There have been pious visionaries, who have made an effort to make their minds so far abstracted, as to wish the protraction of their love for God, and the annihilation of that delight which they experienced in loving him: but to take away pleasure from the idea of loving, would be the same as if we were to take away roundness from the idea of a circle. Love is solely disinterested, when we have no other advantage resulting from it, but the satisfaction which attends the deed itself. So far the Christian ought to be void of self-interest.

If there have been divines, who have fancied the soul to be wholly capable of being disinterested with regard to pleasure, there have been philosophers, who

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have thought her incapable to be influenced by any motives but those derived from the view of self-interest. But in order to convict this idea, let us for a moment take a survey of our theatres. The novelty there displayed, though frequently thought to corrupt the mind, still is sufficient to make us sensible she is formed for virtue. Why do we shed tears for unfortunate heroes? With what exuberant joy would we fly to rescue them? Whence comes this adherence? Does it proceed from the ties of blood or friendship? No, certainly: we have engrafted in us the seeds of benevolence, which are always ready to spring up in favour of virtue, and dispose us to humanity, when their growth is not obstructed by opposite passions. History informs us of a

Grecian tyrant, who being present at the representation of Euripides's Hecuba, left the house at the end of the first act, filled with conscious shame when he found himself in tears; by this means shewing a tender feeling for the departed souls of the Trojans, which he had never felt for his own countrymen: barbarous and inhuman, when in pursuit of what appeared to be his interest, yet by nature formed for benevolence.

O Thou! by whose almighty nod, the scale

Of empire rises or alternate falls,

Send forth the saving virtues round

In bright patrole: while Peace and social Love,

The tender-looking Charity, intent

On gentle deeds and shedding tears through smiles
Undaunted truth and dignity of mind.

Since the motions of the heart are pleasing where humanity prevails, and only painful where hatred reigns, it is but rational to think, that the ancients ought to have reckoned those tragedies alone defective, which raised the misfortunes of virtuous persons to such a degree, as to kindle indignation; but not those, wherein solicitude for their fate is worked up to the catastrophe, and at last gives place to the joy of seeing them perfectly happy. At least, we must so far agree with an ancient writer, that a strong esteem for self-preservation makes us more willing to receive the impression of sorrow than joy; so that the soul more deeply interests itself with the misfortunes of a virtuous person, than with his prosperity. Doubtless his happiness

would have given us pleasure; but by a certain magic power of tragedy, his misfortunes move us with a kind of delightful sorrow, more pleasing than joy itself, because it gives a more cheerful employment to our humanity and benevolence, the secret delight of which is so powerful, as to be capable to convert grief into joy, and to render tears more agreeable than smiles.

Whence comes it that we should be so agreeably entertained with representations on the stage, while at the same time we should be shocked with inward horror had they really been performed before us? It is owing to the different positions of the object, that we feel such contrary impressions. The more likely the misfor