pointment; the paralytic torpor of despair. At first, he aims at a humble office. He attains it; and with new eagerness raises his views to one which is higher. He attains this also; and more eager still, bends his efforts to the acquisition of a third. The acquisition of this, only renders more intense his thirst for another. Thus he heats himself, like a chariot wheel, merely by his own career; and will never cease to pant more and more ardently for promotion, until he finds his progress stopped by obstacles, which neither art, nor influence, can remove.

In the same manner, the Candidate for Literary eminence, commences the chase of fame, with wishes usually moderate. His first success, however, enlarges his views; and gives new vigour to his desires. Originally, he would have been satisfied with the distinction of being celebrated through a village. Thence he wishes to spread his name through a city; thence through a country; thence through the world; and thence through succeeding generations. Were sufficient means of communication furnished, he would be still more ardently desirous to extend his fame throughout the whole planetary regions; and from them to the utmost extent of the stellary system. Were all the parts of this immeasurable career possible, his mind, at the end of it, would be less contented, than at the commencement; and would find, with a mixture of astonishment and agony, that the moment, when the strife was terminated, the enjoyment, which it promised, was gone.

In the pursuit of Power, this truth is still more forcibly illustrated. He, who with distinguished political talents devotes himself to this acquisition, hurries with increasing vehemence from petty domination through all the grades of superior sway, until he becomes a Cromwell, or a King. He who aims at the same object through a military progress, starts from a school, in the character of a cadet, and pushes through the subordinate offices to the command of a Regiment; a Brigade; a Division; and an army. With an ambition, changing from desire into violence, from violence into rage, and from rage into frenzy, he then becomes a Consul; a King; an Emperor; a Monarch of many crowns, and many realms and burns with more intense ardour to go on, subduing and ruling, until the earth furnishes nothing more to be ruled or subdued. Thus the ambition, which at first was a spark, is soon blown into a flame, and terminates in a conflagration. Alexander subdued, and ruled, the known world. When he had finished his course, he sat down and wept; because there was no other world for him to conquer.

Thus it is plain, that the desires of Ambition must ever be ungratified, because they increase faster than any possible gratification; and because they increase with a progressive celerity; expanding faster at every future, than at any preceding, period of enjoyment. Though all rivers run into this ocean, still it is VOL. IV.

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not full. Although millions continually crowd into this grave, still it says not, "It is enough." As Avarice would never cease to crave, until it had gorged the riches of the Universe; so Ambition would never rest, until it had ascended the Throne of the Creator.

But, after all its accumulations, there will be wealth, which Avarice cannot grasp. After all its achievements, there will be heights, which Ambition cannot climb. Discontentment, therefore, and murmuring, towards the God who will not give the coveted enjoyments, and envy, towards the created beings who possess them, will rankle in the insatiable bosom; and annihilate the comfort, which might otherwise spring from the mass of good, already acquired. Ahab, on the throne of Israel, made himself miserable, because he could not lay his hands on the humble vineyard of Naboth. Haman, an obscure captive, was elevated to the second place of power, and distinction, in the Empire of Persia; comprehending at that time, almost all the wealth, and people, of the known world. Yet, at this height of power and splendour, in an assembly of his family and friends, while he was reciting to them the glory of his riches, the multitude of his children, and all the things wherein the king had promoted him, and how he had advanced him above the princes and servants of the king; when he said, Moreover, Esther, the queen, did let no man come in with the king unto the banquet, that she had prepared, but myself: and to-morrow am I invited unto her, also, with the King: this aspiring, haughty wretch could add, Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai, the Jew, sitting at the king's gate.

Our first parents became discontented with their very nature; and under the influence of Ambition wished to become as gods. In this monstrous wish, they have been often followed by their descendants. Several of the Persian Emperors, Alexander the Great, and several of the Roman Emperors, claimed divine honours; and demanded sacrifices and libations. The Bishops of Rome, also, have arrogated to themselves the peculiar titles of Jehovah ;* and, have accordingly granted absolutions of sin, and passports to Heaven. Nay, they have abrogated the Commands of God; substituted for them contrary precepts; ascended the throne of the Redeemer; assumed the absolute Government of his Church; permitted, and interdicted, its worship at their pleasure; claimed the world as their property; and declared all mankind to be their vassals. Beyond all this, they have given, openly and publicly, indulgences, or permissions, to sin. Thus has this Man of sin, this Son of perdition, exalted himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped. Thus has he, as God, sat in the temple of God, shewing himself to be God.

With all these boundless demands of enjoyment, however, this unvarying claim to the exclusive possession of natural good, Am

* Dominus, Deus noster, Papa.

bition never performed a single duty to God, or to man. To a mind, under the control of this passion, moral good has no charms; and never becomes the object of either complacency, or desire. By such a man, his own soul is neglected and forgotten; his fellowmen are neither befriended nor loved; and his God is neither worshipped nor obeyed. All his talents, and all his time, are employed, with unceasing drudgery, solely to adorn, gratify, and exalt, himself. Of this wretched idol he regards the earth as the shrine, and the skies as the temple. To this idol, he sacrifices all that he is, and all that he has ; and demands from others every offering, which he can claim, and they can give. In homage to this idol, he makes every duty give way, and, so far as is in his power, bends all the interests of his fellow-men, and those of the Universe; and sets it up as a rival to God Himself.

In such a mind, how can the sense of duty be kept alive? How can he, whose attention is thus fascinated by personal greatness and distinction, whose soul is swollen by the consciousness of personal superiority, find either inclination, or leisure, for so humble an employment, as the performing of his duty? In such a mind, how can repentance even begin? How can such a mind comprehend the necessity of relying on the Redeemer for acceptance with God? How can such a mind realize either the importance, or the existence, of moral obligation; or feel itself bound to obey the Will of its Creator? Given up to sin, not from negligence only, from inconsideration, or heedless propensity, but from settled design, from ardent choice, from laborious contrivance, how can such a mind furnish room for the admission of humility, dependence, the fear of God, submission to his will, contentment, benevolence, equity, or compassion? But where these attributes are not, no duty can be performed.

To his own family, indeed, he may be thought to render some of those services, which are obviously required both by Reason and Revelation. All men are commanded to provide for those of their own house and for his own house the ambitious man actually provides; but not in such a manner, as either to perform his own duty, or benefit his family. He labours, indeed, to make them great; but not to make them wise, just, or good. His children he regards merely as heirs; and not as moral beings, placed during the present life in a state of trial, and destined in a future world to a state of reward. They are, therefore, taught, governed, influenced, and habituated, to no duty, and to no real good. His only object is to invest them with a superiority, resembling his own; that they may be decent companions to him, while he lives, and inherit his grandeur, after his death. They are, therefore, educated to be in all respects as bad, and in most, worse than himself. The great point of instruction, which they receive, from the cradle to the end of his life, is that all things human and divine are to give way to the pursuit of personal distinction. He,

who educates his family in this manner, cannot be believed to perform, of design, a single parental duty.

As the Ambitious man regards not the real interest of his own family; it cannot be believed, that he will exercise any greater tenderness for those of his fellow-men. I have already remarked, that his mind can furnish no room for the admission of benevolence, equity, and compassion. Without these attributes, it is hardly necessary to observe, no duty to mankind can be performed. To God, this lofty-minded being cannot be expected to render any part of that homage, which he demands from all other beings to himself. The only language of his heart, while looking down from the height, to which he imagines himself raised by a series of prosperous efforts, is, I will ascend into Heaven: I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds: I will be like the MOST HIGH. What submission, what obedience, what worship, can co-exist with this language, and the thoughts from which it springs!

At the same time, the Ambitious man surrounds himself with a host of temptations. The unclean spirit, which originally dwelt in his heart, after having gone out, and walked in dry places, seeking rest, and finding none; after saying, I will return to my house, whence I came out; has already entered it again, and found it empty, swept, and garnished, for his reception. Already has he gone, and taken with himself seven other spirits, more wicked than himself; and they have entered in, and taken final possession of this convenient residence. His temper, his ruling passion, his course of life, holds out a welcome to every temptation; a call to every sin; a summons to every fiend. His mind is a cage of unclean and furious passions. His purposes demand for their accomplishment the continual intervention of falsehood, fraud, injustice, and cruelty, of impiety and irreligion. The sins of such a man, instead of following after him, march before him in regular array; and fight, maraud, and plunder, to fulfil his designs, and to satiate the malignity of those evil spirits, who have taken up their final habitation in his bosom.

3. Ambition is the source of numerous and terrible evils to mankind.

To comprehend the import of this truth, even in the imperfect manner in which it can be comprehended by us, it would be necessary to recur to the history of the human kind. In all ages, and in all nations, this vast record has been little else, than a delineation of the miseries, which this malignant passion has produced. It has been a tale of sorrows, and groans, and sighs, and tears. The earth has rung throughout its immense regions with the melancholy murmur; and the walls of Heaven have echoed back mourning, lamentation, and wo. In a short discourse, like this, were it to be changed into a mere vocabulary, the very names of the various sufferings, wrought by Ambition, could not be alphabetically

recited. A loose and general specification of very few of these evils, is all that can be accomplished, and, therefore, all that will be attempted.

Among the several adventurers in the field of distinction, none appears so likely to be harmless, as the Candidate for literary fame. Learning is an object, naturally so useful, and the pursuit of it an employment so quiet, and so little ominous to the public peace, as to induce us very easily to believe, that Ambition, here at least, would be innoxious and unalarming. Should this, however, be our conclusion; we should find ourselves not a little disappointed. There has been a period, of which but too many traces still remain; a period, in which it was fashionable, and therefore an object of ambition, to be a free-thinker. Literary men, of this description, trumpeted so loudly, and so incessantly, the learning, genius, and philosophy, of themselves, and their coadjutors; vapoured with so much parade concerning their superiority to superstition, their independence, their liberality, and their exemption from prejudice; and promised so magnificently to rescue their fellow-men from the mists of error, and from the bondage of the mind, that the young, the ignorant, and the silly, dazzled by these splendid pretensions, became ambitious of this distinction ; and without examination, or conviction, became free-thinkers, in numerous instances, merely that they might have the honour of being united to this cluster of great men. The men themselves, finding that they had become great, in the estimation of others, by means of these lofty pretensions, went on, and became still greater by increasing their pretensions. By the mere dint of study and reflection, they claimed to understand, and teach, the Will of God concerning the duty and salvation of men; to explore the future designs of Omniscience; and to prescribe rules of justice, and propriety, according to which, if they were to be believed, God himself was bound to conduct his Administrations to mankind. The Scriptures they not only discarded, but loaded with every calumny, and every insult. The Redeemer of the world they insulted even more grossly, than the ancient Jews had done; stained his character with vice and infamy; and annihilated his Mediation. In the mean time, they poured out a torrent of immoral principles, which they dignified with the name of Philosophy; and which they proposed as proper rules to direct the conduct of men. By these principles the faith of mankind was perplexed; their morality unhinged; the distinction between virtue and vice destroyed; the existence of both denied; and the bonds of society cut asunder. Men, of course, were let loose upon each other without the restraint of moral precepts; without the checks of Conscience; without the Fear of God.

The late Revolution in France, that volcanic explosion, which deluged the world with successive floods of darkness and fire, had all its materials collected, and its flames kindled, by men of this