famines, and the outrages of the worst enemy of man, man himself. * The most splendid parts of it, the rife and fall of empires, the wars and triumphs of heroes deferve no better name. There is a glare thrown over these things, which deceives us; we admire the hero, we are embarked in his defigns, actuated by his paffions, and interested in his fuccefs. But did we give ourselves the coolness to confider thefe tranfactions on the good-natured fide of humanity; did we examine the cruel circumftances and lamentable confequences of them, and imagine to ourfelves the thousands that fuffer in these contentions, the slaughtered multitudes,

*EST Dicæarchi liber de interitu hominum, Says Cicero, qui, collectis cæteris caufis, eluvionis, paftilentiæ, vaftitatis, beluarum etiam repentinæ multitudinis, quarum impetu docet quædam hominum genera effe confumpta; deinde comparat, quanto plures deleti fint homines hominum impetu, quam omni reliquâ calamitate. Off. 2. 5. See Wollaston, 9. 8. D 2

the

the facked cities, and defolated provinces; we should, instead of admiring them, rather weep over them as monuments of human madness, and human misery. But this makes the leaft part of the account. Multitudes have fuffered, without the least rational motive, in the wantonnefs of tyrannic cruelty-dragged into captivity-condemned to toil like beafts, under the lash-plunged into mines or dungeons-and put to death in the most excruciating torments.

If we live remote from public dangers, fituated in peace and ease at home, yet there we are expofed to miseries. The evils of fickness overtake us: we are exposed to a thousand racking diforders almost infufferable to human nature: the remedies are almost as dreadful as the diforder. The leaft accident brings them on: they come on fuddenly in the gayeft feafon of enjoyment: they continue for our lives, and allow but the poor hope of a few short inter

vals of eafe, till death comes to our relief. We have relations and friends,

*

dear to us as ourselves: We muft fhare too in their afflictions: their sufferings give us pain; their death often leaves us folitary and helpless, without comfort or even fupport.

THERE are many of the poor, who, for want of employment, through ill health, or unfavourable accidents, cannot raise themselves above want, and depend for their nourishment upon the poor precarious charity of a selfish world: the more industrious and happy part get their bread by inceffant labour, by the sweat of their brow, and the marrow of their strength. Custom indeed renders their labour familiar and agreeable to them: but a life of constant drudgery, admitting of no ease or

*SEE a beautiful defcription of human maladies, in Milton's Paradise Lost. B. 11. 477. D 3

refpite,

refpite, cannot furely be the ultimate happiness of rational creatures.

AND if we look at the rich (where we might naturally expect more happinefs;) we have not a much better profpect. They are expofed to the common casualties of mortality: and when a flight accident affects their body or disturbs their mind, they lofe the taste and relish of all their comforts. very pleasures tire them by their repetition; and, had they not the poor comfort of varying them by the inventive wantonnefs of luxury, they would loathe their lives as a burden, and their riches as an incumbrance.

Their

LIFE, in general, vary it as we will, is but a mean thing: if we labour, wearinefs and fatigue enfues; if we follow diverfions, these are but an artificial fort of labour; and if we reft, disease punishes our indolence.

BUT let us view those three great purfuits, in which the dignity of nature really

really confifts, public fervice, knowledge, and virtue; and what weariness do we not encounter here, to obstruct our labours, and embitter our fatisfactions! Though there is nothing more pleasant to the mind than knowledge, yet, truth is fo involved and encumbered with difficulties, that in most things we cannot rife beyond the doubts of probable conjecture. We pass through a tedious, and painful process of inveftigation frequently we are disappointed of our conclufion; and, where we are not disappointed, we forget the chain; the conclufion vanishes with the evidence, and doubt, uncertainty and ignorance again return. The ftrength of our mind is affected by the fluctuating temper of our bodies. Accordingly under the attacks of disease or old-age, the memory lofes its tone, ideas fade, knowledge decays, and we fink again into the idiotism of infant ignorance.! If we take the track of public life, ge D 4

nerous