Complete Works of Laurence Sterne

by Laurence Sterne

  — She perceived he was a holy man, — she had had many opportunities, as he passed by them continually, of observing his behavior and deportment, which she had carefully remarked, and saw plainly what he was. That the sanctity and simplicity of his manners, — the severity of his life, — his zeal for the religion of his God, and the uncommon fervency of his devotion, when he worshipped before him, which seemed his whole business and employment upon earth; — all bespoke him not a man of this world, but one whose heart and affections were fixed upon another object, which was dearer and more important to him. But as such outward appearances may, and often have been counterfeited, so that the actions of a man are certainly the only interpreters to be relied on, whether such colours are true or false; — so she had heard that all was of a piece there, and that he was throughout consistent: that he had never in any one instance of his life, acted as if he had any views in the affairs of this world, in which he had never interested himself at all, but where the glory of his God, or the good and preservation of his fellow creatures at first inclined him: — that in a late instance before he came to Shunem, he had done one of the kindest and most charitable actions that a good man could have done in assisting the widow and fatherless; — and as the fact was singular, and had just happened before her knowledge of him, no doubt she had heard the story, with all the tender circumstances which a true report would give it in his favor; namely, that a certain woman whose husband was lately dead, and had left her with her children in a very helpless condition — very destitute — and what was still worse, charged with a debt she was not able to pay, — that her creditor bore exceeding hard upon her, and finding her little worth in substance, was coming to take the advantage which the law allowed of seizing her two sons for his bondsmen; — so that she had not only lost her husband, which had made her miserable enough already, but was going to be bereaved of her children, which were the only comfort and support of her life; that upon her coming to Elisha with this sad story, he was touched with, compassion for her misfortunes, and had used all the power and interest which he had with his God to relieve and befriend her, which in an unheard of manner, by the miraculous increase of her oil, which was the only substance she had left, he had so bountifully effected, as not only to disintangle her from her difficulties in paying the debt, but withal, what was still more generous, to enable her to live comfortably the remainder of her days. She considered that charity and compassion was so leading a virtue, and had such an influence upon every other part of a man’s character, as to be a sufficient proof by itself of the inward disposition and goodness of the heart, but that so engaging an instance of it as this, exercised in so kind and seasonable a manner, was a demonstration of his, — and that he was in truth what outward circumstances bespoke, a holy man of God. — As the Shunamite’s principle and motive for her hospitality to Elisha was just, as it sprung from an idea of the worth and merit of her guest, so likewise was the manner of doing it kind and considerate. It is observable she does not sollicit her husband to assign him an apartment in her own house, but to build him a chamber in the wall apart; — she considered, — that true piety wanted no witnesses, and was always most at ease when most private; — that the tumult and distraction of a large family were not fit for the silent meditations of so holy a man, who would perpetually there meet with something either to interrupt his devotion, or offend the purity of his manners; — that moreover, under such an independent roof, where he could take shelter as often as his occasions required, she thought he might taste the pleasure which was natural to man, in possessing something like what he could call his own, — and what is no small part of conferring a favor, he would scarce feel the weight of it, or at least much seldomer in this manner, than where a daily invitation and repetition of the kindness perpetually put him in mind of his obligation. If any thing could still add to this — it was — that it did not appear to be the dry offer of a faint civility, but that it came directly from the heart. There is a nicety in honest minds, which will not accept a cold and suspected offer, — and even when it appears to be sincere and truely meant, there is a modesty in true merit which knows not how to accept it; and no doubt she had one, if not both these difficulties to conquer in their turns. — For we read, that she constrained him, and in all likelyhood forced his acceptance of it with all the warmth and friendly openness of a humane and hospitable temper.

  It is with benefits as with injuries in this respect, that we do not so much weigh the accidental good or evil they do us, as that which they were designed to do us. — That is, we consider no part of them so much as their intention, and the prophet’s behavior consequent upon this, shews he beheld it through this medium, or in some such advantageous light as I have placed it.

  There is no burthen so heavy to a grateful mind, as a debt of kindness unpaid; — and we may believe Elisha felt it so, from the earnest desire which he had upon the immediate receipt of this, to discharge himself of it, which he expresses in the text in the warmest manner; —

  “Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this care? — What shall be done for thee? Wouldest thou be spoken for to the king, or the captain of his host?”

  — There is a degree of honest impatience in the words, such as was natural to a good man, who would not be behind-hand with his benefactor. — But there is one thing which may seem strange at first sight, that as her station and condition in life was such, that she appeared rather to have abounded already than stood in want of any thing in this world which such an application could supply, — why the prophet should not rather have proposed some spiritual advantage, which, as it would better have become the sanctity of his character on the one hand, so, on the other, it would have done a more real and lasting service to his friend.

  But we are to reflect, that in returning favors, we act differently from what we do in conferring them: — in the one case we simply consider what is best, — in the other, what is most acceptable. The reason is, that we have a right to act according to our own ideas of what will do the party most good in the case where we bestow a favor; — but where we return one, we lose this right, and act according to his conceptions who has obliged us, and endeavor to repay in such a manner as we think is most likely to be accepted in discharge of the obligation. — So that, though we are not to imagine Elisha could be wanting in religious duties, as well as wishes to so hospitable a friend, we may yet suppose, he was directed here by this principle of equity, — and that, in reflecting in what manner he should requite his benefactress, he had considered, that to one of her affluent condition who had all the reasonable comforts of an independent life, — if there was any passion yet unsatisfied, it must certainly be ambition: that though in general it was an irregular appetite, which in most cases ’twas dangerous to gratify, yet in effect, ’twas only so far criminal, as the power which it acquired was perverted to bad and vicious purposes, which it was not likely to be here, from the specimen she had already given of her disposition, which shewed, that if she did wish for an increase of wealth or honor, she wished it only, as it would enable her more generously to extend her arm in kind offices, and increase the power as well as the opportunities of doing good.

  In justice to Elisha’s motive, which must have been good, we must suppose, he considered his offer in this light; and what principally led him to propose it, was the great interest which he had with the king of Israel at that time, which he had merited by a signal service; and as he had no views for himself, he thought it could not be employed so well as in establishing the fortune of one, whose virtue might be so safely trusted with it. It was a justifiable prepossession in her favor, — though one, not always to be relied on; for there is many a one who in a moderate station, and with a lesser degree of power, who has behaved with honor and unblemished reputation, and who has even borne the buffetings of adverse fortune well, and manifested great presence and strength of mind under it, whom nevertheless a high exaltation has at once overcome, and so entirely changed, as if the
party had left not only his virtue, but even himself behind him.

  Whether the Shunamite dreaded to make this dangerous experiment of herself, — or, which is more likely, that she had learned to set bounds to her desires, and was too well satisfied with her present condition to be tempted out of it, she declines the offer in the close of the text: —

  “I dwell amongst my own people;”

  as if she had said,

  “The intended kindness is far from being small, but it is not useful to me; I live here, as thou art a witness, in peace, in a contented obscurity; — not so high as to provoke envy, nor so low as to be trodden down and despised. In this safe and middle state, as I have lived amongst my own people, so let me die out of the reach, both of the cares and glories of the world.— ’Tis fit, O holy man of God! that I learn some time or other to set bounds to my desires, and if I cannot fix them now, when I have already more than my wants require, when shall I hope to do it? — Or how should I expect, that even this increase of honor or fortune would fully satisfy and content my ambition, should I now give way to it?”

  So engaging an instance of unaffected moderation and self-denial, deserves well to be considered by the bustlers in this world; — because if we are to trust the face and course of things, we scarce see any virtue so hard to be put in practice, and which the generality of mankind seem so unwilling to learn, as this of knowing when they have enough, and when it is time to give over their worldly pursuits. — Aye! but nothing is more easy, you will answer, than to fix this point, and set certain bounds to it. —

  “For my own part, you will say, I declare, I want and would wish no more, but a sufficient competency of those things, which are requisite to the real uses and occasions of life, suitable to the way I have been taught to expect from use and education.”

  — But recollect how seldom it ever happens, when these points are secured, but that new occasions and new necessities present themselves, and every day as you grow richer, fresh wants are discovered, which rise up before you, as you ascend the hill; so that every step you take, — every accession to your fortune, sets your desires one degree further from rest and satisfaction, — that something you have not yet grasped, and possibly never shall; — that devil of a phantom unpossessed and unpossessable, is perpetually haunting you, and stepping in betwixt you and your contentment. — Unhappy creature! to think of enjoying that blessing without moderation! — or imagine that so sacred a temple can be raised upon the foundation of wealth or power! — If the ground work is not laid within your own mind, they will as soon add a cubit to your stature, as to your happiness. — To be convinced it is so, — pray look up to those who have got as high as their warmest wishes could carry them in this ascent, — do you observe they live the better, the longer, the merrier, — or that they sleep the sounder in their beds, for having twice as much as they wanted, or well know how to dispose of? — Of all rules for calculating happiness, this is the most deceitful, and which few but weak minds, and those unpractised in the world too, ever think of applying as the measure in such an estimation. — Great, and inexpressible may be the happiness, which a moderate fortune and moderate desires with a consciousness of virtue will secure. — Many are the silent pleasures of the honest peasant, who rises chearful to his labor; — why should they not? — Look into his house, the seat of each man’s happiness; — has he not the same domestic endearments, — the same joy and comfort in his children, and as flattering hopes of their doing well, to enliven his hours and glad his heart, as you could conceive in the highest station? — And I make no doubt in general, but if the true state of his joy and sufferings, could be fairly ballanced with those of his betters, whether any thing would appear at the foot of the account, but what would recommend the moral of this discourse. — This, I own, is not to be attained to, by the cynical stale trick of haranguing against the goods of fortune, — they were never intended to be talked out of the world. — But as virtue and true wisdom lie in the middle of extremes, — on one hand, not to neglect and despise riches, so as to forget ourselves, — and on the other, not to pursue and love them so, as to forget God; — to have them sometimes in our heads, — but always something more important in our hearts.

  SERMON XIV. SELF-EXAMINATION.

  ISAIAH 1. 3.

  The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib; — but Israel doth not know, — my people doth not consider.

  ‘TIS a severe but an affectionate reproach of the prophet’s, laid against the Israelites, — which may safely be applied to every heedless, and unthankful people, who are neither won by God’s mercies, or terrified by his punishments. — There is a giddy, thoughtless, intemperate spirit gone forth into the world, which possesses the generality of mankind, — and the reason the world is undone, is, because the world does not consider, — considers neither aweful regard to God, — or the true relation themselves bear to him. — Could they consider this, and learn to weigh the causes, and compare the consequences of things, and to exercise the reason, which God has put into us for the government and direction of our lives, — there would be some hopes of a reformation: — but, as the world goes, there is no leisure for such enquiries, and so full are our minds of other matters, that we have not time to ask, or a heart to answer the questions we ought to put to ourselves.

  Whatever our condition is, ’tis good to be acquainted with it in time, to be able to supply what is wanting, — and examine the state of our accounts, before we come to give them up to an impartial judge.

  The most inconsiderate see the reasonableness of this, — there being few I believe, either so thoughtless, or even so bad, but that they sometimes enter upon this duty, and have some short intervals of self-examination, which they are forced upon, if from no other motive, yet at least to free themselves from the load and oppression of spirits, they must necessarily be subject to without it. — But as the scripture frequently intimates, — and observation confirms it daily, — that there are many mistakes attending the discharge of this duty, — I cannot make the remainder of this discourse more useful, than by a short enquiry into them. I shall therefore, first, beg leave to remind you of some of the many unhappy ways, by which we often set about this irksome task of proving our works, without being either the better, or the wiser for the employment.

  And first then let us begin with that, which is the foundation of almost all the other false measures we take in this matter, — that is, the setting about the examination of our works, before we are prepared with honest dispositions to amend them. — This is beginning the work at the wrong end. These previous dispositions in the heart, are the wheels that should make this work go easily and successfully forwards, — and to take them off, and proceed without them, ’tis no miracle, if like Pharaoh’s chariots, they that drive them, — drive them heavily along.

  Besides, if a man is not sincerely inclined to reform his faults,— ’tis not likely he should be inclined to see them, — nor will all the weekly preparations that ever were wrote, bring him nearer the point; — so that with how serious a face soever he begins to examine, — he no longer does the office of an enquirer, — but an apologist, whose business is not to search for truth, — but skilfully to hide it. — So long — therefore, as this preengagement lasts betwixt the man and his old habits, — there is little prospect of proving his works to any good purpose, — of whatever kind they are, with so strong an interest and power on their side. — As in other trials, so in this, ’tis no wonder, if the evidence is puzzled and confounded, and the several facts and circumstances so twisted from their natural shapes, and the whole proof so altered and confirmed on the other side, — as to leave the last state of that man even worse than the first.

  A second unhappy, though general mistake in this great duty of proving our works, — is that which the apostle hints at; in the doing it, not by a direct examination of our own actions, but from a comparative view of them, with the lives and actions of other men.

  When a man is go
ing to enter upon this work of self-examination, — there is nothing so common, as to see him — look round him — instead of looking within him. — He looks round, — finds out some one, who is more malicious, — sees another that is more covetous, a third that is more proud and imperious than himself, — and so indirectly forms a judgment of himself, not from a review of his life, and a proving of his own works as the apostle directs him, but rather from proving the works of others, and from their infirmities and defects drawing a deceitful conclusion in favor of himself. — In all competitions of this kind — one may venture to say, there will be ever so much of self-love in a man, as to draw a flattering likeness of one of the parties — and ’tis well — if he has not so much malignity too, as to give but a coarse picture of the other, — finished with so many hard strokes, as to make the one as unlike its original as the other.

  Thus the pharisee when he entered the temple, — no sooner saw the publican, but that moment, he formed the idea to himself of all the vices and corruptions that could possibly enter into the man’s character, — and with great dexterity stated all his own virtues and good qualities over against them. His abstinence and frequent fasting, — exactness in the debts and ceremonies of the law; not ballancing the account as he ought to have done, in this manner: — What! though this man is a publican and a sinner, have not I my vices as well as he? ’Tis true, his particular office exposes him to many temptations of committing extortion and injustice; — but then — am not I a devourer of widows houses, and guilty of one of the most cruel instances of the same crime? He possibly is a prophane person, and may set religion at nought; — but do not I myself for a pretence make long prayers, and bring the greatest of all scandals upon religion, by making it the cloak to my ambition and worldly views? — If he, lastly, is debauched or intemperate — am not I conscious of as corrupt and wanton dispositions; and that a fair and guarded outside is my best pretence to the opposite character?