ly the idea of what we call fo, we shall .. nothing else but an imitation and mimickry nature, or, in other terms, affability, complaifance, . · eafinefs of temper reduced into an art.

Thefe exterior shows and appearances of humanity render a man wonderfully popular and beloved when they are founded upon a real good-nature; but without it are like hypocrify in religion, or a bare form of holinefs, which, when it is discovered, makes a man more deteftable than profeffed impiety.

Good-nature is generally born with us; health, prosperity, and kind treatment from the world are great cherishers of it where they find it; but nothing is capable of forcing it up, where it does not grow of itfelf. It is one of the bleflings of a happy conftitution, which education may improve, but not produce.

Xenopbon in the life of his imaginary prince, whom he defcribes as a pattern for real ones, is always celebrating the philanthropy or good-nature of his hero, which he tells us he brought into the world with him, and gives many remarkable instances of it in his childhood, as well as in all the feveral parts of his life. Nay, on his death-bed, he defcribes him as being pleafed, that while his foul returned to him who made it, his body fhould incorporate with the great mother of all things, and by that means become beneficial to mankind. For which reafon, he gives his fons a positive order not to enshrine it in gold or filver, but to lay it in the earth as foon as the life was gone out of it.

An inftance of fuch an overflowing of humanity, fuch an exuberant love to mankind, could not have entered into the imagination of a writer who had not a foul filled with great ideas, and a general benevolence to mankind.

In that celebrated paffage of Salluft, where Cafar and Cato are placed in fuch beautiful, but oppofite lights; Cafar's character is chiefly made up of goodnature, as it fhewed itself in all its forms towards his friends or his enemies, his fervants or dependants, the guilty or the diftreffed. As for Cato's character, it is rather awful than amiable. Juftice feems most

.d.

ble to the nature of God, and mercy to that of

A being who has nothing to pardon in himself, may reward every man according to his works; but he whofe very best actions must be feen with grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate, and forgiving. For this reafon, among all the monstrous characters in human nature, there is none fo odious, nor indeed fo exquifitely ridiculous, as that of a rigid, fevere temper in a worthless man.

This part of good-nature, however, which confifts in the pardoning and overlooking of faults, is to be exercifed only in doing ourselves justice, and that too in the ordinary commerce and occurrences of life; for in the public administration of justice, mercy to one may be cruelty to others.

It is grown almost into a maxim, that good-natured men are not men always of the most wit. This observation, in my opinion, has no foundation in nature. The greatest wits I have converfed with are men eminent for their humanity. I take therefore this remark to have been occafioned by two reafons, first, because ill-nature among ordinary obfervers paffes for wit. A fpiteful faying gratifies fo many little paffions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with a good reception. The laugh arifes upon it, and the man who utters it is looked upon as a fhrewd Satirift. This may be one reafon, why a great many pleafant companions appear fo furpringly dull, when they have endeavoured to be merry in print; the public being more juft than private clubs or affemblies, in diftinguishing between what is wit and what is ill-nature.

Another reason why the good-natured man may fometimes bring his wit in question, is, perhaps, becaufe he is apt to be moved with compaffion for those misfortunes or infirmities, which another would turn into ridicule, and by that means gain the reputation of a wit. The ill-natured man, though but of equal parts, gives himself a larger field to expatiate in; he expofes thofe failings in human nature which the other would caft a veil over; laughs at vices which the

other either excufes or conceals; gives utterance to reflections which the other ftifles; falls indifferently upon friend or enemies; expofes the perfon who had obliged him; and in short, ticks at nothing that may establish his character of a wit. It is no won der therefore he fucceeds in it better than the man of humanity, as a perfon who makes ufe of indirect methods is more likely to grow rich than the fair trader. SPECTATOR, Vol. II. No. 169. L..

In one of last week's papers I treated of good-nature, as it is the effect of conftitution; I fhall now fpeak of it as it is a moral virtue. The firft may make man easy in himfelf, and agreeable to others,. but implies no merit in him who is poffeffed of it. A man is no more to be praised upon this account, than because he has a regular pulfe, or a good digeftion.. This good-nature however in the conftitution, which Mr. Dryden fomewhere calls a milkiness of blood, is an. admirable ground-work for the other.. In order therefore to try our good-nature, whether it arifes, from the body or the mind, whether it be founded in the animal or rational part of our nature; in a word, whether it be fuch as is entitled to any other reward befides that fecret fatisfaction and contentment of mind which is effential to it, and the kind reception it: procures us in the world, we must examine it by the: following rules:

First, whether it acts with fteadiness and uniformi-ty in fickness and in health, in profperity and adverfity: If otherwife, it is to be looked upon as nothing elfe but an irradiation of the mind from fome new fupply of fpirits, or a more kindly circulation of the blood. Sir Francis Bacon mentions a cunning folicitor,. who would never afk a favour of a great man before dinner; but took care to prefer his petition at a time: when the party petitioned had his mind free from care, and his appetite in good humour. Such a tran fent temporary, good-nature as this, is not that philan thropy, that love of mankind, which deferves the title of a moral virtue..

he next way of a man's bringing his good-nature the teft, is, to confider whether it operates accordng to the rules of reafon and duty: For if, nothwithftanding its general benevolence to mankind, it makes no distinction between its objects, if it exerts itself promifcuously towards the deferving and undeferving, if it relieves alike the idle and the indigent, if it makes itself up to the first petitioner, and lights upon any one rather by accident than choice, it may pafs for an amiable instinct, but must not affume the name of a moral virtue.

The third trial of good-nature will be the examining ourselves, whether or not we are able to exert it to our own difadvantage, and employ it on proper objects, notwithstanding any little pain, want, or inconvenience which may arife to ourselves from it. In a word, whether we are willing to risk any part of our fortune, or reputation, or health or eafe, for the benefit of mankind. Among all thefe expreffions of good nature, I fhall fingle out that which goes under the general name of Charity, as it confifts in relieving the indigent; that being a trial of this kind which offers itself to us at almost all times, and in every place.

I fhould propofe it as a rule to every one who is provided with any competency of fortuné more than fufficient for the neceffaries of life, to lay afide à certain proportion of their income for the ufe of the poor. This I would look upon as an offering to him who has a right to the whole, for the use of thofe, whom, in the paffage hereafter mentioned, he has defcribed as his own reprefentatives upon earth. At the fame time we should manage our charity with fuch prudence and caution, that we may not hurt our own friends or relations, whilft we are doing good to thofe who are ftrangers to us.

This may poffibly be explained better by an example than by a rule.

Eugenius is a man of an univerfal good-nature, and generous beyond the extent of his fortune; but withal fo prudent in the ceconomy of his affairs, that what

goes out in charity, is made up by good management. Eugenius has what the world calls two hundred pounds a year; but never values himself above ninefcore, as not thinking he hath a right to the tenth part, which he always appropriates to charitable ufes. To this fum he frequently makes other voluntary additions, infomuch that in a good year, (for fuch he accounts those in which he has been able to make greater bounties than ordinary) he has given above twice that fum to the fickly and indigent. Eugenius prefcribes to himfelf many particular days of falling and abftinence, in order to increafe his private bank of charity, and fets afide what would be the current expenfes of thofe times for the ufe of the poor. He often goes a-foot where his bufinefs calls him, and at the end of his walk has given a fhilling which in his ordinary methods of expence would have gone for coach-hire, to the firft perfon who has fallen in his way. I have known him, when he was going to a play or an opera, devote the money which was defigned for that purpofe, upon an object of charity whom he has met with in the street; and afterwards pat's his evening in a coffee-houfe, or at a friend's firefide, with much greater fatisfaction to himfelf than he could have received from the moft exquifite entertainments of the theatre. By thefe means he is generous, without impoverishing himself, and enjoys his eftate by making it the property of others.

There are few men fo cramped in their private affairs, who may not be charitable after this manner, without any dífadvantage to themfelves, or prejudice. to their families. It is but fometimes facrificing a diverfion or convenience to the poor, and returning the ufual course of our expences into a better channel. This is, I think, not only the molt prudent and convenient, but the moft meritorious piece of charity, which we can put in practice. By this method we in fome measure fhare the neceflities of the poor at the fame time we relieve them, and make ourselves not only the patrons, but their fellow-fufferers.

Sir Thomas Brown, in the last part of his Religio Medi