UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 ANDREW 
 
 SMITH 
 
 HALLID1E: 
 

 
 

RURAL PHILOSOPHY: 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 KNOWLEDGE, VIRTUE, AND HAPPINESS , 
 
 CHIEFLY IN REFERENCE TO 
 
 A LIFE OF RETIREMENT 
 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 By ELY BATES, ESQ. 
 
 Quid tibi vitandum prcecipue existimes, quaeris ? turbarn. Ego certe con- 
 fiteor imbecillitatem meam. Nunquam mores quos extuli, refero. Ali- 
 quid ex eo quod composui, turbatur ; aliquid ex his quae fugavi, redic. 
 Inimica est multorurn conversatio. &;iec. Epist. 7. 
 
 <^ OF THE ^A THIRD EDITION. 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by A. Strahan, New- Street Square ; 
 
 FOR LONGMAN AND REES, PATER-NOSTER ROW. 
 
 1804. 
 
131 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 the following PKEFACE and RE- 
 FLECTIONS were composed some years ago, 
 during that period af republican frenzy, when 
 the world, in its wild attempts to overthrow 
 two of its greatest and most fundamental 
 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 ap- 
 plicable at present, when so many hopeful 
 symptoms appear of a return to social order 
 and Christian piety. 
 
 Why the publication of this small 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 
 on those general principles of truth and na- 
 ture, which ought to regulate human conduct 
 
 A 2 
 
 107320 
 
iv ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 at all times, and in all conjunctures : and as 
 to an author s private inducements for present- 
 ing 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 solem- 
 nity of his protestations. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IHE 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 th critique in- 
 tended, I rather chose to pursue the train 
 of my own reflections. 
 
 Zimmermann was undoubtedly a writer 
 of singular endowments ; he possessed 
 great mental sensibility, and a cast of ima. 
 gination which might be thought sublime; 
 
 A 3 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 but does not seem to have been equally 
 distinguished by force of reason or solidity 
 of judgment. In his philosophy he ap- 
 pears to me superficial, 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 in- 
 struction and happiness of mankind*, must 
 have very slender pretensions to the cha- 
 racter either of a philosopher or a moralist ; 
 and, when most favourably estimated, can 
 only rank as a grave sentimentalist. 
 
 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 
 jm question is indebted for no small portion 
 
 * Zirnmermann on Solitude, p. 176, 7. This reminds 
 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 ^r 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 hisfeelings, would have been 
 thought at best extremely unphilosophical. 
 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, 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 delibera- 
 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 
 their beauty, and impaired their authority, 
 
 A4 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 What, then, it may be said, would you 
 deprive 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 paffion, for the 
 pure dictates of uncorrupted nature ; and 
 whose boasted philanthropy generally ter- 
 minates in empty speculations and barren 
 sensibilities. 
 
 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 wisdom 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 out 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 at 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 is 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. Alcove 
 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 
 
x'u 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 ahd retired life, which is a case 
 that will frequently occur in the ensuing 
 pages, I have 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 world. On 
 the contrary, I am willing to hope, that 
 he will perceive through the whole a 
 character of truth and simplicity, a care 
 
PREFACE. xiu 
 
 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 man's censure if I can fairly 
 avoid it, I would intreat 'such a literato 
 to let his indignation abate before he pass 
 
 7.. . 
 
xiv PREFACE, 
 
 a definitive sentence ; and this request 
 may seem the mor-e 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 do not know 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. x* 
 
 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, 
 find 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 
 BTTB^SIV, to suspend, agreeably to the true 
 philosophic character, and not to 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 i Sam. xiii. 19, 20. 
 
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 
 liere 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 j 
 A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend ! 
 
PREFACE, xvii 
 
 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 
 
 a 
 
xviii 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 descjies 
 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, shews 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- 
 
PREFACE. xlx 
 
 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 philoso- 
 phy 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 
 
 a! 12 
 
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 same family, are of a good sound, 
 and will give no offence to the most gay 
 and thoughtless; but to talk of grace, holi- 
 ness, 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- 
 sion 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 destroy even 
 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. 
 
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 \v(y~ 
 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 
 
 a3 
 
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 
 lie 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 comformable 
 with the character of a learned Jew, 
 who had sat at the feet of Gamaliel. 
 And so far as any one partakes of th e 
 wisdom and charity of this great apostle^ 
 he will be studious of the same pious 
 
 *See i Cor. ch. 9. 
 
PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 accommodation to persons and circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Again: The example of those men who 
 employ every art of human eloquence, and 
 who refort 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. 
 
 a4 
 
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 rejected 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 comfort myself in the reflection 
 that my endeavour 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 important truth with evidence and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 xxr 
 
 impression. And this effect, it is hoped, 
 will not entirely be wanting, at least to 
 those vviio shall attend seriously and in- 
 telligently to what shall he offered. It 
 is to such prepared readers, whose minds 
 are well-disposed towards religion, and at 
 the same time somewhat opened by edu- 
 cation, that this small rural labour is 
 chie iy addressed ; and should it in any 
 degree be of use to establish their prin- 
 ciples, or to direct their enquiries, more 
 true satisfaction 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 thejirst part it was intended to have 
 subjoined a section on human science and 
 literature. This, however, it was after- 
 wards 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 virtue and happiness. 
 
xxvi PREFACE. 
 
 In treating of the knowledge of God, I 
 have waved all merely metaphysical disqui- 
 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 
 majesty 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 with- 
 in the reach of our discovery ; and, to those 
 who are brought to a proper sense of their 
 moral situation, is a knowledge both cheer- 
 ing 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 conjunc- 
 tion with absolute sovereignty, to the pre- 
 
 * Frov. xxv. 27. Scrutator majestatis, opprimetur 
 gloria* So the Vulgate. 
 
PREFACE. xxvii 
 
 judice of that mercy which is revealed in 
 scripture, and is also not obscurely indi- 
 cated in nature and providence ; a pro- 
 ceeding which tends, in the one case, to 
 inspire the mind with presumption, arid 
 in the other to sink it in despondence : 
 and nothing 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 
 scientific ; which the equitable reader, it 
 is presumed, will neither ascribe to the 
 writer's entire incapacity for such enqui- 
 ries, nor to his want of liberal curiosity. 
 Perhaps, like many others, he may in the 
 former part of life have indulged suffi- 
 ciently to mere speculation; but this, as 
 years advanced, he. has found less attrac- 
 tive, and has gradually been led to view 
 things not so much in their abstract na- 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 ture, as in their moral and practical ten- 
 dencies; and to induce the same disposi- 
 tion in others constitutes one principal 
 end of the present work. Of its execu- 
 tion, indeed, he entertains, as is fit, a very 
 moderate opinion; of its principles he has 
 no such diffidence ; nor can he hesitate to 
 assert, that, were they generally admitted, 
 the most important 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 
 sufficient to shew 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. 
 
 SECT. I. On the Knowledge of God ; parti- 
 cularly in his Justice and Benignity towards 
 Man. 2. This Knowledge unattainable in 
 any satisfactory Degree without the Light of 
 Revelation. 3. To be sought by Study and PAGE 
 
 Prayer in Conjunction ^ . . . . 1-38 
 
 SECT. II. On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 3986 
 SECT. III. On the Knowledge of the World 87..! 15 
 
 PART II. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON VIRTUE. 
 
 SECT.I. In which it is considered how far Re- 
 tirement is favourable to Virtue, from its Ten- 
 dency to weaken the Impression of the World 1 1 7.. 1 3 1 
 
 SECT. II.- Containing some Observations on 
 those Means which tend, by a more direct 
 
 7 
 
*xx CONTENTS. 
 
 and positive Influence, to the Promotion of PAGE 
 
 Virtue ...... I32..2O7 
 
 SECT. III. On some Evils particularly incident 
 to a retired Life, and which are contrary, or 
 at least unfavourable to Virtue : with a few 
 Hints respecting their Remedies ..*... 208. .237 
 
 PART III. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON HAPPINESS. 
 
 SECT. 1. On the Happiness arising from the 
 Independence, the agricultural Pursuits, the 
 Diversions, and Scenery, of a Country Life 239.. 25 8 
 
 SECT. II. The Pleasures of a literary Retire- 
 ment 259.. 285 
 
 SECT. III. ^The Pleasures of a devotional Re- 
 tirement considered ... * _._^-,. 286.. 303 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 IN WHICH A COMMON OBJECTION AGAINST A LIFE OF 
 RETIREMENT, NAMELY, THAT IT DESTROYS OR DI- 
 MINISHES USEFULNESS, IS PARTICULARLY CONSI- 
 DERED. 
 
 SECT. I. Containing some Remarks on the Uti- 
 lity arifing from Public Station . f . . . . 305. .323 
 
CONTENTS. xxxi 
 
 SECT. II. A retired Life considered in respect PAGE 
 to Utility 324..340 
 
 SECT. III. The Utility of Monasteries consi- 
 dered 34I..35I 
 
 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 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 PART L 
 
 DEFLECTIONS ON KNOWLEDGE* 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 On the Know/edge of God; particularly in his 
 
 find Benignity towards Man. II. This Knowledge 
 unattainable in any satisfactory Degree^ without the 
 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 
 
 ' f 
 
2 On 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 dwelkth 
 in light inaccessible, whose nature is transcen- 
 dent, 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. lj On the Knowledge 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 molt 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 much censure. That 
 a poet, for inftance, 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 God is with him original and 
 
4 Oft the Knowledge of God. [PA sir jf 
 
 innate, which to the ancient poet Simonide$ y 
 in proportion as he urged his enquiries, 
 seemed the more to elude them*, is a pre- 
 sumption equally contrary to feafon and 
 experience, 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 fufficient 
 to secure the acquisition. A man, thus un- 
 qualified, may retire into the country, but 
 he will grow no wifer there than he was 
 before in town. If he happens to be a phi- 
 losopher, he will proceed, in his ufual man- 
 ner, to amufe himself with the effects, with- 
 out prosecuting his enquiries to their just 
 issue in the knowledge and adoration of the 
 first can ft; if he is a man of activity, he 
 will 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 Cod. 5 
 
 sink down into a life of low indulgence. 
 There is no magical virtueinfields or groves, 
 no local inspiration, which wilFelevate 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 commonly in vain that the 
 heavens declare his glory, and thejirmament 
 shezveth his handy zvork ; they have eyes arid 
 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 ftones, and good in every thing. 
 
 It is to these, and such as these, whose 
 minds are in some degree awake to religion, 
 
 * Prov. ii. 35. 
 
6 On the Knowledge 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 ano- 
 ther, 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 : 3 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of God. j 
 
 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 follow- 
 ers, 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, 
 
 o 
 
 or its nobler constituent part, and made it 
 to consist of an exquisitely subtle matter, 
 such as fire or eether. Even Anaxagoras 
 and Plato, w r ho 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. 
 
 B 4 
 
8 On the Knowledge of God. PART i. 
 
 perfect a world, as the contumacious qua- 
 lities of the subject to be 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 arid 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 cst omnium philosophorum, 
 non eorum modo, qui deum nihil habere ipsum negotii 
 dicunt, et nihil exhibere alteri ; sed eorum etiam qui 
 deum semper agere aliquid, et moliri volunt, minquam 
 nee irasci deum^ nee nocere. Cic. de Off. J 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, mustlearntocarry 
 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 proba- 
 bly find, however he may be armed with 
 all the powersof philosophy, and exempted 
 from every external interruption, that the 
 Creator of the universe, after all his inves- 
 tigation, 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, Ke 
 may consult Leland on the advantage and necessity of revela- 
 tion ; a work which I presume is inferior to none upon 
 the subject, and which doubtless highly merits the atten- 
 tion of every young man of liberal education, and espe- 
 cially of eyery student of divinity. 
 
io On the Knowledge of God. [PART f, 
 
 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 shewn 
 without an impeachment of his just autho- 
 rity. It is this complex character upon 
 which I shall here insist ; as we are much 
 more concerned to enquire what God is to 
 ^^ > and what we may expect at his hands, 
 than to enter into any curious metaphy- 
 sical disquisition 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, we take a survey of sublunary 
 nature, or of that system at the head of 
 which we are placed, we shall find that it 
 2 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of God. it 
 
 has undergone a great change on account 
 of human apostecy ; that it lies under the 
 frown of heaven ; that its order and course 
 is 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 re- 
 gard 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 unseasonablefrosts 
 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 we 
 see the most fruitful regions infested with 
 noisome beasts and insects, undermined 
 
12 tin the Knowledge of Cod. [PART i. 
 
 by volcanic fires, or exposed to the artil- 
 lery of heaven *. 
 
 * In a book intitled Studies cf Nature, written in 
 French by M. de Saint Pierre, and translated by Dr. 
 Hunter, minifler 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 infii&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 fhould 
 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 wouldi 
 have been a single unwholsome 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 undtr the, hand of the 
 cultivator. 
 
 As the work now cited, after its vogue in France, 
 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, wilj 
 not perhaps be confidered as altogether impertinent. 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of Cod. 13 
 
 Again ; if we fix our view on man, we 
 find judgment and merey 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 observe?) come to be blended, 
 of whatever kind, the combination produces pleasure, 
 beauty and harmony. I call the instant and the point 
 of their union harmonic expression. This is the only 
 principle which I have been able to perceive in nature," 
 (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 improbable. 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. ii. 
 p. 134.) Or as he elsewhere tells us, that all our vices 
 are " the necessary results of pur political institutions/' 
 (Vol. vi. p. 65, 66.) Lastly, from an Indian Paria he has 
 
14 On the Knowledge of God. [[PART I* 
 
 every' period of his present existence. Du- 
 ring the season 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 parental 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 
 
 j_ . .. 
 
 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 princi- 
 ples and sentiments in the work before us. And now 
 can we forbear to wonder when we hear the translator 
 declare, that cc he had read few performances with more 
 complete satisfaction, and with greater improvement, 
 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 sublime theo- 
 logy, inculcates a purer morality, or breathes a more 
 ardent or more expansive philanthropy ?" (Vol. i. Pref.) 
 This high-flown panegyric might induce a suspicion that 
 the Doctor is not much conversant with the principles of 
 a sound philosophy : and that in his extravagant zeal 
 for his author, he had lost sight both of the Assembly's 
 Catechism and of his Bible. 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 15 
 
 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 conveniences 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 ari- 
 sing from particular assistance and sympa- 
 th} r , from the ordinary viccissitude of the 
 world, and from the lapse of time itself, 
 we shall find there are few instances of hu- 
 man distress 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, however his condition may be often 
 sad and' perilous, it is never absolutely des- 
 perate and irretrievable. 
 
i 6 On the Knowledge of God. PART I* 
 
 We may recognise the same mixed cha-- 
 racier 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 
 are 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.] On 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 re- 
 lation to man as their superior lord, are 
 partly involved in his fate. With him they 
 share in the benignity of the common pa- 
 rent ; with him likewise they suffer 
 
 The penalty of Adam, the season's difference, 
 
 As the icy fang, and churlish chiding of the winter'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 
 change that has taken place by man's diso- 
 
 c 
 
i8 On the Knowledge of God. [PART i. 
 
 bedience, iliust 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 introduced 
 into being with weeping and anguish,, 
 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 languishing disease, and sometimes 
 in excruciating torment ? Is this a trial un- 
 
SECT. I.] On the Knowledge of God. 19 
 
 der a constitution solely established upon 
 the benignity of the Creator, and which 
 bears no relation to his vindictive justice 
 and holy displeasure as an offended Go- 
 vernor ? To reason thus, is not to do ho- 
 nour to the goodness of God, or to justify^ 
 his ways to man ; and it argues little dis- 
 cernment 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 phaeno- 
 mena of nature and providence with our 
 ideas of the divine perfections. In this 
 case, as 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 arc 
 in danger from noxious plants and animals. 
 
2o On the Knowledge of God. [PART I, 
 
 and exposed to the intemperature of the 
 seasons, with other disorders of the ele- 
 ments ; 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 jus- 
 tice, tempered with much long-mffermg y aud 
 paternal indulgence. 
 
 I have dwelt the more upon this topic, 
 because it is not unusual to meet with mo- 
 ral 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 
 
SECT* i.] On the Knowledge of Cod. 21 
 
 beget in us an opinion that we are purely 
 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 means to promote our happi- 
 ness ; and contains in it nothing of judi- 
 cial animadversion, or that is monitoiy of 
 heavier inflictions to be endured hereafter, 
 if not timely averted. Hence such sooth- 
 ing doctrine, under shew of exalting the 
 goodness of God, derogates from his go- 
 Aiming 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 ho- 
 ly 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. [JPART 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 God t 
 drawn up with that force and perspicuity, for which the 
 author is so much distinguished, he proceeds to resolve 
 the whole constitution and courfe of nature into a display 
 of divine goodness, without any apparent reference to 
 that &KU *~, or punitive justice^ which is so obviously in- 
 scribedon the face of the world, when viewed in the lr t ;htof 
 scripture, (Compare Gen. ch. iii. v. 17 19. with Rom. 
 ch. viii. v. 1 8 23 ; and Isaiah, ch. xxiv. v. 5 and 6.) And 
 I must be allowed to express 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 afliftance, in his contemplation of nature. 
 
 I would here further refer the reader to the descriptions 
 of the golden age, and of those that followed, which we 
 find in many antient poets ; among the reft, in Hefiod, 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 pu- 
 nishment of human degeneracy. The following passages 
 from Ovid, in the firfl 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 ceternum ; 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 sere. 
 Jupiter antiqui contraxit tempora veris 
 Ptrque hyemes, astusque ^5" mequales antumnos^ 
 Et breve ver, spatiis exegit quatuor annum: 
 Turn primum steels aer fervoribits ustus 
 Canduit ; ^J 9 ventis glades adstricta pependit. 
 And after the wickedness 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) p 
 
 04 
 
24 On the Knowledge of God. PART i. 
 
 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 poor 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 gaidens, 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 ad vantage of revelation, and as an au- 
 thority which may confidently be opposed 
 to that pride of pretended reason, and 
 that ignorance and contempt of the Bible, 
 which so unhappily distinguishes the pre- 
 sent 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 mature nor providence can teach us, 
 whatever we may thence collect concern- 
 ing the relation he bears towards us as the 
 Creator arjd Governor of the world, or of 
 
2 6 On the Knowledge of Cod. [PARTI, 
 
 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 
 jiift God and a Saviour *, and at once emi- 
 nently displays the holiness of his nature, 
 the majesty 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 comet h 
 
 * Isaiah, xlv. 21. f 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*^; and that when 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 mankind, 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 
 
 * Johp, xiv. 6. f Rom. i. 20. J Rom. i. 21. 
 
 1 
 
$8 On the Knowledge of God. [PART i. 
 
 wise in this world, he must become a fool, that 
 he may be wise *. The most towering phi- 
 losopher, though he exalt himself as the eagle, 
 and set his nest among the stars, must stoop 
 to divine instruction ; that is, he must di- 
 vest himself of all vain opinion of his scien- 
 tific abilities; he must renounce the proud 
 and visionary theories of men, who con- 
 ceal their impiety, and oftentimes their ig- 
 norance, 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 
 
 * i Cor. iii. 1 8. 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of God. 25 
 
 the fair pretext of conducting her to greater 
 light and liberty, have plunged her into 
 tenfold darknefs 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 blessings of Christianity. 
 
 Let not him, then, who has retired from 
 the world in search of divine knowledge, 
 
 O ' 
 
 suppose that he will gain his purpose un- 
 less he takes a farther step, which is much 
 more difficult, and retires from his own 
 philosophic wisdom, to attend his teach- 
 ing who is in the bosom of the Father, and 
 is intimately acquainted with all his coun- 
 sels-}-; who in his person, in his doctrine, 
 in his example, and in his cross, has- thrown 
 that light on the divine character and dis- 
 pensations, which would be sought for in 
 vain amidst the works of nature, and the 
 volumes of philofophers. 
 
 * This was written in the year 1797. 
 f John, i. 1 8. and v. 20. 
 
30 On the Knowledge of God. FPART i. 
 
 III. All this, however, must be under- 
 stood in conjunction with prayer ; which, 
 if carelessly or proudly omitted, there is 
 no reafon to expect that either Nature or 
 Christianity would be sufficient to lead 
 the most profound inquirer 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, i. 5. 
 
SECT, i.] On the Knowledge of Cod. $t 
 
 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- 
 
32 On the Knowledge of God. f 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 authorized. 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 zoorld are clearly seen., being under- 
 stood by the things that are made. We m^y 
 thus view him in the dispensations of his 
 providence ; and above all, let me repeat 
 it, we may thus view him in his Son, who 
 bears his express likeness. But fhould 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 , it sown superstitions and 
 apparitions'*. 
 
 * The mind, darkened by its covering the bady, 
 is far from being a flat, equal, and clear mirror, that 
 
SECT* i.] On the Knowledge 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 it? 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 remem- 
 brance*. True philosophy, when kept in 
 due subordination, is favourable to true 
 religion, serves to shew its necessity, and 
 by correspondent analogies, to add new 
 evidence and illustration to its doctrines. 
 While they proceed together, they say the 
 same thing -f- ; 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 
 
 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. 24. 
 
 -[ Nunquam aliud natura, aliiid sapientia dicit. 
 I) 
 
34 On the Knowledge 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 
 j uster interpretation. Still less ought he 
 to reject the study of his 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 scrip- 
 tures here referred to, we know, were those 
 of the old Testament 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 as- 
 sistance 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 
 
$ECT. 1.] On the Knowledge of God. 35 
 
 On the other hand, study without prayer 
 is exposed to equal miscarriage ; as it ar- 
 gues a mind presuming upon its own 
 powers, or at best, grossly insensible of its 
 dependence on the Father of lights, who 
 is wont to conceal 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 religion ; and when, in 
 disdain of these infallible oracles, they 
 commit themselves, which is commonly the 
 case, solely to their own researches, as then 
 they are left to wander without any cer- 
 tain 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 
 
 the book of God's word and works, divinity and philo- 
 sophy ; but rather let them endeavour an endless pro- 
 gression in 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. I. p. 18. Shaw's edit. 
 
36 On the Knowledge of God. [[PART i* 
 
 than 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 in their 
 writings. Instead of keeping the glorious 
 discovery to themselves, and passing by 
 with philosophic indifference the religious 
 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 imposters, and to block up 
 every avenue to their seductions, lest, as 
 the serpent beguiled Ere 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. i. 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 ungddly, 
 nor standtth in the way, of sinners, nor sit- 
 teth in the seat of the scornful. But if un- 
 happily 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, or 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 sj^tem 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 
 P 3 
 
38 On the Knowledge of God. [PART i, 
 
 The goodly prospect of some foreign land 
 First seen, or some renown'd metropolis, 
 With glittering spires and pinnacles adorn'd, 
 
 now the rising sun gilds with his beams ! 
 
C 39 1 
 SECTION II. 
 
 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 
 
 1 HERE is no precept of wisdom which 
 has been more generally or justly cele- 
 brated than that which enjoins the know- 
 ledge of ourselves; 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 
 
 D 4 
 
40 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART i. 
 
 to the knowledge of God. We cannot, 
 therefore^ be surprised, that man, in his 
 various composition, has powerfully en- 
 gaged the attention of the inquisitive in all 
 ages; that he has been a subject of so 
 much curious and elaborate investigation, 
 and finished matter for innumerable 
 yolumes. 
 
 The labours of the physiologist, espe- 
 cially since the revival of learning in the 
 sixteenth century, have been crowned with 
 remarkable success. By the help of ana- 
 tomical dissections, with other experiments 
 and observations, he has acquired- a more 
 critical knowledge of, the principal parts 
 and members of the body, and has ascer- 
 tained both their structure and uses to q, 
 degree of accuracy, which shews that his 
 particular branch of study has fully shared 
 in the general progress of experimental 
 science ; while the medical professor, by 
 availing himself of the lights of the phy- 
 siologist, has been better able to explain 
 the causes and symptoms of diseases, and 
 to point out their peculiar remedies. 
 
ST. ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 41 
 
 The metaphysician has been equally -di- 
 ligent to explore the nature and operations 
 of tiie 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 umdia verbo), which I was 
 used to observe in a morning, coursing 
 round and round the top of a hill, though 
 it seemed, 1 suppose, to them, as if they 
 went straight forward. Something, how- 
 ever, has been done ; the essential differ- 
 ence that exists between matter arid 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 Dodwell. 
 
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 
 lias 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 have 
 been, both with ancients and moderns, 
 that instead of a humble history, they have 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge ofOursches. 43 
 
 affected to give a theory of the human 
 mind, and thus suffered nature to escape 
 through the subtilty of their abstrac- 
 tions *. 
 
 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. [FART 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 aiked him, which 
 was thejirjl commandment of all ? To this 
 Jesus replied, The first of all the command- 
 ments is, Hear, 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 utter 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 45 
 
 exclusion of all other deities, and an entire 
 devotedness to the worship and service of 
 the only true God. This, with the next 
 great commandment, namely, Thou shaU 
 love thy neighbour as thyself, constitutes that 
 law of perfection, which shone in man with 
 a clear and Convincing light, till, by the 
 entrance of sin, his power of spiritual per- 
 ception became so weakened and depraved, 
 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 of 
 
 3 
 
46 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. * [PART i,, 
 
 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 
 
 tivcly ; 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 as friends 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 deRep. lib. v. 
 
48 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. PART r 
 
 Scipio /Emilianus, the cruel conqueror of 
 the brave city of Numantia*, that in the 
 whole course of his life, he neither AW, nor 
 mid, nor thought any thing but what was lau- 
 dable -f- ; and that elsewhere he represents 
 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 J ; though we are informed by Plu- 
 tarch, 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, 
 than that Cato was vicious ; which would 
 
 * See Hooke's Rom. Hist. vol. v. p. 130132. 
 
 f Nihil in vita nisi laudandum, aut fecit, aut dixit, aut 
 sensit. PATERCULUS, lib. i. 
 
 J Homo virtuti simillimus, per omnia ingenio diis 
 quam hominibus propior. PATERC. lib. ii. 
 
 Catoni ebrietas objecta est : 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. 49 
 
 be a convenient way to raise men to per- 
 fection, by 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 
 fingerof God, became at length, through the 
 vail 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 perfec- 
 tion 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 in* 
 struction and warning was to them gene- 
 rally ineffectuaL 
 
 Should we from the Jewish extend out 
 view to Christian. nations, and in particu* 
 
 
 
jo On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART r, 
 
 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 conduct. 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 chusc 
 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 formerly sats 
 deep upon this in common with other nations, was not 
 yet entirely dissipated *. 
 
 * Hist, of Ch. $. voL i. p. 378. 
 
SECT, n/] On the Knowledge of 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 dependants, and courteous to all ; ia 
 short, 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 man, as perhaps the na- 
 ture of human frailty will permit -f-/' That 
 I here do no injustice to this canonized 
 
 * See his Life by himself, f Smith's Letter to Strahan. 
 
5 a On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART t, 
 
 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 ig- 
 norance, 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. ii.p. 363. 8vo. 
 
SZCT. ii.] On the Knowledge ef Ourselves. 5$ 
 
 existence and absolute independence ; his 
 power and wisdom ; his goodness and jus- 
 tice; and that untainted purity which in- 
 vests the wholeof his diameter, 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 faruih' of mankind ; 
 the debt of justice, of candour, and cha- 
 rity, which he owes to all, whether they 
 are his friends or his enemies, 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 whathe 
 owes to himself, in order to secure his own 
 virtue and happiness, amidst those circum- 
 stances of trial 5a which he is placed dur- 
 
 E3 
 
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 confidered 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 destitue 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 
 
 faction which throws disgrace on these ap. 
 plauded models, and to preserve this idea 
 unimpaired, under the daily corrupting in- 
 fluence of public opinion, evidently re- 
 quires no ordinary effort, and argues a mind 
 of more intellectual and moral vigour and 
 elevation, 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 hurry 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 reverence 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 z. 
 
 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 
 approbation 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 vh> 
 tue, by the judgments or flatteries of the 
 world, who would soon be reduced to a 
 mortifying sense of their true character, if 
 this fantastic support was happily with- 
 drawn from them ! 
 
 From these considerations it may suffiU 
 ciently appear, how much it concerns him 
 who would establish in his mind a just con- 
 ception of man as he existed in his original 
 innocence, and of the sad reverse he has 
 buffered, to secure a retreat from the bustle 
 of the world, whose erroneous sentiments, 
 and seducing examples, so few are able to 
 resist, while placed within the sphere of 
 
SECT. ii. j On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 57 
 
 their immediate influence. Nor ought a 
 deviation from ordinary life, in pursuit of 
 such an object, to incur censure while it 
 is allowed to studies of far less importance 
 or dignity. While the literary man is per- 
 mitted to separate himself from society, 
 and to devote his clays and nights to dis- 
 quisitions 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 
 
5$ On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PARTI. 
 
 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 
 present 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 contemplate 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, 
 
 IT. In what degree, according to the 
 constitution of the gospel, we must be re- 
 stored to a conformity with the violated 
 Jaw 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 upon this subject. 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 59 
 
 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 im- 
 perfection; 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 undoubt- 
 edly obliged, under the said penalty, to 
 this temper and conduct in a degree which 
 shall habitually prevail over every tempta- 
 tion 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 tells them, that No man 
 can serve two masters ; for either he will 
 hate the one and love the other, or eke he 
 will hold to the one and despise the other; ye 
 cannot (says he) serve God and mammon *. 
 
 * Matt. vi. 24. 
 
60 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART I. 1 
 
 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 whom ye obey, whether of 
 $in unto death or of obedience unto righteous- 
 ness *; 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, must import a 
 mind obedient to the divine law,) is life 
 and peace f, Such is the doctrine of scrip- 
 ture ; to which reason, if unbiassed, can- 
 hot refuse to yield its suffrage; for nothing 
 would be more contrary to its uncorrupted 
 
 * Rom. yi. 1 6. -j- R O m. viii. 6, 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 61 
 
 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 : 
 
 " 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 our Saviour* 
 
62 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [[PART I* 
 
 It is therefore a melancholy considera- 
 tion, that amongst those who profess them- 
 
 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. u. 
 
 " To be carnally and spiritually minded constitute two 
 states of mankind, unto the one of which every individual 
 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 qualities 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 thejlesh lusteth against 
 the spirit i and. the spirit lusteth against thejlesh ; and these 
 are contrary. Gal. v. 1 7. Thus different contrary actings 
 in the same subject constitute not distinct states : but 
 where either of them is predominant, 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 fleshy but in the spirit. Some are in thejlesh, and cannot 
 please God, v. 8 \ they are after the flesh -, v. 5 ; they ivalk 
 after the flesh, v. I ', 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. i . This is the other state. 
 The first sort are carnally minded, the other are spiritually: 
 minded. Unto one of these doth every living man belong, 
 he is under the ruling conduct of the flesh or of the spirit i 
 
 6 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 6$ 
 
 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 dishonourable to the cause of true reli- 
 gion in the world, that to guard against 
 it no caution can justly be thought unne- 
 cessary, 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- 
 
 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 eternity 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 oppo- 
 sition that is between the predicates of the proposition ; 
 for the minding cf the flesh is death> but the minding of the 
 spirit is life and peace? Id. ch* I. 
 
64 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART r* 
 
 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 9 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 Anti- 
 
 nomian 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- 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 65 
 
 tract an attachment 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, and thus leave the under- 
 standing more at liberty to examine it 
 with fairness, and the heart less indisposed 
 to its reception. And yet these advan* 
 
 * Matt. vii. 13, 14. 
 
66 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [[PART i. 
 
 tages are often either not improved at all, 
 or no farther than to a bare speculative 
 conviction, 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- 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 67 
 
 dered how much help is afforded to this 
 inquiry by many excellent works that have 
 been published on the tru th of Christian! ty, 
 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 rs 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 
 
 r 
 
 * Rom. x. 10, 
 F 2' 
 
68 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART iv 
 
 advocate for truth, and 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, in 
 the struggle, his endeavours prove suc- 
 cessful. This is a snare, it may be feared,, 
 in which many ingenious and learned men 
 are taken r 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. 
 
 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 Oursehes. 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 w r ould 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 
 
 F3 
 
70 On the Knew/edge of Ourselves. [PARTI. 
 
 serious consideration of all those who are 
 concerned in the inquiry. 
 
 The faith of a sinner is, in the first in- 
 stance, not to believe that he is a saint, 
 but that he 7/20^ be a saint; not that he 
 is pardoned, or that he is saved, but that 
 lie 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 blessings oF this redemption ; among 
 which, repentance is one of primary im- 
 portance. 
 
 It is by repentance that we are admit- 
 ted into Christ's spiritual kingdom. At 
 
 * See the communion service. The same is still more 
 fully expressed in the 3 1 st article : " The offering of 
 Christ once made," (it is there said,) is that perfect 
 
SECT, 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, that they might receive, 
 forgiveness of si?is\\. 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." 
 
 * Acts, v. 31. f Luke, xxiv. 47. $ Acts, iii. ic>. 
 
 |{ Acts, xxvi. 1 8. 
 
 F4 
 
7 s On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART i, 
 
 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 reprer 
 sen ted 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 np.w seen, with remis- 
 sion of sins, and this with a state of divine 
 favour and reconciliation *\- 9 it must com- 
 
 i 
 
 * Luke, xiii. 3. 
 
 f In proof of this latter connection, the two following 
 passages may be thought sufficient. Blessed is he (fays 
 the Pfalmist) 'whose transgression is forgiven^ whose sin 
 is covered. (Psalm xxxii. i.) And the Apostle Paul thus 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 73 
 
 prehend whatever in the dispostion of the 
 heart is essentially necessary to such a 
 state. And since a supreme regard to 
 God has before been shewn 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 distinguishing 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 reconciliation : to lurf^ that God "jjas 
 in Christ reconciling the ivorld unto himself, not imputing 
 their trespasses. (2 Cor. v. 1 8, 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 con- 
 nected with the remission or non-imputation of sin. 
 
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 
 he still continues to read his Bible), he 
 must work himself up into some extrava- 
 gant opinion respecting the divine decrees, 
 and the absolute unconditionally of the 
 covenant of grace, whence he may infer 
 that nothing 710^ 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. 7 
 
SECT, ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 75 
 
 But whether in the compassionate goocU 
 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 ignorance 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; 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 authorize 
 an immediate application of the promise 
 of pardon ; and that to delay such an ap- 
 
j6 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [[PARTI. 
 
 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 w r ell 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 knowledge ? 
 When it meets with a serious and 
 awakened inquirer, 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 Kncnvledge of Ourselves. 77 
 
 him to the sacrifice of Christ as the only 
 atonement for its violation ; and unfolds 
 the nature and necessity of true repen- 
 tance, while it again directs his view to the 
 Saviour 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 is continued) ma- 
 nifests his sincerity by a course of humble 
 and unreserved obedience, it speaks fully 
 the language 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. 
 
78 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. [PART 14 
 
 to the light of scripture, and even of na- 
 ture and of conscience, which will some- 
 times 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. 
 
 * EcclesiasticuSj xxxvii. 14, 
 
SSCT. ii.] On the Knowledge of Ourselves. 79 
 
 Should it here be inquired, 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 flows 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 is in conjunction with deep reve- 
 rence and humility, and an habitual ap- 
 plication for pardon and assistance through 
 a mediator ; and whether there is any flaw 
 in our general conduct which implies a 
 want of loyal subjection to the divine go- 
 
So On the Knowledge 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, till 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 theft 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 . il.] On tic Knowledge of Ourselves. 81 
 
 deuce of his spiritual safety ; which is in- 
 deed a satisfaction devoutly to be wished, 
 arid that every one who is serioiifly con- 
 cerned for his salvation will seek with 
 diligence, but which is likely to be soonest 
 found by him who is more solicitous to be 
 right, than to know he is so; 
 
 I shall here add nothing to what has 
 been offered in the former part of this sec- 
 tion, to evince the expediency of retirement 
 for the purpose of self-knowledge. 1 shall 
 rather close with a few remarks to shew, 
 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 riow mentioned, that it acquires ano- 
 ther operation, and 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 
 
 nkich abstraction we are in danger of niis- 
 
 o 
 
82 On the Knowledge of Ourselves. PART i. 
 
 taking speculative approbation for practi- 
 cal principle-,, In the cairn of retreat, 
 when the passions have usually less pojver 
 to warp or obscure the judgment, the obli- 
 gations of virtue may be acknowledged, 
 and its beauty be contemplated with a 
 kind of enthusiastic admiration, till some 
 Occasion of real business discovers the il- 
 lusion. It is then we often experience, 
 that a vast difference subsists between an 
 ideal elevation of mind and a substantial 
 principle of conduct, and that our fine no- 
 tions and sentimental feelings are too sha- 
 dowy and feeble to stand the shock of the 
 interests and competitions 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 
 
ii,] On the Know/edge of Ourselves. 3 
 
 they were yet distant, and existed 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> who 
 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. , 
 
84 On the Knowledge cf Ourselves. .[PART i. 
 
 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 reel use, 
 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 suprise 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, 
 
 * " As he 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 the Rebellion. 
 
SECT, ii.] Oil the Knowledge of Oursck ., 85 
 
 1 presume not to determine. Xirnenes 
 was old when lie was called from his eell 
 in which he had passed many years in all 
 the rigours of monastic discipline, to act 
 his part at court, 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 in 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 marquoient 
 Tausterite de sa vie; & que les courtisans le regarderent 
 comme un des anciens penitens de TEgypte, ou de la 
 Thebaide." Hist, du Card. Ximenes) par 
 
 />. 16. G 3 
 
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 favourable 
 to the investigation of truth, will supply us 
 with higher standards by which to try our- 
 selves ; while the latter is more likely (in 
 some instances at least,) to shew us pur 
 strength and weakness, and to detect 
 those principles which lie deep and latent 
 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 3 his habits, and his 
 circumstances. 
 
C 87 3 
 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 comprized these 
 three things ; first, the knowledge of its 
 cxtermr^ or of its visible manners, with the 
 nature and forms of its business ; secondly, 
 the knowledge of its interior, or of its se- 
 cret principles, views, and dispositions; 
 and, lastly, of its value, or of the rate we 
 
 G4 
 
88 On ihe Knowledge of the World. [PART i, 
 
 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 Englifhman 
 must therefore learn to content himself, 
 as well as he can, with his ignorance of the 
 shifting forms under which his fellow-citi- 
 zens are pleased to exhibit themselves ; 
 
BECT. in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 89 
 
 and to resign this fugitive and local science 
 to those whose situation enables them, as 
 one of our poets has expressed it, 
 
 To catch the manners living as they rise. 
 
 It must likewise be admitted, that the 
 recluse 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 coo- 
 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 views 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 can be 
 had to the motives of any one's actions 
 except our own, it is evident that, without 
 
90 On the Knowledge of the World* [[PART i, 
 
 this previous self-inspection, onr 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 
 jniniite 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 leave him 
 much in the dark respecting the internal 
 movements and principles in question? 
 
SECT. Hi.] On ^ je 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 arid 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 w^ho 
 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. 
 
92 On the Kowledge of the World. [[PARTI. 
 
 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 a 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 we 
 insist upon it a moment longer. Much of 
 
 the variety in the characters of men pro- 
 Si v 
 
SECT, in.] 0;; the Knowledge of the World. 93 
 
 ceeds from the variety of bodily tempera- 
 meat, 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 heigh- 
 tened 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 part 
 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 
 perhaps it is no where more displayed 
 than in that native perspicacity which 
 looks through the spirits of men with very 
 little aid from experience. 
 
94 On the Knowledge of the World. [PART & 
 
 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. lie therefore who 
 would obtain more extensive and varied 
 views of mankind 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 displa} r ed the rise and progress, 
 the decline and fall of empire ; the poli- 
 
SECT, ii h ]j On the Knowledge of the World. 95 
 
 tics and relative situations, the wars and 
 revolutions of nations. Or if he would 
 enquire more distinctly into the genius, 
 the manners and usages which have cha- 
 racterized different ages, and which pre- 
 sent to a philosophic mind an object far 
 inorb interesting than wars and politics, 
 he may consult the particular histories 
 and memoirs, or other remaining monu- 
 ments, of the periods of which he desires 
 to be informed. 
 
 Should he confine his views to modem 
 times, in which we are most concerned, 
 let him read with c&YeThuamis,DeComines, 
 Le Vassor, Sully, De Retz ; and, among 
 our own countrymen, Clarendon, Burnett, 
 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 
 
98 On the Knowledge of the World. [PA-RT !. 
 
 images of life which bear 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 
 expanded by reflection, and skilfully ap- 
 plied, will generally secure him from any 
 mistakes of a dangerous consequence, 
 
 But of all the mirrors fabricated by the 
 pressy 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 na- 
 ture is overstepped, where reason is degraded 
 into sentiment, and where human language 
 and human manners are almost lost in 
 rant, affectation, and intrigue. When 
 
is B c i . n i . j On the Knowledge of the World. 9 9 
 
 the world 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 pre- 
 sented with a race of beings who have 
 withdrawn themselves into a region of their 
 ownj and whose days and nights are wasted 
 in fantastic pursuits, sentimental babble, 
 and mad extravagance; For any one to 
 take his ideas from such exhibitions, would 
 be no less an injustice to the world j than 
 a disgrace to his own understanding. 
 
 Among the many portentous evils that 
 threaten both the present age and poste- 
 rity, there are few \vl\ich 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 of serious trial* where 
 much is to be endured and much to be 
 forborne, should be flattered with the des- 
 tructive imagination, that its great end is 
 
 pleasure and amusement ? What is more 
 r 
 
 H 2 
 
gS On the Knowledge of the World. [PA-RT !. 
 
 images of life which bear 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 
 expanded by reflection, and skilfully ap- 
 plied, will generally secure him from any 
 mistakes of a dangerous consequence. 
 
 But of all the mirrors fabricated bv the 
 
 V 
 
 pres^ 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 na- 
 ture is overstepped, where reason is degraded 
 into sentiment, and where human language 
 and human manners are almost lost in 
 rant, affectation, and intrigue. When 
 
&B.CT.-III.J On the Knowledge of the World. 99 
 
 the world is viewed in such representations 
 it is scarcely to be known again ; instead 
 of men and women soberly engaged iri 
 business or innocent society; we are pre- 
 sented with a race of beings who have 
 withdrawn themselves into a region of their 
 own j and whose days and nights are wasted 
 in fantastic pursuits, sentimental babble, 
 and mad extravagance; For any one to 
 take his ideas from such exhibitions, would 
 be no less an injustice to the world* than 
 a disgrace to his own understanding. 
 
 Among the many portentous evils that 
 threaten both the present age and poste- 
 rity, there are few wlych 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 
 
 o o 
 
 present life as a state of serious trial* where 
 much is to be endured and much to be 
 forborne, should be flattered w r ith the des- 
 tructive imagination, that its great end is 
 pleasure and amusement ? What is more 
 
 H 2 
 
too On the Knowledge of the World. fpART I, 
 
 to be lamented, than that, by wrong prin- 
 ciples early imbibed, the few days of man 
 on earth should be embittered by perpe- 
 tual 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 de- 
 scribes the world in a manner perfectly 
 unexceptionable; or if there be others, 
 they ave such as. are derived from it. In 
 all the rest it is either flattered or dispa- 
 raged, it is either transformed into a para- 
 dise or into a howling wilderness; the 
 Bible only represents it as it is, fallen in- 
 deed from its primitive glory and happi- 
 ness, but not into hopeless guilt and mi- 
 sery ; not into a condition destitute of the 
 light and grace of heaven, or, (to the hum- 
 ble Christian,) unprovided with ample sup- 
 port and comfort. Farther, the 13ibJe, if 
 
SECT, in.] On the Knowledge of the Wurld* 101 
 
 attentively studied, will supply the liiost 
 sequestered hermit with a comprehensive 
 knowledge of man, both in his individual 
 and collective capacity ; there he may 
 trace human nature through every point 
 of gradation, from the lowest state of de- 
 pravity to the highest attainable excel- 
 lence; 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 retire- 
 ment may come to know mankind in every 
 respect 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 
 
 ii 3 
 
IO2 On the Knowledge of the World. PART I. 
 
 world more to the life, in its spirit, its 
 maxims, its pursuits, and its illusions, 
 than Pascal? Who has anatomized the 
 human heart, traced the meandrings 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 qnd its dissipa4 
 tions. 
 
 It is indeed matter of some patience to 
 observe, with what airs of importance 
 
-:CT. in.] On the Knowledge 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 onr 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 a superior 
 acquaintance with the history of his coun- 
 try, from his gleanings in the annals of 
 Newmarket, the Newgate 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 Christian 
 
 H4 
 
J 04 On the Knowledge of the World. [PART i, 
 
 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,) hut 
 is radically and throughout either a fool or 
 a knave; that one Jialf of the world is the 
 dupe of the other, and that all the seenu 
 ing virtues which are scattered in it are 
 only certain modifications of self-love, or, 
 (as a great adept has taught us *,) the poli- 
 tical offspring of flattery begot upon pride. 
 What the world would be, if abandpned 
 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 any Hobbist or Machiavelian can 
 suppose, ind ripe for a second deluge; 
 that .men, like demons, would be inspired 
 with mutual malignity, and, like beasts iq 
 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 
 seasoning of piety and virtue; Be has 
 
 * Mandeville. 
 
SECT. in. J On the Knowledge 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 r. 
 
 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 strange power we find in ourselves, 
 and such is our disposition to give to our 
 present state, whatever' it is, a character 
 of continuance. To correct this turn of 
 mind, we should learn to view our 
 
SECT, in.] On the Knowledge of the World. 107 
 
 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 admoni- 
 tion, that there is no earthly joy which 
 may not he extinguished in a moment, 
 and no earthly fortune that is not liable 
 to a sudden subversion. Above all, we 
 should learn, by a contemplation of time 
 in the light of eternity, to enforce the coiu 
 viction, that not only our life, but also 
 every thing else under the sun, is no more 
 than a vapour which appcarcth for a little 
 ite) and then vanisheth away. 
 
 If to the want of stability and perma- 
 jience in all worldly things, we add their 
 unsatififactoriness 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 
 
io8 On the Knowledge of t% eWorld. [PART I. 
 
 same perishing objects, notwithstanding 
 innumerable miscarriages and disappoint- 
 ments, 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 de- 
 ception they return again anci again to 
 their former purpose, in hope that, by 
 .more skilful efforts, they shall be able to 
 overcome every adventitious obstruction, 
 and to extract that felicity which hitherto 
 lias eluded their pursuit. 
 
 Of this fatal mistake, no one will ever 
 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 
 $till farther increased by sin ; that it is this 
 which has subjected all sublunary nature 
 
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 full 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 9 eat 
 his bread, till he return to the dust whence 
 he was taken. 
 
 That the world is ' unsatisfactory 9 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 
 lilely 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, via. 20. 
 
*re> On the Knowledge of the World. |*ytpet ?, 
 
 Lastly, to know the 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, we 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,, 
 
 o 
 
sscf. in.] On the Know/edge of the World. in 
 
 for the sake" of a trifle, will risk an object 
 of great and undoubted importance; nor 
 will the charge be at all extenuated, how- 
 ever by their dexterity to assume the spirit 
 and manners of those who are necessary 
 to their purpose, and to shape themselves 
 to all occasions, 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 superfi- 
 cial, 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. 
 
1 12 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 
 rejected ; 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 deejned of little worth, as well on 
 account of their transitory nature, as of 
 their dangerous tendency to divert the 
 mind from it greatest concerns. In like 
 
SECT, in.] On the Knowledge of tie World. 113 
 
 manner, the honours and riches of the 
 world will suffer a repulse upon a fair en- 
 counter with this principle, and be found 
 unworthy either to be sought or enter- 
 tained, except as they may be converted 
 into instruments of usefulness. 
 
 If, then, the knowledge of which we 
 have been speaking is 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 */ 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. 
 I 
 
n 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 rnerety 
 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 A 7 arious commodities ; w T hat 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.j On the Knowledge of the World. 1 15 
 
 affairs, The second class be would leave 
 to the vain and prodigal. From the third 
 he would collect such articles as might 
 suit his wants or his reasonable conveni- 
 ence, at the same time taking heed that 
 h^ 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 yield- 
 ing. 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 PART IL 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON VIRTUE. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 & 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 arid 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 is meant in the 
 
i i 8 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 particu- 
 larly 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 writ- 
 ers 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 character superior to their own, 
 they too often find that their judgment 
 
I.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue* 119 
 
 has been either surprised by the partiality 
 of affection, or awed by an undue reve- 
 rence of Authority, or disabled by the ser- 
 vility of dependence. 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 
 
 i 4 
 
120 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. [PART it 
 
 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 manner 
 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 all 
 that is joyous and comfortable 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- 
 
. i/] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 12! 
 
 gar minds; and how few minds can be 
 found which are not vulgar in one or other 
 of these respects, or which can preserve 
 jirst ideas of these objects in opposition 
 to prevailing opinion, and fairly rate them 
 by their use, and not by that delusive splen- 
 dour which is cast upon them by the ima- 
 gination 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 
 tnust our sympathies be awakened in the 
 midst of society, where all the passions, 
 and chiefly those which are of a vicious 
 or malinant nature, act with redoubled 
 
 vgour. 
 
122 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. [PART n* 
 
 Hence, if in the mass of human opinions 
 there is 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 they are stricken. This morbid sen- 
 sibility and feebleness of temper, when it 
 
S.ECT. i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 321 
 
 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 sen- 
 sible mitigation to be expected, unless the 
 occasions of debility and irritation are 
 avoided, or considerably 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 unrernitted 
 exertion ; and what Lord Bacon says of 
 silence, that it is the rest of the soul, and 
 refreshes 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 farther service. Like 
 our mother earth, we require respite at 
 certain intervals, lest by being over-wrought 
 
1 24 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. TPART* ri, 
 
 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 temp- 
 tation ; 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 
 mariner of our intercourse with the world, 
 where these occasions are most frequent, 
 and commonly most dangerous. It is true, 
 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 Jlain, 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 
 wisdom and the power of God to its insi- 
 dious or violent assaults, when they can- 
 not be avoided without deserting our pro- 
 per station. 
 
 Indeed, to escape this conflict altoge- 
 ther is not the lot of any mqn, in any situ- 
 
T26 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. [PART jf& 
 
 ation ; 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 plea- 
 sures : which shews, 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 no- 
 ticed. 
 
 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 seem s of gaiety and splendour, 
 than any which human life actually exhi- 
 bits. In this ideal world the underftand- 
 ing of a recluse, without due care, may 
 suffer greater deception, and his passions 
 
SECT. 1.3 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. [>ART ij, 
 
 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 
 
 Cr 
 
i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. 129 
 
 all their efforts to surmount them ; or, 
 at best, to deliver themselves up to an un- 
 natural discipline or a visionary devotion* 
 the religion of fnonks and hermits, which 
 loves to haunt the obscurity of cloisters, 
 or to wander in dreary solitudes. Let 
 such, therefore, who from a morbid com- 
 plexion of body or mind, are obnoxious 
 to an evil so distressing and injurious, 
 provide themselves an antidote in social 
 life, and particularly in the conversation of 
 persons of ^ rational and cheerful 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 hus- 
 bandry. Men of this character, instead 
 of vainly affecting a life of abstraction, 
 ought to seek in some publia situation, or 
 
 K 
 
130 Retirement a Refuge to Virtue. [PART n. 
 
 honest business, that impulse which is ne- 
 cessary 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 advan- 
 tage to themselves, and in a noble inde- 
 pendence 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 sub- 
 side, 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 * 
 
SECT, i.] Retirement a Refuge to Virtue* 131 
 
 and those calm and innocent pleasures 
 which hature there, fresh and untainted, 
 affords to her children, will probably retain 
 the impression all his days; and under 
 this happy bias, is more likely to find in 
 retirement that repose which his imperfect 
 virtue may often need, thn if he had been 
 trained up amidst the shews and dissipa-> 
 lions of a great city. 
 
 
C 132 3 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Containing some Observations on those Means which 
 tend, by a more direct and positive Influence y to the 
 Promotion 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 
 virtue (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 seve- 
 ral 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- 
 8'- 
 
SECT* II.] 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 at 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 
 
134 The positive Means of Virtue considered.^ AW ir, 
 
 degree, the product of his education ; and 
 that his whole life usually takes its colour 
 from the training and instruction he re- 
 ceives 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 i 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 ^dopt a and to judge soundly 
 of any system which may fairly offer itself 
 tc HS 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 
 learning and talents are at best but vain 
 and unprofitable ornaments. "Tis virtue, 
 " direct virtue," says Mr. Locke, very Em- 
 phatically, " which is the hard and valu- 
 " able part of education, and to which all 
 " other considerations and accomplish- 
 " ments should be postponed *." 
 
 If such, then, should be the scope of 
 education, it is to be lamented that no 
 more regard is paid to it in an age which 
 boasts itself, and not always unjustly, of 
 its improvements ; and that no greater 
 
 *. Locke on Education, 70. In another part of the 
 game treatise, where he describes the character of a tu- 
 tor, he observes, that he should be one who, " know- 
 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 
 c but to make the worse or more dangerous man." $ 177. 
 
 K 4 
 
136 The positive Means of Virtue considered* [PARTH. 
 
 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. I 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, O, procul 
 esteprofani ! And should the reader, from 
 early prejudice, or the influence of public 
 opinion, be partial to the same cause, I 
 would intreat 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, 
 
5ECT.ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 137 
 
 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 poet;s. 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 afk, in reply. Whether 
 all this, and much more, ought to be put 
 in balance with their vain mythology, their 
 defective morals, and their frequent obsce- 
 nity ? 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 is not 
 already sufficiently convinced, he mayconsult BishopLowth 
 acra poesi Hebraorttm. 
 
138 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [ PARTII. 
 
 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 and Virgil, I 
 shall fortify it 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. < c Why/' says he, " should J 
 f; speak of the adultery of Mars and Ve^ 
 " nus ; or of Ganymede, whom his lewd 
 ** paramour, Jupiter, placed among the 
 " stars ? stories invented for no other pur- 
 " pose than to justify men in their vices * ;" 
 
 * Quid loquar Martis et Veneris adulterium depren* 
 sum ? et in Ganymedem Jovis stuprum ccelo consecra- 
 tum ? Quse omnia in hoc prodita, ut vitiis hominum 
 quaedam auctoritas pararetur. His atque hujusmodi fig- 
 mentis, et mendaciis dulcioribus, corrumpuntur ingenia 
 puerorum ; et hisdem fabulis inhserentibus, adusque sum- 
 mse setatis robur adolescunt, et in iisdem opinionibus 
 miseri consenescunt, MIN. FEL. p. 40, 
 
3JECT.ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 139 
 
 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 : <f Such are the 
 * c idle stories told us by our ignorant fore- 
 " fathers, and, what is worse, which we 
 * c ourselves endeavour to cherish by^ a fond 
 * c application to the poets, who, by the 
 * c general esteem in which they are held, 
 " have done unspeakable injury to the 
 " cause of truth : and therefore Plato 
 " did wisely when he banished Homer 
 " from his ideal republic */' My next 
 authority is that of the great Roman orator 
 and philosopher, who, in his Tusculan 
 Questions, speaks to this purpose: "Who 
 S sees not the mischief occasioned by the 
 
 * Has fabulas et errores et ab imperitis parentibus db- 
 cimus, et (qu.od est gravius) ipfsis studiis et disciplinis ela- 
 iboramus, caraiinibus praecipue ppetarum, qui permirura 
 quantum veritati ipsa sua auctoritate nocuere. Et Plato 
 ideo prseclare Homerum ilium inclytum iaiulatum et coro- 
 natum, de civitate quam in scrmone instituebat ejecit. 
 MIN. FtL. p. 39. 
 
140 The positive Means of Virtue tons idered.p ART u* 
 
 "poets? They dissolve the firmness of 
 " our minds : and yet such is their attrao 
 " tion, that we not only read but learn 
 " them by heart. Hence it is, that when 
 " to the vices of domestic discipline, and 
 " the delicacy of an indolent life, are added 
 " the fascinating charms of these syrens, 
 " all the nerves of virtue are destroyed : 
 " and therefore Plato did well when he ba- 
 " nished them from that imaginary repub- 
 " lie, which he endeavoured to construct 
 " upon principles the most agreeable to 
 " virtue and good order. But we, alas ! 
 " after the fashion of the Greeks, are fami- 
 " liarized with the poets from our infancy; 
 " and this we are pleased to call a polite 
 ** and liberal education *." Behind this 
 
 * Vid^sne poetae quid mali aiFerant ? MolHunt anU 
 mos nostros 5 ita sunt deinde dulces, ut non legantur mode, 
 sed etiam ediscantur. Sic ad malam domesticam disci- 
 plinam, vitamque umbratilem et delicatam, cum accesse- 
 runt etiam poetse, nervos omnes virtutis elidunt. Recte 
 Igitur a Platone educantur ex ea civitate, quam finxit ille, 
 cum mores optimos, et optimum reipublicae statum, exqui- 
 reret. At vero nos s docti scilicet a Gra^cia, I:-sec et a pueri*- 
 tia legimus, et didicimus : hanc eruditionem liberalem, et 
 doctrinam putamus. Cic. Tusc. Disp. lib. ii. 1 1. 
 
ML] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 141 
 
 double shield I fear no shafts of censure, 
 whether emitted from the hands of the 
 polite Greeks, or of those barbarous Latins, 
 who (as Mr. Locke speaks) " scarce think 
 " their children have an orthodox edu- 
 " cation without a smattering of pagan- 
 ism *." > 
 
 * Should it be alledged, 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 moralky 
 of the gospel j in reply, I 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 indecent 
 should be done, or tven spoken, in his presence :f. We all 
 know, or ought to kno w, that the human mind is natu- 
 rally far more susceptible and retentive of evil than of 
 
 * 
 
 good, and therefore that to admit the former, on a pre- 
 
 i 
 
 f- Nunc adhibe puro 
 
 Pectore verba, puer ; nunc te melioribus offer* 
 Quo semel est imbuta recens, servabit odorem 
 Testa diu. Ep. II. lib. i: 
 
 f Nil dictu fosdum visuque haec limina tangat, .. 
 
 Intra quz puer est 
 
 Maxima debetur puero revercntia. SAT. 14. 
 
 . a lbi wj X-G Ssii, 
 
The positive Means of Virtue considered. [pAkt if 
 
 And supposing^ from the hereditary 
 frank, or intended profession of individuals, 
 fcn 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, 
 
 sumption that we are able at pleasure to expel or to cor- 
 rect it by the latter, is a proceeding no less contrary to 
 common prudence, than it is to the humility and diffidence 
 inspired by true religion. 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 43 
 
 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 fkill 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 
 u profit : but the talk of the lips tendethonly 
 to penury *. Under this impression, when 
 
 * Prov. xiv. 23. 
 
i44 he positive Means of Virtue considered.^ h.-9Cf ir* 
 
 I sometimes look around on our literary 
 pursuits, it is not entirely without an ap- 
 prehension, lest, from a nation of philoso- 
 phers (as we have been denominated), we 
 should dwindle down into a race of gram- 
 marians 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 
 leader must have perceived, that the point meant to be 
 censured was not the mere knowledge of Greek and La*in, 
 but the use, of 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 liberal 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 Virtue 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 vigilance of our universities '> 
 only I Would observe these two things ; 
 firft, that no vigilance can be too great 
 .against an* evil so spreading and perni- 
 cious, and which threatens to poison the 
 very 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 language 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 language 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 
 en Education) $147. 
 
 
 
146 The positive Means ofVirtue considered.^ ^^v n, 
 
 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, 
 
SECT. IL] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 
 
 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 shew how much the 
 cause of virtue depends on a right educa- 
 tion. 
 
 * It is a well-known observation of Bacon, that a 
 taring in philosophy disposes men to atheism. I wish I 
 could add, upon as good grounds with the same illus- 
 trious author, that depth in philosophy brings them back 
 again to religion \ for though there is doubtless a relation- 
 ship in all truth, and the pure light of nature can never 
 be at variance with the light of revelation, 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 acknowledged, that men may be so extremely 
 philosophical, even upon the principles of Bacon, that 
 it may be necessary to call off their attention from 
 physics to morals, and in some sense from heaven to 
 earth j from speculations on the structure and laws of the 
 universe, however solidly conducted, to a serious con^ 
 templation of human life, and the relation it bears to the 
 life to come. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART if, 
 
 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 moft, 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 
 nseful 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 effedls 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, takea in its extent, comprises 
 every other; implying a disposition to 
 render to all their due, honour to whom ho- 
 nour , fear to zyhom fear, tribute to whom 
 
 . 
 tribute, custom to whom custom, to God 
 
 i i 1-1 1-1 i, 
 
 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-r 
 
 sion, and as there is no moral idea which 
 
 i -i i i ' i 
 
 is more easily conceived and admitted, at 
 
 J ,Tg cllf] T> 
 
150 The positive Me am of Virtue considered. [PART n. 
 
 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 bette^ 
 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 
 plight be taught to respect the rights of hi s 
 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 
 of this great law of moral conduct, it 
 
SECT. n*3 The positive Means of Virtue considered. 151 
 
 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 viola- 
 tion. Under such a discipline, he could 
 hardly fail to grow up into an honest man 
 and a good citizen, according to the ordi- 
 nary estimate of those characters in the 
 world. And fmce 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 de- 
 voutly to be wifhed, and might justly be 
 expected, as it requires only a more atten- 
 tive regard to moral causes, and their pro- 
 per 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 
 
 L4 
 
152 The positive Means of Virtue considered.^? A^CT -n, 
 
 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 pious 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 
 these 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 iq 
 
 * Proy. xxii, 6. f Ephes. vi. 4* 
 
s E CT . 1 1 .] The posit he 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 <lue 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 9 and to follow hi?n *. 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 scripture sense of the expression, and 
 to offer up one sacrifice more to vice and 
 fnipiety. Nor ought this construction to 
 
 * Luke, ix. 23. 
 
154 The positive Means of Virtue considered.^ ART n> 
 
 appear harsh or improbable, since, without 
 an extraordinary grace from Heaven, there 
 is obvioufly 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 
 country, and see this awfully exemplified ; 
 see its youth, notwithstanding its boafled 
 civic schools and institutions, delivered up, 
 unarmed 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 Means of Virtue considered. 1 55 
 
 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 ecclesia- 
 stics) have shewn singular address in cap- 
 tivating the favour of princes and great 
 men, to whom, in many instances, they 
 have proved still more fatal. Well, there- 
 fore, may we exclaim, with the royal pro- 
 phet, Be wise now^ 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 n, 
 
 has the advantage on the side of talents, 
 g,nd the latter on that of virtue. In pub- 
 Jic 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 medium, 
 however j between a public and a home education, which 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. \yj 
 
 II. RELIGION. 
 
 Under this head I shall consider, first, 
 that gracious relief which God, in his infi- 
 nite 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 
 actually 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 
 
 may often be preferable to either. This medium is, 
 when a clerical or any other person of learning and piety, 
 together with a competent knowledge of the world, un- 
 dertakes to educate only such a number of youth as may 
 properly be comprehended within the sphere of his moral 
 as well as his literary superintendence, and who, in all 
 respects, would treat them as his adopted children. Un- 
 der 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. 
 
I5 T6e positive Means of Virtue consider? J.[P ART 11. 
 
 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 to 
 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 AlcibL 
 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 to diviners 
 and those who deliver oracles, are neither 
 
 VVV 
 
 u ou \ AA. A ox a; poi xcu 
 2. OicrSa ovv TTUS otTrcQevfa TOU]O TO irsgi (ft vvv ', AA 
 Eyuye. 2. ITco? ; AA. Exv j3Xi (TV, w 2wxfiIf > % 
 Ou xaAw^ Afy?K, AXHiptfltfc. AA. AXAa ww; tyri 
 Asyfn/ ; 2, Or; eav SMJ iS-fA?!. AA. Af-yw Jij. ALCIB.I. 
 
 sub finem. 
 
160 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART ii# 
 
 formed by nature nor art, but by divine in- 
 spiration *. In Plato's Phsedrus, Socrates 
 intreats the gods to bestow upon him interior 
 beauty if-. Bias, one of the seven sages of 
 Greece, admonishes men to ascribe to the 
 gods whatever good they rfaj. Sexttis, 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- 
 
 ovit at, dj Swjt^rsf, Jojcouffi yiyvto-Sai, ; pyre 
 yiyvovrai ; nv ttXXov TPOTTOV yiy- 
 
 piv n 'stov rt 
 rovg uyxSovs uuirtp ot Seioi ruv puvrtuv xat 
 * ovlot yy,(> xls ^uo-ft f oizroi yiyvoi/rui, ours 
 
 "f KaAo? 
 t OTJ av 
 
 {[ Deus in bonis actibus hominibus dux est : in omni s - 
 quod bene agis, auctorem esse deputa Deum* Sapientis 
 mentem Deus inhabitat. 
 
s kef . II.] The post five Means of Virtue considered. 1 61 
 
 lected, might serve to check. the presump- 
 tion of all such as proudly reject what the 
 scriptures advance upon the necessity of 
 divine influence, to renovate and sanctify 
 our depraved nature. 
 
 Nothing indeed will thoroughly recon- 
 cile 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 superior assistance ; and the gos- 
 pel, 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- 
 
 M 
 
1 62 The posit I've Means of Virtue considered. [PART ri, 
 
 tions, ever since the fall of the first man, 
 the great moral cause of all the real virtue 
 that has existed in the world ; of every 
 right affection towards God, and of every 
 emotion of true benevolence towards man. 
 By this succour our common progenitor 
 (as we have reason to believe) was reftored 
 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 declarations, that the time is 
 hastening, when, by a more general effusion 
 of divine influence, there will be a multi- 
 plication of this image in the world beyond 
 what>has hitherto been known. 
 
 (n.) Let us next proceed to consider 
 some of the principal means, by which the 
 heavenly succour now spoken of, is ac- 
 tually 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 
 
SECT, ii J f be positive Means of Virtue considered. 163 
 
 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* 
 before 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, medi- 
 tation, prayer, and a due attendance upon 
 public worship, deserve our particular no- 
 tice. 
 
 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- 
 
164 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART it. 
 
 sion*. Hence Christians are said to be 
 sanctified through the truth -f- ; to be puri- 
 fied in obeying the truth t ; and to be born 
 again, not of corruptible seed, but of incor- 
 ruptible, by the word of God |f, which is the 
 word of truth . The energy of this word 
 is emphatically expressed in the following 
 passage of the prophet Jeremiah r Is not 
 my word like as afire, saith the Lord, and 
 like a hammer that breaketh the rock in 
 pieces^ ? And the apostle Paul thus ad- 
 dresses the Thessalonians : When ye re- 
 ceived the word of God, which ye heard of 
 us, ye received it not as the word of men, 
 but (as it is in truth) the word of God, which 
 effectually worketh also in yon that believe**. 
 Again, the same apostle, in his second epis- 
 tle to Timothy, pronounces a moft excel- 
 lent and comprehensive .elogiuro upon the 
 scriptures of the Old Testament, which 
 certainly is not less applicable to those of 
 
 * Lord Bacon. f John, xvii. 19. f I Pet. i. 22. 
 jj i Pet. i. 23. John,, xvii. 17. f Jerv xxiii. 19- 
 ** i Thess. ii. 13- 
 
SECT, ii.] TKe positive Means oJVirtuc considered. 165 
 
 the New. The words are these : All scrip- 
 ture is given by inspiration of God, arid 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 he perfect, and tho- 
 roughly furnished to all good works-]-. 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 SimpHcius speaks 
 of the writings of Epictetus, though with 
 far less reason,) should any reader remain 
 unaffected with them, it is probable thatjw- 
 thing will awaken him till he comes to the 
 tribunal of the invisible world. 
 
 Tim. iii. 16, 17. | Ps. xix. 7. 
 
 si 3 
 
1 66 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART u. 
 
 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 oeconorny, which 
 
 * Ps. i. 2, 3. 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 167 
 
 exhibited only a shadow of good things to 
 come, what muft it be now, wlren life and 
 immortality are brought to light by the gos- 
 pel? The pious Christian, who frequently 
 contemplates in this mirrour the glory of 
 the Lord, will be changed into the same 
 image, from glory to glory *, 
 
 3. Prayer is the offspring of meditation. 
 While I was musing, says the Psalmist, the 
 Jire burned; then spake I with my tongue -j-. 
 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 ^ s - XX3 " X - 3- 
 
 f After the catechumen has repeated a comprehensive 
 summary of his duty, in thought, word, and action, to- 
 
 M 4 
 
1 68 The positive Means of Virtue considered. TPART n, 
 heathens, to whom perhaps he is 
 
 more disposed to listen than either to his 
 Bible or to the church, mi^ht 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 :cas a rule xiih their f 
 fathers to enter upon no important action or 
 discourse without prayer. from the just per- 
 suasion they had^ that men could do nothing 
 :citchi or happily without the (instance of 
 th$ immortal gods *. To this general tcsti- 
 
 \v.irds God, his neighbour, and himself, he is thus paren- 
 tally 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, quod niliil rite nihilque providenter 
 homines sine deorum imuiortalium ope, consilio, honove, 
 uuspicarentur, 
 
SECT. 1 1/3 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 : / beseech thee, Almighty Lord, 
 who art the author and guide of that reason 
 which dzvelk in us, that thou wouldest keep 
 ILS mindful of our high original, and aid our 
 endeavours to subdue our irregular appetites 
 (ind 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 
 man-\'. 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 
 
 f Simplicius at the close of his Commentary on Epic- 
 fetus. 
 
 J "Therefore we both labour, and suffer reproach, 
 because we trust in the living God, who is the Saviour of 
 ail men, specially of those that believe." i Tim. iv. 10. 
 
ryo The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART n. 
 
 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 Jovem, qui donat et aufert, 
 
 Det vitam, det opes, xquum 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 of the universe, which 
 lias a natural tendency to elevate the mind 
 above the low interests and passions of 
 the present life. While a company of 
 immortal beings present themselves in so- 
 lemn worship before the eternal/ 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 
 waters, ascribe blessing, and honour, and 
 (rlory* and power, unto Him that sitteth upon 
 the throne ; though this alone is not suffi- 
 
s E C T . 1 1 . 3 The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 7 1 
 
 cient to touch the heart with true devo- 
 tion, it mult powerfully tend to compose 
 its irregular motions, and to render it 
 more susceptible of holy impressions : as 
 the agitated 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 portion of their spirit, and he also 
 prophesied-]'. And probably there are few 
 persons who are entirely insensible to that 
 happy sympathy which attends real piety, 
 especially when it acts with collected force 
 in the society of good men, or in a truly 
 devout congregation J. 
 
 * 2 Kings, Hi. 14, 15. 
 
 f i Sam. x. 10 13. and xix, 23. 24. 
 
 $ 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 - 
 
172 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART n. 
 
 Hence arises a strong argument for a 
 diligent attendance upon religious assem- 
 blies ; while a much stronger is drawn from 
 the promise of Chrift, That where two or 
 three shall meet together in his name, he will 
 be there in the midst of them* : which cer- 
 tainly intends more than his essential pre- 
 sence, (for so he is present in all places by 
 his divine nature,) and muft imply those 
 gracious communications 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 phi- 
 losopher had not entered the doors of a temple for the 
 last twenty years. 
 * Mat. xviii. 20. 
 
SECT, ii.l 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 mearrs 
 by which, under the influence of grace, 
 and not alone from their own natural effi- 
 man is restored to that divine like- 
 
174 The positive Means of Virtue considered. PART n* 
 
 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 na- 
 ture and action of those powers on which 
 depend 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 use- 
 ful purposes of the present life; so it is 
 sufficient, in the former, if we know how 
 to derive the influence of grace to the pur- 
 poses of spiritual life and final salvation -j-. 
 
 * Col. iii. 20. and Eph. iv. 24. 
 
 f 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 ? Doth not the 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 175 
 
 (in.) As the circumstances which arc 
 peculiarly favourable in a life of retire- 
 ment, to the devotional exercises no\v 
 
 doctrine of the composition and resolution of forces de- 
 pend upon it i and, in consequence thereof, numberless 
 rules and theorems directing men how to act, and explain- 
 ing phenomena throughout the mechanics and mathematical 
 philosophy ? And if, by considering this doctrine offeree, 
 men arrive at the knowledge of many intentions in media' 
 nics, and are taught to frame engines, by means of which 
 things difficult and otherwise impossible may be perform- 
 ed ; 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 speculation, because we have no distinct idea 
 of force ? Or that which we admit with regard toforctt 
 upon what pretence 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, although we cannot attain a distinct 
 
176 The positive Means of Virtue considered* [ PA R r i r* 
 
 stated, will easily suggest themselves to 
 the reader, 1 shall not here stay to recite 
 them ; but proceed, lastly, to the objec- 
 tion intended : which is this, That what- 
 ever he 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 fur- 
 nishes in general a course of action best 
 adapted to this purpose, is not so evident 
 as to be received 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 Phihsophcr, Dia- 
 logue vn. 7. 
 
SF.01*. ii. j The positive Means of Virtue considered. 177 
 
 pressure and urgency of their situation; 
 oppressed with toil, or harassed with im- 
 portunity; involved in perplexity for 
 want of means and instruments to ex- 
 ecute their engagements, or anxious for 
 expedients to support their credit; so that 
 their daily life is rather a hard and en- 
 feebling struggle with difficulties, than a 
 moderate and wholesome exercise of their 
 active powers. And though the more pe* 
 culiar 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 of strict rectitude; but likewise, 
 whenever a multiplicity of affairs, which is 
 
 N 
 
178 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART -n. 
 
 sure to involve many jarring claims and 
 interests, is to 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 justice, at least to the practice 
 of such shifts and expedients of which 
 truth and justice must be ashamed. And 
 if it be thus difficult for one in public life 
 to acquit himself of his fundamental du- 
 ties, it must be still more so in regard to 
 those duties which approach nearer to a 
 perfect virtue. If to this we add the ge- 
 neral impression of the world,- arising from 
 the combined power of its corrupt princi- 
 ples and inordinate passions, we may form 
 some idea of that vigilance of exertion 
 which is neceflfary for a good man to make 
 his way, and to grow still better, in oppo- 
 sition to it, or even to withstand the vio- 
 lence 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 
 
3S.CT. ii. J *T be 'positive Means of Virtue considered. 179 
 
 be found in retired life, of a degree and 
 kind more favourable to virtue than that 
 which we have now described ? Arid this 
 question, I believe, there are few who will 
 not be inclined to answer in the affirma- 
 tive, when they recollect, that, besides an 
 occasional attention to agriculture and 
 other rural occupations, a retired and 
 well-disposed man may devote a part of 
 Ins time to assist his neighbour with his 
 purse or his counsel, to encourage indus- 
 try, to promote the education of poor 
 children, and to supply in general the 
 means of religious instruction ; that iri 
 some or all of these methods he may pro- 
 vide himself with a moderate and regular 
 employment, and of a kind the most 
 conducive to his own moral improve- 
 ment. 
 
 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 c-ose the section* 
 it remains only to consider, under the 
 N 2 
 
180 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PARTII. 
 
 third head, the subserviency of Philosophy 
 and History to the same great end. 
 
 III. PHILOSOPHT 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.' We shall begin with the for- 
 mer. 
 
 1. Whatever tends to enlarge and en- 
 noble the mind, to expand its views be- 
 yond the sphere of ordinary life, and in- 
 spire it with a taste of intellectual enjoy- 
 ment, is evidently favourable to virtue. 
 Now a comprehensive study of nature has 
 this tendency. While 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, u.] The positive Means ofVirtue 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 
 already 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 have been the effect upon the 
 
 N3 
 
1 82 The positive Means of Virtue considered^ 
 
 famous Roman, Scipio jEmiiiarius, (if we 
 may credit the account of his extraordi- 
 nary 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 
 Jiad 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 aurem is splendissimo candore inter flammas 
 circus elucens, quern vos, ut a Graiis accepistis, orbem 
 lacteum nuncupatis. Ex quo omnia mihi contemplanti, 
 prseclara cgetera 8c mirabilia videbantur. Erant autem e<e 
 stellse, quas nunquam ex hoc loco vidimus ; & ese mag- 
 nitudines pmnium> quas esse nunquam suspicati sumus; 
 ex quibus erat ilia minima, qux ultima ccelo, citima terris, 
 luce lucebat aliena. Stellarum autem globi terra? magni- 
 tudinem facile vincebant. Jam ipsa terra ita mill parva 
 visa est, uttne imperil nostri, quo quasi pitnciumeju 
 pEtiiteret. Somnium Scipion'iS) jj 3. 
 
SECT. II.] The positive Means of Virtue considered* 183' 
 
 are 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 cal- 
 led for every exertion *. To - the same 
 ignorance must be ascribed the follies of 
 judicial astrology, and many of those arts 
 of 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 sudden conster- 
 nation by a lunar eclipse, he lost all his military virtue, 
 and tamely yielded up himself and his numerous forces to 
 the mercy of the enemy. And thus it often happens in 
 the ordinary conduct of life, that fear, the child of super- 
 stition, betrays those succours which are offered by reason and 
 religion. See the Discourse of Plutarch on Superstition, 
 
 N4 
 
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 
 enlightened Christian philosopher to ima- 
 gine himself so secure against the impres- 
 sions of ignorance or imposture, as to ren- 
 der any farther attention to the study of 
 nature unnecessary *. 
 
 * The following lines of Lucretius deserve to be eited 
 on this occasion : 
 
 Nam veluti pueri trepidant, atque omnia csecis 
 In tenebris metuunt ; sic nos in luce timemus / 
 Interdum nihilo quse sunt metuenda magis, quam 
 Qiiae -pueri in tenebris pavitent, finguntque futura : 
 Hunc igitur terrorem animi, tenebrasque necesse'st 
 Non radii solis, neque lucida tela diei 
 Discutiant ; sed naturae species ratioque.-r Lib. II. 
 
 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 die breast of children reign. 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 185 
 
 3. Farther: A genuine natural philoso- 
 sophy is favourable to virtue, as it tends 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 instan- 
 ces ;) 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 is suf- 
 ficient to swell the mind with a wonderful 
 conceit of its own powers and attainments. 
 Upon principles gratuitously adopted, it 
 has pretended to explain the constitution 
 and course of the natural world, and even 
 to unfold the manner in which it was ori- 
 ginally formed : a presumption of which 
 such a creature as man, who probably 
 holds the lowest place in the scale of in- 
 
 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. 
 
i86 The positive Means of Virtue considered^ 
 
 tellectual being, might have been thought 
 incapable. True philosophy is not of 
 this assuming character; it teaches us, 
 that no man can find out the work that God 
 malceth from the beginning to the end * ; 
 that we know but parts of his ways -f- ; that 
 it requires long and patient observation 
 to lay a ground in experience on which 
 to erect any general 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 com- 
 monly be inconsiderable. All this has an 
 evident tendency to abate the pride of 
 the human mind, to deliver it from a vain 
 confidence in its own abstracted reason- 
 ings and fanciful theories, and at the same 
 time to regulate its enquiries and its 
 expectations: for " man, being the mini- 
 " ster and interpreter of nature, acts and 
 " understands so far as he has observed 
 " of the order, the works, and mind of 
 " nature; and can proceed no farther: for 
 
 * Eccles. iii. n. t Job, xxvi. 14, 
 
SECT. u.JThe positive Means of Virtue considered. 187 
 
 * no power is able to loose or break the 
 " chains of cause; nor is nature to be 
 " conquered but by submission *" Under 
 this wholesome discipline, the understand- 
 ing is reclaimed, is made sensible of its 
 contraction and weakness, and thus is pre- 
 pared to yield a humble deference to the 
 word of revelation; a disposition which is 
 one of the greatest virtues in itself, and 
 productive of all others. 
 
 * Lord Bacon. See his works, by Shaw, vol. i. p. 16. 
 He h^d before said, " Nor could we hope to succeed, if 
 we arrogantly searched for the sciences in the narrow 
 cells of the human understanding, and not submissively 
 In the wider world." And again j " If we shall have ef- 
 fected 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 experiments ; 
 immediately, as if invention was but a kind of contem- 
 plation, raised up their own spirits to deliver oracles, 
 whereas our method is continually to dwell upon things 
 soberly, without abstracting or setting the understand- 
 ing farther from them than makes their images meet ; 
 which leaves but little room for genius or mental abili- 
 
1 88 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PARTII. 
 
 Lastly : The knowledge of nature is fa- 
 vourable to virtue, as it supplies analo- 
 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 of 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.] Tbe positive Means of Virtue considered.i$y 
 
 the reader to what is there contained; but I 
 could not pass a subject of such import- 
 ance 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 influen- 
 ces of grace, in order to our sanctification 
 arid salvation. 
 
 The resurrection of the body is another 
 article of the Christian system, whose na- 
 tural incredibility is obviated by analogy. 
 
190 The poutivs MeansofVirtue considered.^ AfLT ii* 
 
 St. Paul, in treating upon this subject, thus 
 speaks: But some man zvill say, IIozv arc 
 the dead raised up, and with what body do 
 they come? To which he replies, Thoufool 9 
 that Mick thou sowest is not quickened except 
 it die ; and that winch thou sowest, thou sozv- 
 est not that body which shall be, but bare 
 grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some 
 other grain ; but God givet/i it a body as it 
 hath pleated him, and to every seed his ozzn 
 body*. Here the human body is resem- 
 bled to a vegetable seed ; and it is sup- 
 posed that, prior to experience, it would 
 be no more credible for a grain of corn* 
 after it had seemingly 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 
 thenee to an aerial existence. Nay, the 
 
 whole face of nature, if viewed in the 
 
 / 
 * i Cor. xv. 35 .8. 
 
3CT.n.j The positive Means of Virtue considered. 191 
 
 depth of winter, exhibits the same emble- 
 matic instruction ; arid, could we suspend 
 the effect of previous experience, it might 
 appear perhaps as incredible, that the 
 whole vegetable world, in the course of a 
 few months, should resume its former ver- 
 dure 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 po- 
 pular poets : 
 
 Read nature j 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 discpver that the 
 source of men's infidelity lies in their igno- 
 rance 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 
 relic-ion and virtue. 
 
192 The positive Means of Virtue considered.^ ART ii< 
 
 1. And, first, it may contribute, by tra- 
 cing oat, 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, a 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 easity be- 
 tray the arrogant speculator into very dan- 
 gerous errors ; while the former mode of 
 investigation, provided it is 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 us, is our evident 
 duty, and constitutive of our perfection and 
 happiness, it is often no small advantage 
 
SECT. u.~]The positive Means of Virtue considered. 1 93 
 
 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 s 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, or to abridge our innocent 
 enjoyments, we shall be less offended with 
 
 * Ephes. i. 8. Rom. iii. 2. 
 O 
 
194 The positive Means of Virtue considered. PART n 
 
 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 shew- 
 ing more minutely the nature and 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 I3th chapter to the 
 Romans, and the 2d chapter of the Epistle to Titus. 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Meant of Virtue considered. 1 9 j; 
 
 and in every condition of rank and fortune. 
 Yet still there remain many decencies and 
 proprieties of behaviour, many minor du^ 
 tics, which can only be known by a care- 
 ful survey 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 claffes, 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 their 
 religion, by teaching them, that on these 
 little things depends much of the good or- 
 der that is found amongst men, and much 
 
 o 2 
 
196 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART 11. 
 
 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. 
 
 3. 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 the 
 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 statipn, his character, and the relation 
 he stands in to us. So the more familiar 
 
ECT.II.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 197 
 
 regard we owe to an 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 tem- 
 per, which so much 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- 
 
 o 3 
 
198 The positive Means of Virtue considered. [[PART rr 
 
 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 nwn- 
 bered*. And these evils have afforded 
 topics to almost every eminent moralist, 
 since his time, for much eloquent descrip-r 
 tion 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. 1315. 
 
SECTU.] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 199 
 
 rious numbers of the Rambler, 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 
 out 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 know wisdom 
 and instruction, to perceive the words of un- 
 derstanding ; to receive the instruct ion of wis- 
 dom, 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 modern, 
 from whom a prudent man may not col- 
 lect some usful hint for the better regula- 
 tion of his conduct, both in public and in 
 private. 
 
 And thus may appear the utility of mo- 
 ral philosophy, and how much it deserves 
 
 * Prov. i. 2 4. 
 
 * 
 
 o4 
 
2.oo The positive Means of 'Virtue considered. [PART n, 
 
 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 shew 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, 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. Si. 8. 
 
SECT, ii.] The positive Means ef Virtue considered. 101 
 
 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 ways*, and who, without 
 this interruption, might by gradual advan- 
 ces attain at last to a full participation of 
 the blessings 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. 
 
 * Prov. ix. 15. 
 
202 The -positive Means of Virtue considered. [PART n. 
 
 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 conjec- 
 ture, 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 be effectual to 
 
SECT.IL] The positive Means of Virtue considered. 203 
 
 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 chace of power and distinction ; or 
 note the innumerable recorded examples, 
 on the one hand, of prosperous folly or 
 villainy, 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 \\ hen 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 
 
The positive Means of Virtue considered^ K^cf n. 
 
 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 } T ields 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, 
 
. u.^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 lie 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 se- 
 condly, 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 beneficence 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 
 
2o6 *The positive Means of Virtue considered.^ 
 
 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 
 practical benevolence towards men, with- 
 out 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 exerase, however 
 exemplary, will commonly be limited by 
 his exterior circumstances. On the other 
 
sfcCT.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 
 from 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 hh Father 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. 
 
SECTION III. 
 
 On some Evils particularly incident to a retired 
 and which are contrary^ or at least unfavourable^ 
 to Virtue ; with a few Hints respecting their Re- 
 medies. 
 
 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, 
 besides what they share in common, are 
 each accompanied with their peculiar dif- 
 ficulties 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 following : 
 
 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 
 abstraction from the world, he is placed at 
 a distance from many of those objects 
 which are suited to call forth his voluntary 
 exertions ; arid 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 arc 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 ia 
 the wilderness, he will be in continual dan- 
 
210 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART n. 
 
 ger of lapsing 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 puli 
 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 indiffer- 
 ence 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 
 is over, or till he has discovered the general 
 unimportance and uncertainty of mere 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 211 
 
 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 de- 
 rived 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 u. 
 
 and quicken those dull intervals which 
 happen in the busiest life, and to preserve 
 a retired one from total stagnation. It is re- 
 ligion which must plant in the soul that mo- 
 tive 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, notwith- 
 standing every alteration of weather or 
 vicissitude of seasons. 
 
 The activity of man as a rational be- 
 ing, depends chiefly on the end he has in 
 view. Now the end presented to him by 
 religion is of the most excellent and inter- 
 esting nature, and, if duly apprehended, 
 will always command a vigorous exercise 
 of his moral and intellectual powers ; and 
 thus furnish him with the noblest occupa- 
 tion, even in the midst of a desert. Pie 
 who is fully conscious that he has a soul 
 to save, and an eternity to secure, and, 
 still further to animate his endeavours, 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 213 
 
 that God and angels are the spectators of 
 his conduct, can never want motives for 
 exertion in the most sequestered solitude. 
 
 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 
 
 r 3 
 
On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART n. 
 
 to his peculiar fancies, which, to a vulgar 
 niind is often no small temptation to 
 indulge them with the greater wanton- 
 ness. 
 
 Nor is this disposition confined to 
 ticular acts ; it sometimes shews 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-grand father. 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 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 215 
 
 have done. In all cases his motto is thq 
 same : 
 
 Stat pro rat tone vohmtas. 
 
 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 h 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 in- 
 feriors, which would permit us to parsue 
 our own gratification, without a due re- 
 gard to their convenience or feelings. 
 
 I am willing on the other hand to al- 
 low, in extenuation, that the disposition 
 
2 1 6 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART ir. 
 
 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 v 
 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. HI.] 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 i 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 
 
 c> 
 
 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, 
 
2 1 8 On the Evils incident to Retirement. ^PA^T n, 
 
 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 of 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* 
 produced such swarms of philosophers and 
 legislators, and which threatens a dissolu- 
 tion 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- 
 
SECT. in. 10/2 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 1 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, 
 
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, 
 
SCT. 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 long 
 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 IL 
 
 receive ? now, if thou didst receive it, wlnf 
 dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received 
 it ? 
 
 Another consideration to shew 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 bur favour; but when 
 we are once made to feel what we are as 
 creatures and as sinners, there \vill 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- 
 lic life, is incivility. To illustrate this, we 
 need only take a view of the ordinary mo^ 
 tives to a courteous behaviour, and of their 
 'respective influence in these different situ- 
 ations. 
 
 1 
 
 The first motive I shall take notice of, -is 
 interest, whose effect upon the manners l 
 obvious through every rank and station of 
 society. Should you go to make yoift 
 iiiarket in the city, the tradesman, witfe 
 alacrity, will ransack his shop to serve 
 
 1 
 
224 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART 11, 
 
 j^ou ; and though all his trouble should 
 not procure him the sale of a single arti- 
 cle, he will express no other regret than of 
 his inability to gratify the wishes of one 
 who ma} r return to-morrow and be a pur- 
 chaser, or whose recommendation may 
 send him a new customer. Should you 
 travel into the country, the inkeeper, (if 
 your appearance carries 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. 
 
ECT. in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 225 
 
 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 of 
 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 it to preserve 
 harmony even in our friendly interviews. 
 If every one should bluntly assert his se- 
 cret pretensions, I fear there are few occa- 
 sions of social intercourse which would 
 
 Q 
 
226 On the Evils incident to Retirement. FARTII* 
 
 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- 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 227 
 
 cuinstances, is rather in a condition to ex- 
 tend than to receive assistance, can have 
 no strong inducement, 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 scat 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 
 
228 On the Evils incident to Retirement. PARTII, 
 
 Hence it may appear, that the retired 
 man, unless he is 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 for- 
 med 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 
 regard 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, in.] 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. Jt 
 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, #s 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 in treated 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. 
 
 Q3 
 
230 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART n. 
 
 rudely to bis messengers, Who is David, and 
 who is the son of Jesse ? There be many ser~ 
 vants now-a-days that break away every man 
 from his master. Shall I take my bread, 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 dependants; 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 
 e- r ery country gentleman or wealthy far- 
 mer, instead of confining his son at home 
 to converse with rustics and fatten 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 23 1 
 
 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 oft' from the general 
 system of humanity, as to repel the stran 
 ger from their gate, 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 bonus 
 
 Q 4 
 
23* On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART n. 
 
 we might hope to see the race wholly ex- 
 terminated. 
 
 A I. 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 iu 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 
 body, which we know is liable to be trou- 
 bled with sharp and acrid humours, unless 
 they are prevented or thrown oft' by a 
 course of regular exercise. Indeed, when 
 the active principle is naturally feeble or 
 indisposed to exertion, idleness may 
 
SECT, in.] On the Evils incident to Retirement. 233 
 
 ciate for a time with good humour, till ca- 
 lamity, sickness, or old age, calls lor 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. 
 
 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 orfoibles 
 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 are more clearly discerned, and 
 discerned too without a disposition to treat 
 them with our former indulgence. Hence 
 those sallies of humour, which before were 
 
2 34 On the Evils incident to Retirement. [PART n. 
 
 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 
 indulged, 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, ni.j On the Evils incident io 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 lengtli 
 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 dange- 
 rous, 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 flight 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 viru- 
 
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.III/J On the E^lh Incident to Retirement. 237 
 
 all things to all men, in order to their good. 
 It is lowly and unassuming, vaunteth 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 TIL 
 
 REFLECTION'S ON HAPPINESS, 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Pn the Happiness arising from the Independence, tfa 
 Agricultural Pursuits, the Diversions, and Scenery, 
 of a Country Life. 
 
 T IIE 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 liis counter, and, from morning to 
 night, busily engaged in casting his ac- 
 
240 Pleasures of Rural independence^ &<:. [PART in. 
 
 compts or dealing out bis 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 hufbandry, 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. 
 3 
 
ii] 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 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 indepen- 
 dent 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 an}- 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 that 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 
 
 K 
 
242 Pleasures of Rural Independence, &V. [PART m. 
 
 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, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, &*t. 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, and 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 in- 
 terior state, and where, though he vvas sel- 
 dom much pleased, he was often amused, 
 and generally occupied. 
 
m Pleasures of Rural Independence, sf<r. [PART lit, 
 
 II. Aricnllure. 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 
 passages 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 crownM, 
 And the soft wings of peace cover him round *. 
 
 Cicero, in the person of the elder Cato, 
 thus speaks : / come now to discourse of the- 
 
 * O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona riorint, 
 
 Agricolas ! quibus ipsa, procul discordibus armis, 
 Fundit humo faciicm 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. a. 
 
SECT, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence ', SsV. 245 
 
 pleasures which accompany the labours of the 
 husbandman , arcrf o?/VA which I myself am 
 Delighted beyond expression. They are plea- 
 sures 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 ; quse nee ulla impediuntur senec- 
 tute, et mihi ad sapientis vitam proximo videntur acce- 
 dere. Habent enim rationem cum terra, qua? nunquam 
 recusat imperium, nee unquam sine usura reddit, quod 
 accepit. -Quamquam me quidem non fructus modo 
 sed etiam ipsius terrse vis ae natura delectat. Cicero de 
 cap. 15. 
 
 R3 
 
246 Pleasures of Rural Independence, &e. [PART-HI, 
 
 serious calamity; he is anxious to lay in 
 happily his seed ; he is then anxious for 
 seasons favourable to its growth ; and, 
 after tiis 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 
 jnore 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, lie 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 letr 
 ter to Dr. Sprat, " that I came hither, I 
 
SECT, i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, fcfr. 247 
 
 caught so great a cold, with a defluxion, 
 of rheum, as made me keep my chamber 
 tea 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 fignifies, 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 muft 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. 
 
Pleasures of Rural Independence, &f<r. [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 in- 
 stinctive 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 great- 
 eft personages in eA f ery age, who have ga- 
 thered 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 experi- 
 enced 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 prophe- 
 cy, to beat their swords into plough-shares^ 
 
. I.] Pleasures of 'Rural Independence ', &c. 249 
 
 and their spears into pruning-hooks ; when, 
 by a general prevalence of piety, the reap- 
 er's, like those of Boaz, in gathering in the 
 harvest, shall say to the master, The Lord 
 be with thee, and he shall answer, The 
 Lord bless you * ; and when every ruler 
 shall become 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 
 pleasures of fowling and hunting, I shall 
 dismiss this topic very briefly. It is cer- 
 tain that, in point of present gratification, 
 every pleasure is such as it is felt to be ; 
 and therefore, if any one finds himself de- 
 lighted 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 inno- 
 cent 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; 
 
 i 
 
 * Ruth, ii. 4. 
 
250 Pleasures of Rural Independence i&e. [PART in. 
 
 and shall content myself to observe, what 
 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 
 lias 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. Riiral scenery. With the pleasures 
 of rural scenery, every inhabitant of a 
 temperate climate, and especially of this 
 favoured island, where nature smiles al- 
 most in perpetual verdure, must in some 
 degree be acquainted. These pleasures 
 
. i.] Pleasures of Rural Independence, &c. 251 
 
 are natural to man, and accompany him 
 from childhood to youth, from youth to 
 tnanhood, and from manhood to dec-rapid 
 
 age. 
 
 The views of nature are not only pleas- 
 ing in themselves, but become still more 
 so from their association with other plea- 
 sures 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 progenitor is supposed to 
 have felt immediately upon his creation^ 
 and which he is made to express as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 As new wak'd from soundest sleep, 
 Strait toward heav'n my woturririg eyes I turnM, 
 And gaz'd a while the ample sky, till rais'd 
 By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, 
 As thitherward endeavouring, and upright 
 Stood on my feet : 
 Myfelf I then perused, and limb by limb 
 Surveyed, and sometimes went and sometimes ran 
 With supple joints, as lively vigour Jed 
 ,And ftlt that I 'was happier than I knew. 
 
252 Pleasures of Rural Independence, &c. [PART nr. 
 
 It is this fulness of life and self-enjoy- 
 ment which sheds a brightness on every 
 surrounding object, on bill and dale, forest 
 and plain, along with every part of anima- 
 ted nature ; and which renders the placid 
 murmurs of a rivulet, the rushing of a dis- 
 tant torrent, or the wild music of the 
 woods, more exquisitely delightful than all 
 the harmony of Handel at a later period, 
 when the sensitive organs are become ob- 
 tuse, and the mind less susceptive of agree- 
 able emotions. Hence arises our fondness 
 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 
 aftel* the longest absence, those fields and 
 woods where he was accustomed to wan- 
 der, at a season when his senses and ima- 
 gination 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 ', &V. 253 
 
 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 
 harvests 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 
 
 2 
 
254 Pleasures of Rural Independence, &c. PART Hi* 
 
 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 the 
 greater 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, l.] Pleasures of Rural Independence ', &ft. 255 
 
 beauties of a crystal spring, a silent grove, 
 a daisied meadow, will chasten the feelings of 
 the heart, and afford at all times a perma- 
 nent and pure delight *. Such sentimental 
 notions savour strongty 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 ima- 
 gination to sense and mere animal instinct. 
 Who would not, observes the same writer, 
 renounce the universe for one single tear of 
 love -f' ! 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 circumstan- 
 ces ; and that virtue is the chief source of 
 
 * Zimmermann on Solitude, p. 268. f Id. p. 240. 
 
256 Pleasures of Rural Independence, &c. [i>ARTlJt> 
 
 enjoyment. He knew that, under the cor- 
 rosion of guilt, and the tyranny of the 
 passions, we can derive little relief from 
 cfyital springs, or silent grot'es', or 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 phi- 
 losopher, should have run into the senti- 
 mental 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 &f Rural Independence > Ssfc 
 
 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 
 
 o 
 
 s 
 
258 Pleasures of Rural Independence^ &V. [PARTIII, 
 
 grow languid, the most beautiful scenes of 
 nature will lose theii 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 objects of our delightful con- 
 templation. 
 
C 2 59 3 
 
 . 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 The Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 
 
 IN the preceding parts of this small work, 
 the same topics have recurred under dif- 
 ferent aspects. History and Philosophy 
 have been considered in their relation to 
 Knowledge and Virtue; and will now 
 again be viewed, together with Poetry, in 
 the relation they bear to Happiness* or to 
 those pleasures which they are suited to 
 yield to their respective votaries. Lest 
 such a recurrence should strike a less at- 
 tentive reader as no more than a repeti- 
 tion, it seemed proper to premise this re- 
 mark. 
 
 We now proceed to the subject of the 
 present section, under the threefold distri- 
 bution here specified. 
 
 I. O?i 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 arid 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 presenting the history of mankind 
 under some other aspects. 
 
 .b t :)il fjoiibrf 
 
 The pleasure we derive from the perusal 
 
 of ancient history is partly because it is an- 
 
 toteiH \o 
 
 * Wpllaston's Religion of Nature, p. 82 
 
 /m,i^ao - v'i97 /; oj su 
 
 f Id. p 3192. 
 
 .:mj 13- 'd ptirAimfti 'lo ' 
 
SECT, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 16 1 
 
 dent. 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 pleasing 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 nlen 
 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 
 
 s 3 
 
262 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. PART in. 
 
 antiquity, we enter into regions of purer 
 light, where the principles and salutary in- 
 fluence of true and primitive religion be- 
 come more sensible and apparent. 
 
 From these sources may be derived both 
 pleasure and use; but when our primitive 
 researches degenerate into a mere investi- 
 gation of names and dates, and other cir- 
 cumstances which throw no light on reli- 
 gion or morals, on human nature or hu- 
 man life, however they may amuse a va- 
 cant 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. 263 
 
 render any attempt to expose it perfectly 
 unnecessary. 
 
 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. 
 
 s4 
 
264 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART m, 
 
 But the greatest pleasure we can receive 
 from the study of history is in tracing the 
 kingdom of God amongst men. The Bible 
 is the 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 clisclo^ 
 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 
 shall 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 shews 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- 
 
SECT. n] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 265 
 
 portant matter contained in this record, 
 it describes to us in the gospels the first 
 foundations of the Christian church ; and 
 in the acts of the apostles its early and won- 
 derful progress ; and all this with a bre- 
 vity and simplicity that can only be ac- 
 counted 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, 
 the 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 in.- 
 
 history, notwithstanding all the evils with 
 which it is crowded, a source of the purest 
 satisfaction to every serious and intelli- 
 gent 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 guaided, 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- 
 tension of the British name and empire,) 
 that can for a moment stand a comparison 
 
SECT, ii.^ Pleasures of a literary Retirement* 
 
 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 now 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 Jiorint, 
 Bri tarings ! 
 
 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 age 
 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 
 
$68 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 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 contemplate, 
 through the medium of general history, 
 the various vicissitudes of human affairs, 
 always with profit, and sometimes with the 
 highest satisfaction and delight. 
 
 II. On the Pleasures of Poetry ; 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 imagina- 
 tion. 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 
 looking out for something more perfect 
 
SECT, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 269 
 
 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 en- 
 chantment ; nor does it seem impossible 
 that such images of excellence, by rousing 
 and elevating the human faculties, ma3 r 
 lead to enquiries after the perfection of 
 our original state. 
 
 As poetry, however, is one of the most 
 powerful instruments of our pleasure, we 
 ought cautiously to examine, whether the 
 pleasure it affords be at least innocent, 
 
 
170 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [ PART m* 
 
 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 in- 
 dignant pride, and that implacable resent- 
 ment, which are the predominant passions 
 exhibited in this celebrated poem. If we 
 are exalted into rapture in the reading of 
 Milton, we should strictly question our- 
 selves, whether it is not more from the 
 proud adventurous opposition of Satan, 
 and his rebel host, than from a view of 
 the character and perfections of the Al- 
 mighty, manifested in his condescending 
 grace to man, and in the execution of his 
 righteous vengeance upon his enemies *. 
 
 * It has been observed by some, and the remark I ap- 
 prehend is not entirely without foundation* that Milton's 
 
3ECT. n-3 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 
 
 hero is Satan. Instead of a rebel against the just 
 authority and laws of his benign Creator, this malignant 
 chief is frequently represented under the character 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 independence. And as the 
 pride of human nature is not indisposed to set up the 
 same claims, it is probable that their assertion, though 
 from the lips and by the efforts of an apostate spirit, may 
 have contributed 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 younger reader 
 upon his guard against the fascination of superior genius, 
 when employed rather to elevate and adorn its subject, 
 than to place it in its due light ; and to recommend to his 
 particular attention the following canon of sound criticism* 
 namely, that nothing is truly either sublime or beautiful 
 which is not just. When tried by this maxim, he may 
 ptobably find that many shining passages in Milton, which 
 before had dazzled his imagination and seduced his judg- 
 ment, will fade away j 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. 
 
&J2 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PAR? in. 
 
 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 pleasure we derive from those 
 just views of nature and human life that 
 frequently occur in the works of this ex- 
 traordinary genius. It may be said, in- 
 deed, 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 Hows, 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 Retirement. 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 pas- 
 sions. I speak with reserve, because an 
 art, whose professed object is in general 
 to ca.ptivate through the medium of plea- 
 sure, is liable to just suspicion, and ought 
 never to be entertained with favour, but 
 when it appears under its proper subor- 
 dinate character, either as a humble assist- 
 ant to devotion, 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 
 
>74 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [[PART in. 
 
 the empire of philosophy, I shall confine 
 it, in the following observations, within 
 narrower limits, and consider it as divided 
 into natural (including the mathematics)? 
 moral, and metaphysical ; and, under these 
 several heads, shall briefly enquire, what 
 new sources of pleasure it may supply to 
 the contemplative recluse. 
 
 1. Natural Philosophy* The only solid 
 basis on which this science can be erected 
 is natural ki&tory, 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, Derkam, 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 
 heart are gratified with those innumerable 
 
. ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 275 
 
 characters of wisdom, power, and good- 
 ness, 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 
 
 * Brydonp. 
 T 2 
 
276 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 Intituling 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 sci- 
 
 * Eccles. iii. -ii. 
 
 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 reclaimed and disci- 
 plined, and made willing patiently to follow the slow steps 
 of experience. Without this preparation, the first flattering 
 hypothesis, which promises to expedite his progress, will 
 be sufficient to captivate his attention, till its fallacy is ex- 
 posed by some untoward phenomena, or till it is sup- 
 planted 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, die 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.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 277 
 
 ence, 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 Archimides 
 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 : 
 
 T3 
 
Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 First, became it is nobler. That the in., 
 vcstigation 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 
 8 
 
S ECT. 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 
 jines 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. 
 T4 
 
280 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 he 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 nature, 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 beta, tractatu dura, 
 cventu tristia. 
 
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 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 decline of life. The mind, wearied 
 with endless discussions, seeks repose as 
 weH 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 <^f 
 that seducing spirit which would lure him 
 away from the lightsome and fruitful parts 
 
Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 of learning into the dark and dreary re- 
 gions of metaphysic subtlety. 
 
 Qiiale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna 
 Est iter in sylvis, ubi ccelum 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 
 $ d<> philosophic. 
 
SECT, u.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 283 
 
 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 this 
 occasion, that he is so far from intending to pass an in- 
 discriminate 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 intellec- 
 tual exertion, within certain bounds, arid directed to just 
 ends, which ought not to be both respected and encou- 
 raged : and he looks upon it as not the least among the 
 many mischievous effects, produced by the sophistry of 
 Hume, Helvetius, Diderot, and others of the same school, 
 that the most solid and important argumentation, if but a 
 little abstruse and remote from our ordinary apprehen- 
 
284 Pleasures of a literary Retirement. [PARTIII, 
 
 it may be proper to climb the hill or to 
 repose in the valley, according to the 
 laxity or tension of the animal system. 
 
 But, however judicious may be his plan 
 ibr 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 t end-it 
 
 sions, is in danger to be set aside as scholastic and meta- 
 physical, even by sensible and good men , and still more 
 by those, who are either too indolent to examine, or too 
 incapable to understand, whatever lies out of the common 
 road ; and who are willing to conceal these defects un- 
 der the taking pretext of modesty and submission. 
 
SECT, ii.] Pleasures of a literary Retirement. 285 
 
 Apollo. Man was formed for social inter- 
 course, as well as for solitary contempla- 
 tion ; and when these ends are pursued 
 in a due manner, they contribute to their 
 mutual advancement. 
 
[ .86 ] 
 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 
 mistaking a djevotion 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, kind- 
 led by a survey of the works of creation, 
 will often express itself in a language si- 
 milar to what we find in the following pas- 
 sage of our great poet: 
 
 These are thy glorious works, parent of good, 
 Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
 How wondrous fair, thyself how wondrous then ! 
 
SECT, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 287 
 
 Unspeakable, who dwell'st 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, ascribed 
 to our first parents, doubtless ascended as 
 a grateful incense before the Almighty, 
 prior to the original transgression. Since 
 that event, the case has been widely differ- 
 ent. Man is become a sinner; and, be- 
 fore 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 re- 
 conciled he offers up his worship before 
 the majesty of heaven, the least sacrifice 
 of humble praise, presented through a 
 mediator, will not fail to meet with a gra- 
 cious 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 m* 
 
 lie 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 hea- 
 vens and the earth, and to investigate the 
 laws of matter and motion, than to ac-< 
 quaint 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, w^as 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 the 
 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 corre- 
 spondence with our natural pride, that no 
 
 u 
 
290 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 precaution can be too great against fuch a 
 flattering imposture. 
 
 The fecond 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 
 confirmed piety, who has not cause, in 
 similar circumstances, to guard against the 
 same illusion. 
 
SECT.III.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 291 
 
 The devotion which "is here intended is 
 neither philosophical nor mystical; it is 
 neither that of an angel, 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 fenfe of his -own 
 meanness and depravity, compai^ed 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 
 
292 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. [PART in. 
 
 pharisaic righteousness. Even in relation 
 to this life, a due perception and acknow- 
 ledgment of our demerits, with a generous 
 dependence on the equitable allowance of 
 our fellow-creatures, yields a far superior 
 joy to any which can arise from a com- 
 placency in our own imaginary worth. 
 
 The connection of happiness with the 
 love of Gcd 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 grati- 
 tude 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 
 
 8 
 
SECT, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 293 
 
 consider it as expressing itself in acts of 
 prayer and praise. By prayer, when it is 
 genuine, an intercourse is carried on be- 
 
 o 
 
 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 expec- 
 
 u3 
 
294 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. [PART m. 
 
 tation of success whigh is afforded ns, 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 ange- 
 lic 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, an- 
 ticipate 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, inj Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 295 
 
 other 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 expect- 
 ed; nor is it impossible that many of the 
 first Christian monasteries owe their esta- 
 blishment to this principle. Had their 
 design 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 
 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 
 
 u 4 
 
296 Pleasures of a devotionul Retirement; [PART in. 
 
 of either. He cannot continue long in a 
 state of mental abstraction : after a few 
 ineffectual struggles to raise himself above 
 
 oo 
 
 the condition of mortality, he is compelled 
 to fall back into this material system ; and, 
 unless he is 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 prac- 
 tices by which the body is chiefly enga- 
 ged, 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. 
 
 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 
 
SECT, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 297 
 
 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 
 upon principles more humane, and more 
 agreeable to the genius of -Christianity, 
 which imposes no tafks upon her disci- 
 
298 Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. ^PART HI* 
 
 pies 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 learn- 
 ing 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- 
 tion is apt to degenerate into fanaticism; 
 and without moderate bodily exercise, the 
 
SECT, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 299 
 
 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 
 clanger of growing melancholy or supersti- 
 tious. Upon such principles our two uni- 
 versities appear to have been founded; 
 religion and learning had their appropri- 
 ate hours, and academic groves were pro- 
 vided 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 de- 
 termine. 
 
 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. 
 
5oo 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 rapt 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 
 him 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* 361 
 
 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 situa- 
 tion, and gradually acquired a proper 
 knowledge of his resources, he might find 
 the wilderness to become a fruitful field, 
 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 fa- 
 shions 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 satisfaction. If it is pleas- 
 ing to the farmer, for his grounds conti- 
 nually to improve under his care, while 
 some are taken from the waste, and con- 
 verted 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- 
 nera progress. And, lastly, if to this con- 
 cordance of private devotion with external 
 duties and their happy fruits, there is add-* 
 
SECT, in.] Pleasures of a devotional Retirement. 303 
 
 ed the comfort of domestic life, little is 
 wanting to fill up that measure of human 
 felicity so elegantly described by the au- 
 thor of The Seasons : 
 
 Oh, speak the joy, 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 y and approving heaven ! 
 
RURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PART IV, 
 
 JN WHICH A COMMON OBJECTION AGAINST 
 A LIFE OF RETIREMENT, NAMELY, 
 THAT IT DESTROYS OR DIMINISHES 
 USEFULNESS, IS PARTICULARLY CON- 
 SIDERED, 
 
 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 
 
On the Utility of public Station. [PART iv- 
 
 sure, which I apprehend is often too severe, 
 I would submit to the 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 they have imagined, such 
 a discovery may help to increase their 
 candour towards those who prefer more 
 retired situations. 
 
 Utility has respect to an end, and im- 
 plies 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, be- 
 sides 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.] 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 
 i 
 
 requires as much to be considered that no 
 goodness of the end can sanctify any wrong 
 means which are made use of to pro- 
 mote it, as that no end can be good which 
 is not favourable to the cause of virtue 
 and happiness. 
 
 Having premised these principles, let us 
 now endeavour to apply them in the case 
 before us. 
 
 It is evidently a great p^rt of the busi- 
 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 conveniencies of nature, 
 and to mark that subordination winch 
 must subsist in every well regulated com- 
 
On the Utility of public Station. [[PART -iv. 
 
 munity, neither reason nor religion re- 
 claim against it. Such, however, is the pre- 
 sent corrupt state of mankind, that it is 
 difficult 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 tq 
 minister at the same time to their vanity. 
 And though the honest tradesman is not 
 answerable for such abuses, he has reason 
 to lament them as a blot and disparage- 
 ment 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 employ- 
 ments which fall under the description 
 here given, would be equally invidious 
 and unnecessary. 
 
 The same mixed character in human af- 
 fairs, which often makes it doubtful 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 
 
310 On the Utility of public Station. [PART 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 disqui- 
 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 even 
 among those writings which we ought to 
 
SECT. I.] On the Utility of public Station. : 311 
 
 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 
 them appear to answer, in any consider- 
 able degree, the end for which they were 
 laudably intended. When all this is fair- 
 ly taken into the account, the most. re- 
 spectable bibliopolist will find little rea-^ 
 son 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, I 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- 
 ]oy, peace and health* A lawyer, vvho^ 
 instead of encouraging a spirit of liti- 
 gation, endeavours to prevent it, who 
 will undertake no cause but upon pro- 
 bable grounds of equity, and, when under- 
 taken, will exert all his diligence, with the 
 least possible expence or trouble to hi* 
 
 x 4 
 
312 On the Utility of public Station. [PART iw 
 
 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 detain him -^'der the dubious trials of 
 3rt, when he should remit him to the 
 more sure guidance of nature, nor to 
 flatter him with hopes of recovery at the 
 risque 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 de- 
 mand 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 responsible themselves, to exercise 
 an authority of this nature over the most 
 indolent recluse. 
 
?ECT. i.] On the Utility ofpitblic Station. 
 
 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 allian* 
 ces; 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 ambitious 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 
 
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 risque 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 
 
 
3 1 6 On the Utility of public Station. [PART iV; 
 
 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- ' 
 ]y to be expected ; but for those to copy 
 the example, who profess themselves to be 
 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, 
 as we have seen, a probable way to ren- 
 
SECT. I.] On the Utility of public Station. 
 
 der it more vicious, without any real ad- 
 vantage to its enjoyments ; and were x 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. Persqns employed in such ser- 
 vices, whether it is 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- 
 
3i 8 On ike Utility of public Station. [PART iv, 
 
 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 
 edition of a heathen classic, or opens his 
 
SECT, i.] On the Utility of public Station. 319 
 
 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 
 
$20 On the Utility of public Station. [PART iv 
 
 claim to the wannest gratitude of his 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 an4 ameliorate the state of hi s 
 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 a 
 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 
 national 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 
 
322. On the Utility of public Station. [PART m 
 
 sta^e, basely to sacrifice the welfare of 
 his country to the idol of private interest 
 or ambition. 
 
 All this may serve to shew, 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. 323 
 
 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, hut 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. 
 
 Y 2 
 
326 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART IT. 
 
 ference to the individual pleasure or im-i 
 provement of the retired man himself. 
 
 I. 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, muft 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 thofe 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 founda- 
 tions of social life. Compare him with 
 those of his rank who exchange the healthy 
 abodes of their fathers, with every manly 
 occupation, for the smoke of cities, and 
 the haunts of gambling, dissipation, and 
 levvdness; who prefer the mimicries of 
 art to all the original beauties of nature, 
 and had rather cultivate the barren smiles 
 of a courtier than their hereditary acres : 
 compare him, I say, with such men, and 
 liis merits will appear still more conspi- 
 cuous, and deserving of public gratitude. 
 
 l 
 
 II. The next instance I shall notice re- 
 spects the cultivation of a neighbourly dis- 
 position and conduct. Plutarch tells us, 
 
 Y 4 
 
328 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART IVY 
 
 in his life of Themistocles, 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 afford 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 the 
 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. 329 
 
 knowledge help to bring them to the 
 speediest issue ; and in many other ways, 
 too obvious to be here enumerated, by a 
 proper application of his fortune and in- 
 fluence, he may add much to the peace 
 and comfort of those around him. 
 
 If he is 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 
 
330 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART m 
 
 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 exempt 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, u.] 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 bran- 
 ches 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. [PART iw 
 
 all, the anxious affection of a parent, if he 
 is 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 talcs and 
 fictions, however set off and embellished 
 by the power of genius, which may violate 
 the integrity of the one, or the purity of 
 the other. 
 
 i 
 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 chymistry, he may 
 light upon some discovery which will be 
 of use in agriculture or medicine, in arts 
 
SECT, ii.] 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 research- 
 es 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 everv lite- 
 
334 On the 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 Deader be startled 
 at this, as if I meant to confound the clergy 
 and laity, or to insinuate, that 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 
 general disuse. Whatever plea a man of 
 
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 acces-* 
 sihle, his endeavours, in the way now 
 stated, to assist the devotions of his ne, 
 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 - 
 
 8 
 
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. At 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 Mosesf. 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 u 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.^viii. f Deut. ix. 
 
SECT, it.] On the Utility of retired Life. 337 
 
 none. Therefore have I poured out mine 
 indignation icpon 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 -}. 
 And though it must at once be acknow- 
 ledged, that no one at present living can 
 be compared with Abraham, or Moses, 
 or Ellas, 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- 
 j 
 
 * Ezek. xxii. 29, 31. f James, v. 17, 18. 
 
 1 James, v. 16. 
 
 Z 
 
338 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART 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. 
 
 VI. 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 ten- 
 dency to quiet its agitation. It shews, 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, ii.] 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 
 retired 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 situ- 
 ation,) he may still be of the highest service 
 to himself. In his solitary walks and 
 meditations 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 better world, and little anxious about 
 the present (by which perhaps he is ne- 
 glected or forgotten), he will grow every 
 day more disposed to bid it heartily fare- 
 well, in the spirit of the following lines 
 of Seneca, as we find thenv happily ren- 
 dered bv Andrew Marvel : 
 
340 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART iv. 
 
 Climb at court for me that will, 
 Tott'ring 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 stagey 
 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 * ! 
 
 * Stet quicunque volet potens 
 Aulse culmine lubrico, 
 Me dulcis saturet quies. 
 Obscuro positus loco, 
 Leni perfruar otio. 
 1 Nullis nota quiritibus, 
 
 ./Etas 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 ! 
 
[34i ] 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The Utility of Monasteries considered. 
 
 1 HAT extremes are productive of one 
 another, is a position whose truth jneets 
 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 ornit 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 
 
 z 3 
 
340 On the Utility of retired Life. [PART iv. 
 
 Climb at court for me that will, 
 Tott'ring 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 * ! 
 
 * Stet quicunque volet potens 
 Aulse culmine lubrico, 
 Me dulcis saturet quies. 
 Obscuro positus loco, 
 Leni perfruar otio. 
 Nullis nota quiritibus, 
 
 ./Etas 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 ! 
 
[34i 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 The Utility of Monasteries considered. 
 
 JL HAT extremes are productive of one 
 another, is a position whose truth nieets 
 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 
 
 z 3 
 
342 On the Utility of Monasteries. [PART iv. 
 
 credit, and throw open its cloisters, which 
 they considered at best as the retreats of 
 indolence $nd 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 placed in this 
 garden of delight for no higher purpose 
 than to regale himself 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, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. 343 
 
 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 au 
 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. 
 
344 On the Utility of Monasteries. [PART iv. 
 
 But 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 
 observed 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 seern to 
 have partly answered the end intended. 
 It is certain that, during some of the 
 middle ages, monks were the principal 
 depositaries 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 On 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 sensible, 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 ever to exclude them from our 
 
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 apos- 
 tle, that if any man will not work, neither 
 should he 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. 
 
 * zThess. iii. 10. 
 
 i 
 
 ' 
 
348 On the Utility of Monasteries. [PART iv. 
 
 But not withstand ing 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 to 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 noxi- 
 ous 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; and in this opi- 
 nion I have the concurrence of a very ex- 
 cellent man, and one in high estimation 
 with protestants,! 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, 
 
 7 
 
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 JOY 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, 
 ^nd 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 Abridgement of his History of the 
 Reformation, p. 194, where he adds, " But an universal 
 suppression was refolved upon ; aud 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 qua- 
 lity in that county." 
 
3 co 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 and laudable dis- 
 charge of the duties of common life. Thus 
 might the comfort and welfare of many 
 
SECT, in.] On the Utility of Monasteries. 351 
 
 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. 
 
t 353 3 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 tn 'which it is considered, how far the Principles of 
 the foregoing Dh course may be of Use to guide us in 
 THE CHOICE OF LIFE. 
 
 O*' 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 cind 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 inseii 
 parable, our benign Creator has com- 
 manded us to secure the forinef in orclei* 
 to otir attainment of thd hitter ; 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 Life. 
 
 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 trappy in this world is naturally 
 every man's abject ; 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 ii> 
 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 botlu 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Lift* 355 
 
 *To enjoy both worlds is exclusively the 
 privilege of true virtue. Every thing felse 
 is only profitable in part and for d season; 
 but virtue-, which) iu the sense here in- 
 tended> includes pi6ty* 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- 
 tnent 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- 
 liausted t oi% in the more brief and com- 
 prehensive language of an apostle, it is 
 profitable to all things^ having promise qf 
 
 * Gic. pro Archil pdeta. 
 A A 2 
 
'$G Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 
 
 1/ie life 'zchich noic /,v, and of that zchich h 
 to come *. 
 
 He who is properly convinced of this, 
 will never drram of happiness without a 
 primary regard to -morals ; he -will not 
 say, as the multitude has always said, 
 Give inc riches Jirst, and virlite 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 surve} 7 of men and their pur- 
 suits will come in aid of this principle.' It 
 will teacli us that, however enviable the 
 successes of the votaries of fortune of 
 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 
 
 * i Tim, iv. 8, 
 
Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 357 
 
 xvorld'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. 
 
 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 man 
 is, the more he is likely to improve his cir- 
 cumstances, whatever they may be, to the 
 A A 3 
 
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 tl^e 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 otliers much better than them- 
 selves ; let it be considered, that this is 
 generally little more than appearance 5 
 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 
 (Ivirable valiie ; and that what occasionally 
 
Cmdusion : On the Choke of Life* 359 
 
 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 accomplrsh- 
 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, and 
 A A 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 man naturally desires to 
 d6 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 deserv- 
 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 
 
 Q 
 
 circumstances, and that, as the means of 
 usefulness are increased, the disposition to 
 improve them will iiot be diminished ; a 
 supposition which is crossed by every 
 day's experience. The least observation 
 upon 1 ourselves or others may convince 
 us tirat the usual tendency of- prosperity 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 361 
 
 is to generate pride and self-indulgence, 
 -which seldom tail 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 
 of 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 expeed 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 
 
- 
 
 362 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 
 men's 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. Those of 
 
Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 393 
 
 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 only serve to collect the spirits 
 and invigorate the faculties, would, In 
 the other, produce nothing but debility 
 and irritation. Hence, an 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 more 
 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 
 
364 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 every thing 
 around him, and perhaps is tempted at 
 length to have recourse to those arts which 
 
 o 
 
 he 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! may so term 
 it, to a public or private life, is in some 
 cases marked with more decision. In the 
 great mass of humanity there are spirits 
 of 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, 
 
3 66 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life* 
 
 as might be expected, generally 
 spends 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 ordinary talents, and who in the 
 shade of retirement might have done good 
 service in the cause of literature and 
 morals, sadly fret away his hour of life on 
 the bustling stage of politics- 
 
 II. Between a public and a retired 
 dition there is a third, which partakes of 
 both, and which, to the greater part of 
 
Conclusion: On the Choice of Life. 367 
 
 mankind is preferable to either. This in- 
 termediate state has a considerable lati- 
 tude, 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, and 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 aflbrd 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 
 
 
368 Conclusion : On 'the Chcice of Lift* 
 
 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 down 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 enem} 7 ", but will rather use 
 every lawful method to slum the cncoun-* 
 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 also deny be- 
 fore my father in heaven, has also pro- 
 
Conclusion : 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 olr 
 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 ori 
 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 
 
370 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 temp- 
 tation, 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 i:ule 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 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 he 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 
 almy, and in the face of a superior enemy, 
 had need to use all his circumspection. 
 
 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 
 
 B B 2 
 
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; foe in this case, as there 
 
Conclusion : Oi\ 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, to 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 
 
 BBS 
 
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. 
 
 When 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 tjiff 
 to which his faculties are originally adap- 
 ted, 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 he 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 
 
 of body makes him an able porter, would, 
 if he had taken another turn, have proved 
 an excellent tumbler or rope-dancer. 
 
 If therefore it is 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 
 
 B B 4 
 
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 
 require 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 and civil state ; for it is impossible 
 for him who is out of his proper place, 
 and who is devoid of those qualities which 
 are necessary to the discharge of the du- 
 
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 
 visually 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 topic 
 frequently occurs. 
 
Conclusion: On tie 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 profeffion ; 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- 
 
3.80 Conclusion : On the Choice of Life. 
 
 selves, and could never be intended to 
 authorize a violation of the Jaws 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 apos- 
 tle; 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 magis- 
 trates 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. 38 1 
 
 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 clown by the apostle lakes 
 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 Choice of Life* 
 
 fulness of our present situation should 
 admit of no dispute, a change is still per- 
 mitted, whenever it is very probable that 
 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. 
 
 1 am sensible that all our reflections, 
 even the inaturest, 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 
 
 o 
 
 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. 
 
 THE END. 
 
fust Published, 
 In Three large Volumes, i2mo. Price i6s. 6d. in boards, 
 
 The THIRD EDITION of 
 
 LETTERS addressed to a YOUNG MAN- on his FIRST 
 
 ENTRANCE into LIFE, and adapted to the peculiar 
 
 Circumstances of the present Tinier 
 
 By Mrs* WEST. 
 Printed for Longman and Rees, No. 39, Pater-noater Row. 
 
 We have often had occasion to review and to commend the compositions 
 of this female author, svhose principles are sound, and whose general style of 
 witin <r is correct and eiegant. These volumes may be Considered as a valuable 
 addition to (he library of youth, in the dangerous interval between childhood 
 and ad .lescence. The doctrines they teach are orthodox, tempeiate, uni- 
 form, and liberal; and the manners they recommend are what every judicious 
 parent would wish her son to adopt. 1 ' 
 
 " This work appears to us so highly valuable, that we feel ourselves called 
 upon, by the duty we owe to the British youth, to give it a very extensive 
 exsmination. 
 
 We so heartily concur in her opinions, every subject which she treats ap- 
 pears to us so important, and so highly entitled to the attentive consideration 
 of youth, that we feel doubtful from what part to make our extracts." 
 
 ' British. Critic, Sept. i8or. 
 
 - '* In our Magazine for May last, we announced this publication to our rea- 
 ders, and we are happy in having this opportunity of acknowledging, that in 
 the perusal of it we have not beea disappointed. The writer is already known 
 to the world as a novelist and poet, and her writings in each of these depart- 
 ments have acquired her considerable celebrity. The present work, as we 
 are informed in a modest and sensible introduction, owes its origin " to the 
 feelings incident to an anxious mother, on the occasion of a beloved son's re- 
 moving from the safe shelter of the paternal ioof." Cent Msg* Aug* 1801. 
 
 < We cannot withhold that tribute of praise which a work of such super- 
 lative merit demands, from every one who is interested for the welfare of the 
 rising generation 5 therefore we offer it as our opinion, that the parent or 
 guardian of a young man scarcely does him ju^iice, if he sends him into the 
 world :o think and act far hirmelf, without putting into his hinds a work 
 which is so weii calculated to warn youth (of both sexes indeed) against the 
 cangeis to which they are particularly exposed in these days of infidelity and 
 licentiousness of manners, and to fortify them against th?, corruptions of the 
 age. Guardian of Education, May 1 802* 
 
 Of whom may be had, lately published, by the same Author j 
 
 1. The INFIDEL FATHER, a Novel, 3 vols. 121x10* 
 price 1 55. in boards. 
 
 2. A TALE of the TIMES, in 3 vols* 12-rrio. third edition, 
 price 133. 6d. in boards. 
 
 3. A GOSSIP'S STORY and LEGENDARY TALE, 
 in 2 vols. i2mo. fourth edition, price ys. in boards. 
 
 4. POEMS and PLAYS, in 2 vols. foolscap 8vo, price us* 
 in boards. 
 
 1 Yin ted l>y A. Strahan, 
 -Sweet Square, 
 

 

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