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AS IT PROCEEDS FROM

HABIT-LOVE-RELIGION.!

WITH ITS RESPECTIVE

KINDS, CAUSES, CONSEQUENCES, AND CURES.

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

INTRODUCTION.

MELANCHOLY proceeds either from the disposi tion or the habit. The species of melancholy which proceeds from the disposition, is merely a temporary depression of the spirits, which goes and comes upon every small occasion of sorrow, sickness, need, fear, grief, care, discontent, trouble, passion, or other perturbation of the mind, and causes such a degree of anguish or vexation, as diminishes or destroys the common sensations of pleasure. In this imperfect acceptation of the term, a person who is in any degree ill disposed, dull, sad, sour, solitary, mopish, or otherwise moved or dejected, is said to be melancholy; and, indeed, from this species of the disease no human creature is entirely free: there is no one so well composed, so wise, so happy, so generous, so godly, so divine, or even so unfeeling, as not to be occasionally cast down

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by the petty cares, or greater vexations of life. Discontent is the characteristic of humanity; the condition upon which we are permitted to hold our frail and feverish beings; and denotes the imperfections of our mortal state. Man that is born of a woman," says the patient and pious Job," is of short continuance, and full of trouble." The mild and peaceful Socrates*,

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* This great and extraordinary man was born at Alopece, a village near Athens, in the 4th year of the 77th Olympiad. His father, Sophronicus, was a mason; and his mother, Phanareta, a midwife; but, by the generous assistance of Crito, a wealthy Athenian, and his own wonderful powers of mind, he soon emerged from the obscurity of his origin, and became equally great both in arts and in arms. It was not, indeed, until he was sixty years of age, that he was called from the labours of war, and the studies of philosophy, to serve his country in any civil office, when he was chosen to represent his own district in the council of Five Hundred; but after serving the state with the highest honour, and most inflexible integrity, he was condemned by the artifices of Militus, Lycon, and other factious leaders of the opposite party, to die by poison; and it is impossible, as Cicero has justly observed, to read the story of his death without shedding a profusion of tears. In the midst of domestic vexation and public disorder, this amiable philosopher and excellent man retained such unruffled serenity, that he was never seen either to leave his own house, or to return home with an unsettled countenance. In acquiring this entire dominion over his passions and appetites, he had the greater merit, as it was not effected without a violent struggle against his natural propensities; for he admitted that he was by his natural disposition prone to vice. He estimated the value of knowledge by its utility; and recommended the sciences only so far as they admit of a practical appli

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whose outward demeanour no adversity could disturb, who, amidst a multitude of miseries, still preserved the same serenity of countenance, was, as his disciple Plato. informs us, greatly subject to this melancholy disposition; and Quintus Metellus, the celebrated Roman senator and consul, though wise, virtuous, rich, highly honoured, beloved by a beautiful wife, blessed in a happy offspring, surrounded with troops of friends, and in every respect illustriously fortu→ nate, had his share of sorrows, and frequently felt the pangs of this transitory disease*. It is, cation to the buff purposes of human life. His great object, in all his discourses, was to lead men to an acquaintance with themselves; to convince them of their follies and vices go to inspire them with the love of virtue); and tó furnish them with useful moral instruction." He

was,"

says Cicero, th "the first who called down philosophy from heaven to earth, and introduced her into the public walks, and domestic retirements of men, that she might instruct them concerning life and manners." He died acknowledging with his last breath his conviction of the immortality of the soul, and a fearful hope of a happy existence after death.

*This observation cannot be intended of Quintus Metellus Celer, the confidential friend of Cicero, and pretor during his consulate; for this Metellus was married to Clodia, the sister of Clodius, a profligate abandoned woman, who, instead of bestowing her fondness on her husband, gave it indiscriminately to almost every admirer of her beauty; and, after thus dishonouring the nuptial bed, at length put an end to her husband's life by poison. It is more applicable to Quintus Cæcilius Metellus, called Numidicus, the Roman general, in the war against Jugur tha. To act ill in any circumstances," said he, "is the effect of a corrupt heart; to act well when there is

indeed, a doom from which no man is permitted to set himself free; of the truth of which the story of Polycrates, the tyrant of Samos, is a remarkable instance. This vain and avaricious man, to interrupt and bring into balance the continued course of his good fortune, threw the dearest and most precious jewel he had into the sea, believing that by this voluntary search of unhappiness, he should subdue and defeat the ordinary vicissitudes of fortune; but she, to ridicule his folly, restored it to him again shortly after, by causing him to find it in the mouth of a fish, which he took while he was angling; and by thus thwarting his impious expectation, rendered him unhappy. Misery is the lot of man: there is nothing so prosperous and pleasant, but it has some bitterness mixed with it. As the rose-tree is composed of the sweetest flowers, and the sharpest thorns; as. the heavens are sometimes fair, and sometimes overcast, alternately tempestuous and serene, so is the life of man intermingled with hopes and fears, with joys and sorrows, with pleasures" and with pains. Invicem cedunt dolor et voluptas. "The heart," says Solomon*,

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even in the midst of laughter, is sorrowful; and the end

nothing to fear, is the merit of a common man ; but to act well when a man exposes himself to the greatest hazards, is peculiar to the truly virtuous.". He was banished from his country by the factions of Marius; but was soon recalled by that spirit of patriotism, which never entirely deserts statesmen of true dignity and real virtue. * Prov. xiv. 13.

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of mirth is heaviness." Even in the midst of all our feasting and jollity, there is grief and discontent*

For still some bitter thought destroys
Our fancied mirth, and poisons all our joys†.

The world produces for every pint of honey, a gallon of gall; for every dram of pleasure, a pound of pain; for every inch of mirth, an ell of moan; and as the ivy twines around the oak, so does misery and misfortune encompass the happiness of man. Felicity, pure and unalloyed felicity, is not a plant of earthly growth‡; her gardens are the skies. Misfortune, to convince us of its power, lies in wait to annoy us every hour of our lives.

,

The condition of human

* St. Austin on 41st Psalm.

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quoniam medio de fonte lepôrum,

Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.

Lucretius, lib. iv. lig, 1124.

And which Dryden has finely translated,→

"For in the fountain where the sweets are sought, Some bitter bubbles up, and poisons all the draught."

There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse,

A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy,
Our thoughtless agitation's idle child,

That mantles high, that sparkles and expires,
Leaving the soul more vapid than before;
An animal ovation! such as holds

No commerce with our reason, but subsists

On juices, thro' the well-ton'd tubes well strain'd;
A nice machine! scarce ever tun'd aright,

And when it jars

the sirens sing no more.

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