No. CLXXXIII.

Fundamentum est omnium virtutum pietas in parentes.

CICERO PRO PLANC.

Piety towards parents is the foundation of all virtues.

Or the virtues which are adapted to the capacity and practice of a young man, the loveliest is, perhaps, FILIAL PIETY. It is at once his ornament, his interest, his honour, and his pride. Good men will esteem it the brightest jewel in his conduct, and the wise will regard it as the best proof of his virtue and prudence. A youth, who is obedient to his parents, will gain credit for a good disposition; for if he were not well disposed, he would be unruly and headstrong, instead of submitting to the restraints of parental authority. He will have credit also for morality and goodness of heart; for he that listens willingly to the lessons of age, and suffers his youthful passions to be regulated by the admonitions of parental experience, can hardly be immoral: nor can he who repays the care and tenderness of a parent with affection and reverence, possess other than a heart capable of gratitude, of benevolence,

and of love. In the performance, therefore, of the direct duties of filial piety, are centred some of the most amiable virtues of humanity; and in the turn of mind necessary to feel and practise it in its fullest extent, are contained the seeds of the noblest, the most useful, and the most sacred virtues. It is for this reason, that the moralists of all ages have held out temporal advantages, and the blessings of the present life, as the reward of those who obeyed the commands of their parents, and observed the precepts of their lips. And that the holy writers have made use of the same argument, that the express commandment of religion on this subject promises length of days to those who honour father and mother, are circumstances, which it is, I trust, superfluous here to state. Why present and immediate advantages should be the result of the practice of this duty, I have already hinted; and farther reasons may be discovered for the assertion, by considering how many good qualities are united in this one virtue. Gratitude, sensibility, and honour, a fear of God, and a respect for men, are essential and component parts of a dutiful character; and as in the youth they produce humility, submission, and love, so in the man will they direct to self-government, equanimity, and jus

tice; and, by confirming him in the early prac tice of moral duties, ensure him the happiness of well-regulated passions, and well-tempered dispositions.

PIUS.

In illustration of this duty, I shall present a few observations on the character of Æneas, in which the finest and most prominent trait is FILIAL PIETY. It was, indeed, his distinguishing virtue, his well-grounded title to the epithet In the course of that admirable poem, of which he is the hero, we admire this quality in him on a thousand interesting occasions, and under the most trying circumstances. In the fatal night when Troy was stormed, Eneas, with patriot courage, rushed forth to arms, summoned his companions, and exerted himself to stop the progress of the destroying Greeks: he is unsuccessful, however, and is at last eye-witness to the murder of the aged Priam. At this sight he is struck with horror, and recollecting his own aged father returns, terrified, to protect him. "At me tum primum," &c. says he, in his description of that dreadful affair; or, as Mr. Dryden has translated it,

Then, not before, I felt my curdled blood
Congeal with fear; my hair with horror stood;
My father's image fill'd my pious mind,
Lest equal years might equal fortune find.

In his return he is commanded by Venus to leave the city. He proposes, therefore, to his father to accompany him, which Anchises refuses, on the ground of his extreme age, his inability to support the hardships of exile, and his determination not to survive the fate of his country. The son urges his proposal; and, finding his father obstinately resolute, determines again to mix in the tumult, and hazard his own life, rather than seek a place of safety for himself, while his parent was left behind. "Rursus in arma feror," &c.

Urg'd by despair, again I go to try

The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die.
What hope remains, but what my death must give?
Can I without so dear a father live?

You term it prudence what I baseness call:
Could such a word from such a parent fall?

Encouraged, however, by a celestial omen, Anchises, at last, determines to go with his son, who addresses him, "Ergo age, care pater,'

&c.

Haste, my dear father ('tis no time to wait),
And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care;
One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share.

He then takes up his father, and carries him, from the scene of slaughter and death, to the

safe retreat of a neighbouring mountain: "Suc

cedoque oneri," &c.

-Then on my bending back,

The welcome load of my dear father take.

What a sublime picture is this! what a great, what an uncommon display of filial affection! Who is there, that reads without rapture these delightful passages? who is there, that is not in love with the character of this dutiful son-this truly magnanimous hero? Scouring the streets of Troy in quest of the invading Greeks, he was like a lion, undaunted, determined. Now he is all alarm; he starts at every sound, and shrinks from every shadow. Why? Hear his own account: "Et me quem dudum," &c.

I, who, so bold and dauntless just before,
The Grecian darts, and shocks of lances bore,
At every shadow now am seiz'd with fear,
Not for myself, but for the charge I bear.

How great must have been the influence of those principles of gratitude and affection towards a father, that could thus change the hero into a coward, and palsy the man with vain terrors, and womanish fears, who but a moment before had met the hostile foe in arms, with the calmest intrepidity, and most resolute cou