million and whoever reflects that each individual of this number had some tender attachments which were broken by his death, some parent or wife, with whom he mingled tears in the parting embrace, and who longed with fond solicitude for his return; or, perhaps, some infant whom his labour was to feed, and his vigilance protect; will see that Alexander was more the pest of society than Bagshot, and more deserved a gibbet in the proportion of a million to one.

It may, perhaps, be thought absurd to inquire into the virtues of Bagshot's character; and yet virtue has never been thought incompatible with that of Alexander. Alexander, we are told, gave proof of his greatness of mind by his contempt of danger; but, as Bagshot's danger was equally voluntary and imminent, there ought to be no doubt but that his mind was equally great. Alexander, indeed, gave back the kingdoms that he won; but, after the conquest of a kingdom, what remained for Alexander to give? To a prince, whose country he had invaded with unprovoked hostility, and from whom he had violently wrested the blessings of peace, he gave a dominion over the widows and orphans of those he had slain, the tinsel of dependent greatness, and the badge of royal subjection. And does not Bagshot deserve equal honour, for throwing back a shilling to the man whose person he had insulted, and whose son he had stabbed to the heart? Alexander did not ravish or massacre the women whom he found in the tent of Darius: neither did honest Bagshot kill the gentleman whom he had plundered, when he was no longer able to resist.

If Bagshot then is justly dragged to prison amidst the tumult of rage, menaces, and execrations; let Alexander, whom the lords of reason have extolled for ages, be no longer thought worthy of a triumph,

As the acquisition of honour is frequently a motive to the risk of life, it is of great importance to confer it only upon virtue; and, as honour is conferred by the public voice, it is of equal moment to strip those vices of their disguise which have been mistaken for virtue. The wretches who compose the army of a tyrant are associated by folly in the service of rapine and murder; and that men should imagine they were deserving honour by the massacre of each other, merely to flatter ambition with a new title, is, perhaps, as inscrutable a mystery as any that has perplexed reason, and as gross an absurdity as any that has disgraced it. It is not, indeed, so much to punish vice as to prevent misery, that I wish to see it always branded with infamy: for even the successes of vice terminate in the anguish of disappointment. To Alexander the fruit of all his conquests was tears; and whoever goes about to gratify intemperate wishes will labour to as little purpose as he who should attempt to fill a sieve with water.

I was accidentally led to pursue my subject in this train by the sight of an historical chart, in which the rise, the progress, the declension, and duration of empire are represented by the arrangement of different colours; and in which, not only extent, but duration, is rendered a sensible object. The Grecian empire, which is distinguished by a deep red, is a long but narrow line; because, though Alexander marked the world with his colour from Macedonia to Egypt, yet the colours peculiar to the hereditary potentates whom he dispossessed again took place upon his death: and, indeed, the question, whose name shall be connected with a particular country as its king, is, to those who hazard life in the decision, as trifling as whether a small spot in a chart shall be stained with red or

yellow. That man should be permitted to decide such questions by means so dreadful is a reflection under which he only can rejoice who believes that God only reigns; and can appropriate the promise, that all things shall work together for good.

No. 48. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1753.

Ibat triumphans Virgo

Sunt qui rogatam rettulerint preces
Tulisse Christo, redderet ut reo
Lumen jacenti, tum invenit halitum
Vitæ innovatum, visibus integris.

PRUDENT.

As rescued from intended wrong,
The modest virgin paced along,
By blasting heaven deprived of day
Beneath her feet the' accuser lay:
She mark'd, and soon the prayer arose
To him who bade us love our foes;
By faith enforced the pious call
Again relumed the sightless ball.

To love an enemy is the distinguishing characteristic of a religion, which is not of man but of God. It could be delivered as a precept only by him who lived and died to establish it by his example.

At the close of that season, in which human frailty has commemorated sufferings which it could not sustain, a season in which the most zealous devotion can only substitute a change of food for a total abstinence of forty days; it cannot, surely, be incongruous to consider what approaches we can make to that divine love which these sufferings expressed, and how far man, in imitation of his Saviour, can bless those who curse him, and return good for evil.

We cannot, indeed, behold the example but at a distance; nor consider it without being struck with a sense of our own debility: every man who compares his life with this divine rule, instead of exulting in his own excellence, will smite his breast like the publican, and cry out, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" Thus to acquaint us with ourselves may, perhaps, be one use of the precept; but the precept cannot, surely, be considered as having no other.

I know it will be said, that our passions are not in our power; and that, therefore, a precept, to love or to hate, is impossible; for if the gratification of all our wishes was offered us to love a stranger as we love a child, we could not fulfil the condition, however we might desire the reward.

But admitting this to be true, and that we cannot love an enemy as we love a friend; it is yet equally certain, that we may perform those actions which are produced by love, from a higher principle: we may, perhaps, derive moral excellence from natural defects, and exert our reason instead of indulging a passion. If our enemy hungers we may feed him, and if he thirsts we may give him drink; this, if we could love him, would be our conduct; and this may still be our conduct, though to love him is impossible. The Christian will be prompted to relieve the necessities of his enemy, by his love to God: he will rejoice in an opportunity to express the zeal of his gratitude and the alacrity of his obedience, at the same time that he appropriates the promises and anticipates his reward,

But though he who is beneficent upon these principles may in the scripture sense be said to love his enemy; yet something more may still be effected: the passion itself in some degree is in our power; we may rise to a yet nearer emulation of divine for

giveness, we may think as well as act with kindness, and be sanctified as well in heart as in life.

Though love and hatred are necessarily produced in the human breast, when the proper objects of these passions occur, as the colour of material substances is necessarily perceived by an eye before which they are exhibited; yet it is in our power to change the passion, and to cause either love or hatred to be excited by placing the same object in different circumstances; as a changeable silk of blue and yellow may be held so as to excite the idea either of yellow or blue.

No act is deemed more injurious, or resented with greater acrimony, than the marriage of a child, especially of a daughter, without the consent of a parent: it is frequently considered as a breach of the strongest and tenderest obligations; as folly and ingratitude, treachery and rebellion. By the imputation of these vices a child becomes the object of indignation and resentment: indignation and resentment in the breast, therefore, of the parent are necessarily excited; and there can be no doubt but that these are species of hatred. But if the child is considered as still retaining the endearing softness of filial affection, as still longing for reconciliation, and profaning the rites of marriage with tears; as having been driven from the path of duty, only by the violence of passions which none have always resisted, and which many have indulged with much greater turpitude; the same object that before excited indignation and resentment will now be regarded with pity, and pity is a species of love.

Those, indeed, who resent this breach of filial duty with implacability, though perhaps it is the only one of which the offender has been guilty, demonstrate that they are without natural affection: and that they would have prostituted their offspring,