Of the Number of our Passions.

SOme have made the Passions, as 'twere to flow from two different Springs, which they term the Concupiscible and [Page 15]the Irascible Apetite: Supposing that such contrary Motions could not be ef­fected by one and the same Power, or part of the Soul. Yet, with their leave, I should rather follow the Opinion of St. Austin, not believing that a diversity of Senti­ments presupposes a diversity of Facul­ties too, since one Man frequently de­sires Things contrary in themselves; yet he conserves the unity of his Person in the variety of his Desires. The Holy Fa­ther had a severe Tryal of this in his Conversion; his Soul was distracted with differing Sentiments, and the good Saint wonder'd that having but one Will, he should be capable of forming such very opposite Resolutions; so that the Passions may possibly flow all from the same individual Source; since the Soul is not either divided or multiplied by its various Faculties; preserving the unity of its Essence, even in the multitude of its Operations.

The Philosophers themselves are di­vided in their Opinions concerning the Number of the Passions; yet I can't but side with St. Austin in this particular likewise; and hold, that Love is the only Passion which agitates us: For as the same vast Body of Water, generally ter­med [Page 16]the Sea, has distinct Names in every respective Part of the World through which it passes; or as the Heaven's made a different Divinity of each Attribute and Perfection of God; so the various Ef­fects of this one Passion has been the great occasion of Man's judging that there were many of several Natures, suppo­sing that it changed its Condition as of­ten as it changed its Conduct. Thus Reason confirms our Belief that there's but one only Passion, and what others have thought to be such, were but only so many Properties of this one. Desiring and Shunning, Hope and Fear are the Motions of Love, by which it seeks what pleases, and flies what is disagreeable to it. 'Tis but a very frivolous Objection to this Hyyothesis, That Love must of Consequence transform it self into its Contrary, which is Hatred; for even that very Motion of Love is reconcila­ble with Reason and Experience; since one Cause produces contrary Effects; the Sun melts wax and hardens Clay; Justice punishes Crimes and rewards Virtue; or if we may presume to fly a step higher, God only hates sin, because he loves himself.

Whether there were any Passions in the State of Innocence.

'TIS so long a Tract of Time since Man lost his Innocence, that we at present have but a faint Idea of what it was; nay, did not the Justice of God punish the Crimes of the Father in the Person of the Son, peradventure we should hardly regret the loss, as irreparable as it is. Every one discribes the State of Innocence according to his own Imagi­nation, yet doubtless as the Earth brought forth no Thorns, so the Heavens had no malignant Influences; every thing con­spired to the Felicity of our first Parents, and the very Beast which inhabited the Woods (for Desarts there were none) could not be called Savage, the Viper was without Poison, and the Tyger with­out Treachery: Yet alas this is all but Opinion too; and we are as far to seek concerning his Nature, as concerning his Beatitude, 'tis but congruous to think that Adam, being created Perfect, was subject to neither Malady in his Body, nor to any Disturbance in his Mind: He was obliged to eat indeed to support Nature, but as Time would have attenuated his Strength, so had the infinite Providence [Page 18]of God prescribed him the Tree of Life to restore him to his pristine Vigour. No­thing could kill him but Sin, so that he was not immortal by Nature, but yet by Grace he was so. His Soul was questionless as happily stated as his Body, since he knew every thing by the innate Faculties thereof. He had only good Inclinations, his Affections were under Subjection, and though he was not in­sensible, yet nothing could disturb him, his Passions were as natural to him, as ours are to us, but with this happy Cir­cumstance, that they were more obedient, and as the Oeconomy of his Natural System, made him capable of our Mo­tions, so original Justice prevented their Disorders.

Not but that we must grant some of the Passions to be inconsistent with the State Adam was in; sadness and dispair could not have Place in a Soul compleat­ly happy, so that he was rather unmo­ved with them through want of a Sub­ject, than want of Capacity. In so great a Pitch of Beatitude as Adam enjoyed, his Reason could not be thought to ex­cite Passions, designed only for the Wretched. Doubtless Adam was afraid of the Punishment annexed to his Trans­gression, [Page 19]and hoped for the Reward in Case of Obedience. As he desired to preserve the mighty Felicity of his Mate, 'twas but naturally Consequential to apprehend an Alteration in it. As his Senses were a Part of his Body, so were his Passions Part of his Soul, and they differed from ours, not in their Nature, but in the absoluteness of their Subjecti­on to his Will.

If there were any Passions in Jesus Christ, and wherein they differed from ours.

IT would argue an extraordinary and unpardonable Ignorance in a Chri­stian, not to know that our Blessed Sa­viour took upon him the Form of a Man, subject to all the Infirmities there­of, Sin only excepted. He was constrain­ed to support his Life with Meat, and refreshed his wearied Body with sleep; he was punished with the Winters cold, and was dropping with the Heat in Sum­mer. The very Elements which reve­renced him as a God, had persecuted him as a Man, and he felt the Pangs and Agonies of Death it self upon the Cross, which he had delivered Lazarus from.

As Passions are the most natural Weak­nesses [Page 20]of Humanity so he would not be exempted from them that they might be a Testimony of his Love, and an irre­fragable Argument of the Verity of his Incarnation. He mingled his Tears, with those of Mary Magdalen, and though he was going to remedy them by his Power, yet he would first feel them by his Compassion, and by that Weakness shew he was a Man, before he would work a Miracle to shew he was a God.

As he had a real Body, so he could not have Supposititious Passions, and as he was actually a Man, so was his Affliction actual too. But whilst we would magnifie the Love of the Son of God to us, we must not substract from his Grandure; Passions he had, but not disorderly like ours; they were always subject to his Will, and waited on his Reasons to accomplish his designs.

But alas! 'tis infinitely otherwise with frail Man; his Soul is in a continual and violent agitation; one Passion gives way for another to create new confusions, and amongst so many and so powerfully ty­rannical Enemies, how is it possible for him to enjoy any considerable rest? our desires are inordinate, and most of our sorrows ridiculous: Our Anger trans­ports [Page 21]us so far, that we are as rigorous in punishing an ill word as a Murther. And if any one would seriously compare our Passions with the Causes that excite them, they might easily remark that 'tis scarce possible we should ever have any that were not Criminal. Our Hatred exceeds the Injury which created it, our Hope is solid where the thing hoped for is perishable. Our Saviour his Anger was to revenge the dishonour done to his Father, or else to chastise them, who by their worldly negotiations profan'd his Holy Temple. 'Tis a new obligation we have to his Bounty, that he did not despise our Infirmities. What everlast­ing and bitter reproaches may he justly make us, should we not have an ardent desire for his Glory, who has shew'd so much for our Salvation: or should we not combate against his Enemies, since he has utterly vanquish'd all ours. What, shall we not shed a tear for his disgra­ces, who poured forth his Blood to sa­tisfie for our sins? Indeed he would have too great reason for to complain of our Ingratitude. Should we not use all our Passions to specifie our Love to him, since he has employed all his to demon­strate his Love to us?

Of the disorderliness of Mans Passions.

THough there be many stupendous things in Man, worthy our consi­deration, and which do loudly express the greatness of that Wisdom which created him, yet there is nothing more extraordinary than his Constitution: both Heaven and Earth are united in his Person, and he is at once both an Angel and a Beast. As the Power of God was manifested in the union of these two Parts so highly disagreeing in themselves; so his Wisdom was not less apparent in causing so good a Cor­respondency between them; the Soul participated of all the Contentment and Satisfaction of the Body, and the Body ministred to the Purposes of the Soul without suffering a Violence towards its own Propensities.

This happy Intelligence between them lasted no longer than Adam's Obedience, for he had no sooner fallen, but the Beasts did rebel against his Authority. His Subjects became his most inveterate E­nemies, to execute the Justice of his of­fended Creator. The very Elements were at discord in his Body, and his Body rose up against his Spirit; and [Page 23]this intestine War was by so much the more easily kindled, as the preceding Peace was rather the Result of Grace than Nature. Nor is there any prospect of any Enjoyment of Peace here on Earth; since, as the Apostle tells us, the Flesh evermore is rebelling against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the Flesh.

From this mighty Disorder proceed all the Malignity of our Passions, and though they are equally Daughters of the Soul and Body, yet these so unnatu­ral Children only serve to encrease the Division between their Parents. Thus the Spirit of Man can never be at rest; but is forced to nourish in his Bosom those very Vipers, which he sees devou­ring him. This Disorder is the Penalty of our Transgression; and the Frailty under which we groan, is not the Pro­duct of our Nature, but the Chastise­ment of the Justice of God. For the Revolt of the Flesh against the Spirit, is not a Condition of our Being, but a severe Punishment of Sin.

Since Man then is Criminal, and his Reason which ought to regulate his now disobedient Passions, is become obnubulated; he must of necessity have [Page 24]recourse to Grace, and implore that from Mercy, which Justice has depri­ved him of. And since he cannot hope for a Peace, so must at least labour to ob­tain a Victory.

Nature alone cannot regulate our Passions.

THere was some specious Pretext of Verity in the confounding all our Passions with Vices; for in that State to which sin has reduced us, we have no Thoughts but what are impure, and as our Nature is totally corrupted, so of Consequence all our Inclinations are dis­orderly; for the Streams must neces­sarily be troubled which flow from a foul Spring. 'Twas a generous Effort, I confess, of the Philosophers, but vain withal, to attempt the making Man as moderate in the State of Sin, as he was under original Justice. But we Christians have learned other Docu­ments from the sacred Scripture; we know that Grace must assist Reason to repel the violent Emotions of our Pas­sions; for of our selves we are not ca­pable of remedying their Irregularity, though we do not approve of it.

Nature in her self has not lost any thing of her original Excellency, tho' examining her under the miserable servi­tude of sin, she has not the power of exert­ing her self to so much good as formerly. She is not annihilated, tho' she is become Criminal, and even under this Frailty there remains some Tincture of her An­cient Condition. For, as St. Austin says, there is doubtless no question, but we e­steem the Being of Man, tho' we con­demn his Sin: nor can we more reason­ably blame him, than in shewing how he dishonours that by the fatal Contagi­on of his Iniquity, which was so very honourable by its own Nature.

Even under sin Man has some good Inclinations, but wanteth the power to follow them; he has good Purposes, but knows not how to effect them, and like Birds caught in a Net, can't use those very Wings they have, or recover that Liberty they desire. Grace only can comfort us under our Misery, and give us strength to resist Vice, practise Virtue, and regulate all the Inordinateness of our Passions.

Of the necessity of Grace to govern the Passions.

THE Grace which Jesus Christ has purchased for us at the expence of his Blood, is infinitely more precious than what we lost in Adam's Fall; its Advantages are so gloriously great, that they exceed our very Desires. It not only elevates us far above our Conditi­on, and promises us a Felicity equal to that of the Angels; but makes Christ our Head, and obliges God himself to acknowledge us his Children, parta­kers of Glory with his own beloved Son: But this only respects Futurity; for tho' we have already received the happy Pledges of these most gracious Promises, and that this Grace lies in the bottom of our Souls; yet alas! the Body is still wal­lowing in its Iniquity; and tho' the Spi­rit be reinforced, yet the Flesh is still oppress'd with its usual Weaknesses, and groans under an intollerable Bondage, whilst its other Sister tastes all the Sweets of Peace and Liberty.

Baptism doth not totally take away Concupiscence; it only moderates it; and tho' it strengthens the Soul, yet it leaves her still in a certain languid Con­dition, [Page 27]which cannot be taken away perfectly till she comes into Glory. This Weakness and Imbecillity of her State is not a Sin; and tho' it prove the ex­uberant Source of many, yet it doth not render us culpable, but when we too poorely submit to its Instigations. We con­sider not so much the Beginning as the Cause of a Man's Anger: Nor do we weigh the deepness of his Sorrow, but the Subject of it: Nor do we examine so much, if a Man be seized with any pannick Apprehension or not, but where­fore he is so. If he be angry at a sin­ner, to reclaim him; or if he is afflicted with the miserable, to comfort them; or if by his fear he can prevent the ruin of one, who was precipitating himself into danger. I cannot imagine any Judge would be so severe, as to condemn Pas­sions so useful; and he must forfeit his Pretensions to Rationality who would forbid us such innocent Affections as those.

Of consequence then, the Excess only is blameable, and the Passions are no longer Criminal, than they are immo­derate. Concupiscence is born with us, and grows in vigour and strength, as we do our selves; nor doth it generally leave [Page 28]us, but with the last gasp. However in an Affair so important to our Salvation, it behoves us to be very circumspect, lest by our Negligence, we should add new Forces to an Enemy, that is but too puissant of its self. Since we have en­tred the List together, let us manfully attack it; and, if it be possible, by Art or Industry, make that die before us, which came into the World with us. But the Consummation of this great and happy Victory is not to be hoped for in our Condition; and since Grace is not able to extinguish Concupiscence neither can she utterly master our Pas­sions.

Our Senses are chiefly the Causes of the Disorders of our Passions.

I Cannot but lament the sad Condition of the Soul, when I reflect what a Prisoner she is to the Body; nor can I wonder, that she so very frequently mi­stakes Errors for Truths, since her Intel­ligence is conveyed to her through the Parts of the Senses. She can know no­thing but by the Ears or the Eyes; and their Information is generally so de­ceitful that Blindness were preferable to their false Lights; and an utter Igno­rance [Page 29]less insupportable than the fatal du­bious Knowledge they procure us.

Nature engaging the Soul in the Bo­dy renders her a Slave to all the Senses, and thereby obliges her, in her most Noble and Considerable Operations, to take Advice of those who are Stone­blind. From hence is it that the grea­test Part of our acquired Knowledge, is but a painful Composition of Errors; and even the Truth it self is never unat­tended with some Lyes. Our Opinions are uncertain, and our Passions, which are generally guided by them, cannot but be irregular.

There is more Irregularity in the Passi­ons of Man, than in those of Beasts.

MAn's Advantages are prejudicial to him; and Reason it self, when once she becomes a Slave to the Senses, only serves to make our Affections so much the more unreasonable, as they blindly believe themselves in the Right. The brute Beasts only apprehend the Danger that is immediately falling down upon them. And as they have no Knowledge of what is future, so do they hardly ever reflect on what is past. But Man, born for his own Destruction, [Page 30]sollicitously looks out for Danger, be­fore it approaches, as tho' he was in haste to pluck down his Misery; or to enlarge the vast Empire of Fortune he prevents her Malice, and anticipates E­vils, to which she had not as yet given birth. Our Fear is equally busied with what's past, and what is still to come; and as we shiver at the Remembrance of a Danger long since hapned, so we tremble at a Disaster, not as yet fallen upon us: Thus are we as wretched by what may happen to us as by what doth.

The Brutes are affected with but very few Objects; and abstracted from things that are requisite to the mere support of their Lives, they look upon all o­ther things with an Indifferency that shames even the Philosophers. Neither Necessity nor Reason can put Bounds to Man's Desire: Useful is not enough, he must have Superfluity. And we may truly advance this short, but pathetick Characteristick of Man, that he is as ingenious as assiduous in his own Destru­ction; generally employing the Saga­city of his Wit, to make him either more miserable, or more criminal. The Beasts are stupid, and their Complexion [Page 31]being most of Earth, renders them in­sensible, thereby happily exempting them from those numerous Evils which only wound us, because they first woun­ded our Imagination.

The Life of Brutes is uniform in refe­rence to its self; and Nature having con­fined them to narrow Bounds, they have but a small Number of Passions; Fear and Desire making all their Motions of the sensitive Soul.

But as Man is subject to Ten thou­sand Rencounters, all of differing Na­tures, as of various Circumstances; his Passions rise up in Multitudes, and on what side so ever he but turns, he meets with new Subjects of Fear or Anger, of Pleasure or Pain. Which Consideration alone did give occasion to the Poets to unite in the Person of every Man, the Malice of a Serpent, the Fury of the Tyger, the Choler of the Lyon, and the Lubricity of the Goat; demonstra­ting from hence, that Man alone had as many Passions as all the Beasts toge­ther. And indeed Man has not only more in Number, but they are much more impetuous in their Irruptions. 'Tis not unworthy remarking, that the Brutes must be provoked to Anger, the roaring [Page 32]Buffler is not furious till he is hard hunted; and 'tis the Cry of the Hounds and Hollowing of the Huntsmen, that stirs up the dreadful foaming Boar: Their Pain or Danger is no sooner over but they forget the Injury; whereas Man, once the Glory of the Creation, can't support a wrye Look; and so far from pardoning Affronts, that he bequeaths 'em to his Posterity to revenge after his Death, leaving them equally Heirs of his Indignation and Malice, as of his Substance.

As there is nothing more difficult, so there is nothing more glorious than the Government of the Passions.

LEst the glorious things of this World should be too common, Nature has wisely made them to be difficult. The never fading Laurels of the happy Conquerors, cost them a thousand and a thousand Toyls; they are purchased with their Blood, and sometimes at the Expence of their Lives too. They must surmount Dangers, and acquire this Felicity with innume­rable Fatigues. But how glorious then must the Victory be, which we gain over [Page 33]our selves? Capricious Fortune can be no ways assistant to us here; and tho' she conducted Alexander through the whole World, and brought him so triumphant Home; yet she could not prevent his murthering Clytus, and by one rash Action tarnish all the Glory he had acquired by so many and so incredible Victories. Our Passions are in a Sphere beyond the reach of that fickle Goddess; and what enhances the Lustre of our Conquest, is that we fight against Part of our selves, and acting both as Commander and Soldier, none can pretend a share in the Glory of our Victory. In most other Com­bates we are egg'd on by a certain Point of Honour; nay, sometime Revenge and Choler constitute the greatest part of our Bravery. Hope stimulates us on, and the vain-glorious Desire of vanquishing makes us exert our uttermost Efforts to accomplish it. But alas! here our For­ces are divided, and we engage with but part of our Troops; and tho' Duty and Virtue may animate us to an Attack, yet the tender Affection we bear our very Enemies makes us so much the less resolute, apprehending an Advan­tage that must cost us all our Pleasures. [Page 34]Tho' our Passions are irregular, yet are they part of us; and we cannot readily resolve to tear out our Bowels, because they sometimes displease us. If Grace doth not assist us, our Self-Love will betray us, and we shall spare those Rebels, because they are Relations.

The Nature of these Enemies makes the Conquest difficult, and an utter Overthrow almost impossible; they may be worsted, but never so defeated, but that upon the next occasion they are as insolent and as formidable as at first. Their Being is so bound up with our own, that both must either die or live together. Hydra-like these Mon­sters encrease by their Ruine; or as Antheus, gather new Vigor by being suppressed. They must be loaded with Irons, and used like Gally-Slaves, to whom is left the Freedom of their Arms, only to row withal; so since we cannot hope for a compleat Victory over these stubborn Enemies, or de­stroy them with our selves, we must bring them to Reason by force, and make all their Motions subservient to Virtue and Prudence.

If the Greatness of the Difficulty frights us from undertaking the Con­flict; [Page 35]the Glory that accrues from it should push us forward, in as much as the Sun shines on nothing more illustri­ous than a Man who commands his Passions. No Diadem is sufficient for such a Hero's Brow, no Encomiums equal to his Merit, and it must be Eter­nity alone, that can recompence so great a pitch of Virtue. The Reality and Substance of such a Conquest must needs be inestimable, since we adore even the very Appearances and Shadows of it. What makes us admire the Sages of the World, but for having seem'd, rather than in effect that they did conquer their Passions? Cato surpasses Pompey, and So­crates the great Alexander; their Victo­ries caus'd no Blood-shed; made nei­ther Widow nor Fatherless: They swam not to their Laurels in a stream of Tears, nor did they depopulate Cities to erect their Trophies. If they fought for their Liberty, they made none mi­serable thereby, and without taking o­thers Prisoners, they freed themselves from an odious Tyrannical Bondage. How must it tarnish the Lustre of those Heroes Glory, who owing all their Grandeur to their Injustice, have only been famous, in that they were extra­ordinary [Page 36]Criminal, and of whom Hi­stories would have made no mention, had they not burnt Towns, plunder'd Cities, kill'd Men, and ruin'd whole Nations?

Those who only wage War with their Passions, enjoy a far more solid Pleasure in the benefit of their Conquest, than the other Heroes do, whose satis­faction is allay'd; and the remorse of Blood and Death, Destruction and Mi­sery abates the Glorious Triumph. The Former we praise without Flattery, and admire them without base Envy; we extol them above the Throne of the most Puisant Monarch here, and when we have follow'd them through the Church, we ascribe them happy Mansions in Heaven. Their Examples help us to compleat the same great and glorious Designs; we read their Lives with ad­miration; and learning from their expe­rience those innocent but sure Artifices, with which they prevented the insur­rection of so very troublesom Enemies, we facilitate the same happy Victory to our selves.

Their chiefest Maxim upon which they depended, was never wholly to re­ly upon their own strength; for Na­ture [Page 37]is deprav'd, our Resolution weak, and Temptation strong as the Devil is subtil; so that nothing but Grace can secure us the Conquest.

No Slavery is so miserable, as that of being overpower'd by our Passions.

LIberty is so charming, and Servitude so insupportable; that without exa­geration, we may say, if one is the great­est Bliss, the other is the severest Mis­fortune Man can lie under. Nature seems to suggest to us the sweetness of Freedom, when she prompts us to ex­pose our very Lives, to secure that, or prevent Slavery. Yet tho' this Evil be so anxious to bear, notwithstanding the tyranny of our Passions is something beyond comparison with it; and we must grant, that no Bondage upon Earth can be equal to that, where these cruel Masters domineer. Others are but Slaves in the less worthy and considera­ble part of Man, viz. his Body; their Soul is at liberty, tho' their Limbs lye in Irons. But our unhappy deplorable Slave is fetter'd even in his Soul, and hath not the liberty of thinking as he pleases, but when he will be Criminal. [Page 38]The violent impulses of his Passions dictate to him what he must desire, and what he must dread; he loses that freedom, which the darkest Dungeon, or the most ponderous Fetters can't de­prive the poorest meanest Slave of, and which the most cruel blood-thirsty Ty­rant cannot deny to his most abomina­ted Captive.

If our Masters are too austere, we can change them; and few Slaves but have the benefit of a Ransom; yet wherever we go we drag our Shackles and Bolts with us, and change not our condition, tho' we do our residence. The Fatal cause of our Misery is within us, and we transport our Enemies, where-ever we go our selves: Nay, for a surcharge of our Wretchedness, we are so very strangely bewitch'd with this Vassal­lage, that we have not only lost our Freedom, but we have lost even the ve­ry desire too of regaining it. We are in love with our Servitude, and kiss, nay hug the weighty Chain; and by an unheard of Blindness, we are so fatally enchanted with our Captivity, that we dread and apprehend a Deliverance. How miserable is that Man, and how deservedly is he so, who will not be at [Page 39]the pains of one generous Resolution, one brisk vigorous Effort, to free him­self from so detestable a Prison, so ig­nominious a Thraldom as that of his Passions?

He who is a Slave to any one Man, may in process of time, by submissive comportment and faithful Service alle­viate his Bondage: For he who has but one only Master to please, cannot be ex­treamly miserable, or long so. If it be impossible to please two Masters, how is that Wretch stated, who has as ma­ny as he has Passions, and is necessitated to obey them, even under their contra­dictory Commands? No sooner one ceases, but another begins more despo­tick than the precedent. For here eve­ry change is for the worse; new Passi­ons being always the most rapid and impetuous. Every Master is here a new Executioner, and his Commands so many different Condemnations. See Alexander ruining Greece, and then de­populating Asia; storming at Nature for the narrowness of her Extent, and repining that he was necessitated to ter­minate his Victories, where the Sun did its course: Reflect a little on Pompey, intoxicated with a vain desire of Glory [Page 40]and Grandeur, and raising Civil Wars to satisfie his Ambition, establishing his Authority at the expence of his own Countries Liberty. He runs over the World to make an Enemy where he found none; and after all these formi­dable Actions, he will not believe him­self really great, tho' his Countrymen call him so, unless Julius Caesar sub­scribes it too. These commanded vast Armies, and were commanded by their Passions; being Martyrs to their Ambi­tion, and Slaves to all things that the World calls Great and Magnanimous.

If the servitude of Ambition be so very uneasie; what is that of Lubrici­ty? He that has once given up his thoughts to this flattering infamous Pas­sion, has no prospect of ever recovering his Liberty. No Man can be Master of himself, who has once submitted his heart to the imperious Domination of Love. Cleopatra governed Mark An­thony; and might boast indeed that she had revenged Egypt on Italy; and sub­jugated the Roman Empire by enslaving him who commanded it. No wretched Vassal ever laboured more to insinuate himself in his Master's favour, than this poor spirited Prince did to please his [Page 41]proud insulting Mistress. He durst not Conquer at the Battle of Actium; but chose rather to desert the Army, than renounce his Love. But what can we expect from one who has lost his Heart with his Liberty, and was so far from fighting, that he could not live absent from Cleopatra's Eyes? Histories will furnish us with Examples enough of these Heroes, who have suffered greater and baser Slavery under their Passions, than what their prosperous Arms had imposed upon the most barbarous Nati­ons. Thus Nature punished all their Homicides, making them suffer more in their own proper Persons, than they were capable of inflicting on others.

To govern our Passions we must first moderate them.

THough the Passions are designed as Assistants or Servants to Virtue, and that there is not one which may not be profitably employed; yet we must con­fess there goes no small Skill and Arti­fice in effecting this. Indeed consider­ing our Condition through sin, they can­not be helpful to us, unless they are moderated. That unfortunate Father [Page 42]who has made us Heirs of his Crime, did not transmit to us our Being in that Purity, which he himself received it: Both Soul and Body have their Punish­ment; and as they were both culpable, so they both suffer. The Soul has its Errors and Blindnesses; our Inclinations are inordinate, our Memory treache­rous, our Senses deceitful, our Imagi­nation but frivolous, and our Understan­ding dark. The Body which was the fa­tal and accursed Channel, through which Sin was conveyed to the Soul: That, I say, has its appropriated Miseries; and though it was the least Guilty, yet it is the most unfortunate. Every thing is there in Confusion and Disorder; the Senses are all distracted by the Variety of Objects, and thus deluding our Imagination, they occasion all the Dis­orders in the inferiour Part of the Soul; they excite our Passions, and like young Necromancers, raise more evil Spirits than they are able to lay again. They are not now under that Command they were in the blessed State of Original Ju­stice; they are all turned Mutinous, and their detested Rebellion is to be asswaged, rather by Art, than Force. They rise with so much Rage and Im­petuosity, [Page 43]that their very Natural Mo­tions are violent; like fine pampered Horses, full of Fire, but not of Force; or like the horrid Ocean, generally tem­pestuous, and never very calm but pre­cursorily to a dreadful Storm.

To effect this great Work of Mode­rating our Passions, we must follow the Methods of Nature and Art. Though she composes all Bodies of the four E­lements, yet she first tempers them ac­cording to their respective Qualities, so that they may the better operate in the Production of that particular Body she designs to form. Art has found out the secret of reconciling Black with White; so that from these two Colours, Pain­ters have composed all the rest. Lyons have been made to draw Triumphant Chariots; and as if they had forgot their Royalty and Courage, have pati­ently suffer'd the lash from a Slave. Elephants have carried Castles into Battle, and have been unconcern'd, whilst ten Thousands of Deaths flew momently about them: Thus Reason must imitate Nature, if she designs to reap any Ad­vantage from such furious Beasts as our Passions are.

Let us consider how many sad Trou­bles the rebelling of our Passions have caus'd in us. 'Tis one act of Prudence to draw benefit from our Misfortunes, and grow wise at our own expence; the most just Anger will fly out to an excess, if we have not a great precau­tion; and what was innocent in its birth, will grow criminal in its progress; and for want of mature deliberation, thinking to punish a slight Injury, we commit a gross Enormity: Fear often surprizes us, and drives us into a real danger to avoid an imaginary one.

The second precaution is to oblige our Reason to keep a strict Guard over all those Subjects, that may probably excite our Passions; watching their mo­tions will secure us from surprizes. Dangers that are foreseen are not so astonishing when they arrive. The cautious Pilot who sees a Storm gather­ing in the Sky, or makes hast into Har­bour, or to avoid Ship-wreck puts out again to Sea, to be at once out of dan­ger of the Rocks or the Flats. 'Tis want of consideration only, that makes us so very frequently prevented by the rising of our Passions; we might avoid it if we would be at the pains to fore­see [Page 45]it; so that in reality, we owe all our great Overthrows to our neglect alone. For if our Reason foresaw the dangers, as she easily may, 'twas no dif­ficult matter so to prepare our Senses, that our Passions should hardly disturb the tranquillity of our mind.

The third precaution is to study the nature of every respective Passion, which will highly conduce to the moderating them; Some must be used with severi­ty, others must be flatter'd to be brought under reason, others again must be de­ceiv'd; and tho' Virtue is too generous in her self, yet she is oblig'd to accom­modate her self to our weaknesses, and employ cunning where force will have no effect. Love is of this nature, and to bring it off from an unlawful object, we must propose to it a legitimate one; and since we cannot banish it from our Heart, we must by an innocent Cheat fix it upon a lawful object: Anger is also of the same Constitution; to go to oppose it were to make it more furious. Fear and Grief are of a contrary com­plexion; to yield to them, were to en­crease their impetuosity; these must be forc'd down, and mal-treated to be mo­derated.

Thus may we with care and industry, so find out the qualities of the Passions, that we may daily oppose fit Remedies to them in their birth; and not let them mount to such a prodigious height, as that they over-top our Reason and become vitious; but keep them in such a subordination, as that they may be assistant to Virtue in all her designs.

Reason alone is able to restrain the Passions.

THO' the notions of the sensitive Appetite seem so many Monsters and Tyrants, yet we must be so just to confess, that as Art prepares Poysons, and makes them so Medicinal, that some Maladies can't be cur'd without: So Reason and Care may bridle in our Passions, and of insolent Masters make serviceable and faithful Slaves. And tho' Sin has made them irregular and disorderly, yet Reason can always ma­nage them, so as to draw both Bene­fit and Glory from their Service. Con­sidering them in their Infancy they are tractable, and may be easily curb'd, which made the Platonists call them Affections, as unwilling to give a Cri­minal [Page 47]Appellation, to what as yet was not so. But if we stay too long, we shall find their fatal strength encreasing so fast, that we shall no longer be able to restrain its impetuosity, and of sim­ple Affections they turn guilty Passions. Yet even under this Circumstance too, they may be manag'd; for their irregu­larity proceeds from their abuse and errour; and they could hardly be im­peach'd of a Crime, if they were not mistaken in their Object. Nature has not lost so much by the Fall, but that she retains still, and ever must, that grand Principle of loving what is good, and fearing what is prejudicial to her. Did not our Senses make so many false reports to our Imagination, we should be freed from many perils which we daily fall into. The Devil knowing we are not as yet so deprav'd as to love Ill for its own sake, deludes our Senses with an appearance of Good, under which he conceals the Evil he tempts us to; so that we fatally love what we should abhor, and detest what we ought really to love: This is the Artifice of the Devil alone; and our Passions are only criminal because they are de­ceiv'd; would we take away that un­happy [Page 48]Gloss which is put upon things, and shew them in genuine Colours, our Senses would not so blindly incline to them, nor they give such powerful oc­casions to our Passions, of raising such commotions in us. Open but their eyes and they will soon leave the meer ap­parent good, to cleave to what is real­ly so: For tho' our Passions have lost considerably of their primitive Inno­cence, yet they have still good Senti­ments, and in most of their motions, there is much more of mistake than of premeditated malice.

If we consider them in that efferven­cy and extream violence, when their fumes begin to obfusque the understand­ing, there is no remedy but patience; we must wait till the ebullition is over. Reason can do no good here; 'tis now too late for any advice; waiting too long has brought all to a desperate State: We must leave it to Time to as­swage this Tempest; which when it shall happen, and by the intermission of this raging Storm, Reason begins to have some force; then must we by a severe Penance and unfeigned Sorrow, seek a redress of our so turbulent Ills, from him alone who was offended there­by, [Page 49]and by humbling our selves before God, grow rich by former Losses; thus learning Experience at our own expence, we shall never permit our Passions to grow to that fatal height again, as to offend God, or dethrone our Reason: Thus our very Misfortunes may be made to tend to our Advantage; and Exam­ples in other things shew us, that a Storm may drive us into the wish'd for Haven; and the same furious Billows that cast away our Vessel may cast us afterwards on shore. Not that a wise Man would leap overboard, and trust his safety to the necessity of a Miracle: no more should a prudent Christian per­mit his Passions to come this length, to reap the benefit of Repentance for it, whereof he is not assured. We must not sin that Grace may abound. In pursuit of these Truths, we may venture to advance on more, which is this; that considering all things, our conditi­on is not so deplorable as some of us (peradventure) imagine, who impute the greatest share of our Misdemeanours to the misery of our Nature. Our good Fortune is in our own Hands; we sail upon an Ocean, whose Billows are ab­solutely at our disposal; we can both [Page 50]avoid the danger of Rocks, and if there arise any Tempest, we can immediately lay it; and what was instanced upon another Juncture, we may apply here in honour to Reason, which is an Ema­nation from God himself; 'tis some­thing extraordinary since the Winds and the Seas of our Passions and corrupt Nature obey it.

By what means we may moderate our Passions.

VVE might here use the Policy of the Huntsman, who uses tame Beasts to catch the Wild; and oppose Hope to Fear, that she might not de­spond; Joy to Sorrow that it grow not excessive. However, there may seem some plausibleness in the method, yet it is not safe: We may prove the reali­ty of Ovid's Acteon, and perish by those Hounds we used for our pleasure. We fortifie one Passion to repel the violence of another, which now having its force augmented, by our indulgence, may re­bel it self, and be more hard to repress than the other was. 'Tis not safe to shew them how to conquer. Tho' in common Policy the practice may hold [Page 51]off making War toobta in a more advan­tageous Peace, or to use the interest of reconciled Enemies to pacifie those who still harass us with Incursions and acts of Hostility; and to sow Discord be­tween those Neighbours, whose agree­ment and good intelligence might be prejudicial to us; yet in Morality those Maxims have no Authority at all.

Reason, which is the grand Sovereign of all the Passions, must use her utmost care and diligence, in watching over the first motions of our Passions, and by taking away from them all those Ob­jects, which serve only to promote their Rebellion, keep them in order with so much the less difficulty. The Effects must cease when the Cause doth. The only great Remedy against these fatal Intestine Commotions, is not to give them any occasion of revolting. 'Tis the Pride of the World, the Grandeur of Court, the Glories of a Triumph, that foment our Ambition; and by shewing us these splendid Trophies of other Heroes, make us uneasie till we have acquired the same empty Vanities for our selves too. So Caesar wept at the reflection that he began to follow Arms at that Age wherein Alexander had con­quered [Page 52]the whole World. In the pri­vate retirement of a Country Village, or a poor Farm, we see none of all these empty Toys, they are utterly strangers to such things, and by not seeing any Image of them, their Souls are never agitated with that raging Phrenzy that sacrifices every thing to its own ends. Nor indeed can we expect it should spare any thing, since it sacrifices its own tranquility to the accomplishing its own desires. So is it likewise with Sorrow; dim Lights, dark Chambers, every thing coloured with black, a pro­found slence through the whole Fami­ly, amazement and horrour in every Face, makes the impression so much the deeper. And indeed one would think Man did not labour so much to bridle his Passion, as to indulge it. Take away these lugubrious ornaments; let the per­son afflicted, but go abroad, and con­verse with those who have no cause to weep, and the source of their Tears will quickly dry up. Nature it self will be weary of always lamenting, and perad­venture no Sorrow would be so very in­tense as 'tis, did we not heighten it by Circumstances. The same may be ob­served of all the other Passions which [Page 53]are not so difficult to govern, but that we will not seriously set about it; but on the contrary, by our fatal Artifices we render them more obstinate in their Rebellion, and assist them in their In­surrections, as if we were desirous of be­ing miserable by them, or afraid of be­ing victorious over them.

Our Passions are really in themselves so many Seeds of Virtue.

THE Knowledge of Man being gene­rally but superficial only, we are taken with the mere Appearances of things. And this was it which made the Dogma's of the Stoicks be received with so universal and so great an ap­probation: They promised no less than to make Angels of their Sectators, and to place them in a Condition beyond that of poor Mortality. Philosophy alone was to elevate them above all the Storms and Thunders of our Pas­sions, and by fixing them in a higher Region of Serenity, free them from all those troublesome Disorders which in­terrupt the happy Calm and Tranqui­lity of the Soul. But alas! these were empty deluding promises, and all these [Page 54]proud Waves turned into meer Froth. Had it been possible for them to have made good these haughty pretensions, they had at once superseded all those Helps which Nature has given us to become virtuous, and the inferiour part of Man's Soul had been without any function: For the Passions are but the mediate motions thereof, by whose means, without being separated from its body, it is united to what it desireth, or keeps at a distance from those Ob­jects it apprehends. Joy is the dilation of the Soul, and Sorrow its contraction; Desires make us as it were advance, and Fear sollicits us to retire. So that to abstract the Passions from the Soul, were to deprive her of all her motions, and render her impuissant as well as useless, under the notion of constituting her felicity. No reasonable Man would sure purchase his Happiness at so exor­bitant a price: For if Contentment con­sisteth in tasting the good we possess, it must incontestably and naturally follow, that the Passions are so many necessary motions of our Soul, and that Joy must consummate the Bliss to which our De­sires at first gave Life. The Passions be­ing so many Seeds of Virtue, that if we [Page 55]will be at the pains to cultivate and improve them, they will produce ex­traordinary delicious and agreeable Fruit.

The Man is not born virtuous, and that the Art which renders him such, is as difficult to acquire, as 'tis glorious to possess; yet it seems to be one power of the Soul to have inherent in it the principles and fundaments of Truth; and the Will also seems to be endowed with the Seeds of Virtue, which want more of manuring than sowing. The Infancy of all our Passions represents them to us as so many budding Virtues, and a little care will make them perfectly such. What is Fear but a natural Pru­dence, prompting us to avoid a danger that threatens us? Or what is Choler but a species of Justice, that arms us against our Enemies, and by a legiti­mate fury repels force with force? What is Desire but a separating us to unite us to what we think better, a sort of elevating us from Earth to Heaven? Where is the mighty difference between Sorrow and Repentance, but that one is the pure product of Nature, the other the effect of Grace? Both of them be wail an evil; nay, sometimes they [Page 56]mingle their Tears to deplore the same Iniquity. There is none of our Passions but may be made Virtues; for since they incline to good, and abhor evil, there wants only Conduct and Manage­ment, to make them change their Condition. A just Object of our Love will make all the other Passions inno­cuous: And correspondent to the go­verning of that, 'twill produce Pru­dence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Ju­stice. Were it not then barbarous even to endeavour the stifling those Passions which have so great an affinity with Virtue? or were it not high Ingratitude, not to acknowledge those mighty ad­vantages we have received from Nature? or is it not Injustice to give such infa­mous denominations to so innocent Subjects, who by our own prudent Conduct, might be easily brought to merit a much less inglorious Cha­racter?

We will state it then as an indu­bitable Aphorism, That the Passions are seeds of Virtue, and that their grand Employ is to fight under her Banners, and revenge all her Quarrels. As the negligence of the Prince, is generally the occasion of the Revolting of his [Page 57]Subjects; so 'tis the weakness of our Reason only that gives birth to the dis­orders of our Passions; the Soul is more to blame than the Body, and the Prince than the People. Doth not our Fear hold an advantageous intelligence with our Enemies? and by observing all their motions, know how to give us such a faithful information, as may prevent our overthrow? We owe indeed most of our Miseries to our having neglected her Advices. Doth not Hope embol­den us, and give us Courage to under­take Enterprizes as difficult, as they are glorious? How weak and languid would our Virtues be, (not to say imperfect) if they were abandoned by Passions? How often has the fear of Ignominy ☞retain'd Soldiers from a shame­ful flight? and the bare appre­hension of a scandal alone has preserv'd Women in that Virtue and Pudicity, which opportunity had almost tri­umph'd over. Nature has made nothing in vain; and since she has given us hopes and fears, let us employ them in propagating Virtue, and expugnating Vice.

There is no Passion which may not be changed into a Virtue.

IN the preceding Discourse, having shewn that the Passions are so many Seeds of Virtue, from whence we may expect most happy, and advantageous productions; we shall here go a step higher, and teach Christians the grand Secret of changing them into absolute Virtues. This operation is difficult, but however not impossible: And Na­ture will assist us with Instructions how to divest them of all their savage and monstrous qualities.

This prudent Mother of all things doth not use so much violence as in­dustry, when she sets about any notable Metamorphosis: She consults the re­spective qualifications of each; she rarifies Air only into Fire, and conso­lidates the Earth too from Minerals; and that Gold which we so much esteem, is the product of a whole Age's industry.

Our Morals must imitate Nature, and consider and weigh the several Proper­ties of each Passion; that we may thereby the more easily change it into a [Page 59]Virtue, which is no ways Heterogene­ous. Prodigality draws nearer Libe­rality than Avarice doth; and a rash Man may sooner be brought to be Cou­ragious, than one who is a natural Cow­ard. In like manner is it with our Pas­sions; some have more Reference to one particular Virtue than another, and the just Application facilitates their Re­duction. Take away that Panick Ter­ror, which ordinarily accompanies Fear, and it becomes Prudence. Hope, that by a happy Anticipation enjoys that Bliss, which is as yet locked up in the Womb of Futurity, may be converted into Assurance. Anger, which arms us to revenge Injuries, is not so far from Justice, but they may be reconciled, since the Purport of both is to punish Crimes. If we love only what is amiable, and hate what is really odious, these are not so much Passions as Virtues; and merit rather to be applauded than stigma­tized.

Sorrow and Despair, Jealousie and Envy, I must confess have a terrible A­spect; and seem rather so many Ex­ecutioners of Divine Justice than Ad­jutants of Virtue. But our Reason must pull off this frightful Masque, and [Page 60]make them appear in less inglorious Forms. A moderated Envy becomes a virtuous Emulation; and Jealousie, when not extream, may assume the Character of Zeal; Sorrow has so many Com­mendations in the very Holy Scriptures themselves, that plainly shew, that if she be not a Virtue, she's highly pro­fitable to it. She it is that raises us from Earth to Heaven, and by despising the deluding flattering Blandishments of this Life, makes us long for those of Eter­nity. What can argue more the Praise and Power of this Passion, than that it appeases even the Anger and Indignation of the Almighty? and no sin was ever produced, before she prepared the way. How can we conclude to the Disadvantage of a Passion, which has more Instances to highten its Merit, than all the others put together? Even our blessed Saviour was seen to weep, but never known to smile. Despair has nothing terrible, but its Name; for con­sidering it Right, it is a prudent Inven­tion of Nature to cure some dangerous Maladies of the Mind. We make a Virtue of Necessity, and out of our Misfortunes gather our Security. De­spair makes us easie, when Desire de­ceives [Page 61]us by its Promises; the one flat­ters us, the other disabuses us: De­spair, by giving a new Force to our Cou­rage, has sometimes gained Victories, for those who were vanquished just be­fore; and the utter Impossibility of re­treating has occasioned an Overthrow to a conquering Army. This Passion has such wonderful Efficacy, that the most brave and circumspect Generals have always avoided the bringing their Enemies to this fatal Necessity; and ap­prehended more the Ruins of an Army, with this Passion alone, than when it was entire, and not as yet conquered. The Poet Lucan had the same Senti­ment of the wretched Remainders of the unfortunate proud Pompey's Army.

To conclude all with the Opinion of St. Austin: Christians make a good use of their Passions, when they employ them to the Glory of Jesus Christ and the Salvation of their own Souls. We have Reason to fear the just Judgments of God, and the Miseries of Damnation: [Page 62]Our Desire is just when its Object is those innumerable and infinite Pleasures which are at God's right-hand for ever more. That Grief is but innocent, which we feel for the Loss of our Liberty, by our first Parent; and when we deplore those many Infirmities our Nature is at present subject to, thereby eagerly pan­ting after the Liberty of the Children of Grace. 'Tis a holy Joy with which we expect the Felicities prepared for us, and by a firm Hope, taste already the Promises of our great Master. Thus being sorrowful for him, and rejoicing in good Works, we convert our Passions into so many glorious and sanctified Virtues.

The Government of our Passions is the Business of Virtue.

THE Condition of Man is so very wretched by sin, that even his Advantages themselves reproach him with his Misery: And his greatest Ex­cellencies, shew him that he is Crimi­nal. The nobler Habits, which embelish his Soul, have only slavish Employs, be­ing engaged in Combats not only diffi­cult, [Page 63]but dishonourable. For the most singular Virtues of Man have no other Occupation than waging War with Vice. That very Prudence which is our Guide, shews us, that we wander not only in Darkness, but in an Enemy's Country too. Temperance points out to us the Disorder of our Constitution, and tea­ches us, that Voluptuousness only flat­ters us to our own Ruine. Justice obli­ges us to confess, that we are not abso­lute Masters of those Goods, we are actually in Possession of; but that as they belong to another Proprietor, so we are but so many Stewards.

Although the Virtues have many Em­ployments here below, yet the most Ne­cessary is the governing the Passions. Nature seems to have given them a Be­ing only to tame these savage and terri­ble Monsters: Some by Cunning, others by Force; some by Menaces, and others by Promises, using several Mediums to accomplish one and the same Design. Prudence enters not into the List, but is rather Moderator or Superintendant, giving all necessary Orders to suppress their Motion, even in its Infancy, there­by to prevent Danger. Temperance in­deed [Page 64]must struggle hard, and that with Enemies, which are so much the more formidable as they are agreeable; and is forced to maintain the Heat of the Action, against all those Passions which flatter our Senses. Yet when she finds her Forces too few for such powerful Adversaries, she calls in the Assistance of Pennance and Austerity, and by so severe Virtues, she triumphs at last over those dissolute Enemies. Fortitude makes us bear up against all the Attacks of Sorrow. But as the Number of Troops are never disadvantagious, pro­vided they are well disciplined; so the Aggregation of Virtues must needs faci­litate our Victory, if we dispose them right. If Temperance can't regulate our immoderate Desires, we must have recourse to Humility and Modesty; per­swading us that the Glory of the World is not due to us, if we are Criminal, nor worthy of us if we are Innocent. When Sorrow proves too powerful and obstinate, we must call in the Assistance of Hope, and take the sweetness of her Promises to animate us to a Conquest. Thus Nature, fortified with the Succors of Grace makes Man Victorious in [Page 65]all these so doubtful Combats: And Virtue regulating the Motions of his Passions, he cannot but enjoy a Tran­quility of Mind, not much inferior to what our wretched Father by his Trans­gression deprived us of.

Of LOVE.

LOve has this Property of the Di­vinity, that we all know that it is, but none know what it is. The Philosophers gave it several Names, all Infamous, not know­ing how to grant a good One to a Passi­on so disorderly; and as the Poets made him a God, so the Platonists thought him a Demon. Aristotle himself, who defined the Soul, would not undertake to do the same by this Passion, leaving Posterity to despair of ever arriving to the Knowledge of a thing whereof he was Ignorant.

But in pursuit of our former Hypo­thesis, we shall still respect Love as the only Passion; his different Motions be­ing but so many Attributes, which have [Page 67]occasion'd some to think they were o­ther Passions. In his Infancy indeed he bears the most glorious Title; for the first inclination which is form'd in the Heart, when a charming Object sweet­ly imposes upon our Will, is term'd Love; when we sally as it were out of our selves, to be united to that Object, 'tis call'd Desire; when he is grown more vigorous, and promises himself success, 'tis Hope; when he is anima­ted against those difficulties which op­pose his satisfaction, 'tis Choler; but in every one of these States 'tis Love too. His first Condition is the Rule of all the rest; for as he is more or less violent in his birth, or to speak more properly, under that circumstance, where­in he still retains the softer appellation of Love, so are the other degrees of his motion more or less rapid; like the Heart, he distributes life and heat to all the depending Members; and he com­mands with so despotick an Authority, that nothing on Earth can parallel it. He makes Monarchs neglect their States, and Generals forget the nicety of Pun­ctilio's of Honour. Emperors have been disobey'd, but Love never; and as the Moon is the occasion of the ebbing and [Page 68]flowing of Rivers, so this powerful ten­der Passion Love, causes all the tran­quillity and distraction in our Soul.

Of the Nature and Properties of Hatred.

ONE would think there were no­thing in Nature more contrary to Man than Hatred is; and since he de­rives his Name from Humanity, he should never be reconcil'd to a Passion, that breaths forth nothing but Blood and Cruelty. However, this is as much a part of his Essence, as Love it self is. And if he has occasion for Love to unite him to those things he desires, he stands in no less need of Hatred, to preserve [Page 74]him from those that might annoy him. The whole Universe subsisteth but by the contrariety of the Elements: If the Waters coolness did not allay the vio­lence of the Fire, the whole World had been long since in Cinders. So is it with the lesser World of Man's Body; did not the radical Moisture, temper the natural Heat, he would perish im­mediately without redress,

Hatred is as necessary a Passion as Love; and we might justly accuse Na­ture of Cruelty or Neglect, if having given us a propensity to Good, she had not also taught us to hate and avoid what we thought not so.

Hatred is in its birth no more than an aversion to any thing that displea­ses us; 'tis an Antipathy of the Appe­tite, or the impression that a disagreea­ble Object makes on the inferior part of the Soul. It has this property in com­mon with Love, that it often prevents our Reason, and is establish'd in our Will, without asking advice of our Judgments. And it has likewise this property different from Love, that we perceive it even in its conception, pro­ceeding from an Object that wounds us, she makes us suffer from her very birth: [Page 75]and is not sooner establish'd in our Breast, but she turns our Tormentor. One moment only is enough to produce her, and if she be not curb'd immediat­ly, she casts Fire and Flame through all the Faculties of the Soul, and like that active Element, converts all it meets with to its Nourishment. Her greatest Evil is, that she dies not so soon as Love doth; when once it hath taken root, it laughs at all attempts of repressing it. Philosophy that boasts such mighty Victories over the Passions, could never cure this Frenzy. I wonder not that Hatred when inveterate, should make some Parents oblige their Children to a perpetual enmity with their Enemies, and so expire cursing them if ever they should hearken to a reconciliation; since it is so impetuous in its motions, that it makes a Man despise his own life to prosecute his Revenge; nay, dye with Joy and Consolation, if he can but crush his Enemy with his own Fall. From hence we may learn the violence of Hatred, that there is no Torment but it despises; no Crime so enormous, but it resolves on it presently to farther its furious Instigations.

If the Properties of this Passion are so very strange, its Effects are fatal. She is the occasion of all the Tragical Actions which swell up History; and indeed he who follows her counsel, is capable of committing any thing. This Hellish Passion taught us, that Man could dye in the Flower of his Age, without any Distemper, and that a Bro­ther was not always safe in the com­pany of his Brother: She gave us first the Cursed Instructions of mixing Poi­son with Drink, and murthering People under the colour of Hospitality. 'Twas she, and not Avarice tore up the bowels of the Earth, to furnish Instruments for her Cruelty. She teaches us to kill Man decently, and makes us approve of a Parricide, if it be but according to Art. In a word, after she has pronounc'd most bloody Sentences as a Judge, she will her self have the pleasure of executing them as a Hang-man.

Of the Nature and Properties of Desire.

DEsire is the Motion of the Soul to­wards a good which it loveth, but is not yet in possession of; from this De­finition we may gather its first and chiefest Property, which is Inequitude.

There can be no real Contentment where this Passion is conceived. Some have voluntarily condemned themselves to horrours and miseries, thinking every Remedy pleasant that cur'd so intolle­rable a Malady. Seneca tells us of a Woman who followed her Son into Ba­nishment, chusing rather the Torments of Exile, than those of regretting her [Page 81]Son's Absence, and desiring his Return. But Nature, who designed this Passion for a Plague, hath given us Hope for to mitigate the Horrours which its Moti­ons create; for 'tis the wretchedness of the damned to desire, without Hope of ever obtaining, and to languish after a Felicity, which 'tis impossible for them to possess. This Torment alone is far more insupportable to them, than the scorching of the inquenchable Flames or the Company of Devils, nay, more sensible than the very Eternity of their Damnation it self.

But 'tis not in Hell alone that this Passion exerts it self in the Rigours of its Cruelty, she afflicts Man here upon Earth; and she is a Minister of Divine Justice, she is also by a Holy Artifice, sub­servient to Mercy. The Innocent and Godly desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ. This Passion gives Life and Motion to all the others in our Soul. Hatred only tortures us, because it desires Revenge; Ambition, because it thirsts after Honours; Avarice, be­cause it longeth after Gold; and all the Passions are only insupportable, be­cause they are attended with Desires, which, like a Contagious Malady, is [Page 82]spreading its fatal Poison through all the Faculties of the Soul, to render Man so much the more miserable.

If Desire be so cruel, she is as shame­ful, for it is as much an Argument of our Indigence as our Affection; for we never desire but Things that we have not. Alexander the Great, who could make Sovereigns of his Slaves, could not accomplish his Desires in other Things: He saw his dear Friend Hephe­stion, at the Point of Death, and could only specifie his Love to him, in the Fervour of his unfeigned Wishes for his Recovery. The Vows he made to Heaven for his Health, were so many evident Proofs of his Weakness and In­capacity, as well as of his Love and Sorrow.

Desires are so many Publick Marks of some Private Necessity; for the Soul that wishes shews its Indigency. This made Tertullian say, That Desire is the Glory of Things desired, and the Shame of the Party desiring; the Honour of Riches, and the Infamy of the Miser; the Reputation of Dignities, but the Scandal of the Ambitious.

Of the Nature and Properties of Eschewing.

VVE should have but too just Reasons of reprehending Na­ture in the dispensing of her Favours, if after having given us an Impression whereby we covet Good, she had not also given us one to avoid Evil; for since we hate it, 'twould be a severe Affliction not to be able to fly it. This Passion seems to be the Daughter of Hatred, or her Hand-Maid at least; she is as impetuous in running from any Object, she appre­hends, as Love is in pursuit of what it de­sires. Her Motions are generally innocent, and rarely Criminal but by surprize. We must then consider, whether the Evil she labours to shun, is really or apparently so: and if Opinion has not perswaded her of an Error, instead of a Truth. There is properly but two things that may be ter­med Evil, that is, Guilt and Pain; yet as we are much more sensible of the one, than of the other, so are we more diligent to a­void it; and there are but few Men, who had not rather be criminal, than mise­rable. We fly the Plague more than Sin; and though we would not live in an Air that were prejudicial to our Health, yet we run daily into Company [Page 87]that robs us of our innocence. Howe­ver, Pain has this great advantage, that it contributes equally to the Salvation of Man and the Glory of God: For he is as much glorified in the punishment of the wicked, as in the rewarding of the Just. Therefore we must adore the Arm that strikes us; and love the stripes for the dear Hand's sake which inflicts them, and teach the whole World, that the Thunderbolts of the Almighty are just, since they who are struck with them even adore them.

Sin is a real Evil, and there ought our aversion to be irreconcilable. There is no motion of it but what is odious; the ir­regularity of the Will is its Cause, and an infiniteness its Object; it violates all Laws, and dishonours both Angels and Man. All the Miseries we suffer here are the punishments of its Disorders. This is the great Evil we must eschew, which has Hell for its place of residence, and Eternal Death for its Chastizement.

Of all the Sins, none seems more pro­perly to stand in need of this Passion to curb it, than that of Lasciviousness; other Passions may jointly be employ'd to combat some Vices, but nothing can be so efficaciously apply'd here as [Page 88]eschewing. No Charms will be so powerful, no Temptation so strong, no Opportunity so favourable, but that if we retire from them, they can't hurt us.

'Tis by this Passion that Chastity is pre­serv'd in the World, and by this that Men retiring from the Earth, become Angels in it, triumphing over the Wiles of the Devil, even in the infirmities of the Flesh.

Since we have so great obligations to this Passion, owing our Salvation part­ly to it; let us consider a few of its Properties: For we ought exactly to know a Passion, to which we stand in­debted for so considerable advantages. 'Tis the reverse of Desire, as Hatred is of Love; and its effects are as powerful as either of them all. 'Tis likewise an argument of our weakness, since by our retreating, we confess we have no other Strength, to surmount an Evil which attacks us.

Of Hope.

THat Art which raises it self from the Earth to contemplate the Hea­vens, and neglects the Beauties here be­low, [Page 89]to gaze on those of the Stars: This Art tell us, that the Sun changes not his Nature, tho' he changeth his Houses; and that the Planet which Eclipses him, doth not diminish his Light. Moralists, who acknowledge no other Sun than Love, confess that he assumes new Influences with new As­pects; and that he alters not his Essence when he varies his Name. But that he accommodates himself to the Sentiments of our Soul, according to the sundry Effects he designs to produce. He is melancholy and dejected under Afflicti­on, violent in Anger, prompt in Desire, cast down in Despair, and easie in Joy: yet he is never so agreeable as in Hope.

This seems to be his Throne, where­on he never sits, but in all his Pomp and Splendor. This is the most gene­rous motion of the Soul; an inciting the Hero to every thing that is glori­ous. At her Solicitations, Alexander undertook the Conquest of Asia, and distributed the Fruits of his Victories to his Captains; and he who thought the whole Universe too narrow for his Sword, was contented with Hope alone for his share of all things. All the Conquerors were her Votaries, not to [Page 90]say her Slaves; and that Ambition which precipitated them into so many Dangers, took all her Councels from this Passion.

Her Empire doth not extend only over Princes, but the meanest Vassals live by her Flatteries. The Husband­man Manures his Land, the Merchant tempts the Constancy of the Seas for gain; and if Hope makes the former strive, by Patience and Industry to over­come the barrenness of the Earth, so she makes the latter trust all to the fury of a more treacherous Element. She is so happy in her Subjects, that we believe her, tho' we have been deceiv'd by her. She knows so well how to give specious Glosses to her new Promi­ses, that upon her word alone, we throw our selves into new Dangers to compass our Designs, which were fru­strated more than once before. There is no condition of Life so very wretch­ed, but 'tis made less intollerable by this Passion; whence came that true, tho' old Proverb; Were it not for Hope the Heart would break; she comforts the Slave in the Gallies, and the Captive in his Bondage; and tho' she deceives us never so often, yet we cannot be brought to renounce her.

Hope is the motion of the Irascible Appetite towards a good, that is absent, difficult, but possible; and if she may be abus'd, whilst indiscreetly em­ploy'd about Futurity, relying too en­tirely on its incertainty, yet she is of great use in Religion, when she is found­ed upon Eternity.

Of Despair.

AMong all the Passions Despair has had the greatest Honour, and the greatest Blame from Antiquity. She was esteem'd the last effort of Courage; which prompted those great Men, whom we still admire, to kill themselves ra­ther than lose their Freedom; and em­ploy Fire, Sword, and Poyson, to de­liver them from the insolency of a victo­rious Enemy. The Orators and Poets have us'd all their Rhetorick and Elo­quence, in describing the Death of Cato: and they have so artificially dis­guis'd this furious Act, that if Faith did not tell us it was execrable, we should still believe it to have been He­roick. Seneca was never so florid upon Virtue as upon this Crime; and one would judge from his Encomium's, that he would perswade all Mankind to De­spair, and all that are unfortunate to be their own Executioners. With what haughty Eloquence he makes the Gods descend, to contemplate Cato's Carcass; and suspend the Felicities of their Eter­nal Mansions, to see a Murtherer wal­lowing [Page 94]in his Gore. But 'tis no won­der he makes so infamous a Murther pass for a Sacrifice, since he makes Drunkenness pass for a Virtue; chusing rather to maintain a Paradox, than that Cato's Reputation should suffer any thing; since he was so severely charg'd with it. Others too rigorous on the other extremity, considering that some following the impetuous motions of this Passion, have fatally dipt their Hands in their own Blood, would by no means admit of our harbouring an Ene­my, that gave us such mortal Counsels.

Both these Opinions are equally un­just: For Nature has shew'd her Care and Indulgence of Man, in nothing more than in giving him this Passion; since thereby he delivers himself from many Evils which oppress him, and to which Philosophy it self could pre­scribe no Remedy.

Love makes us desire, and that very Desire excites such anxious motions in our Breast, whilst we do not compass what we so earnestly long for, that we become miserable, because we can't refrain loving a Good which we do not enjoy. But Despair terminates this wretched uneasiness, which otherwise [Page 95]would not terminate but with our Lives. By a natural Prudence she obliges us to leave off the pursuit, of what she finds impossible to attain, and to kill those Desires which serve only to heighten our Misery. We must accuse our Hope, that too easily engages us in Perils, and commend Despair that delivers us from them: She is indeed more prudent than courageous, and regards rather Safety than Glory; yet when reduc'd to the last push, and that a retreat is impossible, she grows honourably Courageous, re­solving either to Dye or Conquer. She has often snatch'd the Lawrels out of the Hands of the Victorious, and by ef­forts, which might almost pass for Mi­racles in surmounting Nature, she pre­serves Man's Life by making him despise it, and obtains for him glorious Tri­umphs, whilst he sought an honourable Death.

But to make this Passion subservient to our Design, we must keep it from those two dangerous Extreams, Timidity and Timerity. And tho' this Passion is sometimes innocent in Nature, yet it is always criminal in Grace. For our hope being founded on the veracity of God's Holy Word, we can't despair without [Page 96]accusing him, either of insufficiency or untruth. In Religion, Despair is the black­est Sin we can define, and he shews that he merits not to have his Iniquity par­don'd, who despairs that it will be. 'Tis a trampling the Blood of Christ under our Feet: And what made Judas more criminal, then the very betraying of his Master, and Cain, then in the murther­ing his Brother?

God has so equally mix'd his Promi­ses with his Menaces, his Blessings with his Maledictions, throughout the sacred Scriptures, that Man should neither De­spair, nor yet Presume. To assure the former, he has propos'd Repentance, whose Door is open to all that will come in; and to intimidate the latter, who by their delays impose upon his Mercy, he has made the hour of Death uncertain, reducing them hereby to the necessity of apprehending that fatal Moment, which being unknown to every living Crea­ture, may easily surprize us all.

Of Boldness.

IF the difficulties which accompany Virtues, enhance their price, and those are regarded as the most beautiful which are the most painful; Boldness ought to be distinguish'd as the most glorious, since [Page 97]she undertakes to encounter only with what the World produces of terrible and astonishing, proposing no other benefit to it self, of all the many Conquests it gains, but the bare glory of having at­chieved them. Like generous Princes, she leaves the Pillage to the Soldiers, and is satisfied with Honour for her dividend. As this Passion never takes any thing for its Object, but what is both dangerous and difficult, she is rather severe than charming. It is easie to remark in the ve­ry Countenances of those Hero's whom she animates, a certain austerity and fierceness, which argues that her pleasure is in fatigues, and her chiefest diver­sion consisteth in surmounting difficul­ties; she has no Consolation but in glo­ry, and no nourishment but in hope; with these feeble succours she attacks all her Enemies, and gains almost as ma­ny signal Victories, as she gives Battles; she promises nothing, but gives much, and tries sometimes even Impossibilities to accomplish those Promises which Hope had made us; and surmounts all meer difficulties that retard their exe­cution: She is generous in all her de­signs; and tho' they are ever attended with hazards, yet they are for the most [Page 98]part crowned with a happy, but always with a glorious event. And if the blind Piety of the Poets made them ascribe the softer impulses of Love to a Divi­nity, which they styl'd Cupid; the mira­culous effects of this Passion has con­strain'd them to raise Altars to her, and offer up Sacrifices to her under the ap­pellations of Pollas and Bellona.

To make the qualities of this Passion more evident, we will subjoyn some In­stances, to all our antecedent Reasons. Zerxes was the most puissant Monarch that ever was; but gave the most pal­pable demonstration of his Power when he undertook the Conquest of Greece: His Army consisted of no less than two Millions of Men: The Rivers were too small, to make so many but quench their thirst; the Clouds of his Arrows obum­brated the Sun, and this glorious Planet suffered Eclipses which the Astrologers could not foresee in the countenances of the Heavens. All these mighty prepara­tions were to subjugate a Country that was hardly sufficient to afford Quarters for such numerous Troops: However Leonidas possessing himself of the Straits of Thermopile, and entertaining himself between these Mountains, resolv'd to [Page 99]give him Battle, with only 300 Men. Without all dispute Hope and Forti­tude elevated his Courage, and animated this generous Warriour, to an Enterprize equally difficult and glorious. As Hope represented to him the Honour of ha­ving made head against the common E­nemy, and secur'd his Country's Free­dom, prevented their Altars from being raz'd, and their Women from being ra­vish'd; yet Fortitude more sincere in her Counsels, shew'd him the greatness of the peril; setting before Leonidas's Eyes, that tho' his death was inviolable, yet he ought not to quit his Post; there was no necessity of his overcoming, but there was of his dying; and that he should do enough, if in sacrificing his own Life, he could but repel somewhat of the Enemies haughty Fury. Following then the motions of this generous Passion, he resolv'd to sustain the Charge of an Ar­my, which extended beyond the Horizon, and so bid his Soldiers prepare for Com­bate and Death. Thus we see that Hope feeds upon Pleasures, which are imagi­nary, but Fortitude upon pains which are real. The Hope of Success was as much against Reason, as the being over­thrown was inevitable. Yet we know, [Page 100]that this small Handful of Men defend­ed themselves so bravely and so long, that tho' they fell there themselves, yet they might be said to have conquered Zerxes's Army: But at least we must allow that this was the Foundation of his total Defeat; and the so happy event of this resolution, so bravely exe­cuted, encouraged all Greece, and shew­ed them, that so powerful an Enemy was not invincible if they durst dye. The Power of a Prince may make him un­dertake great things, yet nothing inspires so much boldness as Innocence. For she thinks that Heaven it self is obliged to appear in her Cause, in as much as she is without offence.

Of Fear.

THere are some Passions, whose Names belie their Nature, and which are nothing less within, than what they ap­pear without. Hope hath an agreeable Aspect; yet she procures us as many Mi­series, as she promises us Advantages. Fear is look'd upon as the basest of all the Passions, and is thought to be the pure result of an ignoble Spirit. But there is a great deal of Error and Inju­stice in this Sentiment; for she is prudent in effect, only descrying. Evils to shew us how to avoid them; and as Man is expos'd to many Multitudes of various Dangers, that may overwhelm him, this passion is continually upon guard, pry­ing even into futurity it self, to discover a possible danger; which being cauti­ously warded off, secures our Felicity at the same time it prevents any Disaster.

Fear then is a natural prudence, which delivers us from an Evil, by the very Ap­prehension [Page 103]alone she gives us of it, and is not less useful in the Church than in State. The fear of eternal Punishments, first made Man seek to appease the irri­tated Gods, to build Temples, erect Al­tars, burn incense, and Immolate Sacrifi­ces. And tho' Religion bids us love God for his own worthiness sake, yet 'tis highly to be presum'd, that Fear has made the most of his Votaries; nay, sav'd more guilty Souls than Hope it self. The fear of God (says the Divine Text) is the beginning of Wisdom; that is, in other words, the supporter of Virtue, and the foundation of Piety. Vice would grow insolent, and the Law of no use, had not Nature plac'd this Passion in Man's Soul, and made the most hardy Criminal apprehend Punishment: And the Judge can give Sentence but upon what he knows; yet this faithful Mini­ster of God's Vengeance, makes the Guil­ty tremble in the midst of their Friends, and enjoy neither rest nor security either in Cities or Deserts.

This may serve for one Instance, that our Nature is not entirely corrupted, since she retains still in the midst of all those Imperfections which environ her, an abhorrence and hatred of Sin, as well [Page 104]as a fear and dread of Punishment. Wheresoe'er we hide our selves, the se­cret remorses of our Consciences go with us; assuring us that there is a Divinity, which sees the most secret transactions of our Lives, and punishes them after our Death. Of those many thousands of Christians, who confess and acknowledge Christ, there are but few that stand not more indebted to their Fear than their Love, and endeavour to purchase Heaven, only to secure them from Hell; loving God's Mercy, because they fear his Ju­stice. And 'tis no small matter, that this Passion (by its motions) should open a Door of Salvation to the ungodly, and shew Sinners the way to Virtue.

If she is thus beneficial in Affairs of Religion, she is no less in Affairs of State. We live alas! no longer in that happy Age when Friendship united Man­kind, and superseded Laws; when Love banish'd Injustice from the face of the Earth. No, now our Love to our selves is establish'd in hating our Neighbour; and we must restrain them by Fear, whom we cannot win by Affection: We erect Gibbets to terrify the Criminal, and invent Tortures to render Death more horrid; that so what was an indispensable [Page 105]Tribute of Nature, should by this means become a Chastizement of Iniquity.

Nature has not given us this Passion to be a Torment to us, but a Security, for she considers only those Dangers that are avoidable: If once she finds them inevitable, she leaves off the intentions of strugling with them; vain efforts are to be condemn'd in every thing; so we must support what we cannot shun. Who would not judge Fear to be the Guar­dian of our Repose, who studies nothing but our security, and only gives us an Alarm, that we may prepare to oppose an Enemy who cometh to invade it? But as there are some Accidents, which our Prudence can't fore-see, nor our Cou­rage vanquish, we must not be astonish­ed if some others surprize Fear, and get the better of a Passion, after having tri­umph'd over two glorious Virtues.

Of Anger.

ANger draws its strength from the other many Passions, whereof she [Page 107]is compos'd; & seems couragious only be­cause she is so well seconded. Sorrow rai­ses her, Desire stirs her up to Revenge, Hope sustains her there, & Boldness carries her on to the accomplishing what she vi­olently affects. For when we find it impo­ssible to get that Revenge we proposed to our selves, our Anger sinks into Sadness, & loses both its Name and its Nature.

We may then define Anger to be a Motion of the Sensitive Appetite, seek­ing after a Revenge for an Injury com­mitted; she thinks that she is always reasonable, because she has always Ju­stice on her side. She has depopulated Cities, and made Deserts of whole Provinces; she has dethron'd a thousand Monarchs; sacrificed some even in the very midst of their Guards; and that august Glory which shines on a Sove­reign's Brow, could not secure them from feeling the terrible Effects of this Passi­on. Yet in all these Devastations, she believes her self innocent, and that she has but exacted a just Satisfaction for the Injuries she had receiv'd. Thus after having call'd in the Assistance of For­titude to perpetrate her Cruelties, she summons Reason to justifie such Proceed­ings. She sows Discord in private [Page 108]Families, Enmity between Man and Wife, and Civil Wars in a Common­wealth. Envy, with all its Malignity and Rancour, is contented with the Wishing Evil, and leaves the Event to Destiny; but this savage Passion (more criminal than all the others together) prevents the Rigours of Fate, and takes a pleasure in making others mi­serable; nor doth she think their Pu­nishment severe enough, if she has not her self a Hand in the inflicting it. The Poverty of some Nations secures them from Ambition, Pride, Voluptuousness, and Avarice; but none were ever ex­empted from the tyranny of this Pas­sion; it reigns equally amongst the Bar­barians and those who are civilized, and employs Bows, and Arrows, and Slings to execute its Fury, where it has not as yet introduced the use of Artillery and Swords.

The most troublesom Condition of this fatal Passion is that the smallest oc­casion is enough to excite it; a wrye Look, a Mistake, a cross Word, a Jest from a Friend or a smart Repartee from any one, sets all in a flame in a Moment. In the very instant of its Birth, it is at full Growth, and if the other Passions [Page 109]may be said to push us forward, this may as truly be said to precipitate us. Since she is so very hasty, no wonder if she be inconsiderate likewise, and makes us often commit an unpardonable Crime, in revenging a small Affront, and expose our Lives to accomplish our Satisfaction for some imaginary Injury.

Of Pleasure.

IF Hope is thought to merit so many and so high Encomiums, as that she [Page 113]is the most charming agreeable Passion that rises in Mans Soul, and that which flatters our senses with the most sensible delectation; what shall we say of Plea­sure, which is the delicious fruitwhere­of the other was but a bud, or blossom at most? This is the effect, and the other was but a fair promise. This is the motion of the Soul that terminates all the rest: As Love is the commencement, this is the consummation, and in all the different forms which Love assumes, he is the most agreable in this; in all the others, he is mix'd with troubles, dangers, fatigues, hardships, and as many various miseries as he is metamorphos'd into different shapes; yet in this of Pleasure he is ab­solutely all the desires; he is at once victorious, triumphant, and happy.

Pleasure is the fruition of an agree­able good which renders the Soul satis­fied, interdicting any motion of desire, sorrow, or fear; this definition excludes all those delights our Memory furnishes us with, in the recollection of a past Fe­licity: Those shadows of Joy may serve to entertain our thoughts with, but are not solid enough to constitute a real [Page 114]Tranquillity; It being as natural to regret a Felicity which we have lost, as desire one that is absent from us: As also all those infamous Pleasures which Volup­tuousness creates; the pain of desiring them exceeds by much the delectation of fruition: They are such Mortal Ene­mies of our quiet, that they are never enjoy'd without rendring us miserable, as well as criminal, at one fatal stroke wounding both Soul and Body.

True Pleasure is never so agreable as when 'tis extream; the greater it is, the more it ravishes us. The solid satis­faction of a rational Creature consisteth in the Mind, and Man cannot be con­tented if the more noble part of his Sy­stem is not happy. The knowledge of Truth, and the practice of Virtue ought to be his great divertisement: He must follow the most pure of his inclinations, and in the composition of his Body he must labour rather to please the Angel, than gratifie the Beast. He must remem­ber that the Body is but the Slave of the Soul, and in his choice of Pleasures, he ought to give the Deference to the Sovereign. If any man is of a contrary sentiment, we cannot but conclude that Sin, which depriv'd him of Grace, has [Page 115]robb'd him likewise of his Understand­ing and Reason too. The pleasures of the Senses are limited, but those of the Soul are not so: That sweet Odour which gratifies the Smel, pleases no other Sense. Musick, which ravishing the Soul from the Body, puts us in Heaven with the glorious Cherubims, has no effect but upon the Ear. Virtue satisfies every fa­culty of the Soul, and indeed she is never contented by halves; what charms her in one power is diffusive, and her Joy becomes universal. The happiness of the Body is but a shadow, and its felicity but an empty vain appearance: Whilst that of the Soul is real, solid, and sub­stantial, not to be taken away from them who possess it, even by death it self, but what will accompany them in­to a happy Eternity.

Of Sorrow.

THis Passion seems to be natural to Man; the others but accidental: Few Parts of our Body are Partakers of our Pleasures, or capable of receiv­ing any one Particular: But no Part of us, but alas! is sensible of Pain, Sorrow and Grief. The Spirit is dejected, and the Eyes mourn; Sadness displays it self through the whole Oeconomy. The very deplorableness of our State doth argue Pain to be more essential to us than Pleasure. We are born in Tears, we live in Sorrow, and dye in Sighs. For one vain, transient and imaginary Plea­sure, we feel a thousand real weighty Evils. And what is a farther Confirma­tion of the Misery of our Condition, we are much more sensible of Pain than Pleasure. A small Distemper de­stroys all our most solid Contentment; [Page 118]a Fit of the Gout or Stone, is capa­ble to make a Conqueror forget his Lawrels, and the Pomp of all his Tri­umphs.

Grief is a real Evil that attacks both Soul and Body at once, making a double Wound at each Blow. When the Body is necessitated to undergo the sharpness of Tortures, the rigours of the Seasons, and the violence of Di­stempers, the Soul is obliged to sigh with her, and that Bond which unites them, makes their Misery common; she apprehends Wounds, tho' she is in­vulnerable, and Death, tho' she is im­mortal; and this only by reason of that strict Communication, which she has with the Body. We all agree, that the Soul cannot be happy, whilst the Body is miserable; and to confirm us in this Opinion, we know that the Soul of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, tho' it was happy in it self, yet it was pier­ced with Grief, when he said to his Disciples, My Soul is sorrowful even unto death: And the Felicity of his Divinity seem'd to be suspended during his Agony; for it was not without Cause that he cry'd, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

The Soul is much more happy than the Body by this Union; for by the very Reflection on a past Misery she creates to her self new Pains whereof the Body feels no part, and so of but one only Evil she makes a double Mar­tyrdom.

The effect of this melancholy Passi­on are very strange; for when Sorrow is not extreme, she is ingenious, and ren­ders Man Eloquent without the benefit of Rhetorick; to hear their pathetick Expressions, that multitude of Sighs, that so easily second the energy of their lu­gubrous Discourses, one would think that the greatest horrours and anguish of Nature, were infinitely less than what they groan under. But when she is ex­treme, she stupifies, hardly leaving Man the use of any Sense; and who was so florid in describing a small Evil, confes­ses by his silence, that this is without comparison greater, since it is unuttera­ble. Curae leves loquuntur, magnae stupent. This mighty alteration gave occasion to the Poets to feign, that it Converted some into Rocks, others into Stones.

The Conclusion.

FRom all these Discourses 'tis easie to judge, that there is no Passion in our Souls, which may not be advanta­geously managed by Reason as well as Grace. For to summ up all what has been said in the whole Work; Love [Page 123]may be chang'd into a holy Amity, and Hatred may be brought to a just Indig­nation. Desires moderated are so ma­ny good Assistants, to acquire Virtue. Eschewing is the proper security of Cha­stity: Hope animates us to brave and generous Undertakings, and our Despair turns us from rash ones: Fear is service­able to Prudence, and Boldness to Va­lour: As brutish as Anger seems, she sides with Justice: Joy is an innocent Ante­past of Felicity: Grief a short pain, that frees us from Eternal Torments: So that our Salvation depends only upon the good use of our Passions, and Vir­tue it self, only subsisteth by the good employment of the Motions of our Soul.