RURAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 OR 
 
 1 -lit 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 KNOWLEDGE, VIRTUE, AND HAPPINESS; 
 
 CHIEFLY IN REFERENCE TO 
 
 a life of Betirement 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 By ELY % A T E S, Esq, 
 
 Quid tibi vitandum praecipue existimes, quaeris ? turbam — Ego certe 
 confiteo'r imbecillitatem meam. Nunquam mores quos extuli, refero. 
 Aliquid ex eo quod composui, turbatur; aliquid ex his quae fugavi, redit. 
 — Inimica est multorum conversatio. Senec. Epist. 7 
 
 SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1811 
 

 G. Woodfaix, Printer, Paternofter-row, London. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 JjOTH the following Preface and Re- 
 flections were composed some years ago, 
 during that period of republican frenzy, 
 when the world, in its wild attempts to over- 
 throw two of its greatest and most funda- 
 mental blessings, religion and government, 
 seemed in a kind of conspiracy against itself: 
 which is here remarked, in order to account 
 for a few passages which might be thought 
 less applicable at present, when so many hope- 
 ful symptoms appear of a return to social 
 order and) Christian piety. 
 
 Why the publication of this s?nall work 
 
 was not made at the time above stated^ or 
 
 why it is made now, it is needless to explain ; 
 
 since its merits, whatever they are, depend 
 
 a 2 
 
iv ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 on those general principles of truth and na- 
 ture, which ought to regulate human conduct 
 at all times, and in all conjunctures : and as 
 to an author s private inducements for pre- 
 senting himself before the public, the prudent 
 reader will be more disposed to collect them 
 from the tenor of his performance, than 
 from the fairness of his professions, or the 
 solemnity of his protestations. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 1 he following pages owe their birth to a 
 treatise on Solitude, written by the late 
 Dr. Zimmermann, and which, a few years 
 ago, was translated into our language, and 
 received with a considerable degree of po- 
 pular favour. My first design was to have 
 taken a summary view of this work ; but, 
 on a nearer inspection, it appeared so little 
 capable of a logical analysis, or reducible to 
 any certain principles, that except in a single 
 instance, waving the critique intended, I ra- 
 ther chose to pursue the train of my own re- 
 flections. 
 
 Zimmermann was undoubtedly a writer 
 of singular endowments ; he possessed great 
 mental sensibility, and a cast of imagination 
 which might be thought sublime ; but does 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 not seem to have been equally distinguished 
 by force of reason or solidity of judgment. 
 In his philosophy he appears to me super- 
 ficial, and in his notions of virtue wild and 
 romantic. To justify this censure it may 
 be sufficient to observe, that an author 
 who associates the names of Voltaire and 
 Rousseau with that of the illustrious Bacon, 
 and who regards their writings in common 
 as devoted to the instruction and happi- 
 ness of mankind*, must have very slender 
 pretensions to the character either of a phi- 
 losopher or a moralist ; and, when most fa- 
 vourably estimated, can only rank as a grave 
 
 sentimentalist. 
 
 t 
 
 And here let me be permitted a remark 
 or two on the sentimental turn of this age, 
 to which I am persuaded the author now 
 in question is indebted for no small portion 
 
 * Ziminermann on Solitude, p. 176, 7. — This re- 
 minds me of a minor prophet of the Gallican school, 
 ■who laments that the two former of these great men 
 could not bring themselves to unite for the salvation of 
 the world ! — or words to the same effect, - • ■ 
 
PREFACE. VII 
 
 of his celebrity. In the former part of the 
 last century, it was usual with writers on 
 moral subjects to insist much on the reason 
 and fitness of things, their several natures 
 and mutual relations, and thence to deduce 
 the laws of moral obligation ; and to have 
 deserted these grounds for the sake of a 
 theory which leaves every one to resolve 
 his duty into his feelings, would have been 
 thought at best extremely un philosophical. 
 How different are the times in which we 
 live ! Now the sentimental system extends 
 its influence to every subject, and is become 
 at once powerful and universal. It has 
 invaded our histories, and even our phi- 
 losophy 9 and given an air of fiction to them 
 both ; it has made its way into our poli- 
 tics, insomuch that warm and frequent 
 appeals are made to the feelings, by our 
 gravest senators in their gravest delibe Tac- 
 tions, upon the most important interests 
 of their country; and what is still more, 
 it has cast a sickly hue over our religion 
 and morals, which has greatly tarnished 
 tfeekp beauty, and impaired their authority 
 3 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 What, then, it may be said, would you de- 
 prive men of their natural susceptibility, 
 and convert them into Stoics ! No : for 
 this would be to deprive them of half 
 their virtue. Let them continue to feel, 
 but to feel as they ought ; not as false opi- 
 nion or corrupt principle may direct, but 
 according to the immutable measures of 
 truth and duty. I am no more disposed 
 to be an advocate for the dry moralist, 
 who can talk of nothing but reason and 
 fitness, and eternal and necessary relations, 
 than for the man of sentiment who mis- 
 takes the suggestions of fancy, and the 
 impulses of inordinate passion, for the pure 
 dictates of uncorrupted nature ; and whose 
 boasted philanthropy generally terminates 
 in empty speculations and barren sensi- 
 bilities. 
 
 The following discourse proceeds upon 
 other principles; its foundation is, I trust, 
 so firmly laid in reason and revelation, in 
 the knowledge of God, of ourselves, and 
 of the world, as to be entirely adequate 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 to bear up the solid superstructure of vir- 
 tue and happiness. 
 
 The occasion which gave rise to it has 
 been already stated ; to which I shall now 
 add a few reasons which may perhaps be 
 thought sufficient to justify, or, at least, to 
 excuse its publication. 
 
 That there exists at present amongst us 
 a lamentable want of rural philosophy, or 
 of that wisdqm which teaches, a man at 
 once to enjoy and to improve a life of 
 retirement, is, I think, a point too ob- 
 vious to be contested. Whence is it else 
 that the country is almost deserted ; that 
 the ancient mansions of our nobility, and 
 gentry, notwithstanding all the attractions 
 of rural beauty, and every elegance of ac- 
 commodation, can no longer retain their 
 owners, who, at the approach of winter, 
 pour into the metropolis, and even in the. 
 summer months wander to the sea coast, 
 or to some other place of fashionable re- 
 sort. This unsettled humour in the midst of 
 
X PREFACE, 
 
 such advantages, plainly argues much in- 
 ward disorder, and points £>ut the need as 
 well as the excellency of that discipline, 
 which can inspire a pure taste of nature, 
 furnish occupation in the peaceful labours 
 of husbandry, and, what is nobler still, 
 open the sources of moral and intellectual 
 enjoyment. 
 
 It is indeed only in late times that this 
 migratory spirit has been prevalent. Our 
 great grandfathers were content to reside 
 in the country the year round. They 
 were neither led abroad by the course of 
 their education, nor by the amusements 
 and dissipations of fashionable society, 
 which are now arrived to such a pitch 
 of luxurious refinement, that to come 
 within 'the verge of their influence is to 
 lose all power of return to rural simpli- 
 city ; unless the mind be happily forti- 
 fied against the seduction, by a philoso- 
 phy which can supply both pleasure and 
 employment'* without the aid of artificial 
 life. 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 The same philosophy will be of no less 
 use to those who meditate a retreat after 
 a course of years spent in public, It will 
 teach them the proper qualifications for 
 such a change, and that, many things be- 
 sides hounds and horses, murmuring 
 streams and shady groves, sumptuous 
 houses and large estates, are necessary 
 to form a comfortable retirement. Above 
 all, it will direct them to those inward 
 resources, without which every condition 
 of life is inevitably subject to vanity and 
 disappointment. Thus they will be in- 
 structed to a cautious procedure, so as 
 not to take leave of the world before they 
 are well prepared to meet all the circum- 
 stances of their new situation, lest, after a 
 few years consumed in vacancy and weari- 
 ness, they should be tempted, like many 
 others, to tread back their steps, and again 
 to mingle in the business or dissipations 
 which they seemed to have entirely relin- 
 quished. 
 
 It will be likewise of service in the case 
 of those, to whom an interchange of 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 business and retirement is preferable to 
 either of them separately, and who wish to 
 combine them both to the greatest advan- 
 tage. 
 
 These are some of the various uses of 
 the philosophy which I have endeavoured 
 to illustrate, and whose importance is 
 such as may apologize for every attempt 
 to recommend it to the public attention, 
 
 In estimating the comparative merits of 
 a public and retired life, which is a case 
 that will frequently occur in the ensuing 
 pages, I hare been solicitous to hold the 
 balance with an even hand, to defraud 
 neither scale of its just weights, and to 
 admit none that are false. The reader, it 
 is presumed, will find no attempt at vain 
 panegyric, or unjust disparagement, no 
 fanciful descriptions of rural innocence and 
 felicity, nor any aggravated censures of the 
 business or pursuits of the w r orld. On 
 the contrary, I am willing to hope, that 
 he will perceive through the whole a 
 character of truth and simplicity, a care 
 
PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 to exclude all partial affection and rhe- 
 torical * declamation, and to make some 
 approach towards the unbiassed and tem- 
 perate manner of a just philosophical en- 
 quiry. 
 
 II. I would now particularly address 
 myself to several sorts of readers, in order 
 to obviate certain prejudices, to which I 
 foresee they will be liable in perusing the 
 following reflections. 
 
 First, I would offer a word to the ad- 
 mirers of what is usually called classical 
 learning. This, I know, is an idol to which 
 many, even in the present philosophical 
 age, bow down and pay their worship ; 
 and whoever refuses to unite in the same 
 homage is in danger of being taxed, by 
 some one or other, with a kind of literary 
 profaneness, or at least with a degree of 
 ignorant barbarism. As I have ^no mind 
 to incur any mans censure if I can fairly 
 avoid it, I would intreat such a literato 
 to let his indignation abate before he pass 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 a definitive sentence ; and - this request 
 may seem the more equitable, as I freely 
 consent, on my part, to abandon to his 
 most severe reprobation, whatever I have 
 advanced upon the classics or classical 
 education, that shall be found in contra- 
 diction, either to sound learning, or to 
 common sense : but he must not expect 
 that deference to long custom and inve- 
 terate prejudice, which is due exclusively 
 to reason and truth. I am not sensible that 
 I have been deficient in any proper respect 
 to the classics, by which I mean chiefly 
 the heathen poets. I have spoken of 
 them in no harsher terms than some of 
 the gravest heathen philosophers them- 
 selves have done, or than are warranted 
 by a much higher authority, namely, that 
 of divine revelation. It is for want of re- 
 curring to this infallible standard of truth 
 and excellence, that such extravagant re- 
 gard has been paid to the productions of 
 pagan writers, which too are now be- 
 come much less necessary, since we are 
 provided with so many admirable models 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 of our own, superior to theirs in point 
 of science, and scarce inferior either in 
 point of genius or elegance ; yet we still 
 continue to go down to the Philistines, to 
 sharpen every one his share, and his coulter, 
 and his axe, and his mattock, as if there was 
 no smith in Israel *. 
 
 I would next address myself to such as 
 are disposed to exalt the human under- 
 standing beyond all due measure, and to 
 make philosophy a rival to religion. Here, 
 as in the former instance, I must beg a 
 truce with prejudice, or, to use a 'softer 
 language, I would desire such persons 
 , srsftsiv, to suspend, agreeably to the true 
 philosophic character, and not t° censure 
 before they have fairly considered what 
 shall be advanced. When this is done, it 
 may appear, that my design is not to de- 
 preciate human reason, but only to di- 
 rect it to those aids and assistances, with- 
 out which it can never fully discover to us 
 
 * See 1 Sam- xiii. 19, <2Q, 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 the reality and exigency of our moral si- 
 tuation ; and even were it so far sufficient, 
 would do us little service, unless, at the 
 same time, it could point out some ade- 
 quate means of relief*. My appeal is 
 not from reason absolutely considered, 
 but from reason warped by prejudice, and 
 darkened by passion, to reason rectified 
 and informed by the light and grace of the 
 Christian dispensation. 
 
 In like manner, it may be found that 
 here is no design to decry true philoso- 
 phy, but rather to vindicate it from the 
 reproach under which it has suffered 
 through some unhappy men, who have 
 abused its name and authority to the 
 most vile and impious purposes; who, 
 by their pretended researches into nature, 
 together with their moral and political 
 
 * Pope says very well, in speaking of reason, 
 Ah! if she lend not arms as well as rules, 
 What can she more than tell us we are fools ; 
 Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend: 
 A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend ! 
 6 
 
PREFACE. Xvil 
 
 disquisitions, have laboured to exclude 
 the Deity from his own world, to subvert 
 the foundations of virtue, to dissolve all 
 the bonds of society, to set the child 
 against his" parent, and the subject against 
 his prince, and thus to abandon mankind 
 to atheism and anarchy. It is against this 
 imposture, under the guise of philosophy, 
 that I would earnestly protest; and against 
 that presuming confidence in our own 
 powers, whence it takes its rise, and to 
 which it is indebted for every step in 
 its progress. 
 
 Lastly, there are others of a more pious 
 turn, who, from a sense of what religion 
 has suffered by the abuse of reason and 
 philosophy, consider them as essentially 
 hostile to her interests. Here, while I 
 commend the zeal of these good men, 
 I must dissent from their judgment. It 
 is by the legitimate use of reason that we 
 are naturally led to the discovery *of 
 truth, and no one truth can be hostile to 
 another. Reason, therefore, in its proper 
 
 b 
 
XV111 PREFACE. 
 
 exercise, can never be in contradiction to 
 revelation, and ought no more to be set 
 at variance with it, than the eye with 
 the telescope through which it descries 
 those objects in the heavens that other- 
 wise would be invisible ; though I allow 
 that the intellectual eye needs a fresh 
 touch from the divine oculist, to enable it 
 to a due discharge of its spiritual office. 
 Again, what is true philosophy but syste- 
 matic reason, which first by a just analysis 
 arrives at general principles, and then 
 erects upon them noble fabrics of art and 
 science? Such was the philosophy which 
 Bacon introduced, and so happily illus- 
 trated : and which has since, by the labours 
 of many eminent men, been productive 
 of great and useful discoveries — a phi- 
 losophy which, while it humbles, enlarges 
 and elevates the mind, shows its imper- 
 fections while it increases its acquisitions. 
 It cannot therefore be too much lamented, 
 that this philosophy has of late times given 
 place to a miserable substitute, which, 
 rejecting that severe induction that is ne- 
 7 
 
PREFACE. xix 
 
 cessary to the establishment of right prin- 
 ciples, and proceeding upon gratuitous 
 assumptions, has, as might be expected, 
 built castles in the air. It is this philo- 
 sophy which is equally adverse to religion 
 and true science, whereas the former is 
 friendly to both ; and he who is not careful 
 to distinguish between them, may come at 
 length to confound the light flippancy of 
 Voltaire, or the grave and impious so- 
 phistry of Helvetius, and Diderot, with the 
 wisdom of Bacon, or the science of Newton. 
 
 One thing more I would suggest to the 
 serious reader ; which is, not rashly to 
 take offence at words or phrases, though 
 they should not be perfectly theological, 
 when he admits the sense meant to be con- 
 veyed by them. This is an evil to which 
 good men are sometimes liable, and which 
 the following considerations I hope may 
 serve to obviate. 
 
 Let it first be remarked, that the in- 
 fluence of association extends itself as 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 powerfully over language, as it does over 
 things or persons. It is this which often 
 reflects an odium on the phraseology of 
 Scripture, by suggesting an idea of enthu- 
 siasm, cant, or hypocrisy. The words 
 virtue *, rectitude, reformation, with others 
 of the sa:me family, are of a good sound, 
 and will give no offence to the most gay 
 and thoughtless ; but to talk of grace, ho- 
 liness, regeneration, is a diction that will not 
 
 * This is a word which often occurs in the following 
 discourse ; and to prevent, if possible, all misapprehen- 
 sions of its meaning, I would here remark, that, when 
 taken generally, it is used to denote piety towards God, 
 as well as benevolence towards men. In this sense it is 
 found in some good writers; and with the same exten- 
 sive application it may still, as I conceive, be allowed to 
 the Christian moralist, notwithstanding the abuse it has 
 suffered by bad men, who, after they have employed 
 it to express the whole of human duty, have narrowly con- 
 fined this duty to the offices of social and civil life : 
 an abuse which goes at once to shut all religion out of 
 the world, and in its ultimate tendency to destroyeven 
 that virtue which is pretended; for virtue, though under 
 its most relaxed and contracted form, can never long 
 subsist when separated from piety : a truth to which 
 the experience of all ages has borne testimony, and 
 which has lately been confirmed by a dreadful example, 
 
 6 
 
PREFACE. XXi 
 
 always be 'endured, even by those who on the 
 whole are not indisposed to religion. And 
 in such cases it deserves to be considered, 
 whether it may not sometimes be more ad- 
 viseable to endeavour, by the former mode 
 of expression heightened in its meaning, 
 to elevate and reconcile the mind to the 
 doctrines of revelation, than by the latter 
 probably to do nothing more than provoke 
 disgust or prejudice ; at least, whether .such 
 a liberty may not be permitted to a lay- 
 man, and in a discourse which is not 
 confined to theological topics. I know 
 that a sacred regard is due to the very 
 language of Scripture, and that a wanton 
 or injudicious departure from it is not the 
 least considerable among those causes, by 
 which Christianity has suffered in its most 
 essential doctrines, and been almost re- 
 duced to a system of ethics ; but it ought 
 also on the other hand, to be remembered, 
 that condescension to the infirmities of the 
 weak or the prejudiced is a point of much 
 consequence, and which the Scripture it- 
 self strongly enforces both by precept and 
 
XX11 PREFACE. 
 
 example. Fully sensible of its import- 
 ance to the success of the gospel, the 
 apostle Paul not only binds it as a duty 
 upon others, but became himself all things 
 to all men, that by all means he might save 
 some. In his speech no less than in his con- 
 duct, to the Jews he became as a Jew, that 
 he might gain the Jews, to them who were 
 without law, as without law, that he might 
 gain them who were without law*. Let 
 any one compare his discourses before 
 Agrippa and the court of Areopagus with 
 those he addressed to the synagogue, and 
 he will find them, both in style and matter, 
 admirably accommodated to the occasion. 
 In the former, there is nothing that would 
 not do honour to the eloquence of 
 Greece or Rome, and in the latter no- 
 thing that is not perfectly conformable 
 with the character of a learned Jew, 
 who had sat at . the feet of Gamaliel. 
 And so far as any one partakes of the 
 wisdom and charity of this great apostle, 
 he will be studious of the same pious 
 
 * See 1 Cor. ch. 9. 
 
PREFACE. XX111 
 
 accommodation to persons and circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Again : The example of those men who 
 employ every art of human eloquence, and 
 who resort even to the peculiar dialect of 
 scripture, in order to overspread the world 
 with infidelity, vice, and anarchy *, may 
 furnish something towards his apology, 
 who endeavours to improve the language 
 of moralists and philosophers to the sup- 
 port of Scripture doctrines and practices, 
 or, in other words, of religion and virtue, 
 of order and social happiness. 
 
 In the last place, I would observe, in 
 general, that a scrupulosity of temper in 
 
 # Of this abuse of Scripture expression we have had 
 a remarkable instance in the word regenerate, which 
 some years ago (about the time when the above was 
 written) strangely found its way into our ordinary dis- 
 course ; so that instead of plain reformation we heard 
 of nothing but regeneration ; and to regenerate the laws, 
 constitutions, opinions, and manners of society became 
 the magic language which dwelt upon the lips of every 
 modern reformado. 
 
XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 the use of any lawful means to promote 
 the spiritual or temporal welfare of man- 
 kind, receives no countenance either from 
 reason or revelation, or from the conduct of 
 the best and wisest men. And when to this 
 we add the zeal and diligence with which bad 
 men (and eminently at the present period) 
 practise every device to spread universal 
 mischief, who shall deny that it is allowable 
 for every good man, nay, still more, that it 
 is his duty, by every fair and practicable 
 method, to diffuse good ; and when it is re- 
 jected in one form, to try whether it may 
 not find entertainment in another? 
 
 What is here said may perhaps be thought 
 enough to justify any liberty I have taken 
 in the use of language ; if not, I must com- 
 fort myself in the reflection that ,my endea- 
 vour has been, without any fond regard to 
 particular words or phrases, or any other 
 partiality whatever, to speak up honestly to 
 the reality of things, and to convey import- 
 ant truth with evidence and impression. And 
 this effect, it is hoped, will not entirely be 
 
PREFACE. * XXV 
 
 wanting, at least to those who shall attend 
 seriously and intelligently to what shall be 
 offered. It is to such prepared readers, 
 whose minds are well disposed towards reli- 
 gion, and at the same time somewhat opened 
 by education, that this small rural labour is 
 chiefly addressed ; and should it in any de- 
 gree be of use to establish their principles, 
 or to direct their enquiries, more true satis- 
 faction would thence result to the writer, than 
 if he had furnished out a volume of mere 
 curiosity or amusement to the public at 
 large. 
 
 To the first part it was intended to have 
 subjoined a section on human science and 
 literature. This, however, it was afterwards 
 thought proper to omit, as occasions would 
 arise in the following parts for as many 
 strictures of this nature as would sufficiently 
 answer my purpose; which was, to" consider 
 human learning simply in its relation to* vir- 
 tue and happiness. 
 
 In treating of the knowledge of God, I 
 have waved all merely metaphysical disqui- 
 
XXVI PREFACE. 
 
 sition, and confined myself to that view of 
 the subject which to us is most important. 
 To know what God is in himself, or in his 
 own absolute being and perfections, is be- 
 yond all human or angelic understanding; 
 and he who thus curiously pries into his ma- 
 jesty is in danger to be overwhelmed with 
 the glory*. To know what he is to us in 
 the relation of a holy and righteous ruler, 
 and gracious benefactor, is put within the 
 reach of our discovery ; and, to those who 
 are brought to a proper sense of their moral 
 situation, is a knowledge both cheering and 
 salutary. And I have the rather insisted 
 upon this topic, because it is usual with men, 
 either to entertain ideas of divine goodness 
 which are derogatory to perfect holiness and 
 justice, or to exalt these latter attributes, 
 taken in conjunction with absolute sove- 
 reignty, to the prejudice of that mercy 
 which is revealed in Scripture, and is also not 
 obscurely indicated in nature and providence ; 
 a proceeding which tends, in the one case, 
 
 # Prov. xxv. 27. Scrutator majestatis, oppriraetur 
 gloria. So the Vulgate. 
 
PREFACE. XXvii 
 
 to inspire the mind with presumption, and in 
 the other to sink it in despondence ; and no- 
 thing can be of more importance than to 
 guard equally against both these extremes. 
 
 Upon every other topic, in the progress 
 of the work, more regard has been had to 
 use than to theory, to what is just and 
 applicable to human conduct, than to re- 
 searches that might seem profound or scien- 
 tific; which the equitable reader, it is pre- 
 sumed, will neither ascribe to the writer's en- 
 tire incapacity for such enquiries, nor to his 
 want of liberal curiosity. Perhaps, like many 
 others, he may in the former part of life, 
 have indulged sufficiently to mere specula- 
 tion ; but this, as years advanced, he has 
 found less attractive, and has gradually been 
 led to view things not so much in their ab- 
 stract nature as in their moral and practical 
 tendencies ; and to induce the same disposi- 
 tion in others constitutes one principal end of 
 the present wor^. Of its execution, indeed, 
 he entertains, as is fit, a very moderate 
 opinion ; of its principles he has no such dif- 
 
XXV111 PREFACE. 
 
 fidence ; nor can he hesitate to assert, that, 
 were they generally admitted, the most im- 
 portant advantages would thence result both 
 to public and private life ; men would find 
 out their proper place in the general system, 
 and learn to conduct themselves in this world 
 in a manner becoming the candidates for a 
 better. 
 
 The above prefatory remarks may be suf- 
 ficient to show the nature and scope of those 
 which follow. The whole is now committed 
 to the candour of the reader, but, above all, 
 to that divine blessing, which can prosper the 
 meanest endeavours, and without which the 
 greatest and ablest must prove abortive. 
 
CONTENTS- 
 
 PART I. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sect. 1. — On the Knowledge of God ; parti- 
 cularly in his Justice and Benignity towards 
 Man. c 2. This Knowledge unattainable in 
 any satisfactory Degree without the Light 
 of Revelation. 3. To be sought by Study 
 
 and Prayer in Conjunction ]..38 
 
 Sect. II. — On the Knowledge of Ourselves 39-86 
 Sect. III. — On the Knowledge of the World 87..115 
 
 PART II. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON VIRTUE. 
 
 Sect. I.— -In which it is considered how far 
 Retirement is favourable to Virtue, from 
 its Tendency to weaken the Impression of 
 the World 117..131 
 
 Sect. II. — Containing some Observations on 
 those Means, which tend by a more direct 
 
XXX CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 and positive Influence, to the Promotion of 
 
 Virtue 132..207 
 
 Sect. III. — On some Evils particularly inci- 
 dent to a retired Life, and which are con- 
 trary, or at least unfavourable to Virtue : 
 with a few Hints respecting their Remedies 208. .237 
 
 PART III. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON HAPPINESS. 
 
 Sect. I. — On the Happiness arising from the 
 Independence, the agricultural Pursuits, 
 the Diversions, and Scenery, of a Country 
 Life 239.-258 
 
 Sect. II. — The Pleasures of a literary Retire- 
 ment •. . . . 259.-285 
 
 Sect. III. — The Pleasures of a devotional 
 
 Retirement considered 286?.303 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 IN WHICH A COMMON OBJECTION AGAINST A LIFE OF RETIRE- 
 MENT, NAMELY, THAT IT DESTROYS OR DIMINISHES USEFUL- 
 NESS, IS PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. 
 
 Sect. I. — Containing some Remarks on the 
 Utility arising from Public Station . . 305„323 
 
CONTENTS. XXXI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sect. II. — A retired Life considered in re- 
 spect to Utility ......... 324..340 
 
 Sect. III. — The Utility of Monasteries con- 
 sidered 341. .351 
 
 Conclusion. — In which it is considered, 
 how far the Principles of the foregoing 
 Discourse may be of Use to guide us in 
 the Choice of Life 353..3SS 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 SECTION I 
 
 On the Knozvledge of God ; particularly in his Justice 
 and Benignity towards Man. II. This Knozvledgq 
 unattainable in any satisfactory Degree, without tile 
 Light of Revelation. III. To be sought by Study and 
 Prayer in Conjunction. 
 
 It is remarked by Wollaston, that truth is 
 the offspring of silence, of unbroken medita- 
 tions, and of thoughts often revised and cor- 
 rected. This observation, though it holds 
 in respect to human knowledge in general* 
 is peculiarly applicable to some of its higher 
 branches. To investigate the more abstruse 
 properties of number and figure, or to ex- 
 plore the secrets of nature* a man must ex- 
 change the tumultuous scenes of business, 
 
 B 
 
£ Oil the Knowledge of God. [part i. 
 
 and the giddy circles of dissipation, for the 
 calm and recollection of a studious retire- 
 ment. Or if he would examine into the 
 powers and faculties of his own mind, and 
 curiously trace its operations, he will find it 
 still more necessary to withdraw from the 
 noise and bustle of life, and to make his 
 court to silence and solitude. 
 
 If then an abstraction from the busy mul- 
 titude be a needful preliminary in order suc- 
 cessfully to investigate the laws of quantity, 
 the properties of matter, or the operations 
 of our own minds, objects which lie in some 
 measure within the reach of our senses or 
 consciousness ; it would be highly irrational 
 to suppose it less requisite, when we would 
 trace His being and perfections who dwelleth 
 in light inaccessible, whose nature is trans- 
 cendent, and whose attributes are infinite. 
 
 Yet this reasoning, however cogent and 
 irresistible it appears, will, it may be feared, 
 have little influence upon some who, 
 though they would not expect to become 
 
sect, i.] On the Knozdedge of God. 3 
 
 profound metaphysicians, or learned in na- 
 tural science, without frequent intervals of 
 retired study, will vainly pretend to a suf- 
 ficient knowledge of the great Author of 
 nature, though they have never employed 
 any stated portion of their time for its at- 
 tainment; or at most have never gone be- 
 yond a formal appearance once in seven 
 days, in some church, or other place of re- 
 ligious resort, merely from a sense of deco- 
 rum, or in conformity to the custom of those 
 around them. 
 
 This conceit of native and unacquired 
 mental endowments may, in some cases, be 
 suffered to pass without muc,h censure. That 
 a poet, for instance, is born such, and not 
 produced by art or study? is an old notion, 
 whose truth it is not worth the while to 
 dispute, as it is of little consequence whe- 
 ther it be true or false. But for a man to 
 imagine himself in possession of the highest 
 wisdom, who has never made any serious 
 efforts to attain it ; to suppose that the 
 knowledge of Qod is with him original and 
 b 2 
 
\ On the Knowledge of God. [parti, 
 
 innate, which to the ancient poet Simonides, 
 in proportion as he urged his enquiries, 
 seemed the more to elude them*, is a pre- 
 sumption equally contrary to reason and ex- 
 perience, and deserves to be branded as the 
 grossest enthusiasm. 
 
 The first step to true wisdom is to feel 
 the want of it, and the next is a willingness 
 to bestow the pains which are necessary to 
 obtain it; without these previous disposi- 
 tions, no outward advantages are sufficient 
 to secure the acquisition. A man, thus un- 
 qualified^ may retire into the country, but 
 he will grow no wiser there than he was 
 before in town. If he happen to be a phi- 
 losopher, he will proceed, in his usual. man- 
 ner, to amuse himself with the effects, with- 
 out prosecuting his enquiries to their just 
 issue in the knowledge and adoration of the 
 first cause; if he be a man of activity, he 
 wity. betake himself to his sports or his hus- 
 bandry ; and if an indolent epicure, he will 
 
 • *■ 
 * Vide Cic. de Nat. Deor. lib. i. § 22. 
 
sect, i.] On the- Knowledge, of God. 5 
 
 sink down into a life of low indulgence. 
 There is no magical virtue in fields or groves, 
 no local inspiration, which will elevate an 
 unprepared mind from things natural to 
 moral, from matter to spirit, and from the 
 creature to the Creator. 
 
 For although it is true that God is some- 
 times found of them who seek him not, it 
 is only to those who diligently seek him, that 
 a promise is made of finding him*. To 
 the former it is commonlv in vain that the 
 heavens declare his glory, and the firma- 
 ment sheweih his handy work ; they have 
 eyes and see not, ears and hear not, and 
 their hearts do not understand : while to the 
 latter, the most familiar scenes of nature, and 
 every object around them, yields a divine 
 attestation ; they find 
 
 Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 
 
 3 _ , 
 
 It is to these, and such as these, whose 
 minds are in some degree awake to religion's 
 
 f Prov. ii. -3—5, 
 
6 On the Knoidedge of God. [part i. 
 
 who are serious and earnest in their search 
 after Him with whom they are most con- 
 cerned to be acquainted, and who, at the 
 same time, are not without some tincture of 
 general literature, that I would address the 
 subsequent reflections; as it is to them only 
 that they can be supposed to prove either 
 useful or acceptable. 
 
 But before we proceed to the enquiry 
 now before us, it is proper to apprize the 
 reader, that it is not by dint of reason only, 
 and by heaping one argument upon another, 
 that we expect to climb to heaven, and 
 there to pry into the divine nature, and 
 will ; an attempt which, as it would bear 
 some resemblance to that of the fabled 
 giants of old, would be sure to resemble it 
 in its issue : 
 
 Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam, 
 
 Scilicet, atque Ossse frondosum involvere Olympum : 
 
 Ter pater extructos disjecit fulmine montes # . 
 
 VIRGIL. 
 
 # On Pelion, thrice to heave they all essay'd } 
 Ossa, and thrice on Ossa's tow'ring head > 
 To roll Olympus up with all his shade : ) 
 
sjiCt. i.] On the Knowledge of God. 7 
 
 To check such a presumption, it might be 
 sufficient to consider how much the greatest 
 sages of paganism miscarried in their spe- 
 culations on this most important subject. 
 Some of them fell into the grossest atheism, 
 as Democritus and Strato, and their fol- 
 lowers, who vainly endeavoured to resolve all 
 things into chance or necessity. Others 
 were bewildered in a multiplicity of deities. 
 And those who asserted one universal intel- 
 ligent nature, generally supposed it to be 
 nothing more than the soul of the world, 
 or its nobler constituent part, and made it 
 to consist of an exquisitely subtle matter, 
 such as fire or aether. Even Anaxagoras 
 and Plato, who soared much higher, seem 
 to have had no proper idea of creation, but 
 to have considered matter as an eternal and 
 independent principle, out of which a di- 
 vine mind (first introduced, as is said, by 
 the former of these philosophers) made as 
 
 Thrice hurl'd th' Omnipotent his thunder round, 
 And dash'd the pil'd-up mountains to the ground. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
$ On the Knowledge of God. [part i. 
 
 perfect a world, as the contumacious qua- 
 lities of the subject to he wrought upon 
 would permit. Nor was the author of the 
 universe better known in the character of 
 supreme Lord and Ruler, Cicero, speak- 
 ing of the Greek philosophers, who were 
 probably as enlightened as those of any 
 other country, declares it to have been their 
 common opinion, that the gods were never 
 angry ) nor did harm to any one* : whence 
 we may at least collect that the doctrine of 
 punitive justice, or of that unalterable dis- 
 plicency and resentment of sin, which is re- 
 presented to us in scripture as an essential 
 perfection of the divine nature, held scarce- 
 ly a place in their theology. And for what 
 little they advanced rightly concerning the 
 true God, they appear to have been more 
 indebted to the Hebrew records, or to some 
 
 * Hoc quidem commune est omnium philosopho- 
 rum, non eorum modo, qui deum nihil habere ipsum 
 negotii dicunt, et nihil exhibere alteri ; sed eorum 
 etiam qui deum semper agere aliquid, et moliri vo- 
 Iunt, nunquam nee irasci deum, nee nocere. Cic. de 
 Off. S>28. 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge' of God, 9 
 
 remains of primitive tradition, than to their 
 own abstracted speculations*. 
 
 He therefore who wishes to succeed in 
 this momentous enquiry, must learn to carry 
 into it a spirit of humility, a dependance 
 upon divine aid, and a reverent regard to 
 every discovery that God has been pleased 
 to make of himself in his word, as well as 
 in his works. Otherwise, if in contempt or 
 neglect of the former, he trusts to his own 
 researches into the latter, he will probably 
 find, however he may be armed with all the 
 powers of philosophy, and exempted from 
 every external interruption, that the Creator 
 of the universe, after all his investigation,; 
 will remain to him, as to the Athenians of 
 old, an unknown God. 
 
 # Should the reader be disposed to enquire into the 
 state of religious knowledge in the heathen world, he 
 may consult Leland on the advantage and necessity of 
 revelation; a work which I presume is inferior to none 
 upon the subject, and which doubtless highly merits the 
 attention of every young man of liberal education, and 
 especially of every student of divinity. 
 
10 On the Knowledge of God. [parti. 
 
 But if, instead of a vain reliance upon, 
 his own understanding, he looks, to the 
 light of revelation, he may be directed to 
 such an interpretation of the works of 
 creation and providence, as will lead him 
 to just views of the Deity ; particularly in 
 the two-fold character he sustains towards 
 man, of a righteous judge - who will not 
 forbear to take cognizance of his offences, 
 and of a tender parent who is disposed to 
 forgiveness, whenever it can be shown with- 
 out an impeachment of his just authority. 
 It is this complex character upon which I 
 shall here insist ; as we are much more con- 
 cerned to enquire what God is to us, and 
 what we may expect at his hands, than to 
 enter into any curious metaphysical dis- 
 quisition of what he is in his own absolute 
 being and perfections. 
 
 If then, in the manner above stated, di- 
 vested of prejudice and guided by re- 
 vealed light, w r e take a survey of sublunary 
 nature, or of that system at the head of 
 which we are placed, we shall find that it 
 
sect. i. 1 On the Knowledge of God. 11 
 
 has undergone a great change on account 
 of human apostacy ; that it lies under the 
 frown of heaven ; that its order and course 
 are disturbed ; and, in fine, that it has be- 
 come a stage on which the Almighty no 
 less displays his justice and his judgments, 
 than his grace and his beneficence ; on 
 which his indignation against sin is no less 
 conspicuous, than his compassionate regard 
 to sinners. 
 
 Whichever way we direct our view, this 
 mingled character now is recognised. It 
 is recognised, when we see the hopes of the 
 year intercepted by unseasonable frosts or 
 blighting winds ; or the joy of the reaper 
 damped by sweeping rains, even when his 
 sickle is in the harvest ; when we see the 
 earth teeming spontaneously with noxious 
 plants, while those which are useful are not 
 generally yielded without toil and culture ; 
 and emitting her poisonous steams along 
 with her salutary exhalations ; when w r e see 
 the most fruitful regions infested with noi- 
 some beasts and insects, undermined by vol- 
 
VI On the Knowledge of God. [?AftT i. 
 
 canic fires, or exposed to the artillery of 
 heaven*. 
 
 i — f 
 
 * In a book intitled Studies of Native, writterr in 
 French by M. de Saint Pierre, and translated by J)r. 
 Hunter, minister of a Scots' church in London, it. is 
 asserted, contrary to what is here advanced, That ca- 
 lamities such as those here specified " are only inflict- 
 ed by nature on man, when he deviates from her laws*" 
 " If storms," says the author, " sometimes ravage his 
 orchards and his corn-fields, it is because he frequently 
 places them where nature never intended they should 
 grow. Storms scarcely ever injure any culture except 
 the injudicious cultivation of man. Forests and natural 
 meadows never suffer in the slightest degree" ( Vol. ii. 
 p. 36.) Again : " I do not believe there ever would 
 have been a single unwholesome spot upon the earth, 
 if men had not put their hands to it. (Ibid. p. 40.) 
 Any attempt to expose these passages would be quite 
 superfluous. Surely the author, when he wrote them, 
 must have forgot (to name no other quarter of the 
 world) the whole continent of America, which, it is well 
 known was found generally insalubrious, and scarcely 
 habitable, before it had passed under the hand of the 
 cultivator. 
 
 As the work now cited* after its vogue in Fiance, 
 has found its admirers in this country, a few more 
 strictures upon it in this place, in order to guard the 
 young and incautious reader against its illusions, will 
 not perhaps he considered as. altogether impertinent. 
 
sec?, i.] On the Knowledge of God. is 
 
 Again; if we fix our view on man, we 
 find judgment and mercy apparent through 
 
 From Pythagoras and some other ancient philoso- 
 phers, the author has borrowed a notion upon which a 
 great part of his work proceeds, and which is well suited 
 to be wrought upon by a lively and fanciful genius # 
 "When two contraries (he observes) come to be blend- 
 ed, of whatever kind, the combination produces plea- 
 sure, beauty, and harmony. I call the instant and the 
 point of their union harmonic expression. This is the only 
 principle zvhich I have been able to perceive in nature/ 5 
 {Vol. ii. p. 279-) Again, " Nature opposes beings to 
 each other in order to produce agreeable conformities. — 
 I consider this great truth as the key of all philosophy." 
 (Ibid. p. 275.) Among his other strange theories, his 
 account of the tides, from the melting of the ice at the 
 polar regions, is singularly wild and improba.ble. — FrOm 
 the schools of heresy, infidelity, and anarchism, he has 
 collected that " Man in a state of purity [by which he 
 here means a state of nature] has no dangerous error 
 to fear." (Vol. v. p. 69.) " I repeat it (says he) for the 
 consolation of the human race, moral evil is foreign to 
 man as well as physical." (Vol. v. p. 434.) And should 
 it be enquired how the world came to be so generally 
 corrupt as we now find it, he will answer," Man is born 
 good, it is society that renders him wicked." (Vol. iL 
 p. 134.) Or as he elsewhere tells us, that all our vices 
 are " the necessary results of our political ■institutions." 
 (Vol. vi. p. 65, 66.) Lastly, from an Indian Paria he has 
 
14 - On the Knowledge of God. [parti. 
 
 every period of his present existence.^ Du- 
 ring the seastfn of infancy, we see him sub- 
 ject not only to helpless weakness, but also 
 to many pains and diseases; and we see 
 him too at the same time sustained and 
 cherished by the tenderness of pare.ntal af- 
 fection. Amidst the dangers and difficul- 
 ties which beset his advancing years, we 
 see him furnished with reason for a guide, 
 and happily impelled by his social instincts 
 
 learned, (as we are allowed to suppose from the whole 
 tenor of the fiction,) that " truth is to be found only in, 
 nature." (Vol. vi. sub finem.)-^Such are the principles 
 and sentiments in the work before us. And now can 
 we forbear to wonder when we hear the translator 
 declare, that, " he had read few performances with 
 more complete satisfaction, and with greater improve- 
 ment, than the Studies of Nature ; and can we less 
 wonder when he proceeds to demand with an air of 
 confidence, " What work of science displays a more sub- 
 lime theology, inculcates a purer morality, or breathes a 
 more ardent or more expansive philanthropy ?" (Vol. i. 
 Pref.) This high-flown panegyric rnight induce a sus- 
 picion that the Doctor is not much conversant with the 
 principles of a sound philosophy: and that in his ex* 
 travagant zeal for his author, he had lost sight both 
 of the Assembly's Catechism and of his Bible. 
 
 6 , 
 
sect. i.] On the Knowledge of God. 1$ 
 
 to unite himself with other men in friend- 
 ly associations and bodies politic. Thus, 
 by combined efforts, he is able, not barely 
 to provide himself with a shelter from 
 the elements, and with a scanty supply 
 of food for his subsistence, but also, by 
 the contrivance of fit instruments and en- 
 gines, to extend his command over nature, 
 to multiply his conveniencies and comforts, 
 and at the same time to erect a more ef- 
 fectual fence against the numberless evils 
 to which he is exposed. And if to this 
 general co-operation, we add the relief arising 
 from particular assistance and sympathy, 
 from the ordinary vicissitude of the world, 
 and from the lapse of time itself, we shall 
 find there are few instances of human dis- 
 tress which are not attended with many 
 circumstances of alleviation. And lastly, 
 whatever be the lot of man, we see him 
 borne up by an insuppressible hope, which 
 affords a happy presumption, that, how- 
 ever his condition may be often sad and 
 perilous, it is never absolutely desperate 
 and irretrievable. 
 
16 On the Knowledge of God. [parti, 
 
 We may recognise the same mixed cha- 
 racter when we look back on the conduct 
 of Providence towards the world at large, 
 even in the most awful instances, which by 
 impressing a conviction of the nature and 
 consequences of sin, were suited to obstruct 
 its progress. The instances I have here in 
 view are, the expulsion of man from paradise ; 
 the labour and toil to which he was doomed 
 by the curse upon the ground; lastly, the 
 universal deluge, which probably, as the 
 great secondary cause, by the changes it pro- 
 duced both in the earth itself and its sur- 
 rounding atmosphere, further multiplied the 
 evils and gradually abridged the term of 
 human life, and thus opposed a fresh bar- 
 rier to human depravity. In all this process, 
 the attentive observer will acknowledge the 
 Judge of the earth to be the Father of com- 
 passions, who, if his disobedient children 
 be not reclaimed by lighter chastisements, 
 will not spare to treat them with greater * 
 rigours, no less from a regard to their wel- 
 fare than to his own dignity and just au- 
 thority. 
 
sect. I.] Oil the Knowledge of God. 17 
 
 Finally, the same character may be re- 
 cognised in the state of the inferior tribes of 
 the animal creation, which, from their rela- 
 tion to man as their superior lord, are partly 
 involved in his fate. With him they share 
 in the benignity of the common parent ; with 
 him likewise they suffer 
 
 The penalty of Adam, the season's difference, 
 As the icy fang, and churlish chiding of the win- 
 ter's wind : 
 
 with other rigours and incommodities that 
 flow from the same source. 
 
 Thus, in the whole frame and course of 
 the world since the original defection, we 
 may discern a display of justice softened 
 by forbearance, and of indulgence tem- 
 pered by justice ; a righteous judge as well 
 as a gracious benefactor; a God offended 
 but not irreconcileable. By the light of 
 scripture we are safely conducted through 
 the labyrinth of nature, which, to the phi- 
 losopher, who looks only to the present 
 state of things, without considering the 
 
18 On the Knowledge of God. [pabt x. 
 
 change that has taken place by man's dis- 
 obedience, must prove extremely dark and 
 inexplicable. 
 
 For what account can he give, upon the 
 hypothesis of our native innocence, and of 
 our relation to God as a benign Creator 
 only, of the treatment we receive in the 
 course of his providence ? Should he sug- 
 gest as a solution of this difficulty, as he 
 probably ' may, that it is for our trial, for 
 the exercise and improvement of our virtue, 
 and, in consequence, the advancement of 
 our happiness ; yet is it not a strange 
 trial, for an innocent creature to be intro- 
 duced into being with weeping and an- 
 guish, to sicken a few years, and before 
 he has committed any personal offence, to 
 be snatched away by the hand of death ; 
 or if his term be lengthened, to see him 
 exposed to numberless evils, both moral and 
 physical, to injuries and disasters, to the 
 buffets of nature and of what the world calls 
 fortune, and then to close his days in lan- 
 guishing disease, and sometimes in excru- 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge of God. }Q 
 
 elating torment? Is this a trial under a con- 
 stitution solely established upon the benignity 
 of the Creator, and which bears no relation 
 to his vindictive justice and holy displeasure 
 as an offended Governor ? To reason thus, is 
 not to do honour to the goodness of God, or 
 to justify his ways to man ; and it argues 
 little discernment in the choice of difficulties, 
 to take refuge in such a scheme in preference 
 to Christianity. 
 
 It is only, therefore, when we take into 
 our view the two-fold character which the 
 Almighty sustains towards guilty man, of 
 a just ruler and of a tender parent, that we 
 can in any measure reconcile the pheno- 
 mena of nature and providence with our 
 ideas of the divine perfections. In this 
 case, since we shall no longer consider man- 
 kind as retaining the purity of their first 
 paradisiacal state, we shall not be obliged 
 to account why the earth they inhabit is 
 not in all points entirely accommodated to 
 their present convenience ; why they are 
 in danger from noxious plants and animals, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 On the Knowledge of God, [part t. 
 
 and exposed to the in temperature of the 
 seasons, with other disorders of the elements; 
 and shall think it sufficient if we are able to 
 discern, though imperfectly, in the present 
 system and course of the world,, considered 
 in relation to man as a sinner, an exhibition 
 of holiness and justice, tempered with much 
 long suffering, and paternal indulgence. 
 
 I have dwelt the more upon this topic, 
 because it is not unusual to meet with 
 moral and philosophical writers, otherwise of 
 no mean abilities, who overlook the justice 
 of God in the present constitution and 
 course of nature, which they consider 
 merely as a display of wisdom and good- 
 ness ; of wisdom in the mechanical con- 
 trivance, and of goodness in the supply it 
 affords to our temporal necessities. This, 
 however, is a very partial view, and has a 
 dangerous tendency to divert our attention 
 from those manifold signatures of awful 
 displeasure which are stamped on every 
 part of the terrestrial system. It tends to 
 beget in us an opinion that we are purely 
 
sect. I.] On the Knowledge of God. 21 
 
 the objects of divine benignity, and that 
 every suffering we are called to undergo 
 is no more than a fruit of paternal disci- 
 pline, and a mean to promote our happi- 
 ness ; and contains in it nothing of judi- 
 cial animadversion, or that is monitory of 
 heavier inflictions to be endured hereafter, 
 if not timely averted. Hence such sooth- 
 ing doctrine, under show of exalting the 
 goodness of God, derogates from his go- 
 verning justice ; and in ministering to hu- 
 man consolation, induces a state of secu- 
 rity, so as to render those warnings vain 
 which were graciously intended to be pre- 
 ventive of our final ruin. I have therefore 
 endeavoured to make nature heard in her 
 declarations of judgment as well as of mercy ; 
 in her testimony to her almighty Author 
 in the relation he bears towards us of a 
 holy and righteous governor, as well as in 
 that of a compassionate parent and of a 
 liberal benefactor*. 
 
 # Since the first edition of these reflections I have 
 read a work on Natural Theology, by a very eminent 
 writer, in which I was sorry to observe the defect here 
 
22 On the Knowledge of God. [part i 
 
 II. This difference of character, which 
 God sustains towards man, and which is 
 all that nature can teach us concerning 
 
 stated. After many admirable proofs of the being of 
 Gody drawn up with that force and perspicuity for which 
 the author is so much distinguished, he proceeds to re- 
 solve the whole constitution and course of nature into a 
 display of divine goodness, without any apparent re- 
 ference t6 that $ihy\*, or punitive justice, which is so 
 obviously inscribed on the face of the world, when 
 viewed in the light of scripture, (Compare Gen. ch. iii. 
 v. 17. — 19- with Rom. ch. viii. v. 18 — 23 ; and Isaiah, 
 ch. xxiv. v. 5. and 6.) And I must.be allowed to ex- 
 press my regret that an author who has deserved so 
 well of mankind, by his excellent defence of revelation, 
 should so little have availed himself of its assistance, in 
 his contemplation of nature. 
 
 I would here further refer the reader to the descrip- 
 tions of the golden age, and of those that followed, 
 which we find in many ancient poets; among the rest, 
 in Hesiod, in Virgil, and in Ovid ; by all of whom it is 
 expressly taught, that a great change has passed upon 
 nature ; and evidently supposed, that this change took 
 place as a punishment of human degeneracy. The fol- 
 lowing passages from Ovid, in the first book of his 
 
 Metamorphoses, may serve as a specimen for all. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 * See on this word, Poli Synopsis Crit. in Acta ApostoL 
 c. xxviii. v. 4. 
 
sect. I.] On the Knowledge of God. 23 
 
 him, evidently must leave the serious mind 
 in a state of awful suspense. Though it 
 suggests a hope that our case is not abso- 
 lutely desperate, or, in other words, that 
 
 Speaking of the golden age he says : 
 
 Ver erat aeternum ; placidique tepentibus auris 
 Mulcebant Zephyri natos sine semine flores. 
 Mox etiam fruges tellus inarata ferebat ; 
 Nee renovatus ager gravidis canebat aristis. 
 Flumina jam lactis, jam flumina nectaris ibant, 
 Flavaque de viridi stillabant ilice mella. 
 
 * Next, the silver age is thus described ; 
 
 Postquam, Saturno tenebrosa in Tartara misso, 
 Sub Jove mundus erat ; subiit argentea proles, 
 Auro deterior, fulvo pretiosior aere. 
 k Jupiter antiqui contraxit tempora veris; 
 Perque hyemes, astusque § inequales autumnos, 
 Et breve ver, spatiis exegit quatuor annum : 
 Turn primilm siccis aer fervoribus ustus 
 Canduit ; # ventis glacies adstricta pependit. 
 
 And after the ivickedness of mankind was come to the 
 
 height, and just before Jupiter is represented as bringing 
 
 on the universal deluge, he is made to speak as follows : 
 
 Qua terra patet, fera regnat Erynnis ; 
 
 In facinus jurasse putes ; dent ocius omnes 
 
 Quas meruere pati (sic stat sententia) peenas. 
 
24 On the Knowledge of God. [part t. 
 
 our Maker is still reconcileable, it directs 
 us to no certain way or means of reconci- 
 liation ; a deficiency which should dispose 
 us to listen with humble gratitude to the 
 farther instruction of scripture, whence only 
 we can derive satisfaction in this, and in 
 many other points that concern our highest 
 interests. 
 
 Mr. Locke somewhere says, " I thank 
 God for the light of revelation, which sets 
 my pc-or reason at rest in many things that 
 lay beyond the reach of its discovery/' To 
 this memorable and pious acknowledg- 
 ment of the weakness of human under- 
 standing, let me add that of another very 
 eminent philosopher*, who, in a prayer 
 highly admired by Mr. Addison, thus ad- 
 dresses the Almighty, "I have sought thee 
 in courts, fields, and gardens, but I have 
 found thee in thy temples : " which is in 
 other words to declare, that it was only by 
 the light of scripture and the exercises of 
 
 * Lord Bacon, 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 25 
 
 devotion, that he attained to that acquaint- 
 ance with God which he had sought for in 
 vain amidst the hurry of secular affairs, or 
 in the course of his philosophical pursuits. 
 These great examples, among others, may 
 properly be urged in proof of the necessity 
 and advantage of revelation, and as an au- 
 thority which may confidently be opposed 
 f to that pride of pretended reason, and that 
 ignorance and contempt of the Bible, which 
 so unhappily distinguishes the present race of 
 minute philosophers. 
 
 The Bible is the brightest mirror of the 
 Deity. There we discern not only his be- 
 ing, but his character ; not only his cha- 
 racter, but his will ; not only what he is in 
 himself, but what he is to us, and what we 
 may expect at his hands. This knowledge 
 of God, as we have before suggested, nei- 
 ther nature nor providence can teach us, 
 whatever we may thence collect concern- 
 ing the relation he bears towards us as the 
 Creator and governor of the world, or of 
 
26 On the Knowledge of God. [part i. 
 
 his propensity to -mercy and reconcile- 
 ment. 
 
 He therefore who aspires after the know- 
 ledge now described, must direct his atten- 
 tion to those objects which are revealed 
 to us only in scripture ; and to that object 
 in particular, in which the Almighty has 
 manifested himself, both in his essential 
 attributes and in his propensions towards 
 the human race, in a manner more glorious 
 than in all his other works and dispensa- 
 tions. This object is a mediator, in whom 
 the sovereign of the universe appears a just 
 God and a Saviour*, and at once eminently 
 displays the holiness of his nature, the ma- 
 jesty of his government, and the immensity 
 of his mercy. 
 
 No man, says Christ, knoweth the Father 
 but the Son, and he to whom the Son will 
 reveal him *f\ And again : No man cometh 
 
 * Isaiah xlv. 21. t Matt. xi. 27. ■• 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 27 
 
 to the Father but by me*. And yet the 
 Apostle Paul declares, That the invisible 
 things of him '(speaking of the Deity), 
 from the creation of the world, are clearly 
 seen, being understood by the things that 
 are made, even his eternal power and god- 
 head -f ; and that wh§n the Gentiles knew 
 God, they glorified him not as God J. 
 Whence we may infer, that the knowledge 
 spoken of by the master and the disciple 
 is not the same ; that the former is of a 
 superior nature to the latter ; and that the 
 ablest philosopher, after all he can learn 
 from the heavens and the earth, must apply 
 to the great Teacher and Prophet of man- 
 kind, for that knowledge of God which will 
 make him wise to salvation. 
 
 The natural presumption of the human 
 mind, especially when strengthened by a 
 conceit of superior attainments, will not 
 easily be reduced to this submission. But 
 it must be done. If any man seemeth to be 
 
 * John xiv. 6. f Rom. i. 20. % Rom. i. 21. 
 
28 On the Knowledge of God. [part |. 
 
 wise in this world, he must become a fool, 
 that he may be wise*. The most towering 
 philosopher, though he exalt himself as the 
 eagle, and set his nest among the stars, 
 must stoop to divine instruction ; that is, he 
 must divest himself of all vain opinion of his 
 scientific abilities ; he must renounce the 
 proud and visionary theories of men, who 
 conceal their impiety, and oftentimes their 
 ignorance, under the name of reason ; and 
 must come, with the simplicity of a child, 
 to the school of the despised Nazarene, to 
 be taught the first elements of divine know- 
 ledge ; or he may find that all his parts and 
 speculations will only serve to work him more 
 deeply into error. 
 
 It is to the want of this submission of 
 the understanding, so highly becoming a 
 creature and a sinner, that we must chiefly 
 ascribe that awful prevalence of infidelity 
 and atheism, that marks the age in which 
 we live. To this a neighbouring country 
 is indebted for her sophists, who, under 
 
 # 1 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
sect, l.] On the Knozdedge of God. 29 
 
 the fair pretext of conducting her to greater 
 light and liberty, have plunged her into ten- 
 fold darkness and bondage*. And to the 
 same cause it must, in a great measure, be 
 assigned, that so many Christians in name, 
 fall short of a real participation of the bles- 
 sings of Christianity. 
 
 Let not him, then, who has retired from 
 the world in search of divine knowledge, 
 suppose that he will gain his purpose un- 
 less he take a farther step, which is much 
 more difficult, and retire from his own phi- 
 losophic wisdom, to attend his teaching who 
 is in the bosom of the Father, and is inti- 
 mately acquainted with all his counsels -j~ ; 
 who, in his person, in his doctrine, in his 
 example, and in his cross, has thrown that 
 light on the divine character and dispensa- 
 tions, which would be sought for in vain 
 amidst the works of nature, and the volumes 
 of philosophers. 
 . i 
 
 * This was written in the year 1797. 
 f John i, 18. and v. 20. 
 
30 On the Knowledge of God* [part j, 
 
 III. All this, however, must be under- 
 stood in conjunction with prayer ; which, 
 if carelessly or proudly omitted, there is 
 no reason to expect that either Nature or 
 Christianity would be sufficient to lead 
 the most profound enquirer to a proper 
 acquaintance with the Deity ; as on the 
 other hand we are encouraged to hope, 
 that the most illiterate novice, who is se- 
 riously attentive to this duty, and at the 
 same time is diligent to improve every 
 means of information afforded him, will 
 not finally be left to perish for want of 
 knowledge. If any one lack wisdom, says 
 the apostle, let him ask of God, who giveth 
 to all men liberally and upbraideth not*. 
 This spirit of prayer is not suspended on 
 scientific researches or learned prepara- 
 tions, and seems almost the natural growth 
 of retirement, when, in silence and soli- 
 tude, far remote from the bustle of the 
 world, and no longer borne up by its pas- 
 sions and its vanities, the soul sinks into 
 herself, and from a feeling of her own igno- 
 
 * James 1. 5. 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 31 
 
 ranee and weakness, pours out her cry to the 
 great Author of her being. 
 
 To imagine we can ascend to the know- 
 ledge of Him who dwelleth far above all 
 heavens, by study without prayer, or by 
 prayer without study, must generally be 
 resolved into a disposition, either to exalt 
 unduly the powers of the human under- 
 standing, or to overlook its proper use; 
 and is in the one case to err with the mere 
 philosopher, and in the other with the en- 
 thusiast. , To guard against both these dan- 
 gers, from which retirement in itself affords 
 no security, a few more particular remarks 
 may not here be impertinent. 
 
 Prayer without a due regard to the va- 
 rious discoveries which God has made of 
 himself, in his works, and in his word, may 
 be construed into a censure of his infinite 
 wisdom, as if what he had already done 
 was in vain and to no purpose. Nor is 
 such a procedure less big with danger than 
 it is with presumption ; as it tends to sub- 
 6 
 
32 On the Knozvledge of God. [part i. 
 
 ject the mind to its own visions, and to 
 the illusions of that spirit of darkness, who 
 can easily transform himself into an angel of 
 light. 
 
 We can only with safety contemplate 
 the Deity in those mirrors which he him- 
 self has formed and authorised. We may 
 thus view him in the works of nature ; for, 
 as we are taught in a passage before cited, 
 The invisible things of him from the creation 
 of the world are clearly seen, being under- 
 stood by the things that are made. We may 
 thus view him in the dispensations of his 
 providence ; a and above all, let me repeat 
 it, we may thus view him in his Son, whd 
 bears his express likeness. But should we 
 avert our eyes from these instituted mir- 
 rors, to seek a deity in our imagination, 
 we should find that, instead of reflecting 
 his true character, it would only exhibit, 
 like a magical glass, its own superstitions 
 and apparitions*. % 
 
 * " The mind, darkened by its covering the body," 
 is far from being a flat, equal, and clear mirror, that 
 
sect, i.] On the Knozdedge of God. 33 
 
 The end of prayer is not to turn our at- 
 tention from any of the works or dispensa- 
 tions of the Almighty ; on the contrary, 
 one of its objects is to excite us to search 
 and examine them with more serious dili- 
 gence. The works of the Lord are great, 
 and sought out of all them who have pleasure 
 therein ; — he hath so done his marvellous 
 works, that they ought to be had in re- 
 membrance*. True philosophy, when kept 
 in due subordination, is favourable to true 
 religion, serves to show its necessity, and 
 by correspondent analogies, to add new 
 evidence and illustration to its doctrines. 
 While they proceed together, they say the 
 same thing-)- ;• and the former, when it 
 can make no farther advances, resigns up 
 its disciple to the conduct of the latter. 
 No good man, therefore, ought to reject 
 
 . ,. m . i _ 
 
 receives and reflects the rays without mixture, but rather 
 a magical glass full of superstitions and apparitions." 
 Bacon, vol. i. p. 132. Shaw's edit. 
 
 * Psalm cxi. 2 — 4. 
 
 t Nunquam aliud natura, aliud sapientia dicit. 
 D 
 
34 On the Knozv ledge of God. [part i. 
 
 the study of nature, because so many 
 sophistical commentators have set up her 
 light in opposition to that of revelation; 
 but rather should use his best efforts to 
 rescue her from such impure hands by a 
 juster interpretation. Still less ought he 
 to reject the study of hfs Bible, because 
 there may be a few enthusiasts who set it 
 aside under pretence of a superior guidance. 
 Our Saviour commanded the Jews to search 
 the Scriptures, because in them they had 
 eternal life. The scriptures here referred 
 to, we know, were those of the old Testa- 
 ment only; which implies at least an equal 
 obligation on Christians to search those of 
 the new, in which life and immortality are 
 more clearly brought to light. Upon the 
 whole then it appears, that it can never be 
 the object of prayer to supersede the light 
 either of nature or scripture, but rather to 
 obtain that assistance which may enable us, 
 in both cases, better to discern and improve 
 it*. 
 
 * " Let no one (says Lord Bacon) weakly imagine 
 that men can search too far, or be too well studied in 
 
sect. I.] On the Knowledge of God. 35 
 
 On the other hand, study without prayer 
 is exposed to equal miscarriage ; as it argues 
 a myid presuming upon its own powers, or 
 at best, grossly insensible of its dependence 
 on the Father of lights, who is wdnt to con- 
 ceal himself from those who lean to their 
 own understanding. Even the scriptures 
 themselves are insufficient to conduct persons 
 of this character to the knowledge of true re- 
 ligion ; and when, in disdain of these infal- 
 lible oracles, they commit themselves, which 
 is commonly the case, solely to their own re- 
 searches, as then they are left to wander 
 without any certain guide, they are in still 
 greater danger of proceeding from one fiction 
 to another, till they terminate in atheism itself. 
 
 ►Of the truth of this remark, the present 
 age, no less fruitful of monstrous notions than 
 
 the'book of God's word and works, divinity and philo- 
 sophy; but rather let them, endeavour an endless pro- 
 gression^ both ; only applying all to charity, and not 
 to pride ; to use, not ostentation ; without confounding 
 the two different streams of philosophy and revelation 
 together." Vol. L p. 18. Shaw's edit. 
 D 2 
 
36 On the Knowledge of God. [parti, 
 
 of extraordinary events, exhibits abundant'and 
 melancholy proof. What the fool only said in 
 his heart, There is no God*, his more daring 
 successors proclaim openly with their lips, and 
 publish irr their writings. Instead of keeping 
 the glorious discovery to themselves, and pass- 
 ing by with philosophic indifference the reli- 
 gious prejudices of the vulgar, they display all 
 the zeal of a proselyting spirit, prepare and 
 send forth their missionaries, and abuse every 
 literary vehicle, to convey the deadly poison 
 into every corner of Europe. 
 
 He then who desires to find God in soli- 
 tude, ought to preserve a jealous watch against 
 these impostors, and to block up every avenue 
 to their seduction, lest, as the serpent be- 
 guiled Eve through his subtlety, his mind 
 should insensibly be deceived and corrupted, 
 and, instead of meeting a paradise, he should 
 find himself betrayed into a waste wilderness ; 
 a land of darkness and the shadow of death, 
 without any order, and where the light is as 
 darkness"]'. 
 
 * Psalm xiv. 1. f Job x. 21, 22. 
 
sect, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 37 
 
 Blessed is the man, says the Psalmist, 
 that walketh not in the counsel of the un- 
 godly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, 
 nor sitteih in the seat of the scornful. But 
 if unhappily he should be so far engaged 
 in the discussion of their impious notions, 
 as to have deprived himself of the power 
 of retreat, let him beware of surprises, and 
 of short and superficial views ; let him 
 not mistake confidence for proof, nor ridi- 
 cule for argument; and he may hope, by 
 proceeding with modest resolution and an 
 ardent desire of truth, in a steady reliance 
 on the divine guidance and blessing, gra- 
 dually to make his way through the mazes 
 of sophistry ; and at length to attain that 
 elevated and vantage ground, whence the 
 true intellectual and moral system of the 
 universe will open to his view with wonder 
 and delight. 
 
 As when a scout 
 Through dark and desert ways, with peril gone 
 All night, at length by break of cheerful dawn 
 Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, 
 Which to his eye discovers unawares 
 
38 On the Knowledge of God. [part i. 
 
 The goodly prospect of some foreign land 
 First seen, or some renown'd metropolis, 
 With glitt'ring spires and pinnacles adorn'd, 
 Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams ! 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 
 
 There is no precept of wisdom which has 
 been more generally or justly celebrated than 
 that which enjoins the knowledge of our- 
 selves ; a precept which was held, even by 
 pagan antiquity, in such high estimation, as 
 to be ascribed to the oracle at Delphi. 
 
 Though we should take this knowledge 
 in the lowest sense, and refer it only to 
 the body, it deserves to be placed at the 
 head of all natural science ; since we are 
 more concerned to be acquainted with 
 that little portion of matter to which we 
 are so intimately united, than with the 
 whole extent of the material universe : and 
 should we consider it in relation to the 
 soul, then it evidently transcends all know- 
 ledge of corporeal nature, and ought to 
 be ranked, in point of importance, next 
 
40 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [part I. 
 
 to the knowledge of God. We cannot, 
 therefore, be surprised, that man, in his va- 
 rious composition, has powerfully engaged the 
 attention of the inquisitive in all ages : that 
 he has been a subject of so much curious and 
 elaborate investigation, and furnished matter 
 for innumerable volumes. , 
 
 The labours of the physiologist, especially 
 since the revival of learning in the sixteenth 
 century, have been crowned with remarkable 
 success. By the help of anatomical dissec- 
 tions, with other experiments and observa- 
 tions, he has acquired a more critical know- 
 ledge of the principal parts and members 
 of the body, and has ascertained both their 
 structure and uses to a degree of accuracy, 
 which shows that his particular branch of 
 study has fully shared in the general pro- 
 gress of experimental science ; while the 
 medical professor, by availing himself of 
 the lights of the physiologist, has been 
 better able to explain the causes and symp- 
 toms of diseases, and to point out their 
 peculiar remedies. 
 
sect.- I].] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 41 
 
 The metaphysician has been equally di- 
 ligent to explore the nature and operations 
 of the soul, though, as would appear, with 
 less reason to applaud himself for his dis- 
 coveries. His motions have been rather 
 circular than progressive, and have some- 
 times, recalled to my imagination a flock of 
 sheep (absit invidia verbo,) which I was 
 used to observe in a morning, coursing 
 round and round the top of a hill, though 
 it seemed, I suppose, to them, as if they 
 went straight forward. Something, how- 
 ever has been done ; the essential differ- 
 ence that subsists between matter and mind, 
 and the impossibility that thought either 
 is or can be an affection of the former, 
 has been demonstrated in a manner so 
 conclusive, as may bid defiance to all op- 
 position from the schools of Democritus 
 or Spinoza*. It must be acknowledged, 
 indeed, that this demonstration is purely 
 negative, and leaves us still much in the 
 
 # Of the many excellent discourses upon this argu- 
 ment, there is none, perhaps, superior to Dr. Clarke's 
 Five Letters to PodwelL 
 
42 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [part i. 
 
 dark respecting the thinking principle 
 .within us, both as to its real nature and 
 its various operations. And after all that 
 has been advanced by some to prove, 
 that we may know as much of mind as of 
 matter, it is certain, that the spiritual part 
 of our composition is not so easily sub* 
 jected to our investigation as a body, 
 which, by presenting one constant ap- 
 pearance to the senses, may be examined 
 at leisure ; whereas the phenomena of 
 the former are fugitive and variable, and 
 are often with difficulty seized for a single 
 moment. This, undoubtedly, has been 
 one chief obstruction to the progress of 
 metaphysics ; and perhaps it is fairly ques- 
 tionable whether any modern metaphy- 
 sician has, upon the whole, given a more 
 probable account, either of the origin of 
 our ideas, or of our mode of perception, 
 of judging, or of reasoning, than Aristotle 
 and some other ancient philosophers have 
 done. The great error seems to h^ve 
 been, both with ancients and moderns, 
 that instead of a humble history, they have 
 
 7 
 
sect, li.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 43 
 
 affected to give a theory of the human 
 mind, and thus suffered nature to escape 
 through the subtilty of their abstractions*. 
 
 This want of progression in the philo- 
 sophy of mind we shall not much regret, 
 when we consider, that the cause of vir- 
 tue and happiness, and even of useful 
 knowledge, is but little connected with 
 such disquisitions ; that a man may think 
 justly, act virtuously, and live and die 
 comfortably, without any assistance from 
 the ideal speculations of Plato or Aristotle* 
 of , Malbranche or Locke; and that, with 
 all the metaphysical skill of these great 
 men united, he may pass his days to no 
 practical purpose, and at last die in a fatal 
 self-ignorance. 
 
 To know ourselves, therefore, in the 
 important sense of the precept, is to know 
 
 * " He who would philosophize in a due and proper 
 manner, must dissect nature, but not abstract her, as 
 they are obliged to do who will not dissect her." 
 
 Bacon, vol. iii. p. 587. Shaw's edit. 
 
44 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part. i. 
 
 our moral situation ; and to do this we must 
 get properly acquainted with the following 
 particulars : 
 
 First, With the law of our creation, and 
 with our defection from it. 
 
 Secondly, In what degree, according to 
 the constitution of the gospel, we must be 
 restored to a conformity with this law, in 
 order to our present peace and final hap- 
 piness ; and in what manner it is most 
 usual for men to deceive themselves upon 
 this subject. 
 
 What is the law of our creation, we may 
 learn from the answer made by our Sa- 
 viour to the scribe, who asked him, which 
 was the first commandment of all f To this 
 Jesus replied, The first of all the command- 
 ments is, Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God 
 is one Lord; and thou shalt love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and with all thy mind, and with all 
 thy strength ; which evidently implies an 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 45 
 
 utter exclusion of all other deities, and an 
 entire devotedness to the worship and ser- 
 vice of the only true God. This, with the 
 next great commandment, namely, Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, consti- 
 tutes that law of perfection, which shone in 
 man with a clear and convincing light, till, 
 by the entrance of sin, his power of spiritual 
 perception became so weakened and de- 
 praved, that the light has since mostly shone 
 in darkness, and the darkness comprehended 
 it not. 
 
 This was eminently the condition of the 
 heathen world, where the true God was 
 either not known at all, or not known as 
 the object of our entire devotion, gratitude, 
 and dependence ; where the vulgar were 
 occupied with a multitude of fictitious 
 deities, to whom they were taught to look 
 up as to the only tutelar and avenging 
 powers that presided over mankind, though 
 described under characters so flagitious, 
 that to resemble them, human nature must 
 have sunk beneath its ordinary degree 6f 
 
46 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [parti, 
 
 depravity. And this, in fact, was the de- 
 plorable consequence of a devotion to such 
 dissolute and ferocious divinities as their 
 Bacchus and Venus, their Mars and their 
 Saturn ; while the philosophers, instead of 
 reclaiming the people from this base ido- 
 latry, helped to strengthen them in it, by 
 their own conformity to the popular reli- 
 gion, and their recommendation of it to 
 others. So far were the wisest, even among 
 the Greeks, from any just acquaintance 
 with the true God, and with their duty to- 
 wards him, unless we will suppose them to 
 have spoken and acted in opposition to 
 their own secret sentiments, which would 
 reflect still greater disgrace upon their name 
 and character. 
 
 The second great commandment, which 
 respects our neighbour, lies more within 
 the comprehension of human reason ; and 
 a tolerable system of ethics, so far at least 
 as our outward conduct is concerned, 
 might perhaps be drawn from heathen 
 philosophers and moralists, if taken collec- 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 47 
 
 tively ; for it does not appear that such a 
 system could be extracted from any single 
 individual. Plato himself failed greatly 
 in several important points of practical 
 morality ; he prescribed a community of 
 wives in his scheme of a perfect common- 
 wealth, and in other respects gave much 
 scope to the sensual passions ; he allowed 
 parents, in some cases, to destroy or ex- 
 pose their children ; and, what is more di- 
 rectly to our present purpose, though he 
 endeavoured to persuade his countrymen 
 to be disposed towards one another as bre- 
 thren of the same family, and asfrie?ids by 
 nature, he used a different language when 
 speaking of the barbarians, (that is, in the 
 Grecian style of politeness, of all other na- 
 tions.) whom he held to be natural ene- 
 mies, and the just objects of an implacable 
 hostility*. 
 
 To such defective views it must be as- 
 cribed, that a Roman historian says of 
 
 * Plato de Rep. lib. v. 
 
48 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [fart i. 
 
 Scipio iEmilianus, the cruel conqueror of 
 the brave city of Numantia*, that in the 
 whole course of his life, he neither did, nor 
 said, nor thought any thing but what was 
 laudable -f; and that elsewhere he repre- 
 sents the second Cato as the very image of 
 virtue, and, in the whole character of his 
 mind, as approaching nearer to the gods 
 than to men % ; though we are informed by 
 Plutarch, that this godlike Cato spent whole 
 nights in drunken debauch, lent out his 
 wife to the orator Hortensius, and at last 
 laid violent hands upon himself. How to 
 imagine 'such actions to be consistent with 
 so high a character I know not, unless it 
 be maintained with Seneca, that it would 
 be easier to prove drunkenness was no vice, 
 t than that Cato was vicious % ; which would 
 
 * See Hookas Rom. Hist. vol. v. p. 130—132. 
 
 t Nihil in vita nisi laudandum, aut fecit, aut dixit, 
 aut sensit. Paterculus, lib. i. 
 
 X Homo virtuti simillimus, per omnia ingenio diis 
 quam hominibus propior. Paterc lib. ii. 
 
 §Catoni ebrie\as objectaest: at facilius efficiet, quis- 
 quis objecerit, hoc crimen honestum, quam turpem Ca- 
 tonem. Seneca de Tranq. Animi. cap. ult. 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 43 
 
 be a convenient way to raise men to perfec- 
 tion, bv lowering the standard down to the 
 level of their imperfections, and even of 
 their vices. 
 
 This artifice of human pride is not pe- 
 culiar to heathens ; it was practised by many 
 among the Jews, as we may learn from 
 Christ's sermon upon the mount. The law 
 received from Moses, and written by the 
 finger of God, became at length, through 
 the veil upon their hearts, so much depraved 
 and misunderstood, that there was need of 
 the divine legislator himself to interpose, in 
 order to vindicate its purity and perfection 
 from the corrupt glosses of the scribes and 
 ^Pharisees, and to expose the vanity of their 
 pretensions to a legal righteousness ; though 
 such was the pride and obstinacy of 
 these unhappy men, that all this instruc- 
 tion and warning was to them generally 
 ineffectual. 
 
 Should we from the Jewish extend our 
 view to Christian nations, and in particu- 
 
50 On the K?iouledge of Ourselves. [part t* 
 
 lar to our own, (as it lies nearest to our ob- 
 servation,) we shall find the same propen- 
 sity to bend the rule of duty to a consis- 
 tency with our character and condnct. If 
 we examine into the several orders of so- 
 ciety amongst us, it will appear, that they 
 all have their peculiar moral standard, to 
 which if they approach in any tolerable 
 degree, it is sufficient, as they imagine, 
 not only to satisfy the claims of their own 
 circle, and of their country at large, but 
 also every demand of virtue and religion^. 
 If the labouring man is honest, sober, and 
 industrious ; if the merchant is fair and 
 punctual in his dealings, regular in his do- 
 mestic conduct, and occasionally liberal to 
 
 # During the middle ages, Dr. Robertson tells us, it 
 was universally a custom, for " every person to chuse 
 among, the various codes of laws then in force that to 
 which he was willing to conform." From the observa- 
 tions in the text it might be supposed, that the thick 
 cloud of monkish barbarism and ignorance, which for- 
 merly sat deep upon this, in common with other na- 
 tions, was not yet entirely dissipated*. 
 
 * Hist, of Ch. 5. vol. i. p. 37S. 
 
sect, iij On the KnnwUdgeof Ourselves. 51 
 
 the distressed ; if the gentleman of rank 
 and fortune, besides that high sense of ho- 
 nour which is supposed to distinguish his 
 station, is generous in his* temper, kind to 
 his dependents, and courteous to all ; in 
 fine, if a man comes up to the law of re- 
 putation according to the sphere in which 
 he moves, he will generally be considered 
 by others, and' too often by himself, as not 
 far remote from perfection, and as an un- 
 doubted object of divine complacence. It 
 Was, by this fashionable law, I suppose, 
 that Hume judged of himself, when he as- 
 serted, that " his friends never had occa- 
 sion to vindicate any one circumstance of 
 his character or conduct* \" and it was 
 probably the same law which dictated to 
 his panegyrist Adam Smith, when he so- 
 lemnly declared, that " both in the life- 
 time, and since the death, of his friend, 
 he had always considered him as approach- 
 ing as nearly to the idea of a perfectly 
 wise and virtuous mm? as perhaps the na* 
 ture of human frailty will permitf*." That 
 I here do no injustice to this canonized 
 # See his Life by himself, f Smith's Letter to Strahan. 
 . E 2 
 
52 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part la 
 
 philosopher, in venturing thus to assign 
 the principle upon which both he himself 
 and his encomiast formed so high an esti- 
 mate of his character, may appear from 
 his own definition of virtue; which he 
 makes to consist in " those mental actions 
 and qualities that give to a spectator the 
 pleasing sentiment of approbation ;" and 
 the contrary he denominates vice*. Such 
 is the pious standard set up by some pre- 
 tended sages, who affect to reclaim the 
 world from its former barbarism and igno- 
 rance, and to raise it to its natural state of 
 perfection. 
 
 To guard against this, and other similar 
 impostures, which are now become so com-, 
 mon in the world, every man should labour 
 to fix in his mind a just idea of the law of 
 nature in its integrity. To this end, he 
 should withdraw himself as much as pos- 
 sible from the contagion of error ; and, 
 with the Bible in his hands, and in the 
 calm of recollection, should endeavour to 
 exercise his thoughts on the being and 
 perfections of the Deity ; his necessary 
 # Hume's Essays, vol. i\. p. 363. 8vo. 
 
sect, ii J On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 53 
 
 existence and absolute independence ; his 
 power and wisdom ; his goodness and jus- 
 tice ; and that untainted purity which in- 
 vests the whole of his character, and exalts 
 every other attribute. Let him next con- 
 sider this glorious Being in the several re- 
 lations he bears towards his rational off- 
 spring, as their creator, their ruler, and 
 their benefactor ; together with the cor- 
 respondent duties thence arising on their 
 part, of the most profound adoration and 
 submission, the most entire love and obe- 
 dience, as his creatures, subjects, and be« 
 neficiaries. Let him then descend to the 
 earth, and consider his obligations as a 
 member of the great family of mankind; 
 the debt of justice, of candour, and cha- 
 rity, which he owes to all, whether they 
 are virtuous or wicked, his fellow-citizens 
 or strangers ; with the particular regards 
 due to his country, his family, or indivi- 
 duals. And lastly let him reflect on what 
 he owes to himself, in order to secure his own 
 virtue and happiness, amidst those circuit 
 stances of trial in which he is placed dur^? 
 
54 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part i, 
 
 ing the present life. After he has brought 
 all this fairly to account, and thence formed 
 his judgment of moral duty, he will per- 
 ceive the immense disparity that exists be- 
 tween that character which will gain the full 
 approbation of men in general, and the true 
 perfection of our nature. 
 
 Here the great expedience, not to say 
 the necessity, of retirement, can hardly be 
 disputed, when it is considered how low 
 the standard of virtue is generally fixed in 
 the world, and how difficult it is to rise 
 above the sentiments of those with whom 
 we hold constant intercourse. And this 
 difficulty is not a little increased, when 
 these sentiments are found embodied and 
 exhibited in living examples, which is by 
 no means unusual in the case before us. 
 There is scarce any circle that does not 
 boast a few distinguished individuals, who, 
 though their virtue is composed of merely 
 human qualities, and is destitute of every 
 ingredient of true piety, are looked up to 
 by all around them as patterns of moral 
 excellence. Hence to form an idea of per- 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves.* 55 
 
 fection which throws disgrace on these ap~ 
 plaxided models, and to preserve this idea 
 ^unimpaired, under the daily corrupting in- 
 fluence of public opinion, evidently requires 
 no ordinary effort, and argues a mind of 
 more intellectual and moral vigour and ele- 
 vation, than is easily to be met with in any 
 rank of society. 
 
 Nor is it less expedient to secure certain 
 intervals of solitude, in order to determine 
 our degree of actual conformity to the rule 
 of righteousness when known, than to as* 
 certain the rule itself. In the hui*ry of life, 
 the state of the heart is seldom closely ex- 
 amined ; and the external conduct is easily 
 substituted for the interior disposition. We 
 suppose ourselves to have fulfilled the first 
 great commandment, at least in substance, 
 provided we express in our general con- 
 duct a decent reyerence to the divine 
 name and worship ; and that we have ac- 
 complished the second, if we behave to- 
 wards our fellow-creatures with strict jus- 
 tice, uniform kindness, and occasional libe-* 
 rality. We may indeed equally impose 
 
56 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [part ft 
 
 upon ourselves in a desert ; but I appre- 
 hend, not in general with the same facility. 
 When a man is left to his own reflections, 
 and is deprived of the countenance and 
 approbatioa of those around him, his so* 
 litary opinion is less able to resist the con- 
 victions of truth, he is more at liberty to 
 search into the motives and principles of 
 his conduct, and his conscience is more 
 likely to speak home to the reality of his 
 situation. How many are there who are 
 borne up in a conceit of their superior vir- 
 tue, by the judgments or flatteries of the 
 world, who would soon be reduced to a 
 mortifying sense of .their true character, if 
 jthis fantastic support was happily "withdrawn 
 from them ! 
 
 From the$e considerations it may suffi- 
 ciently appear, how much it concerns him 
 who would establish in his mind a just 
 conception of man as he existed in his ori- 
 ginal innocence, and of the sad reverse he 
 has suffered, to secure a retreat from the 
 bustle of the world, whose erroneous senti- 
 ments and seducing examples, so few are 
 able to resist, while placed within the sphere 
 
sect, xi J On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 57 
 
 of their immediate influence. Nor ought 
 $ deviation from ordinary life, in pursuit 
 of such an object, to incur censure, while 
 it is allowed to studies of far less import- 
 ance or dignity. While the literary man 
 is permitted to separate himself from so- 
 ciety, and to devote his days and nights 
 to disquisitions concerning ancient laws and 
 manners, which bear little relation to us in 
 the present ' circumstances of the world, it 
 would seem unjust not to grant the same 
 privilege to the Christian moralist, who 
 would carry his researches up to the pri- 
 mitive state of human nature, from which 
 our departure is the source of all the evils 
 that we either feel . now, or that we fear 
 hereafter. Or while the virtuoso is allowed 
 to wander to Rome or Athens, that, by a 
 critical survey of the noble remains of an- 
 cient architecture he there discovers, he 
 may be enabled to trace out the original 
 models, we cannot fairly deny to the Chris- 
 tian philosopher an occasional retreat into 
 shades and solitude, in order to look nar- 
 rowly into himself, and to trace out, in the 
 
58 « On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part i. 
 
 ruins he finds there, the perfect model of 
 our nature as it came first from the hands of 
 the Creator, and thence to ascertain its pre^ 
 gent state of degeneracy. 
 
 While imperfect men look only to an 
 imperfect standard, they will easily sit 
 down contented with themselves ; but it 
 is impossible for him, who is made duly 
 sensible of the state of our nature in its 
 origin, to cantemplate his present degraded 
 condition without much self-dissatisfaction 
 and an awakening apprehension of dan- 
 ger ; and under this impression he will be 
 forward to lend his most serious attention, 
 while we proceed, in the second place, to 
 enquire, 
 
 II. In what degree, according to the con- 
 stitution of the gospel, we must be restored 
 to a conformity with the yiolated law of our 
 creation, in order to our present peace and 
 final happiness ; and in what manner it is 
 most usual for men to deceive themselves 
 wpon this subject. 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Oursefoes. 5% 
 
 To the former part of this enquiry we 
 may answer briefly, We must be that habi- 
 tually and prevalently, which, according to 
 our original state, we ought to have been 
 without the least interruption or imperfec- 
 tion ; for though we are not now obliged, 
 under pain of his final displeasure, to that 
 absolute perfection of love and obedience 
 to the Deity which was required by the 
 law of our creation, (for then no one could 
 be saved,) yet are we undoubtedly obliged, 
 under the said penalty, to this temper 
 and conduct in a degree which shall ha- 
 bitually prevail over every temptation to the 
 contrary. 
 
 This doctrine appears to be fully esta* 
 blished by the Saviour of the world, when, 
 to guard his disciples against- the evil of 
 covetousness, he tejls them, that No man 
 can serve two masters; for either he will 
 hate the one and love the other, or else he 
 will hold to the one and despise the other ; ye 
 cannot (says he) serve God and mammon** 
 
 * Matt, vi. 34, 
 
60 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part i. 
 
 And the impossibility must evidently be 
 the same in case of any other worldly ob- 
 ject; for no one, I suppose, will imagine, 
 that a subjection to the pride or plea- 
 sures of life is more consistent with the 
 service of God than a passion for riches. 
 Whatever has the ascendancy in the heart 
 of man is the god that he serves, and the 
 reward will correspond to the service; or ? 
 as the apostle speaks to the Romans, To 
 whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, 
 his servants ye are to zvhom ye obey, whether 
 of sin unto death or of obedience unto righte- 
 ousness* ; and again in the same epistle, he 
 tells them, that to be carnally minded, (or, 
 as the next verse explains it, to have a 
 mind not subject to the law of ^God,) is 
 death; but to be spiritually minded (which, 
 by the rule of opposition, mnst import a 
 mind obedient to the divine law,) is life 
 and peacef. Such is the doctrine of scrip- 
 ture ; to which reason, if unbiassed, can- 
 not refuse to yield its suffrage ; for nothing 
 would be more contrary to its uncorrupted 
 
 * Rom. vi. 16. t Rom. viii. 6, 
 
S£CT. 
 
 II.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. Q\ 
 
 dictates, than to suppose that life and 
 peace can inhabit that bosom where God 
 is not seated in his supremacy, where the 
 creature has usurped the place of the 
 Creator, where the eternal laws of recti- 
 tude are made subject to the laws of cor- 
 rupt passion and custom, and where the 
 truth is held in unrighteousness. To sup- 
 pose this, would be to violate all the mea- 
 sures of true judgment, and to offend 
 equally against the light of nature and 
 revelation*. 
 
 # Though, after the joint testimony of scripture and 
 reason, there can be no need of human authority, the 
 reader will permit me to subjoin a passage or two, from 
 a famous divine in the seventeenth' century, as they 
 relate to the scriptures above cited, and the author is 
 still held in high esteem by many pious people. The 
 passages are as follows : 
 
 u The affections of our minds will and must be placed 
 in chief on things below, or things above ; there will be 
 a predominant love in us ; and therefore, although all 
 our actions should testify another frame, yet if God, and 
 the things of God, be not the principal object of our 
 affections, by one way or other, unto the world we do 
 belong : this is that which is taught us so expressly by 
 
62 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part I. 
 
 It is therefore a 'melancholy considera- 
 tion, that amongst those who profess them- 
 
 our Saviour, Luke xvi. 13. No servant can serve two 
 masters ; for either he will hate the one, and love the 
 other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the 
 other: ye cannot serve God and mammon? Dr. Owen 
 on Spiritual-mindedness, ch. 11. 
 
 " To be carnally and spiritually minded constitute two 
 states of mankind, unto the one of which every indi- 
 vidual person in the world doth belong. And it is of 
 the highest concernment unto the souls of men, to know 
 whether of them they appertain unto. As to the qua- 
 lities expressed by the flesh and the spirit, there may be 
 a mixture of them in the same persons at the same time; 
 there is so in all that are regenerate : for in them the 
 flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit lusteth against 
 the flesh; and these are contrary. Gal. v. 17. Thus dif- 
 ferent contrary actings in the same subject constitute 
 not distinct states : but where either of them is predomi- 
 nant, or hath a prevalent rule in the soul, there it makes 
 a different state. This distinction of states the apostle 
 expresseth, v. 9. But ye are not in the flesh, but in the 
 spirit. Some are in the flesh and cannot please God, 
 v. 8 ; they are after the flesh, v. 5 ; they walk after the 
 flesh, v. 1 ; they live after the flesh, v. 13. This is one 
 state. Others are in the spirit, v. 9; after the spirit, 
 v. 5 ; walk after the spirit, v. 1. This is the other state. 
 The first sort are carnally minded, the other are spi- 
 ritually minded. Unto one of these doth every living 
 man belong, he is under the ruling conduct of the flesh 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 63 
 
 selves Christians, there are so many who 
 discover no signs of that predominant piety 
 and virtue, to which it is one great design 
 of Christianity to form its disciples. This is 
 a deception of so fatal a nature, and so dis- 
 honourable to the cause of true religion in 
 the world, that to guard against it no caution 
 can justly be thought unnecessary, and no 
 vigilance too great. 
 
 Among the causes of this deception, 
 the brevity of this discourse allows me 
 only to specify the following, which ap- 
 pears to be one of the most general; 
 namely, a vain confidence in the privi- 
 
 orof the spirit ; v there is no middle state; though there 
 are different degrees in each of these as to good and evil. 
 " The difference between these two states is great, 
 and the distance in a manner infinite, because an eter- 
 nity in blessedness or misery doth depend upon it. And 
 this at present is evidenced by the different fruits and 
 effects of, the principles, and their operations, which 
 constitute these different states : which is expressed in 
 the opposition that is between the predicates of the pro- 
 position ; for the minding of the fiesh is death, but the 
 minding of the spirit is life and peace." Id. ch. 1. 
 
C4 On tlte Knowledge of Ourselves, [part u 
 
 leges supposed to be attached to an ad- 
 herence to the Christian profession, though 
 this adherence be produced by no higher 
 principle than either, first, a faith merely, 
 traditional and customary ; or, secondly, 
 a faith that may be called historical and 
 learned ; or, lastly, what I shall denomi- 
 nate, for want of a fitter term, an Antinomian 
 faith. 
 
 I. If we look abroad into our own coun- 
 try, which, probably, amidst all its dis- 
 orders, contains as much piety as any 
 other in Christendom, we shall easily dis- 
 cover that there are many amongst us, 
 who hold their religion by no better tenure 
 than what is derived from descent ; the 
 same by which they find themselves in 
 possession of their estates, their liberties, 
 and other civil advantages. They are 
 Christians, because their fathers were so 
 before them, and because Christianity is 
 sanctioned by the laws and customs of 
 their country ; and thus, without any per- 
 ception of its proper evidence, they con^ 
 
B10U II.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 65 
 
 tract an attachrlfent to it, with a "general 
 expectation, that on the whole it will 
 conduce to their benefit. If they do but 
 yield an implicit assent to the national 
 creed, and maintain an outward decency 
 of conduct, they suppose themselves en- 
 titled, of course, to the blessings of the 
 gospel. They are sure that they stand 
 upon as good ground as those 'around them, 
 and they cannot believe the divine severity 
 to be such, as to whelm multitudes together 
 in one common ruin ; though they are 
 plainly told, that the broad way, what- 
 ever be the numbers that are found in it, 
 leadeth to destruction*. 
 
 It is happy indeed when the circum- 
 stances of our birth operate in favour of 
 true religion, by a counteraction of those 
 prejudices we are naturally apt to con- 
 ceive against it, tod thus leave the under- 
 standing more at liberty to examine it 
 with fairness, and the heart less indisposed 
 to its reception. And yet these ad van- 
 
 * Matt. vii. 13, 14, 
 F 
 
66 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part t* 
 
 tages are often either not improved at all, 
 or no farther than to a bare speculative con- 
 viction, unproductive of that character of 
 prevalent piety which is- essential to true 
 Christianity. 
 
 2. This is the case with the next class- 
 of Christians to be considered, who take 
 up with that species of faith which we 
 have termed historical and learned; and 
 suppose it entirely sufficient if their at- 
 tachment to Christianity is a result of 
 their own researches, and not barely the 
 product of their birth or external circum- 
 stances. And undoubtedly there cannot 
 be a more noble or useful exercise of the 
 understanding, than to examine with im- 
 partiality into the grounds and reasons of. 
 our religion, in order to know the certainty 
 of the things wherein we have been instruct 
 ed ; and it is greatly to be lamented, that 
 so few persons, even of education and . 
 learning, direct their studies to this im- 
 portant purpose ; a neglect which will 
 appear the less excusable, when it is consi- 
 
&£ r cr. ii.] On the Knowledge of OuHelvis. 6f 
 
 dered how much help is afforded to this 
 enquiry by many excellent works that have 
 been published on the truth of Christianity, 
 by which the reader, with little labour or 
 learning, may attain to a view of its evi- 
 dence, sufficient to convince any mind that 
 is not hardened by inveterate prejudice. 
 But to imagine that nothing more is neces- 
 sary than such a rational conviction to con- 
 stitute the faith of a Christian, is an error 
 of fatal consequence ; and yet an error very 
 incident to speculative men, who are not 
 apt to reflect that it is with the heart, and 
 not with the understanding only that we 
 believe unto righteousness*; and therefore 
 that it will profit little to admit the truth 
 philosophically, unless at the same time 
 it be embraced with suitable affections, and 
 attended with effectual purposes of universal 
 obedience. 
 
 The deception is likely to be still far- 
 ther increased, when to knowledge is 
 added zeal, when a man steps forth as an 
 
 * Rom. x. 10. 
 
 i2 
 
68 On the Knozdedge of Ourselves. [pARtf f. 
 
 advocate for truth, anjd encounters, per- 
 haps, a degree of scorn and opposition in 
 its defence ; for then he will be under a 
 temptation to consider himself as a Chris- 
 tian of no ordinary rank, especially if, irv 
 the struggle, his endeavours prove suc- 
 cessful. This is a snare, it may be feared, 
 in which many ingenious and learnecT men 
 are taken, who, after they have unanswer- 
 ably vindicated the truth of* Christianity 
 against its adversaries, sit down without 
 deriving any saving benefit from it them- 
 selves. 
 
 pi 
 3. There is another kind of faith with 
 
 which some men deceive themselves, who 
 imagine that a bare persuasion is sufficient 
 to prove the- existence of its object ; a con- 
 ceit so very repugnant to all the principles 
 of reason and common sense, that it might 
 seem surprising how it ever entered the 
 human mind. All rational belief proceeds 
 upon evidence, and is proportioned to it ; 
 and is therefore widely different from an 
 opinion formed at pleasure, without any 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 69 
 
 perception of its truth, either intuitively, 
 or by a process of argument, or without 
 any countenance from credible testimony. 
 Such a gratuitous belief carried into hu- 
 man affairs would be accounted little bet- 
 ter than insanity. What, for instance, 
 should we think of a man, who, upon no 
 probable grounds, should take up a per- 
 suasion, that a vast estate was bequeathed 
 him, or that he was appointed to a station 
 of high dignity in some distant country ; 
 and then should argue the reality of the 
 fact, merely from his own wild presump- 
 tion ? We should at once deem him disqua- 
 lified for all the intercourse of civil life. 
 And how much wiser he would be, who 
 should conclude himself a child of God, 
 and an heir of heaven, upon the bare 
 strength of his own opinion, without any 
 ground from reason or scripture to sup- 
 port it, and especially without a strict 
 regard to that great moral change which 
 the gospel uniformly attributes to the 
 heirs of its promises, deserves the most 
 
70 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part %*. 
 
 serious consideration of all those who are 
 concerned in the enquiry. 
 
 The faith of a sinner is, in the first in- 
 stance, not to believe that he is a saint, 
 but that he may be a saint; not that he 
 is pardoned, or that he is saved, but that 
 he may be pardoned, and that he may be 
 saved ; that a foundation is laid for his 
 return to God through the mediation of 
 Christ, who (in the language of our church*) 
 hath made a full, perfect, and sufficient 
 sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, 
 and hath procured that divine aid which 
 might enable us to participate in the bless-* 
 ings of this redemption ; among which, re- 
 pentance is one of primary importance. 
 
 It is by repentance that we are admits 
 ted into Christ's spiritual kingdom. At 
 
 * See the communion service. — The same is still more 
 fully expressed in the 31st article : " The offering of 
 Christ once made/' (it is there said,) " is that perfect 
 
3E€T. ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 71 
 
 its commencement we hear a voice crying 
 in the wilderness, Repent, for the kingdom 
 of heaven is at hand; and the same pro- 
 clamation introduced the ministry of our 
 Saviour and his apostles. We may fur- 
 ther argue its importance from its connec- 
 tion with remission of sins. Jesus is exalted 
 to give repentance and forgiveness of sins*; 
 and in his name repentance and remission 
 of sins were to be preached among all na- 
 tions *f\ Repent, says St. Peter, and be 
 converted, that your sins may be blotted 
 out%. And St. Paul is sent to the Gen- 
 tiles, to open their eyes, and to turn them 
 from darkness to light, and from the power 
 of Satan unto God, thai they might receive 
 forgiveness of sins ||. Lastly, to express its 
 importance, if possible, still more strongly, 
 we are told that without it our ruin will 
 be inevitable ; Except ye repent, said the 
 
 redemption, propitiation, and satisfaction for all the 
 sins of the whole world, both original and actual.' ' 
 
 f Acts v. 31. f Luke xxiv, 47. J Acts Hi, 19, 
 
 lj Acts xxvi. 18. 
 
72 On the Knowledge pf Our kkes. [parti, 
 
 compassionate Redeemer to the people of 
 Jerusalem, ye shall all likewise perish *. And 
 that this commination is generally appli- 
 cable, may appear from that passage in 
 St. Peter, where the Almighty is repre- 
 sented as not willing that any should perish* 
 but that all should come to repentance ; 
 which evidently implies that all men are 
 naturally in a perishing condition, from 
 which there is no escape but by repent- 
 ance. 
 
 Of the nature of repentance I would 
 only observe, (omitting what is more ob- 
 vious) that it involves a supreme < regard 
 to our Maker as our highest Lord and 
 chief good : for being immediately con- 
 nected, as we have now seen, with remis- 
 sion of sins, and this with a state of divine 
 favour and reconciliation *j*, it must com- 
 
 * Luke xiii, 3. 
 
 f In proof of this latter connection, the two following 
 passages may be thought sufficient. Blessed is he (says 
 the Psalmist) whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin 
 is covered (Psalm xxxii. 1.) And the Apostle Paul thus 
 
a i;c t, ii.] On the Knowledge of 'Ourselves, y 3 
 
 prehend whatever in the disposition of the 
 heart is essentially necessary to such a state. 
 And since a supreme regard to God has 
 before been shown to be thus necessary, both 
 according to the nature of things and the 
 constitution of the gospel, it follows, that it 
 must be included in the interior change of 
 which we are speaking : and, I may add, 
 constitutes one of its most eminent and dis- 
 tinguishing characters. 
 
 The doctrine of repentance, as above 
 stated, appears to me so agreeable to the 
 best reason of our minds, so correspond- 
 ent to the reality of our present state, and 
 so solidly founded in scripture, that I con- 
 ceive it impossible for any one born in a 
 
 speaks to the Corinthians : All things are of God, who 
 hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath 
 given to us the ministry of reconciliat ion : to wit, that God 
 was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not im- 
 puting their trespasses, (2 Cor. v. IS, 19.) In the former 
 of these passages, we see that a state of blessedness, and 
 in the latter, a state of divine reconciliation or favour, is 
 connected with the remission or non-imputation of sin, 
 
 1 
 
74 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part i 
 
 Christian country, to do it entirely away 
 without a long practice of deceit upon him- 
 self. Either by inveterate habits of vice, he 
 must confound his perceptions of moral 
 good and evil; or, by a perverse application 
 to that miserable sophistry with which the 
 present age abounds, he must learn that sin 
 is no object of divine displeasure ; or (if 
 lie still continue to read his Bible), he 
 must work himself up into some extrava- 
 gant opinion respecting the divine decrees, 
 and the absolute unconditionality of the 
 covenant of grace, whence he may infer 
 that nothing now remains for him to do, 
 unless it be (and this only for his present 
 consolation), to believe that all is already 
 done. Though after his utmost efforts 
 to impose on his understanding, and to 
 stupify his conscience, he will probably 
 find some secret suggestion will still re- 
 main, that neither his philosophy nor his 
 faith will save him without that repen- 
 tance which he vainly endeavours to set 
 aside. 
 
^BECT. ii.] On the Knozdedge of 'Ourselves, 75 
 
 But whether in the compassionate good- 
 ness of God towards mankind it be a 
 point really impossible, or only of uncom- 
 mon difficulty, to make entirely void the 
 doctrine in question ; it is beyond all 
 doubt, from that ignorjance and depravity 
 which adheres so closely to our nature, 
 that it is a doctrine extremely liable to be 
 weakened and corrupted. Hence we can 
 have no cause to wonder, that, even among 
 such as boast themselves in the Christian 
 name, and who perhaps may be styled, by 
 way of distinction, professors of the gospel, 
 there are those who, however they may be 
 shocked at the general idea of impenitence, 
 fall short, both in notion and practical at- 
 tainment, of that repentance which is unto 
 life j who imagine, that if they can but ex- 
 perience a sensible degree of sorrow for 
 sin, and place a confident dependence on 
 the merits of Christ, though unaccom- 
 panied by a thorough conversion of the 
 heart to God, it is sufficient to authorise 
 an immediate application of the promise 
 of pardon j and that to delay such an ap~ 
 
7(5 On the Knozdedgeof Ourselves, [part i. 
 
 plication would be to give advantage to 
 their spiritual enemies, and to deprive 
 themselves of that comfort to which they 
 are entitled. Thus many, by catching at 
 a premature peace, expose themselves to 
 the danger of losing that which would be 
 solid and durable ; for although the .gos- 
 pel holds out a full and general relief, yet 
 being no less a display of the wisdom than 
 of the power of God, it communicates its 
 hopes and consolations only in proportion 
 as men are qualified to receive them. It; 
 has its rebukes as well as encouragements, 
 its discipline as well as comforts, accord- 
 ing to the several conditions of those whom 
 it addresses. To the thoughtless and pro- 
 fane, it cries, How long, ye simple ones, 
 will ye love simplicity, and scorners delight 
 in their scorning, and fools hate know- 
 ledge? When it meets with a serious and 
 awakened enquirer, it further humbles him 
 with its convictions, at the same time that 
 it inspires him with its hopes ; it im- 
 presses a deeper sense of the purity and 
 obligation of the divine law, while it points 
 
sect, ii.] On the Knowledge of Oursekes. 77 
 
 him to the sacrifice of Christ as the only 
 atonement for its violation ; and unfolds the 
 nature and necessity of true repentance, 
 while it again directs his view to the Sa- 
 viour of the world, as exalted to bestow it 
 in order to remission of sins. And, lastly, 
 to him who truly repents, and embraces its 
 promises, and (if life be continued) manifests 
 his sincerity by a course of humble and un- 
 reserved obedience, it speaks fully the lan- 
 guage of pardon and peace. 
 
 It is presumption to expect the bless- 
 ings of heaven, out of that stated order 
 in which they are imparted ; and this 
 order is to be regarded no less in the 
 dispensations of grace than in the course 
 of nature. Christ is a prophet before 
 he is a priest, and a priest before he 
 is a king over a willing people. And 
 whenever this order is not observed, or is 
 perverted by false teachers, (which in our 
 present state of ignorance and depravity 
 may be expected*,) recourse must be had 
 
 * Acts xx. 30. 
 
7$ On the Knowledge of Ourselves. £part !» 
 
 to the light of scripture, and even of nature 
 and of conscience, which will sometimes tell 
 us more, if honestly interrogated, than seven 
 men upon a high tower*. 
 
 From what has been suggested under 
 this head, it may appear, that true repent- 
 ance is the only way of transition from 
 the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom 
 of Christ : that it involves in its very es- 
 sence a supreme regard to God, which will 
 not fail, (as there is opportunity,) to express 
 itself in a prevalent obedience to the di- 
 vine will, whether it is manifested in reve- 
 lation or in nature; and, lastly, that this 
 regard and obedience is the great test of 
 our Christianity. 
 
 He who can stand this test, is a true 
 Christian; he who fails in the trial, may 
 be almost, but is not one altogether ; he 
 may not be far from the kingdom of 
 God, but has not yet passed the sacred 
 boundary. 
 
 * Ecclesiasticus xxxvii. 14. 
 
sect.- 1 1. J On the Knowledge of Ourselves. *jg 
 
 Should it here be enquired, how it may 
 be known whether we have passed the con- 
 fines? the question is both difficult and 
 important* and can only be answered in 
 very general terms, as may appear when 
 it is considered, that the same external 
 conduct may arise from very different 
 principles* and that the actual principles 
 from whence it proceeds are very liable to 
 be mistaken and unduly estimated. What 
 then it concerns us to do, after looking up 
 to heaven for illumination, is to call our- 
 selves to a strict account, and to examine 
 whether our sorrow for sin flow chiefly 
 ' from a sense of its own native malignity 
 and turpitude, and from the dishonour it 
 casts upon God, in every relation he bears 
 towards us, as our creator, ruler, and be- 
 nefactor ; whether our profession of love 
 to God be in conjunction with deep reve- 
 rence and humility, and an habitual ap- 
 plication for pardon and assistance through 
 a mediator ; and whether there be any flaw 
 in our general conduct which implies a 
 want of loyal subjection to the divine go 
 
SC On the Knoidcdge of Ourselves, [part i, 
 
 vernment. When this is done, • should we 
 still remain in doubt, it may be found our 
 wisest course, instead of pursuing farther 
 the investigation with unprofitable anxiety, 
 to keep on with quiet diligence in our 
 Christian journey, til* by a gradual pro- 
 gression we are advanced so far into the 
 interior of the kingdom of God, as to put 
 it beyond all reasonable doubt that we 
 belong to the number of its true sub- 
 jects. 
 
 He that believeth* saith the prophet, 
 does not make haste*. Exempt from that 
 eagerness to which nature is always prone, 
 he does not seek to snatch the favours of 
 heaven, or to pluck the fruits of paradise 
 before their maturity: he does not' run 
 precipitately from sermon to sermon, or 
 from one religious friend to another, nor 
 dwell for ever with anxious retrospection 
 on his past experience, from an impatient 
 desire of present comfort, or to obtain evi- 
 
 * Isaiah xxviii. 16. 
 
sect. II.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 81 
 
 dence of his spiritual safety; which is in- 
 deed a satisfaction devoutly to be wished, 
 and that every one who is seriously concern- 
 ed for his salvation will seek with diligence, 
 but which is likely to be soonest found by 
 him who is more solicitous to &e right, than 
 to know he is so, 
 
 I shall here add nothing to what ha<t 
 been offered in the former part of this sec- 
 tion, to evince the expediency of retirement 
 for the purpose of self-knowledge. I shall 
 rather close with a few remarks to show, 
 by way of caution, that when a seclusion 
 from society is carried beyond certain li- 
 mits, it is so far from answering the pur- 
 pose now mentioned, that it acquires ano- 
 ther operation, arid rather tends to con- 
 ceal a man from himself, both in respect 
 to his vices and his virtues, his incapacities 
 and his abilities. 
 
 First let it be observed, that in a life of 
 much abstraction we are in danger of mis** 
 
S2 On the Knozoledge of Ourselves, [part % 
 
 taking speculative approbation for practical 
 principle. In the calm of retreat, when the 
 passions have usually less power to warp 
 or obscure the judgment, the obligations 
 of virtue may be acknowledged, and its 
 beauty be contemplated with a kind of en- 
 thusiastic admiration, till some occasion of 
 real business discover the illusion. It is 
 then we often experience, that a vast diffe- 
 rence subsists between an ideal elevation of 
 mind and a substantial principle of con- 
 duct, and that our fine notions and senti- 
 mental feelings are too shadowy and feeble 
 to stand the shock of the interests and com- 
 petitions of life. 
 
 The recluse, therefore, who would duly 
 estimate his virtues and capacities, must 
 learn to reduce them to their practical 
 value. He must not presume that his 
 supposed wisdom will extricate him as 
 easily from real as from imaginary difficul- 
 ties, or that his virtues will acquit them- 
 selves as successfully under trials when 
 they are present and actual^ as while 
 
sect. II J Oji the Knowledge of Ourselves. 8S 
 
 they are yet distant, and exist only in 
 contemplation. The speculative hero may 
 prove a coward in the hour of danger ; 
 and the sage philosopher, who can dis- 
 course in the most profound manner of 
 human life in the shade, may fail egre- 
 giously in the discharge of its active 
 duties. 
 
 Considerations of this nature may serve 
 to repress the vanity of retired men, wh© 
 merely on ideal grounds are apt to give 
 themselves credit for qualities, of which 
 upon trial they would be found either 
 entirely destitute, or very slenderly pro- 
 vided ; who are ready, for instance, to 
 imagine that they are humble, only be- 
 cause they are great admirers of humility ; 
 or that they are candid and liberal, be- 
 cause they are lavish in their commenda- 
 tion of those qualities ; or that they are 
 little less than heroes because they are struck 
 with the contemplation of whatever is brave 
 and generous, 
 
 o 2 
 
84 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, {paut t. 
 
 As retirement may thus conceal from 
 its votaries their defects, it may also in 
 some cases conceal from them their abi«* 
 lities and virtues, which, for want of occa- 
 sions to excite them* may lie inactive and 
 dormant. Cromwell, who seems in a for- 
 mer part of his life to have turned recluse, 
 was forty years old before he handled a 
 pike, and yet suddenly commenced a 
 great general; he sat for some time undis- 
 tinguished in parliament, and it was only 
 upon the occasions which afterwards 
 arose that his extraordinary genius broke 
 forth, probably no less to the surprise of 
 himself than of others*. Whether it had 
 been better^ on his own account as well 
 as for his country, had he never emerged 
 from his original obscurity, and been 
 awakened to a consciousness of his powers, 
 
 * "Ashe grew into place and authority," says Lord 
 Clarendon, " his parts seemed to be raised, as if he had 
 concealed his abilities till he had occasion to use them-; 
 and when he was to act the part of a great man, he did 
 it without any indecency, notwithstanding the want of 
 custom." History of tlte Rebellion, 
 
sect* ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 85 
 
 I presume not to determine. Ximenes 
 was old when he was called from his cell 
 in which he had passed many years in all 
 the rigours of monastic discipline, to act 
 his part at £Ourt, where he displayed those 
 talents and virtues, in the government of 
 a great kingdom, which must be admired 
 by the latest posterity, and which, without 
 such an occasion, might have lain buried 
 in the cloister*. And no doubt there have 
 been multitudes in former times, who have 
 dreamed away their lives, immured iri w con- 
 vents, who, if they had found their proper 
 stations in the world, would have ac- 
 quitted themselves both honourably and 
 usefully ; and at all times there are some 
 whose faculties for want of social exertion, 
 lie equally barren and torpid. Much of 
 human capacity, like many of the wild 
 
 * " Pierre Martyr rapporte, qu'il le vit entrer a la 
 cour avec un visage, un habit, & un air> qui mar- 
 quoient Tausterite de sa vie ; & queles courtisans. le re- 
 garderent comme un des anciens penitens de TEgypte, 
 qu de la Thebaide " Hist, du Card. Ximenes, par 
 fleckier, p* 1 6, " 
 
86 On the Knowledge of Ourselves, [part I. 
 
 and uncultivated parts of nature, is never 
 wrought and quickened into action ; nor 
 perhaps is it desirable that it should, un«* 
 less men were at the same time endued 
 with sufficient virtue to direct the appli- 
 cation. 
 
 Upon the whole it may appear, that 
 retirement and society are suited to con~ 
 tribute in their turns to self-knowledge. 
 The former as being peculiarly favour* 
 able to the investigation of truth, will sup- 
 ply us with higher standards by which to 
 try ourselves; while the latter is more 
 likely (in some instances at least,) to show 
 us our strength and weakness, and to detect 
 those principles which lie deep and la~ 
 tent in the heart. What proportion they 
 should bear to each other for the attain^ 
 ment of the end here in view, must be 
 left for every individual to determine for 
 himself, after a due consideration of his 
 particular constitution, his habits, and his 
 circumstances. 
 
( 87 ) 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 On the Knowledge of the World. 
 
 However great may be the advantages 
 afforded by a life of retirement for the ac- 
 quisition of self-knowledge, it may be 
 thought they are more than balanced by 
 its disadvantages in relation to the know- 
 ledge of the world ; a science extolled by 
 many as paramount to all others, and which 
 they imagine can only be acquired by 
 an intimate and regular intercourse with 
 society. 
 
 Under the knowledge of the world, tak- 
 ing it extensively, may be comprised these 
 three things ; first, the knowledge of its 
 exterior, or of its visible manners, witK the 
 nature and forms of its business ; secondly, 
 the knowledge of its interior, or of its se- 
 cret principles, views, and dispositions ; 
 
 d, lastly, of its value, or of the rate we 
 g 4 
 
88 On the Knowledge of the World, [part ft 
 
 ought to set upon the various objects which 
 it offers to our pursuit. 
 
 I. The manners, when taken separately 
 from the principles which produce them, 
 constitute the surface of life, and are so 
 much subject to every breath of fashion, 
 that in these western parts of the world, 
 and eminently in the land wherein we live, 
 they seldom retain, for any length of time, 
 one uniform appearance. An Arab or a 
 Chinese is the same now that his ancestors 
 were two thousand years ago; but should 
 one of our great grandfathers rise from the 
 dead, and revisit us, he would scarcely be 
 able to persuade himself that he was in the 
 region of Old England. Even the course 
 of a few years is sufficient to induce such 
 a change in our dress, our deportment, and 
 other modes of life, as to give a new face 
 to the country. The retired Englishman 
 must therefore learn to content himself, 
 as well as he can, with his ignorance of the 
 shifting forms under which his fellow-citir 
 zens are pleased to exhibit themselves ; 
 
sect. ni.J On the Knowledge of the World. $$ 
 
 and to resign this fugitive and local science 
 to those whose situation enables them, as 
 one of our poets' lias expressed it, 
 
 To catch the mannners living as they rise. 
 
 It must likewise be admitted, that the 
 Tecluse is equally shut out from an exact 
 knowledge of business, which, like all other 
 practical skill, can only be acquired in the 
 school of experience. Here then, as in the 
 former instance, we allow the man of the 
 world to bear away the palm without con- 
 test; he must suffer us, however, in what 
 remains, to dispute his claim to superio- 
 rity. 
 
 II. The knowledge of the world in the 
 second sense we have stated, or to know 
 the general principles and vims by which 
 it is governed, peculiarly belongs to him 
 who has learned to retire inward, and to 
 watch the secret workings of his own 
 mind ; for since no direct access Gan be 
 had to the motives of any one's actions 
 except our own, it is evident that, without 
 
go On the Knowledge of the World. [part r, 
 
 this previous self-inspection, our know- 
 ledge of the world can be little more than 
 theatrical. 
 
 We might illustrate this, were it neces- 
 sary, by a familiar instance. Suppose a 
 person curious to explore the principles 
 upon which watches were constructed, and 
 that there was one, and only one, of this 
 sort of time-keeper which he could take 
 to. pieces, and so reduce its several parts, 
 its spring, its balance, and its wheels, with 
 the regular adjustment of the whole, to a 
 minute examination ; it may now be asked 
 whether he might not, by this method 
 alone, come to understand the general 
 nature and construction of - watches ; and 
 whether it is probable that a bare survey 
 of the external forms of all other watches 
 would supply his. omission in this instance? 
 Or rather, if it be not almost certain, that 
 such a superficial view, after all that he 
 could collect from it, would 1 urn 
 
 much in : the dark respecting the y rual 
 movements and principles in question? 
 
sect, in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 91 
 
 Apply this to the case before us, and the 
 argument will conclude more strongly; 
 since, in the structure of the little machine 
 here mentioned, an ingenious artificer might 
 possibly introduce powers before unknown, 
 whereas the principles of the human con- 
 stitution are fixed and determined, and 
 exist the same in every individual of the 
 entire species. As in water face answereth 
 to face, so the heart of man to man*. This 
 sentence of a profound observer of men 
 and things, stands confirmed by the expe- 
 rience and suffrage of all ages. There is 
 therefore no need to wander into foreign 
 countries, to visit the courts of princes, or 
 the huts of peasants, or to resort to places 
 of business or amusement, to obtain a ge- 
 neral knowledge of human nature in its 
 moral constitution and qualities ; he who 
 looks narrowly into himself will find it 
 there. 
 
 Nor is it by means of self-inspection 
 thus known in general only, but likewise 
 
 # Prov. xxvii. 19. 
 
93 On the Knowledge of the Warld. [part i. 
 
 in many of its particular modifications and 
 individualities. Man is a being subject 
 to continual mutation, and sometimes in 
 the course of a very short period undergoes 
 a great variety of moral transformations ; 
 and he who attends critically to these 
 changes, will easily enter into the princi- 
 ples and feelings of others whose character 
 and situation are very different from his 
 own. This faculty of intuition is chiefly 
 seen in persons of impressible tempers, 
 and of what are called nervous habits, who 
 readily assume one character after another^ 
 and so by turns can take up every part in 
 the drama of life. When this susceptibi- 
 lity is in conjunction with ^ philosophic 
 spirit, little more is wanting to develope the 
 interior of society, in all its various classes, 
 and amidst the surprising diversity of its 
 appearances. 
 
 As this is a point not often considered* 
 the reader may not be displeased if w r e 
 insist upon it a moment longer. Much of 
 the variety in the characters of men pro* 
 
SECT. III.] On the Knowledge of the World* 93 
 
 ceeds from the variety of bodily tempera- 
 ment, which has sometimes been divided 
 into these four kinds, the phlegmatic, the 
 sanguine, the choleric, and the melancholic; 
 but which will better be understood by 
 enumerating their particular qualities, than 
 by these general denominations. The first 
 may be described as cold, timid, suspicious, 
 deliberate, philosophic ; the second, on the 
 contrary, as warm, presuming, generous, ve- 
 hement, pathetic ; the third, as irascible, se- 
 vere, bold, discerning ; the last, as a com- 
 position of these three, refined and height- 
 ened by imagination. This is the com- 
 plexion, which, in the opinion of Aristotle* 
 is attached to all extraordinary genius ; 
 it forms the basis* according to the p&rt 
 which predominates, of a general, a states- 
 man, a poet, or a philosopher; and with- 
 out it no high degree of excellence* in any 
 department of life, contemplative or ac- 
 tive, is ordinarily to be expected ; and per- 
 haps it is no where more displayed than in 
 that native perspicacity which looks through 
 the spirits of men with very little aid from 
 experience. 
 
 1 
 
94 On the Knowledge of the World, [par* !, 
 
 To those who are neither endued with 
 this power of discernment, nor have much 
 communication with society, the perusal 
 of well-chosen history will serve in a con- 
 siderable measure to make up the defi- 
 ciency ; and in some respects will give 
 them the advantage over men, whose know- 
 ledge of the world is little more than what 
 their actual intercourse with it has sup- 
 plied. Our own personal observation is 
 necessarily confined within narrow limits, 
 and leaves us entirely ignorant of the very 
 different forms under which our common 
 nature has appeared in past ages, and under 
 which it appears in many regions of the earth 
 at this day. He therefore who would obtain 
 more extensive and varied views of man- 
 kind must resort chiefly to the page of the 
 historian. 
 
 If he would contemplate at large the 
 political state of the world, let him direct 
 his attention to general history, where he 
 will see displayed the rise and progress^ 
 the decline and fall of empire ; the poli- 
 
sect. -in.] On the Knowledge of the World. §6 
 
 tics and relative situations, the wars and 
 revolutions of nations. Or if he would en- 
 quire more distinctly into the genius, the 
 manners and usages which have charac- 
 terized different ages, and which present 
 to a philosophic mind an object far more 
 interesting than wars and politics, he may 
 consult the particular histories and me- 
 moirs, or other remaining monuments, of 
 the periods of which he desires to be in- 
 formed. 
 
 Should he confine his views to modern 
 times, in which we are most concerned* 
 let him read with care, Thuanus, De Comines, 
 Le Vassor, Sally, De Retz; and, among 
 our own countrymen. Clarendon, Burnett f 
 Robertson; these will sufficiently inform 
 him of the politics, the cabals, the busi- 
 ness, and the general course of affairs^ 
 under the several memorable periods of 
 which they treat ; and sometimes with 
 such justness of description, and strength 
 of colouring, as to bring the mind almost 
 into contact with the persons and things 
 
-Q6 On the Knowledge of the World, [part !* 
 
 represented. And should he wish to enter 
 still more minutely into the principles and 
 manners which at present prevail in dif- 
 ferent countries, he will be much assisted 
 by a perusal of their established and po- 
 pular authors, such of them in particular 
 as have professedly undertaken to delineate 
 the exterior of society, or who have employ* 
 ed their talents upon subjects of morality ; 
 since such writers cannot long continue to 
 be popular, unless their sentiments and de- 
 scriptions are, in the main, a reflection of 
 real life. 
 
 To these sources of information may be 
 added many well written books of voyages 
 and travels, by which he will be conduct* 
 ed through almost every region of the 
 globe without either fatigue or danger, and 
 made acquainted with numberless parti- 
 cularities in the opinions and practices of 
 the diversified tribes and nations of meri, 
 which otherwise would remain to him 
 unknown* He is introduced into their 
 houses, observes their domestic oeconomy, 
 
sect, in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 97 
 
 listens to their familiar conversation, and 
 notes those discriminative qualities which 
 add animation and interest to the ever- 
 varying spectacle of human life. 
 
 While the retired man thus views the 
 world at a distance, it is with this advan- 
 tage, that he is, able to contemplate it more 
 at leisure, with his passions less agitated, 
 and his judgment less biassed, than he could 
 have done as a party actually engaged. It 
 is an old observation, that a looker-on often 
 sees more than those who play the game ; 
 but in the game of life (if I may so call 
 it), the retired man often sees more even 
 than the looker-on. When the world presses 
 upon the sense, though without' immediate 
 interest, its impressions are commonly too 
 • powerful to leave the mind at sufficient 
 liberty to form a dalm and impartial judg- 
 ment. 
 
 It must, however, on the other hand, be 
 acknowledged, -that; books, unless happily 
 selectedj are unfaithful mirrors, and reflect 
 
 H 
 
98 On the Knowledge of the World, [part i. 
 
 images of life which hear little resemblance 
 to the originals. Even among the more 
 judicious historians and moralists, there 
 are few who are entirely exempt from this 
 censure ; and it often requires a strict at- 
 tention to our own experience, and no com- 
 mon degree of ability, to reduce the repre- 
 sentations they give us to their just value. 
 Such a correction may therefore seem dif- 
 ficult for a retired man, whose experience of 
 life is little ; yet that little, when duly ex- 
 panded by reflection, and skilfully applied, 
 will generally secure him from any mistakes 
 of a dangerous consequence.* 
 
 But of all the mirrors fabricated by the 
 press, and held up to the public, there are 
 none more common, or more fallacious, than 
 those fictitious histories which go under the 
 name of novels and romances, where, for 
 the most part, the modesty of nature is 
 overstepped, where reason is degraded into 
 sentiment, and where human language and 
 human manners are almost lost in rant, 
 affectation, and intrigue. When the world 
 
sect, in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 99 
 
 is viewed in such representations it is 
 scarcely to be known again ; instead of men 
 and women soberly engaged in business or 
 innocent society, we are presented with a 
 race of beings who have withdrawn them- 
 selves into a region of their own, and whose 
 daj^s and nights are wasted in fantastic pur- 
 suits, sentimental babble, and mad extrava- 
 gance. For any one to take his ideas from 
 such exhibitions, would be no less an injus- 
 tice to the world, than a disgrace to his own 
 understanding: 
 
 Among the many portentous evils that 
 threaten both the present age and posterity, 
 there are few which are more to be deplored 
 than the general diffusion of these visionary 
 writings ; for what can be more deplorable 
 than that young persons, instead of being 
 taught to consider the present life as a state 
 ef serious trial, where much is to be endured 
 and much to be forborne, should be flattered 
 with the destructive imagination, that its 
 great end is pleasure and amusement? What 
 is more to be lamented, than that, by. wrong 
 
 H c 2 
 
100 On the Knowledge of the World, [paut i„ 
 
 principles early imbibed, the few days of 
 man on earth should be embittered by per- 
 petual disappointment, and at length termi- 
 nated by a querulous and miserable old age, 
 without any cheering prospect beyond the 
 grave ? This certainly is but ill to know the 
 world, even in point of present enjoyment* 
 and to know it still less in its relation to the 
 world to* come. 
 
 There is only one volume which describes 
 the world in a manner perfectly unexception- 
 able; or if there be others, they are such as 
 are derived from it. In all the rest it is 
 either flattered or disparaged, it is either 
 transformed into a paradise or into a howl- 
 ing wilderness; the Bible only represents it 
 as it is, fallen indeed from its primitive 
 glory and happiness, but not into hopeless 
 guilt and misery ; not into a condition de- 
 stitute of the light and grace of heaven, or> 
 (to the humble Christian,) unprovided with 
 ample support and comfort. Farther, the 
 Bible, if attentively studied, will supply ti 
 most sequestered hermit with a compre- 
 
sect, in.] On the Knozoledge of the World. \o\ 
 
 hensive knowledge of man, both in his indi- 
 vidual and collective capacity ; there he may 
 trace human nature through every point of 
 gradation, frorn the lowest state of depravity 
 to the highest attainable excellence ; there 
 society is presented to his view in every 
 degree of civilization, and under almost 
 every form of government ; there too he 
 may contemplate the relative state of nations, 
 in their commerce, their leagues, and their 
 hostilities ; and all this delivered with a truth 
 and simplicity which would elsewhere be 
 sought in vain. 
 
 It may appear then? from what has been 
 advanced, that the votaries of retirement 
 may come to know mankind in every re- 
 spect in which it is important they should 
 be known. And it is true, in fact, that 
 some secluded men have displayed this 
 knowledge in a degree which has scarcely 
 been equalled by the greatest actors on 
 the public stage. Who has drawn the 
 ^yorld more to the life, in its spirit, its 
 
102 On the Knowledge of the World. [part i. 
 
 maxims, its pursuits, and its illusions, 
 than Pascal? Who has anatomized the 
 human heart, traced the meanderings of 
 its passions, and developed the secret 
 workings- of self-love, in all the various 
 orders and conditions of mankind, with 
 more exquisite ability than Nicole ? And 
 yet the latter lived always a recluse, and 
 was a man of such extreme timidity as 
 almost disqualified him for ordinary con- 
 verse ; and the former, at the age of five- 
 and-twenty, withdrew himself from society, 
 and passed the remainder of his days shut 
 up in his chamber, or prostrate at the 
 foot of the altar. Such examples may 
 serve to rebuke the conceited vanity of 
 those men, who are forward to treat others 
 as ignorant of the world, for no better 
 reason than because they have lived ab- 
 stracted from its tumult and its dissipa- 
 tions. 
 
 It is indeed matter of some patience to 
 observe, with what airs of importance 
 
sect, in.] On the Know-ledge of the World. 103 
 
 many speak of the knowledge in question,' 
 when it is evident that nothing more is 
 understood than what may easily be picked 
 up from our ordinary journals. Some, it 
 is true, proceed a step further, and by a 
 detestable industry, rake together a vile 
 mass of secret history and anecdote, too 
 scandalous to be exposed to the public 
 eye, and upon this found a claim to be 
 considered as more eminently skilled in the 
 science of life; which is just as reason- 
 able as for a man to pretend to a superior 
 acquaintance with the history of his coun- 
 try, from his gleanings in the annals of 
 Newmarket, the New r gate calendar, or 
 the registers of brothels and gambling- 
 houses. 
 
 This affectation of placing the know- 
 ledge of the world in the rare possession of 
 the earliest intelligence of its follies or its 
 villanies, is an extravagance which can only 
 be exceeded by the notable discovery of 
 some pretended philosophers, that every 
 man, without exception, whether t Christain 
 
104 On the Knowledge of the World, [part r. 
 
 or pagan, civil or savage, is not only charge- 
 able with some degree of folly or miscon- 
 duct, (for this is not to be disputed,) but 
 is radically and throughout either a fool or 
 a knave ; that one half of the world is the 
 dupe of the other, and that all the seeming 
 virtues which are scattered in it are only 
 certain modifications of self-love, or, (as 
 a great adept has taught us *,) the politi- 
 cal offspring of flattery begot upon pride. 
 What the world would be, if abandoned 
 to its own corrupt propensities, I shall not 
 dispute; or rather I am ready to- .grant, 
 that in. no very long period it would be as 
 bad as anv Hobbist or Machiavelian can 
 suppose, and ripe for a second deluge ; 
 that men, like demons, would be inspired 
 with mutual malignity, and, like beasts, in 
 the eagerness of contention to gratify their 
 sensitive appetites, would bite and devour 
 one another. This, however, is not the 
 melancholy lot of man ; God has never 
 so forsaken the earth as to leave it without 
 a seasoning of piety and virtue; he has 
 * Mandeville, 
 
sect, in.] On the Knozcledge of the World. 105 
 
 always raised up a few witnesses to his 
 name, and endued others with those abili- 
 ties and accomplishments, which have ren- 
 dered them the defence and ornament of 
 the places and times in which they lived. 
 Nor are there wanting many distinguished 
 examples of both these characters at the 
 present day; and he who does not discern 
 them, or, if discerned, is unwilling to ac- 
 knowledge them, has either no cause to 
 deride the poor recluse for his ignorance, 
 or none to applaud himself for his own 
 candour. 
 
 III. To know the world in the third 
 sense, or in respect to its value, is to know 
 it as transitory, unsatisfying, and dangerous. 
 This knowledge of the world, though evi- 
 dently the most important of all, appears 
 to have been attained by few, and ought 
 therefore to engage our more particular 
 attention. 
 
 Whatever has an end is transitory ; and 
 its duration, though it should be extended 
 
106 On the Knowledge of the World. [part I. 
 
 through millions of ages, shrinks to a mo- 
 ment in comparison with eternity. This 
 is a truth no less obvious than it is over- 
 whelming, but which makes little impres- 
 sion without the help of frequent and se- 
 rious recollection. To a thoughtless young 
 man, even the short period of the present 
 life seems a kind of immortality ; he sees 
 no bounds to his pursuits and his enjoy- 
 ments ; one object rises after another in a 
 long succession, while old age and death 
 are lost in the obscurity of a far-distant 
 horizon. Nay, so great is the illusion, 
 that, after years of experience, the pass- 
 ing intervals of life are apt to swell into 
 a large disproportion ; a short series of 
 prosperous or adverse fortune, a transient 
 season of peace or disquiet, will -so fill the 
 imagination, and engage the heart, as to 
 appear without limit or termination ; such 
 is the straiige power we find in ourselves, 
 and such is our disposition to give to our 
 present state, whatever it be, a character 
 of continuance. To correct this turn of 
 mind, we should learn to view our sit 
 
sect, in.] On the Knozcledge of the World. ]07 
 
 tion at a distance, and to consider it as in- 
 volved in the general instability of the 
 world, whose surprising changes and revo- 
 lutions may afford us a feeling admonition, 
 that there is no earthly joy which may not 
 be extinguished in a moment, and no earthly 
 fortune that is not liable to a sudden sub- 
 version. Above all, we should learn, by a 
 contemplation of time in the light of eter- 
 nity, to enforce the conviction, that not only 
 our life, but also every thing else under 
 the sun, is no more than a vapour which 
 appear eth for a little while, and then 
 vanisheth away. 
 
 If to the want of stability, and perma- 
 nence in all worldly things, we add their 
 unsatisfactoriness in the possession, it must 
 sink their value still more with every rea- 
 sonable mind. That the world is unsatis- 
 factory we all have experience, though 
 there are not many who seem to be pro- 
 perly acquainted with its unsatisfactory 
 nature. Hence the generality of mankind 
 persist in seeking their happiness from the 
 
108 On the Knowledge of the World, [part x* 
 
 same perishing objects, notwithstanding in-< 
 numerable miscarriages and disappointments, 
 which they rather choose to ascribe to 
 accidental causes than to any inherent 
 imperfection in the things themselves. 
 They cannot resist the persuasion, that 
 riches, high place, and sensual pleasures, 
 would yield them full contentment, pro- 
 vided certain untoward circumstances could 
 be retrenched ; and under this deception 
 they return again and again to their former 
 purposes, in hope that, by more skilful 
 efforts, they shall be able to overcome 
 every adventitious obstruction, and to ex- 
 tract that felicity which hitherto has eluded 
 their pursuit. 
 
 Of this fatal mistake, no one will eveF 
 be thoroughly convinced, till, he is brought 
 to a proper knowledge of himself and his 
 situation ; till he knows that all creatures 
 as such, are unequal to his capacities of 
 enjoyment, and that this disproportion is 
 still farther increased by sin ; that it is this 
 which has subjected all sublunary naturq 
 
sect, in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 109 
 
 to vanity*, has perverted the just order of 
 human life, tarnished its honours, and pol- 
 luted its pleasures, and even drawn down a 
 malediction on the very ground on which 
 we tread. When he is fully acquainted 
 with this state of things, and not before, 
 his fond dreams of unmixed happiness 
 here below will vanish ; he will no longer 
 struggle against the general doom, but 
 contentedly, with the sweat of his brow, 
 eat his bread, till he return to the dust 
 whence he was taken-* 
 
 That the world is unsatisfactory, those 
 perhaps are most sensible who are most 
 conversant with it, as their larger experi- 
 ence of the actual discontent of its vota- 
 ries must more strongly impress the con- 
 viction ; while its unsatisfactory nature is 
 likely to be better understood by those 
 who have the opportunity to compare it 
 more at leisure with the moral state and 
 capacities of man, and thence to note their 
 disparity. 
 
 * Rom. viii. 20. 
 
HO On the Knowledge of the World. [part i. 
 
 Lastly, to know die danger of the world, 
 is to be aware of its powerful tendency to 
 divert the mind from the consideration of 
 a future state. It is not indeed without 
 its perils in lower respects; by its wrongs 
 and its flatteries it daily reduces multitudes 
 from opulence to beggary, from honour to 
 shame, and from the vigour of health and 
 strength to the pains and languors of dis- 
 ease ; which, if considered, would greatly 
 abate its value with every man of common 
 prudence. But all this is nothing when 
 compared with the danger arising from it 
 to our eternal welfare, by seducing that 
 attention which is necessary to secure it ; 
 and whether this is effected by the busi- 
 ness or the pleasures, the duties or amuse- 
 ments of life, the result will be the same ; 
 if our hearts are in the world, w T e have no 
 treasure to expect beyond it. When, 
 therefore, we see men forward to embark 
 in all affairs, and to mix in all societies, 
 without any regard to their final account, 
 we must charge them with that kind of 
 infatuation which those are under, who, 
 
sect, iu.] On the Kuozdedge of the. World. Ill 
 
 for the sake of a trifle, will risk an object 
 of great and undoubted importance ; nor 
 will the charge be at all extenuated, however 
 by their dexterity to assume the spirit and 
 manners of those who are necessary to their 
 purpose, and to shape themselves to all oc- 
 casions, they may pass in vulgar opinion 
 as masters of life. 
 
 The principal scope of what has been 
 delivered " in this chapter may thus briefly 
 be stated. The true knowledge of the 
 world does not consist chiefly in the know- 
 ledge of its manners, its occupations, or 
 its amusements ; or of the interior views 
 and principles by which it is governed; 
 for the former of these is merely super- 
 ficial, and the latter is no more than philo- 
 sophical ; but it consists in that knowledge 
 which may be called moral and religious, 
 or that teaches us to set a due rate on 
 every thing around us ; by which is not 
 meant its price in the market, but its real 
 use to the possessor. 
 
 ■'€> 
 
112 On the Knowledge, of the World, [part i. 
 
 Now, as the everlasting perfection and 
 happiness of our nature is, next to the 
 glory of God, our chief end, every thing 
 here below is to be estimated in reference 
 to it ; so far as it is conducive to this end, 
 it is useful, and to be chosen ; and so far as 
 it is contrary, it is injurious, and to be re- 
 jected ; if indifferent, (supposing any thing 
 in this respect can be so), it should be 
 treated accordingly, and either chosen or 
 rejected at pleasure. 
 
 When this principle is applied to the 
 objects of time and sense, their true rate 
 will be found very different from that at 
 which they are held in vulgar estimation. 
 Of the amusements and pleasures which 
 the world pursues with such avidity, many 
 will be condemned for their inherent cri- 
 minality ; and all, even the most innocent, 
 will be deemed of little worth, as well on 
 account of their transitory nature, as of 
 their dangerous tendency to divert the 
 mind from its greatest concerns. In like 
 
s L c T . 1 1 1 .] On the Knowledge of the World. 113 
 
 manner, the honours and riches of the world 
 will suffer a repulse upon a fair encounter 
 with this principle, and be found unworthy 
 either to be sought or entertained, except as 
 they may be converted into instruments of 
 usefulness. 
 
 If, then, the knowledge of which we 
 have been speaking be such as we have 
 stated, if it consists chiefly in a just view 
 of the relation which this world bears to 
 another, how few are there whose preten- 
 sions to it are solidly founded! Does he 
 thus know the world, who thinks he 
 has no other business in it than to eat 
 and drink and rise up to play ? Or he 
 whose entire occupation is to join house 
 to house, and field to field, till he is placed 
 alone in the midst of the earth* f Does 
 that politician thus know the world, who 
 imagines that nothing is wanting to com- 
 plete its felicity but liberty and equality, 
 peace and plenty ! Or that philosopher 
 
 # Isaiah v. 8. 
 X 
 
114 On the Knowledge of the World, [part. i. 
 
 who knows every thing under the sun as 
 well as Solomon himself, except that 
 the whole is vanity ? No : these are merely 
 novices in the science in which they 
 fancy themselves proficients, and may go 
 for lessons to the simplest hermit, who is 
 piously studious of the Bible, and of his own 
 heart. 
 
 And though we were to consider the 
 world in a manner less serious or theolo- 
 gical, and should view it even in the 
 most favourable light in which it can be 
 placed by its fondest admirer, what is it 
 but a great fair, in which a prodigious di- 
 versity of articles is exposed to sale, some 
 for amusement, some for ostentation, and 
 some for use ? Now suppose a wise man 
 to go round the fair, and to note carefully 
 its various commodities; what would be 
 the result of his survey ? Among the first 
 class of objects above specified should he 
 pick up a rattle, it will be one cheap and 
 innocent, and such as may recreate his 
 spirits when exhausted with more serious 
 
sect, in.] On the Knowledge of the World, 1 15 
 
 affairs. The second class he would leave to 
 the vain and prodigal. From the third he 
 would collect such articles as might suit his 
 wants or his reasonable convenience, at the 
 same time taking heed that he paid down for 
 them no more than their just value. This is 
 the man who knows the world, and how to 
 draw from it all the real advantage it is 
 capable of yielding. 
 
 IS 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON VIRTUE. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 In which it is considered how far Retirement is favour- 
 able to Virtue, from its Tendency to weaken the Im- 
 pression of the World, 
 
 It is a law which obtains through every 
 rank of existence, from the meanest plant 
 up to man, the head of this sublunary sys- 
 tem, for like to produce its like. This, so 
 far as it relates to the vegetable and ani- 
 mal kingdoms, is obvious and known to 
 all; and how much the same law prevails 
 in our intellectual and moral system, may 
 appear from a few reflections on the con- 
 tagious nature of human opinions and 
 passions ; from whose combined influence 
 arises that impression which k meant in the. 
 
 4 
 
118 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, {part ii, 
 
 title of this section, and to which those 
 who are thrown amidst the bustle and 
 pleasures of the world are more particularly 
 exposed. ; 
 
 There are few men who are able entirely 
 to repel an opinion, or to admit it only 
 according to its proper evidence, when it 
 appears strongly impressed on the belief . 
 of others. It is in this general weakness 
 of our nature that many dogmatical writers 
 find their advantage, being aware that 
 they have need only to express themselves 
 with an undoubted confidence, in order to 
 carry along with them the majority of 
 their readers. But it is in a living inter- 
 course with the world, that this mental 
 imbecility is most discovered. Men of the 
 strongest reason have frequent cause to 
 lament this feebleness. When they call 
 themselves to account, after conversing 
 upon an interesting topic, especially if with 
 a friend or a patron, or some person of a 
 rank or chevracter superior to their own, 
 they too often find that their judgment 
 
sect, i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 1 19 
 
 has been either surprised by the partiality of 
 affection, or awed by an undue reverence of 
 authority, or disabled by the servility of de- 
 pendence. And if such is the effect from a 
 single mind, what must be that from many 
 in conjunction, when their united influence 
 is exerted in some popular assembly, or in a 
 nation at large ? 
 
 It is not easy to account for the spread 
 of many speculative notions and philoso- 
 phical theories, upon any other ground 
 than that which is here stated. Some 
 bold innovator advances a doctrine, or a 
 system, with very little reason to support 
 it ; by a kind of sympathetic influence he 
 communicates his persuasion to others, 
 these to many more, till by degrees the 
 stream swells into a torrent which no ordi- 
 nary mind is able to withstand. Hence 
 the prevailing philosophy of one age has 
 been different from that of another ; at 
 one period, for instance, it has been usual 
 to explain 'all the phenomena of nature 
 by occult qualities ; while at another they 
 
J 20 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, [part 11. 
 
 have been considered as nothing more than 
 mechanical effects, or the mere results of 
 matter and motion. There is a fashion in 
 what is called learning, as in other things, 
 and. which often displays itself in a mariner 
 no less exclusive and tyrannical. 
 
 By a like sympathetic power it is that 
 opinions of a moral and practical nature 
 are commonly propagated. The ideas 
 which are usually formed of the amuse- 
 ments and pleasures of the world,, are 
 sure to find an easy entrance into the 
 minds of unexperienced youth, and to 
 induce a violent persuasion, that without 
 balls, and assemblies, and theatres, and 
 other nocturnal revels and fashionable dis- 
 sipations, they must be deprived of ail- 
 that is joyous and cemfortable in life, and 
 left to drag out a dull and wearisome ex- 
 istence. In like manner, the sentiments 
 which are generally, entertained of rank,, 
 of breeding, of family, of , riches, and what- 
 ever else may confer distinction and con- 
 sequence, are no less impressive upon vul- 
 
sect, i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 121 
 
 gar minds; and how few minds can be 
 found which are not vulgar in one or other 
 of these respects, or which can preserve just 
 ideas of these objects in opposition to pre- 
 vailing opinion, and fairly rate them by their 
 use, and not by that delusive splendour which 
 is cast upon them by the imagination of the 
 multitude ! 
 
 The contagious nature of the passions is 
 experienced, if not more extensively, at 
 least more strongly. The hearts of men, 
 like strings in . unison, if one is struck, the 
 rest respond in the same tone. In the 
 presence of a single fellow-creature under 
 the influence of joy or grief, of hope or de- 
 spondence, of courage or timidity, we feel 
 ourselves involuntarily subject to similar 
 emotions; and consequently, still more 
 must our sympathies be awakened in the 
 midst of society, where all the passions, 
 and chiefly those which are of a vicious 
 or malignant nature, act with redoubled 
 vigour. 
 
1 22 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, [part II. 
 
 Hence, if in the mass of human opinions 
 there be less truth than error, and less pu- 
 rity than depravity in the mass of human 
 passions ; and if, further, these passions 
 and opinions, by engaging men in an 
 eager pursuit of the same objects, convert 
 public life into a scene of vehement com- 
 petition ; (and that all this is the fact, I sup- 
 pose no attentive and impartial observer 
 will deny ;) it follows, that the general 
 impression of the world must be unfavour- 
 able to truth and virtue ; and that retire- 
 ment, so far as it tends to weaken this im- 
 pression, is an object of importance to all, 
 and especially to persons of a yielding and 
 infirm character; those, I mean,, who, from 
 a facility of disposition or unfixedness of 
 principle, are very liable to be ensnared 
 by false compliances, or, from a weak and 
 irritable habit, to be discouraged at the 
 least difficulty, exasperated at every ap- 
 pearance of opposition, and wounded be- 
 fore thev are stricken. This morbid sen- 
 sibilitv and feebleness of temper, when it 
 
sect, i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, \<2$ 
 
 is radicated, as it often is, in the natural 
 constitution, admits of no perfect cure by 
 any human methods, and we are not to look 
 for miracles ; nor is even any sensible mi- 
 tigation to be expected, unless the occasions 
 of debility and irritation are avoided, or con- 
 siderably diminished, by an abstraction from 
 the bustle of the world. 
 
 Even men of the firmest nerves, and 
 the most established principles, have need 
 of occasional repose, in order to recruit 
 their forces, and to recover the due tone 
 both of body and mind. • The stoutest 
 frame is impaired, and the hardiest virtues 
 grow sickly and languid, by unremitted 
 exertion ; and what Lord Bacon says of 
 silence, that it is the rest of the soul, and 
 7*efreshes invention, is here more generally 
 applicable ; as it is in the silence and calm 
 of retreat that all our powers, natural and 
 moral, are refreshed and invigorated, and 
 made prompt for further service. Like 
 our mother earth, we require respite at 
 certain intervals, lest by being over-wrought 
 
 5 
 
124 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. [part ii. . 
 
 we become impoverished and unproduc- 
 tive. 
 
 Should there be any one who imagines 
 his sufficiency to be such as to place him 
 above this timid precaution, who sets both 
 the toils and the temptations of the world 
 at defiance, and who scorns retreat as an 
 act of cowardice, let him not mistake his 
 vain presumption for a happy presage of 
 victory, or boast himself in putting on his 
 harness, as if he had put it off. In that 
 perfect model of prayer, in which we are 
 taught both our duty and our danger, we 
 are directed to ask, not to be led into tempt- 
 ation ; which implies, that to pass through 
 such a state without prejudice to faith and 
 a good conscience, is a work of difficulty ; 
 that to avoid sin we must avoid the oc- 
 casions ; and that, consequently we should 
 be extremely wary in the measure and 
 manner pf our intercourse with the world, 
 where those occasions are most frequent, 
 and commonly most dangerous. It is true, 
 v that at the clear call of duty, to deliberate 
 
sect, i.} Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 125 
 
 is to be base; and that when a man is 
 thus summoned, he ought, (in a becoming 
 diffidence of himself, and a humble re* 
 liance upon heaven,) to go forth nobly to 
 the encounter ; otherwise he may do well 
 to listen to the counsels of a cautious pru- 
 dence, and not wantonly provoke a contest 
 in which many have been cast down wound- 
 ed, and many slain, who probably had 
 more strength and wisdom than himself. 
 To meet his enemy in the open field is 
 not the only part of a skilful general, who 
 knows how to retreat as well as how to ad* 
 vance, and when pressed by a superior 
 power, how best to defend himself behind 
 his entrenchments. The Christian warfare 
 is no piece of knight-errantry ; it is not by 
 a rash confidence to brave the world with 
 unequal forces, but soberly to oppose the wis- 
 dom and the power of God to its insidious or 
 violent assaults, when they cannot be avoided 
 without deserting our proper station. 
 
 Indeed, to escape this conflict alto- 
 - gether is not the lot of any man, in any 
 
126 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, [part it* 
 
 situation ; there is no sanctuary so inviolable, 
 and no solitude so deep, where the world will 
 not make its way, and find the means to 
 practise its allurements, and inject its terrors ; 
 and sometimes with more effect than in the 
 midst of its business or pleasures; which 
 shows, that the expediency of retirement, like 
 all other practical rules, is not to be urged 
 on the side of virtue without due exceptions, 
 among which the two or three following may 
 here be noticed. 
 
 The first is, when the imagination is 
 more seductive than the senses. No one 
 can be a stranger to the potency of this 
 magic faculty, how it can heighten, com- 
 bine, and vary, all our perceptions; and, 
 in the depth of solitude, (as the monastic 
 St. Jerome pathetically bewailed in his 
 cell at Bethlehem,) can furnish out more 
 captivating scenes of gaiety and splendour, 
 than any which human life actually exhi- 
 bits. In this ideal world the understand- 
 ing of a recluse, without due care, may 
 suffer greater deception, and his passions 
 
sect, i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 127 
 
 be more incurably fascinated, than in the 
 world he has left behind him ; for, in the 
 latter, the things themselves, which have 
 their fixed natures and limited operations, 
 may serve in some measure to correct his 
 mistakes, and regulate his expectations ; 
 whereas in the former, should his imagina- 
 tive power gain the ascendant, there re- 
 mains no rule to which he may refer, and, 
 like a crazy vessel out at sea without 
 compass or land-mark, he must be driven 
 wherever his fancies or his passions may 
 chance to carry him. When a man has 
 thus lost the command of himself, he is 
 much fitter to be confined to some labo- 
 rious occupation than let loose to his own 
 reflections. 
 
 Another case where retirement is sel- 
 dom adviseable, is that of melancholy; 
 by which I mean a fixed depression of 
 the spirits, whether arising without any 
 known cause, or from an undue applica- 
 tion to some particular object. This state 
 of mind is no less unfavourable to virtue 
 
128 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, [part n. 
 
 than to peace; it belongs to the sorrow 
 of the world, which worketh death ; and 
 the sooner we can get fairly rid of it the 
 better. Solitude is the nurse of this com- 
 plaint ; and though a dissipated life, which 
 is the vulgar remedy, is often worse than 
 the disease, and sometimes aggravates it 
 still more, there is no doubt that a pru- 
 dent change of circumstances, with a mix- 
 ture of agreeable and innocent society, is a 
 probable way to disperse the gloom, and 
 to restore the unhappy sufferer to a com- 
 fortable use of himself, both in retirement 
 and in public. 
 
 Of all the species of melancholy, none 
 calls more for our sympathy than that to 
 which some good men are subject, when, 
 for want of proper views of the grace of 
 the gospel, and of the imperfection of our 
 present state, they are ready to be over- 
 whelmed with awful apprehensions of the 
 divine holiness and majesty ; or to sink 
 down in helpless misery, under a sense 
 of their remaining sinful infirmities, after 
 
sect. I*] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, 129 
 
 all their efforts to surmount them ; or, at 
 best, to deliver themselves up to* an unna-^ 
 tural discipline or a visionary devotion, the 
 religion of monks and hermits, which loves to 
 haunt the obscurity of cloisters, or to wander 
 in dreary solitudes. Let such, therefore, who 
 from a morbid complexion of body or mind; 
 are obnoxious to an evil so distressing and 
 injurious, provide themselves an antidote 
 in social life, and particularly in the con- 
 versation of persons of a rational and cheer- 
 ful piety. 
 
 The last case I shall notice, by way 
 of exception, respects those to whom re- 
 tirement is dull and languid for want 
 of employment ; who in their chamber can 
 neither entertain themselves with books, nor 
 recur to resources in their own minds; and 
 in the field can derive no pleasure from the 
 contemplation of nature, nor find occupation 
 in the labours of husbandry. Men of this 
 character, instead of vainly affecting a life of 
 abstraction, ought to, seek in some public 
 situation, or honest business, that impulse 
 
 K 
 
130 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue, [part th 
 
 which is necessary to preserve them from 
 lapsing into a state of unmanly indolence or 
 peevish discontent. 
 
 These, instances may suggest to parents 
 and teachers how important it is, in the 
 education of youth, to form them early to a 
 taste for solitude, and to store their minds 
 with such knowledge as may enable them to 
 fill up an interval of retreat with advantage 
 to themselves, and in a noble independence 
 of the world. Thus disposed and qualified, 
 they will be prepared to find a refuge from 
 the bustle of business, and the turbulence of 
 pleasure, in still life, where their agitated 
 passions may gradually subside, and their 
 better principles, wearied by a too long and 
 violent exertion, may have time to breathe, 
 and to recover their lost vigour. 
 
 Hence also may appear the importance of 
 an education in the country. He whose 
 youth has been habituated to rural scenes, 
 and those calm and innocent pleasures which 
 nature there, fresh and untainted, affords to 
 
sect. I.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 131 
 
 her children, will probably retain the impres- 
 sion all his days ; and under this happy bias, 
 is more likely to find in retirement that re- 
 pose which his imperfect virtue may often 
 need, than if he had been trained up amidst 
 the shows and dissipations of a great city. 
 
 K2 
 
( 132 ) 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Containing some Observations on those Means which tend, 
 by a more direct and positive Influence, to the Pro- 
 motion of Virtue. 
 
 The observations I have here to offer to 
 the reader, I shall reduce under the follow- 
 ing heads : first, of Education ; secondly, 
 of Religion ; and, lastly, of Philosophy and 
 History ; only premising that the word vir- 
 tue (as signified in the Preface) will be taken 
 comprehensively, after some good authors, 
 who have used it to express a spirit and 
 conduct answerable to the several moral 
 relations we bear towards God and our 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 I. Education. 
 
 Under this head some modern philoso- 
 phers, (who, in default of new discoveries,, 
 endeavour to amuse the world with a new 
 language,) rank every impression, whether 
 physical or intellectual, whether imme- 
 
s E c t. 1 1 .] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 133 
 
 diately relative to the corporeal or spiri- 
 tual part of our composition. According 
 to this dialect it may be said, that we are 
 tutored by the elements as well as by our 
 parents and schoolmasters, and that we 
 are as much indebted for our education to 
 the pupilage of nature as to human disci- 
 pline. All this, however, as it is contrary 
 to the established meaning of words, so it 
 proceeds upon a principle which ought to 
 be rejected as equally false and dangerous ; 
 namely, That whatever we are, whether 
 learned or ignorant, virtuous or vicious, 
 it is no more than a necessary result of 
 the whole of our situation ; or of that se- 
 ries of moral and physical causes, to whose 
 separate or combined influence we are. 
 constantly and involuntarily exposed. Yet, 
 though we must reject this doctrine as 
 utterly inconsistent with our present state 
 of trial, we would not reject the truth in- 
 volved in it; and are ready to allow, not 
 only in this philosophical, but also in the or- 
 dinary sense of the word, that man, though 
 not absolutely, is, to a very considerable 
 
1 34 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [p a r t i i . 
 
 degree, the product of his education ; and 
 that his whole life usually takes its colour 
 from the training and instruction he receiver 
 in the season of youth. 
 
 The truth of this position is so manifest 
 from experience, and is so generally ac- 
 knowledged, that it is unnecessary to add 
 any thing here in its support ; and I would 
 rather notice the obligation " which hence 
 arises, on the part of teachers, strongly to 
 inculcate on the minds of their pupils, 
 those general principles which may serve 
 to regulate their views and conduct in 
 future life. For it is not, I apprehend, the 
 first object of a liberal education to form 
 a young man to any particular art or pro- 
 fession, or to carry him through the detail 
 of any system whatever ; but to supply him 
 with such axioms, and fundamental know- 
 ledge, as may enable him effectually to 
 prosecute any art or profession he may 
 think proper to adopt, and to judge soundly 
 of any system which may fairly offer itself 
 to his consideration ; and, above all, to 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 135 
 
 inspire him with an ardent love of truth and 
 rectitude, without which the greatest learn- 
 ing and talents are at best but vain and un- 
 profitable ornaments. " 'Tis virtue, direct 
 " virtue," says Mr. Locke, very emphati- 
 cally, " which is the hard and valuable part 
 " of education, and to which all other con- 
 " siderations and accomplishments should be 
 " postponed*/' 
 
 If such, then, should be the scope of 
 education, it is to be lamented that no 
 mor.e regard is paid to it in an age which 
 boasts itself, and not always unjustly, of 
 
 * Locke on Education, § 70. — In another part of the 
 same treatise, where he describes the character of a tu- 
 tor, he observes, that he should be one who, " know- 
 iC ing how much virtue and a well-tempered soul is to 
 " be preferred to any sort of learning or language, 
 " makes it his chief business to form the mind of his 
 " scholars, and give that a right disposition, which, if 
 " it be not got and settled, so as to keep out ill and 
 " vicious habits, languages and sciences, and all the 
 " other accomplishments of education, will be to no 
 " purpose but to make the worse m more dangerous 
 " man." § 177. 
 
126 Thepositive Means of Virtue considered, [pabt ii. 
 
 its improvements ; and that no greater 
 advances have been made from words to 
 science, from science to morals, and from 
 morals to religion. 
 
 Scarcely is a boy weaned from the nur- 
 sery, before he is entered on the study of 
 what is called classical learning. 1 am 
 aware that the ground I am now upon is 
 by many held almost sacred ; and 'as a 
 degree of enthusiasm is, I believe, most 
 incident to professional men, I should not 
 wonder if some of the learned masters and 
 teachers of our classical schools and col- 
 leges were ready to exclaim, upon any 
 seeming rudeness of approach to these 
 temples of the muses— Procul, 0, procul 
 este profani ! And should the reader, from 
 early prejudice, or the influence of public 
 opinion, be partial to the same cause, I 
 would entreat his equitable and candid 
 attention, while I proceed with freedom, yet, 
 I trust, without petulance or malignity, to 
 offer a few remarks on a subject of so much 
 importance. 
 
s ect. ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. i 37 
 
 We should doubtless think it strange, 
 were we not reconciled to it by long cus- 
 tom, for Christians to send their children 
 to schools where they are chiefly taught 
 the productions of heathen poets. Should 
 it be urged, that these are works of much 
 genius, and which exhibit many admirable 
 models of elegant writing and just com- 
 position, I would ask, in reply, Whether 
 all this, and much more, ought to be put 
 in balance with their vain mythology, their 
 defective morals, and their frequent ob- 
 scenity ? and whether it is because we have 
 no poetry in the scriptures of the Old Tes- 
 tament, in the songs of Moses, the dra- 
 matic history of Job, the prophecies of 
 Isaiah, or the psalms of David * ; or be- 
 cause we have none of a Christian and 
 domestic growth, that we must send our 
 youth to pagan Greece and Rome, at the 
 risk of a perverted judgment and a tainted 
 imagination ? 
 
 * That the contrary of this is true, if the reader be 
 not already sufficiently convinced, he may consult 
 Bishop Lowth De sacra poesi Uebr&orum* 
 
158 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part 11. 
 
 Lest this sentiment of classical danger 
 should be rejected as the mere suggestion 
 of a melancholy recluse, who has no relish 
 for the beauties of Homer juid Virgil, I 
 shall fortify it v by two great authorities, 
 the one Christian and the other pagan, 
 which no man who wishes to preserve his 
 own character for taste and good sense, 
 will be forward to dispute. The first is 
 that of a most eloquent Christian apologist 
 and Roman lawyer, Minutius Felix, who 
 flourished in the beginning of the third 
 century. " Why," says he, " should I 
 " speak of the adultery of Mars and Ve- 
 " nus ; or of Ganymede, whom his lewd 
 " paramour, Jupiter, placed among the 
 u stars ? stories invented for no other pur- 
 pose than to justify men in their vices f : ;" 
 
 u 
 
 * Quid loquar Martis et Veneris adulterium depren- 
 sum ? et in Ganymedem Jovis stuprum coelo consecra- 
 tum ? Quae omnia in hoc prodita, ut vitiis hominum 
 cjuoedam auctoritas pararetur. His atque hujusmodi fig- 
 mentis, et mendaciis dulcioribus, coirumpuntur ingenia 
 puerorum j et hisdem fabulis inhserentibus, ad usque 
 summse aotatis robur adolescunt, et in iisdem opinioni- 
 bus miseri consenescunt. Min. Fel. p. 40. 
 
s e c t . ii.] The positive Means of Virtu g co nsidercd. 1 39 
 
 and then proceeds to observe, that the 
 minds of youth, " when they had early im- 
 " bibed this unhappy tincture, retained it 
 " in their more advanced years, and grew 
 " grey under the delusion/' And else- 
 where he thus speaks: " Such are the idle 
 " stories told us by our ignorant forefathers. 
 " and, what is worse, which w r e ourselves en- 
 " deavour to cherish by a fond application 
 " to the poets, who, by the general esteem 
 M in which they are held, have done un- 
 " speakabie injury to the cause of truth : 
 " and therefore Plato did wisely when he 
 " banished Homer from his ideal repub- 
 
 .ic 
 
 .*- 
 
 My next authority is that of the 
 great Roman orator and philosopher, who, 
 in his Tusculan Questions, speaks to this 
 purpose : " Who sees not the mischief occa- 
 " sioned by the poets ? They dissolve the 
 
 * Has fabulas et errores et ab impends parentibns 
 discimus ct (quod est gravius) ipsis studiiset discipline 
 elaborarnus, carminib.us prsecipue poetamm, qui per- 
 Kiirum quantum "veritati ipsa sua auctoritate iiocuere, 
 Et Plato ideo prceclare Eomerum ilium inclytum lau~ 
 datum et coronatum, de civitate quam in sermone in- 
 stituebat ejecit. Mi??. Fel. p. 39- 
 
1 40 Tke positive Means of Virtue considered. [ p a rt. i r. 
 
 " firmness of our minds : and yet such is 
 4C their attraction, that we not only read but 
 " learn them by heart. Hence it is, that 
 " when to the vices of domestic discipline, 
 44 and the delicacy of an indolent life, are 
 44 added the fascinating charms of these 
 44 syrens, all the nerves of virtue are de- 
 44 stroyed ; and therefore Plato did well 
 u when he banished them from that imagi- 
 44 nary republic, which he endeavoured to 
 44 construct upon principles the most agree- 
 44 able to virtue and good order. But we, 
 44 alas ! after the fashion of the Greeks, are 
 44 familiarized with their fictions from our in- 
 44 fancy : and this we are pleased to call a 
 44 polite and liberal education*.* Behind 
 
 * Videsne poetic quid mali afferant? — Molliunt am- 
 nios nostros ; ita sunt deinde dulces, ut non legantur 
 modo, sed etiam ediscantur. Sic ad malam domesticarn 
 disciplinam, vitamque umbratilem et delicatam, cum 
 accesserunt etiam poetae, nervos omnes virtutis elidunt. 
 Recte igitura Platone educantur ex ea civitate, quam 
 iinxit ille, cum mores optimos, et optimum reipublicae 
 statam, exquireret. At vero nos, docti scilicet a Graecia, 
 liaec et a pueritia legimus, et didicimus : banc erudi- 
 tionem liberalem, et doetrinam putamus. Cic. Tusg. 
 Disp.lib. ii.§ il. 
 
i, ect. 1 1 J ■ The positive Means of Virtue considered* 141 
 
 this double shield I fear no shafts of 
 censure, whether emitted from the hands 
 of the polite Greeks, or of those barba- 
 rous Latins, who (as Mr. Locke speaks) 
 " scarce think their children have an or- 
 " thodox education without a smattering: of 
 " paganism*/'' 
 
 # Should it be alleged, in order to weaken the force 
 of the above testimonies, that the case of the heathen 
 classics is now very different from what it was in the 
 days of paganism; and that their corrupt tendency is 
 sufficiently counteracted by the doctrine and morality of 
 the gospel ; in reply, T would observe with Horace, that 
 a vessel is not easily discharged of the flavour with which it 
 was at first impregnated* ; and with Juvenal, that the 
 greatest reverence is due to a child, and that nothing in- 
 decent should be done, or even spoken in his presenc&f* 
 We all know, or ought to know, that the human mind 
 is naturally far more susceptible and retentive of evil 
 than of good, and therefore that to admit the former^ 
 
 Nunc adhibe puro 
 
 Pectore verba, puer; nunc tc melioribus offer. 
 
 Quo semel est imbuta recens, servabit odorem 
 
 Testa diu. Ep. II. lib. 1. 
 
 Nil dictu fcedum visuque haec limina tangat, 
 
 Intra quae puer est. 
 
 Maxima debetur puero reverentia . Sat. 1 4. 
 
142 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [pARt it* 
 
 And supposing, from the hereditary 
 rank, or intended profession of individuals, 
 an acquaintance with heathen classics 
 should be judged expedient or necessary, 
 it would seem more properly introduced 
 after a youth has been well grounded in 
 the principles of Christianity, and received 
 a good degree of general improvement, 
 than made an elementary part of educa- 
 tion. With such a preparation, and under 
 the eye of a judicious master, Homer and 
 Virgil and Horace might serve to evince 
 the necessity of revelation, • and to set off, 
 as a foil, the doctrines and morality of the 
 gospel. 
 
 Further, it may be observed, that what- 
 ever advantages may be supposed to arise 
 from the study of Greek or Latin, they 
 are much less now than in former periods, 
 
 on a presumption that we are able at pleasure to expel 
 or to correct it by the latter, is a proceeding no less 
 contrary to common prudence, than it is to the humi- 
 lity and diffidence inspired by true religion. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 143 
 
 when the works of the best human authors, 
 as well as the records of our religion, 
 remained locked up in these learned lan- 
 guages ; whereas, in the present times, he 
 who is master of French or English has 
 access to all that is valuable in human 
 knowledge, and to all that is essential in 
 revealed truth; and to spend a consider- 
 able part of life merely to gratify a clas- 
 sical taste or a learned curiosity, to be 
 qualified to relish the description of a 
 horse-race in Pindar, or to attain to about 
 half as much skill in Greek prosody as of 
 old fell to the share of any ordinary me- 
 chanic at Athens, must, to a sober man, 
 appear a shameful prodigality of time. 
 To trace the wisdom of God, in the works 
 of creation, or. to prosecute enquiries which 
 may help to diminish the evils or increase 
 the comforts of life, is a rational because a 
 useful employment. In such labour, there 
 is profit : but the talk of the lips tendeth 
 only to penary*. Under this impression. 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 23. 
 
144 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n, 
 
 when I sometimes look around on our literary 
 pursuits, it is not entirely without an appre- 
 hension, lest from a nation of philosophers 
 (as we have been denominated), we should 
 dwindle down into a race of grammarians and 
 sophists*. 
 
 From the grammar school, where a 
 youth is left to drudge on for seven tedious 
 
 * In the above remarks on classical education, the 
 reader must have perceived, that the point meant to be 
 censured was not the mere knozcledge of Greek and 
 Latin, but the use, or rather the abuse, that is made of 
 it, by an unseasonable or intemperate application to 
 heathen authors, and particularly to heathen poets. 
 The writer is no enemy to learning ; on the contrary, 
 he is of opinion, that an acquaintance even with the 
 Hebrew, as well as with the Greek and Latin languages 
 (at least so far as is necessary to understand the original 
 text of scripture,) should be cultivated as a part of li- 
 beral education, by every gentleman of rank or fortune 
 in a Christian country; and cultivated still more by every 
 candidate for the church, who, whatever may be alleged 
 in behalf of the laity, can have no excuse for the neglect 
 of studies which relate so immediately to his profession, 
 and which, there is reason to believe, would conduce 
 much more to the ends of his ministry, than a confined 
 attention to any modern schemes of divinity. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Firtue considered. 145 
 
 years in hard Greek and Latin*, he is sent 
 to college, where it is usual for him to pro- 
 ceed in the same course, though more or 
 less varied with mathematical or philoso- 
 phical studies; and often, too, I fear, with a 
 diversion to that corrupt literature and vain 
 philosophy which of late years has over- 
 run a great part of Europe. I presume 
 not, however, in this last instance, to im- 
 peach the vigilanee of our universities ; 
 only I would observe these two things ; 
 first, that no vigilance can be too great 
 against an evil so spreading and perni- 
 cious, and which threatens to poison the 
 veiy springs of knowledge and virtue ; and, 
 
 # " When I consider what ado is made about a little 
 Latin and Greek, how many years are spent in it, and 
 what a noise and business it makes to no purpose, I can 
 hardly forbear thinking that the parents of children 
 still live in fear of the schoolmaster's rod, which they 
 look on as the only instrument of education, as a lan- 
 guage or two to be its whole business. How else is it 
 possible that a child should be chained to the oar seven, 
 eight, or ten of the best years of his life, to get a lan- 
 guage or two, which I think might be had at a great 
 deal cheaper rate of pains and time, and be learned 
 almost in playing? Locke on Education, § 147* 
 
 L 
 
146 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part h* 
 
 secondly, that whilst the apostles of bar- 
 barism and impiety persist in their malice, 
 and still invoke in secret the genius of 
 Voltaire, of Rousseau, of D'Alembert, or 
 Condorcet, it peculiarly belongs to the 
 principals and tutors in our national seats 
 of learning to counteract their designs, 
 and to call up in opposition the more 
 powerful genius of Bacon and of Boyle, 
 of Chillingworth and of Butler, of Pascal, 
 and of Fenelon ; to which distinguished 
 names ,might be associated that of the 
 great author I have more than once cited 
 on the present occasion ; had he not un- 
 happily advanced some notions which, 
 contrary to his purpose, have given much 
 advantage to our modern infidels; for I 
 am fully persuaded, that Locke never 
 meant to be a patron of the minute phi- 
 losophers, and would have looked strangely 
 upon such a retainer and disciple as Vol- 
 taire, to whom he bears no more resem- 
 blance than Hyperion to a satyr. Never 
 would he have lent a willing countenance 
 to that smattering in philosophy, which, 
 
 6 
 
Sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 147 
 
 instead of supplying those sound and sa- 
 lutary principles that are the only basis of 
 a just and pious education, prepares the way 
 for atheism, and consequently for every 
 species of vice and disorder*. 
 
 After these few general observations, 
 we shall now proceed to some particular 
 topics, in order to show how much the 
 cause of virtue depends on a right educa- 
 tion. 
 
 # It is a well-known observation of Bacon, that a 
 smattering in philosophy disposes men to atheism. I 
 wish I could add upon as good grounds, with the 
 same illustrious author, that depth in philosophy brings 
 them back again to religion ; for though there is doubt- 
 less a relationship in all truth, and the pure light of 
 nature can never be at variance with the light of re- 
 velation, yet when it is considered how little of the 
 former can now be discerned by us, and how little we 
 are inclined to improve it, I think it must be acknow- 
 ledged, that men may be so extremely philosophical, 
 even upon the principles of Bacon, that it may be ne- 
 cessary to call off their attention from physics to morals, 
 and in some sense from heaven to earth ; from specula- 
 tions on the structure and laws of the universe, how- 
 ever solidly conducted, to a serious contemplation of 
 human life, and the relation it bears to the life to come. 
 
 l2 
 
148 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n* 
 
 Those who resolve the whole of the hu- 
 man character into education as its sole 
 cause, must consequently resolve in . the 
 same manner all that is virtuous or vicious 
 in that character. This large philosophi- 
 cal analysis we have already rejected. 
 On the other hand, there are many whose 
 views of education are much too limited; 
 Some appear to consider it merely as an 
 instruction for the body ; of no use except 
 to add grace to the person, and to fashion 
 the exterior manners, or, at most, to cul- 
 tivate those talents whose object is to 
 gratify the eye or the ear; and which, 
 when estimated highest, may be deemed 
 rather agreeable than serviceable : while 
 others, who conceive of it more justly, 
 as intended to enlarge the understanding 
 and to form the judgment in relation to 
 useful arts and sciences, and the business 
 of life, seldom regard it in its most import- 
 ant light, as a discipline to form the heart 
 to religion and virtue. 
 
 This undoubtedly, as we have more 
 than once intimated, should be its princi- 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 149 
 
 pal design ; and, when duly prosecuted, 
 the- endeavour will not often be in vain. 
 Moral causes produce their effects as well 
 as natural, though not always so fully, or 
 with equal certainty. It is therefore highly 
 important to employ them at a season 
 when they meet with the least resistance ; 
 before the mind, besides its native igno- 
 rance, opposes its acquired prejudices ; 
 and before the passions have gathered 
 strength to defeat all the power of reason. 
 It is particularly important early to incul- 
 cate the principles of justice, a virtue 
 which, taken in its extent, comprises 
 every other ; implying a disposition to 
 render to all their due, honour to whom ho- 
 nour, fear to whom fear, tribute to whom 
 tribute, custom to whom custom, to God 
 the things which are God's, and to man 
 whatever the relation we bear towards 
 him requires at our hands. As, therefore > 
 this virtue is of . such large comprehen- 
 sion, and as there is no moral idea whicfy 
 is more easily conceived and admitted, it 
 
150 The positive Mecfiis of Virtue considered, [fart it. 
 
 ought to be a primary object of education 
 to impress it deeply and distinctly. 
 
 A child, after the first dawn of reason, 
 soon becomes sensible of what is due from 
 others to himself \ and thence occasion may 
 be taken to instruct him in what is due: 
 from himself to others. Should his play- 
 fellow strip him of his coat, for no better 
 reason than because he had strength to do 
 it, or should wantonly deprive him of any 
 innocent gratification, or from envy or 
 malignity endeavour to lessen him in the 
 opinion of his teachers or school-fellows, 
 he, would naturally resent such a conduct, 
 and resent it chiefly on account of its in- 
 justice. Whence, from his own feelings, he 
 might be taught to respect the rights of his 
 little companions, to be tender of their 
 happiness and good name, and in general, 
 that he ought to treat others as he should 
 think it reasonable for himself to be treated 
 in similar circumstances. And when he 
 was once brought to perceive the equity 
 
s E cr. 1 1 .] The positive Means of Virtue, considered. Id 1 
 
 of this great law of moral conduct, it 
 might be enforced upon him by a consi- 
 deration of the divine displeasure, and by 
 an actual experience of the disapprobation 
 of his superiors, upon every act of violation* 
 Under such a discipline, he could hardly fail 
 to grow up into an honest man, and a good 
 citizen, according to the ordinary estimate of 
 those characters in the world. And since 
 we find the contrary characters are so often 
 to be met with in every class of society, 
 there is great reason to infer some gross error 
 or negligence in our domestic pedagogies, 
 and academical institutions. Here indeed a 
 reform is devoutly to be wished, and might 
 justly be expected, as it requires only a more 
 attentive regard to moral causes, and their 
 proper application. 
 
 But the influence of education is not 
 confined to the present world, nor to that 
 imperfect virtue which is sufficient to ren- 
 der a man respectable to his fellow-citi- 
 zens ; it extends also to the world to 
 come., and may be happily productive of 
 
152 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part h. 
 
 that true virtue, or, under a less equivocal 
 name, that piety, which, according to the 
 gracious constitution of Christianity, will 
 be crowned with honour and felicity in a 
 more exalted society hereafter. Train up 
 a child, says the wise man, in the way he 
 should go, and when he is old he will not de- 
 part from it*. And the Apostle Paul en- 
 joins parents to bring up their children in 
 the nurture and admonition of the Lord -f ; 
 which implies a probable expectation that 
 a pious education will supply the ground- 
 work of a piou character. This expecta- 
 tion derives a strong support from expe- 
 rience. Nor am I much moved with the 
 objection, that many profligate children 
 are the offspring of parents who stand high 
 in a religious profession; for I believe it 
 will be found, upon a full enquiry, that 
 those unhappy parents, however they may 
 inure their children to hear sermons, to 
 sing hymns, or repeat passages of scrip- 
 ture, are in general grossly deficient in 
 
 f Prov. xxii. 6. f Ephes. vi. 4. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 153 
 
 their attention to that moral discipline, 
 without which every other instruction is 
 likely to prove ineffectual. If young peo- 
 ple are not betimes put under due re- 
 straints, and accustomed to controul their 
 humours and passions ; if, instead of that 
 prudential wisdom which may guard them 
 against the temptations of the world, they 
 are only formed to- those arts and accom- 
 plishments which may recommend them 
 to its favour ; we cannot wonder, if, when 
 they come to act for themselves, they re- 
 fuse submission to his doctrine and autho- 
 rity, whose first command to his disciples 
 is, to deny themselves, to take up their cross 
 daily, and to follow him*. Such a neglect 
 to cultivate those seeds of truth and good 
 conduct which may already be sown in the 
 mind of a youth, can never be the way to 
 prepare him for the grace of a higher dis- 
 pensation ; but is rather to tempt God, in 
 the usual sense of the expression, and 
 to offer up one sacrifice more to vice and 
 impiety. Nor ought this construction to 
 
 * Luke ix, 23. 
 
154 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ft, 
 
 appear harsh or improbable, since, without 
 an extraordinary grace from Heaven, there 
 is obviously so much danger, lest a young 
 man thus educated, when turned out into 
 the wide world, should fall an easy prey to 
 the sophistries of error, and the seductions 
 of pleasure. Look into a neighbouring coun- 
 try, and see this awfully exemplified ; see 
 its youth, notwithstanding its boasted civic 
 schools and institutions, delivered up, un- 
 armed and defenceless, into the hands of 
 their worst enemies, to sensual passions and 
 infidel principles*' 
 
 Unhappy France! let thy example be 
 a warning to other nations ; let it teach 
 them to watch with more vigilance over 
 the great business of education, and to arm 
 their youth betimes with those principles 
 of pure religion and morality, which may 
 enable them equally to withstand their own 
 corrupt propensities, and the wily arts of 
 that numerous tribe of sophisters who have 
 long affected to pass themselves under the 
 
 # This was written in 1797- 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Meitns -of Virtue considered. 155 
 
 title of philosophers ; who, through the 
 medium of infidelity and scepticism, have 
 endeavoured (and with what success need 
 not be told) to destroy all virtue in the in- 
 dividual, and all subordination in society, 
 and thus to overspread the earth with vice 
 and anarchy; who, like a late famous order 
 in the Romish church, have made their 
 way into all situations, have infected our 
 villages and cities, our colleges and pa- 
 laces ; and (to add one feature more of re- 
 semblance with those courtly ecclesiastics,) 
 have shown singular address in captivat- 
 ing the favour of princes and great men 5 
 to whom in many instances, they have 
 proved still more fatal. Well, therefore, may 
 we exclaim with the royal prophet, Be wise 
 now, O ye kings ; be instructed, ye judges 
 of the earth, lest ye also perish from the 
 way*. 
 
 If the comparative merits of a public 
 and private education be rightly estimated, 
 it will perhaps be found that the former 
 * Psalm ii. 10—12. 
 
156 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part it. 
 
 has the advantage on the side of talents, 
 and the latter on that of virtue. In pub- 
 lic schools a spirit of emulation calls up 
 those intellectual energies which would 
 probably lie dormant, or be more faintly- 
 exerted, without such a stimulus; at the 
 same time, those practical abilities, and 
 that confidence of address, are formed 
 there which eminently fit a man for the 
 transaction of real business ; but whether 
 the above advantages, whatever they may 
 be, are to be put in balance with those 
 temptations to vice which are usual in 
 such situations, is a matter which ought 
 seriously to be considered. Mr. Locke, in 
 treating upon this subject, maintains the 
 negative ; and is also of opinion, that 
 every valuable end proposed in public 
 education, may be sufficiently attained by 
 a due mixture of private tuition and fa- 
 mily intercourse: and I have no- difficulty 
 in these particulars to subscribe to his 
 opinion*. 
 
 ** See "Locke on Education, § 70.— There is a me- 
 dium, however, between a public and a home educa- 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 157 
 
 II. Religion. 
 
 Under this head I shall consider, first, 
 that gracious relief which God, in his in- 
 finite compassion, has provided for fallen 
 man through a Mediator, and to which all 
 true virtue must be indebted for its exist- 
 ence ; secondly, I shall consider some of the 
 principal means by which this relief is ac- 
 tually communicated ; and, lastly, reply to 
 an objection. 
 
 (1.) Since the original apostacy, man 
 is become not only guilty, but depraved ; 
 and, besides the pardon of his sins, needs 
 the medicinal grace of Christ to heal the 
 
 tion, which: may often be preferable to either. This 
 medium is, when a clerical or any other person of 
 learning and piety, together with a competent know- 
 ledge of the world, undertakes to educate only such a 
 number of youth, as may properly be comprehended 
 within the sphere of his moral as well as his literary su- 
 perintendence, and who, in all respects, would treat 
 them as his adopted children. Under a teacher of this 
 description, who knew how to unite tenderness with a 
 just discipline, the pupil would enjoy every advantage, 
 without many of the inconveniences, of a tuition under 
 the immediate eye of his parents. 
 
158 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ii. 
 
 disorders of his nature, and enable him to 
 exert his faculties in a due and spiritual 
 manner, and thus to restore him to a pro- 
 per use of himself. In the great business 
 of education, of which we have been speak- 
 ing, every method that can be employed, 
 without this divine aid to predispose, and 
 habitually to influence the heart of the 
 pupil, however it might serve to supply 
 him with those qualities which would 
 render him amiable and useful in society, 
 would fail to provide him with that virtue 
 which must qualify him for heaven ; and 
 every subsequent attempt of his own to 
 acquire this qualification, after he came tb 
 act for himself, would, without the same 
 divine succour, prove equally ineffica- 
 cious. 
 
 The dependance of virtue on superna- 
 tural aid was asserted by some of the 
 greatest men in the heathen world. So- 
 crates urging Alcibiades to abandon his 
 vicious habits, and asking him in what 
 manner he supposed this might be effected, 
 
sect, ii.} The positive Means of Virtue considered. 159 
 
 he replied, If it shall please you, O Socrates. 
 You say not well, answered the philosopher. 
 What then should I say? rejoined Alcibi- 
 ades. You should say, if it shall please God. 
 Well then, concluded the pupil, If it shall 
 please God*. In a dialogue between Socra- 
 tes and one of his friends, inserted among 
 the works of Plato, where the question is 
 debated, Whether virtue can be taught by 
 human instruction only? after Socrates had 
 affirmed that it was neither to be ascribed 
 to nature nor discipline ; Tell me then, said 
 his friend, in what other way men may be 
 made virtuous. This, replied Socrates, I 
 judge very difficult to be declared, since vir- 
 tue seems to me of a divine extraction, and 
 that good men, in resemblance of diviners 
 and those who deliver oracles, are neither 
 
 * 2X1K. AurSavn & vvv frag E^Eig ; EteuSspoTTfETrug n ov j 
 AA. Aoxa (xoi xat pahai <r<poty<x ai<T§avE<r§at> 2^ Oi<r§a ovv 
 wag airoQEuZy rotflo totter cte'vuv; A A. Eyuys. 2. Hag; A A. 
 Eav /3s*>j au, a SaxfotlEg. 2. Ov uofoug teyEig, a AMafHia&e. 
 A A. Atoa nug xpri teysiv; 2. Oti e<xv §sog &e7w. AA. Asyu 
 &j. Alcib. i. sub finem. 
 
160 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n. 
 
 formed by nature nor art, but by divine in- 
 spiration*. In Plato's Phaedrus, Socrates 
 intreats the gods to bestow upon him interior 
 beauty-]-. Bias, one of the seven sages of 
 Greece, admonishes men to ascribe to the 
 gods whatever good they do%- Sextus, the 
 Pythagorean, asserts that God conducts men 
 in their virtuous actions ; that all the good 
 they perform should be referred to Him as 
 its author ; and that He inhabits the bosom 
 of the wise^. These and similar testimo- 
 nies, which are numerous and easily col- 
 lected, might serve to check the presump- 
 tion of all such as proudly reject what the 
 
 * Hug cvv av, u Xuxgarsg, $Qxcu<ri ysyvs<T§ai, si ywrs Qucrst 
 fjLYiTE (A<x%crzi yiyvovrai ; riv aXtev rgo?rov yiyvoiv? av 01 ayaOoi ; 
 X. Oifxai fjLtv hk av pahug av ro 5Viaa$>j vai' roira^u (aev &j Sstov 
 n (/.aXira stvai ro xl^a, xcci yiyvs§ai rovg ayaSoug ua-Trsp 01 Semi 
 ruv fiavTsuv, xai xpy\o-^o\oyoi' ovloi yap ale Quasi romroi yiyvovrai, 
 ours rsxvn, a>0\ s7ri7rvoia sk rcov Bscov yiyvofMEVoi, romroi ektiv. 
 
 J f Kahog ysvEo~§ai r' svrav§sv. 
 
 i Or* av ayahov Trgarrng sig §sxg avaits^s. 
 
 |1 Deus in bonis actibus hominibus dux est: in omni, 
 quod bene agis, auctorem esse deputa Deum. — Sapien- 
 tis mentein Deus inhabitat. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 161 
 
 scriptures advance upon the necessity of 
 divine influence, to renovate and sanctify* 
 our depraved nature. 
 
 Nothing indeed will thoroughly reconcile 
 men to this doctrine till they are brought 
 to a due sense of themselves. While they 
 continue to indulge a conceit of their own 
 native innocence, or if nature has suffered 
 any violation, that they are well able to 
 repair the breach ; while they degrade the 
 laws of God to a level with their own 
 powers, or exalt their powers to an equality 
 with the divine laws ; their natural pride 
 will not easily suffer them to admit of su- 
 perior assistance ; and the gospel* which 
 holds out this assistance, must appear in 
 their view rather in the form of folly and 
 weakness, than of the wisdom and power of 
 God unto salvation. 
 
 But however it may seem to the igno- 
 rant and the proud, it is this divine succour 
 which has been, under various dispensa- 
 tions, ever since the fall of the first man ? 
 
 'M 
 
1 62 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part i i . 
 
 the great moral cause of all the real virtue 
 that has existed in the world ; of every right 
 affection towards God, and of every emo- 
 tion of true benevolence towards man. By 
 this succour our common progenitor (as we 
 have reason to believe) was restored to that 
 moral resemblance of his Maker which he 
 had lost ; by this the patriarch Abraham, 
 with all his spiritual seed in every successive 
 age, was formed to the same image ; and we 
 have ground to hope, from prophetic de- 
 clarations, that the time is hastening, when, 
 by a y more general effusion of divine in- 
 fluence, there will be a multiplication of this 
 image in the world beyond what has hitherto 
 been known. 
 
 (II.) Let us next proceed to consider some 
 of the principal means, by which the hea- 
 venly succour now spoken of, is actually 
 communicated. 
 
 Man, in his first creation, was formed in 
 the image of his Maker; but, in his se- 
 cond or spiritual creation, this image is 
 
s e ct. 1 1 .] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 63 
 
 not restored without a process and means 
 which before had no place. And here 
 the natural and moral worlds present a 
 striking point of resemblance ; for as the 
 plants and fruits with which the earth was 
 originally clothed by the hand of the 
 Creator in the space of a single day, re- 
 quire now a much longer period, and a 
 succession of various secondary causes, be- 
 fore they are brought to their maturity ; 
 so those virtues and graces, with which 
 the human soul found herself invested 
 upon her very entrance into being, are 
 now produced in a gradual manner, and 
 by certain instituted mediums ; among which, 
 the serious perusal of scripture, medita- 
 tion, prayer, and a due attendance upon 
 public worship, deserve our particular no- 
 tice, 
 t 
 
 1. Upon the first of these let it be ob- 
 served, that truth and virtue stand in a 
 near relation to each other, and differ no 
 otherwise than as the seal from its , impres- 
 
 M 2 
 
164 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n. 
 
 sion*. Hence Christians are said to be 
 sanctified through the trutfff; to be puri- 
 fied in obeying the truth%; and to be born 
 again, not of corruptible seed, but of incor-* 
 ruptible, by the word of God \\, which is the 
 word of truth%. The energy of this word 
 is emphatically expressed in the following 
 passage of the prophet Jeremiah; Is not 
 my word like as a fire, saith the Lord, and 
 like a hammer that breaketh the rock in 
 pieces^? And the apostle Paul thus ad- 
 dresses the Thessalonians : When ye receiv- 
 ed the word of God, which ye heard of us 9 
 ye received it not as the word of men, but 
 (as it is in truth) the word of God, which 
 effectually worketh also in you that believe **♦' 
 Again, the same apostle, in his second epis- 
 tle to Timothy, pronounces a most excel- 
 lent and comprehensive elogium upon the; 
 scriptures of the Old Testament, which 
 certainly is not Jess applicable to those of 
 
 * Lord Bacon. t John xvii. 19. J 1 Pet. i. 22. 
 II 1 Pet. i. 23. | John xvii. 17, 1f Jer. xxiii. 2& 
 ** 1 Thess. ii. 13. 
 
sect, li.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 165 
 
 the New. The words are these : All scrip- 
 ture is given by inspiration of God, . and is 
 profitable, not only for doctrine to teach us 
 our duty, but also for reproof or convic- 
 tion, of the contrary ; in the next place, 
 for correction or amendment; and, lastly, 
 for instruction*, or a right method or in- 
 stitution for growth in righteousness ; that 
 the man of God may be perfect, and tho- 
 roughly furnished to all good works if. Which 
 corresponds to the declaration of the Psalm- 
 ist : The law of the Lord is perfect, convert- 
 ing the soul; the testimony of the Lord is 
 sure, making wise the simple%. Unlike 
 the great mass of human compositions, 
 the Scriptures, under a general plainness 
 of expression, are pregnant with such light 
 and efficacy, that, (as Simplicius speaks 
 of the writings of Epictetus, though with 
 far less reason,) sheuld any reader remain 
 unaffected with them, it is probable that no- 
 thing will awaken him till he comes to the 
 tribunal of the invisible world. 
 
 * Ilaihiav. f 2 Tim. iii. 16, 17. X Ps. xix, 7. 
 
1 66 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [ p a rt ii . 
 
 2. To a perusal of Scripture must be 
 added meditation, than which there is no 
 duty more necessary to be enforced, since 
 there is none of more importance, or to 
 which the mind has a stronger natural re- 
 pugnance. Men in general had rather 
 read twenty volumes, and hear many more 
 sermons, than sit down half an hour to 
 close solitary meditation ; though, without 
 this, all that they can hear or read is likely 
 to profit them little. It is by meditation 
 that the truth lodged in the understand- 
 ing is digested and turned into nourish- 
 ment; by this the mind is brought into 
 a kind of contact with its object, and re- 
 ceives its full impression. When David 
 would describe a man who, like a tree 
 planted by the rivers of water brings forth 
 his fruit in his season, we hear of one whose 
 delight is in the law of the Lord, and who 
 meditates upon it day and night*. And if 
 such was the effect of this spiritual exer- 
 cise under the former ceconomy, which 
 
 * Ps, i. 2, S, 
 
s-jsct. ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 167 
 
 exhibited only a shadow of good things to 
 come, what must it be now, when life and 
 immortality are brought to light by the gos- 
 pel? The pious Christian, who frequently 
 contemplates in this mirror the glory of 
 the Lord, will be changed into the same 
 image, from glory to glory*. 
 
 8. Prayer is the offspring of meditation. 
 While I was ?nusing, says the Psalmist, the 
 fire burned; then spake I with my tongue^. 
 And as meditation produces prayer, so 
 prayer exalts meditation, as it draws down 
 upon it the light and grace of heaven, 
 without which, (as we have just observed,) 
 there is nothing truly holy either in our 
 thoughts or actions. If any one is so in- 
 attentive in reading his Bible as to be ig- 
 norant of what is here advanced, I would 
 refer him (should he be a member of the 
 established church,) back to what he was 
 taught in his catechism J. And even the 
 
 * 2 Cor. iii. 18. f Ps. xxxix. 3. 
 
 % After the catechumen has repeated a comprehen- 
 sive summary of his duty, in thought, word, and action, 
 
168 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ii. 
 
 wiser heathens, to whom perhaps he is 
 more disposed to listen than either to his 
 Bible or to the church, might teach him 
 in general, and this by their example as 
 well as doctrine, the expediency of prayer 
 to engage the divine favour and assistance. 
 Pliny the younger introduces his famous 
 panegyric, by observing to the Roman 
 -senate, That it was a rule with their fore- 
 fathers to enter upon no important action or 
 discourse without prayer, from the just per- 
 suasion they had, that men could do nothing 
 wisely or happily without the assistance of 
 the immortal gods*. To this general testi- 
 
 towards God, his neighbour, and himself, he is thus pa- 
 rentally admonished: " My good child, know this, that 
 thou art not able to do these things of thyself, nor to 
 walk in the commandments of God, nor to serve him, 
 without his special grace; which thou must learn at all 
 times to call for by diligent prayer** 
 
 * Bene ac sapienter, patres conscripti, majores insti- 
 tuerunt, ut rerum agendarum, ita dicendi initium a pre- 
 cationibus capere, qubd nihil rite nihilque providenter 
 homines sine deorum immortalium ope, consilio, ho- 
 nore, auspicarentur. 
 
s ect. ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 169 
 
 mony I shall add the following excellent 
 specimen of heathen devotion, whose lan- 
 guage a Christian might adopt without 
 scruple: I beseech thee, Almighty Lord, who 
 art the author and guide of that reason 
 which dwells in us, that thou wouldst keep 
 us mindful of our high original, and aid our 
 endeavours to subdue our irregular appetites 
 and unreasonable passions, to rectify our un- 
 derstandings, and by the light of truth to 
 arrive at an union with essential goodness. 
 And in the last place, I pray thee, O Sa- 
 viour*, to scatter those clouds which hang 
 over our minds, that, as Homer speaks, we 
 may be able to discern clearly both God and 
 manf. Such prayer, if offered to the true 
 God, who is represented in Scripture as 
 the Saviour of all men%, can never be in 
 vain ; and it contains a just rebuke to 
 
 # Toy auTvifa iketeuq). 
 
 t Simplicius at the close of his Commentary on 
 Epictetus. 
 
 % " Therefore we both labour, and suffer reproach, 
 because we trust in the living God, who is the Saviour of 
 all men, especially of those that believe." 1 Tim, iv. 10. 
 
1 70 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [partii. 
 
 those who, under the light of Christianity, 
 either totally neglect a duty so essential to 
 all religion, or content themselves with the 
 profane litany of Horace : 
 
 Hoc satis est orare Jovern, qui donat et aufert. 
 Det vitam, det opes, aequum mi animum ipse parabo. 
 
 4. The last medium we have proposed 
 to notice, through which we may expect 
 the gracious influence of heaven, is public 
 worship. There is something in the very 
 act of joining together in prayer and praise 
 to the great Author x>f the universe, which 
 has a natural tendency to elevate the mind 
 above the low interests and passions of 
 the present life. While a company of im- 
 mortal beings present themselves in so- 
 lemn worship before the eternal I AM; 
 while in lowly prostration, under a con- 
 sciousness of guilt and misery, they sup- 
 plicate for mercy; or in humble adoration, 
 with united voices, as the sound of many wa- 
 ters, ascribe blessing, and honour, and glory, 
 and power, unto Him that sitteth upon 
 the throne ; though this alone is not suffi- 
 
s E c t. 1 1 .] The positive Mea ns of Virtue considered. 1 7 1 
 
 cient to touch the heart with true devotion, 
 it must powerfully tend to compose its ir- 
 regular motions, and to render it more sus- 
 ceptible of holy impressions ; as the agitat- 
 ed spirit of Elisha, of which we read in 
 the second book of Kings, was calmed by 
 the notes of a minstrel, and prepared for 
 divine inspirations*. Even Saul, when he 
 came among the prophets, caught a por- 
 tion of their spirit, and he also prophesied-f. 
 And probably there are few persons who 
 are entirely insensible to that happy sym- 
 pathy which attends real piety, especially 
 when it acts with collected force in the so- 
 ciety of good men, or in a truly devout con- 
 gregation J. 
 
 # 2 Kings iii. 14, 15. 
 
 f 1. Sam. x. 10 — 13. and xix. 23, 24. 
 
 t The reader will permit me here to relate an anec- 
 dote of one of the ablest mathematicians of this age, 
 which was told me by his friend, who was with him at 
 the time : That, in passing by a numerous religious as- 
 sembly, whose voices were exalted in devout psalmody, 
 he was cast into a kind of momentary rapture, which he 
 could not forbear to express in terms of pious admiration: 
 
1 72 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part if. 
 
 Hence arises a strong argument for a dili- 
 gent attendance upon religious assemblies ; 
 while a much stronger is drawn from the pro- 
 mise of Christ, That where two or three shall 
 meet together in his name, he will be there 
 in the midst of thenfi : which certainly in- 
 tends more than his essential presence, (for so 
 he is present in all places by his divine na- 
 ture,) and mtfst imply those gracious commu- 
 nications which are the fruit of his sacrifice 
 and intercession. 
 
 It may here farther be observed, that a 
 neglect of public worship is particularly in- 
 excusable in this country, where it is con- 
 ducted with such a variety, even among 
 good men, that it might be expected to 
 suit every conscience, and almost every 
 taste. In the established church, together 
 with a liturgy of distinguished excellence} 
 
 a circumstance the more remarkable, as this eminent 
 philosopher had not entered the doors of a temple for 
 the last twenty years.. 
 * Matt, xviii. 20. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 73 
 
 there are many faithful pastors and teach- 
 ers ; and out of it there are many others of 
 a similar character ; besides all this, we 
 have liberty ; and what can be desired 
 more? In many places, the pulpit yields 
 a strain of evangelical doctrine ; and 
 should any one be so unfavourably situ- 
 ated as to be deprived of this advantage, 
 let him not unwisely disparage what he 
 enjoys ; but remember, that the worst ser- 
 mon he hears contains more important 
 matter than is to be found in all the vo- 
 lumes of heathen philosophers. Or should 
 he now and then encounter an harangue 
 which has neither reason nor scripture to 
 recommend it, he may learn to quiet his 
 mind with the remark of good Mr. Her- 
 bert ; 
 
 If all wants sense, 
 God takes a text, and preacheth patience. 
 
 These are some of the principal means 
 by which, under the influence of grace, 
 and not alone from their own natural effi- 
 cacy,, man is restored to that divine like- 
 
1 74 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [p a r t . 1 1 ; 
 
 ness which was defaced by sin, and which 
 consisted in knowledge, righteousness, and 
 true holiness*. Nor is it at all more ne- 
 cessary that we should comprehend the 
 nature and operation of this grace, than 
 that we should comprehend the nature 
 and action of those powers on which de- 
 pend the order and various motions of the 
 material world. And as, in this latter case, 
 it is sufficient if we know in what manner 
 to apply those powers to the useful pur- 
 poses of the present life ; so it is sufficient, 
 in the former, if we know how to de- 
 rive the influence of grace to the purposes 
 of spiritual life and final salvation -f\ 
 
 * Col. iii. 20. and Eph. iv. 24. 
 
 t The following passage from a work which highly 
 deserves the attention of our present minute philoso- 
 phers, and of all others who are in danger of infection 
 from their principles, may illustrate the above paragraph: 
 
 " I presume it will be allowed that there are very evi- 
 dent propositions or theorems relating to force, which 
 contain useful truths: for instance, that a body with con- 
 junct forces describes the diagonal of a parallelogram in 
 the same time that it would the sides with separate. Is 
 not this a principle of very extensive use? Does not the 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 175 
 
 (III.) As the circumstances which are 
 peculiarly favourable in a life of retire- 
 ment, to the devotional exercises now 
 
 doctrine of the composition and resolution of forces de- 
 pend upon it; and, in consequence thereof, numberless 
 rules and theorems directing men how to act, and ex- 
 plaining phenomena throughout the mechanics and 
 mathematical philosophy ? And if, by considering this 
 doctrine of force, men arrive at the knowledge of many 
 inventions in mechanics, and are taught to frame en- 
 gines, by means of which things difficult and otherwise 
 impossible may be performed ; and if the same doctrine, 
 which is so beneficial here below, serves also as a key 
 to discover the nature of the celestial motions ; shall 
 we deny that it is of use, either in practice or specula- 
 tion, because we have no distinct idea of force ? Or that 
 which we admit with regard to force, upon what pre- 
 tence can we deny concerning grace? If there are 
 queries, disputes, perplexities, diversity of notions and 
 opinions, about the one, so there are about the other 
 also : If we can form no precise distinct idea of the one,, 
 so neither can we of the other. Ought we not therefore, 
 by a parity of reason, to conclude, there may be possibly 
 divers true and useful propositions concerning the one 
 as well as the other? And that grace may, for aught you 
 know, be an object of our faith, and influence our life and 
 actions, as a principle destructive of evil habits and pro- 
 ductive of good ones, al thou gh we cannot attain a dis tinct 
 
 7 
 
176 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ii. 
 
 stated, will easily suggest themselves to 
 the reader, I shall not here stay to recite 
 them ; but proceed, lastly, to the objection 
 intended, which is this : That whatever be 
 the advantages of a private over a public 
 life on the side of devotion, it is inferior 
 to it on the side of action, by which virtue is 
 carried into practice, and thus most effectually 
 promoted. 
 
 This objection, in its principle, that vir- 
 tue is increased by action, is undoubtedly 
 just; but that public employment furnishes 
 in general a course of action best adapted to 
 this purpose, is not so evident as to be re- 
 ceived without examination. 
 
 If we take a view of that numerous class 
 of men who are occupied in business, we 
 shall find them often labouring under the 
 
 idea of it, separate or abstracted from God the author, 
 from man the subject, and from virtue and piety its 
 effects?" Bishop Berkley's Minute Philosopher, Dia- 
 logue v. § 7* 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 177 
 
 pressure and urgency of their situation ; op- 
 pressed with toil, or harassed with impor- 
 tunity; involved in perplexity for want of 
 means and instruments to execute their en- 
 gagements, or anxious for expedients to sup- 
 port their credit ; so that their daily life is 
 rather a hard and enfeebling struggle with 
 difficulties, than a moderate and wholesome 
 exercise of their active powers. And though 
 the more peculiar temptations of traffic can 
 only be well described by those who have 
 collected them from actual experience, there 
 can be no doubt that they are often subtle and 
 prevalent, especially in those employments 
 which more immediately relate to the fa- 
 shions, the luxuries, the elegancies, and 
 splendour of life. He who can travel in 
 these roads without entangling his con- 
 science, has learned to pick his way with 
 no ordinary circumspection. Nor is it a 
 difficulty in commercial transactions only, 
 to maintain an undeviating tenour in the path 
 6f strict rectitude ; but likewise, whenever a 
 multiplicity of affairs, which is sure to in- 
 volve many jarring claims and interests, is to 
 
178 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part if. 
 
 be settled with others. In such cases, it is 
 a rare virtue which will not decline a little, 
 if not to the actual injury of truth and jus- 
 tice, at least to the practice of such shifts and 
 expedients of which truth' and justice must 
 i be ashamed. And if it be thus difficult for 
 one in public life to acquit himself of his fun- 
 damental duties, it must be still more so in 
 regard to those duties which approach nearer 
 to a perfect virtue. If to this we add the 
 general impression of the world, arising from 
 the combined powers of its corrupt principles 
 and inordinate passions, we may form some 
 idea of that vigilance of exertion which is 
 necessary for a good man to make his way, 
 and to grow still better, in opposition to it, 
 or even to withstand the violence of the 
 torrent. 
 
 The question then is, Whether some ac- 
 tive employment (whose utility is acknow- 
 ledged in respect of the health of the mind 
 as well as of the body,) may not usually 
 be found in retired life, of a degree and 
 kind more favourable to virtue than that 
 
«ect. li.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 179 
 
 which we have now described? And this 
 question, I believe, there are few who will 
 not be inclined to answer in the affirmative, 
 when they recollect, that, besides an occa- 
 sional attention to agriculture and other 
 rural occupations, a retired and well-dis- 
 posed man may devote a part of his time 
 to assist his neighbour with his purse or 
 his counsel, to encourage industry, to pro- 
 mote the education of -poor children, and 
 to supply in general the means of religious 
 instruction ; that in some or all of these 
 methods he may provide himself with a mo- 
 derate and regular employment, and of a 
 kind the most conducive to his own moral 
 improvement. 
 
 Such are the remarks which have oc- 
 curred upon the subject of Education and 
 Religion, as the two most powerful means 
 of true virtue ; and to close the section, 
 it remains only to consider, under the third 
 head, the subserviency of Philosophy and 
 History to the same great end. 
 n 2 
 

 ISO The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n 
 
 III. Philosophy and History* 
 
 Let us, then, now attend the retired 
 man in his philosophical and historical re- 
 searches, in order to ascertain what help 
 he may thence derive towards a virtuous 
 progress. 
 
 Philosophy is divided into natural and 
 moral i We shall begin with the former. 
 
 1. Whatever tends to enlarge and en- 
 noble the mind, to expand its views beyond 
 the sphere of ordinary life, to purge it from 
 the feculence of the senses, and inspire it with 
 a taste for intellectual enjoyment, is evidently 
 favourable to virtue. Now a comprehensive 
 study of nature, (when accompanied, as it 
 ought to be, with prayer for that divine light 
 and succour, whose necessity to every moral 
 purpose we have before asserted,) has such a 
 tendency. While in this manner we examine 
 at large the globe we inhabit, explore its mines 
 and its caverns, or survey the striking di- 
 versity of its surface, here rising in lofty 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 181 
 
 mountains, and there stretched into vast 
 plains and deserts, or diffused into a 
 boundless expanse of waters ; while we 
 note the pleasing variety of its vegetable 
 productions, its numerous tribes of ani- 
 mals, and their different habitudes; or as- 
 cend into the region of the atmosphere to 
 admire 'the beautiful splendour and the 
 awful grandeur of its meteors ; or while 
 we observe on every side indubitable proofs 
 of that change which has passed upon 
 this sublunary system, and perceive ak 
 ready in action those causes which may 
 bring on its final catastrophe : — all this 
 must tend to give amplitude to the mind, 
 to compose its passions, and prepare it for 
 moral and religious contemplation. Or 
 should we recede from this ' terraqueous 
 dwelling till it became a speck in the im- 
 mensity of space, it must serve still more, 
 by extending our view of the universe, to 
 enlarge and elevate our faculties, to repress 
 the ardour of a vain ambition,, and to 
 weaken our earthly attachments. Such 
 appears to Jiava been the effect upon the 
 
182 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part it. 
 
 famous Roman, Scipio iEmilianus, (if we 
 may credit the account of his extraordinary 
 dream given us by Tully,) when, from his 
 imaginary station in the galaxy, he looked 
 down upon the earth, and reflected how small 
 a portion of this diminutive orb was occupied 
 by that empire which had till then engaged 
 all his attention*. 
 
 2. Again: Whatever tends to purge the 
 mind from the terrors of superstition, (and 
 philosophy has this tendency,) is favourable 
 to the advancement of real virtue, whose 
 genius is noble and unconstrained, and 
 delights in truth and liberty. While men 
 
 * Erat autem is splendidissimo candore inter flammas 
 circus elucens, quern vos, ut a Graiis accepistis, orbem 
 lacteum nuncupatis. Ex quo omnia mihi contemplanti, 
 praeclara caetera & mirabilia videbantur. Erant autem 
 eas stellae, quas nunquam ex hoc loco vidimus ; & eae 
 magiiitudines omnium, quas esse nunquam suspicati 
 sumus ; ex quibus erat ilia minima," quae ultima caelo, 
 citima terris, luce lucebat aliena. Stellarum autem globi 
 terrae magnitudinem facile vincebant. Jam ipsa terra 
 ita mihi parva visa est, ut me imperii nostri, quo quasi 
 punctum ejus attingimus, pozniteret. — Somnium Scipio- 
 nis, | 3. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. r83 
 
 gxe ignorant of nature, they are very liable 
 to resolve into supernatural interposition, 
 and to construe into certain signs of di- 
 vine displeasure, events which the light of 
 philosophy would teach them were no 
 more than the regular consequences of 
 general laws. An eclipse of the sun or 
 moon ' has been sufficient, in former ages, 
 to terrify half the world, to raise vain pre- 
 sages of approaching calamities, to arrest 
 armies in the career of victory, or tie 
 up their hands in situations which called 
 for every exertion*. To the same ig- 
 norance must be ascribed the follies of 
 judicial astrology, and many of those arts 
 pf divination which still continue to be 
 practised in various parts of the world. It 
 was this which clothed Roger Bacon with 
 
 - * As we are told of Nicias, the Athenian general, 
 that, upon such an exigency, being thrown into a sud- 
 den consternation by a' lunar eclipse, he lost all his mili- 
 tary virtue, and tamely yielded up himself and his nu- 
 merous forces to the mercy of the enemy. And thus it 
 often happens in the ordinary' conduct of life, that fear, 
 the child of superstition, betrays those succours which are 
 offered by reason and religion. See the Discowse oj 
 Plutarch on Superstition* 
 
184 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part it. 
 
 the character of a magician ; and should 
 any one at this day exhibit the surprising 
 phenomena of magnetism or electricity 
 among a horde of savages, it is probable 
 they would regard him in the same light, 
 and might easily be made the dupes of their 
 own simplicity. Nor ought the most en- 
 lightened Christian philosopher to imagine 
 himself so secure against the impressions of 
 ignorance or imposture, as to render any 
 farther attention to the study of nature un- 
 necessary*. 
 
 * The following lines of Lucretius deserve to be cited 
 on this occasion : 
 
 Nam veluti pueri trepidant, atque omnia caecis 
 In tenebris metuunt ; sic nos in luce timemus ; 
 Interdum nihilo qua* sunt metuenda magis, quam 
 Quae pueri in tenebris pavitent, finguntque futura : 
 JIunc igitur terrorem animi, tenebrasque necesse'st 
 Non radii solis, neque lucida tela diei 
 Discutiant ; sed naturae species ratioque.— Lib. IL 
 Thus translated by Mr. Dryden : 
 As children tremble in the dark, so we 
 Ev'n in broad day-light are possess'd with fears, 
 And shake at shadows, fanciful and vain 
 As those which in the breast of children reign. 
 
sect, li.] The positive Means of Virtue considered, 185 
 
 3. Farther : A genuine natural philosophy 
 is favourable to virtue, as it is suited to 
 humble the understanding, by reducing it 
 to a sense of its extreme ignorance and 
 limitation: I say a genuine natural phi- 
 losophy, (which the reader must have per- 
 ceived was meant in the preceding in- 
 stances ;) for there is a something which has 
 gone under the name of philosophy that 
 has a very different operation ; though it 
 fails to reach the reality of things, it tends 
 to swell the mind with a wonderful conceit 
 of its own powers and attainments. Upon 
 principles gratuitously adopted, it has pre- 
 tended to explain the constitution and course 
 of the natural world, and even to unfold the 
 manner in which it was originally formed : 
 a presumption of which such a creature as 
 man, who probably holds the lowest place 
 in the scale of intellectual being, might 
 
 These bugbears of the mind, this inward hell, 
 
 No rays of outward sunshine can dispel ; 
 
 But nature and right reason must display 
 
 Their beams abroad,and bring the darksome soul to day. 
 
186 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part \\ , 
 
 have been thought incapable. True, phi- 
 losophy is not of this assuming character ; 
 it teaches us, that no man can find out 
 the work that God jnaketh from the be- 
 ginning to the end* ; that we know but 
 parts of his ways-f ; that it requires long 
 and patient observation to # lay a grounc} 
 in experience on which to erect any gene- 
 ral axiom ; that this can be done only 
 in few cases; and that, when it is done, 
 and the axiom is properly established, the 
 practical use will commonly be inconsider- 
 able. All this is evidently calculated to 
 abate the pride of the humap mind, to 
 deliver it from a vain confidence in its 
 own abstracted reasonings and fanciful 
 theories, and at the same time to regulate 
 its enquiries and its expectations : for " man 
 " being the minister and interpreter of na- 
 " tare, acts and understands so far as he 
 " has observed of the order, the works, 
 " and mind of nature ; and can proceed no 
 " farther : for no power is able to loose 
 
 * Eccle's. iii. 11. + Job xxvi. 14. 
 
sect. 1 1. } The positive Means of Virtue co?isidered. 1&7 
 
 " or break the chains of causes ; nor is na~ 
 " ture to be conquered but by su^bmis- 
 " sion*/" Under this wholesome disci- 
 pline, the understanding is reclaimed, is 
 made v sensible of its contraction and weak- 
 ness, and thus is prepared to yield' a humble 
 deference to the word of revelation ; a dis- 
 position which is one of. the greatest vir- 
 tues in itself, and productive of all others. 
 
 Lastly : The knowledge of nature is fa- 
 
 * Lord Bacon. See his "works, by Shaw, vol. i. p. 1 6. 
 He had before said, " Nor could we hope to succeed, 
 if we arrogantly searched for the sciences in the nar- 
 row cells of the human understanding, and not submis- 
 sively in the wider world." And again ; " If we shall 
 have effected any thing to the purpose, what led us to it 
 was a true and genuine humiliation of mind. Those who 
 before us applied themselves to the discovery of arts, 
 having just glanced upon things, examples and ex- 
 periments ; immediately, as if invention was but a kind 
 of contemplation, raised up their own spirits to deliver 
 oracles : whereas our method is continually to dwell 
 upon things soberly, without abstracting or setting 
 the understanding farther from them than makes their 
 images meet ; which»leaves but little room for genius 
 or mental abilities." 
 
188 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part 11. 
 
 vourable to virtue, as it supplies analog 
 gies that are of use to obviate objections 
 against the credibility of religion. If na- 
 ture and Christianity proceed from the 
 same Author, it is reasonable to expect 
 between them such features of resem- 
 blance, so much of the same style and 
 character, as would afford evidence of their 
 Common original. Accordingly such cha- 
 racters cf resemblance to each other are 
 found actually to exist. In particular it 
 is found, that whatever objections lie 
 against the Christian religion, the same 
 bear with equal force against the consti- 
 tution and course of nature ; so that who- 
 ever admits the latter to be from God, 
 cannot, consistently with his own princi- 
 ples, deny the general credibility, that the 
 former may have proceeded from the same 
 original. This an excellent author has so 
 fully demonstrated, in a- treatise very com- 
 monly known, and justly held in high esti- 
 mation*, that I might entirely have referred 
 
 * Bishop Butler's Analogy. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 89 
 
 the reader to what is there contained ; but I 
 could not pass a subject of such importance 
 without the following brief illustration. 
 
 The analogy between force in the natu- 
 ral world, and grace in Christianity, has 
 already been observed ; and it has ap- 
 peared, that we have as much reason to 
 argue against the reality of the former, 
 on account of its mysterious nature and 
 operation, as, upon the same grounds, to 
 argue against the reality of the latter ; and 
 that, as it is sufficient if we know how to 
 employ the former to our benefit ; how, for 
 instance, we may receive, by the help of 
 fit engines, the force of air or water in or- 
 der to grind our corn, and for other useful, 
 purposes of life ; so, in the other case, it 
 is sufficient if we know through what ap- 
 pointed means we may receive the influ- 
 ences of grace, in order to our sanctification 
 and salvation. 
 
 The resurrection of the body is another 
 article of the Christian system, whose na- 
 
190 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n. 
 
 tural incredibility is obviated by analogy. 
 St. Paul, in treating upon this subject, thus 
 speaks : But some man will say, How are 
 the dead raised up, and with what body do 
 they come ? To which he replies, Thou fool, 
 that which thou sowest is not quickened ex- 
 cept it die ; and that which thou sowest, thou 
 sowest not that body which shall be, but bare 
 grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some 
 other grain ; but God giveth it a body as it 
 hath pleased him, and to every seed his own 
 body*. Here the human body is resembled 
 to a vegetable seed : and it is supposed that, 
 prior to experience, it would be no more cre- 
 dible for a grain of corn after it had seem- 
 ingly perished in the earth, to spring up again 
 in other grains similar to itself, than for a 
 human body after it was laid in the grave, to 
 be raised again from a state of dissolution. 
 The like analogy is presented in the successive 
 transformations of some insects from a ver- 
 micular to a kind of sepulchral state, and 
 thence to an aerial existence. Nay, the 
 
 * 1 Cor. xv. 35—8. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 191 
 
 whole face of nature, if viewed in the depth 
 of winter, exhibits the same emblematic in- 
 struction; and, could we suspend the effect 
 of previous experience, it might appear per- 
 haps as incredible, that the whole vegetable 
 world in the course of a few months should 
 resume its former verdure and beauty, as that 
 the dead of all past ages should rise again at 
 the last day. May we not then address the 
 philosophic unbeliever in the words of one of 
 our popular poets : 
 
 Read nature ; nature is a friend to truth, 
 Nature is christian, preaches to mankind, 
 And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 
 
 Other instances of analogy I leave to the 
 reader's own observation and enquiry ; and, 
 as his view becomes more extended, he will 
 more clearly discover that the source of men's 
 infidelity lies in their ignorance of nature as 
 well as of revelation. 
 
 Let us now proceed to consider, in a few 
 instances, how the philosophy called moral 
 may contribute to the promotion of religion 
 and virtue. 
 
192 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part jr. 
 
 1. And, first, it may contribute, by tra- 
 cing out, however imperfectly, the equity 
 and goodness of the divine laws and dis- 
 pensations, when once they are actually 
 declared and manifested : which is a very 
 different thing from an attempt to deter- 
 mine, & priori, what these laws and dispen- 
 sations ought to be, from our abstracted 
 ideas of equity and goodness To proceed 
 in this method would generally be an act 
 of high presumption, and might easily be- 
 tray the arrogant speculator into very dan- 
 gerous errors ; while the former mode of 
 investigation, provided it be kept within 
 the limits of the human understanding, 
 and conducted with due reverence and hu- 
 mility, is the noblest exercise of true phi- 
 losophy, which may thus afford succour 
 to faith in the hour of trial, and add 
 strength and confirmation to virtue. For 
 though implicitly to obey all the com- 
 mands of God, and acquiesce in all his 
 proceedings towards u&, is our evident duty, 
 and constitutive of oiAr perfection and hap- 
 piness, it is often no small advantage 
 
 2 
 
sect. II.] The positive Means of Virtue considered, \Q3 
 
 in our present state of infirmity, when we 
 are able to discern, that infinite wisdom 
 and benignity are in conjunction with so- 
 vereign authority, and that the ways of 
 heaven towards men are not the issues of 
 mere will and pleasure, but have a reason 
 in the divine perfections, in the nature and 
 fitness of things^ and bear a gracious re- 
 gard to our present and future welfare. 
 In proportion as this is seen, our self-love 
 is disarmed, and our natural obstinacy 
 softened. When we see that the gospel is 
 no arbitrary plot to lay our pride in the 
 dust, but a demonstration of the wisdom and 
 righteousness of God*, in the recovery of 
 man to more than his original glory and 
 happiness, we shall be disposed to regard 
 it with less repugnance ; and again, when 
 we see that its moral precepts are condu* 
 cive to the same great end, and were never 
 meant to impose any unnecessary restraints 
 on our liberty j or to abridge our innocent 
 enjoyments, we shall be less offended with 
 
 * Ephes. i. 8. Rom. iii. 25, 
 O 
 
194 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ii. 
 
 their apparent severity. Thus, by a dis- 
 covery that we are under the direction of a 
 will that is at once good and acceptable and 
 perfect, we shall be the more powerfully 
 induced to embrace it with a cordial 
 alacrity. 
 
 2. Again ; Moral Philosophy, by show- 
 ing more minutely the nature arid extent 
 of our social obligations, may be service- 
 able to the cause of virtue, The principle 
 of virtue, which is the love of God and man, 
 is indeed the same in all; but the proper 
 display of it in practice varies with every 
 individual, and manifestly depends on his 
 particular station and circumstances in the 
 world. 
 
 It is true, the scripture enters into sun- 
 dry details upon this subject*, and sup- 
 plies sufficient rules for the general con- 
 duct of life, in every age and country, 
 
 * See, among other instances, the 1 3th chapter to the 
 Romans, and the 2nd chapter of the Epistle to Titus. 
 
s e c t . 1 1 .] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 95 
 
 and in every condition of rank and fortune. 
 Yet still there remain many decencies and 
 proprieties of behaviour, many minor du- 
 ties, which can only be known by a care- 
 ful survev of the times and circumstances 
 in which we are actually placed. For want 
 of this, good men may often behave them- 
 selves worse than others, who neither fear 
 God, nor regard their fellow-creatures, any 
 farther than their present interest is con- 
 cerned. For want of duly considering 
 the state of society they are under, its dif- 
 ferent classes, and their various relations 
 among themselves, and to one another, 
 they may. very culpably fail in those deco- 
 rums and laudable usages, of which a dis- 
 creet man of the world is observant. What 
 usually tempts persons of piety to this in- 
 attention is an opinion, that all the form 
 and circumstance, the mode and ceremony 
 of life, are little things. Here then a pru- 
 dent philosophy may come in aid of thefr 
 religion, by teaching them that on these 
 little things depend much of the good or- 
 der that is found amongst men, and much 
 o 2 
 
196 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part it. 
 
 of their comfort; and, what is more, much 
 of the favourable attention they' afford to 
 religion and virtue; which are seldom re- 
 ceived with kindness, when introduced in a 
 manner either rude or impertinent. 
 
 5. We may next observe, that there is 
 the like tendency in a just moral philoso- 
 phy, as in the study of nature, to reduce 
 us to humility ; the one on account of our 
 imperfect virtue, and the other (as we 
 have before remarked) on account of th& 
 indistinctness and limitation of our know- 
 ledge. While we consider our duties grossly, 
 we may easily be satisfied with ourselves ; 
 but not so when we view them clearly and 
 distinctly in all their appropriate and dis- 
 criminating circumstances : for every ac- 
 tion has its particular congruities, which 
 if not attended to, the action itself is so 
 far vitiated. It is not enough to be respect- 
 ful to a superior, unless we pay him that 
 peculiar respect which is due to his age, 
 his station, his character, and the relation 
 he stands in to us. So the more familiar 
 
sect. ii. The positive Means of Virtue considered, 197 
 
 regard, we owe to aa equal, or an inferior, 
 ought to be qualified by the particular 
 circumstances. When in this manner we 
 examine our most laudable conduct, we. 
 shall find it maimed and imperfect ; and 
 that if in some respects it deserves praise, 
 in others it needs pardon. Thus, as we 
 grow in a critical acquaintance with those 
 fitnesses and proprieties which must give 
 to our actions their full integrity and 
 beauty, and make virtue look like itself, 
 we shall be taught, under a consciousness 
 of our innumerable deficiencies, the need 
 we have to cultivate that humility of temper, 
 which so such becomes the best man in his 
 best performances, 
 
 4. To expose the general vanity of the 
 world, the fallacy of its hopes, and the 
 certainty of its evils, is another mode in 
 which philosophy may Conduce to the in- 
 terest of virtue ; as it may thus serve to 
 regulate our desires and expectations, to 
 abate our envy on account of the superior 
 fortune of others, and to render us con-? 
 
198 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part ii, 
 
 tented with our own. In this branch of 
 moral wisdom there has never, I presume, 
 been a greater proficient in any age or 
 nation than the ancient author of the 
 book of Ecclesiastes, who, after he had set 
 his heart to seek and search out concerning 
 all things that are done under heaven, thus 
 declares the result: I have seen all the 
 works that are done under the sun ; and be- 
 hold all is vanity and vexation of spirit; 
 that which is crooked cannot be made 
 straight, and that which is wanting cannot 
 be numbered*. And these evils have af- 
 forded topics to almost every eminent mo- 
 ralist, since his time, for much eloquent 
 description and pathetic complaint. Of this 
 kind of composition we have excellent 
 specimens in many of our sermons, and in 
 many of those periodical essays which 
 have appeared amongst us within the last 
 hundred years ; and in none has the con- 
 dition of human life been more justly or 
 elegantly deplored than in the more se- 
 
 *Eccles. i. 13 — 15. 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 199 
 
 rious numbers of the Humbler, and in some 
 other productions of the same great author. 
 Lastly, besides a conviction of the vanity 
 of the world, we may derive from philoso- 
 phy many particular directions for our 
 proper behaviour in it. It was to draw 
 ©ut these instructive counsels for the use 
 of all succeeding generations, that the wise 
 prince above named composed his book 
 of proverbs ; of which the design was, as 
 he tells us in his preface, To knots) wisdom 
 and instruction, to perceive the words of 
 understanding ; to receive the instruction of 
 wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity* 
 to give subtilty to the simple, to the young 
 man knowledge and discretion*. Nor is 
 there perhaps a moral writer, ancient or mo- 
 dern, from whom a prudent man may not 
 collect some useful hint for the better regu- 
 lation of his conduct, both in public and in 
 private. 
 
 And thus may appear the utility of mo-* 
 ral philosophy, and how much it deserves 
 
 *tProv. i P 2—4 
 
£00 The positive Means of Virtue co7isidered.\_YA'R'£ iu 
 
 to be admitted into our studious retire- 
 ments, while it acts its own part, and keeps 
 within its proper bounds ; while it endea- 
 vours modestly to trace out the equity 
 and goodness of the divine laws and dis- 
 pensations, to mark with more precision 
 the nature and extent of our social duties, 
 to. show us the imperfection of our virtue, 
 and the vanity of this world when sepa- 
 rated from the next. But when it once 
 presumes to transgress these limits, and 
 instead of the hand-maid would become 
 the rival of religion ; especially when it 
 would substitute the doctrine of manners 
 for the doctrine which is according to godli- 
 ness s and thus intercept the progress of 
 the mind from morality to piety ; it is then 
 corrupted by the elements of this world? 
 and degenerates into vain deceit*' And 
 here lies the main charge against our po- 
 pular moral doctrine, whether contained 
 in sermons or otherwise, that it generally 
 tends to supplant those great principles of 
 Christianity, by which alone we can be 
 
 * Coloss. ii. 8* 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue corisidered. 201 
 
 brought into a state of favour with God, 
 and of conformity to his image. By di- 
 rect- assertions, and perhaps still more fre- 
 quently by secret insinuations, it leads to 
 an opinion, that to be reformed is to be re- 
 generated : and that a laudable discharge 
 of our social and civil duties is all the vir- 
 tue that is required at our hands, or that 
 is necessary to entitle us to the kingdom 
 of heaven. In this manner it is that the 
 philosophy now in question, like the harlot 
 in the Proverbs, seduces passengers who go 
 right on their way * 9 and who without this 
 interruption, might by gradual advances at- 
 tain at last to a full participation of the bles- 
 sings of true religion. 
 
 History. — Of the moral improvement 
 to be derived from history which (as some 
 have well said) is nothing but philosophy 
 teaching by example, and therefore teach- 
 ing the more effectually, a remark or two 
 may here be sufficient. * 
 
 * Pro v. ix. 15. 
 
202 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part 13. 
 
 In a former section it has been observed, 
 that, to a man of understanding and sen- 
 sibility, the reading of well-chosen history 
 is almost equivalent to an actual engage- 
 ment in the scenes represented. In every 
 interesting conjuncture that passes before 
 him, while he forms a probable conjecture, 
 and has sometimes a strong percep- 
 tion of the feelings and views of the seve- 
 ral actors, he has a lively consciousness 
 what his own would have been in their par- 
 ticular situations. Under this conscious- 
 ness, if his end in reading, as we sup- 
 pose, be moral discipline, he will not fail 
 to apply the rule of duty to the particular 
 instances, and, upon a discovery of the 
 vices and defects of his character, will ad- 
 dress himself to seek and apply those re- 
 medies which may serve to their correction. 
 In this way the retired man may attain an 
 extensive acquaintance with himself, may 
 explore his strength and weakness, and be 
 led to such resolutions, followed with such 
 active endeavours, as may oe effectual to 
 
sect. ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 0,03 
 
 diminish his imperfections, and to increase 
 his virtues. 
 
 Even a mere exhibition of the world, in 
 the mirror of faithful history, has in itself 
 a powerful tendency to produce, among 
 other good effects, the cure of a vain am- 
 bition, to reconcile the mind to a virtuous 
 obscurity, and to inspire a spirit of univer- 
 sal candour and moderation. While we 
 contemplate the dishonest shifts, the mean 
 compliances, the endless mortifications 
 and disappointments of worldly men, in 
 the chase of power and distinction ; or 
 note the innumerable recorded examples, 
 on the one hand, of prosperous folly or 
 villany, and, on the other, of neglected or 
 degraded merit : the mind naturally re- 
 coils with indignation, and clings with 
 alacrity to the blessings of a humble con- 
 dition. Or when we view the various sects 
 and parties into which men are divided, 
 in religion and politics, and observe that 
 the best of them are not without some 
 alloy of error or depravity, nor the worst 
 
£04 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part h, 
 
 without some laudable opinion or practice, 
 we find relief from bigotry and faction, 
 and learn to look on those of our own way 
 without a blind admiration, and to regard 
 the rest with a spirit of generous equity. 
 
 Of all the various species of history, per- 
 haps biography yields the most improve- 
 ment, especially when it relates to persons 
 whose rank and situation in the world were 
 not very different from our own. Such 
 we naturally attend with interest through 
 every stage of life and vicissitude of fortune, 
 and if they were truly good men, and we 
 ourselves are prepared to profit by their 
 example, we enter still more minutely into 
 their views and motives, and accompany 
 them in their whole course with a more 
 peculiar sympathy ; are instructed by- their 
 wisdom, edified by their virtues, warned 
 by their miscarriages, and encouraged by 
 their victories. 
 
 In respect to that feigned history with 
 which the present age unhappily abounds,. 
 
 ' 5 
 
sect., ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 205 
 
 and which finds its way into the most se- 
 questered corners, a wise recluse has only 
 to shut his door against it ■ unless he shall 
 choose to give admittance to a very few 
 ingenious fictions, which, by a striking dis- 
 play of the world in its vanities and its 
 sorrows* may help to weaken his attach- 
 ment to it* 
 
 I shall conclude this section with a ge- 
 neral remark or two concerning virtue ; 
 first, as it is the product of action ; and 
 secondly, of contemplation. 
 
 The former, as it is much conversant 
 with human affairs, is apt to acquire a hu- 
 man character, and to be more disposed 
 to acts of benefice and temporal utility 
 than of devotion and piety ; and thus, in 
 its progress towards a better world, is very 
 liable to interception, and to have its ar- 
 dour wasted by a separate attention to the 
 duties of the present life ; whilst of the 
 latter we may observe, that though it 
 seems to partake more of divinity, to be 
 
206 The positive Means of Virtue considered, [part n. 
 
 more disengaged from the earth, and to 
 abound more in devout affections, there is 
 danger lest, in its apparent approach to the 
 worship of angels, it should fail in that prac- 
 tical benevolence towards men, without which 
 it can have no just claim to the character of 
 a solid piety. 
 
 Again : when a man's course of action 
 is narrow and confined, as it always must 
 be to the far greater part of the world, that 
 virtue which results from it will generally 
 partake of the limitation. He who has 
 spent his days in some laborious employ- 
 ment within the bounds of his own parish, 
 which is the case of multitudes, is not likely 
 to feel much interest in what passes at a 
 distance, though in his own contracted 
 sphere- he may display a high degree of 
 moral worth. The same observation may 
 be extended to every man who is trained 
 up to active life ; his principles may be 
 just 'and pious, but their exercise, however 
 exemplary, will commonly be limited by 
 his exterior circumstances. On the other 
 
sect, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 207 
 
 hand, he who has been bred up in a' con- 
 templative retirement is less restricted by 
 time or place, he can more easily transfer 
 his attention to every period and region 
 of the globe we inhabit, and, through the 
 medium of history or prophecy, receive 
 the impression of every interesting event 
 fr^m the beginning to the end of time ; 
 and soar aloft with a less obstructed .wing: 
 above this sublunary state, and all con- 
 tingent existence, to the contemplation of 
 objects immutable and eternal. — Thus it 
 appears, that neither an active or contem- 
 plative institution of life is so absolutely 
 complete in itself, that each of them may 
 not derive considerable assistance from a 
 participation with the other. Happy then 
 is he who can properly unite them both ; 
 who can behold the face of his Faflier in 
 heaven, while he ministers to the welfare of 
 his fellow-creatures upon earth ; and whose 
 virtue bears at once the impression of man 
 and of the universe. 
 
( 208 ) 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 On some Evils particular incident to a retired Life, and 
 which are contrary, or, at Least unfavourable, to Vir- 
 tue ; with a few Hints respecting their Remedies. 
 
 The state of man here on earth is so be- 
 set with innumerable dangers, that he can 
 seldom make his escape from those which 
 press hardest upon, him, without exposing 
 himself to others equally importunate. All 
 the various conditions of human life, be- 
 sides what they share in common, are each 
 accompanied with their peculiar difficulties 
 and temptations. Were there any exception 
 to this remark, it might seem to be in favour 
 of retirement with a competency ; yet even 
 this situation, highly privileged as it appears, 
 is not without its particular incidental evils ; 
 among which we may enumerate the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 I. Idleness. — The love of ease is natural 
 to man, and influences his conduct in all 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to 'Retirement. 209 
 
 circumstances; but especially when, by ab- 
 straction from the world, he is placed at 
 a distance from many of those objects 
 which are suited to call forth his voluntary 
 exertions ; and when, at the same time, he 
 is exempted by his fortune from the neces- 
 sity of labour. 
 
 Let us suppose an independent country 
 gentleman, who is content with his pater- 
 nal acres,, and never wanders from the an- 
 cient family residence. Since he has no- 
 thing to engage him at court or in the 
 city, he must endeavour to strike out some 
 occupation which may preserve him from 
 the evil of which we are speaking. Per- 
 haps he may commence a sportsman, he 
 may traverse the woods with his fowling- 
 piece, or halloo to his dogs in the chase ; 
 but as these diversions can only be had at 
 certain seasons of the year, and are also 
 further* suspended on good health and fair 
 weather, they must subject their votary to 
 many listless intervals. Like the savage in 
 the wilderness, he Mall be in continual dan- 
 
210 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part 11. 
 
 ger of lopsing from the violence of agita- 
 tion into a dreary vacuum, or, which is 
 worse, into a state of low sensual indul- 
 gence. Or perhaps he may betake himself 
 to building and planting, he may pull 
 down the old mansion and build a greater, 
 or amuse himself with perpetual altera- 
 tions ; he may plant a grove because it 
 would yield him shade, and then pluck it 
 up because it would intercept his pro- 
 spect; and thus, by one variation after an- 
 other, he may try to improve the structure 
 of his house, and the face of nature, till, 
 wearied with change and disappointment, he 
 at length sits down in slothful indifference or 
 disgust. 
 
 Should he be one who prefers the pur- 
 suits of science, and the improvement of 
 his understanding, to the chase of animals, 
 to a commodious house, or a fine land- 
 scape, his time will indeed be then less 
 liable to vacuities ; at least till the novelty 
 be over, or till he has discovered the general 
 unimportance and uncertainty of mere 
 
sect. i*i.] Ok the Evils incident to Retirement . £il 
 
 human studies. And if to his speculations 
 he should add a little practical philoso- 
 phy ; should he turn, for instance, his at- 
 tention to agriculture, and endeavour by 
 ingenious arts to draw from our common 
 mother the earth a more ample produce, 
 and so to facilitate and increase the sup- 
 ply of human wants ; this would open to 
 him a new source of pleasing and lauda- 
 ble occupation. Still, however, as neither 
 the culture of the mind nor of the soil is 
 secured by the same strong and constant 
 impulsion of the passions, which bears 
 men forward in public life, the tendency 
 of nature towards an indolent repose will 
 almost unavoidably gather strength, and 
 labour gradually give place to ease, unless 
 reinforced and sustained by motives derived 
 from another world. 
 . 
 There are few instances, I believe, to be 
 met with, in any situation, of a regular 
 and supported conduct, without the aid 
 of religion. This is necessary to fill up 
 p 2 
 
212 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [part iu 
 
 and quicken those dull intervals which hap- 
 pen in the busiest life, and to preserve a 
 retired one from total stagnation. It is re- 
 ligion which must plant in the soul that 
 motive principle, which will display itself in 
 a useful course of employment, whatever be 
 the circumstances in which we are placed ; 
 like a perennial spring, that still sends forth 
 a pure and salubrious stream, notwithstand- 
 ing every alteration of weather or vicissitude 
 of seasons. 
 
 The activity of man as a rational being, 
 depends chiefly on the end he has in view. 
 Now the end presented to him by religion 
 is of the most excellent and interesting 
 nature, and, if duly apprehended, will always 
 command a vigorous exercise of his moral 
 and intellectual powers; and thus furnish 
 him with the noblest occupation, even in 
 the midst of a desert. He who is fully 
 conscious that he has a soul to save, and 
 an eternity to secure, and still further to ani- 
 mate his endeavours, that God and angels 
 
SECT, m.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. £4$ 
 
 are the spectators of his conduct, can never 
 want motives for exertion in the most se- 
 questered solitude. 
 
 i 
 
 II. Another evil particularly incident to 
 retirement is humour. He who is under 
 no controul from others, which is most 
 likely to happen in sequestered life, will, 
 without great self-command, be very liable 
 to give a loose to his caprices and his od- 
 dities. In society there are few who have 
 such an ascendancy as enables them to 
 impose their will as a law to all about them ; 
 men there meet with their match, reason is 
 opposed to reason, and one caprice to ano- 
 ther ; mutual compliances are found ne- 
 cessary in order to preserve any degree of 
 amicable intercourse ; and thus the way- 
 wardness of humour is partly restrained 
 and corrected. It is otherwise in retire- 
 ment, where it is common for a country 
 gentleman, when he looks around him, to 
 see none but inferiors and dependants, 
 who, whatever they may mutter in secret, 
 find it prudent or expedient to give way 
 
£14 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part h, 
 
 to his peculiar fancies, which, to a vulgar 
 mind is often no small temptation to 
 indulge them with the greater wanton- 
 
 ness. 
 
 Nor is this disposition confined to par- 
 ticular acts ; it sometimes shows itself in 
 a system of singularities. The humourist 
 will regulate the most indifferent circum- 
 stances by laws as unalterable as those of 
 the Medes and Persians. Amidst all the 
 changes of fashion, he will pertinaciously 
 wear the same uniform ; copied, perhaps, 
 from the age of his great-grandfather. Every 
 punctilio of his table shall be according to 
 stated rules of his own prescription ; he will 
 not eat his dinner unless seated in his own 
 chair, nor drink but out of his own cup. 
 At the accustomed hour, he will walk up 
 the same hill, gaze at scenes he has sur- 
 veyed before a thousand times, and then 
 return back whence he came. Or should 
 his humour take another turn, no one 
 shall be able to divine, a minute before- 
 hand, what he means either to do, or to 
 
t 
 
 sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 215 
 
 have done. In all cases his motto is the 
 same ; 
 
 Stat pro ratione voluntas, 
 
 As all this proceeds chiefly from a bent 
 to gratify ourselves in trifling objects ; 
 and as this disposition may farther be 
 resolved into a contraction of the under- 
 standing as well as of the heart; the re- 
 medy must lie in the enlargement of the 
 former by knowledge, and of the latter by 
 charity. In this way we shall be preserv- 
 ed equally from a monastic attention to 
 minute regulations, and from a whimsical 
 irregularity of temper, of which the one 
 tends to narrow and enfeeble, and the other 
 to dissipate, all the powers of the mind ; and 
 at the same time shall farther be secured 
 from that contempt of our inferiors, which 
 would permit us to pursue our own gratifi- 
 cation, without a due regard to their conve- 
 nience or feelings. 
 
 I am willing on the other hand to al- 
 low, in extenuation, that the disposition 
 
£16 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part ij. 
 
 of which we are speaking, if not excessive, 
 has some claim to indulgence ; as it may 
 occasionally add an agreeable variety to 
 human life, and inspire a cheerful senti- 
 ment of ease and liberty. Such a turn of 
 mind must, however, be accounted at the 
 best for no more than a pleasing imper- 
 fection ; like a manner in painting, which, 
 though it may produce a striking effect, 
 is justly chargeable as a deviation from 
 truth and nature. A wise man will there- 
 fore endeavour to restrain it within the 
 narrowest limits ; he will consider, that 
 every departure from reason, and propriety, 
 though in cases apparently of no conse- 
 quence, is dangerous ; that by every ca- 
 price he wantonly exposes himself to con- 
 tradiction or opposition ; and that on this, 
 as well as on other accounts, humour by 
 indulgence is very liable to degenerate 
 into peevishness ; and, lastly, he will re- 
 collect that good nature and good-sense 
 supply a seasoning to human intercourse, 
 which can never be improved by any 
 
sect, rnj On the Evils incident to Retirement. 217' 
 
 traverses of fancy or singularities of beha- 
 viour. 
 
 < 
 III. Another evil incidental to a retired 
 life, is conceit ; by which may be under- 
 stood a vain self-complacent opinion of 
 our own parts and attainments, whether 
 as compared with things themselves, or 
 with the like qualities in others. In both 
 these senses it is here considered, though 
 the latter is more appropriate to the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Let us then first observe, how few there 
 are who do not fondly over-rate themselves 
 in regard to that standard which exists in 
 the nature of things. Where is the man 
 who does not entertain, in this respect, 
 some over-weening opinion of his virtues? 
 or where is he who is properly sensible 
 of the small proportion which his know- 
 ledge of almost every subject, bears to 
 his ignorance? In this philosophic age* 
 how ' frequently do we meet with those 
 who pride themselves in the imagination, 
 
218 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part, ii, 
 
 that they have carried their researches far 
 into nature, have detected her secret con- 
 stitution, and her manner of operation; 
 though they have penetrated scarce be- 
 yond the surface, have explored but few 
 of her properties, and, so far from a dis- 
 covery of causes, have attained but a very 
 imperfect knowledge 6f the effects, or of 
 the laws by which they are regulated? 
 and if we come to points which more 
 nearly concern our interests, such as relate 
 to civil government and religion, almost 
 every man is forward to imagine himself 
 above the reach of instruction, that is, to 
 imagine he is most knowing where he is 
 commonly most ignorant. It is this into- 
 lerable conceit which has, of late years, pro- 
 duced such swarms of philosophers and legis- 
 lators, and which threatens a dissolution of 
 all the obligations of virtue, and of all the 
 bonds of society. 
 
 After this more general stricture, which, 
 if less applicable to the subject, is too 
 strongly applicable to the times, let us pro- 
 
«iect. in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 219 
 
 ceed to consider the evil in question, as it 
 arises from a secret comparison of our- 
 selves with others. And here it is that the 
 retired man of fortune is particularly in 
 danger. He who is in a situation where 
 his opinions meet with no contradiction, 
 and where he is listened to with apparent 
 deference by all around him, will not 
 easily preserve himself from a conceit of 
 his own wisdom : he is not likely to carry a 
 severe scrutiny into votes which are all in 
 his favour, and to enquire whether they are 
 the fruits of stupidity or discernment, of 
 flattery or sincerity ; every suffrage shall 
 be deemed good which may exalt him into 
 an oracle. 
 
 As all human excellence is comparative, 
 it is not difficult for any one, who has a 
 little more wit and money than his neigh- 
 bours, to procure a circle of humble ad- 
 mirers, whose applauses shall be sufficient 
 to bear him up in his fond opinion of pre- 
 eminence ; and it is certain that this may 
 happen, and that it frequently does happen. 
 
L 220 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part n. 
 
 in public as well as in private life. But it is 
 no less certain, that, in the commerce- of 
 the world, a conceited man, by occasional 
 encounters with his superiors, generally 
 meets with those rebukes of his vain con- 
 fidence, which serve to keep him within 
 some bounds of moderation ; whereas, in 
 a state of retirement, for want of such 
 checks, he is apt to exceed all the measures 
 of reason and decency. He therefore who 
 lives sequestered from the world, and 
 wishes to cure or prevent this extrava- 
 gance, must endeavour to look beyond his 
 own narrow limits, and to cultivate a cor- 
 respondence with men whose superior abi- 
 lities may entitle them to his reverence. 
 Or, if he cannot obtain this living instruc- 
 tion, let him at least place himself ideally, 
 whenever he begins to swell with pedantic 
 conceit, in the presence of the wise of past 
 ages, and by comparing himself with them, 
 he may learn to shrink back into his proper 
 dimensions. In like manner, to obviate 
 any groundless pretensions to superior 
 piety or virtue, he ought to remember. 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 221 
 
 that a little good makes a great show in a 
 small village ; and, should this be insuf- 
 ficient to suppress his vanity, let him ex- 
 tend his view of mankind, let him peruse 
 the page of history* or only look abroad 
 into his own age and country, and he may 
 find instances enough to convince him, that 
 his moral are no more extraordinary than his 
 intellectual qualities. 
 
 But these remedies at the most are only 
 palliative ; though they may in some mea- 
 sure repress a man's vain opinion of what 
 he is not, they fully leave him to be proud 
 of what he is; and while this stock re- 
 mains, the shoots of conceit will not lon£ 
 be wanting. Let us then endeavour to lay 
 the axe to this root, by the following brief 
 considerations. 
 
 The first is, That we are not our own ; 
 that our being, with all its original capa- 
 cities, is from God ; so that here the inter- 
 rogation of the apostle is eminently appli- 
 cable ; What hast thou that thou didst not 
 
222 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part ii. 
 
 receive ? now, if thou didst receive it, why 
 dost thou glory as if thou hadst not re- 
 ceived it. 
 
 Another consideration to show the ab- 
 surdity of the temper here spoken of, and 
 which was urged by our Saviour himself to 
 this purpose, is, That notwithstanding the 
 utmost improvement of our faculties, and 
 the accomplishment of the whole law, we 
 should be still unprofitable servants, as it 
 would be no more than the strictest obli- 
 gations of duty required of us. To do 
 our duty may be matter of thankfulness, 
 but certainly can never be a just ground 
 for glorying. 
 
 To these reasons, which extend alike to 
 all intelligent creatures, we may add a 
 third, which has a* particular respect to 
 ourselves. We are not only creatures, but 
 sinners ; and, as such, obnoxious to divine 
 justice, and odious to divine purity. It 
 therefore becomes us, instead of walking in 
 pride, to lie prostrate before the majesty 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 223 
 
 of heaven, bathed in the tears of penitence, 
 and crying for pardon and assistance. 
 
 To expect deliverance from the evil in 
 question any other way, is vain and falla- 
 cious; our self-love will always have some- 
 thing to suggest in our favour; but when 
 we are once made to feel what we are as 
 creatures and as sinners, there will be an 
 end of pride and conceit together. 
 
 IV. A fourth evil, to which I apprehend 
 we are more liable in retired than in pub" 
 lie life, is incivility. To illustrate this, we 
 need only take a view of the ordinary mo- 
 tives to a courteous behaviour, and of their re- 
 spective influence in these different situations. 
 
 The first motive I shall take notice of, is 
 interest, whose effect upon the manners is 
 obvious through every rank and station of 
 society. Should you go to make your 
 market in the city, the tradesman, with 
 alacrity, will ransack his shop to serve 
 
224 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part n. 
 
 you ; and though all his trouble should 
 not procure him the sale of a single ar- 
 ticle, he will express no other regret than 
 of his inability to gratify the wishes of one 
 who may return to-morrow and be a pur- 
 chaser, or whose recommendation may 
 send him a new customer. Should you 
 travel into the country, the innkeeper, (if 
 your appearance carry the promise of a 
 handsome expence,) will meet you at his 
 gate, like the governor of a castle, with the 
 keys in his hand, and, for % the time being, 
 invest you with absolute authority ; every 
 eye shall be vigilant to catch the least in- 
 timation of your pleasure, and every hand 
 be forward to put it in execution. Above 
 all, should you direct your attention to 
 those who are in pursuit of court emolu- 
 ment, you will commonly find them full 
 of observance towards every one who can 
 in the least contribute to their purpose, 
 even down to the valet or the porter, who 
 may facilitate their access to a man in 
 power. 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. %&$ 
 
 Ambition is another motive which no 
 less powerfully disposes men to civility ; 
 though its influence be less extensive, and 
 confined chiefly to the upper ranks of so- 
 ciety. He who pants after distinction, 
 and is aware of the opposition he may 
 have to encounter from the same aspiring 
 temper in his equals, and from the envy 
 of his inferiors, will be studious of all the 
 arts of courtesy, will learn to stoop in or- 
 der to rise, though he should afterwards 
 spurn the ladder by which he ascended. 
 All this is practised daily in the world, yet 
 perhaps never in this nation to so high a 
 degree as at the return of every seventh 
 year, when the whole political ambition ot 
 the country is called forth by the election of 
 a new parliament. 
 
 The last motive to civility I shall men- 
 tion, is the need we find of if to preserve 
 harmony even in our friendly interviews* 
 If every one should felufitly assert his se- 
 cret pretensions, I fear #i£fe are few occa- 
 sions of social intercourse which would 
 
 Q 
 
226 On tlte Evils incident to Retirement, [part ii« 
 
 not be converted into scenes of indecent 
 altercation : one man would challenge pre- 
 cedence because he thought himself the 
 wisest; another, on account of his birth 
 or figure in the world ; and a third, per- 
 haps, because he supposed himself the 
 wealthiest in the company : in order, there- 
 fore, to maintain the peace, well-bred peo- 
 ple agree in such cases to suspend their 
 several claims, and to act towards one 
 another with apparent deference and* re- 
 spect. 
 
 Such are the ordinary motives to civility, 
 and such is their operation in public life. 
 Let us now consider them in relation to 
 retirement, where their influence is much 
 less, and often overpowered by contrary 
 principles. 
 
 He who spends his days at a distance 
 from the busy scenes of the world, who. is 
 neither engaged in the traffic of the city, 
 nor in the intrigues or employments of a 
 court, and who, by his independent cir- 
 5 
 
s feet, in j On the Evils incident to Retirement. 227 
 
 cumstances, is Father in a condition to ex- 
 tend than to receive assistance, can have 
 no strong inducement j from views of in- 
 terest, to treat others with much attention ; 
 and for want of such a motive to counter- 
 act his natural pride, increased in this case 
 by the advantages of fortune, he will be 
 prone to act, at least towards his inferiors, 
 with a degree of neglect or rudeness. Nor 
 is a country gentleman more likely to be 
 formed to courtesy by motives of ambi- 
 tion, unless they should prompt him to 
 solicit a seat in parliament* or some other 
 public situation which could not easily be 
 obtained without the recommendation of 
 popular manners; and then he would no 
 longer be the retired man of whom we 
 speak. And in regard to the last motive 
 to civility we have stated, arising from the 
 need we find of it in order to harmonize 
 our social interviews, it is evident that, in 
 proportion to the degree of abstraction in 
 which we live, this consideration must have 
 less influence, and will more easily give way 
 to every sally of humour or passion. 
 
 Q 2 
 
£28 On the Evils fatident to Retirement* [part if 
 
 Hence it may appear, that the retired 
 man, unless he be willing tamely to yield 
 the palm of courtesy to the man of the 
 world, must recur to motives of a superior 
 nature, such as the views of reason and 
 religion will readily supply. Among the 
 topics to this purpose, I shall only suggest 
 the following. 
 
 ■ First, let him consider the dignity of our 
 common nature, that it was originally form- 
 ed in the image of God, and, notwith- 
 standing it is now fallen from its primitive 
 perfection, is still endowed with many 
 noble powers and capacities, which some- 
 times break forth amidst all the disadvan- 
 tages of a mean condition. Let him next 
 consider, that he whom he is tempted to 
 jgegard with disdain, would probably be 
 found, if all circumstances were duly esti- 
 mated> better entitled to respect than him- 
 self. And, lastly, let him take into his 
 account the possible as well as actual state 
 of others; and though human nature, for 
 the most part, is little better than a ruin, 
 
sect. 1 1 1. ] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 229 
 
 let him remember it is the ruin of a tem- 
 ple, and that this temple may again be 
 raised to more than its primeval glory. It 
 is impossible for him who is under the 
 impression of such views, to treat any of 
 his fellow-creatures either with rudeness or 
 indifference. 
 
 V. Another evil, which is apt to grow 
 up in retirement, is churlishness, or that 
 kind of brutality which is made up of low 
 insolence and sordid parsimony. Of this 
 base disposition we have a striking exam- 
 ple in Nabal, whose behaviour, as record- 
 ed in the first book of Samuel*, entitles 
 him to a disgraceful pre-eminence among 
 the race of churls. This man, instead of 
 that ready compliance which became him, 
 to the request of the anointed king of Is- 
 rael, who intreated him in terms the most 
 obliging and respectful to be admitted to 
 share in his hospitality, at a season when 
 the most -unfeeling and contracted heart 
 is apt to expand with kindness, replied 
 * Chap. xxv„ 
 
230 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part ii, 
 
 rudely to his messengers, Who is David, and 
 who is the son of Jesse? There be many 
 servants now-a-days that break away every 
 man from his master. Shall I take my 
 breads and my water, and my flesh that I 
 have killed for my shearers, and give it unto 
 men whom I know not whence they be? It 
 is no wonder that such an insulting denial 
 inflamed the indignation of a prince whose 
 spirit was undoubtedly generous, (whatever 
 were his failings,) and put him upon sudden 
 thoughts of vengeance. 
 
 This Nabal, we are told, had three thou- 
 sand sheep and a thousand goats on mount 
 Carmel ; he was rich for those ages, and 
 probably passed his days in the midst of 
 his servants and dependents ; and when 
 these circumstances meet with a mind un- 
 formed by education, the natural product 
 is a churl. This conjunction is indeed less 
 frequent in the present times, when almost 
 every country gentleman or wealthy farm- 
 er, instead of confining his son at home 
 to converse with rustics and fatten bul- 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 231 
 
 locks, sends him into the world to acquire 
 a tincture of letters, and a civility of de- 
 portment, which may qualify him, upon 
 his return, to act his part with a degree of 
 decency. 
 
 By this mode of education the tribe of 
 churls has been diminished, and their cha- 
 racter mitigated ; so that now we may 
 traverse the country without often meeting 
 with one of those discourteous knights, 
 who are so far broken off from the general 
 system of huimnity, as to repel the stranger 
 from their gate 3 or entertain a guest with a 
 surly penurious hospitality. 
 
 Thus, by a wide diffusion of knowledge 
 and politeness* this kind of human savage 
 is almost driven from our coasts ; and 
 were it not for a blind indulgence, which 
 sometimes leaves the heir of the family to 
 be bred up in the stable amidst hounds 
 and horses, instead of sending him forth to 
 partake of the general progress of society, 
 or providing for his instruction at home, 
 
03% On the Evils incident to Retirement. fpART n, 
 
 we might hope to see the race wholly ex- 
 terminated. 
 
 VI. The last evil I shall notice as inci- 
 dent to retirement is misanthropy; which, 
 by the following short deduction, will ap- 
 pear to be the natural term and comple- 
 tion of the several evils already stated. 
 I shall name them again in the same 
 order. 
 
 Idleness. Man is formed for action ; and 
 his faculties, if not duly exercised upon 
 their proper objects, will be apt to turn 
 inward, and prey upon himself; and this 
 secret corrosion can hardly fail to operate 
 upon his temper, and render it harsh and 
 repulsive. In this, as in other instances, 
 the mind bears a striking analogy to the 
 1f>Qdy, which we know is liable to be trou- 
 bled with sharp and acrid humours, unless 
 they are prevented or thrown off by a 
 course of regular exercise. Indeed, when 
 the active principle is naturally feeble or 
 indisposed to exertion, idleness may assch, 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 233 
 
 ciate for a time with good humour, till cala- 
 mity, sickness, or old age, calls for those 
 powers of resistance or sufferance which 
 have * not been provided ; and then the 
 sluggard will be left to experience the 
 bitter consequences of his neglect, in a 
 fretful impatience with himself, and a 
 peevish dissatisfaction with those about 
 him. v 
 
 Humour. In the first part of life, many 
 caprices of fancy and behaviour pass off 
 without sensible inconvenience. Youth 
 and beauty are every where received with 
 particular kindness, and the faults or foibles 
 which usually attend them are overlooked 
 amidst their natural attractions. But as 
 advancing years cast a damp on that viva- 
 city, and impair those graces of person, 
 which enchant our imaginations, and dis- 
 arm our better judgments, the defects of 
 character ar« more clearly discerned, and 
 discerned too without a disposition to treat 
 fchem with our former indulgence. Hence 
 those sallies ctf humour, which before were 
 
£34 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [pa htm. 
 
 tolerated, and perhaps pleasing, are now 
 no more endured ; they encounter a grow- 
 ing opposition from the humour or reason 
 of others, which must naturally produce a 
 peevish resentment ; and peevishness, if in- 
 dulged, will rankle into malignity. 
 
 Conceit. He who prides himself upon 
 qualities of which he is either * destitute, 
 or possessed in a less degree than he sup- 
 poses, will sometimes, at least, find his 
 pretensions treated with expressions of con- 
 tempt or pity; and this can hardly fail to 
 call forth his malevolent passions ; for 
 since there can be no thorough confidence 
 or satisfaction but in truth, such a man 
 must have a secret misgiving that his claims 
 are ill-founded, and consequently is in no 
 capacity to bear their rejection, and in a 
 manner so humiliating, with patience ; and 
 must either dismiss the false opinion he 
 entertains of himself, or be liable to an im- 
 placable resentment ; unless he is so beset 
 with inferiors and dependents, or so in- 
 toxicated with the praise of flattery, or the 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 235 
 
 admiration of ignorance, that truth can 
 find no access, or make no durable im- 
 pression. 
 
 Incivility, As this, in its own nature, 
 implies a want of due respect to others, it 
 may be considered as a species of injury; 
 and, as we commonly bear some resent- 
 ment towards those whom we have in- 
 jured, it follows, that by a course of ill 
 manners, disrespect may grow at length 
 into hatred. Besides, incivilities provoke 
 a return in the same kind, and, by this 
 ungentle reciprocation, the parties become 
 mutually irritated, and an implacable feud 
 is engendered. These trespasses upon 
 good behaviour are also the more danger- 
 ous, as the remedy, is difficult. There are 
 few whose pride in such cases will suffer 
 them to seek an explanation ; and for want 
 of it, a slight discourtesy is often brooded 
 over in secret till it swells into an unpar- 
 donable offence ; like a scratch upon a 
 distempered body, which, by the omission 
 of a timely application, rankles into a vinu- 
 
236 On the Evils incident to Retirement, [part n. 
 
 lent ulcer. Nor is it any ordinary degree 
 of virtuous magnanimity which that man has 
 attained, who, upon such occasions, when 
 he finds his own strength too feeble to re- 
 sist the impression, can say to his friend, 
 I am hurt, have pity upon me, and pour 
 in the healing balm before the poison has 
 reached the vitals. 
 
 Churlishness. This depravity of charac- 
 ter approaches so nearly to misanthropy, 
 that it is needless to point out their con^ 
 nection. 
 
 The particular remedies of these evils 
 may be sought in what has been observed 
 upon them severally ^ but the general re- 
 medy is charity. This, of all the principles 
 in the universe, is the most powerful and 
 active, and the grand spring of all the vir-< 
 tuous conduct that is found amongst men. 
 It has no caprices ; it affects no singulari- 
 ties, either of sentiment or behaviour ; but, 
 as far as it may be done with innocence, 
 takes the ply of the occasion, and is made 
 
sect, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 237 
 
 all things to all men, in order to their good. 
 It is lowly and unassuming, vaunt eth not 
 itself, is not puffed up. It renders all the 
 civilities that are expressive of pure bene- 
 volence, and all the respects which belong 
 to the different orders of society ; honour 
 to whom honour, fear to whom fear. In a 
 word, when taken in its full extent, it com- 
 prizes the whole of human duty; every 
 law of kindness or courtesy, of religion or 
 humanity. 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 PART III. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON HAPPINESS, 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 On the Happiness arising from the Independence, the 
 Agricultural Pursuits, the Diversions and Scenery, of 
 a Country Life. 
 
 The idea of rural felicity is so congenial 
 with the human mind, that we cannot 
 wonder to find it cherished amidst all the 
 hurry and dissipation of public life ; espe- 
 cially if we consider, that such a life is 
 often attended with labour and sorrow, 
 with weariness and disappointment. When 
 we look abroad into the world, we see one 
 man fixed down to his desk or stationed 
 behind his counter, and, from morning to 
 night, busily engaged in casting his ac? 
 
240 Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyt. [part hi, 
 
 compts, or dealing out his commodities, 
 with scarce sufficient intervals for the re- 
 freshment or support of nature. We see 
 another, in aspiring after some place of 
 public honour or profit, racked with sus- 
 pense in the pursuit, frequently baffled in 
 his object, and, if at length successful, dis- 
 satisfied with the acquisition. While a 
 third, whose situation may seem more en- 
 viable, who, alike exempt from the toils of 
 the city and the ambition of the court, has 
 no other concern than to enjoy the amuse- 
 ments and pleasures of life, is often found 
 a miserable prey to chagrin, from the 
 caprices and jealousies which are sure to 
 infest the brightest circles of gaiety and 
 fashion. In all these cases, the mind na- 
 turally looks forward to the country, to the 
 independence of some rural retreat, the 
 peaceful labours of husbandry, the diver- 
 sions of the field, or the scenery of nature, 
 for purer sources of enjoyment. Let us 
 then briefly enquire, under these several 
 heads, how far they are likely to answer 
 .such an expectation. 
 
sect, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, §c. 241 
 
 I. First, of independence. By this the 
 retired man is secured from many hurries 
 and impertinences of public life. He is not 
 obliged, when exhausted in body or mind, 
 to t run to the Exchange, or to wait upon 
 his patron. He is not exposed to the tri- 
 fling conversation and unseasonable in- 
 trusion of the world ; his walks by day are 
 free from idle interruption, and his doors 
 by night are undisturbed by importunate 
 visits. He enjoys, in a word, that privilege 
 which, in the general opinion of mankind, 
 gives the chief advantage to an independ- 
 ent retirement, when compared with a 
 life spent in public, namely, the liberty to 
 act without foreign controul, and agree-. 
 ably to the native sense of his own mind. 
 Whereas, the more any man is engaged in 
 the world, the more he must expect to be 
 thwarted by it, and the more constrained 
 to give up his own will to tnat of others; 
 which is a submission naturally harsh and 
 unpleasing. The great contest among 
 men is, who shall have his own way ; and 
 he who seeks his fortune or happiness 
 
 R 
 
242 Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. [past hi, 
 
 through the medium of their favour, must 
 often lackey to their opinions and fancies, 
 and sometimes be content to suffer pa- 
 tiently their indignities. Even the honest 
 tradesman must be obsequious to the hu- 
 mours of his customers : and he who would 
 climb at court must prepare himself to 
 encounter the proud man's contumely, the 
 insolence of office, and the spurns of many 
 a base retainer to those in power. 
 
 On the other hand* it must be considered 
 that a rural independence, like every other 
 condition of human life, can yield no real 
 satisfaction, except to those who are quali- 
 fied duly to improve it. To be thus quali- 
 fied, a man must possess a just command of 
 himself, and an ability to fill up his leisure 
 in a rational manner. He must not carry 
 his humours and passions along with him 
 into his retreat, which might breed him 
 more disquiet there than he suffered in the 
 world before ; as, in such a state, of mind, 
 he would probably find it more difficult to 
 please himself, than ever he did to please 
 
sect, l.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 243 
 
 the most capricious and tyrannical of his 
 fellow-citizens. He must also be able to 
 strike out some little business which may 
 engage a portion of his time usefully, or 
 at least innocently ; to delight in converse 
 with himself, or with the wise and learned 
 of past ages ; and to find sufficient enter- 
 tainment within his own family circle : 
 otherwise, for want of objects to awaken 
 his attention, aud to call forth an exertion 
 of his faculties, he will be liable to sink 
 into a state of inaction, and in gaining an 
 exemption from the burden of external 
 affairs, to become a burden to himself; 
 which, of all the loads that bear hard upon 
 our feeble nature, is one of the most in- 
 tolerable. Without such resources, he will 
 be tempted to look back with regret upon 
 the world he has left behind him, where his 
 thoughts were at least diverted from settling 
 into painful reflections upon his interior state, 
 and where, though he was seldom much 
 pleased, he was often amused, and generally 
 occupied. 
 
 r 2 
 
24.4 Pleasures of Rural Independence, 8$c. [p a rt i i i . 
 
 II. Agriculture. The pleasures of agri- 
 culture would stand very . high in our ac- . 
 count, were we to estimate them by the 
 celebration they have received both from 
 poets and philosophers. The following pas- 
 sages from Virgil and Cicero may serve as a 
 specimen : 
 
 Thrice happy, if his happiness he knows, 
 
 The country swain, on whom kind heav'n bestows 
 
 At home all riches that wise nature needs, 
 
 Whom the just earth with easy plenty feeds. 
 
 Free from th' alarms of fear and storms of strife, 
 
 Deep in the bosom of sequester'd life, 
 
 His years are past, with every blessing crown'd, 
 
 And the soft wings of peace cover him round *. 
 
 Cicero, in the person of the elder Cato, 
 thus speaks : I come now to discourse of the 
 
 # O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint, 
 Agricolas ! quibus ipsa, procul discordibus armis, 
 Fundit humo facilem victum justissima tellus. 
 Si non ingentem foribus domus alta superbis 
 Mane salutantum totis vomit jedibus undam, 
 — At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita,- 
 Non absunt. 
 
 Virg. Georg. lib. 2. 
 
sect. I.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 245 
 
 pleasures which accompany the labours of 
 the husbandman, and with which I myself 
 am delighted beyond expression. They are 
 pleasures which meet with no obstruction 
 even from old age, and seem to approach 
 nearest to those of true wisdom*. To the 
 same purpose he again speaks a little after- 
 wards. 
 
 These panegyrics, to be just, must be 
 understood with great limitations, and can 
 never be generally extended to that nume- 
 rous body of men who are employed in 
 the culture of the earth. There is scarce, 
 perhaps, any condition of life which is at- 
 tended with more anxiety than that of a 
 common farmer : to him a bad year is a 
 
 * Venio nunc ad voluptates agricolarum, quibus ego 
 incredibiliter delector; quae nee ulla impediuntur senec- 
 tute, etmihi ad sapientis vitam proxime videntur acce- 
 dere. Habent enim rationem cum terra, quae nunquam 
 recusat imperium, nee unquam sine usura reddit, quod 
 accepit. — Quamquam me quid em non fructus modo 
 sed etiam ipsius terrae vis ac natura delectat. Cicero de 
 Senectute, cap. 15. 
 
246 Pleasures of Rural Independence, %c. [part in, 
 
 serious calamity: he is anxious to lay in 
 happily his seed; he is then anxious for 
 seasons favourable to its growth ; and, 
 after bis fields are become ripe for the har- 
 vest, almost every cloud that flies over his 
 head is an object of apprehension. Such 
 high encomiums, therefore, can never be 
 applicable, except in the case of a country 
 gentleman who is not obliged to live on 
 the fruits of his own industry, by whom a 
 barren year is not felt, and who retains no 
 more of his grounds in his own hands than 
 may serve to his convenience or amuse- 
 ment. And even here the happiness is 
 found often to exist merely in contem- 
 plation. It was some such form of life 
 which appears to have smitten the imagi- 
 nation of Cowley ; and what was the con- 
 sequence? When he came at length to 
 take possession of his elysium, he met with 
 so rude a reception, that others who in- 
 dulge themselves in a like prospect, may 
 learn thence to moderate their expecta- 
 tions. " The first night/' says he, in a let- 
 ter to Dr. Sprat, " that I came hither, I 
 
sect. I.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc* 247 
 
 caught so great a cold, with a defluxion 
 of rheum, as made me keep my chamber 
 ten days : and, two after, had such a bruise 
 on my ribs with a fall, that I am yet un- 
 able to move or turn myself in my bed. 
 This is my personal fortune here to begin 
 with. And, besides, I can get no money 
 from my tenants, and have my meadows 
 eaten up every night by cattle put in by 
 my neighbours. What this signifies, or 
 may come to in time, God knows; if it 
 be ominous, it can end in nothing less 
 than hanging*." Two years afterwards, 
 he died ; and thus terminated his plan of 
 rural felicity. 
 
 It must however be acknowledged, that 
 there are few occupations more adapted to 
 yield a rational delight than those of hus- 
 bandry, as well on account of their utility, 
 as of their suitableness to the primitive dig- 
 nity of our nature. The culture of the 
 ground was the original employment of 
 
 # See Johnson's Life of Cowley. 
 
248 Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. [part in. 
 
 man. Our first parents were placed in the 
 garden of Eden to dress and to keep it ; 
 and there seems in % their posterity a kind of 
 instinctive disposition to recover at least an 
 external image of the paradisiacal state. 
 There is scarce any one, however privi- 
 leged or exalted he may be in the world, 
 who does not sometimes please himself in 
 the prospect of rural labours and enjoy- 
 ments, who does not hope some day to 
 adorn his own garden or cultivate his own 
 farm, and to sit down in repose under his 
 own vine or fig-tree : and among the 
 greatest personages in every age, who have 
 gathered laurels in the field, or successfully, 
 governed kingdoms, we are told of some 
 who have found, in the shade of retirement 
 and agricultural occupations, that secret 
 satisfaction which they had never expe- 
 rienced amidst the splendours of a court or 
 the triumphs of victory. And the same 
 spirit of content will be diffused among 
 mankind at large, when they shall have 
 learned, according to the word of prophecy, 
 to beat their swords into plough-shares, and 
 
sect. I.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 249 
 
 their spears into pruning-hooks ; when, by 
 a general prevalence of piety, the reapers, 
 like those of Boaz, in gathering in the har- 
 vest, shall say to the master, The Lord be 
 with thee, and he shall answer, The Lord 
 bless yoii* ; and when every ruler shall be- 
 come the shepherd of his people. 
 
 III. Rural diversions. As it might justly 
 be thought impertinent for one who is no 
 sportsman to undertake to estimate the plea- 
 sures of fowling and hunting, I shall dismiss 
 this topic very briefly. It is certain that, in 
 point of present gratification, every pleasure 
 is such as it is felt to be ; and therefore, if 
 any one finds himself delighted in wandering 
 through the woods with his fowling-piece, or 
 in scouring the country along with dogs and 
 horses and desperate riders, to the terror of 
 an innocent quadruped, it would be in vain 
 to dispute against his experience. To what 
 persons, or in what cases, such diversions 
 are allowable, I leave others to determine; 
 and shall content myself to observe, what 
 
 * Rom. ii. 4. 
 
250 Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. [part m, 
 
 I suppose none will deny, that when they 
 are made a principal object, their manifest 
 tendency is to induce an incapacity for no- 
 bler enjoyments, and so to lay the foun- 
 dation of a despicable old age; for it 
 would seem difficult to imagine a charac- 
 ter more entirely sunk, and devoid of all 
 respectability, than that of an old worn- 
 out sportsman, the vigour of whose days 
 has been wasted in mere animal exertions, 
 and whose memory is stored with nothing 
 better than the history of hares and foxes, 
 of rustic adventures and perilous escapes ; 
 and who dreams away the evening of life, 
 like the hound sleeping upon his hearth, in , 
 retracing the vain images of his wild and 
 sportive excursions. 
 
 IV. Rural scenery. With the pleasures 
 of rural scenery, every inhabitant of a tem- 
 perate climate, and especially of this favoured 
 island, where nature smiles almost in per- 
 petual verdure, must in some degree be ac- 
 quainted. These pleasures are natural to 
 man, and accompany him from childhood to 
 
sect. I.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 0,51 
 
 youth, from youth to manhood, and from 
 manhood to decrepid age. 
 
 The views of nature are not only pleasing 
 in themselves, but become still more so from 
 their association with other pleasures which 
 enliven our early days. It is then that a 
 redundant flow of health and spirits produces 
 a sense of vigour, and a secret gladness of 
 heart, not unlike what our common proge- 
 nitor is supposed to have felt immediately 
 upon his creation, and which he is made to 
 express as follows : 
 
 As new wak'd from soundest sleep, 
 Straight toward heav'n my wond'ring eyes I turn'd, 
 And gaz'd awhile the ample sky, till rais'd 
 By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, 
 As thitherward endeavouring, and upright 
 Stood on my feet : 
 
 Myself I then perused, and limb by limb 
 Surveyed, and sometimes went and sometimes ran 
 With supple joints, as lively vigour led,- 
 And felt that I was happier than I knew. 
 
 It is this fulness of life and self-enjoy- 
 ment which sheds a brightness on every 
 
 6 
 
352 Pleasures of Rural Independence, # c . [ p akt i 1 1 . 
 
 surrounding object, on hill and dale, forest 
 and plain, along with every part of animated 
 nature ; and which renders the placid mur- 
 murs of a rivulet, the rushing of a distant 
 torrent, or the wild music of the woods, more 
 exquisitely delightful than all the harmony 
 of Handel at a later period, when the sen. 
 sitive organs are become obtuse, and the 
 mind less susceptive of agreeable emotions. 
 Hence we may trace one source of our fond- 
 ness for rural scenes, and for those above all 
 where we have spent the early part of life. 
 There is no man, I suppose, who can fail to 
 recover some pleasing image of his school- 
 boy days, upon revisiting, though after the 
 longest absence, those fields and woods 
 where he was accustomed to wander, at a 
 season when his senses and imagination were 
 most active and vigorous, and were no less 
 impressible by the novelty than by the 
 beauties of nature. 
 
 This predilection for places and objects 
 with which we were first conversant, ex- 
 
sect, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence ,fyc. 25$ 
 
 tends itself to others that resemble them, 
 and consequently may afford one reason 
 why the same natural scenery is not 
 equally agreeable to every spectator : and, 
 should we be required more fully to ac- 
 count for this difference, we might add to 
 the effect of early associations that which 
 arises from variety of character. Men are 
 apt to be best pleased with whatever bears 
 the greatest likeness to themselves ; whence, 
 in general, those who have a turn for sub- 
 limity will be most delighted with vast 
 plains or majestic forests, with ranges of 
 lofty mountains, or spacious vallies. watered 
 with copious rivers ; others, of a less ele- 
 vated genius, will love to dwell on scenes 
 which partake more of beauty than of 
 grandeur; while the philanthropist will 
 take the greatest pleasure in the view of 
 lands for pasture or tillage, waving with har- 
 vests or stocked with cattle. 
 
 Such appears to be the various impres- 
 sion of nature upon different individuals ; 
 and it is often no less various upon the 
 
254 Pleasures of Rural Independence, §c. [part in, 
 
 same individual at different times. Ac- 
 cording as he is cheerful or melancholy, 
 grave or gay, the same prospect will be 
 overcast with gloom, or bright with illu- 
 mination. The mind sheds its own hue 
 on every thing around it, and, as it were 
 with the wand of a magician, converts a 
 paradise into a desert, and a desert into a 
 paradise. 
 
 Hence it may seem probable, that no 
 small part of the pleasure we experience 
 in the contemplation of external nature, 
 arises from a reflected image of ourselves. 
 But whatever be the delight it affords us, 
 from this or other causes, the amount I ap- 
 prehend to be much less than is sometimes 
 represented. 
 
 Were we to listen to certain writers, we 
 might almost be led to imagine, that little 
 more is necessary to charm away all our 
 disquietudes, than some rural scene agree- 
 ably diversified. We may all, says a late 
 author, live in Arcadia, if we please, The 
 
sect, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 0,55 
 
 beauties of a crystal spring, a silent grove, 
 a daisied meadow, will chasten the feelings 
 of the heart, and afford at all times a per- 
 manent and pure delight*. Such sentimental 
 notions savour strongly of puerility, and are 
 no proof of that extraordinary progress of 
 reason and philosophy which is the great boast 
 of the present age. Rather, they seem to 
 indicate a retrograde motion, from reason 
 to imagination, and from imagination to 
 sense and mere animal instinct. Who would 
 not, observes the same writer, renounce the 
 universe for one single tear of love -\\ An 
 exclamation more suited to Anthony and 
 Cleopatra, or to some silly romance, than 
 to the gravity of a discourse either moral or 
 philosophical. 
 
 Zimmermann knew very well, as every 
 man must know, that happiness is infi- 
 nitely more dependent on the state of the 
 mind than upon any external circumstances ; 
 and that virtue is the chief source of 
 
 * Zimmermann on Solitude, p. Z$8. f Id. p. 240. 
 
256 Pleasures of Rural Independence; fyc. [part in. 
 
 enjoyment. He knew that, under the cor- 
 rosion of guilt, and the tyranny of the 
 passions, we can derive little relief from 
 crystal springs, or silent groves,. ov daisied 
 meadows, and that recourse must be had 
 to more powerful remedies before we can 
 relish the beauties and taste the compo- 
 sure of still life. All this he knew, and 
 has frequently expressed ; and it is to be 
 lamented, that one who seems to have been 
 meant by nature for an amiable philoso- 
 pher, should have run into the sentimental 
 extravagancies of the citizen of Geneva, 
 and disgracefully listed himself in the 
 number of his unhappy admirers and 
 panegyrists. 
 
 To exchange the bustle of business, and 
 the gay amusements of society, for fields 
 and woods, silence and solitude, is so far 
 from being alone sufficient to ensure a life 
 of true contentment, that, to most men, 
 after the novelty was past, it would pro- 
 duce such a sense of want and deprivation, 
 as if their former existence had suffered 
 
sect, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. 267 
 
 a diminution; or as if, from a region of 
 light and plenitude, they had fallen into 
 a dreary state of darkness and vacuity* 
 This should be a lesson to all who medi- 
 tate a retreat from the world, and induce 
 them to cultivate before-hand those quali- 
 ties and habits, which may add life and 
 interest to the calm prospects and silent 
 exhibitions of rural -nature. And if there 
 be any who have sequestered themselves 
 without this due preparation, they ought 
 to suffer patiently the effects of their rash- 
 ness : at the same time, there is no reason 
 why they should sit down in despondence, 
 since by a proper attention to themselves, 
 and a steady and gentle perseverance, 
 those more delicate powers of perception 
 which are adapted to still life, and which, 
 amidst the tumult of the world, have lain 
 neglected and depressed, may yet gra- 
 dually be recovered, and called forth into 
 happy activity. 
 
 Still we must remember, that as age ad- 
 vances, and the senses and imagination 
 
 s - 
 
258 Pleasures of Rural Independence, fyc. [part in 
 
 grow languid, the most beautiful scenes of 
 nature will lose their natural attractions; 
 and that it is only the relation in which they 
 stand to their Almighty Creator, and his 
 glory thence reflected, that can render them 
 lasting and unfading objects of our delightful 
 contemplation. 
 
( 259 ) 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 The Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 
 
 In the preceding parts of this small work, 
 the same topics have recurred under differ- 
 ent aspects. History and Philosophy have 
 been considered in their relation to Know- 
 ledge and Virtue ; and will now > again be 
 viewed, together with Poetry, in the relation 
 they bear to Happiness, or to those plea- 
 sures which they are suited to yield to their 
 respective votaries. Lest such a recurrence 
 should strike a less attentive reader as no 
 more than a repetition, it seemed proper to 
 premise this remark. 
 
 We now proceed to the subject of the 
 present section, under the threefold distribu- 
 tion here specified. 
 
 I. On the Pleasures arising from the Study 
 of History. 
 
 According to a very sagacious observer, 
 the history of mankind is " little else but 
 
 s 2 
 
260 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part in. 
 
 the history of uncomfortable, dreadful pas- 
 sages ; and that a great part of it, however 
 things are palliated and gilded over, is 
 scarcely to be read by a good-natured man 
 without amazement, horror, tears*." And 
 a few pages afterwards he thus speaks : 
 " To one who carefully peruses the story 
 and face of the world, what appears to 
 prevail in it? Is it not corruption, vice, 
 iniquity, folly at least? Are not debauch- 
 ing, getting per fas aut nefas, defaming 
 one another, erecting tyrannies of one kind 
 or other, propagating empty and senseless 
 opinions with bawling and fury, the great 
 business of this world ?-f" This indeed is a 
 sad and melancholy view ; let us therefore, 
 endeavour to relieve the gloom, by present- 
 ing the history of mankind under some 
 other aspects. 
 
 The pleasure we derive from the perusal 
 of ancient history is partly because it is an- 
 
 r 
 
 * Wollaston's Religion of Nature, p. 382. 
 t Id. p. 392. 
 
sect. II.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 2(jl 
 
 cient. The mind, being formed for what 
 is infinite, is naturally delighted with an 
 image of unlimited duration as well as of 
 unbounded space. The retrospection of 
 events, which are faintly discerned in the 
 depth of past ages, is no less pleasirig than 
 the view of an extensive prospect, where 
 the dusky hills in the extremity of the ho- 
 rizon are scarcely distinguishable from the 
 clouds. Further, we are gratified with 
 every information relative to the primitive 
 state of mankind, upon the same principle 
 that nations or great families are particu- 
 larly delighted in tracing the history of 
 their founders or remote ancestors. Lastly, 
 the simplicity of ancient manners, so dif- 
 ferent from our own, is another source of 
 the pleasure we experience in our enqui- 
 ries into the earliest ages. While we con- 
 template the patriarchal times, we seem 
 transported into a new world, where men 
 acted more under the conduct of un cor- 
 rupted nature, and, as Plato has express- 
 ed it, lived nearer to the gods ; for it is ob- 
 servable, that as we advance farther into 
 
g62 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part m . 
 
 antiquity, we enter into regions of purer 
 light, where the principles and salutary in- 
 fluence of true and primitive religion become 
 more sensible and apparent. 
 
 m 
 
 From these sources may be derived both 
 pleasure and use ; but when our primitive 
 researches degenerate into a mere investiga- 
 tion of narnes and dates, and other circum- 
 stances which throw no light on religion or 
 morals, on human nature or human life, 
 however they may amuse a vacant mind, 
 they can yield neither profit nor any rational 
 satisfaction. 
 
 We sometimes meet with men, under 
 the title of antiquarians, who rate things 
 more by the characters of age with which 
 they are impressed, than by their real va- 
 lue ; and who place their chief delight in 
 the collection of old manuscripts or old 
 medals, or other fragments of old time, 
 which have nothing to recommend them 
 but their rust or their rarity. This- is a 
 taste so very odd and extravagant as to 
 
sect, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. Q63 
 
 render any attempt to expose it perfectly un- 
 necessary. 
 
 The study of modern history, by which 
 I here understand the history of the last 
 four hundred years, is generally more 
 pleasing than that of preceding ages ; and 
 for this among other reasons, because it is 
 attended with more interest. In the for- 
 mer part of the above period commenced 
 a new aera, learning began to revive, the 
 darkness of superstition to be dispersed, 
 and Christianity to recover a good degree 
 of its original purity ; the feudal constitu- 
 tions declined, commerce lifted up its 
 head, and the mass of nations broke loose 
 from that state of vassalage in which they 
 had been held for ages ; and under this 
 order of things it is that we now live, and 
 still continue to experience its happy ef- 
 fects. It must therefore be highly de- 
 lightful to look back to those times in. 
 which our most valuable blessings and 
 privileges took their rise, and to trace; 
 them in their progress to the present day. 
 
264 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 But the greatest pleasure we can receive 
 from the study of history is in tracing the 
 kingdom of God amongst men. The Bible 
 is ftie great authentic record of this king- 
 dom, and points out its progress from its 
 original to its final consummation. Like 
 the dawning light which shines more and 
 more to the perfect day, in this record is 
 discovered the first promise of a deliverer 
 to a lapsed world, with its gradual disclo- 
 sure through successive ages, till its ac- 
 complishment in the Messiah ; and its 
 prophecies carry forward our view to the 
 end of all things, when the mystery of God 
 thall be finished. It exhibits in the book 
 of Job a noble monument of patriarchal 
 religion ; and, after the defection of the 
 nations to idolatry, it shows us a people 
 set apart to be a witness to the only true 
 God, and a depository of his laws and 
 counsels ; together with the different treat- 
 ment they met with, according to the 
 difference of their behaviour. And to add 
 only one instance more (for a particular 
 deduction would be endless,) of the im- 
 
SkicT. 11.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 265 
 
 portant matter contained in this record, it 
 describes to us in the gospek the first foun- 
 dations of the Christian church ; and in the 
 acts of the apostles its early and wonderful 
 progress ; and all this with a brevity and sim- 
 plicity that can only be accounted for by the 
 truth of the narrative. 
 
 If from scripture we turn to other histo- 
 ries, we may there discover many vestiges 
 of primitive verity, some of them clear and 
 manifest, others more or less obscured or 
 defaced. As we ascend into antiquity* 
 they become (as we have before observed,) 
 more distinct, ( but there is no age in which 
 they are not discernible ; nor is there any 
 quarter of the globe at this day where 
 such vestiges are not found, as appears 
 from our late voyages and travels. Nay, 
 1?he mythologies of heathenism are partly 
 a corruption of ancient tradition, or of 
 scripture facts and characters ; and an 
 image of truth is discoverable amidst 
 these clouds. Such glimpses and footsteps 
 of God are interesting even in fable ; 
 while they render the page of authentic 
 
266 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part nr. 
 
 history, notwithstanding all the evils with 
 which it is crowded, a source of the purest 
 satisfaction to every serious and intelligent 
 reader, 
 
 Next to the pleasure we may derive as 
 Christians from the study of history, is 
 that which we may derive from it as Bri- 
 tons : for where shall we find among any 
 people, ancient or modern, a political con- 
 stitution so happily balanced, a liberty so 
 extensive and so wisely guarded, such en- 
 couragement for industry, and such secu- 
 rity in the enjoyment of its fruits ? In vain 
 should we direct our attention to the mo- 
 narchies of the old world, to the republics 
 of Greece or Rome, or to any of those 
 Gothic forms of Government which have 
 afflicted these latter ages. And if we 
 look around us, at this day, we shall find 
 no people under heaven, if we except the 
 United States of America, (which, though 
 separated, we may still consider as an ex-r 
 tension of the British name and empire,) 
 that can for a moment stand a comparison 
 
$ject. ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 267 
 
 with this country in the circumstances 
 now stated. To which we may add the 
 natural advantages of the country itself, 
 whose vallies, in the language of an old his- 
 torian, are as Eshcol, whose forests are as 
 Carmel, whose hills as Lebanon, and whose 
 defence is the ocean. And, to crown all 
 these blessings, we enjoy the light of true 
 religion in a degree at least equal 'to that 
 of any other nation how existing. Happy, 
 then, if we knew our own happiness, and 
 were wise to improve the bounty and 
 grace of heaven so eminently displayed in 
 our favour. 
 
 O fortunatos nimium, bona si sua norint, 
 Britannos! 
 
 I have touched upon these topics, be- 
 cause it concerns every one, without in- 
 dulging a peevish admiration of former 
 times, to make the best of his own a^e 
 and country ; and also to view the world 
 at large in the fairest light possible ; that 
 is, to view it rather in the relation it bears 
 to God than to man ; and lastly, to dwell 
 
268 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part At. 
 
 no more on its evils than may. contribute 
 to their correction, or to his own individual 
 security. An attention to these principles 
 will serve to awaken his gratitude, and to 
 regulate his conduct ; and will enable him, 
 in the bosom of retreat, to v contemplate, 
 through the medium of general history, 
 the various vicissitudes of human affairs, al- 
 ways with profit, and sometimes with the 
 highest satisfaction and delight. 
 
 II. On the Pleasures of Toetry ; their Na- 
 ture and Value, 
 
 From the pleasures of history we pro- 
 ceed to those of poetry ; under which title 
 may be comprised some of those compo- 
 sitions which are entirely fictitious, as well as 
 those whose basis is some real subject, but 
 adorned and heightened by imagination. 
 And it must be allowed, that from such 
 works, when executed with judgment, may 
 be derived both delight and profit. 
 
 The human mind, perhaps from some 
 latent consciousness of its origin, is ever 
 
sect, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement, 269 
 
 looking out for something more perfect 
 than is now to be found actually existing 
 in sublunary nature, and when it meets 
 with this, or something like this, in the 
 descriptions of poets, it is struck with 
 pleasing admiration, it loves to find it- 
 self transported into ideal scenes, where, 
 by the power of genius, the scattered 
 beauties of creation are collected and hap- 
 pily combined ; and to be introduced to 
 the contemplation of actions and charac- 
 ters wrought up beyond the standard of 
 real life. Nor do I know that it is always 
 unlawful, amidst this disordered world, 
 and in the absence of higher remedies, to 
 yield for a moment to this kind of enchant- 
 ment ; nor does it seem impossible that 
 such images of excellence, by rousing and 
 elevating the human faculties, may lead to 
 enquiries after the perfection of our ori- 
 ginal state. 
 
 As poetry, however, is one of the most 
 powerful instruments of our pleasure, we 
 ought cautiously to examine, whether the 
 
270 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 pleasure it affords be at least innocent. 
 Whenever we are pleased, it is because 
 some principle within us is gratified ; and 
 as this is good or evil, so is the pleasure we 
 experience from' it. If we are delighted, 
 for instance, with the Iliad of Homer, it is 
 because it finds something correspondent 
 in the state of our own minds ; and there 
 is need to enquire, whether our delight does 
 not spring from a secret sympathy with that 
 ambition of superiority, that indignant pride, 
 and that implacable resentment, which are the 
 predominant passions exhibited in this cele- 
 brated poem. If we are exalted into rapture 
 in the reading of Milton, we should examine 
 whether a false impression of sublimity from 
 the high adventurous daring of Satan and his 
 host, does not mingle with more legitimate 
 causes in producing the effect*. 
 
 * It has been observed by some, and the remark I 
 apprehend is not entirely without foundation, that Mil- 
 ton's real hero is Satan. Instead of a rebel against the 
 just authority and laws of his benign Creator, this ma- 
 lignant chief is frequently represented under the cha 
 
SECT, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 271 
 
 Or, (to descend from this height,) if we are 
 enchanted with the dramas of Shakespear, 
 (one of the great idols of the time,) we 
 
 racter of a generous patriot, who sacrifices his own- 
 personal ease and safety to the common cause of liberty 
 and equality, of natural rights and original independ- 
 ence. And as the pride of human nature, without stay- 
 ing to consider in what sense they are admissible, is not 
 indisposed to set up the same claims, it is not impro- 
 bable .that their general assertion, though from the lips, 
 and by the efforts of an apostate spirit, may have con- 
 tributed its share to the general applause with which the 
 Paradise Lost has been received in the world, and 
 which it merits by much better titles. , But my design in 
 this note is not so much to tax the equivocal and cap- 
 tious pretensions now recited, as to put the young reader 
 upon his guard against the fascinations of superior 
 genius, when employed rather to elevate and adorn its 
 subject, than to place it in its due light; and to recom- 
 mend to his particular attention the following canon of 
 sound criticism, namely, that nothing is truly either sub- 
 lime or beautiful which is not just. When tried by this 
 maxim, he may probably find that many shining pas- 
 sages in Milton, which before had dazzled his imagina- 
 tion and seduced his judgment, will fade away; though 
 many doubtless will still remain, sufficient to vindicate 
 to their author a place in the very first rank of poets, 
 whether ancient or modern. 
 
27& Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 should examine, whether it is, not rather in 
 consequence of the sympathy we find with 
 the vitiated spirit and manners of the world, 
 than of the pleasures we derive from those 
 just views of nature and human life that 
 frequently occur in the works of this extra- 
 ordinary genius. It may be said, indeed, 
 that our delight may arise from the talents 
 displayed by an author,, separate from the 
 morality of his performance ; but the truth 
 is, that, to a truly virtuous mind, misapplied 
 or prostituted talents can only be an object of 
 grief or indignation. 
 
 No pleasure can be purer than the 
 spring from which it flows, and the springs 
 of Parnassus are commonly polluted ; their 
 ordinary quality is to inspire the irascible* 
 or sensual passions, to intoxicate rather 
 than innocently to gladden and elevate 
 the spirits. One of the fathers, somewhat 
 harshly, has denominated poetry the wine 
 of demons , from his opinion of its tendency 
 to inflate the mind with pride ; and, by a 
 metaphor not harsher, he might have en- 
 
sect, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirements 273 
 
 titled it the Cup of Circe, which, according 
 to the fiction of Homer, transformed the 
 followers of Ulysses into brutes. From 
 the severity of this censure there are, how- 
 ever, many poetical works, both in our own 
 and in other languages, which ought to 
 be exempted ; and some which merit a 
 degree of praise, not only as they are suited 
 to amuse the imagination, but also to raise 
 the sentiments and purify the passions. I 
 speak with reserve, because an art, whose 
 professed object is in general to capti-' 
 vate through the medium of pleasure, is 
 liable to just suspicion, and ought never to 
 be entertained with entire favour, but when 
 if; appears under its proper subordinate 
 character, either as a humble assistant to de- 
 votion, or when it follows in the train of 
 reason and philosophy. 
 
 III. On the Pleasures arising from the 
 Study of Philosophy. 
 
 Though almost every part of human 
 learning has, of late, been reduced under 
 
 T 
 
£74 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 the empire of philosophy, I shall confine it, 
 in the following observations, within nar- 
 rower limits, and consider it as divided into 
 natter al (including the mathematics), morale 
 find metaphysical ; and, under these several 
 heads, shall briefly enquire', what new sources 
 of pleasure it may supply to the contempla- 
 tive recluse. 
 
 1. Natural Philosophy, The only solid 
 basis on which this science can be erected 
 is natural history, which is a study adapted 
 to almost every taste, and level to every 
 understanding. There are few authors* 
 who are read with more general satisfac- 
 tion than Ray, Derham, Nieuwentyt, de la 
 Pluche, Goldsmith ; to whom we may add 
 Buffon, while he keeps to his proper cha- 
 racter of a natural historian, and does not 
 play the part of an idle theorist. While, 
 in such works, the imagination is refreshed 
 with an endless variety of pleasing scenes 
 and objects, the understanding and the 
 lieart are gratified with those innumerable 
 
S l c t . ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. £7 5 
 
 characters of wisdom, power, and goodness, 
 which are obviously inscribed on the whole 
 face of creation. 
 
 When from particular instances we pro- 
 ceed, by a just induction, to general laws, « 
 and from these to others more general, 
 we then ascend into the proper region of 
 philosophy, and at every step obtain more 
 commanding views of nature. The delight 
 afforded by this growing prospect, is some- 
 thing analogous to that which an ingenious 
 traveller* experienced in his journey to 
 the top of Mount Etna, when, upon look- 
 ing around him, after a laborious ascent, 
 the whole island of Sicily appeared as a 
 map beneath his feet; and, as he further 
 increased his elevation, other islands and 
 countries opened gradually to his view* 
 Only, there is this difference in the two 
 cases ; that, in the latter, the summit may 
 at last be gained, whereas, in the former, 
 it is absolutely inaccessible. No man can 
 find out the work that God maketh from the 
 # Brydone. 
 T 2 
 
276 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part in. 
 
 beginning to the end*. Both the first prin- 
 ciples and the ultimate results of all things 
 are alike concealed from us in impene- 
 trable obscurity ; and all that a sober philo- 
 sophy can intend, in order to relieve our 
 ignorance, is to seek out and to prosecute 
 those methods which may gradually lessen 
 our distance from the two extremities -f. 
 
 The light of experience presupposed, the 
 true engine for the erection of natural science, 
 
 # Eccles, iii. 11. 
 
 •f- Let me be permitted here farther to observe, for 
 the sake of the young enquirer, that even within the 
 limits above stated, he will be in constant danger of 
 running into error, unless his understanding be well re- 
 claimed and disciplined, and made willing patiently to 
 follow the slow steps of experience. Without this pre- 
 paration, the first flattering hypothesis, which promises 
 to expedite his progress, will be sufficient to captivate 
 his attention, till its fallacy is exposed by some unto- 
 ward phenomena, or till it is supplanted by some other 
 theory of greater plausibility, or of later invention. 
 Nor can it too much be regretted, that, by a fond 
 pursuit of such illusory phantoms, the vigour of so 
 many great geniuses has been wasted, and those days 
 and years of retreat idly consumed, which, under a 
 right direction, might have led to valuable discoveries. 
 
sect, ii J Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 277 
 
 as the present age has been convinced 
 by the example of Newton, is not hypo- 
 thesis, but geometry ; which, besides its 
 instrumental use, is in itself so transport- 
 ing a study, that, probably, Homer felt 
 less rapture in his fictions, than Archimedes 
 in his demonstrations ; for, as the intellect 
 is the highest faculty of the soul, a sub- 
 limer emotion may be supposed to arise 
 from its contact with truth, though of the 
 lowest order, than any which can be pro- 
 duced by the exercise of our imaginative 
 powers. Yet here, as in other specula- 
 tions, the understanding must observe a 
 measure, or its exertions will be lost in 
 those elaborate trifles, which are properly 
 denominated, by one of our poets, 
 
 Tricks to shew the stretch of human brain, 
 Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious, pain, 
 
 2. Moral Philosophy. From natural and 
 mathematical philosophy, let us pass on 
 to moral, which to a prepared enquirer, is 
 more delightful than either, as may appear 
 from the following reasons : 
 
278 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 First, because it is nobler. That the in- 
 vestigation of the noblest subjects is, to a 
 capable mind, the most pleasing, is a posi- 
 tion which cannot justly be disputed ; nor 
 that what is moral stands highest in the 
 scale of excellence. Whence it follows, 
 that enquiries into the moral world are 
 suited to yield a more sublime satisfaction 
 than those that relate only to the inani- 
 mate or merely sensitive parts of the cre- 
 ation, both of which occupy inferior degrees 
 in the scale now mentioned. Nay, it is 
 some faint reflection of the Creator's moral 
 glory, from these his lowest works, that 
 constitutes their , chief lustre and beauty ; 
 which further evinces the superiority, here 
 asserted^ of moral to natural philosophy ? 
 and consequently to any speculations, how- 
 ever curious, upon mere abstract quantity, 
 as these can only be considered as instru- 
 mental to the knowledge of nature. • 
 
 Secondly, the same may be argued from 
 the superior importance of moral science. 
 That subject which involves our greatest 
 
sect, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 279 
 
 interests cannot fail, to a well-constituted 
 mind, to afford the noblest pleasure. Hence, 
 to such a mind, it must be* more satisfac- 
 tory to understand the measures of right 
 and wrong, of just and unjust, of good and 
 evil, than to be acquainted with the laws 
 of matter and motion, or the properties of 
 lines and figures ; a knowledge which, at 
 most, can only " contribute to our present 
 convenience or amusement, whereas the 
 former immediately relates to our duty and 
 final happiness. 
 
 And, lastly, the same inference may be 
 drawn from the congruity of moral science 
 with our mental faculties- As man was 
 formed to be a subject of the moral king- 
 dom of God, the law of this kingdom was 
 originally interwoven with his very being; 
 and, notwithstanding his apostacy, still 
 retains so much influence, even among the 
 Gentiles, that they are said to be a law to 
 themselves, and to have the work of the law 
 written in their hearts*. This .will hardly 
 
 * Rom. ii, 14, 15. 
 
280 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [part. hi. 
 
 be affirmed of those laws whose discovery 
 is the object of natural and mathematical 
 philosophy, laws which, in general, bear 
 much less affinity, and are attended with 
 much less evidence, to the* human mind : 
 and to whose investigation, a laborious 
 process of reason, together with a slow and 
 gradual experience, is often necessary : so 
 that, unless they can be proved either more 
 excellent in their own naMre, or more in- 
 teresting to us, ► (neither of which, I pre- 
 sume, can be done,) their inferiority, as a 
 source of contemplative pleasure, cannot 
 be disputed, 
 
 3. Metaphysics. Of metaphysical en- 
 quiries, we may observe, in the words of 
 Tacitus, when speaking of the crafty coun- 
 sels of worldly policy, that, however flat- 
 tering in promise, they are generally dif- 
 ficult in the prosecution, and unhappy in 
 the issue*. When a man retires into him- 
 self to consult his own ideas, without pay- 
 
 # Consilia callida ; prima specie lseta, tractatu dura, 
 
 jeventu tristi&> 
 
sect. II.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 281 
 
 ing a humble attention to the works and 
 ways of God in the creation and govern- 
 ment of the world, and above all in the 
 discoveries he has made in his word ; or, 
 in other terms, when he seeks truth more 
 in the abstractions of his own mind than 
 in the realities of nature and revelation ; 
 he is likely to terminate his career amidst 
 all the perplexity i of a dark and melan- 
 choly scepticism. 
 
 Indeed, during that period, when curio- 
 sity is ardent, and the faculties lively and 
 vigorous, such speculations, as we have 
 before intimated, may be highly agreeable - 
 and flattering; but the case is otherwise 
 in the N decline of life. The mind, wearied 
 with endless discussions, seeks repose as 
 well as the body ; and this it can only find 
 in plain and substantial truth. Let him, 
 therefore, who would reap the calm satis- 
 faction of a studious retirement, beware of 
 that seducing spirit which would lure him 
 away from the lightsome and fruitful parts, 
 
282 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [part in. 
 
 of learning into the dark and dreary re- 
 gions of metaphysic subtlety. 
 
 Quale per incertam lunam sub luce malign^ 
 Est iter in sylvis, ubi coelum condidit umbra 
 Jupiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 It would be endless to distribute into 
 their several distinct classes the learned 
 and the speculative of the present times ; 
 or to enumerate the various ways in which 
 they endeavour to amuse their solitude. 
 We may notice, however, a kind of uni- 
 versal literati, now become very common 
 amongst us, who lightly skim the surface 
 of human learning, are enamoured with 
 every delicacy of composition, or morsel 
 of ingenious criticism, can feed deliciously 
 on scraps of Greek and Latin, or upon 
 any old ballad supposed to be written be- 
 fore the days of Chaucer, or can riot at 
 large in some curious melange de literature 
 # de philosophies 
 
sect, i i.J Pleasures of a literary Retirement . C33 
 
 A prudent change of studies is indeed no 
 less grateful and salutary to the intellec- 
 tual, than a change of air or exercise to 
 the animal part of our nature. When the 
 mind is exhausted with long application 
 to scientific or abstruse subjects, she may 
 often find relief in the lighter and more 
 agreeable departments of learning, may 
 expatiate in the interesting field of history, 
 or wander in the flowery paths of poesy ; 
 or, if relaxed or scattered, for want of re- 
 gular exertion, she may apply herself to 
 mathematical, or even to metaphysical en- 
 quiries*; just as, in regard to the body, 
 
 # The author thinks it not improper to express, on 
 tliis occasion, that he is so far from intending to pass an 
 indiscriminate censure on metaphysical learning, or on 
 such general abstract reasoning as often is ranked under 
 this title, that, in his opinion, there is no species of in- 
 tellectual exertion, within certain bounds, and directed 
 to just ends, which ought not to be both respected and 
 encouraged ; and he looks upon it as not the least among 
 4he many mischievous effects, produced by the sophis- 
 try of Hume, Helvetius, Diderot, and others of the 
 same school, that the most solid and important argu- 
 mentation, if but a little abstruse and remote from our 
 ordinary apprehensions, is in danger to be set aside as 
 
284 Pleasures of a literary Retirement, [pakt hi, 
 
 it may be proper to climb the hill or to 
 repose in the valley, according to the lax- 
 ity or tension of the animal system. 
 
 But, however judicious may be his plan 
 for an interchange of studies, there will 
 be frequent intervals when a wise man 
 will quit his books and his speculations, 
 in order to discharge the duties, and^ to 
 share the innocent pleasures, of ordinary 
 life ; when, instead of passing from Locke 
 or Newton to Homer or Virgil, to Thucy* 
 dides or Livy, he will retire alike from 
 philosophers, poets, and historians, to vi- 
 sit a neighbour, to enjoy the cheerful 
 conversation of his own fire-side, or with 
 an infantine spirit to divert himself with 
 his children. Non semper arcum tendit 
 
 scholastic and metaphysical, even by sensible and good 
 men ; and still more by those, who are either too indo- 
 lent to examine, or too incapable to understand, what- 
 ever lies out of the common road; and who are willing 
 to conceal these defects under the taking pretext of 
 modesty rind submission. 
 
sect. ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 285 
 
 Apollo. Man was formed for social inter- 
 course, as well as for solitary contemplation ; 
 and when these ends are pursued in a due 
 manner, they contribute to their mutual ad- 
 vancement. 
 
C 2S6 ) 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The Pleasures of a devotional Retirement considered. 
 
 Before we proceed to the immediate 
 subject of this section it may be proper 
 to premise two cautions, in order to guard 
 those retired men, whose turn of mind is 
 at once religious and speculative, from the 
 danger, to which they are very liable, of mis- 
 taking a devotion merely philosophical or 
 mystical for that which is truly spiritual. Of 
 a superstitious or monkish devotion we shall 
 treat in our progress, 
 
 A spirit of philosophic devotion, kindled 
 by a survey of the works of creation, will 
 often express itself in a language similar to 
 what we find in the following passage of our 
 great poet: 
 
 These are thy glorious works, parent of good, 
 Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
 How wondrous fair, thyself how wondrous then! 
 
 2 . * 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 287 
 
 Unspeakable, who dwelPst above these heavens, 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen, 
 In these thy lowest works; yet these declare 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine! 
 
 These sentiments of adoration, justly 
 ascribed to our first parents, donbtless as- 
 cended as a grateful incense before the 
 Almighty, prior to the original transgression. 
 Since that event, the case has been widely 
 different. Man is become a sinner ; and, 
 before any other acceptable homage can be 
 rendered, he must repent, and embrace 
 those overtures of mercy, which are made 
 to him on the part of his offended Creator. 
 When this is done, when, penitent and 
 reconciled, he offers up his worship before 
 the majesty of heaven, the least sacrifice 
 of humble praise, presented through a me- 
 diator, will not fail to meet with a gracious 
 acceptance. 
 
 When, in surveying the works of nature, 
 a man feels himself inspired with those 
 emotions which may be ranked under the 
 head of philosophic devotion, it is because 
 
288 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part lit. 
 
 he considers the Creator chiefly in the re- 
 lation of a natural governor; otherwise, 
 had he a proper sense of the righteous- 
 ness and purity of his moral administra- 
 tion, nature would be to him more a sub- 
 ject of terror than of grateful adoration ; 
 as it would then present to his. view a 
 wisdom which marked all his disorders, 
 a goodness which he continued to abuse, 
 and a power which he persisted to pro- 
 voke, and which he was perfectly unable to 
 resist. 
 
 Hence may appear the insufficiency of 
 that devotion which is offered up on the 
 altar of nature, without penitence and re- 
 concilement. 
 
 It is this devotion which often finds its 
 way into the retreat of a philosopher, while 
 he is more curious to contemplate the heavens 
 and the earth, and to investigate the laws 
 of matter and motion, than to acquaint 
 himself with God and his own moral 
 situation. 
 
sect* in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 289 
 
 Natural worship, rightly understood, is 
 an elevated and holy service; it is the 
 worship of angels ; and, as we have already 
 intimated, was so of man in his state of 
 original perfection, when, as the priest of 
 nature, he was ordained to offer up praises 
 in behalf of all subordinate beings. But 
 from this exalted office he fell by trans- 
 gression ; and, before he can again be 
 qualified to minister in this high relation 
 to the Creator of the universe, he must 
 learn to bow before him as a just God 
 and a Saviour. 
 
 This is a point which ought strongly to 
 be enforced, in order to counteract the 
 influence of that philosophy which would 
 establish religion without Christianity, and 
 bring men to the worship and service of tl^e 
 Creator without the pardoning and medi- 
 cinal grace of the Redeemer ; for notwith- 
 standing the absolute impracticability of 
 such a project, it holds so much corres- 
 pondence with our natural pride, that no 
 
 u 
 
290 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part in. 
 
 precaution can be too great against such a 
 flattering imposture. 
 
 The second caution, which respects a 
 mystic devotion, is peculiarly needful to 
 those whose turn of mind is serious, ten- 
 der, and susceptible, and whose imagina- 
 tion prevails over their judgment. When 
 such persons withdraw themselves from 
 the world, and especially when they carry 
 their abstraction beyond a social retreat 
 to a hermitage or a desert, there is danger 
 lest, for want of objects to interest the na- 
 tural affections, to limit the excursions of 
 fancy, and mark out a determinate course 
 of action, which may afford a solid and 
 regular exercise of piety, they should be 
 led to wander in a region of chimeras, and 
 be betrayed into an imaginary intercourse 
 with heaven at the expence of their duty 
 upon earth. Nor is there any man of such 
 strength of understanding, or of such con- 
 firmed piety, wlio has not cause, in simi- 
 lar circumstances, to guard against the same 
 illusion. 
 
sect* in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, ggl 
 
 The devotion which is here intended is 
 neither philosophical nor mystical ; it is 
 neither that of an angej, nor of man as he 
 stood in his original innocence ; nor is it the 
 mere ebullition of fancy heated with its 
 own visions ; it is the devotion of man in his 
 present fallen and sinful state, after he is 
 brought to a proper acquaintance with God 
 and with himself. 
 
 Two of the main ingredients which enter 
 into its composition, are humility and love ; 
 and they are equally ingredients of true 
 happiness. The humility of a Christian 
 does not proceed, as some are ready to 
 imagine, from a disparaging view of his 
 own character, or a superstitious dread of 
 the Deity ; but from a just sense of his own 
 meanness and depravity, compared with 
 the majesty and purity of the divine na- 
 ture. It is a disposition founded in truth ; 
 and when accompanied, as it ought to be, 
 with hopes of mercy through a mediator, 
 diffuses in the soul a satisfaction, which 
 can never be derived from a principle of 
 u 2 
 
292 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part in. 
 
 Pharisaic righteousness. Even in relation to 
 this life, a due perception and acknowledg- 
 ment of our demerits, with a generous de- 
 pendence on the equitable allowance of our 
 fellow-creatures, yields a far superior joy to 
 any which can arise from a complacency , in 
 our own imaginary worth. 
 
 The connection of happiness with the 
 love of God is still more obvious. Every 
 one is sensible of the delight which springs 
 from the love of a deserving and amiable * 
 earthly friend, especially when the regard 
 is reciprocal. What then must be his en- 
 joyment, who loves and is beloved by that 
 Being before whom all created excellency 
 fades away, and all created good is poor 
 and diminutive ; who looks up with gratitude 
 to the common parent, and who feels himself 
 the object of his tender affection ! In such 
 favoured circumstances, the cup of human 
 bliss must run over. 
 
 Further, the relation which devotion 
 bears to true happiness will appear, if we 
 
 4 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, ogs 
 
 consider it as expressing itself in acts cf 
 prayer and praise. By prayer, when it is 
 genuine, an intercourse is carried on be- 
 tween heaven and earth ; the soul ad- 
 dresses herself to God, and is answered 
 in returns of blessing, either in the grant 
 of her particular requests, or in some other 
 way more suitable to her necessities ; and, 
 at peculiar seasons ; in the very act of sup- 
 plication, may be indulged with such a 
 sense of the divine presence, as far exceeds 
 every delight of a worldly nature ; which 
 ought not to appear incredible to any one 
 who considers with how much joy the 
 bosom of a humble petitioner is inspired, 
 when admitted to an exalted human pre-* 
 sence, and his request is listened to with 
 condescension and favour. 
 
 And if joy may thus spring from the 
 supplicatory part of devotion, the pious 
 mind may expect to derive it still more 
 largely from the part which is laudatory. 
 If it is pleasing to entreat blessings of the 
 Almighty, under that encouraging expect 
 
£94 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part in. 
 
 tation of success which is afforded us, it 
 must be still more pleasing to return him 
 our praises when our requests are granted, 
 and from personal favours to rise to a general 
 celebration of the divine works and attributes, 
 to mount upwards to angelic adoration, and 
 to unite with the hosts above in ascriptions 
 of glory to the greatest and best of beings. 
 Thus, by a spirit of praise, may good men, 
 here on earth, anticipate the blessedness of 
 heaven. 
 
 I am aware, that what is now advanced 
 must to many appear overstrained and 
 fanciful. It must appear so to those who 
 study nature without a regard to its Au- 
 thor ; to those who mistake humanity for 
 piety ; and, lastly, to those who place 
 their religion merely in opinions, whether 
 true or false, or in any acts of external 
 worship. To all such there is ground to 
 apprehend, that after the best description 
 which can be given, the pleasures of true 
 devotion will remain almost as unknown 
 as the delight of harmony is to the deaf, 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 295 
 
 or the beauty of a fine landscape when 
 the faculty of vision is wanting ; whilst, 
 to the pious Christian, they are pleasures 
 which are perfectly intelligible ; as he knows 
 them in some degree, from his experience, 
 and has found them as much raised above all 
 others as the heavens are exalted above the 
 earth*. 
 
 That men who have tasted this superior 
 happiness should be induced, in order to 
 enjoy it in a fuller measure, to withdraw 
 themselves from the world, is a conse- 
 quence which might naturally be expected ; 
 nor is it impossible that many of the first 
 Christian monasteries owe their establish- 
 ment to this principle. Had their de- 
 sign been somewhat less seraphical, (if 
 I may be allowed the expression,) and 
 more accommodated to the present state 
 of human nature, their success might have 
 
 # " Nor ought it," says the sage Plutarch, " to be 
 thought strange, that God should condescend to dwell 
 with the virtuous, and entertain a spiritual converse 
 with holy and devout souls." Life of Numa. 
 
296 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part hi. 
 
 been greater : for as man is a complex being, 
 formed for action as well as for contem- 
 plation, he must be provided for in both 
 capacities, in order to reap fully the fruit 
 of either. He cannot continue . long in a 
 state of mental abstraction : after a few 
 ineffectual struggles to raise himself above 
 the condition of mortality, he is compelled 
 to fall back into this material system; and, 
 unless he be furnished with an allowable 
 course of action, he is likely to betake 
 himself to some other that is vicious or 
 fantastical. And perhaps we may here 
 discover one of the principal causes which 
 have produced, in monastic societies, those 
 endless ceremonies and superstitious practices 
 by which the body is chiefly engaged, and 
 sometimes called to undergo a very rigorous 
 discipline ; for such is the nature of man, 
 that he had much rather be occupied in 
 the silliest trifles, or even suffer a degree 
 of voluntary pain, which may* give him a 
 feeling of his existence, than sink down into 
 a total vacuity. 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement . €97 
 
 This remark seems to have been exem- 
 plified in many of the severer orders of 
 the Romish church. Unable to main- 
 tain that extravagant pitch of devotion 
 prescribed by their original founders, they 
 descended, and sometimes precipitately, 
 from their unnatural elevation, and, to 
 save themselves from a state of entire spi- 
 ritual destitution, took refuge in forms 
 and ceremonies, and even in the rigours 
 of a cruel superstition. When they as- 
 sembled for social worship, the spirit of 
 it was lost in mere • noise and parade, in 
 animal vociferations and pompous pro- 
 cessions ; while the monk in his cell, in- 
 stead of improving his solitude by holy 
 meditation and inward self-denial, endea- 
 voured to heighten his spiritual fervours, or 
 to rouse himself from his slumbers, by 
 telling over his beads, or by the severity of 
 corporal discipline. 
 
 As justice, however, is due to all man- 
 kind, it ought to be acknowledged, that 
 some monastic societies have been founded 
 
298 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part Hi. 
 
 upon principles more humane, and more 
 agreeable to the genius of Christianity, 
 which imposes no tasks upon her disci- 
 ples but such as, upon the whole, are con- 
 ducive to their present as well as future 
 happiness. In this class we may place 
 the religious establishment at Port Royal, 
 where a number of illustrious recluses^ by 
 their piety and literary labours, edified 
 and illuminated all France, and at the 
 same time held out an example of active 
 industry, by cultivating their grounds with 
 their own hands. A community thus con- 
 stituted and established, could not fail to 
 enjoy that peaceful satisfaction which is sure 
 to rest on the abodes of useful learning and 
 practical piety. 
 
 Devotion, study, and corporal labour, 
 are all necessary, in their due order, to a 
 state of true enjoyment* Without devo- 
 tion, the mind loses her proper dominion, 
 and becomes a miserable slave to those 
 inferior powers which it is her duty to 
 hold in subjection; without study, devo- 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 299 
 
 tion is apt to degenerate into fanaticism ; 
 and without moderate bodily exercise, the 
 earthly tabernacle weighs down the mind 
 that would muse on heavenly things*. Hence, 
 a strict regard to each of these should be 
 had in every regular institution of piety, and 
 especially in every monastic establishment ; 
 the good monk should be kept as closely 
 to his studies, and his agricultural or other 
 labours, at their proper seasons, as to his 
 canonical hours ; otherwise he will be in 
 danger of growing melancholy or supersti- 
 tious. Upon such principles our two uni- 
 versities appear to have been founded ; reli- 
 gion and learning had their appropriate hours, 
 and academic groves were provided for the 
 purpose of needful exercise. How far they 
 are kept up to the rule and spirit of their first 
 institution, those who reside upon the spot 
 are best able to determine. 
 
 Of all the modes of life which have been 
 adopted in pursuit of happiness, that of an 
 absolute hermit seems the most extraordi- 
 
 * Wisdom ix. 15. 
 6 
 
300 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part in. 
 
 nary. To those who are knit together in any 
 kind of community, who are within call 
 one of another, and in case of distress can 
 depend on mutual succour, there may be 
 some prospect of a comfortable existence. 
 But for a being such as man, beset with 
 innumerable wants, and exposed to innu- 
 merable disasters, to withdraw into a de^ 
 sert, and deprive himself of all assistance 
 from his fellow-creatures, appears to be 
 almost the same thing with a banishment 
 to hopeless misery. The event, however, 
 to a truly devout hermit, might be very 
 different. We are not to suppose him 
 always moping in his cell, or wrapt in visions 
 and extasies : his daily subsistence would 
 require much of his time ; another portion 
 might be usefully and agreeably employed 
 in the perusal of a few learned and inge- 
 nious authors ; (for we need not imagine 
 Km either illiterate or unprovided with 
 books ;) and when his hours of devotion 
 were added, but few would remain to fill 
 up the longest day. And though it is not 
 probable he would immediately discover 
 
sect, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement* 301 
 
 all his advantages, as the eye upon a sud- 
 den transition from the open sun-shine into 
 the deep shade of a forest, cannot at once 
 perceive distinctly the objects before it, yet, 
 as he grew accustomed to his situation, and 
 gradually acquired a proper knowledge of his 
 resources, he' might find the wilderness to 
 become a fruitful Jield, and streams to flow 
 in the desert. 
 
 There are few situations among those 
 that come under the description of a de- 
 votional retirement, which seem, on the 
 whole, to be more eligible than that of a 
 pious clergyman, called to minister to a 
 plain and serious people, in some seques- 
 tered part of the country ; and whose 
 time is divided between his closet, his 
 church, and his parochial visits. This 
 succession of duties must render each of 
 them the more pleasing and useful ; the 
 devotions of the closet will be a happy 
 preparation for public worship ; which, 
 in its turn, will make way for more per- 
 sonal counsels and admonitions in his 
 
302 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement, [part in, 
 
 private interviews ; and these will supply 
 him with fresh matter for his own prayers 
 and meditations, and direct him in his 
 addresses from the pulpit. Such a course 
 of piety, private and public, amongst a 
 people separated from the bustle and fashions 
 of the world, and seriously disposed to receive 
 instruction, as it could not fail to produce the 
 happiest effects, must to a good man who is 
 so engaged be a source of unspeakable sa- 
 tisfaction. If it be pleasing to the farmer, for 
 his grounds continually to improve under his 
 care, while some are taken from the waste, 
 and converted into good arable and pasture, 
 and the rest ameliorated and made more pro- 
 ductive; it must be still more pleasing 
 to the moral cultivator, to see the fruit of 
 his labours in the conversion of sinners, 
 and the edification of the righteous ; to 
 see the human field whiten to the harvest ; 
 while he himself fully partakes in the ge- 
 neral progress. And, lastly, if to this con- 
 cordance of private devotion with external 
 duties and their happy fruits, there is added 
 the comfort of domestic life, little is wanting 
 
s e c t . 1 1 1 .] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 303 
 
 to fill up that measure of human felicity so 
 elegantly described by the author of The 
 Seasons : 
 
 Oh, speak the j 03% ye whom the sudden tear 
 
 Surprises often, while ye look around, 
 
 And nothing meets your eye but sights of bliss ! 
 
 A moderate sufficiency, content, 
 
 Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
 
 Ease, and alternate labour, useful life, 
 
 Progressive virtue, and approving heaven ! 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 IS WHICH A COMMON OBJECTION AGAINST A LIFE 
 OF RETIREMENT, NAMELY, THAT IT DESTROYS 
 OR DIMINISHES USEFUXNESS, IS PARTICULARLY 
 CONSIDERED. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 ^Containing some Remarks on the Utility arising from 
 Public Station, 
 
 That to withdraw from the world is the 
 way to become less serviceable, if not ab- 
 solutely useless, is a notion which car- 
 ries so much appearance of truth, that 
 we ought not to wonder, if men who ven- 
 ture upon such a step, usually incur the 
 censure of those who still maintain their 
 post in society* To moderate this cen- 
 
 x 
 
S06 On the Utility of 'public Station, [part iv. 
 
 sure, which I apprehend is often too severe, 
 I would submit to trie consideration of 
 these more active citizens, a few remarks 
 on the utility of their own occupations ; 
 and should this appear to be, in many 
 cases, very equivocal, and in general, to be 
 much less than tbey have imagined, such a 
 discovery may help to increase their can- 
 dour towards those who prefer more retired 
 situations. 
 
 Utility has respect to an end, and implies 
 means adapted to its attainment. The end 
 may be good or evil. In the latter case, 
 the term useful is predicated of the means 
 with less propriety, as they can only merit 
 this character, when, besides their lawfulness 
 in themselves, they are directed to a good 
 purpose. 
 
 The chief and ultimate end of man, is 
 to please God ; and to please him, we 
 must conform to his will ; and his will is 
 that we should be holy and happy. Vir- 
 tue then, (according to the extensive mean- 
 
sect, i J On the Utility of public Station. 307 
 
 ing in which we take the word,) and vir- 
 tuous happiness, are the great ends to 
 which we should direct our endeavours ; 
 and every mean which may contribute to 
 their accomplishment is properly ranked 
 under the head of utility, provided it be 
 allowable in its own nature ; for it re* 
 quires as much to be considered that no 
 goodness of the end can sanctify any wrong 
 means which are made use of to promote 
 it, as that no end can be good which is not 
 favourable to the cause of virtue and hap- 
 piness* 
 
 Having premised these principles, let us 
 now endeavour to apply them in the case 
 before us* 
 
 It is evidently a great part of the busn 
 ness of the world, to provide food and 
 clothing for the body; and, so far as this 
 provision is needful, to supply the neces- 
 sities and modest conveniences of nature^ 
 and to mark that subordination which 
 must subsist in every well regulated com- 
 
 x2 
 
308 On the Utility of public Station, [part iv. 
 
 monity, neither reason nor religion reclaim 
 against it. Such, however, is the present 
 corrupt state of mankind, that it is diffi- 
 cult to provide for their wants, and not to 
 feed their luxuries ; or to furnish them with 
 the proper distinctions of the place which 
 they hold in society, and not to minister 
 at the same time to their vanity. And 
 though the honest tradesman is not answer- 
 able for such abuses, he has reason to la- 
 ment them as a blot and disparagement to 
 his calling. 
 
 The like apology cannot be made for 
 those whose business it is, at least in part, 
 studiously to hold out temptations to such ' 
 abuses, and to minister directly to pride 
 and luxury. So far as any occupation is 
 employed to gratify the appetites at the 
 expence of health or innocence, or to 
 adorn the body to the prejudice of femi- 
 nine modesty, or of manly grace and dig- 
 nity, it certainly cannot be numbered 
 amongst those useful arts which are ne- 
 cessary to preserve the due gradations of 
 
sect, i.] On the Utility of public Station. 309 
 
 society, or which are warranted by a mo- 
 dest regard to personal comfort or con- 
 venience. To enumerate the employments 
 which fall under the description here given, 
 would be equally invidious and unneces- 
 sary. 
 
 The same mixed character in human af- 
 fairs, which often makes it doubtfiil whether 
 the good or the evil predominates, . is also 
 discernible in occupations which relate 
 more immediately to the intellectual part 
 of our nature. As a specimen, let us take 
 the business of a bookseller. It is far from 
 my purpose to depreciate a calling which, 
 on the whole, I believe has been of great 
 use to the world; though, in the present 
 state of literature, to conduct it with such 
 circumspection as that the balance shall 
 turn in favour of truth and virtue, is 
 evidently a matter of no small difficulty. 
 Among the numerous volumes which are 
 now in ordinary circulation, there is a 
 large proportion which deserves to be brand- 
 ed with infamy, many of them powerfully 
 
S10 On the Utility of public Station. Jpart iv, 
 
 tending to promote lewdness, dissipation, 
 and public disorder, and many others 
 no less subservient to the cause of in- 
 fidelity and profaneness. The shelves of 
 our libraries groan under loads of error 
 and impiety, the incentives of vice, and 
 the pleas of anarchy. When such is the 
 demand for works, whose direct object is 
 to sap the principles, and vitiate the 
 manners, of the present age and of pos- 
 terity, it obviously requires no common 
 degree of virtue and vigilance in a book- 
 seller to preserve himself from being an 
 instrument of public mischief. And the 
 difficulty is still greater, when the evil 
 (which frequently happens) is more co- 
 vertly conveyed ; when an artful writer, 
 otherwise, perhaps, of undoubted merit 
 through the vehicle of history or fiction, 
 or some pretended metaphysical disquir- 
 sition, insinuates the same false and dan- 
 gerous principles, which, for want of suf- 
 ficient leisure or sagacity, may easily 
 escape a * man of business. And ever) 
 ^mong those writings which we ought to, 
 
sect, ij On the Utility of 'public Station, SH 
 
 consider as honestly dedicated to the pre- 
 sent and future welfare of mankind, such 
 often are either their inherent defects, or 
 their want of due reception, that few of thern 
 appear to answer, in any considerable degree 
 the end for which they were laudably in- 
 tended. When all this is fairly taken into 
 the account, the most respectable bibliopolist 
 will find little reason to boast himself on the 
 score of utility. 
 
 So far concerning the less dignified oc„ 
 cupations of society. — Of the learned pro* 
 fessions of law and physic, 1 wish to 
 speak in terms of the highest respect, 
 on account of the relation they bear to 
 two of the greatest blessings we can en^ 
 joy, peace and health. A lawyer, who 
 instead of encouraging a spirit of litiga- 
 tion, endeavours to prevent it, who will 
 undertake no cause but upon probable 
 grounds of equity, and, when undertaken* 
 will exert all his diligence, with the 
 least possible expence or trouble to his 
 
312 On the Utility of public Station, [part iv. , 
 
 client, to bring it to a fair conclusion ; — 
 such a lawyer (and many such I trust 
 there are,) sustains a part in society, in a 
 high degree both useful and honourable. 
 Again, the physician, whose sentiments of 
 humanity and justice carry him above every 
 mercenary consideration, who is anxious 
 not to trifle with his patient, not to de- 
 tain him under the dubious trials of art, 
 when he should remit him to the more 
 sure guidance of nature, nor to flatter 
 him with hopes of recovery at the risk 
 of his most important interests, possesses 
 an equal title to the gratitude and respect, 
 of his fellow-citizens. Men such as these 
 may, with a good grace, call the votary 
 of solitude to account, and demand of 
 what use he is to the world. On the other 
 hand, should their conduct be dictated 
 by the temptations instead of the duties of 
 their profession, they are too deeply re- 
 sponsible themselves, to exercise an au- 
 thority of this nature over the most indolent 
 recluse. 
 
sect, i.l On the Utility of public Station. 313 
 
 There are other descriptions of men, 
 who, without any particular profession, act 
 a considerable part in society. Among 
 these may be ranked the founders of 
 families, the promoters of charitable and 
 other practical institutions, and, lastly, 
 the patrons of learning and genius. Upon 
 the utility of these several classes, I would 
 offer a few brief remarks. 
 
 I. The founders of families. We see 
 men who, after they have raised themselves 
 by their own genius and industry to a 
 state of opulence, transplant themselves 
 from the city into some more elegant si- 
 tuation at the west end of the town, 
 where, still in the midst of noise and 
 competition, and in preference to a quiet 
 and unambitious country life, they set 
 themselves to cultivate an acquaintance 
 with people of rank or fashion, till, 
 by dint of interest or money, or by a 
 courtly servility, their ultimate wishes are 
 at length accomplished ; their sons are 
 provided with distinguished situations at 
 
314 On the Utility of public Station, [part iv. 
 
 court, in the church, or in the army, and 
 their daughters with rich or noble alliances: 
 while a fair inheritance, and perhaps a title, 
 remains in reserve for the heir of the house. 
 Such favourites of fortune will find many 
 tongues loud in their praise, and many am- 
 bitious fathers will be sure to hold them 
 out to their children as patterns for their 
 diligent imitation. 
 
 To determine how far this praise is me- 
 rited, we must recur to the principles al- 
 ready laid down, and consider, whether to 
 advance a family so much above a state of 
 mediocrity, is a probable method to pro- 
 mote either its virtue or happiness. Here 
 no discussion can be necessary. Every 
 man who is at all acquainted with him- 
 self and with the world, must be sensible, 
 that the natural tendency of wealth and 
 secular distinction is to generate pride 
 and luxury, and consequently to destroy 
 true enjoyment, which can only subsist 
 upon the principles of universal mo- 
 deration; and as these principles have 
 
 4 
 
sect. I.] On the Utility of public Station. 315 
 
 been seldom found to flourish in extreme 
 situations, hence, in every age, wisdom 
 has sought a middle condition, as the 
 favourite seat of virtuous enjoyment, and 
 the most secure station for human weak- 
 ness, 
 
 What is most surprising in the case be. 
 fore us, is, that we find men who are ac- 
 counted religious, and, in other respects, 
 apparently deserving that character, who 
 pursue the same ambitious course, and 
 under the same false pretexts ; who, be- 
 cause it is their duty to provide for their 
 children, will push their fortunes by every 
 means in their power, will speak in their 
 presence, of riches, and honours, and houses, 
 and equipage, in a way the most suited 
 to inflame their susceptible imaginations ; 
 will send them, at the risk of their 
 morals, and perhaps at no convenient ex- 
 pence, to some great school, where they 
 will be most likely to form those early 
 connections, which may afterwards enable 
 them to climb up to some dignity in the 
 
316 On the Utility of public Station, [part i v. 
 
 church, or conspicuous office in the state ; 
 while their daughters are trained in those 
 arts, which, however they may add at- 
 tractions to the person, are generally un- 
 friendly to that virtuous prudence, and 
 those domestic accomplishments, which 
 are the true and lasting ornaments of the 
 feminine character. For a man of the 
 world to act in this manner is natural- 
 ly to be expected ; but for those to copy 
 the example, who profess themselves to bo 
 the disciples and subjects of a master whose 
 doctrine and kingdom are not of this world, 
 is one of those unhappy contrarieties which 
 are too often to be lamented in human 
 conduct. 
 
 II. The founders or promoters of chari- 
 table or other practical institutions. Men 
 of this character deserve to be placed 
 high in the scale of utility, and would be 
 disgraced by a comparison with those of 
 the former description. To raise a family 
 to a state of opulence and distinction, is 5 
 as we have seen, a probable way to renr 
 
 7 
 
sect. i.] On the Utility of public Station. 317 
 
 der it more vicious, without any real ad- 
 vantage to its enjoyments ; and were the 
 effect in both these respects the most 
 favourable, it would be confined within 
 narrow limits. Whereas to erect a hospi- 
 tal, or to form any other public establish- 
 ment, on the principles of humanity and 
 sound policy ; or by an active inspection, 
 as well as by pecuniary contributions, to 
 promote the end of such institutions, is 
 to confer a probable benefit on society at 
 large. Persons employed in such ser- 
 vices, whether it be to provide relief for 
 the diseased, to liberate the poor unfor- 
 tunate debtor, to form vagrant and de- 
 stitute children into useful members of 
 the community, to improve the state of 
 our prisons, or in any other way to miti- 
 gate the distresses and ameliorate the con- 
 dition of human life, undoubtedly deserve 
 to be placed in the first rank of public 
 benefactors. And whenever such men, by 
 the ingratitude with which their labours 
 are received, or by any other discourage- 
 ment are driven from their station in so- 
 
SiS On the Utility of public Station, [part t&/ 
 
 ciety, their retreat is to be regretted as a 
 public detriment* 
 
 III. The patrons of genius and learn- 
 ing. To encourage and direct the studies 
 of ingenious youth ; to search out, and 
 bring into public view, men who are qua- 
 lified to instruct the world, and whose su- 
 perior knowledge lies obscured by want, 
 or concealed by modesty ; or to procure 
 the publication and aid the spread of 
 productions which are suited to improve 
 the understandings and morals of man- 
 kind ; are works which must do honour 
 to any rank or fortune, and entitle their 
 author to a place in the first class of good 
 citizens. A patron thus highly distin- 
 guished, ought never to be confounded 
 with any finical ambitious pretender, who, 
 if now and then he makes a pecuniary 
 compliment to a poor author for his de- 
 dication, or helps him upon the stage to 
 divert the audience with something he 
 calls a play ; or promotes some splendid 
 ^ditition of a heathen classic, or opens his 
 
sect, i.] On the Utility of public Station. 3)9 
 
 house once a week for literary tattle, is 
 ready,, on the strength of such services, to 
 applaud himself, and to challenge the ap- 
 plause of others, as a very Mecaenas. Let 
 us hope, however, that among his other 
 claims to public favour, he will not plead his 
 merits as a useful citizen. 
 
 The last character I shall consider under 
 the head of public utility is of a higher 
 order, its influence is far more extensive and 
 commanding, and, according as it is well or 
 ill directed, is productive of the greatest 
 benefit or injury to society; I mean the 
 character of a statesman. 
 
 A man placed at the head of public af- 
 fairs, who estimates national prosperity by 
 the diffusion of virtuous happiness, and 
 agreeably to this maxim, employs every 
 lawful measure to prevent idleness, to en- 
 courage industry, to restrain licentiousness, 
 and to protect and cherish true liberty, is 
 undoubtedly to be ranked among the 
 greatest of human benefactors, has a just 
 
320 On the Utility of public Station, [part iv. 
 
 claim to the warmest gratitude of h\s fel- 
 low-citizens, and to the general esteem of 
 mankind. To such a patriot minister the 
 pious recluse will look up as to a tutelary 
 angel, and attend him with emotions of 
 veneration in all his endeavours to promote 
 the virtue and ameliorate the state of his 
 country. 
 
 The statesman who proceeds upon lower 
 principles, and who looks no farther than 
 to the outward splendour of affairs, is en- 
 titled to no such reverence. Though he 
 may pompously harangue in the senate, 
 and may be ardent in his schemes to ad- 
 vance the wealth, and power, and renown, 
 of his country, his soul is vulgar, and wants 
 true moral elevation ; he wants a just 
 sense wherein the real prosperity and glory 
 of a state consists, and of what is neces- 
 sary to secure its permanence and stability. 
 Every age has experienced, what every age 
 is disposed to forget, and the statesman no 
 less than any other individual, that national 
 wealth and power, without the strong cor- 
 
sect, i.] On the Utility of public Station. 321 
 
 rective of virtue, can only produce a tran- 
 sient glory, and are sure to terminate in na- 
 tional shame and ruin. 
 
 Still, it should always be considered, in 
 order to strengthen the regard we owe to 
 our rulers, that such is the dignity of pub- 
 lic virtue, as to render every appearance 
 of it respectable ; and therefore, that a 
 degree of honour is due to the statesman, 
 who, in a candid construction, may be 
 supposed to act, though upon false or de- 
 fective principles, with a view to the gene- 
 ral good. But when, from a well-mean- 
 ing patriot, he degenerates into the mer- 
 cenary head of a party, and it becomes 
 evidently the great object of his ministry 
 to decorate himself and his friends with 
 the spoils of the commonwealth, his name 
 and memory then deserve to be loaded 
 with infamy. Far better had it been for 
 such a man to have dwelt in a wilderness, 
 or to have consumed his days amidst the 
 gloom of a cloister with beads and relics, 
 than to have stood forth on the public 
 
 Y 
 
3g| On the Utility of public Station. [part iv. 
 
 stage, basely to sacrifice the welfare of his 
 country to the idol of private interest or 
 ambition. 
 
 All this may serve to show, that to con- 
 tribute really to the public benefit is no 
 ordinary felicity. To add indeed to the 
 general misery is easy to any man, down 
 from a minister of state to the meanest 
 peasant; so susceptible is human life of 
 evil, that, sown by whatever hand, it na- 
 turally takes root, and spreads itself with- 
 out limit. On the contrary, to do good 
 is difficult: and, without wisdom to di- 
 rect as well as benevolence to intend, 
 the effect will commonly be inconsider- 
 able ; wealth may lavish her benefactions 
 with little relief of virtuous indigence, and 
 power may widely extend her patronage 
 while -modest merit lies neglected; and 
 all the political resources of a people may 
 be called forth without any material ac- 
 cession to human happiness. Even after 
 
 the utmost exertions of wisdom and virtue 
 
 - 
 
 in conjunction, their end is seldom or 
 
sect, i.] On the Utility of public Station. $23 
 
 never perfectly attained, and oftentimes is 
 entirely defeated, through the perverseness 
 and obstinacy of those who set themselves 
 in opposition to their own interest. And 
 though the little success of his attempts to 
 be of service, ought not to sink a good citi- 
 zen in discouragement, or tempt him to 
 desert his station, but rather should incite 
 his more strenuous endeavours; it ought, 
 however, to repress any vain opinion of his 
 own usefulness, and dispose him to regard 
 with more allowance those whose life is 
 devoted to retirement: or who, after*a 
 number of years spent in the bustle of the 
 world, withdraw from it under a convic- 
 tion, that the good which they do is small 
 and uncertain, and that the evil which 
 they suffer is great and unavoidable. Be- 
 sides, it by no means always follows, as a 
 necessary consequence, that a man is ren- 
 dered useless, or even less useful, by an 
 abstraction from public life* as perhaps 
 may appear from the remarks we have next 
 to offer. 
 
 y2 
 
( 324 ) 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 A relived Life considered in respect to Utility. 
 
 I H e cynic Diogenes, we are told, as he 
 one day was rolling his tub in the mar- 
 ket-place of Athens, being questioned con- 
 cerning this singularity, made answer, that, 
 as he saw all the world busy around him, 
 he had no mind to remain unemployed. 
 This conduct and reply of the sagacious 
 misanthrope, conveyed a fine reproof of 
 the greater part of that bustle and agita- 
 tion which goes under the name of business, 
 as it implied, that in point of real use, it 
 was nearly upon an equality with the rolling 
 of his tub. 
 
 It is sad to consider how seldom • we 
 look through the form and circumstance 
 of affairs into their real importance, and 
 how much we are led to rate them by the 
 stir and noise with which they are attended. 
 When we see multitudes of people in un- 
 
sect, ii.] On the Utility of retired Life. 3%5 
 
 remitting exertion, many in a perpetual 
 hurry, as if their presence was necessary 
 in a hundred places at once, we naturally 
 suppose some grave matters are in agita- 
 tion, and that the actors are persons of 
 no small consequence ; while those who 
 go quietly about their business, or with- 
 draw altogether from public observation 
 to act their proper part in retirement, we 
 as naturally imagine to be of little or, no 
 use. To correct this vulgar misapprehension, 
 it might be sufficient to reflect, that the most 
 perfect and beneficial agency is exerted 
 without precipitation or tumult, that all 
 the planetary revolutions are performed in 
 majestic order and silence, and with less 
 impression upon the senses than the motions 
 of a water-mill. 
 
 Let us then dismiss this popular preju- 
 dice, and proceed to point out by what 
 methods a retired life may be made a 
 useful one. And here we must recur to 
 some of those instances of occupation, 
 which have before been considered in re- 
 
S9.G On the Utility of retired Life. [part iv. 
 
 ference to the individual pleasure or improve- 
 ment of the retired man himself. 
 
 1. The first instance I shall specify is 
 that of agriculture. The employment of 
 a farmer, as it has been observed by many 
 writers, is evidently the nexus or middle 
 link between the savage and civilized 
 state of mankind, who, if we except a 
 few scattered tribes that derive their sub- 
 sistence from the sea, or from the produce 
 of their flocks, must be content to roam 
 in the desert in quest of food, unless they 
 find a more regular provision in the la- 
 bours of husbandry. It is therefore on 
 these labours that we essentially depend, 
 if not for the bare support of life, at 
 least for whatever can render life com- 
 fortable ; for all those numerous and use- 
 ful arts, those literary and benevolent in- 
 stitutions, which owe their birth to civil 
 society, and which tend to its farther im- 
 provement. Hence the country gentle- 
 man who resides constantly upon his 
 estate, and endeavours by an attention to 
 
sect* ii.] On the Utility of retired Life. 327 
 
 the best methods of culture to raise the 
 greatest possible supply for human suste- 
 nance, is worthy to be honoured as a pub- 
 lic benefactor. While he pastures his flocks 
 and his herds, or ploughs his glebe, he not 
 only affords employment to the peasant, 
 but promotes manufactures, encourages 
 learning, diffuses civility and humanity, and, 
 in general, strengthens the foundations of 
 social life. Compare him with those of 
 his rank who exchange the healthy abodes 
 of their fathers, with every manly occu- 
 pation, for the smoke of cities, and the haunts 
 of gambling, dissipation, and lewdness; 
 who prefer the mimicries of art to all the ori- 
 ginal beauties of nature, and had rather cul- 
 tivate the barren smiles of a courtier than 
 their hereditary acres ; compare him, I say, 
 with such men, and his merits will appear 
 still more conspicuous, and deserving of pub- 
 lic gratitude. 
 
 II. The next instance I shall notice re- 
 spects the cultivation of a neighbourly dis- 
 position and conduct. Plutarch tells us, 
 
328 On the Utility of retired Life. [part iv. 
 
 in his life of Themistoeles, that this noble 
 Greek, having a farm to dispose of, adver- 
 tised it with this recommending circum- 
 stance, that it was provided with a good 
 neighbour. This advantage, which it seems 
 was at that time of no small account, has 
 not since diminished in its value, and it is an 
 advantage which the, retired man may af- 
 ford in each of these two ways ; first, by 
 his knowledge and humanity ; and, secondly, 
 by his piety. 
 
 A retired man, with that general know- 
 ledge which so much becomes every per- 
 son of leisure and fortune, and with that 
 practical benevolence which becomes him 
 still more, may be of various service in his 
 vicinity. By an acquaintance with agri- 
 cultural improvements he may suggest 
 useful hints how to manage a farm to Jthe 
 best advantage, to a less informed and in- 
 dustrious neighbour: or, by a degree of 
 medical skill, may contribute to his health. 
 He may prevent disputes and litigation, 
 or by his amicable interference and legal 
 
sect, ii.] On the Utility of retired Life. ^2y 
 
 knowledge help to bring them to the speediest 
 issue ; and in many other ways, too obvious 
 to be here enumerated, by a proper applica- 
 tion of his fortune and influence, he may 
 add much to the peace and comfort of 
 those around him. 
 
 If he be a man of piety, his usefulness 
 may be more extended. Good-sense and 
 humanity can only act within a temporal 
 sphere ; they may prudently advise, and 
 reach out a helping hand amidst many of 
 the difficulties of life, and by a friendly 
 sympathy soften many of its ordinary evils ; 
 but there are graver exigencies, when no- 
 thing short of the counsels and aids of 
 Christianity can minister any real and per- 
 manent relief. And in the present sinful 
 and calamitous state of the world, there are 
 probably few situations within whose cir- 
 cuit, however narrow or sequestered, such 
 an exigency may not be found ; wherein 
 there is not some mind so overwhelmed 
 with misfortune, so excruciated with guilt, 
 or pining in despondence, as to render all 
 
530 On the Utility of retired Life. [part iv. 
 
 human consolation vain, and all human 
 redress utterly incompetent. Under such 
 grievances to afford any effectual succour by 
 an application of higher remedies, were it only 
 in a single instance, would be enough to ex- 
 empt the retirement of a good man from the 
 charge of inutility. 
 
 III. A retired man of letters, if he has 
 a son, may find much useful employment 
 in the care of his education. He may 
 himself assume the office of domestic tutor, 
 and thus avoid the necessity of commit- 
 ting him into the hands of persons who 
 have no natural interest in his welfare, or 
 of exposing him to the contagion of those 
 vices which are almost inseparable from 
 great schools. Besides, by this domestic 
 tuition, a considerable portion of that 
 time, which, according to the routine of 
 what is called a classical education, is 
 consumed in the barren study of words, 
 the fictions of poets, or the vanities of 
 heathen mythology, may be employed in 
 the cultivation of his reason, and the ac- 
 
sect, ii.] On the Utility of retired Life. 331 
 
 quirement of much solid learning. In- 
 stead of a smattering in a dead language, 
 of which he may never find any use, and 
 which, to increase the difficulty of attain- 
 ment, is absurdly made introductory to 
 itself; instead of a memory charged with 
 stories of ideal metamorphoses, and ob- 
 scene adventures of gods and goddesses ; 
 a boy of common capacity may early be 
 initiated in the rudiments of real science, 
 may be made acquainted with many of 
 the less obvious changes and operations 
 of nature, with many surprising properties 
 of light and fire, of air and water, with 
 the elements of astronomy, of geography, 
 of general history, and of various other 
 parts of knowledge at once both useful 
 and ornamental. And, what is more im- 
 portant (as was observed in a former sec- 
 tion,) than a proficiency in particular branches 
 of learning, his faculties may be pre- 
 pared for any acquisitions which he may 
 find necessary in his progress through the 
 world, and his understanding formed to 
 pronounce justly upon their value. Above 
 
332 On the Utility of retired Life. [PAfet iv. 
 
 all, the anxious affection of a parent, if he 
 be at all qualified to sustain that character, 
 will naturally induce him to practise every 
 method which may inspire his son with 
 the love of truth and virtue, and conse- 
 quently with a distaste of all such tales and 
 fictions, however set oft and embellished 
 by the power of genius, which may violate 
 the integrity of the one, or the purity of 
 the other. 
 
 Farther : a learned and ingenious recluse 
 may sometimes aid the progress of general 
 knowledge and improvement. If he is a 
 mathematician, though he may not be 
 able to extend the limits of a science 
 which seems already to have been carried 
 beyond the bounds of utility, he may help 
 to render some of its practical branches 
 more attractive and accessible. If he is 
 a botanist, he may pick up some unknown 
 and salutary plant in his rural excursions ; 
 or, if he has a turn for chemistry, he may 
 light upon some discovery which will be 
 of use in agriculture or medicine, in arts 
 
s E ct. 1 1 .] On the Utility of retired Life. 333 
 
 or manufactures; and in other depart- 
 ments of science, or natural history, he 
 may contribute something, by his researches, 
 to the general benefit. As a moralist 
 he may contribute still more : from the 
 elevated ground of serene contemplation 
 he may look down on mankind with an 
 impartial eye, and take large surveys of 
 their different pursuits ; and, whilst they 
 are busily engaged in the race of life, may 
 admonish them of the laws which ought 
 to regulate the course, and which, in the 
 eagerness of competition, they are very 
 liable to forget. He may help to place 
 them at that ideal distance from them- 
 selves, and from the world, without which 
 they are sure to form undue estimates of 
 both, to magnify their own abilities and 
 virtues, and the importance of the objects 
 they have in view. This power of mental 
 abstraction is a principal advantage to be 
 sought in retirement; and to reflect this 
 advantage back upon society, is to render 
 it the most essential service. To do this is 
 indeed not within the reach of every lite- 
 
334 Onthe Utility of retired Life. [part iv. 
 
 rary contemplative, and is only to be ex- 
 pected from one, who, after he has seen 
 much of the world, carefully weighs and 
 digests his observations in solitude; or 
 who, by a narrow self-inspection, and a 
 diligent perusal of general history, has ac- 
 quired such a knowledge of himself, and 
 of mankind, as will nearly answer the same 
 end. 
 
 IV. Another office in which a retired 
 man may be useful, is that of a minister 
 of religion. Let not the reader be startled 
 at this, as if I meant to confound the clergy 
 and laity, or to insinuate, thai: any one 
 who can imagine himself sufficiently gifted 
 for the purpose, is authorized to commence 
 a public teacher. I mean no more, than 
 that it becomes every man to be a priest 
 in his own house. Of this our more pious 
 fathers were properly sensible, and paid a 
 strict attention to domestic worship, which, 
 as no one needs be told, has in our days, 
 like many other good practices, fallen into I 
 general disuse. Whatever plea a man of 
 
 6 
 
sect. ii.] On the Utility of retired Life. 335 
 
 business may have to offer in extenuation 
 of this neglect, a retired man has none. 
 Privileged as he is from taking a part 
 in active life, he is bound by every con- 
 sideration to the regular discharge of this 
 great duty, to which the commerce of the 
 world is less favourable, and which, if 
 rightly performed, may be productive of 
 the happiest fruits. By reading and prayer 
 he may form a church , in his own house, 
 to which, at proper seasons, he may asso- 
 ciate the poor in his vicinity, who may 
 perhaps want the disposition or ability, or 
 both together, either to read their Bible, 
 or to pray for themselves. Especially, 
 should he be placed in a situation where 
 the public worship of God is less frequent 
 than ordinary, or from distance less access- 
 ible, his endeavours, in, the way now 
 stated, to assist the devotions of his neigh- 
 bours, would be the more highly laudable 
 and expedient. Nor ought it to be sup- 
 posed that there is any clergyman who, in 
 -such circumstances would complain of lay- 
 
336 On the Utility of retired Life. [part iv« 
 
 intrusion, or who would not cordially re- 
 joice in such co-operation. 
 
 V. Again : A retired man, if pious, may 
 be useful, and useful to his fellow-crea- 
 tures in general, by his private prayers. 
 There are many passages of scripture from 
 which may be inferred the -efficacy of 
 individual intercession. I shall only 
 point to a few. Alt the intreaty of Abra- 
 ham, Sodom would have been spared, 
 had ten righteous men been found in it*. 
 The whole nation of Israel was pre- 
 served more than once from destruction 
 upon the intercession of Moses -f. ' In 
 the prophet Ezekiel we read: The people 
 of the land have used oppression, and ex- 
 ercised robbery, and have vexed the poor and 
 needy ; yea, they have oppressed the stranger 
 wrongfully. And I sought for a man among 
 them that should make up the hedge, and 
 stand in the gap before me for the land, 
 that I should not destroy it: but I found 
 
 * Gen. xviii. t Deut. ix. 
 
s e c t. 1 1 .] On the Utility of retired Life. 337 
 
 none. Therefore have I poured out mine 
 indignation upon them, I have consumed 
 them with the fire of my wrath*. To 
 which I shall only add another passage 
 from the New Testament ; Elias, it is said, 
 was a man subject to like passions as we 
 are, and he prayed earnestly that it might 
 not rain ; and it rained not on the earth 
 by the space of three years and six months. 
 And he prayed again, and the heaven gave 
 rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit -f. 
 And though it must at once be acknow- 
 ledged, that no one at present living can 
 be compared with Abraham, or Moses, 
 or Elias, yet still it remains an unalter- 
 able truth, that the fervent prayer of a 
 righteous man availeth much%; much to 
 his own, and much to the advantage of 
 those around him ; and, in conjunction 
 with the prayers of other good men, may 
 so far avail, (whatever a narrow and 
 vain philosophy may suggest to the con- 
 
 * Ezek.xxii. 2<J ; 31. f James v. 17, J8. 
 
 J James v. i6. i 
 
338 On the Utility of retired Life. [paUt iv. 
 
 trary,) as even to prevent or mitigate 
 public judgments, to turn the scale of 
 victory, or to protract the date of a de- 
 clining empire. 
 
 VL Lastly, a retired man may be useful 
 to others by his example. The world 
 wants repose ; and the exhibition of a 
 virtuous and happy retirement has a tend- 
 ency to quiet its agitation. It shows, that 
 a simple mode of life is sufficient for every 
 purpose of nature or rational enjoyment, 
 and that there is no need to resort to the 
 court or the city, to camps or senates, to 
 theatres or fashionable assemblies, either 
 for occupation or amusement. Men take 
 too much pains to be happy ; they con- 
 struct for this end operose and complex 
 engines, which are difficult to frame and 
 more difficult to keep in order; they 
 imagine that some great thing (if I may 
 allude to an ancient story in Scripture*,) 
 is necessary for the accomplishment of 
 
 # 2 Kings v. 13. 
 
sect, li.] On the Utility of retired Life. 339 
 
 their object, though there is need only to 
 wash and be clean ; nor is there any lesson 
 which better deserves their study, than 
 what is held out to them in a life of un- 
 ambitious and virtuous retreat. 
 
 In one or more of these ways may a re- 
 tired man be a public blessing : and though 
 it is possible that, after all his endeavours, 
 the amount of his service to others may 
 be but little, (which indeed may be the 
 case of any man in any situation,) he 
 may still be of the highest service to him- 
 self. In his solitary walks and medita- 
 tions he may acquire and strengthen a 
 habit of pious recollection, and cultivate an 
 acquaintance with God, and with his own 
 nearest concerns. Thus, intent upon a bet- 
 ter world, and little anxious about the pre- 
 sent (by which perhaps he is neglected or 
 forgotten), he will grow every day more 
 disposed to bid it heartily farewell, in the 
 spirit of the following lines of Seneca, as 
 we find them happily rendered by Andrew 
 Marvel : 
 
 % 2 
 
340 On the Utility of retired Life. [paut iv„ 
 
 Climb at court forme that will, 
 TottVing favour's pinnacle, 
 All I wish is to lie still. 
 Settled in some secret nest, 
 In calm quiet let me rest ; 
 And, far off the public stage, 
 , Pass away my silent age. 
 Thus, when, without noise unknown, 
 I have liv'd out all my span, 
 I shall die without a groan, 
 A plain honest countryman. 
 Who, expos'd to others' eyes/ 
 Into his own heart ne'er pries, 
 Death's to him a strange surprise *a 
 
 # Stet quicunque volet potens 
 Aulae culmine lubrico, 
 Me dulcis saturet quies. 
 Obscuro positus loco, ? 
 
 Leni perfruar otio 
 Nullis nota quiritibus, 
 iEtas per taciturn fluat. 
 Sic cum transierint mei 
 Nullo cum strepitu dies, 
 Plebeius moriar senex. \ 
 
 Illi mors gravis incubat 
 Qui notus nimis omnibus, 
 Ignotus moritur sibi! 
 
. ( 341 ) 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The Utility of Monasteries considered. 
 
 That extremes are productive of one 
 another, is a position whose truth meets 
 us in every view in which mankind can 
 be considered, whether we regard them 
 in their social or individual, their civil or 
 religious capacities. 
 
 To omit other obvious instances in illus- 
 tration of the above maxim, I shall here' 
 confine myself to the case of monastic 
 institutions. The genius of popery, it is 
 well known, has led multitudes of its vota- 
 ries, in former ages, to immure themselves 
 in cells and convents, and so to withdraw 
 themselves from the duties as well as com- 
 forts of social life. This secession appeared 
 so criminal in the eyes of our first reform* 
 ers, that it induced them to condemn with- 
 out reserve the whole monkish system, 
 to exert every endeavour to destroy its 
 
342 On the Utility of Monasteries. [part iv. 
 
 credit, and throw open its cloisters, which 
 they considered at best as the retreats of 
 indolence and superstition ; and at the 
 same time, to enforce the relations and 
 duties of common life in a manner, which 
 might seem to fix an unqualified censure 
 on sequestered piety. 
 
 Man doubtless was formed for society; 
 in paradise itself it was not good for him 
 to be alone. He was not pla-ced in this 
 garden of delight for no higher purpose 
 than to regale hirnself with its fruits, or 
 as a philosopher, merely to speculate upon 
 the heavens and the earth ; to trace the 
 motions of the planets, or to search out 
 the virtues and qualities of plants and ani- 
 mals ; nor even only to cultivate a solitary- 
 converse with his great Creator ; but like- 
 wise to glorify him in concert with his 
 fellow-creatures, by acts of social worship, 
 and in the discharge of social duties. 
 
 Had our first parents preserved their 
 original innocence, it is probably supposed 
 
sect, mj On the Utility of Monasteries. 34S 
 
 that an intercommunity of interests' and 
 affections would have subsisted among 
 their descendants ; that man had never 
 shunned the face of man ; nor any monas- 
 tery or hermitage been projected in an 
 order of things, in which the law of di« 
 vine charity would have been inscribed in 
 every human bosom. 
 
 The reader will excuse this frequent re* 
 currence to a state of primitive perfection ; 
 for who, in the present sinful and calami^ 
 tous condition of the world, can forbear 
 to look back from time to time, upon a 
 period when no disorder existed in nature 
 or man, when his bodily temperament and 
 appetites were regular and conformable 
 with his situation, and his reason and 
 affections moved in harmony with the 
 laws of his Creator ; and, consequently, 
 when there was no cause to banish him 
 into a solitude, or to subject him to any 
 particular mode of life or peculiarity of 
 regimen, 
 
o 14 On the Utility of Monasteries. [part iv. 
 
 Bat in his present depraved state there 
 is great need to put him under a course 
 of discipline, and at intervals to reduce 
 him to a life of silence and retreat, which 
 now is become no less necessary to the 
 health of his mind, than occasional ab- 
 stinence to that of his body. In society 
 he generally contracts a surfeit, his rea- 
 son grows obscured, his principles enfee- 
 bled, and his passions sickly and irregu- 
 lar; and he requires seasons of abstrac- 
 tion, in order to restore a proper tone to 
 his faculties, both moral and intellectual. 
 
 This consideration, among others of less 
 account, has doubtless contributed to the 
 establishment of many monastic institu- 
 tions. When contemplative and pious men 
 have looked abroad into the world, and 
 qbserved the danger to which religion and 
 virtue are there exposed, they would 
 naturally wish to place them in circum- 
 stances of greater security ; and such a 
 wish would be much strengthened in those 
 who, by their former engagements in pub-> 
 
sect, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. 345 
 
 lie life, had actually experienced the dan- 
 ger themselves. Hence it cannot be thought 
 surprising, that many princes and great 
 men, in ages more devout though less en- 
 lightened than the present, should have 
 appeared amongst the most zealous patrons 
 and members of monastic communities. 
 
 The first founders of religious orders, 
 such as Anthony in the fourth, and Bene- 
 dict in the sixth century, probably meant 
 well; and their establishments seem to 
 have partly answered the end intended. 
 It is certain that, during some of the 
 middle ages, monks were the principal 
 depositories of whatever piety, or learning, 
 or humanity, there remained in Christen- 
 dom ; amidst all their superstitious prac- 
 tices a spirit of true devotion was not 
 totally extinct ; they were the chief in- 
 structors of youth, and almost the sole 
 historians of their times; as landed pro- 
 prietors, they were remarkably easy, to 
 those who held under them, insomuch 
 that leases from abbies were often preferred 
 
346 O71 the Utility of Monasteries. [part iv. 
 
 to freehold tenures ; and such was their 
 hospitality, that every religious house was 
 open to all comers. 
 
 I am L^nsible, on the other hand, how 
 properly it may be alleged, in derogation 
 from their merit, that, however in some in- 
 stances a spirit of piety might extricate it- 
 self from beneath a load of superstition, in 
 others, and those far more numerous, it 
 was thereby oppressed and stifled ; that 
 their method of education was pedantic 
 and trivial, and their historical records . 
 barren and uninteresting; and, lastly, that 
 their easy indulgence, and indiscriminate 
 hospitality, operated chiefly as premiums 
 to idleness : all this appears to be true, 
 and to be fairly pleadable in abatement of 
 that exorbitant regard in which the reli- 
 gious orders "were held in former ages. 
 
 Were we indeed only to consider the 
 consequences of the vows under which 
 these orders are engaged, it would be 
 enough for et^r to exclude them from out 
 
sect, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. 347 
 
 favourable opinion. Under the vow of 
 poverty, swarms of sturdy mendicants 
 have issued forth to prey upon the labours 
 of society, to reap where they had not sown, 
 and to gather where they had not strewed, in 
 direct contrariety to the rule of the apo- 
 stle, that if any man will not work, neither 
 should fie eat*. Under the vow of celibacy 
 the most enormous lewdness has been 
 committed ; and, under the profession of 
 canonical obedience, subjects have been 
 seduced from their allegiance, princes have 
 been deposed and massacred, and a con- 
 siderable part ' of the world reduced under 
 a spiritual tyranny. The very recollection 
 of these evils must produce a recoil in the 
 breast of every friend to religion and vir- 
 tue, and excite the most fervent wishes of 
 every good Protestant, that no precaution, 
 consistent with justice and humanity, may 
 be omitted, to prevent a return of such 
 disorders in this or any other Protestant 
 country. 
 
 *? Thess. iii, 10. 
 
34$ On the Utility of Monasteries. [paht iv b 
 
 But notwithstanding my persuasion that 
 the monastic system has upon the whole 
 been detrimental to religion, as well as to 
 the present interests of mankind, I am 
 inclined to admit on the other hand, that 
 the zeal of its opposers has carried them 
 to some excess. In reformations it is 
 difficult tQ stop at the proper point ; as 
 in cleansing a morbid habit there is fre-> 
 quently much danger lest the good juices 
 should be discharged together with the nox- 
 ious humours. Much doubtless was done 
 by Luther and Calvin, and their fellow- 
 labourers, in the great work of reforming 
 the church; and some things probably 
 were over-done. Among the rest, too vio- 
 lent a hand seems to have been laid on 
 monastic establishments J and in this opi- 
 nion I have the concurrence of a very ex- 
 cellent man, and one in high estimation 
 with Protestants, I mean Archbishop Leigh- 
 ton, who thought, as we are told by Bur- 
 nett,' that "the great and leading error of 
 the reformation was, that more religious 
 houses, and of the monastic course of life. 
 
sect, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. , 349 
 
 free from the entanglements of vows and 
 other mixtures, were not preserved ; so 
 that the Protestant churches had neither 
 places of education, nor retreat for men 
 of mortified tempers*/' The same author 
 elsewhere informs us, that good Bishop 
 Latimer earnestly pressed Cromwell, upon 
 the suppression of the convents by Henry 
 VIII. that two or three might be reserved 
 in every county, for the purpose of preach- 
 ing, study, and prayer *f\ Thus might the 
 holds of superstition, indolence, and vice, 
 have been made sanctuaries of true piety, 
 and refuges of afflicted virtue ; and a kind 
 of ports and harbours where those who had 
 
 # See Burnett's History of his own Times, under the 
 year 1661. . 
 
 f See Burnett's Abridgment of his History of the 
 Reformation, p. 194, where he adds, " But an universal 
 suppression was resolved upon ; and therefore neither 
 could the intercessions of the gentry of Oxfordshire, nor 
 of the visitors, preserve the nunnery at Godstow, though 
 they found great strictness of life in it, and it was the 
 common place of the education of young women of 
 quality in that county," 
 
350 On the Utility of Monasteries. [part iv. 
 
 been battered by the storms of life might 
 put in and refit. And what harm this 
 would have been, even to a Protestant 
 country, it is not easy to discover. But 
 especially might they have been converted 
 to the advantage of the tender sex, who, 
 for want ^ of such retreats, are many of 
 them turned adrift into the wide world, 
 without a guide, and without asylum ; and 
 it is to be lamented, that, while the Papists 
 are industriously planting nunneries, and 
 other societies of religious, in this country, 
 some good Protestants are not so far ex- 
 cited to imitate their example, as to form 
 establishments for the education and pro- 
 tection of young women of serious disposi- 
 tion, or who are otherwise unprovided, 
 where they might enjoy at least a tempo- 
 rary refuge, be instructed in the principles 
 of true religion, and in all such useful and 
 domestic arts, as might prepare and qua- 
 lify those who were inclined to return into 
 the world, for a pious arid laudable dis- 
 charge of the duties of common life. Thus 
 might the comfort and welfare of many 
 
sect, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. S5\ 
 
 helpless individuals be promoted, to the 
 great benefit of society at large; and the 
 interests of popery, by improving upon its 
 own methods, be considerably counter- 
 acted*. 
 
 Indeed a few establishments of this 
 nature are not wanting in the Protestant 
 church. In one branch, of it there are 
 appropriate houses, where the widows, 
 the single sisters, and single brethren, are 
 admitted under certain regulations, but 
 without being tied by any irrevocable 
 vows or engagements. And such is the 
 face of content which appears in these 
 little societies, whose time is divided be- 
 tween useful employment and the offices 
 of religion, as might well recommend to 
 other Protestant denominations the adop- 
 tion of similar institutions, 
 
 * A plan similar to that which is here proposed ap- 
 pears to have strongly impressed the mind of Bishop 
 Burnett: " Something," says he, "like monasteries with- 
 out vows would be a glorious design, and might be so set 
 on foot, as to be the honour of a queen on the throne/* 
 See the Conclusion to the History' of his own Times, 
 
( 353 ) 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 In which it is considered, how far the Principles of 
 the foregoing Discourse may he of Use to guide us in 
 THE CHOICE OF LIFE. 
 
 Of the different situations at any time 
 presented to our choice, we ought to fix 
 upon that, which, after the maturest deli- 
 beration, shall appear to be most favour- 
 able to our moral and religious improve- 
 ment ; as by such an option we are most 
 likely to be made happy ourselves, and 
 useful to others. 
 
 The proper destiny of man is to be 
 happy ; and as true virtue and happiness, 
 in the divine decree, are ultimately inse- 
 parable, our benign Creator has com- 
 manded us to secure the former in ordef 
 to our attainment of the latter; he hath 
 said, Obey my will, both as it is partly 
 revealed to you in nature, and more fully 
 
 A A 
 
354 Conclusion: On the Choice of Lift. 
 
 in the gospel, and you may expect to en- 
 joy assured blessedness in heaven, and 
 generally to pass your "days with comfort 
 upon earth. 
 » » 
 
 To be happy in this world is naturally 
 every man's object ; and while it is pur- 
 sued according to the laws of religion, 
 and consequently in a due subordination 
 to the happiness of the world to come, 
 (which undoubtedly should be our chief 
 end,) there is nothing in it which is not 
 perfectly allowable. If we seek first the 
 kingdom of God, we are permitted, in the 
 second place, to seek a moderate share in 
 the good things of this life. The evil is, and 
 it is an evil which every serious moralist 
 has lamented, that the present world com- 
 monly engages our first and principal care, 
 while our interest in the next is only a 
 matter of secondary consideration, or is im- 
 piously abandoned to chance or fate : and 
 there is cause to fear that multitudes, by 
 this preposterous conduct, forfeit their part 
 in both. 
 
Conclusion : , On the Choice of Life. 355 
 
 To enjoy both worlds is exclusively the 
 privilege of true virtue. Every thing else 
 is only profitable in part and for a season ; 
 but virtue, which, in the sense here in- 
 tended, includes piety, is of universal 
 and perpetual use. " It is," as the Ro- 
 man orator eloquently speaks, though 
 with less propriety, on the subject 
 of human learning, " the nourishment of 
 youth, and the solace of age ; an orna- 
 ment to prosperity, and a refuge to ad- 
 versity ; our delight at home, and no im- 
 pediment abroad ; talks with us by night, 
 attends us in our travels, nor forsakes us 
 in our retirements*." It sheds a lustre 
 on all places and on all situations, and 
 is in itself a source of joy pure and con- 
 stant, and which often flows most copi- 
 ously when every other is spent and ex- 
 hausted ; or, in the more brief and com- 
 prehensive language of an apostle, it is 
 profitable to all things, having promise of 
 
 * Cic. pro Archia po^ta* 
 A A 2 
 
356 Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 the life which now is, . and of that which is 
 to come*. 
 
 He who is properly convinced of this, 
 will never dream of happiness without a 
 primary regard to morals ; he will not 
 say, as the multitude has always said, 
 Give me riches first, and virtue afterwards ; 
 he will seek it in the first place, and esti- 
 mate the various conditions of human life 
 only as they afford means and instruments 
 for its acquisition and advancement. 
 
 Every just survey of men and their pur- 
 suits will come in aid of this principle. It 
 will teach us that, however enviable the 
 successes of the votaries of fortune or 
 pleasure may appear, they are generally 
 accompanied with inward anguish and 
 bitter disappointment, and at the best 
 never yield a pure and heart-felt satis- 
 faction. The ancient burden of the 
 
 * lTim. iv. 8. 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 357 
 
 world's most triumphant song is still 
 the same, All is vanity and vexation of 
 spirit. 
 
 Let it then, in every deliberation upon 
 the choice of life, be established as an un- 
 doubted maxim, that virtue is the only 
 road to true happiness, and that it would 
 be every man's interest to take this road, 
 though his object was no more than pre- 
 sent enjoyment ; and that neither the pomp 
 of greatness, the splendour of wealth, nor 
 the allurement of pleasure, ought to draw 
 his regard for a moment, when they come 
 in competition with the humblest station 
 which supplies more efficacious helps to 
 his moral improvement. 
 
 i 
 Secondly : In the choice of life every one 
 
 ought to prefer that condition which is 
 most favourable to virtue, as the surest 
 way to be useful to others, as well as to 
 be happy himself. The better any v man 
 is, the more he is likely to improve his cir- 
 cumstances, whatever they may be, to the 
 
358 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 benefit of others ; and the more his circum- 
 stances supply him with moral and re- 
 ligious advantages, the more he is likely 
 to become a better man. Hence we may 
 infer, that the most certain way to be 
 useful is to pitch upon that condition, 
 which among those presented to our 
 choice is best adapted to further our 
 moral progress. 
 
 If to lessen the connection betwixt 
 virtue and utility, it should be objected* 
 that men, by no means correct in their man- 
 ners, and neither endowed with superior 
 talents, nor placed in more advantageous 
 circumstances, often appear to exceed in 
 usefulness others much better than them- 
 selves; let it be considered, that this is 
 generally little more than appearance ; 
 and that whatever such men may add 
 to the stock of worldly enjoyments, they 
 seldom contribute any thing to the in- 
 terests of virtue or virtuous happiness, 
 which are the only objects of a certain and 
 durable value ; and that what occasionally 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 35Q 
 
 they may thus contribute is commonly 
 more than balanced by the contagion 
 of their example. Indeed it is fairly 
 questionable, whether, on the whole, every 
 bad man is not a public evil ; at least, 
 whenever it is otherwise, it is an excep- 
 tion to the general rule, and must be as- 
 cribed to an extraordinary dispensation 
 of that Providence, which can" over-rule 
 even the sins of men to the accomplish- 
 ment of its own purposes. 
 
 But though the connection, as above 
 stated, between virtue and utility, can- 
 not reasonably be disputed, it must be 
 acknowledged that the latter may easily 
 be pretended, and what is more, may 
 seriously be designed and prosecuted, 
 to the injury of the former. The plea 
 of usefulness may be no better than a 
 convenient cloak to an interested and 
 ambitious spirit, under which it conceals 
 itself in order to the attainment of its 
 own ends ; and even to a virtuous mind, 
 unless well acquainted with itself 5 and 
 4 
 
360 Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 endued with much prudent circumspec- 
 tion, it is a plea that will often prove de^ 
 lusive. A good m?.n naturally desires to 
 do good, and is apt to imagine, that, 
 were he in possession of greater power 
 and wealth, his usefulness would in pro- 
 portion be more extended. The poor, 
 he is ready to suppose, would find in him 
 a more liberal benefactor, and the deserw 
 ing a more generous patron ; and hence 
 he is led to engage in situations to' which 
 his virtue is not always equal. By such 
 a conduct it is probable, according to 
 the principle we have established, that 
 both his usefulness and virtue will de- 
 cline together. The illusion in this case 
 arises from a supposition, that the mind 
 will remain unaltered with a change of 
 circumstances, and that, as the means of 
 usefulness are increased, the disposition to 
 improve them will not be diminished ; a 
 supposition which is crossed by every 
 day's experience. The least observation 
 upon ourselves or others may convince 
 us, that the usual tendency of prosperity 
 
Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 35 i 
 
 is to generate pride and self-indulgence, 
 which seldom fail to harden the heart 
 against every humane and generous im- 
 pression, and so render it alike insensible 
 to the cries of distress, and to the claims 
 of humble merit. A wise man will there- 
 fore stand upon his guard against so plau- 
 sible a deception, and be careful never to 
 extend his sphere of service beyond the 
 force of his moral principle. 
 
 Besides, we are but ill judges of what 
 will conduce to the real advantage either 
 ©f societies or individuals, which makes it 
 -•dangerous to proceed upon mere specu- 
 lations of utility. The entire operation of 
 any measure we can take depends upon 
 an infinity of relations and connexions 
 which escape our notice;, and exceed our 
 understandings ; and therefore it behoves 
 us to keep strictly to the rule of duty, 
 and leave the rest to Him, who com- 
 prehending all the various concatenations 
 of things, knows both the immediate and 
 remote consequences of our actions. To 
 
S62 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 which may be added, that we are very 
 apt to mistake, in supposing that no ser- 
 vice is done without a degree of outward 
 exertion, whereas the silent influence of a 
 good man may be of the greatest benefit; 
 his benevolence, his modesty, his temper- 
 ate use of the world, and the equal tenor 
 of an unambitious life, may carry into the 
 minds of those around him, an impres- 
 sion of the due value of the objects of 
 mens ordinary pursuits, and that no- 
 thing here below deserves much bustle 
 or contention. 
 
 We therefore conclude it to be an un- 
 doubted rule in the choice of life, to pre- 
 fer that condition, whatever it be, which 
 is most favourable to our moral improve- 
 ment; and by this rule we shall regulate 
 our remaining observations. 
 
 I. The bulk of mankind may be con- 
 sidered as made up of two great divisions, 
 the one naturally qualified for" a public., 
 the . other for a private station. Ttese of 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 363 
 
 a robust frame, a cool disposition, and a 
 plodding diligence, are fitted for the for- 
 mer ; while persons of a delicate texture, 
 a quick sensibility, and precipitate tem- 
 per, are marked out for the latter. That 
 hurry of business, which in the one case 
 would oiily serve to collect the spirits 
 and invigorate the faculties, would, in 
 the other, produce nothing but debility 
 and irritation. Hence, ah enlightened 
 virtue, which, in whatever relates to the 
 present world, is in favour of mediocrity, 
 and condemns alike a state of languid in- 
 dolence, and of violent agitation, will, if 
 consulted, prescribe a life of business to 
 those, who, from a phlegmatic constitution 
 of body or mind, require a constant ex- 
 ternal impulse -to keep them moderately 
 employed ; while to others of a mora 
 prompt and susceptible temper, and who 
 need rather the bridle than the spur, she 
 will recommend more retired scenes and 
 calmer occupations. 
 
 When a person of feeble health and ir- 
 ritable nerves is engaged in public life, it 
 
3$i . Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 is often no less a misfortune to others than 
 to himself. Unable to sustain the pres- 
 sure of business, or to contend with the 
 injustice which seldom fails to mingle it- 
 self with human transactions, his temper 
 becomes soured, his purposes irresolute, 
 he looks with suspicion on e\ r ery thing 
 around him, and perhaps is tempted at 
 length to have recourse to those arts which 
 lie is apt to imagine are practised against 
 himself. From such effects of a situation 
 to which he is unequal, we are led either 
 to condemn the indiscretion of his choice, 
 or to lament the exigency of his circum- 
 stances. Nor ought our censure or regret 
 to be less excited when we see others stag- 
 nate in still life, whose firm and steady 
 complexional character, if called forth on 
 the public stage, would display itself in a 
 virtuous and useful course of action. 
 
 This natural vocation, if I may so term 
 it, to a public or private life, is in some 
 cases marked with more decision. In the 
 gte.at ma-is of hum re are spirits 
 
 cf a distinguished order, ' conscious of their 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 365 
 
 own superior powers, and of their call to 
 peculiar service. There are men, for in- 
 stance, who seem originally formed to 
 take the lead in the business of the world ; 
 those, I mean, who by a natural ascen- 
 dancy of character are qualified to com- 
 mand others, or by the gentler influence of 
 persuasion to incline them to their pur- 
 pose ; and who feel it their duty to exert 
 these powers for the common good. When 
 therefore such persons, out of a fond in- 
 dulgence to their ease or their speculations, 
 shrink from public service, they are neither 
 true to themselves nor to others, and are 
 guilty of a manifest violation both of the 
 law of virtue and of utility. On the con- 
 trary, there are some whose spirits are 
 more finely touched, and whom nature 
 has strongly marked out for a literary and 
 contemplative life, and who themselves 
 are secretly sensible of her, designation ; 
 and whenever men of this character, false 
 to the private suggestion of their own 
 minds, engage in occupations for which 
 they are originally disqualified, the event, 
 
366 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 as might be expected, generally corre- 
 sponds with the folly of their choice. " My 
 leading error," says Lord Bacon, in a 
 letter to Sir Thomas Bodley, " has been, 
 that knowing myself by inward calling 
 to be fitter to hold a book than to play 
 a part, I have led my life in civil causes, 
 for which I was not very fit by nature, 
 and more unfit by the preoccupation of 
 my mind/' Thus was this eminent genius, 
 who was born for the advancement of 
 learning and religion, lured away from 
 his natural situation by a meteor of poli- 
 tical ambition, to the probable injury of 
 posterity, and certainly to his own dis- 
 honour. And of late we have seen a man 
 of no ordinarv talents, and who in the 
 shade of retirement might have done good 
 service in the cause of literature and mo- 
 rals, sadly fret away his hour of life on the 
 bustling stage of politics. 
 
 II. Between a public and a retired con- 
 dition there is a third, which partakes of 
 both, and which, to the greater part of 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 36? 
 
 mankind is preferable to either. This in- 
 termediate state has a considerable latitude, 
 and requires to be varied according to the 
 particular case in question. 
 
 The great practical point is to find a due 
 medium, or so to combine society and 
 solitude that each may prepare for the 
 other, an4 both concur to our moral im- 
 provement. This medium is chiefly to be 
 sought in the particular character of every 
 individual. 
 
 And here again the corporeal part of 
 our frame may afford us an instructive 
 lesson of life and conduct. The body, we 
 all know, requires or admits of a different 
 treatment according to the variety of its 
 temperament. To persons of a vigorous con- 
 stitution, we see that scarce any food is in- 
 jurious, or any weather unseasonable ; they 
 can sit down to a feast, or go out in a 
 storm, without danger of catching a cold 
 or a surfeit ; while those who are of a 
 sickly habit must be content with more 
 
35S Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 frugal meals* and not stir abroad but 
 in fair weather. And thus men of con- 
 firmed virtue may engage in employments, 
 and mix in societies* which would prove 
 noxious or fatal to those of less established 
 principles. 
 
 Let no one, however, so far presume 
 upon his virtue, whatever it may be, as 
 to -venture into the world beyond his vo- 
 cation ; she has cast clown many wounded, 
 and slain many strong men; her cruelties 
 have destroyed many, and her flatteries 
 more. No one, therefore, whose virtue is 
 guided by prudence, will ever wantonly 
 expose himself to the assaults of so for- 
 midable an enemy, but will rather use 
 every lawful method to shun the encoun- 
 ter; and it will be only when this can- 
 not be avoided without a sacrifice of duty, 
 that he will resolve to meet the danger, 
 and then to meet it with firmness. The 
 same lips which said, whosoever shall deny 
 me before men, him will I aho deny bes 
 fore my Father in heaven,* has --"also prf^ 
 
 1 
 
Conclusio?i : On the Choice of Life. 369 
 
 nounced, when they persecute you in one 
 city, flee into another ; and the necessity of 
 a modest precaution is often much stronger 
 in respect to the pleasurable temptations 
 of life : so that, on the whole, when we 
 duly weigh our own frailty, and the gene- 
 ral corrupt state of the world, and, on 
 these accounts, the great difficulty to ob- 
 serve a proper medium in our secular in- 
 tercourse, it may appear most adviseable, 
 if we must err, to err on the part of ab- 
 straction ; as in relation to the health of 
 the body it is commonly safest to lean on 
 the side of abstinence. 
 
 There is a further remark, under this 
 idea of a prudential balance, which I 
 would here suggest, namely, that by op- 
 posing the contending evils of a situation, 
 as factions in a state, to one another, 
 their force may sometimes be broken. Nor 
 is this policy in all cases to be rejected; 
 the feeble may find it necessary, and those 
 who are stronger may be glad, at certain 
 seasons, when the world bears hard upon 
 
 B B 
 
S70 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life, 
 
 them, to employ every honest device that 
 may help to confound its counsels, and 
 to weaken its •efforts. At the same time 
 let it be remembered, that a Christian is 
 called to act upon higher and more effi- 
 cacious principles; — to repel every tempt- 
 ation, and to surmount every difficulty, 
 by the power of a divine faith; to mani- 
 fest a superiority of mind to all conditions ; 
 and to regulate every step he takes in his 
 journey through life by the rule of Scrip- 
 ture, in conjunction with the intimations 
 of Providence as discoverable in his pre- 
 sent circumstances. 
 
 In some cases indeed, the single im- 
 pulse of nature may afford him a suffi- 
 cient direction; in others, much previous 
 deliberation is necessary. A man, for in- 
 stance, who is exhausted merely by a 
 hurry of business, naturally withdraws to 
 his country-house, or to some other place 
 of quiet, till he has recovered his former 
 vigour; but when the question respects 
 his total. w . seclusion from the world, or 
 
. Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 371 
 
 whether he shall finally renounce the 
 bustle of life to pass the remainder of his 
 days in a country retreat, the decision may 
 be found extremely difficult ; especially 
 if his passions, by long indulgence, are 
 grown wanton and unruly. In such a 
 situation, whichever way Jie determines, 
 whether to stand his ground or to retire, 
 his danger is great and imminent. Should 
 he resolve upon the latter, his safest course 
 may be to proceed leisurely, and to endea- 
 vour by contracting his affairs, or devolving 
 as much as possible the care of them upon 
 others, gradually to diminish their influence, 
 and so to prepare himself for the change 
 he meditates. The general who has to 
 make good his retreat with a mutinous 
 army, and in the face of a superior enemy, 
 had need to use all his circumspection. 
 
 y 
 
 To withdraw gracefully from the pub- 
 lic stage, and by securing a season of vir- 
 tuous repose after a life of action, to place 
 a kind of sacred interval between this 
 world and the next, is a piece of practical 
 bb2 
 
372 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 wisdom which I fear is in few hands : for 
 though it is by no means unusual for men, 
 who have acquired a fortune in business, 
 or are grown weary of the world, to ex- 
 change the town for the country, they sel- 
 dom do it with that prudent forecast as 
 to provide themselves with those princi- 
 ples of knowledge and piety, without which 
 a life of retirement, notwithstanding all 
 their temporal resources, will be likely to 
 prove both unprofitable and comfortless. 
 We cannot therefore be surprised, if, after 
 they have vainly endeavoured to please 
 themselves with rural labours and amuse- 
 ments, we see them frequently turn back 
 into the world, resume the business they 
 seemed to have relinquished, and at last 
 die in the harness. 
 
 III. Further : The right choice of life 
 is a subject which ought to be well stu- 
 died by those parents who, in the disposal 
 of their children, are not confined within 
 the limits of a particular profession or 
 rank in society ; for in this case, as there 
 
Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 373 
 
 would be little room for choice, it would be 
 of little use to examine strictly the reasons 
 upon which it ought be formed. Ac- 
 cordingly, among the lower orders of the 
 community, where peasants and artizans, 
 from father to son, succeed to their several 
 employments by a kind of natural inheri- 
 tance, such an enquiry would be in a 
 manner superfluous. 
 
 But where there is a latitude of choice, 
 which is the case in the middle and upper 
 ranks of life, it is of great consequence how 
 parents use their discretionary power; since 
 the present and future welfare of their off- 
 spring, together with the general order and 
 happiness of society, so much depend 
 upon it. 
 
 Their first object should be, (for the 
 business of education is here presupposed,) 
 after they have considered the probable 
 influence of the several stations within 
 their option, upon the youth they are about 
 to dispose of, to place him in that which 
 
374 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 shall be judged the most secure to his vir- 
 tue, and the most favourable to his reli- 
 gious improvement. 
 
 WJi'en two or more situations appear 
 equal in this respect, a chief regard is then 
 due to natural genius ; for though a young 
 man of ordinary capacity may, by dint of 
 application, become respectable in almost 
 any profession, he will only excel in that 
 to which his faculties are originally adapt- 
 ed, and to which he is carried by a natural 
 impetus. Some indeed have asserted, that 
 genius is no more than the general power 
 of the mind accidentally determined to a 
 particular object; which is a paradox, 
 though supported by great names, not 
 easily to be admitted. To suppose that 
 Homer, if lines and figures had first caught 
 his attention, would have been as pro- 
 found a mathematician as Newton, or that 
 Newton, if a copy of verses had originally 
 fired his fancy, would have rivalled Homer 
 in poetry, seems to be no more probable 
 than that he, whose athletic constitution 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 375 
 
 ©f body makes him an able porter, would, 
 if he had taken another turn, have proved 
 an excellent tumbler or rope-dancer. 
 
 If therefore it be true, that every indi- 
 vidual is marked out by nature for some 
 arts and professions in preference to others, 
 it will not then, I think, be disputed, that 
 this aptitude, or, if any like the term better, 
 this capacity, in the circumstances now 
 stated, and when directed to objects which 
 contribute to the benefit of human life, 
 ought generally to be cherished ; and that 
 it ought never to be rudely discouraged, 
 even though in some instances it should 
 lead an ingenious youth to a place in 
 society which might seem beneath his 
 birth or expectations. 
 
 Should the capacity of a youth be such 
 as eminently to entitle him to the charac- 
 ter of a genius, it may be more difficult to 
 prescribe to his pursuits. Elevated by a 
 consciousness of his native powers, he will 
 - 
 
376 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 probably be averse to listen to the cool 
 dictates of experience ; in which case it 
 may be best to allow him scope, and only 
 to guard against his eccentricities. 
 
 It cannot be too much regretted, that 
 the generality of parents are so little atten- 
 tive to provide their children with those 
 situations for which, by nature and edu- 
 cation, they are best qualified. Instead 
 of this, they are apt to be governed by 
 views of interest or vanity, and to consider, 
 not what is most fit, but what, in a worldly 
 estimation, is likely to be most reputable 
 or advantageous. At other times, perhaps, 
 they will fondly comply with the fanciful 
 inclination of a favourite son, even to the 
 probable prejudice of his temporal inte- 
 rests; and should he discover a degree 
 of literary vivacity, which is often nothing 
 more than the effervescence of a juvenile 
 imagination, he is then in danger of being . 
 rated as a genius, and accordingly destined 
 to take his station in the ranks of some 
 learned profession, , 
 
Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 377 
 
 "IV. "To "these -or other similar causes, 
 the dislocated" state of the world must, in 
 no small degree, be attributed. How 
 many men are there, who without any 
 .other force than that of bones and muscles, 
 are engaged in employments which chiefly 
 requite the powers of the understanding ? 
 How many others who, though meant by 
 nature to obey and not to rule, are in- 
 vested with offices in which it is necessary 
 to rule and not to obey? How many who 
 occupy places disproportioned to their 
 light or their virtue, and how few from a 
 sense of their incapacity withdraw them- 
 selves into humbler situations? Almost 
 every man thinks himself capable of every 
 thing, and only "bounds his pretensions by 
 the absolute impossibility of their accom- 
 plishment. It is by this preposterous 
 ambition that unqualified men bring so 
 many evils upon society, both in its reli- 
 gious arid civil state; for it is impossible 
 for him who is out of his proper place, 
 and wild is devoid of those qualities which 
 are necessary to the discharge of the du- 
 7 
 
378 Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 ties which belong to his usurped station, 
 not to be guilty of innumerable faults ; 
 and these faults being the consequence of 
 his temerity and presumption, render him 
 usually contemptible in this world, and 
 greatly endanger his future happiness *. 
 
 Should it here be objected, that what- 
 ever our place or situation in the world 
 may be, it is allotted us by the Almighty, 
 and therefore that it becomes us to ac- 
 quiesce in it, and to make the best of it. 
 
 To this objection I so far agree, as to 
 admit that there is no event in nature or 
 human life without divine providence ; only 
 let it be remembered, that this super- 
 intending power is exercised according to 
 the several , natures and qualities of the 
 objects ; and that rational and account- 
 able beings are not disposed of in the 
 manner of those that are irrational or in- 
 animate. 
 
 # See Nicole in his Essais de Morale, where this to- 
 pic frequently occurs. 
 
Conclusion i On the Choice of Life. 379- 
 
 There are some occupations so evidently 
 criminal in their own nature, that it would 
 be absurd? as well as impious, to resolve 
 them into divine designation. Would it 
 not be strange for a smuggler, a receiver 
 of stolen goods, a keeper of a brothel, or 
 a gambling-house, to allege providence 
 in his justification ? Such a plea must at 
 once be rejected with abhorrence, even 
 though his father had stood in the same 
 place before him, and he himself had been 
 bred up to the profession; which, how- 
 ever it might be urged in mitigation of 
 his offence before he came to years of 
 discretion, can afford him no valid reason 
 for his continuance in it afterwards. 
 
 The rule laid down by the apostle, in 
 speaking of Christians, that every man 
 should abide in the same calling wherein he 
 was called, is undoubtedly, like every other 
 rule laid down by divine wisdom, just and 
 good, and must therefore be restrained to 
 those vocations which are lawful in them- 
 
380 Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 selves, and could never be intended to 
 authorise a violation of the laws either of 
 nature or society. It served at the time, 
 to prevent many scruples that might have 
 arisen in the minds of heathen converts, as 
 whether a believing husband might con- 
 tinue to live with his unbelieving wife, or 
 a believing slave with an infidel master, 
 which are two cases specified by the apo- 
 stle ; and from the general doctrine it 
 conveyed, that Christianity granted no re- 
 lease to its disciples from any former du- 
 ties natural or civil, it might farther serve 
 to correct the prejudices of heathen magi- 
 strates and people, who regarded the Chris- 
 tians as enemies to kings and provinces, and 
 even as hostile to human nature ; and it 
 is useful at all times for quieting the minds 
 of good men, amidst those doubts which 
 may arise in almost every situation of 
 human life. And, lastly, it may serve to 
 check that restless spirit, so natural to 
 mankind, whose tendency is only to in- 
 crease its own torment and to disturb the. 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life, 381 
 
 world, and which, without this rule, might 
 seek to shelter itself under the pretext of 
 Christian liberty. 
 
 Yet though both Scripture and reason 
 condemn an unquiet and shifting disposi- 
 tion, and give no encouragement to that 
 speculative humour that would lead us 
 to relinquish advantages which are present 
 and real for others which are remote and 
 perhaps imaginary, they by no means 
 prohibit universally a change of outward 
 condition, which, in many cases, may be 
 expedient, and in some a duty. There 
 are situations, as we have observed, which 
 must be quitted without demur ; there 
 are others of whose lawfulness serious 
 doubts may be entertained, and which 
 also must be given up, if such doubts 
 cannot fairly be satisfied ; for here ano- 
 ther rule laid down by the apostle takes 
 place, Whatsoever is not of faith, that is, 
 whatsoever is not done with a persuasion 
 of its rectitude and consistency with the 
 divine will, is sin. Nay, though the law- 
 
382 Conclusion : On the Choke of Life. 
 
 fulness of our present situation - '-should 
 admit of no dispute, a change is still per- 
 mitted, whenever it is very probable thai 
 it will increase either our religious ad- 
 vantages, our usefulness, or even our own 
 innocent enjoyment. I say very probable, 
 — lest any should suppose that every flat- 
 tering project or plausible presumption 
 is sufficient to justify a departure from 
 the general rule. 
 
 I am sensible that all our reflections, 
 even the maturest, upon the choice of life , 
 must be very imperfect, and of difficult 
 application. Man is a short-sighted crea- 
 ture ; he knows but little of himself, of 
 the objects around him, or of the con- 
 sequences of his actions. It therefore 
 highly concerns him, after the best exer- 
 cise of his own judgment, to refer him- 
 self to a superior direction, to trust in 
 the Lord with all his heart, and not to lean 
 to his own understanding. Such was the 
 counsel of one, who to the greatest intel- 
 lectual endowments, added all the light 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 383 
 
 of experience; and it is a counsel to 
 which every man will listen, who duly 
 consults either his present or his future 
 interest. 
 
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