say the philosophers, the sage elevates himself above every
accident of life; and securely placed in the temple of wisdom,
looks down on inferior mortals engaged in pursuit of honours,
riches, reputation, and every frivolous enjoyment. These
pretentious, no doubt, when stretched to the utmost, are by far
too magnificent for human nature. They carry, however, a grandeur
with them, which seizes the spectator, and strikes him with
admiration. And the nearer we can approach in practice to this
sublime tranquillity and indifference (for we must distinguish it
from a stupid insensibility), the more secure enjoyment shall we
attain within ourselves, and the more greatness of mind shall we
discover to the world. The philosophical tranquillity may,
indeed, be considered only as a branch of magnanimity.

Who admires not Socrates; his perpetual serenity and contentment,
amidst the greatest poverty and domestic vexations; his resolute
contempt of riches, and his magnanimous care of preserving
liberty, while he refused all assistance from his friends and
disciples, and avoided even the dependence of an obligation?
Epictetus had not so much as a door to his little house or hovel;
and therefore, soon lost his iron lamp, the only furniture which
he had worth taking. But resolving to disappoint all robbers for
the future, he supplied its place with an earthen lamp, of which
he very peacefully kept possession ever after.

Among the ancients, the heroes in philosophy, as well as those in
war and patriotism, have a grandeur and force of sentiment, which
astonishes our narrow souls, and is rashly rejected as
extravagant and supernatural. They, in their turn, I allow, would
have had equal reason to consider as romantic and incredible, the