than we could taste without it: That as we all strongly desire to live, and to live only to enjoy, we should take as much Care about our future as our present Happiness; and not build one upon the Ruins of 'tother: That we should look to the End, and regard Consequences: and if, thro' want of Attention we had err'd, and exceeded the Bounds which Nature had set us, we were then obliged, for our own Sakes, to refrain or deny ourselves a present momentary Pleasure for a future, constant, and durable Good.
Hor.You have shewn,Philocles, that Self-denial, which weak or interested Men have rendred the most forbidding, is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reasonable and pleasant Thing in the World. In a Word, if I understand you aright, Self-denial is, in Truth, Self-recognising, Self-acknowledging, or Self-owning. But now, my Friend! you are to perform another Promise; and shew me the Path which leads up to that constant, durable, and invariable Good, which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem so fully to possess: Is not this Good of yours a mere Chimera? Can any Thing be constant in a World which is eternally changing! andwhich appears to exist by an everlasting Revolution of one Thing into another, and where every Thing without us, and every Thing within us, is in perpetual Motion? What is this constant, durable Good, then, of yours? Prithee, satisfy my Soul, for I'm all on Fire, and impatient to enjoy her. Produce this eternal blooming Goddess with never-fading Charms, and see, whether I won't embrace her with as much Eagerness and Rapture as you.
Phil.You seem enthusiastically warm,Horatio; I will wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispassionate Voice of Reason.
Hor.You mistake me, my dearPhilocles! my Warmth is not so great as to run away with my Reason: it is only just raised enough to open my Faculties, and fit them to receive those eternal Truths, and that durable Good, which you so triumphantly boasted of. Begin, then; I'm prepared.
Phil.I will. I believe,Horatio! with all your Skepticism about you, you will allow that Good to be constant which is never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never Ends but with your Being.
Hor.Yes, go on.
Phil.That can never be the Good of a Creature, which when present, the Creature may be miserable, and when absent, is certainly so.
Hor.I think not; but pray explain what you mean; for I am not much used to this abstract Way of Reasoning.
Phil.I mean all the Pleasures of Sense. The Good of Man cannot consist in the mere Pleasures of Sense; because, when any one of those Objects which you love is absent, or can't be come at, you are certainly miserable: and if the Faculty be impair'd, though the Object be present, you can't enjoy it. So that this sensual Good depends upon a thousand Things without and within you, and all out of your Power. Can this then be the Good of Man? Say,Horatio! what think you, Is not this a chequer'd, fleeting, fantastical Good? Can that, in any propriety of Speech, be called the Good of Man which even, while he is tasting, he may be miserable; and which when he cannot taste,he is necessarily so? Can that be our Good, which costs us a great deal of Pains to obtain; which cloys in possessing; for which we must wait the Return of Appetite before we can enjoy again? Or, is that our Good, which we can come at without Difficulty; which is heightened by Possession, which never ends in Weariness and Disappointment; and which, the more we enjoy, the better qualified we are to enjoy on?
Hor.The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus?Philocles! shew me this Good immediately.
Phil.I have shewed you what 'tis not; it is not sensual, but 'tis rational and moral Good. It is doing all the Good we can to others, by Acts of Humanity, Friendship, Generosity, and Benevolence: This is that constant and durable Good, which will afford Contentment and Satisfaction always alike, without Variation or Diminution. I speak to your Experience now,Horatio! Did you ever find yourself weary of relieving the Miserable? or of raising the Distressed into Life or Happiness? Or rather, don't you find the Pleasure grow upon you by Repetition, and that 'tis greater in the Reflection than in the Act itself? Is there a Pleasure upon Earth to be compared with that which arises from the Sense of making others happy? Can this Pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with your Being? Does it not always accompany you? Doth not it lie down and rise with you? live as long as you live? give you Consolation in the Article of Death, and remain with you in that gloomy Hour, when all other Things are going to forsake you, or you them?
Hor.How glowingly you paint,Philocles! MethinksHoratiois amongst the Enthusiasts. I feel the Passion: I am enchantingly convinced; but I don't know why: Overborn by something stronger than Reason. Sure some Divinity speaks within me; but prithee,Philocles, give me cooly the Cause, why this rational and moral Good so infinitely excels the meer natural or sensual.
Phil.I think,Horatio! that I have clearly shewn you the Difference between merely natural or sensual Good, and rational or moral Good. Natural or sensual Pleasure continues no longer than the Action itself; but this divine or moral Pleasurecontinues when the Action is over, and swells and grows upon your Hand by Reflection: The one is inconstant, unsatisfying, of short Duration, and attended with numberless Ills; the other is constant, yields full Satisfaction, is durable, and no Evils preceding, accompanying, or following it. But, if you enquire farther into the Cause of this Difference, and would know why the moral Pleasures are greater than the sensual; perhaps the Reason is the same as in all other Creatures, That their Happiness or chief Good consists in acting up to their chief Faculty, or that Faculty which distinguishes them from all Creatures of a different Species. The chief Faculty in a Man is his Reason; and consequently his chief Good; or that which may be justly called his Good, consists not merely in Action, but in reasonable Action. By reasonable Actions, we understand those Actions which are preservative of the human Kind, and naturally tend to produce real and unmixed Happiness; and these Actions, by way of Distinction, we call Actions morally Good.
Hor.You speak very clearly,Philocles! but, that no Difficulty may remain upon my Mind, pray tell me what is the real Difference between natural Good and Ill, and moral Good and Ill? for I know several People who use the Terms without Ideas.
Phil.That may be: The Difference lies only in this; that natural Good and Ill is Pleasure and Pain: Moral Good and Ill is Pleasure or Pain produced with Intention and Design; for 'tis the Intention only that makes the Agent morally Good or Bad.
Hor.But may not a Man, with a very good Intention, do an ill Action?
Phil.Yes, but, then he errs in his Judgment, tho' his Design be good. If his Error is inevitable, or such as, all Things considered, he could not help, he is inculpable: But if it arose through want of Diligence in forming his Judgment about the Nature of human Actions, he is immoral and culpable.
Hor.I find, then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, or to do good to others morally, we should take great Care of our Opinions.
Phil.Nothing concerns you more; for, as the Happiness or real Good of Men consists in right Action, and right Action cannotbe produced without right Opinion, it behoves us, above all Things in this World, to take Care that our Opinions of Things be according to the Nature of Things. The Foundation of all Virtue and Happiness is Thinking rightly. He who sees an Action is right, that is, naturally tending to Good, and does it because of that Tendency, he only is a moral Man; and he alone is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable Good, which has been the Subject of this Conversation.
Hor.How, my dear philosophical Guide, shall I be able to know, and determine certainly, what is Right and Wrong in Life?
Phil.As easily as you distinguish a Circle from a Square, or Light from Darkness. Look,Horatio, into the sacred Book of Nature; read your own Nature, and view the Relation which other Men stand in to you, and you to them; and you'll immediately see what constitutes human Happiness, and consequently what is Right.
Hor.We are just coming into Town, and can say no more at present. You are my good Genius,Philocles. You have shewed me what is good. You have redeemed me from the Slavery and Misery of Folly and Vice, and made me a free and happy Being.
Phil.Then I am the happiest Man in the World. Be steady,Horatio! Never depart from Reason and Virtue.
Hor.Sooner will I lose my Existence. Good Night,Philocles.
Phil.Adieu! dearHoratio!