kindred to the brute. Hence it was that fome of the ancients imagined, that as men in this life inclined more to the angel or the brute, so after their death they should transmigrate into the one or the other; and that it would be no unpleasant notion to confider the several species of brutes into which we may imgine the tyrants, misers, the proud, malicious, and illnatured might be changed. "As a confequence of this original, all passions are in all men, but appear not in all; conftitution, education, custom of the country, reason, and the like causes may improve or abate the strength of them, but still the feeds remain, which are ever ready to sprout forth upon the least encouragement. I have heard the story of a good religious man, who, having been bred with the milk of a goat, was very modest in public by a careful reflection he made on his actions, but he frequently had an hour in secret, wherein he had his frisks and capers; and if we had an opportunity of examining the retirement of the strictest philosophers, no doubt but we should find perpetual returns of those paffions they so artfully conceal from the public. I remember Machiavel observes, that every ftate should entertain a perpetual jealousy of its neighbours, that so it should never be unprovided when an emergency happens; in like manner should reason be perpetually on its guard against the passions, and never fuffer them to carry on any design that may be deftructive of its security; yet at the same time it must be careful, that it does not so far break their strength as to render them contemptible, and confequently itself unguarded. "The understanding being of itself too flow and lazy to exert itself into action, 'tis necessary it should be put in motion by the gentle gales of the passions, which may preserve it from stagnatingan corruption; for they are necessary to the health of the mind, as the circulation of the animal spirits is to the health of the body; they keepit inlife, and strength, and vigour; nor is it poflible for the mind to perform its offices without their afsistance; these motions are given us with our being; they are little spirits that are born and die with us; to some they are mild, easy, and gentle; to others wayward and unruly, yet never too strong for the reins of reason, and the guidance of judgment. "We may generally observe a pretty nice proportion between the strength of reafon and paffion; the greatest geniuses have commonly the strongest affections, as, on the other hand, the weaker understandings have generally the weaker paffions; and 'tis fit the fury of the coursers should not be too great for the strength of the charioteer. Young men, whose paffions are not a little unruly, give small hopes of their ever being confiderable; the fire of youth will of course abate, and is a fault, if it be a fault that mends every day; but furely, uniess a man has fire in youth, he can hardly have warmth in old age. We must therefore be very cautious, lest while we think to regulate the passions, we should quite extinguish them, which is putting out the light of the foul; for to be without paffion, or to be hurried away with it, make a man equally blind. The extraordinary severity used in most of our schools has this fatal effect, it breaks the spring of the mind, and most certainly destroys more good geniuses than it can possibly improve. And furely 'tis a mighty mistake that the passions should be so entirely fubdued; for little irregularities are sometimes not only to be borne with, but to be cultivated too, fince they are frequently attended with the greatest perfection. All great genuises have faults mixed with their virtues, and resemble the flaming bush which has thorns amongst lights. "Since therefore the paffions are the principles of human actions, we must endeavour to manage them so as to retain their vigour, yet keep them under strict command; we must govern them rather like free subjects than flaves, left, while we intend to make them obedient, they become abject, and unfit for those great purposes to which they were designed. For my part I must confess I could never have any regard to that fect of philosophers, who so much in 1 fisted upon an absolute indifference and vacancy from all paffions; it feems to me a thing very inconfiftent for a man to divest himself of humanity, in order to acquire a tranquility of mind, and to eradicate the very principles of action, because it is poffible they may produce ill effects. I am SIR, Your affectionate admirer, Т. В. SPECTATOR, Vol. VI. No. 408. There is nothing which I contemplate with greater pleasure than the dignity of human nature, which often shews itself in all conditions of life: For notwithstanding the degeneracy and meanness that is crept into it, there are a thousand occafions in which it breaks through its original corruption, and shews what it once was, and what it will be hereafter. I confider the foul of man as the ruins of a glorious pile of building; where, amidst great heaps of rubbish, you meet with noble fragments of sculpture, broken pillars and obelisks, and a magnificence in confufior. Virtue and wisdom are continually employed in clean ing the ruins, removing these disorderly heaps, recovering the noble pieces that lie buried under ther, and adjusting them as well as possible according to their ancient symmetry and beauty. An happy education, conversation with the finest spirits, looking atroad into the works of nature, and observations upon mankind, are the great affiftances to this neceffary and glorious work. But even among those who have never had the happiness of any of these advantages, there are sometimes such exertions of the greatness that is natural to the mind of man, as thew capacities and abilities, which only want these accidental helps to fetch them out, and shew them in a proper light. A. Plebian soul is still the ruin of this glorious edifice, though encumbered with all its rubbish. This reflection rose in me from a letter which my servant dropped as he was dressing me, and which he told me was communicated to him as he is an acquaintance VOL. II. of fome of the perfons mentioned in it. The epif. tle is from one ferjeant Hall of the foot-guards. It is directed, 10 ferjeant Cabe, in the Coldstream regiment of foot-guards, at the Red-lettice, in the Butcher-row, near Temple-bar. I was so pleased with several touches in it, that I could not forbear thewing it to a cluster of critics, who instead of confidering it in the light I have done, examined it by the rules of epistolary writing: For as these gentlemen are feldom men of any great genius, they work altogether by mechanical rules, and are able to discover no beauties that are not pointed out by Bouhours and Rapin: The letter is as follows I " COMRADE, From the Camp before Mons, Sept. 26. RECEIVED yours, and am glad yourself and your wife are in good health, with all the rest of my friends. Our battalion fuffered more than I could with in the action. But who can withstand fate? Poor Richard Stevenfon had his fate with a great many more : He was killed dead before we entered the trenches. We had about 200 of our battalion killed and wounded : We lost 10 ferjeants, 6 are as followeth: Jennings, Cajtles, Roach, Shirring, Meyrick, and my fon Smith. The reft are not your acquaintance. I have received a very bad shot in my head myself, but am in hopes, and please God, I shall recover. I continue in the field, and lie at my Colonel's quarters. Arthur is very well, but I can give you no account of Eims; he was in the hofpital before I came into the field. I will not pretend to give you an account of the battle, knowing you have a better in the prints. Pray give my service to Mrs. Cook and her daughter, to Mr. Stoffett and his wife, and to Mr. Lyvet, and I homas Hogsden, and to Mr. Ragdell, and to all my friends and acquaintance in general who do ask after me. My love to Mrs. Stevenfon. I am forry for the fending fuch ill news. husband was gathering a little money together to fend to his wife, and put it into my hands. I have seven Her thillings and three pence, which I shall take care, to fend her; wishing your wife a fafe delivery, and both of you all happiness, reft, Your affured Friend, and Comrade, JOHN HALL. "We had but an indifferent breakfast, but the mounfeers never had fuch a dinner in all their lives. My kind love to my Comrade Hinton, and Mrs. Morgan, and to John Brown and his wife. I sent two fhillings, and Stevenson fix pence, to drink with you at Mr. Cook's; but I have heard nothing from him. It was by Mr. Edgar. Corporal Hartwell defires to be remembered to you, and defires you to inquire of Edgar, what is become of his wife Pegg; and when you write, to send word in your letter what trade she drives. We had here very bad weather, which I doubt will be a hindrance to the fiege; but I am in hopes we shall be masters of the town in a little time, and then I believe we shall go to garrifon." I saw the critics prepared to nibble at my letter; therefore examined it myself, partly in their way, and partly my own. This is, faid I, truly a letter, and an honeft representation of that cheerful heart which accompanies the poor foldier in his warfare. Is there not in this all the topic of fubmitting to our destiny as well difcuffed, as if a greater man had been placed, like Brutus, in his tent at midnight, reflecting on all the occurrences of past life, and saying fine things on being itself? What serjeant Hall knows of the matter, is, that he wishes there had not been so many killed, and he had himself a very bad shot in the head, and should recover, if it pleased God. But be that as it will, he takes care, like a man of honour, as he certainly is, to let the widow Stevenson know, that he had feven and three-pence for her, and that if he lives, he is fure he shall go into garrifon at last. I doubt not but all the good company at the Red-Lettice drink his health with as much real esteem as we do that of any of our friends. All that I am concerned for, is, that Mrs. |