adapted to the subjects of which he treats. He is prodigal of metaphor and quotation, and on that account has been accused of pedantry; but his figures are always beautifully illustrative of his subject, and his quotations generally appropriate. As to his sentiments, they are remarkable for their sound, good sense, as well as for their great purity of moral and religious principle. WE ARE HAPPY OR MISERABLE BY COMPARISON. There is not in this world either perfect misery or perfect happiness. Comparison, more than reality, makes men happy, and can make them wretched. What should we account miserable, if we did not lay it in the balance with something that hath more felicity? If we saw not some men vaulting in the gay trim of honor and greatness, we should never think a poor estate so lamentable. Were all the world ugly, deformity would be no monster. It is, without doubt, our eyes gazing at others above, casts us into a shade, which, before that time, we met not with. It is envy and ambition that makes us far more miserable than the constitution which our liberal nature hath allotted us. Many never find themselves in want, till they have discovered the abundance of some others. It was comparison that first kindled the fire, to burn Troy withal. Give it to the fairest, was it, which jarred the Goddesses. Paris might have given the ball with less offence, had it not been so inscribed. Surely Juno was content with her beauty, till the Trojan youth cast her, by advancing Venus. While we spy no joys above our own, we in quiet count them blessings. We see even a few companions can lighten our miseries: by which we may guess the effect of a generality. Blackness, a flat nose, thick lips, and goggled eyes, are beauties, where nor shapes nor colors differ. He is much impatient, that refuseth the general lot. myself, I will reckon that misery, which I find hurts me in myself; not that which, coming from another, I may avoid, if I will. Let me examine whether that I enjoy, be not enough to felicitate me, if I stay at home. If it be, I would not have another's better fortune put me out of conceit with my own. In outward things, I will look to those that are beneath me; that if I must build myself out of others, I may rather raise content than murmur. But for accomplishments of the mind, I will ever fix on those above me; that I may, out of an honest emulation, mend myself by continual striving to imitate their nobleness. OF PRAYER. For It is a hard thing among men of inferior rank to speak to an earthly prince: no king keeps a court so open as to give admittance to all comers: and though they have, they are not sure to speed; albeit there be nothing that should make their petitions not grantable. Oh how happy, how privileged then is a Christian! who though he often lives here in a slight esteem, yet can he freely confer with the King of Heaven; who not only hears his entreaties, but delights in his requests; invites him to come, and promiseth a happy welcome; which he shows in fulfilling his desires, or better, fitter for him: in respect of whom, the greatest monarch is more base than the basest vassal in regard of the most mighty and puissant emperor. Man cannot so much exceed a beast, as God doth him: what if I be not known to the Nimrods of the world, and the peers of the earth? I can speak to their better, to their Master; and by prayer be familiar with him. Importunity does not anger him; neither can any thing but our sins make us go away empty. My comfort is, my access to heaven is as free as the prince's; my departure from earth not so grievous: for while the world smiles on him, I am sure I have less reason to love it than he. God's favor I will chiefly seek for; man's, but as it falls in the way to it: when it proves a hinderance, I hate to be loved. OF FAITH AND WORKS. Works without Faith are like a salamander without fire, or a fish without water: in which, though there may seem to be some quick actions of life, and symptoms of agility, yet they are, indeed, but forerunners of their end, and the very presages of death. Faith again without Works is like a bird without wings: who, though she may hop with her companions here upon earth, yet if she live till the world ends, she will never fly to heaven. But when both are joined together, then doth the soul mount up to the hill of eternal rest: these can bravely raise her to her first height: yea carry her beyond it; taking away both the will that did betray her, and the possibility that might. The former without the latter is self-cozenage; the last without the former is mere hypocrisy; together, the excellency of religion. Faith is the rock, while every good action is as a stone laid; one the foundation, the other the structure. The foundation without the walls is of slender value: the building without a basis cannot stand. They are so inseparable, as their conjunction makes them good. Chiefly will I labor for a sure foundation, saving Faith; and equally I will seek for strong walls, good Works. For as man judgeth the house by the edifice, more than by the foundation: so, not according to his Faith, but according to his Works, shall God judge man. SEDULITY AND DILIGENCE. There is no such prevalent workman as sedulity, and diligence. A man would wonder at the mighty things which have been done by degrees and gentle augmentations. Diligence and moderation are the best steps, whereby to climb to any excellency. Nay, it is rare if there be any other way. The heavens send not down their rain in floods, but by drops and dewy distillations. A man is neither good, nor wise, nor rich, at once: yet softly creeping up these hills, he shall every day better his prospect; till at last he gains the top. Now he learns a virtue, and then he damns1 a vice. An hour in a day may much profit a man in his study, when he makes it stint and custom. Every year something laid up, may in time make a stock great. Nay, if a man does but save, he shall increase; and though when the grains are scattered, they be next to nothing, yet together they will swell the heap. He that has the patience to attend small profits, may quickly grow to thrive and purchase: they be easier to accomplish, and come thicker. So, he that from every thing collects somewhat, shall in time get a treasury of wisdom. And when all is done, for man, this is the best way. It is for God, and for Omnipotency, to do mighty things in a moment: but, degreeingly to grow to greatness, is the course that he hath left for man. CONTENT MAKES RICH. Every man either is rich, or may be so; though not all in one and the same wealth. Some have abundance, and rejoice in it; some a competency, and are content; some having nothing, have a mind desiring nothing. He that hath most, wants something; he that hath least, is in something supplied; wherein the mind which maketh rich, may well possess him with the thought of store. Who whistles out more content than the low-fortuned ploughman, or sings more merrily than the abject cobbler that sits under the stall? Content dwells with those that are out of the eye of the world, whom she hath never trained with her gauds, her toils, her lures. Wealth is like learning, wherein our greater knowledge is only a larger sight of our wants. Desires fulfilled, teach us to desire more; so we that at first were pleased, by removing from that, are now grown insatiable. Wishes have neither end; nor end. So, in the midst of affluency, we complain of penury, which, not finding, we make. For to possess the whole world with a grumbling mind, is but a little more specious poverty. If I be not outwardly rich, I will labor to be poor in craving desires; but in the virtues of the mind, (the best riches,) I would not have a man exceed me. He that hath a mind contentedly good, enjoyeth in it boundless possessions. If I be pleased in myself, who can add to my happiness? as no man lives so happy. 1 Used in the Latin sense of damno, to condemn, to renounce. but to some his life would be burdensome; so we shall find none so miserable, but we shall hear of another that would change calamities. MORNING AND EVENING PRAYER. Though prayer should be the key of the day, and the lock of the night, yet I hold it more needful in the morning, than when our bodies do take their repose. For howsoever sleep be the image or shadow of death,-and when the shadow is so near, the substance cannot be far,-yet a man at rest in his chamber is like a sheep impenned in the fold; subject only to the unavoidable and more immediate hand of God: whereas in the day, when he roves abroad in the open and wide pastures, he is then exposed to many more unthought-of accidents, that contingently and casually occur in the way: retiredness is more safe than business: who believes not a ship securer in the bay, than in the midst of the boiling ocean? Besides, the morning to the day, is as youth to the life of a man: if that be begun well, commonly his age is virtuous : : otherwise, God accepts not the latter service, when his enemy joys in the first dish. Why should God take thy dry bones, when the devil hath sucked the marrow out? WHILE Andrew Marvell was the leading prose wit of the reign of Charles II., Samuel Butler was the author of the best burlesque poem in the language. He was born at Strensham, in Worcestershire, in 1612. It cannot be ascertained whether he enjoyed a university education or not; but his writings show that his scholarship, however acquired, was both varied and profound. In early life he was employed as a clerk to the county magistrate of Worcestershire, where he enjoyed ample leisure for reading and meditation; and afterwards, in the household of the Countess of Kent, where he had the use of an ample library, which he did not fail to improve. Hence, he went into the employment of Sir Samuel Luke, one of Cromwell's officers, where he saw much of the unfavorable side of the Puritans; and here, it is supposed, he first conceived the idea of his satirical epic upon them. The first part of the poem was published three years after the Restoration; and though it was the delight of the court, and quoted everywhere and in all circles, the poet reaped nothing but empty praise. In 1664, the second part was published, but still no pecuniary reward was received from the court, for whom he chiefly wrote, and to whose gratification he chiefly contributed. It was not till 1678 that the third part appeared, and in 1680 he died, and so poor was he, that he was buried at the sole expense of a friend, in a churchyard. after a place in Westminster Abbey had been refused. But what gratitude, or any noble feeling could be expected from Charles II., or any of his licentious court? The poem of "Hudibras" is unique in European literature. It was evi dently suggested by the adventures of Don Quixote; for as Cervantes sent forth his hero upon a chivalrous crusade to right wrongs, and redress grievances, in order to bring the institution of chivalry, of which he claims to be the personification, into contempt; so Sir Hudibras, claiming to be a representative of the true Presbyterian character, goes forth "a colonelling," against all those popular sports, of which the Puritans of the day had such a holy horror, to make this sect appear in the most ridiculous light. But the Puritan of Butler is an aggravated caricature, rather than a faithful portrait;' and though the poem possesses "an excess of wit, rhymes the most original and ingenious, and the most apt and burlesque metaphors, couched in an easy, gossiping, colloquial metre; yet it would be as impossible to read Hudibras to an end at once, as to dine on cayenne or pickles. It administers no food to the higher and more permanent feelings of the human mind. The moral comes to be felt to be without dignity, the wit without gayety or relief, the story lagging and flat. Even the rhymes, amusing as they are, become, after a time, like the repetitions of a mimic, tiresome and stale." DESCRIPTION OF HUDIBRAS. When civil dudgeon first grew high, 1 The following, on the character of the Puritans, is taken from an article on Milton in the 42d vol, of the Edinburgh Review; an article which, for its truth and eloquence, stands first among the writings of "the great essayist of the age"-T. B. Macaulay. "The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior beings and eternal interests. Not content with acknowledging, in general terms, an overruling Providence, they habitually ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection nothing was too minute. To know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the great end of existence. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they felt assured that they were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses not made with hands; their diadems crowns of glory which should never fade away! On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with contempt: for they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime language; nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of a mightier hand. "The Puritan, indeed, was made up of two different men; the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion; the other, proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He prostrated himself in the dust before his Maker: but he set his foot on the neck of his king. In his devotional retirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and tears. People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans and their whining hymns, might laugh at them. But those had little reason to laugh who encountered them in the hall of debate or in the field of battle. These fanatics brought to civil and military affairs a coolness of judgment, and an immutability of purpose, which some writers have thought inconsistent with their religious zeal, but which were, in fact, the necessary effects of it. The intensity of their feelings on one subject made them tranquil on every other. One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, ambition and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and pleasure its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things of this world. "Such we believe to have been the character of the Puritans. We perceive the absurdity of their manners. We dislike the sullen gloom of their domestic habits. We acknowledge that the tone of their minds was often injured by straining after things too high for mortal reach; and we know that in spite of their hatred of popery, they too often fell into the worst vices of that bad system, intole rance and extravagant austerity. Yet, when all circumstances are taken into consideration, we do not hesitate to pronounce them a brave, a wise, an honest, and a useful body." |
