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XII.—On the Immortality of the Soul.-'SPECTATOR.
AMONG other excellent arguments for the immore tality of the soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its perfection, without a possibil. ity of ever arriving at it ; which is a hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others who have written on this subject, though it seems to me to carry a great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing, almost as soon as it is created ? Are such abilities made for no purpose ? A brute arrives at a point of perfection that he can never pass ; in a few years he has all the endowments he is capable of; where he to live ten thousand more, he would be the same thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accomplishments : were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of further enlargements ; I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a state of annihilation. But, can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her enquiries?
Man, considered in his present state, does not seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down to others.This is not surprising to consider in animals, which are formed for our use, and can finish their business in a short life. The silkworm after having spun her task, lays her eggs and dies. But in this life inan can never take in his full measure of knowledge ;, nor has he time to subdue his passions, establish his soul in virtue, and come up to the perfection of his nature, before he is hurried off the stage. Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious creaures, for so mean a purpose ? Can he delight in the production of such abortive intelligences, such short lived reasonable beings? Would he
give us talents that are not to be exerted ? Capacities that are never to be gratifi ! How can we find that wisdom which shines through all his works, in the formation of man, without looking on this world as only a nursery for the next ; and believing that the several generations of rational creatures, which rise up and disappear in such quick successions, are only to receive their first rudiments of all existence here, and afterwards to be transplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may spread and flourish to all eternity ?
There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and trinimphant consideration in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which the soul makes towards the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To look upon the soul as going on from strength to strength ; to consider that she is to shine, with new accessions of glory, to all eternity ; that she will be still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge ; carries in it something wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which is natural to the mind of man. Nay, it must be a prospect pleasing to God himself, to see his creation forever beautifying in his eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by greater degrees of resemblance.
Methinks this single consideration, of the progress of a finite spirit to perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, and all contempt in su. perior. That cherubim which now appears as a God to a human soul, knows very well that the period will come about in eternity, when the human soul shall be as perfect as he himself now is ? nay, when she shall look down upon that degree of perfection as much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the higher nature still advances, and by that means preserves his distance and superiority in the scale of being; but hi knows, that how. high soever the station is of which he stands possessed at present, the inferior nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same degree of glory.
With what astonishment and veneration may we look into our souls, where there are such hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such ioexhausted sources of per
fection! We know not yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter into the heart of man to conceive the glory that will be always in reserve for him. The soul, con. sidered in relation to its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines, that may draw nearer to another for all eternity, without a possibility of touching it : and can there be a thought so transporting, as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches of Him, who is not only the standard of perfection, but of happiness! XIII.-The Combat of the Horatii and the Curiatii.
Livv. THE combat of the Horatii and Curiatii is painted in a very natural and animated manner by Livy. The cause was this. The inhabitants of Alba and Ronie, roused by ambition and mutual complaints, took the field, and were on the eve of a bloody battle. The Alban general to prevent the effusion of blood, proposed to Hostilius, then king of Rome, to refer the destiny of both na. tions to three combatants of each side, and that empire should be the prize of the conquering party. The proposal was accepted. The Albans named the Curiatii, three brothers, for their champions. The three sons of Horatius were chosen for the Romans.
The treaty being concludd, the three brothers, on each side, arrayed themselves in armour, according to agreement. Each side exhorts its respective champions; representing to them, that their gods, their country, their parents, every individual in the city and army, now fixed their eyes on their arms and valor. The generous combatants, intrepid in themselves, and animated by such exhortations, march forth, and stood between the two armies. The arinies placed themselves before the respective camps, and were less solicitous for any present danger, than for the consequence of this action. They therefore gave their whole attention to a sight, which could not but alarm them. The signal is given. The combatants engage with hostile weapons, and show themselves inspired with the intre pidity of two mighty armies. Both parties, equally insensible of their own danger, had nothing in view but the slavery or liberty of their country, whose destiny depended upon their con
duct. At the first onset, the clashing of their armor, and the 'ernfic oleam of their sworels, filled the specta
sich trepidation, fear and horror, that the face ulty r peth and breath seemed totally suspended,
in the hope of success inclined to neither side
molt cone to a closer engagement, not only the mrn'o" 3 tf thei: bodies, and the furious agitation of their Weapons iirested the eyes of the spectators, but their opening wounds, and the streaming blood. Two of the Romans fell, and expired at the feet of the Albans, who were all three wounded. Upon their fall the Alban army shouted for joy, while the Roman legions remained without hope, but not without concern, being eagerly anxious for the surviving Roman, then surrounded by his three adversaries. Happily he was not WO!! d; but not being a niatch for three, though suprior to any of them singly, lie had, rvcourse to a stra»a« £m forma dividing them. He betook self to Hight; rightly supposing, that they would follow him t unequal distance, as their strength after so much loss of blood, would permit. Having fled a considerable way from the spot where they fought, he look. ed back, and saw the Curiatii pursuing, at a considerable distance from one another, end one of them very near him. He turned with all his fury upon the foremost ; and, while the Alban army were crying out to his brothers to succor him, Horatius, having presently dispatched his first enemy, rushed forward to a second victory. The Romans encourage their champion by such acclamations as generally proceerl from unexpected success. He, on the other hand, hastens to put an end to the second combat, and slew another, before the third, who was not far off, could come up to his assistance. There now remained only one combatant on each side. The Roman, who had still received no hurt, fired with gaining a double victory, advances with great confidence to his third combat. His antagonist, on the other hand, being weakened by loss of blood, and spent with running so far, could scarce drag his legs after him, and being already dispirited by the death of his brothers, presents his breast to the victor, for it could not be called a con
tcst. “ Two (says the exulting Roman) two have I sacrificed to the manes of my brothers—the third I will offer up to my country, that henceforth Rome may give laws to Alba." Upon which he transfixed him with his sword, and stripped him of his armor. The Romans reeeived Horatius, the victor, into their camp, with an exultation, great as their former fear. After this each army buried their respective dead, but with very different sentiments ; the one reflecting on the sovereignty they had acquired, and the other on the subjection to slavery, to the power of the Romans.
This combat became still more remarkable : Horatius returning to Rome, with the arms and spoils of his enemy, met his sister, who was to have been married to one of the Curiatii. Seeing her brother dressed in her lover's coat of armor, which she herself had wrought, she could not contain her grief. She shed a flood of tears, she tore her hair, and in the transports of her sorrow, uttered the most violent imprecations against her brother. Horatius, warm with his victory, and enraged at the grief which his sister expressed, with such unseasonable passion, in the midst of the public joy, in the heat of his anger, drove a poignard to her heart." Begone to thy lover," says he," and carry him that degenerate passion which makes the prefer a dead enemy to the glory of thy country." Every body detested an action so cruel and inhuman. The murderer was immediately seized, dragged before the Dunn viri, the proper judges of such crimes. Horatius was condemned to lose his life ; and the very day of his triumph had been the day of his punishment, if he had not by the advice of Tullus Hosil.ius; appealed from that judgment to the assemiy cihe people. He appeared there with the same courage and resolution that he had shown in the combat with the Cu. riatii.—The people thought so great a service ocht justly excuse them, if for once they moderated the rigor of the law; and, accordingly, he was acquitted, rather through admiration of his courage, than for the justice of his cause.