relaxations of the body, which are neceffary to invigorate the languid powers of the foul; which foften our toils, alleviate our cares and difappointments, and keep the contending powers in humour with each other. Virtue, then, (which ought never to be distinguished from religion) is no more than harmony; the sweet concording power within us, which compounds, unites, and regulates all the diffonances of our nature, reconciles reason to sense, and even to itself. Whatever therefore is destructive of this harmony, must be so far wrong or vicious; whether it be an immoderate use of pleafure, or an intemperate zeal for any fingle act of duty. The first implies irregularity and disorder in the appetite; and the latter a confused and erroneous understanding.'.

pro

The (b) conversation of the more virtuous and wifer fort, I hope, I fhall always be fond of, and aim at. If they think me worthy to partake of their friendships, they heighten my enjoyments, and improve a taste I would not part with for any of the fenfual gratifications I know of. For tho' I can by no means ftrike thefe entirely out of my fcheme of harmony, yet as ftrongly as I have feemed to plead for the paffions, and five of the fenfes, at least, (I won't answer for it, if there is not a fixth) and their per and subordinate ufe in the complicated fyftem, I think I am far from a voluptuary myself, tho' I profefs myself no great friend, in general, to thofe very mortifying doctrines you fpeak of. However, thofe who know me, and my manner of life, I believe fee nothing very notorious in me of the fenfual kind; and where there are no overt-acts, it is but charity to suppose the best of what is behind the curtain. Not that I mention this as matter of merit in me, nor am I indebted for it to any signal combats of flesh and fpirit; thofe high efforts of virtue which fome generous difpofitiors have vifibly difplay'd, when they have had ftrong obliquities of nature to conquer. My taste of mental pleasures is a good deal conftitutional, and depends ftrongly upon the original caft of my nature. But finding these on all hands allowed the preference, what was at first only my original complexion, is now become matter of choice with me; and as I can fafely indulge in thefe, it is an additional pleasure to ftrike in with the prevalence of my nature, and at the same time make a fort of virtue of my difpofitions. I fay, a fort of virtue; because mental, any more than fenfual gratifications, are neither virtuous or vicious, otherwife than as they are ordered or directed. But if they

(b) P. 203.

they have no aim or direction at all, farther than to amuse the mind within itself; yet if they're preferable to sensual ones, and pursued on that account, so far at least, they partake of the nature of virtue.

ous.

The love of eafe, with refpect to the body, and a fettled calm and compofure of mind (difpofitions which would by no means comport with fenfual enjoyments) I find ftrongly impreffed upon me; and moft of my actions have a tendency that way. This propenfity naturally inclines me to prefer a contemplative to an active life; and confequently the pleafures of the mind to thofe of fenfe. So that, tho' it is no virtue to have a tafte in one's nature for pleasures of a fuperior kind, yet 'tis certainly a happinefs when our difpofitions take this friendly turn; and to be fo formed, as not only to prefer, but to relish what is beft.-'Tis the fame with regard to actions ftrictly virtuThis inward tafte, or, according to philofophers, moral fenfe, (which is what I mean by the fixth) or these good difpofitions, according to divines, render virtue infinitely easier to be practifed, than where there are obftinate propenfities to the contrary. And tho' more is due to the merit of those who fubdue thefe propenfities, more virtue in bravely combating, and carefully compofing the irregularities of our nature; yet I cannot think, (tho' I place it very low, in regard to the other) that there is no virtue at all in following virtuous propenfities. As I faid before, 'tis infinitely eafier to purfue the bent of our nature, than oppofe it; but providence furely has given us these gracious tendencies, or, if you pleafe, thefe talents, for fome end; and that end must be to improve them. Suppose, for instance, I have a difpofition to that branch of charity, alms-giving, and cannot fee a neceffitous object, without ftretching out my hand to relieve him; am I, because this is a tendency in my nature, to with-hold my alms? Or is it no virtue in me, because I have a pleasure in it, and am careful of all opportunities to improve it? Certainly this is ufing the talent I was entrusted with; which was given me for that purpose, which muft imply mismanagement if fecreted, and which will be required at my hands, with ufury, at the final account of things.-I conclude therefore, that tho' 'tis no merit on our part to come out of the hands of our Maker with good difpofitions; yet it is fo, to improve the friendly ly foil, and fo to fofter the good feeds, that we may be able not only to give an account of them, but to reap their fruits at the general harvest.We muft only be careful

to

to preferve a proper medium; and not let the particular virtue, that coincides with our nature, and which we can fo eafily ftrike in with, encroach upon others of equal importance. In a word, we muft not beftow indifcriminately; neither muft our charity inferfere with our justice. All the relations we ftand in to others must be taken into the confideration; and pleas of right preferred to those of neceffity.

6

But I'm for carrying this doctrine of ftriking in with our propenfities ftill farther, even into things indifferent, and which concern only our perfonal character, or outward appearance in the world. All kinds of affectation, and appearing out of character is (to me) filly, and unamiable. Better follow the bent of our nature, and the direction impreft upon it, (tho' there may be fomething of oddity and pecularity in it) than go out of it, and be fig. nificant for I know not what. There's fomething in the caft of a coxcomb, or an exceffive fine lady, which in. general, is not unentertaining; but if you lower the vanity of the one, and ftrike off the over-acted delicacy of the other, they would fettle into abfolute nothing. They'd have no character at all. But here, their particular bent paints them. The image before you is fomewhat. 'Tis alive, and keeps you awake; befides the entertainment they're of to themselves. But oppose this bent, fet the coxcomb to reading the fathers, or the fine lady to darning her children's stockings, you rob the world of two illuftrious characters, and themselves of the felicity of life.

Great

'I don't know what figure I, for my own part, make in the world; nor am I fure I am not foundly ridiculous, by being true to the honeft tendencies of my nature. But this I am fure of, that if I had set up for the fine lady, and been to travel thro' all the forms of drefs and delicacy that are neceffary to finish the character; not even the fashion itfelf could have produced any thing fo incongruous, or difproportioned as this my fecond birth had been. must have been my ftruggles to have furnished out the plastic form, and fitted it, in fome measure, to the enlivening principle within. A motly appearance at my firft entrance into the world, and worfe as I proceeded. For having with much pains and inveteracy ftruck out the original lines, the particular stamp and imprefs of my nature; and imprinted there fresh characters, new types, and ftaring hieroglyphics, from the ball, the opera, and affembly, I fhould at length

have come up to the public view-What ?---Not a creature of God's making, but the fashion's.'

Our author's notions of friendship appear to us extremely juft, and not altogether common. We fhall take the pleasure of transcribing the whole of her letter on a subject in which the human heart is fo deeply interested, and on which our happiness here fo greatly depends.

I (c) don't know any one whofe letters give me greater pleafure, notwithstanding the different fentiments we seem to be of, in moft of the important matters that have fallen under our confideration. But as we fet out in the spirit of liberty, and are, I truft, agreed upon the act of toleration in regard to opinions, we have only this farther virtue to aim at that of being mutually patient of contradiction. If you're prepared, I proceed in my diffentions, as ufual.

To begin with your description of friendship, "That it must confift in an agreement of humours, &" This has been the opinion of many great writers, as well as yourfelf; and, if you are as much at leisure as I am, if you please, we'll examine it.---For my own part, I think nothing more need be meant by it than an obliging behaviour, and a kind of general complaifance, or deference to the opinions of our friends, which is neither fo obftinate as to be always in the right, nor fo fervile as to have no opinions of our own. As for the reft, a likeness of humours or inclinations is fo little neceffary to form a perfect friendfhip, that I can't see the least occafion for their fimilarity; befides that it fuppofes a mighty narrow way of thinking.. To be charm'd only with sweet self, or its beautiful refemblance in the compofition of another, fuppofes indeed a most perfect benevolence for the party concerned, but for nothing else in nature; this fweet refemblance being only selfat fecond hand. 'Tis however agreed, that, if one loves one's friend as one's felf, one does pretty well; and confequently the nearer the resemblance, the more perfect will be the union, fince there's nothing that has not a most sincere affection for itself.All this I grant, but then must add, that this felf-affection, I fear, will go but a very little way, even in one remove only from the individual. infinite partiality we have for our real felves; won't always extend itself to our second felves; and we often commit follies, and indulge humours in our own persons, which are not half fo amiable in those of others, nor will admit of half the excufes. Neither do I think a fameness of humours

(c) P. 223.

The

mours will mix and affociate fo well as their contraries: like perfects chords, in mufic, they rather tire than enliven. For inftance, two people are of a melancholy or choleric. difpofition. How fhall we enliven the deficiency of bile in the one, or correct its fuper-abundance in the other? Won't they both drop afleep, or fall together by the ears? -Suppose they're equally endued with the powers of eloquence. May'nt they have an equal inclination to Speak at the fame time? And how painful muft it be to either orator to hear?-Or, fuppofe (if you'll fuffer me to fuppofe once more) they're a little given to contradiction, like you and I won't they often ftand in need of a moderator; and be forced to call in a third perfon to adjust their difputes? In fhort, a parity of humours, or fentiments, must often render converfation fade and infipid; and when we meet with nothing new, nothing but what we have at home, fuch a friendship muft foon grow tedious and languifhing. 'Tis fcarce worth going even fo far out of ourfelves for. Befides, as our own humours, are fo uncertain and multifarious, it muft, as you fay, be extremely liable to change; be indeed the most variable thing in nature.

"Let us fee than what fort of friendship different difpofitions will produce. And that we may not run away from our argument, as you and I generally do, let us define our terms. Friendship then, in my definition of it, is a sweet attraction of the heart towards the merit we efteem, or the perfections we admire; and produces a mutual inclination between two perfons, to promote each other's intereft or happiness.Now we none of us, I believe, will choose to affert, that we poffefs all forts of merit, and every degree of perfection ourselves; but moft of us are fo humble as to own, that we esteem it in others, and can be pleas'd with perfections we do not poffefs. To a generous mind, merit, in whatever fhape it appears, is not only estimable, but attractive. By its operations on the fympathetic powers of our nature, it calls forth the affections of the heart to meet it, and even biaffes the judgment in favour of the whole character. Thus, when we fee a patriot bleed in defence of his country, we are not fo anxious about his fpeaking in the houfe; we can for once allow, that 'tis not necessary for a patriot to be an orator. I am myself an extreme coward, (fave juft in fpeculation) and have not the leaft thirft for any one's blood; but yet I turn away my eyes from the man who trembles at a fword, and find myfelf attracted by the hero. In fhort the mind, I fhould