quietudes arising out of a man's mind, body, ter superfluous and imaginary enjoyments. or fortune, it makes him easy under them. It and will not be at the trouble of contracting has indeed a kindly influence on the soul of their desires, an excellent saying of Bion the man, in respect of every being to whom he philosopher; namely, that no man has so stands related. It extinguishes all murmur, much care as he who endeavours after the repining, and ingratitude, towards that Be-most happiness. ing who has allotted him his part to act in this In the second place, every one ought to reworld. It destroys all inordinate ambition, fiect how much more unhappy he might be and every tendency to corruption, with re-than he really is. The former consideration gard to the community wherein he is placed. took in all those who are sufficiently provided It gives sweetness to his conversation, and a perpetual serenity to all his thoughts. with the means to make themselves easy; this regards such as actually lie under some pressure or misfortune. These may receive great alleviation from such a comparison as the unhappy person may make between himself and others, or between the misfor tunes which he suffers, and greater misfortunes which might have befallen him. Among the many methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of this virtue, 1 shall only mention the two following. First of all, a man should always consider how much he has more than he wants: and, secondly, how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. First of all, a man should always consider I like the story of the honest Dutchman, who how much he has more than he wants. I am upon breaking his leg by a fall from the mainwonderfully pleased with the reply which mast, told the standers by, it was a great Aristippus made to one who condoled him mercy that it was not his neck. To which, upon the loss of a farm: Why,' said he, I since I am got into quotations, give me leave to have three farms still, and you have but one; add the saving of an old philosopher, who, so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you after having invited some of his friends to than you for me.' On the contrary, foolish dine with him, was ruffled by his wife, that men are more apt to consider what they have came into the room in a passion, and threw lost than what they possess; and to fix their down the table that stood before them: Every eyes upon those who are richer than them- one,' says he, has his calamity, and he is a selves, rather than on those who are under happy man that has no greater than this.' greater difficulties. All the real pleasures and We find an instance to the same purpose in conveniencies of life lie in a narrow compass; the life of doctor Hammond, written by bishop but it is the humour of mankind to be always Fell. As this good man was troubled with looking forward, and straining after one who a complication of distempers, when he had the has got the start of them in wealth and honour. gout upon him, he used to thank God that it For this reason, as there are none can be pro-was not the stone; and when he had the stone, perly called rich who have not more than they that he had not both these distempers on him want, there are few rich men in any of the at the same time. politer nations, but among the middle sort of I cannot conclude this essay without observpeople, who keep their wishes within their ing that there never was any system besides fortunes, and have more wealth than they that of Christianity, which could effectually know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher rank produce in the mind of man the virtue I have live in a kind of splendid poverty, and are per- been hitherto speaking of. In order to make petually wanting, because, instead of acquies- us content with our present condition, many cing in the solid pleasures of life, they endea of the ancient philosophers tell us that our vour to outvie one another in shadows and discontent only hurts ourselves, without beappearances. Men of sense have at all times ing able to make any alteration in our circumbeheld, with a great deal of mirth, this silly stances; others, that whatever evil befalls us game that is playing over their heads, and, is derived to us by a fatal necessity, to which by contracting their desires, enjoy all that the gods themselves are subject; while others secret satisfaction which others are always in very gravely tell the man who is miserable, quest of. The truth is, this ridiculous chase that it is necessary he should be so to keep up after imaginary pleasures cannot be suffici- the harmony of the universe, and that the ently exposed, as it is the great source of those scheme of Providence would be troubled and evils which generally undo a nation. Let a perverted were he otherwise. These, and the man's estate be what it will, he is a poor man like considerations, rather silence than satisfy if he does not live within it, and naturally sets a mar. They may show him that his disconhimself to sale to any one that can give him tent is unreasonable, but are by no means sufhis price. When Pittacus, after the death of his ficient to relieve it. They rather give despair brother, who had left him a good estate, was than consolation. In a word, a man might reoffered a great sum of money by the king of Lydia, he thanked him for his kindness, but told him he had already more by half than he knew what to do with. In short, content is equivalent to wealth, and luxury to poverty; or, to give the thought a more agreeable turn, Content is natural wealth,' says Socrates; to On the contrary, religion bears a more tenwhich I shall add, 'Luxury is artificial pover-der regard to human nature. It prescribes to ty.' I shall therefore recommend to the con- every miserable man the means of bettering sideration of those who are always aiming af- his condition; nay, it shows him that the bear, ply to one of these comforters as Augustus did to his friend, who advised him not to grieve for the death of a person whom he loved, be. cause his grief could not fetch him again: It is for that very reason,' said the emperor, 'that I grieve.' ing of his afflictions as he ought to do will na-busy species fall short even of that age? How turally end in the removal of them: it makes would he be lost in horror and admiration, when him easy here, because it can make him happy he should know that this set of creatures, who hereafter. 6 lay out all their endeavours for this life, which scarce deserves the name of existence-when, I say, he should know that this set of creatures are to exist to all eternity in another life, for which they make no preparations? Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason, than that men, who are persuaded of these two different states of being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a life of threescore and ten years, and neglecting to make provision for that which after many myriads of years will be still new, and still beginning; especially when weconsider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or honorable, or whatever else we place our happiness in, may after all prove unsuccessful; whereas, if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make ourselves happy in the other life, we are sure that our endeavours will succeed, and that we shall A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefoot, 'Father, says he, you are in a very miserable condition, if there is not another world.' 'True son,' said the hermit, but what is thy condition if there is?' Man is a creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for two different not be disappointed of our hope. lives. His first life is short and transient ; The following question is started by one of his second permanent and lasting. The ques- the schoolmen.-Supposing the whole body of tion we are all concerned in is this, in which the earth were a great ball or mass of the finest of these two lives it is our chief interest to sand, and that a single grain or particle of this make ourselves happy? Or, in other words, sand should be annihilated every thousand | whether we should endeavour to secure to years? Supposing then that you had it in your ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a choice to be happy all the while this prodigious life which is uncertain and precarious, and at mass of sand was consuming by this slow meits utmost length of a very inconsiderable du-thod until there was not a grain of it left, on ration? or to secure to ourselves the plea- condition you were to be miserable for ever sures of a life which is fixed and settled, and after? Or, supposing that you might be happy will never end? Every man, upon the first for ever after, on condition you would be miserhearing of this question, knows very well able until the whole mass of sand were thus anwhich side of it he ought to close with. But nihilated at the rate of one sand in a thousand however right we are in theory, it is plain years:-which of these two cases would you that in practice we adhere to the wrong side make your choice? of the question. We make provisions for this life as though it were never to have an end, and for the other life as though it were never to have a beginning. It must be confessed in this case, so many thousands of years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in reality they do not bear so great a proportion to that duration Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a which is to follow them as an unit does to the stranger to human nature, accidentally alight greatest number which you can put together upon the earth, and take a survey of its in-in figures, or as one of those sands to the suphabitants, what would his notions of us be? posed heap. Reason therefore tells us, without Would not he think that we are a species of any manner of hesitation, which would be the beings made for quite different ends and pur-better part in this choice. However, as I have poses than what we really are? Must not he before intimated, our reason might in such case imagine that we are placed in this world to be so overset by the imagination, as to dispose get riches and honours? Would not he think some persons to sink under the consideration that it was our duty to toil after wealth, and of the great length of the first part of this dustation, and title? Nay, would not he believe ration, and of the great distance of that second we were forbidden poverty by threats of eter-duration, which is to succeed it. The mind, I nal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our say,might give itself up to that happiness which pleasures under pain of damnation? He would is at hand, considering that it is so very near, certainly imagine that we were influenced by and that it would last so very long. But when a scheme of duties quite opposite to those the choice we actually have before us is this, which are indeed prescribed to us. And tru- whether we will choose to be happy for the ly, according to such an imagination, he must space of only threescore and ten, nay, perhaps conclude that we are a species of the most of only twenty or ten years, I might say of only obedient creatures in the universe; that we are constant to our duty; and that we keep a steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither. But how great would be his astonishment, when he learned that we were beings not designed to exist in this world above threescore and ten years; and that the greatest part of this a day or an hour, and miserable to all eternity: or, on the contrary, miserable for this short term of years, and happy for a whole eternity: what words are sufficient to express that folly and want of consideration, which in such a case makes a wrong choice? I here put the case even at the worst, by supposing, what seldom happens, that a course of virtue makes us miserable in this life but if only who are remarkable for their singularity we suppose, as it generally happens, that vir- in things of no importance; as in dress, behav. tue would make us more happy even in this iour, conversation, and all the little intercourlife than a contrary course of vice; how can we ses of life. In these cases there is a certain sufficiently admire the stupidity or madness of deference due to custom; and, notwithstanding those persons who are capable. of making so there may be a colour of reason to deviate from absurd a choice? the multitude in some particulars, a man ought to sacrifice his private inclinations and opinions to the practice of the public. It must be confessed that good sense often makes an humourist; but then it unqualifies him for being of any moment in the world, and renders him ridic ulous to persons of a much inferior understanding. Every wise man therefore will consider this life only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully sacrifice the pleasures of a few years to those of an eternity. No. 576] Wednesday, August 4, 1714. Nitor in adversum; nec me, qui cætera, vincit I steer against their motions, nor am I Addison. I REMEMBER a young man of very lively parts, and of a sprightly turn in conversation, who had only one fault, which was an inordinate desire of appearing fashionable. This ran him into many amours, and consequently into many distempers. He never went to bed until two o'clock in the morning, because he would not be a queer fellow; and was every now and then knocked down by a constable, to signalize his vivacity. He was initiated into half a dozen clubs before he was one-and-twenty; and so improved in them his natural gaiety of temper, that you might frequently trace him to his lodging by a range of broken windows, and other the like monuments of wit and gallantry. To be short, after having fully established his reputation of being a very agreeable rake, he died of old age at five-and-twenty. I have heard of a gentleman in the north of England who was a remarkable instance of this foolish singularity. He had laid it down as a rule within himself, to act in the most indifferent parts of life according to the most abstracted notions of reason and good sense, without any regard to fashion or example. This humour broke out at first in many little oddnesses: he had never any stated hours for his dinner, supper, or sleep; because, said he, we ought to attend the calls of nature, and not set our appetites to our meals, but bring our meals to our appetites. In his conversation with country gentlemen, he would not make use of a phrase that was not strictly true; he never told any of them that he was his humble servant, but that he was his well-wisher, and would rather be thought a mal-content, than drink the king's health when he was not dry. He would thrust his head out of his chamber window every morning, and, after having gaped for fresh air about half an hour, repeat fifty verses as loud as he could bawl them, for the benefit of his lungs; to which end he generally There is indeed nothing which betrays a man took them out of Homer-the Greek tongue, into so many errors and inconveniences as the especially in that author, being more deep and desire of not appearing singular; for which sonorous, and more conducive to expectoration reason it is very necessary to form a right idea than any other. He had many other particuof singularity, that we may know when it is larities, for which he gave sound and philolaudable, and when it is vicious. In the first sophical reasons. As this humour still grew place, every man of sense will agree with me upon him, he chose to wear a turban instead of that singularity is laudable when, in contra- a periwig; concluding, very justly, that a bandiction to a multitude, it adheres to the dic-dage of clean linen about his head was much tates of conscience, morality, and honour. In more wholesome, as well as cleanly, than the these cases we ought to consider that it is not caul of a wig, which is soiled with frequent custom, but duty, which is the rule of action; perspirations. He afterwards judiciously oband that we should be only so far sociable, as served, that the many ligatures in our Enklish we are reasonable creatures. Truth is never dress must naturally check the circulation of the less so for not being attended to: and it is the blood; for which reason he made his the nature of actions, not the number of actors, by which we ought to regulate our behaviour. Singularity in concerns of this kind is to be looked upon as heroic bravery, in which a man leaves the species only as he soars above it. What greater instance ean there be of a weak and pusillanimous temper, than for a man to pass his whole life in oppositon to his own sentiments? or not to dare to be what he thinks he ought to be? breeches and his doublet of one continued piece of cloth, after the manner of the hussars. In short, by following the pure dictates of reason, he at length departed so much from the rest of his countrymen, and indeed from his whole species, that his friends would have clapped him into Bedlam, and have begged his estate; but the judge, being informed he did no harm, contented himself with issuing out a commission of lunacy against him, and putting his esSingularity, therefore, is only vicious when tate into the hands of proper guardians. it makes men act contrary to reason, or when The fate of this philosopher puts me in mind it puts them upon distinguishing themselves by of a remark in monsieur Fontenelle's Dia trifles. As for the first of these, who are sin-logues of the Dead. The ambitious and the gular in any thing that is irreligious, immoral, covetous,' says he, ' are madmen to all intents or dishonourable, I believe every one will easily and purposes as much as those who are shut up givethem up. I shall therefore speak of those in dark rooms; but they have the good luck to have numbers on their side; whereas the walked to and fro with the book in my hand; phrensy of one who is given up for a lunatic is and, to speak the truth, I fear I made no little a phrensy hors d'œuvre ;' that is,in other words, noise; when presently coming to the following something which is singular in its kind, and does not fall in with the madness of a multitude. The subject of this essay was occasioned by a letter which I received not long since, and lines: -On a sudden open fly, With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, which, for want of room at present, I shall in-I in great transport threw open the door of sert in my next paper. my chamber, and found the greatest part of the family standing on the outside in a very great consternation. I was in no less confusion, and begged pardon for having disturbed them; addressing myself particularly to comfort one of the children who received an unlucky fall in this action, while he was too intently surveying my meditations through THE letter mentioned in my last paper is as the key-hole. To be short, after this advenfollows. " SIR, ture, I easily observed that great part of the family, especially the women and children, looked upon me with some apprehensions of fear; and my friend himself, though he still continues his civilities to me, did not seem altogether easy: I took notice that the butler was never after this accident ordered to leave 'You have so lately decried that custom, too much in use amongst most people, of making themselves the subjects of their writings and conversation, that I had some difficulty to persuade myself to give you this trouble until I had the bottle upon the table after dinner. Add to considered that though I should speak in the this, that I frequently overheard the servants first person, yet I could not be justly charged mention me by the name of "the crazed genwith vanity, since I shall not add my name: as also, because what I shall write will not, to say the best, redound to my praise, but is only designed to remove a prejudice conceived against me, as I hope, with very little foundation. My short history is this. tleman, the gentleman a little touched, the mad Londoner," and the like. This made me think it high time for me to shift my quarters, which I resolved to do the first handsome opportunity; and was confirmed in this resolution by a young lady in the neighbourhood who fre'I have lived for some years last past alto- quently visited us, and who one day, after havgether in London, until about a month ago an ing heard all the fine things I was able to say, acquaintance of mine, for whom I have done was pleased with a scornful smile to bid me some small services in town, invited me to pass "go to sleep," part of the summer with him at his house in The first minute I got to my lodgings in the country. I accepted his invitation, and town I set pen to paper to desire your opinion, found a very hearty welcome. My friend, an whether upon the evidence before you, I am honest plain man, not being qualified to pass mad or not. I can bring certificates that I away his time without the reliefs of business, behave myself soberly before company, and I has grafted the farmer upon the gentleman, hope there is at least some merit in withdrawand brought himself to submit even to the ing to be mad. Look you, sir, I am contented servile parts of that employment, such as in- to be esteemed a little touched, as they phrase specting his plough and the like. This neces- it, but should be sorry to be madder than my sarily takes up some of his hours every day; neighbours; therefore, pray let me be as much and, as I have no relish for such diversion, in my senses as you can afford. I know I used at these times to retire either to my could bring yourself as an instance of a man chamber, or a shady walk near the house, and who has confessed talking to himself; but entertain myself with some agreeable author. yours is a particular case, and cannot justify Now, you must know, Mr. Spectator, that me, who have not kept silence any part of when I read, especially if it be poetry, it is my life. What if I should own myself in very usual with me, when I meet with love? You know lovers are always allowed passage or expression which strikes me much, the comfort of soliloquy.-But I will say no to pronounce it aloud, with that tone of the more upon this subject, because I have long voice which I think agreeable to the senti- since observed the ready way to be thought ments there expressed; and to this I generally mad is to contend that you are not so: add some motion or action of the body. It we generally conclude that man drunk who was not long before I was observed by some takes pains to be thought sober. I will thereof the family in one of these heroic fits, who fore leave myself to your determination; but thereupon received impressions very much to am the more desirous to be thought in my my disadvantage. This however I did not senses, that it may be no discredit to you soon discover, nor should have done proba- when I assure you that I have always been bly, had it not been for the following acci- very much dent. I had one day shut myself up in my chamber, and was very deeply engaged in any " Your admirer. as P. S. IfI must be mad, I desire the young the second bood of Milton's Paradise Lost. Ilady may believe it is for her.' The humble Petition of John-a-Nokes and 'SHOWETH, I was mightily pleased with a story in some measure applicable to this piece of philosophy, which I read the other day in the Persian Tales, as they are lately very well translated by Mr. Philips; and with an abridgement whereof I shall here present my readers. That your petitioners have causes depending in Westminster-hall above five hundred years, and that we despair of ever seeing them I shall only premise that these stories are brought to an issue: that your petitioners have writ after the eastern manner, but somewhat not been involved in these law-suits out of any more correct. litigious temper of their own, but by the insti- 'Fadlallah, a prince of great virtues, sucgation of contentious persons; that the young ceeded his father Bin Ortoc in the kingdom lawyers in our inns of court are continually of Mousel. He reigned over his faithful subsetting us together by the ears, and think jects for some time, and lived in great hapthey do us no hurt, because they plead for us piness with his beauteous consort queen Zemwithout a fee; that many of the gentlemen of roude, when there appeared at his court a the robe have no other clients in the world young dervis of so lively and entertaining a besides us two; that when they have nothing turn of wit, as won upon the affections of else to do, they make us plaintiffs and defend- every one he conversed with. His reputaants, though they were never retained by any tion grew so fast every day, that it at last of us that they traduce, condemn, or acquit raised a curiosity in the prince himself to us, without any manner of regard to our repu- see and talk with him. He did so; and, far tations and good names in the world. Your from finding that common fame had flatpetitioners therefore, being thereunto encou-tered him, he was soon convinced that every raged by the favourable reception which you thing he had heard of him fell short of the lately gave to our kinsman Blank, do humbly truth. pray, that you will put an end to the contro- 'Fadlallah immediately lost all manner of versies which have been so long depending be- relish for the conversation of other men ; tween us your said petitioners, and that our enmity may not endure from generation to generation; it being our resolution to live hereafter as it becometh men of peaceable dispositions. And your petitioners, as in duty bound, shall ever pray, &c.' No. 578.] Monday, August 9, 1714. -Eque feris humana in corpora transit, Inque feras noster. Ovid. Met. Lib. xv. 167. Th' unbodied spirit flies And lodges where it lights in man or beast. Dryden. and, as he was every day more and more satisfied of the abilities of this stranger, offered him the first posts in his kingdom. The young dervis, after having thanked him with a very singular modesty, desired to be excused, as having made a vow never to accept of any employment, and preferring a free and independent state of life to all other conditions. The king was infinitely charmed with so great an example of moderation; and though he could not get him to engage in a life of business, made him however his chief companion and first favourite. 'As they were one day hunting together, and | happened to be separated from the rest of the company, the dervis entertained Fadlallah with an account of his travels and adventures. THERE has been very great reason, on seve- After having related to him several curiosiral accounts, for the learned world to endea-ties which he had seen in the Indies, "It vour at settling what it was that might be said was in this place," says he, "that I contractto compose personal identity. ed an acquaintance with an old brachman, Mr. Locke, after having premised that the who was skilled in the most hidden powers word person properly signifies a thinking intel- of nature: he died within my arms, and ligent being that has reason and reflection, and with his parting breath communicated to me can consider itself as itself, concludes, that it one of the most valuable secrets, on condition is consciousness alone, and not an identity of I should never reveal it to any man." The substance, which makes this personal identity king immediately, reflecting on his young faof sameness. 'Had I the same consciousness,' vourite's having refused the late offers of says that author, that I saw the ark and greatness he had made him, told him he Noah's flood, as that I saw an overflowing of presumed it was the power of making gold. the Thames last winter, or as that I now "No, sir," says the dervis, "it is somewhat write; I could no more doubt that I who write more wonderful than that; it is the power of this now, that saw the Thames overflow last re-animating a dead body, by flinging my winter, and that viewed the flood at the general own soul into it." deluge, was the same self, place that self in 'While he was yet speaking, a doe came what substance you please, than that I who bounding by them, and the king, who had his write this am the same myself now while I bow ready, shot her through the heart; tel. write, whether I consist of all the same sub-ling the dervis, that a fair opportunity now stance, material or immaterial, or no, that offered for him to show his art. was yesterday; for as to this point of being the same self, it matters not whether this present self be made up of the same or other substances.' The young man immediately left his own body breathless on the ground, while at the same instant that of the doe was reanimated. She came to the king, fawned upon him, and, after having |