Aphorisms on Man

APHORISMS ON MAN. TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT OF THE REV. JOHN CASPAR LAVATER, CITIZEN OF ZURIC.

— è coelo deſcendit [〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉].

JUV. Sat. IX.

THIRD EDITION.

T & J S

LONDON: PRINTED. NEW-YORK: RE-PRINTED BY T. AND J. SWORDS, FOR BERRY AND ROGERS, HANOVER-SQUARE. M,DCC,XC.

TO HENRY FUSELI, A. M.

TAKE, dear obſerver of men, from the hand of your unbiaſſed friend, this teſtimony of eſteem for your genius.

All the world know that this is no flattery; for, in an hundred things, I am not of your opinion; but, in what concerns the knowledge of mankind, we are nearer to one another than any two in ten thouſand.

What I give here is the reſult of long experience, matured and confirmed by various and daily application. It will be found, I hope, an uſeful book for every claſs of men, from the throne to the cottage. All is not, cannot be, new; but all ought to be true, uſeful, important; and much, I truſt, is new and individual.

I give you liberty not only to make improvements, but to omit what you think falſe or unimportant.

The number of rules may appear large, yet it is ſmall compared to what might have been written; in the mean time you and I, as well as our readers, may find ample employment in ſtudying theſe.

J. C. LAVATER.

Zuric, October 13, 1787.

ADVERTISEMENT.

IN the following collection of Aphoriſms the reader is not to expect a ſet of maxims compiled from the author's own, or by him ſelected from the works of others; but an original, meditated and compoſed in the ſeries here offered during the autumn of 1787, and trarſmitted in the author's own manuſcript to the publiſher.

Notwithſtanding the rapidity that attended this work, (and the world know that all this author's works are affuſions,) it will be found to contain what gives their value to maxims—verdicts of wiſdom on the reports of experience. If ſome are truiſms, let it be conſidered that Sclomon and Hippocrates wrote truiſms: if ſome are not new, they are recommended by an air of novelty: if whim ſhould appear to have dictated others, it was the whim of humanity; and what may be deamed raſh will be found to flow from the fervour of indignant honeſly, or the exultations of benevolence. Acute and perſpicuous, they are not infected by the cant of ſects, or circumſcribed by local notions, but general as the paſſions and feelings of the race.

It is the intention of the editor to add another volume of AMPHORISMS ON ART, WITH CHARACTERS AND EXAMPLES, not indeed by the ſame author, which the reader may expect in the courſe of the year.

APHORISMS.

1.

KNOW, in the firſt place, that mankind agree in eſſence, as they do in their limbs and ſenſes.

2.

Mankind differ as much in eſſence as they do in form, limbs, and ſenſes—and only ſo, and not more.

3.

As in looking upward each beholder thinks himſelf the centre of the ſky; ſo Nature formed her individuals, that each muſt ſee himſelf the centre of being.

4.

Exiſtence is ſelf-enjoyment, by means of ſome object diſtinct from ourſelves.

5.

As the medium of ſelf-enjoyment, as the objects of love—ſo the value, the character, and manner of exiſtence in man;—as his thou, ſo his I.—Penetrate the one, and you know the other.

6.

The more complex yet uniſorm, the more varied yet harmonious, the medium of ſelf-enjoyment;—the more exiſtent and real, the more vigorous and digniſied, the more bleſt and bleſſing is man.

7.

He, whom common, groſs, or ſtale objects allure, and, when obtained, content, is a vulgar being, incapable of greatneſs in thought or action.

8.

Who purſues means of enjoyment contradictory, irreconcilable, and ſelf-deſtructive, is a fool, or what is called a ſinner—Sin and deſtruction of order are the ſame.

9.

The more unharmonious and inconſiſtent your objects of deſire, the more inconſequent, inconſiſtent, unquiet, the more ignoble, idiotical, and criminal yourſelf.

10.

Copiouſneſs and ſimplicity, variety and unity, conſtitute real greatneſs of character.

11.

The leſs you can enjoy, the poorer, the ſcantier yourſelf—the more you can enjoy, the richer, the more vigorous.

You enjoy with wiſdom or with folly, as the gratification of your appetites capacitates or unnerves your powers.

12.

He ſcatters enjoyment who can enjoy much.

13.

Joy and grief decide character. What exalts proſperity? what imbitters grief? what leaves us indifferent? what intereſts us? As the intereſt of man, ſo his God—as his God, ſo he.

14.

What is a man's intereſt? what conſtitutes his God, the ultimate of his wiſhes, his end of exiſtence? Either that which on every occaſion he communicates with the moſt unreſtrained cordiality, or hides from every profane eye and ear with myſterious awe; to which he makes every other thing a mere appendix;—the vortex, the centre, the comparative point from which he ſets out, on which he fixes, to which he irreſiſtibly returns;—that, at the laſt of which you may ſafely think him inconſolable;—that which he reſcues from the gripe of danger with equal anxiety and boldneſs.

The ſtory of the painter and the prince is well known: to get at the beſt piece in the artiſt's collection, the prince ordered fire to be cried in the neighbourhood—at the firſt noiſe the artiſt abruptly left the prince, and ſeized his darling—his Titian. The alarm proved a falſe one, but the object of purchaſe was fixed. The application is eaſy: of thouſands it may be decided what loſs, what gain, would affect them moſt. This the ſage of Nazareth meant when he ſaid, Where thy treaſure is, there will thy heart be alſo.—The object of your love is your God.

15.

The more independent of accidents, the more ſelf-ſubſiſtent, the more fraught with internal reſources—the greater the character.

16.

The greateſt of characters, no doubt, would be he, who, free of all trifling accidental helps, could ſee objects through one grand immutable medium, always at hand, and proof againſt illuſion and time, reflecting every object in its true ſhape and colour through all the fluctuation of things.

17.

Where you find true internal life, conſiſtence of character, principles of real independence, ſympathy for univerſal harmony—where inexorable reſolution againſt all that threatens the real unity of exiſtence and bands of order—where you find theſe, there offer the homage due humanity.

18.

The ſtudy of man is the doctrine of uniſons and diſcords between ourſelves and others.

19.

As man's love or hatred, ſo he. Love and hatred exiſt only perſonified. As his hatred and love, ſo his will and its energy. As the energy of will, ſo the value, the character of man. Inveſtigate then what and how he loves or hates—as theſe are in perpetual uniſon, you diſcover his energy of will, and by that himſelf.

20.

Diſtinguiſh with exactneſs, in thyſelf and others, between wiſhes and will, in the ſtricteſt ſenſe.

Who has many wiſhes has generally but little will. Who has energy of will has few diverging wiſhes. Whoſe will is bent with energy on one, muſt renounce the wiſhes for many things. Who cannot do this is not ſtamped with the majeſty of human nature. The energy of choice, the uniſon of various powers for one, is alone will, born under the agonies of ſelf-denial and renounced deſires.

21.

Calmneſs of will is a ſign of grandeut. The vulgar, far from hiding their will, blab their wiſhes.—A ſingle ſpark of occaſion diſcharges the child of paſſions into a thouſand crackers of deſire.

22.

He knows not how to ſpeak who cannot be ſilent; ſtill leſs how to act with vigour and deciſion.—Who haſtens to the end is ſilent: loudneſs is impotence.

23.

Who in the ſame given time can produce more than many others, has vigour; who can produce more and better, has talents; who can produce what none elſe can, has gemus.

24.

The acquiſition of will, for one thing excluſively, preſuppoſes entire acquaintance with many others. Search into the progreſs of excluſive will, and you may learn whether it was formed by accident, or judgment, or both.

25.

Wiſhes run over in loquacious impotence, will preſſes on with laconic energy.

26.

The more uniform a man's voice, ſtep, manner of converſation, hand-writing—the more quiet, uniform, ſettled, his actions, his character.

27.

Who is open without levity; generous without waſte; ſecret without craft; humble without meanneſs; bold without inſolence; cautious without anxiety; regular, yet not formal; mild, yet not timid; firm, yet not tyrannical—is made to paſs the ordeal of honour, friendſhip, virtue.

28.

The glad gladdens—who gladdens not is not glad. Who is fatal to others is ſo to himſelf—to him, heaven, earth, wiſdom, [〈◊〉], virtue, vice, are equal—to ſuch an one tell neither good nor bad of yourſelf.

29.

Who forces himſelf on others, is to himſelf a load. Impetuous curioſity is empty and inconſtant. Prying intruſion may be ſuſpected of whatever is little.

30.

The ſhameleſs flatterer is a ſhameleſs knave.

31.

As the impudence of flattery, ſo the impudence of egotiſm.

32.

Let the degree of egotiſm be the meaſure of confidence.

33.

Indiſcretion, raſhneſs, falſehood, levity, and malice, produce each other.

34.

Who (the exhilarating mirth of humour excepted) gives uneaſineſs in order to enjoy it, is malicious; but there is both dignity and delicacy in giving uneaſineſs to confer greater delight than could have been obtained without it.

35.

Who pries is indiſcreet—the ſide glance, diſmayed when obſerved, ſeeks to enſnare.

36.

Who begins with ſeverity, in judging of another, ends commonly with falſehood.

37.

The ſmiles that encourage ſeverity of judgment hide malice and inſincerity.

38.

He, who boldly interpoſes between a mercileſs cenſor and his prey, is a man of vigour: and he who, mildly wiſe, without wounding, convinces him of his error, commands our veneration.

39.

Who, without preſſing temptation, tells a lie, will, without preſſing temptation, act ignobly and meanly.

40.

Who, under preſſing temptations to lie, adheres to truth, nor to the profane betrays aught of a ſacred truſt, is near the ſummit of wiſdom and virtue.

41.

Three things characteriſe man: perſon, fate, merit—the harmony of theſe conſtitutes real grandeur.

42.

Search carefully into the uniſon and diſcords of a man's perſon, fate, and merit; and you may analyſe his character ſo clearly, that you may almoſt with certainty foretell what he will be.

43.

As the preſent character of a man, ſo his paſt, ſo his future. Who recollects diſtinctly his paſt adventures, knows his deſtiny to come.

44.

You can depend on no man, on no friend, but him who can depend on himſelf. He only who acts conſequentially toward himſelf will act ſo toward others, and vice verſa.

Man is for ever the ſame; the ſame under every form, in all ſituations and relations that admit of free and unreſtrained exertion. The ſame regard which you have for yourſelf, you have for others, for nature, for the inviſible Numen, which you call God.—Who has witneſſed one free and unconſtrained act of yours, has witneſſed all.

45.

What is truth, wiſdom—virtue—magnanimity?—conſequence. And what is conſequence?—harmony between yourſelf and your ſituation, your point of ſight, and every relation of being.

46.

Where conſequence ceaſes, there folly, reſtleſſneſs and miſery begin. Conſequence determines your degree of reſpectability, in every diverging point, from your enemy to your God.

47.

Man has an inward ſenſe of conſequence—of all that is pertinent. This ſenſe is the eſſence of humanity: this, developed and determined, characteriſes him—this, diſplayed, in his education. The more ſtrict you are in obſerving what is pertinent or heterogeneous in character, actions, works of art and literature—the wiſer, nobler, greater, the more humane yourſelf.

48.

He who acts moſt conſequentially is the moſt friendly, and the moſt worthy of friendſhip—the more inconſequential, the leſs fit for any of its duties. In this I know I have ſaid ſomething common; but it will be very uncommon if I have made you attentive to it.

49.

Truſt him with none of thy individualities who is, or pretends to be, two things at once.

50.

The moſt exuberant encomiaſt turns eaſily into the moſt inveterate cenſor.

51.

The loſs of taſte for what is right is loſs of all right taſte.

52.

Who affects uſeleſs ſingularities has ſurely a little mind.

53.

All affectation is the vain and ridiculous attempt of poverty to appear rich.

54.

Frequent laughing has been long called a ſign of a little mind—whilſt the ſcarcer ſmile of harmleſs quiet has been complimented as the mark of a noble heart.—But to abſtain from laughing, and exciting laughter, merely not to offend, or to riſk giving offence, or not to debaſe the inward dignity of character—is a power unknown to many a vigorous mind.

55.

Who cannot make one in the circle of harmleſs merriment, without a ſecret cauſe of grief or ſeriouſneſs, may be ſuſpected of pride, hypocriſy, or formality.

56.

Softneſs of ſmile indicates ſoftneſs of character.

57.

The immoderate cannot laugh moderately.

58.

The horſe-laugh indicates brutality of character.

59.

A ſneer is often the ſign of heartleſs malignity.

60.

Who courts the intimacy of a profeſſed ſneerer, is a profeſſed knave.

61.

I know not which of theſe two I ſhould wiſh to avoid moſt; the ſcoffer at virtue and religion, who, with heartleſs villany, butchers innocence and truth; or the pieteſt, who crawls, groans, blubbers, and ſecretly ſays to gold, thou art my hope! and to his belly, thou art my god!

62.

All moral dependence on him, who has been guilty of one act of poſitive cool villany, againſt an acknowledged, virtuous and noble character, is credulity, imbecility, or inſanity.

63.

The moſt ſtormy ebullitions of paſſion, from blaſphemy to murder, are leſs terrific than one ſingle act of cool villany: a ſtill rabies is more dangerous than the paroxiſms of a fever.—Fear the boiſterous ſavage of paſſion leſs than the ſedately grinning villain.

64.

Who defends a thing demonſtrated bad, and, with a contemptuous ſhrug, rejects another demonſtrated good, is, by the deciſion of the moſt unequivocal charity, a decided knave.

65.

Take this as another mark of a decided knave—that, after each knaviſh expreſſion, he labours to ſuppreſs a grin of malice, and meditates new miſchief.

66.

Can he love truth who can take a knave to his boſom?

67.

There are offences againſt individuals, to all appearance trifling, which are capital offences againſt the human race:—fly him who can commit them.

68.

There ought to be a perpetual whiſper in the ear of plain honeſty—take heed not even to pronounce the name of a knave—he will make the very ſound of his name a handle of miſchief. And do you think a knave begins miſchief to leave off? Know this—whether he overcome or be foiled, he will wrangle on.

69.

Humility and love, whatever obſcurities may involve religious tenets, conſtitute the eſſence of true religion. The humble is formed to adore; the loving to aſſociate with eternal love.

70.

Have you ever ſeen a vulgar mind warm or humble; or a proud one that could love? where pride begins love ceaſes—as love, ſo humility—as both, ſo the ſtill real power of man.

71.

Every thing may be mimicked by hypocriſy, but humility and love united. The humbleſt ſtar twinkles moſt in the darkeſt night.—The more rare humility and love united, the more radiant when they meet.

72.

From him, who premeditatedly injures humility and love, expect nothing—nothing generous, nothing juſt.

73.

Modeſty is ſilent when it would not be improper to ſpeak: the humble, without being called upon, never recollects to ſay any thing of himſelf.

74.

The oppreſſive is hard. If ten, choſen from the croud by yourſelf, call you oppreſſive, it is more than probable that you have a raw, hard, indelicate ſide.

75.

Humility with energy is often miſtaken for pride, though pride with energy is never called humble. Mankind expect much oftener pride than humility. Humility muſt be amazingly certain indeed before it ſhall be acknowledged by the humble and the proud, as readily as pride by both.

76.

All have moments of energy; but, thoſe moments excepted, the humbly-affectionate, as ſuch, is never oppreſſive; whilſt the leaſt motion of the proud oppreſſes. Hardneſs and pride ſhew themſelves in a thouſand forms, ſpeak a thouſand languages, which every eye and every ear can interpret.

77.

He who has the power to paſs ſuddenly from rage to calmneſs, or, what is the ſame, to hide a guſt of paſſion, may not be a hypocrite, but muſt be intolerable in his fits.

78.

The wrath that on conviction ſubſides into mildneſs, is the wrath of a generous mind.

79.

Who will ſacrifice nothing, and enjoy all, is a fool.

80.

Thouſands are hated, whilſt none are ever loved, without a real cauſe. The amiable alone can be loved.

81.

He who is loved and commands love, when he corrects or is the cauſe of uneaſineſs, muſt be lovelineſs itſelf; and

82.

He who can love him in the moment of correction, is the moſt amiable of mortals.

83.

He, to whom you may tell any thing, may ſee every thing, and will betray nothing.

84.

You often feel yourſelf invigorated to tell, without fear, ſome bold truth to certain great characters who would never forgive being corrected in trifles. Puſhed once for my opinion by one who pretended a ſerious deſign of ſelf-amendment, and prefaced his requeſt by proteſting—that nothing could offend him—that he would even ſubmit to be called a fiend—I replied, you may tell a man thou art a fiend, but not your noſe wants blowing—to him alone who can bear a thing of that kind, you may tell all.

85.

He can feel no little wants who is in purſuit of grandeur.

86.

The freer you feel yourſelf in the preſence of another, the more free is he: who is free makes free.

87.

Call him wiſe whoſe actions, words, and ſteps, are all a clear becauſe to a clear why.

88.

Who knows whence he comes, where he is, and whither he tends, he, and he alone, is wiſe.

89.

Decided ends are ſure ſigns of a decided character; and

90.

Vague ends of a vague character.

91.

Who makes quick uſe of the moment is a genius of prudence.

92.

Who inſtantly does the beſt that can be done, what no other could have done, and what all muſt acknowledge to be the beſt, is a genius and a hero at once.

93.

The diſcovery of truth, by ſlow progreſſive meditation, is wiſdom.—Intuition of truth, not preceded by perceptible meditation, is genius.

94.

Intuition is the clear conception of the whole at once. It ſeldom belongs to man to ſay without preſumption, I came, ſaw, vanquiſhed.

95.

Avoid the eye that diſcovers with rapidity the bad, and is ſlow to ſee the good.

96.

Dread more the blunderer's friendſhip than the calumniator's enmity.

97.

He only, who can give durability to his exertions, has genuine power and energy of mind.

98.

Before thou calleſt a man hero or genius, inveſtigate whether his exertion has features of indelibility; for all that is celeſtial, all genius, is the offspring of immortality.

99.

Who deſpiſes all that is deſpicable is made to be impreſſed with all that is grand.

100.

Who can pay homage to the truly deſpicable is truly contemptible.

101.

The moſt contemptible of thoſe that ever were or ever can be deſpiſed by the wiſe, is he who, with opportunities of being acquainted with what is noble, pure, grand, gives himſelf airs of deſpiſing it.

102.

He who can deſpiſe nothing can value nothing with propriety; and who can value nothing has no right to deſpiſe any thing.

103.

Sagacity in ſelecting the good, and courage to honour it, according to its degree, determines your own degree of goodneſs.

104.

Some characters are poſitive, and ſome negative.

105.

Who gives is poſitive; who receives is negative; ſtill there remains an immenſe claſs of mere paſſives.

106.

There is a negative claſs whoſe conſtant aim is deſtruction, who perpetually labour to demoliſh, to imbitter, to detract from ſomething within us; theſe avoid if you can, but examine what they ſay; their far-fetched criticiſms will often make you attend to what elſe might have eſcaped obſervation.

107.

Who takes from you ought to give in his turn, or he is a thief; I diſtinguiſh taking and accepting, robbing and receiving: many give already by the mere wiſh to give; their ſtill unequivocal wiſh of improvement and gratitude, whilſt it draws from us, opens treaſures within us that might have remained locked up, even to ourſelves.

108.

Seeking, accepting, giving, make nearly the ſum of all neceſſary knowledge.

Who ſeeks, inveſtigates, entreats, and aſks; who accepts, hears, fixes, and applies; who gives, communicates, gladdens, and enriches.

109.

Who can hear with compoſure, attend in ſilence, and liſten to the end—may already be conſidered as wiſe, juſt, noble: his judgment, of whatever comes within his ſphere, where he can hear, and hear out with compoſure, may, till you meet with one better, ſerve for an oracle.

110.

Who can relate with compoſure, with preciſion, truth, clearneſs, and artleſs ſentiment, and relate the ſame twice equally well—him ſeek for a friend, or rather deſerve to be his friend.

111.

Who can liſten without conſtraint whilſt an important thing is telling, can keep a ſecret when told.

112.

As a perſon's yes and no, ſo all his character. A downright yes and no marks the firm; a quick the rapid; and a ſlow one a cautious or timid character.

113.

Vociferation and calmneſs of character ſeldom meet in the ſame perſon.

114.

Who writes as he ſpeaks, ſpeaks as he writes, looks as he ſpeaks and writes—is honeſt.

115.

A habit of ſneering marks the egotiſt, or the fool, or the knave—or all three.

116.

Who cuts is eaſily wounded. The readier you are to offend the ſooner you are offended.

117.

Who, inattentive to anſwers, accumulates queſtions will not be informed, and who means not to be informed aſks like a fool.

118.

Who writes an illegible hand is commonly rapid, often impetuous, in his judgments.

119.

As you treat your body, ſo your houſe, your domeſtics, your enemies, your friends—Dreſs is a table of your contents.

120.

Certain trifling flaws ſit as diſgracefully on a character of elegance as a ragged button on a court dreſs.

121.

Who knows not how to wait with yes, will often be with ſhame reduced to ſay no. Letting "I dare not wait upon I would."^[1]

122.

As one flatters ſo he cuts, ſo he detracts.

123.

Who has done certain things once may be expected to repeat them a thouſand times.

124.

Who has a daring eye tells downright truths and downright lies.

125.

Who ſedulouſly attends, pointedly aſks, calmly ſpeaks, coolly anſwers, and ceaſes when he has no more to ſay, is in poſſeſſion of ſome of the beſt requiſites of man.

126.

Who ſeldom ſpeaks, and with one calm well-timed word can ſtrike dumb the loquacious—is a genius or a hero.

127.

Who makes many decided queſtions, and gives evaſive anſwers, will find it difficult to eſcape the ſuſpicion of craft and duplicity.

128.

Who interrupts often is inconſtant and inſincere.

129.

Who always willingly relates is not ſagacious; and who relates always with reluctance ſeems to want ſentiment and politeneſs.

130.

The quicker, the louder, the applauſe with which another tries to gain you over to his purpoſe—the bitterer his cenſure if he miſs his aim.

131.

The ambitious ſacrifices all to what he terms honour, as the miſer all to money. Who values gold above all conſiders all elſe as trifling: who values fame above all deſpiſes all but fame. The truly virtuous has an excluſive taſte for virtue. A great paſſion has no partner.

132.

The procraſtinator is not only indolent and weak but commonly falſe too—moſt of the weak are falſe.

133.

All cavillers are ſuſpicious. The ſupercilious imbitters: he will neither love nor be loved.

134.

Who trades in contradictions will not be contradicted.

135.

Who can look quietly at nothing will never do any thing worthy of imitation.

136.

Who is reſpectable when thinking himſelf alone and free from obſervation will be ſo before the eye of all the world.

137.

Who not only renders ſpontaneous juſtice to his rival, but with cordial praiſe enumerates his merits more clearly than his competitor could himſelf have done, is not only one of the moſt perſpicacious, but one of the grandeſt of mortals—and has, ſuperlatively, pronounced his own panegyric.

138.

True genius repeats itſelf for ever, and never repeats itſelf—one ever varied ſenſe beams novelty and unity on all.

139.

He who has genius and eloquence ſufficient either to cover or to excuſe his errors, yet extenuates not, but rather accuſes himſelf, and unequivocally confeſſes guilt—approaches the circle of immortals, whom human language has dignified with the appellation of gods and ſaints.

140.

Small attentions to preſſing diſregarded wants, not eaſily diſcovered, and leſs eaſily ſatisfied, are the privilege of a few great ſouls.

141.

Many trifling inattentions, neglects, indiſcretions—are ſo many unequivocal proofs of dull frigidity, hardneſs, or extreme egotiſm.

142.

He, who confident of being right, can check his anger at the effrontery of unjuſt claims, calmly produce his vouchers, and leave them to ſpeak for themſelves, is more than a juſt man.

143.

Who, in the midſt of juſt provocation to anger, inſtantly finds the fit word which ſettles all around him in ſilence, is more than wiſe or juſt: he is, were he a beggar, of more than royal blood—he is of celeſtial deſcent.

144.

There are actions, ſentiments, manners, ſpeeches; there is a ſilence of ſuch magnitude, energy, deciſion—as to be ſingly worth a whole life of ſome men. He who has theſe features never can act meanly—all his actions, words, writings, however to appearance ambiguous, muſt be ſtamped by their ſuperior energy.

145.

There are many who are much acquainted with man, and little with the world; others that know the world, and are not acquainted with man. Theſe two kinds of knowledge, miſtaken for each other, occaſion many unjuſt and precipitate deciſions: let every one, really intent on the ſtudy of mankind, avoid confounding, and carefully ſearch to unite them.

146.

Who always loſes the more he is known muſt undoubtedly be very poor.

147.

Who, in a long courſe of familiarity, neither gains nor loſes, has a very mean, vulgar, character.

148.

Who always wins and never loſes, the more he is known, enjoyed, uſed, is as much above a vulgar character.

149.

Who has no friend and no enemy is one of the vulgar; and without talents, powers, or energy.

150.

As your enemies and your friend ſo are you.

151.

You may depend upon it that he is a good man whoſe intimate friends are all good, and whoſe enemies are characters decidedly bad.

152.

He muſt be a man of worth who is not forſaken by the good, when the mean and malicious unite to oppreſs him.

153.

He muſt be very bad who cannot find a ſingle friend, though he be praiſed, noticed, puffed.

154.

Who is thoroughly bad?—he that has no ſenſe for what is thoroughly good.

155.

That moſt uncommon of all mortals, him who can, whilſt advancing to fame, enter into the detail of all the wants of an unknown good character, and who would loſe the whole enjoyment of it if he knew he had been obſerved—him I ſhould wiſh to know, and to addreſs him—Saint of ſaints, pray for us!

156.

The ſtrong or weak ſide of a man can never be know ſo ſoon as when you ſee him engaged in diſpute with a weak or malicious wrangler.

157.

Say not you know another entirely till you have divided an inheritance with him.

158.

Who keeps his promiſe punctually, and promiſes nothing but what he had the power and the will to keep, is as prudent as juſt.

159.

Who, at every promiſe, intends to perform more than his promiſe, and can depend on the ſincerity of his will, is more than prudent and juſt.

160.

There are rapid moments of joy and of grief; moments which every one has, at leaſt once in his life, that illuminate his character at once.

161.

The manner of giving ſhews the character of the giver more than the gift itſelf—there is a princely manner of giving, and a royal manner of accepting.

162.

Who forgets, and does not forget himſelf, in the joy of giving and of accepting is ſublime.

163.

Who, at the preſſing ſolicitation of bold and noble confidence, heſitates one moment before he conſents, proves himſelf at once inexorable.

164.

Who, at the ſolicitations of cunning, ſelf-intereſt, ſillineſs, or impudence, heſitates one moment before he refuſes, proves himſelf at once a ſilly giver.

165.

Examine carefully whether a man is fonder of exceptions than of rules; as he makes uſe of exceptions he is ſagacious; as he applies them againſt the rule he is wrongheaded. I heard in one day a man who thought himſelf wiſe produce thrice, as rules, the ſtrangeſt half-proved exceptions againſt millions of demonſtrated contrary examples, and thus obtained the moſt intuitive idea of the ſophiſt's character. Of all human forms and characters none is leſs improveable, none more intolerable or oppreſſive, than the race of ſophiſts. They are intolerable againſt all nature, againſt all that is called general, demonſtrated truth: they attempt to demoliſh the moſt ſolid and magnificent fabric with a grain of ſand picked from off its ſtones. Such knaves, whom to tolerate exceeds almoſt the bounds of human toleration, avoid like ſerpents! If you once engage with them there is no end to wrangling. A ſneer, and the helpleſs miſery of better hearts, are their only aim and their higheſt enjoyment.

166.

Who ſpeaks often haſtily, ſometimes ſlowly, now heſitates, then wanders from the queſtion, is either in a ſtate of confuſion or ſtupefaction, or may be ſuſpected of inconſtancy and falſehood.

167.

Who, without call or office, induſtriouſly recalls the remembrance of paſt errors to confound him who has repented of them, is a villain.

168.

Whenever a man undergoes a conſiderable change, in conſequence of being obſerved by others, whenever he aſſumes another gait, another language, than what he had before he thought himſelf obſerved, be adviſed to guard yourſelf againſt him.

169.

Who, preſent or abſent, thinks and ſays the ſame of his friend and enemy—is more than honeſt—more than man—he is a hero.

170.

I am prejudiced in favour of him who can ſolicit boldly, without impudence—he has faith in humanity—he has faith in himſelf. No one who is not accuſtomed to give grandly can aſk nobly and with boldneſs.

171.

The worſt of all knaves are thoſe who can mimic their former honeſty.

172.

He who goes round about in his requeſts wants commonly more than he chuſes to appear to want.

173.

Who crawlingly receives will give ſuperciliouſly.

174.

Who rapidly decides without examining proofs will perſiſt obſtinately.

175.

Who praiſes what he thinks bad, and cenſures what he thinks good, is either unimprovably weak, or intolerably deceitful.

176.

As a man's ſalutation ſo the total of his character: in nothing do we lay ourſelves ſo open as in our manner of meeting and ſalutation.

177.

Be afraid of him who meets you with friendly aſpect, and, in the midſt of a flattering ſalutation, avoids your direct open look.

178.

The preſence of him is oppreſſive whoſe going away makes thoſe he leaves eaſy; and he, whoſe preſence was oppreſſive, was either good in bad or bad in good company.

179.

Fly both the ſneaking and the boiſterous; for the one will wound, the other will not defend you.

180.

Examine what, and how, and where, and when, a man praiſes or cenſures; he who always, and every where, and, as to eſſentials, in an uniform manner, cenſures and blames, is a man that may be depended upon.

181.

He, who has the air of being quite unconcerned at the praiſes beſtowed upon another, is either very prudent or very envious; and at the ſame time convinced that thoſe praiſes are deſerved. Perhaps he acts nobly if, from motives of humanity, he repreſſes his own judgment, which poſſibly might cruſh the praiſe.

182.

Who cenſures with modeſty will praiſe with ſincerity.

183.

Too much gravity argues a ſhallow mind.

184.

Pedantry and taſte are as inconſiſtent as gaiety and melancholy.

185.

All finery is a ſign of littleneſs.

186.

Slovenlineſs and indelicacy of character commonly go hand in hand.

187.

The ſloven has no reſpect either for himſelf or others.

188.

Who makes too much or too little of himſelf has a falſe meaſure for every thing.

189.

He, who has no taſte for order, will be often wrong in his judgments, and ſeldom conſiderate or conſcientious in his actions.

190.

The more honeſty a man has the leſs he affects the air of a ſaint—the affectation of ſanctity is a blotch on the face of piety.

191.

There are more heroes than ſaints; (heroes I call rulers over the minds and deſtinies of men); more ſaints than humane characters. Him, who humanizes all that is within and around himſelf, adore. I know but of one ſuch by tradition.

192.

Who in certain moments can entirely loſe himſelf in another, and, in the midſt of the greateſt action, thinks of no obſerver, is a jewel in the crown of human nature.

193.

Who ſeeks thoſe that are greater than himſelf, their greatneſs enjoys, and forgets his greateſt qualities in their greater ones, is already truly great.

194.

And truly little is he who, abſorbed in trifles, has no taſte for the great, goes in perpetual queſt of the little, and labours to impreſs inferiors with his own conceited greatneſs.

195.

The more one ſpeaks of himſelf the leſs he likes to hear another talked of.

196.

The more you can forget others who ſuffer, and dwell upon yourſelf, who ſuffer not, the more contemptible is your ſelf-love.

197.

Who partakes in another's joys is a more humane character than he who partakes in his griefs.

198.

Who can conceal his joys is greater than he who can hide his griefs.

199.

Who conceals joys is formed to invent great joys.

200.

The wrangler, the puzzler, the word hunter, are incapable of great thoughts or actions.

201.

Who, crab-like, crawls backwards when he ſhould meet you like a friend may be ſuſpected of plotting and falſehood.

202.

Neither the cold nor the fervid, but characters uniformly warm, are formed for friendſhip.

203.

The ungrateful are not ſo certainly bad as the grateful are certainly good characters.

204.

We ſee more when others converſe among themſelves than when they ſpeak to us.

205.

Aſk yourſelf of every one you are concerned with what can I give him? what is he in want of? what is he capable of accepting? what would he accept of? and if you can tell you know at leaſt three fourths of his character.

206.

Who has no confidence in himſelf has no faith in others, and none in God.

207.

Who can ſubdue his own anger is more than ſtrong; who can allay another's is more than wiſe; hold faſt on him who can do both.

208.

Who ſeems proud wants at leaſt the look of humility.—Light without ſplendour, fire without heat, humility without meekneſs, what are they?

209.

None love without being loved; and none beloved is without lovelineſs.

210.

He, whoſe pride oppreſſes the humble, may perhaps be humbled, but will never be humble.

211.

Who, at the relation of ſome unmerited misfortune, ſmiles, is either a fool, a fiend, or a villain.

212.

Who pretends to little when he might aſſume much, feels his own importance and oppreſſes not, is truly reſpectable.

213.

Kiſs the hand of him who can renounce what he has publicly taught when convicted of his error, and who, with heartfelt joy, embraces truth, though with the ſacrifice of favourite opinions.

214.

He who attaches himſelf to the immoral is weak and abject; or, if he have parts, plots miſchief.

215.

The friend of order has made half his way to virtue.

216.

There is no mortal truly wiſe and reſtleſs at once—wiſdom is the repoſe of minds.

217.

His taſte is totally corrupt who loves contradictory variety or empty unconnected uniformity alone.

218.

Whom mediocrity attracts taſte has abandoned.

219.

Who in giving receives, and in receiving ſhares the bliſs of the generous giver, is noble.

220.

Make friendſhip with none who upbraidingly ſcores up againſt thee the moments of harmleſs indulgence.

221.

Who can wait the moment of maturity in ſpeaking, writing, acting, giving, will have nothing to retract, and little to repent of.

222.

He is a great and ſelf-poiſed character whom praiſe unnerves not; he is a greater one who ſupports unjuſt cenſure—the greater is he who, with acknowledged powers, repreſſes his own, and even turns to uſe undeſerved cenſure.

223.

Who, in receiving a benefit, eſtimates its value more cloſely than in conferring one, ſhall be a citizen of a better world.

224.

Avoid him as a fiend who makes a wry mouth at the praiſe beſtowed on a great or noble character.

225.

Suſpicion bids futurity diſavow the preſent.

226.

Forbear to enquire into the motive of plans decidedly uſeful to ſociety; nor, if they are of a nature to want general aſſiſtance, think you have done enough in concurring to vote public honours or ſtatues to their authors.

227.

Great affairs may be intruſted, and ſtill greater actions expected, of him who, by a ſingle ready medium, knows how to unite and to attain many harmonious ends.

228.

He plans like a pedant who is obliged to drag a number of means to the attainment of ſome petty end.

229.

The more inconſiderable, common, and ſeemingly eaſy of diſcovery, the means to the attainment of ſome great end—the more genius is there is the plan.

230.

Imitate him whoſe obſervation paſſes not even the moſt minute, whilſt it follows only the higheſt, objects: the ſeeds of grandeur lie already in himſelf; he gives his own turn to every thing, and borrows leſs than ſeizes with one immediate glance: ſuch an one never ſtops; his flight is that of the eagle, who, like an arrow, wings the mid air, whilſt his pinions appear motionleſs.

231.

Who (to ſpeak with Shakſpeare) lets ſlip the dogs of war on modeſt defenceleſs merit, and burſts out into a loud inſolting laugh, when pale, timid innocence trembles—him avoid—avoid his ſpecious calmneſs, the harbinger of ſtorms—avoid his flattery, it will ſoon turn to the lion's roar, and the howl of wolves.

232.

The connoiſſeur in painting diſcovers an original by ſome great line, though covered with duſt, and diſguiſed by daubing; ſo he who ſtudies man diſcovers a valuable character by ſome original trait, though unnoticed, diſguiſed, or debaſed—raviſhed at the diſcovery, he feels it his duty to reſtore it to its own genuine ſplendour. Him who, in ſpite of contemptuous pretenders, has the boldneſs to do this, chooſe for your friend.

233.

He who writes with inſolence, when anonymous and unknown, and ſpeaks with timidity in the preſence of the good—ſeems to be cloſely allied to baſeneſs.

234.

Who writes what he ſhould tell, and dares not tell what he writes, is either like a wolf in ſheep's clothing or like a ſheep in a wolf's ſkin.

235.

Deſpond, deſpair for ever, of the character and manly honeſty of him who, when he has obtained forgiveneſs from a noble character ignobly offended, in baſe reliance on his magnanimity continues publicly to calumniate him.

236.

Diſtinguiſh exactly what one is when he ſtands alone, and acts for himſelf, and when he is led by others. I know many who act always honeſtly, often with delicacy, when left to themſelves; and like knaves when influenced by ſome overbearing characters, whom they once ſlavi2hly ſubmitted to follow.

237.

Be certain that he who has betrayed thee once will betray thee again.

238.

Know that the great art to love your enemy conſiſts in never loſing ſight of man in him: humanity has power over all that is human; the moſt inhuman man ſtill remains man, and never can throw off all taſte for what becomes a man—but you muſt learn to wait.

239.

If you never judge another till you have calmly obſerved him, till you have heard him, heard him out, put him to the teſt, and compared him with yourſelf and others, you will never judge unjuſtly, you will repair whatever precipitately has eſcaped you.

240.

He, who is too proud to atone for wilful detraction, is a thief, who keeps poſſeſſion of what he ſtole, and laughs at the idea of reſtitution as enthuſiaſtic nonſenſe.

241.

The moſt abhorred thing in nature is the face that ſmiles abroad and flaſhes fury when it returns to the lap of a tender helpleſs family.

242.

Let him look to his heart whoſe call it is to ſpeak for friends and againſt enemies: if calmly he ſpeak pure truth for and againſt, he will ſtand the teſt of moral inquiry on earth or in heaven.

243.

Who welcomes the look of the good is good himſelf.

244.

I know deiſts whoſe religiouſneſs I venerate, and atheiſts whoſe honeſty and nobleneſs of mind I wiſh for; but I have not yet ſeen the man who could have tempted me to think him honeſt who publicly acted the Chriſtian whilſt privately he was a poſitive deiſt.

245.

The venal wanton, who robs her culley, is a ſaint to him who wheedles himſelf into the confidence of an honeſt heart, to throw his ſecrets to the dogs.

246.

He who laughed at you till he got to your door; flattered you as you opened it; felt the force of your argument whilſt he was with you; applauded when he roſe, and after he went away blaſts you—has the moſt indiſputable title to an archdukedom in hell.

247.

Who ſinds the cleareſt not clear thinks the darkeſt not obſcure.

248.

The merely juſt can generally bear great virtues as little as great vices.

249.

The craftieſt wiles are too ſhort and ragged a cloak to cover a bad heart.

250.

Who aſks, without inſolence, what none elſe dare to aſk, with noble freedom anſwers as none elſe would anſwer; requeſts as none dare to requeſt; and, without humbling or offence, gives as none other can give—is formed for friendſhip, is the flower of his age, and muſt be a prince in the world to come.

251.

Aſk not only, am I hated? but, by whom?—am I loved? but, why?—As the good love thee, the bad will hate thee.

252.

Who aſſigns a bad motive to debaſe an act decidedly good, may depend on the contempt of the bad and good.

253.

Who is feared by all the weak, deſpiſed by all the ſtrong, and hated by all the good, may ſecurely ſay to himſelf—No matter, if there be no other raſcal left on earth, I am ſtill one.

254.

The bad man, who protects another bad man, has either committed ſome action notoriouſly bad, or plots one.

255.

The diſintereſted defender of oppreſſed humanity againſt an uſurping tyrant—is a royal hero—and this was the time to tell it.

256.

He who is always in want of ſomething cannot be very rich. 'Tis a poor wight who lives by borrowing the words, deciſions, mien, inventions, and actions, of others.

257.

He who has opportunities to inſpect the ſacred moments of elevated minds, and ſeizes none, is a ſon of dulneſs; but he who turns thoſe moments into ridicule will betray with a kiſs, and in embracing murder.

258.

Who prefers being ſeen to ſeeing is neither ſincere nor humble.

259.

The breath of envy blaſts friendſhip: he, whom the ſuperiority of a friend offends, will never impreſs an enemy with awe.

260.

Have you ever ſeen a pedant with a warm heart?

261.

The generous never recounts minutely the actions he has done; nor the prudent thoſe he will do.

262.

Who can act or perform as if each work or action were firſt, the laſt, and only one in his life, is great in his ſphere.

263.

Who ſeeks to ſever friends is incapable of friendſhip—ſhall loſe all that merits the name of friend, and meet a fiend in his own heart.

264.

Him, who ſets out with the praiſe of a friend, ſtumbles as he proceeds on a but, and ends in rigid cenſure, call what you chooſe—but honeſt.

265.

Not every one who has eloquence of ſpeech underſtands the eloquence of ſilence. He, who can expreſs a great meaning by ſilence when much might have been ſaid pointedly, and when a common man would have been prolix, will ſpeak in the moment of deciſion like an oracle.

266.

We can do all by ſpeech and ſilence. He, who underſtands the double art of ſpeaking opportunely to the moment, and of ſaying not a ſyllable more or leſs than it demanded—and he who can wrap himſelf up in ſilence when every word would be in vain—will underſtand to connect energy with patience.

267.

Juſt as you are pleaſed at finding faults, you are diſpleaſed at finding perfections.

He gives me the moſt perfect idea of a fiend who ſuffers at the perfections of others, and enjoys their errors.

268.

Let the unhappineſs you feel at another's errors, and the happineſs you enjoy in their perfections, be the meaſure of your progreſs in wiſdom and virtue.

269.

Who becomes every day more ſagacious, in obſerving his own faults, and the perfections of another, without either envying him or deſpairing of himſelf, is ready to mount the ladder on which angels aſcend and deſcend.

270.

He, who ſeeks to imbitter innocent pleaſure, has a cancer in his heart.

271.

He, who is good before inviſible witneſſes, is eminently ſo before the viſible.

272.

The more there is of mind in your ſolitary employments, the more dignity there is in your character.

273.

He, who attempts to make others believe in means which he himſelf deſpiſes, is a puffer: he, who makes uſe of more means than he knows to be neceſſary, is quack; and he, who aſcribes to thoſe means a greater efficacy than his own experience warrants, is an impoſtor.

274.

He is not a ſtep from real greatneſs who gives to his own ſingular experiments neither more nor leſs importance than their own nature warrants.

275.

He, who can at all times ſacrifice pleaſure to duty, approaches ſublimity.

276.

The calm preſence of a ſublime mind inſpires veneration, excites great thoughts and noble ſentiments in the wiſe and good.

277.

The moſt eloquent ſpeaker, the moſt ingenuous writer, and the moſt accompliſhed ſtateſman, cannot effect ſo much as the mere preſence of the man who tempers his wiſdom and his vigour with humanity.

278.

He who maliciouſly takes advantage of the unguarded moments of friendſhip, is no farther from knavery than the lateſt moment of evening from the firſt of night.

279.

Between the beſt and the worſt, there are, you ſay, innumerable degrees—and you are right; but admit that I am right too, in ſaying that the beſt and the worſt differ only in one thing—in the object of their love.

280.

What is it you love in him you love? what is it you hate in him you hate? Anſwer this cloſely to yourſelf, pronounce it loudly, and you will know yourſelf and him.

281.

There is no object in nature and the world without its good, uſeful, or amiable, ſide.—Who diſcovers that ſide firſt in inanimate things, is ſagacious; and who diſcovers it in the animate, is liberal.

282.

If you ſee one cold and vehement at the ſame time, ſet him down for a fanatic.

283.

The calmly warm is wiſe and noble.

284.

It is a ſhort ſtep from modeſty to humility; but a ſhorter one from vanity to folly, and from weakneſs to falſehood.

285.

Who can hide magnanimity ſtands on the ſupreme degree of human nature.

286.

Who demands of you what he knows he never gave you, ſtands on the loweſt degree of human nature, and is deſpiſed by the beſt and worſt.

287.

Who, from negligence, defers the reſtitution of things perpetually redemanded, has lies on his right and theft on his left.

288.

He, who has the impudence either to exhibit as good, an action undeniably bad—or aſcribes a bad motive to another, undeniably good—is at once a falſe coiner and a juggler.

289.

You need not hear ſeven words (ſaid a peaſant whom I paſſed this 28th of September, 1787, whilſt I was meditating theſe rules); you need not hear ſeven words to know a man, five or ſix are ſufficient.

290.

The proverbial wiſdom of the populace in gates, on roads, and markets, inſtructs the attentive ear of him who ſtudies man more fully than a thouſand rules oſtentatiouſly arranged.

291.

He has not a little of the devil in him who prays and bites.

292.

He who, when called upon to ſpeak a diſagreeable truth, tells it boldly and has done, is both bolder and milder than he who nibbles in a low voice, and never ceaſes nibbling.

293.

As the ſhadow follows the body, ſo reſtleſs ſullenneſs the female knave.

294.

As the wily ſubtility of him who is intent on gain, ſo the abrupt brutality of him who has gained enough.

295.

Be not the fourth friend of him who had three before and loſt them.

296.

Who is never raſh in letters, will ſeldom be ſo in ſpeech or actions.

297.

He, whoſe letters are the real tranſcript of friendly converſation, without affected effuſions of ſentiment or wit, ſeems to have a heart formed for friendſhip.

298.

Want of friends argues either want of humility or courage, or both.

299.

He, who, at a table of forty covers, thirtynine of which are exquiſite, and one indifferent, lays hold of that, and with a "damn your dinner," daſhes it in the landlord's face, ſhould be ſent to Bethlem or to Bridewell— and whither he, who blaſphemes a book, a work of art, or perhaps a man, of nine-and-thirty good and but one bad quality, and calls thoſe fools or flatterers who, engroſſed by the ſuperior number of good qualities, would fain forget the bad one.

300.

Pull off your hat before him whom fortune has exalted above ten thouſand; but put it on again with both your hands if he laugh at fortune.

301.

Who turns up his noſe is unfit for friendſhip.

302.

The collector who trifles not, and heaps knowledge without pedantry, is a favourite of Nature.

303.

Who parodies a good character without a deſire of improving him, has a bad heart.

304.

Let the four-and-twenty elders in heaven riſe before him who, from motives of humanity, can totally ſuppreſs an arch, full-pointed, but offenſive bon mot.

305.

Him, who inceſſantly laughs in the ſtreet, you may commonly hear grumbling in his cloſet.

306.

Who will not ſee where he ſhould or could, ſhall not ſee when he would.

307.

Be ſure that every knave is a ſop or coward when a downright honeſt man plants himſelf over againſt him.

308.

Inſolence, where there is no danger, is deſpondence where there is.

309.

He, who is led by the paſſionate, has three enemies to cope with during life—the contempt of the good, the tyranny of his leaders, and rankling diſcontent.

310.

The ſooner you forget your moral intuition the weaker, the leſs to be depended on, yourſelf.

311.

Truſt him with little who, without proofs, truſts you with every thing; or, when he has proved you, with nothing.

312.

Compare carefully and frequently the different ways in which the ſame perſon ſpeaks with you and with others; before you, and with you alone; or, in the preſence of others, on the ſame topic.

313.

Call him Saint who can forget his own ſufferings in the minute griefs of others.

314.

He, who loſes the ſun in his ſpots—a beautiful face in a few freckles—and a grand character in a few harmleſs ſingularities—may chooſe, of two appellations, one—wronghead or knave.

315.

He alone, who makes uſe of his enemies to improve the knowledge of himſelf, is ſeriouſly inclined to grow better.

316.

Who, purpoſely, cheats his friend, would cheat his God.

317.

She neglects her heart who ſtudies her glaſs.

318.

Keep him at leaſt three paces diſtant who hates bread, muſic, and the laugh of a child.

319.

Could you but hear how one ſpeaks to the poor and deſpiſed, when he thinks himſelf unobſerved, you might form a judgment of his character.

320.

It is a mighty mind that praiſes an enemy, and graſps at never-fading honours.

321.

He, who in queſtions of right, virtue, or duty, ſets himſelf above all poſſible ridicule, is truly great, and ſhall laugh in the end with truer mirth than ever he was laughed at.

322.

A merchant who always tells truth, and a genius who never lies, are ſynonymous to a ſaint.

323.

Between paſſion and lie there is not a finger's breadth.

324.

Avoid, like a ſerpent, him who writes impertinently, yet ſpeaks politely.

325.

He is good enough for the preſent and future world who is content with a fourth, is grateful for the half, and gives more than meaſure.

326.

He can bear his griefs in ſilence who can moderate his joys.

327.

He, who ſhuts out all evaſion when he promiſes, loves truth.

328.

Search carefully if one patiently finiſhes what he boldly began.

329.

Who comes from the kitchen ſmells of its ſmoke; who adheres to a ſect has ſomething of its cant: the college-air purſues the ſtudent, and dry inhumanity him who herds with literary pedants.

330.

As you receive the ſtranger, ſo you receive your God.

331.

Call him truly religious who believes in ſomething higher, more powerful, more living, than viſible nature; and who, clear as his own exiſtence, feels his conformity to that ſuperior being.

332.

Superſtition always inſpires littleneſs, religion grandeur of mind: the ſuperſtitious raiſes beings inferior to himſelf to deities.

333.

Who are the ſaints of humanity? Thoſe whom perpetual habits of goodneſs and of grandeur have made nearly unconſcious that what they do is good or grand—heroes with infantine ſimplicity.

334.

To know man, borrow the ear of the blind and the eye of the deaf.

335.

The jealous is poſſeſſed by a "fine mad devil^[2]" and a dull ſpirit at once.

336.

He has ſurely a good heart who abounds in contriving means to prevent animoſities.

337.

He has the ſtamp of a great ſoul who hides his deepeſt grief from the friend whom he might truſt even with the communication of vices.

338.

The words of love ſleep in the ear that is too dull to comprehend her ſilence.

339.

The mind, whoſe trifling griefs or joys can abſorb the general joys and griefs of others, is lamentably little.

340.

He, whom no loſſes impoveriſh, is truly rich.

341.

That mind alone is great in which every point, and the tides and ebbs of power that ſupport or ſhrink from that point, can fluctuate with eaſe.

342.

He alone has energy that cannot be deprived of it.

343.

Sneers are the blaſts that precede quarrels.

344.

Who loves will not be adored.

345.

He who renders full juſtice to his enemy, ſhall have friends to adore him.

346.

Number among thy worſt of enemies—the hawker of malicious rumours and unexplored anecdote.

347.

Let me repeat it: if you cannot bear to be told by your boſom friend that you have a ſtrong breath, you deſerve not to have a friend.

348.

No little man feels and forgives offences.

349.

No great character cavils.

350.

The convivial joys of him whoſe ſolitude is joyleſs, are the forerunners of miſery.

351.

He alone is an acute obſerver, who can obſerve minutely without being obſerved.

352.

Good may be done by the bad—but the good alone can be good.

353.

It is not the privilege of vulgar minds to mark the line between the friend and lover, and never ſtep beyond.

354.

He who is always the ſame, and never the ſame, reſembles God.

355.

He can love who can forget all and nothing.

356.

The pureſt religion is the moſt refined Epicuriſm. He, who in the ſmalleſt given time can enjoy moſt of what he never ſhall repent, and what furniſhes enjoyments, ſtill more unexhauſted, ſtill leſs changeable—is the moſt religious and the moſt voluptuous of men.

357.

He knows little of the Epicuriſm of reaſon and religion, who examines the dinner in the kitchen.

358.

I eſteem the wiſdom and calmneſs of mind that always can reſerve the beſt for the end.

359.

Who ſlowly notices requeſts and prayers, is either a tyrant or a god.

360.

The generous, who is always juſt—and the juſt, who is always generous—may, unannounced, approach the throne of God.

361.

There are but three claſſes of men—the retrogade, the ſtationary, the progreſſive.

362.

Who of man's race is immortal? He that fixes moments and gives perennity to tranſitory things.

363.

He alone ſhall ſtem oblivion who, in the moments and effects of his exertions, can both forget himſelf and make others forget him.

364.

He has convivial talents who makes the eater forget his meal; and he has oratory who raviſhes his hearers, whilſt he forgets himſelf.

365.

Let me once more, in other words, repeat it—he is the king of kings who longs for nothing and wills but one at once.

366.

Spare the lover without flattering his paſſion: to make the pangs of love the butt of ridicule, is unwiſe and harſh—ſoothing meekneſs and wiſdom ſubdue in elſe unconquerable things.

367.

There is none ſo bad to do the twentieth part of the evil he might, nor any ſo good as to do the tenth part of the good it is in his power to do. Judge of yourſelf by the good you might do and neglect—and of others by the evil they might do and omit—and your judgment will be poiſed between too much indulgence for yourſelf, and too much ſeverity on others.

368.

Fly him who, from mere curioſity, aſks three queſtions running about a thing that cannot intereſt him.

369.

The firm, without pliancy—and the pliant, without firmneſs—reſemble veſſels without water, water without veſſels.

370.

To him who is ſimple, and inexhauſtible, like nature, ſimple and inexhauſted nature reſigns her ſway.

371.

He rules himſelf with power who can ſpontaneouſly repreſs his laughter; but he who can hide emotions of love exerts ſtill greater energy.

372.

Who loves from humour, egotiſm, or intereſt, will hate from the ſame motives; and he, whoſe ſympathies mere humours ſway, ſhall have unſtable friends and conſtant enemies.

373.

How can he be pious who loves not the beautiful, whilſt piety is nothing but the love of beauty? Beauty we call the moſt varied One, the moſt united variety. Could there be a man who ſhould harmoniouſly unite each variety of knowledge and of powers—would he not be moſt beautiful? would he not be a god?

374.

Incredible are his powers who deſires nothing that he cannot will.

375.

The unloved cannot love.

376.

Let the object of love be careful to loſe none of its lovelineſs.

377.

Bow to him who bows not to the flatterer.

378.

Bid farewell to all grandeur if envy ſtir within thee.

379.

We cannot be great if we calculate how great we and how little others are, and calculate not how great others, how minute, how impotent ourſelves.

380.

The prudent ſees only the difficulties, the bold only the advantages, of a great enterprize; the hero ſees both, diminiſhes thoſe, makes theſe preponderate, and conquers.

381.

He loves unalterably who keeps within the bounds of love. Who always ſhews ſomewhat leſs than what he is poſſeſſed of—nor ever utters a ſyllable, or gives a hint, of more than what in fact remains behind—is juſt and friendly in the ſame degree.

382.

Few can tell what he can operate who has oeconomy of words without ſcarcity, and liberality without profuſion.

383.

He, who obſerves the ſpeaker more than the ſound of words, will ſeldom meet with diſappointments.

384.

Neither the anxious, who are commonly fretful and ſevere; nor the careleſs, who are always without elaſticity—the ſerenely ſerious alone are formed for friendſhip.

385.

Evaſions are the common ſhelter of the hard-hearted, the falſe, and impotent, when called upon to aſſiſt; the real great alone plan inſtantaneous help, even when their looks or words preſage difficulties.

386.

Who kindles love loves warmly.

387.

He who cannot perform, and ſcorns him who inceſſantly performs, is idiot and knave at once.

388.

The powerful, who notices the exertions of an inferior, has ſomething of the character of Him who, in exchange for a relinquiſhed boat, promiſed the owner one of the twelve firſt thrones of heaven.

389.

He is more than great who inſtructs his offender whilſt he forgives him.

390.

There is a manner of forgiving ſo divine, that you are ready to embrace the offender for having called it forth.

391.

Expect the ſecret reſentment of him whom your forgiveneſs has impreſſed with a ſenſe of his inferiority; expect the reſentment of the woman whoſe proffered love you have repulſed; yet ſurer ſtill expect the unceaſing rancour of envy againſt the progreſs of genius and merit—Renounce the hopes of reconciling him: but know, that whilſt you ſteer on, mindleſs of his grin, all-ruling deſtiny will either change his rage to awe, or blaſt his powers to their deepeſt root.

392.

He is not ignorant of man who knows the value and effect of words: and he, who fears nothing leſs and attends to nothing more than words, has true philoſophy.

393.

He has honeſty, vigour, dignity, who in the firſt tranſports of invention promiſes leſs than he will probably perform.

394.

Then talk of patience when you have borne him who has none, without repining.

395.

Who lies in wait for errors, neither to mend them in perſons, nor to juſtify his choice in things, is on a road where good hearts are ſeldom met.

396.

Volatility of words is careleſſneſs in acts— words are the wings of actions.

397.

Whatever is viſible is the veſſel or veil of the inviſible paſt, preſent, future.—As man penetrates to this more, or perceives it leſs, he raiſes or depreſſes his dignity of being.

398.

Let none turn over books or roam the ſtars in queſt of God who ſees him not in man.

399.

He alone is good, who, though poſſeſſed of energy, prefers virtue, with the appearance of weakneſs, to the invitation of acting brilliantly ill.

400.

Intuition (what the French call 'coup d'oeil') is the greateſt, ſimpleſt, moſt inexhauſted gift a mortal can receive from heaven: who has that has all; and who has it not has little of what conſtitutes the good and great.

401.

How can he be ſincere or prudent who, without Omnipotence, pretends to confer unbounded obligations?

402.

There is no end to the inconveniencies ariſing from the want of punctuality.

403.

As the preſentiment of the poſſible, deemed impoſſible, ſo genius, ſo heroiſm—the hero, the man of genius, are prophets.

404.

He, who goes one ſtep beyond his real faith or preſentiment, is in danger of deceiving himſelf and others.

405.

The greater value you ſet upon what others ſacrifice for you, and the leſs you eſteem what you reſign for others, the nobler your nature, the more exalted are you.

406.

He, who to obtain much will ſuffer little or nothing, can never be called great; and none ever little, who, to obtain one great object, will ſuffer much.

407.

He has the ſole privilege, the excluſive right, of ſaying all and doing all, who has ſuffered all that can be ſuffered, to confer on others all the pleaſures they once rejected and which they can enjoy.

408.

He only ſees well who ſees the whole in the parts, and the parts in the whole. I know but three claſſes of men—thoſe who ſee the whole, thoſe who ſee but a part, and thoſe who ſee both together.

409.

You beg as you queſtion; you give as you anſwer.

410.

As you hear ſo you think; as you look ſo you feel.

411.

Who ſeizes too rapidly drops as haſtily.

412.

Who graſps firmly can hold ſafely, and keep long.

413.

He knows little of man who truſts him with much that cares for no one.

414.

Love ſees what no eye ſees; love hears what no ear hears; and what never roſe in the heart of man, love prepares for its object.

415.

Hatred ſees what no eye ſees: Enmity hears what no ear hears: and what never roſe in the murderer's breaſt, Envy prepares for him that is fortunate and noble.

416.

Him, who arravs malignity in good nature and treachery in familiarity, a miracle of Omnipotence alone can make an honeſt man.

417.

He, who ſets fire to one part of a town to rob more ſafely in another, is, no doubt, a villain: what will you call him, who, to avert ſuſpicion from himſelf, accuſes the innocent of a crime he knows himſelf guilty of, and means to commit again?

418.

I know no friends more faithful, more inſeparable, than hard-heartedneſs and pride, humility and love, lies and impudence.

419.

I have heard nothing but what is good of ſuch an one, yet I cannot love him heartily; that is, I can have no dependence on his taſte, his love of order, his rectitude—becauſe he ſuffers two ornaments, of dimenſions exactly ſimilar, to hang together, the one two inches higher than the other.

420.

I will take upon me to create a world tomorrow, if to-day I can give rectitude of heart to one pettyfogging attorney.

421.

As your hearty participation in the joys and griefs of others, ſo your humanity and religion.

422.

The richer you are the more calmly you bear the reproach of poverty: the more genius you have the more eaſily you bear the imputation of mediocrity.

423.

He, who gives himſelf airs of importance, exhibits the credentials of impotence.

424.

He, who is always to be waited for, is indolent, neglectful, proud, or altogether.

425.

There is no inſtance of a miſer becoming a prodigal without loſing his intellect; but there are thouſands of prodigals becoming miſers: if, therefore, your turn be profuſe, nothing is ſo much to be avoided as avarice: and, if you be a miſer, procure a phyſician who can cure an irremediable diſorder.

426.

Baſeneſs and avarice are more inſeparable than generoſity and magnanimity.

427.

Avarice has ſometimes been the flaw of great men, but never of great minds: great men produce effects that cannot be produced by a thouſand of the vulgar; but great minds are ſtamped with expanded benevolence, unattainable by moſt.

428.

There are many who have great ſtrength and little vigour; others who have much vigour and little ſtrength: ſtrength bears what few can bear, vigour effects what few can effect—he is truly great who unites both in the ſame degree.

429.

Vigour, without ſtrength, always makes others ſuffer; and ſtrength, without vigour, ourſelves. Examine how theſe operate, and you will know yourſelf.

430.

He is much greater and more authentic, who produces one thing entire and perfect, than he who does many by halves.

431.

He, who can rail at benevolence, has ſet his heel on the neck of religion.

432.

Who, in the preſence of a great man, treats you as if you were not preſent, is equally proud and little.

433.

He, who cannot diſcover, acknowledge, and eſteem, the reaſonable part of incredulity and the reſpectable of ſuperſtition, wants much of three qualities which make man man, and God God—wiſdom, vigour, love.

434.

Say what you pleaſe of your humanity, no wiſe man will ever believe a ſyllable while I and mine are the two only gates at which you ſally forth and enter, and through which alone all muſt paſs who ſeek admittance.

435.

Who, from motives of love hides love, loves ineffably and eternally.

436.

Who hides hatred to accompliſh revenge is great, like the prince of hell.

437.

Who hides love to bleſs with unmixed happineſs is great, like the king of heaven.

438.

Let him not ſhare the moſt remote corner of your heart, who, without being your intimate, hangs prying over your ſhoulder whilſt you are writing.

439.

Truſt not him with your ſecrets, who, when left alone in your room, turns over your papers.

440.

A woman, whoſe ruling paſſion is not vanity, is ſuperior to any man of equal faculties.

441.

He who has but one way of ſeeing every thing, is as important for him who ſtudies man as fatal to friendſhip.

442.

Who has written will write again, ſays the Frenchman; he who has written againſt you will write againſt you again: he who has begun certain things is under the curſe of leaving off no more.

443.

He, who rather diſcovers the great in the little than the little in the great, is not far diſtant from greatneſs.

444.

Harmleſſneſs and genuine friendſhip are as inſeparable as beam and reflection.

445.

He is not eaſily taught who is ſometimes quick and ſometimes ſlow in his anſwers.

446.

The half-character, who has impudence enough to attempt domineering over the whole one, is, of all tyrants, calumniators, and villains, the moſt inſufferable.

447.

Who aſks two queſtions at once will eaſily give one anſwer for another; frequently commit groſs blunders; and ſeldom adhere to truth when he relates.

448.

Who always prefaces his tale with laughter is poiſoned between impertinence and folly.

449.

Thinkers are ſcarce as gold: but he, whoſe thought embraces all his ſubject, purſues it uninterruptedly and fearleſs of conſequences, is a diamond of enormous ſize.

450.

Nothing is more impartial than the ſtream-like public: always the ſame and never the ſame; of whom, ſooner or later, each miſrepreſented character obtains juſtice, and each calumniated honour: he who cannot wait for that, is either ignorant of human nature or feels that he was not made for honour.

451.

You will ſooner tranſpoſe mountains than without violence ſubdue another's indolence and obſtinacy: if you can conquer your own, depend on it you ſhall accompliſh what you can will.

452.

The obſtinacy of the indolent and weak is leſs conquerable than that of the fiery and bold.

453.

Who, with calm wiſdom alone, imperceptibly directs the obſtinacy of others, will be the moſt eligible friend or the moſt dreadful enemy.

454.

He is both outrageouſly vain and malicious who aſcribes the beſt actions of the good to vanity alone.

455.

He is condemned to depend on no man's modeſty and honour, who dares not depend on his own.

456.

An inſult offered to a reſpectable character were often leſs pardonable than a precipitate murder—he who can indulge himſelf in that may bear aſſaſſinations on his conſcience.

457.

Nothing is ſo pregnant as cruelty: ſo multiparous, ſo rapid, ſo ever-teeming a mother is unknown to the animal kingdom; each of her experiments provokes another, and refines upon the laſt—though always progreſſive, yet always remote from the end.

458.

Smiles at the relation of inhumanities betray, at leaſt, a fund of inhumanity.

459.

He who avoids the glaſs aghaſt, at the caricature of morally debaſed features, feels mighty ſtrife of virtue and of vice.

460.

The ſilence of him who elſe commends with applauſe, is indirect but nervous cenſure.

461.

Neither he who inceſſantly hunts after the new, nor he who fondly doats on the old, is juſt.

462.

The gazer in the ſtreets wants a plan for his head and an object for his heart.

463.

The creditor who humanely ſpares an ungrateful debtor, has few ſteps to make towards the circle of ſaints.

464.

The creditor, whoſe appearance gladdens the heart of a debtor, may hold his head in ſunbeams and his foot on ſtorms.

465.

If you mean to eſcape your creditor or enemy, avoid him not.

466.

Who purpoſely abuſes the bounty of unconditional benevolence, has a ſeat prepared for him at the right hand of the throne of hell.

467.

The frigid ſmiler, crawling, indiſcreet, obtruſive, brazen-faced, is a ſcorpion-whip of deſtiny—avoid him!

468.

Nature bids thee not to love deformity; be content to diſcover and to do juſtice to its better part.

469.

The rapid, who can bear the ſlow with patience, can bear all injuries.

470.

Abſolute impartiality is not perhaps the lot of man: but where, open or hid, bitter partiality dwells, there too dwells inward anarchy and inſanability of mind.

471.

He knows nothing of men who expects to convince a determined party-man: and he nothing of the world who deſpairs of the final impartiality of the public.

472.

Who indiſcriminately returns careſſes for careſſes, and flattery for flattery, will, with equal indifference, forget them when they are paſſed.

473.

He alone is a man who can reſiſt the genius of the age, the tone of faſhion, with vigorous ſimplicity and modeſt courage.

474.

To him who diſcovers not immediately the true accent of innocence, and reveres it like an oracle—ſhew, as to all the world, your face, but lock your heart for ever.

475.

Who gives a trifle meanly is meaner than the trifle.

476.

Diſtruſt your heart and the durability of your fame; if from the ſtream of occaſion you ſnatch a handful of foam, deny the ſtream and give its name to the frothy burſting bubble.

477.

If you aſk me which is the real hereditary ſin of human nature, do you imagine I ſhall anſwer pride, or luxury, or ambition, or egotiſm? No; I ſhall ſay indolence—who conquers indolence will conquer all the reſt.

478.

Aſſure yourſelf that he has not the moſt diſtant ſcent of human nature who weens that he is able to alter it, or thinks to obtain that eaſily of others which he can never obtain of himſelf.

479.

An entirely honeſt man, in the ſevere ſenſe of the word, exiſts no more than an entirely diſhoneſt knave: the beſt and the worſt are only approximations of thoſe qualities. Who are thoſe that never contradict themſelves? yet honeſty never contradicts itſelf: Who are thoſe that always contradict themſelves? yet knavery is mere ſelf-contradiction. Thus the knowledge of man determines not the things themſelves, but their proportions, the quantum of congruities and incongruities.

480.

Who inſtantly, without evaſion, gives a diſpaſſionate refuſal of what he can, or will not give, will give to his moſt rapid yes the firmneſs of an oath.

481.

Truſt him little who praiſes all, him leſs who cenſures all, and him leaſt who is indifferent about all.

482.

Who prorogues the honeſty of to-day till to-morrow, will probably prorogue his to-morrows^[3] to eternity.

483.

Whom every book delights which he reads none has inſtructed which he read.

484.

He who judges perverſely on a clear ſimple ſubject, on which a promiſcuous number of impartial people have judged uniformly—proves an obliquity of mind which takes all weight from his opinion on any other ſubject.

485.

The cruelty of the effiminate is more dreadful than that of the hardy.

486.

Senſe ſeeks and finds the thought; the thought ſeeks and finds genius.

487.

He who, ſilent, loves to be with us—he who loves us in our ſilence—has touched one of the keys that raviſh hearts.

488.

He who violates another's liberty is a tyrant and a ſlave at once.

489.

Fly him who affects ſilence.

490.

He is vain, proud, oppreſſive, who at and after every word he ſays, with open rolling eye, examines to the right and left what features and what looks he rouſed.

491.

Who knows the moment of ceaſing knows the moment of beginning, and that of proceeding. Judge of no man's prudence, experience, or genius, till you have witneſſed ſome of his fin[•]li.

492.

The more there is of gradation in virtue, the more dramatic the energies of goodneſs and benevolence, the more ſublime their character.

493.

No wheedler loves.

494.

Great minds comprehend more in a word, a look, the ſqueeze of a hand, than vulgar men in day-long converſation, or the moſt aſſiduous correſpondence.

495.

The more one gives, or receives, or ſees, or comprehends, in little, the greater, the more alive, the more human he.

496.

The poet, who compoſes not before the moment of inſpiration, and as that leaves him ceaſes—compoſes, and he alone, for all men, all claſſes, all ages.

497.

He, who has frequent moments of complete exiſtence, is a hero, though not laurelled; is, crowned and without crowns, a king: he only who has enjoyed immortal moments can reproduce them.

498.

The greater that which you can hide, the greater yourſelf.

499.

Three days of uninterrupted company in a vehicle, will make you better acquainted with another than one hour's converſation with him every day for three years.

500.

Where true wiſdom is there ſurely is repoſe of mind, patience, dignity, delicacy. Wiſdom without theſe is dark light, heavy eaſe, ſonorous ſilence.

501.

Him, whom oppoſition and adverſity have left little, fortune and applauſe will not make great. Inquire after the ſufferings of great men and you will know why they are great.

502.

He, whoſe ſole ſilent preſence checks pitiful conceits, enobles vulgar minds, and calls forth uncommon ones, may lay claim to grandeur.

503.

Him, who makes familiarity the tool of miſchief, moral precepts can as little recall to virtue as medical preſcriptions a decayed habit to health.

504.

He, who cannot forgive a treſpaſs of malice to his enemy, has never yet taſted the moſt ſublime enjoyment of love.

505.

He, who forgives a treſpaſs of ſentiment to a friend, is as unworthy of friendſhip as that friend.

506.

It is the ſummit of humility to bear the imputation of pride.

507.

He who ſees, produces, honours what is reſpectable in the deſpiſed, and what is excellent in miſrepreſented characters—he, who prefers a cluſter of jewels, with one unique, and many trifling ſtones, to one compoſed-all of good, but no one unique—he, who in a book, feels forcibly its genius, its unattainable part, is formed by nature to be a man and a friend.

508.

You may have hot enemies without having a warm friend; but not a fervid friend without a bitter enemy. The qualities of your friends will be thoſe of your enemies: cold friends, cold enemies—half friends, half enemies—fervid enemies, warm friends.

509.

Late beginners ſeldom attain the end without difficulty. There are few privileged minds who defer long, and with rapidity perform better than the conſiderate who have conſulted time; but there are ſome who reſemble torrents ſwelled by delay; who, in thoſe moments of preſſure, not only exerts genius, but gives to his labours their roundeſt finiſh, the neateſt order, their moſt elegant poliſh—claſſes with thoſe few mortals who have the privilege to do, or leave undone, as they pleaſe. He is one of thoſe whoſe faults carry their atonement with them—whom the offended and the envious with equal aſtoniſhment applaud, and never permit themſelves a farther doubt about their royal prerogative.

510.

Learn the value of a man's words and expreſſions and you know him. Each man has a meaſure of his own for every thing; this he offers you inadvertently in his words. Who has a ſuperlative for every thing wants a meaſure for the great or ſmall.

511.

He, who reforms himſelf, has done more toward reforming the public than a crowd of noiſy impotent patriots.

512.

If Pius the Sixth (I often ſaid) be not in his perſon king of the emperor it is fooliſh enough to go to Vienna; but if his perſon be the pope's pope, he may go and do immortal acts. It is perſonally only we can act durably—he who knows this, knows more than a thouſand polyhiſtors.

513.

He will do great things who can avert his words and thoughts from paſt irremediable evils.

514.

He, who ſtands on a height, ſees farther than thoſe who are placed in a bottom; but let him not fancy that he ſhall make them believe all he ſees.

515.

He that can jeſt at love has never loved: "He jeſts at ſcars that never felt a wound.^[4]"

516.

He, who is ever intent on great ends, has an eagle-eye for great means, and ſcorns not the ſmalleſt.

517.

Who attempts to cover what can not be covered, is an idiot and hypocrite at once.

518.

He is familiar with celeſtial wiſdom, and ſeems inſtructed by ſuperior ſpirits, who can annihilate a ſettled prejudice againſt him.

519.

True love, like the eye, can bear no flaw.

520.

Spectacles on the eyes of the blind, and literature in the pedant's mouth, are folly.

521.

The hotteſt water extinguiſhes fire, and the affected heat of a cold character, friendſhip.

522.

Take from Luther his roughneſs and ſiery courage; from Calvin his hectic obſtinacy; from Eraſmus his timid prudence; hypocriſy and fanaticiſm from Cromwell; from Henry IV. his ſanguine character; myſticiſm from Fenelon; from Hume his all-unhinging ſubtilty; love of paradox and brooding ſuſpicion from Rouſſeau; naivetè and elegance of knavery from Voltaire; from Milton the extravagance of his all-perſonifying fancy; from Raffaelle his dryneſs and nearly hard preciſion; and from Rubens his ſupernatural luxury of colour:—deduct this oppreſſive exuberance from each; rectify them according to your own taſte—what will be the reſult? your own correct, pretty, flat, uſeful—for me, to be ſure, quite convenient vulgarity. And why this amongſt maxims of humanity? that you may learn to know this exuberance, this leven of each great character, and its effects on contemporaries and poſterity—that you may know where d, e, f, is, there muſt be a, b, c: he alone has knowledge of man, who knows the ferment that raiſes each character, and makes it that which it ſhall be, and ſomething more or leſs than it ſhall be.

523.

I have often, too often, been tempted, at the daily relation of new knaveries, to deſpiſe human nature in every individual, till, on minute anatomy of each trick, I found that the knave was only an enthuſiaſt or momentary fool. This diſcovery of momentary folly, ſymptoms of which aſſail the wiſeſt and the beſt, has thrown a great conſolatory light on my inquiries into man's moral nature: by this the theoriſt is enabled to aſſign to each claſs and each individual their own peculiar fit of vice or folly; and to contraſt the ludicrous or diſmal catalogue with the pleaſing one of ſentiment and virtue, more properly their own.

524.

He, who is maſter of the fitteſt moment to cruſh his enemy, and magnanimouſly neglects it, is born to be a conqueror.

525.

Pretend not to ſelf-knowledge if you find nothing worſe within you than what enmity or calumny dares loudly lay to your charge.

526.

You are not very good if you are not better than your beſt friends imagine you to be.

527.

You are not yet a great man becauſe you are railed at by many little, and eſteemed by ſome great characters; then only you deſerve that name when the cavils of the inſignificant and the eſteem of the great keep you at equal diſtance from pride and deſpondence, invigorate your courage and add to your humility.

528.

Some characters of the utmoſt activity are much calmer than the moſt inactive: diſtinguiſh always between indolence and calmneſs; calmneſs is the beginning and end of uſeful activity; indolence the beginning, middle and end of uniform apathy for all activity.

529.

A great woman not imperious, a fair woman not vain, a woman of common talents not jealous, an accompliſhed woman who ſcorns to ſhine—are four wonders juſt great enough to be divided among the four quarters of the globe.

530.

He who freely praiſes what he means to purchaſe—and he who enumerates the faults of what he means to ſell—may ſet up a partnerſhip of honeſty.

531.

He, who deſpiſes the great, is condemned to honour the little: and he who is in love with trifles, can have no taſte for the great.

532.

He has a claim to prudence who feels his weakneſs and knows how to diſguiſe it; but he is great who, with a full ſenſe of his ſtrength, ſcorns to exert it.

533.

Depend not much upon your rectitude, if you are uneaſy in the preſence of the good; nor truſt to your humility if you are mortified when you are not noticed.

534.

He, who chooſes to conſider the ambiguous action of an enemy in its faireſt light, has ſome acquaintance with the heart of man, and is a friend to virtue.

535.

He, who is in want of witneſſes in order to be good, has neither virtue nor religion.

536.

When a prince, and he who has been frequently deceived, do not give themſelves entirely up to ſuſpicion, they may be ranked amongſt the truly great.

537.

Some are ambitious who have no idea of true honour—they may be properly called name-hunters: he is truly pitiable whoſe only wiſh is to be ſpoken of

538.

Attend to the accidental epithets which men of wit throw out on the mention of a merely honeſt character, and you will have a guide to the knowledge of their hearts.

539.

He, who hates the wiſeſt and beſt of men, hates the Father of men; for, where is the Father of men to be ſeen but in the moſt perfect of his children?

540.

He who always ſeeks more light the more he finds, and finds more the more he ſeeks, is one of the few happy mortals who take and give in every point of time: the tide and ebb of giving and receiving, is the ſum of human happineſs, which he alone enjoys who always wiſhes to acquire new knowledge, and always finds it.

541.

The executioner who, in the fatal moment, laughs in the criminal's face, muſt be a wretch. What will you call the critic who debaſes himſelf to be both the executioner and libelleſt of him he reviews?

542.

He, who adores an imperſonal God, has none; and, without guide or rudder, launches on an immenſe abyſs that firſt abſorbs his powers, and next himſelf.

543.

Let him, who wiſhes to conquer obſtinacy, deſire the contrary of what he means to obtain.

544.

The enemy of art is the enemy of nature; art is nothing but the higheſt ſagacity and exertion of human nature; and what nature will he honour who honours not the human?

545.

It is poſſible that a wiſe and good man may be prevailed on to game; but it is impoſſible that a profeſſed gameſter ſhould be a wiſe and good man.

546.

Where there is much pretenſion, much has been borrowed—nature never pretends.

547.

Do you think him a common man who can make what is common exquiſite?

548.

He who believes every promiſe believes every tale, and is ſuperſtitious: he who doubts every promiſe doubts every tale, and ſoon will be incredulous to his own eye.

549.

Whoſe promiſe may you depend upon? his who dares refuſe what he knows he cannot perform; who promiſes calmly, ſtrictly, conditionally, and never excites a hope which he may diſappoint.

550.

You promiſe as you ſpeak.

551.

He, who is aſhamed of the poor in the preſence of the rich, and of the unknown in the preſence of the celebrated, may become a baſe enemy, but never a faſt friend.

552.

Avoid him who ſpeaks ſoftly, and writes ſharply.

553.

The proportion of genius to the vulgar is like one to a million; but genius without tyranny, without pretenſion, that judges the weak with equity, the ſuperior with humility, and equals with juſtice—is like one to ten millions.

554.

To ſhare a heavy burden merely to caſe another is noble—to do it cheerfully, ſublime.

555.

Slow givers give meanly or with grandeur.

556.

Neither patience nor inſpiration can give wings to a ſnail—you waſte your own force, you deſtroy what remained of energy in the indolent, by urging him to move beyond his rate of power.

557.

To enjoy blunders may proceed from a comic turn; but to enjoy blunders becauſe they make the blunderer contemptible, is a ſtep toward the fiend-like joy that foſters crimes as cauſes of perdition to others and of emolument to you.

558.

A perfidious friend will be the aſſaſſin of his enemy.

559.

He, who feels himſelf impelled to calumniate the good, need not much doubt the exiſtence of daemoniacs;

560.

Or he that of a fiend who renders bad for good, and enjoys the exchange.

561.

Indiſcriminate familiarity admits of no intimate.

562.

Queſtions for no purpoſe, queſtions quicker than anſwers can be given, queſtions after things that intereſt him not, mark an idiot.

563.

Your humility is equal to your deſire of being unobſerved in your acts of virtue.

564.

There are certain light characteriſtic momentary ſeatures of man, which, in ſpite of maſks and all exterior mummery, repreſent him as he is and ſhall be. If once in an individual you have diſcovered one ennobling feature, let him debaſe it, let it at times ſhrink from him, no matter; he will, in the end, prove ſuperior to thouſands of his critics.

565.

Truth, Wiſdom, Love, ſeek reaſons; Malice only cauſes.

566.

The man who has and uſes but one ſcale for every thing, for himſelf and his enemy, the paſt and the future, the grand and the trifle, for truth and error, virtue and vice, religion, ſuperſtition, infidelity: for nature, art, and works of genius and art—is truly wiſe, juſt, great.

567.

The infinitely little conſtitutes the infinite difference in works of art, and in the degrees of morals and religion; the greater the rapidity, preciſion, acuteneſs, with which this is obſerved and determined, the more authentic, the greater the obſerver.

568.

Make not him your friend who ſneaks off when a ſuperior appears.

569.

Call him both wiſe and great, who, with ſuperior claims to notice from the powerful and princely, can calmly ſuffer others to approach them nearer.

570.

Range him high amongſt your ſaints, who, with all-acknowledged powers, and his own ſtedfaſt ſcale for every thing, can, on the call of judgment or advice, ſubmit to tranſpoſe himſelf into another's ſituation, and to adopt his point of ſight.

571.

Think none, and leaſt of all yourſelf, ſincere or honeſt, if you tell the public of a man what you would not dare to tell him in good company, or face to face.

572.

No communications and no gifts can exhauſt genius, or impoveriſh charity.

573.

Few poſſeſs the art to give exactly that which none but they can give; to give directly then when want is fully rife; and to give only ſo, that the receivers may enjoy and recollect with joy the moment of the gift—he who can give ſo is a god amongſt men.

574.

You never ſaw a vulgar character diſintereſtedly ſenſible of the value of time.

575.

Diſtruſt yourſelf if you fear the eye of the ſincere; but be afraid of neither God or man, if you have no reaſon to diſtruſt yourſelf.

576.

Who comes as he goes, and is preſent as he came and went, is ſincere.

577.

Save me from him who is inexhauſtible in evaſions when he is called upon to do a good thing, and teems with excuſes when he has done a bad one.

578.

He loves grandly (I ſpeak of friendſhip) who is not jealous when he has partners of love.

579.

Examine cloſely whether he who talks of illuſtration means to clear up or only to glitter, dazzle, and conſume.

580.

He knows himſelf greatly who never oppoſes his genius.

581.

Maxims are as neceſſary for the weak, as rules for the beginner: the maſter wants neither rule nor principle; he poſſeſſes both without thinking of them.

582.

If you are deſtitute of ſentiment, principle, genius, and inſtruction, you may be ſuppoſed unfit for ſcience and for virtue: but, if without genius you pretend to excel; if without ſentiment you affect to think yourſelf ſuperior to eſtabliſhed principle; know that you are as much between fool and knave as you are between right and left.

583.

Young men—know, that downright deciſion, on things which only experience can teach, is the credential of vain impertinence!

584.

Neatneſs begets order; but from order to taſte there is the ſame diſtance as from taſte to genius, or from love to friendſhip.

585.

Believe not in the legitimacy or durability of any effect that is derived from egotiſm alone—all the miſcarriages of prudence are baſtards of egotiſm.

586.

"Love as if you could hate and might be hated;"—a maxim of deteſted prudence in real friendſhip, the bane of all tenderneſs, the death of all familiarity. Conſider the fool who follows it as nothing inferior to him who at every bit of bread trembles at the thought of its being poiſoned.

587.

"Hate as if you could love or ſhould be loved;"—him who follows this maxim, if all the world were to declare an idiot and enthuſiaſt, I ſhall eſteem, of all men, the moſt eminently formed for friendſhip.

588.

If you ſupport not the meaſure you approve of by your voice, you decide againſt it by ſilence.

589.

As you name ten different things ſo you name ten thouſand; as you tell ten different ſtories ſo you tell ten thouſand.

590.

Diſtinguiſh with exactneſs, if you mean to know yourſelf and others, what is ſo often miſtaken—the ſingular, the original, the extraordinary, the great, and the ſublime man. The ſublime alone unites the ſingular, original, extraordinary and great, with his own uniformity and ſimplicity: the great, with many powers, and uniformity of ends, is deſtitute of that ſuperior calmneſs and inward harmony which ſoars above the atmoſphere of praiſe: the extraordinary is diſtinguiſhed by copiouſneſs, and a wide range of energy: the original need not be very rich, only that which he produces is unique, and has the excluſive ſtamp of individuality: the ſingular, as ſuch, is placed between originality and whim, and often makes a trifle the medium of fame.

591.

Forwardneſs nips affection in the bud.

592.

If you mean to be loved, give more than what is aſked, but not more than what is wanted; and aſk leſs than what is expected.

593.

Whom ſmiles and tears make equally lovely, all hearts may court.

594.

Take here the grand ſecret—if not of pleaſing all, yet of diſpleaſing none—court mediocrity, avoid originality, and ſacrifice to faſhion.

595.

He who purſues the glimmering ſteps of hope with ſtedfaſt, not preſumptuous, eye, may paſs the gloomy rock on either ſide of which ſuperſtition and incredulity ſpread their dark abyſſes.

596.

The public ſeldom forgive twice.

597.

Him who is hurried on by the furies of immature, impetuous wiſhes, ſtern repentance ſhall drag, bound and reluctant, back to the place from which he ſallied: where you hear the crackling of wiſhes expect intolerable vapours or repining grief.

598.

He ſubmits to be ſeen through a microſcope, who ſuffers himſelf to be caught in a fit of paſſion.

599.

Venerate four characters; the ſanguine, who has checked volatility and the rage for pleaſure; the choleric, who has ſubdued paſſion and pride; the phlegmatic, emerged from indolence; and the melancholy, who has diſmiſſed avarice, ſuſpicion, and aſperity.

600.

All great minds ſympathize.

601.

Who, by kindneſs and ſmooth attention, can inſinuate a hearty welcome to an unwelcome gueſt, is a hypocrite ſuperior to a thouſand plain dealers.

602.

Men carry their character not ſeldom in their pockets: you might decide on more than half of your acquaintance, had you will or right to turn their pockets inſide out.

603.

Injuſtice ariſes either from precipitation or indolence, or from a mixture of both; the rapid and the ſlow are ſeldom juſt; the unjuſt wait either not at all, or wait too long.

604.

All folly, all vice, all incredulity, ariſe from neglect of remembering what once you knew.

605.

Not he who forces himſelf on opportunity, but he who watches its approach, and welcomes its arrival by immediate uſe, is wiſe.

606.

Love and hate are the genius of invention, the parents of virtue and of vice—forbear to decide on yourſelf till you have had opportunities of warm attachment or deep diſlike.

607.

There is a certain magic in genuine honeſty and benevolence, which tinctures and inveſts with fragrance whatever comes within its ſphere; it embalms with odour the inſipid, and ſheds perfume on rankneſs: ſtruck with the unexpected emanation, you are ſometimes tempted to aſk of ſome, from whence they come? but wait an hour—the charm is paſt, and inſipidity or rankneſs reappear.

608.

Set him down as your inferior who liſtens to you in a tête-à-tête, and contradicts you when a third appears.

609.

Each heart is a world of nations, claſſes, and individuals; full of friendſhips, enmities, indifferences; full of being and decay, of life and death: the paſt, the preſent, and the future; the ſprings of health and engines of diſeaſe: here joy and grief, hope and fear, love and hate, fluctuate, and toſs the fullen and the gay, the hero and the coward, the giant and the dwarf, deformity and beauty, on ever reſtleſs waves. You find all within yourſelf that you find without: the number and character of your friends within, bears an exact reſemblance to your external ones; and your internal enemies are juſt as many, as inveterate, as irreconcilable, as thoſe without: the world that ſurrounds you is the magic-glaſs of the world, and of its forms within you; the brighter you are yourſelf, ſo much brighter are your friends—ſo much more polluted your enemies. Be aſſured then, that to know yourſelf perfectly you have only to ſet down a true ſtatement of thoſe that ever loved or hated you.

610.

Him, who can reſrain from diving into ſecrets of mere unimproving curioſity, you may chooſe for the depoſitary of your inmoſt thoughts.

611.

He ſurely is moſt in want of another's patience, who has none of his own.

612.

He who believes not in virtue muſt be vicious; all faith is only the reminiſcence of the good that once aroſe, and the omen of the good that may ariſe, within us.

613.

Avoid connecting yourſelf with characters whoſe good and bad ſides are unmixed, and have not fermented together; they reſemble phials of vinegar and oil, or pallets ſet with colours; they are either excellent at home and intolerable abroad, or inſufferable within doors and excellent in public: they are unfit for friendſhip, merely becauſe their ſtamina, their ingredients of character, are too ſingle, too much apart; let them be finely ground up with each other, and they will be incomparable.

614.

The fool ſeparates his object from all ſurrounding ones; all abſtraction is temporary folly.

615.

You, who aſſume protection and give yourſelf the airs of patronage, know that, unattended by humanity or delicacy, your obligations are but oppreſſions, and your ſervices affronts.

616.

Let me repeat it—He only is great who has the habits of greatneſs; who, after performing what none in ten thouſand could accompliſh, paſſes on, like Samſon, and "tells neither father nor mother of it."

617.

There are moral riſks as deciſive of greatneſs of mind as the riſk of Colombo, or that of Alexander when he drank the cup whilſt Philip read the letter;—in theſe there is leſs of boldneſs than of intuition: but ſeek not for them in the catalogue of inferior minds.

618.

There is no middle path for him who has once been caught in an infamous action: he either will be a villain or a ſaint; the diſcovery of his crime muſt rankle, muſt ferment, through life within him; dead to honour, and infuriate againſt ſociety, he will either ruſh from plot to plot to indiſcriminate perdition, or, if he yet retain ſome moral ſenſe, contrition and ſelf-abhorrence may kindle the latent ſpark into a blaze of exemplary ſanctity.

619.

He is a poor local creature who judges of men and things merely from the prujudices of his nation and time: but he is a knave, who, in poſſeſſion of general principles, deals wanton condemnation on the ſame narrow ſcale.

620.

A god, an animal, a plant, are not companions of man; nor is the faultleſs—then judge with lenity of all; the cooleſt, wiſeſt, beſt, all without exception, have their points, their moments of enthuſiaſm, fanaticiſm, abſence of mind, faint-heartedneſs, ſtupidity—if you allow not for theſe, your criticiſms on man will be a maſs of accuſations or caricatures.

621.

Genius always gives its beſt at firſt, prudence at laſt.

622.

Contemptuous airs are pledges of a contemptible heart.

623.

You think to meet with ſome additions here to your ſtock of moral knowledge—and not in vain, I hope: but know, a great many rules cannot be given by him who means not to offend, and many of mine have perhaps offended already; believe me, for him who has an open ear and eye, every minute teems with obſervations of precious import, yet ſcarcely communicable to the moſt faithful friend; ſo incredibly weak, ſo vulnerable in certain points, is man: forbear to meddle with theſe at your firſt ſetting out, and make amuſement the miniſter of reflection: ſacrifice all egotiſm—ſacrifice ten points to one if that one have the value of twenty; and, if you are happy enough to impreſs your diſciple with reſpect for himſelf, with probability of ſucceſs in his exertions of growing better, and, above all, with the idea of your diſintereſtedneſs—you may perhaps ſucceed in making one proſelyte to virtue.

624.

A gift—its kind, its value and appearance; the ſilence or the pomp that attends it; the ſtyle in which it reaches you—may decide the dignity or vulgarity of the giver.

625.

Keep your heart from him who begins his acquaintance with you by indirect flattery of your favourite paradox or ſoible.

626.

Receive no ſatisfaction for premeditated impertinence—forget it, forgive it—but keep him inexorably at a diſtance who offered it.

627.

Actions, looks, words, ſteps, form the alphabet by which you may ſpell characters; ſome are mere letters, ſome contain entire words, lines, whole pages, which at once decypher the life of a man. One ſuch genuine uninterrupted page may be your key to all the reſt: but firſt be certain that he wrote it all alone, and without thinking of publiſher or reader.

628.

Let the cold, who offers the nauſeous mimickry of warm affection, meet with what he deſerves—a repulſe; but from that moment depend on his irreconcilable enmity.

629.

Roughneſs in friendſhip is at leaſt as diſguſting as an offenſive breath from a beautiful mouth—the rough may perhaps be truſty, ſincere, ſecret—but he is a fool if he expects delicacy from others, and a hypocrite if he pretends to it himſelf.

630.

The moral enthuſiaſt, who, in the maze of his refinements, loſes or deſpiſes the plain paths of honeſty and duty, is on the brink of crimes.

631.

A whiſper can diſpel the ſlumbers of hatred and of love.

632.

The poor—who envies not the rich, who pities his companions of poverty, and can ſpare ſomething for him that is ſtill poorer—is, in the realms of humanity, a king of kings.

633.

If you mean to know yourſelf, interline ſuch of theſe Aphoriſms as affected you agreeably in reading, and ſet a mark to ſuch as left a ſenſe of uneaſineſs with you; and then ſhew your copy to whom you pleaſe.

END OF VOL. I.

BERRY AND ROGERS, No. 35, Hanover-Square, directly oppoſite the Bank, HAVE FOR SALE,

A NEW and elegant aſſortment of plated buckles, men's faſhionable round and cock'd hats, coloured and white patent ſilk ſtockings, patent ſilk and cotton do, ladies fine cotton hoſe, fans, ſliders for ladies hair, fancy waiſtcoats, gold and ſilver lace, gold and ſilver ſpangles, with thread for tambour work, feathers of different colours, ladies beaver hats, jewellery, plated and japanned ware, knives and ſorks, mahogany knife-caſes, penknives, ſciſſars, cork-ſcrews, razors, pocket and aſs-ſkin books, ſlates, guitars, fifes with muſic for the ſame, cake blacking, cloth and ſhoe bruſhes, backgammon-tables, cheſs boards and men, billiard-balls, dice, battledores and ſhuttle-cocks, playing and meſſage cards, Middleton's black lead pencils, ſpectacles, mathematical inſtruments, gloves, canes, fiddle-ſtrings, ſealing-wax, beſt quality; whips, ſpurs, boot garters, wax tapers, Reeve's patent colours, glazier's diamonds, hair-ribbon, combs, gold and ſilver leaf, tooth bruſhes, guns, piſtols, ſwords, patent ſhot, battle gun-powder, bird cages, perfumery, ſurveying compaſſes, travelling do, chains for ſurveyors.

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The following valuable PRODUCTIONS to be had of BERRY AND ROGERS, No. 35, Hanover-Square:

• SOAME Jennings on the Origin of Evil, 12mo.
• — Internal Evidence, 12mo.
• — Diſquiſitions, 12mo.
• — Lectures, 12mo.
• Helvetius' on Man, 2 vols. 8vo.
• Va[•]el's Laws of Nations, 8vo.
• Blair's Lectures, 3 vols. 8vo.
• Prieſtly's Lectures on Hiſtory, 8vo.
• Peter Pindar's Works, compleat, 8vo.
• Morſe's American Geography, 8vo.
• Gillie's Hiſtory of Greece, 3 vols. 8vo.
• Gibbons's Roman Hiſtory, compleat, 6 vols. 8vo.
• Jefferion's Notes on Virginia, with a Map of the States of Virginia, Maryland, Delaware and Pennſylvania.
• Gordon's Hiſtory of the American War, on a fine paper, with a variety of Maps, 4 vols. 8vo.
• Sheridan's Dictionary, 8vo.
• Reid's Eſſays on the Intellectual. Powers of Man.
• De L[•]lme on the Britiſh Conſtitution.
• Blackſtone's Commentaries, 4 vols. 12mo.

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AND STATIONARY Of every kind.

Marginal notes

1. Shakeſpeare. ↩
2. Shakſpeare. ↩
3. "To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow." ↩
4. Shakſpeare. ↩