hope to derive it, or in the methods, in which it is pursued. The affection itself is, however, but one; and will be so considered in the present discourse. In these rulers this disposition was addressed, as it is, perhaps, in most other cases, in two modes: the dread of losing the favourable opinion of their countrymen, especially of persons possessing superior influence: and the hope of retaining it and so powerfully was it addressed, that to secure this favourable opinion they were willing to forego the approbation of their Maker.

The youngest member of this audience scarcely needs to be told, that the feelings, which governed these Jewish rulers, characterize the whole race of Adam. No man is sufficiently elevated to rise above their influence; and no man sufficiently depressed to be beneath it. The ambition of kings and heroes, of philosophers and poets, has for ages been a proverbial topic of observation. It is unnecessary to search for it at the head of empires, or armies, or recur to profound wisdom, or brilliant talents. Men in private life, and of all descriptions, covet the good opinion of those around them as truly, as he, who challenges the homage of courts and nations; as he, who expects to inwreath his temples with a garland of amaranth, or to live through the succession of ages by the hand of the statuary; as he, who is conscious of soaring above the Aonian mount on the wing of Milton, or of unravelling with the hand of Newton the mysteries of nature. The farmer claims this distinction from the skill and success of his husbandry; the merchant, from the extension and prosperity of his commerce. The mechanic expects it from the niceness and superiority of his workmanship; and the manufacturer, from the ingenuity with which he abridges his labour, and the perfection which he gives to his fabrics. When we descend to the humblest stations of life; we see the same spirit no less prominent in those, by whom they are occupied. The common labourer, the seaman before the mast, the coachman, the groom, and the foot-boy, are as truly, and often as intensely, covetous of applause, as the statesman, or the hero. They feel equally well assured, that they have merited it; equally challenge it as their proper reward; and are no less uniformly governed by it as a motive. To take one set of examples more: men, distinguished for their

vices only, aim equally at acquiring distinction by these, as others by nobler, kinds of conduct. The miser, odious to all men by his characteristical spirit, still intends to be, and feels strongly assured that he is, applauded, as well as envied, by others, for his shrewdness in amassing money, and for the sums which he has actually amassed. The thief claims applause for the cunning, and the robber for the courage, with which he has plundered

others of their property. The gambler holds it to be high distinction to game with skill; the liar, to impose with adroitness on the faith of his neighbours; and the drunkard, to taste wine more acutely than his companions. All these men, and all others, like them in character or station, aim at the applause of some circle,. greater or less, of their fellow-men. All feel conscious of having deserved it in some manner or other by their conduct; and all are proud both of the desert, and the attainment. Should the extraordinary case happen, that any one of them should believe himself to have failed of his favourite object; he would, like the miser in Horace, console himself for the injustice, done to him, by an ample tribute of self-flattery at his own fire-side. To sum up this part of the discussion in a word; it is not improbable, that no child of Adam was ever so poor, so low in station, so ignorant, so profligate, or so absolutely destitute of character, as not to aim at the applause of others, and to feel assured that it was his due.

It is, however, to be carefully observed, that dispositions materially different are designated in the customary language of men by these names. What is intended by them is sometimes the desire of Esteem, and sometimes the love of Admiration.

The desire of esteem is, in its nature, capable of being just and vindicable. It may be, it often is, no other than the desire of being believed by others to have thought, and acted, well; to have done our duty; to have conformed to the dictates of conscience, and the Word of God. In this case, if confined within the limits, prescribed in the Sacred volume, it is virtuous. In that volume we are taught, that a good name is better than great riches, and loving favour, than silver and gold. A good name is nothing but the character, testified of us by others, when they believe, that we have done our duty: and such a testimony is by the voice of God declared to be better than great riches. Accordingly, it is

valued and sought, and the Scriptures intended, that it should be thus valued and sought, by good men. The esteem of the wise and virtuous, commonly followed by that of other men, is of more worth than we can easily calculate; and forms no small part of the happiness, found on this side of the grave. Nay, the esteem of angels, and of the spirits of just men made perfect, will constitute an essential part of the enjoyments of heaven.

Rational esteem is given only to good qualities, displayed in good conduct. The sober desire of such esteem will therefore prompt him, in whom it exists, to the attainment, the increase, and the exhibition, of such qualities; or, in other words, will urge him to the acquisition of the best character.

But the love of admiration is a far more common attribute of the human mind; and, if I mistake not, is never virtuous. The praise, which we covet for our talents, accomplishments, wealth, splendour, power, or influence, is in every case, which I have been able to figure to myself, sinfully coveted. This is the very desire of distinction, which our first parents cherished in their apostasy. It is the ambition, which has disgraced, and afflicted, mankind from the beginning; under the efforts of which the earth has groaned, and travailed in pain, together, till the present hour. It is the spirit, which, to a vast extent, has goaded the usurper on to the throne, through treachery and blood; and spurred the hero to conflagration and slaughter. It is not always made the ultimate object; but is intended, in many instances, to subserve the purposes of other base and selfish affections; the acquisition of wealth, power, and pleasure.

No passion of the human mind is stronger than this. After it has been sufficiently indulged to become a habit, it engrosses all the energy of the soul; or, perhaps, more properly, becomes its whole energy; and converts all the faculties, and all the efforts, to its own purposes. In this case the soul is changed into a mere mass of ambition: and nothing in heaven, or in earth, is felt to possess the least value, except as it may be subservient to the dictates of this master passion. Alexander under its influence ravaged a world; and sighed, and wept, for another. In his steps has trodden every military madman down to the present hour: and in the same steps, before them all, walked Satan; the first

maniac, ever seen in the universe; when he disdained the high estate, to which he had been originally exalted, and left his own habitation; or, in other words, the magnificent station, assigned him by God; because it was not lofty enough to satisfy his desire of distinction. There is no excess, no length, to which this affection will not go. There is no authority of God or man, against which it will not rebel; no law, which it will not violate; no obligation, which it will not burst asunder; and no motive, furnished by time or eternity, by heaven or hell, which it will not overWickedness can in no other form become more intense; nor its plans more vast; nor its obstinacy more enduring; nor its ravages more extensive, or more dreadful.

come.

It will not be wondered, that, with these views, a Minister of the Gospel should fervently endeavour to dissuade his own flock from the indulgence of a disposition, so violently opposed to the will of God, so hostile to the welfare of mankind, and so injurious to every interest of the possessor.

It may, however, it probably will, appear not a little strange to an assembly of youths. that a Minister of the Gospel should entertain these views. They have been so accustomed to hear from almost every voice, which they have ever heard, and to see in a great part of the books, which they have read, the love of distinction honoured by the imposing names of a generous ambition, a laudable ambition, a noble emulation, an honest desire to excel; together with many others of a similar nature; that they may be not a little surprized to find language so different, adopted concerning this subject on the present occasion. The true reason, why these imposing names have been so generally used, cannot be found in the nature of the subject. As this passion exists in the hearts of all men; as it is naturally the favourite passion in almost all; every man, who gives it soft appellations, is pleasantly employed, whether conscious of it or not, in justifying his own conduct, and panegyrising his own character. At the same time, the parent, the instructor, the friend, and with shame I must add, because it is true, sometimes even the Minister of the Gospel, realizing that this is the most influential and operative propensity of the heart, feels a kind of necessity of engaging it for those purposes, to which he would persuade others; and despairs, perhaps, of ef

fectually engaging them by any other means. In this case, the teacher offers the incense of flattery both to himself and his pupil. In each, the heart is silly enough to relish the perfume; and deceitful enough to prevent the conscience from perceiving the im morality of the affections indulged, or of the means employed. All, in this case, have been pleased; and therefore willingly deceived.

Youths, who by their education are destined to fill important offices in the world, are peculiarly liable to become victims of this imposition. They incessantly hear all the changes rung, which the voice of man has been able to form concerning superiority of genius, talents, eloquence, learning, science, taste and criticism; and insensibly are fashioned into a belief, that these are the idols before which they may lawfully bow. Every one is also bolstered in this belief by the universal faith of his companions. Where the knees of all around him are already bent, it is no difficult thing for an individual to persuade himself, that the worship is vindicable.

It is, however, my design in this discourse, to convince you, my young friends, for whom it was especially written, and your companions, also, who are equally interested in the subject, that, notwithstanding all the splendour, with which this passion has been invested, it is opposed to the will of God, injurious to your fellowmen, and noxious to yourselves; and to dissuade you, as far as may be, from the indulgence of a disposition, absolutely malig

nant.

To accomplish this end, I shall adopt no other method, except placing before you plain truth. I shall not exaggerate. I shall not colour. I shall treat you fairly, and just as I wish you to treat yourselves.

I shall not, therefore, tell you, that there is no pleasure, to be found in distinction. If there were not; how could it be coveted by man? By what means could the passion for it have become so strong, as frequently to have set the world on fire, and to have converted its fairest portions into heaps of desolation. I well know, that the object is but too fascinating; that the pleasure, which it holds out, is but too intense for such minds as ours; that the gratifications, which it promises, swell the heart into ecstasy,