Part 16 (1/2)
Afflictions are common to all mankind; and whether they proceed from losses, disappointments, or the malice of men, they often bring their advantages along with them: For this shews man the vanity and deceitfulness of this life, and is an occasion of rectifying our measures, and bringing us to a more modest opinion of ourselves: It tells us, how necessary the a.s.sistance of divine grace is unto us, when life itself becomes a burden, and death even desirable: But when the greatest oppression comes upon us, we must have recourse to patience, begging of G.o.d to give us that virtue; and the more composed, we are under any trouble, the more commendable is our wisdom, and the larger will be our recompense. Let the provocation be what it will, whether from a good-natured and conscientious, or a wicked, perverse, and vexatious man; all this we should take as from the over-ruling hand of G.o.d, as a punishment for our sins. Many times injured innocence may be abused by false oaths, or the power of wicked, jealous, or malicious men; but we often find it, like the palm, rise the higher the more it is depressed; while the justice of G.o.d is eminently remarkable in punis.h.i.+ng those, one way or other, who desire to endeavour to procure the downfal of an innocent man: Nor does G.o.d fail comforting an afflicted person, who with tears and prayers solicits the throne of Heaven for deliverance and protection. David says, _that his soul was full of trouble, and his life drew near unto the grave_. But certainly David's afflictions made him eminently remarkable, as particularly when pursued by King Saul, and hunted as a partridge over the mountains. But one thing which stands by innocence, is the love of G.o.d; for were we to suffer disgrace, nay, an ignominious death itself, what consolation does our innocence procure at our latest conflict, our last moments!
CHAP. VI. _Of the immorality of conversation, and the vulgar errors of behaviour_.
As conversation is a great part of human happiness, so it is a pleasant sight to behold a sweet tempered man, who is always fit for it; to see an air of humour and pleasantness sit ever upon his brow, and even something angelic in his very countenance: Whereas, if we observe a designing man, we shall find a mark of involuntary sadness break in upon his joy, and a certain insurrection in the soul, the natural concomitant of profligate principles.
They err very much, who think religion, or a strict morality discomposes the mind, and renders it unfit for conversation; for it rather inspires us to innocent mirth, without such a counterfeit joy as vitious men appear with; and indeed wit is as consistent with religion, as religion is with good manners; nor is there any thing in the limitation of virtue and religion that should abate the pleasures of this world, but on the contrary rather serves to increase them.
On the other hand, many men, by their own vice and intemperance, disqualify themselves for conversation. Conversation is immoral, where the discourse is undecent, immodest, scandalous, slanderous, and abusive. How great is their folly, and how much do they expose themselves when they affront their best friend, even G.o.d himself, who laughs at the fool _when his fear cometh?_
The great scandal atheistical and immoral discourse gives to virtue, ought, methinks, to be punished by all good magistrates: Make a man once cease to believe a G.o.d, and he has nothing left to limit his soul. How incongruous is it to government, that a man shall be punished for drunkenness, and yet have liberty to affront, and even deny the Majesty of heaven? When if, even among men, one gives the lie to a gentleman in company, or perhaps speaks an affronting word, a quarrel will ensue, and a combat, and perhaps murder be the consequence: At the least, he, will prosecute him at law with the utmost virulence and oppression.
The next thing to be refrained, is obscene discourse, which is the language only of proficients in debauchery, who never repent, but in a gaol or hospital; and whose carcases relish no better than their discourse, till the body becomes too nasty for the soul to stay any longer in it.
Nor is false talking to be less avoided; for lying is the sheep's clothing hung upon the wolf's back: It is the Pharisee's prayer, the wh.o.r.e's buss, the hypocrite's paint, the murderer's smile, the thief's cloak; it is Joab's embrace, and Judah's kiss; in a word, it is mankind's darling sin, and the devil's distinguis.h.i.+ng character. Some add lies to lies, till it not only comes to be improbable, but even impossible too: Others lie for gain to deceive, delude, and betray: And a third lies for sport, or for fun. There are other liars, who are personal and malicious; who foment differences, and carry tales from one house to another, in order to gratify their own envious tempers, without any regard to reverence or truth.
THE
REMARKABLE HISTORY
OF
ALEXANDER SELKIRK
_From the voyage of Captain Woodes Rogers to the South Seas and round the World._
On February 1st, 1709, we came before that island,[1] having had a good observation the day before, and found our lat.i.tude to be 34 degrees 10 minutes south. In the afternoon, we hoisted out our pinnace; and Captain Dover, with the boat's crew, went in her to go ash.o.r.e, though we could not be less that four leagues off. As soon as the pinnace was gone, I went on board the d.u.c.h.ess, who admired our boat attempting going ash.o.r.e at that distance from land. It was against my inclination: but, to oblige Captain Dover, I let her go: As soon as it was dark, we saw a light ash.o.r.e. Our boat was then about a league off the island, and bore away for the s.h.i.+p as soon as she saw the lights: We put our lights aboard for the boat, though some were of opinion, the lights we saw were our boat's lights: But, as night came on, it appeared too large for that: We fired our quarter-deck gun, and several muskets, showing lights in our mizen and fore-shrouds, that our boat might find us whilst we were in the lee of the island: About two in the morning our boat came on board, having been two hours on board the d.u.c.h.ess, that took them up astern of us; we were glad they got well off, because it began to blow.
We were all convinces the light was on the sh.o.r.e, and designed to make our s.h.i.+ps ready to engage, believing them to be French s.h.i.+ps at anchor, and we must either fight them, or want water. All this stir and apprehension arose, as we afterwards found, from one poor naked man, who pa.s.sed in our imagination, at present, for a Spanish garrison, a body of Frenchmen, or a crew of pirates. While we were under these apprehensions, we stood on the backside of the island, in order to fall in with the southerly wind, till we were past the island; and then we came back to it again, and ran close aboard the land that begins to make the north-east side.