Complete. From “Resolves, Divine, Moral, and Political.”

IDLE books are the licensed follies of the age. Some are simple; and these, though they render the author ridiculous, seldom hurt the reader more than by loss of time; for, if he hath any sense, he will grow wiser by the folly that is presented to him: as drunkards are often cured by seeing the beastliness of others who are so. The least caution is necessary to be given of such books; for man will no more dwell in one of these than a traveler of quality will lodge in an alehouse or a booth. It was Cicero who said, Lectionem sine ulla delectatione negligo,—he hated reading where no pleasure dwelt. There is another kind of books which are wanton and licentious, and these like rank flesh unsalted carry a taint which poisons. It is true, wit is in general readier at such productions than at any other; yet, the best are never obscene. Vicious or vulgar is his character, at best, who deals in licentious thoughts and expressions. Decency is the corrective of manners; and even although such works be refined in point of language, yet are they then but as unsavory breaths perfumed; there is only a more precious stink, which certainly shows either what the conversation hath been, or what the inclination is, for the pen is more the mind’s interpreter than speech. Yet, as it regards society, writings which are scandalous are worse. They are a kind of barbarousness in death unto the dead; for printing gives perpetuity and carries to future ages both the author’s malice and the infamy of the party that is traduced. It is unworthy to traduce the absent, even though provoked by passion; but to display a man’s malice in writing is deliberate wickedness; to which (with his own disgrace) he sets his hand and seal, and does an injury for which he cannot make amends sufficient; for admit he does retract in public, he is not sure that all who saw his first book shall come to read his last. A spiteful pen picks out only the vices and corruptions of men, and leaves their virtues buried and untouched, which, if justly attended to, might be found to balance all their failings. But, above all, to abuse the dead is most deadly. The dead is as the fatherless and widow, whose cause, because they want defenders, God himself will vindicate. How much below the gallantry of man is it to tyrannize over the defenseless! The brave soul scorns advantages. Is it reasonable in arms to fight against the naked? To meet my enemy without a weapon is his protection, if I be provided. The dead are tamely passive; and, should the dishonor of them be tolerated, what fame could rest unblasted in the grave? When Agesilaus was presented Lysander’s treasonable letters, and was about to read them at the head of his army, he was told Lysander was dead; and this made him abandon his purpose. Next to scandalous books are heretical; these fill the world with tares, which like ill plants in a good ground, if they be let grow to seed, they sow themselves, and perpetuate their corruptions to future generations. The heretic must needs be obstinate and arrogant; for by presuming on his own sense, he grows incorrigible. He is the highest papal man in the world; for he sets himself up above the church and all her doctors. While he cries down others for infallible, he acts as if he were so. His presumption must needs be vast, who builds more on his own tenet than upon the mature judgment of all the successive fathers; as if God had revealed more to him than to all the pillars and propagators of his church. St. Augustin tells us that he is an heretic, qui pro alicujus temporalis commodi, et maxime gloriæ principatusque sui gratia, falsas ac novas opiniones gignit, aut sequitur; who for some temporal profit, and for his own pre-eminence, either authors or persists in some new and false opinions. Usually, it is for private ends and interest; and then how infinitely does he offend who will bias God’s truths and accommodate them to his corrupted benefit? He raises himself above God, under the pretense of serving him, and sins more in his grave, and dead, than when he was alive; for he poisons from generation to generation;—and, which is worst of all, he offends till the world’s end, in a book which cannot repent. But, above all, profane works are to be avoided. The very reading of them is an unhappiness, but a second perusal guilt and reprobation. The heretic misunderstands religion, but the profane one scorns it. Such, the very heathen admitted not to sacrifice. The profane is he, qui nihil habet sacri, qui sacra negligit, violat, conculcat; who has nothing of religion in him, but neglects, destroys, and spurns all that is sacred. He is, indeed, the practical atheist, who condemning heaven, hath, more than the mere pagan, forgot himself to be man. If man, made up of infirmities, be so jealous of his honor, that, with the hazard of his life, he dares duel him that stains it, how will God, who made man with this jealousy, be zealous of his own honor, by punishing such as wildly despise it? Shall the clay grow insolent against the potter, or the worm affect to hold up its head at the face of man? Beware of the profane and scorner. He who neglects God will make no scruple of betraying man. If he sit loose to heaven he will never hold firm to earth; but for himself will forsake his friends, having done so already as to God, to whom he is indebted for all he has.

  The vicious author cannot offend alone. A corrupt book is an amphisbæna: a serpent headed at both ends, one of which bites him that reads, the other stings him that writes; for if I be corrupted by his pen the guilt grows his, as well as mine. I will not write so as to hurt myself and posterity. I will not read so as to hurt myself and predecessors. A foolish sentence dropped upon paper sets folly on a hill, and is a monument to make infamy eternal.