tures, that we have no faculty in the foul adapted to it, nor any organ in the body to relifh it; an object of defire placed out of the poffibility of fruition. It may indeed fill the mind for a while with a giddy kind of pleasure, but it is fuch a pleafure as makes a man reftlefs and uneafy under it; and which does not fo much fatisfy the prefent thirft, as it excites fresh defires, and fets the foul on new enterprifes. For how few am bitious men are there, who have got as much fame as they defired, and whofe thirst after it has not been as eager in the very height of their reputation, as it was before they became known and eminent among men? There is not any circumftance in Cafar's character which gives me a greater idea of him, than a faying which Cicero tells us he frequently made ufe of in private converfation, "That he was fatisfied with his fhare of life and fame." Se fatis vel ad naturam, vel ad glo riam vixiffe. Many indeed have given over their purfuits after fame, but that has proceeded either from the difappointments they have met in it, or from their experience of the little pleafure which attends it, or from the better informations or natural coldness of old age; but feldom from a full fatisfaction and acquiefcence in their prefent enjoyments of it. Nor is fame only unfatisfying in itself, but the defire of it lays us open to many accidental troubles which thofe are free from who have not fuch a tender regard for it. How often is the ambitious man caft down and difappointed, if he receives no praise where he expected it? Nay how often is he mortified with the very praifes he receives, if they do not rife fo high as he thinks they ought, which they feldom do unlefs increafed by flattery, fince few men have fo good an opinion of us as we have of ourselves? But if the ambitious man can be fo much grieved even with preffe itself, how will he be able to bear up under fcandal and defamation? For the fame temper of mind which makes him defire fame, makes him hate reproach. If he can be tranfported with the extraordinary praifes of men, he will be as much dejected by their cenfures. How little therefore is the happiness of an ambitious man, who gives every one a dominion over it, who thus fubjects himself to the good or ill speeches of others, and puts it in the power of every malicious tongue to throw him into a fit of melancholy, and deftroy his natural reft and repofe of mind? especially when we confider that the world is more apt to cenfure than applaud, and himself fuller of imperfections than virtues. We may farther obferve, that fuch a man will be more grieved for the lofs of fame, than he could have been pleafed with the enjoyment of it. For though the prefence of this imaginary good cannot make us happy, the absence of it may make us miferable; because in the enjoyment of an object we only find that fhare of pleasure which it is capable of giving us, but in the lofs of it we do not proportion our grief to the real value it bears, but to the value our fancies and imaginations fet upon it. So inconfiderable is the fatisfaction that fame brings along with it, and fo great the difquietudes to which it makes us liable. The defire of it ftirs up very uneafy motions in the mind, and is rather inflamed than fatisfied by the prefence of the thing defired. The enjoyment of it brings but very little pleafure, though the lofs or want of it be very fenfible and afflicting; and even this little happiness is fo very precarious, that it wholly depends on the will of others. only tortured by the reproaches which are offered us, but are difappointed by the filence of men when it is unexpected; and humbled even by their praises. We are not C Tuesday, Tuesday, December 25. N° 257 Οὐχ εὕδει. Διὸς Οφθαλμὸς ἐγγὺς δ ̓ ἔτι καὶ παρὼν πόνῳ. Incert. ex. Stob." No flumber feals the eye of Providence, THATI might not lofe myself upon a fubject of it in a particular order and method. I have firft of all confidered the reafons why providence may have implanted in our mind fuch a principle of action. I have.in the next place fhewn from many confiderations, first, that fame is a thing difficult to be obtained, and eafily loft; fecondly, that it brings the ambitious man very little happiness, but fubjects him to much uneafinefs and diffatisfaction. I fhall in the laft place fhew, that it hinders us from obtaining an end which we have abilities to acquire, and which is accompanied with fulness of fatisfaction. I need not tell my reader, that I mean by this end that happiness which is referved for us in another world, which every one has abilities to procure, and which will bring along with it " fulness of joy and plea"fures for evermore.' "" How the purfuit after fame may hinder us in the attainment of this great end, I fhall leave the reader to collect from the three following confiderations. Firft, Because the ftrong defire of fame breeds feveral vicious habits in the mind. Secondly, Because many of thofe actions, which are apt to procure fame, are not in their nature conducive to this our ultimate happiness. Thirdly, Because if we fhould allow the fame actions to be the proper inftruments, both of acquiring fame, and of procuring this happiness, they would neverthelefs fail in the attainment of this laft end, if they pro ceeded from a defire of the first. Thefe three propofitions are felf-evident to these who are verfed in fpeculations of morality. For which reafon I fhall not enlarge upon them, but proceed to a point of the fame nature, which may open to us a moro uncommon field of speculation. From what has been already obferved, I think we may make a natural conclufion, that it is the greatest folly to feek the praise or approbation of any being, befides the Supreme, and that for thefe two reafons; becaufe no other being can make a right judgment of us, and esteem us according to our merits; and because we can procure no confiderable benefit or advantage from the esteem and approbation of any other being In the first place, no other being can make a right judgment of us, and efteem us according to our merits. Created beings fee nothing but our outfide, and can therefore only frame a judgment of us from our exterior actions and behaviour; but how unfit these are to give us a right notion of each other's perfections, may appear from feveral confiderations. There are many virtues, which in their own nature are incapable of any outward representation: many filent perfections in the foul of a good man, which are great ornaments to humán nature, but not able to difcover themfelves to the knowledge of others; they are tranfacted in private, without noife or fhow, and are only vifible to the great fearcher of hearts. What actions can exprefs the intire purity of thought which refines and fanctifies a virtuous man? That fecret rest and contentedness of mind, which gives him a perfect enjoyment of his prefent condition? that inward pleasure and complacency which he feels in doing good that delight and fatisfaction which he takes in the profperity and happiness of another? these and the like virtues are the hidden beauties of a foul, the fecret graces which cannot be discovered by a mortal eye, but make the foul lovely and precious in his fight, from whom no fecrets are concealed. Again, there are many virtues which want an opportunity of exerting and fhewing themselves in actions. Every virtue requires time and place, a proper object and a fit conjuncture of circumftances, for the due exercife of it. A state of poverty obfcures all the virtues of liberality and 1 and munificence. The patience and fortitude of a martyr or confeffor lie concealed in the flourishing times of Chriftianity. Some virtues are only feen in affliction, and fome in profperity; fome in a private, and others in a public capacity. But the great Sovereign of the world beholds every perfection in its obfcurity, and not only fees what we do, but what we would do. He: views our behaviour in every concurrence of affairs, and fees us engaged in all the poffibilities of action. He difcovers the martyr and confeffor without the trial of flames and tortures, and will hereafter intitle many to the reward of actions, which they had never the oppor tunity of performing. Another reafon why men cannot form a right judgment of us is, because the fame actions may be aimed at different ends, and arife from quite contrary principles. Actions are of fo mixt a nature and fo full of circumftances, that as men pry into them more or lefs, or obferve fome parts more than others, they take different hints, and put contrary interpretations on them; fo that the fame actions may reprefent a man as hypocritical and defigning to one, which make him appear a faint or hero to another. He therefore who looks upon the foul through its outward actions, often fees it through a deceitful medium, which is apt to difcolour and pervert the object: fo that on this ac-count alfo, He is the only proper judge of our perfections, who does not guefs at the fincerity of our intentions from the goodnefs of our actions, but weighs the goodness of our actions by the fincerity of our inten- tions. But further; it is impoffible for outward actions to represent the perfections of the foul, because they can never fhew the strength of thofe principles from whence they proceed. They are not adequate expreffions of our virtues, and can only fhew us what habits are in the foul, without difcovering the degree and perfection of fuch Irabits. They are at beft but weak refemblances of our intentions, faint and imperfect copies that may acquaint us with the general defign, but can' never exprefs the beauty and life of the original. But the great Judge of all the earth knows every different ftate and degree of human improvement, from thofe |