religion, and an exception from common humanity; and upon no other account fit to live in this world, but to be made an example of God's justice in the next. Rich men are sometimes outwardly esteemed and honoured, while the methods which they pursued to become rich are inwardly abhorred and detested. Generosity and compassion will always command respect, while oppression and avarice will be deservedly branded all the world over. When a flourishing oppressor shines in gold the basest thing lies hid under the richest covering. GILBERT BURNET THE EARL Of Rochester'S STORY He told me of another odd presage that one had of his ap proaching death in the Lady Warre, his mother in law's house. "The chaplain had dreamt that such a day he should die, but being by all the family put out of the belief of it, he had almost forgot it; till the evening before at supper, there being thirteen at table; according to a fond conceit that one of these must soon die, one of the young ladies pointed to him, that he was to die. He remembering his dream fell into some disorder, and the Lady Warre reproving him for his superstition, he said, he was confident he was to die before morning, but he being in perfect health, it was not much minded. It was Saturday night and he was to preach next day. He went to his chamber and sat up late, as appeared by the burning of his candle; and he had been preparing his notes for his sermon, but was found dead in his bed the next morning." These things he said made him incline to believe, the soul was a substance distinct from matter: and this often returned into his thoughts. But that which perfected his persuasion about it, was, that in the sickness which brought him so near death before I first knew him, when his spirits were so low and spent, that he could not move nor stir, and he did not think to live an hour; he said his reason and judgment were so clear and strong, that from thence he was fully persuaded that death was not the spending or dissolution of the soul; but only the separation of it from matter. He had in that sickness great remorses for his past life, but he afterwards told me, they were rather general and dark horrors than any convictions of sinning against God. He was sorry he had lived so as to waste his strength so soon, or that he had brought such an ill name upon himself, and had an agony in his mind about it, which he knew not how to express. But at such times, though he complied with his friends in suffering divines to be sent for, he said he had no great mind to it and that it was but a piece of his breeding, to desire them to pray by him, in which he joined little himself. HENRY ST JOHN THE IDEA OF A PATRIOT KING WHAT spectacle can be presented to the view of the mind so rare, so nearly divine, as a king possessed of absolute power, neither usurped by fraud, nor maintained by force, but the genuine effect of esteem, of confidence, and affection; the free gift of liberty, who finds her greatest security in this power, and would desire no other if the prince on the throne could be, what his people wish him to be, immortal. Of such a prince, and of such a prince alone, it may be said with strict propriety and truth. Volentes Per populos dat jura, viamque affectat Olympo. Civil fury will have no place in this draught: or, if the monster is seen, he must be seen as Virgil describes him, Centum vinctus atrenis Post tergum nodis, fremit horridus ore cruento. He must be seen subdued, bound, chained and deprived entirely of power to do hurt. In his place, concord will appear, brooding peace and prosperity on the happy land; joy sitting in every face, content in every heart; a people unoppressed, undisturbed unalarmed; busy to improve their private property and the public stock; fleets covering the ocean, bringing home wealth by the returns of industry, carrying assistance or terror abroad by the direction of wisdom, and asserting triumphantly the right and the honour of Great Britain, as far as waters roll and as winds can waft them. IT EDMUND BURKE OF THE EFFECTS OF TRAGEDY T is thus in real calamities. In imitated distresses the only difference is the pleasure resulting from the effects of imitation; for it is never so perfect, but we can perceive it is imitation, and on that principle are somewhat pleased with it. And indeed in some cases we derive as much or more pleasure from that source than from the thing itself. But then I imagine we shall be much mistaken, if we attribute any considerable part of our satisfaction in tragedy to the consideration that tragedy is a deceit, and its representations no realities. The nearer it approaches the reality, and the farther it removes us from all idea of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its power of what kind it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a day on which to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint the most favourite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and decorations, unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting, and music; and when you have collected your audience, just at the moment when their minds are erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the real sympathy. I believe that this notion of our having a simple pain in the reality, yet a delight in the representation, arises from hence, that we do not sufficiently distinguish what we would by no means choose to do, from what we should be eager enough to see if it was once done. We delight in seeing things, which, so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be to see redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident to have happened what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the ruins, and amongst many who would have been content never to have seen London in its glory! Nor is it, either in real or fictitious distresses, our immunity from them which produces our delight; in my own mind I can discover nothing like it. I apprehend that this mistake is owing to a sort of sophism, by which we are frequently imposed upon; it arises from our not distinguishing between what is indeed a necessary condition to our doing or suffering anything in general, and what is the cause of some particular act. If a man kills me with a sword, it is a necessary condition to this that we should have been both of us alive before the fact; and yet it would be absurd to say, that our being both living creatures was the cause of his crime and of my death. So it is certain, that it is absolutely necessary my life should be out of any imminent hazard, before I can take a delight in the sufferings of others, real or imaginary, or indeed in anything else from any cause whatsoever. But then it is a sophism to argue from thence, that this immunity is the cause of my delight either on these or on any occasions. No one can distinguish such a cause of satisfaction in his own mind, I believe; nay, when we do not |