Epictetus his Morals, with Simplicius his comment made English from the Greek, by George Stanhope ... Manual. English Epictetus. 1694 Approx. 835 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 281 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A38504 Wing E3153 ESTC R10979 13011412 ocm 13011412 96489

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A38504) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 96489) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 737:18) Epictetus his Morals, with Simplicius his comment made English from the Greek, by George Stanhope ... Manual. English Epictetus. Simplicius, of Cilicia. Commentarius in Enchiridion Epicteti. English. Stanhope, George, 1660-1728. [16], 552 [i.e. 536], [8] p. Printed for Richard Sare ..., and Joseph Hindmarsh ..., London : 1694. Running title: Simplicius's commentary upon Epictetus, &c. First edition of this translation. Errata: p. [7] at end. Advertisement: p. [8] at end. Reproduction of original in Cambridge University Library.

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eng Epictetus. -- Manual. 2006-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-12 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-02 Sampled and proofread 2007-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

EPICTETƲS HIS MORALS, WITH SIMPLICIƲS HIS COMMENT.

Made Engliſh from the Greek.

BY GEORGE STANHOPE, Late Fellow of King's-College in Cambridge.

LONDON: Printed for Richard Sare, at Gray's-Inn-Gate in Holborn, and Ioſeph Hindmarſh, againſt the Exchange in Cornhil, 1694.

IMPRIMATUR,

C. ALSTON. Feb. 1 ſt, 1693/4.
To the Worthily Honoured WILLIAM GORE, of Tewing, in the County of Hertford, Eſq. SIR,

TO omit the many trifling Pretences commonly made uſe of upon theſe Occaſions, I ſhall think this Dedication abundantly juſtified, by only alledging one thing in its Excuſe, That every Man is by no means duly prepared to Read, or Reliſh; much leſs is every Man of Quality, a proper Patron for Epictetus.

So Exquiſite a Piece of Morality, requires not only a Good Underſtanding, but a Virtuous and Well Diſpoſed Mind, a Serious Senſe of the Dignity of a Reaſoning Soul, and a due Care to keep up its Character; Affections raiſed above the Sordid Enjoyments of the World, and a fix'd Opinion, that the Trouble we are at about theſe things, ought not to be eſteemed the Buſineſs, but the Great Misfortune and Incumbrance of Humane Life; a ſteddy Government of the Paſſions, and a Temper Even and Eaſie, Affable and Obliging. Without theſe Qualifications, or ſome good Advances toward them, a Man's Palate can never ſtand to the following Reflections; and the moſt excellent Rules of Living, would be entertain'd with coldneſs and contempt.

Whether I have done this Author Reaſon in the following Tranſlation, is neither poſſible nor proper for me to determine: But though that performance were allowed to be never ſo perfect, it is yet a very neceſſary Advantage, and indeed a Right due both to him and my ſelf, to take Sanctuary in the Goodneſs of a Perſon who knows the better how to Pardon, becauſe he knows how to Judge; and whoſe Virtues have already not only approved, but tranſcribed, and by the beſt, the Chriſtian Morality have even Corrected and Refined upon all the moſt valuable Parts of this Book.

How far this is your caſe, I will not, I need not take upon me to determine; all Sir, that have the Happineſs to know you, will do it for me: Permit me only to cloſe this Addreſs, with my moſt ſincere Wiſhes, that you may long continue an Ornament to Learning, Religion, and your own Family, a publick Bleſſing to your Country and your Friends, and that I may have the honour of being ever acknowledged in that Number. One Teſtimony whereof, will be the accepting theſe Profeſſions which I am now deſirous to make to the World, of my being with all poſſible Reſpect,

Sir, Your moſt Obliged, And moſt Humble Servant, GEORGE STANHOPE. Leviſham, Feb. 1ſt, 1694.
THE PREFACE.

I Do not give the Reader this Trouble out of any Intent to make an Apology for ſhewing the following Book in Engliſh; for ſure the rendring ſuch admirable Inſtructions as diffuſive as it is poſſible, cannot need an Excuſe. Nor do I intend to give him a tedious Account of the Performance it ſelf; but ſhall only ſay, that it hath been my Endeavour to expreſs the Author's Senſe with all the Eaſineſs and Freedom I could, ſo as to decline both the Slavery of a Literal, and the Licentiouſneſs of a Looſe and Luxuriant Interpretation.

My Deſign at preſent, is only to make ſome neceſſary Reflections upon thoſe Parts of the Stoical Philoſophy which are apt to prejudice Men againſt it, and tempt ſome Perſons from theſe extravagant Syſtems of Moral Perfections to think, (at leaſt to plead in Vindication of their own Exceſſes) that the Generality of Rules preſcribed for the Reforming our Manners, are Things too nicely thought, ſublime, airy, and impracticable Speculations.

It is not my Purpoſe, nor ought it to be any Man's, to vindicate theſe, or any other Maſters of Heathen Morality, in every particular Notion they advanced. But I must beg Leave to put my Reader in mind, what is the proper Advantage to be made of theſe Errors; and that ſure is not to run down Morality as an empty Name, (which they muſt be allowed, in deſpight of all the Aggravations their Failings are capable of, to have done excellent Service to,) but to diſcern in this the Wiſdom of Almighty God, who in the midſt of his moſt liberal Endowments, never ſuffered the greateſt Heathens to be without ſome notable Defect of Judgment, but ever debaſed their Knowledge with an Alloy of Ignorance and Folly; And that, no doubt, to create in us a more juſt Eſteem and Veneration for his own Chriſtian Philoſophy, to which alone this Perfection was reſerved, of Truth without Error, and Light without Darkneſs.

I think it therefore my Duty, ſo far to comply with the Objector in condemning theſe Schemes of Ethicks, as to ſhew upon this Occaſion, That the Principles of Religion have exalted our Virtues, and adjuſted the meaſures of them infinitely better than any Humane Inſtitutions were ever able to do. For, though the Stoicks are moſt deſervedly admired for their Noble Notions in theſe Matters above any other Sect, and the brave Attempts they made towards the reducing Nature to its Primitive Purity and Perfection; yet, I think it cannot fairly be denied, that in their Way of Treating the Paſſions and Powers of the Soul, they much overſhot the Mark, and have quite miſtaken the Caſe. How far it is poſſible to go, in ſubduing the Paſſions abſolutely, I ſhall not now Diſpute; but take it for granted, that the generality of People might do a great deal more in it, than they either do, or imagine they can do: And that Sloath, which is the prevailing Vice, and the moſt fatal Obſtruction to a good and happy Life, affrights us with many Difficulties and Diſcouragements, by no means of Nature's, but entirely of our own making. Yet to deliver our ſelves from thoſe inward Commotions, which are viſible Ocoaſions of ſo much Miſchief, we muſt not preſently paſs a raſh and rigorous Sentence of utter Exciſion upon them, but try ſome gentler and more prudent Method, becauſe the ſame things are equally capable of producing a great deal of good.

Theſe are indeed the ſecret Springs that move and actuate us; and all the Care incumbent upon the Governing Part of the Mind, is to ſet them right, and at a true Pitch, that ſo every Motion which flows from thence, may be Juſt and Regular. They are like the Acid in our Stomachs, that conſtantly provokes and renews our Appetites, and prevents the moſt neceſſary functions of Life, from becoming flat and nauſeous to us. And accordingly, he who contrived, and conſequently muſt be beſt acquainted with our Frame, found them neceſſary to inſpire and invigorate this heavy Maſs; He ſaw, that thus to eaſe us of all our Pains, would be to rob us at the ſame time, of all our Pleaſures; and for this reaſon he hath made Promiſes and Threatnings, Rewards and Puniſhments, the Gayeties and Anxieties of Heart, (all which are but ſo many different ways of working upon our Paſſions,) the moſt proper and powerful Inducements to the beſt Religion in the World. So that in truth, the main, I might ſay the whole of our Duty and Happineſs, conſiſts not in ſtifling theſe Affections, and condemning them to a State of utter Inactivity, but in moderating and regulating them: And no Degree of Love, or Hatred, or Deſire, or Fear, or Anger, or Grief, or any other ſimple Paſſion, can be too intenſe when placed upon worthy Objects, and directed to worthy Ends.

The ſame Difficulty lies againſt Stoiciſm, with regard to Civil Society, and the mutual Concern we feel for one another. For ſome Rules given here, if literally and ſtrictly followed, may ſeem to threaten the Deſtruction of all Natural Affection and Charity among Men; which therefore Chriſtianity hath taken into its peculiar Care and Protection. It repreſents Temporal Afflictions as Chaſtiſements, and expects we ſhould feel the Smart, in Order to be amended by the Rod. It remits us for Comfort to higher and better Conſiderations, and does not amuſe us with vain Notions, that theſe Things neither touch nor ought to affect us; but tells us, That the more ſenſibly they do ſo, the more glorious the Improvement and the Reward is capable of being made. It inſpires Compaſſion and good Nature, and the tendereſt Reſentments of other Peoples Misfortunes. It commands no Man to attend the Funeral Obſequies of his Friend or Deareſt Relation, with a gay or perfectly compoſed Countenance, as knowing very well, that this Behaviour is Barbarous and Brutiſh; and that what ſome have called Philoſophy and Conſtancy in ſuch Caſes, may ſeem rather the Effect of Stupidity, or Sullenneſs, or Pride; that this is an imaginary Perfection, which Few ever did, and None ought to attain to: And, in a word, that the Exceſs and Inordinacy of our Paſſions is the only Thing blameable in them. Againſt which therefore it makes ample Proviſion; ſuch as offers no Violence to the Original Softneſſes of Humane Nature, but preſerves all thoſe Reſpects entire which we owe to our ſelves and to one another; ſuch as may be uſed with a very good Grace, and ſuch as will be moſt effectual, when rightly applied.

This Cenſure is no more than what appeared to me highly ſeaſonable and expedient to convince the moſt partial Admirers of Heathen Philoſophy, that wherein ſoever thoſe Syſtems of Morality differ from the Chriſtian, they are manifeſtly inferiour to them. In other Points we can ſcarce give them greater Commendation than they really deſerve: And among them all, I know none that challenges more Eſteem than this Book. The Inſtructions are ſo wiſe, the Alluſions ſo lively, the Exhortations ſo moving, and the Arguments ſo ſtrong, that they may well be allowed not only to convince our Reaſon, but to excite our greateſt Admiration. The Application is ſo eaſie, by a light Change of Philoſophy into Religion, and the Plurality of Divine Beings into the one only True God, that any conſidering Chriſtian may here find a Scheme of what Himſelf ought to be. And except ſome particular Subtleties in the Firſt, Thirteenth, Thirty Fourth, and Thirty Eighth Chapters, (which I mention here particularly, that the more unlearned Readers may, if they pleaſe, paſs them over, without ſuffering themſelves to be prejudiced againſt the reſt of the Book) the Arguments are ſo plain and ſubſtantial, as to recommend themſelves to the Senſe, and to Sute the Capacity of every Common Man. But it muſt be remembred again, what is the proper Benefit of ſuch Writings, and that, no doubt, muſt be, to let us ſee what a Reproach the Perfection of theſe Ancients is to us at this Day. And I heartily wiſh, that the preſent Treatiſe may have its due Influence upon every One who ſhall peruſe it; by provoking them to a holy Emulation and generous Diſdain, that Epictetus his Proficient ſhould outdo any Profeſſor of the Goſpel, who walks by a clearer Light, and excels in every Advantage of Goodneſs, except ſuch as he wilfully denies to himſelf, thoſe of Conſideration and Reſolution, and an active Zeal.

G. S.
EPICTETƲS HIS ENCHIRIDION, With SIMPLICIƲS HIS COMMENTARY, Made Engliſh.

IF the Reader be curious to know Epictetus's Character, he may find it at large in an Account of his Life and Death, written by Arrian, who alſo compiled the Diſcourſes of Epictetus, and digeſted them into ſeveral diſtinct Tracts. The ſame Arrian compoſed this very Book too, which goes by the Name of Enchiridion, being a Collection out of Epictetus's Diſcourſes, of ſuch Remarks and Rules as he thought moſt ſeaſonable and neceſſary, and moſt likely to affect Mens Minds. For thus much Arrian himſelf declares in his Epiſtle Dedicatory to Meſſalinus, to whom he addreſſed this Book, as being both a particular Friend of his, and an exceeding Admirer of Epictetus. (Though the ſame Things indeed, and delivered in almoſt the ſame Expreſſions, lye ſcattered up and down in thoſe Writings of Arrian which are called Epictetus's Diſcourſes.)

The principal Deſign of this Book (if Men would but ſuffer themſelves to be wrought upon by it, and not think it ſufficient to give him the Hearing only, but let it ſeriouſly affect their Minds, and would reduce what they read into Practice) is, To ſet our Souls as Free, as when their Great Father and Creator firſt gave them to us, to diſengage them from all thoſe ſlaviſh Fears and confounding Troubles, and other Corruptions of Humane Nature, which are wont to ſubdue and tyrannize over them.

It is called an Enchiridion, or Manual, becauſe all Perſons, who are deſirous to live as they ought, ſhould be perfect in this Book, and have it always ready at hand: A Book of as conſtant and neceſſary uſe as the Sword (which commonly went by this Name, and from whence the Metaphor ſeems to be taken) is to a Soldier.

The Diſcourſes are lively and moving; and all but the Stupid and Sottiſh muſt needs be affected with them: And, though not all equally, yet all in ſome degree: And it is to be hoped, they will be ſo affected, as to be made ſenſible of their own Failings, and Infirmities; and Meſſalinus.] So Salmaſius proves it ought to be read, and not Maſgalenus. See his Note on the Place. awakened into ſerious Thoughts and Endeavours of Reformation. In ſhort, That Man that can read theſe Reflections, without any Impreſſion or Concern at all, is loſt to all the Methods of Amendment in this World, and can only be made wiſer by the The Fiery Diſcipline of the next.] This Expreſſion proceeds upon an Opinion of the Pythagoreans and Platonists, which ſuppoſed Men (like Metals) to be refined from their Droſs, and their paſt Offences to be puniſhed by ſeveral ſorts of Tortures after Death; but theſe to be in the Nature of Corrections as well as Puniſhments. From them the Doctrine of Purgatory ſeems to have been derived; and indeed many other Erroneous Opinions among Chriſtians, were either the Remains or the Improvement of ſome fond Conceits and odd Expreſſions among the Old Philoſophers. This is plain in the Gnoſtick and Valentinian Hereſies particularly. Fiery Diſcipline of the Next.

The Inſtructions he gives, are built upon Humane Nature, and the Foundation of them all is Man, conſidered as a Rational Soul, making uſe of the Body as its Inſtrument of Operation. Upon this Account, he allows all thoſe innocent Pleaſures which Nature requires, and ſuch as are neceſſary to keep up a Succeſſion of Mankind in the World; and ſo he does likewiſe the Enjoyment of ſuch other Things, as the Condition of the preſent Life makes deſirable to us: But then it is conſtantly with this Reſerve, that the Reaſoning Faculty preſerve its own Liberty, ſo as not to be enſlaved to the Body, or any of its ſenſual Inclinations, but be conſtantly raiſing it ſelf up above theſe, and aſpiring to the Enjoyment of its own proper Happineſs. So that of all Outward Things which are commonly eſteemed good, thoſe that can any way conduce to the promoting our real Happineſs, we may take the Advantage of, provided it be done with due Temper, and Moderation. But, as for ſuch as are wholly inconſiſtent with that True Good, we are abſolutely forbidden the having any thing at all to do with them.

One very remarkable Excellency theſe Writings have, That they render all, who govern themſelves by them, truly happy in preſent, and do not content themſelves with turning Men over to a long Payment, by diſtant Promiſes of their Virtues being rewarded in a Future State. Not but that there moſt certainly ſhall be ſuch a State, and ſuch Rewards. For it is impoſſible, that that Being, which ſerves it ſelf of the Body, and its Appetites and Affections as ſo many Inſtruments to act by, ſhould not have a diſtinct Nature of its own; a Nature, that continues entire, after theſe are loſt and deſtroyed; and conſequently, muſt needs have a Perfection of its own too, peculiar and agreeable to its Eſſence and Nature. Now, though we ſhould ſuppoſe the Soul to be mortal, and that It and the Body periſh both together; yet he that lives according to theſe Directions, will be ſure to find his Account in them; for he cannot fail of being a truly happy Man, becauſe he attains to the Perfection of his Nature, and the Enjoyment of that Good which is accommodated to a Rational Soul. And thus the Body of a Man, which is confeſſedly mortal, enjoys its own proper Happineſs, and can ask nothing farther, when it attains to all that Vigor and Perfection that the Nature of a Body is capable of.

The Diſcourſes themſelves are ſhort and ſententious; much after the manner of thoſe Precepts which the Pythagoreans call their Memorandums or Moral Inſtitutions: Though among theſe indeed, there is ſome ſort of Method and Connexion, and a mutual Relation almoſt all through; as will appear hereafter, when we come to conſider them particularly. And theſe Obſervations and Maxims, though they be put into diſtinct Chapters, are yet all upon one Subject, and belong to the ſame Science; viz. That of Amending the Life of Man. They are all directed to one and the ſame End; which is, To rouze and invigorate the Reaſonable Soul, that it may maintain its own Dignity, and exert all its Powers in ſuch Operations as are agreeable to uncorrupt Nature.

The Expreſſions are perſpicuous and eaſie but yet it may not be amiſs, a little to explain and enlarge upon them: and that, as well for the Writer's own ſake, who by this means will be more ſenſibly affected, and carried to a cloſer and deeper Conſideration of the Truths contained in them; as for the Reader's Benefit, who, perhaps, not being very converſant in ſuch kind of Writings, will be led into a more perfect Underſtanding of them by theſe Explanations.

Now the firſt Thing to be cleared upon this Occaſion is, What ſort of Perſons theſe Inſtructions were deſigned for; and what Virtues eſpecially they are capable of cultivating in the Men that ſubmit to be directed by them.

And firſt, it is plain they are not proper for the Man of Conſummate Virtue, who hath abſolutely purged away all the Dregs of Humane Nature: for he (ſo far as his mortal State will admit of ſuch Perfection) makes it his Buſineſs to diveſt himſelf of Fleſh and Senſe, and all the Appetites and Paſſions that attend and ſerve the Body; and is entirely taken up with the Improvement of his own Mind. Much leſs can they ſute the Circumſtances of a ſpeculative Virtue, which is a Degree ſtill higher than the former. For ſuch a Perſon is exalted even above the Rational Life, and attains to a ſort of God-like Contemplation. They are adapted then more peculiarly to an inferiour Rank, who lead their Lives according to the Dictates of Reaſon, and look upon the Body as an Inſtrument of Action, contrived for the Uſe of the Soul: That do not confound theſe two, nor make Either a part of the Other; nor the Body and Soul both as equally conſtituent parts of Humane Nature. For he that ſuppoſes the Man, ſtrictly ſpeaking, to conſiſt of Body as well as Soul, hath a Vulgar Notion of Things; is depreſt and ſunk down into Matter; hath no more Pretenſions to Reaſon, than a Brute; and ſcarce deſerves the Name of Man. He that would anſwer that Character in good earneſt, and aſſert the Dignity and Prerogative of his Nature, by which God hath diſtinguiſhed him from Beaſts, muſt take care to preſerve his Soul, as Nature requires it ſhould be, in a State of Superiority over the Body; ſo as to uſe and manage it, not as a part of the ſame common Nature, out as an Inſtrument wholly at its Government and Diſpoſal. And ſuch a Perſon as this, is the proper Object of thoſe Moral and Political Vertues which the following Diſcourſes are intended to excite Men to.

That the Real Eſſence of a Man, is his Rational Soul, Socrates hath undertaken to demonſtrate, in that Dialogue which Plato gives us, between him and his beloved Alcibiades. And Epictetus, proceeding upon this Foundation, directs his Scholars what ſort of Practices and Converſation are proper to make a Man thus framed by Nature perfect. For as the Body gathers Strength by Exerciſe, and frequently repeating ſuch Motions as are natural to it; ſo the Soul too, by exerting its Powers, and the Practice of ſuch things as are agreeable to Nature, confirms it ſelf in Habits, and ſtrengthens its own natural Conſtitution.

I would not have the Reader take it ill to be detained a little longer from the following Diſcourſes only, whilſt I preſent him with ſo neceſſary an Introduction to them, as the explaining a little this Notion, which Epictetus all along takes for a granted Truth, viz. That the Real Eſſence of the Man is his Rational Soul, which makes uſe of the Body as its Inſtrument of Action. For Epictetus ſets before us the Operations peculiar to ſuch a Perſon, and becoming his Character; and then makes it his Buſineſs to excite all his Scholars to get a perfect-Knowledge, and employ themſelves in the conſtant Practice of them: That by ſuch daily Exerciſe we may, as I ſaid, give the finiſhing Stroke to Nature, and be as perfect as our Condition is capable of being. This is the Ground Epictetus goes upon, which he does not at all attempt to prove, but takes it, (as I ſaid,) for a Fundamental Truth, ſufficiently plain, and acknowledged before.

But the Method in which Socrates proceeds, is this: He makes uſe of clear and familiar Examples, and tells us, That a Man in Cutting (for inſtance) uſes his Knife, and he uſes his Hand too: Then, inferring from hence, that the Thing uſed, conſidered as an Inſtrument, is different from that which employs it; he concludes, that it is the Man which employs the Body as an Inſtrument. Now in truth, it is the Rational Soul, and nothing elſe, that imploys this Body in the Exerciſe of Arts and Trades, and all manner of Operations. From hence again he draws this farther Inference, That that which employs the Body, hath the Government and Di poſal of what it ſo employs. And then he forms his Argument into this Disjunctive Syllogiſm, Either the Soul alone, or the Body alone, or both together, muſt needs be the Man. Now if the Man have the command of the Body, and the Body cannot command nor diſpoſe of it ſelf; then it is evident, that the Body alone cannot be the Man. It is evident again, that Body and Soul together cannot be the Man, for the very ſame reaſon; for if the Man have the Government of the Body, and the Body it ſelf have no part of that Government; then it is plain this prerogative does not extend to Soul and Body both, and therefore both cannot be the Man. But, in ſhort, if the Body in its own Nature be void of all Life and Motion, and if it be the Soul which animates and moves it, (as we ſee in Handicraft Trades, the Work-man is the Principle of Motion, and the Tools have none but what they derive from him,) then it follows that the Body is to the Soul, what a Tool is to the Artificer: And conſequently, that the Soul being the Original of all Operation, is truly and properly the Man.

So then, whoever would make the Man his Care, muſt conſult the advantage and improvement of the Soul, and purſue the Happineſs peculiar to this: For he that beſtows his pains upon the Body, does not (it ſeems) advance himſelf, and his own Good, (properly ſpeaking) but only that of his Inſtrument. Much more extravagant and abſurd is it then to lay himſelf out upon Riches, or any External Advantages of that kind; becauſe in ſo doing, he purſues a very Foreign Intereſt, one much more diſtant than the former: For he neither makes the Man, nor the Man's Inſtrument, the Object of his Care; but all terminates in thoſe things which make for the Convenience of this Inſtrument only.

Epictet. Enchiridion. CHAP. I.

All things whatſoever may be divided into Two Sorts; thoſe that are, and thoſe that are not within our own Power: Of the former ſort are our Opinions and Notions of Things, Affections.] This is the moſt convenient Rendring I could think of, for the Greek 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ; which though the Latine Impetus may do right to, yet I queſtion whether any Engliſh Word will fully expreſs it: If any, this of Affection, which yet I do not ſo nicely confine my ſelf to in this Tranſlation, as not to render it by Paraphraſe in ſome Places. But I muſt own, that in the midſt of my Doubts, what to expreſs it by generally, the Authority of our Learned Gataker in his Latine, and of Meric Caſuab. in his Engliſh Tranſlation of Antoninus, very much prevailed with me, who hath both choſen this Expreſſion for it in that Paſſage of his Book, which ſeems very pertinent and directing to this purpoſe. Lib. III. Sect. XVI. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Gat. Affectus; Caſub. Affections. Our Affections, our Deſires, and our Averſions. And in ſhort, all our Actions of every kind are in our own power.

COMMENT.

HE calls thoſe Things in our own power, which we our ſelves are Maſters of, and which depend purely upon our own Diſpoſal and Choice; as we commonly ſay, any thing is a Man's own, which he is not beholden to any body elſe for, ſo as that it ſhould fall within the compaſs of a Second Perſon to grant or deny it, to permit or debar, or any way hinder him in the Enjoyment of it. Now ſuch are the Motions and Operations of the Soul; They are born and bred within us, and owing ſolely to our own Judgment, and our own Choice; for indeed, it is not poſſible for any thing without us to determine our Choice: The Object of our Choice, 'tis confeſt, is very often ſomething without us; but the Act of it, and the Motions toward it, are entirely our own, and within us. Such, for inſtance, are the particular Opinions we entertain, and the Judgments we make of Things; as, that Riches or Death, or the like, are things in their own Nature, Good or Evil, or Indifferent. And though we are often induced to take up this or that particular Opinion upon Truſt, and the Credit we give to what we hear other People ſay upon it; yet is not their Authority or their Perſwaſion of ſuch abſolute efficacy, as that the Opinion ſhould not ſtill be our own. For at this rate, we ſhould make our ſelves as ſenſeleſs Creatures as Parrots, who when they call for a Cup of Sack, know not what they ſay. If we be allowed then to think at all, the Opinion muſt be our own Act and Deed; occaſion'd, 'tis true, ſometimes by things without us, and recommended and conveyed to us by the Inſtructions and Arguments of others; but not infuſed ſo Mechanically, as that we ſhould be purely paſſive in the caſe.

Thus again; The Object that moves our Affection, is without us, but the Affection itſelf is excited, and ariſes within us. For there is a great difference obſervable between the Internal Motion of the Mind, and the External Motive or Inducement to it. This Motion is not like that of Men, thruſt forward by another, forcibly and againſt their Wills, but ſuch an one as when we move our own Bodies by our own Strength, and of our own Accord.

The Caſe is the ſame with our Deſires; by which the Soul does (as it were) put her ſelf forward, and go in purſuit of the thing deſired; and ſo likewiſe with our Averſions too, which are but a kind of turning aſide, or running away, to avoid the Object that provokes them.

Now it is ſufficiently manifeſt, that of all theſe, the Firſt in order of Nature muſt be Opinion; by which I underſtand ſuch a Knowledge or Judgment of things, as is grounded upon Reaſon, and worthy the Character of a Man. When this Opinion relates to any real or ſeeming Good or Evil, which we apprehend our ſelves to be concern'd in, then it preſently excites either Deſire or Averſon; and purſuant to either of theſe, the proper Affections or Motions of the Soul. For the Good muſt needs be deſired, before the Soul be affected with it, or move towards it; and the Evil muſt be diſapproved, before ſhe flee from it Though indeed, the Stoicks have advanced a contrary Method, and repreſented the Affections by which the Soul is carried to or from its Object, as if they were antecedent to Deſire and Averſion, thus conſidering theſe Affections as the beginnings and immediate Cauſes of thoſe Deſires and Averſions in the Soul.

But after all, the brutiſh Inclinations, ſuch particularly as Anger and Senſual Appetite, are ſo much of a piece with the Body, ſo cloſely and manifeſtly interwoven with the Blood and Animal Spirits, that they ſeem to grow from the particular Complexions and Conſtitutions of Men. So that theſe muſt of neceſſity derive their Motion from an External Cauſe in great meaſure, and cannot be perfectly at their own diſpoſal, nor under the abſolute maſtery of the Perſons thus deſiring, &c. though they are begun too, and proceed Originally from within. And not only ſo, but the Rational Soul itſelf when ſubdued by the Body, and the brutiſh impulſes of Senſe, does in a great degree degenerate into Machine, is violently agitated, drawn and managed at pleaſure, and loſes much of its native liberty and power. But when it acts in agreement with Nature and Reaſon, it maintains an abſolute freedom, and moves only by an Internal Principle of its own. In a Mind thus regularly diſpoſed, it is very eaſie to diſcern how much we have in our own Power; though in the former inſtance of a diſorderly Mind, the caſe be ſomewhat intricate and perplexed. But however, in order to a more exact underſtanding of the whole Matter, both what this Liberty and Power is, and what Objects it extends to; as alſo, to ſhew, that all the Happineſs and Miſery of a Man's Life, depends upon the uſe or the abuſe of this Liberty; I will trace the thing up to its firſt Cauſe, and examine the whole matter particularly.

The Sourſe and Original of all things is Good; for indeed, that muſt needs be both the Cauſe and Beginning; and the End and Conſummate Perfection of all, in which all Deſires Center, and to which all things naturally tend. Now this Good forms and produces all things out of its own fullneſs, both the moſt excellent, the middle ſor , and the laſt and loweſt rank of Beings. The Firſt and moſt excellent, bear the cloſeſt affinity to it ſelf, are of a piece with it, (as it were) and expreſs Images of it. Thus one Good Being produces many Good Beings; one ſimple and uncompounded Being, Independent and Supream, produces many other ſimple Beings like it ſelf; one Principle produces many Principles: And this One, this Simple Being, this Principle, and this Good, are but ſo many ſeveral Names for God, who is before all things, and the cauſe of all things.

Now whatever is Firſt, muſt of neceſſity be the Pureſt and moſt Simple Being; for all compounded Things and Numbers, are after the Simple, and unite in order of Nature, and inferior to them in Dignity. And all Compounds and Things not Good, do deſire the Good, as ſomething above, and better than themſelves. And whatever is not Self-exiſtent, muſt have received its Being from ſomething elſe. So that the Firſt Principle and Original Cauſe, muſt have all Abſolute and Infinite Power; the Excellence of which conſiſts, and its Exuberance is ſeen in the Production of all things from it ſelf, and giving to thoſe that reſemble its own Perfections, the Precedence, before others that bear no ſuch Reſemblance to it. And hence it is, that one common Principle, produces many Principles, many Simple Beings, many Goodneſſes, immediately from it ſelf, and its own fulneſs.

Thus all Beings, which are diſtinguiſhed from one another, by their own peculiar Differences, and multiplied into ſeveral Species, according to the particular Forms and Circumſtances in which they differ, are yet each of them reducible to one Principle, more properly their own. All things Beautiful and Lovely (for inſtance) of what kind ſoever that Lovelineſs and Beauty be, or what Object ſoever it belong to, whether Bodies or Souls, are yet derived from one common Sourſe of Beauty and Gracefulneſs.

The caſe is the ſame with all manner of Congruities, and all Truths, and all Principles; for theſe, ſo far forth as they are Principles and Originals to other things, do exactly agree, and are of the ſame Nature with that primary Goodneſs, and original Truth, and firſt Principle of all, allowing only for ſome Abatements, and taking that Agreement in ſuch Proportions, as the capacity of theſe derived and ſecondary Cauſes will admit. For the ſame relation that that firſt Univerſal Principle bears to all Beings in general, the ſame does each of theſe Subordinate Principles bear to the ſeveral Species and Individuals contained under it, and partaking of the Property peculiar to it. For every Species which is diſtinguiſhed from the reſt by a peculiar difference of its own, muſt needs have a tendency to, and terminate in its proper Principle, from whence one and the ſame Form is reflected down upon all the particular Kinds and Creatures comprehended under it:

Thus an Unit is the Foundation of all Numbers, and a ſingle Cauſe is the Original of all Properties in this vaſt Variety of Beings. So that all partial and ſubordinate Cauſes do really ſubſiſt, and are contained in the firſt and univerſal one; and this, not locally or numerically, but eſſentially and virtually; as the Parts in the Whole, as Generals in a Singular, and as Numbers in an Unit. For this indeed, is it ſelf All, Above and Before All; and out of one Principle many Principles grow, and in one Common Good many Goodneſſes ſubſiſt and dwell.

Nor is this Principle a limited or particular one (as for inſtance, a Principle of Beauty, or Gracefulneſs, or Goodneſs, or Truth) as each of the reſt are; but ſimply and univerſally a Principle or Cauſe; a Principle not only of Species and Beings, but even of all other Principles too. For, the Property of a Principle cannot take its Riſe from Particulars, and from many, but muſt center at laſt in an Unit; and that One is the great Original of All, the firſt Beginning, and Cauſe of Cauſes.

Now the firſt and immediate Productions of this firſt Original Good, are of the ſame Kind and Nature with it ſelf. They retain their Native Goodneſs, and, like that from whence they ſpring, are fixed and unchangeable, rooted and confirmed in the ſame Happineſs; they ſtand in need of no additional Good from abroad, but are themſelves naturally and eſſentially Good and Happy. Now all other Beings, whoſe Deſcent from that one original Good is more remote, and who derive themſelves from that Firſt, and theſe Secondary Cauſes in Conjunction, loſe that Perfection of being Eſſentially Good, and enjoy what they have by participation only: Fixed indeed they are in God's Eſſential Goodneſs, and therefore he continually communicates it to them. But the laſt and loweſt ſort which have no power of acting or moving themſelves, (as Bodies for Example) as to their Exiſtence and Motion, is ſomething without, and what themſelves are purely paſſive in; ſo likewiſe is all their Good owing to ſomething without them too. And that their Motion and Exiſtence is from without, is plain, becauſe they have no diſcerning or governing Faculty; they are ſubject to perpetual change and diviſion, and conſequently cannot be preſent to themſelves in every part, ſo as to be all in all, or produce themſelves entire at once: Nor have they any power of moving themſelves, as being in their own Nature void of Spirit and Life. But now there is a middle ſtate between theſe Extremes, a ſort of Beings inferior to that fixed immutable nature which is always conſiſtent with it ſelf, and yet ſuperior to the Loweſt and Mechanical ſort. And theſe are moved, yet not in the ſame manner with Bodies, by a Motion impreſſed upon them from ſomething elſe, but by one internal and purely theirs. And in this capacity are Souls, Maſters of their own, and the Bodies motion to which they are united. For which reaſon we call all thoſe Bodies that are ſet into motion by a principle from within, Animate; and thoſe that have none, but what proceed from ſomething without, Inanimate Bodies.

So then the Soul gives motion both to itſelf, and to the Body; for if it received its own motion from ſomething without, and after that put the Body into motion, this motion of the Body could not without any propriety of Speech be imputed to the Soul, but would be wholly owing to that which firſt moved the Soul. Now this free Being is beneath the fix'd and unchangeable Goodneſs, and enjoys its Good by participation only, and ſo is carried towards it; but this by no Foreign Force, but by its own Spontaneous Act, its own Inclinations and Deſires. For Inclinations, and Deſires, and Affections and Choice, are Motions proper to Souls, and entirely their own.

Now of theſe, the firſt and beſt being the immediate production of things Eſſentially and in their own nature good, though with this abatement, that they are not ſo themſelves, but only are deſirous of Good; yet they bear ſo near a Relation to them, that they deſire it with a natural and unchangeable Affection; their Choice is ever uniform and conſiſtent, determined to the good part, and never perverted to the worſe. And if by Choice, we mean the preferring of one thing before another, they can ſcarce be allowed to have any, unleſs you will call it ſo, becauſe they ever take the chieſeſt and moſt perfect Good. But the Souls of Men are ſo contrived, as to link together into one Perſon, a Heavenly and an Earthly Nature, and conſequently muſt be capable of inclining to both ſides, of ſoaring upwards, or ſinking downwards. When they make the former their conſtant care, their Deſires and their Determinations are uniform and free, and above Contradiction; but when they loſe this power, all is inverted and out of courſe, becauſe they employ themſelves wholly upon purſuing mean ends, and only affect low Actions; whereas Nature hath qualified them for the animating and moving of Bodies inanimate and purely paſſive, and for governing thoſe things which are incapable of procuring or partaking of any Good by their own Act, and giving them a power not only of acting to pleaſe themſelves, but of putting other things into action at pleaſure too, which otherwiſe are not capable of any ſuch thing.

Now when the Soul hath converſed too familiarly, and addicted her ſelf too much to Temporal and Corruptible things, ſuch as have but a periſhing and tranſitory Good in them; her Choice is no longer above Contradiction, but attended with many Struggles and ſtrong Oppoſitions, directed ſtill indeed to Objects eligible and good; but then this is ſometimes a real Good, and ſometimes a treacherous and deceitful one, which upon the account of ſome Pleaſure attending it, prevails upon us. And becauſe this is moſt certain, that true Good is always attended with true Pleaſure, hence it is, that wherever the Soul diſcovers the leaſt ſhadow of this, ſhe catches at it greedily, without ſtaying to conſider of what kind the Pleaſure is; whether real and agreeable to that Good which is truly ſo, or whether it be falſe, and only carries a counterfeit face of Good; never recollecting neither, that it is neceſſarily attended with many Troubles, and great Uneaſineſſes, and would not be Pleaſure, without theſe to introduce and recommend it to us. For he that takes pleaſure in eating, would have none, if he had not firſt been Hungry; nor would Drinking give a Man any, but for the Thirſt that afflicted him before. Thus Unaſineſs and Pain, is the conſtant Attendant of Pleaſure, and ever mingled with it: So that if you ſuppoſe any Pleaſure in Drinking, you ſhall find that it comes from ſome remains of Thirſt; for the Pleaſure laſts no longer than while the pain continues with it. So long as we are Hungry, or Dry, or Cold, or the like, the Meat, and Drink and Fire that allays theſe uneaſineſſes, are agreeable to us; but when once the Senſe of thoſe Pains ceaſes, we quickly grow weary, and have too much of them. And what before gave ſatisfaction and relief, ſoon becomes our loathing and averſion, and is it ſelf a pain to us. Thus alſo the Men who ſuffer themſelves to be carried away into inordinate and extravagant Enjoyments, and make Pleaſure the only End and Buſineſs of their Lives, generally undergo a great deal of trouble and uneaſineſs along with it.

Now the Choice of this pleaſant treacherous Good, is the cauſe of all our Faults; as on the contrary, the Choice of true ſubſtantial Good, is the Foundation of all our Vertues. And indeed all the Good and Evil of our whole Lives, the Happineſs and Miſery of them, depend upon this freedom of Will, and power of Choice in us For when the Will is diſingaged, when it proceeds from a free principle, and its determinations are properly the acts of that Rational Soul, of which our very Eſſence and Nature conſiſts, then it is directed to Objects truly Eligible and Good. And for this reaſon, Vertue, which is the proper Happineſs and Perfection, is called in Greek, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , &c. a Name which hath great affinity to a Word that ſignifies Eligible, not only becauſe Vertue is properly the Object, but alſo, becauſe it is the effect of our own Choice. But when the Will acts in compliance with the brutiſh Appetites and Inclinations, and propoſes their Enjoyments to it ſelf as its own Happineſs; then it makes an ill Choice, and fixes upon counterfeit Good inſtead of true: So that all this Freedom and Choice is in our own diſpoſal. For the Opinions and Affections of the Soul, its Inclinations and Averſions, are but ſo many Steps towards Choice; and all terminate in that at laſt; and theſe are properly the motions of the Mind ariſing from within, and not from any violent impulſes from without us. So that we our ſelves are Maſters of all theſe things.

This is the very Reaſon why the Laws of God and Man, and the Judgment of all Wiſe Men, make our own Freedom and Choice, the Standard to meaſure our Actions by. They look upon the Intention, as a thing abſolutely in our own power, and pronounce of our Vices and our Vertues, according to this, and not according to the quality of our Actions themſelves. For they are not abſolutely ours, but are ſpecified and diſtinguiſhed, become formally good or evil, by our own Will, and our own Choice. The action of Killing, is always the ſame, conſidered ſtrictly in it ſelf; but when this action is involuntary, it is excuſed and pardoned, becauſe in ſuch caſes it is not properly ours, nor in our own power: Nay, when done in a juſt Cauſe, or in a legal way, it is not only excuſed, but applauded and highly commendable. So that the formal Good or Evil of our Actions, does not depend upon the Actions themſelves, but upon the Intention, the Choice, the Freedom and Power that we have in them, and which give them their moral Qualities accordingly.

By all this it appears, that Epictetus took the right Method, when he began his Inſtructions with this conſideration of things within our own power; and adviſed us to make it the general rule of all our Conduct; ſince all the Excellency, and all the Diſhoneſty of our Actions, all the Happineſs and Miſery of our Lives, depends upon it. But, when he ſays in general Terms, That all things may be diſtinguiſhed into Two ſorts, ſome that are, and ſome that are not in our own power; we muſt not ſo underſtand him, as if all things whatſoever were meant by it, but only ſuch as are within us, or any way concern us. For at that rate, there would be no proportion at all betwixt the Two Oppoſite Parts, which ought to be obſerved, and is neceſſary to make a juſt Diviſion. And this Proportion, I ſay, would be quite loſt, if all things whatſoever, both thoſe that are contained in the World, and thoſe that are above, and out of the World, were ſet in oppoſition to the few in compariſon, that are within our own power

But now, in regard ſome People quarrel with this Diſtinction, even when limited in the moſt cautious manner that can be, and will allow us to have nothing at all in our own power: And among theſe, ſome aſſert, that all our Actions, Appetites and Paſſions proceed from Neceſſity, and not from Choice; and others make us like Stones put into motion, that act mechanically, by chance, and without any purpoſe or deſign at all; though what hath been ſaid already, upon our natural Power, and the Place which our Choice and Free-Will hath, and the Neceſſity that ſo it muſt be, might ſuffice; yet perhaps it may not be amiſs to conſider the Objections of thoſe Men, who would rob us of this Liberty and Power, and to refute them particularly.

Now if by this mechanical and forced ſort of Action, without purpoſe, and by pure chance, they intend to ſay, that we propoſe to our ſelves no end at all in what we do, it is by no means true; or if it would hold in ſome caſes, yet it is evident there are very many inſtances in which it will not. For all Arts and Sciences, nay, all Natures and Beings, have conſtantly ſome particular aim and end fixed to them; to which they direct their Endeavours perpetually, and make every action in ſome degree ſubſervient. And it may be ſaid in general, That there is no one Act, no one Motion, of any Living Creature in the whole World, but is performed out of a proſpect of ſome real, or at leaſt ſome ſeeming Good: Even where the Object is Evil, this Obſervation holds; for the avoiding of that Evil, is for the attaining ſome Good, and the advantag we may find in eſcaping from it.

But if this acting by Chance, and without any Purpoſe, be ſo underſtood, that what we deſire, may prove impoſſible to be compaſſed, or incapable of anſwering our end, or hurtful when we have attained it, (as we ſay ſometimes that a Man took a Medicine without any thought, or to no purpoſe, which did him no good, or perhaps did him harm:) Neither does this Senſe deſtroy our Free-Will, for we maintain that thoſe Deſires and Averſions, are in our Power, which concern not only things that may be attained, and turn to our Benefit when they are ſo; but thoſe too which cannot, and which are prejudicial to us when we have them. And for this Reaſon we affirm, that our Errors and our Vices, are as truly the effects of this Liberty and Choice, as our greateſt Vertues themſelves are.

Thoſe who pretend that our Opinions and Deſires, and in general ſpeaking, all our Choices and Intentions, are neceſſary, and not at our own Diſpoſals, as proceeding from Motives without us, and not beginning of our own accord within us, argue for their Opinion ſeveral ways.

Some of them make the Wants of Humane Nature, the ground of this Neceſſity; for we all know, that a Man in extremity of Hunger, or Thirſt, or Cold, deſires Meat, and Drink, and Warmth, whether he will or no; and a Perſon upon a Sick Bed, cannot help deſiring Health and Eaſe.

Some lay all upon the nature of the thing it ſelf, which is the Object of our Opinion, or Deſire, or Averſion; and contend, that this excites our Paſſions, and affects our Minds by its own Power and Evidence, whether we are conſenting to it, or not. Who is there, for inſtance, that hath attained to the leaſt knowledge in Arithmetick, and does not readily allow, and firmly believe, that twice Two make Four? And which way ſhall we call ſuch an Opinion as this, the effect of Freedom and Choice, and not rather of abſolute Conſtraint, ariſing from the evidence of the thing aſſented to, and the impoſſibility of its being otherwiſe? So again, when a Man hath entertain'd a Notion of any Goodneſs or Excellence, when he apprehends a thing to be Lovely or Proſitable, or the direct contrary; does he not preſently naturally deſire the one ſort, and decline the other? For the beſt Philoſophers are agreed, that the Object of our Deſire, and the final cauſe, are the firſt Motives, and that which ſets all the reſt on work: And if this be true, how ſhall we challenge that as our own Act and Deed, which is ſo abſolutely the effect of Conſtraint and Neceſſity, impoſed by the nature and quality of things without us, that ſtir our Affections accordingly, without any Diſpoſal or Conſent of ours?

Others rather think, that the Diſpoſition of the Perſon deſigning, is the cauſe of all this neceſſity; for this, ſay they, muſt needs be wrought upon, according as it ſtands inclined, nor is it in ones own Choice, whether he will deſire thoſe things or not, which his own Nature, and 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 Temper, and Cuſtom, ſtrongly determine him to. Thus the Temperate Perſon finds in himſelf, n habitual deſire of ſuch Actions, and ſuch Converſation, as are agreeable to the Vertue of Temperance; and the Intemperate is no leſs fond of all occaſions to exerciſe his Extravagance Thus the Deſigns of them both are fixed, and it is not in their power to alter them. For ſome we ſee plainly, who are angry at themſelves, condemn their own Deſires, and wiſh with all their Souls, that they could reſtrain and ſubdue them, yet find their Habits and Cuſtoms ſo violent and prevailing, that they are hurried on, and thruſt forward, like ſo many Engines, and feel and lament the force which they cannot reſiſt, when Objects which are agreeable to their Inclinations, and ſuch as by frequently gratifying before, are become familiar and natural to them, offer themſelves. By the ſame Reaſon, a Skilful and Judicious Man, will give a right Judgment of things, and entertain true Opinions of them; and the Ignorant and Unlearned, will have falſe and miſtaken Notions. For it cannot agree with the Character of a Wiſe Man, to take up with an Error, nor with that of an Ignorant one, to find out the Truth: But it ſtands to great Reaſon, that the Ignorant one ſhould aſſent to a Falſhood, and the Skilful and Learned ſhould reject it. And yet if theſe things were entirely at ones one diſpoſal, this would not be, for the Ignorant Man would never prefer Falſhood before Truth, if he could help it; and the Wiſe Man, if we ſhould allow him to aſſent to Truth, meerly by virtue of his own Free-will, might alſo be allowed to take up falſe Opinions, if you do but ſuppoſe his Will to incline him that way too. But this, they tell you, cannot be, for it is with the Underſtanding, and the Objects about which it is employed, as we find it with the Senſes of the Body, and ſenſible Objects; where it is impoſſible to have things apprehended otherwiſe than they repreſent themſelves, unleſs we ſuppoſe ſome weakneſs or defect in the Organs, which ſhould apprehend and repreſent them to us.

Theſe are the Cavils commonly made uſe of againſt Free-will, though indeed a great many Men inſiſt upon one more, and fancy that there is a Fatality in the Motion and Poſition of the Heavens, that influences not only all other things, but even our very Deſires and Inclinations too, determines us in the Opinions we ſhall eſpouſe, and the Choices we ſhall make. And in confirmation of this Argument, they produce the Predictions of Aſtrologers, who upon calculating Men's Nativity, and finding what Planet each Perſon is born under, take upon them to pronounce very peremptorily, that ſuch a one ſhall be a Voluptuous Perſon, a Second, Covetous, a Third, a Lover of Learning and Wiſdom; and thus declare beforehand, the Inclinations and Deſires which in the whole courſe of their Lives ſhall afterwards be diſcovered by their Behaviour and Converſation. Now theſe Men could never ſay true, nor deſcribe ſuch Tempers and Practices ſo exactly as they do, if there were not ſome Conſtellation, ſome fatal over-ruling Influence, that infuſes theſe particular Inclinations and Appetites, and puts it paſt Men's power to change or conquer them. And if any ſuch Fatality there be, how abſurd is it to pretend to a power of regulating and determining our own Deſires, and fixing them upon what Objects we pleaſe, when we are abſolutely and irrevocably ſtaked down to this or that particular Object beforehand, and muſt deſire and purſue it, whether we will or no? This I think, is the Sum of all thoſe Objections that uſe to be urged againſt that Liberty we profeſs to aſſert, and the power of diſpoſing our Deſires and our Averſions, the Reſolutions we take, and the Actions we do, as we ſee fit our ſelves.

Now in anſwer to the firſt of theſe, which made our Wants the Foundation of that Neceſſity and Conſtraint they pretend; we may reply, that if this were true, then Want would always create Deſire: But this it does not do. For there are many things, and particularly Inanimate Creatures, that are oftentimes in great want of ſome Quality or other; Heat, or Cold, or Drought, or Moiſture, and yet they never deſire what they ſtand ſo much in need of; and the reaſon is plain, becauſe their Nature is not capable of Deſire: For in order to Deſiring, it is neceſſary both to have a Senſe of the thing deſired, and to be moved by that Senſe: From whence it is plain, that Want does not always infuſe, nor infer Deſire.

But the Creatures which are endued with a faculty of deſigning, when they feel themſelves in want, do then exert Deſire, in order to the Relief of the Wants they feel.

Thus (to illuſtrate the Thing by a familiar Inſtance) Itching diſpoſes us to Scratch, and upon a Senſe of the Uneaſineſs it gives us, the Hands apply themſelves to the Relief we want, but yet this Itching does not give us the Hands we ſcratch with: Nor is it true, that the Neceſſities of Humane Life have invented the Arts and Trades that are made uſe of for the Support of it; for it is the Mind of Man, which invented them, ſaw the Need there was of them, and took Occaſion from thence to ſeek out this Relief. For all Deſire is a Motion of the Soul deſiring, born and begun within, and exerted by the Soul, when called out by any deſirable Object; but it is by no means infuſed into the Soul from without. Now the Irrational Life of Brute Beaſts being wholly corporeal, and having, in truth, little or nothing but what is Matter and Body belonging to them, is troubled with no difference or diſtraction of Deſires, hath no Wants, except thoſe relating to the Body, to ſupply; and conſequently, but one ſort of Deſires to exert. And this conſtant Uniformity in their caſe, makes us think them the Effect not of Liberty, but Neceſſity.

But now, the rational Soul of Man, being placed, as I ſaid before, in a middle Station, may be conſidered in a threefold Capacity and Diſpoſition; One, that inclines it to the worſt part, that is, the Bodily and Brutiſh; a Second, that regards its own ſelf; and a Third, that better and more excellent part above it: ſo that here may be a threefold Converſation, a threefold Want, and a threefold Deſire. Now when it gives it ſelf tamely up to the Body, and conſults the Brutiſh Appetites and Wants of that part only, then, of neceſſity, it complies and concurs with all the Bodily Deſires. And this is that ſort of Deſire, which captivates the Will, and hath brought the Freedom of it to be a Matter of ſo much Controverſie. But when it purſues the Inclinations, and lives agreeably to the Nature either of its own ſelf, or the excellent Beings above it, then it exerts its Faculties freely, and deſires the Good peculiar to theſe Conditions, without Difficulty or Oppoſition. Now the Power and Liberty of the Soul conſiſts in this; that, whereas Nature hath made her capable of Deſires of ſeveral Qualities, ſome of a better and more excellent kind, and others of a worſe and more vile, ſhe can ſo far diſpoſe of her ſelf, as to fix upon either the one or the other of theſe ſorts; which yet is done with this Difference, that by purſuing the worſe her Faculties are enfeebled and debaſed, and by following the better they are exalted and confirmed; for the Choice of theſe is indeed truly and properly Choice. And hence we ſee it often happens, that when the Body finds it ſelf low and empty, and requires Meat, or ſome other Suſtenance, the Mind ſteps in and countermands this Deſire with another over-ruling one of Faſting or Abſtemiouſneſs; and this too taken up poſſibly upon ſome Religious Account, or in Obedience to ſome Law, or poſſibly, merely in point of Prudence, as thinking it better upon its own Account, or more conducing to the Health of the Body. Now I think no body can ſay, but the Mind, in ſuch a Caſe, might, if it had ſo pleaſed, have complied with thoſe firſt Deſires, as indeed we ſind the Generality of People do upon theſe Occaſions; but you ſee it exerted another oppoſite Deſire, and proſecuted that as the greater Good, and ſo more eligible of the two: So that Epictetus, looking upon the Soul as endued with Reaſon, might upon this Account very juſtly ſay, that ſhe had it in her Power to qualifie her Deſires, and to place them upon ſuch or ſuch Objects, as ſhe ſaw Cauſe.

The next Objection, that tells us, The Object of Deſire neceſſarily excites the Soul to a Deſire of it, muſt be acknowledg'd to have a great deal of Truth in it, but yet not ſo much as the Perſons who urge it imagine: For, the Object does not move the Soul to Deſire forcibly and mechanically, but by propoſing it ſelf, as ſomething fit to be embraced, and thus calling forth thoſe Powers of the Soul into Action which Nature hath qualified to meet and to receive it. Juſt as the ſenſible Object does not infuſe the Faculty of Senſation into the Perſon who receives its Impreſſions, nor draws him by violence to it ſelf; but only preſents it ſelf to the Eye, in ſuch Proportions as are proper for uniting with that Organ of Senſe which was ordained by Nature, and fitted for that Union. And ſo the Object of Deſire preſents its Convenience and Fitneſs to the Soul, and this invites ſuch Motions as Nature hath provided proper for this Purpoſe. Thus it muſt needs be, becauſe we ſee, that when deſirable Objects offer themſelves, ſome People are, and others are not affected with them; whereas, if the Object were enduced with ſuch Efficacy and Power as perfectly to conſtrain the Perſon deſiring, and the Motion of the Mind were neceſſarily impreſſed by it, it muſt needs follow, that upon ſuch Occaſions every one muſt be affected with it, though perhaps not every one in the ſame Degree. And, in truth, ſuch an Operation upon the Mind, would not be Deſire, but a violent Impulſe, or forcible Attraction, ſuch as we ſee when one Body is thruſt forward, or dragged along by another. For Deſire is a kind of Expanſion in the Mind, a moving forwards toward the Thing deſired, without any local Motion in the Perſon deſiring; ſuch as we may reſemble to a Man's ſtretching out his Hands to meet or embrace one, while the reſt of his Body is in no Motion. So that Deſire is a Motion begun originally, and proceeding from within; as are alſo our Opinions, and the other Things mentioned here by Epictetus.

This Motion, indeed, is ſometimes what it ought to be, and is duely proportioned to the Nature of the Thing which we deſire or conceive of: And ſometimes it is miſtaken and very different from it, when we are inclined to ſomething which to us appears very deſirable, but is really what ſhould rather provoke our Averſion. When it ſhews us a gaudy Out-ſide to invite our Deſire, and hath a great deal of hidden Evil within, which all the while lies concealed, under ſome Advantage, which the Idea of this Object flatters us with. Thus the Thief is carried away with an Idea of Gain and Riches, as a deſirable Thing; and this keeps him from conſidering, or having any dread at all, of that horrible Evil, which lies ſheltered under this Gain, that defiles his Soul, and taints it with Injuſtice. And then, as for any Apprehenſions of Diſcovery, and Impriſonment, and Puniſhment, which are the only Calamities ſo wicked a Wretch fears, the exceſſive Eagerneſs of his Deſire utterly overlooks and ſtifles all theſe; for he preſently repreſents to himſelf, what a World of Men do ſuch Things, and yet are never found out. Now thus much is plainly in our Power, to examine this Object of our Deſire more nicely; and to inform our ſelves well, whether it be a real Good, and worth our purſuing; or whether it only cheat us with a fair Out-ſide and counterfeit Appearance of Good; as, particularly, in the Inſtance of Gain juſt now mentioned. Nay, we may go ſomething farther yet; for, we may correct and regulate our Deſires, may bring them to fix upon ſuch Objects only as are truly deſirable, and teach them not to be impoſed upon with falſe Appearances.

We are told again, That our Deſires and our Opinions are carried to their proper Object with as invincible a Neceſſity as a Stone or Clod of Earth is carried downwards; and conſequently, that Nature hath left us nothing in our own Power: Nor have we any more reaſon to conclude, that we are free to think, or to deſire, after this or that manner, when we ſee our Aſſent and Appetite always moved by the Credibility or the Deſirableneſs of their Objects, than we have to ſuppoſe that a Stone can aſcend, when we never ſee it do ſo.

Now to this it may be replied, that there is a twofold Neceſſity, the one abſolutely deſtructive of Free-Will, the other very conſiſtent with it. That kind of Neceſſity which proceeds from any Things without us, does indeed take away all Liberty and Choice; for no Man can be ſaid to act freely, when he is compelled by any other external Cauſe, to do a Thing, or to leave it undone. But then there is another ſort of Neceſſity from within our Selves, which keeps every thing within its due Bounds, and obliges each Faculty and Part to act agreeably to its own Nature and original Conſtitution. And this is ſo far from deſtroying Free-Will, that it rather preſerves and ſupports it. For by this means it comes to paſs, that a Free-Agent can be wrought upon by no other ways, but ſuch as are conſiſtent with the Nature of a Free-Agent, which is, from a Principle of Motion within its ſelf. And this Neceſſity is by no means a Mechanical Neceſſity, becauſe it is not impoſed by any Thing from without us; but is what the Nature of ſuch an Agent admits and requires; what is neceſſary for its Preſervation, and for exerting the Operations proper to a Creature endued with ſuch a Faculty as Self-Motion.

Beſides, if the Soul can bring it ſelf to ſuch Habits and Diſpoſitions as are Vertuous or Vicious, can grow better by Wiſdom and Sobriety, and worſe by Perverſeneſs and a Diſſolute Behaviour; and can confirm it ſelf in each of theſe Courſes, by the frequent Repetition of Acts ſuitable to them; then the Soul is the true Cauſe of all this. Though, in truth, it muſt not be admitted for a general Rule neither, That the Liberty and Power of the Will is to be judged of by Mens being able to do Things contrary to one another. For thoſe Souls that are immediately united to the Original Good, prefer that conſtantly, and yet the Freedom of their Choice is ſtill the ſame; for that Preference is no more conſtrained and neceſſary, than if they took Evil inſtead of it. But it is their Excellence and Perfection, that they continue ſtedfaſt in their own Good, and never ſuffer themſelves to be drawn off to the contrary. But as for our Souls, which are more remotely deſcended from that great Original, their Deſires are according to their Tempers and Diſpoſitions: thoſe of them that are well diſpoſed have good Deſires, and thoſe that are ill have evil ones: But ſtill theſe Souls of ours are capable of great Alterations; they frequently recover themſelves from Vice to Virtue, by Reformation and better Care, they decline too, and ſink down from Virtue to Vice, by Supineneſs and a fooliſh Neglect; and both theſe Changes are wrought in them by their own voluntary Choice, and not by any Force or Neceſſity that compels them to it. So that there can be no manner of Pretence for charging any part of our Wickedneſs upon God. He created the Soul after ſuch a manner indeed, as to leave it capable of being corrupted, becauſe its Eſſence is not of the firſt and beſt ſort of Natures, but hath a Mixture of the middle and the loweſt; and this Mixture was fit, that ſo all might remain in its Perfection; and the firſt and beſt continue ſtill ſuch, without degenerating into Barrenneſs and Imperfection, and Matter. God therefore, who is infinitely good himſelf, made the Soul in a Condition that might be perverted; and it is an Argument of his Mercy, and the exceeding Riches of his Goodneſs that he did ſo: For he hath ſet it above the reach of all external Violence and Neceſſity, and made it impoſſible for it to be corrupted without its own Conſent.

There is one Argument more ſtill behind; which pretends, That a fatal Revolution of the Heavens hath ſo ſtrong and abſolute a Power upon us, as not only to influence our Actions, but even to determine our Choice and all our Inclinationss, and leave us no Liberty at all to diſpoſe of our ſelves, but only the empty Name of ſuch a Liberty. Now to theſe we may anſwer, That if the Rational Soul be Eternal and Immortal, (which I ſhall not go about to prove, that being foreign to this Subject, but deſire at preſent to take for granted, though it muſt be confeſt, not in all Points agreeable to the Doctrin of the Stoicks in this particular, but) If the Soul, I ſay, be Eternal and Immortal, it cannot be allowed to receive its Being, or to have its Dependance, upon Matter and Motion. Its Inſtrument indeed, that is, the Animal taken in the groſs, by which I mean, the Body animated by the Soul, may owe its Nature and its Changes to ſuch Cauſes: For, material Cauſes produce material Effects, and theſe may differ, according as thoſe Cauſes are differently diſpoſed with regard to Things here below. And the Inſtrument is formed ſo, as to be proper and ſerviceable to the Soul, whoſe Buſineſs it is to make uſe of it now; as the difference of Tools teaches us to diſtinguiſh the ſeveral Profeſſions that uſe them, ſo as to ſay, Theſe belong to the Carpenter's, thoſe to the Maſon's, and others to the Smith's Trade; and not only to diſtinguiſh the Trades themſelves, but the Skill and Capacity of the Artificers themſelves, to judge of their Deſigns and Intentions, and the Perfection of the Work it ſelf; for, thoſe who are Maſters of their Trade, have better Tools, and uſe them with greater Dexterity, than others: In like manner, they who have attained to the Knowledge of Aſtrology, find out the Nature and Temper of the Inſtrument (the Body) from the different Conſtitution of Material Cauſes, and from hence make their Conjectures of the Diſpoſition of the Soul; and this is the Reaſon why they often gueſs aright. For indeed, the Generality of Souls, when falling under ill Management, and the Converſation of naughty Men, (a ſort of Degradation inflicted upon them by way of Puniſhment for the loſs of their primitive Purity) addict themſelves too much to the Body, and are govern'd and ſubdu'd by it; ſo as to uſe it no longer as their Inſtrument of Action, but to look upon it as a part and piece of their own Eſſence, and conform their Deſires to its brutiſh Appetites and Inclinations.

Beſides, this Poſition, and fatal Revolution of the Heavens, carries ſome ſort of Agreement to the Production of the Souls united to Bodies under it, yet not ſo, as to impoſe any abſolute Neceſſity upon their Appetites and Inclinations, but only to infer a Reſemblance of their Temper: For, as in Cities there are ſome particular ſolemn Seaſons and Places that give us good Grounds to diſtinguiſh the Perſons aſſembled in them, as the Days and Places of Publick Worſhip commonly call thoſe that are wiſe, and religious, and well-diſpoſed, together; and thoſe that are ſet apart for Pomp and publick Sports, gather the Rabble, and the Idle, and the Diſſolute; ſo that the obſerving theſe Solemnities gives us a clear Knowledge of the People that attend upon them: By the ſame Reaſon, the particular Seaſons and Places, (the Houſes and Conjunctions of the Planets) may be able to give us ſome Light into the Temper of the Souls united to Bodies under them, as carrying ſome Affinity to the Conjunctions under which Men are born. For, when God in his Juſtice hath ordained ſuch a particular Poſition, and all the Fatalities conſequent to it, then thoſe Souls which have deſerved his Vengeance are brought under that Poſition. For Likeneſs, and Affinity of Tempers, hath a ſtrange Power of bringing all that agree in it together. This fatal Revolution then, does by no means conſtrain or bind up the Soul, nor take away its native Freedom; but the Soul only bears ſome Reſemblance to the Temper of this Revolution, and is framed agreeably to ſuch a Body as it ſelf hath deſerved to be given it for its Uſe; and by this means gives Men an Opportunity of learning its particular Deſires and Inclinations, from the conſidering of the Conſteilations that People are born under.

Again, the Souls chuſe their particular Ways of living, according to their former Dignity and Diſpoſition; but ſtill, the behaving themſelves well or ill in each of theſe Ways, is left in their own Power. And upon this Account, we ſee many, who have choſen a Way of Trade, and Buſineſs, and great Temptation, yet continue very honeſt and good Men in it; and many that profeſs Philoſophy, and the Improvement of Wiſdom and Virtue, are yet of very looſe Converſation, notwithſtanding all the Advantages of ſuch an Employment. For the different Methods of Life, as that of Husbandry or Merchandiſe, or Muſick, or the like, are choſen by the Soul, according to her former Diſpoſition; and Mens Station in the World is aſſigned them ſuitable to their Dignity and Deſerts: But the Management of themſelves in any of theſe Callings is the Choice and Work of the Soul afterwards; and we do not ſo much blame or commend Men for their Callings themſelves, as for their different Behaviour in them.

Farther yet; This fatal Poſition or Revolution does never (as ſome Men too boldly affirm it does) cauſe any thing of Wickedneſs in us, ſo as to make it neceſſary, that Men born under it ſhould be Knaves and Cheats, adulterous, or addicted to beaſtly and unnatural Luſts. For though the Caſters of Nativities ſometimes ſay true when they foretell theſe Things; yet this only happens, according as we receive particular Qualities or Impreſſions; which is done ſometimes in a moderate, and ſometimes in an immoderate Degree. And it is not the Inſluence of the Stars, but the Corruption of the Mind, that makes Men Knaviſh, or Laſcivious, or Unnatural and Brutiſh. Thoſe that receive theſe Inſluences moderately, and do not aſſiſt them by their own Depravity, are Cautious and Wary, correct the Heats of Youth, and uſe it vertuouſly; but thoſe that receive them immoderately, that is, give way to them, and promote them, debaſe and proſtitute themſelves to all manner of Wickedneſs. And what a Reflection upon Nature is this? For even that which is moſt beneficial to us, may turn to our Prejudice by a perverſe Uſe of it. The Sun gives us Light; it both makes Things viſible, and enables us to ſee them; And yet, if a Man will be ſo fooliſh as to take too much of it, to gaze upon his Rays when they ſhine in their full Strength, he may loſe his Eye-ſight by his Folly: But then that Folly, and not the Brightneſs of the Sun, is to be blamed, if that which is the Author of Light to all the World, be the Occaſion of Blindneſs and Darkneſs to him. Now when the Aſtrologers have (as they think) formed to themſelves certain Marks and Rules whereby to know who will receive theſe Impreſſions in a due meaſure, and who in a vicious Exceſs; then they pronounce ſome Men Wiſe, and others Subtle and Knaviſh accordingly. Though, after all, I very much doubt, Whether the erecting of any Schemes can furniſh them with ſuch Marks of Diſtinction, or no. Some Things indeed are ſo manifeſt, that all the World muſt allow them; as, that when the Sun is in Cancer, our Bodies feel exceſſive Heat; but ſome again are exceeding dark and doubtful, and ſuch as none but thoſe who have made themſelves Maſters of Aſtrology can make any thing of.

Now, that thoſe Things which act conſtantly according to the Deſign and Directions of Nature, that preſerve the Original Conſtitution given them at firſt by their Great Creator, and are endued with the greateſt Power and Strength; that ſuch Things, I ſay, always act upon a good Deſign, and properly ſpeaking, are never the Cauſe of any Evil, ſeems to me very plain: For all Evil is occaſioned, not by the Exceſs, but by the Want of Power; and if it were not ſo, Power ought not to be reckoned among thoſe Things that are Good: And yet it is as plain, that even Good Things in Exceſs, oftentimes prove hurtful to us; but then, that Hurt is not owing to the Things, but to our Selves. And thus much may ſuffice in Anſwer to them who deny the Freedom of the Will, upon the Pretence of any Fatality from the Motion or Poſition of the Heavens. If this Argument ſeem obſcure in ſome of the Parts of it, that muſt be imputed to the dark Notions of the Old Philoſophers upon this Matter, and the Superſtitious Regard they had to Judicial Aſtrology; which Simplicius himſelf is content only ſo far to comply with, as to allow ſome conſiderable Influence of the Heavens upon the Bodies and Tempers of Men; and that Stroke, which the Complexions of People have in forming the Diſpoſitions of their Minds. Some Paſſages there are too, which proceed upon the Hypotheſes of the Pre-exiſtence and Tranſmigration of Souls, and their being provided with Bodies of Good or Bad Complexions here, according to their Merits or Demerits in ſome former State. But in truth, this whole Notion of Judiciary Aſtrology is now very juſtly exploded, as groundleſs and fantaſtical; and many Modern Philoſophers have proved it, by very ſubſtantial Arguments, to be no better. See particularly Gaſſend. in his Animadverſions on the 10th Book of Diogenes Laertius.

But indeed, to all who deny this Liberty, upon any Argument whatſoever, it may be replied in general, That thoſe who go about to deſtroy it, do by no means conſider or underſtand the Nature of the Soul, but overthrow its very Original Conſtitution, without ſeeming to be ſenſible of it. For they take away all Principle of Internal and Self-Motion, in which the Eſſence of the Soul chiefly conſiſts. For it muſt be either moved of its own Accord, and then it is excited by a Cauſe within its ſelf to its Appetites and Affections, and not thruſt forward and dragg'd along as Bodies are; or elſe it is moved by an External Force, and then it is purely Mechanical.

Again, They that will not allow us to have our Actions at our own Diſpoſal, do not attend to, nor are able to account for the Vital Energy of the Soul, and its Aſſenting and Diſſenting, Accepting or Rejecting Power. Now this is what Experience and Common Senſe teaches every Man, that he hath a Power of Conſenting and Refuſing, Embracing and Declining, Agreeing to or Denying; and it is to no purpoſe to argue againſt that which we feel and find every Moment: But all theſe are internal Motions, begun in the Soul it ſelf; and not violent Impulſes and Attractions from Things without us, ſuch as Inanimate Creatures muſt be moved by: For this is the Difference between Animate and Inanimate Bodies, that the one Sort are moved by an Internal Principle, and the other are not. Now according to this Diſtinction, that which puts the Inanimate into Motion muſt have a Principle of Motion of its own, and cannot it ſelf be moved Mechanically. For if this derived its Motion from ſomething elſe too, then, (as was urged before) the Body is not moved by this, but by that other cauſe from whence the Motion is firſt imparted to this; and ſo the Body being moved no longer from within, but by ſome forcible impreſſion from without, as all other Inanimate Creatures are, muſt it ſelf be concluded Inanimate.

Once more, By denying that we have power over our Actions, and a liberty of Willing or not Willing, of Conſidering, Comparing, Chooſing, Defining, Declining, and the like, all Moral Diſtinctions are loſt and gone, and Virtue and Vice utterly confounded; there is no longer any ſuch ground left for Praiſe or Diſpraiſe, Applauſe or Reproach, Rewards or Puniſhments, the Laws of God and Man inſtituted for thoſe Purpoſes, and enforced by theſe Sanctions are evacuated, and the very Foundations of them all torn up, and quite overturn'd. And then do but conſider how diſmal the Conſequences muſt be; for when once we are come to this paſs, all Order and Society muſt needs be loſt, and nothing left us but a Life of Rapine and Violence, of Miſery and Confuſion, a Life not of Civilized Men, but of Ravenous and Wild Beaſts.

But I expect, that the Adverſaries of this Opinion, will appeal back again to our own Experience, and urge afreſh. What, do we not often find our ſelves by the Tyranny of Ill Men, and the over-bearing Torrent of our own Paſſions, and the ſtrong event of Natural Sympathies and Antipathies? Do not theſe compel us to do and ſuffer many things againſt our Wills, and ſuch as no Man in his Senſes would chooſe, if it were in his power to avoid? To this my Anſwer is ſtill the ſame, That notwithſtanding all this, our Liberty is not deſtroyed, but the Choice upon theſe Occaſions is ſtill free, and our own. For here are Two things propoſed; and though the ſide we take be not eligible for its own ſake, and when conſidered abſolutely; yet it is ſo with regard to the preſent ſtreights we are in, and when compared with ſomething which we avoid by this means; and for this Reaſon it is, that we make choice of it. And it is utterly impoſſible that a Man ſhould be carried to do any thing without the conſent of his own Mind; for he that ſeems to do a thing without his own Choice, is like a Man that is thruſt down a Precipice by ſome ſtronger Hand, which he cannot reſiſt; and this Perſon is at that time under the circumſtance of an Inanimate Creature; he does not act at all, but is purely paſſive in the caſe. So that when we really do act, though with never ſo great unwillingneſs and reluctancy, yet ſtill we chooſe to act after ſuch and ſuch a manner.

This is further evident from Men's own practice; for we find that ſeveral Perſons take ſeveral ways, when yet the neceſſity that lies upon them is the ſame. Some chooſe to comply with what is impoſed upon them, for fear of enduring ſome greater Evil if they refuſe it; and others again are peremptory in the refuſing it, as looking upon ſuch compliance to be a greater Evil, than any Puniſhment they can poſſibly undergo, upon the account of their refuſal. So that even in thoſe Actions that ſeem moſt involuntary, there is ſtill a place for Liberty and Choice. For we muſt diſtinguiſh between what is Voluntary, and what is Free. That only is Voluntary, which would be choſen for its own ſake; but that is Free, when we have power to chooſe, not only for its own ſake, but for the ſake of avoiding ſome greater Miſchief. And indeed there are ſome caſes in which we find both ſomething Voluntary, and ſomething Involuntary meet, for which Reaſon thoſe are properly called Mix'd Actions; that is, when what is Eligible upon theſe Occaſions, 'tis not ſimply and abſolutely ſo, but carries ſomething along with it, which we ſhould never chooſe if we could help it. And Homer very elegantly deſcribed this perplexity of Thought, and this mixture of Voluntarineſs and Involuntarineſs in the Soul, when he ſays to this purpoſe, Great Strife in my divided Breaſt I find, A Will conſenting, yet unwilling Mind.

Theſe things I thought fit the rather to enlarge upon, becauſe almoſt all the following Pook depends upon this diſtinction of the things in our own power: For the Deſign of it being wholly Moral and Inſtructive, he lays the true Foundation here at firſt, and ſhews us what we ought to place all our Happineſs and all our Unhappineſs in; and that being at our own Diſpoſal, and endued with a Principle of Motion from within, we are to expect it all from our own Actions. For things that move Mechanically and neceſſarily, as they derive their Being from, ſo they owe all their Good and Evil they are capable of, to ſomething elſe, and depend upon the Impreſſions made upon them from without, both for the thing it ſelf, and for the degree of it. But thoſe Creatures that act freely, and are themſelves the cauſe of their own Motions and Operations, receive all their Good and Evil from theſe Operations. Now theſe Operations properly ſpeaking, with regard to Knowledge and Speculative Matters, are their Opinions and Apprehenſions of things; but with regard to Deſirable Objects, and Matters of Practice, they are the Appetites, and Averſions, and the Affections of the Soul. When therefore we have juſt Ideas, and our Notions agree with the things themſelves, and when we apply our Deſires and our Averſions to ſuch Objects, and in ſuch meaſures as we ought to do, then we are properly happy, and attain to that Perfection which Nature hath deſigned us for, and made peculiar to us; but when we fail in theſe Matters, then we fail of that Happineſs and Perfection too.

Now by our own Works, I mean ſuch as are wrought by our ſelves only, and need nothing more to effect them, but our own Choice. For as to our Actions that concern things without us, ſuch as Sciences and Trades, and ſupplying the Neceſſities of Humane Life, and the making our ſelves Maſters of Knowledge, and the inſtructing others in it, or any other Employments and Profeſſions that give us Credit and Reputation in the World, theſe are not entirely in our own power, but require many Helps and external Advantages in order to the compaſſing of them. But the regulating of our Opinions, and our own Choices, are properly and entirely our own Works, and ſtand in need of no Foreign Aſſiſtances. So that our Good and Evil depends upon our ſelves; for this we may be ſure of, that no Man is accountable for thoſe things that do not come within the compaſs of his own power.

But our Bodies, Poſſeſſions, Reputations, Preferments, and Places of Honour and Authority, and in ſhort, every thing beſides our own Actions, are things out of our own power.

The Reaſon why theſe are ſaid to be out of our own Power and Diſpoſal, is not becauſe the Mind hath no part in them, or contributes nothing towards them; for it is plain that both our Bodies and our Eſtates are put into a better or a worſe Condition, in proportion to that provident Care the Soul takes of them, or the Neglect ſhe is guilty of with regard to them. The Soul does alſo furniſh Occaſions for the acquiring Credit and Fame, and by her Diligence and Wiſdom it is, that w attain to Poſts of Greatneſs and Government. For indeed there could be no ſuch thing as the exerciſe of Authority, eſpecially as the World goes now, without the Choice and Conſent of the Soul: But becauſe theſe things are not totally at her Diſpoſal, and ſhe is not the ſole and abſolute Miſtreſs of them, but muſt be beholding to the favourable concurrence of ſeveral other things, to compaſs them, therefore they are ſaid not to be in our own power. Thus the Body requires ſound Seminal Principles, and a ſtrong Conſtitution, convenient Diet, and moderate Exerciſe, a wholſom Dwelling, a good Air, and ſweet Water, and its Strength and Ability to perform the functions of Nature, will depend upon all theſe. And yet theſe are all of them things ſo far out of our own reach, that we can neither beſtow them upon our ſelves, nor keep off the contrary Inconveniences when we would. When a more Potent Enemy ruſhes in, and aſſaults us, we would be glad to lye undiſcovered, but cannot make our ſelves Inviſible. When we are Sick, we deſire a ſpeedy Recovery, and yet our Wiſhes do not bring it to paſs.

The cafe is the ſame with our Wealth and Poſſeſſions too; for they are owing to a World of fortunate Accidents that contribute to our getting them, and to as many unfortunate Accidents that conſpire to deprive us of them; Accidents too mighty for us to ſtruggle with, or prevent.

Reputation and Fame, is no more in our power than Riches: For though by the management of our ſelves, we give the Occaſions of Eſteem or Diſ-eſteem, yet ſtill the Opinion is not ours but theirs that entertain it; and when we have done all we can, we lye at their mercy, to think what they pleaſe of us. Hence it comes to paſs, that ſome who are profane and irreligious Men at the bottom, gain the Character of Piety and Vertue, and impoſe not upon others only, but ſometimes upon themſelves too, with a falſe appearance of Religion. And yet on the other hand, others who have no Notions of a Deity, but what are highly reverent and becoming, that never charge God with any of our Frailties or Imperfections, or behave themſelves like Men that think ſo of him, are miſtaken by ſome People for Inſidels and Atheiſts. And thus the Reſerved and Temperate Converſation, is deſpiſed and traduced by ſome, for meer Senſeleſneſs and Stupidity. So that the being well eſteemed of, is by no means in our own power, but depends upon the pleaſure of thoſe that think well or ill of us.

Poſts of Authority and Government, cannot ſubſiſt without Inferiors to be governed, and ſubordinate Officers to aſſiſt in the governing of them: And particularly in ſuch States as allow Places to be bought and ſold, and make Preferment the price, not of Merit but Money. There a Man that wants a Purſe, cannot riſe, though he would never ſo fain: From whence we conclude, that all things of this Nature, are not in our own power, becauſe they are not our Works, nor ſuch as follow upon our Choice of them.

I only add one Remark more here, which is, That of all the things ſaid to be out of our power, the Body is firſt mentioned; and that for this very good Reaſon, becauſe the Wants of this, expoſe us to all the reſt. For Money is at the bottom of all Wars and Contentions, and this we cannot be without, but muſt ſeek it, in order to the providing convenient Food and Raiment, and ſupplying the Neceſſities of the Body.

CHAP. II.

The things in our own power, are in their own Nature Free, not capable of being countermanded, or hindered; but thoſe that are not in our power, are Feeble, Servile, liable to Oppoſition, and not ours, but anothers.

COMMENT.

AFter having diſtinguiſhed between thoſe things that are, and thoſe that are not in our own power, he proceeds in the next place, to deſcribe the Qualities proper to each of them. The former ſort he tells us, are Free, becauſe it is not in the power of any other Thing or Perſon, either to compel us to them, or to keep us back from them. Nor is the management, and the enjoyment of them at any Bodies Diſpoſal but our own; for this is the true notion of Freedom, to govern ones ſelf as one pleaſes, and be under the command and direction of no other whatſoever. But the things out of our power, that are ſubject to be given or withheld, we are not Maſters of, but they in whoſe power it is to communicate them to us, or keep them from us; and therefore theſe are not Free, but Servile, and at the pleaſure of others.

So again, thoſe things are Self-ſufficient, and conſequently firm and ſtrong; but theſe that depend upon the aſſiſtance of another, are weak and indigent.

Again, Thoſe cannot be countermanded, [as being in a Man's own Power;] For who can pretend to correct my Opinions, and compel me to ſuch or ſuch particular Notions? Who is able to put a reſtraint upon my Deſires or my Averſions? But now the things that are not in our power, are ſo contrived, as to depend upon the Inclinations of other People, and may have them, or loſe them as they pleaſe: And accordingly theſe are ſubject to many Hindrances and Diſappointments, ſo as either never to be at all, or to be deſtroyed again when they have been, never to be put into my Hands, or to be ſnatched away from me, after that I am poſſeſſed of them.

Once more, It is evident, that the things in our power, are our own, becauſe they are our Actions; and this Conſideration gives us the greateſt propriety in them that can be: But thoſe that depend upon the pleaſure of any Body elſe, are properly anothers. From whence we muſt infer, that every kind of Good or Evil, which reſpects the things in our power, is properly ours; as for inſtance, True or Falſe Apprehenſions and Opinions, Regular or Irregular Deſires, and the like: Theſe are the things that make a Man happy or unhappy. But for the things out of our power, they are none of ours: Thoſe that relate to the Body, belong not to the Man, ſtrictly ſpeaking, but only to our Shell, and our Inſtrument of Action. But if we talk of a little Reputation, an empty and popular Applauſe, alas! this is ſomething much more remote, and conſequently of little or no concern at all to us.

CHAP. III.

Remember then, that if you miſtake thoſe things for Free, which Nature hath made Servile, and fancy That your own, which is indeed another's; you ſhall be ſure to meet with many Hindrances and Diſappointments, much Trouble, and great Diſtractions, and be continually finding fault both with God and Man. But if you take things right, as they really are, look upon no more to be your own, than indeed is ſo; and all that to be anothers, which really belongs to him; no body ſhall ever be able to put any conſtraint upon you, no body ſhall check or diſappoint you; you ſhall accuſe no body, ſhall complain of nothing, ſhall never do any thing unwillingly, ſhall receive harm from no body, ſhall have no Enemy; for no Man will be able to do you any prejudice.

COMMENT.

HE had told us before, what was, and what was not in our own power, and deſcribed the Qualities peculiar to both ſorts, and what relation they bear to us: That the things in our power are properly ours; that thoſe out of our power, are anothers. And now he adviſes that Men would manage themſelves ſuitably to the Nature of theſe things, and not be guilty of perverſe and ridiculous Abſurdities, with regard to them: For this is the true oundation of all the Happineſs or the Wretchedneſs of our Lives. The ſucceeding well in our Attempts, attaining to the Good we aim at, and reſtraining all the Miſchief that could befal us, makes us happy. The being diſappointed in our Hopes, miſſing our Ends and Advantages, or the falling into Miſchiefs and Inconveniences, are the things that make us Miſerable. But now, if our Happineſs conſiſts in regular Deſires, and juſt Averſions, and theſe Deſires and Averſions are in our own power; we muſt ſeek our Happineſs here, that we may be ſure to find it, and to find that Happineſs which is properly ours, and peculiar to us. (And we ſhall be ſure to find it; for how is it poſſible we ſhould not, when the Regulation of our Deſires and Averſions, depends entirely upon our ſelves?)

Now if we place our Affections and Deſires upon things not in our power, and expect to find our Happineſs in them, this double Misfortune muſt needs follow upon it: One way the Diſappointment is unavoidable, that though we ſhould prove ſucceſsful, and obtain what we are ſo fond of, yet ſtill theſe things are not what we take them for, nor can we meet with that which is properly our Happineſs in them. But beſides, it is agreeable to all the Reaſon in the World, to believe, that generally we muſt needs be diſappointed of the things themſelves; for how ſhould it be otherwiſe, when a Man ſets his Heart upon that which is anothers, as if it were his own; and when he muſt depend upon other Perſons and Accidents, whether he ſhall ever obtain it or no?

Now the natural Conſequences of ſuch Diſappointments, are, the being interrupted, and having all our Meaſures broken, and a World of Grief and Remorſe, when we find our Pains have been employed to no purpoſe, and that we are engaged in wrong Courſes. For, as Pleaſure and Joy are the Effects of Good Succeſs, the accompliſhing what we wiſh, and being delivered from what we dread; ſo when we are overtaken by the Miſchiefs we feared, and defeated in our Endeavours after what we deſired, we preſently fall into Trouble and Diſcontent, and complain of every one that we think contributed to our Misfortune, and ſpare neither Men, nor ſometimes Providence, and God himſelf.

Beſides, There is another Miſchief comes of this; for by being ſo tenderly affected for things that are not in our power, we loſe ſometimes thoſe that are; and he that deprives us of what he could take away, robs us of what he hath no power to take from us; Regular and Moderate Deſires and Averſions. But if we be diſpoſed and affected as we ought, and make a true Diſtinction between what is ours, and what is not; if we ſettle our Affections, and beſtow our Care, not upon things which belong to another, but upon our own, our proper Happineſs, and what ſalls within the compaſs of our own Power; that is, upon the entertaining ſuch Deſires and Averſions, as are agreeable to Reaſon and Nature; then we may reſt ſecure, that we ſhall never be annoyed by any Conſtraint or Compulſion, any Diſappointment or Hindrance, but ſhall have the ſole Government, and entire Diſpoſal of ſuch Deſires and Averſions. And if ſo, then we ſhall have no occaſion of Grief or Remorſe; for that can happen but in Two caſes, either the miſſing of what we wiſh'd, or the falling into what we fear'd, and would fain have avoided. And we can never be fruſtrated in our Deſires, never be endamaged by any inconvenience we fear, provided we will but make thoſe things our care, which are in our own power. Conſequently we can never live in awe and dread of any Man; for the reaſon why we fear any body, is becauſe they may do us ſome prejudice, or ſome way obſtruct our Advantage. But there is no Man alive that hath it in his power, to offer Violence to our Deſires and Averſions; and theſe are the things in which the Man that lives according to the Dictates of right Reaſon, places his Happineſs. So that at this rate, we can have no Enemy neither, for he is accounted our Enemy, that does us miſchief; but no body can do this to a Man who is out of the power of all Mankind to hurt him. By the ſame Reaſon, ſuch a Perſon will accuſe no Man, complain of nothing, nor ever do any thing againſt his Will. So that the Life of a Man thus untainted with Perturbation and Senſual Pleaſure, muſt needs be above all Grief, and all Fear, abſolutely Free, and exquiſitely Happy.

And here we may obſerve farther, how excellently well he proves the Life of a Wiſe and Good Man, to be not only beſt and moſt for ones advantage, but the pleaſanteſt and moſt for ones ſatisfaction too. For, as Plato tells us, Every Creature does by natural Inſtinct, endeavour after Pleaſure, and run away from Pain. Now ſome Pleaſures attend thoſe things that are truly good and advantagious to us; and others thoſe that are prejudicial and hurtful. And this makes it neceſſary to take good heed what Choice we make, that ſo we may embrace and purſue, and accuſtom our ſelves to the Enjoyment of ſuch Pleaſures as may be beneficial to us. For that Temperance, (for Example,) is really more delightful to a Vertuous Man, than Extravagance and Licentiouſneſs are to the Diſſolute, there needs no other proof than this, that many Debauches leave their looſe way of Living, and turn Sober, when they conſider and come to a better Senſe of things. But there are no inſtances to be produced of any Temperate Perſons, who proceed upon wiſe and reaſonable Conſiderations that ever abandoned themſelves to Debauchery and Exceſs. Now if this way of Living, had not more than ordinary Pleaſure in it, Men would never chooſe it with ſo much eagerneſs and ſatisfaction. And that ſuch a Virtuous Life as this, muſt needs be more eaſie and pleaſant, Epictetus demonſtrates from its being Free and Uncontrouled, above Checks and Contradictions, above Hindrances and Diſappointments, but depending and doing all upon the Dictates of one's own Mind: And thus they live, who place all their Good and Evil in their own Actions, and the uſe of that Liberty and Power that Nature hath given them.

CHAP. IV.

Since therefore the Advantages you propoſe to your ſelf, are ſo valuable, remember that you ought not to content your ſelf with a cold and moderate purſuit of them; but that ſome things muſt be wholly laid aſide, and others you muſt be content to ſuſpend for a while. But if you will needs be graſping at both, and expect to compaſs theſe, and at the ſame time attain unto Honours and Riches too, there will be great hazard of your loſing the latter, by purſuing the former; but if not ſo; you will be ſure to find your ſelf fruſtrated in all that can make you Free and Happy, while you purſue the latter.

COMMENT.

HAving directed us what it is we are to expect Happineſs from, and how deſirable the Life of ſuch Perſons muſt needs be, who depend not only upon External Enjoyments, and things out of their power for it, but place it in their own natural Liberty, and what falls within the compaſs of that: That ſuch a Life is above all Moleſtation and Controul, ſafe from the Aſſaults of any ill Accidents, not only advantagious, but eaſie and delightful too, the Good it deſires never deceiving, the Evil it declines never overtaking, but in one Word, exquiſitely Happy, and divinely Bleſt; he now proceeds to excite in his Reader, a Zeal worthy of ſuch mighty Expectations; and tells him, that he muſt not look upon this as a Buſineſs by the by, while his main Deſign and Care is for ſomething elſe; but that his Pains and his Affection muſt be ſo entirely devoted to this one thing, as not to admit of any thing beſides, into a partnerſhip with it.

The External Enjoyments of the World then, muſt ſit ſo looſe about his Heart, that as many of them as are inconſiſtent with a Virtuous Converſation, and the Rules of right Reaſon, ſuch as Exceſs, and Senſual Pleaſure, and ſordid Wealth, and Power, and Ambition, muſt be abſolutely diſcarded; it being impoſſible that any Man who makes theſe his Concern, ſhould at the ſame time preſerve his own Freedom and Innocence, and Wiſdom. But as for ſuch others of them, as may be no Obſtructions to the Souls Good, provided they be managed with Diſcretion, ſuch as a Decent Dwelling, a competent Equipage, the ſatisfactions of Marriage, the care of continuing a good Family, the Exerciſe of juſt Authority, and ſome degree of Sollicitude and Pains for the providing all neceſſary Supports: Theſe, and all the reſt of the like nature, he adviſes his Scholars to ſuperſede for ſome convenient time at leaſt, and that for very good reaſon; for it is neceſſary, that they who would be truly and eminently Good, ſhould make the Exerciſe of Virtue, their whole Buſineſs and conſtant ſtudy, and ſuffer no other thing whatſoever to divert them from it.

Whoever propoſes to himſelf, not merely to be popular, and impoſe upon the World with a diſſembled Virtue, but to anſwer the Character of a Sincere and Truly Good Man, muſt take care of two Things; firſt, He muſt attain to ſuch a Degree of Wiſdom, as may enable him to diſtinguiſh between what will really make for his Advantage, and what will turn to his Prejudice; and then he muſt keep under his brutiſh Appetites, that they may never revolt, nor rebel againſt Reaſon; but may be ſo ready and obſervant to it, as to move only at ſuch Times, and in ſuch Proportions, and toward ſuch Objects, as the Soul ſhall limit, and preſcribe to them. For Men are betrayed into Vice two ways; either for want of the Underſtanding's being ſufficiently enlightned, when we do not diſcern what is good and proper to be done; or elſe, through the Ungovernableneſs of the Affections and Senſual Appetites, when though the Mind hath a Notion, though but a weak and imperfect one, of what ought to be done, yet the Paſſions mutiny and make head, uſurp a Power that belongs not to them, and overrule the calm Judgment of ſober Reaſon. Thus the Tragaedian introduces Medea complaining of the Impotence of her Mind, when about to murder her Children; Remorſe and Senſe of Guilt draw back my Soul, But ſtronger Paſſion does her Powers controul; With Rage tranſported, I puſh boldly on, And ſee the Precipice I cannot ſhun.

It is neceſſary then, in order to the enjoying of the World, ſo as to maintain ones own Virtue and Innocence, that a Man provide himſelf with a competent Degree of Knowledge and Prudence, and reduce his Appetites to Moderation and Obedience. And when he engages in Buſineſs and Converſation, that he be ſure to do it cautiouſly and ſeaſonably, and to put on this impenetrable Armour. For this Reaſon Epictetus is urgent with his young Beginners to ſuſpend even thoſe Things that are conſiſtent with Virtue, for a while, till Time and Practice have confirmed their good Habits, and qualified them to uſe the World with Safety and Diſcretion. For, as it is Raſhneſs and Folly to go into the Field unarm'd, ſo is it to engage with the World, till a Man hath fortified himſelf with Temper and Prudence.

But he acquaints us farther, that for thoſe that are but raw and unexperienced in Virtue, to employ themſelves in Buſineſs and Worldly Care, is not only inconvenient and hazardous, but ridiculous and vain, and to no manner of purpoſe. They that place their Deſires and their Averſions upon ſuch Things as are out of a Man's Power, muſt needs fail of Prudence and Moderation, and cannot have Inclinations and Averſions grounded upon, and govern'd by right Reaſon, which are the only Things that make Men free, and eaſie, and happy. For they muſt of Neceſſity live in Subjection to their wild and brutiſh Paſſions, which Lord it over them, like ſo many cruel Maſters or enraged Tyrants. They muſt live perpetually too in a ſlaviſh Fear of all thoſe Men, in whoſe Power it is either to gratifie their Hopes, or to obſtruct and defeat them; who can intercept the Good they wiſh, or inflict the Ills they fear, leſt they ſhould exert this Power to their Prejudice.

Beſides all this, When our Care and Concern is laid out upon the ſeeming good Things without us, it expoſes us to Diſappointments in our true Happineſs, by taking off our Care from thoſe Things that are more properly Ours. For they who divide their Deſires and Endeavours between both, do neither make a juſt Diſtinction between thoſe Things that are, and thoſe that are not, really good; nor do they expreſs a becoming Concern for that which is their own peculiar Happineſs; nor beſtow the Pains about it that it deſerves: and till they do ſo, it is impoſſible they ſhould attain to it. For the moſt part therefore, they fall ſhort of thoſe external Advantages they propoſe to themſelves too, becauſe they do not apply their Minds to theſe entirely, but now and then are diverted by Deſires and Endeavours after their true and proper Happineſſes, and out of a ſecret Shame and Conſciouſneſs that this requires their Care, fall into ſuch Perplexities and Diſtractions as reſtrains and ſtops their Career, and will not ſuffer them to do nor to endure every Thing that is neceſſary for obtaining the falſe Good they chiefly purſue.

Now, though ſuch a divided Life as this muſt be acknowledg'd to be leſs vicious than that which addicts it ſelf wholly to the World without any Check or Interruption at all; yet it cannot but be exceeding troubleſome and uneaſie, much more ſo indeed, than that of the Worldling. For it is one continual Labour in vain, ever ſtriving to reconcile Contradictions, full of perpetual Inconſiſtencies and Remorſes, Diſlike of one's own Actions, and eternal Self-Condemnation. So that it muſt needs be infinitely painful and deteſtable.

But it is worth our taking Notice, that Epictetus, upon theſe Occaſions, does frequently in the following Diſcourſes admoniſh and awaken us with a Remember. The Reaſon of which is, that he addreſſes himſelf to the Rational Soul; which, though it be naturally and eſſentially endued with juſt Idea's of Things, and hath an inbred Faculty of diſcerning and adhering to Truth, yet finds, but too often, that this Eye of Reaſon is darkned, hath dim and confuſed Repreſentations of Things impoſed upon it by the material Principle, to which it is united; and by this means is betrayed into Ignorance and Forgetfulneſs, the true Cauſe of all its Miſcarriages and all its Miſeries. So that, conſidered in theſe Circumſtances, it ſtands in need of a continual Monitor, to rouze it into Thought and Remembrance.

But when he ſays, that A Man who propoſes to himſelf Advantages ſo valuable, ought not to be content with a moderate Proſecution of them; This Expreſſion is not to be underſtood, as we take it, when uſed to diſtinguiſh between Moderation and Exceſs, but is intended here of the Defect, and ſignifies a ſupine Neglect and cold Indifference. For where our Happineſs and our All is at ſtake, there, as Pindar expreſſes himſelf, Diſtreſs and Danger ſhould our Courage fire, Move Generous Thoughts, and brave Reſolves inſpire.

CHAP. V.

When therefore any frightful and diſcouraging Imagination aſſaults you, harden your ſelf and meet it boldly, with this Reflection, That it is only your Apprehenſion of Things, and not the real Nature of the Things themſelves. Then bring it to the Teſt, and examine it by ſuch Rules of Morality as you are Maſter of; but eſpecially by this moſt material Diſtinction, Of Things that are, or are not, in our Power. And if upon Enquiry it be found one of the latter ſort, remember that it is what you are not at all concerned in, and ſlight it accordingly.

COMMENT.

HE had told us, That the Man who propoſed to himſelf the Attainment of Virtue and Happineſs, muſt be conſtant and indefatigable, and not ſuffer the World, or any of its Temptations, to ſeduce or draw him off from the purſuit of it. But ſince, even they who do make theſe Things their Study and Care, are yet ſubject to frequent Fancies and Apprehenſions, ſome that put them upon deſiring ſome of thoſe external Advantages, and others that terrifie them with Calamities of that kind; he informs us here how to manage ſuch Apprehenſions ſo as to receive no Inconvenience from them. And theſe Apprehenſions he calls frightful and diſcouraging, becauſe they are extravagant and unreaſonable, and embitter ones Life with a World of Terrors and Troubles, by the Exceſs and Irregularity of their Motions.

In the following Diſcourſes he adviſes more at large not to be hurried away, and immediately tranſported with any Imagination, whether it tend to Hope or Fear: And here he ſays much the ſame Thing in fewer Words; That a Man ought to harden and ſet himſelf againſt it, and diſarm it of all its Force by this Conſideration, That it is but a Fancy of our own, and no more. Now our Fancies, we know, do ſometimes give us the Repreſentations of Things as they really are, as Things that are really Pleaſant and Beneficial; and ſometimes they delude us with wild Inconſiſtencies, gaudy Vanities, and empty Dreams. But the Strength of theſe Repreſentations depends upon the Impreſſions which they make in our Minds; and this is exceedingly weakned, by making that ſingle Conſideration habitual to us, That there is very often a wide Difference between the Things themſelves and the Repreſentations of them to us: For, when once we are thus fixed, no Violence they can uſe will be able to juſtle out our Reaſon, nor pervert our Judgment; which, he tells us, aſſoon as we have allayed the Heat of the Imagination, and made our Minds quiet and calm, ſhould be preſently employed in a nice Examination of the Idea repreſented to us.

Now there are ſeveral Rules to try it by: Some taken from the Nature of theſe Idea's themſelves, and the Things they repreſent; as, Whether they be ſuch Objects as tend to the Good of the Mind, or whether they only concern our Bodies, or our Fortunes; Whether they contribute to any real Advantage, or whether Pleaſure is the only Thing they can pretend to; Whether what they propoſe be feaſible, or not. There is likewiſe another Method, which proceeds upon the Judgment of Wiſe and Unwiſe Men, and the Concern they expreſs for them, but eſpecially upon the Judgment and Determination of Almighty God. For that which God himſelf and Wiſe and Good Men have approved of, every one that conſults the Safety and Happineſs of his Soul, muſt needs be convinced, will challenge his greateſt Care and Concern; as on the contrary, Whatever they diſlike and condemn, ought by all means to be deteſted and avoided. And no Man yet ever arrived to that Degree of Folly, or was ſo far blinded by Paſſion and Luſt, as to perſuade himſelf that Injuſtice, and Luxury, and Exceſs, were Things well-pleaſing to God.

But though there are many Rules which may be ſerviceable to us, in diſtinguiſhing between the ſeveral Idea's and the Things they repreſent, yet there is one peculiar to Men, conſidered as Men; and which is of general uſe upon all Occaſions. And this depends upon that Diſtinction of Things that Are, and Things that are Not in our own Power. For if the Object that preſents its ſelf as a Thing inviting our Deſire, or provoking our Averſion, be out of our own Diſpoſal, the ready Courſe to be taken, is, to ſatisfie our Selves, and to diſmiſs it with this Anſwer, That this is no part of our Concern. For it is impoſſible for any Thing to be ſtrictly Good or Evil to us, which is not within our own Power; for the Freedom of the Will is the true ſpecifick Difference of Humane Nature. The very Being of a Creature thus qualified neceſſarily infers this Prerogative, That all its Good and all its Evil ſhould depend merely upon its own Choice.

CHAP. VI.

Remember, That the Thing which recommends any Deſire, is a Promiſe and Proſpect of obtaining the Object you are in purſuit of; as on the contrary, the Thing which your Averſion aims at, and propoſes to you, is the eſcaping the Evil you fear. And in theſe Caſes, he that is balked of his Deſires, is an unfortunate, and he that is overtaken by the Miſchief he declines, is a miſerable Man. But now, if you confine your Averſions to thoſe Evils only which are at the Diſpoſal of your own Will, you can never be overtaken by any Calamity you would decline; but if you extend them to ſuch Things as Sickneſs, or Poverty, or Death, you will of Neceſſity be miſerable.

CHAP. VII.

Let your Averſions then be taken off from all Things out of your own Power, and tranſferred to ſuch Things as are contrary to Nature within your own Power. And as for Deſires, lay them, for the preſent, wholly aſide: for if you fix them upon Things out of your Power, you are ſure to be unſucceſſful; and if you would reſtrain them to fit and proper Objects, ſuch as come within it, yet this is not come to your turn yet. Let your Mind therefore go no farther than to mere Tendencies and Propenſions, to moderate and uſe theſe gently, gradually, and cautiouſly.

COMMENT.

THIS now follows in a direct Method from what went before, and is, as it were, a Demonſtration of the Truth of the laſt Chapter, where we were told, that our Apprehenſions and Idea's of Things deſirable, muſt be regulated by that neceſſary Diſtinction of What is and what is not within our own Power. That the Obſervation of this Rule would be ſure to make us ſucceſsful and happy, and the Neglect of it unfortunate and wretched. To this purpoſe, his firſt buſineſs is, to explain, What ſort of Perſons we uſe to eſteem lucky or unlucky; and tells us, that the End our Averſions propoſe to themſelves, is not to fall into the Miſchief we endeavour to decline; ſo that in this caſe, the miſſing our Object is fortunate, as on the contrary, it is unfortunate in caſes of Deſire, when we do not get our Object. And the Misfortune oppoſite to good Succeſs is, when the Thing we would avoid does happen to us; for here we get our Object indeed, but then this getting is to our Prejudice, and what we might much better have been without.

When he hath ſet theſe Matters in a true Light, then he proceeds thus. If you take care to make thoſe Things only the Objects of your Averſion, which are contrary to Nature, and within the compaſs of your own choice, as Intemperance for Example, and Injuſtice, and the like; you can never be overtaken by any Thing you fear, becauſe in theſe Matters you may be ſure to eſcape if you pleaſe; and conſequently, you are ſure never to be unfortunate. But if inſtead of theſe, you pitch upon Sickneſs or Poverty, or any of thoſe Things that are out of your own Diſpoſal, you muſt needs fall into calamitous Circumſtances ſometimes, becauſe it cannot depend upon your ſelf, whether you ſhall be delivered from theſe or no. So again for Deſire, That Man cannot ſecure himſelf againſt frequent Diſappointments, that fixes upon Objects out of his own Power. But if our Deſires and our Averſions be confined to Matters within our own Power and Choice, then it will not be poſſible for us to be balked in our Hopes or overtaken by our Fears, but Happineſs and Succeſs will attend us continually. The Subſtance and Connexion of all which, in ſhort, lies here. He that extends his Deſires and his Averſions to Things out of the Diſpoſal of our own Wills, very frequently miſſes his Aim, falls ſhort in his Hopes, and is overtaken by his Fears; and muſt needs do ſo, becauſe theſe Things depend not on himſelf, but others; now ſuch a one is confeſſed to be an unſucceſsful and unfortunate Perſon, and therefore wretched and miſerable.

But it is worth our notice, how Epictetus imitates Socrates's way of arguing upon this Occaſion, and accommodates himſelf to his Hearers, ſo as by deſcending to their Notions, to raiſe them up higher to ſomething better and more perfect. For that Happineſs conſiſts in obtaining Mens Wiſhes and Deſires, and in eſcaping the Miſchiefs and Dangers they fear, is the general Notion Men have of it; and thus far Men of all Perſuaſions, and the moſt diſtant Tempers and Converſations agree. But in this they differ, that they do not employ their Deſires and Averſions alike. For the Wiſe and Vertuous purſue ſuch Objects only as are really and ſincerely profitable and good, and avoid only the truly miſchievous and ſubſtantial Evils; and this they do by the free Guidance of their Reaſon, and the due Government of their Paſſions; for the brutiſh Appetites in them are ſo ſubdued and ſo exerciſed by Acts of Obedience to the Judgment, that they do not ſo much as think any thing pleaſant, but what Reaſon hath approved, and found to be ſo. But the Generality of Mankind, partly for want of duly improving their Judgments, and partly from their brutiſh Affections, being kept in perpetual Commotion and Diſorder, diſtinguiſh the Objects of their Deſire by no other Mark than Pleaſure; without examining whether this Pleaſure be ſuch as makes for their true Advantage or not: And theſe Men often hit upon very impure and unſincere Pleaſures; ſuch as carry a Mixture and Allay of Pain along with them. For, in truth, they are not really and properly Pleaſures, but only the empty Shadows and falſe Reſemblances of them. But ſtill, as was ſaid before, all Mankind are agreed in the general, that Proſperity and Succeſs conſiſts in the obtaining of the good Things we wiſh, and keeping off the Evils we fear. So that even the Senſual and moſt Vicious Men may convince themſelves from this Diſcourſe, that the true way never to be diſappointed in their Deſires, nor overtaken by their Fears, is, to agree, that thoſe Things which are within our Power are the only good and proper Objects of Deſire; and that the Evils in our own Power are the only noxious and deſt uctive, and proper Objects of Fear and Hatred. Since it is plain, that they who fix upon Things without their Power, muſt needs fall ſhort very frequently of their Hopes, and loſe what they deſire, and endure what they fear: And this is what even Vicious Perſons acknowledge to be a great Misfortune.

Let then, ſays he, your Averſions be taken off from all Things out of your own Power, and tranſſerved to ſuch Things as are contrary to Nature, within your Power. For if you place them upon Sickneſs, or Poverty, or the like, you muſt unavoidably be unfortunate, becauſe theſe are Things not in your Power to eſcape. For, though we can contribute conſiderably towards the avoiding of them, yet the Thing is not wholly and abſolutely in our Selves, but it will depend upon ſundry other Circumſtances and Accidents, whether our Endeavours ſhall ſucceed, or no. But, if we would follow his Advice, take off our Fears from thoſe Things, and put them upon thoſe within our own Choice, that are prejudicial and againſt Nature: If, for Inſtance, we would make it our Care to avoid Erroneous Opinions and Falſe Apprehenſions of Things, and whatever elſe can be any Obſtruction to a good Converſation, and ſuch a Life, as Reaſon and Nature have made ſuitable to our Character, we ſhould never be oppreſſed with any of the Calamities we fear, becauſe it is in our own Power abſolutely to avoid theſe Things. For nothing elſe but our own Averſions and Reſolutions are requiſite to the doing it effectually.

All this is ſufficiently plain, and needs no Enlargement; but what follows hath ſomething of difficulty in it. For what can be his meaning in that Advice, that All Deſire ſhould for the preſent be wholly laid aſide? There is a manifeſt Reaſon why we ſhould diſcharge all thoſe Deſires that concern Things without our Power; for this evidently makes for our Advantage, both in regard of the Diſappointments and perpetual Uneaſineſſes that this Courſe delivers us from; and alſo in Conſideration of the Things themſelves, which, though we ſhould ſuppoſe no ſuch Troubles and Diſappointments attending them, are not yet capable of bringing us any real Advantage, nor that which is the proper Happineſs of a Man.

But what ſhall we ſay to his forbidding the Deſire even of thoſe good Things which come within the Diſpoſal of our own Wills? The Reaſon he gives is this, Becauſe you are not yet come to this. But if you were come to it, there would then be no farther Occaſion for Deſire; for this is no other than a Motion of the Mind deſiring, by which it reaches forward to what it is not yet come to. And this ſeems to cut off all Deſire in general; for how is it poſſible to obtain any Good without firſt deſiring it? And eſpecially, if (as hath been formerly ſhewn) the Good and Happineſs of a Man conſiſt, not ſo much in Actions, and the effecting what we would, as in the entertaining ſuch Deſires and Averſions as are agreeable to Nature and Reaſon; what Ground can there be for ſuſpending all our Deſires, and utterly forbidding us for a while to entertain any at all? Or how can we imagine it poſſible for a Man to live vold of all Deſire? I add, that this looks like a direct Contradiction to what went before, when in the 4th Chapter he gave this Advice, Since therefore the Advantages you propoſe o your ſelf are ſo exceeding valuable, Remember that you ought not to content your ſelf with a cold and moderate purſuit of them. For by that Purſuit he did not underſtand any Bodily Motion, but the Eagerneſs of the Soul, by which, in the Act of Deſiring, ſhe moves towards, and makes after the Object. And again, How can we ſuppoſe any Affections and Propenſions without Deſire? For the Order of Things inſers a Neceſſity of Deſire, before there can be any ſuch Affections and Propenſions of the Soul.

In Anſwer to theſe Objections, it may be replied, that Epictetus here addreſſes himſelf to Young Beginners in Philoſophy, for whom it cannot be ſafe to indulge any Deſires at all, till they be firſt competently informed what are the Objects which they ought to fix upon. And ſo that theſe Affections and Propenſions of the Soul are only to be underſtood of thoſe firſt Motions to or from its Object, which the Stoicks contend are always antecedent to Deſire and Averſion.

Or if he direct his Diſcourſe to Men already inſtructed, then we muſt not interpret the Words as they ſeem to ſound; nor ſuppoſe, that he intends to cut off all Deſire of the good Things in our Power, abſolutely ſpeaking; but only to reſtrain the Vehemence and Eagerneſs of that Averſion and Deſire, which in a moderate Degree he is content to allow. For you ſee, that he adviſes in the very ſame Place, to make uſe of our Propenſions and Affections of the Soul gently, coolly, and cautiouſly. For we muſt neceſſarily move towards the Object in our Deſires, and from it in our Averſions; our Deſires and Averſions being antecedent to ſuch Motions, and producing them, as Cauſes do their proper Effects.

Again, When he adviſed before, that Men would not content themſelves with a cold and moderate purſuit of ſuch valuable Advantages, it was no part of his Intention to recommend an eager and violent Deſire, but rather, that we ſhould be ſo fixed and reſolved in this proſecution, as to ſatisfy our ſelves in doing what he adds immediately after, the abandoning ſome Enjoyments for all together, and the ſuſpending of others for ſome convenient time.

Now a Vehement Degree in any of theſe things, either the Propenſities of the Mind, or the Deſires and Averſions of it, is with great reaſon condemned, becauſe of the ill Conſequences it is apt to have, when Men ſhoot beyond the Mark, through an Exceſs of Deſire, and attempt things above their Strength. For this uſually tends to the weakning of the Soul, as much as overſtraining injures the Body. And this is an Inconvenience which many have found experimentally, from that immoderate Violence and heat of Action, which Men that are fond of Exerciſe, and eager in it, are moſt unſeaſonably guilty of. For there are but very few Perſons of ſuch a Conſtitution, either in Body or Mind, as to be able all on the ſudden, to change from a bad State to a ſound and good one. Diogenes indeed, and Crates, and Zeno, and ſuch eminent Lights as theſe, might be ſo happy; but for the generality of People, their Alterations are gradual and ſlow; they fall by little and little, and they recover themſelves ſo too; and this is ſuch a Condition as Nature hath appointed for us, with regard to the Soul, as well as the Body. For gentle Methods are commonly more likely to hold, and a more ſafe way of proceeding. Theſe keep the Soul from ſpending its ſtrength too faſt, and put ſome Checks upon its Forwardneſs; which is the true way both of preſerving, and by degrees, though but ow ones, of conſirming and increaſing the vigour of it. This is the true Reaſon, why we are adviſed to put a Reſtraint upon the Affections of the Soul, to move leiſurely and gradually, and with much coolneſs and caution. That is, to ſlacken the Reins by little and little; and not to let looſe our Deſires and our Averſions, nor give them their full range immediately. For the Man that from a diſſolute and headſtrong courſe of Life, would bring himſelf to the contrary Habits of Sobriety and ſtrict Diſcipline, muſt not preſently leap to the diſtant Extream, from Luxury and Exceſs, to Abſtemiouſneſs and Faſting; but he muſt advance by Steps, and be ſatisfied at firſt, with abating ſomewhat of his former Extravagance. For what the Author of the Golden Verſes hath obſerved, is very conſiderable upon theſe Occaſions. The Raſh uſe Force, and with ſoft Pleaſures Fight; The Wiſe Retreat, and ſave themſelves by Flight.

Thus it is in Matters of Learning and Knowledge; Young Students muſt admit the Ideas of things warily, and not take every Appearance of Truth, for an unconteſtable Axiom; that ſo, if upon a Second view, there be occaſion to alter their Judgments, it may be done with greater Readineſs and Eaſe, when their Minds are not too ſtrongly poſſeſs'd with their firſt Notions.

Once more, Epictetus adviſes his Scholars to move leiſurely and gradually to Objects of both kinds; but now, if ſo much Caution and Coldneſs be neceſſary, why does he allow our Aversions any more than our Deſires? for he bids us take off our Averſions from thoſe Prejudicial things that are not in our power, and bend them againſt thoſe that are; but at the ſame time he prohibits all manner of Deſire, and for ſome time, will not permit us to indulge that at all.

One probable account of this, may be taken from the nature and Condition of Men, who are beginning to reform; for the firſt ſtep to be taken toward a good Life, is to throw off all the Venom and Corruption of a bad one; and till the Breaſt have diſcharged it ſelf of this, no Nouriſhment can be had from any Principles of Virtue infuſed into it. For what the great Hippocrates has moſt excellently obſerved concerning our Bodies, is much more truly applicable to our Souls, That ſo long as a Man continues full of groſs and noxious Humours, the Nouriſhment he receives, does not feed him, ſo much as his Diſtemper. For the Vicious Principles that had taken Poſſeſſion, corrupt all the Good ones that are put to them. Sometimes they make us diſreliſh them, as unpleaſant; ſometimes dread and avoid them, as hurtful and injurious to us; ſometimes condemn them as Evil, and reject them as impoſſible to be complied with. And all this while, the Diſeaſe gathers more ſtrength, and grows upon us, by bringing us to a Contempt of better Principles, after a pretence of having tried, and found them defective. And thus at laſt it becomes Incurable, and will not ſo much as ſuffer us to admit of any Arguments or Actions that might advance us in Vertue, but produces in us a Loathing of all thoſe Remedies that might contribute to our Recovery. Juſt as in the Jaundies, when the Vitiated Palat thinks Honey bitter, a Man nauſeates it preſently, and will never endure to taſte Honey after, in order to the removing that Prejudice. Thus the Averſions are allowed in Young Beginners, becauſe the Method of their Cures require it; and the firſt ſtep towards a Reformation, is by growing into a Diſlike of Vice, to put themſelves into a Condition of receiving Vertuous Principles and Good Inſtructions.

This Diſcourſe is alſo excellently well ſuited to ſuch Perſons, as it ſhews them the right way to Liberty and Security, and an eaſie Mind, that ſo their Lives may be pleaſant and ſweet to them; which indeed is the very thing that all Creatures aim at. Now, though an abſolute freedom from Paſſion, and a Converſation in all points agreeable to the Rules of Decency and Nature, be the proper Excellency which we ought to deſire and purſue; yet Beginners muſt ſatisfy themſelves with leſs, and think they do very well, when they can abate of their Paſſions, and reduce them within ſome reaſonable bounds, though they cannot gain an abſolute Maſtery over them: And they muſt expect to relapſe ſometimes, and are not to be condemned ſo much for falling, as encouraged and commended when they riſe again. Such as theſe therefore are not yet arrived to the perfection of thoſe things that ſhould be the Object of their Deſires: And this I take to be the meaning of that Expreſſion, This is not come to your turn yet; i. e. the imperfect State you are in, hath not qualified you for ſuch Deſires: For when we aim at ſomething that exceeds our Capacity, and find we cannot reach it, then Troubles and Diſappointments, and a ſinking of our Spirits, and ſometimes a deſponding Mind follow upon it. They that are violently bent upon things above their Strength, ſlight ſuch as are proportionable to it, and think them vile and deſpicable, becauſe they judge of them by way of compariſon with greater. And yet it is by ſmall beginnings only, that we can ever arrive at great Perfections; and before we can cope with things above us, we muſt practiſe upon leſs, and make our ſelves Maſters of ſuch as we are a Match for.

CHAP. VIII.

Remember upon all occaſions, to reſlect with your ſelf, of what Nature and Condition thoſe things are, that miniſter Delight, or are uſeful and beneficial to you, or that you have a natural tenderneſs for: And theſe Reflections may anſwer their End, make them familiar, by beginning at the ſlighteſt and moſt inconſiderable things, and ſo riſing to the higher and more valuable. For inſtance; if you are fond of an Earthen Cup, conſider it is but Earthen Ware, and you cannot be much troubled or ſurpriſed, when ever it happens to be broke. And if you be fond of a Child or a Wife, conſider that theſe are of Humane, that is, of a Frail and Mortal Nature; and thus your Surpriſe and Concern will be the leſs, when Death takes either of them away from you.

COMMENT.

AFter the diſtinction between things within, and things out of our own power, and an Advertiſement how we ought to eſteem each of them: That the former ſort only muſt be look'd upon as our own, the latter as Foreign, and in the Diſpoſal of others; he had told us how we ought to be affected with regard to thoſe that fall within our power, to make ſuch of them 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 as are contrary to Reaſon and Nature, the Object of our Averſion, and to ſuſpend all manner of Deſire, for ſome convenient time: (Which Advice in all probability, is grounded upon the Arguments already mentioned.) But ſince it is impoſſible to live without having ſomething of Intereſt in, and much Dealings with thoſe things that are not at the Diſpoſal of our own Will; he now informs us how to converſe with them, and tells us, that though they be not at our own pleaſure, yet they ſhall not be able to create to us any manner of Diſquiet and Confuſion.

And here he takes notice of Three ſorts of theſe External Things; Firſt, Such as can only pretend to pleaſe, without profiting us at all; for theſe are they that miniſter to our Entertainment and Delight. The Second are ſuch as are beneficial and convenient for uſe. And the Third, ſuch as we have a particular Affection for, by reaſon of ſome natural Relation they bear to us, and what we are tender of, without any regard to our own Benefit and Convenience. And this is a very juſt and true Diſtinction; for Pleaſure and Profit, and Natural Affection, are the Three things that engage our Hearts; and it is always upon one or other of theſe Accounts, that we are fond of this Mortal State, and reconciled to all the Hardſhips and Miſeries that attend it.

Now the Entertainments and Diverſions that Men are delighted with, differ according to their ſeveral Tempers and Inclinations: Some find their pleaſure in Plays, and others in Sports and Exerciſes, in Races, or Tilting, or the like. Others in Dancings, or Tricks of Legerdemain, in Jugglers, or Zany's, or Buffoons. Some again in curious Sights, either the Beauties of Nature, as the Colours of Peacocks, and other fine Birds, pleaſant Flowers, and Gardens, and Meadows and Groves: Or in the perfections of Art, as Pictures, and Statues, and Buildings; or the exquiſite Workmanſhip of other Profeſſions. Some value thoſe of the Eye leſs, and find greater ſatisfaction in the Entertainment of the Ear, as the Harmony of Vocal and Inſtrumental Muſick; and which is a Pleaſure more generous and improving, in Eloquence or Hiſtory, and ſometimes in Fables and Romances. For that theſe contribute much to our Delight, is plain from that fondneſs which all of us naturally have to Stories, from our very Childhood.

The Second ſort which tend to our Uſe and Benefit, are likewiſe various: Some contribute to the improvement of the Mind, as a Skilful Maſter, Virtuons Converſation, Inſtructive Books, and the like: Some are ſerviceable to the Body, as Meats and Cloathes, and Exerciſe: Some regard only our Fortune, as Places of Authority, Lands and Tenements, Money and Goods, and the like.

But the Third ſort we have a natural tenderneſs for, without any proſpect of Advantage from them; and theſe are recommended to our Affection by ſome common tye of Nature and Affinity between us; and in this relation ſtand our Wives and Children, our Kindred, our Friends, and our Country-men.

Now the Advice given, with reſpect to every one of theſe, is, that we would ſit down, and ſeriouſly conſider, what the Nature and Condition of each of them is; what Hazards and Uncertainties they are liable to; that they are ſubject to Corruption and Decay; that the Enjoyment of them is ſhort, and not to be depended upon; and that none of them are abſolutely at our own Pleaſure and Diſpoſal. For ſuch a Reflection as this, that ſuggeſts to us continually what their Nature and Circumſtances are, is no other, than a Meditating upon the Loſs of them. And ſuch a Meditation would render the thing eaſie and familiar to us, and when any Accident of this kind befalls us, would prevent all that Surpriſe, and Confuſion, and extravagant Concern, which the Unthinking part of the World are oppreſs'd with upon ſuch Occaſions. And indeed the caſe here, is the very ſame with ſeveral other Inſtances, wherein we find, that the Troubles and Pains of Body and Mind both, though very grievous at firſt and in themſelves, yet grow much more ſupportable by Cuſtom and Uſe.

To this purpoſe, the next Words give us very good Council; to begin at firſt with little matters; nay, not only with little, but with the leaſt and moſt inconſiderable: for according to the old Greek Proverb, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Eraſ. Adag. Pag. 227. The Potter muſt try a Cup, before he can make a Jar. He that undertakes the biggeſt firſt is preſently worſted, proves unſucceſsful, ſpends his Strength to no purpoſe, and gives out in utter Deſpair. But he that ſets out leiſurely, and begins with ſmall and eaſie Trials, grows ſtronger and bolder with his good Succeſs, and by gaining Ground upon what was a Match for him before, advances more ſurely, and conquers ſtill greater and greater Difficulties. Thus a Man that hath been uſed to Four Meals a day, if he attempt all on the ſudden to faſt a whole Day together, will find the change too violent for his Body to bear, and never get through the trouble and pain of it. And this force upon Nature, is the Reaſon why ſuch warm Undertakings, are generally of dangerous conſequence, and juſt only for a ſpurt and a way. But if ſuch a one abate of his former indulgence by degrees, firſt take himſelf down to Three Meals, and when this Proportion is grown habitual and eaſie, then allow himſelf but Two: Thus it will be very feaſible; and afterwards he may without any great trouble, come to content himſelf with one; and ſuch a Change will be infinitely more ſafe, and more likely to continue.

To apply this now by the inſtance before us: If we conſider thoſe things that are dear to us upon the account of their Uſefulneſs and Convenience; and from ſuch among them as are of leaſt Conſequence and Value, acquaint our ſelves with the Condition of all the reſt; that their Nature is corruptible, the Enjoyment of them uncertain, and the Loſs of them what we have reaſon to expect every Moment: As in an Earthen Pot, which can have nothing but its Uſefulneſs to incline us to value it; we are to remember that it is of a brittle ſubſtance, and daſhed to pieces with the leaſt Accident. And what can be a poorer and more contemptible inſtance than this, to begin with? Yet mean and trifling as it is, a Man that lays a good Foundation here, and riſes by degrees to Matters of greater concern, ſhall be able at laſt to encounter his Affection for a Child; and not only in meer ſpeculation, and empty formal Words to ſay it, but to make his whole Behaviour ſpeak, and all the Diſpoſitions of his Mind ſhall carry the impreſſion of this wiſe and ſeaſonable Reflection, That what he thus dotes upon, is but a Man; if a Man, conſebuently a brittle and frail Creature, and what he is in a continual poſſibility of loſing. And when his Mind is once throughly poſſeſs'd with this Conſideration, and confirmed with an habitual recollection of it, whenever that Child is ſnatch'd away from him, he is prepared for the Stroke, and cannot be ſurpriſed and confounded with Paſſion, as if ſome ſtrange or new thing had happened to him.

And here it is very well worth a Remark, what abundance of Wiſdom and Artifice there is in this Management of things; for by it we get a Maſtery over thoſe that are not by Nature within our Power, and deal with them as though they were: For the ſaving my Child from Death, is a thing not in my power; but a due Conſideration of his being liable to it, the rendring this Conſideration familiar and eaſie to me, and living in expectation of it, as a thing no leſs natural and likely than his Life; the not being diſturbed if he do Die, and the behaving my ſelf with ſuch evenneſs of Temper, as if he were not dead: Theſe are in our power: And which is a great deal more, they do in effect bring the very Accident of his Death, which is of it ſelf not ſo, within it too. For a Man thus compoſed, may ſay, My Child is not Dead to me; or, to ſpeak more truly and properly, Though he be Dead, yet I am ſtill the ſame Man, as if he were ſtill alive.

I only obſerve farther, That the Inſtances produced here by Epictetus, are fetched from the Two latter ſorts of Things; ſuch as are uſeful and beneficial to us, and ſuch as Nature and Affinity gives us a more than ordinary tenderneſs for: And theſe were prudently choſen, with an intent, I preſume, to intimate, that thoſe things which are for Entertainment and Diverſion, and can only pretend to pleaſe without profiting us, are ſo very mean and deſpicable, as to deſerve no conſideration at all, from Perſons that have made any tolerable advances in the ſtudy of Wiſdom and Virtue.

CHAP. IX.

In every Action you undertake, conſider firſt with your ſelf, and weigh well the Nature and Circumſtances of the thing: Nay, though it be ſo flight a one, as going to Bathe; repreſent to your ſelf beforehand, what Accidents you may probably meet with. That in a Bath is often Rude Behaviour, Daſhing of Water, Juſtling for Paſſage, Scurrilous Language, and Stealing. And when you have done thus, you may with more Security go about the thing. To which purpoſe you will do well to ſay thus to your ſelf; My Deſign is to Bathe, but ſo it is too, to preſerve my Mind and Reaſon undiſturbed, while I do ſo. For after ſuch wiſe preparation as this, if any thing intervene to obſtruct your Waſhing, this Reflection will preſently riſe upon it: Well, but this was not the only thing I propoſed; that which I chiefly intended, is to keep my Mind and Reaſon undiſturbed; and this I am ſure can never be done, if I ſuffer every Accident to diſcompoſe me.

COMMENT.

AFter giving Inſtructions concerning our Behaviour, with regard to the things of the World, that uſe to engage our Affections, either upon the account of the Delight they give us, the Convenience they are of, or the Relation they bear to us; the next Step in order, is to conſider our Actions; for theſe too, have a great many Circumſtances that lie out of our power, and muſt therefore be undertaken with great Prudence, and much Preparation. The Rule then that he lays down is this, That you take a juſt account of the nature of each Action, and fairly compute the ſeveral Accidents, which though they do not neceſſarily, yet may poſſibly attend it, and to expect that theſe are very like to happen in your own caſe particularly. And the Fruit of this will be, either not to be ſurpriſed, if ſuch Difficulties do encounter you; or, if the thing be not of abſolute neceſſity, to decline the hazard, by letting it alone. For the Great Cato reckons this for one of the Errors of his Life, that he choſe to take a Voyage once by Sea, to a Place whither he might have travell'd by Land. Now in ſuch a caſe, though no misfortune ſhould actually happen, yet if there be a likelihood of any ſuch Accident, and if it do frequently happen to others, it is an act of Imprudence to make choice of ſuch a Courſe, without being driven to it by neceſſity: And this Anſwer, that many People do the ſame, and come off ſafe, will not bear us out, in chooſing a more dangerous, when it is left to our own Liberty to take a ſafer Paſſage.

But now, where there is abſolute occaſion for our running ſome Riſque, as if we have neceſſary Affairs to diſpatch, which require a Voyage to or from ſome Iſland; or if we are obliged to ſtand by a Father, or a Friend, in ſome hazardous or unlucky Buſineſs; or if we are called upon to take up Arms in defence of our Country: Then there is no thought of declining the Matter wholly, and our Method muſt be to undertake it upon due deliberation; and after having firſt laid together the ſeveral accidental Obſtructions that uſe to ariſe in ſuch a caſe: That ſo by this timely Recollection, we may render them eaſie and ſamiliar, and not be diſturbed when any of them come upon us. For a Man thus prepared, hath this double Advantage; if they do not happen, his Joy is the greater, becauſe he had ſo fully poſſeſt himſelf with an expectation that they would, that it is almoſt a Deliverance to him. And if they do, then he hath the advantage of being provided againſt them, and ſo can encounter them, without much danger or diſorder.

Now againſt this Counſel I expect it will be urged, Firſt, That if any one ſhould take ſuch Pains to repreſent all the Croſſes and Diſappointments that may probably happen to them in every Undertaking, the Effect of this would be Cowardice and Idleneſs; for Men would find themſelves utterly diſcouraged from attempting any thing at all. Beſides, that nothing can be more grievous to any Man, than to have the Image of his Troubles and Misfortunes conſtantly before his Eyes; and eſpecially if the Affair he be engaged in, continue any time, to converſe all that while with this gaſtly Apparition. Therefore that Demoſthenes his Advice ſeems much more Prudent and Eligible; To be ſure that what you attend, be Good and Vertuous; then to hope well, and whatever the Succeſs be, to bear it generouſly and decently.

But by the Objector's good leave, if by hoping well, Demosthenes mean a good Confidence grounded upon our undertaking what is Vertuous and Commendable, and a reſting ſatisfied in this Conſideration, whatever the Event be, he ſays the very ſame thing with Epictetus; only indeed he gives us no Direction which way we ſhall attain to this generous Temper of Mind, that may enable us to entertain the Diſpenſations of Providence decently, though they ſhould happen to be harſh and ſevere. But Epictetus declares himſelf of Opinion, that the Method to qualify our ſelves for ſo doing, is to take a true Proſpect of the whole Affair, and repreſent to our ſelves, that it is what is fit for us to undertake, and that there may be ſeveral Circumſtances attending it, which though they may not be agreeable to us, are yet very tolerable, and ſuch as we may reconcile our ſelves to, upon theſe Two Accounts. Firſt, Becauſe the Action it ſelf which brings them upon us, is Vertuous and Becoming; and then, becauſe whenever they happen, they are no more than what are expected, and were provided againſt before.

But, if by hoping well, Demoſthenes intend a firm perſwaſion of Safety and Succeſs, then I think it is very difficult, nay, I may venture to ſay, it is impoſſible to conceive how a Man thus perſwaded, can ever bear Diſappointments and Croſſes with Moderation and Temper. For when a Man falls from what he was in imagination, the ſhock is the ſame, as if he were ſo in reality. And neither the Body, nor the Mind, are of a Conſtitution to bear ſudden and violent Alterations, without great Diſturbance. You ſee that the very Weather, and Seaſons of the Year, though they change gently and by degrees, yet put our Humours into a great ferment, and generally occaſion many Diſtempers among us; and the more Violent this Change at any time is, the Greater in Proportion the Diſorders that follow upon it, muſt needs be.

For it is true, that a juſt Computation of all the Difficulties and Dangers that are uſed to attend our Actions, muſt needs condemn Men to Slaviſh Fears, and an Unactive Life: For if our Reaſon convince us, that what we attempt, is good for the advantage of the Soul, or (which is all one) of the Man, (for that Soul is the Man,) the Deſire of that Good muſt needs inſpire us with Courage and Vigour, notwithſtanding all the diſcouraging Dangers that attend it. And the conſideration of this danger, will be very much ſoftened by this moſt Rational and Vertuous Perſwaſion, that we ought to perſevere in ſuch an Undertaking, though at the expence of ſome Hazard and Inconvenience. For all Danger and Detriment, that concerns either our Body or our Fortunes, is not properly an Evil to us; nor ſhall we think it ours, if we be wiſe. But the Benefit of chooſing a Vertuous Action, and perſiſting in it, in deſpight of all Dangers and Diſcouragements, is our own Good; for it is the Good of our Souls, which are truly and properly our ſelves. And this Advantage is conſiderable enough to be ſet againſt many Troubles, and Loſſes, and Baniſhments, and Diſgraces; nay, it is ſufficient, not only to be ſet againſt, but to over-balance them all; becauſe the Good of this, does ſo very much exceed the Evil that ſeems to be in them. For if a Man think himſelf obliged to chooſe a Greater Good, when attended only with a Leſs Evil, how is it poſſible that he ſhould be diſcouraged and uneaſie, under the expectation of ſome croſs Accidents that ſometimes follow upon Vertuous Actions, when the Good of theſe Actions is truly and properly his own, but the Evil of thoſe Accidents, is only ſomething remote, and not His? Eſpecially too, when this is by no means a ſuperficial and notional Diſtinction, but ſuch a real Difference, as his whole Practice and Behaviour ſhews him ſenſible of. This is the very Reaſon, that Men of Virtue and Wiſdom have made it their Glory to chooſe Good with the greateſt Dangers; that they have done it chearfully, and ſacrificed their very Lives for it; and accounted their Sufferings upon ſuch an Account, matter of the greateſt Joy to them. So did This Perſon was Son to Creon, King of Thebes, and upon an Anſwer of the Oracle, that a Plague which then infeſted the City, could not be removed, till the Race of Cadmus were all extinct: He, who was the only remainder of that Family, ſlew himſelf. Of the ſame nature was that Act of Curtius, and the Decii ſo much celebrated by the Roman Poets and Hiſtorians. Menoeceus particularly, and all thoſe other Heroes, famed in Story, who have voluntarily devoted themſelves, and died for the Service and Sake of their Country.

Now Epictetus couches his Advice here, under one of the Meaneſt and moſt Inſignificant Inſtances that can be; partly to illuſtrate what he ſays, by an Example taken from common Converſation, and ſo to gain the Aſſent of his Hearers, to the truth of what he would infer from it; and partly too, as himſelf hath told us before, to put his Scholars upon exerciſing their Virtue in Leſſer Trials; that ſo from Trivial Matters, they may riſe by degrees to others of greater Difficulty and Conſequence. And the Succeſs of this Method, hath been already ſhewn, to depend upon Reaſons which need not be repeated here. But his Deſign is alſo, that we ſhould be careful to apply theſe things to Affairs of Moment, in proportion as the Hazards of them are more diſcouraging; and in thoſe Occaſions, always to take our Meaſures from the Nature of the thing, whether it be what is agreeable to Decency and our Duty, and what thoſe Hardſhips are that uſually accompany it: And after ſuch Proſpect taken, to ſettle our Minds in this Reſolution, that if the worſt happen, yet we will bear it with Temper and Moderation. For this is the way to maintain the Character of Vertuous and Rational Men; this muſt let us into all the Advantages of doing well, and defend us from all that Perplexity that unexpected Events commonly betray Men to. For he that is troubled and Diſcompoſed, and fancies himſelf unhappy in what he ſuffers, it is plain, either had not ſufficiently conſidered what he went about, before he engaged in it; or if he did foreſee all this, then his Diſorder is the Effect of Effeminacy and Cowardice, which makes him give out, and repent his Undertaking. And both theſe Failings are highly Criminal, and contrary to the Rules of Nature, and Right Reaſon.

CHAP. X.

That which gives Men Diſquiet, and makes their Lives Miſerable, is not the Nature of things as they really are, but the Notions and Opinions which they form to themſelves concerning them. Thus even Death, which we look upon as the moſt perplexing and dreadfu, hath in truth, nothing of Terror in it: For if it had, Socrates muſt needs have feared it as much as we. But our Opinion that it is Evil, is the only thing that makes it ſo. Therefore, whenever we meet with Obſtructions and Perplexities, or fall into Troubles and Diſorders, let us be Just, and not lay the blame where it is not due; but impute it all to our own Selves, and our prejudicate Opinions.

COMMENT.

WE were told before, what Means would be Proper and Effectual for the preſerving an Even and Compoſed Temper of Mind, in the midſt of all thoſe Hardſhips that frequently attend our beſt Actions. That this might be accompliſhed by the Power of Premeditation; by repreſenting theſe Inconveniences, as ſure to happen; and when we had made the worſt of it, convincing our Selves that ſuch Notions were worth our Undertaking, even with all thoſe Incumbrances. Now that Rule proceeded upon the Work of our own Minds, but there is another here, fetch'd from the Nature of the Things themſelves, and the Conſideration of thoſe Difficulties and Dangers that uſe to give us Diſturbance. And here he changes his Method, and confirms what he ſays, not by ſome ſlight and trivial Inſtances, as he did before, but by Death, the greateſt and moſt confounding one to Humane Nature that can be. For if the Argument hold good in this caſe, it muſt needs be a great deal ſtronger with regard to all the reſt, which are, by our own Confeſſion, leſs diſmal and affrighting.

To this purpoſe then he tells us, That thoſe Things which we apprehend to be Evil, and which for that Reaſon diſcompoſe our Spirits, becauſe we think our Selves miſerable under them, are really neither Evil themſelves, nor the true Cauſes of any Evil to us: But that all our Troubles and Perplexities are entirely owing to the Opinions which we our Selves have entertained concerning them.

For proof of this Determination, he produces that, which of all the Things that we apprehend as Evil, is confeſſedly the greateſt and moſt terrible; and ſhews, that even Death, nay a violent and untimely Death, is yet no Evil The Argument he uſes is ſhort indeed, but very full and concluſive; the Method and Conſequence whereof lies thus. Whatever is Evil in its own Nature, muſt needs appear ſo to all Mankind, and eſpecially to thoſe whoſe Apprehenſions are moſt improved, and moſt ſuitable to the real Nature of Things. Thus all Things that are naturally hot, or cold, or beautiful, or the like, appear to all People in their right Senſes. But Death does not appear evil to all People, nor are they univerſally agreed in this Notion of it. (For Socrates did not think it ſo; He choſe to undergo it, when it was in his Power to have declined it; He endured it with all the Calmneſs and Compoſure imaginable: He ſpent that whole Day in which he died, with his Friends, demonſtrating to them the Exiſtence and Immortality of the Soul, and the Efficacy of a Philoſophical Life in order to Virtue and Reformation.) From all which Premiſes, this Concluſion evidently follows; That Death is not in its own Nature evil: And conſequently, That our Fears and Troubles concerning it do not come from the Thing it ſelf, but from a diſquieting Perſuaſion of its being evil, with which we poſſeſs and diſorder our own Minds.

And ſuch a Perſuaſion there may very well he, though there be no Ground for it in the Nature of the Thing. For Honey is not bitter, and yet Men in the Jaundice, that have their Palates vitiated, from a conſtant Bitterneſs occaſioned by the overflowing of the Gall, are prejudiced againſt it, as if it were ſo. Now, as the only way to bring theſe Perſons to diſcern Taſtes as they really are, is to carry off that Redundancy of Choler which corrupts their Palate; ſo in this Caſe, we muſt remove the Diſtemper of the Mind, correct our Notions of Things, and make a right Judgment of what is really Good and Evil to us, by juſt Diſtinctions between Things that Are and Things that Are Not in our own Power; what is properly ours, and what belongs not to us. For according to this Rule, if Death be none of the Things in our Power, it cannot be evil; and though it ſhould be granted ſuch, with regard to the Body; yet if it do not extend to the Soul, nor do that any Harm, it cannot be evil to us.

Plato indeed, or Socrates as he is introduced by Plato, goes a great deal farther, and boldly affirms, that it is Good, and much to be preferred before this Life that we lead in the Body; and this, not only to ſome Perſons, and in ſome Circumſtances, as Men may be better or worſe; but in general, and without Exception, to all. For thus Socrates expreſſes himſelf in his Phoedon; It may poſſibly ſurprize you, and ſeem a ſtrange Paradox, That this ſhould be the only Accident, that is good at all Times, and without any Reſerve; but yet ſo it is. In all other Caſes, nothing happens to a Man, which, as his Circumſtances may alter, he might not at another time better be without: But no Time, no Circumſtance, whatſoever, can render it more for a Man's Advantage to Live than to Dye. And Plato, in his Book concerning Laws, ſpeaking in his own Perſon, delivers himſelf to this purpoſe: If I may be allowed to ſpeak my Opinion freely, it is really my Judgment, that the Continuation of Soul and Body together, upon no Conſideration, ought rather to be choſen than the Separation and Diſſolution of them.

Now Epictetus, 'tis true, hath drawn his Argument from that, which is generally eſteemed the moſt formidable Evil that we are capable of ſuffering: But however, ſince moſt of us, when we lye under the preſent Smart of any Calamity, ſtraitway imagine it worſe than Death (for what can be more uſual, than for People in Pain, and very often in no great Extremity of it neither, to wiſh for Death to deliver them from it, and when reduced to Poverty, to tell us they had much rather be Dead than Live in Want,) upon this Account, we may apply Epictetus's Argument to theſe Inſtances alſo.

As to Pain, What Degree of it is there ſo violent, that Men, nay even thoſe of low and vulgar Spirits, are not content to go through, to cure a dangerous Diſeaſe? They do not only Endure, but Chuſe and Pray for it: They thank their Phyſicians for putting them to Torture, and look upon Cutting and Burning as Acts of the greateſt Tenderneſs and Friendſhip. Now, though this makes it pretty plain, that Men who are well pleaſed to purchaſe Life ſo dear, muſt needs be of Opinion, that no Pain is ſo terrible to Humane Nature as Death; yet the principal Uſe I would make of this Obſervation is, to ſhew, that Men can really ſuffer with great Patience and Reſolution; can harden themſelves againſt what they count very dreadful, and meet it with a compoſed Countenance, when once they are perſuaded, that the enduring it will be for their Advantage. What prodigious Inſtances of Patience were the Lacedemonian Youths, who endured Scourgings ſo barbarous, as almoſt to expire under the Rod, and all this, merely for a little Oſtentation and Vainglory? Now this, it is evident, they did not out of any Compulſion, but freely and cheerfully; for they offer'd themſelves to the Tryal, of their own Accord. And the Reaſon why they held out ſo obſtinately, was, not that their Senſe of Pain was leſs quick and tender than other Peoples, (though more hard'ned too than People that indulge themſelves in Effeminacy and Eaſe) but becauſe they thought it their Glory and their Virtue to ſuffer manfully and reſolutely.

For the ſame Reaſon, Epictetus would tell you, that Poverty is no ſuch formidable Thing neither, becauſe he can produce the Example of Crates the Theban to the contrary; who, when he diſpoſed of all he was worth to the Publick, and ſaid, Let others keep or mourn loſt ſtore, Crates own Hands make Crates poor,

That Moment put an End to his Slavery, and that his Freedom commenced from the time he had disburdened himſelf of his Wealth, Now the manifeſt Conſequence of all this is, That nothing of this kind is terrible and inſupportable in its own Nature, as we fondly imagine; ſo far from it, that there may be ſome Caſes, when they are much more eligible, and better for us: I mean, when they are converted to higher and more excellent Purpoſes for our own Selves; by tending to the Advantage and Improvement of the Reaſonable Soul.

The only Expedient to retain an Even Temper in the midſt of theſe Accidents, is, to poſſeſs our Minds with juſt Notions of them; and the regulating of theſe Notions is in our own Power: conſequently, the preventing thoſe Diſorders that proceed from the Want of ſuch a Regulation is in our own Power too. And one great Advantage to Perſons thus diſpoſed will be, The Learning how to manage thoſe Things that are not at our Diſpoſal, as though they were. For if it be not in my Power to prevent Defamation or Diſgrace, the Loſs of my Goods or my Eſtate, Affronts and violent Inſults upon my Perſon; yet thus much is in my Power, to poſſeſs my ſelf with right Apprehenſions of theſe Things; to conſider them, not only not as Evils, but ſometimes the Inſtruments and Occaſions of great Good. Now ſuch an Opinion as this, makes it almoſt the ſame Thing to a Man, as if they did not happen at all; or, which is all one, makes him think himſelf never the Worſe, but ſometimes the Better for them, when they do. And I take it for granted, that every Wiſe Man will allow it more for Our, that is, for the Souls Honour and Advantage, to have behaved our Selves gallantly under Afflictions, than never to have been afflicted at all: And the greater theſe Afflictions were, the greater, in proportion, ſtill is the Honour and Advantage gained by them. For, as to Bodies that are able to bear it, the violenteſt Motions exerciſe them beſt, and make greateſt Improvements of Health, and Strength, and Activity; ſo the Mind too, muſt be put upon ſharp Tryals ſometimes, to qualifie it for ſuffering gallantly whe any Accident gives us an Occaſion. And this may be accompliſh'd theſe two Ways: By getting a right Notion of them; and, By being well prepared againſt them: which is to be done partly, by accuſtoming the Body to Hardſhip, which indeed is of general uſe, and hath enabled even Ignorant and Ill Men to ſlight Blows, and other Pains, which we commonly think intolerable; and partly too, by fixing the Mind in a provident Forecaſt; and diſtan Expectation of them. And all theſe Things we may certainly do, if we pleaſe.

Now, if neither Death, nor any of thoſe Things we dread moſt, have any Thing that is formidable in their own Nature; it is plain, neither they, nor the Perſons that inſlict them, are the Cause of our Trouble, but we our Selves, and our own Opinions bring this upon our Selves. When therefore the Mind feels it ſelf perplexed with Grief or Fear, or any other Paſſion, the Blame is our own; and nothing but our Opinions are accountable for ſuch Diſorders.

None but ignorant and undiſciplin'd People tax others with their Misfortunes. The Young Proficient blames himſelf; but the Philoſoph r indeed blames neither others nor himſelf.

The Connection of this with what went before, is ſo cloſe, that if a Conjunction were added, and we •• ad it thus, For none but ignorant and undiſciplin'd People tax others with their Misfortunes, it had given a very good Reaſon why we ſhould never lay our Troubles, or Fears, or Diſorders, or any other Calamity we fancy our Selves in, to any Thing or any Bodies Charge, but our own. Since this Way of proceeding, he ſays, comes from want of being taught better. And then to this Character of the Ignorant and Undiſciplin'd, he adds that of One who is a Beginner only in Philoſophy, and one who hath attained to a Maſtery in it.

The Perfect Philoſopher never thinks any Thing that befalls him, Evil, nor charges any Body with being the Occaſion of his Misfortunes, becauſe he lives up to the Dictates of Nature and Reaſon, and is never diſappointed in his Purſuits and Deſires, nor ever overtaken with his Fears.

He that is but Raw and unfiniſh'd, does indeed ſometimes miſs of his Deſires, and falls into the Miſchiefs he would flec from, becauſe the brutiſh Inclinations move too ſtrongly in him at ſuch Times. And when this happens, the firſt Elements he learn'd, which taught him to diſtinguiſh Things In and Out of our Power, teach him too, That he himſelf, and none but he, is the true Cauſe of all his Diſappointments, and all his Diſaſters. And the Occaſion of them all was his miſtaking the Things without us, and placing a Man's proper Good and Evil in them.

But you will ſay, perhaps, Since this Young Philoſopher knows, That our own proper Good and Evil depends upon our own Power and Choice, (and the accuſing himſelf implies that he knows thus much) how comes it to paſs, that he takes wrong Meaſures, and renders himſelf liable to this Blame? Probably, becauſe the Knowledge of Good and Evil is the firſt ſtep to be made toward Virtue; this being the proper Act of Reaſon: But the brutiſh Appetites do not always preſently ſubmit to Reaſon, nor ſuffer themſelves to be eaſily reduced and tempered by it: and eſpecially where it happens, as it does very often, that Reaſon is Negligent and Sluggiſh; and the Irrational Part active, and perpetually in Motion; by which means the Paſſions gather Strength, and uſurp an abſolute Dominion. This was the Caſe of her in the Play; Remorſe and Senſe of Guilt draw back my Soul, But ſtronger Paſſion does her Powers controul. With Rage tranſported, I puſh boldly on, And ſee the Precipice I cannot ſhun. So that for ſome time it is pretty tolerable, if Reaſon can work upon the Paſſions, and either draw them by Force, or charm and win them over ſome ſoſter way: For, when this is done, then the Knowledge of the Intelligent Part is more clear and inſtructive, and proceeds without any Diſtraction at all. No wonder therefore, if Men but little trained in Philoſophy make ſome falſe Steps, while their Paſſions are not yet totally ſubdued, and their Reaſon does not operate in its full Strength. And when they do ſo, they accuſe Themſelves only, as having admitted that Diſtinction of Things in and out of our own Power, though as yet they ſeem to have but an imperfect Notion of it.

But they that are Ignorant, and abſolutely untaught, muſt needs commit a World of Errors, both becauſe of that violent Agitation which their Paſſions are continually in, and of the Ignorance of their rational Part, which hath not yet learn'd to diſtinguiſh real Good and Evil, from what is ſo in appearance only: Nor does it take them off from Brutality, not ſo much as in Thought only. By Brutality I mean ſuch low and mean Notions, as perſuade us, that our Body is properly our Selves, and our Nature; or, which is yet worſe, when we think our Riches ſo as the Covetous do. Now while we continue thus ignorant, there are ſeveral Accounts to be given for our doing amiſs: We do it, becauſe we think all our Good and Evil conſiſts in Things without us; and, not being at all ſenſible, what is properly the Happineſs or Unhappineſs of Humane Nature, or whence it proceeds, we fall foul upon other People; and fancy, that they who obſtruct or deprive us of thoſe External Advantages we ſo eagerly purſue; or that bring upon us any of the Calamities we would avoid, are the real Cauſes of all our Miſery. Though in truth, neither thoſe External Advantages which we call Good, nor thoſe Calamities we call Evil, are what we take them for; but as Circumſtances are ſometimes ordered, may prove the direct contrary. For our Folly in this caſe, is juſt like that of ſilly Boys, that cannot endure their Maſters, but think them their worſt Enemies, and the Cauſe of a World of Miſery; but value and love thoſe as their Friends indeed, that invite them to Play and Pleaſure.

Thus Epictetus hath given a ſhort, but exact Character of theſe three ſorts of Perſons. The Perfect Philoſophers are guilty of no Miſcarriages, for their Underſtanding is ſufficiently accompliſhed to direct them, and the Irrational Part readily ſubmits to thoſe Directions. So that here is nothing but Harmony and Compliance, and conſequently, they have no Body to lay any Miſery to the Charge of; for indeed, they cannot labour under any Thing that is truly and properly Miſery. They cauſe none to themſelves; for this were a Contradiction to the Perfection of their Wiſdom and Virtue; and nothing elſe cauſes them any, for they do not ſuppoſe any External Cauſes capable of doing it.

The Ignorant and Untaught err in both theſe Reſpects. Neither their Reaſon, nor their Paſſions are rightly diſpoſed. And they lay all their Unhappineſs to others, upon an Erroneous Imagination, that it proceeds from Things without us. And indeed, it is eaſie and pleaſant, and fit for ignorant Wretches, to ſhuffle off their own Faults from themſelves, and throw them upon other People.

The Young Proſicient, who hath attained to the firſt Principles of Wiſdom, though he be guilty of ſome Miſcarriages, and fall now and then into Evil, yet he underſtands wherein it conſiſts, and from whence it is derived, and what it was that firſt gave Birth to it; and therefore he lays it at the right Door. And theſe Marks are ſo diſtinguiſhing, that no Man, who makes a wiſe uſe of them, can be in danger of confounding theſe three Claſſes of Men, the Accompliſh'd Philoſopher, the Rude and Untaught, and the Young Proficient.

This Metaphor is ſo much the more warrantable and pertinent, from the Reſemblance which Education bears to the Management of our Selves: For this is properly the Training up of a Child under the Care and Correction of a Maſter, Our Senſual Part is the Child in us, and, like all other Children, does not know its own Good, and is violently bent upon Pleaſure and Paſtime. The Maſter that has the Care of it, is our Reaſon; this faſhions our Deſires, preſcribes them their Bounds, reduces and reſtrains them, and directs them to that which is beſt for them. So that the Ignorant and Untaught live the Life of a Child left to himſelf, run giddily on, are perpetually in Fault, as being heady and heedleſs, and minding nothing, but the gratifying their own Inclinations; and ſo theſe Men never think themſelves to blame. The Young Proficients have their Maſter at hand, Correcting and Inſtructing them; and the Child in them is pretty towardly, and begins to ſubmit to Rules. So that if theſe Men are at any time in the wrong, they are preſently ſenſible who hath been to blame, and accuſe no body but the Offender himſelf. But the Perfect and Accompliſh'd Philoſophers are ſuch, whoſe Maſter keeps a conſtant Eye upon them, and hath conquered the Child's ſtubborn and perverſe Spirit. So that now he is corrected, and improved, and hath attained to the Perfection he was intended for; that is, the being obſervant to the Maſter, and abſolutely at his Direction. For the proper Virtue of a Child is this, Readineſs to receive and to obey Inſtructions.

CHAP. XI.

Suffer not your ſelf to be exalted with any Excellence that is not properly your own. If your Horſe ſhould be tranſported with his Beauty, and boaſt of it, this were tolerable in him: But when you value your ſelf, and brag of his Beauty, conſider, That you are not proud of any Excellence in your ſelf, but in your Horſe. You will ſay then, What is a Man's own? I anſwer, A right Ʋſe of his Idea's. And when you manage theſe as you ought, then you may be allowed to pleaſe your ſelf. For this is being exalted with ſome Excellence that is properly yours.

COMMENT.

THE foregoing Chapters acquainted us, what Method muſt be taken to deliver our ſelves from Grief, and Fear, and Confuſion, when any calamitous Circumſtances from without threaten our Peace: This directs us how to preſerve an Even and Compoſed Mind when any External Advantages would ſhake our Moderation. Now theſe Advantages he calls None of Ours, in Agreement with what he ſaid at the Beginning of his Book, That the Things out of our Power are Feeble, and Servile, and liable to Oppoſition, and not Ours, but Another's. And upon the being conſcious to our Selves of any ſuch ſeeming Advantages, he forbids us to be exalted.

By this Exaltation, I underſtand here, not any Inſolence or Haughtineſs, or Arrogance of Humour, as the Word is ſometimes uſed in an ill Senſe; (for ſure we are not allowed to be exalted in ſuch a manner as this, upon the account of any Advantage whatſoever, though never ſo real a Good, though never ſo truly our own,) but, as I apprehend, this Exaltation ſignifies, the being ſatisfied with our ſelves, and imagining, that we are Better or Happier upon the account of ſome additional Good, which now we have, but had not formerly. So that he ſays, we muſt not think our ſelves ever the better for that Good which belongs not to us, nor imagine that anothers Excellence, adds any thing to ours. For every Good belongs to its own proper Subject in which it ſubſiſts, and whoſe Quality it is, and no other can pretend to any right in it. The Goodneſs, for inſtance of a Horſe, belongs to the Horſe himſelf, and not to us; for if he be bold and fleet, and manageable, he hath indeed the proper Excellences of a Horſe; but which way does this make for our Commendation? How is this the Excellence of a Man? Or what augmentation can the Virtue or the Happineſs of his Owner receive from it?

Yes, you'll ſay, the Excellence of any Poſſeſſions, redounds to the Poſſeſſor, and the Goodneſs of the Inſtruments, to the benefit of the Artificers that uſe them. According to the common Opinion of the World, 'tis acknowledged they do. But pray, is the Excellency of an Ax, ſuppoſe, able to make him a good Carpenter, who was not one before? In this caſe therefore we ſhould diſtinguiſh between the Excellencies peculiar to the Tool, and thoſe peculiar to the Work-man, with relation to the Trade he profeſſes. The proper Excellence of an Ax, is to carry a good Edge, and to be made neat and true; this renders it fit for Service, and for the Work to be cut out by it: For every Inſtrument is commended by its Work. But this contributes nothing to the perfection of the Carpenter; for his Excellence and proper Commendation, conſiſts in obſerving Proportions, and Rules of Art; and he is judged by this, and not by the Work done by him, becauſe that may happen to fail, from ſome Defect either in the Stuff he wrought upon, or the Tools he wrought with, or Twenty other accidental Obſtructions.

Well, But what is properly our own Excellence, upon the account of which we may be admitted to look upon our ſelves as better and happier than we were before? At the beginning of his Book, the firſt thing he mentioned of this kind, was a juſt and true Opinion; but here he c lls it a right Ʋſe and Management of Ideas; ſo that Opinion in that place, and Ideas in this, ſignify o e and the ſame thing. For we judge of things by the different Repreſentations of them to our Minds, and thoſe Judgments are ſometime true, and ſometimes falſe. Now the right Management of Ideas, is, when what appears to us, agrees exactly with the nature of things themſelves, and when we proceed upon theſe Appearances ſo, that the Judgments we form upon them, carry nothing in them that is falſe and inconſiſtent; as it would be, if we ſhould affirm, that Intemperance is Good, and Temperance Evil.

But the moſt proper Senſe of this Uſe of Ideas, as Nature and Reaſon direct, I look upon to be a Deſire of thoſe things that are Good, and an Averſion and Deteſtation of thoſe that are Evil, when we have not only a bare ſpeculative Notion, what is Good, and what is Evil; but deſire and purſue that which we think to be Good, and decline and abhor that which we think to be Evil. And this may very well be called our own proper Excellence; becauſe the Regulation of our Deſires and Averſions, according to Reaſon and Nature, is always in our own power, though the Exerting theſe, and making them effectual by outward acts, is not always ſo.

And yet it is highly probable, that Epictetus may intend ſomething farther ſtill, by this right uſe of Ideas; which is, That our Practice and Behaviour ſhould expreſs a conſtant Conformity to theſe True Opinions, and Regular Deſires. That we ſhould not think it ſufficient to declare it our Senſe, that Temperance is a Virtue, but ſhould be actually Temperate, and make all our Actions ſpeak the Conceptions of our Mind, and the regul rity of our Deſires upon this occaſion: Not to ſatisfy our ſelves with the empty Commendations of Juſtice, no nor with a few faint and feeble Deſires of this Vertue; (for this is what follows of courſe, and whatever we apprehend as Good, we cannot but apprehend as Deſirable too at the ſame time,) and yet allow our ſelves in Acts of Injuſtice. This is the Caſe of Impotent and Incontinent Perſons; they deſire Vertue, but that Deſire is overborn by a ſtronger, that inclines to Pleaſure. Their Reaſon diſcerns what ſhould be done, though not ſo clearly and powerfully as it might and ought, and for a while ſtands up in its Vindication; and the Vertuous Deſires and Averſions which are rightly diſpoſed, but weak and confuſed, ſtrike in, and take its part; but preſently the Brutiſh Inclinations, like an Impetuous Torrent, bear down all before them, diſtract and divert the Man from his cooler purpoſes, and drive him to do what is moſt agreeable to his preſent heat. This is juſt the Deſcription I gave before of Medea, when the Tragedian brings her in with theſe Words, which I have ſo oft had occaſion to repeat. Remorſe and ſenſe of Guilt pull back my Soul, But ſtronger Paſſion does her Powers controul. With Rage tranſported, I ruſh boldly on, And ſee the Precipice I cannot ſhun.

So then it is by no means ſufficient, that a Man's Judgment is rightly informed, and that his Deſires are vertuouſly inclined in many inſtances, unleſs he be all of a piece; and take care, that the Commendableneſs of his Practice, hold correſpondence with the truth of his Opinions. This is the right and beſt uſe of our Ideas, and this we may think our own peculiar Excellence, but no External Advantage can ever be ſo. For, as the particular Commendation of a Carpenter, conſidered as a Carpenter, is his working according to the Rules of Art and Proportion, ſo the peculiar Excellence of a Philoſopher, depends upon the Ideas and Affections of his Mind, being Juſt and Good; and the Exerting this Excellence, is the calling theſe out into act, and demonſtrating them to the World by a Vertuous Converſation.

CHAP. XII.

As when a Ship lies in Port, and you go out for Freſh Water, you happen to meet with Shell-Fiſh, or Sallads upon the Coaſt; this is an accidental Advantage, and beſide your main purpoſe; but ſtill your Thoughts muſt be fixed upon the Ship, and it ſhould be your great care to attend the Maſters Call; that ſo when he gives you the Signal, you may quit all readily, and not be bound, and carried away by Violence, as Sheep muſt be ſerved. So here in the Affairs of the World, if it be your Fortune, inſtead of Fiſh or Sallad, to light upon a Beloved Wife or Child, which give an agreeable reliſh to Life, none of theſe Matters muſt be ſuffered to detain you. But when the Maſter gives you the Signal, all muſt be left, and the beſt of your Way made to the Ship. But if you are in Years, be ſure you never ſtir far from the Ship, for fear you be out of the way when the Maſter calls.

COMMENT.

HE hath by a Short, but Ingenious Diſcourſe, endeavoured to draw us off from the purſuit of thoſe External Advantages, upon which we are uſed to ſet ſo great a value, by ſhewing us, that all theſe things are neither in our Diſpoſal, nor any ſuch Happineſs, as can be properly called ours. But now, leſt this Argument of his ſhould be ſo far miſtaken, or wreſted beyond its true purpoſe, as to be thought to debar us of Marriage, and other innocent Enjoyments and Satisfactions, and abſolutely to forbid us the having any thing at all to do with the World and its Advantages; he acquaints us in the next place, what things thoſe are which he allows the Enjoyment of, and with what Limitations we ought to enjoy them; viz. That we ſhould leave our Selves and them at the Diſpoſal of God, and reſign all to his Providence, without Reſerve; and then in ſuch an Humble Dependence as this is, to uſe and value them moderately, and as they deſerve. That our Concern is due in the greateſt Meaſure, to the Neceſſities of Life, and ſuch as Humane Nature cannot ſubſiſt without; which Epictetus here hath expreſſed, by a Ship's Watering, meaning by this, Food, and Raiment, and Dwelling, and ſuch other things, as they who look no farther than juſt needful Supplies, ſatisfy themſelves withal. Theſe things therefore are allowed to be a part of our Care, provided it be but in the Second place, and with ſubordination to a Higher Good.

As for ſuch things as are not abſolutely neceſſary, but only the Conveniences of Life, as a Wife, Children, Eſtate, and the like, theſe he calls Accidental Advantages, and beſides our main purpoſe; and therefore they are allowed the Third Place in our Eſteem. When a Bountiful Providence beſtows theſe upon us, we are to receive and uſe them ſeaſonably; and be ſure to keep our Mind ever fixed upon our Chief and moſt Deſirable Good. But as for Pleaſures, and Riches, and Honours, and Preferments, and ſuch other Impertinencies, he will not ſo much as admit theſe into the number of his Accidental Advantages, but ſuppoſes them inconſiſtent with a ſtrictly Rational and Virtuous Converſation. For theſe are what he told us before, muſt be wholly laid aſide: But the Enjoyments of Marriage, and ſuch other Conveniences of Humane Nature, he adviſed to have ſuſpended for a time only, while Men were Young and Unexperienced in the Study of Virtue, that ſo their firſt Beginnings might meet with no Interruption, but take good Root, and faſten upon the Mind. And for this Reaſon, when Men have made ſome progreſs, and are arrived to ſuch a degree of Perfection, as may qualify them to uſe theſe with ſafety, then he allows them to enjoy them, provided ſtill it be in the quality of an Additional Advantage, and not a Principal Deſign.

Now the Alluſion he hath made uſe of for this purpoſe, ſeems to be exceeding proper and pertinent; for the old Moraliſts in their Fables, have commonly choſen the Sea to repreſent this Mortal State; the Roughneſs of its Waves, its frequent Ebbs and Floods, the Tempeſtuous Weather to which it lies expoſed, and the ſuffocating all that ſink into it, do abundantly juſtify the Metaphor. By the Ship, may be meant, that which unites the Soul to the Body, and brings her into this Mortal State, whether it be Fate or Fortune, or whatever elſe you will pleaſe to call it. The Maſter of this Ship is God, who governs and diſpoſes all things, and commands the Souls into their reſpective Bodies, according as his own infinite Wiſdom, and tender Care ſees fit, and in proportion to their own Deſerts. The bringing this Ship into Port, is the aſſigning to theſe Souls their proper Station, and Country, and Family; by vertue whereof, ſome are born in one Climate and Nation, and ſome in another. Some are deſcended from Great and Noble Families, and others meanly born; ſome of Virtuous or Healthful Parents, and others of Vicious and Diſeaſed ones. The going out for freſh Water, is the Care we take for ſupplying the Neceſſities of Nature, without which, it is impoſſible that Life ſhould be ſupported: And indeed, what is there in this ſtate of Mortality of ſuch general uſe? what that we can ſo little want, both for the making of our Meat and Drink, as Water? What is intended by gathering Sallads or Shelfiſh by the by, himſelf hath very elegantly informed us, by inſtancing in a Wife, and an Eſtate; and acquainting us withal, that when Providence is pleaſed to beſtow them upon us, we are not to refuſe them; but ſo neither are we to receive or value them, as either the principal and moſt deſirable Goods, or indeed ſuch as are properly ours. For the Firſt and Chief Good, is that Diſpoſition of Mind that is ever obedient to the Maſter of the Ship, ever attentive to his Call. Nor muſt we lay our ſelves out upon theſe Matters, as we were allowed to do upon Water, or neceſſary things; but look upon them as additional Comforts, and ſuch as help to make Life eaſie and convenient. Now if this Maſter call us to the Ship, and give order for our returning back to himſelf, and to that which is our True, our Native Country, make the beſt of your way, (ſays he) to the Ship; leave every thing that relates to this Mortal Life, be ready to obey his firſt Orders, and do not loiter, or hanker upon any thing behind, for fear when Nature cuts the Cable, your Inclinations ſtill be left on Shore. Go you muſt, that's moſt certain, and therefore it is that he tells you, if you do not follow readily and chearfully, and quit all of your own accord, you ſhall be tied Neck and Heels, like Sheep, and thrown under Hatches; that is, you ſhall be forced, and torn away, and thruſt out of the World, like thoſe Fooliſh and Sheepiſh Wretches, that dye with Cowardice and Reluctancy, and Unmanly Lamentations of themſelves and their Friends.

But there is yet another Caution obſervable here, which is, That the Perſon to whom the Enjoyment of Marriage, and ſuch others, as are the additional Advantages of Life, are allowed, muſt be ſure to indulge himſelf in ſuch Enjoyment of them only, as is ſeaſonable; that ſo when he hath taken as much of theſe as is fit for him, he may remove without any delay, and readily comply with the Maſter's Firſt Call. But if a Man be Old, and draws near his End, he will do beſt to keep himſelf wholly diſingaged, and entertain himſelf with nothing ſo much as the conſtant Thought and Expectation of the Ships Sailing, and his quitting the Shore, for fear, when the time of his Return comes, and the Maſter calls, he be retarded by his Burden, and faſtned down to the Land, and be forced with a great deal of unbecoming Concern, to leave a Young Wife, and Pretty Children behind. And ſurely an Old Man upon all Accounts, hath much greater reaſon to prepare for leaving the World, than to entertain himſelf with vain Projects of ſetling in it.

CHAP. XIII.

Trouble not your ſelf with wiſhing that things may be juſt as you would have them; but be well pleaſed they ſhould be, juſt as they are, and then you will live eaſie.

COMMENT.

THE laſt Chapter inſtructed us, what External Advantages thoſe are, which we are allowed to partake of, and how we muſt govern our ſelves with regard to them; that thoſe which are neceſſary for the Support of Humane Nature, muſt be uſed and valued accordingly; thoſe which are convenient, as Additional Comforts, and only things by the by; but that neither the one, nor the other, muſt be made our chief aim. Now after the Enjoyment of theſe things allowed under ſuch Limitations, he proceeds here to direct us by what means we may uſe and enjoy them, without any Prejudice or Paſſion, ſo as to avoid Diſquiet, and live always free and eaſie. The great Obſtruction to this, is a perpetual Fretfulneſs of Temper, and repining at whatever happens to us; and this can never be cured, but by one of theſe Two ways, either that Providence ſhould order all things agreeably to our Humour, or that we ſhould bring our own Humour to be ſatisfied with whatever Providence thinks fit to order. The former of theſe, that Providence ſhould appoint every thing juſt as we would have it, is neither poſſible for us to bring about, nor would it at all times be for our Advantage, if we could; for it often happens, that we are moſt eager and fond of thoſe things which are prejudicial to us, either upon the account of our Ignorance, becauſe we do not ſee the Nature and Conſequence of them; or through the predominancy of our Paſſions, which puts a Biaſs upon the Judgment, and inclines Reaſon to comply with the Senſual and Brutiſh part. So that in effect; there is but one way left to be eaſie; and that is, to be of ſo equal, ſo reſigned a Diſpoſition, as to ſit down well content with whatever Providence ſees good to appoint.

Now this may poſſibly be cenſured by ſome, as an exceeding hard, and indeed an Impracticable Precept, and that no Man can be in good earneſt, when he pretends to perſwade People, that they ought to be well pleaſed, things ſhould be juſt as they are: For what Man of Common Senſe can be ſo, when he obſerves the publick and general Calamities of Mankind? Is it poſſible, that ſuch dire effects of Providence, as Earthquakes, and Inundations, and Fires, and Famines, and Peſtilences, and Murrains of Cattel, and Blaſtings of Fruit; or that the Wicked and Barbarous Inſolencies Men are guilty of, to one another, the Ravaging whole Countries, Burning and Sacking of Cities, the Impriſonments and Slaveries, the Murders and Robberies, the Rapine and Violence, and unbounded Luſt, that have driven them paſt all Senſe of God and Religion, and utterly deſtroyed Morality, and Vertue, and Friendſhip, and Mutual Faith; and have ſo utterly ruined ſeveral Arts and Sciences, which it hath coſt many Ages to contrive and bring to maturity, that we have nothing left of ſome, but the empty Names; and of others, which ought to be look'd upon as the eſpecial Gifts, and immediate Diſcoveries of Heaven, for the benefit and ſupport of Mankind, ſuch as Phyſick, and Architecture, and the like, we have no more than ſome faint Shadows, and imperfect Images remaining; How, I ſay, is it poſſible, that theſe, and many other Calamities, and monſtrous Wickedneſſes, which the preſent Age is perfectly overrun with, ſhould be matter of Pleaſure or Contentment? And who is there that can take Satisfaction, I do not ſay in ſeeing, or bearing a part in them, but ſo much as to endure the very hearing them named, except he be firſt forſaken of all Humanity, and all Goodneſs?

Such Doubts as theſe, which give ſometimes great Perplexity, not only to the Weak and Common Man, but to the Thinking and more Accompliſhed Perſons, will receive ſatisfaction, if either Epictetus be allowed to have any Authority in what he ſays, or the great Governor of all things, be granted to order the World in Wiſdom and Juſtice. For our Piety and our Advantage, will be ſure to terminate in the ſame Object, as Epictetus himſelf will aſſure us more fully hereafter.

In anſwer therefore to the Objection, I ſay, That if all theſe deplorable Accidents which the Objector hath given ſo Tragical an Account of, be really Evil, and ſuch as they are generally eſteemed to be, it is not poſſible, that either any Good Man ſhould, without forfeiting that Character, be pleaſed to have them ſo; nor could the Providence of Almighty God be acquitted from the Imputation of being the cauſe of Evil to us; nor could Men ever prevail with themſelves, to Honour, or Love, or pay Adoration to ſuch a Deity. For let Men pretend what they will, no Arguments in the World are able to produce theſe Affections for the Author of Miſery and Miſchief. It is a Principle rooted in every Creature, as Epictetus will ſhew you, to hate, and decline, and run away from all things that are prejudicial to it themſelves, or the cauſe of other things being ſo to it. But whatever is for its Benefit, and productive of its Happineſs, theſe things it naturally courts and admires.

Thus much is certain, upon ſuppoſition that theſe Accidents are really Evil; but now, if notwithſtanding our dreadful Apprehenſions of them, they be in truth no ſuch matter, but rather Good, as conducing very much to ſome mighty Benefit, and directed to excellent Purpoſes; and that if any Evil do indeed attend theſe Diſpenſations, this is what the Nature of the things is no way concern'd in, but is wholly owing to the Deſires and ſtrong Impulſes of our own Minds: In this caſe, it will by no means follow, that he, who is well enough pleaſed all things ſhould be juſt as they are, is either a Vicious or a Barbarous Man; nor can we with any colour, charge the Evil we find in the World upon theſe Occaſions, to Almighty God, but muſt acquit his Providence, and acknowledge it to be infinitely Wiſe and Good.

Now the Things in which all theſe ſeeming Evils are, and from whence they ſpring, muſt be conſidered in this Condition of Mortality; and undergoing the viciſſitudes of Generation and Corruption, either as Bodies or Souls. And of theſe Souls again, ſome are Irrational, of the ſame Date and Duration with the Body; and having none, or but very little peculiar Excellence of their own, their Office and Power extends no farther, than meerly the animating thoſe Bodies to which they belong; and therefore all their Motions depend upon, and proceed in Conjunction with the Bodies. But other Souls are Rational: Theſe have an inward principle of Motion, and an Eſſence and Excellence diſtinct from their Bodies; they move by their own Choice, and are abſolute in the diſpoſing their own Deſires and Inclinations. Now the Bodies belonging to theſe, being in their own Nature purely Mechanical, and deriving their Eſſence from External Cauſes, are ſubject to the Motions of Heavenly Bodies, which influence their Generation and Corruption, and the various Alterations through which they paſs.

But if we come nearer, and deſcend to the Immediate and Material Cauſes, then they are moved and affected by a mutual Operation upon one another. For this is agreeable to all the Reaſon in the World, that Temporary and Corruptible things, ſhould depend upon the Eternal for their Subſiſtence, and be obedient to their Influences; Mechanical Beings, upon ſuch as are endued with a Faculty of Self-Motion; and thoſe that are contained within others, upon the Ambients that contain them. This is the conſtant Method and Rule of Nature, that theſe ſhould follow the others Superiour to them, as having no Principle of Motion in themſelves, no Faculty of Chooſing, no Power of Determining their De ires, or Affections of their Nature; no Merit or Demerit from Choice or Actions, but are only Good or Evil, in reſpect and proportion to their Cauſes: Juſt as the Shadows of Bodies, do not chooſe their Sides or Shapes as they pleaſe, but are neceſſarily determined by their Cauſes and their Circumſtances, and are never the worſe or the better for thoſe Determinations.

Now as to Bodies, whatever Changes they undergo, this Variety can be no Ill to them, whether they be Compound or Simple Bodies: Firſt of all, becauſe it is what the Condition of their Nature hath made them liable to. They are bound in Laws irrevocable, which they may neither controul nor reſiſt, and conſequently can receive no Harm by whatever they impoſe, as having no Power to do otherwiſe. For Ignorance would be no Evil, nor the moſt brutiſh and extravagant Converſation, nor would the Rational Soul be one whit the worſe for either had not Nature endued her with a Faculty of Diſcerning and Underſtanding the Truth; and given her a Power over the brutiſh Appetites, by which ſhe is enabled to ſubdue and overrule them.

Secondly, Becauſe the Compound Bodies, which conſiſt of ſimple Ingredients, that are of contrary Qualities, ſuch as are perpetually ſtrugling with, and uſurping upon one another, by Diſeaſes, and Exceſs of Humours, are ſometimes ſtrengthned by throwing off the corrupt Parts; and ſometimes by Decay and Death are delivered from all that Trouble and Pain, and mutual Strife of contrary Qualities in them. And in this Caſe, each of the Simples is reſtored to its primitive Maſs, and recovers it ſelf from that Weakneſs which was occaſioned by this Oppoſition of contrary Humours. For as each of the Ingredients in Compoſition made ſome Impreſſion upon its Oppoſite, ſo it likewiſe continually received ſome from it, and ſuffered by it. But now, when the Simples are changed, according to the Changes of the contrary Qualities, they return again to their own primitive Being. Thus Water evaporates into the Air from whence it came, and Air is turned into Fire, from whence it originally was. And I cannot ſuppoſe any Evil in Things of this kind, though Inundations, or Fires, or any the moſt violent Changes in Nature, ſhould be the Effect of theſe Inequalities, in the Elements that compoſe the Univerſe; or though Peſtilences and Earthquakes ſhould deſtroy and daſh in pieces the Bodies compounded of thoſe Elements.

But farther, If theſe Things contribute to ſome good Effect; if by the infinite Revolutions of Matter and Motion, the Corruption of one Thing produces the Generation of another; how then can the Corruption of any ſingle part be Evil, when at the ſame time it conduces to the Benefit of the whole? This is a Rule which Nature it ſelf hath made evident to us, and every particular Creature practiſes it, in ſlighting the Advantage of its Parts, in Compariſon of the Good of the Whole.

Thus when any Noxious Humours are redundant in the Body, Nature throws them off from the Heart, or Bowels, or Lungs, or Brain, and all the parts that are principally concern'd in the functions of Life, into the Hands, the Feet, the Skin, or any of the Extream Parts; ſhe raiſes Bliſters, and cauſes Putrefactions, to remove the Humour, and is content to corrupt ſome parts, for the preſervation of the whole. This is ſometimes, I ſay, the work of Nature, and when it is not ſo, we endeavour to ſupply it by art. For when Phyſicians and Chyrurgeons draw Sores, and Cup, and Scarify, and Sear, and cut off Limbs to ſave our Lives, they only imitate Nature, and do that by Medicines, which ſhe was able to do without them. And yet there is no Wiſe Man that blames theſe Methods, nor thinks thoſe Pains Evil, which he ſuffers upon ſuch good Accounts.

From hence it appears, that if Bodies ſubſiſted by themſelves alone, and whatever they endured, had no relation at all to the Souls of Men, none of the different Changes they undergo, would be eſteemed Evil: So that if there be any real Cauſe for this Complaint, it muſt be upon the account of the Souls in thoſe Bodies.

Now ſome of theſe are Irrational, perfectly of a piece with the Bodies, and no more than the animating part of them. Their Eſſence, their Power and their Operations ſubſiſt in, and depend entirely upon, and are in inſeparable Conjunction with the Body. But others are Rational, of a Nature ſuperiour to the Body and diſtinct from it, acting upon a free Principle of Motion and Choice, a Principle of their own, by which they diſpoſe their own Inclinations and Deſires, as they ſee fit themſelves, (all which hath been abundantly proved already.)

Now the Irrational Souls, have not the leaſt Sign or Footſtep of Free-Agency, no manner of Tendency or Appetite from within, but are only the principle of Life and Activity to the Body; and Conſequently their Being was ordained by the ſame Fate, and is ſubject to the ſame Caſualties with the Body: They have no Dignity, no Merit or Demerit of their own, but are more or leſs valuable, according to the Dignity of their reſpective Bodies, and are as irreſiſtibly diſpoſed to their Motions, as Shadows are to their Subſtances.

It is true indeed, This is more peculiarly the Condition of Plants, which have only a Vegetative Soul, and want the Senſitive one, and are not exerciſed with thoſe Motions that accompany the Deſires, and vehement Impulſes of the Soul. But Beaſts are in a higher Form, and are endued with this alſo. And therefore the Souls of Brutes, being conſidered in a middle State, in a Capacity Superiour to Vegetables, and yet inferiour to ſuch as Nature hath made free Agents, muſt in all Reaſon have ſome Reſemblance; ſome Footſteps at leaſt of Appetites and Affections ariſing from within; and ſuch, as ſhall be moved ſometimes in Agreement to the Nature of its particular Species, and ſometimes contrary to it: As, when a Lion hath that Courage and Fury agreeable to its kind; and this is ſometimes more, and ſometimes leſs than it ought to be. And in this reſpect, the Dignities and Degrees of ſuch Souls are different; and their Lives are ſo too, according to the Diſpoſition which Fate and Nature hath given them; which is ſuch, that they are ſtill moved mechanically, and by external Impreſſions. For it is neceſſary, that whatever is placed between two Extremes, ſhould in ſome meaſure partake of each of theſe Extremes.

But now the Rational Soul, which is a Free Agent, and hath an abſolute Dominion over her own Deſires and Propenſions, derives its Dignity from Choice; ſhe uſes the Body indeed, but hath all its Appetites and Paſſions at her Devotion. This Soul therefore, when ſhe makes uſe of the Body only as an Inſtrument of Action, and maintains her own Superiority over it, is obſtructed in all thoſe Operations in which the Body bears a part, by the Sufferings and Diſeaſes of the Body, but is not it ſelf at all affected with thoſe Pains. From whence it was, that the great Socrates uſed to ſay, the Anguiſh was in the Leg, but not in the Mind. But if the Soul contract too intimate a Familiarity with the Body, and grow fond of it, as if it were no longer its Inſtrument, but a part of its ſelf, or rather its very ſelf, then it communicates in all its Afflictions, degenerates into Brute, and eſteems all the Extravagancies of Anger and Deſire its own; is enſlaved to them, deſcends to little Trickings, and is eternally contriving how to compaſs thoſe Objects; and being thus corrupted and diſeaſed in ſuch manner as a Soul is capable of being ſo, ſtands in need of Phyſick and ſtrong Remedies to cure theſe Diſtempers. For it is a Rule in Application, that one Contrary is cured by another. And thus, when the Deſire is depraved by Luſciouſneſs and Pleaſure, and hath conformed it ſelf to the Body too much, by the Love of Senſual Enjoyments, and Riches, and Honours, and Preſerments, and Poſts of Authority, and the like; there is a neceſſity of meeting with Croſſes and Diſappointments, that ſo the ſubſequent Pain, in the very ſame Inſtances, may correct and chaſtiſe the Exceſs of Pleaſure we formerly took in them. And this is no where more requiſite than in Bodily Pains and Pleaſures: For this is neareſt to the Soul, and its Torments are received with a quicker and more tender Senſe than any other. When therefore the Soul hath revolted from her Supreme Commander, and forſakes her own Reaſon, abandoning her ſelf to the Body and the World; and thinking their Enjoyments and their Happineſs her own; and by this means grows vitiated and diſtempered; there ſeems no other way to be left of putting her out of Conceit with theſe Things, and poiſing the Byaſs that carried her to them, (that ſo ſhe may deſpiſe them, and condemn her ſelf, and return to God and right Reaſon again, and expect all her Happineſs from an Obedience to theſe) but by making her ſenſible both of the Evil of her former Courſes, and of the Smart that follows them. This only can take off the Propenſity to that Pleaſure which ſhe hath felt in and by them. For ſo long as ſhe continues to find this, ſhe continues fond of, and faſtened down to theſe Enjoyments. And no Nail takes faſter hold, or fixes Things cloſer, than Pleaſure and the Allurements it brings, do the Soul to the Objects that occaſion it. And this is the Reaſon why our skilful and tender Phyſician mingles Bitter with our Sweets, and makes what we are fondeſt of, to become nauſeous and painful to us; he deals with us as Nurſes do with ſucking Children, and puts Wormwood and Muſtard upon the Breaſt, to wean our Affections, and make us loath Things that are no longer convenient for us.

In ſuch Caſes then, the firſt Choices of our Minds are determined to the leſs of two Evils; they prefer Death before Bodily Pain and Afflictions, and had rather be quite out of the Body, than miſerable in it; a Wiſh, which no Man would ever make if he were always eaſie and proſperous. And thus, by Degrees, we are wrought up to an Hatred and Averſion of preſent Pleaſure, by a Proſpect and Dread of a much greater, and more complicated Miſery that attends it: As Children are brought off from what is hurtful to them at firſt by a Principle of Fear: Or a Man, that loves any Meat or Drink prejudicial to his Health, and hath found by Experience, that it gives him Gripings, or is offenſive to his Stomach, is content afterwards to forbear the gratifying his Palate, provided that Abſtinence will but ſecure his Eaſe, and prevent the much more laſting Pains which that ſhort Pleaſure uſes to bring after it. This is the Caſe of moſt of us: For alas! How very few are there that will be content to forego even thoſe Pleaſures which they are ſatisfied ought not to be indulged, ſo long as they find no Trouble or Inconvenience from them?

Now the Truth is, this abſtaining from Pleaſure for fear of ſome greater Pain, is not ſo properly the ſubduing or deſtroying our Paſſion, as the exchanging of one Paſſion for another: For, we are willing to make a ſaving Bargain, and barter the Pleaſure of Enjoyment away for the Pleaſure of Eaſe and Security: And thus one Paſſion riſes up in Succeſſion to another. But yet this is a very good Method to begin with, while we retain our ſilly Childiſh Diſpoſitions, that we may grow jealous and fearful of thoſe Things to which our Inclinations lead us moſt; and when this Diſtaſte is once given, then by conſidering their Nature, and obſerving, that beſides their being vicious, the very Uneaſineſs and Troubles that attend them, are more exquiſite, and more various, than the Pleaſures they afford; and ſo returning to Reaſon, and finding that our Happineſs is really within our own ſelves, and expected in vain from the Delights of the Body, or the Advantages of the World; and thus by degrees growing conſcious of ſome Reſemblance between Us and God, and reverencing his Image in our Souls, we thuſe a wiſe and good Life; now no longer out of Fear, but from the more generous Principles of a vertuous and well-inſtructed Mind. For even Children, when they grow wiſer, come at laſt to decline, and to do thoſe Things out of Judgment and Inclination, which at firſt nothing but Fear, and the Rod, could have driven them to.

And this is the Deſign of our good God, and his tender Care over us, That the Soul ſhould neither cling too faſt to the Body and its Pleaſures, and the Enjoyments of the World, nor yet abſtain from them, when driven only by a Principle of Fear, but from its own free generous Choice, as conſidering, that all our Good and all our Evil conſiſts in our own Choice, and our own Averſions. So that all the healing Methods of his Providence are directed to no other purpoſe than this, to reſtore the Soul to Reaſon and Prudence, and the preferring a Vertuous Life. Juſt as the moſt eminent Phyſicians, when they proceed to ſuch ſmarting Severities as Cutting and Burning, and the like, do it only with a Deſign to reduce the Body to its natural and healthful Temper, and to enable the Parts that were before obſtructed, to perform their proper Functions again. Now puniſhment is the beſt Cure for Wickedneſs; and this is the peculiar Uſe and Benefit of thoſe Calamities, which we account Evils. And, as we are commonly very angry at our Phyſicians when they torture and put us to Pain; ſo do Men likewiſe generally take it ill to have theſe ſharper Remedies of Providence applied to them. But they are only the Childiſh and Effeminate, the Fooliſh and Unthinking Part of the World that do ſo. For whoever will give himſelf the Trouble of making a diligent Obſervation of himſelf and others, upon Occaſion of the ſeveral Accidents that befall him; and takes Notice of the Diſpoſitions of his Soul, by what Springs they're moved, and how they're corrected and changed, I make no queſtion will readily acknowledge, That Afflictions are generally the firſt Occaſion of Mens conquering their Inclinations, and coming up to a due Contempt of the Body, and the World, or (as our great Author expreſſes himſelf) of all thoſe Things that are out of our own Power.

But, as the Phyſick applied to our Bodies is of two ſores, the one Reſtorative, the other Preſervative; one to purge off our Diſeaſes, and correct the Noxious Humours by Drugs of contrary Qualities; the other to continue and confirm Health, by convenient Diet, due Regimen, and moderate Exerciſe: And as ſome Exerciſes require great Labour and Activity, and are fit only for hardy and robuſt Bodies; ſo this excellent Phyſician of our Souls, does not only adminiſter to the Sick and Diſeaſed, and recover them by Sufferings and Misfortunes; but he exerciſes the Sound and Healthful, and by ſo doing adds to their Strength and Vigour, and renders their Virtue more conſpicuous; a Pattern to others, and a Provocation to be good. And this is but neceſſary; for, the Souls of Men, even the Good and Vertuous, ſtand in need of Exerciſe to confirm them, no leſs than healthful Bodies do. And Hippocrates's Maxim will hold good upon this Occaſion too, That Motion gives Strength, but Sloth and Inactivity waſtes it. And the Reaſon is plain; for, thoſe Things which are ſo ordered, that they are continually as perfect as Nature intended them, and are continually employed in ſuch Operations as Nature appointed for them; perform theſe Operations with great Readineſs and Dexterity. But thoſe that are not thus continually, muſt imitate and ſupply the Want of that perpetual Motion, by their own Practice, that ſo they may not forget by Diſuſe, and find themſelves at a Loſs when any urgent Occaſion calls for the exerting their Powers. For whatever is ſometimes in, and at other Times out of Motion, confeſſes its own Weakneſs, of which this Viciſſitude is the Effect, and that Weakneſs muſt be worn off, and Strength acquired by Action. Now all Exerciſe conſiſts in the ſame Acts frequently repeated; the very ſame, I ſay, with that principal Act, for the ſake of which we uſe this Exerciſe. Thus in the Olympick Sports, the Exerciſe uſed to perfect them in Wreſtling, is Wreſtling very often; and that in order to the Caeſtus and Cuffing, is the inuring themſelves to Blows. Thus Men learn the Art of War by imitating Action, and engaging one Party with another, when they train together: And the more luſty and ſtrong the Perſons are, that perform theſe Exerciſes, the more effectually does this Practice attain its End. So that if any Man would get a Maſtery over Pleaſure, it is neceſſary, whenever any entertaining Objects offer themſelves, to learn and practiſe the Contempt of them; and they that would conquer Pain, muſt uſe themſelves to endure it; and to maſter our Fears, we muſt make Danger familiar to us; and to ſlight Torments, we muſt imitate the Patience of the Noble Lacedemonian Youths, who plaid Prizes of Scourging, and exerciſed themſelves in every Thing that was painful, to qualifie them for it: Or do as Saluſt in our Times did, that laid a red-hot Coal upon his Thigh, and blow'd the Fire, to try how long he was able to undergo the Smart. For theſe Tryals, and the principal Actions they are intended to perfect us in, do not differ in Nature and Kind, but in Degree and Duration only, as theſe are eaſier and lighter, and may be deſiſted from at Pleaſure.

Since therefore Almighty God, when he diſpoſed of Mens Souls in mortal Bodies, and aſſigned them to the Condition in which we live at preſent, endued them with Faculties capable of managing every Accident, (ſo as to receive no Injury either from the enticing Pleaſures, or from the Terrors and Diſaſters of the World) and of ſetting the Mind above them all; the ſame infinite Wiſdom keeps thoſe Faculties in Exerciſe, that they ſhould not grow ſluggiſh, and conſequently feeble, and ſlack for want of Action; and puts the Soul upon many ſharp Conflicts, that when there is Occaſion for exerting her Powers, ſhe may not be found Unexpert and Defective. This is it which hath made ſo many illuſtrious Heroes: This made Hercules, and Theſeus, and Diogenes, and Socrates, to become Perſons of ſuch eminent Virtue and Renown. Their Characters would have been little, and their Excellencies loſt, nor would Mankind ever have known to what wonderful Perfection an exalted Virtue can carry them, if there had been no ſuch Things as Wild Beaſts and Monſters, Tyrants and wicked Oppreſſors, Mortification, and ſevere Abſtinence, to perpetuate theſe Mens Memory, and provoke the Proofs of their Courage and Reſolution, and recommend their Examples to Poſterity.

Now, I think, no Man that conſiders the Matter well, will doubt whether Afflictions do not better thoſe that have ſupported them as they ought, and add infinitely to their Fortitude and Patience. For ſince we ſee by the Inſtances of Gladiators and the like, that Uſe reconciles Men to the moſt for midable Dangers, and makes them a perfect Sport and Diverſion, inſomuch that they enter the Liſt cheerfully, and play their Prizes for a very ſmall Conſideration; how can we imagine, that Exerciſe ſhould fail in Matters of leſs Difficulty, and enable Men to diſdain thoſe Calamities, which only they eſteem inſupportable, who have not hardned themſelves by Practice? From all which we may conclude, that when we conſider Afflictions, either in the Quality of Remedies to cure our Diſtempers, or as Tryals and Exerciſes to confirm our Health and Strength, they cannot be Evil with reſpect to the Soul, which receives ſuch mighty Benefit both theſe ways, how harſh and unpalatable ſoever the Application may ſeem. For at this rate we muſt run into another intolerable Abſurdity, and condemn all thoſe Medicines and Exerciſes as Evil in reſpect of the Body; to which, though they be grievous for the preſent, all our Recovery and all the Continuance of our Health is owing.

Again, Whatever is done in ſuch Proportion and Manner as Nature and Choice both require, cannot be Evil; for a due regard to this is juſt; and whatever is Juſt, is Good: Nay, even Cutting and Burning is not Evil to our Bodies; for theſe conſidered abſolutely and by themſelves, are inſenſible, and the Reſolution of a Compound into its Simples, is not in Nature Evil to that Compound. Since then we allow, that Phyſick and Exerciſe, Burning, and Binding, and Lopping off of Limbs, and all the Tortures that Men uſe, when they turn their own Executioners, are not Evil, but Good; ſince we think the Perſons who put us to theſe Pains for our Advantage, deſerve to be thanked and rewarded for it, why do we find Fault with Almighty God when he proceeds in the ſame Method? For alas, It is not Anger, nor Revenge, nor Injuſtice, or Cruelty, nor any Deſign of Tormenting us, that puts him upon theſe Courſes; but he acts with all the Skill and prudent Care of a Phyſician, with the Faithfulneſs and Tenderneſs of a Friend, with the Bowels of a Father, with the kindeſt Intentions of our greater Benefit, and, to ſay all in one Word, with all that incomprehenſible Love and Goodneſs which is any way agreeable to the Nature and Perfections of a God.

Now the Remedies he adminiſters upon ſuch Occaſions, are divers: Some he humbles with Diſeaſes, or Poverty, or Diſgrace; ſome with the more publick Calamities of Famines, or Earthquakes, or Inundations, or Shipwracks, or Wars; ſome he cures with ſuch Medicines as come immediately from his own Hand, and others by more remote and diſtant ones, making Men the Miniſters of his Juſtice, and Inſtruments of puniſhing one another. But ſtill, if Phyſick and the Methods of Cure be not Evil, but Good, all theſe and all other Remedies muſt be allowed to be ſo too, notwithſtanding any Uneaſineſs that we may feel in the Operation.

If any one ſhall ſcruple the calling of theſe Things Good, becauſe they are not eligible purely for their own ſakes, (as all Things abſolutely, and truly Good muſt be) yet at leaſt let him forbear ſtigmatizing them with the Name of Evils, and rather call them neceſſary Expedients, for the attaining what is truly Good. In Order to which, and for the ſake whereof, we chuſe theſe, becauſe that other is not to be had without them. For there is no Man ſo ſottiſh and ſenſeleſs, as to chuſe Amputations and Searings, or any ſuch violent Remedies, for their own ſakes; but yet we do it from our Deſire of Health, which theſe means muſt be aſſiſting to us in. And indeed, the Philoſophers have with great Propriety ſtyled all thoſe Things neceſſary Expedients, which are ſo ordered, as to be preliminary to our Good, and ſuch as we muſt make uſe of for it. Theſe very Things then, ſo far as they conduce to our Good, and in that reſpect, are themſelves Good, ſome as they contribute to the Health of the Body, and others to that of the Soul, though indeed they be ſo in a Qualified Senſe only, and much inferiour in Dignity and Value to thoſe T ings that are abſolutely Good. And it is with regard to theſe more excellent Things, that the Generality of People look upon them, and ſo think them comparatively Evil, which yet, ſurely, is a Cenſure too Severe to be juſtified, if they do not only Contribute, but are Neceſſary to our Happineſs.

If then the Objector's Arguments are ſufficiently refuted; in that all Things that happen are ſo ordained of God, as that Nature and Choice have both their due, and as is moſt beneficial to Mankind; every Wiſe Man certainly will think himſelf obliged to be well content Things ſhould be juſt as they are, (unleſs you will ſuppoſe him to envy the Giving every Thing its Due, and the Recovering ſuch as are Diſtempered, and need ſharp Remedies,) he will moſt ſincerely love and honour, and adore this Excellent Phyſician, and look upon him as the World's great and only Benefactor.

Now that Calamitous Circumſtances are a ſort of Remedies, and that the Adminiſtration of proper Phyſick, where the caſe requires it, is good both to the Body and Soul, no Body I preſume will take upon them to diſpute. But what courſe ſhall we take to perſwade Men, that this very Diſtemper it ſelf of Soul or Body, this miſerable Condition that renders ſuch painſul Applications neceſſary, is Good and not Evil, and that the Author of it is not the Cauſe of Evil to us?

To this purpoſe I ſhall briefly recollect what was obſerved before, That Diſeaſes are not Evil to the Body it ſelf, as being by Nature made ſubject to them, and tending to a diſſolution of the Compound, Reſolving each of its Parts, and Reſtoring the Simple Elements to their proper Maſſes; the Releaſing them from a ſtrange place where they were kept in Bondage, and putting an end to the perpetual Combat of oppoſite Qualities among them. Neither can the Diſeaſe of the Body be Evil to the Soul, for it hath been already ſhewn to be its Phyſick, and its Cure: And thus Experience often ſhews it to be. But granted that Sickneſs and Corruption were injurious to one particular Body, yet ſtill it appears to be for the advantage of the Soul that owns that Body, and to the Conſtitution of the Univerſe in general, of the Elements of which it is formed, and the infinite R volutions of Matter and Motion, which are therefore Infinite, becauſe the Deſtroying of one thing, becomes the Production of another. Well therefore may the wiſe Governour of all things, not value a Creature which was by Nature corruptible; and a particular inconſiderable Corruption, confined to a ſingle inſtance, when the whole Creation is benefited, and the Better Ends are ſerved, and the Eternal Revolution of Things are continued and kept up by this means.

But perhaps you will ſay, though all this ſhould be admitted with regard to the Body, yet what ſhall we account for the Diſeaſes of the Soul? The frail and diſtempered State ſhe is in, can neither be for the good of her ſelf that languiſhes under it, nor does it contribute any Advantage to the Creation in common. So that the Author and Ordainer of this ſtate, muſt needs be the Cauſe of Evil to her; and he that is content ſhe ſhould be thus deprived, and ſe s and ſuffers her Sickneſſes, muſt needs be an Ill-natur'd Being; and therefore as to this particular, the Difficulty remains ſtill the ſame.

Now in anſwer to this Scruple, I beg leave to refreſh your Memory, with what was diſcourſed before concerning the Cauſe of Evil and Vice to the Soul; while we were explaining Epictetus's Diſtinction between what is, and what is not in our own power; viz. That the Good and Happineſs of the Soul, conſiſts in Prudent Regular Deſires and Averſions; and that the Evil and Miſery of it proceeds from ſuch as are Vicious and Exorbitant. Now I hope the Deſires and Averſions have been ſufficiently proved to be in our own Diſpoſal; and if ſo, then we our ſelves are the Cauſe of our own Vices and Virtues. This is the true ground of all that Commendation which is thought due to Good Men; that their Happineſs and Excellence is the Effect of their own free Choice; for which reaſon, the Greeks call Virtue by a Name which bears ſome Affinity to that which imports Chooſing. And for the ſame Reaſon, Wicked Men are Condemned and Reproached, becauſe they are ſuch through their own Sloath and Baſeneſs of Soul, when it was in their own power to be otherwiſe. But now, if theſe Matters proceeded from any External Cauſes, this Virtue or Vice would be no longer Choice, but blind Chance, or fatal Neceſſity. And conſequently our Evil and Miſery can with no colou of Reaſon and Juſtice be charged upon Almighty God.

May we not indeed drive this Argument a great deal farther, and urge, that even Vice, which is properly the Diſeaſe of the Soul, is not poſitively and in all reſpects Evil; but is it ſelf in ſome degree neceſſary to the very Being of Virtue among Men? For, as our Bodies, if Nature had not made them capable of Sickneſs and Infirmities, could not properly be ſaid at any time to enjoy a ſtate of Health, becauſe in truth, this would not be Health, but a ſimple and fix'd Diſpoſition, above the power of Frailties and Diſeaſes, ſuch as the Celeſtial Beings enjoy: So the Virtues proper to Humane Souls, ſuch as Temperance, and Juſtice, and Prudence, and all the reſt of that Glorious Catalogue, would be no ſuch thing, unleſs the Soul were of ſuch a Nature as is liable to be depraved. For at this rate ſhe would be graced not with the Virtues of a Man, but with the Perfections of an Angel or a God; whoſe peculiar Excellence it is, that they can never be ſeduced, or deviate into Vice: But is rooted in the very Nature of Men, and Humane Virtues, that they may degenerate, and be corrupted.

If then Human Virtues in the Soul, and if the Health of the Body, though neither of them abſolutely Uniform and Inflexible, be yet Good; and if the Order of Nature required, that beſide the Firſt, Simple and Fix'd Beings, others of a Middle and of Inferior Nature, ſhould derive themſelves from the great Original and common Source of all Good; then there was likewiſe a neceſſity that there ſhould be Depravations of ſuch good things as are ſubject to be Depraved, which have not any poſitive and abſolute Exiſtence of their own, but only a ſort of additional one, caſt in to thoſe that have.

And in this, the exceeding Goodneſs of God is very remarkable, that he hath ordained the Diſſolution of the Body, which as I ſaid, does as neceſſarily follow upon Matter and Motion, as the Shadow attends upon its Subſtance; this Diſſolution he hath made even a good thing, both with regard to the Bodies ſo Diſeaſed and Diſſolved, as they are reſtored back again to their Primitive Elements; and ſo the Simples out of which they are compounded, are renewed, and with regard to the Souls that own and uſe them, as they are cured and made better by this Means; and alſo to the Univerſe in common, by reaſon of that infinite Succeſſion of Changes and Motions which theſe Diſſolutions, as I ſhewed before, keep continually on Foot. But as for Vice, the Evil of the Soul, and indeed the only thing which, when well conſidered, proves to be Evil, of this he utterly acquits himſelf, and hath no part in it at all: Firſt, Becauſe he only permits to it an Additional and Accidental Being, and that not in the quality of Evil neither, but as being it ſelf a neceſſary Expedient for the promoting of Good: And Secondly, Becauſe even after all theſe Limitations, it depends wholly upon the Choice and Determination of the Soul, and can have no being at all, without our own Conſent and actual Concurrence. For which Reaſon it is, that all the Laws both of God and Man, ſuffer ſuch Actions as are done involuntary, to go unpuniſhed.

And indeed, all Evil whatſoever, is in ſome Senſe an involuntary Misfortune to the Soul; for the Soul never chooſes Evil, conſidered as Evil, but under the Deſire and Pretence of ſome Good; as ſometimes Riches, ſometimes Senfual Enjoyments, or Honours, or Proferments, and Greatneſs. Now in ſuch Caſes, the Miſchiefs attending theſe, are either wholly overlooked, or elſe they are leſſened and ſtifled by that prevalency of Paſſion which bribes and ſways the Soul: So that there cannot poſſibly be any ſuch thing in nature, as an Abſolute Evil, when conſidered in all the Circumſtances of it. And that which never had any Being, may ſooner be, than that even this Accidental Being in the Soul, ſhould be entirely Evil, and choſen as ſuch.

Some perhaps may imagine, that God is the Cauſe of Evil, as having given the Soul this Freedom to Virtue or Vice, to the ill Management whereof, that Evil is owing: Now indeed, if the Soul's being indued with a Faculty of acting freely and abſolutely be Evil, then he who gave this Faculty, muſt be confeſſed the Cauſe of Evils: But if ſuch a Power be Good, a greater and more valuable Good, than all the Advantages of the World beſides; why then ſhould he who hath given us the Good, be for ſo doing, charged with the Evil? Since therefore, that which is moſt agreeable to our Nature and Reaſon, is alſo moſt eligible and deſirable, what account can be given why any one that is a Man, and underſtands at all wherein the peculiar Excellence of a Man conſiſts, ſhould rather wiſh to be a Plant, or any other Irrational Creature, than that which God hath made him? Though at the ſame time we muſt allow, that even Plants, and other Irrational Beings, are Good in their Kind and Capacity, that is in a lower Degree, and a qualified Senſe, and in proportion to the Uſes they are deſigned to ſerve.

Now, if it be in our own power to be Good and Happy, and we have the ſole Diſpoſal of this Matter, ſo that nothing can poſſibly bring our Deſires or our Averſions under any Compulſion to act as we would not have them, or under any Reſtraint, not to act as we would have them; ſuch a Free Nature, and Abſolute Power as this, is (in my Opinion,) a Glorious Priviledge, a moſt Magnificent and Royal Prerogative; and the Perſon in whom it is lodged, is thereby made a Great, a Happy, an Arbitrary Prince. But if ſuch a Soul contribute to its own Deviations, and can chooſe whether it will ſo deviate or no; where can any Miſcarriage of that kind be laid, with any tolerable Juſtice, but to the charge of the Soul it ſelf; which is the true Original and Cauſe both of its own Good, and of all the Deflexions from it, ſince in and by it ſuch Deflexions firſt began? For the Great Creator, who hath thus made it, ſo as to be the Cauſe of its own Ruin, did not abſolutely ruin it, but only made it capable of being ruined; and yet at the ſame time too, utterly incapable of it, without her own Conſent. If therefore this Volition or Conſent, be an internal Motion of her own, ſhe is the ſole Cauſe of her own Sin and Miſery.

Behold therefore the Goodneſs and the Wiſdom of God! For ſince the Conſtitution of the World, and Order of Nature, made a middle ſort of Beings neceſſary, that ſhould ſtand between thoſe that are always above, and thoſe that are always below; things that ſhould bear a Reſemblance, and be conformed ſometimes to one, and ſometimes to the other of theſe Beings, and thus make the whole perfect, by partaking of, and knitting together the diſtant Extremes. Since alſo this tendency to things below us, is but an accidental and additional thing, and this Prudence is the very thing capable of Depravation, he hath endued this middle ſort of Beings with ſuch a Tendency, yet ſo as that it may ſtill remain Untainted and Undepraved; if it will do ſo, and that he himſelf might be clear upon all Accounts, and in no degree the Cauſe of any manner of Evil.

Theſe Arguments I have inſiſted on the more largely, not only becauſe they are proper for the explaining what Epictetus have delivered upon this occaſion, but alſo in regard they give us a great light into what he tells us afterwards concerning the Nature of Evil. For we might have made very ſhort work of the Caſe now before us, and needed only have given this Anſwer to all the Objections, that when Epictetus adviſes Men to be well pleaſed Things ſhould be juſt as they are, he does not intend it of Vice, or that which is Evil to the Soul; (for he could never have ſaid, that Men who are pleaſed with their own, or other People's Vices, are eaſie and happy,) but that we muſt reſtrain it to thoſe Accidents that affect our Bodies or our Fortunes. For theſe are things that a Wiſe and Good Man will be ſure to make an Advantage of, however they are ordered; and the more Croſs and Difficult they are, the more ſtill will he profit by them. And theſe are the things he means, which fooliſh and ignorant Men wiſh may be conformable to their own Wiſhes and Deſires; and not the Deſires and Averſions themſelves in which all our Good and Evil conſiſts. For they are in our own power, juſt what we pleaſe to make them, and conſequently it were moſt abſurd and fooliſh, to wiſh they were as we would have them. But he adviſes, that we would forbear wiſhing thus of Things out of our power; becauſe this is what we cannot compaſs by any ſtrength of our own, nor would it always prove for our Advantage to do it if we could: For we often are paſſionately deſirous of what is pleaſant, though at the ſame time it be prejudicial to us; and as often decline what is harſh and unpalatable, though Providence intend it for Phyſick, and deſign our mighty Benefit in the application.

Sickneſs is a Hindrance to the Body, but it does not enfeeble the Mind, nor can it obſtruct her Freedom, unleſs ſhe pleaſe her ſelf: And Lameneſs is a Confinement to the Foot, but it can put no Reſtraint upon the Will, nor make that one jot the leſs Active. And the ſame Conſideration is applicable in proportion to every Accident of Humane Life. For you will find, that though theſe may prove Obſtructions to ſomething elſe, yet they cannot, or need not ever be ſo to you.

He had told us immediately before, that the Way to live Eaſie and Happy, was for a Man not to wiſh that things might be juſt as he would have them, but to be well pleaſed, that they ſhould be juſt as they are: And now he proves the Argument intended, to be deduced from thence; which is, That all outward Misfortunes, are to be entertained with Temper and Moderation; and not only ſo, but he removes (as I conceive) an Objection that might be raiſed againſt it.

The Argument it ſelf, ſeems to me to lye thus: If thoſe Calamities that happen in our Fortunes, or from any External Cauſes, were properly Ours, yet even upon this Suppoſition, we ought to ſuffer them with great Patience and Reſignation, though they were much more Diſaſtrous than really they are; when it is remembred, that even theſe are for our Advantage. But if they be not indeed ours, but each of them terminates in ſomething elſe, and cannot extend to us, then it would be the laſt degree of Folly, to be diſturbed at the Misfortunes which are none of our own. Sickneſs he ſays, is a Hindrance to the Body; and he ſays very well, that it is a Hindrance only, not an Evil. For we have ſeen already, that neither the Diſeaſes, nor the Diſſolution of the Body is Evil; but all that it does, is only to put a ſtop to its Operations, as Lameneſs likewiſe does, which was Epictetus's own Infirmity; ſo that he does not ſpeak to us now in a Formal Speculative way, but from his own Practice and Experience. Thus Lameneſs is an Obſtruction to the Parts affected, and Poverty is ſo to a Man's Expences and way of Living; but neither the one nor the other, is ſo to the Will and the Mind, unleſs they voluntarily ſubmit to be obſtructed by it. I confeſs if the Body, or the Foot, or our Eſtates were our very Eſſence and Nature, then theſe Hindrances would be truly and properly ours; but ſince we ſubſiſt in none of them, none but the Rational Soul only is our ſelves; ſince our Bodies are no more than Inſtruments by which we act, and our Poſſeſſions only Conveniences for miniſtring to our neceſſary Occaſions; and ſince all our Good and Evil depends upon the Choice of our own Mind, and conſequently cannot be reſtrained or obſtructed by them, it is evident that we our ſelves are not hindred by theſe things neither: For no outward Accident whatever, can put any Confinement upon us, but only upon ſomething elſe, ſomething which we are not. And therefore we muſt not ſuffer our ſelves to be diſordered at theſe Misfortunes, as if they were our own; becauſe by this means, we ſhall fall into an Evil, that is properly ours, upon the account of ſomething that is not ſo: For Diſcontent, and a Diſturbance of the Mind, are truly our own Evils. This I take to be the Force and Connexion of his Argument.

But beſides this, he removes at the ſame time, an Objection, drawn as the Rhetoricians uſe to term it, Ab Utili, from the point of Advantage and Convenience. For it may be ſaid upon this Occaſion, that Sickneſs and Poverty cannot poſſibly be for our Benefit; for how is it poſſible that a Diſeaſed Man ſhould perform all the Functions of Nature as he ought? or how can we deny, that a Man when reduced to extream Poverty, is under an abſolute Conſtraint to bend all his Care and Pains to the relief of his Wants, and furniſhing himſelf with neceſſary Supports? This Objection now he takes off, by ſhewing, that Sickneſs, and Poverty, and all Hardſhips and Inconveniences of that kind, put the Will under no Conſinement at all, and that in this free Principle it is, that the very Being of Men conſiſts; and all their Good and Evil depends entirely upon it. For how is the Sick Man tied up from chooſing and deſiring ſuch things as are Vertuous and Reaſonable, and hating and declining the contrary? Or what violence can the Extreameſt Poverty put upon a Man, which ſhall be able to compel him to act contrary to the principles of Honeſty and Honour? Were not Diogenes, and Crates, and Zeno in theſe Circumſtances? And did they ever ſhew themſelves more truly Philoſophers? Did they ever give more Illuſtrious Proofs of Virtue and Greatneſs of Soul, of Contentment and Satisfaction, and even of Abundance in the ſlendereſt Fortune, than when they choſe to forego their Plenty, and thought it Wiſdom to exchange that for Want, and no Poſſeſſions of their own at all? And indeed, who is there ſo Blind and Brutiſh, but would be pleaſed and proud to ſuſtain ſuch a Man in his Neceſſities, and think his Liberality a greater Obligation and Honour to himſelf, than to the Receiver?

But what need we go ſo far for Examples of this kind, when even Epictetus himſelf that makes this Declaration, was ſo eminent an inſtance of it? As to his Fortune and Condition, he was a Slave, Infirm in his Body, Lame from a Child, and one that was ſo much exerciſed with Poverty, and made it ſo much his Choice, that his little Cottage at Rome, was not thought worth a Lock or a Bolt; for alas! there was no Temptation within, nothing but a courſe Coverlet, and a hard Mattrice upon which he lay. And yet this is the very Man, that tells us Lameneſs may obſtruct the Feet, but the Mind it cannot, except we pleaſe to let it. Thus you ſee, he did not make it his Buſineſs, as a great many do, to ſay fine things, and entertain his Readers with ſublime and airy Speculations, but made the Experiment himſelf, and ſpeaks from his own Knowledge and Practice. And for this Reaſon his Diſcourſes are the more valuable, for they manifeſt a truly Great Soul in himſelf, and will make the deeper Impreſſion upon all others whoſe Minds are well diſpoſed.

CHAP. XIV.

Ʋpon every freſh Accident, turn your Eyes inward; and examine how you are qualified to encounter it. If you ſee any very Beautiful Perſon, you will find Continence to oppoſe againſt the Temptation. If Labour and Difficulty come in your way, you will find a Remedy in Hardineſs and Reſolution. If you lye under the obloquy of an Ill Tongue, Patience and Meekneſs are the proper Fence againſt it. And thus if you do but prepare and uſe your ſelf by degrees, no Accident whatever will be able to ſurpriſe or ſubdue you.

COMMENT.

AFter having advanced ſome ſtrange ſublime Notions, and required Men to do that which the generality of the World will be ſure to think Romantick and Impoſſible; as for Example, to ſlight the Diſeaſes of the Body, as no Evil of ours; and to be well pleaſed, let our Circumſtances be what they will, that things ſhould go juſt as they do; never to ſuffer ones ſelf either to be caught with the Bait of Senſual or Worldly Pleaſure; or to be dejected with any outward Calamities: It is but reaſonable, that he ſhould apply himſelf in the next place, to ſhew that theſe are Tranſactions not above the Powers of Humane Nature, and that he enjoyns us nothing but what we are capable of diſcharging.

To this purpoſe he proves, that the Great Creator to whom the Soul of Man owes its Being, was pleaſed to give it ſuch a Frame and Temper, that it ſhould not be conſtantly determined to Sublime and Heavenly things, nor always dwell above, as the Bleſſed Spirits, the Angels, and thoſe other of a Divine and ſtill more Excellent Nature do, but hath ordered the Matter ſo, that this ſhould ſometimes be degraded to a State of Matter, and Motion, and Mortality; be joyned to the Body, and converſe with Frail and Corruptible things. But though he hath ſubjected the Soul to theſe Hazards and Tryals, yet he hath endued her with particular Faculties and Powers ſuitable to each occaſion; by means whereof, ſhe may both engage with all the Accidents that can aſſault her, and come off without Loſs; nay, and vanquiſh, and keep them under too.

Againſt ſuch as tempt us with an Appearance of Pleaſure, he propoſes Continence; (and this he rather choſe to mention, than thoſe higher Degrees of abſolute Chaſtity and Temperance; in conſideration, that the Perſons now addreſt to, are but Imperfect and Young Proficients in Virtue.) Now theſe Objects ſtir the Paſſions up to Rebellion, and beget a Combat between Reaſon and them; but by Diſcipline, and a ſtrict hand over ones ſelf, they are ſubdued and reduced to Obedience again. And this is a true Deſcription of that which we properly call a Continent Life; as on the contrary, that Man is properly ſaid to be Incontinent, whoſe Reaſon is impotent; and tho it may ſtruggle for a while, yet yields at laſt to the ſtronger Inſults of Paſſion. But now in Perſons who have attained to the Perfection of Wiſdom and Virtue, the Paſſions and Appetites (which as I hinted before, are the Child to be trained up in every one of our Minds) are in abſolute Subjection to Reaſon, without any Diſpute or Mutiny at all; ſo that they are moved and directed entirely towards ſuch Objects, and at ſuch Times, and in ſuch Meaſures as this ſees fit to preſcribe to them. And this is truly Temperance, which the Greeks call 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , as being that which ſecures the Reaſon, and preſerves the Government and Prerogative of the intelligent Part in us. For when this is brought under, and diſtracted by Paſſion, the Mind is torn in pieces, and deſtroyed. But while it maintains its own Superiority over the Affections, it continues vigorous and ſound.

So again, to Perſons that are Maſters in Philoſophy, Fortitude is always a preſent Security againſt all Difficulty and Pain; it keeps the very Out-guards of the Soul, and ſuffers nothing of this kind to get the leaſt Footing there, but perſeveres without any Perplexity or Diſturbance, and looks upon all the Hardſhips that come in its Way, as ſo many Tryals to exerciſe it. But the Proficients, who are leſs expert, muſt be content with Hardineſs and Reſolution, ſuch as may maintain its Poſt, and make a gallant Reſiſtance, and prevent the Sinkings of the Soul, by enabling it to continue the Fight, and ward againſt the Blows when Trouble and Pains aſſault it.

For, a conſtant and vigorous Oppoſition, and hardening ones ſelf againſt Difficulties, will conquer all our E •• eminancy and Paſſion, and make Reaſon and Virtue triumphant: and by ſuch Conqueſts frequently gained, and prudently managed, our Paſſions will be uſed to the Yoke, ſubmit to Diſcipline, and obey without Reluctancy. And when a Man hath brought himſelf to this Paſs, there will be no farther Trouble to exerciſe his Patience. He is now above it all; for he neither deſires any Thing that is capable of giving him Diſappointment, nor does he make any Thing his Averſion that can overtake him whether he will or no; and conſequently, can have no Trouble and Pain, which always muſt proceed from one of theſe Cauſes.

Againſt Scandal and an Ill Tongue, he tells us we ſhall find our beſt Defence in Meekneſs. For in truth, Scandal, in its own Nature, hath nothing that can afflict us; and all that uſes to do ſo, is not what is ſaid, but the Judgments and Reflections we paſs upon it; which we ever aggravate to our ſelves, according as we are blown up with Vanity, or tranſported with Anger. For all that Scandal can do without this, is only to make us condemn the Defamer. And for the proceeding regularly in this Condemnation, without Heat or Prejudice, we ſhall do well to conſider, wherein the Defamer is really to blame; and that it is upon one of theſe two Accounts; that he ſlanders and aſperſes us either falſly, or out of Malice. Now the Scandal it ſelf may very well be born with, becauſe it is not capable of doing us any real Injury; and ſo, in truth, may the Party that raiſes or ſpreads it too, when we conſider, that the Injury is done not to Us, but Himſelf; for ſo it is, in reality, when his own Mind is the Sufferer, by doing an ill and a baſe Thing. Nay, if this be too little, we may conſider farther, that Scandal is always capable of being made an Advantage to us. It is manifeſtly ſo when falſe; and when it is true, we gain this by it, That it diſcovers our own Faults and Failings, and either ſhews us ſomething we did not know before, or which though we did know, yet we were apt to indulge, upon a Preſumption, that no Body knew it but our ſelves. And this very Conſideration is of great Importance, to reſtrain young Proficients in Virtue. For ſuch, tho they are not come up to that noble Principle of practiſing Virtue for its own ſake, will yet give check to many exorbitant Paſſions, and abſtain from groſs Evils, out of Shame and Tenderneſs to their own Reputation. And indeed, this muſt be ſaid in behalf of Ambition, and a Deſire of Praiſe, that though it be a Paſſion it ſelf, yet it is of excellent Uſe for the moderating and correcting all the reſt. For this Reaſon, it hath been called, by a pertinent Alluſion, the Shirt of the Paſſions: Becauſe it ſits cloſeſt to the Soul; and when the Mind hath by the help of this put off all other Paſſions, it diveſts it ſelf of this laſt of all, that ſo it may come to Virtue naked, and ſtripp'd of all its former Prejudices and Incumbrances.

For this Reaſon (ſays Epictetus) we muſt not ſuffer our ſelves to be ſurpriſed, or over-born by any Accident, that would engage our Minds, and draw them off to any External Advantages or Calamities; ſo as that we ſhould be diſcompoſed with any falſe Idea's of its being Good or Evil. Nor muſt we give too great a Scope to our Deſires and our Averſions, nor let them be too haſty in their Motions, but call up the Powers within us to our Aſſiſtance; and when we have found which are the Succours proper for each Circumſtance, to rally them together, and enter the Liſts with Reſolution, and ward off every Accident accordingly.

CHAP. XV.

Never uſe your ſelf to ſay, upon any Occaſion, That you have loſt any thing, but reſtored it. If your Wife or your Child dye, you have returned them to the Owner. If your Eſtate be taken from you, this too is paid back to the Giver. But you'll ſay, he was a Knave that defrauded me of it. Alas! what's that to the Purpoſe? or how does it concern you, by what Means, or what Hand, he that gave it reſume it to himſelf? Trouble not your ſelf therefore about theſe Matters, but while he permits the Enjoyment, uſe it as a Thing that is not your own, but anothers; and let your Concern and Affection for it, be juſt ſuch as Travellers have for an Inn upon the Road.

COMMENT.

HE had inſtructed us before in the Nature of External Accidents and Advantages; which of them we might proſecute, and how far, and by what Methods we are allowed to do it; how we ſhould entertain both our proſperous and pleaſant, and our adverſe and leſs grateful Fortunes; and what Improvement is to be made of each of them: and here he comes to ſpeak of the Loſs of any Advantages we have, and directs us, not only how to enjoy, but how to part with them too. Now every Man, who loſes what he eſteems his own, muſt needs apprehend himſelf injured, and naturally flies out, not only into Exceſs of Grief for his Loſs, but into reproachful Language againſt thoſe that deprived him of it: But he who reſtores upon Demand what he knew and conſidered was none of his own, muſt be the ſenſleſſeſt Fool in the World to be troubled at its being taken away from him, or to fall foul upon the Proprietor that requires it. This then is our Caſe directly. The World, and its Enjoyments, are not Ours; and for that Reaſon, not within the Command and Diſpoſal of our own Wills; and nothing indeed is properly ſo, but our Deſires and Averſions, and the Inclinations of our own Minds; and all our Virtue and Vice, all our Happineſs and Miſery, do depend upon theſe. So that we ſhould always keep our Minds ſtrongly poſſeſt with this Conſideration, and be affected accordingly to every Thing without us, as that in which we have no Propriety at all. And the way to keep our Minds thus poſſeſt, and thus affected, is, not only to ſay ſo, and content our ſelves with Verbal Diſtinctions, but to ſhew it in our Practice, and behave our ſelves like Men who are convinced they have no Title to them.

Suppoſe then, upon the Death of a Child, that a Man gives himſelf over to Tears and Groans, deplores his Misfortune, and complains of his Loſs; is it not evident, that this Man, while his Son lived, look'd upon him as ſtrictly, and by Right his own? If it were not ſo, with what Pretence does he call this being taken away a Loſs, or reſent it ſo deeply? And a Man that does thus, 'tis plain, would go farther too, if he could, and revenge the Injury he fancies he hath received, upon the Perſon that took him away, if it were in his Power. But the Man that conſiders this Child as one in whom he had not any abſolute Propriety, and that Death hath only paid him back to the Perſon that lent him, will neither afflict himſelf upon the Occaſion, nor accuſe the Owner that demanded him again.

And here the Artifice of Epictetus is very obſervable; for he inſtructs us not only to adapt our Words to our Thoughts, and correct our Expreſſions by more juſt Apprehenſions of Things; but contrives, that even our Expreſſions may rectifie our Notions. For to this purpoſe, he ſays, it is neceſſary that we ſpeak of the Enjoyments of the World in ſuch Terms as may not flatter us with any Imaginations of Property in them, but ſuch as may wean our Affections, and make them ſit looſe about us; that ſo from calling and t inking them anothers, and not our own, we may bring our ſelves to uſe them as ſuch.

And, ſince nothing adds more to our Tenderneſs for any thing, than the Care and Concern we are in about it, he adviſes us to moderate theſe, and to beſtow only ſo much upon them as we think worth our while to lay out upon that which is another Man's. Some regard indeed muſt be had to them, nor may we ſo neglect them, as to give our ſelves up to Supineneſs and Sloth; but yet we muſt not ſo ſix our Hearts or our Endeavours upon them neither, as if they were our own, and that which is never to be taken away from us. And therefore all the Concern allowed us in this Caſe, is only that of Travellers in an Inn; who conſider that they are not at home, and that their Stay is like to be very ſhort; and are ſollicious for nothing farther, than only to get the beſt Conveniences the Place will afford, and be ſatisfied with what they can get, for the little Time they do ſtay.

For this Reaſon, he hath added very conveniently, while he permits us the Enjoyment, to put us continually in Remembrance, that all our Enjoyments are upon Sufferance, the Effect of a permiſſive Providence, what we cannot give our ſelves, but derive from the Bounty of another, and that no other than the very Perſon that takes them away from us.

And, becauſe ſome People are apt to aggravate their Misfortunes, by tragical Accounts of the Circumſtances that attend them, and the Manner of their being deprived of their Comforts. As, if I muſt loſe my Eſtate, yet what need was there of loſing it by ſo much Treachery, or Injuſtice, or Ingratitude? Or, if my Child or my Wife had died of a natural or a lingring Death, a Fever, or a Conſumption, I could have ſupported it; but to be ſnatch'd away all on the ſudden, to dye a violent, an untimely, or a ſcandalous Death; or to be rack'd with Tortures and ſtrong Convulſions, this is a diſmal and an intolerable Affliction. Now all theſe Complaints ſavour of Diſcontent, and at the bottom are not a finding Fault with the Manner, but the Thing it ſelf. For, as we could not preſcribe to our Great Benefactor the Methods or the Inſtruments by which he beſtowed them upon us, ſo neither muſt we find Fault with thoſe by which he recalls them; and it is but fit, that he who gave as he pleaſed, ſhould take away as he pleaſes too.

We may take Notice farther, that Epictetus chooſes to inſtance in the tendereſt Points, the Death of a Wife or a Child; becauſe theſe ſit cloſeſt to our Hearts; and any other Loſſes, if compared to theſe, are no more than every vulgar Virtue can ſuſtain and flight. But ſtill, as he told us before, and will do again in the following Diſcourſes, we ſhall do well to begin with leſſer Tryals, and by rendring them familiar and eaſie, harden our ſelves by Degrees againſt ſharper and greater. The ſame Rule therefore holds much ſtronger, and is more practicable, when any one hath taken my Purſe, or ſpirited away my Servant, or defrauded me of my Houſe, or my Eſtate, to ſay, (and we may ſay it with as great Truth in theſe Caſes too) I have not loſt theſe Things, but reſtored them to the Owner, and Lender of them to me.

CHAP. XVI, XVII.

If you are indeed deſirous to improve in Wiſdom and Virtue, you must never allow your ſelf in ſuch mean Thoughts as theſe; I muſt follow the Buſineſs of my Calling cloſe, or elſe I and my Family ſhall ſtarve: I must take Pains with this Boy of mine, and chaſtiſe him, or he will be ruined. Theſe are the Miſgivings of an anxious Mind, and unworthy a Philoſopher, whoſe firſt Care ſhould be the Eaſe and Quiet of his own Breaſt. For a Man had better periſh for Hunger, and preſerve his Mind from immoderate Fear and Concern, than to live in the greateſt Plenty, and continual Perplexity with it. And it were a leſs Evil for you, that your Servant or your Child were Vicious, than that your ſelf ſhould be perpetually unhappy with an anxious Care to prevent it.

Uſe your ſelf therefore to little Tryals firſt: If a Cruiſe of Oyl be broken, or a Pint of your Wine ſtolen, reflect immediately, that this is the Purchaſe of Conſtancy and a compoſed Mind; and ſince nothing can be had Free-cost, he that gets theſe ſo cheap hath a good Bargain. So again, When you call your Servant, conſider, that it is poſſible he may not attend to you; or if he do, that he may not do what you command him. And it is too great an Advantage that you give him over your ſelf, if you put it in his Power, whether your Mind ſhall be eaſie or no.

COMMENT.

UPon the Advice laſt given, that the Things of this World are what we ought not to think we have any Propriety in, or ſhould be any farther ſollicitous about them, than Travellers are to accomodate themſelves in an Inn; It might very probably be objected; That this Contempt of the World will expoſe us to vaſt Inconveniences. For at this rate, ſays one, if I neglect the looking after my Eſtate, I ſhall reduce my ſelf to Want and Beggary; and if for the avoiding this Anxiety, which you ſo ſtrictly forbid, I omit the chiding and correcting my Servant, I ſhall be acceſſory to his utter Ruin. In Anſwer to both theſe, he inſiſts upon that eminent Diſtinction in the Beginning of his Book, by which he had proved, That all our Good and Evil, truly ſo called, depends entirely upon the Uſe of our Natural Liberty, and ſuch Things as are within the Compaſs of our own Choice; and that no Condition either of our Bodies, or our Fortunes, can make Men truly Happy or Miſerable.

But at preſent he addreſſes himſelf principally, to ſuch as are in a State of Proficiency, and have not yet attained to ſuch a Maſtery in Wiſdom, as ſhould qualifie them to attend to the cultivating their own Minds, and the Management of their Worldly Concerns both ar once, in ſo prudent a manner, that theſe Cares ſhould not be prejudicial to one another, or unſafe for the Perſon himſelf. For this is the peculiar Perfection of accompliſhed Philoſophers, that they ride ſecure, and fear no Storms from thoſe brutiſh Appetites, which they have abſolutely ſubdued: Nor is there any Danger if they do look abroad into the World ſometimes, and give themſelves a little looſe, that their Affections ſhould be ſeduced and perverted by any thing they meet with there, or the Peace and Tranquillity of their Souls at all diſturbed upon that Account. Theſe Men ſtand firm, and collected within themſelves, and whatever Confuſion they meet in the World, they manage and compoſe it all by the fix'd ſtanding Order of their own Minds. But where the Paſſions run high, and are ſtill upon the Ferment, there it is dangerous to engage a Man's ſelf in Buſineſs at all, or be the leaſt taken off from the beſt and ſevereſt Studies. For there is a wonderful Affinity between the World and the brutiſh Inclinations; and theſe not being yet duly tempered, nor reduced to the Obedience of Reaſon, drag down the Mind, and utterly immerſe it in Cares and Pleaſures, and like a Ship without Rudder or Pilot, will drive a wild and fatal Courſe, till at laſt ſhe ſtrand her ſelf, and all be loſt.

But in the mean while, what Courſe ſhall this Young Proficient take? For Neceſſaries he muſt have; and 'tis to no Purpoſe to give him Rules of Living, if you put it out of his Power to live at all. To this Difficulty, Epictetus, if he had pleaſed, might have replied, That a great part of the Prejudice a Man's Fortunes would receive from neglecting and deſpiſing the World, would be made amends for, by the ſtrict Temperance, and Abſtemious Life of a true Philoſopher; the eaſie Contentment and confined Deſires, that are an eſſential part of his Character. But, if this Remedy be not granted a ſufficient Cure for the Diſeaſe, yet at leaſt it may fairly be preſumed, that there are People enough who would preſerve ſuch a Man from periſhing. Such a one, I ſay, whoſe Wants and Wiſhes will be ſo eaſily ſupplied, and who muſt needs attract Love and Eſteem, when he neglects and ſcorns the World for the Exerciſe of Virtue, and the Improvement of his own Mind. This Reply, I ſay, Epictetus might have made; and the Reaſon of the Thing would have born him out in it. But he paſſes ſuch Comforts over, as too effeminate and indulgent, ſuch as were likely to enervate our Virtue, and ſully its Brightneſs; and therefore, as if it were a Blemiſh and a Diſparagement for a Wiſe and Good Man to ſtand in any need at all of any thing without, he runs the Compariſon up to the higheſt and boldeſt Extreme, and pronounces peremptorily, That a Man had better dye for Want, and preſerve his Mind from immoderate Fear and Concern, and by that means attain to the peculiar Perfection of his Nature, than to live in continual Perplexity, though he had the greateſt Plenty with it, which can never give him that Perfection. For what does all this World ſignifie to a vicious and a diſordered Mind, and one that in truth receives more hurt than good from the Enjoyments of it? Juſt as ſumptuous Entertainments, and rich Sauces gratify a Sick Man, who either cannot reliſh, or muſt not taſte them; or if he do, is ſure to nouriſh not himſelf, but his Diſeaſe.

So again, it were a leſs Evil, he ſays, for you, that your Servant or your Child were Vicious, than that you your ſelf ſhould be perpetually unhappy, with an Anxious Care to prevent it. If indeed Matters could be ſo ordered, that you could preſerve him and your ſelf both, and attend to what is neceſſary for each of you, without Diſtraction, this were much more eligible. But this can never be, for Two Reaſons; Firſt, Becauſe a Man void of Wiſdom and Virtue himſelf, will never be able to make another Virtuous and Wiſe; and then, becauſe that by this inordinate Concern, you do him no manner of Good, but your ſelf in the mean while, an infinite deal of Hurt. So that in ſuch a caſe the beſt courſe we can take, is to let the Incorrigible Wretch alone in his Wickedneſs, and not diſcompoſe our ſelves, but take care at leaſt to ſave one.

But when he had propoſed the higheſt pitch of Reſolution, and adviſed rather to chooſe Poverty and Death with Wiſdom and Virtue, than Plenty and Sollicitude without them; and if a Man be driven to that hard Neceſſity, rather to overlook the Vice and Ruin of one under his Care, than to loſe his own Happineſs, and undo himſelf, by trying to preſerve another; to ſhew that Men muſt be wound up to this pitch by degrees, and that he had a juſt regard to the Abilicies of his Scholar, he adviſes them here to begin with leſs and gentler Tryals, and ſuch as the Condition of Young Beginners are capable of. For Exerciſe and Practice in Matters of leſs Moment and Difficulty, is a ſafe and a ſucceſsful Method; but when ſuch things are look'd upon with Diſdain, and below ones Notice, and a Man ſcorns the inſtances hereof, his Oyl being ſpilled, or his Wine ſtolen, and will needs fly at all, and attempt great Hardſhips at firſt, he will fall under this double inconvenience; neither to be a Match for what he encounters, as having not made his way up to it gradually, nor to receive that Benefit and Advantage that he might have done from thoſe others; which, had he not ſlighted them, would have qualified him for the Combat he hath loſt for want of them. For let us imagine that a Man without any preparation, or previous practice in Matters of leſs conſequence, would needs all upon the ſpurt, take upon him to rival Crates, and diveſt himſelf of all his Poſſeſſions at once; how is it poſſible that this Perſon ſhould not immediately repent, and condemn himſelf, and wiſh Ten Thouſand times, that the thing were undone, and he in his former Circumſtances again? For though Crates himſelf, or Diogenes, or Zeno, or ſome other Eminent Philoſopher, may perhaps have made a ſudden turn, and brought themſelves to extream Strictneſs, and Virtue, and voluntary Poverty, without ſuch leiſurely advances, yet ſtill this is a thing that very rarely happens; and that which is extraordinary, is no rule for us to follow; eſpecially too, when we conſider, that theſe were themſelves very extraordinary Perſons, and conſequently no proper Meaſure for others that are but of the common rate of Men to govern themſelves by.

And after he had directed us how to make greater Loſſes and Misfortunes in our Eſtates, eaſie and familiar to us, by Firſt deſpiſing thoſe that are ſmall and inconſiderable, for the improvement and confirmation of our Virtue; he inſtructs us which way to get above all the Diſcompoſure and Paſſion that the Negligence, or the Saucineſs of our Servants, may be apt to caſt us into. For he tells us, we ought before-hand to repreſent to our ſelves, that it is very poſſible your Servant may not give his Attendance when called upon; or that if he anſwer to your Call, he may not obſerve your Commands: And that we ſhould ſettle our Minds not to give him ſo great Advantage over us, as the putting us into Diſorder would be. And this ſettling our Minds, is very conſiderable, in that the Inconvenience is in a great meaſure defeated, by being foreſeen. For it is the ſuddenneſs of an Accident, that is moſt apt to confound young Proficients; this breaks their Meaſures, puts them out of their Biaſs, and beats them from their Poſts. But Premeditation keeps the Mind firm and cool, it preſerves our Thoughts, and gives us the power and leiſure to recollect; and by Uſe and Cuſtom, prepares and arms the Mind againſt all thoſe things which our Hopes and Imaginations repreſent moſt difficult and inſupportable.

Now what a mighty Advantage this Preparation is, and how much better we entertain any Accident, when we are not ſurpriſed, every Man's own Conſideration and Experience will inform him. Nor is this the caſe of Misfortunes only, but even of Pleaſures and Good Fortune too, when they come upon us unexpected. Afflictions immediately overturn our Thoughts, and cramp up the Faculties of Reaſon, and put both Body and Soul out of Temper; and Pleaſures and Good Fortune, when ſudden and ſurpriſing, ſcatter and diſſolve them, and enervate both Body and Mind. From whence it comes to paſs, that theſe Cauſes, though ſo very diſtant in themſelves, are yet attended with the ſame Effects; and the ſame Symptoms plainly prove the Diſeaſe to be the ſame. For an Exceſs either of Joy or Grief, ſhocks the Conſtitution equally, and throws us into Swoonings, and Sweats, and the loſs of Senſe, ſometimes even to Death it ſelf.

But theſe things are ſo evident, that they need no enlargement; and therefore I rather chooſe to obſerve the Method Epictetus hath taken upon this occaſion, and the Improvements we may make of it. When any Loſs or Diſappointment in our Affairs have happened to us, he adviſes, that we would compoſe our ſelves with this Reflection; That Conſtancy and a Compoſed Mind, are Treaſures which muſt be bought, and this it ſeems is the Price which we muſt pay for them. But when our Servants provoke us, either by being out of the way, and not ready to receive our Commands; or by being inſolent, and not obeying them; the Remedy in this caſe, is to prepare our Minds, and conſider before-hand, that theſe were things very likely to happen.

This is the Method he preſcribes, but the improvement we may make of it, is to joyn both theſe Directions together, and apply them to either of the Caſes indifferently. For indeed, we are no leſs obliged to receive any Loſſes whatſoever with all that Premeditation, and ſhall find them infinitely leſſened to us by Expectation, and a poſſeſſing our Minds early with the Thought that theſe things may very probably happen to us. And on the other Hand, when we are incenſed by the Negligence or the Diſobedience of Servants, or any other Provocation of that kind, it will turn to very good account to recollect, That Conſtancy and a Compoſed Mind, are Treaſures that will not come for nothing; and this is the Price that we are to purchaſe them at.

Now the Reaſons why Epictetus himſelf did thus apply both indifferently, ſeem to be, That the Inſtances produced by him, of Oyl ſpilled, and a little paltry Wine ſtolen, are too mean and trivial, to need the ſolemnity of any ſuch Preparation; and that in Matters ſo ſmall, a ſhort Recollection is ſufficient, after the thing hath happened. And not only ſo, but becauſe in things of leſs Conſideration, the proſpect of the Gain, and comparing the Price with the Purchaſe, is abundantly enough to prevail upon the Soul. For what occaſion can there be of Grudging or Diſcontent, when for ſuch a Trifle as a little Oyl or Wine loſt, a Man hath it in his power to receive a thing ſo valuable as Conſtancy and a Compoſed Mind, by way of Exchange? Nay, and not only to procure this for once and no more, but to gain the ſtanding Diſpoſition and Habit of it, which may be ready at hand, and ſerviceable upon every occaſion, provided he drive a wiſe bargain, and manage his Market with any skill and dexterity. Who would not be proud and pleaſed to make that Exchange which Homer tells us Diomede did, when he bartered Braſs for Gold? And what Man that hath the Senſe and Reaſon of a Man, would not gladly forego any Advantages of Fortune, if he can obtain the greateſt and moſt deſirable Advantages of the Mind in return of them? Eſpecially too, when the Matter may very frequently be ſo ordered, as not properly to forego them neither, but by a prudent forethought and preparation, to think that a thing of no Concern to him, and be ſenſible of no Loſs at all.

CHAP. XVIII.

If you would indeed improve in Wiſdom, you muſt be content to be thought Fooliſh and Stupid, for neglecting the Things of the World.

COMMENT.

THE Reaſon why many of us lay out ſo much of our Thoughts and our Pains upon the World, is not always a Deſire to be ſupplied with what is neceſſary and convenient for our Circumſtances, but to avoid the Cenſure of being thought Singular, and Inſenſible, and Speculative Drones. Now in oppoſition to this Principle, and all the Diſcouragements ſuch Apprehenſions give us, he adviſes every Scholar of his, who would be wiſe in good earneſt, not to let ſo poor a Pretence prevail upon him, to abandon himſelf to the Cares of the World, and neglect the true and inward Advantages of his own Mind. For what a Monſtrous Abſurdity is it, for a Man to be really Mad, for fear of being thought ſo; and to commit the moſt deſperate Act of Folly, leſt he ſhould be called Fool by thoſe that are no better than Fools themſelves? And in truth, there is nothing contributes to a Vertuous Life, and ſuch a Behaviour as is every way ſuitable to the Character of a Man, conſidered as a Rational Creature, more, than to reſolve not to be a Slave to the Opinions of the World, not to make what idle and ſilly People approve, any meaſure of our Actions, or rule to walk by; but to uſe ones ſelf to deſpiſe both their Commendations and their Cenſures, and to keep our Eyes ſteady upon the Dictates of right Reaſon, and the Judgments of thoſe few Good and Wiſe that live in Conformity to it; and let theſe guide and govern us in the Management of all our Affairs: For Reaſon is the proper Standard that all our Actions ſhould be agreeable to, and all they whoſe Opinions are worth our regarding, will be ſure to approve whatever is ſo.

Do not affect to be thought exceeding Wiſe; and if other People think you ſomething more than ordinary, let this make you ſo much the more Diſtruſtful and Jealous of your ſelf. For be aſſured, it is no eaſie matter to proſecute your Deſigns upon Vertue, and other external Advantages, at one and the ſame time. But he that ſets his Heart upon either of theſe, will of courſe find his Concern for the other abate and grow cold.

Epictetus hath taken a great deal of Pains to confine the Soul of his Young Philoſopher within a narrow compaſs, that all his Care may be employed at Home, upon the improvement of himſelf; eſpecially when he firſt enters into this reformed courſe of Life. And ſince the Deſire of Riches and Cares of the World, are but a part of thoſe Temptations that engage the Affections, and miſplace them abroad; for a Superſtitious value for Reputation and Applauſe, are every whit as dangerous Baits; (and ſo much the more ſo indeed, as they are accompliſh'd Perſons, and have ſome real Excellencies to recommend them to the World, are apt to be inſnared by them,) he adviſes to root out this vain-glorious Appetite by all means.

Do not affect to be thought Wiſe, ſays he; not that he condemns the moſt Zealous Deſires or Endeavours aſter Knowledge, but only to ſuppreſs the Vanity of deſiring to appear Knowing. For this ſwells the Mind, and puffs it up with flaſhy Imaginations, and inclines it to the World. It repreſents the Opinion of others, as the Rule of Acting, rather than Duty, and the Dictates of a Man's own Conſcience; and makes him live no longer to himſelf, but to his Maſters, the People; and which is worſt of all, it makes a Man ſatisfied with the empty Shadows, and outward Appearances of things; and neglect the Subſtance. For the Vain-glorious are not half ſo much concerned to be really Virtuous or Wiſe, as they are to impoſe upon themſelves and the World, in ſeeming ſo. For this Reaſon he expreſſes himſelf very prudently here, and ſays not, Do not be thought Wiſe, but Do not affect to be thought ſo: For in truth, the Eſteem other People have of us, is a thing by no means in our own power; nor can we make them think as we would have them; but the courting that Eſteem, and being fond of ſuch a Character, is entirely our own Act and Deed.

And therefore ſince the World will ſometimes have a great Opinion of our Abilities, whether we ſeek it or no; in ſuch a caſe, ſays he, let their Commendations make you but ſo much the more diſtruſtful and jealous of your ſelf. For this will be a moſt excellent Preſervative againſt the giving your ſelf up to be governed by other People's Judgments, and taking up with the Fame or Falſe Images of Goodneſs, inſtead of the thing itſelf. Beſides, that the ſuſpecting and thinking more meanly of ones ſelf, when the World extols them moſt, is a Duty particularly ſeaſonable for young Philoſophers. For they that are Maſters in it, ſit ſecure above the Breath of Fame, paſs juſt and impartial Judgments upon their own Actions; and, as they do not think the better, ſo neither need they think at all the worſe of themſelves, for what the World ſay of them.

Now Reputation and Applauſe, we know very well, is not the Attendant of Knowledge only, but of Temperance and Moderation too, of Juſtice and Fortitude, of Prudence, and indeed of every Virtue whatſoever. Every Accompliſhment that qualifies us for Buſineſs, and makes us uſeful to our Country, and one another, of every Character of any extraordinary Eminence in the World; all which he hath comprehended here in this ſhort Expreſſion of being though ſomething more than ordinary; which extends to every kind of Opinion that is for our Advantage, let the Ground of it be what it will.

At laſt, he ſhuts up all with a Concluſion, applicable not only to this Chapter, but to thoſe that went before, concerning the Care that is due to our own Minds, and intimates, that a Learner in Philoſophy, will find it no eaſie Matter to proſecute his Deſigns upon Wiſdom and Virtue with Succeſs, and at the ſame time to graſp at Riches or Fame, or any other Worldly Advantages. And the Reaſon is, becauſe the keeping our Minds tight in the proſecution of Virtue, conſiſts in an extraordinary Vigilance and concern for our ſelves, and the regulating our own Wills; and in making all without us, all that are called the Goods of Fortune, little or no part of our Concern. But now an eager purſuit of Fame, or any other external Advantage, utterly overturns this whole frame of Mind; for it engages our Affections upon Foreign and diſtant things, and makes us cold and careleſs for our ſelves. Therefore it can be no eaſie matter to reconcile theſe wide Extremes, and manage both at once. But ſtill you may obſerve with what Caution our Author delivers himſelf; he declares it difficult, but he dares not pronounce it impoſſible; becauſe there are ſome exalted Minds that exert themſelves to the wonder of Mankind, and conſequently muſt be admitted for Exceptions from the general Rules of Nature. But as for the reſt, who are of the ſame Mould and Tempering with their Neighbours, to them the Rule in the Cloſe holds good, That he who propoſes to follow one of theſe in good earneſt, and to purpoſe, muſt wholly lay aſide all Concern for the other.

CHAP. XIX.

If you deſire that your Wife, and Children, and Friends may never Dye, this is a Senſeleſs Wiſh; for you would have what is not your own, to be in your own power; and would diſpoſe of that which is anothers. So again, if you deſire that your Boy may live without any Faults, this is Fooliſh too; for it is to wiſh, that Vice and Corruption may change their Nature, and be no longer what they cannot but be. But if you will needs be wiſhing, and would wiſh ſo as not to be diſappointed, this may be done; and therefore the beſt way is to practiſe upon that which is in your own power.

COMMENT.

THE firſt Care of a Man, ſhould be to conſider what things are worth his Pains; and thoſe that deſerve to be thought ſo, 'tis plain, muſt have the following Qualifications: They muſt be poſſible, for none but Fools lay themſelves out upon what can never be compaſſed. And they muſt be decent and proper for the Perſon that takes pains for them; ſomething that ſuits his Character and Conveniences, and ſuch as he may call his own when he hath them. For nothing can be more impertinent, than to concern one's ſelf in other People's Matters, and neglect our own; or to be extreamly ſollicitous for obtaining that, which another will always retain the propriety to. A Third Conſideration ſhould be, of what value the Prize we propoſe to our ſelves will be, of what conſtancy and continnance; and whether we can be ſecure of keeping it when we have got it. For no prudent Man will give himſelf trouble about Trifles, and things that will turn to no account; or ſuch as are likely very ſoon to decay, or forſake him.

And therefore in purſuance of his Deſign, to call off his young Philoſophers Affections from the World, and to drive on his former Diſtinction of Things that are, and Things that are not in our own power; he proves, that all external Advantages whatſoever, are really not ours, but anothers. And he had ſhewed at the beginning, that whatever is another's, cannot be any of the things in our own power, nor conſequently a proper Object of our Choice.

When a Man then is deſirous, that his Wife, and Children, and Friends, may never be taken away from him, this Man is ſollicitous for a thing in which his Choice hath nothing to do; a thing that it is not poſſible for him to beſtow upon himſelf; for when things are not entirely at our own Diſpoſal, nor ſubmitted to the Determinations of our own Wills, it is not for us to make our ſelves Maſters of them; but we muſt depend upon the good pleaſure of thoſe Perſons for them, in whoſe Poſſeſſion and Diſpoſal they are.

Beſides, there is not any of thoſe Advantages we are ſo fond of, but they are really mean, and of no value at all, frail and periſhing, and the Enjoyment of them ſhort and uncertain. Who then would give himſelf trouble, for ſo low, ſo poor a Recompence? Or who would engage his Affections upon what ſo many Caſualties may, and daily do conſpire againſt, and what they muſt at length deſtroy, and rob him of? So vain is it to fix ones Happineſs or ones Deſires, in the Lives of our Tendereſt Friends, (for inſtance,) or to delude one's ſelf with vain Hopes, and fond Wiſhes of their living always; when at the ſame time they are Mortal, and muſt ſubmit to the ſame fatal Neceſſity, with every thing elſe that is ſo; which is, to depart without delay or mercy, whenever Death ſummons them away.

So again, If a Man wiſh that his Servant may be Virtuous, nay, even an Honeſter and better Man than himſelf, (as many of us are apt to do ſometimes, when provoked by the Knavery of Servants,) this Man, (ſays Epictetus) is a Fool, and wiſhes an idle and impoſſible thing. For ſince all Knavery proceeds from Vicious Principles, and the Corruption of the Mind, how can it poſſibly be, that a Man who takes care to Govern or Reform his Brutiſh Appetite, but ſubmits and lives according to it, ſhould act any otherwiſe than Viciouſly? So vain is it for Men to expect Succeſs in theſe Matters, when they place their Affections and Concern upon things that are either impoſſible to be had, or at the diſpoſal of ſome other Perſon, or poor and periſhing, and as hazardous and unſure in the Enjoyment, as they were difficult in the acquiſition. Muſt not Men needs fail of their hopes, where ſo many Accidents concur to diſappoint them? And if they lead a Life of Diſappointment, muſt they not of neceſſity lead a Life of Sorrow and perpetual Torment too? Againſt all theſe Miſeries, there is but one Remedy, and that is an effectual one indeed: 'Tis to make our Selves, and what Nature hath put within our own power, the ſole Object of our Care and Concern. Now Nature hath given us an abſolute power of conſining our Deſires to ſuch things as ſhe hath made neceſſary and expedient for us. And therefore we ſhall do well not to be too laviſh, nor ſquander them away upon vain and unprofitable Matters, but to lay them out upon thoſe others, for they can never fail our Expectations, and will be ſure to turn to good account, when they have attained them.

CHAP. XX.

That Perſon is properly my Lord and Maſter, who hath it in his power to gratify my Wiſhes, or to inflict my Fears; to give what I deſire to have, or to take from me what I am loath to part with. The only way then to preſerve one's Liberty, is to reſtrain one's own Paſſions, and to have neither Deſire nor Averſion for any thing in the power of others: For he that does not ſo, is ſure to be a Slave as long as he lives.

COMMENT.

HEre again we meet with another ſevere Reflection upon the World, and a juſt Cenſure of thoſe who abandon themſelves to the Love and the Cares of it. For by this means, we do not only betray our Minds to Miſery and Trouble, when our Deſires are fruſtrated, and the Misfortunes we fear, overtake us, but which is more, we ſink into a ſtate of Slavery, and ſubmit not to one, but to many Maſters, to a Thouſand imperious and mercileſs Maſters. For whoever it be, ſays he, that hath it in his own power to gratify our Deſires, or to bring our Fears upon us, to give what we would fain have, or to take away, what we are loath to part with, that Perſon is moſt truly our Lord and Maſter. So that at this rate, very Paſſion, and every Accident, tyrannizes over the worldly Man without Reſiſtance or Controul.

With what humble Submiſſion do we cringe to thoſe that have the Riches, or Preferments, or Honours we deſire, in their Diſpoſal! How ſervile are all our Applications, and how obſequious all our Behaviour, that we may incline their Favour, and prevail for the Advantages we propoſe to our ſelves from it? And again, when any of theſe Enjoyments lye at their Mercy, with what Terrors and miſgiving Fears do we approach them? what mean Acts do we make uſe of to keep their Countenance and good Graces? and how pitifully do we flatter and fawn upon them, to ſecure the Continuance of that which they may deprive us of whenever they pleaſe? So poor and precarious are all the Goods of Fortune, ſo abſolutely anothers, and ſo little our own. For that which another can beſtow, or call back again, is properly his; and nothing really ours, but what falls entirely within the Compaſs of our own Power and Choice.

If then Liberty be, as certainly it is, a moſt deſirable Thing; and if we would aſſert our own Freedom, and break our Chains; the Courſe we muſt take is, to contract our Fears and Deſires, to contain them within their proper Sphere, and not ſuffer them to rove abroad, or fix them upon any thing within the Power of any but our ſelves. For if we do ſo, our Slavery is ſure, and the Inſtances of it infinite. Our Deſires are our Maſters when we would obtain them, and our Poſſeſſions when we dread the loſs of them: Our Averſions are ſo when we fear Dangers, and our Misfortunes when we fall into them.

To this we may add another Obſervation too; That every Man in theſe Circumſtances is ſubject to two Maſters; one at home, and another abroad: For the Brutal Appetite within, that moves our Reaſon, (that is, our ſelves, whoſe very Eſſence conſiſts in this) and carries it away captive, ſubmits both Reaſon and it ſelf to another Maſter, which is the outward Object of our Paſſions: So that we are not only Slaves, but the meaneſt and moſt abject of them all, even the Slaves of Slaves.

Beſides, other Servants have ſome Intervals of Freedom and Leiſure at leaſt; they are not always confined to their Maſter's Preſence; they are upon the Level with other Men at ſome times; Night and Sleep ſets them free; and they obtain Leave and Eaſe now and then under the hardeſt Government. But our Attendance is without any Intermiſſion; we can neither fly from our Maſters, nor will they ever remit or diſpenſe with our Service; ſleeping and waking we ſtill drudge on, and are ever labouring to ſatisfie the inſolent, unjuſt, and extravagant Commands of our cruel Tyrants. No Moment of Reſt is allowed us after once we have ſubmitted to them; but they are perpetually teazing, and haraſſing us, and imploying us either with wicked Actions or Words, or when there is an Opportunity for neither of theſe, then diſtracting us with idle Thoughts and fantaſtick Imaginations.

Nay, and which is yet worſt of all, and the moſt deplorable Aggravation of our Miſery, in other Caſes, the better ſort of Servants have a Soul above their Condition, and owe their Bondage to the Neceſſity of their Affairs, and the Rigor of a penurious Fortune: but ours is not our Fate, but our Choice; we hug and are fond of our Chains, and are perpetually contriving to bind our Slavery faſter upon us, exceeding induſtrious to make our ſelves miſerable, and ingenious in finding out new Methods of Ruin; that is, ever ſeeking out ſome freſh Object of Deſire or Fear, and in order to it, complying with ſuch Commands as are never obeyed, but to our infinite Damage, if not our utter undoing.

CHAP. XXI.

Let it be your conſtant Care, to behave your ſelf in all the Affairs of Humane Life, with the ſame Decency that you would at a publick Entertainment. If any thing be offered you, receive it with Modeſty; if it paſs by you, and be ſent to another, do not with-hold it from him, or keep what was not intended you. If it be not yet come down ſo low, ſhew not your ſelf eager, nor ſnatch at it greedily, but wait patiently, till it comes to your turn. Manage your ſelf with the ſame good Manners and Reſervedneſs in caſe of a Wife, or Children, or Honours, or Riches, or Power, and Preferment. This will render you worthy to be entertained by the Gods. But if you can conquer your Appetite ſo far, as even to refuſe and diſdain the delicious Meats that are ſet before you: This will not only qualifie you to feaſt with the Gods, but exalt you to the ſame Dignity and Perfection with them too. Such was Diogenes and Heraclitus, and thoſe other renowned Heroes, who by this generous Scorn were juſtly eſteemed, and in reality were Divine Perſons.

COMMENT.

AFter ſo many Arguments uſed to check the mighty Propenſities of Humane Nature, and reſtrain his Scholars from too eager a Purſuit of the Goods of Fortune, leſt his Diſcourſe ſhould prove leſs perſuaſive for being thought too ſevere, he tells us, that it is not his Intention to debar Men from all Communication with the World; and therefore inſtructs us what Advantages they are allowed to partake of, and how they ought to demean themſelves with regard to them. He had before indulged us the Uſe of not only the Neceſſaries, but the Conveniences of Humane Life; provided that we accepted of theſe as additional Enjoyments, and did not miſtake them for our main Concern, but kept our Minds and Eyes conſtantly intent upon the Ship, and (as he expreſt it there) were ready to come on Board, and Sail at the Maſter's Call. And now he tells us, that whatever of this kind is preſented to us, we may receive it, whether it be a Wife, or Children, or Riches, or Advancement; but then we muſt take them modeſtly and decently, and not ſuffer our Appetites to grow impatient, and ſnatch or reach at it rudely, before it is offered. So again, if they were once ours, and are taken away (for thus I underſtand that Expreſſion of paſſing by, and being ſent to ſome body elſe) we muſt by no means detain them, he ſays; that is, we ſhould part with them patiently, neither ſtruggling to keep them, nor repining at the Loſs. If they be not yet come to us, it will ill become us not to deſire them before our Turn, to feed our Wiſhes and Imaginations with them, and be ſo taken up with theſe, as to forget both Virtue and our Selves.

When they are given to us, we muſt not receive them even then voraciouſly, and with too much ſeeming Tranſport; but decently and gently, that ſo we may keep our ſelves above them, and uſe them prudently, without ſuffering our Affections to be over-power'd, and wholly immerſt in them.

Now the Condition of Men in the World is here repreſented by People met together at a Common Entertainment; where Almighty God makes the Invitation and the Feaſt; and every one of the Gueſts partakes of the Proviſion according as his own Appetite ſtands affected. Some behave themſelves with a prudent Reſerve, like well-bred Perſons, as the Dictates of Reaſon and Nature direct them, and in a manner acceptable to the Maſter of the Feaſt, ſo as to ſeem a Gueſt worthy of the Gods. Others again are inſolent and unruly, greedy and gluttonous, injure themſelves, and diſpleaſe the Great Lord that receives them.

But the eſpecial Excellency is yet behind. For if you are a Perſon of ſo exalted a Virtue, as not only to wait with Patience, and accept with Modeſty, but even to decline and ſlight theſe worldly Advantages, that the Generality of Mankind dote upon ſo infinitely, and can deny your ſelf what the Maſter of the Feaſt offers to you; this is the utmoſt Perfection Mortality is capable of: the World is no longer worthy of ſuch a Perſon: he hath tranſcended Humane Nature it ſelf, and is not only fit to be a Gueſt to the Gods, but to be admitted into a ſhare of that Dignity and thoſe Divine Excellencies, which he hath wrought himſelf up to ſo near a Reſemblance of.

This was the Caſe of Crates and Diogenes, the latter of which expreſt ſo juſt a Contempt of the World, that, when Alexander the Great ſaw him basking in the warm Sun, and asked, what he ſhould do for him? he deſired no more, than only that he would ſtand out of his Sun-ſhine. Which Anſwer gave ſo true an Idea of the Gallantry of his Soul, that this mighty Conqueror thought that Philoſopher a Braver and Greater Man than himſelf in all his Triumphs; and ſaid, that he could wiſh, if that were poſſible, to be Diogenes; but if not, then his ſecond Wiſh ſhould be, to continue Alexander.

Thus then the Good Providence that conſtitutes this mortal State, and mingles Mens Circumſtances in it as it ſees moſt ſuitable and convenient, advances thoſe Perſons to the Table of the Gods, who manage the Incumbrances of the Body and the World, according to the Directions they have given us, and temper all their Actions with Prudence and Moderation. But when Men do not only manage, but tranſcend the World and its Enjoyments, when they get quite above theſe Things, and exerciſe an abſolute Maſtery over them; then the ſame Providence calls up thoſe Souls that ſo well imitate the Divine Excellencies, into a ſort of Partnerſhip and Government, and makes them (as it were) its Aſſiſtants in the diſpoſing of Things here below. For, what can we think leſs of them, while they ſit enthroned on high, and look down, and order all Things, with ſuch undiſturbed Security, and ſo Imperial a Sway, as if themſelves were no longer a part of this Univerſe, but, like thoſe Beings above, were diſtinct and ſeparate from it, and governed their own World?

For this Reaſon, Epictetus ſays, Heraclitus and Diogenes, that had a generous Diſdain for theſe Things, were juſtly eſteemed, and in reality were Divine Perſons. And indeed, they are truly ſo that live up to the utmoſt Perfection of their Nature, and diveſt themſelves of all Concerns for the Body and the World. They are ſpiritualized already, and have no more to do with any Impreſſions of Fleſh and Senſe. This is the utmoſt Perfection of a Humane Mind, and whatever is abſolutely perfect, is Divine; becauſe it is of God, who is the Source and Sum of all Perfection.

CHAP. XXII.

When you ſee a Neighbour in Tears, and hear him lament the Abſence of his Son, the Hazards of his Voyage into ſome remote Part of the World, or the Loſs of his Eſtate; keep upon your Guard, for fear leſt ſome falſe Idea's that may riſe upon theſe Occaſions, ſurpriſe you into a Miſtake, as if this Man were really miſerable, upon the Account of theſe outward Accidents. But be ſure to diſtinguiſh wiſely, and tell your ſelf immediately, that the Thing which really afflicts this Perſon is not really the Accident it ſelf, (for other People, under his Circumstances, are not equally afflicted with it) but merely the Opinion which he hath formed to himſelf concerning this Accident-Notwithſtanding all which, you may be allowed, as far as Expreſſions and outward Behaviour go, to comply with him; and if Occaſion require, to bear a part in his Sighs, and Tears too; but then you muſt be ſure to take care, that this Compliance does not infect your Mind, nor betray you to an inward and real Sorrow, upon any ſuch Account.

COMMENT.

AS this Conſideration, That the deſirable Things of this World are not, cannot be our Happineſs, though we ſhould ſuppoſe a Man never ſo proſperous, ſhould reſtrain our Eagerneſs, and check our too forward Deſires after them; ſo that other Reflection, that no External Misfortunes can make us truly miſerable, ſhould be an Argument no leſs prevailing to buoy up our Spirits, and make us entertain them with Courage and Reſolution.

To this purpoſe, our Author urges the following Inſtance of a Man in great Grief and Lamentation for ſome Calamity; the Death or the Diſtance of a Darling Child, the Loſs of an Eſtate, and being reduced to extreme Poverty, or the like. And the Caution he gives upon ſuch Occaſions, is, that the Spectators would not ſuffer themſelves to be born down by the Torrent of this Man's Tears, and carried into an Erroneous Opinion of his being made miſerable by any of theſe Diſaſters: For, they are to recollect themſelves, and conſider, that no Mans Happineſs or Unhappineſs does, or ever can depend upon his Succeſſes in the World, or any of the Good or Bad Events from without.

But if this be ſo, how comes it then to paſs, that this Perſon is ſo infinitely afflicted, as if ſome real Ill had happened to him? The Accident, it is plain, cannot be Evil in its own Nature; for were it ſo, all Perſons that lay under the ſame Misfortune, would feel the ſame Impreſſions, and be carried to an equal Exceſs of Grief: For this is a Rule in Nature, that Natural Qualities have always the ſame Operation; and what feels hot to one, will feel ſo to every one that touches it. At this rate then, every one that buries a Son muſt mourn and lament; and yet Anaxagoras, when News was brought him of the Death of his, made Anſwer, with all the Bravery and Unconcernedneſs in the World, Well, I knew my Child could be no more than mortal. But what then i the true Cauſe of all this Melancholy? Nothing elſe, but the Man's own Notions of this Accident: this is the Root of all the Diſeaſe; and our Opinions are properly our own. So that we will grant the Ground of this exceſſive Grief to be not only a ſeeming, but a real Evil; but then the Miſtake of the Perſon ſtill remains; for it is not in any Accident from without, but riſes entirely from within himſelf, and is owing to nothing elſe but his own wrong Apprehenſions. And this is both a real Evil, and properly ones own too, becauſe Opinions are ſome of thoſe Things within our own Power, and the Truth and Falſhood of theſe depends purely upon the Will, and falls within the Compaſs of our own Choice.

You will ask perhaps, in the next place, what Behaviour is proper in ſuch a Caſe? Is no Compaſſion due to this afflicted miſtaken Man? And muſt I only with a ſullen Magiſterial Pride condemn his Error, and chide or ſcorn his Folly? By no means. This Deportment is unſuitable to the Character of a Good Man. You are allowed therefore to pity and comply with him, to condeſcend in ſome meaſure to his Frailties, to ſpeak kind and tender Things, and if you ſee Occaſion, to drop a few Tears for Company. Nor is all this to be put on merely for Oſtentation, or to ſhew Good Nature: For, Diſſimulation and Trick is what no Ci •• umſtance can render excuſable to a Good Man. But your Trouble may be real; and indeed, there is but too juſt a Pretence for it, when you ſee ſuch an Inſtance of Humane Infirmity, as a Man that can think the Misfortunes of the World worth ſo immoderate a Concern.

But ſtill you muſt ſet Bounds to your Pity and Condeſcenſion, for Grief is catching; and therefore be ſure to take care, that it do not faſten upon your Mind, and ſo you fall into the ſame Diſeaſe, of a real Concern for the Accident it ſelf. If once you ſink ſo low, you are for the future incapable of doing the Sorrowful any Service. He that would be ſerviceable to another's Cure, and quiet the Anguiſh of his Paſſions, muſt make ſome Advances indeed, and ſome Compliances, but he muſt be ſure to keep out of the Reach of Infection too. A Man that ſtands ſtill upon the Bank, and will not ſo much as ſtep into the Water, can never draw his Friend out when he is drowning; and a Man that jumps in, and lets the ſame Stream carry him away too, can as little do it. He that appears inſenſible, and void of all tender Impreſſions, will never be able to compoſe another's Paſſion, and bring him to Reaſon; but he that ſuffers the ſame Paſſion to overcome his own Reaſon too, will be ſo far from ſerving his Friend, that he himſelf muſt be beholding to the Aſſiſtance of ſome third Friend.

CHAP. XXIII.

Remember, that the World is a Theatre, and that your Part in this Play of Life is determined by the Poet: Upon him it muſt depend, whether you ſhall act a long or a ſhort one; whether your Character ſhall be high or low: If therefore he aſſign you that of a Beggar, take care to humour it well; if a Cripple, or a Prince, or a private obſcure Man, or whatever it be, make the beſt of it: For conſider, that the playing of the Part aſſigned you commendably, depends upon your ſelf. This is your Buſineſs; but the giving out of the Parts, and chooſing the Actors, is not yours, but another Perſon's.

COMMENT.

IN one of the Chapters a little before, this preſent Life, and the Diſtribution and Enjoyment of the Comforts and Advantages of it, was compared to a Publick Entertainment, and the Maker and Maſter of that Entertainment ſaid to be Almighty God, who left us at Liberty either to accept or to refuſe the Diſhes that were ſet before us. For this Reaſon it was, that ſuch Pains were taken to correct and form our Appetites aright, and inſtruct us, how we ought to govern our Selves, and our Choice, with regard to all External Events, paſt, preſent, and future. For, at Feaſts every Gueſt feaſts of what is ſet before him according as his own Palat ſtands, and his own Judgment directs him.

But here we meet with another kind of Repreſentation; where Life is reſembled to a Play, in which every Man breathing bears a part, but the Compoſer and Diſpenſer of theſe Parts is God. For in this reſpect the preſent Similitude differs from the former, that in it we are not left to our own Diſpoſal, whether we will accept what is aſſigned us or not. Providence hath appointed our Character, and we cannot change nor decline it. There are infinite Inſtances of this kind, that ſeem to carry a plain Fatality in them. For though when Riches are offered us, it is in our Power to reject them, and embrace a voluntary Poverty; yet when Poverty or Sickneſs is laid out for us, it is not then in our Power to decline theſe. So again, we may chooſe whether we will be Maſters and Governours or not; but we cannot chooſe whether we will be Servants or Subjects, or not.

All then that is left to our own Liberty here, is the Management of what falls to our ſhare; and the Blame or the Commendation, the Happineſs or the Miſery of a Man in ſuch Caſes, does not conſiſt ſo much in deſiring or not deſiring, accepting or refuſing, (for this laſt does not fall within our Sphere) but in ſuch a Management as is ſtill left at our own Liberty; that is, the behaving our ſelves decently or otherwiſe, ſuitably or unſuitably to our Condition. For tho we cannot avoid Poverty or Sickneſs when we would, yet we can make a Virtue of Neceſſity; and if we pleaſe, can carry our Selves handſomely under them. And all the Fate in the World cannot tye us up ſo far, but that the husbanding and making the beſt of thoſe things which we cannot help, ſhall be ſtill as much in our own Breaſts, as of thoſe which we chooſe and procure for our own ſelves.

Thus it is in the practice of the Stage: The Choice of the Players, is the Poets Work; it is he that gives out the Parts, according to the particular Humours of the Actors; he takes notice of their Qualifications and Abilities, and then ſuits the Perſons to the Characters they are capable of. One he appoints to perſonate a Prince, another a Servant, another a Mad-Man, (for every one is not fit to play Oreſtes.) Thus far his Care goes, and he is anſwerable no farther: For the Perſons to whom theſe Parts are aſſigned, muſt account for the doing them Juſtice in the Action.

For this Reaſon it is, that Men do not judge of the Entertainment of a Play-Houſe, by the Greatneſs or Quality of the Character, but by the juſt Proportion, and the natural Repreſentation, and the Gracefulneſs of the Action it ſelf. How often do we ſee a Beggar, or a Servant, or a Mad Man clapped, and at the ſame time, a Rich Man, or a General, or a King hiſſed? The Reaſon of which is, that one hath hit the Humour of his part, and maintained the Character that he was to appear in, and the other did not ſo. The Beggar behaved himſelf as a Beggar ſhould do, and the King ſunk beneath the Grandeur of his Poſt; and this Behaviour was the proper Buſineſs of the Actors themſelves, though the chooſing whether they ſhould perſonate a King, or a Beggar, was not.

Juſt thus we find in this vaſt Theatre of the World; How many Emperors, and Wealthy, and Strong Luſty Men, have ſpoiled their Parts, while the Poor, the Lame, the Slave, the Deſpiſed Epictetus, performed his with the approbation of his Great Maſter, and to the wonder of all the Spectators? For though his Part had leſs of Pomp and Shew than theirs, yet he ſtudied the Character throughly, and kept it up to the very laſt, and anſwered the Deſign and Directions of the Poet that deſtin'd him to it. This was his proper Buſineſs, and therefore this Commendation is due to him for it: For, as no Man's Happineſs or Miſery can conſiſt in any thing but what falls within his own Choice, ſo neither will any Wiſe Man allow, that either Praiſe or Commendation, Honour or Infamy, belongs properly to any thing elſe. And conſequently, it is not the Part, but the manner of acting it, that every Man diſtinguiſhes himſelf by.

CHAP. XXIV.

When the Ravens croak, or any other Ominous thing happens, let not any Superſtitious Fancies diſturb or affright you: But ha •• immediate recourſe to this Diſtinction, 〈◊〉 the quieting your Fears, That nothing of this kind can Bode Ill to you: To your Body, or your Eſtate, or your Reputation, or your Wife, or your Children, 'tis poſſible it may; but as for your Self, 'tis in your own power to make every thing auſpicious to you; becauſe whatever Diſaſter happens in any of the forementioned Reſpects, you may, if you pleaſe, reap ſome very conſiderable Advantage from it.

COMMENT.

THis Chapter ſeems to me to be miſplaced, and would be more Methodical, if ſet before the former, and immediately after that which begins with theſe Words, If you ſee a Neighbour in Tears, &c. For having told us there, that a Man ought not to be too ſenſibly affected with the exceſſive Paſſion of thoſe who think themſelves unhappy for the loſs of any of the Comforts of this World, nor ſympathize ſo far, as to imagine that ſuch a one is really Miſerable upon any of theſe Accounts, ſince a Man's Happineſs or his Wretchedneſs does not conſiſt in any outward Proſperous or Adverſe Events, but purely in the uſe of his own Free-Will, and the Practice or Neglect of what God and Nature have made entirely the Object of his own Choice and Power; here he adds, that if any inauſpicious Bird, or other Omen ſeem to foretel Miſchief and Ill-luck, this ought not to terrify or diſcompoſe us. But though we ſhould ſuppoſe them to carry any ill portent to our Bodies or our Fortunes, yet we muſt diſtinguiſh between theſe and our ſelves, and conſider, that our own Happineſs and Miſery depends upon our own Diſpoſal, and can come from nothing but our ſelves.

Do but reſolve then not to make your ſelf unhappy, and all the moſt direful Significations of Misfortune, and all the Misfortunes conſequent to thoſe Significations ſhall never be able to do it. Your Body, 'tis true, may be Sick, or Dye; your Reputation may be Blaſted, your Eſtate Deſtroyed or Waſted, your Wife or Children taken from you; but ſtill all this does not reach your Self; that is, your Reaſoning Mind. This can never be Miſerable, nay, it muſt and will be Happy, in deſpight of all theſe Ill-bodings, except you conſent to your own Wretchedneſs: For all your Good and Evil depends wholly upon your ſelf.

Nay, which is more, and the greateſt Security imaginable, theſe very Misfortunes ſhall conſpire to render you yet more Happy; for out of this Bitter, you may gather Sweetneſs, and convert what is generally miſtaken for Miſery, to your own mighty Benefit. And the greater thoſe Calamities are, the more conſiderable will the Advantage be, provided you manage them prudently, and behave your ſelf decently under them. Now it is plain from hence, that theſe are not Evils, (properly ſpeaking,) for whatever is ſo, muſt always do hurt, and can never change its Nature ſo far, as to contribute to any good effect. Since then theſe may be ſo ordered, as to become ſubſervient to your Good, and ſince no Ill can come to you, but what your ſelf muſt be inſtrumental in, and acceſſary to, you muſt of neceſſity grant, that all Omens, and all the Evils threatned by them, are not, cannot be Evils to you your ſelf, unleſs you pleaſe to make them ſo; and that all they can pretend to, is to affect ſomething that belongs, or bears ſome diſtant Relation to you.

CHAP. XXV.

It is in your power always to come off Conqueror, provided you will never engage in any Combats, but ſuch whoſe Succeſſes will be determined by your own Choice.

COMMENT.

HE had ſaid juſt before, that no Ominous Predictions Boded any ill to Men, except they brought the Evil upon themſelves, becauſe it is in the power of every one not to be Miſerable. And this Chapter I take to be a farther Proſecution of that Argument, and added by way of Proof and Confirmation to the former.

For it is in our own power, never to enter the Liſts with any External Accidents, that is, ſo to reſtrain our Deſires and Averſions, as not to concern our ſelves with them; for if we ſtake our Happineſs upon the Succeſs of ſuch an Encounter, we muſt needs retire with Loſs; becauſe ſuch Deſires will meet with frequent Diſappointments, and ſuch Averſions cannot always deliver us from the Dangers we fear. Let all our Combats therefore be conſined to our ſelves, and ſuch things as Nature hath put in the power of our own Wills; for whenyou ſtrive with your own Deſires, and Averſions, and Opinions, the Prize is in your own Hands, and you may reſt ſecure of Danger or Diſappointment. This he had ſhewn at large formerly, and this is in effect the ſame thing, as to ſay that a Man ſhall never be vanquiſhed, but always come off triumphantly.

And if this be true, then it is no leſs evidently ſo, that it is in a Man's own Power never to be Miſerable: For he that is Miſerable, is a Subdued Man; and if it depend upon one's own Choice, whether any Evil ſhall happen to him, then it muſt needs be in his own Breaſt too, whether any Omens or Predictions ſhall portend Ill to him. So that Epictetus had reaſon when he pronounced ſo peremptorily, that no inauſpicious Events are ſignified to any Man, unleſs himſelf conſpire to make them ſo: That is, unleſs he engage in ſuch Diſputes as he is not qualified for, and where the Victory is doubtful at leaſt, if not ſure to go againſt him. And this is done by every one who overlooks his own Mind, and places his Happineſs and Unhappineſs in the Events of Fortune, and Affairs of the World.

CHAP. XXVI.

Take heed when you ſee any Perſon advanced to an eminent Station of Honour or Power, or any other kind of Proſperity, that you be not preſently ſurpriſed with a falſe Idea of his Condition, and raſhly pronounce him Happy. For if all the Happineſs and Tranquillity of our Minds, depend upon things within our own power, there can be no room for Envy or Emulation. And you your ſelf, when you conſider, do not deſire to be a Geral, or a Senator, or a Conſul, but to be free and eaſie. Now the only way to be ſo, is to deſpiſe the World, and every thing that is out of your own power.

COMMENT.

THE only Method of inſuring a Conqueſt upon all Encounters, the laſt Chapter told us, is never to engage with what is out of our own power. But becauſe we are exceeding apt to be drawn into ſuch Conflicts, and by nothing more indeed than the Examples of other Perſons that ſeem to be Proſperous and Happy, and the Envy and Emulation that uſually follows upon ſuch occaſions; therefore he ſhews us here very briefly, that no body who makes the real Happineſs of a Man his ſerious Study, and ſincere Endeavour, is capable of Envy or Emulation, and that it were utterly inconſiſtent with his Principles, to be guilty of either.

For if the proper Happineſs of a Man depend upon the uſe of his Free-Will, and thoſe things that are ſubjected to it, and the Perſons who are promoted to Power and Honour, and courted with popular Applauſe and Admiration, have not in all this any of thoſe Advantages which Nature hath put in our own power, it is manifeſt that theſe ſeemingly Happy Men are not in reality ſuch; nor have they by this Advancement, attained to any degree of that which is the peculiar and true Happineſs of Humane Nature. What occaſion then can all theſe flattering Appearances give for Envy or Emulation? For Envy is properly the repining at anothers Happineſs; and Emulation, is an impatient Deſire of raiſing our ſelves up to an Equality with others that exceed us in ſomething which we take for Happineſs.

Now the Original Cauſe of theſe Paſſions is rooted in our Nature and Conſtitution; which determines us to thirſt after Honour and Eſteem, and is uneaſie when we come behind any of our Equals. Hence it is, that Men of mean Souls, and Vulgar Attainments, and ſuch as deſpair of advancing themſelves by the ſtrength of their own Worth, endeavour to undermine, and detract from others of better Deſert, that ſo they may riſe upon their Ruins. And to ſuch ungenerous Tempers, no conſideration is ſo afflicting as the good Succeſſes of their Neighbours: And in this Vile Diſpoſition, the very Eſſence of Envy conſiſts. For Envy ſteals in upon the Proſperous, or thoſe that are eſteemed ſo; but eſpecially if thoſe Perſons are upon the ſame level with our ſelves, either in reſpect of their Birth or Fortune, or Profeſſion, or other Accompliſhments. For Perſons either very much above, or very much below our ſelves, are not the Object of our Envy. Becauſe theſe are not a match for us, but the one ſort excite our Admiration, and the other provoke our Contempt.

But where Nature hath given a greater ſtrength of Parts, and a more active and generous Diſpoſition, there Men feel a gallant warmth of Soul, which exerts it ſelf vigorouſly, and ſtruggles to come up to the perfection of others, by virtue of ones own Merit, without any invidious Arts of leſſening theirs: Nay, not only to come up with them, but to outſtrip them in the Race, and bear away the Prize. From the difference then of theſe Two Tempers, and the Practices conſequent to them, we may plainly perceive, that Envy is a Vicious Paſſion, and no Qualification can render it otherwiſe. But Emulation is ſometimes Commendable, and nearly related to the Love o Goodneſs, when Virtue is the thing we ſtrive to excel in; but it degenerates into Vice, and is little better than Envy, when the Advantages of Fortune; and the World, are the Prize we contend for.

Since therefore Good is the proper Object of Envy and Emulation, and reference in Honour, or Power, or Reputation, is only miſtaken for ſuch by the Vulgar, but can really be no ſuch thing; becauſe none of theſe fall within our own Choice; it is plain, that in Men who examine Matters nicely, there can be no ſuch Paſſion as Envy or Emulation excited upon any of theſe Accounts. And conſequently theſe are Reſentments moſt unbecoming a Man that makes Wiſdom and Virtue his Study, becauſe they plainly argue, that while he accounts ſuch Perſons worthy of his Envy or Emulation, he does likewiſe expect to find his Happineſs in theſe Advantages which they enjoy. And this contradicts the very firſt Principles of Philoſophy, and is inconſiſtent with the Character he pretends to. For the thing that ought to be firſt in his Deſires, is Liberty, the breaking thoſe Chains his Paſſions have bound him in, and getting looſe from all the Incumbrances of the World. And the only way to deliver himſelf from this Bondage, is to ſlight and diſdain the World, and aſſert his Native Freedom from all thoſe External Accidents, thoſe Rivals in his Affections, that ſubdued and enſlaved his Mind. For theſe only have the power to vanquiſh and captivate him, by diſappointing his Hopes and Expectations, and oppreſſing him with the Calamities he fears. Upon theſe it is, that our Brutiſh Inclinations let themſelves loſe, and from hence comes all that remorſeleſs Tyranny which they uſurp, and ſo arbitrarily exerciſe over us. The Contempt of the World, therefore, is the moſt effectual Method of reducing all into Order again; for by a brave and juſt ſcorn of theſe outward Objects, we weaken the Deſires that lead to them, and when once thoſe Succours are intercepted and cut off, theſe cannot ſtand alone, but fall in of courſe, and ſubmit themſelves to Reaſon.

CHAP. XXVII.

Remember that when any Man Reviles or Strikes you, it is not the Tongue that gives you the Opprobrious Language, or the Hand that deals the Blow, that injures or affronts you; but it is your own Reſentment of it, as an Injury or Affront, that makes it ſuch to you. When therefore you are provoked, this is owing entirely to your own Apprehenſions of the thing; and eſpecially guard your ſelf well againſt the firſt impreſſions, for if you can but ſo far ſubdue your Paſſion, as to gain time for cooler Thoughts, you will eaſily attain to a good Government of your ſelf afterwards.

CHAP. XXVIII.

But be ſure to keep Death, Perſecution and Baniſhment, and all thoſe Calamities which Mankind are moſt afraid of, conſtantly before your Eyes, and let them be very familiar to your Minds. But above all, let Death be ever preſent there: For you will find this a moſt excellent Remedy againſt baſe and mean Thoughts, and a powerful reſtraint to all immoderate Deſires.

COMMENT.

AFter having again expoſed the Vanity of all thoſe imaginary Happineſſes which Men depend upon the World for; and ſhewed us, that a Gallant and Generous Diſdain of theſe, is the only poſſible means of ſetting our Souls at Liberty, and living eaſie; he proceeds in the next place, to take off all thoſe formidable Objections which Men are either apt to raiſe meerly for Diſcourſe ſake, or uſed to feel the diſcouraging effects of in themſelves, while they are yet but raw and untrained in the Diſcipline of Wiſdom and Virtue. And in this he obſerves his former Method of having recourſe to his firſt Principles of Morality.

The Sum of what the Objectors have to ſay, is this, That ſuch a Contempt and Neglect of the World, how Great and Gay ſoever it may look at firſt; is yet really attended with many Inconveniences; for it renders Men Deſpicable and Cheap, keeps them Impotent and Low, and lays them open to all the Inſolencies and Injuries imaginable, while they are neither in a capacity to repel the Wrongs that are done them by Force, nor can deſcend ſo low, as to prevent them by Flattery, and Servile Applications. When People ſee this, there is no Indignity that they have not ill Nature enough to offer; no Liberty that they will not give themſelves, nor Tongue, nor Hand will know any Reſtraint. And thus we ſee daily, that when Men have got the Aſcendant, there is nothing they ſtick at, they wound ſuch unreſiſting Philoſophical Perſons in their Reputations, with Slanders and Reproaches, offer Violence and Indignities to their Perſons, treat them with all manner of Contumely and Scorn, oppreſs them in their Eſtates, drive them from their Dwellings, clap them up in Priſons, make them fly their Countrey, and as if all this were too little, ſometimes take away their very Lives too. Now who would chooſe to be thus trampled upon, and not only chooſe but make a Virtue of it too? a Virtue that provokes the moſt barbarous Injuſtice and ill Affronts, and leaves a Man naked and defenceleſs to them all?

To all this, Epictetus replies in ſhort, that there is nothing grievous or terrible in all this diſmal Repreſentation; for if there were, all the World would agree in eſteeming it ſo. But in truth, the only thing that carries Terror in it, is the Opinion we entertain of theſe Injuries being ſuch. So that the affront is not from the action of the Perſon that offers, but from the Opinion of the Perſon that reſents it, and conſequently we expoſe and injure our ſelves; for theſe Opinions are our own Act and Deed.

Now that Reproach and Slanders are no ſuch mighty Affliction, nor what ought to move our Indignation, and diſquiet our Minds, will very eaſily be made appear: For, they muſt be either true or falſe; if the former, why ſo very loath, and ſo very much diſpleaſed to hear the Truth? Our Shame in this caſe comes too late, and we ſhould have done much better in hating to commit the Fact, than in hating to be told of it afterwards. But if what is ſaid of us be falſe, it is the Reporter, and not we, that are the worſe for it.

What Courſe then is to be taken in this caſe? He tells you the Remedy is, Not to let this Affront make too ſudden and ſenſible Impreſſions upon you, nor provoke you to Lamentations and Complaints, as if you thought your ſelf unhappy upon this Account; but to give your ſelf Leiſure to recollect, and conſider the true Nature of the Thing calmly and coolly: For if you once can gain time, and defend your ſelf againſt the Surprize of the Thing, you will live eaſie and quiet, and your Mind will be in a Condition to weigh and apply the Principles of Philoſophy, and diſtinguiſh, whether this Accident be any thing within your own Power or not; and when you find it to be ſomewhat that your Will cannot command, the Reſult of this will preſently be, to conclude, that neither your Happineſs or Unhappineſs can depend upon it; and that, be it as bad as it is poſſible to ſuppoſe, yet you have it in your Power, to convert it to an excellent Uſe, and by a true Elevation of Soul, that expreſſes a decent Contempt of the World, and all its Malice, to reap great Advantages from ſuch croſs Accidents as theſe.

Now the beſt Expedient for Evenneſs of Temper is Cuſtom. And therefore upon any ſuch provoking Occaſion, there is no Preſervative againſt falſe Notions and immoderate Reſentments, like Silence, and reſuſing to give one's Paſſion vent; and though it may boil and foam within, yet ſtill to ſtiſle the Fire, till we feel its Heat abate; and not let looſe the Dog, till he have done ſnarling. And thus Practice is recommended to us particularly by the Example of Socrates, who was taken notice of for never ſpeaking a Word when any thing anger'd him.

What Epictetus ſays upon this Subject, and that which follows in the next C apter, have, in my Opinion, ſo cloſe a Coherence, that they ought to be connected by that Particle But, which ſeems to me by no Means redundant, but a very ſignificant Conjunction in this place. Thus then the Author carries on his Argument; But as for Death, and Exile, and all thoſe Calamities which Mankind are uſually aſraid oſ, be ſure to eep theſe conſtantly before your yes; and ſo on.

For having proved concerning all External Events in general, even he diſmalleſt and dreadfulleſt of them all, that there was not any thing formidable or injurions in the Nature of the Things themſelves, but that this is entirely owing to Mens own Notions and Reſentments of them, he preſcribes Caution, and Leiſure, and cooler Conſideration, as the beſt Remedy againſt ſuch Impreſſions, and particularly againſt our being enraged at, or dejected under any Vexations or croſs Accidents, But he directs to another ſort of Application, againſt Death, and Exile, and ſuch Misfortunes as are of the firſt and moſt formidable Kind, which is to bear them continually in mind, and live in Expectation of them every Moment, as Things that may come at any time, and ſome of which moſt certainly will come at one time or other. For when once Reaſon hath convinced us, that theſe Things are not really ſuch as make a Man one whit the better, or the worſe; and when cuſtomary Meditation hath reconciled us to them, taken off all their Terror, and the Thoughts of them rendred eaſie and familiar to the Soul, we preſently look upon the moſt dreadful of them all, as Things frequent and common; and by this means feel both our Spirits ſupported againſt the Terrors of the World, and our Affections much moderated, and weaned from the Pleaſures of it.

CHAP. XXIX.

If you reſolve to make Wiſdom and Virtue the Study and Buſineſs of your Life, you muſt be ſure to arm your ſelf before-hand againſt all the Inconveniences and Diſcouragements that are like to attend this Reſolution. Imagine that you ſhall meet with many Scoffs, and much Deriſion; and that People will upbraid you with turning Philoſopher all on the ſudden; and ask in Scorn, What is the meaning of all this affected Gravity, and theſe diſdainful Looks? But be not you affected, or ſupercilious, only ſtick cloſe to whatever you are in your Judgment convinced is vertuous and becoming; and conſider this as your proper Station, aſſigned you by God, which you muſt not quit upon any Terms. And remember, That if you perſevere in Goodneſs, thoſe very Men who derided you at firſt, will afterwards turn your Admirers. But if you give way to their Reproaches, and are vanquiſhed by them, you will then render your ſelf doubly, and most deſervedly ridiculous.

COMMENT.

THE former Advice extended to all Mankind in general, and concerned them as Men; there he had very largely diſſuaded them from engaging in the Affairs of the World, and all the Diſquiets and Superſtitious Fears about them; in conſideration, that theſe are remote and foreign, out of our Reach and Diſpoſals, and that a Man muſt look at home for all that is properly Good or Evil, this being the peculiar Prerogative of a Rational and Free Agent, that all its Happineſs and Miſery depends upon it ſelf alone. But now he takes another Method, and addreſſes himſelf particularl , to ſuch as have made ſome Advances in Wiſdom and Goodneſs, and are affected with a real Love and Deſire of it. And here his firſt Care is, to ſecure the Approaches, and firſt Efforts of ſuch a Deſire, by giving timely Warning of the Difficulties it may probably encounter, leſt the Surprize of any ſudden and unforeſeen Oppoſition ſhould diſturb the Mind, and br ak its Meaſures.

Now nothing is more uſual, than for Men to take it ill, when any of their Companions leave a way of Living, to which they have been long accuſtomed. And the Method they take for expreſſing ſuch Reſentments, is, ſometimes by expoſing and ridiculing them, that ſo the World may think their own Courſes, at leaſt as good as thoſe they uſe with ſuch rude Inſolence and Contempt: And this is commonly the Treat ent Men meet with from their old Chronies and intimate Acquaintance. Sometimes they do •• by reproaching them with Arrogance and Pride, and valuing themſelves upon their Philoſophy more than they ought to do. And this proceeds partly from Anger, and partly from Envy, and a malicious Deſire to obſtruct their furth r Progreſs.

And indeed, this ſpightful Dealing does but too often meet with its deſired Succeſs; for many Perſons are overcome with theſe Reproaches, and deſert their Poſt, and relapſe into their former Follies, merely to deliver themſelves from ſuch Teazings. Some of theſe Deriſions are expreſt in contemptuous Looks and Geſtures, and they are properly Mockeries. Others do not content themſelves with Apiſh Figures, and ill Language, but run Men upon Precipices, and draw both thoſe that would ſain be good, and all that take their part, and aſſiſt them in ſo neceſſary a Reformation, into great Difficulties, and great Dangers. And if this were done by Strangers only, it were ſomething more tolerable; but their own Friends and Relations have oftentimes the greateſt Hand in it. Theſe do it upon an idle Pretence, That a Philoſophical Retirement renders Men uſeleſs, and loſt to the World; and others do it, partly out of Envy againſt a Life ſo infinitely more happy and commendable than their own; and partly out of a Reſentment, that this will make them, and their way of Converſation d ſpi ed, by thoſe that have exchanged it for a better.

Nor muſt it be diſſembled, that there is ſometimes too juſt ground for the latter of theſe Reaſons; for we very often ſee Men, whoſe good Diſpoſitions and happy Temper incline them to Wiſdom and Virtue, (while they are not arrived to any Maſtery or Perfection in it, but only big with the Hope of attaining to it in time) exalted with Self-conceit, and full of Diſdain, as if they only had all Perfection, 〈◊〉 other People none at all. When, in tru h, this mighty Opinion proceeds only from want of Diſcretion and Judgment, and is the moſt undeniable Evidence againſt ſuch Men, that they really have not that which they with ſo much Confidence pretend to. For there is not in the whole World any thing more inconſiſtent with true Wiſdom and Virtue, than an haughty ſupercilious Carriage, and that ſwelling Vanity, which diſdains and neglects that excellent and moſt Divine Rule of Knowing ones Self: A Rule, that is in truth, the Sum and Subſtance of all Philoſophy, the firſt Principle, and the laſt and higheſt Precept in it.

When Men behave themſelves with ſo much Pride and Oſtentation, the World think the Character of Philoſophers ſutes but very ill with them. For this Exaltation does not proceed from any true Gallantry or Greatneſs of Soul, but is a vain Tumour, that draws the ill Humours to it from within, and ſwells to an unnatural Bulk; an Excreſcence that cauſes Deformity, and proceeds from ſome Diſeaſe. Whereas true Greatneſs and Strength of Mind, like that of the Body, reſults from a good Diſpoſition of the Parts, is diſtributed equally and regularly through the whole Maſs, and preſerves a due Temper, and mutual good Aſſiſtance between the Parts within, and thoſe without.

Againſt this Diſtemper, he cautions all that make Philoſophy their Study, as againſt a Thing deteſted by all Mankind, and that which gives a juſt Provocation to Malice, and expoſes a Man to all the miſchievous Effects of it. But when all due Care hath been taken to get clear of this Folly; then a Man ought to harden himſelf againſt all Scoffs and Reproaches, with the Conſideration of the Dignity of Humane Nature, and what is decent and agreeable to ſo excellent a Being; and then to perſevere in the Choice of Virtue, in deſpight of all Oppoſition to the contrary, and in a full Perſuaſion, that theſe good Reſolutions and Deſires are the Motions and Impulſes of a Divine Power. For, in truth, Philoſophy is the nobleſt and moſt valuable Bleſſing that ever God beſtowed upon Mankind.

The Excellence of the Thing is confeſſed by theſe very Scoffers themſelves, who when they reproach us with pretending to an Accompliſhment above us, do at the ſame time expreſs the high Eſteem they have for it; and by not allowing any Man to profeſs himſelf a Philoſopher on a ſudden, they expoſe indeed the Arrogance and Forwardneſs of the Perſons that preſume to do ſo; but then withall they acknowledge this to be an Attainment that requires much Time, and great Application. Now theſe very Men, who reſent the Vanity of bold Pretenders with ſo much Indignation, and expreſs their Honour of Philoſophy that way; will diſcern the Beauty and Majeſty of it much better, and admire it ten thouſand times more when they behold its Effects, in the modeſt Converſation of one who conſtantly improves, and perſeveres in being reſolutely and obſtinately vertuous, in deſpight of all the Scoffs and Diſcouragements by which they attempted, in vain, to draw him off. But the Man that yields tamely to their Reproaches, and upon that Account deſiſts from his good Purpoſes, and compounds for his Quiet by returning to his former Courſes, he renders himſelf doubly ridiculous. The Jeſts and Scorn that paſſed upon ſuch a one at firſt, were what he had really no Concern in, but the Reproach muſt return all upon the Authors themſelves, and none of their Aſperſions would ſtick, ſo long as he proceeded in a generous Neglect of them, and by degrees was preparing to change their Scorn into Admiration and Eſteem. But the ſuffering ones ſelf to be vanquiſhed by their Malice, does not only juſtifie their firſt Inſolence, by quitting our former Pretenſions, and falling ſo low, after looking ſo high; thus vainly attempting to reconcile Philoſophy with a mean and ſordid Temper; but it alſo provokes Contempt upon another Account, that of being ſubdued by ſuch baſe and deſpicable Enemies, and letting a ſenſeleſs Flear, or a malicious Jeſt, beat one off from that Poſt of Virtue which God and Wiſdom had aſſigned to him. Moſt juſtly therefore does this poor-ſpirited Wretch deſerve a double Portion of Scorn, the Scorn of wiſe and good Men, after having ſubmitted to that of Fools and Knaves; which could have done him no Harm at all in caſe he had perſiſted in his Duty; but returns upon him with double Force, and is render'd moſt reaſonable and due, by his own Inconſtancy and Deſertion.

Theſe Conſiderations are abundantly ſufficient to inſpire any Mind that is not utterly ſunk into Feebleneſs and Effeminacy, with generous Reſolutions to perſevere in Goodneſs, and hold out againſt all manner of Oppoſition. And in this there is one very conſiderable Advantage, That even our Paſſions commence good Diſpoſitions, and the natural Ambition every Man hath after Honour and Fame, becomes upon this Occaſion an Aſſiſtant to Virtue: It adds Strength and Vigour to Reaſon, and is reſined and exalted by it. For thus we come to a true Notion of Honour; we covet it no longer for its own ſake, nor are proud of it upon the Account of the Perſons who pay the Reſpect, and ſo place our Happineſs upon ſomething without us: But we value it as a Mark and Teſtimony of real Virtue and Deſert. And therefore the Honour which a Man ought to be ſatisfied with, is by no means that which comes from the Applauſe of the Rabble, and unthinking part of the World, who often miſtake Mens Characters; but that which is founded upon the Commendation of the Wiſe and the Good; for theſe know how to diſcern between Perſons, and their Mefits, and the Teſtimony of ſuch is what may be depended upon, without any Danger of being led into falſe Judgments by it.

CHAP. XXX.

If you ever happen to accommodate your ſelf to the Humours of the World, for the ſake of Reputation and Applauſe; take notice, that this is below a Philoſopher. And therefore content your ſelf upon all Occaſions with really being what you would be thought. But if you will needs be thought ſo too, deſerve your own good Opinion, and that will be ſufficient.

COMMENT.

WE were told before, That when once a Man's Judgment is convinced of his Duty, he ought conſtantly to perſevere in it; to look upon this as the particular Poſt, and Character, which Providence hath appointed him to fill: That however Men may run down Goodneſs for a while, yet the Reſolute and Brave break through all that, and in time gain the Admiration of their Enemies and Deriders; but the Tame and the Fickle, that ſink under the Reproaches of ill Men, draw down a juſt Scorn, and a double Shame upon themſelves. Now to all this he adds, That for a Man to forſake his Principles, and conſult, not ſo much his own Judgment as the Humour of the World, thereby to render himſelf acceptable to others; is a Weakneſs of which a Philoſopher muſt not be guilty; it being a fix'd Rule to all ſuch, That their only Care ought to be, to recommend themſelves to their own Conſciences, and Almighty God.

Therefore, ſays he, content your ſelf with being a Philoſopher; which is but another Name for a Good Man. But if the being ſo alone ſeem too little, and you deſire that your Light ſhould ſhine abroad, and People ſee and be ſenſible of your Virtue, (as indeed it is the Nature of Goodneſs to diſcover its Beauties and ſhed its Luſtre, and a Man can with better Confidence take Satisfaction in his own Virtues when they are conſpicuous and acknowledged;) then, ſays he, do not fix your Eye upon the World, nor be ſollicitous to pleaſe the Multitude; for theſe are but very incompetent Judges of ſuch Matters: But rather ſtrive to approve your ſelf to your own Breaſt, and let the Senſe and Conſciouſneſs of your own Virtue ſatisfie you. For a Man that hath attained to ſome good meaſure of Philoſophy, (and ſuch a one, you muſt obſerve, Epictetus applies himſelf to at preſent) will be ſure, both to act conſiſtently with his Principles, while he makes it his Buſineſs to approve himſelf to his own Conſcience; and he will alſo ſecure a more diſcerning and impartial Judge of his Actions, when they are to be tried by his own Reaſon, than if he appealed to the Judgment of the World.

And here it may be proper to take notice, how different this Advice is from ſomething which was ſaid before; all which, in truth, depends upon the Difference of the Perſons concerned in it. There he addreſt his Diſcourſe to a Young Beginner, one who was but juſt entering upon the Study of Philoſophy; and to him the Counſel thought fit to be given, was, Do not affect to be thought Wiſe; becauſe, Perſons in his Circumſtances are ſtrangely fond of Fame and Applauſe, tranſported beyond Meaſure with Noiſe and empty Breath, and not only too credulouſly vain upon the falſe Judgments of others, but unqualified, as yet, to paſs any true Judgment upon themſelves. But at preſent he hath a good Proficient to deal with, one that is better diſpoſed to act upon a Principle, and follow the Dictates of his own Reaſon: And therefore to ſuch a one his Advice is, That he would content himſelf with being what he ſhould be; but if he will needs be thought ſo too, he is now in a Condition to make a juſt Eſtimate of himſelf, and therefore may be ſatisfied with his own Approbation.

This ſeems to be the true Importance of the Chapter: Though poſſibly there may be another very convenient Senſe of it too. For this Great Man, very probably, deſigned it as a neceſſary Caution, (as indeed he generally takes care to prevent any Miſconſtructions that his Expreſſions may be liable to.) Now by ſaying in the former Chapter, That thoſe who expoſe Virtue at firſt, will afterwards admire the Reſolute and Conſtant in it; but theſe Men who yielded to th ſe Reproaches deſerve to be doubly ſcorn'd; he might be thought to propound the Opinion and Eſteem of the World, as the principal Motive to Goodneſs; and therefore here he retracts that, and takes off all ſuch Suſpicions, by calling away the Soul from the Purſuit of Fame and Reputation abroad, as that which is apt to corrupt her Principles, and make a Man more induſtrious to pleaſe others than himſelf. And in Oppoſition to this, he would have a Man gain his own Approbation; for the Judgment a wiſe Man makes of himſelf is leſs ſubject to Partiality, and Prejudice, and Vanity, and of greater Uſe in the Encouragement it gives to Virtue, than that of the World can poſſibly be. For the being approved and commended by Wiſe and Good Judges, is the moſt ſatisfactory and convincing Evidence, that a Man is t uly Virtuous. Now the Perſon to whom Epictetus ſpeaks in this Place, is ſuppoſed to be ſuch a Judge; and upon this Preſumption I imagine it is, that he ſays in the Cloſe of the Chapter, Do but deſerve your own good Opinion, and that is enough in all Conſcience.

CHAP. XXXI.

Never perplex your ſelf with anxious Thoughts like theſe; I ſhall lead a wretched obſcure Life, without any Name, or Notice taken of me. For if you ſuppoſe (as this Complaint evidently does) that Obſcurity and Diſreſpect is an Evil, conſider that it is no more in the power of any but your ſelf to bring any Evil upon you, than it is to bring any Baſeneſs or Diſhoneſty upon you. But beſides, pray conſider, Was it any part of your proper Buſineſs, to be choſen into a Place of Command, or to be admitted to, or careſſed at publick Entertainments? You muſt allow it was not. Where is the Diſreſpect then? and what juſt Reflection can it be upon you, if you are not? Beſides, why ſhould you ſay, you ſhall be deſpiſed, and have no Name or Notice taken of you, when your Buſineſs lies wholly in Matters at the diſpoſal of your own Will, and for which conſequently you have it in your own power to make your ſelf as valuable as you pleaſe? But your Friends will be never the better for you. What do you call being never the better? You will not furniſh them with Money, nor have Intereſt enough to give them the Privileges of Citizens of Rome. And why ſhould you trouble your ſelf for this? Who told you, that this was ever incumbent upon you; or one of thoſe Things in your own power which you ought to look upon as a Duty? Or how can it be expected, you ſhould beſtow that upon another which you are not poſſeſt of your ſelf? But your Friends will anſwer, Pray get it then, that you may impart to us. Yes, I will, with all my Heart, provided you can direct me how I may attain theſe Things, and at the ſame time preſerve my Integrity, and Modeſty, and true Greatneſs of Soul, inviolate. But if you deſire me to part with my own real Good, that I may procure you ſome imaginary one only; this is the greateſt Injuſtice, and the greatest Folly imaginable. And which of theſe do you eſteem the more valuable; Money, or a true, vertuous, and modeſt Friend? Therefore it would better become you to aſſiſt my Virtue, than to expect ſuch Things from me as cannot be had, but at the Expence of that. But it will be objected again, That your Country receives no Advantages from you. What Advantage do you mean? You will not build publick Portico's, nor Bagnio's, nor Exchanges? And what if you do not? Does your Country expect to be furniſhed with Arms from a Shoe-maker, or Shoes from a Smith? Surely, if every one do it Service in his own Way, this is all that can in Reaſon be required. And ſhall you then be thought to have done it none, if you make an honeſt and good Patriot? No ſure; you are very far from being an Ʋſeleſs Member of the Commonwealth, when you do ſo Well, but what Rank then, what Place (you'll ſay) ſhall you have in the Commonwealth? Why truly, even just ſuch a one as is conſiſtent with your Integrity and Modeſty. But if once you part with theſe, upon a Pretence of promoting the Publick Good; know, that you are leſs capable of ſerving your Country, when you are grown Knaviſh and Impudent.

COMMENT.

WHen Men apply themſelves to the Study and Practice of Virtue, and are convinced that nothing ſo well deſerves their Care as the Improvement of their Minds, many Difficulties offer themſelves, to ſhake theſe Reſolutions; and as Men differ in their Circumſtances, ſo theſe Objections preſent themſelves differently, both to diſquiet their own Thoughts, and to evacuate the Good Advice of others. To the Young Beginners, whoſe Minds have not yet purged off the Droſs of the World, ſuch mean and ſordid Reflections as theſe are apt to ſtep in; If I neglect my Buſineſs and Eſtate, I and my Family ſhall ſtarve; and except I take the Trouble of puniſhing my Servant, my Indulgence will be his Ruin.

But to thoſe who have made any conſiderable Progreſs, theſe Objections appear Deſpicable and Low; they are above ſuch trifling Conſiderations, and while they are doing their Duty, can truſt Providence for a Proviſion. But then at the ſame time, they are concerned for the diſcharge of all thoſe good Offices that may be expected from them; and think, that both the intrinſick Goodneſs of the thing, and the Honour that attends it, will abundantly juſtify ſuch a Concern. For their Deſires are Generous and Noble, they aim at nothing elſe but true Honour; they decline Infamy and Obſcurity, and propoſe to themſelves the Advantage of their Friends, and the Service of their Country: And from theſe Topicks, they ſtart ſome Objections, which Epictetus here undertakes to examine and refute particularly.

And Firſt of all, he applies himſelf to that General one of Obſcurity or Diſgrace; that if a Man retire from the Gainful Employments and Buſineſs of the World, or quit his Practice at the Bar; Where Eloquence acquires a juſt and laſting Fame. (as Homer obſerves) it muſt be his hard fate to be buried alive, without any Reſpect paid, or notice taken of him.

Now this Objection Epictetus takes off moſt effectually, by the following Syllogiſms: Diſgrace is an Evil, and Evil as well as Good, is ſomething within our own power. But whatever is ſo, no other but our ſelves, can bring upon us. Therefore when any Man is really in Diſgrace, this is in, and by, and from himſelf, whether others diſreſpect him, or whether they do not. So that the Diſgrace from others, is what we have no juſt cauſe to fear, nor indeed ought it to paſs for Diſgrace in our Opinion, if Diſgrace be allowed to be Evil; for then it muſt by conſequence too be our own Act and Deed.

This is the Sum of the Argument; and now if you pleaſe, let us examine the ſeveral Propoſitions whereof it conſiſts. Firſt of all, Diſgrace or Obſcurity, (ſays he) is an Evil: Now if Honour be (as all Men ſure will allow it to be) a Good, Diſgrace, and any thing that is Honourable, muſt needs be Evil: For if it were Good, it would ceaſe to be Diſhonorable, and be valued and eſteemed. But beſides the conſent of all Mankind in this notion of Honour, this very thing proves it to be Good, that it is what we account moſt properly to belong to the beſt Perſons and Things. For Honour is attributed to God, to Bleſſed Spirits, and to the moſt excellent of the Sons of Men, as their ſtrict and juſt due, as the beſt acknowledgment we can pay for their Merit and Goodneſs. So that Diſhonour muſt needs be an Evil upon this Account alſo; for where one Contrary belongs to one Extream, the other Contrary will belong to the diſtant Extream; and this is the Caſe of Honour and Diſhonour, with regard to Good and Evil.

The next thing to be proved would be, that this is a thing wholly in our own power, but this I preſume is done already; for there hath been ſo much ſaid in the former part of this Treatiſe, to ſhew, that all the Good and Evil, properly ſo called, that can fall upon Rational and Free Agents, muſt needs depend upon the Liberty of their own Choice; and that nothing which does not fall within a Man's own Diſpoſal, can in true and ſtrict Speaking, be called Good or Evil; that it is to be hoped there is no need of repeating thoſe Arguments any more. But now, if Diſgrace and want of Honour, be our own Act, and what depends upon none, and comes from none but our ſelves when we lye under it; a Man may abſolutely deſpiſe and neglect the World, without incurring any real Diſhonour upon that account. You will ſay indeed, this excludes him from Places of Dignity and Reſpect, that it hinders him from making a Figure and Intereſt in his Country; that he ſits at Home, and eats in Private. But then I muſt ask you again, whether the Office of a Lord Mayor, or a Member of Parliament, whether the City Feaſts, or the Careſſes of the World, are things in our own Diſpoſal, and ſuch as any Man can give himſelf when he pleaſes? You muſt grant me they are not; and from thence I infer, that no Man is really happy for the want of them; and conſequently that Obſcurity, and want of publick Honour, of which theſe are alledged, as the diſcouraging Inconveniences, is no Evil or Unhappineſs neither.

Now, as to the meaning of what follows, (there ſeems to be ſome difficulty in that ſhort Sentence, It is no more in the power of any but your ſelf, to bring any Evil upon you, than it is to bring Idleneſs or Diſhoneſty upon you.) For this, not being in the power of any other Perſon to bring any Evil upon a Man, ſeems to be urged from a proof more evident than it ſelf; and the Inſinuation here is, that as the decency of an Action is more eaſily diſcerned, than the real and intrinſick Goodneſs; (for it is by its Comelineſs and Beauty, that Virtue recommends it ſelf, and invites us to its Embraces, and engages our Affection,) ſo alſo the Vileneſs and Diſhoneſty is more viſible than the Immorality and Evil. Now Vileneſs or Turpitude is properly applied to an undue uſe of Pleaſures and Senſual Delights; and this abuſe can be the effect of no other thing but Choice, becauſe the indulging thoſe Pleaſures, is purely our own Act. It is therefore no more in the power of any other Perſon to bring Evil upon a Man, than to bring Vileneſs or Diſhoneſty upon him; and Evil it is plain he cannot, for a Man has no more power to engage us in Vice, than he hath to engage us in baſe and unbecoming Practices; and Evil both of Crime and Miſery, is as much in his own free Diſpoſal, as Turpitude and Diſnoneſty: So that if a Man cannot be brought into this latter by another, and if he can no more be brought into Evil, than into That, it follows, that he cannot be brought into Evil at all by another.

But poſſibly the place may be clearer, and a more full and expedient Senſe found out, if we tranſpoſe that Negative Particle, that ſo the Sentence may run thus, It is impoſſible for any Perſon to be made Miſerable by any other; nay, much more ſo, than to be made Vile and Baſe by him; that ſo the ſtrength and ſtreſs of the whole Argument, may lye upon that note of Compariſon. And this Conjecture, as well as the whole Interpretation grounded upon it, ſeems to carry a great deal of Truth, if we attend to the Notions upon which the Maſters of Reaſon and Oratory proceed in theſe Matters; for they define Honeſty and Turpitude, by that which is Praiſe or Blame-worthy, and ſo make Decency and Vileneſs to depend upon the Judgment of the World. But of things Profitable or Hurtful, and Good and Evil, they give us a very different Account; for theſe they tell us, have a diſtinguiſhing Character founded in Nature, and are not ſo precarious, as to depend upon the Opinions or Determinations of Men. Now according to this Notion, which allows ſo much to the Commendations of Men, and makes Diſhoneſty to conſiſt in the Condemnation and diſlike of the World, he ſays, a Man muſt admit, that it is at leaſt as impoſſible for another to bring Evil upon him, as it is to bring Diſhoneſty. And if, (as was proved before,) this cannot be done, much leſs can that; and ſo the Concluſion is ſtill the ſame, that it is utterly impoſſible to be done at all.

But then again, What occaſion, (ſays he) is there for that Complaint of living without any Name or Notice taken of you? Is there no way of becoming Eminent, but by appearing in ſome Office of Authority, and being advanced to the Adminiſtration of Publick Buſineſs? Alas! poor Man, you have forgot it ſeems, that this is not the Field where Humane Good and Evil, the proper and peculiar Happineſs or Miſery of our Nature is to be contended for. The Deſires and Averſions of your Mind, the Actions of your Life, and in a word, the Management of your Freedom, and what is left to its Diſpoſal, theſe are the Liſts which you muſt enter for that Prize; and this is a Combat in which if you behave your ſelf Gallantly, and act as uncorrupt Nature, and right Reaſon would direct, you may render your ſelf highly valuable and conſpicuous. Why then do you complain of Obſcurity and Contempt, when you have the Poſt of Honour within your ſelf, and may become as Signal and Eminent on it as you pleaſe? Why indeed? But becauſe you have not yet unlearned the Folly of placing your Happineſs in Foreign and External Advantages, ſuch as it is one neceſſary Qualification of every one who would be a Philoſopher in good earneſt, to neglect and deſpiſe.

Well, but allowing, (ſays the Objector) that I may ſignalize my ſelf never ſo much, yet ſtill this is but a private Satisfaction, it gives one no Credit nor Influence in the World, and my Friends are never the better for my Merit. This now is a Pretence calculated for one who hath made ſome competent Proficiency in Wiſdom and Virtue: It argues the Man to have got above all ſordid ſeekings of his own Intereſt, and to value the World and its Advantages, no longer for the ſake of himſelf, but in kindneſs to his Friends. The Aſſiſting of them, he looks upon as a Good and Gallant Action, and therefore allows himſelf in the purſuit of Wealth, and Power, and Intereſt, to prevent his being an uſeleſs and unprofitable part of the Creation, and render the Good he hath, as diffuſive as may be.

This Objection too, Epictetus removes by Two Arguments; the Firſt proceeds upon the diſtinction of things within our own Power; the other urges, that a Man who retains his Virtue and Fidelity, and all the good Qualities that create and preſerve a true Friendſhip, is more ſerviceable and beneficial to his Friends, than if he ſhould enrich or promote them, when the power of doing ſo, was purchaſed at the Expence of thoſe good Qualities.

From the Diſtinction of Things in our Power, he argues, that Riches, and Honours, and Preferments, are none of them which Nature hath left within the Diſpoſal of our own Wills: If therefore it happen at any time, that a Wiſe and Good Man be poſſeſſed of theſe Advantages, let him impart to others liberally; nay, le him eſteem the Opportunity of doing Good, a greater kindneſs to himſelf, than to the Perſon that receives it from him. But if it be not his Fortune to be placed in ſuch Circumſtances, this is no Reflection upon his Virtue, nor any Diſparagement to his Kindneſs and good Intentions: He is not one whit the worſe Man in himſelf, nor the leſs a Friend to others. For (as Epictetus ſays,) what Madneſs is it to expect that a Man ſhould give that to us, which he is not poſſeſſed of himſelf?

But pray get theſe things, ſay your Friends, that we may partake of them with you. Yes, with all my Heart, if I can get them, and not loſe my ſelf. Do but order Matters ſo, that I may ſtill retain my Fidelity and my Innocence, and not bring any aſperſion upon the Characters I pretend to, viz. Thoſe of a Friend and a Philoſopher; and when you have thus ſmoothed the way, give your Directions, and I will not fail to follow them. Now by this Anſwer, our Author ſeems plainly to allow a Liberty, both of endeavouring to improve an Eſtate, and to embrace publick Offices and Honours, provided thoſe Riches and Honours may be acquired and enjoyed, without being engaged in any thing inconſiſtent with Virtue, or unbecoming our Character. But if this be an impoſſible Condition, as it too often proves; if the Corruption of the World be ſuch, that a Man who makes it his Buſineſs to acquire theſe Advantages, do at the ſame time bring himſelf under a manifeſt hazard, if not a fatal neceſſity of parting with ſomething that is a greater and more ſubſtantial Good; a Good more properly his, in exchange for them: Then what do thoſe Friends, who importune a Man to make himſelf Rich and Great, that he may make them ſo too; what do they, I ſay, but deſire, that he would part with a Happine s that is real and his own: (that is the Good of his Rational Soul,) to procure them a Happineſs which is but imaginary, and cannot be truly called their own, though they had it? For the Advantages they are ſo eager for, have no relation to the Rational Mind, in which the very Eſſence and Nature of a Man conſiſts, (and conſequently all the Happineſs he is capable of, conſidered as a Man, muſt needs depend upon that too,) but they are the Objects of meaner Appetites.

This therefore is the moſt unequal Dealing, and the greatest Folly imaginable: They deal unequally, becauſe they tranſgreſs the Laws of true Friendſhip; (for the Pythagoreans, you know, make Friendſhip to conſiſt in Equality,) and beſides, nothing can be more unfair, than for me to engage a Friend in ſome great hazard, and expoſe him to certain and extream Miſery, and all this, only to ſatisfy ſome unreaſonable Deſire of my own: The Folly of it is double; for who but Fools would be ſo barbarous, as to impoſe ſuch an unreaſonable Trial of his Kindneſs upon an Intimate Acquaintance, and particular Friend? And who but ſuch could be ſo blind, as not to diſcern the mighty difference between the Loſs their Friend would ſuſtain, by gratifying their Requeſts, and the Gain themſelves ſhould reap, in caſe he did ſo? He ſacrifices his All; forfeits his Greateſt, his own peculiar Happineſs, to purchaſe that for them, which is not, cannot be their proper Happineſs; and is ſo far from being a Great one, that it very often proves to be none at all in the Event, but a great and ſore Evil.

But beſides all this, there may ſtill another very good Reaſon be given, why he ſhould call ſuch Men Fooliſh and Senſeleſs; and that is, their eſteeming Mony to be of greater and more valuable Conſideration to them, than the Modeſty and Fidelity of a Friend. And to this purpoſe, he proceeds to ſhew, that a Perſon thus qualified, is ſo far from being unſerviceable to his Friends, that he is really much more uſeful and beneficial, than even thoſe who feed them with the Droſs they ſo much admire.

For if among Servants, thoſe who are honeſt and reſpectful, recommend themſelves more to the Eſteem of their Maſters, than others who are of quicker Parts, and more dextrous in the Buſineſs of their Trade; ſure the Reaſon holds much ſtronger, why a Faithful and Vertuous Friend ſhould have the Preference infinitely before what the World calls a gainful one, and the Preference they will have in the Opinion of wiſe Men. For we feel the Benefit of theſe upon every Occaſion; they give us the Sweets of good Converſation, and the Aſſiſtance of ſeaſonable Advice; they are a perpetual Guard upon whatever we eſteem moſt dear, and a ſure Relief in Dangers and Diſtreſſes; they are Phyſicians in our Diſeaſes, and (as if Life were too ſhort a Space for ſo much Goodneſs to exerciſe it ſelf in) we find our Account in ſuch Friends even after Death: And upon all theſe Occaſions, there is a perpetual good Correſpondence, a mutual Agreement between the Giver and the Receiver of Favours; no Diſcord in the whole Courſe of their Lives, but conſtant Conſent, and perfect Harmony of Souls. Thoſe therefore that are Friends indeed, will contribute their utmoſt Endeavours towards the preſerving the Virtue and Fidelity of their Friends; nay, they will find themſelves obliged to it, in Tenderneſs to their own Intereſt; and cannot be guilty of ſo great an Abſurdity, as to deſire any Thing for their own Sakes, which muſt turn at laſt ſo infinitely to their own Prejudice, by robbing their Friend of his Honeſty, and rendring him incapable of doing them any farther Service.

Thus alſo that other Argument might be anſwered, and the obſerving what is in a Man's own Power, and properly belongs to him to do, would ſerve to refute what follows. For, who ever told you, that it was a Duty incumbent upon you, or a Thing in your own Power and Choice, to procure Portico's and publick Buildings for the Benefit of your Country? To this may be replied again, as it was in the Caſe of your Friends; Who can be expected to beſtow that upon others which he never had himſelf? And if to this it be rejoyned, Get them your ſelf, that you may have it in your own Power to give to your Country; what was ſaid before will ſerve every jot as well upon this Occaſion too. But theſe Conſiderations he hath left in the general, for us to apply as we ſee requiſite; and hath ſupplied us with another clear and full Anſwer, much more pertinent, and particular to the Matter in hand.

What need this trouble you (ſays he)? Is it your Concern to provide Cloiſters and Exchanges for your Country? The Smith does not think it his Buſineſs to ſupply his Country with Shoes, but with Arms; and the Shoe-maker does not think himſelf obliged to furniſh out Arms, but Leather and Shoes. And ſure every Commonwealth is ſerved in beſt Order, and to moſt Advantage, when every one attends ſtrictly to the proper Buſineſs of his Calling, and does not intermeddle with other Peoples Concerns; but takes care to do his own part, and interrupts no Body elſe in the Diſcharge of theirs.

Well, but what is my part then, ſays the Philoſopher, and wherein will it be expected that I ſhould contribute to the Publick Good? The ſeeming force of this Queſtion he obviates moſt excellently, by appealing to his own Judgment in another; What, ſays he, if you have been the Means of making a good Man, have not you been beneficial to your Country? Is not this a piece of Service of much greater Conſequence than the Profits every mean Artificer brings to the Publick? This would be the Advantage, and this the Thanks and Honour due to you, for making your ſelf an honeſt Man and a good Subject: But if your Wiſdom and Virtue have a kindly Influence upon others too; if your Inſtructions and your Example form them into the ſame good Principles, you are then a publick Bleſſing, and more beneficial ſtill, in proportion to the Numbers you have an Influence upon.

And now you deſire to know, what Rank or Office ſhall be aſſigned you, and would fain be like the General in the Army, or the Magiſtrate in the City, or the Artificer in the Shop, who know their reſpective Truſts, and have ſome Station or Buſineſs, Military or Civil, which they can properly call their own: To this the Author replies in general Terms, You may have any that will fall to your ſhare, only with this Proviſion, that it be conſiſtent with Virtue and Honeſty. But if you make Shipwrack of theſe, while you pretend to venture for Monuments and ſtately Buildings, it is great odds but you loſe your Magnificence at the ſame time that your Modeſty and Fidelity is caſt away. And, I pray, whether of the two is the greater Grace to a Commonwealth? a City well ſtored with true and good Men, or adorned with ſumptuous Halls and ſplendid Palaces?

But to come nearer to the Queſtion, What Place or Eſteem is due to a Philoſopher, or what Regard ſhould the State have to him? Surely Men ſhould be eſteemed according to the Dignity and Value of their Work. And by this Rule the Philoſopher may claim Precedence, as a Former and Maker of Men; one that frames and moulds them into vertuous Perſons, and uſeful honeſt Subjects. For the Matter he hath to work upon, is, himſelf and others; and the Pains he is at about them, is, to refine and purifie their Nature, and exalt them to a Life of Reaſon and Virtue. He is indeed, and ought to be reſpected, as a Common Father, and Maſter, a Corrector of Errors, and a Counſellor and Aſſiſtant in Goodneſs; one that is liberal of his Care, makes every other Man's Benefit and Improvement his Endeavour and Concern, and hath a Hand in all the Good that is done. One that adds to the Enjoyments of the Proſperous, by congratulating and rejoycing with them; and lightens the Burden of the Wretched, by miniſtring ſeaſonable Comforts; and himſelf bearing a part in their Afflictions. In one word, He will do all thoſe Things, that are poſſible, or can be expected, to be done by one who thinks no part of the World exempt from his Care, but feels in himſelf a conſtant Deſire, and kind Intention to promote the Good of all Mankind.

Now if this general Employment do not ſatisfie, but you would needs have this wondrous Man faſtned down to ſome one particular Profeſſion, in a wiſe and well-conſtituted Government, this Perſon would be choſen their Head, becauſe his Eminence and Uſefulneſs muſt needs give him the Preference before others. And indeed, his Qualifications, if we conſider them particularly, ſeem to deſerve no leſs. His Prudence, ſo much ſuperior to the common Sheep, capacitates him for a Shepherd to the Flock. His Learning and Wiſdom entitle him to the Degree of a Senator or Privy Counſellor; and if he have applied himſelf at all to that ſort of Diſcipline, none can be fitter to command an Army, becauſe he muſt needs excell both in true Courage and regular Conduct. This Action of Socrates is particularly taken Notice of by Diogenes Laertius. The Battel mentioned here was ſought between the Athenians and Boeotians, in which the latter won Delium, under the Command of Pantoeadas; and the former being put to the Rout, Socrates is ſaid to have retreated very leiſurely, and ſeveral Times to have ſtood ſtill, and look'd back, to ſee if any of his Enemies would dare to purſue and attack him. He is alſo ſaid, a little before this Fight, to have ſaved the Life of Xenophon, and to have brought him off, when Unhorſed at the Battel of Amphipolu. See Diog. La rt. Edit. Meibom. Amſt. 1692. Segm. 22, 23. Pag. 93. See alſo Platon. Apolog. Socrat. Edit. Marſil. Ficin. Lugdun. 1590. Pag. 363. Thus Socrates gained immortal Renown by his Bravery at the Battel of Delium, and caſt, as we are told, ſo univerſal an Awe into his Enemies, that they all ſtood amazed at his Courage, and he made good his Retreat ſingle, through a whole Body of them, without their daring to fall upon him. So likewiſe See Xenophon in Exp dit. C •• . Xenophon brought off that great Body of Greeks, and had his Praiſes celebrated in the Olympick Games, for ſo Noble an Atchievment.

This, I ſay, would be the caſe, this the Reſpect paid to a Philoſopher in a wiſe and wellconſtituted Government. But we muſt take notice, that wicked and licentious States do quite contrary; They are moſt Inauſpicious Places to dwell in, and have deſtructive Effects upon the Minds of Men; they ſtifle and quench that Light which Heaven hath given us, caſt a Blemiſh upon the beſt Employments, diſcourage the moſt uſeful Sciences, diſregard the Perſons, and obſtruct the good Influence of them who teach us by their Doctrins, and lead us by their Examples. And where ſo much wicked Induſtry is uſed to damp the Luſtre of Virtue, that muſt be confeſt a very improper Place, either for Men to lay the firſt Foundations of Wiſdom and a good Life in, or to improve and confirm themſelves in, after ſuch good Beginnings. But then we muſt obſerve withall, that if in the midſt of ſuch perverſe Converſation ſome one be found of a happier Complexion than the reſt; one, whoſe Soul a particular good Genius hath made proof againſt a l Corruption; the greater ſuch a one's Difficulties are, and the more Tryals his Virtue is exerciſed with, the more perfect and illuſtrious it will appear, and ſhed abroad its Rays with greater Advantage in the midſt of ſo much Darkneſs. So true it is, that all the Traverſes of Fortune, and this vaſt Variety of Accidents in Humane Life, contribute exceedingly to the Increaſe of Virtue; and that both Proſperity and Adverſity work together for the Good of thoſe Men who have the Wiſdom to chooſe Things with Judgment, and manage them with Dexterity.

CHAP. XXXII.

It is poſſible, you obſerve ſome other Perſon more careſſed than your ſelf; invited to Entertainments, when you are left out; ſaluted before you are taken any notice of; thought more proper to adviſe with, and his Counſel followed rather than yours. But are theſe Reſpects paid him, Good Things, or are they Evil? If they deſerve to be esteemed Good, this ought to be matter of Joy to you, that that Perſon is happy in them: But if they be Evil, how unreaſonable is it to be troubled, that they have not fallen to your own ſhare? Beſides, Conſider, I pray, that it is not poſſible you ſhould have thoſe Civilities paid to you in the ſame degree that others have; becauſe the Profeſſion you have taken upon you, will not ſuffer you to do the ſame Things to deſerve them that others do. And how can it be expected, that a Man who thinks the trouble of waiting at a great Man's Leveé below him, ſhould have the ſame Interest with one that conſtantly pays his Morning Devotions there? Or one, that only minds his own Buſineſs, with another that is eternally cringing, and fawning, and wriggling himſelf into a Lord's Train; one that will not ſtrain a Point to commend him; with a Paraſite, that is ever blowing him up with his own Praiſe, that indulges all his Vices, and admires his Follies and his Nonſenſe? At this rate, you are a very unjust, and a most unreaſonable Man; for you expect to receive that gratis, which is really ſet to Sale, and cannot be obtained without paying the Price: For instance now, and to uſe a very familiar one. You enquire in the Market, how Lettice go? and are told, they are a Half-penny a-piece. Suppoſe now, another Perſon bids and pays, and takes them; and you will neither bid, nor pay, and go without them; is there any Wrong done you? or hath the Buyer a better Bargain than you? He parted with his Money, and hath the Sallad; you have no Sallad indeed, but you have kept your Money: Juſt ſo it is in the Caſe before us. You were not invited to a Great Man's Table; the Reaſon is, becauſe you did not buy the Invitation: Pay the Price, and you may have it; and that Price is, Commendation and Flattery. If therefore you think the Thing for your Advantage, it is ſet to Sale, and you know the Market Rates. But if you expect it ſhould come without making Payments, you are very reaſonable. And if it be thought too dear, then ſure you have no Reaſon to complain; for, though you have not his Lordſhip's Dinner, yet you have ſomething as good in the room of it; for you have the Satisfaction of keeping the Price in your own Hand ſtill; that is, of not commending a Man againſt Truth and Conſcience; Theſe Words are not in Simplicius's Copy; but being generally found in the reſt, I have inſerted them in a different Character. [and of avoiding his formal haughty Reception of you, which carries in it a thouſand times more of Inſolence than Civility.]

COMMENT.

THis Diſcourſe ſeems to be a Continuation of the former; proceeding to obviate ſome Objections that are ſtill behind, and ſuch as ſeem all to ariſe from the ſame Habit and Diſpoſition of Mind. For, when a Man hath turned all his Thoughts and Care upon his own Improvement, and hath diſengaged himſelf from the World, and its Incumbrances; when he hath arrived to that Largeneſs and Sufficiency of Soul, as to deſpiſe Riches, and Honour, and Popularity; when he thinks it unbecoming his Character, to court the Countenance of Great Perſons, by all the mean Arts and obſequious Attendance of Slaves and Sycophants; there will, in all likelihood, follow this Inconvenience upon it, that he ſhall be ſlighted and diſregarded himſelf. Many of his Equals and Inferiours ſhall be invited home to Entertainments, ſhall be more particularly addreſt to in publick Places, and receive all thoſe outward Marks of Reſpect; nay, many leſs capable of adviſing than he, ſhall be admitted into the Secrets of Families, and conſulted in all their Affairs of Importance, while this Perſon, ſo much their Superior in Worth and Wiſdom, is induſtriouſly neglected.

Now all the ſeeming Hardſhip that appears in ſuch Uſage, Epictetus might, if he had thought fit, have taken off in one word, by remitting us to his uſual Diſtinction, of the Things that are, and that are not, within the Compaſs of our own Choice: For, if thoſe Things that conduce to our real Happineſs be at our own Diſpoſal, and the Things here mentioned are not ſo, then ought we not to ſuppoſe, that our Happineſs does at all conſiſt in them. But this Solution of the Difficulty he takes no Notice of here, partly becauſe it is general, and applicable to many other Caſes as well as this; and partly, as preſuming it abundantly enlarged upon, and that his Reader was ſufficiently perfect in it before. That therefore which he chooſes to inſiſt upon, is, ſomething that comes up cloſer to the Matter in hand; and proves, that the Inconveniences here alledged miniſter an Occaſion of much greater Advantage, to thoſe who have the Wiſdom to make a right Uſe of them.

To this Purpoſe, he tells us, that the Inſtances, in which Men of inferior Qualifications have the Preference and Reſpect before thoſe who have made a ſtrict Philoſophical Life their Choice, muſt be either Good or Evil. If you pleaſe to make the Diviſion perfect, I will take the Confidence to add, or indifferent; for in truth, there are a great many Things of this middle ſort. But then it muſt be confeſt too, that thoſe which are indifferent, can neither be called Honorable nor Diſhonorable. And for that Reaſon, the Author ſeems not to have thought this Branch worth any room in his Diviſion. Well, we will ſay then, according to him, that they are all in one of the Extremes, either Good or Evil: Now if they be Good, (ſays he) this ought by no means to be matter of Diſcontent to you. But quite contrary, it ſhould add to your Joy and Satisfaction, that another Perſon is happy in them. For this calls for the Exerciſe of a very Exalted and Philoſophical Virtue, that of wiſhing well to all Mankind, and rejoycing at the Proſperity of others.

And here we ſhall do well to obſerve what a mighty Good he makes this ſeeming Evil to contain, and how prodigious an Honour this Diſreſpect derives upon us. For this indeed is the very Quality of the Mind, that brings us to the trueſt and neareſt reſemblance of God, which is the greateſt Happineſs that any of his Creatures can poſſibly attain to. For God is himſelf of abſolute and unbounded Power, being indeed the only Source of whatever limited Power is communicated to any other Beings. And as his Power is infinitely great, ſo his Will is infinitely Good. From hence it comes to paſs, that he would have all things good, and not any thing Evil, ſo far as that can be. And becauſe his Will can intend nothing but what his Power is able to accompliſh, therefore he does really make all things Good; and this he does not niggardly and grudgingly, but communicates to every Creature of his own Goodneſs, in as large Proportions, as the Condition of each Creature is capable of enjoying.

Now the Soul of Man does not reſemble God, in infinite and uncontroulable Power, 'tis true, for this is a Perfection of the Divine Nature, which our Conſtitution cannot receive; and beſides, there are many Degrees of intermediate Beings, which though much inferior to God, are yet much ſuperior to us in point of Power. But ſtill in the other part of his Excellence, he hath condeſcended to make us like himſelf, and given us the honour of a Will Free and Unbounded, a Will capable of extending its good Wiſhes, and kind Inclinations to all the World, provided we have but the Grace to make this good uſe of it. It is therefore an inſtance of his wonderful Wiſdom, and adorable Goodneſs, that he hath made this to be his Image and Similitude in our Souls; becauſe this is the true and proper principle of all Operation and Action. And though the Soul cannot punctually make all things Good, as God can and does; yet it goes as far as it can, in making them ſo, and for the reſt, it does its part, by wiſhing that Good which it cannot give them. [For that indeed is perfect and true Volition,] when the Perſon willing, exerts his whole Strength, and all the Faculties aſſiſt and concur with it; for we have the abſolute Diſpoſal of our own Minds, and ſo the wiſhing well to all Mankind, is what any Man may do, if he pleaſe. And indeed, a truly Good Man goes farther than all this; he wiſhes the Proſperity of all Men whatſoever; and he ſtops not there, but extends his Kindneſs to Creatures of different Species, to Brutes, and Plants, and even Inanimate things; in a word, to all that make up this great Body of the World, of which himſelf is a part. 'Tis true, he cannot make thoſe Wiſhes effectual to all, becauſe, as I ſaid, the Willing is a Perfection given us by Nature, but the power of Effecting is not; for this requires the Cooperation of many other Cauſes, the Permiſſion of the Gods, and the Concurrence of ſeveral Agents which we cannot command. And for this Reaſon it is, that all our Virtue conſiſts in our Will, the Merit of all our Actions is meaſured by that; and all the Happineſs and Miſery of our Lives, made to depend upon the Good or Ill uſe of it. And thus you have the force of this Argument, proceeding upon a Suppoſition that theſe things are Good.

But if on the other hand, the Reſpects denied to the Philoſopher, and paid to others, be Evil, this can be no ground of diſſatisfaction, but miniſters a freſh occaſion of Joy: Not upon his account indeed who hath them, but upon your own, who have them not. And at this rate, the Good Man can never be Melancholy at the want of theſe things, nor look upon it as any diſparagement to his Perſon, or diminution of his Happineſs, but is ſure to be pleaſed, let the Event be what it will; that is, either for others good Succeſs, if it be Good, or for his own Eſcape if it be otherwiſe. And thus all angry Reſentments are taken off, in point of Intereſt and Advantage; for though we allow theſe things to be what conduce to our Happineſs, yet it is a much greater Happineſs to aſpire after a Reſemblance of the Divine Perfections, which the miſſing of them, gives Men an opportunity to do; and if they rather tend to make us Miſerable, then the Being without them, is not ſo properly a Want, as a Deliverance.

After this, he proceeds to Two other Topicks, the Poſſibility of obtaining them, and the Reaſonableneſs of expecting them. From the former of theſe he argues, that it is not to be imagined, that one who never makes his Court, ſhould have the ſame Priviledges with one that is eternally labouring to ingratiate himſelf. And this muſt conſiſt of all the Ceremonious Fopperies, and Servile Submiſſions imaginable; the waiting at the Great Man's Riſing, expecting his coming out, cringing and bowing in the Streets, the Court, and all Places of publick Concourſe; the Commending all he does, though never ſo Baſe, and admiring all he ſays, though never ſo Senſeleſs. And therefore for a Philoſoper, and a Man of Honour and Truth, who cannot ſubmit to theſe unworthy Methods of inſinuating himſelf, to meet with the ſame Countenance, and Marks of Kindneſs with thoſe that proſtitute themſelves at this rate for them; is, as the World goes, abſolutely impoſſible.

Nay, it is not only unreaſonable upon that account to expect them, but in point of Juſtice too; it argues a Man greedy and inſatiable, when he expects his Meal, and yet will not conſent to pay his Ordinary. It is deſiring to invade another's Right, and ingroſs to your ſelf, what he hath already bought and paid for: For though he left no Mony under his Plate, yet he gave that purchaſe which you would have thought much too dear. And conſequently (as he ſhews by that inſtance of the Lettice,) you that went without the Dinner, have as good a Bargain at leaſt, as he that was admitted to it: He had the Varieties indeed, but then you have your Liberty; you did not inſlave your ſelf ſo far, as to laugh at his dull Jeſts, nor to commend what your better Senſe could not like, nor to bear the affected Coldneſs of his Welcome, nor the tedious Attendance in an Anti-Chamber: In ſhort, you were not the Subject of his haughty Negligence, and ſtiff Formality, nor the Jeſt of his ſaucy Servants. All this you muſt have been content with, to have Dined with his Greatneſs; if you expect it upon eaſier Terms, you are miſtaken, for it will come no cheaper; and if you expect it, without paying as others do, it argues you greedy, and an unfair Chapman. And this Character is not conſiſtent with that of a Good Man; ſo that you muſt change your Temper, and be more moderate in your expectances of this kind.

CHAP. XXXIII.

The Condition of Nature, and our own Duty, is plain to be learn'd from thoſe Accidents in which our ſelves have no Intereſt. So Caſaubon upon the place, by a peculiar notion of the Word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , and in a Senſe highly agreeable to the reſt of the Chapter. We cannot be at a loſs, what the Condition of things is by Nature, what her Laws and Methods, nor how Men ought to deport themſelves, with regard to them: For theſe are things ſo plain, that all the World at one time or other, are univerſally agreed about them. For inſtance, If a Neighbours Child happen to break a Glaſs, we preſently anſwer, that this is a very common Accident. Now the Application that ought to be made from hence is, that when one of our own happens to be broken, we ſhould no more think it extraordinary, nor ſuffer it to give us any greater diſturbance, than when it was another Man's caſe. And this trivial Example, ſhould prepare us for bearing Caſualties of greater conſequence, with the like Temper. When any of our Acquaintance buries a Child, or a Wife, every Body is ready to mitigate the Loſs, with the Reflection, that all Men are Mortal, and that this is what all Men have therefore reaſon to expect. But when the Misfortune comes home to our ſelves, then we give a looſe to our Paſſions, and indulge our Lamentations and bitter Complaints. Now theſe things ought quite otherwiſe to awaken the ſame Conſiderations; and it is but reaſonable, that what we thought a good Argument to moderate the Reſentments of other People, ſhould be applied with the ſame efficacy, to reſtrain the Exceſſes of our own.

COMMENT.

THere are ſome Notions concerning the nature of things, in which all Mankind conſent; and not any one conſidering Perſon ever pretended to conteſt or contradict them. Such are theſe that follow; That whatever is Good, is Profitable, and whatever is truly Profitable is Good. That all things are carried by a natural Propenſion to the Deſire of Good: That Equal things are neither leſs nor more than one another: That Twice Two make Four. And theſe Notions are ſuch as right Reaſon hath recommended, and riveted into our Minds, ſuch as long Experience hath confirmed, and ſuch as carry an exact Agreement with the Truth, and nature of things.

But when we deſcend from theſe general Truths, to the particular Ideas and Doctrins of ſingle Perſons, there we very often find our ſelves miſtaken. And theſe Erronious Opinions are of different ſorts; ſome of them deceive us, by too credulous a dependance upon the report of our Senſes, as when we pronounce the Circumference of the Moon, to be as large as that of the Sun, becauſe it appears ſo to the naked Eye. Some we are prepoſſeſſed in favour of, by inclining too much to our Senſual Inclinations; as when we ſay, that all Pleaſure is Good. Some are owing to the admitting of Arguments, before they are well weighed, as thoſe which advanced the belief of the World's being made by Two Principles, and that the Soul is Corporeal. Now theſe are what Men argue differently upon, and they are ſo far from being always true, that many times the Truth lies on the contrary ſide of the Queſtion. And it can never be ſafe for us to depend upon ſuch particular Aſſumptions, for the knowledge of the true ſtate of things, which Epictetus means here by the Condition, the Laws and Methods of Nature.

Now nothing can be a more pregnant proof how exceeding fickle and unfaithful, particular Opinions are, and how firm and unalterable thoſe general and acknowledged ones, than the variety of Mens Behaviour, in one and the ſame caſe. For let any Accident happen to a Man's ſelf, and he is quite another Perſon, tranſported with the vehemence of his Concern, and all his Reaſon too feeble to ſupport it. But when the very ſame Misfortune happens to another, there is none of this Diſorder; he then looks upon it as it really is, conſiders it calmly and coolly, without Paſſion or Prejudice, and paſſes the ſame Judgment upon it, that the reſt of the World do, who have no partial Affection, or Concern of their own to perve t them; but only regard Truth, and the clear Reaſon of the thing.

This he illuſtrates by a very trivial inſtance, that of breaking a Glaſs, which when done by a Neighbour's Child or Servant, we are apt preſently to excuſe, by putting him in Mind how exceeding common this is, that it is what happens every Day; that conſidering how little a thing throws a Child down, how often they let things drop out of their Hands, and withal, how exceeding brittle the Matter it ſelf is, of which the Veſſel is made, and that the leaſt Blow in the World daſhes it to pieces, it is rather to be wondered that ſuch things happen no oftener: Thus we ſay, when our Diſcourſe is Sober and Diſpaſſionate. But when one of our own is broken, then we rage and ſtorm, as if ſome new thing had happened to us. And yet in all reaſon, the ſame Conſideration of the Accident being ſo uſual, ought to offer it ſelf to our Minds too, and with the ſame Succeſs.

Now this (ſays he) you may, if you pleaſe, apply to Matters of greater importance: When any of our Acquaintance buries his Wife, or his Child, who is there that does not preſently ſay, this is every Man's Caſe? And the Reaſon of it is, becauſe they paſs this Reflection from the common Principles in their own Minds, and the plain conſtant courſe of Nature, which they find agreeable to them. For to Dye, is a Neceſſity unavoidable; 'tis the very Condition of Humane Nature, and to be Man, and not ſubject to this Fate, would imply a Contradiction. And yet for all this, when ſuch a Loſs happens in a Man's own Family, what Groans, what Tears, what loud Exclamations, what wild Extravagances of Paſſion do immediately follow? Nay, how hard is it to perſwade Men, that there is not a juſtifyable Cauſe for all this, or that any beſides themſelves, ever ſuffer'd ſuch an Affliction before? Now why ſhould not ſuch a one recollect how he felt himſelf affected, when he ſaw his Neighbour in ſuch Exceſſes, and how wiſely he could tell him then, that he miſtook his own caſe? that Death was inevitable, and nothing more frequent, and that there was nothing in the Accident it ſelf, that could create all this Diſorder, but that was owing entirely to his own miſtaken Apprehenſions, and the violent Paſſions of his own Mind, which ſhewed it him in a falſe Light.

Now indeed there are Two Reaſons why we ſhould be thus partial, and paſſionate in our own caſe: One is, the exceeding Fondneſs, and tender Sympathy, between the Rational Soul, and the Mortal Body; which conſidering that this part muſt Dye, is much more cloſe and moving, than in Reaſon it ought to be. The other is, that though we know, and are ſatisfied, that Dye we muſt, yet we do not care to think of it; but theſe Two dear Friends live together, as if they were never to part. Now there is nothing that gives a Man ſo much diſturbance and confuſion, as the being ſurpriſed with any Accident; for whatever we have foreſeen, and made familiar to our Thoughts by long expectation, never gives us thoſe violent diſturbances.

And this I take to be ſufficiently plain, from what we ſee in Men's Behaviour afterwards; for even thoſe that are moſt intemperate in their Griefs, yet within a little while, when they come to be uſed to the being without what they lament the Loſs of, return to themſelves and their Reaſon again, and all is quiet and eaſie, as if no ſuch Misfortune had ever happened. Then they can ſuggeſt to their own compoſed Thoughts, what at firſt they could not endure to bear, that this is no more than we ſee daily come to paſs; that other People are liable to it, and have born it as well as they; that the Condition of our Nature is Mortal, and moſt abſurd it is to ſuppoſe any Man can be exempt from the common fate of his Nature; that our Friends are only gone a little way before, in the beaten Road, which all our Fore-Fathers have led, and in which we our ſelves ſhall very ſhortly follow them.

Now if this Separation, when a little Time and Cuſtom hath rendred it familiar, become ſo very ſupportable, after the thing hath happened, I would fain know what Reaſon can be alledged, why the making ſuch a Separation familiar to us beforehand, by frequent Thoughts, and perpetual Expectations of it, ſhould not enable us to bear it with great evenneſs of Temper, whenever it ſhall happen. For ſurely the true cauſe of all our immoderate Concern upon theſe Occaſions, is, that we do not repreſent theſe things to our own Thoughts, nor accuſtom our ſelves to them ſo effectually as we might, and ought to do. And the Reaſon of this again ſeems to be, that the generality of People have their Minds faſtened down to their Fortunes, and all their Imaginations formed according to the Model of their preſent Condition. Hence it is, that the proſperous Man is always Gay, and Big, as depending upon the Continuance of his Happineſs, and never dreaming of any poſſible Change in his Affairs. And thus People that lye under unhappy Circumſtances too, are as commonly Diſpirited and Diffident, and can entertain little thought of a Deliverance, and better Days. But another Cauſe which contributes to this Fault as much as the former, is the unreaſonable Fondneſs of theſe things which they lament the Loſs of ſo tenderly: They perfectly dote upon them, while they have them, and cannot therefore admit any Thought ſo uneaſie, as that of parting with them; for no Man alive cares to to dwell long upon Meditations that are troubleſom and afflicting to him. This Fondneſs is the thing we ſhould guard our ſelves againſt, at leaſt cut off all the Exceſſes of it, by reflecting ſeriouſly what we are our ſelves, and what that is, which we ſo paſſionately admire. We ſhould conſider, that it is what we cannot call our own, and that though we could, yet it is ſo imperfect a Bliſs, as to cloy and weary us with long Enjoyment. Our Kindneſs therefore ſhould be reduced, and brought within ſuch Proportions as are conſiſtent with Decency and Moderation: And in all our Converſation, it will be great Prudence to abſtain from all Expreſſions and Diſcourſe, and eſpecially from all ſuch Actions in our Behaviour, as tend to endear theſe things the more, and ſerve in truth for no other End, than to cheriſh our own Folly, and make our Paſſions more Exorbitant and Ungovernable.

CHAP. XXXIV.

As no Man ſets up a Mark, with a Deſign to ſhoot beſide it, ſo neither hath the Maker of the World formed any ſuch real Being, as Evil in it.

COMMENT.

THE Diſputes which are wont to ariſe concerning the Nature and the Original of Evil, by being unskilfully managed, have been the Occaſions of grievous Impiety towards God, and ſubverted the very Foundations of Vertue and good Manners; and perplexed many unwary Perſons with ſeveral dangerous Scruples, and inextricable Difficulties.

Firſt, As to that Opinion which makes Evil a firſt Principle, and will have Two common Principles, a Good and a Bad one, from whence all things whatſoever derive their Being, it is attended with a Thouſand prodigious Abſurdities. For, whence ſhould this Power of being a Principle, which is one, and is imparted to both theſe Contraries in common, whence I ſay, ſhould it come? Or how ſhould one and the ſame Cauſe give it to them both? And how is it poſſible, that theſe Two ſhould be Contraries, unleſs they be ranked under one common Genus? For we muſt diſtinguiſh between Diverſity and Contrariety; that which is White, cannot be termed Contrary to that which is Hot or Cold; but Contraries are properly thoſe things that are moſt diſtant from one another, yet ſtill under the ſame common Genus. White then and Black, are Contraries, becauſe both bear relation to the Genus of Colour; for they are both Colours alike. And Hot and Cold are Contraries, for they likewiſe meet under the Genus of Tactile Qualities; and this is Reaſon enough to ſhew, that Contraries cannot poſſibly be firſt Principles, becauſe there muſt have been ſome common Genus antecedent to them, or they could not be Contraries; and further, becauſe one muſt needs have a Being, before many; for each of thoſe many Beings muſt ſubſiſt, by vertue of its Eſſence, being communicated from that firſt Being, otherwiſe nothing could ever have been at all.

Again, Some ſingle Original Being there muſt needs have been, which muſt have been a Foundation for particular Properties, and from which thoſe Properties muſt have been diſtributed among the many. For from the Divine Original Good, all Good things whatſoever proceed; and in like manner all Truth, from the ſame Divine Fountain of Truth. So that though there be ſeveral Principles of ſeveral Properties, yet ſtill theſe all are comprehended in, and reſolved into one Principle at laſt; and that not ſome ſubordinate and particular one, as theſe are in their own kind only, but a Principle from whence all the reſt ſpring; one that tranſcends, connects, contains them all, and communicates to each of them its Cauſal and Productive Power, with ſuch Limitations and Abatements as their reſpective Natures require. So exceeding irrational and abſurd it is, to think of advancing Two Principles of all things, or to ſuppoſe it poſſible that there ſhould be more than one.

Beſides, They that will have this Univerſe to proceed from Two Principles, are driven by their own Tenets into a Thouſand wild Inconſiſtencies; they tell us, one of theſe Principles is Good, and the other Evil; they call the Good one God, but yet at the ſame time, they do not allow him to be the Univerſal Cauſe: They cannot worſhip him as Almighty, for indeed they have clipped the Wings of his Omnipotence, and are ſo far from aſcribing all Power to him, that they divide it into Halves; or to ſpeak more properly, they give the greater ſhare by much away from him; they call him the Source of Goodneſs, and Spring of Light, and yet deny, that all things receive Light and Goodneſs from him.

Now what horrid Blaſphemies, what opprobrious Reflections does theſe Mens Doctrin caſt upon the Majeſty of God? They repreſent him as a Feeble and a Fearful Being, uneaſie with continual Apprehenſions that Evil will invade his Territories. And to eaſe himſelf of theſe Fears, and buy off his Enemy, contrary to all Juſtice, and Honour, and Intereſt, caſting ſome Souls away, (which are ſo many Parts and Parcels of himſelf, and never merited by any Offence of theirs to be thus delivered up,) that by parting with theſe, he may compound for the reſt of the Good ones with him. Like ſome General in Diſtreſs, who when the Enemy attacks him, ſacrifices one part of his Army, to gain an Opportunity of bringing off the other. For the Senſe of what they ſay, amounts to thus much, though it be not expreſs'd in the very ſame Words. Now he that delivered up theſe Souls, or commanded them to be delivered up in this barbarous manner, had ſure forgot, or at leaſt did not duly conſider, what Miſeries thoſe wretched Spirits muſt endure, when in the Hands of that Evil Principle. For (according to them,) they are Burnt, and Fryed, and Tormented all manner of ways, and this too, notwithſtanding they were never guilty of any Fault, but are ſtill parts of God himſelf. And at laſt they tell us, that if any ſuch Souls happen to Apoſtatize, and Degenerate into Sin, they never recover themſelves; nor from thenceforth are in any poſſibility of returning to Good, but continue inſeparably united to Evil for Ever. (Only here it is fit we take notice what Souls theſe are, and how they thus degenerate; for they do not admit their Crimes to be Adultery or Murder, or any of the groſſeſt and moſt ſlagititious Enormities of a diſſolute and wicked Converſation, but only the denying of Two Principles, an evil and a good one.) In the mean while, this God, it ſeems, is left maimed and imperfect, by the Loſs of ſo many of his Parts; he is ſtupid and ſenſleſs too, (in their Hypotheſis I mean, for far be it from me to entertain ſo irreverent a Thought) for he underſtands nothing at all either of his own Intereſt, or the Nature of Evil: If he did, what Dread could he be under, or how ſhould Evil enter into any part of that Province which Good poſſeſſes, ſince their Natures are ſo very diſtant and irreconcileable, that they cannot run into each other, but their Bounds are fix'd, and immovable Barriers ſet between them from all Eternity?

For this they ſay too: But who, in the Name of Wonder, ſet theſe Bounds and Barriers? Did Chance? Then it ſeems they make Chance a Common Principle too. Did any other Being that had Authority over both theſe, and preſcribed to them as it ſelf thought fit? Then it ſeems That had a Subſiſtence before They made the World. But how could that be done before the Creation? For the Diviſion they make is like this upon Earth, for they aſſign the Eaſtern, Weſtern, and Northern Regions to Good, and reſerve only the South for Evil.

Afterwards they go on, a d fancy that Evil hath five Apartments, like ſo many Dens or Caverns; and here they tell us of Woods, and all manner of Animals, ſuch as frequent both Sea and Land; that theſe are at eternal Wars with one another; and though theſe are ſaid to be immortal, as being originally Good, yet they pretend at the ſame time, that they are devoured by their Five-formed Monſter.

Now then, ſince theſe diſtinct Regions have been ſet out, as you ſee, from the Beginning of the World at leaſt; and each aſſigned and accommodated to its peculiar Inhabitant; I would fain be ſatisfied, which way Evil ſhould make an Incurſion into Good's Dominions? Or, if we ſhould ſuppoſe this poſſible, yet could it be done however, and ſtill theſe Two remain contrary to one another? May we not as well ſay, that White may be Black, and yet retain its Whiteneſs ſtill; and that Light can admit Darkneſs, and ſtill be Light, as that perfect Evil can make Approaches to perfect Good, and ſtill continue perfect Evil? And if this Impoſſibility be evident and unavoidable, what Occaſion is there to deſcribe God as they do, committing an Act of ſo much unneceſſary Fear, and Folly, and Injuſtice, as is the caſting away Souls to Evil for his own Security, and ever ſince labouring to no purpoſe (for ſo they will needs have it too) to redeem theſe Souls from Miſery? A Deſign never to be effected, becauſe, as I obſerv'd before, ſome of them have lapſed, and ſo muſt abide under the Dominion of Evil to all Eternity: And all this they will not allow the Good to have had any Knowledge or Foreſight of, though with the ſame Breath they pretend, that Evil knew perfectly well what Number of Souls would fall into his Hands, and laid his Stratagems accordingly.

Their Scheme certainly had been much better contrived, had they repreſented the Good Principle, as always employed and taken up with the Contemplation of it ſelf, and not engaged it in perpetual War with an Enemy never to be vanquiſhed or deſtroyed. For they make Evil to be no leſs Eternal and Immortal than Good. And this, indeed, is a conſiderable Objection, and a juſt Reproach to their whole Syſtem, that Eternal Exiſtence, and Incorruptible Duration, no Beginning, and no End, are allowed to Evil as well as Good. And when theſe glorious Attributes are given to that which we cannot but deteſt, what Difference is there left, or what can we ſay more in Honour of that which we cannot but love and admire?

Let us now proceed, if you pleaſe, to take a ſhort View of the Account they give concerning the Creation of the World. Pillars then there are, they tell us, not like thoſe of the Poet, That this vaſt Globe of Earth and Heav'n ſuſtain, (for they ſcorn that any Poetical Fictions, or the leaſt fabulous Circumſtance, ſhould be allowed a Place in their Philoſophy;) but (as one of their greateſt Maſters hath informed us) of ſolid unhewn Stone, and twelve Windows, one of which is conſtantly opened every hour

But their marvellous Wiſdom is not more eminently ſeen in any one Inſtance, than the Account they pretend to give of Eclipſes: For they tell us, That when in the Framing of the World, the Evils that were in Conjunction together gave great Diſturbance by their juſtling and diſorderly Motions, the Luminaries drew certain Veils before them, to ſhelter them from the ill Influences of that Diſorder; and that Eclipſes are nothing elſe, but the Sun and Moon hiding themſelves ſtill behind thoſe Veils, upon ſome extraordinary and threatning Emergencies.

Then again, How odd and unaccountable is it, that of ſo many Heavenly Bodies which give Light to the World, they ſhould hold only the two great ones in Veneration, and contemn all the reſt; aſſigning the Sun and Moon to the Good Principle, but putting all the Stars into the Poſſeſſion of the Evil, and deriving them from a Bad Cauſe?

The Light of the Moon they do not agree to be borrowed from the Sun, but think it a Collection or Conſtellation of Souls; which ſhe draws up, like ſo many Vapours from the Earth, between Change and Full; and then tranſlates them by degrees into the Sun from the Full to the next New Moon.

In ſhort, they have a World of extravagant Fancies, which do not ſo much as deſerve to be reckoned among Fables; and yet they are by no means content to have them look'd upon as Fabulous, nor do they uſe them as Figures or Hieroglyphicks, ſo as to ſignifie ſomething elſe of more ſubſtantial Goodneſs, but will needs have them believed to be ſtrictly and literally true. Thus the Image they give us of Evil, is a Monſter compounded of five ſeveral Creatures, a Lion, a Fiſh, an Eagle, and ſome other two Things, I do not well remember what; but all theſe put together, are ſuppoſed to make a very ravenous and formidable Compoſition.

Such abominable Impiety againſt God are theſe Notions and Principles chargeable with; and yet (which is ſtill more amazing) the Perſons that advance them, profeſs to take Sanctuary in theſe Opinions, out of a more than common Reſpect, and a profounder Reverence to the Divine Perfections, than the reſt of the World (as they think) expreſs. They could not bear the imputing any Evil to God, and, to avoid this Inconvenience, they have found out a particular Principle and Cauſe of all Evil; a Principle equal in Honor and Power to the Good, or rather indeed Superior and more Potent than He. For in all the Attempts that have been made hitherto, to corrupt the World, and render it miſerable, Evil ſeems plainly to have got the better. For they repreſent Evil upon all Occaſions taking Advantage againſt Good, and contriving all manner of Ways not to let it go. This is conſtantly the bold and daring Aggreſſor, while Good, in the mean while, gives way to, and mingles it ſelf with Evil, would fain compound the Matter, and for any thing that yet appears, hath diſcovered nothing in its whole Management but Fear, and Folly, and Injuſtice. Thus, while they abhor to call God the Cauſe of Evil, they make him nothing but Evil in the moſt exquiſite Degree, and (according to that vulgar Proverb) leap out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire.

But beſides theſe vile Profanations of the Majeſty of God, this Syſtem of Philoſophy does, as much as in it lies, tear up the very Roots of all Virtue and moral Inſtruction, by deſtroying and utterly taking away all that Liberty of Choice which God and Nature have given us. For beſides thoſe Attributes of Eternity and Immortality, it does alſo aſcribe to this Principle of Evil a compulſive Power over our Wills, and that ſo very abſolute and ſtrong, that it is not only out of our own Diſpoſal, whether we will commit Wickedneſs or no, but ſuch as even God himſelf is not able to controul or over-power. In the mean while it muſt be confeſt, that this is a very idle and extravagant Imagination: For if our Souls are violently thruſt, and born down into Murder or Adultery, or any other that are reputed the moſt grievous Crimes, and commit theſe merely by the Impulſe of ſome ſtronger Power, without any Conſent or voluntary Concurrence of their own, then are they clear of all Guilt. And this is a Matter ſo evident and acknowledged, that all Laws, both Divine and Humane, acquit Perſons in Caſes of Violence, and ſuch a Force as they could not reſiſt, and where it is plain they acted againſt their Will. And indeed there is not, nor can be any Sin at all in ſuch Actions, where Mens own Minds are ſuppoſed to have no Concern, but to proceed upon Neceſſity and Conſtraint, and ſuch as could not be reſiſted by them.

Now if theſe wiſe Philoſophers, while they were at a loſs where to fix the true Cauſe of theſe Things, conſidered as Evils, bethought themſelves of this Remedy, and ſet up ſuch a Principle of Evil, as you have heard, to reſolve the Difficulty; they have done their own Buſineſs effectually, and by a very pleaſant Blunder over-turned their whole Scheme at once. For if it follows likewiſe (upon the Suppoſal of ſuch a Conſtraint put upon the Wills of Men by that Principle) that nothing they do is any longer Evil, then obſerve how pleaſant a Concluſion they have brought their Matters to: for, the Conſequence lies plainly thus. If there be ſuch a Thing as a Principle of Evil, then there is no ſuch Thing as Evil in the World; and if there be no ſuch Thing as Evil, then there cannot poſſibly be any ſuch Thing as a Principle of Evil; and ſo upon the whole Matter, they have left themſelves neither a Principle of Evil, nor any Evil at all.

Since therefore this is diſcovered to be but a rotten Foundation; if any, conſcious of its weakneſs, ſhall preſume to affirm, that God is the Author of Evil as well as Good, the Falſhood and Impiety of this Aſſertion will ask but little Time and Pains to evince it. For how indeed can we ſuppoſe it poſſible, that that Opinion ſhould be true, which caſts ſuch unworthy Aſperſions upon him, who is the Author and Giver of all Truth?

And firſt, which way can one conceive, that God, whoſe very Eſſence is perfect and immutable Goodneſs, ſhould produce Evil out of himſelf? For ſince Evil and Good are contrary to each other, as our Adverſaries themſelves grant, How can we imagine one Contrary to be the Production of another?

Beſides, He that produces any thing out of himſelf, does it by being the Cauſe of its exiſting, by having the Cauſe within himſelf, and having ſome Likeneſs to it in his own Nature; and ſo if you reſpect him as the Cauſe, the Producing, and the Produced, are in ſome degree the ſame. So that the Promoters of this Opinion ſeem not to have attended to the manifeſt Diſhonour they put upon God, by making him not only the Cauſe and Author of Evil, but to be the firſt and original Evil in his own Nature.

Since therefore there is no ſuch Thing as a Common Principle of Evil, and ſince God is not the Author and Cauſe of it, what Account ſhall we give of its coming into the World? For it is impoſſible any Thing ſhould have a Beginning without a Cauſe. And the beſt Courſe we can take for this will be, firſt to explain what we mean by Evil, and then enquire into its Original; for the Cauſes of Things will very hardly be found, till their Natures are firſt known.

Now as to that Evil which they ſuppoſe who profeſs to believe a Common Principle of Evil, and many of thoſe that diſpute this Queſtion underſtand, we may be bold to pronounce, that there is no ſuch Thing in Nature. For they pretend, that this Evil hath a poſitive Subſiſtence of its own, as Good hath; that it hath a Power equal to Good, and contrary to it; that its Eſſence is incompatible with that of Good, and will no more endure any Mixture with it, than White will with Black, or Hot with Cold. But if there were any ſuch real and ſubſtantial Evil, like the Subſtance of a Man, or a Horſe, or any other Species, that really and actually ſubſiſts; it muſt needs have ſome ſort of Perfection in proportion to its Nature; and a particular Form, that makes it what it is, and diſtinguiſhes it from all other Beings. Now every Form, conſidered as ſuch, is Good and not Evil, becauſe it is endued with the Perfections peculiar to its Nature. And indeed they are ſo ſenſible of this, as to make that Evil of theirs deſire Good, and embrace and court it, and receive Advantage by it, and love to partake of it, and uſe all poſſible Diligence not to part from it. And how very ridiculous an Attempt is it, to impoſe a Thing upon us that does all this, for a Being ſimply and abſolutely Evil?

But then, if we conſider in the next place, that Evil, by the Commiſſion whereof Men are denominated wicked, and are puniſhed by God and Man for contracting it; this is purely accidental, and hath no real Eſſence of its own: For we find, that it both is, and ceaſes to be, without the Deſtruction of the Subject, which is the very diſtinguiſhing Character of an Accident; and likewiſe, it never ſubſiſts but by Inherence in ſome Subject: For, what Evil of this kind was there ever in the Abſtract, without being the Evil, that is, the Crime of ſome Perſon that committed it? And ſo in like manner, Moral Good, which is the true Oppoſite of Evil, in this Senſe is merely an Accident too.

Only herein they differ, that Good is that Quality of its Subject, by which it is rendred agreeable to Nature, and attains its proper Perfection. But Evil is the Depravation or Indiſpoſition of its Subject, by which it ſwerves and departs from Nature, and loſes or falls ſhort of its natural Perfection, that is, of Good. For if Evil were the right Diſpoſition, and natural Perfection of the Form to which it belongs, then would it by this Means change its Name and its Nature, and commence Good. So that from hence we may conclude againſt any primary Nature and poſitive Subſiſtence of Evil; for it is not in Nature as Good is, but is only an additional Thing ſuperinduced upon Good, the Privation of, and Fall from it.

Juſt thus we may conceive Sickneſs, with regard to Health; and the Vices of the Mind, with reſpect to Virtue. And as the Walking ſtrong and upright is the deſigned and primary Action of an Animal, and the end which it propoſes to it ſelf when it moves; but Stumbling or Halting is an Accident beſide the purpoſe, and happens throught ſome Defect, and miſſing the intended Aim, being a Motion, not of Nature's making, nor agreeable to her Operations; directly ſo we may affirm of Evil, when compared to its oppoſite Good. And though theſe be Contraries, as White and Black are, yet no Man can maintain that they do equally ſubſiſt, or are equipollent to one another, as White and Black are in a Phyſical Conſideration. For theſe do both ſubſiſt alike, and neither of them can pretend to a greater Perfection in Nature than the other; and conſequently, one is not the mere Privation of the other. For, a Privation is properly a Defect or kind of falſe Step in Nature, whereby the original Form is not fully come up to, as Limping is in a Man's Gate. But now each of thoſe Colours hath its Form entire, and as much of what Nature intended ſhould belong to it as its Contrary. Whereas, in the Caſe before us, one of the Extremes is agreeable to Nature, and the other contrary to it; and that which is contrary to Nature, is an accidental Addition to that part which is agreeable to it; for Good was firſt, and then Evil; not Evil firſt, and afterwards Good. As no Man can ſay, that Miſſing the Mark was antecedent to the Hitting of it; nor Sickneſs before Health; but quite otherwiſe. For it was the Archer's primitive Deſign to hit the Mark, and he ſhot on purpoſe that he might do ſo; thus alſo it was the original Intent of Nature to give us ſound Health, and good Conſtitutions; for, the Preſervation and Continuance of the Creation, was the very End ſhe propoſed to her ſelf in forming it. And in general Terms, whatever any Action is directed to, that is the proper End of it. But now the miſſing of the Mark happens afterwards by Accident, when the Operation does not ſucceed as it ought, nor attain the End at firſt propoſed, but hits upon ſomething elſe, ſome Diſappointment inſtead of it. Now then this Diſappointment which comes in afterwards, and by the Bye, may very truly be ſaid to be Additional, and Accidental to the Original Purpoſe of Hitting the Mark; but that Purpoſe can with no good Propriety of Speech be called ſo, with regard to that which happened afterwards, beſides and againſt the Man's Purpoſe.

If then all Things naturally deſire Good, and every Thing that acts of any kind, does it with a proſpect of, or in order to, ſome Real, or ſome Seeming Good, it is manifeſt, that the obtaining ſome Good is the primary End of all Operations whatſoever. Sometimes, indeed, it happens, that Evil ſteps in between, when the Deſire is fixed upon ſome Object that is not really and truly good, but ſuch in outward Appearance only, and which hath an Allay and Mixture of Evil with it. Thus when a Man, in purſuit of Pleaſure, or greedy of Wealth, turns a Robber, or a Pirate, his Deſire, in this Caſe, is principally fixed upon the ſeeming Good, and that is the Spring upon which all theſe Actions move; but as Matters ſtand, he is forced to take the Good and the Bad together. For no Man alive was ever yet ſo unnaturally profligate, as to be guilty of Lewdneſs for Lewdneſs ſake; or to Rob any Man merely for the ſake of Stealing; or indeed, diſpoſed to any manner of Evil, purely for the Satisfaction of doing evil. Becauſe it is paſt all doubt, that Evil, conſidered and apprehended as Evil, can never be the Object of any Man's Deſire. For if it were the principal and original Cauſe of thoſe Things that proceed from it, then would it be the End of all ſuch Things: As an End it would be deſirable to them, as good. For good and deſirable, are Terms reciprocal and convertible, and conſequently, at this rate, it would become good, and ceaſe to be evil.

'Tis moſt certainly true then, that all Things whatſoever do deſire and purſue their own Advantage; not all their true and real Advantage indeed, but all their ſeeming Benefit, and ſuch as they at that time take for the true and beſt. For no Man is willingly deceived, no Man chooſes a Falſhood before Truth, nor Shadows before Subſtances, who knows and is ſenſible of the Difference between them when he does it. But this Misfortune happens generally from a blind Admiration of ſome apparent Good, which ſo dazles our Eyes, that either we do not at all diſcover the Evil it is attended with, or if we do diſcern that, yet we ſee the Thing through falſe Opticks, ſuch as magnifie the Good, and leſſen the Evil to the Eye. Now it is a frequent and a reaſonable Choice, when we are content to take a greater Good with the Incumbrance of a leſs Evil: As for Inſtance, When we ſuffer an Inciſion, or a Cupping, and account the Evil of theſe Pains much too little to counterballance the Good there is in that Health which they reſtore to us.

Once more yet; That all Things deſire Good, is farther plain from hence; That ſuppoſing Evil to have a real Being, and a Power of Acting, whatever it did would be for its own Advantage, that is, in other Words, for its own Good. And thus much they who aſcribe a Being and Operation to it confeſs; for they pretend, that it purſues after Good, would fain detain it, and uſes all poſſible Endeavours not to let it go. And if Evil be the Object of no Deſire, then is it not any primary and deſigned Nature. But ſince the Condition of it is in all Particulars according to the Deſcription here given of it, it is moſt truly ſaid, to be an Accidental and Additional Thing, ſuperinducive to ſomething that did ſubſiſt before, but to have no Subſiſtence of its own.

Well (ſays the Objector) I allow what you ſay. We will ſuppoſe, that Evil is only an Accident, a Defect, and Privation of Good, and an additional Diſappointment of the firſt and original Intent of Nature. And what of all this? How are we advanced in the Queſtion before us? For let this be what, or after what manner you pleaſe, ſtill it muſt have ſome Cauſe; otherwiſe, How, in the Name of Wonder, did it ever find the way into the World? How then will you get out of this Maze? You allow God to be the Cauſe of all Things; you muſt grant that Evil hath ſome Cauſe; and yet you tell me, that God is infinitely Good, and ſo cannot be that Cauſe.

This Objection hath been already conſidered, and ſpoken to, both at the Beginning of the Book, where we explained this Author's Diſtinction of the Things that are or are not in our own Power; and alſo in the Comment upon the XIII. Chapter, upon Occaſion of thoſe words, Trouble not your ſelf with wiſhing, that Things may be juſt as you would have them, &c. But however, I will ſpeak to it once more here too, and that briefly, as follows.

God, who is the Source and Original Cauſe of all Goodneſs, did not only produce the higheſt and moſt excellent Things, ſuch as are good in themſelves; nor only thoſe that are of a Rank ſomething inferiour to theſe, and of a middle Nature; but the Extremes too, ſuch as are capable of falling, and apt to be perverted from that which is agreeable to Nature, to that which we call Evil. Thus; As after thoſe incorruptible Bodies which are always regular in their Motions, and immutably good, others were created ſubject to Change and Decay; ſo likewiſe it was with Souls; the ſame Order was obſerved with theſe too; for after them which were unalterably fixed in Good, others were produced liable to be ſeduced from it. And this was done, both for the greater illuſtration of the Wiſe and Mighty Creator, that the Riches of his Goodneſs might be the more clearly ſeen, in producing good things of all ſorts, as many as were capable of ſubſiſting; and alſo that the Univerſe might be full and perfect, when Beings of all kinds, and all Proportions, were contained in it. (For this is a Perfection to want nothing of any kind.) And alſo to vindicate the Higheſt and the Middle ſort, which never decline or deviate from their Goodneſs, from that Contempt which always falls upon the Loweſt of any ſort; and ſuch theſe had been, if the Corruptible and Mortal things, had not been Created, and Supported the others Dignity, by their own want of it.

And Corruptible they muſt be, for it could never be, that while the Firſt, and the Middle ſort of Bodies continued as they are, ſome Immutable, both as to their Nature and their Operations; others Immutable indeed, as to their Subſtance, but Mutable in their Motion; it could not be, I ſay, that the Loweſt and Sublunary Bodies, ſhould ever hold out, while the violent Revolutions of the Heavenly ones, were perpetually changing their Subſtance, and putting them into unnatural Diſorders.

For theſe Reaſons certainly, and perhaps for a great many others more important than theſe, which are Secrets too dark and deep for us, theſe Sublunary Bodies were made, and this Region of Mortality, where the Perverted Good hath its Reſidence. For there was a Neceſſity that the loweſt ſort of Good ſhould have a Being too, and ſuch is that which is liable to Change and Depravation. Hence alſo, there is no ſuch thing as Evil in the Regions above us; for the nature of Evil being nothing elſe but a Corruption of the Meaneſt and moſt Feeble Good, can only ſubſiſt where that Mean and Mutable Good reſides. For this Reaſon the Soul, which conſidered by her ſelf, is a Generous and Immutable Being, is tainted with no Evil, while alone in a State of Separation; but being ſo contrived by Nature, as to dwell in this lower World, and be intimately united to Mortal Bodies, (for ſo the good Providence of our great Father and Creator hath ordered it, making theſe Souls a Link to tye the Spiritual and Material World together, joyning the Extreams by the common Bonds of Life,) it ſeems to bear a part in all thoſe Diſtempers and Decays which Evil ſubjects our Bodies to, by diſturbing their natural Habit and Frame. Though indeed I cannot think this to be Evil, ſtrictly ſpeaking, but rather Good; ſince the Effect of it is ſo: For by this means, the ſimple Elements, of which theſe Bodies are compounded, come to be ſet free from a great Confinement, and ſevered from other parts of Matter of a different Conſtitution, with which they were interwoven and entangled before; and ſo getting looſe from the perpetual Combat between contrary Qualities, are reſtored to their proper Places, and their primitive Maſs again, in order to acquiring new Life and Vigour.

And if this proceeding be the occaſion of perpetual Change, yet neither is that Evil; becauſe every thing is reſolved at laſt, into what it was at the beginning. For Water, though evaporated into Air, yet is by degrees congealed into Water again; and ſo even particular Beings, loſe nothing by thoſe Viciſſitudes.

But that which ought to be a Conſideration of greater Moment, is, that the Diſſolution of Compound Bodies, and the mutual change of Simple ones into each other, contributes to the Advantage of the Univerſe in general, by making the Corruption of one thing, to become the Riſe and Birth of another: And by this perpetual Round it is, that Matter and Motion have been ſuſtained all this while. Now it is obvious to any obſerving Man, that both Nature and Art, (as was urged heretofore,) do frequently neglect a part, when the detriment of that in particular, may conduce to the good of the whole. The former does it as often as our Rheums, and Ulcerous Humours, are thrown off from the Vitals, and turned into Sores or Swellings in any of the Extream Parts. And Art imitates this Method of Nature, as oft as a Limb is ſeared, or lopped off for the preſervation of the Body: So that upon the whole Matter, theſe Shocks and Corruptions of Bodies, deſerve rather to be eſteemed Good than Evil; and the Cauſe of them, the Cauſe of Good and not Evil Events. For thoſe Sublunary Bodies that are Simples, ſuffer no Injury, becauſe they are ſubject to no Decay or Deſtruction: And for the Evil that the Parts ſeems to undergo, this hath been ſhewn to have more Good than Evil in it, both in Simples and Compounds, even when conſidered in it ſelf; but if taken with reſpect to the Benefit which other Creatures reap by it, then it is manifeſtly Good. So that the Diſtempers and Decays of Bodies, take them which way you will, are not Evil, but produce great Good.

But if any one ſhall be ſcrupulous upon this occaſion, and quarrel with that being called Good, which is confeſſed to be no better than a perverting of the courſe of Nature; let not this Nice Caviller take upon him however to call it Evil, in the groſs Senſe, and common Acceptation of the Word; by which we underſtand ſomething utterly repugnant and irreconcileable to Good. But let him rather call it a Neceſſity or Hardſhip, as being not deſirable for its own ſake, but having ſome tendency, and contributing to that which is ſo: For were it ſimply and abſolutely Evil, it could never be an Inſtrument of Good to us. Now that which I mean by Neceſſary, though it have not Charms enough of its own to recommend it, yet does it deſerve to be accounted Good, for leading us to that which is Good; and that which can become a proper Object of our Choice, under any Circumſtance, is ſo far forth Good. Thus we chooſe Inciſions, and Burnings, and Amputations, nay, we are content to pay dear for them, and acknowledge our ſelves obliged both by the Preſcription, and the painful Operation; all which were moſt ridiculous to be done, if we thought theſe things Evil. And yet I own this is but a Qualified and an Inferior Good, not ſtrictly and properly ſo, but only in a Second and Subordinate Senſe: Yet ſo, that the Creator of theſe things, is by no means the Cauſe of Evil, but of a neceſſary and meaner Good, but a Good ſtill; for ſuch we ought to eſteem it, ſince it is derived from the ſame Univerſal Fountain of Goodneſs, though embaſed with ſome Allays and Abatements. And thus much, I hope, may be thought ſufficient, in Vindication of the Nature and Cauſe of that Evil which Bodies are concern'd in.

Nothing indeed can ſo truly be called Evil, as the Lapſes and Vices of the Soul of Man; and of theſe, too much hath been ſaid before; but however we will reſume the Diſcourſe upon this Occaſion, and enquire afreſh, both into the Nature and the Cauſe of them.

And here we ſhall do well to take notice, That the Soul is of a more excellent Nature, which dwell in the Regions above us, are immutably fixed in Goodneſs, and wholly unacquainted with any Evil. There are alſo the Souls of Brutes, of a Baſer alloy than ours, and ſtanding in the middle as it were, between the Vegetative Souls of Plants, and our Rational ones. Theſe, ſo far forth as they are Corporeal, are liable to that Evil, to which Bodies are ſubject; but ſo far as concerns their Appetites and Inclinations, they bear ſome reſemblance to the Humane, and the Evil they are in this reſpect obnoxious to, is in proportion the ſame; ſo that one of theſe will be ſufficiently explained, by giving an account of the other.

Now the Humane Soul, is in a middle Station between the Souls above, and thoſe below; it partakes of the Qualities of both; of thoſe more Excellent ones, in the Sublimity of its Nature, and the Excellence of its Underſtanding: Of the Brutal and inferiour ones, by its ſtrict affinity to the Body, and Animal Life. Of both theſe it is the common Band; by its Vital Union with the Body, and by its Habitual Freedom, aſſimilates it ſelf ſometimes to the one ſort, and ſometimes to the other of theſe Natures. So long as it dwells above, and entertains it ſelf with Noble and Divine Speculations, it preſerves its Innocence, and is fixed in Goodneſs; but when it begins to flag and droop, when it ſinks down from that bliſsful Life, and grovels in the Filth of the World, which by Nature it is equally apt to do, then it falls into all manner of Evil. So that its own Voluntary Depreſſion of its ſelf into this Region of Corruption and Mortality, is the true Beginning, and proper Cauſe of all its Miſery and Miſchief. For though the Soul be of an Amphibious Diſpoſition, yet it is not forced either upwards or downwards, but acts purely by an internal Principle of its own, and is in perfect Liberty. Nor ought this to ſeem incredible in an Agent which Nature hath made Free, ſince even thoſe Brutes that are Amphibious, dwell ſometimes in the Water, and ſometimes upon dry Ground, without being determined to either, any otherwiſe than by their own Inclination.

Now when the Soul debaſes her ſelf to the World, and enters into a near Intimacy with the Corruptible Body, and eſteems this to be the other conſiſtent part of the Humane Nature, then it leads the Life of Brutes, and exerts it ſelf in ſuch Operations only, as they are capable of. Its Intellectual part degenerates into Senſe and Imagination, and its Affections into Anger and Concupiſcence. By theſe the wretched Mortal attains to Knowledge, juſt of the ſame pitch with that of other Animals, ſuch as puts him upon ſeeking freſh Supplies for a Body that is continually waſting, and upon continuing the World by Poſterity, to fill the place of one that muſt ſhortly leave it; and upon making the beſt Proviſion he can for his own Preſervation and Defence in the mean while. For theſe Cares are what no Mortal would have, were he not endued with Senſual Faculties and Paſſions. For what Man that is any thing Nice and Conſidering, would endure to ſpend ſo many Days and Years upon the ſupport of this Body, when the Burden of the whole Matter comes to no more, than always filling, and always emptying, if Senſual Inclinations did not whet his Appetite? Or who could undergo the tedious fatigue by which Succeſſion is kept up, if vehement Deſires did not perpetually kindle new Flames, and the proſpect of Proſperity, make us more eaſie to be warmed by them? Theſe Arguments have been in ſome meaſure inſiſted on before, and I take them to be abundantly clear in this point, that though our Paſſions and Appetites be the Cauſe of Moral Evil, yet they are extreamly Beneficial to the Creatures, in which Nature hath implanted them, as being neceſſary to their Conſtitution, and giving a Reliſh to ſome of the moſt indiſpenſible Actions of Life. Upon all which accounts, even theſe cannot with any Juſtice be called Evil; nor God who infuſed them, the Cauſe of it.

But the truth of the Matter is this: The Soul is by Nature ſuperior to this Body, and Animal Life, and hath a commanding power over them put into her Hands; this Dignity and Power ſo long as ſhe preſerves, keeping her Subjects under, and at their due diſtance; while ſhe uſes the Body as her Inſtrument, and converts all its Functions to her own Uſe and Benefit; ſo long all is well, and there is no danger of Evil. But when once ſhe forgets that the Divine Image is ſtampt upon her; when ſhe lays by the Enſigns of Government, and gives away the Reins out of her own Hands; when ſhe ſinks down into the Dregs of Fleſh and Senſe, (by preferring the Impetuous Temptations of Pleaſure, before the Mild and gentle Perſwaſions of Reaſon; and enters into a ſtrict Union with the Brutiſh part, then Reaſon acts againſt its own Principles, diveſts it ſelf of its Deſpotick Power, and baſely ſubmits to be governed by its Slave; and this Confuſion in the Soul, is the Root of all Evil; an Evil not owing to the more Excellent and Rational part, while it maintains its own Station; nor to the Inferior and Senſual, while that keeps within its due Bounds; but to the inverting of theſe, the violent Uſurpation of the one, and the tame Submiſſion of the other; that is, The perverſe Choice of Degenerating into Body and Matter, rather than forming ones ſelf after the ſimilitude of the Excellent Spirits above us. But ſtill, all this, as I ſaid, is Choice, and not Conſtraint; it is ſtill Liberty, though Liberty abuſed.

And here I would beſpeak the Reader's Attention a little, to weigh the Reaſons I am about to give, why Choice and Volition muſt needs be the Souls own Act and Deed, an Internal Motion of ours, and not the Effect of any Compulſion from without. I have already urged the Clearneſs of this Truth at large, and that the Soul only is concern'd, and acts purely upon the principles of her own Native Freedom, in the Choice of the Worſe, no leſs than the Better part. Thus much I apprehend to have been plainly proved, from the Example of Almighty God himſelf; the Determinations of all Wiſe Laws, and well Conſtituted Governments, and the Judgment of Sober and Knowing Men, who all agree in this, That the Merits of Men are not to be meaſured by the Fact it ſelf, or the Events of things, but by the Will and Intention of the Perſon. And accordingly their Rewards and Puniſhments, their Cenſures and their Commendations, are all proportioned to the Intention; becauſe this alone is entirely in a Man's own power, and conſequently, it is the only thing he can be accountable for. From hence it comes to paſs, that whatever is done by Conſtraint, and Irreſiſtible Force, though the Crime be never ſo grievous, is yet pardoned or acquitted, and the Guilt imputed not to the Party that did it, but to the Perſon that forced him to the doing of it. For he that uſed that Force, did it Voluntary, but he that was born down by it, had no Will of his own concerned in the Fact, but became the mere Inſtrument of effecting it againſt the Inclination of his own Mind.

Since then our own Choice is the Cauſe of Evil; and ſince that Choice is the Souls Voluntary Act, owing to no manner of Compulſion, but its own internal mere Motion, what can we charge Evil upon, ſo juſtly as upon the Soul? But yet, though the Soul be the Cauſe of Evil, it is not the Cauſe of it, conſidered as Evil; for nothing ever is, or can be choſen under that Notion. But it diſguiſes it ſelf, and deludes us with an Appearance of Good; and when we chooſe that ſeeming Good, we take at the ſame time, the real Evil that lay concealed under it. And thus much in effect was ſaid before too.

And now, having thus diſcovered the true Origine of Evil, it is fit we proclaim to all the World, That God is not chargeable with any Sin; becauſe it is not He, but the Soul that does Evil, and that freely and willingly too: For were the Soul under any Conſtraint to do amiſs, then indeed there would be a colourable Pretence to lay the Blame on God, who had ſuffered her to lye under ſo fatal a Neceſſity, and had not left her free to reſcue and ſave her ſelf: (Though in truth, upon this Preſumption, nothing that the Soul was forced to do, could be ſtrictly Evil.) But now, ſince the Soul is left to her ſelf, and acts purely by her own free Choice, ſhe muſt be content to bear all the Blame.

If it ſhall be farther objected, That all this does not yet acquit Almighty God, for that it is ſtill his Act to allow Men this Liberty, and leave them to themſelves; and that he ought not to permit them in the Choice of Evil; then we are to conſider that one of theſe Two Things muſt have been the Conſequence of ſuch a Proceeding: Either Firſt, That after he had given Man a Rational Soul, capable of chooſing ſometimes Good, and ſometimes Evil, he muſt have chained up his Will, and made it impoſſible for him to chooſe any thing but Good: Or elſe, that it ought never to have had this Indifference at all, but to have been ſo framed at firſt, that the Choice of Evil ſhould have been naturally impoſſible. One of theſe Two Things the Objector muſt ſay, or he ſays nothing at all to the purpoſe.

Now the former of theſe is manifeſtly abſurd; for to what purpoſe was the Will left Free and Undetermined either way, if the Determining it ſelf one way, was afterwards to be debarred it? This would have been utterly to take away the power of Chooſing; for Choice and Neceſſity are things Inconſiſtent; and where the Mind is ſo tied up, that it can chooſe but one thing, there (properly ſpeaking) it can chooſe nothing.

As to the latter, It muſt be remembred in the Firſt Place, that no Evil is ever choſen, when the Mind apprehends it to be Evil: But the Objector ſeems to think it were very convenient, if this Freedom of the Will, which is ſo Abſolute in the Determining of it ſelf ſometimes to real Good, and ſometimes to that which deceives it with a falſe Appearance of being ſo, were quite taken away. Imagining it to be no Good to be ſure, and perhaps ſome great Evil: But alas! he does not conſider how many things there are in the World, that are accounted exceeding Good, which yet are not really in any degree comparable to this Freedom of the Will. For in truth, there is no Thing, no Priviledge in this lower World ſo deſirable. And there is no Body ſo ſtupid and loſt, as to wiſh, that he were a Brute, or a Plant, rather than a Man. And therefore, ſince God diſplayed the Abundance of his Goodneſs and Power, in giving Perfections inferior to this, how inconſiſtent would it have been with that Bounty of his, not to have beſtowed this moſt excellent Priviledge upon Mankind?

Beſides, (as hath been intimated formerly,) take away this Undetermined Propenſion of the Soul, by which it inclines it ſelf to Good or Evil, and you undermine the very Foundations of all Virtue, and in effect, deſtroy the Nature of Man. For, if you ſuppoſe it impoſſible to be perverted to Vice, you have no longer any ſuch thing as Juſtice or Temperance, or any other Virtue left; the obſerving of theſe things, may be the Excellence of an Angel, or a God, but impeccable and indefectable Goodneſs, can never be the Virtue of a Man. From whence it is plain, that there was a neceſſity of leaving the Soul in a capacity of being Corrupted, and of committing all that Evil conſequent to ſuch Depravation, becauſe otherwiſe a Gap had been left in the Creation; there could have been no Medium between the Bleſſed Spirits above, and Brutes below; no ſuch thing as Humane Nature, nor Humane Vertue in the World.

So then we allow, that this Self-determining Power by which Men are depraved is, a thing of God's own Creation and appointment; and yet conſider withal, how neceſſary this is to the Order and Beauty of the Univerſe, and how many good Effects it hath. In other reſpects, we can by no means admit, that he ſhould be traduced as the Cauſe and Author of Evil upon this account. When a Surgeon lays on a Drawing Plaiſter, to ripen a Swelling, or Cuts or Sears any part of our Bodies, or lops off a Limb, no Man thinks he takes theſe Methods to make his Patient worſe, but better; becauſe Reaſon tells us, that Men in ſuch Circumſtances, are never to be cured by leſs painful Applications. Thus the Divine Juſtice in his deſerved Vengeance, ſuffers the Paſſions of the Soul to rage and ſwell ſo high, becauſe he knows the condition of our Diſtemper; and that the ſmarting ſometimes under the wild Suggeſtions of our own furious Appetites, is the only way to bring us to a better Senſe of our Extravagance, and to recover us of our Phrenſy.

'Tis thus, that we ſuffer little Children to burn their Fingers, that we may deter them from playing with Fire. And for the ſame Reaſons, many wiſe Educators of Youth, do not think themſelves oblig'd to be always thwarting the Inclinations of thoſe under their Charge; but ſometimes connive at their Follies, and give them a looſe; there being no way ſo effectual for the purging of theſe Paſſions, as to let them ſometimes be indulged, that ſo the Perſons may be cloyed, and nauſeate, and grow Sick of them. And in theſe Caſes, it cannot be ſaid, that either thoſe Parents and Governors, or the Juſtice of God, is the Cauſe of Evil, but rather of Good, becauſe all this is done with a Vertuous Intent. For whatever tends to the Reformation of Manners, or confirming the Habits of Virtue, may be as reaſonably called Virtuous, as thoſe things that are done in order to the Recovery, and Continuance of Health, may be called wholſome. For Actions do principally take their denomination and quality from the End to which they are directed. So that although God were in ſome meaſure the Cauſe of this neceſſity we are in, of deviating from Goodneſs, vet cannot Moral Evil be juſtly laid at his Door. But how far he is really the cauſe of our Deflection from our Duty, I ſhall now think it becomes me to enquire.

God does not by any Power, or immediate Act of his own, cauſe that Averſion from Good, which the Soul is guilty of when it Sins; but he only gave her ſuch a power, that ſhe might turn her ſelf to Evil; that ſo ſuch a Species of free Agents, might fill avoid Space in the Univerſe, and many good effects might follow, which without ſuch an Averſion, could never have been brought about. God indeed is truly and properly the Cauſe of this Liberty of our Wills, but then this is a Happineſs and a Priviledge infinitely to be preferred above whatever elſe the World thinks moſt valuable; and the Operation of it conſiſts in receiving Impreſſions, and determining it ſelf thereupon, not from any Conſtraint, but by its own mere Pleaſure.

Now that a Nature thus qualified is Good, I cannot ſuppoſe there needs any proof; we have the Confeſſion of our Adverſaries themſelves to ſtrengthen us in the Belief of it. For even they, who ſet up a Principle of Evil, declare they do it, becauſe they cannot think God the Author of Evil; and theſe very Men do not only acknowledge the Soul to be of his forming, but they talk big, and pretend that it is a part of his very Eſſence; and yet, notwithſtanding all this, they own it capable of being vitiated, but ſo as to be vitiated by its ſelf only. For this is the manifeſt conſequence of their other Tenets, that it depends upon our own Choice, whether we will overcome Evil, or be overcome by it; that the Vanquiſhed in this Combat are very juſtly puniſhed, and the Victors largely and deſervedly rewarded. Now the truth is, when they talk at this rate, they do not well conſider how directly theſe Notions contradict that irreſiſtible neceſſity to Sin, which they elſewhere make the Soul to lye under. But however, whether the Soul be depraved by its own Fooliſh Choice, or whether by ſome fatal Violence upon it from without, ſtill the being naturally capable of ſuch depravation, is agreed on all Hands; for both ſides confeſs it to be actually depraved, which it could never be, without a natural Capacity of being ſo. Therefore they tell us, the Firſt Original Good is never tainted with Evil, becauſe his Nature is above it, and inconſiſtent with any ſuch Defect; as are alſo the other Goodneſſes in the next degreee of Perfection to him, ſuch as in their Cant are called the Mother of Life, the Creator, and the Aeones. So then theſe Men acknowledge the depravable Condition of the Soul, they profeſs God to be the Maker of it, and to have ſet it in this Condition; and yet it is plain, they think the nature of the Soul depravable, as it is Good, and not Evil; becauſe at the ſame time that they aſcribe this Freedom of the Will to God, they are yet ſuperſtitiouſly fearful of aſcribing any Evil to him. And this I think may very well ſuffice for the Nature and Origin of Evil.

Let us now apply our ſelves to conſider the Paſſage before us, and obſerve how artificially Epictetus hath compriſed in a very few Words, the ſubſtance of thoſe Arguments which we have here drawn out to ſo great a length. For in regard the Choice of Good, and the Refuſing of Evil, are the Object and Ground of all Moral Inſtructions whatſoever, it was proper for him to ſhew, that the Nature of Evil was ſomething very odd, and out of Courſe. In ſome Senſe it has a Being, and in ſome Senſe it is denyed to have any; it has no Exiſtence of its own, and yet it is a ſort of ſupernumerary, and a very untoward addition to Nature. In the mean while, this ſhews, that we ought not to make it ou Choice, becauſe Nature never made it hers; and whenever it got into the World, it was never brought in by Deſign, but came in by chance. No Man ever propoſed it, as the End of any Action; no Artificer ever drew his Model for it: The Maſon propoſes the Houſe he is Building, and the Carpenter the Door he is Plaining, for his End; but neither the one, nor the other, ever works only that he may work ill.

Epictetus his Argument then lies in the following Syllogiſm, Evil is the miſſing of the Mark: For what Nature hath given a real and a deſigned Exiſtence to, is the Mark; and the compaſſing of that, is the hitting of the Mark. Now if what Nature really made and deſigned, be not the miſſing of the Mark, (as it is not, but the hitting it indeed) and if Evil be the miſſing of the Mark, then i is plain, that Evil can be none of thoſe things which have a real and a deſigned Exiſtence.

Now that Evil is properly the miſſing of the Mark, is plain, from what hath been ſpoken to this point already. For ſuppoſe a Man makes Pleaſure his Mark, he aims at it as a Good and Deſirable thing; he lets fly accordingly, his Imaginations I mean, which indeed fly ſwifter than any Arrow out of a Bow. But if he do not attain the Good he deſires, but ſhoot wide, or ſhort of it, 'tis plain this Man is worſted, and hath miſſed his Mark. And again, that ſomething to which Nature deſigned and gave a Being, is conſtantly the Mark every Man aims at; and the obtaining thoſe things, the hitting of his Mark, is no leſs evident from the Inſtances I gave of the Maſon and the Carpenter.

Now, when the Author ſays, there is no ſuch real Being as Evil in the World, you are to underſtand, that Nature never formed or deſigned any ſuch thing: And then if you pleaſe, you may take his Minor Propoſition ſingly by it ſelf, which conſiſts of thoſe Words, As no Man ſets up a Mark with a Deſign to ſhoot beſide it. (For this intimates that Evil is a miſſing of one's Aim,) without mentioning the Major; which implies, that the principal Deſign, and real work of Nature, is never the miſſing, but the hitting of the Mark; and ſo add the Concluſion, which is this, Therefore Evil is none of the principal Deſigns, or real Works of Nature.

It may likewiſe be put all together into one ſingle Hypothetical Propoſition thus: If no Man ſets up a Mark on purpoſe to ſhoot beſides it, then there is no ſuch real Being as Evil in the World. For if there were ſuch a thing, then it would be propoſed as the End or Product of Action. But Evil is never propoſed as a thing to be produced or obtained, but as a thing to be declined; for Evil is always the Object of our Refuſal and Averſion. So that at this rate, it would follow, that there is a Mark ſet up, only that it may not be hit; which is contrary to common Senſe, and the Practice of all Mankind. And therefore there can be no ſuch thing in Nature as Evil, becauſe Evil is not capable of being the End of any Action in Nature.

CHAP. XXXIV.

If any one ſhould take upon him to expoſe your Body to be abuſed by every Man you meet, you would reſent it as an inſupportable Inſolence and Affront. And ought you not then to be much aſhamed of your ſelf, for enſlaving and expoſing you Mind to every one that is diſpoſed to take the Advantage? For ſo indeed you do, when you put it in the power of every Malicious Tongue, to diſturb the inward peace and order of your Breaſt. For this Reaſon, before you attempt any thing, weigh diligently with your ſelf, the ſeveral Difficulties it is like to be incumbred with, the Circumſtances preliminary to, and conſequent upon it. For unleſs you come well ſettled with this Conſideration, you will afterwards be diſcouraged; and what you begun with Eagerneſs and Vigor, you will deſiſt from with Cowardice and Shame.

CHAP. XXXV.

You are extremely deſirous to win the Olympick Crown. I wiſh the ſame for my ſelf too; and look upon it as an Immortal Honour. But not ſo faſt: Conſider the Preparations neceſſary to ſuch an Ʋndertaking, and the Accidents that may follow upon it; and then let me hear you ſay you'll attempt it. You must be confined to a ſtrict Regimen, must be cramm'd with Meat when you have no Appetite, must abſtain wholly from Boiled Meats, muſt exerciſe whether you be diſpoſed to it or no, whether it be hot or cold, must drink nothing but what is warm, nor any Wine, but in ſuch Proportions as ſhall be thought proper for you. In a Word, you must reſign your ſelf up to your Governor, with as abſolute an Obedience as you would to a Phyſician. When all this Hardſhip is maſtered, you have all the Chances of Combat to go through ſtill. And here it is many a Man's Fortune to break an Arm, or put out a Leg, to be thrown by his Adverſary, and get nothing but a mouthful of Duſt for his Pains; and, as it may happen, to be laſhed and beaten, and become the Jeſt and Scorn of the Spectators. Lay all theſe Things together, and then, perhaps, your Courage may be cooled. But if upon conſidering them well, you nevertheleſs retain your Reſolution, then are you fit to ſet about the Purſuit of what you ſo much deſire. Otherwiſe you will come off like Little Children, who in their Sports act ſometimes Wreſtlers, and ſometimes Fidlers; now they are Fencers, and play Prizes; then they turn Trumpeters, and go to War; and by and by build a Stage, and act Plays. Juſt ſo we ſhall have you, one while an Olympick Fighter, and another a Gladiator, by and by an Orator, and after that a Philoſopher; but nothing long, except a ridiculous Whiffler, a mere Ape, that mimick all you ſee, and venture at all Profeſſions, but ſtick to none. And all this is occaſioned by your taking Things upon you Hand over Head, without being ſeaſoned and duly prepared for them; but either with a raſh Heat or fickle In lination. Thus it is with many People, when they ſee an eminent Philoſopher, or hear him quoted with Admiration and Reſpect (as, How excellently did Socrates write on ſuch a Subject; ſure no Man was ever like him,) nothing will ſerve their Turn, but theſe Hotſpurs muſt needs be Philoſophers too, and each of them does not doubt, but he ſhall make a Socrates in time.

CHAP. XXXVI.

Now I adviſe thee, Friend, firſt of all to conſider perfectly the Nature of the Thing thou would'st undertake, and then thy own Qualifications for it, whether this be what thou art cut out for, or no. Examine thy Limbs, and thy Sinews; every Man is not built for the Olympick Exerciſes. Do you imagine, when you apply your ſelf to Philoſophy, that you can be allowed to live at the ſame rate you do now? To indulge your Appetite, and be as nice in all you Eat and Drink? Alas! you muſt prepare for Want of Sleep, for hard Labour, for Abſence from your Family and your Friends, for Contempt and Inſolence from your Inferiors, and to have others, leſs worthy, put over your Head in Preferments, countenanced more than you in Courts of Juſtice, and reſpected more in Converſation. Sit down now, and ask your ſelf, if the Prize be worth all this Pains? Whether you can be content, at ſo dear a Rate, to purchaſe an equal Temper, a quiet Mind, perfect Freedom, and unmovable Conſtancy. If you think the Price ſet upon theſe Things too high, leave them for ſome other Purchaſer, and do not expoſe your ſelf, like thoſe ridiculous Boys I mentioned; by being a Philoſopher this Hour, and an Exciſe-Man the next; a School-maſter to Day, and a Stateſman to Morrow. Theſe Things are not for your Credit. In ſhort, you have but one Man to make, and you may make him either a Good or a Bad one. You muſt either make your Self, or the World, your Care. In a Word, you muſt be either a Fool, or a Philoſopher.

COMMENT.

THE Thing Epictetus drives at is very much illuſtrated by the Compariſons he uſes here, and ſetting our Selves in Oppoſition to Others, and the Soul to the Body. For, to be injured by ones own Self, is much worſe than if it were done by another. If we are apt to reſent an Unkindneſs when coming from a Friend, with much more Impatience than the ſame Thing from a Common Man; becauſe, the Conſiderations of intimate Acquaintance, and former Obligations ſtep in, and heighten the Provocation, by telling us we had Reaſon to expect better Uſage; how much more is the Injuſtice aggravated when a Man does any Thing to his own Prejudice? And again, If the Affronts and Injuries done to the Body are o deeply reſented, how much more tender ought we to be when the Soul is injured and abuſed?

Again, If we think it an inſupportable Inſolence in any other Perſon to expoſe our Body to Abuſes, when yet his Affronting or not Affronting us a ter this manner is a Thing not in our own Power; and, if the expoſing our Minds to be abuſed by the next Man we meet, by ſuffering our Selves to be diſordered at the Calumnies of every malicious Railer, be a Thing that depends purely upon our own Choice, whether it ſhall be done or not; then we ought to be aſhamed upon a double Account: Firſt, for taking a Thing ill which was not in our Power to help, and which too when done, was not ſtrictly Evil to us; and then, for expoſing our own Selves to that which is a real Evil, and that Evil ſo much the worſe, becauſe ſuch a one, as it was in our Power to prevent.

Now upon this Occaſion he changes his Expreſſion, and does not call it Indignation, but Shame. For the Injuries that come upon us from another Hand, we receive with Reſentments of Anger; but thoſe that our Selves are guilty of, we reflect upon with Shame and Remorſe; and ſurely there is much greater Reaſon for doing ſo, when we our Selves have been guilty of injuring our Selves; eſpecially when theſe Injuries need not have befallen us, indeed could not have done ſo, but by our own Choice. And this is the proper Notion of Shame, the being out of Countenance at the Folly and Foulneſs of our own voluntary Miſcarriages. And what can more deſerve a Bluſh, than the not diſcerning the mighty Difference there is between the ſeveral Branches of ſo lively a Companion as this? And when one does diſcern it, what can be more ſcandalous, than not to act accordingly?

CHAP. XXXVII.

It may be ſaid, generally ſpeaking, That the Quality of the Reaſons we converſe with, and the mutual Relations they bear, is the true Standard of a Man's Duty and Behaviour toward them. Thus my Duty to a Father is to aſſist and take care of him; to ſupport his Age and his Infirmities; to yield to him, and pay him Service and Reſpect upon all occaſions, and to receive both his Reproofs and his Chastiſements with patience and ſubmiſſion. But you'll ſay, He is a rigorous and unnatural Father. What's that to the purpoſe? You are to remember, this Obligation to Duty does not ariſe from the Conſideration of his Goodneſs, but from the Relation he bears to us: No Failings of his can make him ceaſe to be a Father, and conſequently none can abſelve you from the Obedience of a Son. Your Brother hath done you an Injury; but do not ſuppoſe that this diſpenſes with the Kindneſs you owe him: You are ſtill to obſerve what becomes you; not to imitate what misbecame him. Beſides, no body can do you a real Injury, without your own Concurrence: You are not one whit the worſe, unleſs you think your ſelf ſo. After this manner it will be eaſie to diſcover what is fit for you upon all occaſions. For it is but conſidering your ſelf under the ſeveral Qualities of a Neighbour, or a Subject, or a Civil Magiſtrate, or a Military Officer, and you will ſoon diſcern what Behaviour is proper from, or to a Perſon in each of theſe Stations reſpectively.

COMMENT.

THE Duty of a Man is properly that which it becomes him to do upon every occaſion, and the rendring to every one what is fit to be expected from him. This is more peculiarly called the Work of Juſtice, taken in a ſence ſo comprehenſive, as to include all manner of Vertue. For the Word is ſometimes reſtrained to one particular Vertue, diſtinguiſhed from the reſt; and ſometimes enlarged and extended to them all. Now it is the buſineſs of Juſtice to give every one his due: Upon which account, all Inſtitutions, both Moral and Political, have this for their proper Object. There is private Juſtice with regard to a Man's own Mind, and this aſſigns to every part of the Soul what belongs to it; and there is the Publick Juſtice of a Country, which diſtributes to every Member of the Commonwealth, according to his Dignity and Deſerts. Having therefore inſtructed his young Philoſopher as you ſee before, which Precepts have indeed ſome reference to this kind of Duty too, he proceeds here to direct him Now he may diſcover what it is, and diſcharge it upon all occaſions: And what others have been very prolix and voluminous upon, (as particularly Nicolaus Damaſcenus) he hath here reduced into a very narrow compaſs, and laid before us with wonderful Energy and Clearneſs.

Now the Duty of a Man, if you will branch it out into its ſeveral Heads, concerns his Behaviour: Firſt, towards Men, and, in general, to all his Equals: Then, to thoſe Beings that are above him. Thirdly, thoſe below him: And, laſtly his own ſelf. Each of theſe Heads have diſtinct Rules and Meaſures, the Principal whereof Epictetus treats of, beginning in this Chapter with Men's Duty to one another.

To this purpoſe he gives us a convenient Intimation, how we may find out what is properly our Duty, and that this differs according to the ſeveral Poſts in which Men ſtand to one another. There is one kind of Deportment due to a Father, and another to a Son; one to our own Country-man, and another to a Stranger; one to a Friend, or a Benefactor, and another to an Enemy that hath injured us. And the reaſon of this is, Becauſe the Relation I bear to a Father, as the Perſon to whom, next under God, I owe my Being, and the Comforts of it, differs from that which I bear to a Son, whom I am to conſider, not as a Cauſe, but as an Effect of my ſelf, and to look upon him as one to whom I have communicated part of my own Subſtance. So that in all theſe Caſes, the firſt thing we have to do, is, to enquire into the Quality and Relation of the Perſon, and then to ſuit our Demeanour accordingly.

Now this Relation (generally ſpeaking) is the Order of Things, or the mutual Regard they have to one another; and this may be either the effect of Neceſſity and Nature, or of Choice; it may reflect either to Similitude or Diſſimilitude; either to Proximity, or to Diſtance. For this Relation is a ſort of Common Band of the Perſons concerned in it, which links them ſo together, that though they be diſtinct in other reſpects, yet they cannot be abſolutely diſ-joined, but muſt continue to have an Intereſt each in other. For which Reaſon it is, that Relatives are ſaid to belong to one another.

Now the natural Order and Reſpect which proceeds in Proximity, joins ſometimes Equals, as Brothers; and here both the Denominations and the Duty of each Party is the ſame; for both are Brothers: And ſo likewiſe it is in other like Caſes. Both are Equals, both are Couſins, both are Country-men. There is alſo a natural Reſpect which implies Diſtance, and this regards People of different Birth and Countries; and likewiſe proceeds upon the like Names, and the like Duties, as of one Stranger, or Foreigner, to another. And this is a Reſpect inferring Diſtance, becauſe as that which expreſs'd nearreſs of Blood and Family brought them cloſer together; ſo this which denies ſuch a nearneſs, does in that very Idea ſet them farther aſunder. This however is a general Rule, That in all Caſes, where both Parties are upon the level, and go by the ſame Names, there they owe the ſame Duties too, and that, whether the Term by which the Relation is expreſs'd, imply Proximity or Diſtance.

Again, there is alſo a mutual Reſpect founded in Nature, where a Diſparity is implied; as, between Father and Son: For here the Expectances are not the ſame, as between Brothers they were ſaid to be, nor are the Denominations, as there, the ſame. This then is a natural Regard which joins People upon unequal Te ms; and this Inequality is the ſame in Proportion, as in a Cauſe and its Effect. There is another Relation too of Diſparity between Things that ſeem Contraries, as between the Right Side and the Left; for theſe have a mutual Reſpect to each other, and yet that depends upon a kind of local Contrariety. There is likewiſe a diſjunctive Relation in Nature, which is between Diſparates too, as Things of laſt Year and this Year; for this ſhews an Inequality in Time.

The Relation upon Choice, that implies Proximity, and lies between Equals, is that of Friends and that which implies Diſtance, or the Diſ-junctive, is that of Enemies: For even Enemies are under a voluntary Relation to one another; and theſe Relations lying between Equals, have (as I obſerved before) the ſame Names, and are obliged to the ſame Duties. This voluntary Relation lies ſometimes in Diſparity too, as between Maſter and Scholar, conſidered as the Cauſe and the Effect; between the Buyer and Seller, as contradiſtinguiſhed, from each other. The diſ-junctive Relations of this kind that carry a Diſparity, are the Flier and the Purſuer; for theſe Men are under a voluntary and an unequal Relation to one another, though this be ſuch an one as implies D ſtance and Diſjunction too.

The Relation between Husband and Wife, ſeems to be ſomething betwixt that by Nature, and that by Choice, for in truth it is partly one, and partly the other, and inferrs a Diſparity both of Name and Duty. But that of Neighbours, which is a kind of in ermediate Relation too, hath an equality in Duty, and the ſame Title. Between the Perſon in Authority, and Him under it, there is ſome kind of natural Relation (for Nature intended, in all her Productions, that the Better ſhould govern the Worſe.) It depends partly upon Choice too, as when by ſome Common Agreement the Wealthy bear Rule, and the Meaner People ſubmit to it; and it is a mixture of both theſe, when inſtead of Wealth and Power, the Wiſeſt are advanced to the Chair by Conſent.

And now, that this rough, imperfect Draught hath been laid before us, of the ſeveral Relations Men bear to one another, it will concern us to conſider, in which we, and the Perſons we converſe with, ſtand, and to take our Meaſures from thence; but with this Caution, That we ſtill anſwer our Character, whether they make good theirs, or no; and eſpecially where Nature hath made the Relation, and preſcribed the Duty. For, where it is only founded in Choice, there the Good Man, who diſcharges his own Part, hath it in his power to untie the Knot when he will, and let the Relation fa l aſunder: That is, he can withdraw his Affection and Acquaintance from an unworthy Friend, and he can melt down a ſpightful Man with good Offices, and ceaſe to be an Enemy. For the ſame free Choice that contracted the Relation, can as eaſily diſſolve it too: But the Relations founded in Nature are Eternal, and no Act of our own Will can ever make them ceaſe.

So that if a Friend uſe us ill, and become an Enemy, he hath broke the Bond that linked us together, and releaſed us from all that was due to him upon the account of Friendſhip, becauſe he hath ceaſed to be our Friend, and choſen to be our Enemy. But if a Father behave himſelf viciouſly, or unnaturally, the aſe is much otherwiſe: Neither is Rigour nor his Vice can make him ceaſe to 〈◊〉 a Father, becauſe theſe are only the Effects o his own Choice; but the Relation between us is no ounded in Choice, but in Nature; and the Obligation lies to him as a Father, not as a good, or a kind Father; ſo that though he be not ſuch, yet our Duty continues ſtill the ſame. We are bound then to pay him all manner of Duty, Obſervance and awful Concern; to conſider him as the Means made uſe of by God to bring us into the World; to remember that his provident Care and Tenderneſs ſuſtained the Being he gave us; and that our Preſervation, as well as our Production, is in a great meaſure owing to Him. And therefore Children ſhould look upon themſelves as Debtors to their Parents, and pay back all their Kindneſs with much Gratitude and large Intereſt: They ſhould give moſt ready Obedience to all their Commands, except ſuch as tend to the detriment of the Soul; and in theſe caſes their Compliance is diſpenſed with, becauſe they are under a higher Engagement to the Father of Spirits, and muſt not diſpleaſe him at any rate. And yet upon theſe occaſions too, they ſhould endeavour to give as little Offence as is poſſible; and though their Refuſal may and ought to be reſolute, yet Modeſty muſt temper their Zeal, and contrive that it may be reſpectful too.

In all other Matters, we are to ſerve them with our utmoſt power, both in our Bodies and our Goods: For if the Perſons and the Poſſeſſions of Slaves, are at the abſolute diſpoſal of thoſe whom Fortune and Purchaſe have made their Maſters, how much more ought ours to be at the Command of them, whom Nature made the Cauſe of our very Being? For this reaſon we ought to ſubmit to their Correction, with much more eaſineſs and patience than Servants do to their Maſters; and if to their Blows, then certainly rather ſtill to their Reproaches and hard Uſage. The ancient Romans had a Law, grounded it ſeems upon the Dignity of this Relation, the abſolute Right it gave, the infinite Trouble Parents are at for the ſake of their Children, the unlimitted Subjection due to them (preſuming favourably withal of the natural Affection of Parents) that gave the Parents a Power, if they pleaſed, to ſell their Children; and if they killed them, call'd them to no account for it. And the Times of greater Antiquity ſtill, bore ſo great a Reverence to Parents, as almoſt to venture to call them Gods: But finding ſome check from the incommunicable Devotion due to the Divine Nature, they called their Parents Brothers, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ; by that intimating what profound Reſpect belonged to their Parents themſelves, when even their collateral Relations were complemented with the Name of ſomething Divine in them.

Now indeed in the Diſcharge of our Duty to Parents, the firſt and principal Motive is the equity of the thing, and the acting as becomes Men that make Pretenſions to Wiſdom and Vertue, which this is moſt highly agreeable to: And after this, we ſhould repreſent to our ſelves the Divine Juſtice and Vengeance, which is very likely to puniſh us in our own kind; and we have a great deal of reaſon to expect, that we ſhall hereafter find the ſame meaſure from our Children, which we give our Parents now.

So again, if a Brother deal unjuſtly by you, let it be your part to anſwer all the Particulars of the Relation between you, and make good that Covenant which Nature hath ratified and made unalterable: For though the World be a wide place, yet you can have no other Parents, nor Brethren, nor Kinſmen, but thoſe you have. And therefore ſince you muſt take them upon Content, and there is no remedy, behave your ſelf as though you had made them your own Choice. Conſider too, that his Behaviour toward you, is not in your own power to determine; but yours toward him is. And therefore you ſhould not ſo much regard his Actions, which you cannot help, nor are in any degree reſponſible for, as what is agreeable to your own Duty, and fit for you to do; for in this conſiſts all the real Advantage and Prejudice that can happen to you. He can do you no harm, let him deſign never ſo much, provided you do but depend upon your own ſel for your Good and Evil: But if you ramble abroad, and expect to find it there, you are the worſe then indeed, though not by your Brother's Malice, but your own Miſtakes, that place Happineſs and Miſery in things without you. Add to all this, the Advantage of winning him over by good uſage; for if your Forbearance, and Meekneſs, and Affection can render him not only your Brother, but your Friend too, theſe two Relations meeting in one, and joining Forces, will make the Union wonderful cloſe and ſtrong.

Now the Duties that we owe to our Maſters, and Teachers, whoſe Buſineſs it is to inſtruct us in Wiſdom and Vertue, are much of the ſame nature with thoſe due to Parents; though in ſome reſpects, I confeſs, the Obligations ſeem to be greater in the caſe before us: For theſe Perſons nouriſh and train up not our Bodies, but, which is much more conſiderable, our Souls, that is, our very ſelves. They do it too upon a different Principle, not conſtrained to it by Nature and Neceſſity, like our Parents; and by ſuch an inſtinct as Brutes obey no leſs than Men; but they do it out of a free Choice, and a Deſire to promote Goodneſs and Vertue: And this makes a near Approach to, and is a lively Reſemblance of the Divine Bounty, which takes Compaſſion upon ſunk and lapſed Souls, and is perpetually retrieving them from their Miſery, and reſtoring them to the Bliſs they have loſt.

Now theſe Obſervances muſt needs be peculiarly due to our Inſtructors, becauſe we ought to look upon their Inſtructions as coming out of the mouth of God Himſelf; and conſequent y ſubmit to them, without troubling our ſelves to find out peeviſh Cavils and frivolous Exceptions againſt them: For certainly, it is not eaſie to conceive, how he, whoſe End and Profeſſion it is to inform us in true Wiſdom and Goodneſs, ſhould impoſe any thing upon us but what tends to the furthering ſo excellent a Deſign. But now, if our Parents take the pains to teach us, and thus to the Engagement of being our Parents, that other be added of being our Teachers too, then we are to pay them all that Obſervance and Reſpect which can be challenged upon both theſe accounts. We muſt then look upon them as the very Image of God, reverence them as the Formers of our Souls, as well as of our Bodies, and like God, the Cauſes to which not our Being only, but alſo our Well-being ought to be aſcribed.

The next thing that offers it ſelf is the Duty of Friends; and of this I ſhall treat with what Clearneſs, but withal what Brevity ſo weighty and uſeful a Subject will bear. The firſt thing to be regarded here is, The Choice of Friends: The next is, How to uſe and keep thoſe we have choſen, and upon theſe things all the Benefits of Friendſhip depend.

The firſt thing we ſhould look at in our Choice of Friends, is Likeneſs of Temper and Diſpoſition: For there are ſeveral Humours, which though very good when ſingle, yet will make but ill Muſick when brought together. The Sour, and Phlegmatick, and Cold Temper, will ſuit but ill with the Brisk and Sanguine one; though each of theſe alone, and each well coupled, may be excel ent Perſons. The next Conſideration is, How the Perſon whom we make choice of, hath behaved himſelf to his other Friends before. The third Rule, which is indeed of ſuch moment that it may be juſtly thought to include all, is to obſerve, Whether he be a Man governed by his Paſſions, or his Reaſon. When this is done, we ſhall ſind it very proper to examine into his Inclinations, and ſee which way the Bent and Byaſs of his Soul lies; whether they draw him to Goodneſs and Vertue, and ſuch Actions and Enjoyments as are commendable, and befitting a Man of Piety and Honour; or whether to vile and unmanly Pleaſures, and ſuch as none but ſhameleſs Fellows and Scoundrels abandon themſelves to. We ſhall do well to obſerve farther, whether theſe Deſires and Inclinations be tractable and gentle, ſuch as are fit to be ſpoken with, and ready to hearken to Reaſon; or whether they be violent and unperſuadable, ſuch as mind nothing but their own Gratification, and are deaf to all Arguments that would draw them off from it: For Men of ſuch Paſſions are always hot and peremptory, and by no means fit to make Friends of. Thoſe alſo that are fond of the World, and expect their Happineſs any where but from their own Minds, are very improper to fix upon: For they dote upon Riches, or Miſtreſſes, or Preferments; and in all thoſe things that are of a communicable nature, they carve themſelves too largely, and are deſious to engroſs the Whole; ſo deſtroying that Equality which Friendſhip either ſuppoſeth, or introduceth. This in Riches and ſuch inſtances, is plain beyond a doubt; and the Vain glorious diſcovers it as evidently too, in the deſires of Reputation and Applauſe.

Now it is the peculiar Excellence of thoſe things that tend to the Soul's Good, that the Poſſeſſor hath them entirely to himſelf, even when he imparts them to others. They are not diminiſhed, but augmented by Communication: For they are excited and kindled in the Breaſts of thoſe on whom we beſtow them; and the farther they ſpread, the more they are ſcattered, the more and larger they grow. So that the Light of Truth and Vertue takes fire by Converſation, as a Match does by the mutual Attrition of Flint and Steel, that kindles by the Sparks that drop from it, but loſes none of the Virtue it gives away.

Again. When Friends make true Good their End, and right Reaſon their Rule, they are ſure never to differ in point of Intereſt; for they judge of Advantage by the ſame common Standard. Now when they are thus agreed in one Meaſure, and judge of Pleaſure and Profit, and the contraries to theſe alike, they have ſecured themſelves againſt the moſt dangerous and uſual Bane of Friendſhip. For without a perfect Agreement in theſe Matters, Diſputes and Quarrels are always unavoidable. And ſo much for the Choice of our Friends.

As for our Behaviour to the Friends thus choſen, That, in one Word, muſt make Reaſon and Equity its conſtant Rule: And upon this account we muſt never do any thing to our Friends, which we would not be perfectly ſatisfied with when done by them to us. Whatever Kindneſſes they receive from us muſt be extenuated, and thought moderately of; but whatever Obligations we receive from them muſt be very highly eſteemed, and rated above their juſt Value. The Courſe directly contrary to this muſt be obſerved in Failings and Miſcarriages: Theirs muſt be leſſened and excuſed, our own aggravated and ſeverely condemned. We muſt think nothing ſo ſtrictly our own, as that a Friend ſhould not have an equal, or rather indeed a greater Share and Right in it. And upon all Occaſions we ſhould give them Precedence; and Reſpect; and we ſhould do it willingly and chearfully, as conſidering that their Honours devolve upon us, and that a Friend, according to the Proverb, is a Man's ſecond Self.

But ſince after all our niceſt Circumſpection and Care, it is impoſſible for us to continue Men, and not give ſome occaſion of Offence; this Point is to be managed very tenderly. A Man that will be a Friend in good earneſt, ought eſpecially to guard this Breach, and to reprove what is done amiſs with great Temper and Softneſs, in Obedience to that old and truly Golden Rule, Loſe not a Friend on every ſlight Pretence; Ready to pardon, ſlow to take Offence.

Pythag. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 .

That ſo you may admit him to a perfect and firm Reconciliation; and deliver him from the Remorſe of his own Mind, by leaving no ground of Jealouſie, that he hath not ſtill the ſame place in your Affection and Eſteem.

It is certain too, that our Kindneſs and Concern ought not to be confined to our Friend alone, but extend to his Relations and Acquaintance, and thoſe whoſe Affairs and Succeſſes he thinks himſelf intereſted in: So that he ſhould be as ready to ſerve them upon his Account, as he would be upon their own. Our Concern and Affection ought not to be reſtrained to Place neither; but we ſhould have the ſame, and upon ſome Accounts, a more tender Regard to our Friend in his Abſence, than we think our ſelves obliged to expreſs when he is preſent with us; an eminent inſtance whereof I could give from my perſonal Experience in a Friend of my own. And, to conclude, all, when once we have made a prudent Choice, and laid the Foundations of Friendſhip in an agreeable Humour, and tryed Conſtancy, and vertuous Diſpoſitions, the Affections that will naturally follow upon ſuch powerful Attractives, will not fail to conduct us in the right Method of Converſation, and all the Duties and good Offices that can be expected, as the Teſtimonies and Endearments of Friendſhip will follow of Courſe.

Now what a Bleſſing Friendſhip is, how rich a Treaſure, and how fruitful in the Advantages of Life, is a Subject worthy of a long and ſtudied Diſcourſe; but at preſent I ſhall content my ſelf with a few Particulars only, and ſuch as occur to my preſent Thoughts.

Firſt then; Every Friend hath Two Souls, and Two Bodies; and it is plain from the ſoregoing Rules, that he muſt needs have Two Eſtates: And if a Man have ſeveral ſuch Friends, then his Advantages grow upon him ſtill more, and he is multiplyed into more Souls, and Bodies, and Eſtates in proportion to the number of his Friends. In the Study of Wiſdom and Nature, Souls thus united have an infinite Advantage, and the Light of Truth diſplays it ſelf much more early and fully to them. Nor have they leſs in the Exerciſe of Vertue, by mutual Conferences, and joynt Endeavours: Theſe bring their Improvements into one common Bank, from whence every Man ſupplies his own Occaſions, and eaſily grows rich at the publick Stock. Beſides, that ſuch united Perfection will find a more than ordinary Bleſſing and Encouragement from Heaven, they are ſecure of prudent and ſeaſonable Advice in all their Difficulties, their Motions will be regular and well weighed, and their Succeſſes more probable, as having more Heads to contrive, and more Hands to act than they can who ſtand alone, and muſt encounter Fortune ſingle. When ſuch a Man is abroad from his Family and Acquaintance, yet that Abſence, and all Want of him is made good to them by his Friend; in Him he is preſent while living, and living when dead.

Theſe are ſome of the Advantages. And the Pleaſures of Friendſhip are not leſs than the Profits of it: For what Delight can be compared to that ſenſible Joy that runs through all our Spirits at the ſight of a Friend? What Charms do we find in his Perſon? What Muſick in his Diſcourſe? What an engaging Gracefulneſs in all his Actions? The Confidence we repoſe in him is above what any Ties of Blood and Nature can give our neareſt Relations a Title to, and our Minds are more at eaſe, and more ſecure in his Fidelity, than any Degree of Wealth or Power can make them. Of which Alexander the Great gave a very pregnant Inſtance, who, we are told, when he was asked where his vaſt Treaſures lay, pointed to his Friends, and ſaid, Thoſe were they.

A Friend is likewiſe the beſt Inſtructer, and the beſt Corrector that can be: For Reproof is leaſt offenſive when coming from ſuch a Hand; nor is there any Perſon whoſe Obſervation keeps us in equal Awe, or whoſe Cenſure we fear ſo much, if it hath been our Misfortune to fail in point of Duty; our proſperous Fortunes, and all the Gayeties of Heart we feel upon them, grow double by Communication, but are flat and inſipid without a Friend to partake of the Pleaſure: And all our Afflictions are diſarmed, and their Force broken, when a Friend takes off part of the Burden, by his tender Sympathies, and ſeaſonable Comforts.

Friendſhip indeed is the beſt School to train a Man up in all manner of Vertue and Prudence, and to learn the World in: This forms him for Converſation, and fits his Soul for all poſſible Accidents and Encounters: It teaches him Civility, and Meekneſs, and Truth. For one makes no difficulty of giving Precedence to a Friend; nor takes Offence at every Slip or Imperfection of his, and accuſtoms ones ſelf to open ones Mind freely, and ſpeak our Thoughts without any Trick or Reſerve. Here we find a ſtrange Inclination to be grateful, and juſt in returning Favours; and the Pleaſure of doing them is upon no occaſion ſo great, nor ſo generouſly put in Practice, as in the Caſe of a Friend; no Man will run ſo many Riſques, nor expoſe his Perſon ſo freely to prevent another's Danger as he: But a true Friend ſcorns to decline any Difficulty, and is ready to reſcue his Friend, though at the expence of his own Life. Could an Army be levied of ſuch Men, they would rout double their Number by their united Force, and firm Reſolutions not to deſert one another. Theſe are the Qualifications that fit a Man for the World, and the exerciſe of them among Friends is eaſie, and pleaſant: Whatever ſeems harſh at firſt is ſoftned by Affection, and by degrees a Man will find himſelf a Maſter, capable of acquitting himſelf as he ought in all Points, as Occaſions are offered, firſt to his Friends; and when Practice with them hath perfected him, then to all Mankind.

This farther Conſideration is likewiſe worth our Notice, That Friendſhip ties all our other Relations the cloſer, and binds them faſter upon us: It endears us to thoſe whom God and Nature have commanded us to love; it ſweetens and recommends their Company, and enclines us to do all that is expected from us with chearfulneſs and ſatisfaction. For unleſs Brothers, and Children, and Husbands, and Wives be Friends too, and have a particular kindneſs and regard for one another; though they may, with much ado, follow Epictetus his Direction, and diſcharge the ſeveral Offices which belong to their particular Station, yet all their Performances will come hard and ſtrained; there will be nothing of Pleaſure or Alacrity to whet their Duty, and give it a reliſh; but all is look'd upon as a Burden and a Slavery, the effect of Neceſſity, not Choice; done, not becauſe they would, but becauſe they muſt do it, and not ſo much to oblige the Receiver, as to avoid Guilt and Reproach.

Now the true Reaſon why this Relation of a Friend is more ſacred and engaging than any other, ſeems to be, that it is not our Fate, but our Choice. Our natural Relations we were born to; but where our ſelves tye the Knot, it is generally ſtronger than where Nature does it; and that, becauſe of all the Endowments of the Soul, that of Reaſon and Liberty ſeems to be the higheſt, and that by which we make the neareſt approach to the Perfections of that Great ONE, in and by whom all things are united.

Theſe are ſome of the Excellent and Marvellous Effects of Friendſhip, and ſuch Humane Conſiderations as abundantly recommend it: But the moſt valuable, and truly Divine Recommendation is ſtill behind; which is, That the Union of Souls by an Innocent and Sincere Friendſhip is the nobleſt Contemplation, and the livelieſt Image of our Union with God himſelf. And indeed we cannot here upon Earth aſpire to any better, and more intimate Conjunction with Him, and thoſe Bleſſed Spirits who are ever in perfect Harmony and Concord. It was not therefore without excellent Reaſon, that Pythagoras and his Followers, gave the Preference to Friendſhip above all other Vertues, and called it, The very Chain and Complement of them all. For in Truth, if any One Vertue be wanting, Friendſhip will not dwell there. For how can we ſuppoſe an Unjuſt, or an Intemperate, and Debauch'd Man, or a Coward, capable of Friendſhip? and an obſtinate perverſe Fool is ſo leſs than any of them: No no, this Treaſure is too rich, too refined for ſuch ſordid Wretches. A Man therefore that pretends to Friendſhip, muſt aſpire to as high degrees of Prefection, as the Frailties of Humane Nature will admit; he muſt work off the Droſs of ſenſual and brutiſh Paſſions, purifie and ſublimate his Mind, and then he is qualified to ſeek a Mate in Friendſhip; and when he hath found ſuch another as himſelf, he muſt hold him cloſe to his Heart, as his Dearer and Better Half.

If I have been tedious upon this Subject, the Reader will be kind in imputing it to ſo good a Cauſe as my Zeal for Friendſhip; which it were a moſt deſireable thing to ſee ſome few at leaſt pay that regard to, which it deſerves. And indeed a few Inſtances would be ſome Comfort in this miſerable Age; when the Vices and Vileneſs of Mankind ſeem to have baniſh'd it almoſt quite out of the World. But it is now high time to come off from this long Digreſſion, and return to that which this Chapter directs us to; which is, to examine ſomething more briefly, thoſe other Relations that Epictetus here hath thought fit to make expreſs mention of.

For, after having told us, That the Conſideration of the ſeveral Qualities and Relations was the beſt Rule of their reſpective Duties, he proceeds to inſtance in that of a good Citizen, or Patriot: For this too gives us a ſort of Affinity to all our Fellow-Citizens, or Subjects. The Country repreſents our Parents, and all that are born in it, that are comprehended within its Privileges, and live under its Laws, are in ſome Senſe Brethren; and a manifeſt Relation (though more diſtant I confeſs, than any hitherto inſiſted upon) there is between all the Natives of it. The likeneſs of Diſpoſitions ſhews ſuch a Relation to be of Nature's making; and this is very often obſervable in People, not only of the ſame City or Corporation, but extends it ſelf to thoſe of the ſame Nation too. Our Behaviour therefore to all ſuch ought to reſemble that to our Kindred, and all imaginable Care ſhould be taken for their Improvement; for in this we ſhall conſult our own Benefit too, and feel the Advantage of living among Honeſt and Vertuous People; of being ſupplyed in all our Neceſſities, and aſſiſted in all our Diſtreſſes; and of providing Husbands, and Fathers for all Orphans and Widows: For every Man is capable of lending a helping Hand, though not every Man in the ſame way: One may be a Friend with his Money; another by his Authority; a Third by his Intereſt and Acquaintance, or by his good Advice; a Fourth by his Labour and Pains; and thoſe who have nothing elſe in their Power, may be ſerviceable by their Pity and Compaſſion.

Now if a Man be both a Fellow-Citizen and a Neighbour, this renders the Relation ſomething nearer ſtill. For as the State we are born in, and the Family we are deſcended from, are not the Gifts of a blind undiſtinguiſhing Chance; ſo are we to look upon that particular Habitation, and part of the ſame City where we dwell, to be aſſigned us by a wiſe Providence. So that thoſe Fellow-Citizens which dwell neareſt to us, are upon that account allyed more cloſely ſtill. And whatever have been ſpecified as Duties to the One, are ſo, and indeed more ſo, to the other, as we have Opportunities of paying, and they of receiving them. Therefore we are to rejoice in their Succeſſes, and be heartily concerned for their Misfortunes; and when any of them are ſick or indiſpoſed, we muſt endeavour to be ſerviceable to them, as if they were a part of our own Family. In all our Converſation abroad, we ſhould make it appear to the World, that while our Neighbour hath no Deſigns but what are honeſt and fair, we will ſtand by him to our utmoſt, and ſhould think it a ſhameful reflection, that he ſhould upon any occaſion ask or receive a kindneſs from them that dwell at a greater diſtance, which it was in the power of us his next Neighbours to have done for him.

There is alſo a ſort of Relation betwixt us and Foreigners, that come to ſpend ſome time in our Country: a Relation of which God is the Author, who hath declared, that he bears a particular regard to Strangers. The good Offices therefore that become due upon this account ought very punctually to be diſcharged, both in reſpect to the Almighty, who hath taken ſuch Perſons into his peculiar Protection, and alſo to exerciſe and enlarge our good Nature, which ought not to be confined within the narrow bounds of our own Acquaintance or Country, but muſt ſtretch its concern over the whole World, and look upon it ſel as a Debtor to all Mankind. There is alſo another very weighty reaſon ſtill behind, which is, that this will give us Confidence when we preſent our Addreſſes before the God of Strangers; and we may with a better Grace ask and expect that aſſiſtance from Him, which we have given them without grudging. For ſuch is his condeſcention, that he allows us to look upon all our Endeavours and Actions of Kindneſs as ſo many Loans to Himſelf, and he will be ſure to repay with large Uſury, and more to the Creditor's Advantage, than any the moſt Generous of the Sons of Men.

Above all things we muſt take ſpecial care never to injure or oppreſs a Stranger; but quite contrary to give him our Countenance, and help, and reſcue him if it be poſſible from the Injuſtice of any other that ſhall attempt it: For God hath charged his Providence with a peculiar care of ſuch; becauſe they are more expoſed and deſtitute of humane Fleſh; and he who hath promiſed to protect them more eminently, will be ſure to revenge their wrongs more ſeverely. It is ſit too, that thoſe who can do it, be aſſiſting to them in the diſpatch of the Affairs they came about, and furniſh them with what conveniencies they ſtand in need of; that they be particularly tender of them in caſes of Sickneſs, and when the ends of their Journey are ſatisfied, contribute all poſſible endeavours towards the facilitating their return home again.

He tells us moreover, That a Private Soldier ought to conſider his own, and his Commander's Poſt, and from thence inform himſelf what is due to his Superiour Officers. Now in ſuch a caſe, it is not enough that their Orders be obeyed, but it is neceſſary that they ſhould be executed ſpeedily; becauſe in time of Action, many favourable Opportunities preſent themſelves, which if not preſently ſnatch'd, are loſt for ever. And they muſt be executed with Bravery and Reſolution too, becauſe the Fortune of the Field may depend upon ſuch Obedience. A Private Soldier is likewiſe obliged to expoſe his own Perſon for the ſafety of his Commander, becauſe ſuch an one's Life is of infinite conſequence. If a ſingle Soldier fall, there is no great Advantage gained, nor does this change the face of Affairs; but if a General fall, though the Soldiers under him were victorious before, yet their Spirits ſink immediately, their Order is broke, and every one makes the beſt of his way to ſave himſelf, as Sheep without a Shepherd, run before Wolves. So that indeed not only the Succeſs of the Day, but the Fate of whole Countries and Kingdoms is often brought into extream hazard, by the loſs of one eminent Commander; of which Xenophon hath left us an Example, in the account he gives of what happened upon the Death of Cyrus.

It is no leſs evident, That there is alſo a Relation between Civil Magiſtrates, and the Perſons under their Juriſdiction, and ſeveral Duties that follow from that Relation. And here, if Men do not bear the empty Name of Governours, but are really what they are called, all ready Obedience is due to them; all Honour and Reſpect, as next under God, the Authors of our Peace and Happineſs, and greateſt Benefactors to the Publick. For good Governours make this the Study and Buſineſs of their Lives; they ſet about it zealouſly and heartily, and omit no care that may any way conduce to the Benefit of the State. What Hippocrates ſaid of Phyſicians, is much more eminently true of Princes, they do not torment themſelves to no purpoſe with other People's Calamities (and Epictetus adviſes they ſhould not,) but they ſacrifice themſelves and all their Quiet to Care and Trouble; they neglect their own private Affairs and Families, and muſt be content with perpetual Vexations and Interruptions, and to loſe many precious Opportunities that might be improved to very wiſe and vertuous Purpoſes.

Upon all theſe accounts, and to make them ſome amends, every Man is bound not only to be obedient, but ſo far as in him lies to eaſe them, and bear a part of their Burden; to be active and vigorous in their Support and Defence, as looking upon their Dangers to affect the State in common, and threaten the whole Conſtitution.

And if theſe Governours be ſuch as do by no means anſwer their Character, nor take the care that becomes them; though we are not bound to vindicate their Errours, or their Wickedneſs, yet even in ſuch caſes we are obliged to pay them all that is due to the Dignity of their Poſt; we muſt ſhew them all fit Deference and Reſpect, and comply with their Commands, as far as with a good Conſcience we may.

But it is very fit I ſhould now apply my ſelf to the following Chapters, and not quit my firſt Deſign; which was to explain Epictetus, and not to run out into unneceſſary Enlargements, upon the ſeveral Relations Men ſtand in to each other; for otherwiſe while I teach my Reader his Duty, he will be apt to ſuſpect that I have forgot my own.

CHAP. XXXVIII.

Take notice, That the principal and moſt important Duty in Religion, is to poſſeſs our Minds with juſt and becoming Notions of the Gods; to believe that there are ſuch ſupreme Beings, and that they govern and diſpoſe all the Affairs of the World with a juſt and good Providence. And in agreement to ſuch a Perſuaſion, to diſpoſe your ſelf for a ready and reverend Obedience, and a perfect Acquiſcence in all their Diſpenſations; and this Submiſſion is to be the effect of Choice, and not Constraint; as conſidering, that all Events are ordered by a moſt Wiſe and Excellent Mind: For this is the only Principle that can ſecure you from a querulous Temper, and prevent all the impious Murmurings, which Men are uſed to utter, who imagine themſelves neglected, and their Merits over-look'd by a partial Deity. Now for attaining to the good Diſpoſition I have been deſcribing, there is but one poſſible Method; viz. To diſregard the Things of the World, and be fully ſatisfied, that there is no Happineſs or Miſery in any other thing, but what Nature hath put within your own power and choice. For, ſo long as you ſuppoſe any external Enjoyments capable of making you happy, or the want of them miſerable, you muſt unavoidably blame the Diſpoſers of them, as oft as you meet with any Diſappointment in your Hopes, or fall into any Calamity you fear. This is a Principle fix'd in all Creatures by Nature, and nothing can change or remove it, to run away from all that ſeems hurtful and deſtructive, and to have an averſion for the Cauſes of theſe Things to us. And ſo likewiſe to purſue and court the contrary, and love and admire the Perſons we owe our Good to. So that no Man can take pleaſure in the ſuppoſed Author of his Miſchief, any more than in the Miſchief it ſelf. Hence it is that Sons complain of their Fathers, and reproach them for not letting them into a greater ſhare of their Eſtates, in which they place their Happineſs. Hence Polynices and Eteocles engaged in that unnatural War, becauſe they placed their Happineſs in a Crown. Hence the Husbandman cries out againſt God, when the Seaſon is unkindly; and the Merchant repines at Storms, and Loſſes at Sea, and Masters of Families at the death of their beloved Wife and Children. Now no Man can have Religion, without mixing ſome proſpect of Advantage with it; nor can we heartily ſerve and adore a Being, of whoſe Juſtice and Kindneſs we have not a good Opinion. So that by making it our Buſineſs to regulate our Deſires and our Averſions, and direct them to worthy and proper Objects; we do at the ſame time moſt effectually ſecure our Piety. It is neceſſary alſo, that you ſhould offer Sacrifices, and conform to the Cuſtom of your Country in the Exerciſe of Religion; and that all things of this kind be performed with Sincerity and Devotion; not ſlovenly and careleſly, but with a decent Application and Reſpect; and that your Offerings be, according to your Ability, ſo temper'd, as neither to betray an Ʋnwillingneſs or ſordid Grudging in one extream, nor to run out into the other of Profuſeneſs and Oſtentation.

COMMENT.

AFter the Duties expected from us to our Equals, that is, of Men to one another; he proceeds now to inſtruct us what we owe to our Superiours; viz. thoſe of a Nature more excellent than our own. And in all Diſquiſitions of this kind, it is a very convenient Method to begin with thoſe Things that are neareſt and moſt familiar to us, and ſo by degrees aſcend to thoſe above, and at a greater diſtance from us.

Now theſe Duties are likewiſe diſcovered by taking a juſt View of the Relation between the Gods and us, and that is ſuch an one as Effects bear to their Higheſt and Firſt Cauſes.

If then they are to be conſidered under this Notion, it is evident that they ſtand not in any need of our Services; nor can we add to their Happineſs or Perfection. Our Duties conſequently, and the Intent of them are only ſuch as may expreſs our Subjection, and procure us a more free acceſs and intercourſe with them: For this is the only Method of keeping up the Relation to Firſt and Higheſt Cauſes. The Inſtances of this Subjection due from us, are Honour, and Reverence, and Adoration, a voluntary Submiſſion to all they do, and a perfect Acquieſcence in all Events order'd by them, as being fully ſatisfied, that they are the Appointments of Abſolute Wiſdom and Infinite Goodneſs.

Theſe are ſuch Qualifications, as we muſt attain to by rectifying the Ideas of our Minds, and reforming the Errours of our Lives. The Ideas of our Minds muſt be rectified by entertaining no Thoughts of the Gods but what are worthy of them, and becoming us; as, That they are the Firſt Cauſe of all Things: That they diſpoſe of all Events, and concern themſelves in the Goverment of the World: And, That all their Government, and all their Diſpoſals are Wiſe, and Juſt, and Good. For if a Man be of Opinion, That there is no God; or if he allow his Exiſtence, but deny his Providence; or if he allow both theſe, but think that God and that Providence defective in his Counſels, or unjuſt in his Diſtributions; ſuch an one can never pay him true Honour and hearty Adoration, nor ſubmit with a reſigned and contented Spirit to the various Accidents of Humane Life, as if all were ordered for the beſt.

Again; It is likewiſe neceſſary, that the Life and Converſation of Men be ſo diſpoſed, as to expreſs this Perſuaſion of a Wiſe and Good Providence, ſo as not to fly out into peeviſh Murmurings and Complaints, nor think that Almighty God hath done us wrong in any of his Diſpenſations. But this is a Temper we can never attain to, ſo long as we expect Happineſs, and dread Miſery, from any thing but our ſelves. The Management of our own Will muſt be our only Care, and all our Deſires and Averſions reſtrained to the Objects of Choice; and then we need never be diſappointed in our Hopes, nor ſurprized by our Fears. But this muſt needs happen to all that place their Happineſs and Miſery, in the Enjoyment, or the Want of any external Advantages; and ſuch Diſappointments and Surprizes will neceſſarily carry them to a Deteſtation of that which they look upon as the cauſe of ſuch Misfortunes. And they will very hardly refrain from ſpeaking ill of that Power, which might have prevented their Miſery, but took no care to do it. For every Creature naturally deſires Good, and abhorrs Evil; and therefore not only the Things themſelves, but the Cauſes of them are ſhunned and hated, courted and admired, in proportion as they really are, or as we apprehend them to be Good or Evil. There is no ſuch thing in Nature, nor can there be, as that a Man ſhould take delight in, and bear a true Affection to the Perſon whom he looks upon to have done him ſome real Injury or Hurt, any more than he can be fond of that Hurt or Injury it ſelf. And ſince all Good naturally attracts our Love and Deſire, and all Evil provokes our Averſion, we muſt needs be affected alike, both to the Things themſelves, and the Cauſes of them to us.

And though we be miſtaken in our Notions of Good and Evil, yet that we ſhall proceed according to our apprehenſions of theſe Things, as if they were really ſo, and cannot reſtrain our ſelves from hating and reviling the Authors of our Calamity, or the Deceivers of our Hope, he proves from hence, That the ſtricteſt Ties of Nature, and Duty, and Affection, are generally found too feeble Engagements to keep Men in Temper, or moderate their Reſentments. Thus we ſee greedy and impatient Children perpetually railing at their Fathers for keeping them out of their Eſtates, which they account their Good; or for inflicting ſome Severities upon them which they think Evil; as when they chaſtiſe their Follies, or deny them their Liberty. And thus Oedipus his two Sons, Polynices and Eteocles, forgetting that they were Brothers, quarrell'd, and kill'd one another for the Crown in which they were Rivals. Thus the Farmer; when his Seed-time or his Harveſt happens ill; if it rain too much, or too little, or if any other croſs accident come to his Crop, preſently rails and murmurs againſt the Gods; or if he have the modeſty to hold his tongue, yet he is ſure to fret and curſe inwardly. Thus Mariners, when they want a fair Wind, and though they are bound to different Ports, and muſt ſail with different Winds, one perhaps wiſhes for a Northern, another for a Southerly Gale, and the ſame can never ſerve or pleaſe them all; yet they ſwear and rant at Providence, as if it were obliged to take care of them only, and neglect all thoſe whoſe Buſineſs requires it ſhould blow in the Quarter where it does. So likewiſe Merchants are never content: When they are to buy, they would have great plenty, and a low Market; but when it is their turn to ſell, then they wiſh for ſcarcity, and a riſing Price: And if either of theſe happen otherwiſe, they grow diſcontented, and accuſe Providence. And in general, when Men bury their Wives, or Children, or have ſomething very dear taken from them, or fall into ſome diſaſter they feared, they grow angry at the Diſpoſer of theſe Events. For we are naturally inclined to honour and reſpect the Perſons that oblige and gratifie us; and as nothing excites theſe Reſentments in us ſo ſoon, or ſo powerfully as our own advantage; ſo nothing gives ſuch an effectual diſguſt, and ſo irreconcilable a diſreſpect, as the apprehenſion that any Perſon hath contributed to our loſs and diſadvantage.

So that a Man in taking care to fix his Deſires, and his Averſions, upon right Objects, does at the ſame time ſecure his Piety and Reverence for God; for this Man's Hopes are always anſwered, his Fears always vaniſh into nothing; for he neither hopes nor fears any thing out of his own power, is conſequently always pleaſed, and under no Temptations to accuſe Providence, for any thing that can poſſibly happen to him. But the Man that gives his Deſires a Looſe, and expects his Fate from enternal Accidents, is a Slave to all the World: He lies at the mercy of every Man's Opinion, of Health and Sickneſs, Poverty and Riches, Life and Death, Victories and Defeats; nay, even the Wind and the Rain, the Ha l and the Meteors; and, in ſhort, every Cauſe and every Effect in Nature is his Maſter. For except every one of theſe fall out juſt according to his mind, his Deſires muſt be fruſtrated, and his Fears accompliſhed? What a Weathercock of a Man is this! How uneaſie and unſetled his Life! How tedious and troubleſome muſt he be to himſelf! How diſſatisfied in his Breaſt, and how impious in his Reflections upon Providence! So that, in ſhort, there is no one Circumſtance wanting that can conduce to the rendring ſuch a one miſerable.

Having thus laid the Foundations of Religion, in true Notions of the Divine Nature, in a contented Submiſſion to all Events, and in a firm Perſuaſion of a Wiſe and Good Providence, that diſpoſes them as we ſee; and having moreover ſhewn the neceſſity of deſpiſing the World, and depending upon our own Will and the Objects of it, for all the Happineſs and Miſery we are capable of; he proceeds now to direct us what methods we ſhould take to expreſs our Reverence and Honour for the Gods. Some of thoſe that are generally practiſed, and become univerſal, it is highly probable that God himſelf inſtituted, declaring (as ſome Hiſtories inform us he did) what Services would be moſt acceptable to Him; and this with a gracious Deſign of bringing us better acquainted with Himſelf, and likewiſe to ſanctifie and enlarge our Enjoyments, that our Offerings might envite his Bleſſings and his Bounty, and for giving back a little, we might receive the more.

As therefore we hold our ſelves bound in the firſt place to ſet apart that Soul which we received from him, to his Service, and to conſecrate it by refined and holy Thoughts, by worthy and reverend Ideas of his Majeſty, and a regular uncorrupt Life; ſo it ſhould be our next care to purifie and dedicate this Body too, which came to us from the ſame hand, and carefully to waſh away all the ſeen or hidden Blemiſhes and Pollutions which it may have contracted. When the Soul and its Inſtrument are thus clear from all their Stains, let us come decently cloathed into his preſence, and there devote a part of what God in his Bounty hath conferred upon us, to his Uſe and Service. For it is highly reaſonable and juſt, that a Part ſhould be given back to him from whom we receive the Whole: Not that he needs, or is the better for it; (nor is he ſo indeed either for the Holineſs of our Lives, or the reverend and worthy Ideas we have of him: And ſo this Objection, if it were a good one, would lie equally againſt all Piety in general) but it is for our own advantage: For when we have thus qualified our ſelves for his benign Influences, he communicates himſelf to us in ſuch proportions as we are capable and worthy of. So do the Offerings we devote out of our Fortunes, when recommended by a pure Conſcience and a good Life, derive down the Bleſſing and Goodneſs of God upon our Eſtates, and procure us ſignal Teſtimonies of the Power and Efficacy of his Providence. One man hath found them the Inſtruments of a marvellous recovery from ſome Epilepſie, or other incurable Diſtemper; another of calming boiſterous Winds and Seas, beſides the Divine Favour and Illumination which the Votaries often acquire by ſuch Religious Services. But if there were none of theſe advantageous Effects to follow, yet it muſt be confeſs'd a moſt equitable thing, and a decent expreſſion of Gratitude, to pay back theſe Acknowledgments to the Giver of all we enjoy: How much more then, when the parting with ſo ſmall a proportion, ſanctifies and conſecrates the whole, and enſures his Favour and Aſſiſtance in our Undertakings.

Now as to the kind and the manner of theſe Oblations, he would have us determined by the Cuſtom of our Country. For there is this mighty Difference, among others, between God and us; he is preſent at all times, and in all places, and equally diſpoſed to exert his Power, and communicate his Influences the whole World over. But we are confined within a narrow compaſs; we, as men, are but one of the many Species which God hath created, and of the many who partake of the ſame Nature, have applied our ſelves to one Profeſſion and Way of Life, out of many: Our Habitations are diſtinct, and confined to one little Spot of this vaſt Globe; and ſo we partake of the Divine Goodneſs, ſome in one place and time, and ſome in another. Thus there are Countries oppoſite to us, whoſe Night is our Day; and Climates ſo diſtant, that it is Winter in one, and Summer in another at the ſame time. So likewiſe Fruits and Animals are peculiar to ſome Countries, and do not grow nor breed in others; the Divine Bounty imparting it ſelf to all the World, and every Creature in it, though to different parts of the World in different manners. As therefore the particular manifeſtations of God are ſuited to ſeveral Places and Profeſſions, and Seaſons and modes; ſo in the choice of Victims and Acknowledgments, each Perſon and Country obſerve what is peculiar to them, and proper for their Circumſtances. And when by common Conſent ſolemn Feſtivals are celebrated as they ought to be, for the Honour and Worſhip of God, a more extraordinary effect of the Divine Favour and Influence is frequently ſeen upon thoſe Occaſions; as miraculous Cures, ſtrange and uſeful Predictions, and the like. Such remarkable efficacy do we find, and ſo much more ſignal Teſtimonies of the Divine Preſence and Aid, may we obſerve at one time above another. And the ſame ſucceſs is no leſs obſervable, in the proper Choice and Accommodation of the Places in which we worſhip, the Supplications we uſe, the Ceremonies we conform to, and the Oblations we preſent.

Now all the Religious Performances by which we would expreſs our Honour for God, ought, he ſays, to be attended with Holineſs and Sincerity, and not done in a ſlovenly and ſordid manner: For it is by no means fit, that any impure thing ſhould preſume or be admitted to make its approach to the Pureſt and moſt Perfect Being: And any mixture which adulterates what is pure and ſincere, does at the ſame time pollute and ſtain it. Therefore nothing of this kind is to be done ſlovenly and ſordidly; for that is Epictetus his meaning; and the word he makes uſe of to expreſs it, ſignifies ſuch Duſt and Naſtineſs, as is contracted from lying upon a dirty Floor. Nor muſt we behave our ſelves looſly and negligently, ſo as through Idleneſs and Inadvertency, to leave out, or change, or to confound the Order of any part of our Worſhip. For as Words are not the ſame, if you leave out, or put in, or invert the courſe of the Letters; nor Sentences the ſame, if you confound the Words they conſiſt of; ſo the Neglects and Wandrings of a Looſe Worſhip, checks the Divine Influences, and renders all his Devotions flat and feeble; as, on the contrary, a wiſe and ſteddy Zeal is the beſt Recommendation of our Prayers, and gives them ſuch energy and force, as never returns empty. And, indeed, what is there of ſo great Conſequence, or ſo ſtrict Obligation, as to be able to rouze a Man into Thought, and diſpoſe him to Warmth and Attention, if the Preſence of God, and his ſolemn Approaches to ſo awful a Majeſty, have not the power to do it? Hence it is that we are adviſed to addreſs our ſelves with reverence and fear; for nothing is more offenſive, than a ſawcy, irreligious Boldneſs. And the greater Veneration we hold all things that bear a relation to God and his Worſhip in, the more advantage we ſhall receive from them, and by humbling our ſelves before the Throne of God, we take the moſt effectual method to be truly exalted.

But fearing that ſome might poſſibly put a wrong Interpretation upon what he had ſaid; and ſuppoſe, that by forbidding Men to be cold and ſordid, he intimates, that they ſhould, upon all occaſions, come up to the utmoſt, or rather ſtrain a point, and go beyond their power; therefore he prevents that miſtake in the Cloſe of the Chapter. And indeed if Moderation be a Vertue, it cannot ſhew it ſelf any where to more advantage, than in the Buſineſs of Religion, the very end whereof is to reduce all things to their juſt proportions, and keep them within due bounds. Beſides, nothing tends more to the preſerving of Religion, and keeping up the conſtant Practice of it, than for Men to proceed in the ſame even courſe, with as few Alterations as the thing is capable of; for Cuſtom and frequent Repetition makes Men perfect and eaſie: But whatever is exceſſive and upon the ſtretch, we can never be reconciled to, ſo as to make it our daily Buſineſs.

And further, the Men that ſtrain themſelves to be profuſe in their Sacrifices, or any other way to exceed what others do, and their own Circumſtances will bear, ſeem to do it out of a very mean and miſtaken Principle: For this looks as if God were to be bribed in their favour, and the value of the Preſent laid an Obligation upon him: Whereas, alas! all theſe things are done, not for his ſake, but our own; and the Firſt Fruits which we conſecrate to him, are deſigned for no other than decent Acknowledgments of his Liberality, and a ſmall return out of what he hath been pleaſed to give us.

Thus have I trod in the Steps of this excellent Man, and done him what Right I could in the Paraphraſe and Explanation of the Chapter before us. But now, becauſe in the beginning he touches upon three Points concerning the divine Nature, and theſe ſo fundamentally neceſſary, that all Poſitive Laws, and all Moral Inſtitutions, do preſuppoſe the Belief and Acknowledgment of them. And ſince ſome perverſe and refractary Men have nevertheleſs the Confidence to oppoſe them, we will ſo far comply with their Obſtinacy, though muſt unreaſonable, as to prove the Truth of theſe Three Points; viz. That there is a divine Nature and Power, That the World is governed by it; and, That the Providence by which it is ſo governed. is Juſt and Good in all its Diſpenſations. The Importunity of theſe Men is ſo much the greater, and our trouble of refuting it will be the leſs; becauſe not Mankind only, but Brutes and Plants, and every Creature in the World, do according to their Capacity, all declare their Relation to God. Men indeed do ſo the moſt of any, becauſe they are early inſtructed by their Parents, Religion grows up with them from their Cradle; and the Ideas common to their whole Species take root in, and carry a great Sway with them. For the Barbarous, as well as the Civilized Countries, and that in all Ages of the World too, though they have differ'd exceedingly in other Opinions, yet have ever agreed univerſally in this, That there is a God. I know of no Exception to this Rule, except thoſe Acrotheites, of whom Theophraſtus gives an Account, that they owned no Deity; but as a puniſhment of their Atheiſm the Earth opened and ſwallowed them up. Beſides them we meet with no People, and but very few ſingle Perſons that ever pretended to diſown this, not above Two or Three, from the beginning of the World to this Day.

But yet ſo it is, that a great many People do not duly attend to theſe univerſally received Notions, partly becauſe they take them upon Truſt, without conſidering or underſtanding the Arguments upon which they are grounded: And partly, from ſome Difficulties in Providence, ſuch as the Misfortunes and Afflictions of ſome very good, and the Proſperity of ſome exceedingly wicked Men, which are apt to raiſe in them the ſame Scruple with that in the Tragaedian. Pardon ye Powers, if yet ſuch Powers there be; For ſure that Doubt is modest, when we ſee Triumphant Vice, and injur'd Piety.

Now ſuch Perſons as theſe would ſoon be convinced, if they did but follow Epictetus his Method, and not imagine, that either the Happineſs or Miſery of a Man can depend upon external Accidents, or indeed upon any thing elſe, but the Freedom and Uſe of his own Will. For at this rate it will not be poſſible for any good Man to be wretched, or any vicious one happy. And now, if you pleaſe, we will conſider thoſe Propoſitions, which are barely laid down by Epictetus, and try to prove the Truth of them, by ſuch Arguments as are proper, and occur to my preſent Thoughts.

The firſt ſtep I ſhall make in this Argument, •• to conſider the Name by which we call this eing, and what the Word GOD ſignifies. And here we muſt obſerve, That the Greek Word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , was applyed to the Stars, and other Celeſtial Bodies; which therefore were ſo called from 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , which ſignifies to Run, and had that Appellation given them for the ſwiftneſs of their Motion. But this Title was afterwards extended to Incorporeal Cauſes, and Intellectual Beings; and more peculiarly to the Firſt Cauſe and Being of all Things. So that by this Name we underſtand the Original of this Univerſe, the Firſt, and Principal, and Intellectual Cauſe of every Thing. For, whatever hath any exiſtence, muſt either be derived from ſome Determinate Cauſe, or it muſt ſubſiſt by Chance, and Mechanical Neceſſity. But whatever ſubſiſts after this manner, hath neither any particular efficient Cauſe, nor is it ſelf the Final Cauſe of its own Production: For both theſe Qualifications are abſolutely inconſiſtent with the nature of Fortuitous Beings, and indeed no leſs ſo is the following any conſtant Rule and regular Method in the Production of them.

Now it is obvious to any conſidering Perſon, that the Works of Nature, and of Choice, are a final Cauſe to the Doer, and the exiſtence of them is propoſed as that which anſwers his Deſign. Thus the Husbandman plants, and ſows his Ground, in proſpect of the Corn, and the Trees that will grow upon it. Thus the Coition of all Animals propoſes to it ſelf the continuation of the Species. And in all the Progreſs of theſe Productions, there is a conſtant Order, and fix'd Courſe obſerved, and ſome Operations which are proper to the Beginning, others to the Promoting, and others to the Perfecting this Work, each perform'd conſtantly in their proper place. The Seeds of Plants are firſt caſt into the Ground, then moiſtned and impregnated there, then they take root and ſprout, they ſhoot up in Straw, or Branches, and ſo on, till at laſt they bloſſom and bud, and bring Fruit to maturity. So likewiſe that of Animals is cheriſhed and enlarged, and formed into an Embryo; which receiving vital Nouriſhment, and convenient Growth, is at a ſtated time brought to a juſt Perfection, and then comes to the Birth. But ſtill in theſe, and in all other Caſes of the like nature, there is the ſame Chain of Cauſes; and theſe generally keep their fix'd Times and Meaſures.

So then, if all the Productions of Nature, and the Effects of Choice have ſome particular Cauſe to which they owe their Being; if the Exiſtence of theſe things be the final Cauſe of their Production; and if the ſame Order and a regular Method be conſtantly and duly obſerved in the producing them, the natural and neceſſary Reſult of this Argument is, That all the Works of Nature, and of Choice; that is, all Things in this whole World, that have no real Exiſtence, are not the Effects of Chance, or Mechaniſm, but are owing to ſome particular poſitive Cauſes; and ſince theſe Cauſes muſt needs be antecedent to their Effects, if They be ſuch as had a Beginning themſelves, they muſt be owing to ſome others who had a Being antecedent to Theirs; and ſo we may trace them up, till at laſt we come to Cauſes which had no Beginning at all: And theſe being eternal, are moſt truly and properly ſaid to Exiſt, as having never been, nor owing their Subſiſtence to any External Cauſe, but ſolely to the Inherent Perfections of their own Nature. So that the firſt and Eternal Cauſes of Things muſt needs be Self-exiſtent, or ſomething more noble and excellent than Self-exiſtent, as the following Diſcourſe will convince you.

The ſame Argument holds as ſtrong with regard to Motion too; for if we trace this up to its beginning, we ſhall find, that thoſe Bodies which made the firſt Impreſſions, were either ſuch as moved by an Internal Power and Principle of their own; or ſuch as were fixed themſelves, and had no ſhare in the Motion they impreſſed upon others. For whatever is moved Mechanically, is moved by ſomething elſe; and that again by ſome other thing, and ſo on for ever: But ſuch an account as this of Motion in Infinitum, is neither poſſible to be, nor to be conceived. For at this rate, if there were no Beginning of Motion, the only Conſequence from hence muſt needs be, That there would be no Mover, nor no Moved Bodies at all: And if we will allow any Beginning, as allow it we muſt, that Firſt Mover muſt be either endued with a principle of Self-motion, or it muſt have no motion at all. But the latter of theſe it cannot be neither, for this is evident in all motion, that fix'd Bodies are ſo far from communicating motion to thoſe Bodies that have it not, that on the contrary they check and ſtop it in thoſe that have, and diſpoſe them always to continue in the ſame State and Poſture, without any manner of alteration. So that free motion muſt at laſt be reſolved to be the firſt Cauſe of Mechanical. Now the Things that are concerned in mechanical motion, are ſuch as are ſubject to Generation and Corruption, to Augmentation and Diminution, and to any ſort of Alteration, whether that refer to the Qualities of the Things themſelves, or whether to their Local Diſtances and Situations. For whatever is produced could never produce it ſelf; becauſe then it muſt have had a Being before it was produced, and ſo begin to be both before and after it ſelf. And whatever receives increaſe is not augmented by it ſelf; for Augmentation is nothing elſe but the addition of ſomething which it had not before. So again, whatever is altered, is altered by ſome other thing, and not from it ſelf; for alteration is properly the introducing of a contrary Quality. So likewiſe Local motion cannot be from the Body moving; for ſince all motions are ſubject to the Rules I have here laid down, and Generation, Corruption, Augmentation and Alteration are all but ſo many Effects of motion, it is plain this muſt be derived from ſomething elſe, and could not ſet it ſelf on going.

Thoſe things therefore which are in the Courſe of Nature ſuperiour to theſe Productions, and the Cauſes of neceſſary motion, muſt needs be capable of moving themſelves. For if we ſhould ſuppoſe but one minute in perfect Repoſe, nothing would ever move again, except ſome Free Self-moving Agent began the Dance. For whatever is once ſix'd, is diſpoſed to continue ſo to all Eternity; and whatever moves mechanically muſt wait for the leiſure of ſome other Body, and cannot ſtir till it receive the impreſſion, and is put into action.

Now whatever the firſt Principles of Things are, 'tis neceſſary that they ſhould be of a ſimple Nature: For all mix'd Bodies are compounded of Simples, and conſequently the Ingredients muſt have a Priority in Nature, before the Compoſition that is made up of them. And now let us conſider ſome of the groſſeſt and moſt obvious Bodies, and ſo by degrees aſcend higher, to try at laſt whether it be poſſible for us to conceive Body to be ſuch a Principle, as Reaſon will tell us the firſt Principles of all things muſt needs have been; or whether it will not be impoſſible to conceive, that theſe Bodies which we ſee move and ſubſiſt, ſhould ever have had that Motion and that Exiſtence from themſelves.

For whatever moves it ſelf, is called Selfmoving; either becauſe one part of it is active, and the other paſſive in this motion; or elſe, becauſe the whole is active, and the whole paſſive. Now if we imagine one part to communicate, and the other only to receive the Impreſſion, ſtill the ſame Queſtion will return; for that part which begins the motion, whether this be done from a Principle of its own, or from any external Impulſe, and ſo up, till at laſt you muſt be forced to ſtop at ſomething, which muſt be acknowledged an entire moving, and entire moved.

The ſame is to be ſaid of Self-exiſtence too; for whatever is originally and properly, muſt be an entire Exiſtence, and the ſole and entire Cauſe of its own Exiſtence: And whatever is ſo, muſt be indiviſible, and without Parts. For whatever conſiſts of Parts, and is capable of being divided, could never unite its whole ſelf to its whole ſelf, ſo as to be entirely moving, and entirely moved; entirely ſubſiſting, and yet the entire Cauſe of ſo ſubſiſting at the ſame time.

Again: It is no leſs impoſſible, that any Bodies ſhould be of a ſimple Nature; for they muſt of neceſſity conſiſt of Matter and Form, and ſeveral other Properties that muſt go to the compleating of their Nature; ſuch as Magnitude, and Figure, and Colour, and ſundry other Qualities, which are not original and cauſal Species themſelves, but only participations of theſe, produced in ſome Matter without Form that partakes of them. For where theſe Original Forms lie, there every thing is in its true Eſſence and Perfection, and there is no need of any Matter unform'd to receive them. But when thoſe Originals are communicated, then there muſt of neceſſity be ſome Matter to receive them, which, till it hath done, is it ſelf void of Form. Since then the Firſt Principles of Things are incorporeal and indiviſible; ſince their Nature muſt be ſimple, and that they are properly Efficient Cauſes; ſince their Exiſtence and their Motion muſt be entirely from themſelves; and ſince it hath been ſhewed, that Bodies are not in any degree capable of theſe Qualifications, it muſt needs, I think be concluded, that Body could not be the Firſt Principle, nor the Univerſe owing to any ſuch Original.

Where then ſhall we find ſuch a ſelf-moving Agent, as infuſes Motion into the neceſſary ones, and may be conſidered as a Cauſe with reſpect to them? This ſure muſt be ſomething that moves from an internal Principle. But ſtill, if this Motion from within were derived from ſomething elſe, and not from it ſelf, we ſhould not call this an Internal Motion, but an External Impulſe, as we do in Bodies: For if I by a Staff that is in my Hand move a Stone, though both my Staff and my Hand contribute to that Motion more immediately, yet I my ſelf am the true and proper Cauſe of it. What ſhall we ſay then moves Bodies from within? What indeed but the Soul? For, animated Bodies are moved from an internal Principle, and all Bodies ſo moved are Animates. If then it be the Soul which gives an internal motion to Bodies, and if this internal Mover be ſelf-moving, it remains that the Soul is a free and ſpontaneous Mover, the cauſe of Productions and beginning of Motions, containing in her ſelf the ſeveral Patterns, and Meaſures, and Forms, according to which thoſe Productions and Motions are modelled and proportioned. For, if the conſtituent Forms are not in Bodies originally, but derived immediately from ſome free Agent, then certainly the Soul is the efficient Cauſe, and aſſigns to each Body its particular Form. Now theſe Forms in the Soul, are exceeding pure and untainted: As for example: Beauty in the Body of an Animal conſiſts in the Fleſh and Skin, and Veſſels and Blood, that make and fill up this Maſs. Now it does indeed to the beſt of its power temper and adorn theſe things; but at the ſame time it is ſullied and changed by them and ſinks into their Deformity. But now this Beauty in the Soul is free from all theſe Allays, and is not only the Image and Repreſentation of Beauty, but pure, ſubſtantial, unblemiſhed, original Beauty; not graceful in one place, and not in another, but perfectly and all over ſo. From whence it comes to paſs, that when the Soul contemplates its own or another Soul's Beauty, all bodily Graces loſe their Charms, and appear deſpicable and deformed in compariſon. And this inſtance hints to us the purity of all other original Forms, as they are in the Soul.

Now it is very plain, that as there are different Bodies moved by theſe Souls, ſo there are likewiſe different ſorts of Souls that move them; and ſome of theſe are celeſtial, and others ſublunary: For it were an intolerable abſurdity to ſuppoſe, that Bodies leſs refined, and inferiour in Dignity and Duration, ſhould have Life, and Souls, and that thoſe above ſhould want both. It is therefore in this caſe with Souls, as with Bodies; the heavenly ones are the Cauſes of the ſublunary ones. And indeed the Soul is a noble and moſt excellent Being, eſpecially the heavenly one, advanced by Nature to the Prerogative of being a Principle, though not the Firſt and Higheſt in the Order of Cauſes. For though the ſelf-moving and ſelf-exiſtent Being, is ſuperiour to thoſe whoſe Motion and Exiſtence is derived from ſomething elſe; yet ſtill even this is capable of being conſidered in a double Capacity, as Active and Paſſive, as a Cauſe and as an Effect; and it is plain, that Simples muſt have been before Compounds, and One before Two.

Again: Though this ſelf-moving Agent depend upon no other for its Motion, yet Motion it hath; and Motion inferrs Mutation; not an eſſential Change indeed, but ſuch as reſpects its Operations: And neither are theſe Motions Local and Corporeal, (for in that reſpect it is immovable) but Spiritual, and peculiar to the Soul; ſuch as we call Conſideration, and Debate, and Diſ erning, and Opinion; and according as he is moved by theſe motions, ſhe impreſſes corporeal ones upon the Body.

Now whatever this Change be, yet that which is mutable in any kind or proportion, muſt have ſomething beſore it abſolutely immutable, that ſo thoſe things that are mutable may ſtill be preſerved ſo. For all motion and mutation, oth above and in our lower Regions, proceeds from the impreſſion made by the Firſt Cauſe. But ſince all things undergo ſuch various Changes, and great motions are violent; How come the heavenly Bodies to continue ſo much the ſame in their Conſtitution, their manner of moving, the Centre about which they roul their mutual Order and Poſition? And whence is it, that though the ſublunary ones undergo more viſible and frequent Alterations, yet ſtill there is a perpetual reſtitution and conſtant return to their firſt Form? Thus we obſerve it plainly in Elements, and Seaſons, and Plants, and Animals: For though theſe do not continue to be numerically the ſame, as Celeſtial Bodies do, yet they go round in a Circle, till at laſt they return to the point from whence they ſet out at firſt. Thus 〈◊〉 is convert d into Air, Air condenſed into Water, Water into Earth, and then Earth 〈◊〉 into Fire again. So the Year brings us, firſt into Spring, then to Summer, after that Autu n, and at laſt Winter thaws into Spring again. So again, Wheat is turned into the Stem, then the Blade, after that the Ear, and ſo ripe Wheat again. So from Man proceeds firſt the Seminal Principle, after that the Formation, and Vital Nouriſhment; and this at laſt comes to be Man again. Now I would ask any one, ſince motion is of it ſelf always violent, and always tending to Change, how it comes to paſs, that the ſame Species, and the ſame Courſe and Conſtitution of Nature is ſo exactly preſerved? Certainly this muſt needs be the Effect of ſome Superiour Cauſe, which is it ſelf Immoveable, and Immutable, and remains for ever in all Points exactly the ſame. For even in mental Motions, that Agent which is uncertain in his Motions, and acts ſometimes with eaſe and freedom, and ſpeed; and ſometimes ſlowly, and with difficulty, muſt needs have ſome other mind antecedent to it; one whoſe Eſſence, and whoſe Operations are always the ſame, that brings all thingsto paſs in an inſtant, and at pleaſure: And no Man need be told how much ſuch a Being as this, which is fix'd and unchangeable, not only as to his own Nature and Eſſence, but as to his Influence too, is more excellent than that which is ſtill in motion, and liable to Change, though that Motion be from it ſelf alone; and Reaſon will convince us, that thoſe Beings which are moſt Noble and Excellent, muſt needs have had an Exiſtence before thoſe that are indigent and depending.

Now we ſhall do well according to this Rule, to aſcend the whole Scale of Cauſes in our Thoughts, and try whether we are able to find any Principle more Excellent, than what is already fix'd upon; and if we can do ſo, then to drive that ſtill higher, till we come to reſt at laſt in the loftieſt and moſt majeſtick Notions that we are capable of entertaining; and this is a Courſe we may boldly take: nor is there any fear of going too far, or overſhooting the Mark, by conceiving any Ideas too great, and above the Dignity of this Firſt Cauſe. For alas! the boldeſt Flights our Minds can aſpire to, are too low and feeble, ſo far from ſurmounting, that they fall infinitely ſhort of his Divine Perfections. This Contemplation upon God, as it is the moſt Excellent, ſo it is the only One, in which we are ſure not to be guilty of any Exceſs, or an over-valuing the Object. And when we have taken all imaginable pains to collect all the Ideas that are Great, and Venerable, and Holy, and Independant, and Productive of Good; all theſe Names, and all theſe Perſections put together, do yet give us but a very poor and imperſect Notion of him; only he is graciouſly pleaſed to pardon and accept theſe, becauſe it is not in the power of humane Nature to admit any higher and better.

When therefore our Conſideration hath carried us from Self-moving Beings up to that which is Immovable, and abſolutely Immutable, always the ſame in Eſſence, its Power, and its Operations, fix'd for ever in a vaſt Eternity, out of which Time, and all the Motions that meaſ re, it are taken and derive their Being; there we may contemplate the Primitive Cauſes, of much greater Antiquity than thoſe we obſerved in the Self-moving Agent; and there we ſhall ſee them lie in all their Perfections, Immovable, Eternal, Entire, United to each other, ſo as that each ſhould be all by Virtue of this intimate Conjunction, and yet the intel ectual Differences between them ſhould remain diſtinct and unconfuſed. For what account can be given of ſo many different Forms in the World, but only, that the Great God and Creator of the World produces theſe, as he thinks fit to ſeparate and diſtinguiſh the Cauſes of them in his own Mind? which yet we muſt not ſuppoſe to make ſuch actual and incommunicable differences between the Originals, as we obſerve between the Copies of them here. Nor are the Diſtinctions of the differing ſorts of Souls the ſame with thoſe of Bodies. Each of the Eight Heavens we ſee, and the Conſtellations peculiar to them are a part of the whole Heaven taken together, a full and integral Part, and yet each hath its Eſſence, and Influences, and Operations proper to it ſelf. And ſo likewiſe the Forms of Sublunary as well as Celeſtial Bodies that are always the ſame, as that of a Man, a Horſe, a Vine, a Fig-tree; each of theſe are perfect and full, though not in Individuals, as the Heavenly Bodies are; yet according to the various Species with which they fill the World, and the Eſſential Differences which diſtinguiſh them from one another. Juſt thus it is with thoſe more ſimple and Intellectual Conſiderations, of which theſe Forms are compounded, ſuch as Eſſence, Motion, Repoſe, Identity, Beauty, Truth, Proportion, and all thoſe other Metaphyſical Qualities, belonging to the Compoſition of Bodies, each of which is perfect in its own kind, and hath a diſtinct Form of its own, and many Differences peculiar to it ſelf only. And if this be the Caſe in ſo many Inferiour Beings, how much more perfect and entire ſhall every thing ſubſiſt in the great Soul of the World? Theſe are the ſpontaneous Cauſes of the Bodies here below, and all their differences lie united there. According to this Pattern, all things here are formed, but that Pattern abundantly more perfect, and pure, and exact than any of its Reſemblances. Much more perſect ſtill then are theſe Divine and Intellectual Forms than any Corporeal ones, of which they are the great Originals. For theſe are united not by any mutual Contact, or Continuity of Matter, or bodily Mixture; but by the Coalition of indiviſible Forms. And this Union, being ſuch as ſtill preſents the Diſtinctions between them clear and unconſus'd, makes each of them perfect in it ſelf, and qualifies it to be the common Principle and Root of all the Forms of its own likeneſs and kind, from the higheſt to the loweſt.

Now the ſeveral diſtinct Principles of things derive their Cauſal Power and Dignity from ſome One Superiour Principle. For it is plain, that many could not exiſt without an antecedent Cauſe. For which Reaſon each of Many is One, but not ſuch a One as was before thoſe Many. For the One of Many is a part of that Number, and is diſtinguiſhed from the reſt by ſome particular Qualifications which give him a Being a part to himſelf: But the One before Many was the Cauſe of thoſe Many; he comprehended them all within himſelf, exiſted before them, is the Cauſe of Cauſes, the firſt Principle of all Principles, and the God of Gods; for thus all the World, by the meer Dictates of Nature, have agreed to call and to adore him.

He is likewiſe the Supreme and Original Goodneſs: For all Effects have a natural deſire and tendency to the reſpective Properties of their firſt Cauſe. Now that which all things deſire, is Good; and conſequently the firſt Cauſe muſt be the Original, and the Supreme Good. So likewiſe he muſt be the Original and Supreme Power: For every Cauſe hath the higheſt Power in its own kind, and conſequently the firſt Cauſe of all muſt needs exceed them all in Power, and have all of every kind. He muſt needs be endued with perfect Knowledge too; for how can we imagine him ignorant of any thing which himſelf hath made? It is no leſs evident too from hence, that the World, and all things were produced by him without any difficulty at all. Thus by conſidering of particulars, we are at laſt arrived to a general Demonſtration, and from the parts have learnt the whole, (for indeed we had no other way of coming to the Knowledge of it but by its parts; the whole it ſelf is too vaſt for our Comprehenſion, and our Underſtandings are ſo feeble, as often to miſtake a very ſmall part for the whole.) And the reſult of the Argument is this, That as all Things and Cauſes are derived at laſt from one Cauſe, ſo they ought to pay all manner of Honour and Adoration to that Cauſe, for this is the Stem and Root of them all; and therefore it is not an empty Name only, but Similitude in Nature too, by which every Cauſe is allied to this Univerſal One. For the very Power and Privilege of being Cauſes, and the Honour that is due to them, when compared with their Effects, is the free Gift of this Supreme Cauſe, to all the inferiour and particular ones.

Now if any man think it too great an Honour for theſe lower and limited ones to be called Cauſes, or Principles, as well as that original and general one, it muſt be owned in the firſt place, That there is ſome Colour for this Scruple, becauſe this ſeems to argue an equality of Cauſal Power. But then this may eaſily be remedied, by calling Theſe barely Cauſes, and That the Firſt and Univerſal Cauſe. And though it be true, that each particular Principle is a firſt and general one, with reſpect to others of leſs extent and power contained under it, (as there is one Principle of Gracefulneſs with regard to the Body, another with regard to that of the Mind, and a third of Gracefulneſs in general, that comprehends them both;) yet in Truth, and ſtrict Propriety of Speech, none is the Firſt Principle but that which hath no other before or above it; and ſo likewiſe we may, and do ſay by way of Eminence, the Firſt and Supreme Cauſe, the Firſt and Supreme God, and the Firſt and Supreme Good.

Moreover we muſt take notice, that this Firſt Cauſe, which is above and before all things, cannot poſſibly have any proper Name, and ſuch as may give us an adequate Idea of his Nature. For every Name is given for diſtinction's ſake, and to expreſs ſomething peculiar; but ſince all diſtinguiſhing Properties whatever flow from, and are in Him, all we can do is to ſum up the moſt valuable Perfections of his Creatures, and then aſcribe them to Him. For this Reaſon as I hinted at the beginning of this Diſcourſe, the Greeks made choice of a name for God, derived from the Heavenly Bodies, and the ſwiftneſs of their motion. And thus we ſtyle him Holy, and Juſt, and Merciful, and Good, and Lord, and Omnipotent; and ſometimes take the Confidence to uſe ſuch Appellations, as we think applicable to ſome of the Sons of men.

And thus much ſhall ſuffice at preſent for the Firſt of the Three Points before us; which pretends to ſhew, That there are Firſt Cauſes of Things, and that GOD is the truly Firſt and Original of them all. And though I have paſs'd over ſeveral Steps that might have been taken in running from Effects to their Cauſes, and would perhaps have made the Demonſtration more gradual and compleat, yet I muſt be content to enlarge no farther; as being duly ſenſible, that ſome Perſons will think what is already done a great deal too much, and that theſe Excurſions are by no means agreeable to my firſt Deſign, which was to give as compendious an Illuſtration as I could, to this Manual of Epictetus.

The next Aſſertion to be proved, was, That this God governs and diſpoſes all Things by his Providence; which though it be, I preſume, largely demonſtrated upon ſeveral Occaſions in the foregoing Chapters, ſhall yet be allowed a particular Conſideration in this place. For ſome People are ready enough to acknowledge the Being, and the Perfections of God; they acquieſce in his Power, and Goodneſs, and Wiſdom; but as for the Affairs of the World, theſe they do not ſuppoſe him to regard at all, nor be in the leaſt concerned for them, as being too little and low, and in no degree deſerving his Care. And indeed the greateſt Temptation to this Opinion, they frankly own to be miniſtred by the very unequal Diſtribution of Things here below, and the monſtrous Irregularities that the Government of the World ſeems chargeable withal. They obſerve ſome exceedingly wicked Men high in Power and Preferments, their Eſtates plentiful and growing, their Health ſound and uninterrupted; and thus they continue a proſperous and pleaſant Life, to extream old Age, go down to their Graves gently and peaceably, and frequently leave their Poſterity Heirs of their good Fortune, and tranſmit their ill-gotten Wealth to ſucceeding Generations. In the mean while, many Perſons eminently vertuous and good, are miſerably oppreſs'd by the Inſolence and Barbarity of thoſe wicked Great Ones; and yet for all this Injuſtice, there is no Vengeance, that we can obſerve, overtakes the Oppreſſor, nor any Comfort or Reward to ſupport the Sufferer. Theſe, as was hinted before, are the Speculations that give Men the Confidence to diſpute againſt GOD. Some have been ſo far emboldened by them, as to deny his very Being; but others, in compliance with the univerſal Conſent of Mankind, and the natural Intimations we have of Him, are content to allow his Nature and Perfections, but can by no means allow his Providence, and eſpecially when it happens to be their own caſe, and their particular Misfortunes have given an edge to the Objection, and made it enter deeper and more ſenſibly. For then they can by no means be perſuaded, that ſo great an Inequality can be conſiſtent with Providence; or that GOD can intereſt Himſelf in the Management of the World, and yet do a thing ſo unworthy his Juſtice, and ſo contrary to his Nature, as to ſuffer inſulting Wickedneſs to paſs unpuniſhed, and injured Vertue to periſh unredreſſed.

Now the firſt Return I ſhall make to this Objection, ſhall be in more general terms, by deſiring the Perſon who propoſes it, to anſwer me to the ſeveral Parts of this diſ-junctive Argument.

If there be a God, and not a Providence, then the Reaſon muſt be either want of Knowledge, and a due Senſe, that theſe Things ought to be his Care; or if he knows that they ought, and yet does not make them ſo, then this muſt proceed either from want of Power, or want of Will. For the want of Power, there may be two Cauſes aſſigned; either that the Burden and Difficulty of Governing the World is ſo great, that GOD is not able punctually to diſcharge it; or elſe, That theſe are Matters ſo very mean and inconſiderable, that they eſcape his Notice, and are not worth his Care and Obſervation. If the Sufficiency of his Power be granted, and the Want of Will be inſiſted upon, this may likewiſe be imputed to two Reaſons: Either, That he indulges his own Eaſe, and will not take the pains; or elſe, as was argued before, That theſe Matters are of ſo mean Conſideration, that tho' he could attend to the moſt minute Circumſtances of them, if he ſo pleaſed, yet he does not do it, as thinking it more becoming the Greatneſs of his Majeſty to ſleight and overlook them.

This diſ-junctive Argument being thus propoſed in the general, the ſeveral Branches of it may be replied to, as follows: That, admitting God to be ſuch a Being as hath been here deſcribed, perfect in Wiſdom and Knowledge, abſolute and uncontroulable in Power, and of Goodneſs incomprehenſible; and withal, the Original Cauſe and Author of all Things, produced from and by Himſelf; and being ſo many parcels (as it were) of his own Divinity, it is not poſſible, firſt, he ſhould be ignorant, that the Products of his own Nature, and the Works of his own Hands, require his Care: For this were to repreſent him more inſenſible than the wildeſt and moſt ſtupid of all brute Beaſts (ſince even theſe expreſs a very tender regard for the Creatures to whom they give Birth and Being.) It is as abſurd every whit to ſay, in the next place, That this is a Care too weighty, and above his Power and Comprehenſion: For how is it poſſible to conceive an Effect greater and ſtronger than the Cauſe, to which it entirely owes its Production? And no leſs ſo, thirdly, to alledge, That theſe Matters are neglected, becauſe too little and low to fall within his Obſervation: For ſure had they been ſo deſpicable, he would never have created them at all. The want of Will is no more occaſion of ſuch a Neglect, than the want of Power. To ſuppoſe this Care omitted only for the indulging his own Eaſe, and to avoid the Interruption of his Pleaſures, would be to ſix upon him the Infirmities and Paſſions of Men; nay, and ſuch as are peculiar to the worſt and moſt profligate of Men too. For not only humane Reaſon, but natural inſtinct infuſes an anxious Tenderneſs into Brutes, ſuch as ſuffers them to decline no pains for the Proviſion and Support of their Off-ſpring. Nor can we in any reaſon imagine ſuch want of Will, from a Conſideration of the Vileneſs of theſe Things, ſince nothing certainly is contemptible in His Eyes who created it; and whatever he thought worthy the Honour of receiving its Exiſtence from him, he cannot think unworthy that of his Protection and Care. So that when you have made the moſt of this Argument that it can poſſibly bear, ſtill every part meets you with ſome intolerable abſurdity; and no one of theſe Conſiderations, nor all of them put together, can ever induce a Man, who believes that God created all theſe Things, to think that he does not now inſpect and concern himſelf for his own Productions.

But now after this general Conſideration, I ſhall apply my ſelf more particularly to thoſe, who either do really, or would ſeem to entertain a due ſenſe of the Divine Majeſty; and in pretended Honour to that, diſparage and lower the Affairs of humane Life, as Things below his Notice, and ſuch as it would be an unbecoming Condeſcenſion, a debaſing of Himſelf to expreſs any Care or Concern for.

And here I muſt take leave to vindicate the Honour of Humane Nature, and tell the Objectors, That Mankind and their Affairs are no ſuch ſmall and contemptible matter, as they have thought fit to repreſent them. For, in the firſt place, Man is not only an Animal, but a Rational Creature too; his Soul is of exceeding Dignity and Value, capable of Wiſdom, and, which is more, of Religion, and qualified for advancing the Honour of God, above any other Creature whatſoever. There is no manner of ground then for ſo wild a Suppoſition, as, That God ſhould undervalue and diſiegard ſo very conſiderable a part of the Creation; nor are the Actions and Affairs of Men to be thought deſpicable neither, ſince they are the Reſults of a Thinking Mind.

But withal I muſt add, That they who thus leſſen Mankind, furniſh us with another Argument in behalf of Providence, and cut themſelves off from taking any advantage of that part of the Objection, which would ſuppoſe theſe things to exceed the Power of God: For the more you diſparage Mankind, the more eaſie ſtill you confeſs it to take care of them. The Senſes, 'tis true, diſcern greater Objects with more eaſe than ſmaller (as we find plain by the Proportion of thoſe that affect our Sight, and the Loudneſs of thoſe that ſtrike our Ears) but the Faculties of the Mind and Body, quite contrary, bear ſmall Trials, and maſter them much more eaſily and ſpeedily than greater. A Pound weight is carried with leſs pains than a Hundred, and a half Acre of Ground ploughed ſooner and eaſier than an Acre; ſo that by Parity of Reaſon, the leſs Mankind is repreſented, the leſs troubleſome you make the Government and Care of them to be.

Again: They who deny, That Providence deſcends to every little Nicety (as they call it) do yet acknowledge a Superintendence over the whole World in general. But what Providence is that, which takes care of the Whole, and not of its Parts? At this rate we ſhall imagine the Almighty God to come behind what every Art and Science almoſt among Men pretends to: For the Phyſician, whoſe Profeſſion obliges him to ſtudy the Diſtempers and the Cure of the whole Body, does not think himſelf at liberty to neglect the ſeveral Parts; and the ſame may be ſaid of the Maſter of a Family, the Commander of an Army, and the Civil Magiſtrate in a State. For, indeed, which way is it poſſible to preſerve the Whole from ruine, but by conſulting the Safety of the Parts, of which it is compounded? Far be it therefore from us to imagine, that Almighty God ſhould betray that want of Skill and Induſtry, which feeble men attain to; who take care of the Whole, and the ſeveral Parts of it, at the ſame time, and with the ſame trouble; and this moſt wiſely, for the ſake of the Parts themſelves in a great meaſure; but much more with a deſign to promote the Good of the Whole. Whereas, we poor unthinking Mortals are often tempted to Impatience, by particular and private Misfortunes, not duly conſidering how far theſe contribute to the Benefit of the Whole.

Now if any Man ſhall imagine the Diſpoſal of humane Affairs to be a buſineſs of great Intricacy, and Trouble, and Confuſion; and conſequently that it muſt needs perplex the Almighty, diſtract his Mind, and diſturb his Happineſs: This Perſon muſt be taught to make a difference between the Frailties of a Man, and the Perfections of a God. For it is plain, all this Objection is built upon a vain Imagination, that God is ſuch a Superviſor as one of us; and that he is under the ſame neceſſity of attending every part of his Charge diſtinctly, and proceeding by ſingle and ſubſequent Actions; ſo that while he is employed in one Affair, it is not poſſible for him to apply his mind to any thing elſe.

Methinks it were eaſie for ſuch a perſon to reflect how Law-givers and Princes manage themſelves upon theſe occaſions: They ordain wiſe and convenient Laws, and aſſign particularly what Rewards ſhall be given to Merit and Vertue; what Puniſhments inflicted upon Vice and Diſobedience; what Satisfaction made for Injuries, and the like. And theſe Laws they contrive ſo, as to extend even to the ſmalleſt matters, ſo far as they can foreſee and provide againſt them. When this is done, they do not give themſelves the trouble of watching and prying into every Corner; they live and enjoy their Eaſe as they uſed to do; and the Care they take of the State, is not ſeen in perpetual Confuſion and Diſquiet of Heart, but in the Eſtabliſhment and Obſervation of theſe wholeſome Conſtitutions. Now, if men can have ſo general an Influence, and ſo effectual too, without perſonal anxiety; much more muſt we confeſs it poſſible for God. He founded the World, and formed every Creature in it, and fixed wiſe Laws for the Government of them all: He conſidered that our Actions are ſuch as are proper to Souls; that there is a great mixture of Vertue and Vice in them, and, according as each perſon exceeds in the one or the other of theſe, he allots his puniſhment, and his portion. Some he places more commodiouſly, and others leſs ſo, and ranks us according to our Deſerts, thoſe that have done well with good, and thoſe that have done ill with worſe Souls; and hath determined too, what each of theſe ſhall do to one another, and ſuffer from one another. Now herein is the Juſtice of God vindicated, that the Fundamental Cauſe of all theſe different Fates, is abſolutely left to our own diſpoſal: For it is in our power what ſort of perſons we will be; and we may make our ſelves ſuch as we chuſe, and reſolve to be, by the native Liberty of our Minds, and by having Vertue and Vice properly and entirely the Object of our own Choice. And beſides this, God hath appointed over men particular Guardian Spirits, which nicely obſerve the ſmalleſt actions, and are exact in ſuch retributions, as each man's behaviour deſerves.

Now in this the Care of God differs from that of men; That his Providence did not ſatisfie it ſelf to conſtitute Things in good Order at the beginning, and afterwards diſpenſe with any farther Concern about them, nor ceaſe from acting as the Law giver in the State was ſuppoſed to do. For indeed, properly ſpeaking, the Goodneſs of God knows no Beginning; nor is there any time when it was not, and when it did not communicate it ſelf, and make all Things good from its own exuberant Fulneſs. Nor are we to ſuppoſe, that this Inſpection requires any laborious attendance, as if God were ſometimes preſent, and ſometimes abſent; for theſe are ſuch Conſinements, as Bodies and Matter only are ſubject to; whereas He is preſent at all times, in all places, with, and above all Things. And the Providence of this mighty Being, thus Eternal and Omnipreſent, and infinitely Good, finds no difficulty in expanding it ſelf, and imparting its Influences to every Creature, as the Dignity of their Nature, and the Deſerts of each Individual require. And, as the Sun ſheds his Rays of Light upon the whole World, and every thing partakes of them with different Effects, ſome things are made capable of ſeeing, others of being ſeen; ſome bloſſom and bud, others are impregnated and multiply; ſome ſhew black to the Eye, and others white; ſome grow ſtiff and hard, others are melted and ſoftned; and all this by the ſame Light and the ſame Heat; adapting it ſelf to the ſeveral Capacities and Diſpoſitions of the Things upon which it falls; and all this without any trouble too to the Sun, or the leaſt interruption to his Happineſs: So the Goodneſs of GOD, moſt aſſuredly, whoſe Gift and Workmanſhip that very Sun is, knows how to impart it ſelf to every Creature in ſuch proportions as the Neceſſities of each require, or the Condition of its Nature will admit, much more eaſily than any Creature of the moſt general Influence can do it; and that without creating any Perplexity to Almighty GOD, or giving the leaſt diſturbance to his Bliſs by ſo extenſive a Care. For God is not like the Works of Nature, which are acted upon at the ſame time they act, and ſo ſpend themſelves; nor is his Goodneſs any acquired Perfection, that it ſhould tire and he exhauſted, but natural and unbounded. Nor is he confined to one ſingle Action at a time, (as we find our feeble Minds are) that he ſhould not be able to comprehend or manage ſo great a variety of Affairs, and yet enjoy Himſelf in the Contemplation of that Perfect and Supream Good, which is infinitely more excellent, and above the World. For, if when the Soul of Man aſpires to perfection, and ſoars up to God, it be ſaid to converſe and dwell on high, and to diſpoſe and govern the World; How much more juſt and eaſie is it to believe, That the Author and Infuſer of that Soul muſt needs, without any manner of difficulty or diſtraction, guide and govern that Univerſe which Himſelf hath formed!

Now, as to that Objection of the amazing Inequality in the Diſtribution of the Things of this World, I can never yield, That the Proſperity of Ill Men, or the Afflictions of the Good, are of ſtrength ſufficient to ſhake our Belief of Providence. For, in the firſt place, we wholly miſtake the matter; and it is a very wrong Notion that generally prevails, Of Wicked Men being happy, and Good Men miſerable. If this obtain ſtill with my Readers, it is to very little purpoſe, that ſuch pains have been taken to prove that Neceſſary Truth, That the Good Man is one that places all humane Happineſs and Miſery in the Freedom of his own Mind and the directing this aright to ſuch Objects as fall within the compaſs of his own Power and Choice and, That he who does ſo, can never be diſappointed in his Deſires, nor oppreſs'd by his Fears; and conſequently can never have any Unhappineſs befal him. For the Objecters themſelves agree with us in the Notion of Evil, That it is the Diſappointment of ſome Deſire, or the Falling into ſomething that we fear. So that even according to their Rule, the Good Man can never be wretched, nor lie under any misfortune which can make him unhappy, conſidered as a Man.

On the other ſide, All men agree in their Notions of wicked men, that they pervert the Courſe and Deſign of Nature, and do not live as becomes men. They forget the Privilege God hath given them, and neglect the Uſe and Improvement of that Liberty, which is the diſtinguiſhing Character and Prerogative of Humane Nature; They look for Happineſs from external Advantages, ſuch as Health, and Riches, and Honour, and Power, and High Birth, and ſenſual Enjoyments, and the like; and the want of theſe they eſteem miſery: For which Reaſon, all their Deſires are fix'd upon theſe imaginary Good Things, and all their Fears and Averſions upon the contrary Evil Ones. Now it is not poſſible for theſe outward Things always to anſwer a man's Wiſhes and Endeavours: Diſappointed Expectations, and ſurprizing Calamities there muſt and will be; and therefore theſe men cannot but be unhappy, by the Confeſſion of the Objecters themſelves, and the very Perſons concern'd, if they would but give themſelves leave to be ſerious, and reflect coolly and impartially upon the many Accidents of this kind that diſquiet them, muſt needs be driven to a ſenſe and acknowledgment of their own miſery.

But, if this do not ſatisfie, becauſe they are plainly proſperous, and ſucceed above other men in the Advantages and Intereſts of the World, I ſhall make no ſcruple to affirm, That theſe Succeſſes do but add to their Unhappineſs; for they only put them upon greater Extravagancies, and are ſo many freſh Temptations to commit more Violence, and caſt a greater Blemiſh upon Humane Nature. And this, I think, muſt be admitted for an unconteſtable Truth, That whatever is contrary to Nature and Duty, muſt of neceſſity be both a fault, and a misfortune.

Now becauſe our Auditors are to be dealt with, not only by dry Demonſtrations, but by moving and gentle Perſuaſions, I ſhall endeavour to win them over to this Opinion, of the only ſeeming Good and Evil in all external Accidents and Advantages, by reminding them of what was ſaid before; that thoſe things that we commonly call Evil, are not properly ſo, notwithſtanding the Troubles and Uneaſineſſes that attend them; and that what paſſes for Good in the Opinion of the World, is very far from being ſuch, notwithſtanding all its outward Gaieties and deluding Appearances. Sometimes what we call Evils, are made uſe of to excellent purpoſes; they are either ſharp Remedies to cure a diſtemper'd Mind, or wholeſom Trials to exerciſe a ſound Vertue; and what we term Good Things, are diſpoſed ſo, as to illuſtrate the Juſtice of God, and proportioned to the preſent Occaſions, or to the Deſerts of the Perſons on whom they are beſtowed, and from whom they are taken away. Thus Riches are given to a wiſe and good man, both for his own eaſe and comfortable Enjoyment, and alſo to furniſh him with larger Abilities of doing good; and Opportunities to exerciſe a generous and charitable Diſpoſition. But the very ſame Things to the vicious man are ſent as a Curſe, and a Puniſhment: For the covetous and worldly man makes his Life a perpetual Drudgery and Toil; he enſlaves himſelf to Anxiety and Anguiſh, and continual Fear, and never enjoys the Plenty he hath taken ſuch pains to procure. And this indeed is a moſt juſt and a moſt ingenious Revenge upon them, that they ſhould thus prove their own Tormenters.

On the other hand, the Luxurious and Extravagant are poorer than the very Beggars in the Streets; to many of theſe their Riches are their Ruine, by tempting them to exceſſes, and running them upon dangerous and deſtructive Courſes. So that all the advantage they make of them, is but to grow the worſe, and ſet themſelves farther off from all ſuch Improvements, and ſuch a Converſation, as befits the Dignity of Humane Nature, and are aggreeable to the Dictates of Reaſon. Thus Health, and Power, and Preferments, very often turn to the prejudice of vicious Men, and theſe are ſent partly in vengeance to ſcourge them for their paſt Follies, and partly as Chaſtiſements to reduce them; that when they have given a ſwinge to their Appetites, and gorged themſelves with criminal Pleaſures they may at laſt grow ſick of them, throw off their ill Humours, and become reformed men. For the Tenderneſs of that Good Providence, which is ſo aſſiduous in pro oting the True Happineſs of Souls, is not ſo much to reſtrain us from the groſs and outward acts of Sin, and from gratifying our appetites by Fear, or any other ſuch curbing Paſſions which uſe to give check to them; but rather to ſubdue the appetite it ſelf, and utterly waſte and deſtroy all the evil Habits that had gained upon us by the frequent indulging of it before. The Subſtance of what I have hinted here was diſcourſed more largely in ſome foregoing Chapters, (Chap. XIII. and XXXIV.) and there, if the Reader think fit, he may refreſh his Memory. And ſo much for my Second Argument, in reply to thoſe who deny a Providence, and would make us believe that GOD hath no Hand at all in the Government and Diſpoſal of things here below.

And now, as the old Proverb hath it, (The This is an Expreſſion taken from the Cuſtom of the l mpick Entertainments and other publick Feaſts. S •• Eraſm. Adag and Pindar ••• miorum. Hymn. Sext. Third Cup to Jove, and then we have done;) for there remains only One Objection more to be refuted; which though it own both God and his Providence, yet does not profeſs it ſelf ſatisfied with the Juſtice of either in the Government of the World.

They repreſent Almighty God, as one capable of being perverted, and by aſſed with Gifts and Oblations. And indeed it is a modern, and but too vulgar Imagination, That the moſt greedy Extortioner, and the mercileſs Oppreſſor, that minds nothing but his own Intereſt, and makes, or regards no difference between Right and Wrong, if he do but expend a very inconſiderable part of his ill-gotten Wealth upon pious Uſes, and diſtribute a piece of money among thoſe who pretend it is their Buſineſs to addreſs to the Gods, and that they have a ſecret Faculty of inclining their Favour, then all ſhall be well; they may perſiſt in their Wickedneſs ſecurely, and ſhall never be called to account for it. And ſome indeed there are, who both entertain theſe Opinions without any Judgment, and declare them without any due Caution, that they think it no Reflection upon the Goodneſs of God that he ſhould connive at mens Wickedneſs, and paſs it by patiently.

What Anſwer ſhall we find now to refute this Error? The beſt courſe will be to take it in pieces; and becauſe it refers both to the perſon that does, and to him that receives the Injury, to examine of what Conſequence this Remiſſion and Indulgence would be to both, and how each of them are affected and concerned in it.

Now if it be for the Intereſt and real Advantage of the wicked and unjuſt Perſon, to have his vicious Courſes connived at, and that no Puniſhment at all ſhould be inflicted for them; then it is poſſible God may remit and wink at them, becauſe it is moſt certain, that every good thing, of what kind ſoever it be, is derived down from that Original Source of all Goodneſs, upon his Creatures here below. But if this would really be the worſt and moſt deſtructive of all Evils, to have their Wickedneſs thus aſſiſted and encouraged, if Impunity would only harden them in Vice, and render them but ſo much more bold and unreclaimable; then how can we admit ſo abſurd a thought, as that God ſhould become acceſſory to all this Miſchief, who hath been ſo largely and clearly proved to have no hand at all in bringing any of our Evils upon us?

Now Injuſtice, and Avarice, and Intemperance, and Injuries, and Extravagances of all ſorts, are but ſo many Corruptions and Indiſpoſitions of the Mind; they are contrary to Nature, and no better than the Diſputes and Scandals, as well as the Vices of Mankind. If God therefore contribute to the growth of theſe Diſtempers, if he add to their Malignity, and let them go on till they are paſt all Cure; the Miſery and the Corruption will be charged upon him. But if Preſents and Bribes prevail upon him to do ſo, this is ſomething more vile and mercenary than even the ordinary ſort of Men, who can boaſt of no remarkable Vertue, will ſtoop to. For who of a moderate Underſtanding, and common Honeſty, will ſuffer his Charge to periſh for Hire? Will any tolerable Phyſician, when he finds his Patient ſurfeited, for the ſake of a good Fee, or the Interceſſion either of his Friends, or himſelf, permit him to eat and drink freely of thoſe very things that brought the Diſtemper? nay, which is more, Will he not only permit, but procure them, and aſſiſt the ſick perſon in that which muſt prove his certain Ruin? So far from it, that if he at all anſwer the Character and Duty of his Profeſſion, he will let nothing dive t him from the moſt ungrateful Remedies, and painful Applications, when the State of the Diſtemper requires them. Since hen the angry Juſtice of God, and the avenging Diſpenſations of Providence have been ſo fully ſhewn, to carry in them the Nature and Deſign of Medicines, to diſtempered Mankind; how can we ſuppoſe this great Phyſician of Souls, leſs careful of our Recovery, than we think our ſelves obliged to be to one another?

But the Perſons who are oppreſs'd by Injuſtice, are no leſs the Object of his Providence, than thoſe who commit it; and therefore we ſhall do well to examine a little how this eaſineſs to wicked Men, and this aſſiſting and encouraging their Villainies, for the ſake of their Oblations, can be reconciled with his Tenderneſs and Care for the innocent Sufferers. What Opinion muſt we needs have of that General, who would ſuffer himſelf to be corrupted by the Enemy, and deliver up his Camp and whole Army for Reward? Or what Shepherd would be ſo treacherous to his Flock? Shepherd did I ſay? nay, What Shepherd's Curs, when they have recovered a part of their Flock from the Wolves, will ſit down contentedly, and ſee the reſt devoured? and then ſure this part of the Argument needs no farther Confutation, than only to reflect what monſtrous Impiety that Opinion is guilty of, that taxes God with ſuch Infidelity, and Baſeneſs to his Charge, as not Men only, but even brute Beaſts diſdain and abhor.

Indeed, if we conſider the thing only in the general, it is moſt irrational to conceive, that the Offerings of wicked Men ſhould ever prevail upon God, or encline him to be propitious at all. 'Tis true, he graciouſly accepts thoſe of the Pious and Upright; not for any reſpect to the Gifts themſelves, or any occaſion he hath for them; but for the ſake of the Votaries, who when they thus apply, deſire that not only their Minds, but their Eſtates, and all they poſſeſs may be conſecrated to his Uſe and Service. There is likewiſe no doubt to be made, but the matter might be ſo ordered, as even to render the Gifts and Prayers of wicked men acceptable to him; that is, provided they came with a purpoſe of growing better, and begg'd to be reformed by his Puniſhments, and were ready to ſubmit to the Methods of their Cure. But if the ſecret and true Intent of their Devotions be only to avert his Judgments, and confirm themſelves in Vice, it is moſt abſurd to ſuppoſe they can ever be well received upon theſe Terms: for though there were no Guilt to be laid to their Charge, yet this alone were ſufficient to render them abominable in the Sight of God, That they ſuppoſe him a Baſe and a Mercenary Being, and hope by Bribery to ſoften his provoked Juſtice, and buy off their own Puniſhment.

And now I expect to have the Queſtion put, from whence this Notion of God's pardoning mens Sins, came to be ſo univerſally received; and what Foundation there is for ſaying, and believing, as almoſt every Body does, That Oblations, and Works of Piety, that Prayers, and Alms, and the like, have a power to make God flexible and Propitious. For ſure the World hath not taken all this upon Truſt, and yet they are much to blame to lay that ſtreſs they do upon it, and propagate this Opinion with ſo much Confidence, if it be unſafe, and impious to be believed, than God forgives wicked Men, and paſſes by their Offences, without puniſhing them, as they have deſerved.

In order to the ſatisfying this Doubt, we muſt obſerve, That where men are duly ſenſible of their Faults, and heartily penitent for them, theſe things contribute very much to their Converſion, as being decent and proper Teſtimonies of a ſincere Repentance. The Bending of the Knees, and Bodily Proſtrations, expreſs the Sorrows and Submiſſions of a dejected Soul; and the Offering up their Goods, or laying them out to Pious and Charitable Purpoſes, ſuch as God peculiarly regards and delights in, proclaims how entirely their Minds and Perſons, and all they have, are devoted to him.

For when we are told, That our Sins turn God's Face away from us, That he is angry at them, and leaves, or forſakes us upon the Provocation they give him. Theſe Expreſſions muſt not be taken in a ſtrict and literal Sence. They ſpeak the Paſſions and Infirmities of Creatures, ſuch as carry no Congruity with the Divine Nature, and its immutable Happineſs and Perfections. But the Truth is, we deprave and debaſe our ſelves by forſaking the Dictates of Nature and Reaſon; we deface the Image of the Divinity in our Souls, and by our Wickedneſs and Folly, fall off, and withdraw our ſelves from him: Not that we can run away from that watchful Eye to which all things are preſent; but we change the manner of its Influences upon us, and expoſe our ſelves to a different ſort of Treatment; for now we have brought a Diſeaſe upon our Souls, and made Severity and a harſher Providence neceſſary for our Cure.

But when we recover the ſoundneſs and perfection of our Nature, and make nearer Approaches to God, by reſtoring that Image and Character of his Divinity in us, which conſiſts in the imitation of his Juſtice, and Holineſs, and Wiſdom, we then return, and are admitted to a more eaſie Acceſs, we renew our Acquaintance, and contract a ſort of freſh Affinity with him. And this return of ours to God, we often expreſs in ſuch Terms, as if it were his return to us; juſt as men at Sea, who when their Cable is faſtned to a Rock, while they draw themſelves and their Veſſel to the Rock, are ſo idle as to imagine that they draw the Rock to them. And this is our Caſe; mens Repentance and Devotions, and Works of Piety and Charity, anſwer exactly to that Cable: For theſe things are the Inſtruments of their Converſion, and the beſt Proofs of its being unaffected and real. When we cheriſh and ſupport either the Perſons ſelves who have ſuffered by our Oppreſſion, or our Inſolence, or our Slanders; or if that cannot be, make Satisfaction to their Families, and thoſe that are in neceſſity; when we hate Injuſtice, when we decline the Converſation of naughty men, and become the Companions and Friends of the Wiſe and Vertuous; and when we are full of Indignation againſt our ſelves, and content to turn our own Puniſhers: And if we would be throughly reformed indeed, we muſt perſevere in this method, and not ſuffer our Reſolutions to be fickle and uncertain; or any Intermiſſions to cool our Zeal, till we have acted a ſufficient Revenge upon our ſelves, and perfected the Deſign of our Amendment. And there is not, there cannot be any other certain Teſtimony of a ſincere and perfect Repentance, but only this One, That of forſaking our Sins, and doing ſo no more. Nay, I muſt add too, The not allowing our ſelves in any leſs or lower degrees of Guilt, or complying with the Temptations and Tendencies toward them: For in this Caſe we muſt behave our ſelves like Sailers, who ſteer their Courſe beyond the Point they would make, and bear down towards one ſide, when they would croſs over to the other.

Now as to the Efficacy of Repentance, whether it be of Merit and Power enough to reſtore the Soul to its primitive Purity; this, I think, can admit of no Diſpute, when it is conſidered, That Almighty God does in all his Diſpenſations propoſe it as his End, and always cleanſe and reform us by this Means. For what other account can be given of all the Puniſhments, and thoſe dire Effects of his Vengeance upon us, both in this, and the next World, but only that they are deſigned to change the Soul, by the Sufferings and Tortures inflicted upon it, that a Senſe of her own Wretchedneſs may provoke her to a juſt Deteſtation of the Vices that were the wicked Cauſe of it; and inflame her with the more ſervent Love, and impatient Deſire of Vertue. There is indeed ſomething very inſtructing in Affliction, and a ſtrange Aptneſs in the rational Soul, to hearken to it, and be taught by it. But a Man is never ſo well diſpoſed to learn, nor makes ſuch quick and ſure Progreſs, as when he exerciſes this Diſcipline upon himſelf; becauſe then the very Puniſhment is voluntary, and the Improvement is much more likely to be ſo. And indeed, conſidering that Pleaſure and ſenſual Proſpects tempt Men to offend; the Rule of curing Diſeaſes by their Contraries, makes Sorrow and Pain abſolutely neceſſary to remove this Sickneſs of the Mind, and expel the Humours that brought it upon us. And Repentance wants no Qualifications of this kind; for the truly penitent Perſon chaſtiſes himſelf with the Scourge of a guilty Conſcience, and feels ſuch bitter Remorſe, and Anguiſh of Heart; as are infinitely more ſharp and ſtinging, and more inconſolable than any Smart or bodily Pains can poſſibly be.

And thus much in Oppoſition to the Third Objection againſt God and Religion, which is indeed the worſt and moſt impious of all the Three. For it were a much more excuſable Error to deny a God, and a Providence, than to allow both theſe, and yet advance ſuch Incongruous Notions concerning him; better it were for us and him both that he had no Being, and no Concern in governing the World at all, than that he ſhould be guilty of ſo much Treachery and Baſeneſs as this Objection lays to his Charge: For this is to be Evil, and that is much worſe than not to be at all. The Reaſon is evident, becauſe Goodneſs and Happineſs is Superiour to Exiſtence; it is the Principle of Being, the Cauſe from whence all things derive it, and the very End for which they have it. For Exiſtence it ſelf is what no Man would deſire, but meerly upon the Apprehenſion of its being Good; and therefore whenever we apprehend our ſelves in Evil Circumſtances, we naturally wiſh not to be at all.

If I have here again enlarged beyond the juſt Bounds of a Commentary, the Importance of the Argument will juſtifie me in it. For, in Truth, a regular and well-grounded Devotion towards God, Juſt and Becoming Apprehenſions concerning the Perfections of his Nature, the Certainty of his Providence, and the Juſtice and Goodneſs of all his Proceedings with Mankind; and conſequent to ſuch a Perſwaſion, a ſubmiſſive reſigned Temper, and eaſie Acquieſcence under all his Diſpenſations, as the Effects of a moſt excellent Wiſdom, and ſuch as are always beſt for us: Theſe are the Sum of all Humane Accompliſhments, the Foundation and the Perfection, the Firſt and the Laſt Step of all Moral, and all Intellectual Vertue For though the Soul of Man be ('tis confeſs'd) a Free Agent, and proceed upon Internal Principles of Good and Evil; yet ſtill this Liberty and Power of determining her ſelf, was the particular Favour and Gift of God; and therefore while ſhe holds faſt by the Root, ſhe lives, and improves, and attains the Perfection God made her capable of. But when ſhe ſeparates her ſelf, and, as it were, diſengages, and tears her ſelf off, ſhe grows barren, and withers, and putrefies till ſhe return, and be united to the Root again, and ſo recover her Life and Perfection once more. Now nothing but a firm and a vigorous Senſe of theſe Three Points we have been explaining, can ever prevail upon the Soul to endeavour ſuch a Reſtoration: For how is it poſſible to apply to God, when we do not believe that he is? Or what Encouragement is the belief of his Exiſtence, without a Perſwaſion that he is concerned for us, and takes notice of us? Leaſt of all ſhould we addreſs to a Being that does inſpect and govern our Affairs, if we were poſſeſs'd with an Opinion, That all that Care and Inſpection were directed to Evil and Malicious Purpoſes, and that he only waited over us for our Miſery and Miſchief.

CHAP. XXXIX.

When you conſult the Oracle, remember it is only the Event that you are ignorant of, and come to be inſtructed in. But though you do not know what that ſhall be particularly, yet Philoſophy (if you have any) hath already taught you, of what Quality and Conſequence it ſhall prove to you: For you are ſatisfied before-hand, That if it be any of the Things out of our own Power, it must needs be indifferent in its own Nature, and neither good nor bad of it ſelf. Therefore, when theſe Occaſions call you abroad, leave all your Hopes and Fears behind you; and do not approach the Prophet with ſuch anxious Concern, as if you were to hear your Doom from his Mouth; but behave your ſelf as becomes a Man fully perſuaded, That no external Accident is any thing to you; and that nothing can poſſibly happen, but what by good Management may be converted to your Advantage, though all the World ſhould endeavour to obſtruct it. When therefore you addreſs to the Gods, come boldly, as one that asks their Advice; and withal when they have given it, be all Compliance; for conſider whoſe Counſel you have ask'd, and how impious a Diſreſpect it will be not to follow it. When therefore you apply your ſelf to the Oracle, obſerve Socrates his Rule, To ask no Queſtions, but what the Event is, the only material Conſideration to be cleared in; they ſhould be Matters of great Importance and Difficulty, and ſuch as are not capable of Reſolution, by Reaſon, or Art, or any humane Methods. But if you are in diſpute, whether you ought to aſſiſt your Friend in diſtreſs, or expoſe your Perſon for the Defence of your Country; theſe are not Queſtions fit to be put, becauſe they anſwer themſelves: For though the Sacrifice be never ſo inauſpicious, though it ſhould portend Flight or Baniſhment, loſs of Limbs, or loſs of Life; yet ſtill Reaſon and Duty will tell you, That in deſpight of all theſe Hazards, you muſt not deſert thoſe that have a right to your Service and Aſſiſtance. And therefore in this caſe you need no other Determination than that memorable one, which Apolio gave ſo long ſince, when he thrust that Wretch out of his Temple, who ſuffered his Friend to periſh for want of help.

COMMENT.

AFter having given Directions for the underſtanding and due diſcharge of our Duty to one another, and towards God; the next thing to be done, was to inform us, What we owe to our ſelves. But before this could be methodically undertaken, it was neceſſary to take notice of a ſort of mix'd Duty, which reſpects both God and our ſelves; and this is what ariſes from Divination, or the conſulting of Oracles. To this purpoſe he divides his Diſcourſe into Three Parts, and tells us upon what Occaſions we ought to conſult them, with what Diſpoſition it ſhould be done, and what uſe is to be made of their Determinations.

He begins with the Second of theſe, thinking it perhaps the Firſt, both in Conſequence, and in Order of Nature; and tells us, That the Mind ſhould preſerve ſuch a firm and even Temper upon theſe Occaſions, as neither to bring any Deſires, nor any Averſions along with it: For at this rate it would be impoſſible to come without great anxiety and diſorder. If our Deſires are eager, we ſhall be afraid of hearing that what we wiſh will not come to paſs; and if our Averſions are violent, we ſhall be in no leſs concern to be told, That what we fear moſt, ſhall certainly happen to us. But the Queſtion is, What courſe we ſhall take to throw off theſe Paſſions, and poſſeſs our ſelves with that Indifference? To that he replies, That the Conſideration of thoſe Things we enquire about will be able to effect it: For we eed only reflect, That they are external Accidents, and Things out of our Power; for no man is ſo ſenſleſs as to conſult an Oracle upon the Events of thoſe, which his own Choice muſt determine. Who ever enquired at a Shrine, Whether he ought to regulate his Inclinations and Averſions, to reduce them within juſt bounds, or to fix them upon fit and worthy Objects? The Quaries uſually put, are quite of another ſtrain; Whether a Voyage ſhall be proſperous? Whether it be adviſable to many? Whether the purchaſing ſuch a parcel of Land would turn to good account? And theſe being ſuch things as we our ſelves are not made Maſters of by Nature, 'tis plain, our Deſires and our Averſions ought not to have any concern in the Divination. The only thing we want to be ſatisfied in, is ſome particular Event; this is the Soothſayer's Work, and out of the compaſs of our own Knowledge: But the Quality of that Event we know as well as he. For Philoſophy hath aſſured us, That none of thoſe matters which are out of our own power, can be in themſelves good or evil; and by conſequence no proper Object of our Inclination or Averſion.

Beſides, They that are skill'd in theſe Myſteries, have a Notion, That an extream Paſſion and Concern in the Perſon that applies to the Oracle, diſturbs the whole method of Divination, and conſounds the Omen. So that this Calmneſs will be of advantage in that reſpect too, and you will eſcape all immoderate ſollicitude, when you remember, that be the Accident whatever it will, you have it ſtill in your power to convert it to your own Benefit; and the more diſaſtrous, ſo much the more beneficial ſtill will a prudent management render it to you: And therefore come boldly (ſays he) and caſt aſide vain Fears and unneceſſary Scruples, when you proſeſs to ask Counſel of the Gods.

From that Expreſſion, he takes occaſion to inform Men what is their Duty to the Gods in theſe Caſes; namely, That when we have asked their Advice, we ſhould be ſure to take it: For he that conſults God himſelf, and yet re uſes to follow his Advice; Whom will that Man be directed by? And indeed, there is not any more probable nor more frequent ground for our Stiffneſs and Diſobedience, than the Prepoſſeſſions we lie under, and the ſtrong Byaſs of our own Inclinations and Averſions. So that from hence we have diſcovered one advantage more, of approaching the Deity with a diſpaſſionate and unprejudiced Mind: For this will not only deliver us from all thoſe Anxieties and Fears, ſo inconvenient and ſo hazardous upon ſuch occaſions; but it will alſo diſpoſe us exceedingly to a ready Compliance, and leave us free to reſign our ſelves entirely to be governed by the Will and Directions of God.

The next Enquiry he goes upon, concerns thoſe things which are the proper Objects of Divination; and theſe he declares to be ſuch only Whoſe End is perfectly dark and unknown, ſo that nothing but the Event it ſelf can give us any light into it; things ſo purely accidental, that no humane Prudence, no Rules of any particular Art, no helps of Experience and long Obſervation, can enable us to pronounce what they ſhall be.

Thus much is agreeable to Reaſon and common Senſe; for no body conſults an Oracle, whether it be fit for a Man to eat and Drink, or Sleep, becauſe Nature teaches us the neceſſity of theſe Refreſhments, and we cannot poſſibly ſ bſiſt without them: Nor whether it be adviſable for a Man to improve in Wiſdom, and lead a vertuous Life; for every wiſe and good Man ſees and feels the advantage of doing ſo. Nor does he deſire the Prophet to reſolve him what ſort of Houſe he ſhall build; becauſe this is the Buſineſs of a Surveyer, and his Schemes and Models are drawn by Rule and Art. Nor does the Farmer deſire to be ſatisfied, whether he •… ould ſow his Corn, or not; 〈…〉 abſolutely neceſſary to be done. But he may perhaps enquire what Seaſon, or what parcel of Land, or what 〈…〉 Plants will turn to beſt acc 〈…〉 ſtill (I mean) that Experienc 〈…〉 natural Cauſes, have not inſtruc 〈…〉 things before. Or a Man may reaſonably enough ask, if it be proper to undertake ſuch a Voyage, eſpecially if the Seaſon of the Year, or any other Circumſtances, contribute to the rendring it hazardous for him.

Nor would it be proper to enquire, whether one ſhould go abroad into the Market, or to Weſtminſter-Hall, or walk a turn into the Fields: For though it be true, that even theſe trivial Undertakings are ſometimes attended with very ſtrange and very diſmal Conſequences, yet generally ſpeaking, they fall out juſt as we intend, and deſire they ſhould. And where there is a very high Probability, and ſuch as is moſt commonly anſwered by the Event, there all Divination is needleſs: If it were not ſo, nothing in the World could be exempt from it; for the beſt concluding Reaſon, and the ſureſt Rules of Art, do not always ſucceed right. Nature ſometimes works out of her common courſe, and Choice does frequently miſtake, and fall ſhort of what is deſigned. But ſtill there is no difficulty worthy an Oracle in theſe matters, becauſe we ought to reſt ſatisfied in great Probabilities, and not be diſturbed at the few, the very few Exceptions to the contrary; otherwiſe we ſhall be over-run with idle Whimſies, and ſuperſtitious Fears, ſuch as improve every little Accident into ſomewhat terrible and ominous, and would make us utterly unactive, and afraid ever to attempt any thing ſo long as we live.

But here ariſes a Quarie worth a little conſideration; and that is, Whether the conſulting of Oracles concerning matters within our own power, be wholly diſallowed: As for inſtance; What Opinion we ought to entertain of the Soul? Whether it be mortal, or immortal? And, Whether we ſhould apply our ſelves to ſuch a particular Maſter, or not? And the reaſon of this doubt is, Becauſe ſeveral of the Ancients ſeem to have conſulted the Gods about ſome Difficulties in Nature; and yet the making ſuch or ſuch a Judgment of Things, is our own proper act, and confeſſed to be one of thoſe Things that come within the compaſs of our Will.

Now I muſt needs ſay, with ſubmiſſion, That whatever is attainable by Reaſon and Logical Demonſtration, ought to be learn'd that way; for this will give us a clear and undoubted perception, and the diſcovery of Effects from their Cauſes, is the true ſcientifical Knowledge; it leaves no Doubt behind it, but ſatisfies our ſelves, and enables us to inſtruct and convin e others. Now an aſſurance from Divine Teſtimony, that the Soul is immortal, may give us a firm belief of the thing, and we ſhould do ill, and unreaſonably, in refuſing Credit to ſuch a Teſtimony; but ſtill this is only Faith, and differs very much from Science. And if God vouchſafe to communicate to any Man the Knowledge of Natural Cauſes by immediate Revelation; this is to be look'd upon as an extraordinary Favour, a ſpecial Caſe, and ſuch as falls not under the common Rules of Divination, nor to be depended upon from it: For the primary Talent, and proper Object of this, is only to inſtruct Men in ſuch uncertain Events of humane Actions, as no Art or Conſideration can bring them to any certain Knowledge of. And though ſome Perſons have addreſs'd to Oracles for Myſteries in Nature, yet there were but very few that did ſo, and thoſe none of the moſt eminent Reputation for Philoſophy neither; but ſuch as contented themſelves with credible Teſtimonies, and choſe rather to take Things upon Truſt, than to be at the trouble of attaining to a demonſtrative Evidence: Whereas God ſeems plainly to have deſigned to have made this the Soul's own Work; and by infuſing into us a Principle of Liberty and Reaſon, to have left the Contemplation of our own Nature, as one of the Subjects moſt proper to employ our own Study and Pains. And upon that account both Epictetus and Socrates before, ſeem to condemn and forbid ſuch Queſtions, as impertinent and ſuperfluous, in regard that the Soul is ſufficiently qualified to make thoſe Diſcoveries by her own Strength.

For the ſame reaſon, you ſee, he diſapproves of that Quaerie, Whether a Man ought to relieve his Friend in diſtreſs, or expoſe his Perſon in defence of his Country? Becauſe right Reaſon cries out aloud, that theſe things muſt be done; and no Hazards can be ſo formidable, as that the moſt certain proſpect of them ſhould juſtifie our neglecting to do ſo. To what purpoſe then do we trouble the Gods for that which hath no difficulty in it; and where we muſt be loſt to all ſenſe, if we be not able to ſatisfie our ſelves? And beſides, he gives us an inſtance wherein the Prophetick God declared his Diſpleaſure againſt One that came to have this Scruple reſolved: For what our own Reaſon will convince us is fit and neceſſary to be done, we muſt ſet about it without more ado; and not raiſe idle Doubts, or frame frivolous Excuſes, though we are ſatisfied, that the performance of it would coſt us our Fortunes, or our Lives. And though this may ſeem a Hardſhip, yet it is back'd with this invincible Argument, That Vertue is our own proper Good, and ought to be dearer to us than our Bodies, or our Eſtates, which in compariſon of our Souls, bear but a diſtant Relation to us.

After this Argument, intimating, That our Duty ought to be diſcharged, even at the expence of the greateſt Sufferings and Dangers, he introduces a God, confirming this Opinion by his own practice; and expelling that Miſcreant out of his Temple, who did not relieve his Friend, but ſuffered him to be murdered, that he might ſave himſelf. The Story in ſhort is thus: Two Perſons upon their Journey to Delphos, were ſet upon by Thieves; while one of theſe was no farther ſollicitous than to make his own eſcape, the other was killed. The Surviver continued his Travels; and when he came to the Oracle, the God rejected his Addreſs, expelled him the Temple, and reproached his Cowardice and baſe Deſertion of his Friend, in this following manner: Do not, preſumptuous Wretch, theſe Rites prophane, Nor with polluted Gifts our Altar ſtain: Nor prudent Fears, and threatning Fate pretend; Falſe to thy God, thy Honour, and thy Friend. Theſe claim thy Blood in any danger near, And muſt condemn that baſe and guilty Fear, Which of a Coward made a treacherous Murderer. Henceforth dare to be juſt and brave; for know, He that declines to ward it, gives the Blow.

Now though it is plain that this Perſon, would he never ſo ſain, yet poſſibly he might not have been able to ſave his Fellow-Traveller's Life; yet that Uncertainty did by no means diſpenſe with him for not attempting it: His Inclination and Endeavour ſhould not have been wanting, though that Relief he intended had been never ſo unſucceſsful; nay, though it had involved himſelf in the ſame Fate. That then which rendred him unworthy to approach the Shrine of Apollo, was the Diſpoſition of his Mind; which prevail'd upon him to betray his Friend, and ſacrifice that Life which he ought to have defended, in tenderneſs to that which he ought to have expoſed.

And that this is the true ſtate of the Caſe, is no leſs evident from another Inſtance of two Perſons, who were likewiſe beſet with Thieves: Theſe had got one of them at an Advantage; and whilſt the other darts at the Rogue, he miſſed his Aim, and killed his own Friend. When he came to the Oracle, he durſt not approach, as having Blood upon him; but the God juſtified his Action, cleared him of the Scruple he lay under, and gave him this following kind Invitation: Approach, brave Man, the Gods are Juſt and Kind; They only hate a baſe and murd'rous Mind; Thy ſlaughter'd Friend to Ʋs for Juſtice cries, And his expiring Groans have pierc'd the Skies: Yet not for Vengeance, but Rewards they ſue; Reward to Courage, and to Friendſhip due. That Zeal, which Death and Danger did diſdain, A diſobedient Weapon cannot ſtain: Spotleſs thy Hand, and generous thy Deſign, The Guilt miſguiding Fate's, the Glory's Thine.1

Now if by the ſhedding this Blood, he did not only contract no Pollution at all, but was more pure, and recommended by it to the Acceptance of the Deity, becauſe he intended well, though it was his Misfortune that the Event was ſo very Tragical, ſo exceeding contrary to his Intention; then it is very plain, that Men's Vertues and Vices are not to be meaſured by Succeſs, or by the Actions themſelves, but by their innocent Intentions, honeſt Deſires, and the Sincerity of their own Hearts.

One Caution I think neceſſary to be added here, for the better underſtanding of our Author; which is, That we are to conſider what ſort of Perſons theſe things are addreſſed to. Now thoſe which I have laſt explained, and ſeveral of thoſe which follow afterwards, are adapted particularly to a middle ſort of Men, ſuch as are neither utterly ignorant of Philoſophy, nor abſolutely Maſters of it; but have applied themſelves to the ſtudy of it for ſome time, and made tolerable advances towards Perfection, though they have not yet atrained to it. And this is ſufficiently intimated to us, by the frequent repetition of thoſe Words (If you have any Philoſophy) upon every occaſion.

CHAP. XL.

Conſider with your ſelf ſeriouſly, what Figure is moſt fit for you to make in the World; and then fix upon a Method and Rule in order hereunto; which be ſure to obſerve nicely, both at home alone, and abroad in Company.

CHAP. XLI.

Let one of your Principal Rules be Silence; and when you diſcourſe, confine your ſelf to ſuch Subjects as are neceſſary, and expreſs your ſence in as few Words as you can. But if an Opportunity happens, as ſometimes perhaps it will, that makes it ſeaſonable for you to ſtart the Diſcourſe, let it not be upon any of the common Topicks of Talk, ſuch as Plays, or Horſe-Races, or Fencers, or Faſhions, or Meats, or Wines, or Entertainments; which the generality of the World uſe to make the Subject of their Converſation. But above all things take care not to talk of other People, neither ſo as to cenſure their Conduct, nor to be laviſh in their Commendation, nor to make invidious Compariſons between one and another.

CHAP. XLII.

Whenever you happen into Company, where you haue Authority and Influence enough to do it, try to change the Diſcourſe, and bring it to becoming Subjects: But if you are among People of another Temper, and ſuch as will not endure Reſtraint or Reproof, then hold your own Tongue.

COMMENT.

THE Duties owing to a Man's ſelf, are the next thing to be learn'd; and thoſe he begins to treat of here, adviſing his Proficient, (for to ſuch a one he writes now) to make it his firſt Care to determine with himſelf, what Figure he intends to make, and what Part to play upon this Theatre of the World: And when once that is done, the next muſt be ſo to model all his Actions, as that they may conſpire together to the maintaining of that Character. And this, he tells him, muſt be kept conſtantly in view, that his whole Behaviour may be levelled at it, both in publick and in private. By which I ſuppoſe he means, that a Man ſhould be always conſiſtent with himſelf, and his Life all of a piece; not fluctuating and uncertain, like a troubled Sea, that is ever ebbing and flowing, as the Winds and Tide change: For the Circumſtances of Humane Life are no leſs fickle than theſe; and therefore we muſt ix our ſelves upon a good Bottom, that we may be able to ſtand the Shock, and the variety of them. Socrates is ſaid to have attained to ſo great a Maſtery in this Point, that the Air of his Face was always the ſame; and neither Pleaſure and Proſperity could give him a more Serene and gay Countenance; nor any of thoſe which the World calls Calamities force him into a dejected and melancholy one; in ſuch perfect Agreement was he conſtantly with himſelf.

Now of all the Expedients proper for this Character, the firſt and moſt conſiderable which he recommends, is a great degree of Silence. For the deſign of all Moral Inſtructions is chiefly to confine the Soul within her own proper Sphere, which is the Improvement and Contemplation of her ſelf, and to draw her Thoughts and Affections off from the World, and the ſenſual Appetites and Paſſions, and an inordinate Concern for the Body: And no One thing contributes more to the effecting of this, than Silence. The Pythagoreans, you ſee, were ſo ſenſible of this Benefit, that they impoſed a Quinquennial Silence upon all that entred into their Diſcipline; and thought it the moſt auſpicious Beginning they could poſſibly make. For as the Senſes, when fix'd upon External Objects, do carry the Mind abroad with them; (a plain Intimation whereof we have in that common Cuſtom of Mens ſhutting their Eyes, when they would think with greater Attention;) ſo Speech of neceſſity le s looſe the Mind, and ſets the Thoughts to roving; and that much more indeed than any outward and ſenſible Object; for there the Soul only cooperates with the Organ, and bears it Company; but here ſhe is the firſt and principal Mover, and dictates what the Tongue utters. And the only effectual cure for this Rambling, is to keep it at home, by holding ones Peace, and not indulging it in all its Effuſions.

Not that an Univerſal Silence is expected from us; no, nor ſo high a degree of it, as that the Pythagoreans required, theſe are too exalted, and, as the World goes, unattainable Perfections. But he hath ſuited himſelf to Mens Tempers and Circumſtances, and expects only ſuch as will conſiſt with our Infirmities, and the Affairs of the World: Therefore he adviſes us, either to be ſilent, or at leaſt to ſpeak no oftner, and no more than is neceſſary; as the anſwering to what is asked us, or the like. And in mentioning this Word Neceſſary, he hath given us a very compendious Hint, what Subjects we ought to converſe upon; ſuch as ſpecially tend to the promoting of Wiſdom and Vertue, the improvement of the Mind, and the neceſſities of the animal Life. For theſe being but very few, and having ſomething of Subſtance and Buſineſs in them, not looſe, and empty, and impertinent things, do not confound the Mind with Levity, nor fill it with wild and extravagant Ideas.

He hath alſo ordered us, even upon theſe moſt allowable Occaſions, to be as brief as conveniently we can. For it is very obſervable, That thoſe who talk moſt, generally underſtand leaſt. There is nothing diſpoſes a Man to multitude of Words, ſo much as ſlight and ſuperficial Notions of the Things he is talking of; he does not know what he ſays, and that is the Reaſon he does not know when to give over. But one that goes to the bottom of the Thing, and hath a clear and true Apprehenſion of it, will collect himſelf into a little Room, becauſe he will ſay nothing but what is material, and directly to the Point in hand.

But if at any time an Occaſion of enlarging offer it ſelf, by which I underſtand Speaking, not only when you are provoked to it, but beginning ſome Diſcourſe of your own Accord. Though there may be a neceſſity for diſpenſing with the latter of theſe Rules, and indulging your ſelf in a larger proportion of Talk; yet be ſure ſtill to obſerve the former, and not go out of the Road I have directed you. Let your Subject be ſomething of Neceſſity and Uſe; ſomething that may advance the Love and Practice of Vertue, reform the Paſſions, inſtruct the Underſtanding, ſuch as may miniſter Advice to Men in Difficulties, comfort them under Afflictions, aſſiſt them in the ſearch of the Truth, give them a reverent Senſe of God, an awful Admiration of his Divine Excelencies, Honourable and becoming Opinions of his Providence; and of his readineſs to help and forward all thoſe in the practice of Vertue, who are careful to implore his Aid by Prayer. But as for the common ridiculous Themes, ſuch as Fencers, and Horſe-races, and the like, or Feaſts, or Faſhions, Cookery, and Wines, who eats and drinks, and dreſſes beſt, and ſuch Stuff; ſcorn the idle Prattle: For theſe Subjects are apt to make a ſtrong Impreſſion upon the Fancy, and ſometimes get within a Man's Affections before he is aware; they give a Tincture to his Appetites, and have a very unhappy Influence upon all his Converſation: And it is really no unuſual thing for Peoples Manners to be ſormed by their Diſcourſe.

But above all things, he gives us warning not to entertain our ſelves, and our Company with talking of other People; neither ſo as to call their Behaviour to Account, nor to be profuſe in their Praiſes, nor free in making Compariſons between one Man and another, as That this Lady is handſomer than That, or this Man Braver, or Honeſter than That, or the like. Now there is nothing more evident, than that this Topick does in a more than ordinary manner divert the Soul from its ſelf, and its own Buſineſs; for it makes Men buſie, and curious, and impertinent, extreamly inquiſitive, and troubleſome where they have nothing to do. But why ſhould this (you'll ſay) do ſo more than any other? And what can our talking of other Men have in it worſe than the Subjects mentioned before?

To this we may reply, That the Perſon to whom the Advice is here directed, being one who hath made ſome progreſs in Philoſophy, as not ſo likely to entertain himſelf with thoſe trivial Matters, as with ſomething that relates to Mankind, and their Affairs and Actions. So that it was convenient to draw him off from thoſe things eſpecially, which his own Inclinanations would moſt diſpoſe him to; and therefore he adds that Emphatical Caution, But above all things.

Beſides, though it be true, That the ſame Affections are ſtirred in us by both Diſcourſes alike, (for we are inſenſibly drawn in to love and hate things and Men by talking of them) yet there is one peculiar Vice attends our Converſation, when we pretend to give Characters of other people; which is, That it ſtrangely ſwells one with Vanity and Pride, and Contempt of others. For whoever he be that pretends to ſit in Judgment upon other Mens Conduct, does it out of ſome imagined Excellence in himſelf, which he fanſies gives him a Right to arraign his Neighbours. And beſides, any miſtake in our Judgments of Men, is more inexcuſable, and of infinitely worſe Conſequenee than if we pronounce wrong in thoſe other trifling Matters; and therefore we ſhould be very ſparing and tender in this Point.

To prove the Importance of this Advice yet more, he proceeds farther, and lays a reſtraint upon our Ears as well as our Tongue. And indeed, with good Reaſon; for our Imaginations, and inconvenient Deſires are cheriſhed by hearing the Subjects that miniſter ſuch Thoughts ſpoken of by others, as well as by ſpeaking of them our ſelves. And beſides, thoſe who give themſelves theſe indecent Liberties, if ſome perſon of Gravity and Authority, ſit by, and do not check them; take advantage of his Patience, and grow perfectly careleſs; they then think they have a priviledge of ſaying what they will, and no Shame, nor Senſe of Decency hath any longer power upon them. Therefore he directs us, to take all the prudent Methods we can, of putting a ſtop to ſuch Diſcourſe, and turning it to ſome other more manly and becoming Topick. But becauſe this is not to be done at all times, nor will every Company bear it; therefore (ſays he) if you are fallen in among Men of ill Tempers, no Breeding, or vicious Converſation, (for theſe are the perſons he calls, people of another Kidney) yet at leaſt diſcountenance them by your Silence; and preſerve your ſelf from Infection, by withdrawing from their Diſcourſe into your own Breaſt.

CHAP. XLIII.

Laugh but upon few Occaſions; and when you do, let it not be much, nor loud.

COMMENT.

AFter the former General Precept of an even Temper, and Uniform Behaviour, to which he tells his Proficient in Philoſophy, nothing will more effectually conduce, than a prudent Frugality in Diſcourſe; the next reſtraint he puts, is upon the Exceſſes of Mirth, which are commonly expreſſed by Laughter: and perhaps by this of Joy, he might deſign that we ſhould underſtand him to extend his Rules to the contrary Extream of Grief too. Now Laughter is a ſort of Evacuation, which the Mind gives it ſelf; a kind of Vent which it finds for Joy, when it is full and runs over. The very nature and manner of it ſeems to ſpeak thus much, the ſwelling of the Lungs, the Interruptions of Breath, and Reverberations of the Air, and that cackling noiſe, which reſembles the purling of Waters. All theſe betray an extraordinary Vehemence, and Emotion in the Soul and Body both, and confeſs plainly, That neither of them are then in that ſedate and ſteady Temper, which Nature and Reaſon find moſt agreeable. The ſame Inconveniences follow upon the other Extream; and immoderate Sorrow, and indulged Tears give as great a ſhock to a Man's Judgment, and Conſiſtence with himſelf; which indeed is never to be preſerved, but by juſt meaſures, and a conſtant moderation in every thing.

For this Reaſon it is, that he condemns the laughing upon every occaſion, as an Argument of inſufferable Levity. But if there happens any thing which may juſtly provoke Laughter, as we are not abſolutely to decline it, for fear we be ſuſpected to want this property of Humane Nature, and appear unreaſonably ſour and moroſe, yet at leaſt it muſt be allowed, That there are very few things in Converſation which will juſtifie it. A man that is eternally upon the Giggle, ſhews a mighty defect of Judgment, and that every little occaſion of mirth is maſter of his Temper, when it thus blows him up into exceſſive Joy. For this reaſon it ought not to be frequent, nor to continue long at a time, for ſo I underſtand his forbidding it to be much; nor ſhould it be noiſy and violent, and convulſive; but ſhew the Evenneſs and Government of the Mind, by being modeſt, and ſcarce exceeding a Smile, which moves the Lips a little, yet ſo as to make no great alteration in the Face.

CHAP. XLIV.

If it be poſſible avoid Swearing altogether; but if you cannot do that abſolutely, yet be ſure to decline it as much as you can.

COMMENT.

THE Firſt place in this Catalogue of Duties which reſpect our ſelves, was due to the reſtraining thoſe Eruptions and Vehemencies of Paſſion, which give a diſturbance to the Quiet of our Minds, and render our Behaviour Irregular and Inconſiſtent. The next he aſſigns to that wherein the Honour of God is concerned.

For the very Nature of an Oath conſiſts in this, That it invokes Almighty God as a Witneſs, and introduces him as a Mediator, and a Bondſman, to undertake for our Honeſty and Truth. Now to make bold with God, upon every trivial Occaſion, (and few of the Affairs of Mankind are any better) is to take a very unbecoming Freedom, and ſuch as argues great want of Reverence for ſo tremendous a Majeſty. Reſpect and Duty then ought to make us decline an Oath, and ſo, as if we can poſſibly help it, never to bind our Souls with ſo Sacred an Engagement at all. And a man that is duly cautious, and tender in theſe matters, would rather undergo ſome Trouble, or pay ſome Forfeiture, than allow himſelf the Liberty of ſwearing. But if there be any urgent and unavoidable Neceſſity for doing it, as if that Teſtimony of my Truth be required to reſcue my Friend, or my Relation from the Injuries of an Oppreſſor, or a Falſe Accuſer; or if my Country, and the Peace of it command this Aſſurance of my Fidelity; in ſuch Caſes, and other ſuch like, we may take an Oath indeed; but then we muſt be ſure not to proſtitute our Conſciences. For when once we have brought our ſelves under ſo ſolemn an Obligation, and engaged God as a Witneſs and a Party in it, no Conſideration muſt ever prevail with us to be unfaithful to our Promiſe, or untrue in our Aſſertions.

CHAP. XLV.

Decline all Publick Entertainments, and mixed Companies; but if any extraordinary occaſion call you to them, keep a ſtrict Guard upon your ſelf, lest you be infected with rude and vulgar Converſation: For know, that though a Man be never ſo clear himſelf, yet by frequenting Company that are tainted, he will of neceſſity contract ſome Pollution from them.

COMMENT.

THE former Chapter was intended to give us a due and awful regard to God, and to check thoſe Liberties, which light thoughts of his Majeſty are apt to encourage in us. His next deſign is, to chain up that many-headed Monſter, Deſire; and in order hereunto, he preſcribes Rules, and ſets Bounds to ſeveral inſtances of it, beginning with thoſe which are moſt neceſſary for the ſuſtenance of Life; and ſo proceeding to others, that make Proviſion for the Body, till at laſt he inſtances in thoſe which Nature is moſt prone to.

And there was good reaſon here to give a particular Advertiſement concerning Feaſts and large Companies, in regard there is ſo mighty a difference obſervable between thoſe of Philoſophers, and thoſe of common Men. The Eating and Drinking part, and all the Jollity, which is the End and Buſineſs of moſt Invitations, Men of Senſe have always look'd upon as the leaſt part of a Feaſt: And their Meetings have been deſigned only for Opportunities to improve one another by mutual Conference, wiſe Di courſes, aſſiduous Enquiry into the Truth, and a free Communication of each others Studies and Opinions. This is exceeding plain, to their immortal Honour, from thoſe admirable Pieces of Plato, and Xenophon, and Plutarch, and others, that go by the Name of their Sympoſia, and are an account of the Diſcourſes that paſſed, when Friends met to eat and drink together. But the Entertainments of the greateſt part of the World, propoſe nothing to themſelves but Luxury and Exceſs, and the gratifying Men's Palates and ſenſual Appetites: They are not the Entertainment of a Man, but the Cramming and Gorging of a Brute, and moſt juſtly fall under the Reproach of an old Obſervation: The Table that gives us Meat without Diſcourſe, is not ſo properly a Table as a Manger.

A good Man therefore will be careful how he mingles himſelf in ſuch Meetings, and decline them as much as is poſſible. But if any extraordinary occaſion draw him abroad, ſuch as a Solemn Feſtival, the Invitation of a Parent, a common Meeting of Friends, or Relations, or Civility and Complaiſance, where the thing cannot in good Manners be refuſed; then the next care is, That we keep a ſtrict guard upon our ſelves; That we awaken our Reaſon, and call up all our Powers, that they watch the Motions of the Mind, and keep her under a ſevere Confinement, for fear ſhe ramble abroad, and indulge her ſelf in the Diverſions of the Company, and by degrees degenerate into their Follies. For there is a ſtrange Contagion in Vice, and no Diſeaſe conveys it ſelf more inſenſibly or more fatally, than ſenſual and brutiſh Inclinations do. Whoever therefore allows himſelf in the Converſation of Perſons addicted to them, and grows accuſtomed to their Vices, (for that I take to be the meaning of frequenting them) will ſoon contract their Pollutions; his own Innocence and Purity will not be able to ſecure him. In theſe caſes, the leaſt touch leaves a Tincture behind it. And this indeed is the proper Notion of Pollution, the ſoiling a clean thing with an unclean, and thereby caſting a Blemiſh and Stain upon it.

CHAP. XLVI.

Let Ʋſe Neceſſity be the Rule of all the Proviſions you make for the Body. Chuſe you Meat and Drink, Apparel, Houſe, and Retinue of ſuch Kinds, and in ſuch proportions as will most conduce to theſe Purpoſes. But as for all beyond this, which ministers to Vanity or Luxury, retrench and deſpiſe it.

COMMENT.

THE neceſſary Supports and Conveniences of the Body, muſt firſt be acquired, and then made uſe of; but Epictetus hath inverted this Order; for he gives us Directions for the Uſe of them here, and reſerves the Procuring of them to be treated of hereafter.

It were a thing perhaps much to be wiſhed, and would make greatly for the Honour of Humane Nature, that ſo noble a Being as the Rational Soul, ſhould be independent, and not ſtand in need of theſe outward Conveniences. But however, whatever Glories belong to that Soul conſidered in its ſelf; yet its own Immortality will not ſuffice in this indigent and precarious ſtate, where it is joined to a mortal and corruptible Body, and acts in and by it. But ſtill, though this Conſideration expoſes it to ſome wants; yet it ſhews us withal, That thoſe Wants are not many: For, the Body being the Inſtrument of the Soul, can need no more than juſt what will qualifie it for ſervice and action; this is the true meaſure of our Expences upon it, and all beyond, ſavours of Luxury and Extravagance. When the Carpenter chuſes an Axe, and ſees afterwards that it be kept in good order, he concerns himſelf no farther, than to conſider the Size, and the Shape, and the Sharpneſs of the Edge: He is not ſollicitous to have the Head gilded, nor the Handle ſtudded with Pearl or Diamonds; and the reaſon is, becauſe ſuch coſtly Ornaments would not only be ſuperfluous, but prejudicial; they would be extreamly ridiculous and ſingular too, and they would be a hindrance to his Tools, and render them leſs fit for the Uſes they were deſigned to ſerve. Juſt thus ought we to behave our ſelves to this Body of ours, this Inſtrument of our Soul, being concerned our ſelves for no other Supplies, but ſuch as may contribute to the making it of conſtant uſe to us.

That which ſhould determine our Choice in Meats and Drinks, ſhould be the Conſideration, which is moſt natural, and the moſt ready at hand; for thoſe that are ſo, are generally the moſt ſimple, moſt eaſie of digeſtion, and moſt wholeſome: For we are to remember, that the Animal Life in us muſt be ſupported; but, that Nature hath not made Varieties and (Quelques Choſes) neceſſary to this purpoſe. And therefore we may very well diſpenſe with the Niceties of the Kitchin and Preſerving-Room, and all the arts of ſtudied Luxury; for the only Buſineſs we have to do is, to repair the Decays of a Body that is perpetually waſting; and that this may be done at a much eaſier rate, is very plain, from the Examples of thoſe whom neceſſitous Circumſtances compel to a plain and courſe Diet; who yet generally have more Strength, and better Health, than thoſe that indulge their Palates and fare ſumptuouſly. This we ſhall ſoon be convinced of, if we do but compare Country-men with Courtiers, Servants with their Maſters, and, in general, poor People with rich. For Superfluities and dainty Meats, do but oppreſs Nature; they are treacherous Delights, and carry a kind of ſecret Poiſon in them. Hence it is that we ſee the Conſtitutions of men that live deliciouſly, ſo miſerably broken; and inſtead of good Nouriſhment, all their Food turns into Corruption, and ill Humours, Catarrhs and Vapours, and all the wretched Conſequences of weak Stomachs, and indigeſted Fumes.

The Health therefore of the Body, and the preſerving it in a vigorous and active ſtate, ſhould preſcribe to us both for the kind and the quantity of our Diet; otherwiſe we ſhall be but the worſe for the Care and Expence we are at about it; and by a very impertinent and miſtaken Tenderneſs, render this Inſtrument leſs capable of doing the Soul Service, and perhaps too, quite break or wear it out the faſter.

Now it is a very great happineſs to have been brought up ſparingly, and uſed to a plain Diet from ones Cradle; for by this means there will be no ſtrife between Nature and Appetite; but that which is moſt for the Benefit of the Body, will be likewiſe moſt agreeable to the Palate, and a Man lies under no Temptation of deſtroying the one, for the ſake of gratifying the other.

The ſame Rule ought to take place in our Apparel too; in which Socrates gave himſelf ſo little trouble, that we are told he wore the ſame Clothes both in Winter and Summer. Now I can allow a man to indulge himſelf to degrees of Tenderneſs, which would make him ſeem a perfect Epicure in compariſon of Socrates; and yet I ſhould think he might content himſelf too, with wearing ſuch Linen and Woollen as our own Country affords, and to change theſe for warmth or coolneſs, as the Seaſons of the Year ſhall make it moſt eaſie and convenient for him. But for foreign Vanities, and fantaſtick Dreſſes, ſuch as put us upon fiſhing all the Eaſt and Weſtern Rivers for Pearl, and fleaing whole Foreſts for Furrs and Ermins, and rifling the India's for Silks, and exchanging ſubſtantial Gold and Silver for the Cobwebs of Worms; this can be nothing elſe but Foppery and Nonſenſe, the marks of a profligate Mind, and the ſcandal of an Age abandoned to Luxury and Madneſs.

So again for our Houſes. Crates is ſaid to have ſatisfied himſelf with a Tub, though at the ſame time he had a very fine Wife, which would have given him a fair pretence for a more ſpacious Dwelling. This is a piece of mortification not required at our hands; and Epictetus is well contented we ſhould have a Houſe, and all Conveniences about it, provided that both the Proportion and the Finiſhing be contrived for Uſe, and not for Pomp and Exceſs. It is fit there ſhould be a decent apartment for the Men, and another for the Females of the Family; tho' indeed theſe diſtinct apartments are not abſolutely neceſſary neither. But to talk of thirty or forty Lodging-Rooms, of inlaid Floors, and Marble Hearths, of Carvings, and Paintings, and Fret-work, and different apartments ſuited to the ſeveral Months of the Year; this is not to ſupply our Neceſſity, but to gratifie our Curioſity and Pride. And it hath this farther Inconvenience in it, That a man uſed to ſuch Things, is condemned to a perpetual uneaſineſs, whenever his own Occaſions call him to a Place where he cannot be equally accommodated; or when the change of his Fortunes reduce him to a neceſſity of parting with thoſe Conveniences, which at the Expence of ſo much Labour and Treaſure he hath provided for himſelf. I might add too, and that very ſeaſonably, That a Man who hath uſed himſelf to take delight in theſe things, cannot eſcape the folly and miſery of placing his Happineſs in them, and ſo utterly neglect the Improvement of his own Mind, and forget the true Felicity of Humane Nature. And if by any misfortune (as indeed there are a great many that may contribute to it) he loſe theſe Enjoyments, he muſt conſequently be expoſed to all the Exceſſes of Paſſion, and an impotent Mind, and imagine himſelf wretched to the very laſt degree: Though in truth, to any one that eſteems things rightly, it will appear, that he was much more unhappy, and had more juſt occaſions of lamenting his own Condition, when in the midſt of his ſo-muchadmired Gaiety and Splendour.

The number of our Retinue, and uſe of our Servants, are ſubject to the ſame Limitations; the occaſion we have for them, and the proportion of our Eſtates. For Servants ſhould be always kept ſo, as to have enough of that which is neceſſary and convenient for them; and yet be always in Employment too: So that we muſt cut the middle way between the two Extreams, Idleneſs and Indulgence on the one hand, and Barbarity and Slavery on the other. But as for vaſt Crowds of Pages and Foot-men, ſuch as have nothing to do but to make way in the Streets, or to make appearance, to run before a Chair, or hang behind a Coach; the Maſters would do well to conſider, that ſo many Attendants are, in plain terms, but ſo many Keepers. And ſure there cannot be a greater ſlavery, than to have ſo many Eyes continually upon you; to have every Motion watched, every Diſcourſe overheard, no freedom or privacy left, no retirement ſafe from their Obſervation; and, in a word, nothing done or ſaid without their Knowledge, and ſawcy Cenſures upon it and you. But beſides the inſupportable Inconvenience of them in ones own Family, they are often very troubleſome and injurious to others, knaviſh and vexatious to Tradeſmen, ſhirking out of Markets and Shops, rude and inſolent to their Betters, guilty of a thouſand Violences and Affronts; and all this upon a Confidence of their own Strength, that their Maſter's Authority will protect them, or their Fellow-Servants ſtand by them in their Rogueries, and be able to bear them out againſt all oppoſition. By theſe wicked Qualities, and their abominable Idleneſs, they grow lewd and debauched, and are the worſt Enemies commonly that their Maſters have. Who all the while, for the State of keeping theſe Rake-hells about them, are forced to break their own reſt, and undergo many Hardſhips, and ſubmit to the mean Arts of Flattery, and making their Court, and become Slaves their own ſelves, and, which is worſt of all, abandon the Rules of Wiſdom and Vertue. But if Men will be ſo fond of a profligate Life, the matter is not great if they pay dear for their Vanity; and therefore let them go on, till Repentance makes them wiſer.

As for the Philoſopher, who conforms himſelf to Epictetus his Rules, a very moderate Attendance will ſerve his turn; for his Concerns with the World are not like to be very great, and he will not think himſelf too good to do all that he can in his own Perſon, without being troubleſome to others. So that except in caſes of Sickneſs, or ſome Buſineſs which he alone cannot poſſibly diſpatch, or retirement from the Affairs of the World, to gain leiſure for attending to ſome better Employment, he will have very little occaſion for a Servant. Thus Epictetus is ſaid to have lived a long time all alone, till at laſt he was forced to hire a Nurſe to bring up a Child of a poor Friend's, whoſe extream Neceſſity had made him reſolved to drop the poor Infant, if Epictetus in Charity had not taken it home, and maintained it.

After having made particular mention of the Neceſſaries of Humane Life, he exhorts in general to retrench all Superfluities; reducing whatever is ſo to theſe two Heads, Luxury and Vanity. For indeed whenever we exceed the Bounds of Moderation in any of our Expences, one of theſe two is always the cauſe of it. And we are told, that the Perſons of Immortal Renown for their Wiſdom and Vertue heretofore, were ſo extreamly nice in this point, and ſo careful not to indulge themſelves in any thing but what was abſolutely needful: That Diogenes, after having uſed a long time to carry a Wooden-Diſh in his Pocket to drink Water in, paſſed by one Day, and ſaw a poor Fellow taking up Water in the Palms of his Hands, and ſo drinking it: Whereupon he flung away his Diſh immediately into the River, and ſaid he had now no farther occaſion for it, ſince it only ſerved for a Uſe which his Hands could as well ſupply without it.

CHAP. XLVII.

Abſtain from Familiarities with Women before Marriage, as much as poſſibly you can; at leaſt, if you indulge your ſelf in any Liberties of this kind, be ſure to wrong no Man's Bed, nor tranſgreſs any Law. But how perfect ſoever your own Chaſtity may be, let not the Conceit of this make you troubleſome to others that are more frail: And be not too laviſh either in reproving their Failings, nor in Commendation of your own Vertue.

COMMENT.

ABſtinence from all kind of Bodily Pleaſure hath this peculiar good Effect, that it confirms and invigorates the Rational Soul, and by the Experience of Conqueſts gained by ſingle Acts, encourages it to exert it ſelf in new Attempts, upon a Confidence that it is able to maſter the brutiſh and rebellious Appetites, and the Diſorders of thoſe Appetites are to be ſubdued Two ways; by waſting the Habits of them, and keeping from frequent Repetitions of their ſeveral Acts; and by uſing them to ſubmit to the Diſcipline of Reaſon. But the Vertue of Continence in the Pleaſures of the Bed, which is a Species of the former, is of ſo much greater Benefit to the Soul, and deſerves to be more highly eſteemed, in proportion as the Temptation is ſtronger, and the Conqueſt more difficult, and noble than the reſt.

Now, although in this Caſe Reaſon be informed and directed by Doctrines of Prudence and Morality, and alſo by poſitive Laws, excellently fitted for this purpoſe; and the Impetuous Sallies of the brutiſh Inclinations are check'd, and held in by this means; yet many Inſtances make it plain, That there is another Method of dealing with them. The Appetites which lead us to all thoſe Enjoyments that Senſe is moſt fond of, notwithſtanding they are natural to us, and very vehement in their Operations, may by good Management and Cuſtom, be reduced, and vanquiſhed by mild and gentle ways, and without any great Violence committed upon Humane Nature. Thus we ſee Perſons, that have habituated themſelves to Faſting and Abſtemiouſneſs, find no diſturbance at all from the craving of their Appetites, but quite contrary feel themſelves oppreſs'd and indiſpoſed, if they allow themſelves to eat either above their uſual Quantity, or before their uſual hour. And thus we find too, that Mens Ambition for the Olympick Crown, reſtrains all their Inclinations of another kind, while they are dieting for the Exerciſes; though Reaſon and common Senſe will tell us, That the unreaſonable quantity of Meat, which they are forced to take to nouriſh and ſtrengthen them at ſuch times, muſt needs raiſe thoſe Deſires, and render the Sollicitations of them more importunate than otherwiſe they would be. And we cannot with any good Grace all that Invincible, which for the ſake of a Sprig of Laurel is vanquiſh'd every Day. So alſo both Cuſtom and Poſitive Law have utterly forbidden, That very near Relations ſhould come together; and theſe Perſons Inclinations, though infuſed into them by Nature, yet are almoſt incapable of being moved towards one another, notwithſtanding any the moſt engaging Charms of either Party; and whenever they are ſo, we look upon it as an extreme Unhappineſs, and particular Judgment. And the Conſequence of this I take to be, That the Paſſion which can very hardly be provoked in one caſe, might with good Care be ſuppreſs'd in another.

Now that ſtrict Chaſtity which is here required before Marriage, is very reaſonable and juſt upon many Accounts; but it is particularly ſo upon this, That the Man may be upon equal Terms with his Wife, and give her the Satisfaction of the ſame unblemiſhed Vertue in his own Perſon, which he expects to meet with in hers. But (ſays he) if ſome Liberties muſt be taken, yet keep at leaſt within the This is to be underſtood of the Heathen Countries only where Simple Fornication was not prohibited by any Humane Conſtitution; but the Chriſtian have reformed that Abuſe. Compaſs which the Law allows: For all beyond that is impious and abominable, or elſe the Law would not have made a Difference, and fenced it in. Beſides, it argues great Impotence, and an ungovernable Mind, to lay all this in common, and is of ill Example, and peſtilent Conſequence; for it hardens a Man's ſelf, and emboldens others to ſlight not only this, but all Laws whatſoever, when once the Authority that gave them Sanction is violated.

But how perfect ſoever your own Chaſtity may be, let not (ſays he) the Conceit of this make you troubleſome to others that have the Misfortune of being more frail. And be not too laviſh, either in reproving their Failings, or in commending your own Vertue. This is very prudent and reaſonable Advice; for ſuch Reproaches cannot but be very harſh and grating, from Perſons with whom we ordinarily converſe; ſince we ſee how tenderly Humane Nature can bear Reproof, and that ſo very few can endure to be chidden, even by thoſe who have a Right to do it, by Vertue of their Poſt and Authority. Now one great Reaſon, why even the ſofteſt Rebukes are generally ſo very ill reſented, I take to be this; That ſo long as no Body tells us of our Faults, we pleaſe our ſelves with an Opinion, that they are concealed from all the World, and by degrees come to think nothing a Fault that is not known. And this again proceeds from a baſe principle of Hypocriſie and Oſtentation: which makes the Opinion of the World a Rule for our own Judgment of our ſelves; and if we can but approve our ſelves to other Men, we are not much concerned whether we can do it or no, to the Truth; that is, to God, and to our own Conſciences.

But if the Perſon that reproves us, do not only take off the Veil from us, but put it upon himſelf; and while he is expoſing our Faults, exalt and proclaim his own Vertues, this aggravates the provocation yet more: For at this ate he inſults over us like a Conqueror, and upbraids our Weakneſſes, and makes the Compariſon, only that we may look a great deal leſs, and ſerve as Foiles for his Merit. And what can be more unequal than this, that our Competitor ſhould be our Judge?

Beſides, ſuch haughty Rebukes and invidious Compariſons, are not only injurious to the perſon deſigned to be leſſened by them, but even to the Author himſelf; for they ſwell his Mind with Pride, and confirm him in his Inſolence and Vain glory; they corrupt all his Reproofs, and incline him to correct other mens Miſcarriages, not ſo much out of any deſire to reform them, as to raiſe his own Reputation by ſinking that of others: And he who hath once diſcovered ſuch baſe indirect Deſigns, muſt never expect to have his Reproofs heard with any Patience, or to work any Good by them: For he gives a man the faireſt Opportunity in the World to excuſe his Folly, by laying hold on the odious Compariſon. And if he can but return this Anſwer, That leſs is expected from him, He for his part is no Philoſopher; and therefore his Failings are no great Matters, he thinks his Reprover effectually ſilenced, and himſelf ſufficiently vindicated.

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Vain-glory, are very often ſtrongly tinctured with, and chiefly owing to it.

It hath alſo one conſiderable advantage above other Paſſions; which is, That its Viciouſneſs and Deformity lies concealed longer than any elſe, and deceives us with a Colour of Vertue, becauſe it is by Vertuous Actions only that we hope for Reputation; not conſidering in the mean while, That this very courting of Applauſe ſullies the moſt commendable Actions, and robs them of all pretenſion to Vertue, becauſe we do not make that our principal End, nor chooſe the Good for its own ſake, but for the Credit and Honour it will derive upon us. For it is plain, That the Mark we aim at is Glory and Commendation, and the Good we apply our ſelves to, is not the Effect of Choice but Neceſſity; and thus many of us would not be Juſt (for inſtance) but only that there is no way to get the good Opinion of the World without it.

There is this to be ſaid farther in its excuſe, That this Paſſion ſeems to be extremely uſeful for the qualifying of ſeveral others. For we are content to undergo many ſharp Conflicts with our ſelves, and deny ſeveral Inclinations and Enjoyments upon this account; and as it is a reſtraint to our Vices, ſo is it likewiſe a powerful Incentive and Spur to Vertue; it puts us upon engaging in many difficult Encounters, reconciles us to Auſterities and Mortifications, and impoſes Tasks, which though performed with great Alacrity upon this account, would otherwiſe ſeem ſevere and inſupportable Puniſhments.

For this Reaſon Ambition and Deſire of Applauſe is very ſignificantly termed the inmoſt Garment of the Soul, as that which ſticks cloſeſt to it of all Paſſions whatſoever; becauſe, when we have ſtript our ſelves of the reſt, yet this is ſtill etained, and in truth the reſt are many times laid aſide for the ſake of this. At leaſt they appear to be ſo; for to ſpeak ſtrictly, this is all but Appearance, and Hypocriſie; nor does this Paſſion in reality make the Soul abandon Vice; for it only puts a Reſtraint upon the outward act, without any effectual Reformation of the mind, or correcting the inward motions to Wickedneſs. Thus we find, that thoſe very Perſons who, to preſerve their Reputation, abſtain from groſs and ſcandalous Lewdneſs, do yet without any remorſe indulge themſelves in unſeen Liberties, and looſe Imaginations. So that upon the whole matter, men are not one whit the better, but the worſe upon this account; for there are not any vicious Deſires reclaimed by it; and the abſtaining from the open Gratiſication of thoſe Deſires, blows them up with a falſe Opinion of Vertue, and adds to their Vanity ten times more.

It ſeems, I confeſs, capable of doing ſome Service to young men, whoſe Paſſions ride high; by curbing the Exorbitancies, which Youth, through the Heat and Raſhneſs of that Age, is ſo exceeding apt to fly out into; but when thoſe importunate Solicitations wear off, and men grow into cooler Reaſon, no Quality of the mind can be more dangerous and deſtructive. For it abſolutely ruins all Vertue, by ſeducing the Soul to baſe Principles, it makes the Opinion of the World the chief end of Action, and lays more ſtreſs upon recommending ones ſelf to others, than upon Satisfaction and Teſtimony of his own Conſcience; it propoſes Good, to us, as eligible, not for any Intrinſick Excellence of its own, but for the Honour and Fame conſequent to the doing of it: So that in ſhort we never really chooſe Good; not Good I mean, conſidered as ſuch, becauſe we do not chooſe it for its own ſake.

Nor is this only a dangerous Vice, but a moſt extravagantly ridiculous one too, and ſuch as expoſes all that are tainted with it, to one moſt abſurd and inconſiſtent Folly: For men of this Temper commonly value themſelves, and deſpiſe others extremely; and yet at the ſame time do they court, and flatter, and fear them, and pin all their Happineſs, and all their Expectation upon theſe very Wretches whom they think ſo deſpicable.

Now nothing can cure this extravagant and ſlaviſh Paſſion, ſo effectually as Moderation; an evenneſs of Mind, and a frank acknowledgment of our own Faults and Failings. And yet even this hath ſome hazard in it too; for affected Humility is the greateſt Pride, and without due Caution, and prudent Care, we ſhall fall into the very danger we would avoid, and become Vain-glorious even in the Accuſations of our ſelves. Many men know, that to leſſen themſelves in their own Expreſſions, is to beſpeak the Commendation of others by a ſly and a ſurer way. But this Temper recommended by Epictetus muſt be ſincere, free from underhand Trickings, and indirect Ends. And indeed he recommends it upon very good Grounds; for it is eaſie to perceive, That if Fate ſhould ſo order the matter, as that our Vertues and Advantages ſhould be known to our ſelves alone; and our Follies and Defects publiſhed to all the World, there would preſently be an end of all Vain-glory: and whatever Good we do, we ſhould be invited to it for its own ſake, when there could be no Proſpect of Applauſe to tempt us.

CHAP. XLIX.

It is by no means convenient that you ſhould frequent the Theatres; but if any occaſion happen to call you thither, diſcover no concern but for your ſelf alone. That is, do not wiſh the Succeſs any other than it is, or that the Victory ſhould fall on any Perſon, except him that gains it. For this will keep your Mind free and diſengaged. Let your Behaviour there be eaſie and ſedate, not betraying any Tranſport of the Mind, by Shouting or loud Laughter, or lond and vehement Emotions. So again, when the Play is over, do not diſcourſe much of what you ſaw there, nor enlarge upon things for which you are never the better: For if you do, this plainly implies, that the Entertainment hath got within you, and that you admired, and were highly pleaſed with it.

COMMENT.

THE ſenſual and brutiſh Appetites, are not confined to ſuch Objects only as our Touch and Taſte are employed in, but extend themſelves likewiſe to thoſe that entertain our Sight and our Hearing: And what ſort of Behaviour and Diſpoſition will become us with reſpect to theſe, he tells us here, by laying down this Rule: That it is by no means neceſſary or convenient to frequent the Publick Theatres. He might have ſaid indeed, That it is abſolutely neceſſary, and highly expedient not to frequent them; for in truth ſuch places leave a ſtrong Infection, and make the whole Life of thoſe that uſe them to become Theatrical, all Show and Formality.

But there may ſometimes an occaſion fall out, in which a Man cannot, without injury to himſelf or his Character, refuſe appearing there; as, either upon ſome Publick Feſtival, which theſe Entertainments are deſign'd to Honour, and make more ſolemn; or in compliance with the Cuſtoms of the World; or at the requeſt of Friends; (for it looks ſour and moroſe to be ſingular, and decline the received Practices of Mankind;) or we may be envited thither, only to make an Experiment upon our own ſelves, as having a mind to be ſatisfied what Improvements we have made, and how differently we are affected with theſe matters at different times. If therefore any of theſe, or any other reaſonable Cauſe bring us to the Theatre, we muſt be ſure to call up all our Vigilance, to collect our ſelves, and not let our Paſſions get looſe; but be ſollicitous only for the Peace and Evenneſs of our own Mind, and perfectly indifferent where the Succeſs of the Combat lights: For we are to remember, that all theſe are things foreign, and without us, and conſequently ſuch as our Deſires and Averſions ought by no means to faſten upon.

This inward Tranquility, is what Epictetus expects our outward Air and Behaviour ſhould ſhew: That our Mien and Countenance be ſetled and compoſed, yet eaſie and good-natured too, ſuch as may expreſs Gravity without Sullenneſs, and Mirth without Levity: Not making our ſelves troubleſome and ridiculous, either by loud Acclamations and Applauſes at what is well performed, or by burſting out into loud and exceſſive Laughter at any comical Paſſages that come before us; but commending the one ſort with Judgment and Moderation, and approving the other with a ſilent Smile.

When the Sight is over, there is a farther care to be taken, Not to diſcourſe largely upon any thing we have been entertained with there; as conſidering, that theſe matters contribute not at all to the making a Man wiſer or better. And ſince they are in no degree inſtructive, or reforming, a Man ought not to think them worthy to be the ſubject of his Diſcourſe. Now indeed Epictetus his Caution here, of not diſcourſing much upon Things for which we are never the better, may bear ſomething different Interpretations: For he may either intend it of all Things relating to theſe Publick Entertainments, the Succeſſes of the Gladiators, and every Event which is there preſented to us; and that a Man cannot poſſibly be edified by talking upon ſuch Subjects as theſe: Or elſe he may only cut off ſome particular parts of our Diſcourſe upon theſe Subjects, and adviſe us when we do make them the matter of our Talk, that we ſhould ſay no more upon theſe occaſions, than what may ſome way conduce to the correcting of Manners, and making us wiſer. And ſuch Topicks particularly are thoſe that make Obſervations upon Men's Behaviour, and condemn all ſuch indecent and irregular Geſtures, as plainly diſcover that the Mind is not in due temper. But to run out, and enlarge extravagantly upon what hath paſſed, is a manifeſt Indication, that our Minds were too much affected with it; and that it appeared to be great, and juſt matter of admiration to us; all which is very unworthy a Philoſopher, and a Defect peculiar to little and vulgar Souls.

CHAP. L.

Be not fond of going to every body's Rehearſals; but when you do, be ſure to preſerve a grave and ſedate Temper; but do not run into the other Extream neither, of rude and unmannerly Moroſeneſs.

COMMENT.

THE next thing he gives Direction in, is, thoſe Publick Rehearſals which the Pretenders to Oratory and Poetry uſe to make, meerly for Oſtentation, and to proclaim their own Eloquence. The Subjects of theſe Rehearſals were various; ſometimes a Panegyrick upon ſome great Prince, or General, or Stateſman; ſometimes they were Politick Harangues; ſometimes a fine Deſcription of a City, or Country; ſometimes the diſcuſſing a point of Law, or the like. Now ſuch as theſe, which propoſe nothing farther to themſelves but Vanity and Oſtentation, and have no concern with Vertue, or any thing that is properly ours; he adviſes us not to be forward in frequenting, nor indeed ever to attend them at all, without ſome good Reaſon that may juſtifie our coming to them. For it may very often happen, that this will be expected from you, either as a Teſtimony of your Friendſhip to the Compoſer, or a Mark of Reſpect due to the Great Man, who is his Theme: or upon ſome other account, which Civility and Good-Breeding may make neceſſary. And indeed theſe Compliances are ſometimes of great Uſe, and have good Effect, to take off the edge of that Envy and Spight with which all People are naturally perſecuted, who recede from the common way of living, and do not do as the World does.

Since then you muſt in all likelihood be there ſometimes, the next point to be gained is a due and decent management of your ſelf upon theſe occaſions. And this will beſt be done by a grave and compoſed Temper; yet not ſo ſevere as to be rude and troubleſome. Your Gravity muſt ſhew it ſelf in commending Things as they deſerve, ſo as neither to be unſeaſonable, nor immoderate and laviſh in your Praiſe. Your compoſed Temper will keep you orderly and quiet: it will prevent all irregular Motion and loud Applauſe, and impertinent Interruptions; and continue the ſame modeſt, decent Air, without thoſe ſudden and vehement alterations, both in Body and Mind, and Mien, which are but too frequent in ſuch caſes. Your Eaſineſs muſt he preſerved too all this while, that you may avoid the Indecency of being over-thoughtful, and ſeeming not to attend. By this alſo you will be kept from a ſullen and affected Silence; and when Things are well ſaid, will not grudge them their due Commendation; it will prevent all peeviſh Cenſures and malicious Criticiſms, and that unbred roughneſs which calls out to the Poet, and reproaches him with Falſhood and Flattery, or a dull Thought, or flat and improper Expreſſions. In ſhort, the Eaſineſs and Complacency expected from you, will conſiſt in ſuch Candour and Good-nature, as ſeems pleaſed with the Eloquence of the Rehearſer, and the Merit of the Perſon commended, and congratulated both freely when they deſerve it, without any mixture of Envy or Detraction.

CHAP. LI.

When you are engaged in Buſineſs with any Perſon, but eſpecially if it be a Man of Quality and Power, conſider with your ſelf how Socrates and Zeno would have behaved themſelves upon this occaſion, and then you will never be at a loſs, how to manage your Affair with decency, and to advantage.

COMMENT.

PHiloſophical Perſons make their own Improvement the main Buſineſs of their Lives, and conſequently meddle not with any but themſelves; ſo that they are very ſeldom troubled with attendance and application to Great Men. Before Perſons ſo unpractiſed therefore, he ſets Socrates and Zeno for Patterns, that by taking our meaſures from their Vertues and Demeanour, we may be able to manage ſo nice a point of humane Converſation; and conſider, that theſe excellent Perſons when they addreſs'd to Authority and Greatneſs, did not put on a ſtiff Formality and diſſembled Reſpect; but ſhewed a true and genuine Nobleneſs of Soul, agreeable to the Tenour of their whole Lives; and this too ſuch as was the Reſult of Philoſophy and Prudence, and not the Effect of Inſolence and Vanity: That this kept them in a due Moderation and Decorum; between a ſubmiſſive Cringing, and a ſaucy Pertneſs.

The ſame temper will prevent any ſuch mean and abject Awe for the Eminence of Men's Station, as ſhould betray us into Flattery, and prevail with us to complement their Failings, and commend their Vices; and yet it will not ſuffer us to preſume upon our own Authority and Wiſdom neither, or ſo far to forget Decency and Good Manners, as to reproach and rip up thoſe Vices in rude and opprobrious Language. It teaches us the ſofteſt and moſt gentle methods of Reproof; and adviſes, firſt, to allow what they have done well, its due Praiſes, and ſo to make way for juſt and neceſſary Rebukes. Thus ſweetning the leſs-palatable part of our Diſcourſe, with what we know hath an agreeable reliſh, as Phyſicians wrap up bitter Pills in Honey, to make them go down the more glibly. And when we muſt at laſt proceed to this moſt ungrateful-good Office, it will become us not to be too rigorous Obſervers, nor too ſevere Interpreters of their Actions, as if their Deformities were any Diverſion to us, or we took a malicious Joy in finding fault: But to demonſtrate, by all our Carriage, That Reformation is our only End; and to purſue this with a moſt affectionate Zeal, expreſſing great Tenderneſs, and much Trouble and Concern, that the Luſtre of their good Actions ſhould be thus ſullied and eclipſed, by theſe Failings, and Blemiſhes, and rebellious Paſſions.

There is a alſo another Topick applicable to this purpoſe, which I do not doubt but Socrates and Zeno managed with marvellous dexterity and ſucceſs: Which was, To convince People of Condition what a world of Inconveniences and Troubles Greatneſs was ever incumbred with; and that the only deſirable thing in it, was the Power and Opportunities of doing good, and making that good diffuſive and effectual, above men of a meaner Capacity. So that thoſe who in ſuch a Poſt abandoned themſelves to Vice, and neglected to improve this advantage, retain'd the bitter part, and threw away all the ſweet; were oppreſs'd with the miſeries and the burdenſome Cares of Riches and Honour, and loſt all the Comfort and all the Happineſs of them.

But all this while it muſt be remembred, that Socrates and Zeno are propoſed to us as Patterns, becauſe it is convenient that we ſhould fix our Eyes upon the nobleſt and moſt perfect Examples, and ſo far as we can aſpire by degrees to their Perfections; but ſtill we muſt in matters of Practice be content to keep to our own Model, and ſhall acquit our ſelves very well, if our Actions bear proportion to our Condition and Character. Nor can it be expected that a young Proficient in Philoſophy, and one whom Epictetus ſuppoſes ſtill to ſtand in need of his Inſtruction, ſhould be able, in his Behaviour and Converſation, to proceed juſt as Socrates and Zeno did. The pretending to perſonate theſe Great Men in all things, would not be Imitation, but Mimickry and ſit ſo ill upon ſuch a one, as to make him and what he did ridiculous. How vain an attempt this would prove, we need no other Argument than that account given of Zeno by Antigonus, the Succeſſor of Alexander in Syria; who tho' he had converſed with ſeveral Philoſophers, yet declared, That he never could ſo far command himſelf in Company with Zeno, as to conquer his Diſorder and Confuſion; and, That the very Preſence of that Man did (what no other could do) damp him with an unuſual Awe and Concern.

And thus Epictetus takes occaſion from directing us what Methods are proper to be uſed in addreſs to, and conference with Men in eminent Dignity, to deſcend to inferiour Conditions, and give Rules for Converſation in general.

CHAP. LII.

When your Occaſions make it neceſſary to viſit a Man of Quality, reflect with your ſelf before you go what may happen to you. Poſſibly he may not be at home; or if he be, that he will not be ſpoken with; that the Porter may ſhut the Door rudely upon you; that you may wait in the Hall among the Foot-men; that none of them will carry your Meſſage to his Lord; or, if they do, that you will meet with nothing but ſcorn and neglect. When you have prepared your ſelf thus, if you think it wo th your while to go upon ſuch Terms, do it; and bear whatever happens as you ought. But do not repine afterwards, and ſay with your ſelf, That the Buſineſs was not worth all this Trouble: For that is a Reflection unbecoming a Philoſopher, and ſhews a vulgar Soul, not reconciled ſufficiently to the Accidents of the World.

COMMENT.

THE Advice he gives here, is much of the ſame nature with what we met with before in the Ninth Chapter; where he begins thus: In every Action you undertake, conſider, firſt, with your ſelf, and weigh well the Nature and Circumſtances of the Thing, &c. Only there indeed he continues and illuſtrates his Diſcourſe, by a very low and familiar inſtance of Bathing; but here he applies it to that much more important one of application to Great Men. There is alſo this other difference between the two Paſſages, That the Concluſion and Deſign of his Advice there, was to perſuade Men not be too much concerned at things when they had happened, but to keep their Temper even, and their Reaſon undiſturbed; whereas here his Buſineſs is to bring Men to a prudent forecaſt, that they may not run on giddily, nor ſee Things by halves; but repreſent to themſelves before-hand, all the poſſible Difficulties and Inconveniences that can riſe upon them, that they may take as true an Idea of all the diſcouraging Circumſtances now, as it is poſſible for the Event to give them afterwards.

For after we have taken upon us the ſlavery of waiting upon a Great Man, and met with theſe Diſappointments and cold Neglects, we are apt to ſit down diſcontented, and with much remorſe to condemn our own Folly, and take it exceeding ill to be treated with ſo much inſolence and ſcorn, and ſo unbecoming our Quality or Deſert. Now all that Diſſatisfaction is owing to one of theſe two Cauſes; either, That we made a raſh and an ill Choice at firſt; or elſe, That theſe external Accidents make too ſtrong and too tender an Impreſſion upon us. And both theſe Defects betray a baſe and a narrow Soul, not ſuitable in any degree to the Dignity of a Philoſopher, who ſhould know how to manage, and how to ſlight every Accident of this kind; not ſuffering himſelf to be impoſed upon like the ignorant Vulgar, with the falſe appearances of Things, nor miſtaking thoſe for matters of Conſequence, which are really and in their own Nature mere Trifles, and of little or no conſideration at all to him.

So that having in the former Chapter inſtructed us what Decorum is to be obſerved towards Perſons of Honour and Authority, who are content to admit us to ſome familiarity and free conferences with them, and propoſed the Prudence of Socrates and Zeno for the Standard of our Behaviour; he preſcribes to us here the Rules proper to be followed, where we are received with coldneſs and diſdain, and rougher uſage: That except where ſome abſolute neceſſity requires, we ſhould have nothing at all to do with ſuch Perſons; and when any urgent occaſion compels us to chuſe this Attendance, and our Buſineſs muſt be followed, though at the expence of all thoſe Hardſhips and Affronts, to ſettle and compoſe our Minds before, and not expoſe our ſelves to the misfortune of a Surprize, or the weakneſs of a late Repentance, and wiſh we had never undertaken it, when theſe things are come upon us.

CHAP. LIII.

In familiar Converſation with your Friends and Acquaintance, do not make it your Buſineſs to entertain the Company with tedious Narratives of your ſelf, and your own Affairs. Conſider, that their Reſentments and yours are very different upon theſe occaſions. And though the Exploits by which you have ſignalized your ſelf, the Succeſſes you have obtained, the Dangers you have encountred, or the Afflictions you have undergone, may be a very agreeable Story to your ſelf to tell, yet it will not be equally ſo for others to hear.

CHAP. LIV.

As little will it become you to render your ſelf the common Buffoon, and be always trying to make the Company laugh; for this is a very nice and tickliſh thing, exceeding apt to degenerate into Vice and Folly, and (obſerve them when you will) He that only ſtudies Men's Diverſion, ſhall be ſure at the ſame time to loſe their Reſpect.

CHAP. LV.

Of all kind of Diſcourſe, none is more unſafe, none more deſpicable than that which breaks in upon Modeſty and Good-Manners. Whenever therefore any Perſon in your preſence flies out into Obſcenity (if ſo great a Liberty can decently be taken) reprove him publickly, and put a ſtop to his lewd Talk. But if that cannot conveniently be done, yet at leaſt do your ſelf the Juſtice to diſapprove it; and by forbearing to join with him, by bluſhing for him, and by chiding Looks, let all the Company ſee plainly, that you deteſt his filthy Ribaldry.

COMMENT.

HEre he deſcends from converſing with Great Perſons, to preſcribe the Meaſures fit to be taken with thoſe of common Quality, ſuch as are of a Condition equal, or inferiour to our own: And that which we are chiefly concerned to take care of in this caſe, is, the rendring our ſelves eaſie and acceptable to all kind of Company in general; to obſerve ſuch a prudent Medium, as may prevent a ſtiff and formal diſtance in one extream, and keep off ſuch a ſawcy Freedom, as may make us cheap and contemptible in the other. Nay, which is more, we are not only to ſecure a due reſpect and value for our ſelves, but to conſult the Intereſt of thoſe we converſe with; and a wiſe Man will not only endeavour to recommend himſelf, by making his Diſcourſe free and eaſie, and diverting, but by making it beneficial and improving too.

In order to the learning this Art, Epictetus gives us warning of ſeveral Indecencies that are apt to prejudice People againſt us; and the firſt of theſe is the expatiating upon our ſelves, chuſing out ſome of our own Performances, or our own Hardſhips, for our conſtant Topick, and running diviſions perpetually upon our Families, or our Fortunes. And this in truth is the moſt nauſeous and tireſome thing in the World; for there is a Principle of Jealouſie in every Man, that turns again at all the fulſome Commendations of our ſelves, and we preſently grow ſick of them in our own defence. Nothing is more aſſuming, and conſequently nothing can be more provoking: It argues very little and low Thoughts of all Mankind beſides, when we can with ſuch diſdain overlook the reſt of the World and imagine no Affairs but our own worthy to furniſh out matter for Diſcourſe. And beſides, all theſe extravagant Panegyricks upon our ſelves, are no better than ſo many fly Invectives againſt other People; and he that takes pains to extol his own Conduct, only makes an invidious Compariſon, and always deſires to be ſo underſtood, as by a Side-wind to reproach and condemn that of his Neighbour. So that a Man full of himſelf, is a common Enemy, no Patience can brook him; and conſequently nothing can more effectually contribute to render our Converſation agreeable and entertaining, than the declining to trouble the Company with our own Affairs. Which hath alſo this further advantage too, that it checks the Vanity of our Temper, abates our Love of Popular Applauſe, and diſcovers a true Bravery, and nobleneſs of Spirit.

His next piece of Advice concerns the gay and the facetious Part of Converſation, and here, in purſuance of his former Directions, not to indulge our ſelves in long and violent Laughter, nor to burſt out upon every trivial occaſion, he forbids his Proficient to be always acting the Buffoon, and endeavouring to make the Company laugh. And that for this very good reaſon, becauſe Mirth is a ſlippery and unfaithful Ground; and they who reſolve never to want a Jeſt, will eaſily degenerate into Impertinence and Folly. For when a Man accommodates himſelf ſo far to the Humours of the Vulgar, as to conſult their Merriment and Diverſion, it ſhews that his Soul is of their Size and Temper, and reliſhes the ſame mean, unworthy Pleaſures. Indeed, if there be any difference between them, he that labours to entertain another with ſuch Diſcourſe, is the worſe, and the greater Fool of the two. So that whoever makes the Company merry after this manner, does it at his own Expence; for this naturally renders him cheap, and encourages them to be laviſh and ſawcy in their turn too; and there cannot be any more effectual courſe to loſe a Man in the Reputation of the World, and rob him of all the Reſpect that is otherwiſe due to his Quality, or his Parts, than to be thus profuſe of his Wit, or to ſet up for a common Jeſter.

And yet it muſt be owned, that Diverſion is the very Soul of Converſation; and ſome wiſe Men have frequently ſtudied to entertain the Company with pleaſant Diſcourſe to take off the Imputation of Moroſeneſs and Ill-humour. To thoſe therefore, who upon occaſions find it convenient to give a little Looſe to Mirth, he adds this moſt neceſſary Caution, Always to keep within the Bounds of Modeſty and Decency. For all obſcence Diſcourſe is abſolutely inconſiſtent with the Character of a wiſe and good Man; and he who pretends to any progreſs in Philoſophy, will be ſo far from allowing himſelf in it, that he muſt not with patience hear any ſuch thing from another. And therefore Epictetus commands ſuch a one to reprove any that uſe theſe uncomely Liberties, provided it can conveniently and properly be done: As for inſtance; if the Perſon be younger than we, and ſo our Age ſeem to give us ſome Authority over him; if he be one that hath any remains of Modeſty left, and we have any reaſon to hope our Rebukes will prove ſucceſsful; if there be no great diſtance between his Quality, or his Eſtate and ours, ſo that he is not too big, or too vain to be reproved. For in theſe Circumſtances, you may without any breach of Civility do it, and neither the Offender nor the Company will take it ill, or think you too bold, if they underſtand themſelves at all. But it muſt be confeſs'd, that this Duty is not always practicable; for if there are ſome Perſons with whom this Liberty cannot be taken, their Age, or their Condition, may give what they ſay a Privilege of being paſſed over. Their Temper may render them incapable of Animadverſion, or their hardned Wickedneſs may have put them paſt all power of its doing good upon them: And in ſuch caſes, the attempt would not only be ridiculous, but might poſſibly be dangerous too; for no Man is obliged to do what does not become him, becauſe another hath done ſo; nor muſt our Zeal be ſo warmly purſued, as to break good Order, or give the Company diſturbance, or create our ſelves Enemies, by ſuch indiſcreet and unneceſſary Corrections. But ſtill there is one Remedy left, and that muſt be taken in Juſtice to our ſelves; which is, by our Silence to refuſe the becoming a Party; to demonſtrate, that we underſtand what Behaviour is fit for us; and that we do ſecretly diſallow what Prudence or Good-Manners will not ſuffer us openly to rebuke.

And here I cannot omit obſerving, how nice and punctual Epictetus is, in ſuiting the Rules he gives, according to the different Circumſtances of the Caſe in hand: For he had treated before of Diſcourſe concerning the Entertainments of the Publick Theatre, the Combats of Gladiators, Horſe Races, Feaſts, Meats, and Wines, and Modes, and giving Characters of Men to their prejudice, or their advantage; and upon all ſuch Occaſions, he directs us to turn the Diſcourſe off to ſome other more uſeful Subject. But here, it ſeems, that is not ſufficient; for we muſt not only change, but reprove it too, if that can properly be done. There, if we cannot turn the Diſcourſe, we may content our ſelves with being ſilent; but here it is not every Silence that will ſerve the turn; it is neceſſary it ſhould be a ſort of emphatical and very ſignificant one, ſuch as may diſtinguiſh our Thoughts, and expreſs a Diſlike and Deteſtation of what is indecently ſpoken.

CHAP. LVI.

When the Idea of any Pleaſure ſtrikes your Imagination, as you muſt in other Caſes, ſo ſhould you in this, eſpecially ſtand upon your Guard, and not ſuffer your ſelf to be hurried away with the impetuous Torrent. Run no teagerly upon Enjoyment, nor improve the Thought into Action; but take time to conſider; and let that time be imployed in making a juſt Computation between the duration of the Pleaſure, and that of the Repentance ſure to follow it; and then you will not fail to check your Inclinations, and chide your ſelf for indulging them in any Degree at all. Conſider farther too, That the denying of thoſe Inclinations will certainly give you an inward Joy, and instead of being reproached by your own Conſcience; you ſhall be comforted and commended by it. But if upon mature Deliberation, the thing you are moved to, appear no way inconvenient, you may gratifie your Appetite, but you must not let it looſe: for even innocent Enjoyments require a ſtreight Rein. and a ſteady Hand, for fear the Impreſſion be too ſtrong and powerful, and the Pleaſures of Senſe charm and captivate your Reaſon. And therefore even in theſe Caſes too, repreſent to your ſelf the inward Complacency of having done well, and wiſely; and the Triumphs of a good Conſcience, after ſubduing Temptations.

COMMENT.

THere is not in the whole World any thing more pernicious to the Soul than the Pleaſures of Fleſh and Senſe; for theſe fetter and faſten down the Mind; and God, who ſaw thoſe deſtructive Conſequences of them, hath therefore in his infinite Wiſdom, and marvellous Goodneſs, made all ſuch Pleaſures of exceeding ſhort Continuance. Thus thoſe of the Epicure laſt no longer, than juſt while his Mea s and Drinks lie upon the Tongue, when once they are ſwallowed into the Stomach, all the Reliſh of them is loſt and gone, and the Palate returns to its former Habit again. So likewiſe thoſe Pleaſures, which Senſe is fondeſt of, and the moſt exquiſitely affected with, continue no longger, than juſt the time of Fruition. When that ſhort Moment is once paſt, the Man is as if he had never been at all. It is very plain too that Pleaſure is properly the Object of the Senſitive Faculties, and does not extend to the Rational Soul; for thoſe Creatures that are void of Senſe, are not capable of Pleaſure.

Nor is this the Condition of bodily Pleaſures only, but thoſe other Satisfactions which we call ſo, ſuch as Men take in gay Clothes, pompous Equipage, rich Jewels, and Furniture, large Eſtates, and the like; even they are but very ſhort-lived neither. For when once the firſt Fluſh of Joy is over, they pall and ſink down into nothing; and Time, in proportion as it makes them familiar to us, makes them flat and inſipid too. But, alas! the Caſe is not the ſame in the contrary Extreme; nor do our Griefs for the loſs of theſe things wear off ſo faſt, as our Satisfactions of acquiring, or poſſeſſing them: Theſe are long and laſting, and very often grow by time. Thus Pleaſure, it ſeems, of all ſorts, but eſpecially ſuch as affects our bodily Senſes, vaniſhes very quickly; and well it were for us, if it, and all its Effects went off together: But it leaves a Sting behind it, wounds the Soul, diſarms Reaſon; and, if it be indulged to exceſs, does not ſtop there neither; but many times proves of terrible Conſequence to the Body too. Whereas Abſtinence from Pleaſure, and the Conqueſts we gain over it, are of infinite Advantage to the Soul; fill it with durable Satisfaction, and inſpire Joys of quite another kind, Joys agreeable to Reaſon and uncorrupted Nature, ſuch as no Guilt pollutes, no mixture or remains of Sorrow taint, no Time wears away.

Thus much I thought neceſſary to premiſe in general, by way of Introduction to Epictetus his Advice, which begins in theſe Terms: When the Idea of any Pleaſure ſtrikes your Imagination, as you muſt in other Caſes, ſuch as Power or Riches, or the like; ſo ſhould you in this of Pleaſure, more eſpecially ſtand upon your Guard, and not ſuffer your ſelf to be hurried away from Thought, to Act. Be not too raſh and haſty, but allow your ſelf leiſure for better Conſideration. And, when you have ſo far prevailed upon your ſelf as to gain time, and ſuſpend the gratifying of your Fancy for a while, employ this time in making a juſt Computation. Weigh firſt the time of Enjoyment well, and conſider how ſhort how very ſhort it is; and afterwards obſerve, how infinitely this is over-balanced by that of Repentance. Think how many ſad Remembrances, what bitter Remorſe, what laſting Shame, what ſelf condemning Reflections, the being vanquiſhed by this Temptation will coſt you; and then you will be aſhamed to purchaſe ſo fugitive a Pleaſure, with ſo permanent a Miſery.

But, that you may have no Prete ••• , no Colour left for ſo imprudent an Exchange, conſider once more the durable Advantages of Selfdenial; the ſincere and never fading Satisfactions that reſult from a Luſt ſubdued; the perpetual Applauſes of a good Conſcience, and the Happineſs of being approved by ones one Breaſt: For if you do but caſt theſe things into the Seale, and give them their due weight, the Diſparity will be ſo manifeſt, that Appetite muſt yield to Reaſon. And if you repeat this again and again, as fit Occaſions offer themſelves, you will by degrees gain an habitual and compleat victory, and ſo abſolutely reduce the ſenſual Inclinations, that they will not be in a Condition to rebell, or give you any conſiderable diſturbance.

Since then the Pleaſure laſts no longer than the ſingle Inſtant of an Action, when once that Inſtant is over, there is no difference between one that hath had this Enjoyment, and one that had it not, it is evident, that Pleaſure can have but very little to recommend it. You will ſay, perhaps, that the Voluptuous Perſon hath the Satisfaction of Remembrance, and recollecting the Delights he enjoyed, which is a kind of bringing them back again, and an acting them over in Imagination a ſecond time. But, alas! this is a very poor and lame Satisfaction; and we need no other proof of its being ſo, than thoſe dark and imperfect Ideas, which the remembrance of a pleaſant Dream gives us; for thoſe of a paſt Pleaſure are exactly the ſame, every whit as feeble and imaginary.

But in regard there are ſome Pleaſures no way inconſiſtent with Duty, and right Reaſon; ſuch as thoſe of the Marriage Bed, or Bathing after a Fever, and the like; therefore he adds one neceſſary Caution more; That even theſe Pleaſures, which may be innocent and convenient in themſelves, ſhould yet be ſo tempered with a prudent Reſtraint, that the Gratefulneſs of them to Senſe do not over-bear our Reaſon; nor we ſo abſolutely give our ſelves up to the Enjoyment, as to be tranſported with Rapture and Joy. But even then, when we allow our ſelves the Fruition, to check and correct the Exuberance of our Pleaſure, by a ſeaſonable Reflection, That Reaſon ought always to be uppermoſt; and that it is infinitely more becoming and advantageous to be above Senſe, than to be a Slave to it. For indeed, this is as much more eligible, as the due Government of our Paſſions, is better than the living under the Tyranny and Uſurpation of them; as much more Noble, as Reaſon is Superiour to Inſtinct, and the Dignity of the Humane Nature, above that of a Brute.

CHAP. LVII.

When, upon mature Deliberation, you are perſuaded a thing is fit to be done, do it boldly; and do not affect Privacy in it, nor concern your ſelf at all, what impertinent Cenſures or Reflections the World will paſs upon it. For if the thing be not Juſt and Innocent, it ought not to be attempted at all, though never ſo ſecretly. And if it be, you do very fooliſhly to ſtand in fear of thoſe, who will themſelves do ill in cenſuring and condemning what you do well.

COMMENT.

THere is not any thing that Epictetus ſeems more concerned for, than that Vertue ſhould be choſen for Vertue's ſake, That ſo the Good we do might be compleat and perfect, when done out of a juſt ſenſe and value of its own intrinſick Worth, without any ſordid Allays, or indirect Ends, ſuch as the Opinion of the World, and the deſire of Applauſe and Reputation particularly. For whoever chuſes Good upon this account, makes this, and not doing well his ultimate End, that is, indeed, his Good.

Now if a Man hath conſulted his own Reaſon, and is upon good Ground convinced, That ſuch or ſuch a thing ought not to be done; no conſideration whatſoever ſhould prevail upon him to do it, becauſe it ought not to be done. And again, if upon a grave and wiſe Debate with himſelf, he come to a Reſolution, That it ſhould be done; and do it in this Perſwaſion, it is moſt ſenſeleſs and ſneaking to endeavour the concealing of it, from any Apprehenſions of Conſtruction other People will put upon it. For if he be right in reſolving, they cannot be ſo in interpreting it to his Diſadvantage; and at this rate, a Man betrays leſs Honour, and Regard for a real Good, (for ſuch is a wiſe and vertuous Action) than he does for a real Evil; for ſuch is a falſe Opinion, and malicious Cenſure. And indeed, generally ſpeaking, this is the Caſe of the Errors and Miſapprehenſions of the Vulgar, which Men ſtand in ſo much fear of; and are ſo apt to forego, or at leaſt to diſown the Practice of Vertue, leſt they ſhould fall under them.

From hence likewiſe reſults another very miſchievous Effect, which is, That the Concluſions and Dictates of right Reaſon ſhould be look'd upon as Evils, for ſo they plainly are, when Men decline and diſavow them, ſince nothing is ever ſhunn'd or diſclaimed, but under the Notion of Evil.

Further yet, there is a Third great Inconvenience conſequent upon taking theſe mean and indirect Methods; which is, That ſuch a Man turns Deſerter to Vertue, and runs away from the true Standard of all his Behaviour, viz. the Nature of the Actions themſelves, and the Judgment and Teſtimony of his own Breaſt, and gives himſelf up entirely to be governed by common Opinion, expects no Happineſs but what Applauſe can give him, and fears no Miſery but Cenſure and Reproach; and is ſo bigotted to the World, as utterly to renounce his own Reaſon, and think nothing Good or Evil, True or Falſe, but what Common Fame declares to be ſo.

CHAP. LVIII.

As this Sentence, It is Day, and, It is Night, if you take it apart, is moſt true; but if you join it together, is abſolutely falſe: So for a Man, at a publick Entertainment, to carve himſelf the best and greateſt ſhare; though if he conſider his own Body ſingly, it might be well enough; yet in regard of that Common Right which this Invitation gives to all that are preſent, it is most unbecoming and unreaſonable. And therefore, when you eat abroad, remember that you are to look farther than the bare ſatisfying of your own Appetite; and to obſerve all that Decency and Reſpect, which is due both to the Company you are joined with, and to the Maſter of the Houſe, that invited you.

COMMENT.

THe Stoicks are particularly nice and ſubtile in the illuſtrating and arguing from Hypothetical Syllogiſms: And theſe are of two forts, one that they call Disjunctive, the other Conjunctive or Complex. The Disjunctive are ſuch as conſiſt of contradictory parts, ſo that if one be true, the other muſt needs be falſe; and if the one be falſe, the other is as certainly true. As for inſtance; when I ſay, It is either Day or Night, but it is Night, therefore it is not Day. Thus by affirming the one part, you deny the other; and by denying the one, you affirm the other: As when I make my Aſſumption thus; but it is not Day, and conclude from thence, therefore it is Night; or, but it is not Night, therefore it is Day. And ſuch a Disjunctive Propoſition as this, whoſe parts are inconſiſtent with one another, (as when we ſay, It is either Day or Night,) is received as an Axiom; that is, as a Truth ſelfevident, ſuch as is plain and agreeable to the Common Senſe, and Notions of all Mankind. For ſuch Propoſitions the Stoicks uſed to call Axioms.

Now a Complex Propoſition conſiſts of two Parts; but theſe ſuch, as have a neceſſary connexion with, and dependance upon one another, ſo that if one be allowed, the other follows in courſe; for which occaſion they are very properly termed, the Antecedent and the Conſequent. And the Condition of theſe Propoſitions is this; That if you affirm the Antecedent, you eſtabliſh the Conſequent; but if you deny the Conſequent, you overthrow the Antecedent at the ſame time. For inſtance, this is a true Conjunction, If it be Day, it is not Night; becauſe upon this Antecedent It is Day, the Aſſumption follows, But if it be Day it is not Night; ſo that putting this into one Complex Propoſition, the Antecedent inferrs the Conſequent; for thus you proceed, But it is Day, therefore it is not Night. And ſo likewiſe if you deny the Conſequent, you deny the Antecedent alſo; as if you ſay, But it is not Night (which is as much as to ſay that it is, for the two Negatives here make one Affirmative) therefore it is not Day. And this is the Caſe of a Conjunctive or Complex Propoſition, and the Rule it proceeds upon.

Let us now ſee, what uſe Epictetus makes of this, and how he applies it to his preſent purpoſe. This Propoſition, It is either Day, or Night, in a disjunctive Syllogiſm, he tells us, carries its own Evidence along with it, and is unconteſtably true. But in a Conjunctive Syllogiſm the caſe is much otherwiſe. For when theſe two parts are brought into one Complex Propoſition, then to affirm the one, we muſt deny the other; and the Sentence muſt of neceſſity run thus, If it be Day, it is not Night. Now then (ſays he) as this Disjunctive Propoſition, in a Disjunctive Syllogiſm, is moſt true, becauſe the whole Argument depends upon it, and all the ſtreſs lies in the oppoſition of the parts thus disjoined; but in a Complex Propoſition it is moſt falſe, for the Conjunction is there torn aſunder, by the neceſſary inſertion of the Negative Particle, If it be Day, it is not Night. So likewiſe at a publick Entertainment, however it may be for the Advantage of a Man's own Body to carve the beſt for one's ſelf, and to ſcramble for the greateſt ſhare; yet this is abſolutely inconſiſtent with that Equity and Common Right of Humane Society at all ſuch publick Meetings. For a Man is not here to look upon himſelf, as a Disjunctive, and to act as if he ſtood ſingle; but to conſider himſelf in conjunction with the reſt of the Company, and to be guilty of nothing, that may break that Conjunction, by infringing the Privileges that lie in common, and eugroſſing any ſuch for his own private Intereſt.

When therefore you dine in Company (ſays he) do not regard the Cravings of your own Appetite, nor pick out the choiceſt part of the Dinner to gratifie your own Palate; but conſider, that there is another Duty, beſides what you owe to your own Body, and that is a Duty of mutual participation, and aſſuming no more, than what you are content to allow to others, who have indeed equal pretenſions with your ſelf.

Now nothing can be more manifeſt, than that by this inſtance of a Feaſt, Epictetus meant a great deal more than he hath expreſſed: And intended no doubt, that we ſhould ſtretch this Rule to all the Affairs of Humane Life, that concern others as well as our ſelves, and to all our Commerce and Dealings with one another. For all greedineſs and graſping at more than belongs to us, looſens and breaks the Bonds of Humane Society, which can never be maintained otherwiſe, than by allowing every body the ſhare that is due to him. Of how great efficacy this is towards the uniting Men together, and making that union durable and ſtrong, beſides what common Experience teaches us, we have an inſtance, even in the worſt and vileſt Men. For the very Combinations that Thieves and publick Robbers make with one another, though theſe Men have caſt off all the Ties of Juſtice and Common Honeſty, are yet preſerved, ſo long as they keep to the private Agreements made among themſelves, and are content that the Booty ſhould be divided equally. And ſure ſtrict Juſtice muſt needs cement Men very ſtrongly, when even this feeble imitation of it, can go ſo far in the confirming and maintaining a Community founded in Injuſtice.

So then, after the various Directions and Exhortations in the foregoing parts of this Book, ſome of which were deſigned to excite Men to true Freedom, ſome to recommend Fortitude, others Generoſity, and Greatneſs of Soul, others Prudence, and Temperance: This Chapter is deſigned to make Men juſt; and, in order to the effecting this, to remove firſt of all that greateſt obſtruction to it, which is Avarice, and inordinate Deſire of more than in ſtrictneſs belongs to us.

CHAP. LIX.

If you take upon you a Character above your capacity, you fall into this two-fold Inconvenience, firſt to miſcarry in what you have undertaken, and then to loſe the opportunity of undertaking ſomewhat elſe, more proportionable to your ability, in which you might have come off with Honour.

COMMENT.

VVE are not always to aim at that Good, which is moſt noble and excellent in it ſelf, but that which we are beſt qualified for, and is moſt ſuitable to our own Circumſtances. For there never comes any good of extravagant Undertakings. So that we ſhall do well to proceed leiſurely in the choice of the Figure we deſire to make in the World, and not aſpire to things above us. An eminent Orator, or a Philoſopher in a Common-wealth; a Pilot, or Maſter in a Ship; a Prince, or publick Magiſtrate in a State: Theſe are Characters that look great and gay; but yet every body ſhould not deſire them, becauſe every body is not cut out for them. And it is much more graceful for a Man to be in a lower Station, where he fills his Poſt, and tops his part, than to be in a higher; which he cannot come up to, nor diſcharge the Duties of with that decency and applauſe that is expected. Thus a Man had better be a good Uſher, and teach the firſt grounds of Learning well, than an unable Maſter, who cannot finiſh what is well begun. And it is more deſirable to be an honeſt and prudent Manager of a private Family, than a bad Governour of a City or Nation. For, beſides the prejudice ſuch perſons do themſelves, in not coming up to the Dignity of a Character too lofty for them (which miſcarriage I would have rated, not by the Approbation or the Cenſure of the World, but according to the real Nature of the Character it ſelf) they are unfortunate in another reſpect. For they have not only come off very ſcurvily in attempting what they were not fit for; but they have ſlipp'd an opportunity too, of behaving themſelves well, and gaining applauſe in ſomething elſe which they were fit for. For it is in Humane Life, as it is in a Play-houſe, where the Praiſe is due not to the Part, but to the Performance; and he that plays a Servant well, is look'd upon with more approbation, and reputed a better Actor, than he that attempts to play a Man of Honour, or a Prince, and does it ill.

This Chapter too ſeems to me to have a more immediate regard to Equity and Juſtice; for it adviſes every body to be content with that part, which Providence ſees fitteſt for them upon this Stage of Life; that they ſhould not affect Characters above them, nor be deſirous of, or diſſatisfied with thoſe that are aſſigned to other people.

CHAP. LX.

As in walking it is your great Care, not to run your Foot upon a Nail, or to tread awry, and strain your Leg; ſo let it be in all the Affairs of Humane Life, not to hurt your Mind, nor offend your Judgment. And this Rule, if you obſerve it carefully in all your deportment, will be a mighty ſecurity to you in your Ʋndertakings.

COMMENT.

THE Soul of Man is injured or wounded two ways: Either, when it is pricked with brutiſh Inclinations, and vehement Paſſions, which faſten it to the Body; in which it makes ſome reſiſtance, but yet is overpowered by the prevailing force of Paſſion, and yields at laſt, though with reluctancy. Or elſe, when its Judgment is perverted, and the Byaſs of ſenſual Objects draw it ſo ſtrongly, that it does not make any diſtinction betwixt its own rational Nature, and the other inferiour and irrational parts, which are the Seat of the Paſſions.

This excellent Guide therefore warns us to have a care of both theſe Inconveniences, and to proceed warily in all the Affairs of Humane Life, as we do when we would tread ſure in walking. That we decline thoſe brutiſh Appetites which would gall and wound the Soul, that fix wholly upon bodily Objects, and flatten down the Soul to Body much ſtronger and cloſer, than any Nail can poſſibly join material things; for they make the Mind forget it ſelf, and miſtake theſe Affections, and the Body they ſerve, for one and the ſame Subſtance.

This therefore is analogous to piercing the Foot with a Nail; but the other Misfortune, that of a perverted Judgment, he reſembles to treading awry, and ſtraining, or putting out a Leg; becauſe this Error of the Mind proceeds from the Imagination, that part which is loweſt in the Soul, as the Foot is in the Body; and by which it holds correſpondence with the corporeal, and animal Life. And the Advice he gives upon this occaſion is, that, as we take care to keep our Body upright when we walk, ſo we ſhould be exceeding cautious and tender of the Soul, when it goes abroad, and concerns it ſelf in the Affairs of the World. That the Faculty of Reaſon, which is predominant in our Minds, and the very Character and Prerogative of Humane Nature, make no falſe ſteps. That it do not forget it ſelf, or its Authority, that it be neither giddy through eagerneſs of Deſire, and heat of Paſſion, or grow corrupt and dull, and ſtupid through Sloth and Effeminacy.

And if we did but manage our ſelves with the ſame warineſs in our Actions, as we do in our ſteps: If we would but look before us conſtantly, and be ſure to take good footing, this, he tells us, would be a mighty ſecurity to us in all our Undertakings. For though Humane Nature will be the ſame ſtill, and all our Vigilance cannot ſet it abſolutely above Error and Frailty; yet the ill Conſequences of theſe Infirmities would be in a great meaſure prevented. We might ſlip, but we ſhould never fall; and the ſlips we did make, would be but few, and thoſe eaſily recover'd too. For thus we find, that when through ſome little incogitancy we happen to touch upon a Nail, or make a falſe ſtep; a ſmall recollection will ſerve the turn, to diſengage our Foot, before the Nail hath run in too deep; and to correct that Trip, which was but a ſlight one, and made before we were aware of it.

CHAP. LXI.

The Neceſſities of the Body are the proper meaſure of our Care for the things of the World; and thoſe that can ſupply theſe are enough, as the Shooe is ſaid to fit the Man, that anſwers to the bigneſs of the Foot. but if once you leave this Rule, and exceed thoſe neceſſities, then you are carried into all the Extravagancies in the World. Then you do not value your Shooe for fitting the Foot, unleſs it be gilded too, and afterwards from gilding you go to a rich Purple; and from that again, to having it ſtudded, and ſet with Jewels. For when once a Man hath exceeded the bounds of Moderation and Convenience, he never knows where to ſtop.

COMMENT.

THere are two things to be conſidered in Cloths, and Diet, and Goods, and Eſtate, and whatever elſe is requiſite for our Bodies, that is the getting, and the uſing of them. He hath informed us already after what manner they are to be uſed: and commanded us to this purpoſe, That thoſe wants of the Body, which are neceſſary to be ſupplied, ſo as to render it ſerviceable to the Soul, ought to determine in this point: By which means all ſuperfluities are cut off, and every thing that tends only to Luxury and vain Pomp. Now he tells us what proportion we ought to be content with, and what ſhould be the meaſure of our Labours and our Deſires in the getting an Eſtate; and this he ſays is the Body too. For the end of getting theſe things, is, that we may uſe them, ſo that as far as they are of uſe to us, ſo far, and in ſuch proportions may we deſire, and endeavour after them; and they are only ſo far uſeful, as they become ſerviceable to the Body, and ſupply its neceſſities. Conſequently then, the Body, and its wants, which determine how far theſe things are capable of being uſed, do alſo determine, how far they are fit to be deſired, and what meaſure of them a Man ought in reaſon to ſit down ſatisfied with.

Let us look then at the Foot, for inſtance, and ſee what wants it labours under, and what ſupplies are ſufficient for it; and when we have done ſo, we ſhall find, that good plain Leather is all it needs: A good upper Leather to keep the Foot tight and warm, and a ſtout Sole to defend the Ball of the Foot from being hurt by what it treads upon. But now if a Man bear regard to Ornament and Luxury, as well as Uſe and Convenience; then nothing leſs than Gold, and Purple, and Jewels, will ſerve the turn, and one of theſe Extravagancies only ſerves to make way for another. For, it ſeems, the Romans were grown ſo curious and vain, as to wear rich Purple Shooes, and Shooes ſet with precious Stones, and theſe were more exquiſite and modiſh Vanities than gilded ones.

Now juſt thus it is in the getting, and the ſp nding an Eſtate: When a Man hath once tranſgreſſed thoſe bounds, which Nature and Neceſſity have ſet him, he wanders no body knows whether; and is continually adding one fooliſh Expence to another, and one idle whimſie to another, till at laſt he be plunged over Head and Ears in Luxury and Vanity. For, theſe were the only Cauſes of ſeducing him at firſt; and when once he had broke looſe from his meaſures, a thouſand imaginary wants preſented themſelves, and every one of theſe gave him as great a diſturbance, as if they had been real ones. At firſt he wanted only ten thouſand pound, then twenty; and when he was poſſeſs'd of this, he wanted forty, as much as even he did the firſt Ten; ſo he would a hundred, if he had forty, and ſo to all Eternity; for he has now let his Deſires looſe, and theſe are a boundleſs Ocean never to be filled.

Now nothing is more evident, than that thoſe Deſires which do not keep within the bounds of Uſe and Convenience, do, and muſt needs be infinite and inſatiable. Not only, becauſe this is the laſt Fence, and there is nothing left to ſtop them afterwards; but becauſe we ſee plainly, that, when they exceed theſe things, they quickly neglect and diſregard them too; forget the ends, to which they are directed, and inſtead of preſerving ſometimes deſtroy the Body. Thus we often ruine our Health, and diſtort our Limbs only for Ornament and Faſhion, and make thoſe very things our Diſeaſes which Nature intended for Remedies againſt them.

And poſſibly upon this account, more particularly, Epictetus might make choice of a Shooe to illuſtrate his Argument. For this inſtance is the more emphatical and ſignificant, becauſe if we do not take care to fit the Foot, but make it bigger than it ought to be, for Beauty and Ornament, it hinders our going inſtead of helping us, and oftentimes makes us ſtumble, and fall very dangerouſly. So that it is plain, the Conſiderations which relate to our uſing the things of the World, will give us great light into that part of our Duty, which relates to the getting of them; and the Rules we are to be governed by, are in a great meaſure the ſame in both Caſes.

And theſe Chapters too, which preſcribe to us the Rules, and the Duty of Moderation, both in uſing and getting an Eſtate, may in my Opinion be very properly referred to the ſame common Head of Juſtice with the former.

CHAP. LXII.

When Women are grown up to Fourteen, they begin to be courted and careſſed; then they think that the recommending themſelves to the Affections of the Men is the only buſineſs they have to attend to, and ſo preſently fall to tricking, and dreſſing, and practiſing all the little engaging Arts peculiar to their Sex: In theſe they place all their hopes, as they do all their happineſs in the ſucceſs of them. But it is fit, they ſhould be given to underſtand, that there are other attractives much more powerful than theſe; That the Reſpect we pay them, is not due to their Beauty, ſo much as to their Modeſty, and Innocence, and unaffected Vertue. And that theſe are the true, the irreſiſtible Charms, ſuch as will make the ſureſt and most laſting Conqueſts.

COMMENT.

SInce he had in the foregoing Diſcourſes allowed his Philoſopher to marry, it was but reaſonable that he ſhould inſtruct him here, what Methods are moſt proper to be made uſe of in the choice of a Wife, and which are the moſt neceſſary and deſirable Qualifications for her. This therefore he does in ſhort, but very ſignificant Obſervations, ſhewing what a wiſe Man ſhould chiefly regard, and expoſing at the ſame time the miſchiefs that the generality of Men fall into, by taking wrong meaſures. Moſt people, ſays he, when they are diſpoſed to marry, look out for a young and a beautiful Miſtreſs; then they cringe, and flatter, and adore her; keep a mighty diſtance, and accoſt her in the moſt reſpectful and ſubmiſſive Terms imaginable; and the end of all this is no other, than the Enjoyment of her Perſon. The Women know the meaning of all this well enough, and manage themſelves accordingly; they dreſs, and trick, and ſet of their Perſons to the beſt advantage, and theſe are the Arts they ſtudy to recommend themſelves by.

Now in truth, though we declaim againſt this Vanity and Folly in the Sex, yet the Men are much more to blame than they. For the Original of all this Vanity, is from our ſelves, and the Folly is ours, when we pay ſo much reſpect upon accounts that ſo little deſerve it. It is in our power to reform what we condemn, and it is our Duty to do it. We ſhould ſhew them, that no Beauty hath any Charms, but the inward one of the Mind; and that a gracefulneſs in their Manners, is much more engaging, than that of their Perſon and Mien. That Meekneſs, and Obedience, and Modeſty, are the true and laſting Ornaments: For ſhe, that has theſe, is qualified as ſhe ought to be for the management and governing of a Family, for the bearing and educating of Children, for an affectionate and tender Care of her Husband, and for ſubmitting 〈1… pages missing〉

CHAP. LXIV.

When any Man does you an Injury, or reflects upon your Good Name, conſider with your ſelf, that he does this out of a Perſuaſion, that it is no more than what you deſerve, and what becomes him to ſay or do. And it cannot be expected that your Opinion of things, but his own, ſhould give Law to his Behaviour. Now if that Opinion of his be Erroneous, the Misfortune is not yours, but his who is thus led into Miſtakes concerning you. For the Truth of a Propoſition is not ſhaken one whit, by a Man's ſuppoſing it to be falſe; the Conſequence is not the worſe, but the Perſon that judges amiſs of it is. Such Conſiderations as theſe may ſerve to diſpoſe you to Patience and Meekneſs; and by degrees you will be able to bear the moſt ſcurrilous Reproaches, and think the bittereſt, and moſt inſolent Traducer, worth no other return than this mild Anſwer, That theſe, it ſeems, are his Thoughts of you, and it is not ſtrange, that Man ſhould vent his own Opinion freely, and act according to it.

COMMENT.

THis Chapter is plainly intended to perſuade us to bearing of Injuries with Meekneſs and Moderation; and the Arguments made uſe of to this purpoſe are Two.

The firſt proceeds upon a Foundation evident to common Senſe, and confirmed by the Practice and Experience of all the World; which is, That every Man acts in agreement with his own particular Notions of things, and does what at the inſtant of doing it appears to him fitteſt to be done. And therefore if his Apprehenſions differ from ours, as it cannot be any great Matter of Wonder, ſo neither does it miniſter any juſt Cauſe of Reſentment, becauſe he follows the Dictates of his Breaſt, and I follow mine, and ſo do all the World. So that it would be a moſt extravagant and ſenſeleſs thing for me to be angry for his acting according to Nature, and upon a Principle univerſally conſented to by all Mankind.

But you will ſay perhaps, That his following his own Opinion is not the thing you quarrel with, but the entertaining an ill Opinion of you, for which there is no Ground or Colour of Juſtice. Now upon Examination of this Pretence too, it will be found, that you have not at all mended the Matter, but that this is as ridiculous and abſurd a Paſſion as the other. For if he have done you no harm, where is the Provocation? and that it is plain he hath not, for no body is the worſe for it but himſelf. He that thinks he does well when he really does ill, and miſtakes Falſehood for Truth, is under a dangerous Deluſion, and ſuffers extreamly by his Error. And therefore the Man that injures your Perſon or your Reputation, does but wound himſelf all the while: And this he does more effectually, and to his own greater Prejudice, than it is poſſible for you in the height of all your deſired Revenge, or for the moſt Potent and malicious Enemy in the World to do. For whatever the world commonly eſteems moſt noxious, can reach no farther than the Body, or the External Enjoyments, and conſequently does not, in ſtrict ſpeaking, hurt the Man himſelf: But Error is a Blemiſh upon the Soul, an Evil that affects his Eſſence, and taints the very diſtinguiſhing Character of the Humane Nature.

Now, that the Perſon who entertains this falſe Opinion, and not he concerning whom it is entertained, receives all the Prejudice by it, he proves beyond all Contradiction, by the Inſtance of a compleat Propoſition. For ſuppoſe one ſhould ſay, If it be Day, then the Sun is above the Horizon, and another Perſon ſhould maintain that this is falſe; his ſtanding out againſt it, does not in any degree weaken the Truth of the Aſſertion, nor invalidate the neceſſary dependence of the Two Parts of it upon each other: It remains in the ſame Perfection ſtill; but the perſon who judges amiſs concerning it, does not ſo. Thus the Man that affronts or traduces you, contrary to all the Rules of Juſtice, and Honour, and Duty, injures himſelf, but you continue untouch'd; and neither the Edge of his Weapon, nor the Venom of his Tongue can enter you. Eſpecially if you are as you ought to be, fully convinced, that there is no ſuch thing as Good or Evil to be had from any thing, but what falls within the Compaſs of our own Choice.

When therefore you have called up your Reaſon, and have reflected, firſt, how natural it is for every Man to be governed by his own Senſe of things; and then, that the Injury does not really reach you, but falls back upon the Perſon who vainly intended it for you; this will cool your Paſſion, and fill you with a generous Diſdain, you will think his impotent Malice deſerves to be ſlighted only, and may check both his Folly, and your own Reſentment, with ſome ſuch ſcornful return as this, That he does but what all the World do; for though all are not of the ſame mind, yet in that vaſt variety of Opinions every man acts according to his own.

CHAP. LXV.

Every thing hath two Handles, the one ſoft and manageable, the other ſuch as will not endure to be touched. If then your Brother do you an Injury, do not take it by the hot and the hard handle, by repreſenting to your ſelf all the aggravating Circumſtances of the Fact; but look rather on the ſoft ſide, and extenuate it as much as is poſſible, by conſidering the nearneſs of the Relation, and the long Friendſhip and Familiarity, Obligations to Kindneſs, which a ſingle Provocation ought not to diſſolve. And thus you will take the accident by its manageable handle.

COMMENT.

ALL the parts of this material World are compoſed of different Principles and contrary Qualities: From whence it comes to paſs, that in ſome reſpects they agree, and can ſubſiſt together, and in others they are oppoſite, and incompatible, and deſtructive of one another. Thus the Fire hath the two Qualities of hot and dry, moſt remarkable in it, with regard to its heat it agrees well with the Air, and is compatible with it; but its drought is repugnant to the moiſture of the Air, and contends with it, and deſtroys it. And this Obſervation holds in Moral, as well as Natural Philoſophy. For thus an Injury received from a Brother hath two handles, and is capable of different Conſtructions and different Reſentments, according to that handle we take it by. Conſider the Man, my Brother, my Friend, my old Play-fellow, and Acquaintance, and this is the ſoft and pliable ſide, it diſpoſes me to Patience and Reconciliation, and Kindneſs: But if you turn the other ſide, and regard only the Wrong, the Indignity, the unnatural Uſage of ſo near a Relation; this is the untractable part, it will not bear the touch, and diſpoſes to nothing but Rage and Revenge. Now it is plain, that what we eſteem light and very tolerable, is entertained by us with eaſineſs and patience, and makes no change in our Cheerfulneſs and Temper; but what we look upon as grievous and inſupportable, leaves very angry Reſentments, and melancholy Impreſſions, and utterly diſcompoſes the evenneſs and quiet of our Minds. This is the natural reſult of ſuch Accidents, and ſuch Apprehenſions. But now ſince it is our Duty always to preſerve the Mind ſedate and calm, not to ſuffer it either to be dejected with Grief and Sullenneſs, or ruffled with Anger, ſince we are obliged to bear whatever happens to us with Patience and Moderation; and ſince all things have two handles, one that will, and the other that will not abide the Touch, it is plain that the way to diſcharge this Obligation, is always to lay hold on the right and the tractable handle. For in Truth, all things whatſoever, Riches and Poverty, Health and Sickneſs, Marriage and Celibacy, Children and no Children; and, to be ſhort, all the Accidents of humane Life are juſt as you uſe and receive them, and have both their Conveniences to recommend them, and their Inconveniences to leſſen our eſteem of them.

Thus Riches are deſirable, if you conſider the Advantages of Plenty, and this is their ſoft handle; but then they are attended with infinite Care, acquired with Toil, poſſeſs'd with Fear, loſt with Remorſe and Trouble; and theſe Anxieties are allays and abatements upon them, and their untractable Handle. Poverty ſeems very tolerable, when we reflect upon the Quiet and the undiſturbed Retirements of that ſtate; but if we turn the Tables, and obſerve the Indigence and Dependance of it, the Neglects and the Scorn that it expoſes one to, theſe make it very dreadful and inſupportable. Health is very deſirable, upon the account of that perfect eaſe and freedom we enjoy with it; the Vigour of our Spirits, and the ready and punctual Obedience of all our Parts, in diſcharging their reſpective Duties: But even this hath its Incumbrances too, the Arrogance and aſſuming Pride, and that Confidence in their own Strength, to which fulneſs of Blood commonly expoſes Men. Sickneſs appears a very tolerable Evil, when we reflect, that as the Spirts are low, ſo are the Paſſions too, and the Mind is then more free and undiſturbed: But the Faintings and Languiſhings, and Uneaſineſs of a ſick Bed, are the hard and the heavy Handle. Marriage is recommended to us by the ſatisfaction of having Iſſue of our own; the tender Care and mutual Affection of both Parties; but then it hath its Bitter, as well as its Sweet, the multiplying of Cares, and creating new Wants to one's ſelf, an inordinate Fondneſs, and a perpetual Uneaſineſs and Fears for thoſe we love ſo dearly. And ſurely the want of Children, which is commonly eſteemed ſo mighty an Unhappineſs, hath a great deal to extenuate it; for this leaves a Man free and eaſie, qualifies him to encounter with any Difficulties, delivers him from all that anxious Concern, which the Care and Dependence of a Family, muſt of neceſſity diſtract him with; it allows him leiſure for attending better Studies, and diſengages him from that extravagant Folly, of making himſelf a Slave to the World, and enjoying nothing while he lives, that he may leave a little more to his Family when he dies; and, which in my Opinion is the greateſt misfortune of all, it brings him under no Temptation of Indulgence and Fondneſs for lewd and ungracious Children: For though their being ſuch is a mighty Affliction, yet, alas! we too often make it a greater to our ſelves, and love their very Vices, becauſe our own Children are guilty of them: Even Inſolencies, and Injuries, and Affronts, have ſomething to extenuate them; for very often when Men reproach us, they bring us better acquainted with our own Concerns, and tell us ſomething we did not know before; but, to be ſure, they always miniſter occaſions of Patience, and exerciſe our Vertue. Corporal Pains and Puniſhments, are of all others the moſt formidable to humane Nature; and yet the anguiſh of theſe would be mitig ted, and we in ſome degree reconciled to them, did we but reflect what good they do us, and conſider, that they try the Soul, as Fire does Metals, and purifie it from its Droſs. And if there were no other Benefit to be had from them, yet the very enduring them with Courage and Conſtancy is it ſelf a very great one. And much more it is for a Man's real advantage to fall into Afflictions, and behave himſelf gallantly under them, than never to be diſtreſſed or afflicted at all. For the eſcaping Afflictions is only a piece of good Fortune, that eaches to the B ••• , or the Eſtate, and no farther; but the bearing them with Fortitude and Decency, is a Happineſs of the Soul, and what the Man is properly the better for. Nay, laſtly, to ſhew that there neither is, nor can be any thing without the Two Handles we ſpeak of, even our Enemies themſelves have them; and it is a very feaſible thing to make a Benefit of them too: For, their Spight awakens our Care, puts us upon examining into our own Paſſions and Failings more nicely; and the knowing how curious they will be to obſerve, and how pleaſed to find our Faults, renders us more circumſpect and wary in all our Behaviour. And theſe are ſuch valuable Conſiderations, that Plutarch thought it worth his while to write a Tract on purpoſe upon this Subject, to ſhew how a Man may manage himſelf ſo, as to improve the Malice of his Enemies, and convert it to his own Advantage.

Vid. Plutarch. Moral. Tom. 1. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 .

CHAP. LXVI.

There is no Conſequence or neceſſary Connexion at all between theſe Aſſertions: I am richer than you, therefore I am a better Man than you; or, I am more learned, or el quent, than you, therefore I am better than you. But all the Inference that can be made from ſuch Compariſons, is only this: I am a richer Man than you, therefore my Eſtate is larger than yours; I am more eloquent than you, therefore my Expreſſions are more proper, and my Style more delicate than yours. And what is all this to the purpoſe? For neither the Eſtate nor the Style is the Man; and conſequently theſe may be the better, and yet you may not be one whit the better.

COMMENT.

MEN of Letters commonly ſhew their Talent in quaintneſs of Expreſſion and exact Compoſitions, which is a nicety unbecoming a Philoſopher, except this Faculty were inſtilled very early, and grew up with him; ſo that Education and long Cuſtom have made him ſo great a Maſter of Language, that his Rhetorick be not laboured or affected, but flow naturally from him. And even the Man who is thus happy, muſt not value himſelf upon it; becauſe this is not the End a Philoſopher ought to aim at, nor the peculiar Excellence of humane Nature. Elegance is properly what ſuch Studies pretend to; and he that ſucceeds well in them, gains the Reputation of a good Poet, or a good Hiſtorian. But he that aſpires to the Character of a Good Man, and deſires to diſtinguiſh himſelf by a Life conformable to the beſt Reaſon, propoſes an End agreeable to ſuch a Life; and conſequently cannot have any pretence to preferr himſelf before another, for any advantages of Eloquence that he hath above him. For there is a wide difference between ſuch a one's Eloquence and himſelf: Nor is this the eſſential Property and Prerogative of his Nature, that he ſhould receive his Denomination from it, as every Artificer is diſtinguiſhed by his Profeſſion. So that all the boaſt that can be allowed him in this caſe, comes only to thus much, My Language is better than yours. And this Inſtance is what I the rather have choſen to inſiſt upon, becauſe I imagine Epictetus his main intention here, was to give his Philoſopher a check for that ſuperſtitious Nicety very common among them, of being over-curious and laboured in their Compoſitions, and ſpending too much time and pains about Words. But becauſe this was a tender point, that other Inſtance of the Richer Man's exalting himſelf is added, the better to cover his Deſign, and make the Reproof the ſofter.

CHAP. LXVII.

If any Man bathes too ſoon, do not you preſently ſay, He hath done ill in it; but only, that he did it early. If a Man drink a great deal of Wine, do not cenſure him for having done ill; but only ſay, That he drinks a great deal: For how is it poſſible for you to know whether he did ill or no, unleſs you were conſcious of his Intentions, and ſaw the Grounds he went upon? And this Caution, which I here adviſe you, is the only way to prevent that common Injury and Inconvenience, of determining raſhly upon outward appearances, and pronouncing peremptorily concerning things that you do not know.

COMMENT.

HE would have us proceed in our Judgment of Men's Actions with great accuracy and circumſpection: Not to be too forward in giving our Opinion of any kind, either in praiſe or diſpraiſe, acquitting or condemning of them, till we are firſt well ſatisfied of the Perſon's Intention, what Reaſons he proceeded upon, and what End he directed it to For theſe are the very Conſiderations that make an Action formally good or evil; and according as theſe vary, they may deſerve a very different Interpretation. Thus a man may give Blows, and do good in it (if this be intended to correct a Fault;) he may give one Suſtenance to his prejudice (if it be deſigned to feed his Diſeaſe;) nay, matters may be ſo ordered, that Stealing ſhall be an Act of Juſtice, and Reſtitution an Injury, as if the Object of both be a Mad-man's Sword.

If then we would deal honeſtly and fairly, we muſt judge of Actions according to the Circumſtances that appear to us, and as they are in themſelves. When we ſee a man bathe before the uſual Hour, all we ſhould ſay of it, That he hath done it early; without pretending to determine the Quality of the Fact, or calling it good or evil, till we know what it was that moved him to do ſo. Poſſibly he was obliged to ſit up all Night, and wanted this Refreſhment to ſupply his loſs of Sleep. Now this and the like are very material Conſiderations; for a man's motives and intention, quite alter the nature of the thing. You ought not then to be too haſty in paſſing Judgment upon this Bathing out of courſe; for till theſe things are known, the Quality of the Fact does not lie before you, nor have you any matter to proceed upon. Thus again a man may drink a larger proportion of Wine than ordinary, and there may be ſeveral Reaſons that will juſtifie him in it; the Conſtitution of his Body, or the Seaſon of the Year, or the Temperament of the Air, may make it neceſſary. And conſequently what raſh and buſie People are apt to condemn, when well enquired into proves no more than Duty and Prudence done to ſatisfie Nature, or to ſupport the Spirits in faint, ſultry Weather, or to keep out moiſt Foggs, or peſtilential Vapours.

Now if we do thus, as he adviſes, and ſtop at the Actions themſelves, without preſuming to applaud, or to condemn them, till we have throughly examined into the Grounds of them, and are ſatisfied of the man's Diſpoſition and Deſign, we decline an Injuſtice and an Inconvenience, which otherwiſe it is impoſſible to avoid. And that is, the knowing one thing, and judging another; the determining more than we have Evidence for. For in both the Inſtances before us, nothing appears but the outward Act, and its Circumſtances, that the Bathing was early, that the Wine was much; but the Cauſes of theſe do not appear, upon which depends the moral Good or Evil of the thing; and yet the buſie World are ever giving their definitive Sentence in this point too. And what can be more raſh, more injurious, more abſurd than this, from what they do ſee, peremptorily to pronounce of what they do not ſee?

Now ſince men's Minds, and the ſecret Springs of their Actions, do ſo very ſeldom fall within our notice, I take Epictetus his Deſign here to be the diſſuading us in general from judging men at all: And indeed it is but prudent for our own ſakes, as well as ſit for theirs, to be very ſparing in this particular; that by ſuſpending our Judgment, we may not fall under the ſhame of retracting it afterwards upon better Information. And therefore he would not have us over-forward, either in our Cenſures, or our Commendations; though he levelled this Chapter chiefly, no doubt, againſt the Condemning ſide, becauſe the Injury done by raſh Cenſures, is generally greater, and becauſe the Evil is a great deal more popular; for the World is not raſh only, but ill-natured too; they are apt and glad to find Faults, and forward ſometimes to make them. This baſe practice therefore, lay more directly to the Author's purpoſe, which was to inſtruct us in another Branch of Juſtice, one indeed no leſs neceſſary than any of the reſt; viz. That which concerns our Neighbour's Reputation.

CHAP. LXVIII.

Never profeſs your ſelf a Philoſopher, nor talk much of Rules and wiſe Obſervations, among the Ignorant and Vulgar; but let your Rules be ſeen in your Practice. Thus when you are at a Publick Entertainment, diſcourſe not of Temperance and Moderation to the Company; but let your own Example teach it them; and remember that Socrates upon all occaſions declined Oſtentation; inſomuch, that when ſome Perſons in deriſion came to him, and deſired him to recommend them to a Philoſopher, he carried them to ſome that profeſs'd themſelves ſuch, without expreſſing the leaſt Indignation at the Affront they had put upon him.

CHAP. LXIX.

Nay, if you happen in Converſation with ignorant and common Men, though they ſtart a Diſcourſe concerning ſome Point in Philoſophy, do you forbear joining with them in it: For when Men are forward to vent their Notions, it is a ſhrewd ſign they are not well digeſted. It is poſſible your Silence, may be interpreted Ignorance, and that ſome of the Company may be confident, and rude enough to tell you ſo. But if you hear this Reproach without being concerned, then be aſſured your Philoſophy begins to have its due effect: For, as Sheep do not give up again the Graſs they have eaten, to ſhew how well they are fed; but prove the Goodneſs of the Paſture and their own Caſe, by concocting their Meat well, and bringing a large Fleece, and giving large quantities of Milk, ſo muſt you approve the Excellence of your Doctrines to the World, not by Diſputes and plauſible Harangues, but by digeſting them into practice, and growing ſtrong in Vertue.

COMMENT.

BY this Paſſage you may plainly perceive, that the Perſon addreſs'd to, is not ſuppoſed to be a compleat Philoſopher; for ſuch a one is in no danger of bringing up indigeſted Notions; nor can he need the Advice given to that purpoſe. This is applicable only to one that is ſtill in a ſtate of Probation and Proficiency, who hath not yet abſolutely delivered his Mind from the importunate Paſſions of Popularity and Selfconceit, and affecting to be thought wiſe, Vices, which this Author hath taken great Pains to expoſe, and reform, and that, as by other Arguments, ſo particularly by one, which the Method taken in this Chapter plainly inſinuates; viz.

That as one cannot with any truth ſay, That the Braſs while it is melting down is a Statue, or that an Embryo is a Man; ſo neither can we, That a Perſon who is ſtill under Diſcipline and Proficiency, is a Philoſopher. Theſe are the rude and imperfect Beginnings of what is to come after; but they are not the Things themſelves: They are the Matter under preparation, but they have not the Form, which muſt conſtitute their Eſſence: And though they be in never ſo fair a Diſpoſition to receive it, yet till this is done, they are not the perfect Beings which they muſt and would be. But, though in other caſes it be ſufficient to ſay, That to call them ſo were a Breach of Truth, yet in this that ſeems too gencle an Imputation: For there is, in a truly Philoſophical Life, ſomething ſo great and venerable, ſomething ſo much above the common Condition of Humane Nature, and ſo very near approaching to Divine, that the aſcribing ſuch exquiſite Perfection to Perſons who are as yet only climbing up to it, may juſtly ſeem not only a bold Falſhood, but an imperious and blaſphemous one too.

Shall then that Man, who muſt not pre ume to call himſelf a Philoſopher, take upon him the Office of one? Shall he ſet himſelf in the Chair, and think it becomes him, who is but a Learner, to teach, and magiſterially dictate to others? No, certainly: It is fit he ſhould know his diſtance, and keep it. But you ll object, That this will be a mighty Hindrance to his Proficiency, by debarring him that Diſcourſe with Men of leſs Attainments, which ſhould exerciſe and improve his Talent. I anſwer, That the Diſcourſe Epictetus diſallows, is not ſuch as is intended for a Trial, but the Effect of Vanity; nor is the Deſign of it Advancement in Wiſdom, but Oſtentation and Applauſe. Well; but, How muſt he behave himſelf in ſuch Company then? Why, the propereſt and moſt effectual courſe to recommend himſelf, will be, to forbear the vending his Principles in Words, which is but an empty and a very ſuperficial way of propagating them; and to demonſtrate the Power and Influence of them in his Actions. This is a ſubſtantial Argument, and anſwers the true End of Philoſophy, which is not florid Harangue and nice Diſpute, but prudent and unblamable Practice; for this was never intended to teach us to talk well, but to live well. If therefore you be at a Publick Dinner, do not trouble your ſelf to read grave Lectures to the Company, concerning Temperance in Eating, and its juſt Bounds and Meaſures; but take care to obſerve thoſe Meaſures, and to keep within thoſe Bounds your ſelf. For by this means you will gain Authority to your Inſtructions; and when it comes to your turn to preſcribe to others, every Word will make its own way. For, how ridiculous and abſurd is it, to ſet other Men Rules of Temperance, or Patience, and at the ſame time to be guilty of Gluttony, or ſink under the Burden of Afflictions one's ſelf? What force or weight can ſuch a one expect his moſt ſtudied Diſcourſes ſhould find? And, How unreaſonable and inconſiſtent is it to impoſe ſuch Laws upon other Men's Conduct, as we are not content to ſubmit to in our own?

But this is not all. He requires a higher degree of ſelf-denial ſtill. He does not only forbid the beginning of ſuch kind of Diſcourſe; but if any of the Ignorant and Vulgar engage in it of their own accord, he will not allow us to join with them, nor ſet up for an Oracle, or great Doctor, among Men of meaner attainments than our ſelves. For this (he ſays) is very ſuſpicious, and looks as if what is ſo very ready to come up loaded the Stomach, and was never well digeſted. For as Meats, when they are duly concocted, diſtribute themſelves into the ſeveral parts, and mix with the vital Juices and Blood to nouriſh and ſtrengthen the Body; ſo do Maxims and Doctrines, when well digeſted, convert into nouriſhment, and make the Soul healthful and vigorous. There they lie like Sap in the Root, which when occaſion ſerves, ſpreads it ſelf, and brings forth the Fruits of vertuous Actions firſt; and when the proper Seaſon comes, and theſe have attained to a juſt maturity, then of edifying Diſcourſes in great abundance. But if any one ſhall force this Fruit of Diſcourſe before its time, when it is not yet ripe and kindly, this in all likelihood will turn to no better account, than the diſcharging ones Stomach of undigeſted Meat. And there cannot be a clearer proof that it wants digeſtion, than our not being able to keep it any longer. For this is directly that Man's Caſe, that brings up his Precepts of Philoſophy again, while they are raw and whole, and does not ſhew the effect, and ſtrength of them in the improvement of his Mind, and growing in thoſe vertuous Habits, which they were intended to produce and confirm.

And, in regard the Soul is naturally given to look abroad into the World, and, for that reaſon, feels it ſelf very powerfully wrought upon by good Examples, he propoſes Socrates for an eminent pattern of Modeſty: Who, though a moſt accompliſhed Philoſopher, and declared by the Teſtimony of Apollo himſelf to be the wiſeſt Man in the World: One, who conſequently had good warrant to take more upon him than any mere Proficient ought to pretend to, was yet the fartheſt that could be from an aſſuming Temper, and made it the buſineſs of his whole Life to decline and diſcountenance Pride and Oſtentation. One very remarkable inſtance of this kind, was his behaviour to ſome ſilly people, who came with a deſign to put a Slur upon him, and deſired, that he would recommend them to ſome Philoſopher, capable of inſtructing them. He ſaw through their pretence well enough, but without taking any notice, or ſhewing the leaſt reſentment of the affront they intended him; carried them to the Sophiſters Men, who had the Confidence to call themſelves Maſters and Profeſſors, and made a Trade of teaching others. Thus when Hippocrates the Son of Apollodorus made it his requeſt to be helped to a Maſter, he recommended him to Protagoras. And in that Tract of Plato, which is entituled Theoctetus, he ſays of himſelf, that he delivered over ſeveral to the Tuition of Predicus, and ſeveral to other wiſe and great Men: So very ſparing was this divine Perſon in putting himſelf forward, and ſo far was he from thinking it a diminution or reflection upon himſelf to be ſo.

For this, after all, is the mighty Objection, and that againſt which Epictetus fortifies his Scholar. He does not think it a ſufficient renouncing of vain Glory, not to begin a Philoſophical Diſcourſe among Men who do not make Philoſophy their buſineſs: No, nor to ſit ſtill, and not interpoſe when they have begun it; but there is yet a farther diſclaiming of this vicious Quality expected. It is probable that this ſilence may be thought to betray your Ignorance; it is poſſible ſome of the Company may be ſo plain as to tell you ſo; and though no reproach can be more grating than that of a defect in ones own Profeſſion, yet this Proficient is to run the riſque of that, and to hear it without being moved. This if he can do, it is a ſurer ſign that he hath mortified his Vanity, than his uttering the moſt elaborate Satyr in the World againſt it; for you have an aſſurance now that other people contemn you. And if you can ſee, and hear this without Paſſion; if you find that the Reſentments, which uſed formerly to boil up in your Breaſt upon the like occaſions, now lie cool and quiet, take comfort, and triumph; for the ſubduing of your Anger proves that the Operation is begun, and that you are now reaping thoſe Fruits, which all the wiſe Exhortations you have heard, were intended to cultivate, and all your own Pains and Study propoſed to produce; which is, a Life of Vertue and ſtrict Reaſon, and the making you not ſo much a florid, and well-ſpoken, as a prudent and a good Man. For Moral Precepts are learned not to be repeated but practiſed; and the Excellency of them muſt be proved not by the Memory, or the Tongue, but by the Converſation of the Hearer. And the bearing this imputation of Ignorance without any diſorder, is it ſelf ſuch a proof; for it ſhews the Mind to be got above both the Fame and the Cenſures of the World. And this is the Improvement every Maſter expects to find; for he, that, inſtead of Practice, gives him his Lectures again, and thinks himſelf the better for being able to remember and repeat them, is guilty of as great an Abſurdity in Nature, as it would be for Sheep to throw up the Graſs they had eat, that ſo the Shepherd may be ſatisfied of that good Feeding, which ought to ſhew it ſelf in a large Fleece, firmneſs of Fleſh, and abundance of Milk.

CHAP. LXX.

If you have ſo far maſtered your Appetite, as to have brought your Body to courſe fare, and to be well contented with meer Neceſſaries, do not glory in your abstemious Diet. And if you drink nothing but Water, proclaim not your own Sobriety upon every occaſion: Or if you would inure your ſelf to hardſhip, do it for your own benefit, not to attract the Admiration of other People. Let vain-glorious Fools embrace Statues in the Streets, to ſhew the Croud how long they can endure the Cold; but let your Trials of your ſelf be private: And if you would be hardy in good earneſt, when you are almoſt quite parched with extreme Thirst, take cold Water in your Mouth; then deny your ſelf the ſatisfaction of drinking, and ſpit it out again, and tell no body.

COMMENT.

VAin-glory hath a thouſand ſeveral pretences to ground it ſelf upon; but the moſt uſual, and moſt plauſible, are ſuch as Epictetus hath touched upon in this Treatiſe. Some people court Men's applauſe, by aſſuming Narratives of their own Performances; others depend upon their Eloquence for it; a third ſort expect to be admired by dictating to all the Companies they come in, and taking upon them to talk gravely, and teach every one they converſe with his Duty; and theſe he hath expo ed and warned already. There is another ſort of Vanity very frequent, which is the valuing our ſelves upon voluntary Auſterities; a ſpare Diet, a frugal way of Living, abſtaining from lawful Pleaſures, and uſing the Body to great Hardſhips; and that makes the Subject of the Chapter now before us.

The Perſons therefore, who put theſe Severities upon themſelves, are adviſed not to look big upon the Matter; that is, not to be too much exalted with an Opinion of their own Merit; or imagine, that they have attained to ſome peculiar Excellence, and made ſome mighty Conqueſt upon Humane Nature, which none but they ever made before. For alas! how extravagant an imagination is this, when we ſee our ſelves out-done every day, and many hundreds of indigent Wretches take up with leſs, and endure more than the greateſt of theſe Boaſters can pretend to? 'Tis true, the one do it out of Neceſſity, and the other out of Choice; but ſtill Humane Nature is the ſame in both; and therefore it is plain, theſe Men, after all their practice and pains, have not carried it ſo far as it is capable of going. Beſides, there is always this Conſideration ready at hand to mortifie our Pride and Self conceit of all kinds: That if we excel in this particular, yet there are ſeveral others wherein we are deficient; and for one good Quality, which we have and others want, there might many be reckoned, which others have and we want. But there is indeed one peculiar Misfortune, that attends a Man's thinking highly of himſelf upon the account of any Excellence whatſoever; which is, That it both hinders him from improving and refining that particular Vertue, as otherwiſe he might do, ſuppoſing that he hath attained to the perfection of it already; and it checks and cools his Endeavours after other Vertues, as over-r ting this ſingle one, and thinking that alone ſufficient.

But do not (ſays he) exerciſe any of your Vertues for pomp and ſhew; nor if you drink Water, beat about the Buſh in all Companies to wriggle in a Diſcourſe of your own Abſtemiouſneſs and Sobriety: And if you would exerciſe any bodily Severity, do it for your Benefit, for a trial of your own Patience, to harden your Conſtitution, and to qualifie you ſtill more and more for Toil, and Trouble, and Self-denial. And if theſe be as they ſhould be, the true ends you propoſe from the practice of them, you will be well ſatisfied with repeating them in private, and not covet the Eyes and Admiration of the Multitude, nor make it your buſineſs to gather a number of Spectators The Account given of this paſſage by Caſaubon, in his Notes on this Chapter, ſeems much more pertinent and ſatisfactory, than this given here by Simplicius. He tells us, that the Aſceticks formerly, amongſt other Trials in which they exerciſed themſelves, uſed to practiſe the enduring of Cold: To which purpoſe in a Froſty Winter's Morning, it was very common to go out into the Streets and Publick Places, and there ling round one of the Braſs or Marble Statues. And becauſe this was very juſtly ſuſpected to be done more to get the Obſervation and Applauſe of a gizing R bble, than out of any good deſign upon themſelves; therefore Epictetus chuſes that inſtance of expoſing Vain-glory upon theſe Accounts. This is a very clear and natural account of the place, and ſeems grounded upon Authorities ſufficient to give it the preference before that of Simplicius. See Caſaub. in Epictet Not. 57.; like thoſe Wretches, who when they run away from the violence of too mighty an Enemy, implore the aſſiſtance of the People, and get upon the Statues to cry help, that they may be more ſeen, and ſooner get a Rabble about them: Their buſineſs being only to draw Company together in their own defence, and make themſelves and their Oppreſſion more conſpicuous and deplorable.

But, if you will be mortifying, do it privately and in good earneſt; when you are extreme thirſty, take cold Water into your Mouth; and though your Entrails are ready to to be burnt up, yet ſpit it out again; and when you have thus ſubdued the importunate Clamours of Nature and Neceſſity, tell no body what you have done. This is mortification and ſeverity indeed; but the things of this kind, that are done to be ſeen and commended of Men, ſhew plainly that the bent of the Soul lies outwards; that the Man is more concerned for the Fame of the World, than the real and intrinſick Goodneſs of the Action; and lays a greater ſtreſs upon their Praiſe or Diſpraiſe, than upon the Approbation or the Reproaches of his own Conſcience. Beſides, he loſes all the real Good of his Abſtinence and Severity, and profanes a vertuous Action, by an end ſo baſe and indirect as Popular Applauſe.

Now that the practiſing ſuch Auſterities as theſe upon ones ſelf, is of excellent uſe, Experience daily demonſtrates. For by this buffeting of the Body, we keep that, and its ſenſual Inclinations under; and reduce them ſo low, as not only to prevent any rebellious Inſurrections againſt Reaſon, but to bring them to a willing and ready compliance, even with thoſe of its Commands which are of hardeſt digeſtion to Fleſh and Senſe: And there is moreover this mighty Convenience in it, that theſe voluntary Hardſhips fit and prepare us for neceſſary and unavoidable ones. Every Man's Circumſtances are fickle and changeable; and ſure when any Affliction, as Want, or the like, happens to us, it is no ſmall advantage for the body to be ſo habituated as to bear thoſe Evils without any great alteration or reluctancy, which it is not poſſible to run away from. This gains us an abſolute Maſtery over the World, and ſets us above all the uncertainties of Humane Affairs, when it is no longer in the power of the moſt ſpightful Fortune to hurt us; for whatever extremity of ſuffering ſhe can poſſibly drive us to, is only what we have by long Cuſtom made eaſie and familiar to our ſelves before.

CHAP. LXXI.

It is the peculiar Quality, and a Character of an undiſciplin'd Man, and a Man of the World, to expect no advantage, and to apprehend no miſchief from himſelf, but all from Objects without him: Whereas the Philoſopher, quite centrary, looks only inward, and apprehends no Good or Evil can happen to him, but from himſelf alone.

CHAP. LXXII.

The marks that a Proficient in Philoſophy may be known by, are ſuch as theſe. He is not inquiſitive or buſie in other Men's Matters, ſo as to cenſure, or to commend; to accu •• , or to complain of anybody. He never talks big of himſelf, nor magnifies his own Vertue or Wiſdom. When he falls under any hindrance or diſappointment in his Deſigns, he blames none but himſelf. If any Perſon commend him, he ſmiles within himſelf, and receives it with a ſecret Diſdain; and if other People find fault with him, he is not at all ſolicitous in his own vindication. His whole behaviour is like that of a ſick Man upon recovery, full of caution and fear leſt he ſhould relapſe again, and injure his advances toward health before it be confirmed and perfectly ſound. As for deſire, he hath utterly abandoned it, except what depends upon his own ſelf; and Averſions he hath none, but to ſuch Objects only as are vicious and repugnant to Nature and Reaſon: The Affections and Appetites which Nature made ſtrong, he hath abated and taken off all the edge and eagerneſs of them. If he be diſparaged, and paſs for an ignorant or inſenſible Man, he values it not. And to ſam up all in a word, he is exceeding jealous of himſelf, and obſerves every Motion of his Mind as rigorouſly, as a Man would watch a Thief, or an Enemy, that lies lurking to rob or kill him.

COMMENT.

HE hath now gone through all the inſtructive part of his Book, and is drawing on towards a Concluſion: And the Subſtance of what he chuſes to cloſe up all with, is this moſt neceſſary Caution; That we muſt not content our ſelves with reading, or underſtanding, or remembring Rules of Morality; but take care, that they influence our Lives, and be tranſcribed in all our Actions. And, that no Man who addicts himſelf to the Study of Philoſophy, muſt propoſe ſo mean an end, as only the informing his Judgment, the filling his Head with curious Notions, or furniſhing his Tongue with Matter of learned Diſcourſe, but the reforming of his Vices, and bettering his Converſation; as conſidering that the Deſign of Moral Precepts is never anſwered by any thing ſhort of Practice. To this purpoſe he firſt deſcribes to us three ſorts of People, whoſe Characters are ſo comprehenſive, that all Mankind come under ſome one or other of them.

For every Perſon whatſoever, is either a ſecular Man, one that lives at the common rate, and minds the Affairs of the World, and this is one extreme: Or elſe he is a Philoſopher, who hath abandoned all other Care and Concern, but what relates to Vertue, and the Improvement of his own Mind; and this is the other oppoſite Extreme. Or elſe he muſt be one of a rank between both theſe, neither ſo untaught as the ſecular and common Man, nor yet ſo accompliſhed as the Philoſopher; but ſuch a one as hath renounced the World, and is aſpiring to a Moral Perfection: Theſe are called Proficients, and to them the ſeveral Exhortations, that have lately fallen under our Conſideration, are particularly directed. But of theſe we are to take notice, that Epictetus makes two ſorts, ſome that are young Beginners, and lately entred into this Diſcipline; and others, that have uſed it longer, and made ſome competent advances in it.

Now here he preſents us with a Deſcription of every one of theſe, and beginning with that of the Vulgar and undiſciplin'd Man, he gives him this diſtinguiſhing Mark; That he expects no part of this Happineſs or Miſery from himſelf, but from outward Objects: And the Account of this, is as follows.

Reaſon, which is our very Eſſence and Form, that which makes and denominates us Men, is placed in our own Power. And ſo likewiſe are the Senſual Appetites and Paſſions, only with this difference, That theſe are not peculiar to us alone, but given to us in common with Brutes. So that Reaſon is the incommunicable Privilege, and proper Prerogative of Humane Nature, That which is given to all Men in common, and to none but Men. For, though there be a difference between one Man's Reaſon and another's, when you come to particular Perſons, and Operations, and Objects; yet the Faculty in general is the ſame, the Foundation it proceeds upon the ſame, and its Ends and Motives are the ſame; all men are directed by it to purſue the ſame good Things, to deteſt and ſhun the ſame Evils, to aſſent to the ſame Truths, and reject the ſame Errors and Untruths. So that Reaſon is every Man's Guide; and from this he takes his Meaſures of Good and Evil, of True and Falſe.

Now the Objects which Reaſon inſpires us with a Love and Deſire of, are certain incorporeal Excellencies, Indiviſible and Immutable; ſuch as Juſtice, and Moderation, and Prudence; and the advantage of theſe, and the like good Things is, That each Perſon may enjoy the whole of them, without injuring or depriving his Neighbours. They are of unbounded extent; and no one Man hath the leſs for any other Man's having more. And from hence it comes to paſs, that the Determinations of Right Reaſon can never be repugnant to one another; and, ſo long as we purſue the Objects it preſents, and recommends to our Affection, there follows no Strife or Contention, but all is Union, and mutual Conſent, ſweet Harmony, and perfect Peace.

But now the Senſual Appetites and Paſſions, ſuch as Anger and Concupiſcence, and the reſt, that are ſubordinate to theſe Two; though in general, and in their own Nature they be the ſame in you, and me, and every one, yet the Objects they faſten upon are not the ſame in each Perſon. But I fix upon one thing, and you upon another, and ſo both the Deſires themſelves, and the Objects of them, and conſequently the Averſions, and their Objects too, are extreamly diſtant from one another, and peculiar to each ſingle Man. And, though it ſhould happen, That all ſhould agree in the ſame Objects, yet would not this put an end to the Difference neither; becauſe the things themſelves that engage theſe Affections, are Corporeal, and Singular, and Diviſible, and ſuch, as that one Man's Plenty neceſſarily infers another Man's Want: as Money, for inſtance, or Lands, or Women, or Honour, or Power, or Preferments. No Man can enjoy the whole of theſe, nor indeed a part of them, without depriving, or confining ſome body elſe, in proportion to the Quantity which himſelf enjoys. Upon theſe Accounts it is, that in theſe Caſes Men differ vaſtly in their Judgments; and not only ſo, but the Order and good Government of the World is overturned by them. For whenever the Peace of Mankind is diſturbed, either by private Grudges, Family Quarrels, Civil Inſurrections, or Foreign Wars, ſome of theſe things are conſtantly at the bottom of them. So then the common and untaught Man betrays his Folly, in forſaking the general Rule, and ſlighting the Common Good of his Nature, and ſetting up a particular Standard of his own; that miſleads his Judgment, and inſtead of that Good which is univerſal, cramps up his Deſires, and confines him to one that is Perſonal, Individual, and Corporeal, ſuch as does not approve it ſelf to the concurring Judgement of all Mankind, but only ſeems ſo to his own private Opinion, and miſtaken Senſe of things; for this is the true Caſe of External Objects. And whereſoever the Deſire, or the Averſion fixes, whether it be a Vertuous and Reaſonable, or whether a Vicious and Unnatural one, that to be ſure is what we apprehend to be our Good, and our Evil; and look for the Happineſs and the Miſery of our Lives from thence. For whatſoever we deſire, excites our Love under the Notion of Good; and whatſoever we deteſt or avoid, provokes our Averſion under the Notion of Evil.

Now the Philoſopher on the other hand hath diſcarded all outward things; he will have nothing to do with Matter and Body, but looks upon them as things that very little concern him, and ſuch as he cannot have any ſtrict Propriety in. He hath diveſted his Mind of all thoſe Prejudices that might miſguide it, and refined his Reaſon from the Droſs of Senſe and Paſſion; ſo that theſe Shadows and gaudy Deluſions can impoſe upon him no longer. Conſequently he is concerned for no Good, but what is ſubſtantial; nor attends to any other Buſineſs, than the Improvement of himſelf, the Promotion of Wiſdom and Goodneſs, and the aſpiring after thoſe Incorporeal Excellencies that appear ſo charming and lovely to clear-ſighted Reaſon. Such a one then need never go out of himſelf to be happy; Vertue is his Good, and that is always at home: And as for Evil, it is utterly baniſhed hence, and can never annoy; or get within him.

After this Deſcription of the Perſons, who make up the Two diſtant Extremes, he proceeds in the next place to give a Repreſentation of the middle ſort; viz. Thoſe whom he calls his Proficients, and for whoſe Uſe all that went before was principally intended. For the very Nature of the Subject ſhews us plainly, That it could belong to none elſe. The compleat Philoſopher needs no Inſtruction nor Aſſiſtance, but it is properly his Buſineſs to aſſiſt and inſtruct others. Nor can this be laid down as a neceſſary Qualification of a Philoſopher, That he neither Cenſures, nor commends any Body; for he is a Maſter, and a Corrector of Manners, and conſequently, as his Authority will bear him out in both, ſo his Poſt r quires he ſhould do doth, as he ſees occaſion. Nor can theſe Diſcourſes belong properly to the Common and Undiſciplin'd Man; for as the other is above them, ſo he is not capable of them; they would be utterly loſt upon him, till he change his Courſe of Living, and begin to act upon a nobler Principle. This Chapter therefore is a very Compendious Recollection of what went before at large, it is a kind of Remembrance to us, and preſents us with the Subſtance of the whole Book in little, and at one view.

I only add, before I quite ſhut up this Chapter, that That Paſſage of watching himſelf, as he would watch an Enemy, is very pertinent, and elegantly expreſs'd. For, we are to conſider ſuch a Man, in the Mid-way, as it were, between that Vice which he hath diſclaimed, and is running away from; and that Vertue which he is moving towards the Perfection of. In this State we cannot but ſuppoſe him frequently to reflect upon his former Miſery; and like a Patient, who is in a way of Recovery, but far from perfect Health, to be exceeding jealous, and tender, fearful of a Relapſe, and cautious of indulging himſelf in any Liberties which may keep him back from a ſound and confirmed State: And therefore this Jealouſie muſt needs make him a curious Obſerver of his own Actions, and as ſevere in his Sentences upon them, as if they were done by an Enemy. And this Rigour is of excellent uſe, becauſe it ſrees the Mind of all that partial Fondneſs, which we are too much inclined to; and which oftentimes make us either wholly over-look our own and our Friend's Faults; or at leaſt paſs very gentle and favourable Conſtructions upon them. And indeed this is the only way to make us honeſt and ſincere; for a diſſolute Man hath no Principles to reſtrain him; but is See Eraſm. Adag. in 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . (according to the Proverb) A Limber Leather, that will ſtretch and bend to any thing, and you never know where to have him.

CHAP. LXXIII.

If you obſerve any Man value himſelf for understanding Chryſippus his Book thoroughly, and giving a just Explanation of it; repreſent to your ſelf the intolerable Abſurdity of ſuch a Man's Pride by this ſingle Reflection, That if Chryſippus his Writings had not been obſcure, this Expounder would have had nothing to brag of. Well, but what is it that I think moſt worthy my Study? Why my Duty reſulting from the Condition of my Nature. I Deſire to know then, who it is that can teach me this Duty, and I am told Chryſippus can. Ʋpon this Information I apply my ſelf to the reading his Book; I read, but I do not understand him. My next Care then is to look out a good Expoſitor. In all this I have done no great Matter. For when by the help of this Expoſition I comprehend his Meaning, yet ſtill I want the Practical part; and this in truth is the only valuable Progreſs. For, if I reſt in the Author, or the Commentator, and content my ſelf with a bare Ʋnderſtanding, or apt Explication; I have forgot the Matter I took in hand, and am no longer ſtudying the Perfections of a Philoſopher, but thoſe of a Grammarian. The Difference is only this, That whereas I have choſen Chryſippus to exerciſe my Talent upon, he would have pitched rather upon Homer, or ſome other Claſſick Author. But this I am ſure of, that the more capable I am thought of explaining Chryſippus, the more I ought to be out of Countenance, if what I can teach others ſo well, I do not take due care to practiſe as exactly my ſelf.

COMMENT.

AFter having diſtinguiſhed Mankind into three Claſſes, and repreſented the Qualities proper to each of them; and alſo made a ſhort recapitulation of the Directions given before at large to his Proficient; he now begins to enter upon the concluding Part, inculcating in this and the following Chapters, that Rule which alone can give Life and Energy to all the reſt; viz. That the reducing theſe Precepts into Practice, muſt be our chief Study and Care; and that the Good Works which they are excellently accommodated to produce, is the genuine Fruit expected from them, and the very End for which they were compoſed and communicated. For what an Eminent Orator ſaid once upon a like Occaſion, is extreamly applicable to the Caſe now in Hand, That Words without Actions are but mere Air, and empty Sound.

To this purpoſe, he ſays, a Man ſhould reflect feriouſly with himſelf, what his meaning is, when he reads ſuch Moral nſtructions, and puts his Mind upon a ſedulous Enquiry after its true and proper Happineſs. The Anſwer to this Queſtion will be, That he intends to examine into Humane Nature, and ſee what is the Conſtitution, and true Condition of it: And from thence to purſue his Enquiry farther, and conſider what Actions, and what Sentiments are agreeable to this Nature; what Impreſſions are fit for a Creature ſo framed to admit and indulge; and what are to be ſtifled and reſtrained, as incongruous and unſeemly. Well, upon due Reflection, I find, that I have a Principle of Reaſon, and a Body, but theſe not equal in Authority or Value; for my Reaſon is the Character of my Nature, it challenges a Right over my Body, and commands it as an Inſtrument ſubſervient to it, and over-ruled by it. The Inference then from hence is plainly this, That God and Nature deſigned I ſhould live a Life of Reaſon, and not of Senſe; and that all my bodily Paſſions ſhould conform themſelves to the Commands of their Lawful Superior, that all my Fears, and all my Deſires, ſhould be reduced into due Order, and pay Homage to the more illu trious Perfections of the Soul.

But ſtill I am at a loſs how this is to be effected, and am told, That Chryſippus hath written an excelleat 〈◊〉 to this purpoſe. I fall immediately to re ding his Book, but find it ſo abſtruſe and dark, that I can make nothing at all of it. I am directed to a good Commentary, and by the help of this, I underſtand him perfectly. But all this while here is very little good done, and but ſmall praiſe due, either to the intelligent Reader, or the perſpicuous Commentator. For when Chryſippus wrote this, he did not only intend to be underſtood and expounded, but had a farther and much better End in it; viz. That both his Reader and his Interpreter ſhould practiſe what he had written. If then I do this, I attain to the Benefit the Writings were properly intended for, and they have had their due and full effect upon me. But if I delight in the Author, or applaud the Expoſitor never ſo much; if I am skill'd in all his Criticiſms, ſee through all his Intrica ies, admire the weight of his Sentences, or the turn of his Style; in ſhort, if I maſter every Difficulty, and have every Attainment but only that of Practice, I am not one whit improved in my Buſineſs. The Title of a more nice and exact Grammarian I may indeed have ſome pretenſion to, but can lay no claim at all to that of a Philoſopher: For this Talent of explaining an Author's Meaning, is properly the Qualification of a Grammarian; the only difference is, That Chryſippus is an Author ſomething out of his way, and Homer a much more likely Man to come under his Conſideration.

But there is another difference which is much more to my Diſadvantage; for a Man may read Homer, or explain him, and reſt there, and yet not be the worſe, if he be never the better for it. Whereas with Chryſippus it is much otherwiſe; for the un difying Reader, in this caſe cannot be innocent: And thoſe who do not mend by his Precepts, contract a deeper guilt, and incurr a juſter and more ſevere Condemnation. For, would it not be an intolerable reproach to any ſick Man, that ſhould read Preſcriptions proper for his own Diſtemper, and value himſelf upon pronouncing the Receipts gracefully, and deſcanting handſomely upon the Virtues of the ſeveral ing ed ents, and value himſelf upon being able to direct others how theſe are to be applied, and yet make uſe of none of them himſelf? Does ſuch a Man deſerve pity? And, is he not his own Murderer, who knows his Cure, and yet will not take it? And yet as extravagant and abſurd a Folly as this is, ours is every whit as bad, or worſe, when we have the Diſeaſes of our Souls ſet plainly before us, and are fully inſtructed in the Medicines and Reſtoratives proper for them, and yet are ſo wretchleſs and ſtupid, as to do nothing towards our Recovery.

CHAP. LXXIV.

Whatever Directions are given you, look upon them as ſo many Laws, that have a binding Power, and ſuch as you cannot without Impiety depart from: Perſevere therefore in the Obſervance of them all, and be not diverted from your Duty by any idle Reflections the ſilly World may make upon you; for their Cenſures are not in your Power, and conſequently ſhould be no part of your Concern.

COMMENT.

ONE Swallow, we commonly ſay, makes no Summer; and no more do a few ſingle Acts of Vertue make a Habit, or obſerving the Directions of Chryſippus, in one or two Inſtances, conſtitute a good Man. But our Obedience muſt be firm and conſtant; we muſt conſider our Duty, as that which is our Happineſs and trueſt Advantage, and ſuffer no Conſideration, how tempting ſoever, to draw us off from it. We muſt look upon our ſelves as under indiſpenſible Obligations, ſuch as cannot be broke looſe from, without the higheſt Impiety. And reaſon good there is to do ſo; for if we eſteem it diſhonourable and impious to fail of our Promiſe, or fly off from an Agreement in every trifling matter, becauſe, though the thing is of no value, yet the Violation of our Word is of horrible conſequence (as tending to the taking away that mutual Faith and good Aſſurance, by which all Society and Co merce is maintained among Men;) How ſolemn and ſacred ought thoſe Engagements to be eſteemed, by which we have tied our ſelves up to Wiſdom and Vertue, and Innocency of Life? Now theſe are violated, when a Man aſſents to the Truth of what he is taught, and the Reaſonableneſs of what he is commanded and expreſſes this Aſſent by living acco ••••• ly for a time, but afterwards relapſes and 〈◊〉 Deſerter.

Upon this account he adviſes us by all 〈◊〉 to perſevere in Goodneſs, and particularly not to be diſcompoſed with any Reflections the •• le World ſhall caſt upon us: For, as he in ima ed before (Chap. XXIX.) it is highly probable they will take upon them to cenſure our Conduct pretty freely; they will tax us with Singularity and Preciſeneſs, and call our Change, Pride, or Affectation. Now ſuch Diſcouragements as theſe, we muſt be provided againſt, and not let them cool our Zeal, or thake our Vertue; and that, becauſe other Men's Tongues are not at our diſpoſal, and therefore what they ſay ſhould give us no diſturbance.

This Paſſage may probably enough allude to that allegorical Saying of Pythagoras and his Followers: That when a Man comes into the Temple, he ſhould never look behind him. B which they deſigned to inſinuate, That Religious Purpoſes ſhould be fixed and ſteddy; and that when we come to God, we ſhould come with ſe led Reſolutions, not with doubtful and wavering 〈◊〉 , ſuch as would fain divide themſelves between God and the World.

CHAP. LXXV.

Ʋp then, and be doing; How long will you deferr your own Happineſs, and neglect the due obſervance of thoſe Directions that ſhew you the way to it, and the Dictates of Reaſon, which, if duly followed, would always chuſe the beſt! You have the Rules and Precepts to this purpoſe laid plainly before your Eyes; you have peruſed and aſſented to the Truth and Equity of them: What Maſter do you ſtay for now? Whom can you with any colour lay theſe Delays of Reformation upon? You are paſt the Giddineſs of Youth, and have all the Advantages of ſound Reaſon, and a ripe Judgment. If you neglect this Opportunity, and grow ſlothful now, and make one Reſolution after another, and fix firſt one Day, and then another, for the turning over a new Leaf with your ſelf, and ſtill do nothing, you will cheat your ſelf, and go backwards, and at laſt drop out of the World, not one jot a better Man than you came into it. Loſe no time then, but ſet about a good Life juſt now; and let the Determinations of Right Reaſon be an inviolable Law to you from this very Moment. If you meet with a diſcouraging Difficulty, or an enticing Pleaſure; if you are envited by a proſpect of Honour, or aſſrighted with the Fear of Diſgrace, encounter the Temptation bravely, whatever it be. Remember this is the Combat you are called to; this is the Field in which you are to ſignalize your ſelf, and there is no declining the Trial; all your Fortunes depend upon one Engagement; and the Ground you have gotten heretofore, must either be maintained by one gallant Victory, or loſt by one baſe Retreat. It was thus that Socrates grew ſo great, by putting himſelf forward upon all occaſions, puſhing every Advantage as far as it would go, and never hearkning to any other Perſuaſions but thoſe of his own Reaſon. And if you are not ſo great a Man as Socrates, yet it will become you to live and act as if you intended in time to be as great as he.

COMMENT.

THis alſo is an Admonition no leſs requiſite than the former; and highly neceſſary it is, that a Man who hath embraced this philoſophical Diſcipline, and reſolved to ſubmit to it, ſhould be put in mind how precious Time is, and awakened into Diligence.

Delays (as we commonly ſay of them) are dangerous; and one certain ill effect of them is, that they are but ſo many Pretences for indulging our Sloth. To what purpoſe therefore (ſays he) do you deſerr your own Happineſs, and the practice of theſe Rules you have received? For it is this Practice only that can render you vertuous and happy, and anſwer the Deſign both of the compoſing and the learning them. The Operation expected from them, is, To conform all your Actions to Right Reaſon; to fix this as a perpetual and inviolable Law to retrench your Deſires, al ay all your Paſſions, and bring every Inclination, and every Averſion to fix upon proper Objects, and confine themſelves within their juſt bounds.

Another poſſibly might alledge want of Inſtruction in his own excuſe, and declare himſelf moſt ready to be good, were he but ſufficiently taught how to be ſo. But this cannot do you any ſervice, w o have had all the advantages imaginable of Knowledge and Improvement: You, I ſay, who have no only had the Maxims of Philoſophy, and the Meaſures of Vertue fully explained and illuſtrated, but have applied your Mind to the ſtudy of theſe things, and made ſome conſiderable progreſs in them; and eſpecially who have had it evidently proved to you, That you are by no means to co tent your ſelf with having your Underſtanding enlightned, and your Judgment convinced by theſe Rules, unleſs you digeſt and make them of a piece with your Soul, that they may be like a Principle of new Life within you, exerting it ſelf in vertuous Habits, and influencing your whole Converſation. Since therefore all this, and indeed all that can be neceſſary for your due Information, hath been ſo fully opened, and ſo pathetically urged upon you, make not Ignorance and want of means a pretence, as if you ſtill were to wait for ſome more powerfull Call.

Others may poſſibly plead their Age, and the Heats and unthinking Follies of Youth, which render them incapable of ſober Reflection and ſevere Diſcipline. But you are in the very Seaſon of Life, that is moſt kindly for Vertue; the Vehemencies of Youth are worn off, and the Weakneſſes of old Age have not yet diſabled you: Your Paſſions are ſedate, your Judgment ſolid, and your Strength in its perfection: And if this enviting Opportunity be ſuffered to ſlip through your hands; if you cannot now find in your heart to take ſome pains to be good, when you are beſt qualified to maſter what you attempt; if Sloth and Supineneſs get the power over you, to make Appointments and break them; to fix upon particular Days for ſetting about this Great Work; and when they are come, to drive it off to a farther Day again, you do but play booty with your Conſcience, and deal like diſhoneſt Debtors, who ſtop their Creditors mouths with fair Promiſes, and fix a time for thoſe Payments which they never intend to make. Thus your Soul is deluded with a vain Hope and Expectation of doing ſomething, you ſtifle the Reproaches from within, by freſh Reſolves; but ſtill thoſe new are as inſignificant as the old, and pitch upon a To-morrow which will never come. And it were well indeed, if this were the worſt of it; but, alas! in Vertue there can be no ſuch thing as ſtanding ſtill: While you deferr growing better, you neceſſarily grow worſe, and by inſenſible Decays relapſe into Ignorance and Vice again. Thus after a number of Years ſpent in fruitleſs Intentions, you live and die a Fool, and ſo muſt continue for ever: For, as our ſtate of Separation before we came into theſe Bodies, had a great influence upon what we do here, and the Diſpoſition of the Souls we brought into the World, is a marvellous advantage to our future Vertue; ſo our Behaviour here is but the Preface and Preparation to what we ſhall do there again. For the whole of this taken together, is one entire Life, and the time we paſs here but one ſtage of it; only the This proceeds upon the Platonick and Pythagorean Hypotheſis, and agrees to the Notions more largely taken notice of, Chap. I. ſtate of Prae-exiſtence makes ſome alteration in our Life here; and our Life here makes a conſiderable one, and indeed determines us as to the ſtate of our Separation hereafter.

Now therefore, now aſpire (ſays he) to perfection, and live as one that does ſo. Abſolute Perfection he does not mean; for then his Exhortation would be needleſs, but the Perfection of a Proficient, ſuch a degree as a ſtate of Diſcipline and Probation is capable of; that is, ſo as never to loſe ground, but to be continually advancing forwards. And to this purpoſe, whatever upon mature Conſideration appears moſt reaſonable, let it have the force of a Law with you; a Law, I ſay, which cannot be ſatisfied with being known and underſtood, but requires a poſitive and actual Obedience.

To ſtrengthen you in this Reſolution, you may have one mighty Encouragement; which is, That all the Accidents of humane Life are ſo far in ſubjection to you, that you may with a prudent Care make them all, though never ſo different in themſelves, conſpire together to your own advantage: For whether you meet with any thing ſucceſsful or diſaſtrous, pleaſant or painful, whether it tend to Honour or Ignominy, all are manageable; only be ſure, let the Temptation be never ſo ſmall, never ſlight or neglect it; and though it be never ſo great, do not be diſpirited at it. Security will give a defeat, where there was not Strength to do it; and Deſpondency loſe the Prize, where there is force enough to win it.

Be ſure then that you let no Accident paſs unimproved, but imagine that every one is an Adverſary that challenges you to the Field, and that vertue is the Crown you are to contend for; remember that there is no middle ſtate, no getting off without Blows, but Conqueſt or Ruine muſt be the Fate of the Day. Nor are you to ſlip one Day, or overlook one ſingle Action, upon a vain imagination, That ſuch little things cannot turn to your prejudice: For that one Day, that ſingle Action determines your whole Fortune, and your Preſervation, or your Deſtruction, depends upon this nice point. Thus Epictetus aſſures you, and he tells you very true. And if it ſeem incredible and ſurprizing, pray be pleaſed to conſider, that every Indulgence of a Vice gives it new force to aſſault us, and abates of our power to reſiſt it. He that is ſlothful and irreſolute to day, will be a great deal more ſo to morrow; and if there be (as there will be ſure to be) any freſh Objection to palliate his idleneſs, he will have a great deal leſs mind to encounter it the third day, than he had the ſecond. And thus by degrees the Diſpoſitions to Goodneſs will waſte away, and all the Vigour of his Mind languiſh and die. It will yield more and more tamely to every freſh attack, till at laſt Reaſon be quite enfeebled and over-powered, and all the advances the Man had formerly made in Goodneſs, be loſt to all other Intents and Purpoſes, except that only of adding to his Shame and his Guilt.

Now the very ſame ſingle Trials, which, when neglected, do thus loſe ground, do, when attended to and improved, maintain and get it. And Vertue increaſes by the ſame methods, and much in the ſame proportions that it declines: For the practice of one Day, and the performance of one Act, leaves an Impreſſion behind it, and confirms the Mind ſo, that the next Attempt proves a great deal more eaſie, the Reluctancies of Senſe wear off, and repeated Acts become habitual and familiar, and we daily feel our own Advantages. Frequent uſe gives us a more maſterly hand, and what we can do well, and with eaſe, we naturally come to do with delight. Thus Men never continue long the ſame, but every Hour, every moral Action, every ſingle Accident of their Lives makes ſome alteration in them.

Socrates had a juſt ſenſe of this, and expreſs'd it abundantly in the circumſpection of his Life; for the very thing that raiſed him ſo high, and gave him the Character of the Wiſeſt of Men, was his conſtant Care never to neglect any advantage, nor delay the doing any good; he made every Accident of every kind turn to ſome good account, and was deaf to all other Sollicitations, though never ſo importunate, except thoſe of his own Reaſon, and the Reſults of his moſt careful and compoſed Thoughts. You will ſay, perhaps, This ſignifies very little to you, who have not the Vanity to think your ſelf like Socrates. But give me leave to ſay, if you are not like him, you would do well to endeavour it; and whatever you want of his Perfections at preſent, live with that exactneſs, as if you meant and hoped one day to equal them: For the proſpect of an eminent Example is a wonderful advantage; it fi es a Man with noble Emulation, and whilſt he keeps the Pattern in his eye, he is provoked to imitate his Excellencies, and feels himſelf at once directed how to copy after them, and aſhamed not to do ſo.

CHAP. LXXVI.

The firſt and moſt uſeful Topick in Philoſophy, is the Moral part, which teaches Men their Duty; as for inſtance, That they ſhould not lie: The ſecond is the demonſtrative part, which gives us infallible proofs of it, and ſhews us evident Reaſons wherefore we ought not to lie: The Third is the diſtinguiſhing and argumentative part, which inſtructs us what a Demonſtration is, and how this in the caſe before us is one; What is a Conſequence? What a Contradiction? What is True, and what is Falſe? Now from hence it is plain, that the laſt of theſe is ſubſervient to the ſecond; that the ſecond is ſubordinate to the firſt, and that the firſt is the most important and neceſſary point of all: That which all our Studies ſhould be directed to, and wherein they ſhould all center and reſt at last. But we quite invert this Order. The third employs moſt of our Time and Pains, and the first is not thought worth either: So that by a ſtrange Abſurdity we commit the Crime, and at the ſame time value our ſelves exceedingly, for being able to demonſtrate beyond all contradiction, that we ought not to do it.

COMMENT.

IT is abſolutely neceſſary, that a Man who makes any pretenſions to Philoſophy, and aims at the peculiar perfection of his Nature, both as he is an Animal, and a Rational Creature, ſhould have a clear and demonſtrative knowledge of the Truth: For otherwiſe, he may be liable to great Errors, and run into infinite Inconveniences, by taking things upon truſt, and leaning too much either to the bare Authority, or the inſufficient proofs of confident Pretenders. Vertue is a thing of the higheſt Conſequence, and it is not fit we ſhould take up with ſo ſlight and feeble Perſwaſions concerning it, as mere Opinion and Probabilities are capable of creating in us. Now this clear and undoubted Evidence is an effect owing only to Demonſtration. And it is Logick's peculiar Province, to inform us in the Nature of a Demonſtration, as, That it is a Syllogiſm conſiſting of Propoſitions, put together according to Rules of Art; and that thoſe Propoſitions muſt be of clear and undoubted Truth: As alſo to acquaint us what Propoſitions are thus qualified, and what Method is to be obſerved for the forming them into a true Syllogiſm.

Now from hence we may plainly perceive, that the whole compaſs of Philoſophy may be reduced to three Heads, and that theſe will comprehend if not all abſolutely, yet all that is material and neceſſary in it. The Firſt is the Preceptive part, that which converts our Speculation into Practice, that preſcribes Modeſty and Temperance in our Actions, and prohibits lying in all our Diſcourſe and Converſation. The ſecond is the demonſtrative part, which ſhews us clearly not only that we ſhould or ſhould not, but alſo aſſigns convincing Reaſons, why we ſhould or ſhould not do this or that. The third is the illuſtrating and arguing part, that ſets Rules to our Reaſoning, and aſſiſts Nature by Art; and prevents our being impoſed upon by falſe appearances, by teaching us the difference between a real demonſtration, and a pretended one; and ſhews the mutual Connexions and Conſequences of ſome Propoſitions, and the irreconcileable Oppoſition between others; as, That the Species neceſſarily inferrs its Genus and the Being of a Man implies that of an Animal; That a particular Affirmative and an univerſal Negative; and ſo likewiſe a particular Negative and an univerſal Affirmative, are direct Contradictions, never to be reconciled, and impoſſible to be both true or both falſe together. It acquaints us too with the qualifications of a Syllogiſm, What Propoſitions it conſiſts of; How theſe Propoſitions muſt be put together; What difference there will be in the Concluſion, according to the manner of forming it; and what differences there are between true and fair Syllogiſms, and irregular, ſophiſtical, and enſnaring ones.

Now nothing can be more plain, than that this Third Topick, which inſtructs us in all the Subtleties of Reaſoning, is intended to ſerve the Second, and that this is an Ingenious and Artificial Expedient, contrived, as we ſee, to remove all the Scruples and Diſatisfactions of our Minds, to direct and fix our Judgments, and give us the moſt unconteſtable and ſatisfactory Aſſurance, what is our real Happineſs, and what our Duty. This, I ſay, is the Buſineſs of the Second Head, which conſiſts in Demonſtrative Proofs; but then it is every whit as plain too, that this Second is ſubordinate to ſomething beyond it; viz. The Practical and Preceptive Part; and conſequently both the other are reſolved into the Firſt: For our Knowledge is intended only to qualifie us for Action, and lead us to it; and therefore the Poactice of Vertue and a Good Life is the ultimate Deſign of alll Study, and all Inſtruction: Here we muſt fix at laſt; for every thing elſe conſpires to promote this; but beyond this there is no End of greater Conſequence, or higher Perfection.

And happy were it for us, if we governed our ſelves by this Rule. But, alas! we take quite contrary Meaſures; the greateſt part of our Time and Pains is employed in the Third Head; in nice Diſputes and Controverted Points; and we can ſpare but very little for the Second; That which ſhould convince us of the Excellence, and the Neceſſity of being Vertuous, and poſſeſs our Souls with a lively and vigorous Senſe of our Duty: But for the Firſt of theſe Topicks, which conſiſts in reducing our Knowledge into Practice, we allow this no Portion of our Care at all. We wrangle and diſpute eternally, about curious and unprofitable Queſtions; and overlook that which would conduce to the promoting true Goodneſs. We ſtudy this now and then, and talk learnedly, and affectionately upon it; but ſtill we do no part of what we ſay. Nay, which is the moſt monſtrous inconſiſtence that can be, we are guilty of groſs Enormities in our own Perſons, and at the ſame time are proud that we are able to convince and perſwade others, That we can ſhew, we ought not to be what we are: And it pleaſes us much to think, that no body can expoſe the Deformity of our own Actions better than our ſelves.

Now all this is turning things up ſide down, and beginning at the wrong End. The Method in which we ought to proceed is this: Firſt to learn how to argue againſt Vice, then to employ our Talent in demonſtrating the Baſeneſs and Incongruity of it to our ſelves; and when we are arrived to a full and undoubted Conviction, then actually to decline it, and to perſevere in the Practice of what we have learnt, as conſidering that we learned it for that very purpoſe; and that the Preceptive Part, though Superiour to all the reſt, is yet it ſelf ſubordinate to the Practical.

This is the Subſtance and Deſign of Epictetus in the Chapter now before us, where he does with great Dexterity inforce the Practice of his Moral Maxims, and expoſes the Vanity of thoſe Men, who make Speculation the End of their Knowledge, with that Indignation, which ſo exquiſite a Folly deſerves.

CHAP. LXXVII.

In every Ʋndertaking we ſhall do well to reſign our ſelves to the Diſpoſal of Providence, in ſome ſuch Ejaculation as this: Conduct me, Jove, and thou, O powerful Fate, In every Enterpriſe, in every State, As you determine: For I muſt obey The wiſe Injunctions, which you on me lay. For ſhould I at your dread Decrees repine, And ſtrive your Sacred Order to decline: I ſhould but labour wickedly in vain, And ſtruggle with an everlaſting Chain, And after all, be dragg'd along with pain. E. Walker's Epict. Eng. Paraphaſ.

CHAP. LXXVIII.

To the ſame purpoſe that other. He that ſubmits to Deſtiny's Decrees, Is juſtly counted Wiſe by men, and knows The due Reſpects which to the Gods he owes.

COMMENT.

IN regard ſome of the Ancients have collected together thoſe Moral Axioms which were occaſionally delivered, and lie ſca tered up and down in larger Books; he adviſes us to have ſome of theſe ſignificant Sente ces always ready at Hand; as being not only ſhort, and ſo no Burden to the Memory, but alſo likely to make a deeper and more laſting Impreſſion, both upon the Account of their own weight, and the celebrated Name of their Authors. For this Reaſon he ſubjoins ſome ſuch here; the firſt whereof was a Meditation of Cleanthes, Scholar to Zeno, and Maſter to Chryſippus. The Eminence of this Man was ſo great, that I my ſelf have ſeen at Aſſos, (of which place he was a Native) a very noble Statue, worthy his Fame, and the Magnificence of the Senate of Rome, who ſet it up in Honour of him.

In theſe Verſes he begs the Guidance of God, and that Providence and Power whereof God is the Source, and which makes and moves all things. This he calls here by the name of Fate; and promiſes for his part, that he will obey its Motions, and follow it whitherſoever it leads him. And it is but reaſonable, that he, and every Man ſhould diſpoſe his Mind to a willing and ready complyance, becauſe Oppoſition (as he obſerves) will not only be wicked but Fruitleſs too, and follow it we muſt whether we will or no; only it is in our Choice whether this ſhall be with Cheerfulneſs and Contentation; or with Reluctancy and Sorrow. Shake our Chain, and gall our ſelves with it we may, but break it we cannot; for the Cauſe will always be ſtronger than its Effect, and there is no getting looſe from him, in whom we live, and move, and have our Being.

To this purpoſe Epictetus adviſed us before (Chap XIII.) Trouble not your ſelf (ſays he) with wiſhing. That things may be juſt as you would have them, but be well pleaſed they ſhould be juſt as they are; and then you will live eaſie. And indeed this of Submiſſion is a moſt comprehenſive Duty; it takes in the whole Subſtance of Morality and Vertue: And a Man may very deſervedly be called Good, when he is ſatisfied with his Lot in common with the reſt of the World, and can look upon himſelf as a part of this vaſt Univerſe, without any ſuch greedy and aſſuming Notions, as would reſtrain Providence within a narrow Compaſs, and make a World of himſelf alone, and oppoſe that Harmony of Events, which conſults the Good of the whole; as if the Courſe of the World were to be changed, and its Order diſturbed, to follow ſo inconſiderable a Part, rather than he ſhould move along with this great Engine, and take up with what falls to his own ſhare.

The Second Sentence is taken out of one of Euripides his Tragedies, and hath a great Affinity to the former. For Neceſſity ſignifies, that over-ruling Power, which ſubmits all things to God, and makes all contribute to the Firſt Cauſe, (that is, the obeying the Divine Pleaſure, and promoting his Glory) whether they will or no. The Man therefore that ſtrikes in, and acts in conſent with this, that follows it with Alacrity, and betrays no loathneſs, or regret, gives a good Proof of his Wiſdom: His Behaviour ſhews, that he underſtands the Nature of the World, and that Partiality to a private Intereſt, hath not ſo far byaſſed him, but he can ſtill make a juſt Diſtinction between a Whole and a Part. And as this anſwers his Wiſdom, ſo does it his Piety too; for nothing expreſſes our Reverence for God, better than ſuch a cheerful Reſignation of our ſelves, and receiving contentedly whatever he ſends upon us.

CHAP. LXXIX.

Or this other. O, Crito, If this be God's pleaſure concerning me, His Will be done; Anytus and Melitus may take away my Life, but it is not in their power to do me any hurt.

COMMENT.

THis is quoted out of a Diſcourſe of Plato's entituled Crito, and is ſpoken there in the Perſon of Socrates: The Sence is much the ſame with the former, only wrapp'd up a little cloſe, and delivered in fewer Words. And indeed the Man, who can make this Profeſſion, and whoſe Life ſpeaks it as well as his Tongue, hath vanquiſhed all his Pride and Diſcontent, and cured the Degeneracy of his Nature, hath abandoned Corruption, gives up himſelf to God without any reſerve, and ſubmits to all his Diſpenſations with a perfect acquieſcence of Mind. And to Me Epictetus ſeems to have produced theſe Sayings at the close of his Book, that by the Teſtimony and Example of ſuch eminent Perſons, he might confirm us in this Belief, That the utmoſt Perfection attainable by a Humane Soul, is a ſincere Converſion or turning to God; and that a ready compliance with his Will upon all occaſions is the Crown and Complement of all Vertues.

That laſt Clauſe, Anytus and Melitus may kill me, but they cannot hurt me, is taken out of Plato's Defence of Socrates, and ſpoken to his Accuſers:

And thus our Author brings both ends together, by refreſhing our Memory here with what he inſiſted upon ſo largely at the beginning; viz: That the Man who places his Good and Evil only in the uſe of his Native Liberty, and thoſe things that come within the compaſs of his own choice, and does not depend upon external Objects for his Happineſs: This Man, I ſay, is above the World, he cannot be brought under the Dominion of any thing, nor is it in the Power of Men or Accidents to do him the leaſt prejudice.

Thus have I finiſhed thoſe Meditations, which occurred to me upon this Subject; and becauſe I thought they might be of ſome Service to thoſe that ſhall read Epictetus, I was willing to contribute what little Aſſiſtance I could to the true Underſtanding of ſo excellent an Author. Nor does my writing this Commentary, prove beneficial to others only, for I my ſelf have already found great Advantage from it, by the agreeable Diverſion it hath given me, in a Seaſon of Trouble and publick Calamity. All I have more to add, is only a Prayer proper to this Subject, and with it I conclude.

Grant, I beſeech thee, O Lord, the Giver and Guide of all Reaſon, that we may always be mindful of the Dignity, of the Nature, and the Privileges thou haſt honoured us withal; that we may act in all things as becomes free Agents, to the ſubduing and governing our Paſſions, to the refining them from Fleſh and Senſe, and to the rendring them ſubſervient to excellent Purpoſes. Grant us alſo thy Favourable Aſſiſtance in the reforming, and directing our Judgment; and enlighten us with thy Truth, that we may diſcern thoſe things that are really Good; and having diſcovered them, may love and cleave ſtedfaſtly to the ſame. And, finally, diſperſe, we pray thee, thoſe Miſts which darken the Eyes of our Mind, that ſo we may have a perfect Underſtanding: And (as Homer expreſſes it) knows ( 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ) both God and Man, and what to each is due.

FINIS.
A TABLE OF THE Principal Matters CONTAINED In this BOOK.

THE Introduction. Page 1. The Diſtinction of Things in and out of our own Power Chap. 1. p. 10 The Nature and Condition of Things. c. 2. p. 50 The Effects of a true and falſe Judgment of Things. Ch. 3. 52 The Neceſſity of due Conſideration, and Preparation of Mind. Ch. 4. p. 57. That Vertue and Vanity cannot be both attended to at once. Ibid. That we muſt ſuſpend our Judgments till things are duly examined. Ch. 5. 63 That our Mi fortunes proceed from the fear of Miſery, and the diſappointment of our Deſires. Ch. 6 66 That young Beginners in Vertue ſhould proceed ſlowly and gradually. Ch. 7. 67 That the Nature of what we love is a very material and neceſſary Conſideration. Ch. 8. 79 The Circumſtances and probable Conſequences of every Ʋndertaking, ſhould be well weighed before we undertake it. Ch. 9. 86 Our Diſturbances are owing not to the Things themſelves, but to our Ideas of them. Ch. 10. 93. Wiſe Men make no Complaints. Ibid. Men ought not to value themſelves upon the Goods of Fortune, but thoſe of the Mind. Ch. 11. 106 The Ʋſe and Improvement of our Notions of Things, is our proper Buſineſs and Vèrtue. Ibid. Our Minds ſhould be fixed upon God, and all external Advantages uſed and valued as things only by the bye. Ch. 12. 112 We ſhould not trouble our ſelves with wiſhing Impoſſibilities. Ch. 13. 117 A well-diſciplin'd Mind is ſubject to no Obſtructions. Ibid. 145 The Fowers of the Mind muſt be ſet againſt ill Accidents and vicious Deſires. Ch. 14. 150 What we pa t with is not loſt, but reſtored to God the Giver. Ch. 15. 156 The Improvement of the Mind ought to be every Man's chief Care. Ch. 16. 161 We muſt improve our ſelves by riſing from ſmall things to greater. Ch 17. 161 It is not to be expected that every thing ſhould be juſt as we would have it. Ibid. We muſt not be diſcouraged at other Peoples ill Opinion of us Ch. 18. 170 No Man is capable of purſuing ſeveral Ends at once. Ch. 18. 172 It is a vain thing to deſire the ſecuring to our ſelves what Nature hath put out of our own Power. Ch. 19. 176 Who is properly our Maſter Ch. 20. 180 We muſt take what God gives us thankfully, and be content to want what he denies us Ch. 21. 184 Good Nature muſt be ſo reſtrained, as not to diſturb the Peace of our own Mind. Ch. 22. 189 The Part we muſt act in this Play of Life, depends upon God's Appointment. Ch. 23. 193 A Wiſe Man improves every Accident of Humane Life. Ch. 24. 197 Nothing ſhould be attempted that is out of our reach, and above our Strength. Ch. 25. 199 The way to avoid envying and admiring others. Ch. 26. 201 Liberty is no way to be had, but by deſpiſing the World. Ibid. No Man is injured except by himſelf. Ch. 27. 205 The Benefit of Deliberation. Ibid. The Advantage of Praemeditation. Ch. 28. 205, &c. A Philoſopher muſt be above Deriſion and Cenſure. Ch. 29. 211 Perſeverance conquers all Difficulties. Ibid. The Conſciouſneſs of our own Vertue ought to ſupport and ſatisfie us. Ch. 30. 218 A Good Man needs not the Advantage of Fortune, to render him uſeful to the Publick. Ch. 31. 222 We ſhould rejoice with all Men, and envy none. Ch. 32. 241 The Courteſies of the World never come for nothing. Ibid. We ſhould paſs the ſame Judgment upon our own Misfortunes, that we do upon other Peoples. Ch. 33. 250 Concerning the Nature of Evil. Ch. 34. 258 Early Conſideration prevents late Shame and Repentance. 298 The Miſchief and Folly of Raſh Attempts. Ch. 35. 36. 298, &c. Of the Duties Men owe one another, and that we muſt do our Parts, though other People do not diſchar e Theirs. Ch. 37. 321, &c. A Diſc ••• ſe of Friendſhip. 331, &c. A Diſcourſe concerning God and Providence, and the Duties of Religion. Ch. 38. 346 In what Caſes, and with what Diſpoſition Oracles ſhould be conſulted. Ch. 39 401 No Danger ſhould diſcourage us in our known Duty. Ibid. Rules for Converſation. Every Man ſhould reſolve what Character he will maintain. Ch. 40. 413 Of the Government of the Tongue. Ch. 41. 413 Of Reproof. Ch. 42. 414 Of Laughter. Ch. 43. 420, &c. Of Swearing. Ch. 44. 422 Of our Behaviour at publick Entertainments. Ch. 45. 424 Our Poſſeſſions ſhould be meaſured not by Luxury, but Ʋſe. Ch. 46. 427 Men muſt be chaste, without Vanity and Cenſoriouſneſs. Ch. 47. 435 Calumnies ſhould be deſpiſed Ch. 48. 440 Publick Shows ſhould be ſeen with an even and compoſed Mind. Ch. 49 446 Rehearſals of Poets and Orators, how to be heard. Ch. 50. 449. Great and wiſe Men ſhould be made our Patterns for Converſation. Ch. 51. 451 We muſt prepare our ſelves for cold Reception from Great Men. Ch. 52. 455 Talking of one's ſelf to be avoided. Ch. 53. 458, &c. Of Jeſting. Ch. 54. 458, &c. Of obſcene Diſcourſe. Ch. 55. 459, &c. The Glory of denying our ſelves, and abſtaining from Pleaſure. Ch. 56. 465 The Senſe of Duty, and not common Fame, muſt be the Rule of our Actions. Ch. 57. 470 We muſt conſult the Rights of Men in common, and not our private Intereſt. Ch. 58. 473 Every Man ſhould conſider his own Abilities, and not aim at things above our him. Ch 59. 477 The Integrity of the Mind, ſhould be our great Care. Ch. 60. 479 Nature is ſoon ſatisfied, but extravagant Deſires never. Ch. 61. 482 Modeſty in a Wife is a more valuable Excellence than Beauty. Ch. 62. 486 The Body deſerves but little of our Time and Pains, but the Mind is worthy of them all. Ch. 63. 488 What other People ſay or think of us, is not ſo much our Concern as theirs. Ch. 64. 490 We ſhould take every thing by its beſt handle. Ch. 59 494 No Man is really the better for any external Advantages. Ch. 66. 499 Of raſh Cenſures. Ch. 67. 501 Vertue is to be ſhewn not in wiſe Harangues, but good Actions. Ch. 68. 05 Of forwardneſs in Inſtructing, and how our Improvement in Knowledge ſhould be manifeſted. Ch. 69. 505, &c. Againſt Oſtentation. Ch. 70. 513 Every Man's Happineſs and Miſery is from himſelf. Ch. 71. 518 The Character of a Proficient in Wiſdom and Goodneſs. Ch. 72. 518, &c. Practice is the End of all Moral Knowledge. Ch. 73. 527 We muſt mind our Duty ſtrictly, and deſpiſe the Cenſures of ehe World. Ch. 74. 532 Againſt deferring a good Life. Ch. 75. 534 True Wiſdom conſiſts not in learned Diſputes about Vertue, but in the Practice of it. Ch. 76. 542 The Duty of Self-Reſignation and Submiſſion to the Divine Will. Ch. 77, 78, 79. 547 The Concluſion. 551

The Author's abſence and the Printer's overſight have occaſioned theſe following Miſtakes, which diſturb the Senſe, and the Reader is therefore deſired to correct them. ERRATA.

PAge 4 Line 22 r. it muſt. p. 10 Note, l, 10. r. have both. p. 14. l. 21. r. Unites, p. 17 l. 8 del. to. l. 9 r. from without. p. 18l. 5 f. without r. with. p. 19. l. 11, 12 r. given. f. to pleaſe, r. as they pleaſe. p. 21 l. 5 r. it's proper. p. 16. l. 31. r. one's own. p. 28 l. 33 r. deſiring. p. 40 l. 4 after what del. a. p. 43 l. 14 f. Deſining r. Deſiring. l. 17 f. ſuch r. juſt. l. 33 after ſelves r. forced by, &c. l. 35 f. ſtrong Event, r. ſtrong Bent. p. 45 l. 7 f. when r. which. l. 15 f. 'tis r, is. l. 18 r. deſcribes. p. 51 l. 8 r. and we may. p. 67 l. ult. r. he tells us, p. 77 l. 8 r. cure requires. p. 79. l. 5. r. And that theſe. p. 90 l. 3 r. nor is it true. p. 97 l. 22 r. Pay. p. 124 l. 25 r. was not able. p. 138 l. 27 r. how ſhall we. p. 140 l. 20 r. it is rooted. p. 141 l. 31 del. done. p. 144. l. 8 r. hath. p. 50 l. ult. f. Tranſactions r. erfections. p. 179 l. 17 for they r. we p. 185 l. 21 f. them r. it. l. 31 after as dele not. p. 199 l. 4 dele you. p. 204. l. 4 r. Preference. p. 206 l. 7. r. Mind. p. 207 l. 20 f. ill r. all. p. 210 l. 12, 13 r. rendred the Th ughts of them. p. 2 3 l. 17 f. great r. reall. p. 226 l. 15 r. Diſhonourable p. 227 f. happy r. unhappy l. ult. f. Idleneſs r. Vilene s. p. 230 l. 13 f. on r. in. p. 242 l. 26 r. Unreaſonable. p. 275 l. 26 r. ſuperinduced. 281 l. ult. f. Soul is r. Souls. p. 283 l. 19 f. conſiſtent r. conſtituent. p. 284 l. 12 f. Proſperit r. Poſterity. p. 289 l. 26 r. in the obſerving theſe things. This may be, &c. p. 320 l. 8 f. Companion r. Compariſon. p. 321 l. 2 f. Reaſons r. Perſon . l. 17 r. bears to you. p. 324 l. 5 f. may reflect r. may have reſpect. 335 l. 2 f. He r. we. p. 343 l. 12 f. Fleſh r. Helps. p. 354 l. 7. r. Reverent. p. 357 l. 12 r. check. l. 13 r. render. p. 362 l. 25 for no r. any p. 363 l. 1 r. never not been. p. 366 l. 21 after done r. it. p. 373 l. 16 for preſents r. preſerves. p. 389 l. 20 r. be it. p. 390 l. 23 r. This repreſents. p. 392 l. 10 f. Diſputes r. Diſeaſes. p. 395 l. f. than r. that. p. 396 l. 23 r. themſelves. p. 402 l. 3 after is dele, p. 411 verſe 6 r. Rewards p. 418 l. 25 r. was not. p. 431 l. 12 r. reduces p. 432 l. 10 r. make an Appearance. p. 444. l. 3 read the Satisfaction. p. 451 l. 12. r. can congratulate. p. 456 l. 8 r. not to be. p. 458 Ch. LIV l. 6 f. them r. it. p. 462 l. 2 f. or r. and. l. 83 dele if. p. 466 l. 23 f. l. e r. it. p. 468 l. 23 f. one r. 〈◊〉 . p. 469 l. 2 f. an Action r. Action, and. p. 471 l. 8 r. Ground . l. 16 r. of what Conſtractions. l. 22 r. a ſeeming Evil. p. 480 l. 13 f. ſlatter r. faſten. p. 484 l. 16 f. even r. ever. p. 492 l. 22 f. compleat r. complex. p. 49 after Familiarity r. between you. p. 500 l. 25 f. laboured r. elaborate. p. 502 l. 13 after it r. is, p. 507 l. 25 f. imperious r. impious. p. 510 l. 23 r. Sophitters, Men who, &c. l. 29. r. Theoetetus p. 521 l. 1 f. this read his p. 525 l. 6 read Remembrancer l. 31 r. makes. p. 531 l. 9 dele value himſelf. Chap LXXV. p. 542 dele all the Interrogatives. p. 546 l. 2 r. at the ſame time.

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