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As the greatest part of mankind are more affected by things which strike the senses, than by excellencies that are to be discerned by reason and thought, they form very erroneous judgments when they compare the one with the other. An eminent instance of this is, that vulgar notion, that men addicted to contempla. tion are less useful members of society than those of a different course of life. The business therefore of my present paper shall be to compare the distinct merits of the speculative and the active parts of mankind.

The advantages arising from the labours of generals and politicians are confined to narrow tracts of the earth; and while they promote the interest of their own country, they lessen or obstruct that of other nations; whereas the light and knowledge that spring from speculation are not limited to any single spot, but equally diffused to the benefit of the whole globe. Besides, for the most part, the renown only of men of action is transmitted to distant posterity, their great exploits either dying with themselves, or soon after them; whereas speculative men continue to deserve well of the world thousands of years after they have left it. Their merits are propagated with their fame, which is due to them, but a free gift to those whose beneficence has not outlived their persons.

What benefit do we receive from the renowned deeds of Cæsar or Alexander, that we should make them the constant themes of our praise? while the name of Pythagoras is more sparingly celebrated, though it be to him that we are indebted for our trade and riches. This may seem strange to a vulgar reader, but the

following reflection will make it plain. That philosopher invented the forty-seventh proposition of the first book of Euclid, which is the foundation of trigonometry, and consequently of navigation, upon which the commerce of Great Britain depends.

The mathematics are so useful and ornamental to human life, that the ingenious sir William Temple acknowledges, in some part of his writings, all those advantages which distinguish polite nations from barbarians to be derived from them. But as these sciences cultivate the exterior parts of life, there are others of a more excellent nature, that endue the heart with rudiments of virtue, and by opening our prospects, and awakening our hopes, produce generous emotions and sublime sentiments in the soul.

The divine sages of antiquity, who, by transmitting down to us their speculations upon good and evil, upon Providence, and the dig. nity and duration of thinking beings, have imprinted an idea of moral excellence on the minds of men, are most eminent benefactors to human nature; and however overlooked in the loud and thoughtless applauses that are every day bestowed on the slaughterers and disturbers of mankind, yet they will never want the esteem and approbation of the wise and vir

tuous.

This apology in behalf of the speculative part of mankind, who make useful truth the end of their being, and its acquisition the bu siness as well as entertainment of their lives, seems not improper, in order to rectify the mistake of those who measure merit by noise and outward appearance, and are too apt to depreciate and ridicule men of thought and retirement. The raillery and reproaches which are thrown on that species by those who abound in the animal life, would incline one to think the world not sufficiently convinced that whatsoever is good or excellent proceeds from reason and reflection.

Even those who only regard truth as such, without communicating their thoughts, or applying them to practice, will seem worthy members of the commonwealth, if we compare the innocence and tranquillity with which they pass their lives, with the fraud and impertinence of other men. But the number of those who, by abstracted thoughts, become useless, is inconsiderable in respect of them who are hurtful to mankind by an active and restless disposition.

As in the distribution of other things, so in this the wisdom of Providence appears, that men addicted to intellectual pursuits, bear a small proportion to those who rejoice in exert ing the force and activity of their corporeal organs; for operations of the latter sort are limited to a narrow extent of time and place, whereas, those of the mind are permanent and universal. Plato and Euclid enjoy a sort of immortality upon earth, and at this day read lectures to the world.

But if to inform the understanding, and re gulate the will, is the most lasting and diffusive benefit, there will not be found so useful and excellent an institution as that of the Christian

priesthood, which is now become the scorn of world is in the right in this natural judgment, fools. That a numerous order of men should it is not generally so in the distribution of parbe consecrated to the study of the most sublime ticular persons under their respective denomiand beneficial truths, with a design to propagate nations. It is a clear settled point, that the them by their discourses and writings, to in- gentleman should be preferred to the mechanic. form their fellow-creatures of the being and But who is the gentleman, and who the mechaattributes of the Deity, to possess their minds nic, wants to be explained. with the sense of a future state, and not only to explain the nature of every virtue and mo-human nature; the rational, and the animal. ral duty, but likewise to persuade mankind to the practice of them by the most powerful and engaging motives, is a thing so excellent and necessary to the well-being of the world, that nobody but a modern free-thinker could have the forehead or folly to turn it into ridicule.

The light in which these points should be exposed to the view of one who is prejudiced against the names, religion, church, priest, and the like, is to consider the clergy as so many philosophers, the churches as schools, and their sermons as lectures, for the information and improvement of the audience. How would the heart of Socrates or Tully have rejoiced, had they lived in a nation where the law had made provision for philosophers to read lectures of morality and theology every seventh day, in several thousands of schools erected at the public charge throughout the whole country; at which lectures all ranks and sexes, without distinction, were obliged to be present for their general improvement! And what wicked wretches would they think those men who would endeavour to defeat the purpose of so divine an institution?

It is indeed usual with that low tribe of writers, to pretend their design is only to reform the church, and expose the vices, and not the order of the clergy. The author of a pamphlet printed the other day, (which, without my mentioning the title, will, on this occasion, occur to the thoughts of those who have read it) hopes to insinuate by that artifice what he is afraid or ashamed openly to maintain. But there are two points which clearly show what it is he aims at. The first is, that he constantly uses the word priests in such a manner, as that his reader cannot but observe he means to throw an odium on the clergy of the church of England, from their being called by a name which they enjoy in common with heathens and impostors. The other is, his raking together and exaggerating, with great spleen and industry, all those actions of churchmen, which, either by their own illness, or the bad light in which he places them, tend to give men an ill impression of the dispensers of the gospel; all which he pathetically addresses to the consideration of his wise and honest countrymen of the laity. The sophistry and ill-breeding of these proceedings are so obvious to men who have any pretence to that character, that I need say no more either of them or their author.

The inhabitants of the earth may properly be ranged under the two general heads of gentlemen and mechanics. This distinction arises from the different occupations wherein they exert themselves. The former of these species is universally acknowledged to be more honour able than the other, who are looked upon as a base and inferior order of men. But if the

The philosophers distinguish two parts in

Now, if we attend to the reason of the thing, we shall find it difficult to assign a more just and adequate idea of these distinct species, than by defining the gentleman to be him whose occupation lies in the exertion of his rational faculties; and the mechanic, him who is employed in the use of his animal parts, or the organic parts of his body.

The concurring assent of the world, in preferring gentlemen to mechanics, seems founded in that preference which the rational part of our nature is entitled to above the animal; when we consider it in itself, as it is the seat of wisdom and understanding, as it is pure and im mortal, and as it is that which, of all the known works of the creation, bears the brightest impress of the Deity.

It claims the same dignity and pre-eminence, if we consider it with respect to its object. Mechanical motives or operations are confined to a narrow circle of low and little things: whereas, reason inquires concerning the nature of intellectual beings, the great Author of our existence, its end, and the proper methods of attaining it. Or, in case that noble faculty submit itself to nearer objects, it is not, like the organic powers, confined to a slow and painful manner of action; but shifts the scenes, and applies itself to the most distant objects with incredible ease and despatch. Neither are the operations of the mind, like those of the hands, limited to one individual object, but at once extended to a whole species.

And as we have shown the intellectual powers to be nobler than those of motion, both in their own nature, and in regard to their object, the same will still hold if we consider their of fice. It is the province of the former to preside and direct; of the latter, to execute and obey. Those who apply their hands to the materials, appear the immediate builders of an edifice; but the beauty and proportion of it is owing to the architect, who designed the plan in his closet. And in like manner, whatever there is either in art or nature of use or regularity, will be found to proceed from the superior principle of reason and understanding. These reflec tions, how obvious soever, do nevertheless, seem not sufficiently attended to by those who, being at great pains to improve the figure and motions of the body, neglect the culture of the mind.

From the premises it follows, that a man may descend from an ancient family, wear fine clothes, and be master of what is commonly called good-breeding, and yet not merit the name of gentleman. All those whose principal accomplishments consist in the exertion of the mechanic powers, whether the organ made use of be the eye, the muscles of the face, the fingers, feet, or any other part, are in the eye of reason to be esteemed mechanics.

I do therefore, by these presents, declare, that all men and women, by what title soever distinguished, whose occupation it is either to ogle with the eye, flirt with the fan, dress, cringe, adjust the muscles of the face, or other parts of the body, are degraded from the rank of gentry; which is from this time forward appropriated to those who employ the talents of the mind in the pursuit of knowledge and practice of virtue, and are content to take their places as they are distinguished by moral and intellectual accomplishments.

The rest of the human species come under the appellation of mechanics, with this difference, that the professed mechanics, who, not pretending to be gentlemen, contain themselves within their proper sphere, are necessary to the well-being of mankind, and consequently should be more respected in a well-regulated commonwealth, than those mechanics who make a merit of being useless.

THERE are two sorts of persons within the consideration of my frontispiece; the first are the mighty body of lingerers, persons who do not indeed employ their time criminally, but are such pretty innocents, who, as the poet says,

waste away

In gentle inactivity the day.

The others being something more vivacious, are such as do not only omit to spend their time well, but are in the constant pursuit of criminal satisfactions. Whatever the divine may think, the case of the first seems to be the most de. plorable, as the habit of sloth is more invincible than that of vice. The first is preferred, even when the man is fully possessed of himself, and submitted to with constant deliberation and cool thought. The other we are driven into generally through the heat of wine, or youth, which Mr. Hobbes calls a natural drunkenness; and therefore consequently are more excusable for any errors committed during the deprivation or suspension of our reason, than in the possession of it. The irregular starts of vicious appetites are in time destroyed by the gratification of them; but a well-ordered life of sloth receives daily strength from its continuance. I went (says Solomon) by the field of the slothful, and the vineyard of the man void of understanding; and lo! it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down.' To raise the image of this person, the same author adds, 'The slothful man hideth his hand in his bo som, and it grieveth him to bring it again to his mouth.' If there were no future account exThe mind being itself invisible, there is no pected of spending our time, the immediate in. other way to discern its existence, than by the convenience that attends a life of idleness should effects which it produceth. Where design, of itself be persuasion enough to the men of order, and symmetry, are visible in the effects, sense to avoid it. I say to the men of sense, we conclude the cause to be an intelligent being; because there are of these that give in to it, and but where nothing of these can be found, we for these chiefly is this paper designed. Argu. ascribe the effect to hazard, necessity, or the ments drawn from future rewards and punish. like. Now I appeal to any one who is conver-ments, are things too remote for the considerasant in the modern productions of our freethinkers, if they do not look rather like effects of chance, or at best of mechanism, than of a thinking principle, and consequently, whether the authors of those rhapsodies are not mere machines.

Having hitherto considered the human species as distinguished into gentlemen and mechanics, I come now to treat of the machines; a sort of beings that have the outside or appearance of men, without being really such. The freethinkers have often declared to the world, that they are not actuated by any incorporeal being or spirit; but that all the operations they exert, proceed from the collision of certain corpuscles, endued with proper figures and motions. It is now a considerable time that I have been their proselyte in this point. I am even so far convinced that they are in the right, that I shall attempt proving it to others.

tion of stubborn sanguine youth, They are af. fected by such only as propose immediate plea. sure or pain; as the strongest persuasive to the children of Israel was a land flowing with milk and honey. I believe I may say there is more toil, fatigue, and uneasiness in sloth, than can be found in any employment a man will put himself upon. When a thoughtful man is once fixed this way, spleen is the necessary conse. quence. This directs him instantly to the con. templation of his health or circumstances, which must ever be found extremely bad upon these inelancholy inquiries.

The same point is likewise evident from their own assertion; it being plain that no one could mistake thought for motion, who knew what thought was. For these reasons, I do hereby give it in charge to all Christians, that hereafter they speak of free-thinkers in the neuter gender, using the term it for him. They are to be considered as automata, made up of bones and muscles, nerves, arteries, and animal spirits; not so innocent, indeed, but as destitute of thought and reason, as those little machines which the excellent author from whom I take the motto of this paper, has so elegantly de-culty or other, which to his imagination is as scribed.

No. 131.]
Tuesday, August 11, 1713.
Iter pigrorum quasi sepes spinarum.

Ex. Latin. Prov.
The way of the slothful man is a hedge of thorns.
Proverbs, xv 19.

If he has any common business upon his hands, numberless objections arise, that make the despatch of it impossible; and he cries out with Solomon, There is a lion in the way, a lion in the streets; that is, there is some diffi.

·

invincible as a lion really would be. The man, on the contrary, that applies himself to books, or business, contracts a cheerful confidence in all his undertakings, from the daily improve. ments of his knowledge or fortune, and instead of giving himself up to

Thick-ey'd musing cursed melancholy,'

Shakspeare.

of the above-mentioned misfortunes, employs himself with much alacrity in the following method. Being vehemently disposed to loquacity, he has a person constantly with him, to whom he gives an annual pension for no other merit but being very attentive, and never inter

he may utter that may seemingly require it. To secure to himself discourse, his fundamental maxim seems to be, by no means to consider what he is going to say. He delivers therefore every thought as it first intrudes itself upon him, and then, with all the freedom you could

nence, or evince the truth of it. In short, he took the same pleasure in confuting himself, as he could have done in discomfiting an opponent: and his discourse was as that of two persons attacking each other with exceeding warmth, incoherence, and good-nature. There is another, whom I have seen in the park, employing himself with the same industry, though not with the same innocence. He is very dexterous in

has that constant life in his visage and conversation, which the idle splenetic man borrows sometimes from the sunshine, exercise, or an agreeable friend. A recluse idle sobriety must be attended with more bitter remorse, than the most active debauchery can at any intervals be molested with. The rake, if he is a cautiousrupting him by question and answer, whatever manager, will allow himself very little time to examine his own conduct, and will bestow as few reflections upon himself, as the lingerer does upon any thing else, unless he has the misfortune to repent. I repeat, the misfortune to repent, because I have put the great day of account out of the present case, and am now in-wish, will examine it, and rally the impertiquiring, not whose life is most irreligious, but most inconvenient. A gentleman that has formerly been a very eminent lingerer, and some. thing splenetic, informs me, that in one winter he drank six hampers of Spa water, several gallons of chalybeate tincture, two hogsheads of bitters, at the rate of sixty pounds a hogshead, laid one hundred and fifty infallible schemes, in every one of which he was disappointed, re. ceived a thousand affronts during the north-taking flies, and fixing one at each end of a easterly winds, and in short, run through more misery and expense than the most meritorious bravo could boast of. Another tells me, that he fell into this way at the university, where the youth are too apt to be lulled into a state of such tranquillity as prejudices them against the bustle of that worldly business, for which this part of their education should prepare them. As he could with the utmost secrecy be idle in his own chamber, he says he was for some years irrecoverably sunk, and immersed in the luxury of an easy-chair, though at the same time, in the general opinion, he passed for a hard student. During this lethargy, he had some intervals of application to books, which rather aggravated than suspended the painful thoughts of a misspent life. Thus his supposed relief became his punishment, and, like the damned in Mil-perform such tasks as would be of considerable ton, upon their conveyance at certain revolutions from fire to ice,

horse hair, which his perriwig supplies him with. He hangs them over a little stick, which suspension inclines them immediately to war upon each other, there being no possibility of retreat. From the frequent attention of his eyes to these combats, he perceives the several turns and advantages of the battle, which are altoge ther invisible to a common spectator. I the other day found him in the enjoyment of a couple of gigantic blue-bottles, which were hung out and embattled in the aforesaid warlike appointments. That I might enter into the secret shocks of this conflict, he lent me a magnifying glass, which presented me with an engagement between two of the most rueful monsters I have ever read of even in romance.

If we cannot bring ourselves to appoint and

advantage to us, let us resolve upon some other, however trifling, to be performed at appointed times. By this we may gain a victory over a wandering unsettled mind, and by this regula. tion of the impulse of our wills, may in time make them obedient to the dictates of our reason.

He felt by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce.' When he had a mind to go out, he was so scrupulous as to form some excuse or other, which the idle are ever provided with, and could not satisfy himself without this ridiculous ap- When I am disposed to treat of the irreligion pearance of justice. Sometimes by his own con- of an idle life, it shall be under this head, peretrivance and insinuation, the woman that look-unt et imputantur: which is an inscription upon ed after his chamber would convince him of the necessity of washing his room, or any other matter of the like joyous import, to which he always submitted, after having decently opposed it, and made his exit with much seeming reluctance and inward delight. Thus did he pass the noon of his life in the solitude of a monk, and the guilt of a libertine. He is since awakened, by application, out of slumber; has no more spleen than a Dutchman, who, as sir W. Temple observes, is not delicate or idle enough to suffer from this enemy, but is always weli when he is not ill, always pleased when he is not angry.'

a sun-dial in one of the inns of court, and is with great propriety placed to public view in such a place, where the inhabitants being in an everlasting hurry of business or pleasure, the busy may receive an innocent admonition to keep their appointments, and the idle a dreadful one not to keep theirs.

August 10. 1713.

MR. IRONSIDE,-I am obliged to you for inserting my letter concerning the demolition of Dunkirk in your paper of the seventh instant: but you will find, upon perusal, that you have printed the word three where you should have There is a gentleman I have seen at a coffe-printed the word two; which I desire you wouli house, near the place of my abode, who having a pretty good estate, and a disinclination to books or business, to secure himself from some

amead by inserting the whole paragraph, and that which immediately follows it, in your very next paper. The paragraph runs thus:

"The very common people know, that within two months after the signing of the peace, the works towards the sea were to be demolished, and within three months after it, the works towards the land.

"That the said peace was signed the last of March, O. S."

I beg pardon for giving you so much trouble, which was only to avoid mistakes, having been very much abused by some whiggish senseless fellows, that give out I am for the Pretender. Your most humble servant,

ENGLISH TORY.'

"When a smart fit of sickness tells me this scurvy tenement of my body will fall in a little time, I am even as unconcerned as was that honest Hibernian, who (being in bed in the great storm some years ago, and told the house would tumble over his head) made answer, What care I for the house? I am only a lodger.' I fancy it is the best time to die, when one is in the best humour: and so excessively weak as I now am, I may say with conscience, that I am not at all uneasy at the thought that many men, whom I never had any esteem for, are likely to enjoy this world after me. When I reflect what an inconsiderable little atom every single man is, with respect to the whole creation, methinks it is a shame to be concerned at the removal of such a trivial animal as I am. morning after my exit, the sun will arise as bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants spring as green, the world will proceed in its old course, people will laugh as heartily, MR. IRONSIDE,-The following letter was and marry as fast, as they were used to do. really written by a young gentleman in a lan-The memory of man,' as it is elegantly exguishing illness, which both himself, and those who attended him, thought it impossible for him to outlive. If you think such an image of the state of a man's mind in that circumstance be worth publishing, it is at your service, and take it as follows:

Wednesday, August 12, 1713.

No. 132.]

Quisque suos patimur manes

All have their manes.

Virg. Æn. vi. 743.
Dryden.

"DEAR SIR,-You formerly observed to me, that nothing made a more ridiculous figure in a man's life, than the disparity we often find in him, sick and well. Thus one of an unfortunate constitution is perpetually exhibiting a miserable example of the weakness of his mind, or of his body, in their turns. I have had frequent opportunities of late to consider myself in these different views, and hope I have received some advantage by it. If what Mr. Waller says be true, that,

The

pressed in the Wisdom of Solomon, passeth away as the remembrance of a guest that tarrieth but one day.' There are reasons enough, in the fourth chapter of the same book, to make any young man contented with the prospect of death. For honourable age is not that which standeth in length of time, or is measured by number of years. But wisdom is the gray hair to men, and an unspotted life is old age. He was taken away speedily, lest that wickedness should alter his understanding, or deceit beguile I am, yours."

his soul.'

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To Nestor Ironside, Esq. greeting.

band of a woman that never is in the wrong, 'OLD DAD,-I am so happy as to be the husand yet is at continual war with every body, especially with all her servants, and myself. As to her maids, she never fails of having at least a dozen or fourteen in each year, yet never has above one at a time, and the last that comes is always the worst that ever she had in her life; although they have given very good content in better families than mine for several years together. Not that she has the pleasure of turn

The sonl's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made: "Then surely sickness, contributing no less than old age to the shaking down this scaffolding of the body, may discover the inclosed structure more plainly. Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a diffidence in our earthlying them away, but she does so ferrit them state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a fu- about, "Forsooth" and "Mistress" them up, ture, better than a thousand volumes of philoso- and so find fault with every thing they do, and phers and divines. It gives so warning a con- talks to them so loud and so long, that they cussion to those props of our vanity, our strength either give her immediate warning, or march and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves off without any wages at all. So that through within, when there is so little dependence on her great zeal and care to ake them better our outworks. Youth at the very best, is but a servants than any in the world, and their ob. betrayer of hun.an life in a gentler and smoother stinacy in being no better than they can, our manner than age. It is like a stream that house is a sort of Bedlam, and nothing in order; nourishes a plant upon its bank, and causes it for by that time a maid comes to know where to flourish and blossom to the sight, but at the things stund, whip, she is gone, and so we have same time is undermining it at the root in se- not another in four or five days, and this all the cret. My youth has dealt more fairly and year round. As to myself, all the world believes openly with me. It has afforded several pros-nie to be one of the best of husbands, and I am of pects of my danger, and given me an advantage the world's mind, until my dear Patient Grizzle not very common to young men, that the attrac- comes to give her opinion about me, and then tions of the world have not dazzled me very you would believe I am as bad as her maids. much; and I began where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures,

Oh, Mr. Ironside, never was a woman used as she is. The world does not think how unhappy she is! I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. And then her neighbours are so ill-natured, that they

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