possessed a tincture of this fashionable philosophy, when he remarked, "That the corruptible body weigheth down the scul."

For which reason, the body has met with hard usage among the religionists of different schools. The bigots of paganism, and the bigots of popery in the dark age, regarding their bodies as clogs to, and polluters of, their nobler part, proceeded to treat these unworthy copartners with unmerited scorn and cruelty.

Revelation, fairly understood, sets this whole matter in a clear light. In it we see, whence sprang the strange inconsistency in human nature, and from it we learn that, as neither the soul can subsist in the present state without the body, nor the body without the soul, so they should five together in harmony-provided that the inferior be never permitted to get the upperhand, but be kept at all times in due subjection to its supe

rior.

Dropping now the analogical exposition made of this fabulous chariot of Plato, in the prior edition, which adapted it to partners in wedlock, I will consider it in its more obvious sense, as aptly representing the strange disparity of the Mind and Heart, and the unnatural discord and strife so often existing between these two neighbouring powers. And here, to be understood, I must premise, that by the mind is meant the intellectual faculties, and by the heart, the turbulent tribe of appetites, passions, prejudices, and wayward volitions, as well as the benign family of moral virtues. The subject is no less prolific than interesting;-and, by one of adequate abilities, might be made to compose a sizeable volume that would be both curious and useful, if the thing were treated, not in a dry, metaphysical way, but practically, or with uniform adherence to the history of Man as he is. For myself, it must suffice barely to mention two prominent particulars.

1. Not unfrequently there are yoked together minds and hearts very unequal as respects natural strength. Some have stout hearts, but feeble minds; what is called valor they possess in a high degree, but their understandings are dwarfish. On the other hand, some meu of large and powerful understandings are devoid

of valor, and even remarkable for their timidity. Horace, the first of geniuses, threw away his shield in battle, and took to his heels. And Cicero, a man of a most luminous mind, had far less active courage than Pompey, who was many degrees below him on the intellectual scale.

2. There are some minds strong in understanding, and yet weak to resist the impulses of passion and appetite; and this moral defect is fatal to their characters and ruinous to their happiness. A firmness of Volition, or Will, to obey the dictates of reason in despite of the din of clamorous appetites and passions, is the parent of every thing morally good and noble. the contrary, if this gristle be wanting to the heart, the highest degree of intellectual strength and brightness may be associated with the lowest degree of moral debasement.

On

How powerful and almost seraphic the mind of Bacon! How pitifully weak the fortress of his heart!

The reverse of this appalling picture may be seen in the life of him whose memory we so delight to honor. A Biographer of Washington remarks-"Possessing strong natural passions, and having the nicest sense of honor, he was in early life prone keenly to resent practices which carried the intention of injury or insult, but the reflections of maturer age gave him the most perfect government of himself." His characteristic feature was, a persevering resolution to act, on every emergency, according to his sense of right and duty. And it is probable that there is no man, either among the living, or on the page of history, who followed more unswervingly, the dictates of his own profound and discriminating judgment; and it is that which makes his character so peculiarly venerable.

"Illustrious man! deriving honor less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind; before whom all borrowed greatness sinks into insignificance, and all the princes and potentates of Europe become little and insignificant. He has had no occasion to have recourse to any tricks of policy or arts of alarm; his authority has been supported by the same means by which it was acquired, and his conduct has

uniformly been characterized by wisdom, moderation, and firmness."*

Resolutely to deny in all cases, one's appetites, passions, and desires, when they are inconsistent with reason and duty, is a cardinal virtue in human character, which, however, is rarely seen in persons who had not been disciplined to it in their early years. Wherefore, to lead its pupils to master their appetites and passions, is one of the essential parts of a good education; nor is any thing more necessary through the whole course of life, than suppressing and subduing those rebellious emotions of the heart, which war against the law of the mind.

The goodness and wisdom of Providence, directed to the production of human happiness, puts the means, in a great measure, within our reach: "the efficacy of conduct of every sort does not depend so much on force of understanding, which is not in our power, as on integrity of Will, which is in our power."

CHAP. LIII.

Of Devotedness to Pleasure.

Ir is an irrefragable maxim, as well of experience as of revelation, that, he that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man. Indeed, scarce any maxim is so fully sanctioned by experience; since, in all ages, and among all ranks and classes, an inordinate love of pleasure has proved the certain road to want and ruin.

Most strikingly verified is this sacred text, in the instances of drunkards and debauchees, who give up themselves to the embraces of pleasure, in her grossest and most disgusting forms. Always and every where, these profligates, after a short run, come out not merely poor men, but poor wretches. Inevitably, and very shortly, they become alike destitute in circumstances and

*Charles Fox's Eulogy on Washington, in the British House of Commons, 1794.

contemptible in character; a burden to their friends, and a heavier burden to themselves.

Mark the young beginner in the career of profligacy; one not of the baser, nor even of the common sort-a child of fortune. How accomplished! how blithe and jovial!

Mark him again, in his next stage, when youth is just ripened into the maturity of manhood.

"If thou beest he, but O how fallen! how changed!"

See his bloated countenance, his livid cheek, his beamless eye!

Once more, mark his mid-age. The crop is now fully ripe. See what it is!-squalid poverty; loathsome disease; bodily decrepitude and mental imbecility; alike loathsome and self-loathing.

Finally, mark his end. This man of pleasure, when, after a wretched scene of vanity and woe, his animal nature is worn to the stumps, wishes and dreads death, by turns."-Now he is sick of life, and bitterly chides the tardiness of time:-anon he starts back with horror, lest the grave should not prove a "dreamless bed."

The classes of downright drunkards and debauchees, include, however, but a small proportion of the hapless mortals whom the siren Pleasure, allures to their ruin and destruction.

"Come on, let us enjoy the good things that are present. Let us crown ourselves with rose-buds, before they be withered."* With such language it is that the sorceress persuades and prompts the youthful heart; nor does she persuade and prompt in vain. The delicious poison insinuates itself, and spreads over the whole frame. The youth, thus infected, becomes unstable in all his ways. All close and steady application, whether to study or business, he heartily loathes. Plodding industry of every kind, he regards with scorn. To make as it were a holiday of the whole year round, is the object of his desire and the summit of his ambition. As years multiply upon him, his habits of fickleness are

*2d chapter of the Wisdom of Solomon.

out the more riveted. He is within the circumference of a whirlpool, with a heart and mind too enervated to force his way back. Perhaps he remains, however, on the extremity, and never, in his whole life, is drawn to the fatal centre, where is utter wreck of reputation and of the whole moral frame. Perhaps he escapes the grosser vices. Perhaps no foul blot cleaves to his character, and the worst which can be said of him is, that he is a careless, imprudent, and improvident man, a devoted lover of jolly company; that he is here, and there, and every where, except at home and about his own proper business.

Lucky indeed, if he be no worse off; but lucky as he is, he must needs be a poor man; poor in worldly circumstances, and of a character almost worthless at the best. If left with a fortune, it melts away in his improvident hands. If he begins the world without fortune, he lays up nothing for sickness and old age; instead of which, he ever lives beyond his income, by sponging his friends, and abusing the confidence of his creditors. If he have a family, his wife mingles her scanty meal with her tears, while their children receive little from him but an example that powerfully tends to lead them astray. In short, he is exactly such as no downright honest and honorable man would choose to be. If all were like him, poverty, wretchedness, and misery, would pervade the whole fabric of human society.

To extract cordials to the mind from the alembick of pleasure, every art has been tried, but tried in vain: each attempt produces, uniformly, the same result, which may be summed up in the same pithy expression, "This also is vanity." A lover of pleasure, even one of the comparatively innocuous sort last mentioned, seldom enjoys his proportionable share of that commodity. At best, his empty pleasure is so mixt up with vexation of spirit, that he more abundantly feels the one than enjoys the other. Not to mention, that an idle, useless life, however free from gross immorality, is, in the sight of heaven, a criminal life; it is burying the talent that ought to be employed diligently, and to useful purposes.