it was to make me say to myself, my desires are eternal, whatever is not eternal is unequal to my desires; my passions are infinite, whatever is not infinite is beneath my passions, and God only can satisfy them.

A passionate man, from the void he finds in the creatures, draws conclusions directly opposite. Each creature in particular is incapable of making me happy: but could I unite them all, could I, so to speak, extract the substantial from all, certainly nothing would be wanting to my happiness. In this miserable supposition he becomes full of perturbation, he launches out, he collects, he accumulates. It is not enough to acquire conveniences, he must have superfluities. It is not enough that my name be known in my family, and among my acquaintance, it must be spread over the whole city, the province, the kingdom, the four parts of the globe. Every clime illuminated by the sun shall know that I exist, and that I have a superior genius. It is not enough to conquer some hearts, I will subdue all, and display the astonishing art of uniting all voices in my favour; men divided in opinion about every thing else shall agree in one point, that is, to celebrate my praise. It is not enough to have many inferiors, I must have no master, no equal, I must be an universal monarch, and subdue the whole world; and when I shall have accomplished these vast designs, I will seek other creatures to subdue, and more worlds to conquer. Thus the passions disconcert the plan of God! Such are the conclusions of a heart infatuated with passion!

The disciple of reason saith, creatures contribute to render me happy to a certain degree: but this power is not their own. Gross, sensible, material beings cannot contribute to the happiness of a spiritual creature. If creatures can augment my happiness, it is because God hath lent them a power natural only to himself. God is then the source of felicity, and all I see elsewhere is only an emanation of his essence: but if the streams be so pure, what is the fountain! If effects be so noble, what is the cause! If rays be so luminous, what is the source of light from which they proceed!

The conclusions of an impassioned man are directly opposite. Saith he, creatures render me happy to a certain degree, therefore, they are the cause of my happiness, they deserve all my efforts, they shall be my God. Thus the passionate man renders to his aliments, his gold, his silver, his equipage, his horses, the most noble act of adoration. For what is the most noble act of adoration? Is it to build tem

ples?

ples? To erect altars? To kill victims? To sacrifice burnt offerings? To burn incense? No. It is that inclination of our heart to union with God, that aspiring to possess him, that love, that effusion of soul, which makes us exclaim, My chief good is to draw near to God. This homage the man of passion renders to the object of his passions, his God is his belly, his covetousness his idolatry; and this is what fleshly lusts become in the heart. They remove us from God, and, by removing us from him, deprive us of all the good that proceeds from a union with the supreme good, and thus make war with every part of ourselves, and with every moment of our duration.

War against our reason, for instead of deriving, by virtue of a union to God, assistance necessary to the practice of what reason approves, and what grace only renders practicable, we are given up to our evil dispositions, and compelled by our passions to do what our reason abhors.

War against the regulation of life, for instead of putting on, by virtue of union to God, the easy yoke, and taking up the light burden which religion imposes, we become slaves of envy, vengeance and ambition; we are weighed down with a yoke of iron, which we have no power to get rid of even though we groan under its intolerable weightiness.

War against conscience, for instead of being justified, by virtue of a union with God, and having peace with him through our Lord Jesus Christ, Rom. v. 1. and feeling that heaven begun, joy unspeakable and full of glory, i Pet. i. 8. by following our passions we become a prey to distracting fears, troubles without end, cutting remorse, and awful earnests of eternal misery.

War on a dying bed, for whereas by being united to God our death bed would have become a field of triumph, where the prince of life, the conqueror of death, would have made us share his victory, by abandoning ourselves to our passions, we see nothing in a dying hour but an awful futurity, a frowning governor, the bare idea of which alarms, terrifies, and drives us to despair.

III. We have seen the nature, and the disorders of the passions, now let us examine what remedies we ought to apply. In order to prevent and correct the disorders, which the passions produce in the mind, we must observe the following rules.

1. We must avoid precipitance, and suspend our judg→ ment. It doth not depend on us to have clear ideas of all things but we have power to suspend our judgment till we obtain evidence of the nature of the object before us. This is one of the greatest advantages of an intelligent being. A celebrated divine hath such an high idea of this that he maintains this hyperbolical thesis, that "always when we mistake, even in things indifferent in themselves we sin, because then we abuse our reason, the use of which consists in never determining without evidence*." Though we suppose this divine hath exceeded the matter, yet it is certain, that a wise man can never take too much pains to form a habit of not judging a point, not considering it as useful or advantageous till after he hath examined it on every side.

“Let a man,

saith a philosopher of great name, let a man only pass one year in the world, hearing all they say, and believing nothing, entering every moment into himself, and suspending his judgment till truth and evidence appear, and I will esteem him more learned than Aristotle, wiser than Socrates, and a greater man than Platot."

2. A man must reform even his education. In every family the minds of children are turned to a certain point. Every family hath its prejudice, I had almost said, its absurdity; and hence it comes to pass that people despise the profession they do not exercise. Hear the merchant; he will tell you, that nothing so much deserves the attention of mankind as trade, as acquiring money by every created thing, as knowing the value of this, and the worth of that, as taxing, so to speak, all the works of art, and all the productions of nature. Hear the man of learning; he will tell you, that the perfection of man consists in literature, that there is a difference as essential between a scholar and a man of no literature, as between a rational creature and a brute. Hear the soldier; he will tell you, that the man of science is a pedant, who ought to be confined to the dirt and darkness of the schools, that the merchant is the most sordid part of society, and that nothing is so noble as the profession of arms. One would think, to hear him talk, that the sword by his side is a patent for pre-eminence, and that mankind have no need of any people, who cannot rout an army, cut through a squadron, or scale a wall. Hear him who hath

Elie. Saurin. Reflex. sur la conscien, sect. 2.
Malebranche.

got

got the disease of quality; he will tell you, that other men are nothing but reptiles beneath his feet, that human blood, stained every where else, is pure only in his veins. That nobility serves for every thing, for genius, and education, and fortune, and sometimes even for common sense and good faith. Hear the peasant; he will tell you, that a nobleman is an enthusiast for appropriating to himself the virtues of his ancestors, and for pretending to find in old quaint names, and in worm eaten papers, advantages, which belong only to real and actual abilities. As I said before, each family hath its prejudice, every profession hath its folly, all proceeding from this principle, because we consider objects only in one point of view. To correct ourselves on this article, we must go to the source, examine how our minds were directed in our childhood; in a word, we must review, and reform even our education.

3. In fine, we must, as well as we can, choose a friend wise enough to know truth, and generous enough to impart it to others; a man who will shew us an object on every side, when we are inclined to consider it only on one. I say, as well as you can, for to give this rule is to suppose two things, both sometimes alike impracticable; the one, that such a man can be found, and the other, that he will be heard with deference. When we are so happy as to find this inestimable treasure, we have found a remedy of marvellous efficacy against the disorders, which the passions produce in the mind. Let us make the trial. Suppose a faithful friend should address one of you in this manner. Heaven hath united in your favour the most happy circumstances. The blood of the greatest heroes animates you, and your name alone is an encomium. Beside this you have an affluent fortune, and providence hath given you abundance to support your dignity, and to discharge every thing that your splendid station requires. You have also a fine and acute genius, and your natural talents are cultivated by an excellent education. Your health seems free from the infirmities of life, and if any man may hope for a long duration here, you are the man who may expect it. With all these noble advantages you may aspire at any thing. But one thing is wanting. You are dazzled with your own splendor, and your feeble eyes are almost put out with the brilliancy of your condition. Your imagination struck with the idea of the prince, whom you have the honour to serve, makes you consider yourself as a kind of royal personage. You have formed your fa

mily on the plan of the court. You are proud, arrogant, haughty. Your seat resembles a tribunal, and all your expressions are sentences from which it is a crime to appeal. As you will never suffer yourself to be contradicted, you seem to be applauded: but a sacrifice is made to your vanity and not to your merit, and people bow not to your reason but to your tyranny. As they fear you avail yourself of your credit to brave others, each endeavours to oppose you, and to throw down in your absence the altar he had erected in your presence, and on which no incense sincerely offered burns, except that which you yourself put there.

So much for irregular passions in the mind. Let us now lay down a few rules for the government of the

senses.

Before we proceed, we cannot help deploring the misery of a man, who is impelled by the disorders of his senses, and the heat of his constitution to criminal passions. Such a man often deserve pity more than indignation. A bad constitution is sometimes compatible with a good heart. We cannot think without trembling of an ungrateful man, a cheat, a traitor, an assassin; for their crimes always suppose liberty of mind, and consent of will: but a man driven from the post of duty by the heat of his blood, by an overflow of humours, by the fermentation and flame of his spirits, often sins by constraint, and, so to speak, protests against his crime even while he commits it. Hence we often see angry people become full of love and pity, always inclining to forgive, or always ready to ask pardon; while others cold, calm, tranquil, revolve eternal hatreds in their souls, and leave them for an inheritance for their children.

However, though the irregularity of the senses diminishes. the atrociousness of the crime, yet it cannot excuse those, who do not make continual efforts to correct it. To acknowledge that we are constitutionally inclined to violate the laws of God, and to live quietly in practices directed by constitutional heat, is to have the interior tainted. It is an evidence that the malady, which at first attacked only the exterior of the man, hath communicated itself to all the frame, and infected the vitals. We oppose this against the frivolous excuses of some sinners, who while they abandon themselves like brute beasts to the most guilty passions, lay all the blame on the misfortune of their constitution. They say, their will hath no part in their excesses-they cannot change their constitution-and God cannot justly blame them for irVOL. V. regularities

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