THE RAMBLER. NUMB. 54. SATURDAY, September 22, 1750. Truditur dies die, Novaque pergunt interire lunæ; Locas fub ipfum funus, et fepulchri Day preffes on the heels of day, SIR, To the RAMBLER. HOR FRANCIS HAVE lately been called from a mingled life of bufinefs and amufement, to attend the laft hours of an old friend; an office which has filled me, if not with melancholy, at least with ferious reflections, and turned my thoughts towards the contemplation of thofe fubjects, which, though of the utmost importance, and of indubitable certainty, are generally fecluded from our regard, by the jollity of health, the hurry of employment, and even by the calmer diverfions of study study and fpeculation; or if they become accidental topicks of converfation and argument, yet rarely fink deep into the heart, but give occafion only to fome fubtilties of reasoning, or elegancies of declamation, which are heard, applauded, and forgotten. It is, indeed, not hard to conceive how a man accustomed to extend his views through a long concatenation of caufes and effects, to trace things from their origin to their period, and compare means with ends, may discover the weakness of human schemes; detect the fallacies by which mortals are deluded; fhew the infufficiency of wealth, honours, and power, to real happiness; and please himself, and his auditors, with learned lectures on the vanity of life. But though the speculatist may fee and fhew the folly of terrestrial hopes, fears, and defires, every hour will give proofs that he never felt it. Trace him through the day or year, and you will find him acting upon principles which he has in common with the illiterate and unenlightened, angry and pleased like the lowest of the vulgar, purfuing, with the fame ardour, the fame defigns, grafping, with all the eagerness of transport, thofe riches which he knows he cannot keep, and fwelling with the applause which he has gained by proving that applaufe is of no value. The only conviction that rushes upon the foul, and takes away from our appetites and paffions the power of refiftance, is to be found, where I have received it, at the bed of a dying friend. To enter this fchool of wifdom is not the peculiar privilege of geometricians; the most fublime and important precepts require no uncommon opportunities, nor laborious laborious preparations; they are enforced without the aid of eloquence, and underftood without fkill in analytick science. Every tongue can utter them, and every understanding can conceive them. He that wishes in earnest to obtain just fentiments concerning his condition, and would be intimately acquainted with the world, may find instructions on every fide. He that defires to enter behind the fcene, which every art has been employed to decorate, and every paffion labours to illuminate, and wishes to fee life ftripped of those ornaments which make it glitter on the stage, and exposed in its natural meannefs, impotence, and nakednefs, may find all the delufion laid open in the chamber of disease: he will there find vanity divefted of her robes, power deprived of her fceptre, and hypocrify without her mask. The friend whom I have loft was a man eminent for genius, and, like others of the fame class, fufficiently pleased with acceptance and applaufe. Being careffed by thofe who have preferments and riches in their cifpofal, he confidered himself as in the direct road of advancement, and had caught the flame of ambition by approaches to its object. But in the midst of his hopes, his projects, and his gaieties, he was feized by a lingering difeafe, which, from its firft ftage, he knew to be incurable. Here was an end of all his visions of greatnefs and happiness; from the first hour that his health declined, all his former pleafures grew taftelefs. His friends expected to please him by thofe accounts of the growth of his reputation, which were formerly certain of being well received; but they foon found how little he was now affected by compliments, and how vainly they attempted by flattery, to exhilarate the languor of weakness, and relieve the folicitude of approaching death. Whoever would know how much piety and virtue furpass all external goods, might here have seen them weighed against each other, where all that gives motion to the active, and elevation to the eminent, all that sparkles in the eye of hope, and pants in the bofom of fufpicion, at once became duft in the balance, without weight and without regard. Riches, authority, and praise, lofe all their influence when they are confidered as riches which to-morrow fhall be bestowed upon another, authority which fhall this night expire for ever, and praise which, however merited, or however fincere, fhall, after a few moments, be heard no more. In thofe hours of ferioufnefs and wifdom, nothing appeared to raise his fpirits, or gladden his heart, but the recollection of acts of goodnefs, nor to excite his attention, but fome opportunity for the exercise of the duties of religion. Every thing that terminated on this fide of the grave was received with coldness and indifference, and regarded rather in confequence of the habit of valuing it, than from any opinion that it deferved value; it had little more prevalence over his mind than a bubble that was now broken, a dream from which he was awake. His whole powers were engroffed by the confideration of another state, and all converfation was tedious, that had not fome tendency to difengage him from human affairs, and open his profpects into futurity. It is now paft, we have clofed his eyes, and heard him breathe the groan of expiration. At the fight of this laft conflict, I felt a fenfation never known known to me before; a confusion of passions, an awful stillness of forrow, a gloomy terrour without a name. The thoughts that entered my foul were too ftrong to be diverted, and too piercing to be endured; but such violence cannot be lafting, the ftorm fubfided in a fhort time, I wept, retired, and grew calm. I have from that time frequently revolved in my mind, the effects which the obfervation of death produces, in those who are not wholly without the power and use of reflection; for by far the greater part it is wholly unregarded, their friends and their enemies fink into the grave without raifing any uncommon emotion, or reminding them that they are themselves on the edge of the precipice, and that they muft foon plunge into the gulph of eternity. It feems to me remarkable that death increases our veneration for the good, and extenuates our hatred of the bad. Thofe virtues which once we envied, as Horace obferves, because they eclipfed our own, can now no longer obftruct our reputation, and we have therefore no intereft to fupprefs their praife. That wickedness, which we feared for its malignity, is now become impotent, and the man whofe name filled us with alarm, and rage, and indignation, can at laft be confidered only with pity, or contempt. When a friend is carried to his grave, we at once find excufes for every weakness, and palliations of every fault; we recollect a thousand endearments, which before glided off our minds without impreflion, a thoufand favours unrepaid, a thousand duties unperformed, and wish, vainly wifh for his return, not fo much that we may receive, B3 |