Tl Henry D. Bacon, St. Louis, Mo, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. G-IFT OF HENRY DOUGLASS BACOX. 1877. Accessions No. __ /*_4* _?_e affixed to the term "happi- nem," I "should take it to denote n certnin state of the nervous system in that part of the human frame in which we feel joy and rief, passions and affections. Whether this part be the heart, which the turn of most lanirunires would l^ad us to believe, or the diaphragm, as Burton, or the upper orifice of the stomach, as Van llehnont thouirht; or rather be a kind of fine net-work, lining the whole region of the pnvcordia, as others have imagined; it is pn^-ible, not only that each painful sensation may violently shake and disturb the fibres at the time, bitt that a Bttltet of such may at length so derange the very texture of the system, as to produce a perpetual irritation, which will show itself by fretful- ness, imp.itience. and restlessness. It is possible also, on the other band, that a succession of pleasurable sen- sations may have such an effect upon this subtile orga- nization, ns to cause the fibres to relax, and return into their place and order, and thereby to recover, or, if not Ics.t, to preserve, that harmonious conformation which irises to the mind its sense of complacency and satis- faction. This state may be denominated happiness, and is so far distinguishable from pleasure, that it does HUMAN HAPPINESS. 31 In which inquiry I will omit much usual declamation on the dignity and capacity of our nature ; the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our constitution ; upon the worthiness, refinement, and delicacy, of some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality, of others ; because I hold that pleasures difler in nothing, but in continuance and intensity : from a just computation of which, confirmed by what we observe of the apparent cheerfulness, tranquillity, and contentment, of men of different tastes, tempers, stations, and pur- suits, every question concerning human happiness must receive its decision. It will be our business to show, if we can, I. What Human Happiness does not consist in: II. What it does consist in. FIRST, then, Happiness does not consist in the pleasures of sense, in whatever profusion or va- riety they be enjoyed. By the pleasures of sense, I mean, as well as the animal gratifications of eating, drinking, and that by which the species is continued, as the more refined pleasures of music, painting, architecture, gardening, splendid shows, theatric exhibitions ; and the pleasures, lastly, of active sports, as of hunting, shooting, fishing, &c. For, 1st, These pleasures continue but a little while at a time. This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort of them. Laying aside the pre- paration and the expectation, and computing strictly the actual sensation, we shall be surprised to find how inconsiderable a portion of our time they occupy, how few hours in the fbur-and-twenty they are able to fill up. 2dly, These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. It is a property of the machine, for which we know no remedy, that the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are blunted and benumbed by being frequently exercised in the same way. There is hardly any one who has not found the difference between a gratification, when new, and when familiar ; or any pleasure which does not become indifferent as it grows habitual. 3dly, The eagerness lor high and intense de- lights takes away the relish from all others; and as such delights fall rarely in our way, the greater part of our time becomes, from this cause, empty and uneasy. There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater sufferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much from what is called pleasure ; that is, from those intense delights, which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The very expec- tation spoils them. When they do come, we are often engaged in taking pains to persuade our- selves how much we are pleased, rather than en- joying any pleasure which springs naturally out of the object. And whenever we depend upon being vastly delighted, we always go home secretly grieved at missing our ami. Likewise, as has been observed just now, when this humour of being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold not refer to any particular object of enjoyment, or con- sist, like pleasure, in gratification of one or more of the senses, but is rather the secondary effect which such objects and gratifications produce upon the nervous system, or the state in which they leave it. These con- jectures belong not, however, to our province. The comparative sense, in which we have explained the term Happiness, is more popular, and is sufficient for the purpose of the present chapter. of the imagination, it hinders us from providing 1 for, or acquiescing in, those gently soothing en- gagements, the due variety and succession of which are the only things that supply a vein or continued stream of happiness. What I have been able to observe of that part of mankind, whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in the pursuit by no re- straints of fortune, or scruples of conscience, cor- responds sufficiently with this account. I have commonly remarked in such men, a restless and inextinguishable passion for variety ; a great part of their time to be vacant, and so much of it irk- some; and that, with whatever eagerness and expectation they set out, they become, by de- grees, fastidious in their choice of pleasure, lan- guid in the enjoyment, yet miserable under the want of it. The truth seems to be, that there is a limit at which these pleasures soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards decline. They are by ne- cessity of short duration, as the organs cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length of time ; and if you endeavour to compensate ibr this imperfection in their nature by the frequency with which you repeat them, you suffer more than you gain, by the fatigue of the faculties, and the dimi- nution of sensibility. We have said nothing in this account, of the loss of opportunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever they happen, leave the voluptu- ary destitute and desperate ; teased by desires that can never be gratified, and the memory of pleasures which must return no more. It will also be allowed by those who have ex- perienced it, and perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is purchased by the encumbrance of our fortune, is purchased too dear ; the pleasure never compensating for the perpetual irritation of embarrassed circumstances. These pleasures, after all, have their value : and as the young are always too eager in their pursuit of them, the old are sometimes too remiss, that is, too studious of their ease, to be at the pains for them which they really deserve. SECONDLY, Neither does happiness consist in an exemption from pain, labour, care, business, suspense, molestation, and "those evils which are without ;" such a state being usually attended, not with ease, but with depression of spirits, a taste- lessness in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, and the whole train of hypochondriacal affections. For which reason, the expectations of those, who retire from their shops and counting-houses, to enjoy the remainder of their days in leisure and tranquillity, are seldom answered by the effect; much less of such, as, in a fit of chagrin, shut themselves up in cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world, and their stations in it, for solitude and repose. Where there exists a known external cause of uneasiness, the cause may be removed, and the uneasiness will cease. But those imaginary dis- tresses which men feel for want of real ones (and which are equally tormenting, and so far equally real) as they depend upon no single or assignable subject of uneasiness, admit oftentimes of no ap- plication of relief. Hence, a moderate pain, upon which the atten- tion may fasten and spend itself, is to many a refreshment ; as a fit of the gout will sometimes cure the spleen. And the same of any less violent MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. agitation of the mind, as a literary controversy, a law-suit, a contested election, and, above all, gam- ing ; the passion for which, in men of fortune and literal minds, is only to be accounted for on this principle. THIRDLY: Neither does happiness consist in greatness, rank, or elevated station. Were it true that all superiority afforded plea- sure, it would follow, that by how much we were the greater, that is, the more persons we were superior to, in the same proportion, so far as de- pended upon this cause, we should be the happier ; but so it is, that no superiority yields any satisfac- tion, save that which we possess or obtain over those with whom we immediately compare our- selves. The shepherd perceives no pleasure in his superiority over his dog; the farmer, in his superiority over the shepherd; the lord, in his superiority over the farmer ; nor the king, lastly, in his superiority over the lord. Superiority, where there is no competition, is seldom contem- plated ; what most men are quite unconscious of. But if the same shepherd can run, fight, or wrestle better than the peasants of his village ; if the farmer can show better cattle, if he keep a better horse, or be supposed to have a longer purse, than any farmer in the hundred ; if the lord have more interest in an election, greater favour at court, a better house, or a larger estate than any nobleman in the country ; if the king possess a more extensive territory, a more powerful fleet or army, a more splendid establishment, more loyal subjects, or more weight and authority in adjust- ing the affairs of nations, than any prince in Europe; in all these cases, the parties feel an actual satisfaction in their superiority. Now the conclusion that follows from hence is this ; that the pleasures of ambition, which are supposed to be peculiar to high stations, are in reality common to all conditions. The farrier who shoes a horse better, and who is in greater request for his skill, than any man within ten miles of him, possesses, for all that I can see, the delight of distinction and of excelling, as truly and substantially as the statesman, the soldier, and the scholar, who have filled Europe with the reputa- tion of their wisdom, their valour, or their know- ledge. No superiority appears to be of any account, but superiority over a rival. This, it is manifest, may exist wherever rivalships do ; and rivalships fall out amongst men of all ranks and degrees. The object of emulation, the dignity or magnitude of this object, makes no difference ; as it is not what either possesses that constitutes the pleasure, but what one possesses more than the other. Philosophy smiles at the contempt with which the rich and great speak of the petty strifes and competitions of the poor ; not reflecting that these strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as their own, and the pleasure, which success affords, the same. Our position is, that happiness does not consist in greatness. And this position we make out by showing, that even wliat are supposed to be pecu- liar advantages of greatness, the pleasures of am- bition and superiority, are in reality common to all conditions. But whether the pursuits of am- bition be ever wise, whether they contribute more to the happiness or misery of the pursuers, is a different question; and a question concerning which we may be allowed to entertain great doubt. The pleasure of success is exquisite ; so also is the anxiety of the pursuit, arid the pain of disap- pointment; and what is the worst part of the account, the pleasure is short-lived. We soon cease to look back upon those whom we have left behind ; new contests are engaged in ; new pros- pects unfold themselves ; a succession of struggles is kept up, whilst there is a rival left within the compass of our views and profession ; and when there is none, the pleasure with the pursuit is at an end. II. We have seen what happiness does not consist in. We are next to consider in what it does consist. In the conduct of life, the great matter is, to know beforehand, what will please us, and what pleasure will hold out. So far as we know this, our choice will be justified by the event. And this knowledge is more scarce and difficult than at first sight it may seem to be : for sometimes, pleasures, which are wonderfully alluring and flattering in the prospect, turn out in the possession extremely insipid ; or do not hold out as we ex- pected : at other times, pleasures start up which never entered into our calculation ; and which we might have missed of by not foreseeing : whence we have reason to believe, that we actually do miss of many pleasures from the same cause. I say, to know " beforehand ;" for, after the experiment is tried, it is commonly impracticable to retreat or change; beside that shifting and changing is apt to generate a habit of restlessness, which is de- structive of the happiness of every condition. By the reason of the original diversity of taste, capacity, and constitution, observable in the human species, and the still greater variety, which habit and fashion have introduced in these particulars, it is impossible to propose any plan of happiness, which will succeed to all, or any method of life which is universally eligible or practicable. All that can be said is, that there remains a presumption in favour of those conditions of life, in which men generally appear most cheerful and contented. For though the apparent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of their real happiness, it is the best measure we have. Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to be- lieve that happiness consists, I. In the exercise of the social affections. Those persons commonly possess good spirits, who have about them many objects of aflection and endearment, as wife, children, kindred, friends. And to the want of these may be imputed the peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a mo- nastic life. Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domestic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the pleasure which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, exercised either in giving money, or imparting to those who want it, the assistance of our skill and profession. Another main article of human happiness is, II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, in the pursuit of some engaging end. It seems to be true, that no plenitude of present gratifications can make the possessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in reserve, something to hope for, and look forward to. This I conclude to be the case, from comparing the alacrity and spirits of men who are engaged in any pursuit which interests them, with the de- jection and ennui of almost all, who are either HUMAN HAPPINESS. 33 born to so much that they want nothing more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and drained the sources of them. It is this intolerable vacuity of mind, which carries the rich and great to the horse-course and the gaming-table; and often engages them in contests and pursuits, of which the success bears no proportion to the solicitude and expense with which it is sought. An election for a disputed borough shall cost the parties twenty or thirty thousand pounds each, to say nothing of the anxiety, humiliation, and fatigue, of the canvass ; when, a seat in the house of commons, of exactly the same value, may be had for a tenth part of the money, and with no trouble. I do not mention this, to blame the rich and great (perhaps they cannot do better,) but in confirmation of what I have advanced. Hope, which thus appears to be of so much importance to our happiness, is of two kinds ; where there is something to be done towards at- taining the object of our hope, and where there is nothing to be done. The first alone is of any value ; the latter being apt to corrupt into impa- tience, having no power but to sit still and wait, which soon grows tiresome. The doctrine delivered under this head, may be readily admitted ; but how to provide ourselves with a succession of pleasurable engagements, is the difficulty. This requires two things : judg- Ein the choice of c/?- adapted to our op- nities ; and a command of imagination, so as able, when the judgment has made choice of an end, to transfer a pleasure to the means: after which, the end may be forgotten as soon as we will. Hence those pleasures arc most valuable, not which are most exquisite in the fruition, but which are most productive of engagement and activity in the pursuit. A man who is in earnest in his endeavours after the happiness of a future state, has, in this respect, an advantage over all the world : for, he has constantly before his eyes an object of supreme importance, productive of perpetual engagement and activity, and of which the pursuit (which can be said of no pursuit besides) lasts him to his life's end. Yet even he must have many ends, besides the far end : but then they will conduct to that, be subordinate, and in some way or other capable of being referred to that, and derive their satisfac- tion, or an addition of satisfaction, from that. Engagement is every thing : the more signifi- cant, however, our engagements are, the better : such as the planning of laws, institutions, manu- factures, charities, improvements, public works; and the endeavouring, by our interest, address, solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect ; or, upon a smaller scale, the procuring of a main- tenance and fortune for our families by a course of industry and application to our callings, which forms and gives motion to the common occupations of life : ; training up a child ; prosecuting a scheme for his future establishment; making ourselves masters of a language or a science ; improving or managing an estate ; labouring after a piece of preferment ; and, lastly, any engagement, which is innocent, is better than none ; as the writing of a book, the building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging of a fish-pond, even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip. Whilst our minds are taken up with the objects or business before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or business be; when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are wandering to something else than what is passing in the place in wliich we are, we are often miserable. III. Happiness depends upon the prudent con- stitution of the habits. * The art in which the secret of human happiness in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in such a manner, that every change may be a change for the better. The habits themselves are much the same ; for, whatever is made habitual, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly indifferent. The return to an old habit is likewise easy, whatever the habit be. Therefore the advantage is with those habits which allow of an indulgence in the deviation from them. The luxurious receive no greater pleasures from their dainties, than the peasant does from his bread and cheese: but the peasant, whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast ; whereas the epicure must be well entertained, to escape disgust. Those who spend every day at cards, and those who go every day to plough, pass their time much alike: intent upon what they are about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they are both for the time in a state of ease : but then, whatever suspends the occupation of the card-player, distresses him ; whereas to the labourer, every interruption is a refreshment : and this appears m the different effects that Sunday produces upon the two, which proves a day of recreation to the one, Imt a lamentable burthen to the other. The man who has learned to live alone, feels his spirits enlivened whenever he en- ters into company, and takes his leave without regret ; another, who has long been accustomed to a crowd, or continual successsion of company, experiences in company no elevation of spirits, nor any greater satisfaction, than what the man of a retired life finds in his chimney-corner. So far their conditions are equal ; but let a change of place, fortune, or situation, separate the companion from his circle, his visitors, his club, common-room, or coffee-house ; and the difference and advantage in the choice and constitution of the two habits will show itself. Solitude comes to the one, cloth- ed with melancholy; to the other, it brings liberty and quiet. You will see the one fretful and rest- less, at a loss how to dispose of his tune, till the hour come round when he may forget himself in bed ; the other easy and satisfied, taking up his book or his pipe, as scon as he finds himself alone ; ready to admit any little amusement that casts up, or to turn his hands and attention to the first business that presents itself; or content, without either, to sit still, and let his train of thought glide indolently through his brain, without much use, perhaps, or pleasure, but without hankering after any thing better, and without irritation. A reader, who has inured himself to books of science and argumentation, if a novel, a well-written pam- phlet, an article of news, a narrative of a curious voyage, or a journal of a traveller, fall in his way, sits down to the repast with relish; enjoys his entertainment while it lasts, and can return, when it is over, to his graver reading, without distaste. Another, with whom nothing will go down but works of humour and pleasantry, or whose curi- osity must be interested by perpetual novelty, will consume a bookseller's window in half a forenoon ; during which time he is rather in search of diver- sion than diverted ; and as books to his taste aie MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. few, and short, and rapidly read over, the stock is soon exhausted, when he is left withbut resource from his principal supply of harmless amuse- ment. So far as circumstances of fortune conduce to happiness, it is not the income which any man possesses, but the increase of income, that affords the pleasure. Two persons, of whom one begins with a hundred, and advances his income to a thousand pounds a year, and the other sets off with a thousand and dwindles down to a hundred, may, in the course of their time, have the receipt and spending of the same sum of money : yet their satisfaction, so far as fortune is concerned in it, will be very different ; the series and sum total of their incomes being the same, it makes a wide difference at which end they begin. IV. Happiness consists in health. By health I understand, as well freedom from bodily distempers, as that tranquillity, firmness, and alacrity of mind, which we call good spirits ; and which may properly enough be included in our notion of health, as depending commonly upon the same causes, and yielding to the same management, as our bodily constitution. Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. Therefore no pains, expense, self-denial, or re- straint, to which we subject ourselves for the sake of health, is too much. Whether it require us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain from favourite indulgences, to control intemperate pas- sions, or undergo tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us under, a man, who pursues his happiness rationally and resolutely, will be content to submit. When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in ourselves a happiness independent of any particular outward gratification whatever, and of which we can give no account. This is an en- joyment which the Deity has annexed to life; and it probably constitutes, in a great measure, . the happiness of infants and brutes, especially of the lower and sedentary orders of animals, as of oysters, periwinkles, and the like; for which I have sometimes been at a loss to find out amuse- ment. The above account of human happiness will justify the two following conclusions, which, al- though found in most oooks of morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by any sufficient reasons : FIRST, That happiness is pretty equally dis- tributed amongst the different orders of civil society : SECONDLY, That vice has no advantage over virtue, even with respect to this world's happi- CHAPTER VII. Virtue. VIRTUE is " the doing good to mankind, in obedience to the 'will of God, and for the sake of everlasting happiness." According to which definition, "the good of mankind" is the subject; the "will of God," the rule ; and " everlasting happiness," the motive, of human virtue. Virtue has been divided by some moralists into benevolence, prudence, fortitude t and temperance. Benevolence proposes good ends ; prudence sug- gests the best means of attaining them ; fortitude enables us to encounter the difficulties, dangers, and discouragements, which stand in our way in the pursuit of these ends ; temperance repels and overcomes the passions that obstruct it. benevo- lence, for instance, prompts us to undertake the cause of an oppressed orphan; prudence suggests the best means of going about it ; fortitude enables us to confront the danger, and bear up against the loss, disgrace, or repulse, that may attend our undertaking; and temperance keeps under the love of money, of ease, or amusement, which might divert us from it. Virtue is distinguished by others into two branches only, prudence and benevolence : pru- dence, attention to our own interest ; benevolence, to that of our fellow-creatures : both directed to the same end, the increase of happiness in nature ; and taking equal concern in the future as in the present. The four CARDINAL virtues are, prudence, for- titude, temperance and justice. But the division of virtue, to which we are in modern times most accustomed, is into duties ;-r Towards God ; as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude, &c. Towards other men (or relative duties ;) as jus- tice, charity, fidelity, loyalty, &c. Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, tem- perance, preservation of life, care of health, &c. More of these distinctions have been proposed, which it is not worth while to set down. I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate to the general regulation of human conduct ; unconnected indeed with each other, but very worthy of attention ; and which fall as properly under the title of this chapter as of any future one. -x i I. Mankind act more from habit than refiec- ) tion. It is on few only and great occasions that men deliberate at all ; on fewer still, that they institute any thing like a regular inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of what they are about to do ; or wait for the result of it. We are for the most part determined at once ; and by an impulse, which is the effect and energy of pre-established habit. And this constitution seems well adapted to the exigences of human life, and to the imbe- cility of our moral principle. In the current oc- casions and rapid opportunities of life, there is oftentimes little leisure for reflection; and were there more, a man, who has to reason about his duty, when the temptation to transgress it is upon him, is almost sure to reason himself into an error. If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits ; Where, it is asked, is the exercise of \ virtue, the guilt of vice, or any use of moral and religious knowledge 1 I answer, in the forming- .'/ and contracting of these habits. And hence results a rule of life of considerable importance, viz. that many things are to be done and abstained from, solely for the sake of habit. We will explain ourselves by an example or two : A beggar, with the appearance of extreme dis- tress, asks our charity. If we come to argue the matter, whether the distress be real, whether it be VIRTUE. 35 not brought upon himself, whether it be of public advantage to admit such application, whether it be not to encourage idleness and vagrancy, whether it may not invite impostors to our doors, whether the money can be well spared, or might not be better applied ; when these considerations are put together, it may appear very doubtful, whether we ought or ought not to give any thing. But when we reflect, that the misery before our eyes excites our pity, whether we will or not ; that it is of the utmost consequence to us to cultivate this tender- ness of mind ; that it is a quality, cherished by indulgence, and soon stifled by opposition ; when this, f say, is considered, a wise man will do that for his own sake, which he would have hesitated to do for the petitioner's ; he will give way to his compassion, rather than offer violence to a habit of so much general usr. A man of confirmed good habits, will act in the same manner without any consideration at all. This may serve for one instance ; another is the following : A man has been brought up from his infancy with a dread of lying. An occasion pre- sents itself where, at the expense of a little vera- city, he may divert his company, set off his own wit with advantage, attract the notice and engage the partiality of all about him. This is not a small temptation. And when he looks at the other side of the question, he sees no mischief that can ensue from this liberty, no slander of any man's reputation, no prejudice likely to arise to any man s interest. Were there nothing further to be considered, it would be difficult to show why a man under such circumstances might not in- dulge his humour. But when he reflects that his scruples about lying have hitherto preserved him free from this vice ; that occasions like the present will return, where the inducement may be equally strong, but the indulgence much less innocent; that his scruples will wear away by a few trans- gressions, and leave him subject to one of the meanest and most pernicious of all bad habits, a habit of lying, whenever it will serve his turn : when all this, I say, is considered, a wise man will forego the present, or a much greater pleasure, rather than lay the foundation of a character so vicious and contemptible. From what has been said, may be explained also the nature of habitual virtue. By the defi- nition of virtue, placed at the beginning of this chapter, it appears, that the good of mankind is the subject, the will of God the rule, and everlast- ing happiness the motive and end, of all virtue. Yet, in fact, a man shall perform many an act of virtue without having either the good of mankind, the will of God, or everlasting happiness in his thought. How is this to be understood 1 In the same manner as that a man may be a very good servant, without being conscious, at every turn, of a particular regard to his master's will, or of an express attention to his master's interest : indeed, your best old servants are of this sort : but then he must have served for a length of time under the actual direction of these motives, to bring it to this: in which service, his merit and virtue consist. There are habits, not only of drinking, swear- ing, and lying, and of some other things, which are commonly acknowledged to be habits, and called so: but of every modification of action, speech, and thought. Man is a bundle of habits. There are habits of industry, attention, vigilance, advertency; of a prompt obedience to the judg- ment occurring, or of yielding to the first impulse of passion ; of extending our views to the future, or of resting upon the present ; of apprehending, methodising, reasoning ; of indolence and dilaton- ness ; of vanity, self-conceit, melancholy, partiality; of fretfulness, suspicion, captiousness ; censorious- ness ; of pride, ambition, covetousness ; of over- reaching, intriguing, projecting ; in a word, there is not a quality or function, either of body or mind, which does not feel the influence of this great law of animated nature. II. the precise quantity of virtue necessary to salva- tion. This lias been made an objection to Christianity; but without reason. For as all revelation, how- ever imparted originally, must be transmitted by the ordinary vehicle of language, it behoves those who make the objection, to show that any form of words could be devised, that might express this quantity; or that it is possible to constitute a standard of moral attainments, accommodated to the almost infinite diversity which subsists in the capacities and opportunities of different men. It seems most agreeable to our conceptions of justice, and is consonant enough to the language of scripture,* to suppose, that there are prepared for us rewards and punishments, of all possible degrees, from the most exalted happiness down to extreme misery ; so that "our labour is never in vain ;" whatever advancement we make in virtue, we procure a proportionable accession of future happiness ; as, on the other hand, every accumu- lation of vice is the " treasuring up so much wrath against the day of wrath." It has been said, that it can never be a just economy of Providence, to admit one part cf mankind into heaven, and con- demn the other to hell; since there must be very little to choose, between the worst man who is received into heaven, and the best who is excluded. And how know we, it might be answered, but that there may be as little to choose in the conditions 1 Without entering into a detail of Scripture morality, which would anticipate our subject, the following general positions may be advanced, I think, with safety. 1. That a state of happiness is not to be expect- ed by those who are conscious of no moral or religious rule: I mean those who cannot with truth say, that they have been prompted to one action, or withholden from one gratification, by any regard to virtue or religion, either immediate or habitual There needs no other proof of this, than the consideration, that a brute would be as proper an object of reward as such a -man, and that, if the case were so, the penal sanctions of religion could *" He which sowetn sparingly, shall reap also spar ingly ; and he which soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully;" 2 Cor. ix. 6. "And that servant which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes ; but he that knew not. shall be beaten with few stripes." Luke xii. 47, 48." Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because ye belong to Christ ; verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward;" to wit, intimating that there is in reserve a proportionable reward for even the smallest act of virtue. Mark i x. 41. See also the parable of the pounds, Luke xix. 16, &c.; where he whose pound had gained ten pounds, was placed over ten cities ; and he whose pound had gained five pounds, was placed over five cities, 36 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. have no place. For, whom would you punish, if J you make such a one as this happy 'J or rather indeed, religion itself, both natural and revealed would cease to have either use or authority. 2. That a state of happiness is not to be ex- pected by those, who reserve to themselves the habitual practice of any one sin, or neglect of one known duty. . Because, no obedience can proceed upon proper motives, which is not universal, that is, which is not directed to every command of God alike, as they all stand upon the same authority. Because such an allowance would, in effect, amount to a toleration of every vice in the world. And because the strain of Scripture language excludes any such hope. When our duties are recited, they are put collectively, that is, as all and very one of them required in the Christian cha- racter. " Add to your faith virtue, and to virtue knowledge, and to knowledge temperance, and to temperance patience, and to patience godliness, and to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly Kindness charity."* On the other hand, when vices are enumerated, they are put disjunc- tively, that is, as separately and severally exclud- ing the sinner from heaven. " Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor ex- tortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of heaven."t Those texts of Scripture, which seem to lean a contrary way, as that " charity shall cover the multitude of sins ;"t that " he which con- verteth a sinner from the error of his way, shall hide a multitude of sins;" cannot, I think, for the reasons above mentioned, be ex- tended to sins deliberately, habitually, and ob- stinately persisted in. 3. That a state of mere unprofitableness will not go unpunished. This is expressly laid down by Christ, in the parable of the talents, which supersedes all further reasoning upon the subject. " Then he which had received one talent, came and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art an austere man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thouxhast not strawed : and I was afraid, and hid thy talent in the earth ; lo, there tfibu hast that is thine. His lord answered and said unto him, Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest, (or, kneweet thou 7) that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not strawed ; thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which hath ten tajents ; for unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance; but from Kim that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he hath : and cast ye. the unprofitable ser- vant into outer darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth ."II till. In every question of conduct, where one side is doubtful, and the other safe ; we are bound to take the safe side. 4 This is best explained by an instance ; and I know of none more to our purpose than that of suicide. Suppose, for example's sake, that it ap- * 2 Pet. i. 5, ti, 7. 1 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. f 1 Pet. iv. 8. James v. 20. || Matt. xxv. 24, &c. peared doubtful to a reasoner upon the subject, whether he may lawfully destroy himself. He can have no doubt, that it is lawful for him to let it alone. Here therefore is a case, in which one side is doubtful, and the other side safe. By virtue therefore of our rule, he is bound to pursue the safe side, that is, to forbear from offering violence to himself, whilst a doubt remains upon his rnind concerning the lawfulness of suicide. It is prudent, you allow, to take the safe side. But our observation means something more. We assert that the action concerning which we doubt, whatever it may be in itself, or to another, would, in us, whilst this doubt remains upon our minds, be certainly sinful. The case is expressly so adjudged by St. Paul, with whose authority we will for the present rest contented. " I know and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him that esteemeth any thing to be unclean, to him it is unclean. Happy is he that condernneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth ; and he that doubteth, is damned (condemned) if he eat ; for whatsoever is not of faith (i. e. not done with a full persuasion of the lawfulness of it) is sin."* BOOK II. MORAL OBLIGATIONS. CHAPTER I. The question l Why am I obliged to keep my word ?' considered. WHY am I obliged to keep my word ? Because it is right, says one. Because it is agreeable to the fitness of things, says another. Because it is conformable to reason and nature, says a third. Because it is conformable to truth, says a fourth. Because it promotes the public good, says a fifth. Because it is required by the will of God, concludes a sixth. Upon which different accounts, two things are observable : FIRST, that they all ultimately coincide. The fitness of things, means their fitness to produce happiness : the nature of things, means that actual constitution of the world, by which some things, as such and such actions, for ex- ample, produce happiness, and others misery; reason is the principle by which we discover or judge of this constitution: truth is this judgment, expressed or drawn out into propositions. So that it necessarily comes to pass, that what pro- motes the public happiness, or happiness on the whole, is agreeable to the fitness of things, to nature, to reason, and to truth ; and such (as will appear by and bye,) is the Divine character, that what promotes the general happiness, is required by the will of God ; and what has all the above properties, must needs be right ; for, right means no more than conformity to the rule we go by, whatever that rule be. And this is the reason that moralists, from whatever different principles they set out, com- * Rom. xiv. 14, 22, 23. MORAL OBLIGATIONS. 37 monly meet in their conclusions ; that is, they enjoin the same conduct, prescribe the same rules of duty, and, with a few exceptions, deliver upon dubious cases the same determinations. SECONDLY, it is to be observed, that these an- swers all leave the matter short ; for the inquirer may turn round upon his teacher with a second question, in which he will expect to be satisfied, 'namely, Why am I obliged to do what is right; ; to act agreeably to the fitness of things ; to con- form to reason, nature, or truth ; to promote the public good, or to obey the will of God. The proper method of conducting the inquiry is, FIRST, to examine what we mean, when we say a man is obliged to do any thing ; and THEN' to show why he is obliged to do the thing which we have proposed as an example, namely, "to keep his word." CHAPTER II. What we mean to say when a man is obliged to do a thing. A MAN is said to be obliged, "when he is ur- ged by a violent motite resulting from the com- mand of another." FIRST, " The motive must be violent." If a person, who has done me so little service, or has a small place in his disposal, ask me upon some occasion for my vote, I may possibly give it him, from a motive of gratitude or expectation : but I should hardly say that I was obliged to give it him ; because the inducement does not rise high enough. Whereas, if a father or a master, any great benefactor, or one on whom my fortune de- pends, require my vote, I give it him of course : and my answer to all who asked me why I voted so and so, is, that my father or my master obliged me ; that I had received so many favours from, or had so great a dependence upon, such a one, that I was obliged to vote as he directed me. SECONDLY, " It must result from the command of another." Offer a man a gratuity for doing any thing, for seizing, for example, an offender, he is not obliged by your offer to do it ; nor would he say he is; though he may be induced, per- suaded, prevailed upon, tempted. If a magistrate or the man's immediate superior command it, he considers himself as obliged to comply, though possibly he would lose less by a refusal in this case, than in the former. I will not undertake to say that the words obligation and obliged are used uniformly in this sense, or always with this distinction : nor is it possible to tie down popular phrases to any con- stant signification: but wherever the motive is violent enough, and coupled with the idea of com- mand, authority, law, or the will of a superior, there, I take it, we always reckon ourselves to be obliged. And from this account of obligation, it follows, that we can be obliged to nothing, but what we ourselves are to gain or lose something by; for nothing else can be a " violent motive" to us. As we should not be obliged to obey the laws, or the magistrate, unless rewards or punishments, pleasure, or pain, somehow or other, depended upon our obedience ; so neither should we, without the same reason, be obliged to do what is right, to practise virtue, or to obey the commands of God. CHAPTER III. The question, ' Why am I obliged to keep my word?' resumed. LET it be remembered, that to be obliged, is " to be urged by a violent motive, resulting from the command of another." And then let it be asked, Why am I obliged to keep my word ? and the answer will be, Because I am " urged to do so by a violent motive" (name- ly, the expectation of being after this life rewarded, if I do, or punished for it, if I do not,) " resulting from the command of another" (namely of God.) This solution goes to the bottom of the subject, as no further question can reasonably be asked. Therefore, private happiness is our motive, and the will of God our rule. When I first turned my thoughts to moral spe- culations, an air of mystery seemed to hang over the whole subject ; which arose, I believe, from hence. that I supposed, with many authors whom I had read, that to be obliged to do a thing, was very different from being induced only to do it ; and that the obligation to practise virtue, to do what is right, just, &c. was quite another thing, and of another kind, than the obligation which a soldier is under to obey his officer, a servant his master ; or any of the civil and ordinary obliga- tions of human life. Whereas, from what has been said, it appears that moral obligation is like all other obligations ; and that obligation is nothing more than an inducement of sufficient strength, and resulting, in some way, from the command of another. There is always understood to be a difference between an act of prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrust a man who owed me a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence to get another person bound with him ; but I should hardly call it an act of duty. On the other hand, it would be thought a very unusual and loose kind of language, to say, that as I had made such a promise, it was prudent to perform it ; or that, as my friend, when he went abroad, placed a box of jewels in my hands, it would be prudent in me to preserve it for him till he returned. Npw, in what, you will ask, does the difference consist 1 inasmuch, as, according to our account of the matter, both in the one case and the other, in acts of duty as well as acts of prudence, we consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or lose by the act. The difference, and the only difference, is this ; that in the one case, we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present world; in the other case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to come. They who would establish a system of morality, independent of a future state, must look out for some different idea of moral obligation; unless they can show that virtue conducts the possessor to certain happiness in this life, or to a much greater share of it than he could attain by a dif- ferent behaviour. To us there are two great questions : I. Will there be after this life any distribution of rewards and punishments at all 1 II. If there be, what actions will be rewarded, and what will be punished 1 The first question comprises the credibility of the Christian Religion, together with the presump- tive proofs of a future retribution from the light of i MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. nature. The second question comprises the pro- vince of morality. Both questions are too much for one work. The affirmative therefore of the first, although we confess that it is the foundation upon which the whole fabric rests, must in this treatise be taken for granted. CHAPTER IV. The will of God. As the will of God is our rule ; to inquire what is our duty, or what we are obliged to do, in any instance, is, in effect, to inquire what is the will of God in that instance 1 which consequently be- comes the whole business of morality. Now there are two methods of coming at the will of God on any point : I. By his express declarations, when they are to be had, and which must be sought for in Scripture. IL By what we can discover of his designs and disposition from his works 5 or, as we usually call it, the light of nature. And here we may observe the absurdity of separating natural and revealed religion from each other. The object of both is the same, to dis- cover the will of God, and, provided we do but discover it, it matters nothing by what means. An ambassador, judging by what he knows of his sovereign's disposition, and arguing from what he has observed of his conduct, or is acquainted with of his designs, may take his measures in many cases with safety, and presume with great probability how his master would have him act on most occasions that arise : but if he have his com- mission and instructions in his pocket, it would be strange not to look into them. He will be directed by both rules : when his instructions are clear and positive, there is an end to all further deliberation (unless indeed he suspect their authen- ticity:) where his instructions are silent or du- bious, he will endeavour to supply or explain them by what he has been able to collect from other quarters of his master's general inclination or intentions. Mr. Hume, in his fourth Appendix to his Principles of Morals, has been pleased to complain of the modern scheme of uniting Ethics with the Christian Theology. They who find themselves disposed to join in this complaint, will do well to observe what Mr. Hume himself has been able to make of morality without this union. And for that purpose, let them read the second part of the ninth section of the above Essay; which part contains the practical application of the whole treatise, a treatise which Mr. Hume declares to be " incomparably the best he ever wrote." When they have read it over, let them consider, whether any motives there proposed are likely to be found sufficient to withhold men from the gratification of lust, revenge, envy, ambition, avarice ; or to pre- vent the existence of these passions. Unless they rise up from this celebrated essay with stronger impressions upon their minds than it ever left upon mine, they will acknowledge the necessity of additional sanctions. But the necessity of these sanctions is not now the question. If they be in fact established, if the rewards and punishments held forth in the Gospel will actually come to pass, they must be considered. Such as reject the Christian Religion, are to make the best shift they can to build up a system, and lay the foun- dation of morality without it. But it appears to me a great inconsistency in those who receive Christianity, and expect something to come of it, to endeavour to keep all such expectations out of sight in their reasonings concerning human duty. The method of coming at the will of God, con- cerning any action, by the light of nature, is to , inquire into " the tendency of the action to pro- mote or diminish the general happiness." This ' rule proceeds upon the presumption, that God Almighty wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures; and, consequently, that those actions, which promote that will and wish, must be agree- able to him; and the contrary. As this presumption is the foundation of our whole system, it becomes necessary to explain the reasons upon which it rests. CHAPTER V. The Divine Benevolence. WHEN God created the human species, either he wished their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indifferent and unconcerned about both. If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure of his purpose, by forming our senses to be so many sores and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification and enjoyment : or by placing us amidst objects so ill-suited to our perceptions, as to have continually offended us, instead of ministering to our refreshment and - delight. He might have made, for example, every thing we tasted, bitter ; every thing we saw, loath- some; every thing we touched, a sting; every smell a stench ; and every sound a discord. If iie had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, we must impute to our good fortune (as all design by this supposition is excluded) both the capacity of our senses to receive pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to produce it. But either of these (and still more both of them) being too much to be attributed to accident, no- thing remains but the first supposition, that God, when he created the human species, wished their happiness; and made for them the provision which he has made, with that view, and for that purpose. The same argument may be proposed in dif- ferent terms, thus: Contrivance proves design: and the predominant tendency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The world abounds with contrivances; and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then, is incidental to the contrivance, perhaps inseparable from it; or even, if you will, let it be called a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object of it. This is a distinction which well deserves to be attended to. In describing implements of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper's fingers, though, from the construction of the instrument, and the NECESSITY OF GENERAL RULES. manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But if you had occasion to describe instruments of torture or execution, This engine, you would say, is to extend the sinews ; this to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones ; this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain and misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now, nothing of this sort is to be found in the works of nature. We never discover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a system of organization calculated to produce pain and disease ; or, in explaining the parts of the human body, ever said ; This is to irritate, this to inflame ; this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys; this gland to secrete the humour which forms the gout : if by chance he come at a part of which he knows not the use, the most that he can say is, that it is useless : no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, to annoy, or to torment. Since then God hath called forth his consummate wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the world appears to have been constituted with this design at first ; so long as this constitution is upholden by him, we must in reason suppose the same design to continue. The contemplation of universal nature rather bewilders the mind than affects it. There is always a bright spot in the prospect, upon which the eye rests ; a single example, perhaps, by which each man finds himself more convinced than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part, j to see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the pleasures of very young children, than in ' any thing in the world. The pleasures of grown persons may be reckoned partly of their own pro- curing ; especially if there has been any industry, or contrivance, or pursuit, to come at them ; or if they are founded, like music, painting, &c. upon any qualification of their own acquiring. But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly provided for it by another, and the benevolence of the provision is so unquestionable, that every child I see at its sport, affords to my mind a kind of sensible evidence of the finger of God, and of the disposition which directs it. But the example, which strikes each man most strongly, is the true example for him : and hardly two minds hit upon the same ; which shows the abundance of such examples about us. We conclude, therefore, that God wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once established, we are at liberty to go on with the rule built upon it, namely, " that the method of coming at the will of God, concerning any action, by the light of nature, is to inquire into the tendency of that action to pro- mote or diminish the general happiness." CHAPTER VI. Utility. So then actions are to be estimated by their tendency*. Whatever is expedient, is right. It * Actions in the abstract are right or wrong, accord- ing to their tendency ; the agent is virtuous or vicious, according to his design. Thus, if the question be, Whe- ther relieving common beggars be right or wrong ? we inquire into the tendency of such a conduct to the public advantage or inconvenience. If the question be, Whe- ther a man remarkable for this sort of bounty is to be is the utility of any moral rule alone, which con- stitutes the obligation of it. But to all this there seems a plain objection, viz. that many actions are useful, which no man in his senses will allow to be right. There are occasions, in which the hand of the assassin would be very useful. The present possessor of some great estate employs his influence and fortune, to annoy, corrupt, or oppress, all about him. His estate would devolve, by his death, to a successor of an opposite character. It is useful, therefore, to despatch such a one as soon as possible out of the way ; as the neighbourhood will exchange thereby a pernicious tyrant for a wise and generous bene- factor. It might be useful to rob a miser, and give the money to the poor; as the money, no doubt, would produce more happiness, by being laid out in food and clothing for half a dozen dis- tressed families, than by continuing locked up in a miser's chest. It may be useful to get possession of a place, a piece of preferment, or of a seat in parliament, by bribery or false swearing: as by means of them we may serve the public more effectually than in our private station. What then shall we say 1 Must we admit these actions to be right, which would be to justify assassination, plunder, and perjury ; or must we give up our principle, that the criterion of right is utility. It is not necessary to do either. The true answer is this; that these actions, after all, are not useful, and for that reason, and that alone, are not right. To see this point perfectly, it must be observed, that the bad consequences of actions, are twofold, particular and general. The particular bad consequence of an action, is the mischief which that single action directly and immediately occasions. The general bad consequence is, the violation of some necessary or useful general rule. Thus, the particular bad consequences of the assassination above described, is the fright and pain which the deceased underwent ; the loss he suffered of life, which is as valuable to a bad man, as to a good one, or more so; the prejudice and affliction, of which his death was the occasion to his family, friends, and dependants. The general bad consequence is the violation of this necessary general rule, that no man be put to death for his crimes but by public authority. Although, therefore, such an action have no particular bad consequences, or greater particular good consequences, yet it is not useful, by reason of the general consequence, which is of more im- portance, and which is evil. And the same of the other two instances, and of a million more which might be mentioned. But as this solution supposes, that the moral government of the world must proceed by general rules, it remains that we show the necessity of this. CHAPTER VII. The necessity of general rules. You cannot permit one action and forbid another, without showing a difference between them. Consequently, the same sort of actions must be esteemed virtuous for that reason ? we inquire into his design, whether his liberality sprang from charity or from ostentation ? It is evident that our concern is with actions in the abstract. 40 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. generally permitted or generally forbidden. Where, therefore, the general permission of them would be pernicious, it becomes necessary to lay down and support the rule Which generally forbids them. Thus to return once more to the case of the .assassin. The assassin knocked the rich villain ,bn the head, because he thought him better out of 'the way than in it. If you allow this excuse in the present instance, you must allow it to all who $ct in the same manner, and from the said motive ; ihat is, you must allow every man to kill any one he meets, whom he thinks noxious or useless; which, in the event, would be to commit every man's life and safety to the spleen, fury, and fanaticism, of his neighbour; a disposition of affairs which would soon fill the world with misery and confusion ; and ere long put an end to human society, if not to the human species. The necessity of general rules in human govern- ment is apparent ; but whether the same necessity subsists in the Divine economy, in that distribu- tion of rewards and punishments to which a moralist looks forward, may be doubted. I answer, that general rules are necessary to every moral government : and by moral govern- ment I mean any dispensation, whose object is to influence the conduct of reasonable creatures. For if, of two actions perfectly similar, one be punished, and the other be rewarded or forgiven, which is the consequence of rejecting general rules, the subjects of such a dispensation would no longer know, either what to expect or how to act. Rewards and punishments would cease to be such, would become accidents. Like the stroke of a thunderbolt, or the discovery of a mine, like a blank or a benefit-ticket in a lottery, they would occasion pain or pleasure when they hap- pened; but, following in no known order, from any particular course of action, tb^ey could have no previous influence or effect upon the conduct. An attention to general rules, therefore, is in- cluded in the very idea of reward and punishment. Consequently, whatever reason there is to expect future reward and punishment at the hand of God, there is the same reason to believe, that he will proceed in the distribution of it by general rules. Before we prosecute the consideration of general consequences any further, it may be proper to an- ticipate a reflection, which will be apt enough to suggest itself, in the progress of our argument. As the general consequence of an action, upon which so much of the guilt of a bad action de- pends, consists in the example ; it should seem, that if the action be done with perfect secrecy, so as to furnish no bad example, that part of the guilt drops off. In the case of suicide, for instance, if a man can so manage matters, as to take away his own life, without being known or suspected to have done so, he is not chargeable with any mischief from the example ; nor does his punish- ment seem necessary, in order to save the au- thority of any general rule. In the first place, those who reason in this manner do not observe, that they are setting up a general rule, of all others the least to be endured; namely, that secrecy, whenever secrecy is prac- ticable, will justify any action. I Wore such a rule admitted, for instance, in the case above produced; is there not reason to fear that people would be disappearing per- petually 1 In the next place, I would wish them to be well satisfied about the points proposed in the following .queries; 1. Whether the Scriptures do not teach us to expect that, at the general judgment of the world, the most secret actions will be brought to light 1* 2. For what purpose can this be, but to make them the objects of reward and punish- ment. 3. Whether, being so brought to light, they will not fall under the operation of those equal and impartial rules, by which God will deal with his creatures 1 They will then become examples, whatever they be now; and require the same treatment from the judge and governor of the moral world, as if they had been detected from the first. CHAPTER VIII. The Consideration of General Consequences I pursued. THE general consequence of any action may be estimated, by asking what would be the conse- quence, if the same sort of actions were generally permitted. But suppose they were, and a thou- sand such actions perpetrated under this permis- sion; is it just to charge a single action with the collected guilt and mischief of the whole thousand 1 I answer, that the reason for prohibiting and punishing an action (and this reason may be called the guilt of the action, if you please) will always be in proportion to the whole mischief that would arise from the general impunity and toleration of actions of the same sort. " Whatever is expedient is right." But then it must be expedient on the whole, at the long run, in all its effects collateral and remote, as wefl as in those which are immediate and direct ; as it is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it makes no difference in what way or at what dis- tance they ensue. To impress this doctrine on the minds of young readers, and to teach them to extend their views beyond the immediate mischief of a crime, I shall tiere subjoin a string of instances, in which the particular consequence is comparatively insigni- ficant ; and where the malignity of the crime, and the severity with which human laws pursue it, is almost entirely founded upon the general consequence. The particular consequence of coining is, the loss of a guinea, or of half a guinea, to the person who receives the counterfeit money : the general consequence (by which I mean the consequence damage of twenty or thirty pounds to the man * " In the clay when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ." Rom. xi. 16. " Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart." 1 Cor. iv. 5. OF RIGHT. 41 who accepts the forged bill : the general conse- quence is. the stoppage of paper-currency. The particular consequence of sheep-stealing, or horse-stealing, is a loss to the owner, to the amount of the value of the sheep or horse stolen : the general consequence is, that the land could not be occupied, nor the market supplied, with this kind of stock. The particular consequence of breaking into a house empty of inhabitants, is, the loss ot a pair of silver candlesticks, or a few spoons : the gene- ral consequence is, that nobody could leave the house empty. The particular consequence of smuggling may be a deduction from the national fund too minute for computation : the general consequence is, the destruction of one entire branch of public revenue ; a proportionable increase of the burthen upon other branches ; and the ruin of all fair and open trade in the article smuggled. The particular consequence of an officer's breaking his parole is, the loss of a prisoner, who was possibly not worth keeping : the general con- sequence is, that this mitigation of captivity would be refused to all others. And what proves incontestably the superior importance of general consequence is, that crimes are the same, and treated in the same manner, though the particular consequence be very ditler- ent. The crime and fate of the house-breaker is the same, whether his booty be five pounds or fifty. And the reason is, that the general con- sequence is the same. The want of this distinction between particular and general consequences, or rather, the not suf- ficiently attending to the latter, is the cause of that perplexity which we meet with in ancient mo- ralists. On the one hand, they were sensible of the absurdity of pronouncing actions good or evil, without regard to the good or evil they produced. On the other hand, they were startled at the con- clusions to which a steady adherence to conse- quences seemed sometimes to conduct them. To relieve this difficulty, they contrived the TO jrpurov or the honestum, by which terms they meant to constitute a measure of right, distinct from utility. Whilst the utile served them, that is, whilst it corresponded with their habitual notions of the rectitude of actions, they went by it. When they fell in with such cases as those mentioned in the sixth chapter, they took leave of their guide, and resorted to the honestam. The only account they could give of the matter was. that these actions might be useful ; but, because they were not at the same time honesta, they were by rip means to be deemed just or right. From the principles delivered in this and the two preceding chapters, a maxim may be explained, which is in every man's mouth, and in most men's without meaning, viz. " not to do evil, that good may come :" that is, let us not violate a general rule, for the sake of any particular good conse- quence we may expect. Which is for the most part a salutary caution, the advantage seldom compensating for the violation of the rule. Strictly speaking, that cannot be " evil," from which " good comes ;' but in this way, ami with a view to the distinction between particular and general conse- quences, it may. We will conclude this subject of consequences with the following reflection. A man may imagine, that any action of his, with respect to the public, must be inconsiderable ; so also is the agent. If his crime produce but a small effect upon the universal interest, his punishment or destruction bears a small proportion to the sum of happiness and misery in the creation. CH'PTER IX. Of Right. RIGHT and obligation are reciprocal ; that is, I Z. wherever there is a right in one person, there is a corresponding obligation upon others. If one man has " a right to an estate, others are " obliged" to abstain from it: If parents have a "righ?' to reverence from their children, children are " oblig- ed" to reverence their parents : and so in all other instances. Now, because moral obligation depends, as we ii, upon the will of God ; right, which is correlative to it, must depend upon the same. Right, therefore, signifies, consistency -with the will of God. But if the Divine will determine the distinction of right and wrong, what else is it but an identical proposition, to say of God, that he acts right ? or how is it possible to conceive even that he should act wrong ? YeLJhesc assertions are intelligible iiinl significant. {The case is this: By virtue of the two principles, that God wills the happiness of his creatures, and that the will of God is the measure of right and wrong, we arrive at certain conclusions ; which conclusions become rules ; and we soon learn to pronounce actions right or wrong, according as they agree or disagree with our rules, without looking any further: and when the habit is once established of stopping at the rules, we can go back and compare with these rules even the Divine conduct itself; and yet it may be true (only not observed by us at the time) that the rules themselves are deduced from the Divine will. Right is a quality of persons or of actions. Of persons ; as when we say, such a one has a "right" to this estate ; parents have a " right" to reverence from their children; the king to alle- giance from his subjects; masters have "right" to their servants' labour ; a man has not a " right" over his own life. Of actions ; as in such expressions as the fol- lowing: it is "right" to punish murder with death ; his behaviour on that occasion was "right;" it is not " right" to send an unfortunate debtor to jail; he did or acted "right," who gave up his place, rather than vote against his judgment. In this latter set of expressions, you may sub- stitute the definition of right above given, for the term itself: e.g. it is" consistent with the will of God to punish murder with death ; his behaviour on that occasion was " consistent with the will of God ;" it is not " consistent with the will of God" to send an unfortunate debtor to jail ; he did, or acted, " consistently with the will of God," who gave up his place, rather than vote against his judgment. In the former set, you must vary the construc- tion a little, when you introduce the definition instead of the term. Such a one has a " right" to this estate, that is, it is " consistent with the will of God" that such a one should have it ; parents have a " right" to reverence from their children^ 43 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. that is, it is :{ consistent with the will of God" that children should reverence their parents j and the same of the rest. CHAPTER X. The Division of Rights. RIGHTS, when applied to persons, are Natural or adventitious : Alienable or unalienable: Perfect or imperfect. I. Rights are natural or adventitious. Natural rights are such as would belong to a man, although there subsisted in the world no civil government whatever. Adventitious rights are such as would not. Natural rights are, a man's right to his life, limbs, and liberty ; his right to the produce of his personal labour ; to the use, in common with others, of air, light, water. If a thousand different persons, from a thousand different corners of the world, were cast together upon a desert island, they would from the first be every one entitled to these rights. Adventitious rights are, the right of a king over his subjects ; of a general over his soldiers ; of a judge over the life and liberty of a prisoner ; a right to elect or appoint magistrates, to impose taxes, decide disputes, direct the descent or dispo- sition of property ; a right, in a word, in any one man, or particular body of men, to make laws and regulations for the rest. For none of these rights would exist in the newly inhabited island. And here it will be asked, how adventitious rights are created ; or, which is the same thing, how any new rights can accrue from the estab- lishment of civil society ; as rights of all kinds, we remember, depend upon the will of God, and ci- vil society is but the ordinance and institution of man 7 For the solution of this difficulty, we must return to our first principles. God wills the hap- piness of mankind ; and the existence of civil so- ciety, as conducive to that happiness. Conse- V quently, many things, which are useful for the support of civil society in general, or for the con- duct and conversation of particular societies al- ready established, are, for that reason, " consistent with the will of God," or " right," which, without that reason, i. e. without the establishment of ci- vil society, would not have been so. From whence also it appears, that adventitious rights, though immediately derived from human appointment, are not, for that reason, less sacred than natural rights, nor the obligation to respect them less cogent. They both ultimately rely upon the same authority, the will of God. Such a man claims a right to a particular estate. He can show, it is true, nothing for his right, but a rule of the civil community to which he belongs ; and this rule may be arbitrary, capricious, and absurd. Notwithstanding all this, there would be the same sin in dispossessing the man of his estate by craft or violence, as if it had been as- signed to him, like the partition of the country amongst the twelve tribes, by the immediate desig- nation and appointment of Heaven. II. Rights are alienable or unalienable. Which terms explain themselves. The right we have to most of those things which we call property, as houses, lands, money, &c. is alienable. The right of a prince over his people, of a hu-' band over his wile, of a master over his servant,; is generally and naturally unalienable. The distinction depends upon the mode of ac-\ quiring the right. If the right originate from a con- tract, and be limited to the person, by the express terms of the contract, or by the common interpre- tation of such contracts (which is equivalent to an express stipulation,) or by a personal condition annexed to the right ; then it is unalienable. In all other cases it is alienable. / The right to civil liberty is alienable ; though in the vehemence of men's zeal for it, and the language of some political remonstrances, it has often been pronounced to be an unalienable right^ The true reason why mankind hold in detestation the memory of those who have sold their liberty to a tyrant, is, that, together with their own, they sold commonly, or endangered, the liberty of others j which certainly they had no right to dispose of. III. Rights are perfect or imperfect. Perfect rights may be asserted by force, or, what in civil society comes into the place of private force, by course of law. Imperfect rights may not. Examples of perfect rights. A man's right to his life, person, house ; for, if these be attacked, he may repel the attack by instant violence, or punish the aggressor by law : a man's right to his estate, furniture, clothes, money, and to all ordi- nary articles of property ; for, if they be injurious- ly taken from him, he may compel the author of the injury to make restitution or satisfaction. Examples of imperfect rights. In elections or " appointments to offices, where the qualifications are prescribed, the best qualified candidate has a right to success; yet, if he be rejected, he has no remedy. He can neither seize the office by force, nor obtain redress at law ; his right therefore is imperfect. A poor neighbour has a right to re- lief; yet, if it be refused him, he must not extort it. A benefactor has a, right to returns of gra- titude from the person he has obliged ; yet, if he meet with none, he must acquiesce. Children have a right to affection and education from their parents ; and parents, on their part, to duty and reverence from their children ; yet, if these rights be on either side withholden, there is no compul- sion by which they can be enforced. It may be at first view difficult to apprehend how a person should have a right to a thing, and yet have no right to use the means necessary to obtain it. This difficulty, like most others in mo- rality, is resolvable into the necessity of general rules. The reader recollects, that a person is said to have a " right" to a thing, when it is " consistent with the will of God" that he should possess it. So that the question is reduced to this : How it conies to pass that it should be consistent with the will of God that a person should possess a thing, and yet not be consistent with the same will that he should use force to obtain it? The answer is, that by reason of the indeterminateness either of the object, or of the circumstances of the right, the permission of force in this case would, in its consequence, lead to the permission of force in other cases, where there existed no right at all. The candidate above described has, no doubt, a right to success ; but his right depends upon his qualifications, for in- stance, upon his comparative virtue, learning, &c. there must be some body therefore to compare them. The existence, degree, and respective im- GENERAL RIGHTS OF MANKIND. 43 portance, of these qualifications, are all indeter- minate : there must be somebody therefore to deter- mine them. To allow the candidate to demand suc- cess by force, is to make him the judge of his own qualifications. You cannot do this, but you must make all other candidates the same; which would open a door to demands without number, reason, or right. In like manner, a poor man has a right to relief from the rich ; but the mode, season, and quantum of that relief, who shall contribute to it, or how much, are not ascertained. Yet these points must be ascertained, before a claim to relief can be prosecuted by force. For, to allow the poor to ascer- tain them for themselves, would be to expose pro perty to so many of these claims, that it would lose its value, or rather its nature, that ie. cease indeed to be property. The same observation holds of all other cases of imperfect rights ; not to mention, that in the instances of gratitude, affection, reverence, and the like, force is ex eluded by the very idea of the duty, which must be voluntary, or cannot exist at all. Wherever the right is imperfect, the correspond- ing obligation is so too. I am obliged to prefer the best candidate, to relieve the poor, be grateful to my benefactors, take care of my children, and reverence my parents ; but in all these cases, my obligation, like their right, is imperfect. I call these obligations " imperfect" in conform- ity to the eslal dished language of writers upon the subject. The term, however, seems ill chosen on this account, that it leads many to imagine, that there is less guilt in the violation of an im- perfect obligation, than of a perfect one: which is a groundless notion. For an obligation being per- fect or imperfect, determines only whether violence may or may not be employed to enforce it ; and determines nothing else. The degree of guilt incurred by violating the obligation, is a different thing, and is determined by circumstances alto- gether independent of this distinction. A man who, by a partial, prejudiced, or corrupt vote, dis- appoints a worthy candidate of a station in life, upon which his hopes, possibly, or livelihood, de- pended, and who thereby grievously discourages merit and emulation in others, commits, I am per- suaded, a much greater crime, than if he filched a book out of a library, or picked a pocket of a handkerchief; though in the one case he violates only an imperfect right, in the other a perfect one. As positive precepts are often indeterminate in their extent, and as the indeterminateness of an ob- ligation is that which makes it imperfect ; it comes to pass, that positive precepts commonly produce an imperfect obligation. Negative precepts or prohibitions, being general- ly precise, constitute accordingly perfect obliga- tions. The fifth commandment is positive, and the duty which results from it is imperfect. The sixth commandment is negative, and im- poses a perfect obligation. Religion and virtue find their principal exercise among the imperfect obligations ; the laws of ci- vil society taking pretty good care of the rest. CHAPTER XI. T7ie General Rights of Mankind. BY the General rights of Mankind, I mean the rights which belong to the species collectively ; the original stock, as I may say, which they have since distributed among themselves. These are, 1. A right to the fruits or vegetable produce of ts the earth. The insensible parts of the creation are inca- pable of injury ; and it is nugatory to inquire in- to the right, where the use can be attended with no injury. But it may be worth observing, for the sake of an inference which will appear below, that, as God had created us with a want *nd de- sire of food, and provided things suited by their nature to sustain and satisfy us, we may fairly pre- sume, that he intended we should apply these things to that purpose. 2. A right to the flesh of animals. \/ This is a very different claim from the former. Some excuse seems necessary for the pain and loss which we occasion to brutes, by restraining them of their liberty, mutilating their IxxUes, and, at last,putting an end to their lives (which we sup- pose to be the whole of their existence,) for our pleasure or conveniency. The reasons alleged in vindication of this prac- tice, are the following : that the several species of brutes being created to prey upon one another, affords a kind of analogy to prove that the human species were intended to feed upon them ; that, if let alone, they would over-run the earth, and ex- clude mankind from the .occupation of it ; that they are requited for what they suffer at our hands, by our care and protection. Upon which reasons I would observe, that the analogy contended for is extremely lame ; since brutes have no power to support life by any other means, and since we have ; tor the whole human species might subsist entirely upon fruit, pulse, herbs, ana roots, as many tribes of Hindoos ac- tually do. The two other reasons may bfe valid reasons, as far as they go ; for, no doubt, if man had been supported entirely by vegetable food, a great part of those animals which die to furnish his table, would never have lived : but they by no means justify our right over the lives of brutes to the extent in which we exercise it. What danger is there, for instance, of fish interfering with us, in the occupation of their element 1 or what do we contribute to their support or preser- vation 7 It seems to me, that it would be difficult to de- fend this right by any arguments which the light and order of nature afford ; and that we are beholden for it to the permission recorded in Scrip- ture, Gen. ix. 1, 2, 3 : " And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth : and the fear of you, and the dread of you, shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, and upon all that moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes of the sea ; into your hand are they delivered ; every moving thing shall be meat for you ; even as the green herb, have I given you all things." To Adam and his pos- terity had been granted, at the creation, "every green herb for meat," and nothing more. In the last clause of the passage now produced, the old grant is recited, and extended to the flesh of ani- mals ; " even as the green herb, have I given you all things." But this was not till after the flood ; the inhabitants of the antediluvian world had therefore no such permission, that we know of. Whether they actually refrained from the fleah 11 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. of animals, is another question. Abel, we read, was a keeper of sheep ; and for what purpose he kept them, except for food, is difficult to say, (un- less it were sacrifices :) might not, however, some of the stricter sects among the antediluvians be scrupulous as to this point '< and might not Noah and his family be of -this- description { for it is not probable that God would publish a permission, to authorise a practice, which had never been dis- puted. Wanton; and, what is worse, studied cruelty to brutes, is certainly wrong, as coming within one of these reasons. From reason then, or revelation, or from both together, it appears to be God Almighty's inten- tion, that the productions of the earth, should be applied to the sustentation of human life. Con- sequently all waste and misapplication of these pro- ductions, is contrary to the Divine intention and will ; and therefore wrong, for the same reason that any other crime is so. Such as, what is re- lated of William the Conqueror, the converting of twenty manors into a forest tor hunting ; or, which is not much better, suffering them to con- tinue in that state ; or the letting of large tracts of land lie barren, because the owner cannot cultivate them, nor will part with them to those who can ; or destroying, or suffering to perish, great part of an article of human provision, in order to enhance the price of the remainder, (which is said to have been, till lately, the case with fish caught upon the English coast ;) or diminishing the breed of animals, by a wanton, or improvident, consump- tion of the young, as of the spawn of shell-fish, or the fry of salmon, by the use of unlawful nets, or at improper seasons : to this head may also be re- ferred, what is the same evil in a smaller way, the expending of human food on superfluous dogs or horses; and, lastly, the reducing of the quanti- ty, in order to alter the quality, and to alter it ge- nerally for the worse ; as the distillation of spirits from bread-corn, the boiling down of solid meat for sauces, essence^*, &c. This seems to be the lesson which our Saviour, after his manner, inculcates, when he bids his disciples " gather up the fragments that nothing be lost." And it opens indeed a new field of duty. Schemes of wealth or profit, prompt the ac- tive part of mankind to cast about, how they may convert their property to the most advantage ; and their own advantage, and that of the public, com- monly concur. But it has not as yet entered into the minds of mankind to reflect that it is a duty, to add what we can to the common stock of provision, by extracting out of our estates the most they will yield; or that it is any sin to neglect this. From the same intention of God Almighty, we also deduce another conclusion, namely " that no- thing ought to be made exclusive property, which can be conveniently enjoyed in common." It is the general intention of God Almighty, that the produce of the earth be applied to the use of man. This appears from the constitution of na- ture ; or, if you will, from his ex press declaration ; and this is all that appears at first. Under this general donation, one man has the same right as another. You pluck an apple from a tree, or take a lamb from a flock, for your immediate use and nourishment, and 1 do the same ; and we both plead for what we do, the general intention of the Supreme Proprietor. So far all is right : but you cannot claim the whole tree, or the whole flock, and exclude me from any share of them, and plead this general intention for what you do. The plea will not serve you ; you must show something more. You must show, by probable arguments at least, that it is God's intention, that these tilings should be parcelled out to individuals ; and that the established distribution, under which you claim, should be upholden. Show me this, and I am satisfied. But until this be shown, the general intention, which has been made appear, and which is all that does appear, must prevail ; and, under that, my title is as good as yours. Now there is no ar- gument to induce such a presumption, but one ; that the thing cannot be enjoyed at all, or enjoy- ed with the same, or with nearly the same advan- tage, while it continues in common, as when ap- propriated. This is true, where there is not enough for all, or where the article in question requires care or labour in the production or pre- servation : but where no such reason obtains, and the thing is in its nature capable of being enjoyed by as many as will, it seems an arbitrary usurpation upon the rights of mankind, to confine the use of it to any. If a medicinal spring were discovered in a piece of ground which was private property, copious enough for every purpose to which it could be ap- plied, I would award a compensation to the owner of the field, and a liberal profit to the author of the discovery, especially if he had bestowed pains or ex- pense upon the search : but I question whether any human laws would be justified, or would justify the owner, in prohibiting mankind from the use of the water, or setting such a price upon it as would almost amount to a prohibition. If there be fisheries, which are inexhaustible, as the cod-fishery upon the Banks of Newfound- land, and the herring-fishery in the British seas, are said to be ; then all those conventions, by which one or two nations claim to themselves, and gua- ranty to each other, the exclusive enjoyment of these fisheries, are so many encroachments upon the general rights of mankind. Upon the same principle may be determined a question, which makes a great figure in books of natural law, utrum mare sit liber urn ? that is, as I understand it, whether the exclusive right of navi- gating particular seas, or a control over the naviga- tion of these seas, can be claimed, consistently with the law of nature, by any nation 7 What is necessary for each nation's safety, we allow : as their own bays, creeks, and harbours, the sea con- tiguous to, that is within cannon shot, or three mark to the Baltic Sea, and of Great Britain, to the seas which invest the island. But, when Spain asserts a right to the Pacific Ocean, or Portugal to the Indian Seas, or when any nation extends its pretensions much beyond the limits of its own ' territories, they erect a claim which interferes with the benevolent designs of Providence, and which no human authority can justify. 3. Another right, which may be called a gene-f ral right, as it is incidental to every man who is : - ! a situation to claim it, is the right of extreme n ce^sity ; by which is meant, a right to use or des troy another's property when it is necessary *'~ RELATIVE DUTIES. 45 our o*m preservation to do so ; as a right to take, without or against the owner's leave, the first food, clothes, or shelter, we meet with, when we are in danger of perishing through want of them ; a right to throw goods overboard to save the ship ; or to pull down a house, in order to stop the progress of a fire ; and a few other instances of the same kind. Of which right the foundation seems to be this: that when property was first instituted, the insti- tution was not intended to operate to the destruc- tion of any ; therefore when such consequences would follow, ail regard to it is superseded. Or rather, perhaps, these are the few cases, where the particular consequence exceeds the general con- sequence; where the remote mischief resulting from the violation of the general rule, is overba- lanced by the immediate advantage. Restitution, however, is due, when in our power ; because the laws of property are to be adhered to. so far as consists with safety ; and because restitu- tion, which is one of those laws, supposes the dan- ger to be over. But what is to be restored 1 Not the full value of the property destroyed, but what it was worth at the time of destroying it ; which, considering the danger it was in of perishing, might be very little. BOOK III. RELATIVE DUTIES. PART I. OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE DETER- MINATE. CHAPTER I. Of Properly. I IP you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of corn : and if (instead of each picking where and what it liked, taking just as much as it wanted, and no more) you should see ninety-nine of them gathering all they got, into a heap; resrr\in^ nothing for themselves, but the chaff and the refuse ; keeping this heap for one, and that the weakest, perhaps worst, pigeon of the flock ; sitting round, and looking on, all the winter, whilst this one was devouring, throwing about, and wasting it; and if a pigeon more hardy or hungry than the rest, touched a grain of the hoard, all the others flying upon it and tearing it to pieces; if you should see this, you would see nothing more than what is every day practised and established among men. Among men, you see the ninety-and-nine toiling and scrap- ing together a heap of superfluities for one (ant this one too, oftentimes the feeblest and worst of the whole set, a child, a woman, a madman, or a fool ;) getting nothing for themselves all the while but a little of the coarsest of the provision, which their own industry produces ; looking quietly on while they see the fruits of all their labour spent or spoiled ; and if one of the number take or touch a particle of the hoard, the others joining against him, and hanging him for the theft. CHAPTER II. The Useof the Institution of Property. THERE must be some very important advantages o account for an institution, which, in the view of t above given, is so paradoxical and unnatural. The principal of these advantages are the fol- owing : I. It increases the produce of the earth. The earth, in climates like ours, produces little without cultivation : and none would be found wil- ing to cultivate the ground, if others were to be ad- mitted to an equal share of the produce. The same s true of the care of flocks and herds of tame animals. Crabs and acorns, red deer, rabbits, game, and fish, are all which we should have to subsist upon n this country, if we trusted to the spontaneous >roductions oi the soil : and it fares not much bet- .er with other countries. A nation of North American savages, consisting of two or three hun- dred, will take up, and be half starved upon, a ract of land, which in Europe, and with European management, would be sufficient for the mainte- nance of as many thousands. In some fertile soils, together with great abun- dance of fish upon their coasts, and in regions, where clothes are unnecessary, a considerable de- rree of population may subsist without property n land ; which is the case in the islands of Otaheite ; >ut in less favoured situations, as in the country of New Zealand, though this sort of property ob- tain in a small degree, the inhabitants, for want of a more secure and regular establishment of it, are driven oftentimes by the scarcity of provision to devour one another. II. It preserves the produce of the earth to ma- turity. We may judge what would be the effects of a community of right to the productions of the earth, from the trifling specimens which we see of it at present. A cherry-tree in a hedge-row, nuts in a wood, the grass of an unstinted pasture, are sel- dom of much advantage to any body, because peo- ple do not wait for the proper season of reaping them. Corn, if any were sown, would never ripen ; lambs and calves would never grow up to sheep and cows, because the first person that met them would reflect, that he had better take them as they are, than leave them for inother. III. It prevents contests. War and waste, tumult and confusion, must be unavoidable and eternal, where there is not enough for all, and where there are no rules to adjust the division. IV. It improves the conveniency of living. This it does two ways. It enables mankind to divide themselves into distinct professions ; which is impossible, unless a man can exchange the pro- ductions of his own art for what he wants from others ; and exchange implies property. Much of the advantage of civilized over savage life, de- pends upon this. When a man is from necessity his own tailor, tent-maker, carpenter, cook, hunts- man, and fisherman, it is not probable that he will be expert at any of his callings. Hence the rude habitations, furniture, clothing, and implements of savages ; and the tedious length of time which all their operations require. It likewise encourages those arts, by which the accommodations of human life are supplied, by appropriating to the artist the benefit of his dis- coveries and improvements ; without which appro- MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. priation, ingenuity will never be exerted with ef- fect. Upon these several accounts we may venture, with a few exceptions, to pronounce, that ever the poorest and the worst provided, in countries where property and the consequences of property prevail, are in a better situation, with respect to food, raiment, houses, and what are called the ne- cessaries of life, than any are in places where most things remain in common. The balance, therefore, upon the whole, must preponderate in favour of property with a manifest and great excess. Inequality of property, in the degree in which it exists in most countries of Europe, abstractedly considered, is an evil : but it is an evil which flows from those rules concerning the acquisition and disposal of property, by which men are incited to industry, and by which the object of their indus- try, is rendered secure and valuable. If there be any great inequality unconnected with this origin, it ought to be corrected. CHAPTER III. The History of Property. THE first objects of property were the fruits which a man gathered, and the wild animals he caught ; next to these, the tents or houses which he built, the tools he made use of to catch or pre- pare his food ; and afterwards weapons of war and offence. Many of the savage tribes in North America have advanced no further than this yet ; for they are said to reap their harvest, and return the produce of their market with foreigners, into the common hoard or treasury of the tribe. Flocks and herds of tame animals soon became property ; Abel, the second from Adam, was a keeper of sheep ; sheep and oxen, camels and asses, composed the wealth of the Jewish patriarchs, as they do still of the modern Arabs. As the world was first peopled in the East, where there existed a great scarcity of water, wells probably were next made property; as we learn from the frequent and serious mention of them in the Old Testament ; the contentions and treaties about them ;* and from its being recorded, among the most memorable achievements of very em; nent men, that they dug, or discovered a well. Land, which is now so im- portant a part of property, which alone our laws call real property, and regard upon all occasions with such peculiar attention, was probably not made property in any country, till long after the institution of many other species of property, that is, till the country became populous, and tillage began to be thought of. The first partition of an estate which we read of, was that which took place between Abrara and Lot, and was one of the simplest imaginable : "Ifthou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left." There are no traces of property in land in Caesar's ac- count of Britain ; little of it in the history of the Jewish patriarchs ; none of it found amongst the nations of North America ; the Scythians are ex- pressly said to have appropriated their cattle and nouses, but to have left their land in common. Property in immoveables continued at first no longer than the occupation : that is, so long as a * Genesis xxi. 25 ; xxvi. 18. man's family continued in possession of a cave or whilst his flocks depastured upon a neighbouring hill, no one attempted, or thought he had a right to disturb or drive them out: but when the man quitted his cave, or changed his pasture, the first who found them unoccupied, entered upon them, by the same title as his predecessors ; and made way in his turn for any one that happened to succeed him. All more permanent property in land was probably poste- rior to civil government and to laws; and therefore settled by these, or according to the will of the reign- ing chief. CHAPTER IV. In what the Right of Property is Founded, WE now speak of Property in Land : and there is a difficulty in explaining the origin of tliis pro- perty, consistently with the law of nature ; for the land was once, no doubt, common ; and the ques- tion is, how any particular part of it could justly be taken out of the common, and so appropriated to the first owner, as to give him a better right to it than others ; and, what is more, a right to ex- clude all others from it. Moralists have given many different accounts of this matter ; which diversity alone, perhaps, is a proof that none of them are satisfactory. One tells us that mankind, when they suffered a particular person to occupy a piece of ground, by tacit consent relinquished their right to it ; and as the piece of ground, they say, belonged to man- kind collectively, and mankind thus gave up their right to the first peaceable occupier, it thencefor- ward became his property, and no one afterwards had a right to molest him in it. The objection to this account is, that consent ctn never be presumed from silence, where the person whose consent is required knows nothing about the matter ; which must have been the case with all mankind, except the neighbourhood of the place where the appropriation was made. And to suppose hat the piece of ground previously belonged to the leighbourhood, and that they had a just power of conferring a right to it upon whom they pleased, is to suppose the question resolved, and a partition of and to have already taken place. Another says, that each man's limbs and labour are his own exclusively ; that, by occupying a piece of ground, a man inseparably mixes his labour with it ; by which means the piece of ground be- jomes thenceforward his own, as you cannot take t from him without depriving him at the same ime of something which is indisputably his. This is Mr. Locke's solution ; and seems in- deed a fair reason, where the value of the labour bears a considerable proportion to the value of the hing ; or where the thing derives its chief use and value from the labour. Thus game and fish, hough they be common whilst at large in the woods or water, instantly Income the property of he person that catches them ; because an animal, when caught, is much more valuable than when at liberty ; and this increase of value, which is in- separable from, and makes a great part of, the whole value, is strictly the property of the fowler r fisherman, being the produce of his personal abour. For the same reason, wood or iron, manufactured into utensils, becomes the property of the manufacturer; because the value of the workmanship far exceeds that of the materials PROPERTY IN LAND. 47 round And upon a similar principle, a parcel of unap- propriated ground, which a man should pare, burn, plough, harrow, and sow, for the production of corn, would justly enough be thereby made his own. But this will hardly hold, in the manner it has been applied, of taking a ceremonious pos- session of a tract of land, as navigators do of new- discovered islands, by erecting a standard, en- graving an inscription, or publishing a proclama- tion to the birds and beasts; or of turning your cattle into a piece of ground, setting up a ' mark, digging a ditch, or planting a hedge i it. Nor will even the clearing, manuring, and ploughing of a field, give the first occupier a right to it in perpetuity, and after this cultivation and all effects of it are ceased. Another, and in my opinion a better, account of the first right of ownership, is the following : that, as God has provided these tilings for the use of all, he has of consequence given each leave to take of them what he wants ; by virtue therefore of this leave, a man may appropriate what he stands in need of to his own use, without asking, or waiting for, the consent of others ; in like man- ner as, when an entertainment is provided for the freeholders of a county, each freeholder goes, and eats and drinks what he wants or chooses, without having or waiting for the consent of the other guests. But then this reason justifies property, as far as necessaries alone, or, at the most, as far as a com- petent provision for our natural exigences. For, in the entertainment we speak of (allowing the comparison to hold in all points,) although every particular freeholder may sit down and eat till he be satisfied, without any other leave than that of the master of the feast, or any other proof of that leave, than the general invitation, or the manifest design with which the entertainment is provided ; yet you would hardly permit any one to fill his pockets or his walletj or to carry away with him a quantity of provision to be hoarded up, or wasted, or given to his dogs, or stewed down into sauces, or converted into articles of superfluous luxury ; especially if, by so doing, he pinched the guests at the lower end of the table. These are the accounts that have been given of the matter by the best writers upon the subject, but were these accounts perfectly unexceptionable, they would none of them, I fear, avail us in vin- dicating our present claims of property in land, unless it were more probable than it is, that our estates were actually acquired at first, in some of the ways which these accounts suppose ; and that a regular regard had been paid to justice, in every successive transmission of them since ; for, if one link in the chain fail, every title posterior to it f falls to the ground. l\{ The real foundation of our right is, THE LAW >.\\OF THE LAND. It is the intention of God, that the produce of the earth be applied to the use of man : this in- tention cannot be fulfilled without establishing property ; it is consistent, therefore, with Ms will, that property be established. The land cannot l>e divided into separate property, without leaving it to the law of the country to regulate that divi- sion : it is consistent therefore with the same will, that the law should regulate the division; and, consequently, " consistent with the will of God," or, " right," that I should possess that share which these regulations assign me. By whatever circuitous train of reasoning you attempt to derive this right, it must terminate at last in the will of God; the straightest there- fore, and shortest way of arriving at this will, is the best. Hence it appears, that my right to an estate does not at all depend upon the manner or justice of the original acquisition ; nor upon the justice of each subsequent change of possession. It is not, for instance, the less, nor ought it to be im- peached, because the estate was taken possession, of at first by a family of aboriginal Britons, who happened to be stronger than then* neighbours; nor because the British possessor was turned out by a Roman, or the Roman by a Saxon invader ; nor because it was seized, without color of right or reason, by a follower of the Norman adventurer ; from whom, after many interruptions of fraud and violence, it has at length devolved to me. Nor does the owner's right depend upon the expediency of the law which gives it to hun. On one side of a brook, an estate descends to the eldest son ; on the other side, to all the children alike. The right of the claimants under both laws of inheritance is equal; though the expediency of such opposite rules must necessarily be different. The principles we have laid down upon this subject apparently tend to a conclusion of which a bad use is apt to be made. As the right of pro- ' perty depends upon the law of the land, it seems to follow, that a man has a right to keep and take every thing which the law will allow him to keep and take ; which in many cases will authorize the most flagitious chicanery. If a creditor upon a simple contract neglect to demand liis debt for six years, the debtor may refuse to pay it ; would it be right therefore to do so, where he is conscious . of the justice of the debt ] If a person, who is ! under twenty -one years of age, contract a bargain (other than for necessaries,) he may avoid it bj pleading his minority: but would this be a fair plea, where the bargain was originally just 1 The ' distinction to be taken in such cases is this : With t the law, we acknowledge, resides the disposal of , property: so long, therefore, as we keep within ' the design and intention of a law, that law will justify us as well in foro conscientice, as in foro humano, whatever be the equity or expediency of the law itself. But when we convert to one pur- pose, a rule or expression of law, which is intended for another purpose, then we plead in our justifi- cation, not the intention of the law, but the words ; that is, we plead a dead letter, which can signify nothing ; for words without meaning or intention, have no force or eflect in justice; much less, words taken contrary to the meaning and inten- tion of the speaker or writer To apply this dis- tinction to the examples just now proposed : in order to protect men against antiquatea demands, from which it is not probable they should have preserved the evidence of their discharge, the law prescribes a limited time to certain species of pri- vate securities, beyond which it will not enforce them, or lend its assistance to the recovery of the debt. If a man be ignorant or dubious of the justice of the demand made upon him, he may conscientiously plead this limitation ; because he applies the rule of law to the purpose for which, it was intended. But when he refuses to pay a debt, of the reality of which he is conscious, he cannot, as before, plead the intention of the statute, and the supreme authority of law, unless he could 48 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. show, that the law intended to interpose its su- preme authority, to acquit men of debts, of the existence and justice of which they were them- selves sensible. Again, to preserve youth from the practices and impositions to which their inex- perience exposes them, the law compels the pay- ment of no debts incurred within a certain age, nor the performance of any engagements, except for such necessaries as are suited to their condition and fortunes. If a young person therefore per- ceive that he has been practised or imposed upon, he may honestly avail himself of the privilege ol his nonage, to defeat the circumvention. But, il he shelter himself under this privilege, to avoid a fair obligation, or an equitable contract, he extends the privilege to a case, in which it is not allowed by intention of law, and in which consequently it does not, in natural justice, exist. As property is the principal subject of justice, or of " the determinate relative duties," we have put down what we had to say upon it in the first place : we now proceed to state these duties in the best order we can. CHAPTER V. Promises. I. From whence the obligation to perform pro- mises arises. II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. III. In what cases promises are not binding'. I. From whence the obligation to perform pro- mises arises. They who argue from innate moral principles, suppose a sense of the obligation of promises to be one of them ; but without assuming this, or any thing else, without proof, the obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the necessity of such a conduct to the well-being, or the existence indeed, of human society. Men act from Expectation. Expectation is in most cases determined by the assurances and en- gagements which we receive from others. If no dependence could be placed upon these assurances, it would be impossible to know what judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate ; our conduct with respect to them. Confidence therefore in promises, is essential to the intercourse of human life ; because, without it, the greatest part of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there could be no confidence in promises, if men were not obliged to perform them ; the obli- gation therefore to perform promises, is essential to the same ends, and in the same degree. Some may imagine, that if this obligation were suspended, a general caution and mutual distrust would ensue, which might do as well : but this is imagined, without considering how, every hour of our lives, we trust to, and depend upon, others ; and how impossible it is, to stir a step, or, what is worse, to sit still a moment, without such trust and dependence. I am now writing at my ease, not doubting (or rather never distrusting, and therefore never thinking about it) that the butcher will send in the joint of meat which I ordered ; that his servant will bring it ; that my cook will dress it; that my footman will serve it up; that I shall find it upon table at one o'clock. Yet have 1 nothing for all this, but the promise of the butcher, and the implied promise of his servant and mine. And the same holds of the most im- j portant as well as the most familiar occurrences of | social life. In the one, the intervention of pro- mises is formal, and is seen and acknowledged; our instance, therefore, is intended to show it in the other, where it is not so distinctly observed. II. In what sense promises are to be interpreted. Where the terms of promise admit of more senses than one, the promise is to be performed " in that sense in which the promiser apprehended, at the time that the promisee received it." It is not the sense in which the promiser actually intended it, that always governs the interpretation of an equivocal promise; because, at that rate, you might excite expectations, which you never meant, nor would be obliged to satisfy. Much less is it the sense, in which the promisee actually received the promise ; for, according to that rule, you might be drawn into engagements which you never designed to undertake. It must, therefore, be the sense (for there is no other remaining) in which the promiser believed that the promisee accepted his promise. This will not differ from the actual intention of the promiser, where the promise is given without collusion or reserve : but we put the rule in the above form, to exclude evasion in cases in which the popular meaning of a phrase, and the strict grammatical signification of the words differ ; or, m general, wherever the promiser atlempts to make his escape through some ambiguity in the expressions which he used. Temures promised the garrison of Sebastia, that, if they would surrender, no blood should be shed. The garrison surrendered; and Temures buried them all alive. Now Temures fulfilled the promise in one sense, and in the sense too in which he intended it at the time; but not the sense in which the garrison of Sebastia actually received it, nor in the sense in which Temures himself knew that the garrison received it : which last sense, according to pur rule, was the sense in which he was in conscience bound to have per- formed it. From the account we have given of the obliga- tion of promises, it is evident, that this obligation de- pends upon the expectations which we knowingly and voluntarily excite. Consequently, any action or conduct towards another, which we are sensible excites expectations in that other, is as much a promise, and creates as strict an obligation, as the most express assurances. Taking, for instance, a kinsman's child, and educating him for a liberal profession, or in a manner suitable only for the leir of a large fortune, as much obliges us to place lim in that profession, or to leave him such a for- tune, as if we had given him a promise to do so under our hands and seals. In like manner, a great man, who encourages an indigent retainer ; or a minister of state, who distinguishes and caresses at his levee one who is in a situation to te obliged by his patronage; engages, by such )ehaviour, to provide for him. This is the foun- dation of tacit promises. You may either simply declare your present intention, or you may accompany your declaration with an engagement to abide by it, which con- stitutes a complete promise. In the first case, the duty is satisfied, if you were sincere at the time, that is if vou entertained at the time the intention PROMISES. 49 ry wnn incm me rorce 01 ausoiuie promises. :h as, "I intend you this place" " I design to re, you this estate" " I purpose giving you my 3" "I mean to serve you." in which, al- you expressed, however soon, or for whatever [ reason, you afterwards change it. In the latter case, you have parted with the liberty of changing. All this is plain: but it must be observed, that most of those forms of speech, which, strictly taken, amount to no more than declarations of present intention, do yet, in the usual way of understand- ing them, excite the expectation, and therefore carry with them the force of absolute promises. Such leave vote" " 1 mean to serve you though the "intention,"' the "design," the "pur- pose, the "meaning," be expressed in words of the present time, yet you cannot afterwards recede from them without a breach of good faith. It' you choose therefore to make known your present intention, and yet to reserve to yourself the liberty of changing it, you must guard your expressions by an auitiona! clause, as, " I intend at present" "if I do not alter ," or the like. And after all, as there can be no reason for communicating your intention, but to excite some degree of expectation or other, a wanton change of an intention which is once disclosed, always disappoints somebody; and is always, for that reason, wrong. There is, in some men, an infirmity with regard to promises, which often betrays them into great distress. From the confusion, or hesitation, or obscurity, with which they express themselves, especially when overawed or taken by surprise, they sometimes encourage expectations, and bring upon themselves demands, which, possibly, they never dreamed of. This is a want, not so much of integrity, as of presence of mind. III. In what cases promises are not binding, y 1. Promises are not binding, where the perfor- mance is impossible. But observe, that the promiser is guilty of a fraud, if he be secretly aware of the impossibility. at the time of making the promise. For, when any one promises a thing, he asserts his belief, at least, of the possibility of performing it ; as no one can accept or understand a promise under any other supposition. Instances of this sort are the following : The minister promises a place, which he knows to be engaged, or not at his disposal : A father, in settling marriage-articles, promises to leave his daughter an estate, which he knows to be entailed upon the heir male of his family: A merchant promises a ship, or share of a ship, which he is privately advised is lost at sea: An incumbent promises to resign a living, being pre- viously assured that his resignation will not be accepted by the bishop. The promiser, as in these cases, with knowledge of the impossibility, is justly answerable in an equivalent ; but other- wise not. When the promiser himself occasions the im- possibility, it is neither more nor less than a direct breach of the promise ; as when a soldier maims, or a servant disables himself, to get rid of his , engagements. * 2. Promises are not binding, where the per- formance is unlawful. There are two cases of this : one, where the unlawfulness is known to the parties, at the time of making the promise ; as where an assassin pro- mises his employer to despatch his rival or his enemy ; a servant to betray his master; a pimp to procure a mistress ; or a friend to give his as- sistance in a scheme of seduction. The parties in these cases are not obliged to perform what the promise requires, because they were under a prior obligation to the contrary. From which prior obligation what is there to discharge them 1 I 1 heir promise, their own act and deed. But an obli- gation, from which a man can discharge himself by his own act, is no obligation at all. The guilt therefore of such promises lies in the making, not in the breaking of them ; and if, in the interval betwixt the promise and the performance, a man so far recover his reflection, as to repent of his engagements, he ought certainly to break through them. The other case is, where the unlawfulness did not exist, or was not known, at the time of making the promise; as where a merchant promises his correspondent abroad, to- send him a ship load of corn at a time appointed, and before the time arrive, an embargo is laid upon the exportation of corn : A woman gives a promise of marriage ; before the marriage, she discovers that her intended husband is too nearly related to her, or that he has a wife yet living. In all such cases, where the contrary does not appear, it must be presumed that the parties supposed what they promised to be lawful, and that the promise proceeded entirely upon this supposition. The lawfulness therefore becomes a condition of the promise ; which con- dition failing, the obligation ceases. Of the same nature wife Herod's promise to his daughter-in-law, " that he would give her whatever she asked, even to the half of his kingdom." The promise was not unlawful in the terms hi which Herod delivered it ; and when it became so by the daughter's choice, by her demanding " John the Baptist's head," Herod was discharged from the obligation of it, for the reason now laid down, as welfas for that given in the last paragraph. This rule, " that promises are void, where the performance is unlawful," extends also to imper- fect obligations : for, the reason of the rule holds of all obligations. Thus, if you promise a man a place, or your vote, and he afterwards render himself unfit to receive either, you are absolved from the obligation of your promise ; or, if a better candidate appear, and it be a case in which you are bound by oath, or otherwise, to govern yourself by the qualification, the promise must be broken through. And here I would recommend, to young persons especially, a caution, from the neglect of which many involve themselves in embarrassment and disgrace ; and that is, " never to give a promise, which may interfere, in the event, with their duty ;" for, if it do so interfere, their duty must be discharged, though at the expense of their promise, and not unusually of their good name. The specific performance of promises is reck- oned a perfect obligation. And many casuists have laid down, in opposition to what has been here asserted, that, where a perfect and an imper- fect obligation clash, the perfect obligation is to be preferred. For which opinion, however, there seems to be no reason, but what arises from the terms "perfect" and "imperfect/' the impropriety of which has been remarked above. The truth is, of two contradictory obligations, that ought to prevail which is prior in point of time. It is the performance being unlawful, and not unlawfulness in the subjetet or motive of the pro- mise, which destroys its validity : therefore a bribe, after the vote is given ; the wages of prostitution j 5 50 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the reward of any crime, after the crime is com- mitted ; ought, if promised, to be paid. For the sin and mischief, by this supposition, are over; and will be neither more noHess for the perfor- mance of the promise. In like manner, a promise does not lose its obligation merely because it proceeded from an unlawful motive. A certain person, in the life- time of his wife, who was then sick, had paid his addresses, and promised marriage, to another woman ; the wife died ; and the woman demanded performance of the promise. The man, who, it seems, had changed his mind, either felt or pre- tended doubts concerning thje obligation of such a promise, and referred his case to Bishop Sander- son, the most eminent, in this kind of knowledge, of his time. Bishop Sanderson, after writing a dissertation upon the question, adjudged the pro- mise to be void. In which, however, upon our principles, he was wrong ; for, however criminal the affection might be, which induced the promise, the performance, when it was demanded, was lawful ; which is the only lawfulness required. A promise cannot be deemed unlawful, where it produces, when performed, no effect, beyond what would have taken place had the promise never been made. And this is the single case, in which the obligation of a promise will justify a conduct, which, unless it had been promised, would be unjust. A captive may lawfully recover his liberty, by a promise of neutrality; for his conqueror takes nothing by the promise, which he might not have secured by his death or confine- ment ; and neutrality would be innocent in him, although criminal in another. It is manifest, however, that promises which come into the place of coercion, can extend no further than to passive compliance ; for coercion itself could compel no more. Upon the same principle, promises of secrecy ought not to be violated, although the public would derive advantage from the discovery. Such promises contain no unlawfulness in them, to destroy their obligation : for, as the information would not have been imparted upon any other condition, the public lose nothing by the promise, s which they would have gained without it. Y 3. Promises are not binding, where they con- tradict a former promise. Because the performance is then unlawful; which resolves this case into the last. \/~ 4. Promises are not binding before acceptance ; that is, before notice given to the promisee ; for, where the promise is beneficial, if notice be given, acceptance may be presumed. Until the promise be communicated to the promisee, it is tne same only as a resolution in the mind of the promiser, which may be altered at pleasure. For no ex- pectation has been excited, therefore none can be disappointed. But suppose I declare my intention to a third person, who, without any authority from me, con- veys my declaration to the promisee ; is that such a notice as will be binding upon me 1 It certainly is not : for I have not done that which constitutes the essence of a promise ; I have not voluntarily excited expectation. 5. Promises are not binding which are released by the promisee. This is evident: but it may be sometimes doubted who the promisee is. If I give a promise to A, of a place or vote for B ; as to a father for his son; to an uncle for his nephew ; to a friend of mine, for a relation or friend of his ; then A is the promisee, whose consent I must obtain, to be released from the engagement. If I 'promise a place or vote to B by A, that is, if A be a messenger to convey the promise, as if I should say, " You may tell B that he shall have this place, or may depend upon my vote ;" or if A be employed to introduce B's request, and I answer in any terms which amount to a com- pliance with it : then B is the promisee. Promises to one person, for the benefit of another, are not released by the death of the pro- misee; for, his death neither makes the perfor- mance impracticable, nor implies any consent to release the promiser from it. 6. Erroneous promises are not binding in cer- tain cases ; as 1. Where the error proceeds from the mistake or misrepresentation 01 the promisee. Because a promise evidently supposes the truth of the account, which the promisee relates in ordei to obtain it. A beggar solicits your charity, by a story of the most pitiable distress ; you promise to relieve him, if he will call again : In the interval you discover his story to be made up of lies ; this discovery, no doubt, releases you from your pro- mise. One who wants your service, describes the business or office for which he would engage you; you promise to undertake it ; when you come to enter upon it, you find the profits less, the abour more, or some material circumstance dif- ferent from the account he gave you: In such case, you are not bound by your promise. 2. When the promise is understood by the pro- misee to proceed upon a certain supposition, or when the promiser .apprehended it to be so under- stood, and that supposition turns out to be false ; then the promise is not binding. This intricate rule will be best explained by an example. A father receives an account from abroad, of the death of his only son ; soon after which, he promises his fortune to his nephew. The account turns out to be false. The father, we say, is released from his promise ; not merely Because he never would have made it, had he mown the truth of the case, for that alone will not do; but because the nephew also himself understood the promise to proceed upon the sup- )osition of his cousin's death: or, at least his incle thought he so understood it ; and could not hink otherwise. The promise proceeded upon this supposition in the promiser's own apprehen- sion, and, as he believed, in the apprehension of K)th parties ; and this belief of his, is the precise circumstance which sets him free. The founda- tion of the rule is plainly this : a man is bound only to satisfy the expectation which he intended o excite ; whatever condition therefore he intended o subject that expectation to, becomes an essential condition of the promise. Errors, which come not within this description, do not annul the obligation of a promise. I pro- mise a candidate my vote; presently another candidate appears, for whom I certainly would lave reserved it, had I been acquainted with his design. Here therefore, as before, my promise >roceeded from an error ; and I never should have riven such a promise, had I been aware of the ;ruth of the case, as it has turned out. But the promisee did not know this ; he did not receive he promise, subject to any such condition, or as >roceeding from any such supposition ; nor did I CONTRACTS. 51 at the time imagine he so received it. This error, therefore, of mine, must fall upon my own head, and the promise be observed notwithstanding. A father promises a certain fortune witli his daughter, supposing himself to be worth so much his cir- cumstances turn out, upon examination, worse than he was aware of. Here again the promise was erroneous, but, for the reason assigned in the last case, will nevertheless be obligatory. The case of erroneous promises, is attended with some difficulty : for, to allow every mistake, or change of circumstances, to dissolve the obliga- tion of a promise, would be to allow a latitude, which might evacuate the force of almost all promises: and on the other hand, to gird the obligation so tight, as to make no allowances for manifest and fundamental errors, would, in many instances, be productive of great hardship and absurdity. It has long been controverted amongst moralists, whether promises be binding, which are extorted by violence or fear. The obligation of all promises results, we have seen, from the necessity or the use of that confidence which mankind repose in them. The question, therefore, whether these promises are binding, will depend upon this; whether mankind, upon the whole, are benefited by the confidence placed on such promises 1 A highwayman attacks you and being disappointed ofhis booty, threatens or prepares to murder you ; you promise, with many solemn asseverations, that if he will spare your life, he shall find a purse of money left for him, at a place appointed ; upon the faith of this promise, he forbears from further violence. Now, your life was saved by the con- fidence reposed in a promise extorted by fearj and the lives of many others may be saved by the same. This is a good consequence. On the other hand, confidence in promises like these, greatly facilitates the perpetration of robberies: they may be made the instruments of almost un- limited extortion. This is a bad consequence: and in the question between the importance of these opposite consequences, resides the doubt concerning the obligations of such promises. There are other cases which are plainer; as where a magistrate confines a disturber of the public peace in jail, till he promise to behave better ; or a prisoner of war promises, if set at liberty, to return within a certain time. These promises, say moralists, are binding, because the violence or duress is just ; but, the truth is, be- cause there is the same use of confidence in these promises, as of confidence in the promises of a person at perfect liberty. Vows are promises to God. The obligation cannot be made out upon the same principle as that of other promises. The violation of them, nevertheless, implies a want of reverence to the I Supreme Being; which is enough to make it sinful. There appears no command or encouragement in the Christian Scriptures to make, vows ; much less any authority to break through them when they are made. The few instances* of vows * Acts xviii. 18. xxi. 23. which we read of in the New Testament, were religiously observed. The rules we have laid down concerning pro- mises, are applicable to vows. Thus Jephtha's vow, taken in the sense in which that transaction is commonly understood, was not binding ; because the performance, in that contingency, became unlawful. CHAPTER VI. Contracts. A CONTRACT is a mutual promise. The obli- gation therefore of contracts, the sense in which they are to be interpreted, and the cases where they are not binding, will be the same as of promises. From the principle established in the last chap- ter, "that the obligation of promises is to be measured by the expectation which the promiser any how voluntarily and knowingly excites," results a rule, which governs the construction of all contracts, and is capable, from its simplicity, of being applied with great ease and certainty, viz. That Whatever is expected by one side, and known to be so expected by the other, is to be deemed a part or condition of the contract. The several kinds of contracts, and the order in which we propose to consider them, may be exhibited at one view, thus fSale. {Hazard. , ( Inconsumable Property. Lending of / Mone y. / Service. T ahrmr 3 Commissions. Labour. < Partnership . f Offices. CHAPTER VII. Contracts of Sale. THE rule of justice, which wants with most anxiety to be inculcated in the making of bargains, is, that the seller is bound in conscience to disclose the faults of what he offers to sale. Amongst other methods of proving this, one may be the following : I suppose it will be allowed, that to advance a direct falsehood, in recommendation of our wares, by ascribing to them some quality which we know that they have not, is dishonest. Now compare with this the designed concealment of some fault, which we know that they have. The motives and the effects of actions are the only points of comparison, in which their moral quality can differ ; but the motive in these two cases is the same, viz. to procure a higher price than we expect otherwise to obtain : the effect, that is, the pre- judice to the buyer, is also the same ; for he finds himself equally out of pocket by his bargain, whether the commodity, when he gets home with it, turn out worse than he had supposed, by the want of some quality which he expected, or the discovery of some fault which he did not expect. If therefore actions be the same, as to all moral purposes, which proceed from the same motives, 5-2 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. and produce the same effects ; it is making a dis- tinction without a difference, to esteem it a cheat to magnify beyond the truth the virtues of what we have to sell, but not to conceal its faults. It adds to the value of this kind of honesty, that the faults of many things are of a nature not to be known by any, but by the persons who have used them ; so that the buyer has no security from im- position, but in the ingenuousness and integrity of the seller. There is one exception, however, to this rule ; namely, where the silence of the seller implies some fault in the thing to be sold, and where the buyer has a compensation in the price for the risk which he runs: as where a horse, in a London repository, is sold by public auction, without war- ranty ; the want of warranty is notice of some unsoundness, and produces a proportionable abate- ment in the price. To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put, off, may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This practice we sometimes near defended by a vulgar excuse, that we have taken the money for good, and must therefore get rid of it. Which excuse is much the same as if one, who had been robbed upon the highway, should allege that he had a right to reimburse himself out of the pocket of the first traveller he met; the justice of which reasoning, the traveller possibly may not comprehend. Where there exists no monopoly or combination, the market-price is always a fair price; because it will always be proportionable to the use and scarcity of the article. Hence, there need be no scruple about demanding or taking the market- price ; and all those expressions, " provisions are extravagantly dear," " corn bears an unreasonable price," and the like, import no unfairness or un- reasonableness in the seller. If your tailor or your draper charge, or even ask of you, more for a suit of clothes, than the market- price, you complain that you are imposed upon ; you pronounce the tradesman who makes such a charge, dishonest; although, as the man's goods were his own, and he had a right to prescribe the terms upon which he would consent to part with them, it may be questioned what dishonesty there can be in the case, or wherein the imposition con- sists. Whoever opens a shop, or in any manner exposes goods to public sale, virtually engages to deal with his customers at a market-price ; because it is upon the faith and opinion of such an en- gagement, that any one comes within his shop doors, or offers to treat with him. This is ex- pected by the buyer ; is known to be so expected by the seller ; which is enough, according to the rule delivered above, to make it a part of the con- tract between them, though not a syllable be said about it. The breach of this implied contract constitutes the fraud inquired after. Hence, if you disclaim any such engagement, you may set what value you please upon your property. If, upon being asked to sell a house, you answer that the house suits your fancy or conveniency, and that you will not turn yourself out of it, under such a price ; the price fixed may be double of what the house cost, or would fetch at a public sale, without any imputation of injus- tice or extortion upon you. If the thing sold, be damaged, or perish, between the sale and the delivery, ought the buyer to bear the loss, or the seller 1 This will depend upon the particular construction of the contract. If the seller, either expressly, or by implication, or by custom, engage to deliver the goods ; as if I buy a set of china, and the china-man ask me to what place he shall bring or send them, and they be broken in the conveyance, the seller must abide by the loss. If the thing sold, remain with the seller, at the instance, or for the conveniency of the buyer, then the buyer undertakes the risk ; as if I buy a horse, and mention, that I will send for it on such a day (which is in effect desiring that it may continue with the seller tiU I do send for it,) then, whatever misfortune befalls the horse in the meantime, must be at my cost. And here, once for all, 1 would observe, that innumerable questions of this sort are determined solely by custom ; not that custom possesses any proper authority to alter or ascertain the nature of right or wrong ; but because the contracting par- ties are presumed to include in their stipulation, all the conditions which custom has annexed to contracts of the same sort : and when the usage is notorious, and no exception made to it, this pre- sumption is generally agreeable to the fact.* If I order a pipe of port from a wine-merchant abroad ; at what period the property passes from the merchant to me; whether upon delivery of the wine at the merchant's warehouse ; upon its being put on shipboard at Oporto ; upon the ar- rival of the ship in England at its destined port ; or not till the wine be committed to my servants, or deposited in my cellar; are all questions which admit of no decision, but what custom points out. Whence, in justice, as well as law, what is called the custom of merchants, regulates the construction of mercantile concerns. CHAPTER VIII. Contracts of Hazard. BY Contracts of Hazard, I mean gaming and insurance. What some say of this kind of contracts, " that one side ought not to have any advantage over the other," is neither practicable nor true. It is not practicable ; for that perfect equality of skill and judgment, which this rule requires, is seldom to be met with. I might not have it in my power, to play with fairness a game at cards, billiards, or tennis; lay a wager at a horse-race; or under- write a policy of insurance, once in a twelvemonth, if I must wait till I meet with a person, whose art, skill, and judgment in these matters, is neither greater nor less than my own. Nor is this equality requisite to the justice of the contract. One party may give to the other the whole of the stake, if he please, and the other party may justly accept it, if it be given him; much more therefore may one give to the other a part of the stake ; or, what "s exactly the same thing, an advantage in the ;hance of winning the whole. * It happens here, as in many cases, that what the parties ought to do, and what a judge or arbitrator would award to be done, may be very different. What he parties ought to do by virtue of their contract, de- jends upon their consciousness at the time of making it ; whereas a third person finds it necessary to found his udgment upon presumptions, which presumptions may x- false, although the most probable that he could pro- ceed by. LENDING OF MONEY. 53 The proper restriction is, that neither side have an advantage by means of which the other is not aware; for this is an advantage taken, without being given. Although the event be still an uncertainty, your advantage in the chance has a certain value ; and so much of the stake, as that value amounts to, is taken from your adversary without his knowledge, and therefore without his consent. If 1 sit down to a game at whist, and have an advantage over the adversary, by means of a better memory, closer attention, or a superior knowledge of the rules and chances of the game, the advantage is fair; because it is obtained by means of which the adversary is aware : for he is aware, when he sits down with me, that I shall exert the skill that I possess to the utmost. But if I gain an advantage by packing the cards, glancing my eye into the adversaries' hands, or by concerted signals with my partner, it is a dis- honest advantage ; because it depends upon means which the adversary never suspects that I make use of. The same distinction holds of all contracts into which chance enters. If I lay a wager at a horse- race, founded upon the conjecture I form from the appearance, and character, and breed, of the horses, I am justly entitled to any advantage which my judgment gives mo : but, if I carry on a clan- destine correspondence with the jockeys, and find out from them, that a trial has been actually made, or that it is settled beforehand which horse shall win the race; all such information is so much fraud, because derived from sources which the other did not suspect, when he proposed or accepted the wager. In speculations in trade, or in the stocks, if 1 exercise my judgment upon the general aspect and prospect of public affairs, and deal with a person who conducts himself by the same sort of judg- ment ; the contract has all the equality in it which is necessary: but if I have access to secrets of state at home, or private advice of some decisive measure or event abroad, I cannot avail myself of these advantages with justice, because they are excluded by the contract, which proceeded upon the supposition that I had no such advantage. In insurances, in which the underwriter com- putes his risk entirely from the account given by the person insured, it is absolutely necessary to the justice and validity of the contract, that this account be exact and complete. CHAPTER IX. Contracts of Lending of Inconsumable Property. WHEN the identical loan is to be returned, as a book, a horse, a harpsichord, it is called inconsum- able ; in opposition to corn, wine, money, and those things which perish, or are parted with, in the use, and can therefore only be restored in kind. The questions under this head are few and simple. The first is, if the thing lent be lost or damaged, who ought to bear the loss or damage 1 If it be damaged by the use, or by accident in the use, for which it was lent, the lender ought to bear it ; as if I hire a job-coach, the wear, tear, and soiling of the coach, must belong to the lender; or a horse, to go a particular journey, and in going the proposed journey, the horse die or be lamed, the loss must be the lender's: on the contrary, if the damage be occasioned by the fault of the borrower, or by accident in some use for which it was not lent, then the borrower must make it good ; as if the coach be overturned or broken to pieces by the carelessness of your coach- man ; or the horse be hired to take a morning's ride upon, and you go a-hunting with him, or leap him over hedges, or put him into your cart or carriage, and he be strained, or staked, or galled, or accidentally hurt, or drop down dead, whilst you are thus using him; you must make satis- faction to the owner. The two cases are distinguished by this cir- cumstance : that in one case, the owner foresees the damage or risk, and therefore consents to undertake it ; in the other case he does not. It is possible that an estate or a house may, during the term of a lease, be so increased or diminished in its value, as to become worth much more or much less, than the rent agreed to be paid for it. In some of which cases it may be doubted, to whom, of natural right, the advantage or disadvantage belongs. Toe rule of justice seems to be this: If the alteration might be ex- pected by the parties, the hirer must take the consequence; if it could not, the owner. An orchard, or a vineyard, or a mine, or a fishery, or a decoy, may this year yield nothing, or next to nothing, yet the tenant shall pay his rent ; and if they next year produce tenfold, the usual profit, no more shall be demanded ; because the produce is in its nature precarious, and this variation might be expected. If an estate in the fens of Lincolnshire, or the isle of Ely, be overflowed with water, so as to be incapable of occupation, the tenant, notwithstanding, is bound by his lease ; because he entered into it with a knowledge and foresight of the danger. On the other hand, if, by the irruption of the sea into a country where it was never known to have come before, by the change of the course of a river, the fall of a rock, the breaking out of a volcano, the bursting of a moss, the incursions of an enemy, or by a mortal contagion amongst the cattle ; if, by means like these, an estate change or lose its value, the loss shall fall upon the owner ; that is, the tenant shall either be discharged from his agreement, or be entitled to an abatement of rent. A house in London, by the building of a bridge, the opening of a new road or street, may become of ten times its former value ; and, by contrary causes, may be as much reduced in value : here also, as before, the owner, not the hirer, shall be affected by the alteration. The reason upon which our deter- mination proceeds is this ; that changes such as these, being neither foreseen, nor provided for, by the contracting parties, form no part or condition of the contract ; and therefore ought to have the same effect as if no contract at all had been made, (for none was made with respect to them,) that is, ought to fall upon the owner. CHAPTER X. Contracts concerning 1 the Lending of Money. THERE exists no reason in the law of nature, why a man should not be paid for the lending of his money, as well as of any other property into which the money might be converted. The scruples that have been entertained upon 54 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. this head, and upon the foundation of which, the receiving of interest or usury (for they formerly meant the same thing) was once prohibited in al- most all Christian countries,* arose from a pas- sage in the law of MOSES, Deuteronomy, xxiii. 19, 20: " Thou shall not lend upon usury to thy brother; usury of money, usury of victuals, usury of any thing that is lent upon usury; unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy brother thou shall not lend upon usury." This prohibition is now generally understood to have been intended for the Jews alone, as part of the civil or political law of that nalion, and cal- culated to preserve amongst themselves that dis- tribution of property, to which many of their in- stitutions were subservient ; as the marriage of an heiress within her own tribe; of a widow who was left childless, to her husband's brother; the year of jubilee, when alienated estates reverted to the family of the original proprietor : regulations which were never thought to be binding upon any but the commonweallh of Israel. This interrelation is confirmed, I think, be- yond all controversy, by Ihe distinction made in the law, between a Jew and a foreigner: "unto a stranger Ihou mayest lend upon usury, but unlo thy brother thou mayest not lend upon usury;" a distinction which could hardly have been admitted into a law, which the Divine Author intended to be of moral and of universal obligation. The rale of inleresl has in most countries been regulated by law. The Roman law allowed of twelve pounds per cent, which Justinian reduced at one stroke to four pounds. A stalule of the thirteenth year of dueen Elizabeth, which was the first thai tolerated the receiving of inleresl in England at all, restrained it to ten pounds per cent. ; a statute of James the firsl, to eight pounds ; of Charles the Second, to six pounds; of Glueen Anne, to five pounds, on pain of forfeilure of Ire- ble Ihe value of Ihe money lenl : at which rate and penalty the matter now stands. The policy of these regulations is, to check the power of ac- cumulating wealth wilhoul induslry ; to give en- couragement to trade, by enabling adventurers in it to borrow money al a moderate price ; and of late years to enable Ihe state to borrow the subject's money itself. Compound interest, though forbidden by the law of England, is agreeable enough to nalural equily; for inleresl detained after il is due, be- comes, to all inlenls and purposes, part of the sum lent. It is a question which sometimes occurs, how money borrowed in one country ought to be paid in another, where Ihe relative value of Ihe pre- cious melals is nol Ihe same. For example, sup- pose I borrow a hundred guineas in London, where each guinea is worth one-and-twenly shil- lings, and meel my creditor in the East Indies where a guinea is worth no more perhaps than nineteen; is it a satisfaction of the debt to relurn a hundred guineas, or must I make up so many times one-and-twenly shillings'? I should think the latter ; for it must be presumed, that my cre- ditor, had he nol lenl me his guineas, would have disposed of Ihem in such a manner, as to have * By a statute of JAMES the First, interest above eight pounds per cent, was prohibited, (and consequently un- der that rate allowed,) with this sage provision : That this statute shall not be construed or expounded to allow the practice of usury in point of religion or conscience. now had, in the place of them, so many one-and- twenty shillings ; and the question supposes lhat he neither intended, nor oughl to be a sufferer, by parting wilh the possession of his money to me. When the relative value of coin is altered by an act of Ihe slate, if the alteration would have extended to Ihe identical pieces which were lent, it is enough to return an equal number of pieces of the same denomination, or their present value in any other. As, if guineas were reduced by acl of parliament to twenly shillings, so many Iwenty shillings, as I borrowed guineas, would be a just repayment. It would be otherwise, if the reduc- tion was owing to a debasemenl of Ihe coin ; for Ihen respecl oughl to be had to the comparative value of the old guinea and Ihe new. Whoever borrows money, is bound in con- science to repay it. This, every man can see ; but every man cannot see, or does not however reflect, that he is, hi consequence, also bound to to use Ihe means necessary to enable himself to repay it. " If he pay Ihe money when he has il, or has il to spare, he does all lhal an honest man can do," and all, he imagines, thai is required of him ; whilsl the previous measures, which are ne- cessary to furnish him with thai money, he makes no part of his care, nor observes lo be as much his duly as Ihe olher ; such as selling a family- seal or a family eslale, contracting his plan of ex- pense, laying down his equipage, reducing the number of his servants, or any of those humiliating sacrifices, which justice requires of a man in debt, the momenl he perceives lhal he has no reasona- ble prospecl of paying his debts without them. An expectation which depends upon the con- tinuance of his own life, will not satisfy an honest man, if a belter provision be in his power ; for it is a breach of faith to subject a creditor ; when we can help it, to Ihe risk of our life, be Ihe event whal il will ; lhal not being the security to which credit was given. I know few subjecls which have been more mis- understood, lhan the law which authorises the imprisonmenl of insolvenl debtors. Il has been represented as a graluitous cruelty, which con- Iribuled nolhing to the reparation of Ihe creditor's loss, or to Ihe advantage of Ihe community. This prejudice arises principally from considering Ihe sending of a debtor to gaol, as an acl of private satisfaction to the creditor, instead of a public pun- ishment. As an acl of satisfaction or revenge, it is always wrong in the motive, and often intem- perate and undistinguishing in the exercise. Con- sider it as a public punishment; founded upon the same reason, and subjecl lo the same rules, as other punishmenls ; and the justice of it, together with the degree lo which it should be extended, and the objecls upon whom it may be inflicted, will be apparent. There are frauds relating lo insolvency, againsl which it is as necessary to pro- vide punishmenl, as for any public crimes whal- ever : as where a man gels your money into his possession, and forthwith runs away with it ; or, what is lillle belter, squanders il in vicious ex- penses ; or slakes it al the gaming-table ; in the Alley ; or upon wild adventures in Irade ; or is conscious al Ihe lime he borrows it, lhal he can never repay il ; or wilfully puts it out of his pow- er, by profuse living ; or conceals his effects, or transfers them by collusion to another: not to mention the obstinacy of some debtors, who had rather rot in a gaol, than deliver up their estates j SERVICE. 55 for, to say the truth, the first absurdity is in the law itself, which leaves it in a debtor's power to withhold any part of his property from the clain of his creditors. The only question is, whether the punishment be properly placed in the hands of an exasperated creditor: for which it may be said, that these frauds are so subtile and versatile that nothing but a discretionary power can over- take them ; and that no discretion is likely to be so well informed, so vigilant, or so active, as that of the creditor. It must be remembered, however, that the con- finement of a debtor in a jail is a. punishment ; and that every punishment supposes a crime. To pur- sue, therefore, with the extremity of legal rigour, a sufferer, whom the fraud or failure of others, his own want of capacity, or the disappointments and miscarriages to which all human affairs are sub- ject, have reduced to ruin, merely because we are provoked by our loss, and seek to relieve the pain we feel by that which we inflict, is repugnant not only to humanity, but to justice: for it is to per- vert a provision of law, designed for a different and a salutary purpose, to the gratification of pri- vate spleen and resentment. Any alteration in these laws, which could distinguish the degrees of guilt, or convert the service of the insolvent debtor to some public profit, might be an improvement ; but any considerable mitigation of their rigour, under colour of relieving the poor, would increase their hardships. For whatever deprives the cre- ditor of his power of coercion, deprives him of his security ; and as this must add greatly to the dif- ficulty of obtaining credit, the poor, especially the lower sort of tradesmen, are the first who would suffer by such a regulation. As tradesmen must buy before they sell, you would exclude from trade two thirds of those who now carry it on, if none were enabled to enter into it without a capital suf- ficient for prompt payments. An advocate, there- fore, for the interests of this important class of the community, will deem it more eligible, that one out of a thousand should be sent to jail by his creditors, than that the nine hundred and ninety- nine should be straitened and embarrassed, and many of them lie idle by the want of credit. CHAPTER XL Contracts of labour. SERVICE. SERVICE in this country is, as it ought to be, voluntary, and by contract ; and the master's au- thority extends no further than the terms or equitable construction of the contract will justify. The treatment of servants, as to diet, disci- pline, and accommodation, the kind and quantity of work to be required of them, the intermission, liberty, and indulgence to be allowed them, must be determined in a great measure by custom ; for where the contract involves so many particulars, the contracting parties express a few perhaps of the principal, and, by mutual understanding, re- fer the rest to the known custom of the country in like cases. A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful commands of his master ; to minister, for instance, to his unlawful pleasures ; or to assist him by un- lawful practices in his profession; as in smug- gling or adulterating the articles in which he deals. For the servant is bound by nothing but his own promise ; and the obligation of a promise extends not to things unlawful. - For the same reason, the master's authority is no justification of the servant in doing wrong; for the servant's own promise, upon .which that authority is founded, would be none. Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely in the profession or trade which they are. intended to learn. Instruction is their hire; and to deprive them of the opportunities of instruc- tion, by taking up their time with occupations foreign to their business, is to defraud them of their wages. The master is responsible for what a servant does in the ordinary course of his employment ; for it is done under a general authority committed to him, winch is in justice equivalent to a specific direction. Thus, if I pay money to a banker's clerk, the banker is accountable ; but not if I had p:iid it to his butler or his footman, whose busi- ness it is not to receive money. Upon the same principle, if I once send a servant to take up goods upon credit, whatever goods he afterwards takes up at the same shop, so long as he con- tinues in my service, are justly chargeable to my account. The law of this country goes great lengths in intending a kind of,.^pncurrence in the master, so as to charge him with the consequences of his servant's conduct. If an inn-keeper's servant rob his guests, the inn-keeper must make restitution ; if a farrier's servant lame a horse, the farrier must answer for the damage ; and still further, if your coachman or carter drive over a passenger in the road, the passenger may recover from you a satis- faction for the hurt he suffers. But these deter- minations stand, I think, rather upon the authority of the law, than any principle of natural justice. There is a carelessness and facility in " giving characters," as it is called, of servants, especially when given in writing, or according to some es- tablished form, which /to speak plainly of it, is a cheat upon those who accept them. They are given with so little reserve and veracity, " that I should as soon depend," says the author of the Rambler, " upon an acquittal at the Old Bailey, by way of recommendation of a servant's honesty, as upon one of these characters." It is sometimes carelessness ; and sometimes also to get rid of a bad servant without the uneasiness of a dispute ; for which nothing can be pleaded but the most ungenerous of all excuses, that the person whom we deceive is a stranger. There is a conduct the reverse of this, but more injurious, because the injury falls where there is no remedy ; I mean the obstructing of a servant's advancement, because you are unwilling to spare his service. To stand ia the way of your servant's interest, is a poor return for his fidelity ; and af- fords slender encouragement for good behaviour, in this numerous and therefore important part of the community. It is a piece of injustice which, if practiced towards an equal, the law of honour would lay hold of; as it is, it is neither uncom- mon nor disreputable. A master of a family is culpable, if he permit any vices among his domestics, which he might restrain by due discipline, and a proper inter- ference. This results from the general obligation ;o prevent misery when in our power ; and the 56 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. assurance which we have, that vice and misery at the long run go together. Care to maintain in his family a sense of virtue and religion, received the Divine approbation in the person of ABRAHAM, Gen. xviii. 19 : "I know him, that he will com- mand his children, and his household after him ; and they shall keep the way of the LORD, to do justice and judgment." And indeed no authority seems so well adapted to this purpose, as that of masters of families ; because none operates upon the subjects of it with an influence so immediate and constant. What the Christian Scriptures have delivered concerning the relation and reciprocal duties of masters and servants, breathes a spirit of liberality, very little known in ages when servitude was slavery ; and which flowed from a habit of con- templating mankind under the common relation in which they stand to their Creator, and with respect to their interest in another existence;* " Servants^ be obedient to them that are your masters, according to the flesh, with fear and trem- bling ; in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ ; not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart; with good will, doing service as to the Lord, and not to men ; knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he re- ceive of the LORD, whether he be bond or free. And ye masters, do the saitie thing unto them, forbearing threatening ; knowing that your Mas- ter also is in heaven ; neither is there respect of persons with him." The idea of referring their service to God, of considering him as having ap- pointed them their task, that they were doing his will, and were to look to him for their reward, was new ; and affords a greater security to the master than any inferior principle, because it tends to pro- duce a steady and cordial obedience, in the place of that constrained service, which can never be trusted out of sight, and which is justly enough called eye-service. The exhortation to masters, to keep in view their own subjection and accountable- ness, was no less seasonable. CHAPTER XII. Contracts of Labour. COMMISSIONS. WHOEVER undertakes another man's business, makes it his own, that is, promises to employ upon it the same care, attention, and diligence, that he would do if it were actually his own: for he knows that the business was committed to him with that expectation. And he promises nothing more than this. Therefore an agent is not obliged to wait, inquire, solicit, ride about the country. toil, or study, whilst there remains a possibility of* benefiting his employer. If he exert so much of his activity, and use such caution, as the value of the business, in his judgment, deserves; that is, as he would have thought sufficient if the same interest of his own had been at stake, he has dis- charged his duty, although it should afterwards turn out, that by more activity, and longer perse- verance, he might have concluded the business with greater advantage. * Eph. vi. 59. This rule defines the duty of factors, stewards, attorneys, and advocates. One of the chief difficulties of an agent's situa- tion is, to know how far he may depart from his instructions, when, from some change or disco- very in the circumstances of his commission, he sees reason to believe that his employer, if he were present, would alter his intention. The latitude allowed to agents in this respect, will be different, according as the commission was con- fidential or ministerial; and according as the general rule and nature of the service require a prompt and precise obedience to orders, or not. An attorney, sent to treat for an estate, if he found out a flaw in the title, would desist from proposing the price he was directed to propose ; and very properly. On the other hand, if the commander-in-chief of an army detach an officer under him upon a particular service, which ser- vice turns out more difficult, or less expedient, than was supposed ; insomuch that the officer is convinced, that his commander, if he were ac- quainted with the true state in which the affair is found, would recall his orders; yet must this officer, if he cannot wait for fresh directions with- out prejudice to the expedition he is sent upon, pursue at all hazards, those which he brought out with him. What is trusted to an agent, may be lost or damaged in his hands by misfortune. An agent who acts without pay, is clearly not answerable for the loss ; for if he give his labour for nothing, it cannot be presumed that he gave also his security for the success of it. If the agent be hired to the business, the question will depend upon the apprehension of the parties at the time of making the contract ; which apprehension of theirs must be collected chiefly from custom, by which probably it was guided. Whether a public carrier ought to account for goods sent by him ; the owner or master of a ship for the cargo ; the post-office, for letters, or bills enclosed in let- ters, where the loss is not imputed to any fault or neglect of theirs ; are questions of this sort. Any expression which by implication amounts to a promise, will be binding upon the agent, without custom ; as where the proprietors of a stage-coach advertise that they will not be accountable for money, plate or jewels, this makes them account- able for every thing else ; or where the price is too much for the labour, part of it may be considered as a premium for insurance. On the other hand, any caution on the part of the owner to guard against danger, is evidence that he considers the risk to be his : as cutting a bank-bill in two, to send by the post at different times. Universally, unless a promise, either express or tacit, can be proved against the agent, tne loss must fall upon the owner. The agent may be a sufferer in his own person or property by the business which he undertakes ; as where one goes a journey for another, and lames his horse, or is hurt himself by a fall upon the road ; can the agent in such a case claim a compensation for" the misfortune 1 Unless the same be provided for by express stipulation, the agent is not entitled to any compensation from his employer on that account : for where the dan- ger is not foreseen, there can be no reason to be- lieve that the employer engaged to indemnify tho agent against it: still less where it is foreseen: for whoever knowingly undertakes a dangerous OFFICES. 57 employment, in common construction, takes upon himself the danger and the consequences; as where a fireman undertakes for a reward to rescue a box of writing from the flames; or a sailor to bring oil" a passenger from a ship in a storm. CHAPTER XIII. Contracts of Labour. PARTXKRSIIIP. I KNOW nothing upon the subject of partnership that requires explanation, but in what manner the profits are to be divided, where one partner con- tributes money, and the other labour; which is a common case. Rule, from the stock of the partnership deduct the sum advanced, and divide the remainder be- tween the monied partner and the labouring partner, in the proportion of the interest of the money to the wages of the labourer, allowing such a rate of interest as money might be borrowed for upon the same security, and such wages as a journeyman would require for the same labour and trust. Example. A. advances a thousand pounds, but knows nothing of the business; B. produces no money, but has been brought up to the business. and undertakes to conduct it. At the end of the year, the stock and the effects of the partnership amount to twelve hundred pounds; consequently there are two hundred ]>ounds to be dhided. Now, nobody would lend money upon the event of the business succeeding, which is A's security, under six per cent.; therefore A. must be allowed sixty pounds lor the interest of his money. IJ. before he engaged in the partnership, earned thirty pounds a year in the same employment; his lulxmr, then fore, ought to be valued at thirty pounds: and the two hundred pounds must be divided between 'the partners in the proportion of sixty to thirty ; that is, A. must receive one hun- dred and thirty-three pounds six shillings and eight pence, and B. sixty-six pounds thirteen shillings and four pence. If there be nothing gained, A. loses his interest. and B. his lalxmr ; which is right. If the original stock be diminished, by this rule B. loses only his labour, as before ; whereas A. loses his interest, and part of the principal; for which eventual disadvantage A. is compensated, by having the interest of his money computed at six per cent, in the division of the profits, when there are any. It is true that the division of the profit is seldom forgotten in the constitution of the partnership, and is therefore commonly settled by express agreements : but these agreements, to be equit- able, should pursue the principle of the rule here laid down. All the partners are bound to what any one of them does in the course of the business ; for, quoad hoc, each partner is considered as an au- thorised agent for the rest. CHAPTER XIV. Contracts of Labour. OFFICES. IN many offices, as schools, fellowships of col- leges, professorships of universities, and tlio lik,-, there is a two-fold contract ; one with the founder, the other with the electors. The contract with the founder obliges the in- cumbent of the office to discharge every duty appointed by the charter, statutes, deed of gift, or will of the founder ; because the endowment was ivcn. and consequently accepted, tor that purpose, and upon those conditions. The contract with the electors extends this obligation to all duties that have been customarily connected with and reckoned a part of the office, though not prescribed by the founder ; for the electors expect from the person they choose, all the duties which his predecessors have discharged ; and as the person elected cannot be ignorant of their expectation, if he meant to have refused this condition, he ought to have apprised them of his objection. And here let it be observed, that the electors can excuse the. conscience of the person elected, from this last class of duties alone; because this class results from a contract to which the electors and the person elected are the only parties. The other class of duties results from a different contract. It is a question of some magnitude and diffi- cult v. what offices may be conscientiously supplied by a deputy. We will state the several objections to the sub- stitution of a deputy; and then it will be under- stood, that a deputy' may be allowed in all cases to which these objections do not apply. An office may not be discharged by deputy, 1. Where a particular confidence is reposed in the judgment and conduct of the person appoint- ed to it ; as the office of a steward, guardian, judge, commander-in-chief by land or sea. 2. Where the custom hinders ; as in the case of schoolmasters, tutors, and of commissions in the army or navy. 3. Where the duty cannot, from its nature, he so well performed by a deputy; as the deputy- governor of a province may not possess the legal authority, or the actual influence, of his principal. 4. When some inconveniency would result to the service in general from the permission of deputies in such cases : for example, it is probable that military merit would be much discouraged, if the duties belonging- to commissions in the army were generally allowed to be executed by substitutes. The non-residence of the parochial clergy, who supply the duty of their benefices by curates, is worthy of a more distinct consideration. And in order to draw the question upon this case to a point, we will suppose the officiating curate to discharge every duty winch his principal, were he present, would be bound to discharge, and in a manner equally beneficial to the parish : under which circumstances, the only objection to the absence of the principal, at least the only one of the foregoing objections, is the last. And, in my judgment, the force of this objection will be much diminished, if the absent rector or vicar be. in the meantime, engaged in any function or employment of equal, or of greater, importance to the general interest of religion. For the whole revenue, of the national church may properly enough be considered as a common fund for the support of the national religion ; and if a clergy- man be serving the cause of < hristianity and pro- testantism, it can make little dillerence, out of 58 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. what particular portion of this fund, that is, by the tithes and glebe of what particular parish, his service be requited; any more than it can pre- judice the king's service that an officer who has signalised his merit in America, should be re- warded with the government of a fort or castle in Ireland, which he never saw; but 'for the custody of which, proper provision is made, and care taken. Upon the principle thus explained, this indul- gence is due to none more than to those who are occupied in cultivating or communicating re- ligious knowledge, or the sciences subsidiary to religion. This way of considering the revenues of the church as a common fund for the same purpose, is the more equitable, as the value of particular preferments bears no proportion to the particular charge or labour. But when a man draws upon this fund, whose studies and employments bear no relation to the object of it, and who is no further a minister of the Christian religion than as a cockade makes a soldier, it seems a misapplication little better than a robbery. And to those who have the management of such matters I submit this question, whether the impoverishment of the fund, by converting the best share of it into annuities for the gay and illiterate youth of great families, threatens not to starve and stifle the little clerical merit that is left amongst us 1 All legal dispensations from residence, proceed upon the supposition, that the absentee is detained from his living by some engagement of equal or of greater public importance. Therefore, if, in a case where no such reason can with truth be pleaded, it be said that this question regards a right of property, and that all right of property awaits the disposition of law; that, therefore, if the law which gives a man the emoluments of a living, excuse him from residing upon it, he is excused in conscience ; we answer that the law does not excuse him by intention, and that all other excuses are fraudulent. CHAPTER XV. Lies. A LIE is a breach of promise: for whoever seriously addresses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness. Which consequences consist, either in some specific injury to particular individuals, or in the destruction of that confidence which is essential to the intercourse of human life; for which latter reason, a lie may be pernicious in its eral tendency, and therefore criminal, though produce no particular or visible mischief to any one. There are falsehoods which are not lies ; that is, which are not criminal : as, 1. Where no one is deceived ; which is the case in parables, fables, novels, jests, tales to create mirth, ludicrous embellishments of a story, where the declared design of the speaker is not to inform, but to divert ; compliments in the subscription of a letter, a servant's denying' his master, a prison- er's pleading not guilty, an advocate asserting the justice, or his belief of the justice of his client's cause. In such instances, no confidence is de- stroyed, because none was reposed ; no promise to speak the truth is violated, because none was given, or understood to be given. 2. Where the person to whom you speak has no right to know the truth, or, more properly, where little or no inconveniency results from the want of confidence in such cases ; as where you tell a falsehood to a madman, for his own ad- vantage ; to a robber, to conceal your property ; to an assassin, to defeat or divert him from his purpose. The particular consequence is by the supposition beneficial ; and, as to the general con- sequence, the worst that can happen is, that the madman, the robber, the assassin, will not trust you again ; which (beside that the first is incapable of deducing regular conclusions from having been once deceived, and the last two not likely to come a second time in your way) is sufficiently com- pensated by the immediate benefit which you propose by the falsehood. It is upon this principle, that, by the laws of war, it is allowed to deceive an enemy by feints, false colours,* spies, false intelligence, and the like ; but by no means in treaties, truces, signals of capitulation, or surrender : and the difference is, that the former suppose hostilities to continue, the latter are calculated to terminate or suspend them. In the conduct of war, and whilst the war continues, there is no use, or rather no place, for confidence betwixt the contending parties ; but in whatever relates to the termination of war, the most religious fidelity is expected, because without it wars could not cease, nor the victims be secure, but J>y the entire destruction of the vanquished. Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habit of fiction and exaggeration, in the accounts they give of themselves, of their acquaintance, or of the extraordinary things which they have seen or heard : and so long as the facts they relate are indifferent, and their narratives, though false, are inoffensive, it may seem a superstitious regard to truth to censure them merely for truth's sake. In the first place, it is almost impossible to pro- nounce beforehand, with certainty, concerning any lie, that it is inoffensive. Volat irrevocabile ; and collects sometimes accretions in its flight, which entirely change its nature. It may owe possibly its mischief to the officiousness or misrepresenta- tion of those who circulate it ; but the mischief is, nevertheless, in some degree chargeable upon the original editor. In the next place, this liberty in conversation defeats its own end. Much of the pleasure, and all the benefit, of conversation, depends upon our opinion of the speaker's veracity ; for which this rule leaves no foundation. The faith indeed of a hearer must be extremely perplexed, who con- siders the speaker, or believes that the speaker considers himself as under no obligation to adhere * There have been two or three instances of late, of English ships decoying an enemy into their power, by counterfeiting signals of distress ; an artifice which ought to be reprobated by the common indignation of mankind ! for a few examples of captures effected by this stratagem, would put an end to that promptitude in affording assistance to ships in distress, which is the best virtue in a seafaring character, and by which the perils of navigation are diminished to all. A. D. 1775. OATHS. to truth, but according to the particular impor- tance of what he relates. But beside and above both these reasons, white lies always introduce others of a darker com- plexion. I have seldom known any one who de- serted truth in trifles, that could be trusted in matters of importance. Nice distinctions are out of the question, upon occasions which, like those of speech, return every hour. The habit, there- fore, of lying, when once formed, is easily ex- tended, to serve the designs of malice or interest ; like all habits, it spreads indeed of itself. Pious frauds, as they are improperly enough called, pretended inspirations, forged books, coun- terfeit miracles, are impositions of a more serious nature. It is possible that they may sometimes, though seldom, have been set up and encouraged, with a design to do good : but the good they aim at, requires that the belief of them should be per- petual, which is hardly possible ; and the detec- tion of the fraud is sure to disparage the credit of all pretensions of the same nature. Christianity has suffered more injury from this cause, than from all other causes put together. As there may be falsehoods which are not lies, so there may be lies without literal or direct false- hood. An opening is always left for this species of prevarication, when the literal and grammati- cal signification of a sentence is different from the popular and customary meaning. It is the wilful deceit that makes the lie ; and we wilfully deceive, when our expressions are not true in the sense in which we believe the hearer to appre- hend them; lx>si the great King ; by thy head, for it is his workmanship, not thine, thou canst not make one hair white or black;" for which reason he says, " Swear not at all," that is, neither directly by God, nor indirectly by any thing related to him. This interpretation is greatly con- firmed by a passage in the twenty-third chapter of the same Gospel, where a similar distinction, made by the Scribes and Pharisees, is replied to in the same manner. 3. Our Saviour himself being "adjured by the living God," to declare whether lie was the Christ, the Son of God, or not, condescended to answer the high-priest, without making any objection to the oath (for such it was) upon which lie examined him." God is my witness" says St. Paul to tiie Romans, " that without ceasing I make mention of you in my prayers :" and to the Corinthians still more strongly. " / call God for a record upon my soul, that to spare you, 1 came not as yet to Corinth." Both these expressions contain the nature of oaths. The Epistle to the Hebrews speaks of the custom of swearing judicially, without any mark of censure or disapprobation; "Men verily swear by the greater : and an oath, for con- firmation, is to them an end of all strife." Upon the strength of these reasons, we explain our Saviour's words to relate, not to judicial oaths, but to the practice of vain, wanton, and unau- thorised swearing, in common discourse. St. James's words, chap. v. 12. are not so strong as our Saviour's, and therefore admit the same ex- planation with more ease. IV. Oaths are nugatory, that is, carry with them no proper force or obligation, unless we believe that God will punish false swearing with more severity than a simple lie, or breach of pro- mise ; for which belief there are the following reasons : 1. Perjury is a sin of greater deliberation. The juror has the thought of God and of religion upon his mind at the time ; at least there are very few who can shake them off entirely. He offends, therefore, if he do offend, with a high hand; in the face, that is, and in defiance of the sanctions of religion. His offence implies a disbelief or contempt of God's knowledge, power, and justice ; which cannot be said of a he, where there is nothing to carry the mind to any reflection upon the Deity, or the Divine Attributes at all 2. Perjury violates a superior confidence. Mankind must trust to one another: and they have nothing letter to trust to than one another's oath. Hence legal ad j udications, which govern and affect every right and interest on this side of the grave, of necessity proceed and depend upon oaths. Perjury, therefore, in its general consequence strikes at the security of reputation, property, and even of life itself. A lie cannot do the same mis- chief, because the same credit is not given to it.* 3. God directed the Israelites to swear by his name;t and was pleased, " in order to show the immutability of his own counsel,"? to confirm his covenant with that people by an oath : neither of which it is probable he would have done, had he not intended to represent oaths as having some meaning and effect beyond the obligation of a bare promise; which effect must be owing to the severer punishment with which he will vindicate the authority of oaths. V. Promissory oaths are not binding where the promise itself would not be so : for the several cases of which, see the Chapter of Promises. VI. As oaths are designed for the security of the imposer, it is manifest that they must be in- terpreted and performed in the sense in which the imposer intends them; otherwise, they afford no * Except, indeed, where a Quaker's or Moravian's affirmation is accepted in the place of an oath; in which case, a lie partakes, so far as this reason extends, of the nature and guilt of perjury. t Deut. v. 13. x. 20. J Heb. vi. 17. OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 61 security to him. And this is the meaning and reason of the rule, " jurare in animum imponen- tis;" which rule the reader is desired to carry along with him. whilst we proceed to consider certain particular oaths, which are either of greater importance, or more likely to fall in our way, than others. CHAPTER XVII. Oath in Evidence. THE witness swears " to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing hut the truth, touching the matter in question." Upon which it may be observed, that the de- signed concealment of any truth, which relates to the matter in agitation, is as much a violation of the oath, as to testify a positive falsehood ; and this, whether the witness be interrogated as to that particular point or not. For when the per- son to be examined is sworn upon a roir dire, that is, in order to inquire whether he ought to be admitted to give evidence in the cause at all, the form runs thus : " You shall true answer make to all such questions as shall be asked you:" but when he comes to be sworn in chief, he swears " to speak the whole truth," without restraining it, as before, to the questions that shall be asknl : which difference shows, that the law intends, in this latter case, to require of the witness, that he give a complete and unreserved account of what he knows of the subject of the trial, whether the questions proposed to him reach the extent of his knowledge or not. So that if it be inquired of the witness afterwards, why he did not inform the court so and so, it is not a sufficient, though a very common answer, to say, "because it was never asked me." I know but one exception to this rule ; which is, when a full discovery of the truth tends to accuse the witness himself of some legal crime. The law of England constrains no man to become his own accuser ; consequently imposes the oath of testimony with this tacit reservation. But the exception must be confined to legal crimes. A point of honour, of delicacy, or of reputation, may make a witness backward to disclose some circum- stance with which he is acquainted ; but will in no wise justify his concealment of the truth, unless it could be shown, that the law which imposes the oath, intended to allow this indulgence to such motives. The exception of which we are speak- ing, is also withdrawn by a compact between the magistrate and the witness, when an accomplice is admitted to give evidence against the partners of his crime. Tenderness to the prisoner, although a specious for concealment, is no just excuse: for if this plea be thought sufficient, it takes the ad- ministration of penal justice out of the hands of judges and juries, and makes it depend upon the temper of prosecutors and witnesses. Questions may be asked, which are irrelative to the cause, which affect the witness himself, or some third person; in which, and in all cases where the witness doubts of the pertinency and propriety of the question, he ought to refer his doubts to the court. The answer of the court, in relaxation of the oath, is authority enough to the witness j for the law which imposes the oath, may remit what it will of the obligation : and it be- longs to the court to declare what the mind of the law is. Nevertheless, it cannot be said universally, that the answer of the court is conclusive upon the conscience of the witness ; for his obligation, de- pends upon what he apprehended, at the time of taking the oath, to be the design of the law in imposing it, and no after- requisition or explana- tion by the court can carry the obligation beyond that. CHAPTER XVIII. Oath of Allegiance. " I BO sincerely promise and swear, that I will be faithful, and bear true allegiance to his Ma- jesty KING GEORGE." Formerly the oath of al- legiance ran thus : " I do promise to be true and faithful, to the king and his heirs, and truth and faith to bear, of life, and limb, and terrene honour; and not to know or hear of any .ill or damage in- tended him, witho.ut defending him therefrom :" and was altered at the Revolution to the present form. So that the present oath is a relaxation of the old one. And as the oath was intended to ascertain, not so much the extent of the subject's obedience, as the person to whom it was due, the legislature seems to have wrapped up its meaning upon the former point, in a word purposely made choice of for its general and indeterminate sig- nification. It will be most convenient to consider, first, what the oath excludes as inconsistent with itj secondly, what it permits. 1. The oath excludes all intention to support the claim or pretensions of any other person or persons to the crown and government, than the reigning sovereign. A Jacobite, who is persuaded of the Pretender's rig^ht to the crown, and who moreover designs to join with the adherents to that cause to assert this right, whenever a proper opportunity, with a reasonable prospect of suc- cess, presents itself, cannot take the oath of al- legiance; or, if he could, the oath of abjuration follows, which contains an express renunciation of all opinions in favour of the claim of the exiled family. 2. The oath excludes all design, at the time, of attempting to depose the reigning prince, for any reason whatever. Let the justice of the Revolution be what it would, no honest man could have taken even the present oath of alle- giance to James the Second, who entertained, at the time of taking it, a 'design of joining in the measures which were entered into to dethrone him. 3. The oath forbids the taking up of arms against the reigning prince, with views of private advancement, or from motives of personal resent- ment or dislike. It is possible to happen in this, what frequently happens in despotic governments, that an ambitious general, at the head of the mili- tary force of the nation, might, by a conjuncture of fortunate circumstances, and a great ascendency over the minds of the soldiery, depose the prince upon the throne, and make way to it for himself, or for some creature of his qwn. A person in this situation would be withhblderi from such an at- tempt by the oath of allegiance, if he paid regard to it. If there were any who engaged in the re- bellion of the year forty-five, with the expectation of titles, estates, or preferment ; or because they 6 62 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. were disappointed, and thought themselves ne- glected and ill-used at court ; or because they entertained a family animosity, or personal resent- ment, against the king, the favourite, or the minis- ter; if any were induced to take up arms by these motives, they added to the many crimes of an unprovoked rebellion, that of wilful and cor- rupt perjury. If, in the late American war, the same motives determined others to connect them- selves with that opposition, their part in it was chargeable with perfidy and falsehood to their oath, whatever was the justice of the opposition itself, or however well-founded their own complaints might be of private injury. We are next to consider what the oath of al- legiance permits, or does not require. 1. It permits resistance to the king, when his ill behaviour or imbecility is such, as to make re- sistance beneficial to the community. It may fairly be presumed that the Convention Parliament, which introduced the oath in its present form, did not intend, by imposing it, to exclude all resist- ance, since the members of that legislature had, many of them, recently taken up arms against James the Second, and the very authority by which they sat together was itself the effect of a successful opposition to an acknowledged sove- reign. Some resistance, therefore, was meant to be allowed ; and, if any, it must be that which has the public interest for its object. 2. The oath does not require obedience to such commands of the king as are unauthorized by law. No such obedience is implied by the terms of the oath ; the fidelity there promised, is intended of fidelity in opposition to his enemies, and not in opposition to law ; and allegiance, at the utmost, can only signify obedience to lawful commands. Therefore, if the king should issue a proclama- tion, levying money, or imposing any service or restraint upon the subject beyond what the crown is empowered by law to enjoin, there would exist no sort of obligation to obey such a proclamation, in consequence of having taken the oath of allegiance. 3. The oath does not require that we should continue our allegiance to the king, after he is actually and absolutely deposed, driven into exile, carried away captive, or otherwise rendered in- capable of exercising the regal office, whether by his fault or without it. The promise of allegiance implies, and is understood by all parties to sun- pose, that the person to whom the promise is made, continues king ; continues, that is, to ex- ercise the power, and afford the protection which belongs to the office of king : for, it is the pos- session of this power, which makes such a par- ticular person the object of the oath ; without it, why should I swear allegiance to this man, ra- ther than to any man in the kingdom 1 Beside which, the contrary doctrine is burthened with this consequence, that every conquest, revolution of government, or disaster which befals the per- son of the prince, must be followed by perpetual and irremediable anarchy. CHAPTER XIX. Oath against JKribery in the Election of Mem- bers of Parliament. '.' I DO swear, 1 have not received, or had, I my- self, or any person whatsoever, in trust for me, or for my use and benefit, directly or indirectly, any sum or sums of money, office, place, or employ- ment, gift or reward, or any promise or security, for any money, office, employment, or gift, in or- der to give my vote at this election." The several contrivances to evade this oath, such as the electors accepting money under colour of borrowing it, and giving a promissory note, or other security, for it, which is cancelled after the election; receiving money from a stranger, or a person in disguise, or out of a drawer, or purse, left open for the purpose ; or promises of money to be paid after the election ; or stipulating for a place, living, or other private advantage of any kind ; if they escape the legal penalties of perjury, incur the moral guilt; for they are manifestly within the mischief and design of the statute which imposes the oath, and within the terms in- deed of the oath itself; for the word "indirectly" is inserted on purpose to comprehend such cases as these. CHAPTER XX. Oath against Simony. FROM an imaginary resemblance between the purchase of a benefice, and Simon Magus's attempt to purchase the gift of the Holy Ghost, (Acts viii. 19,) the obtaining of ecclesiastical pre- ferment by pecuniary considerations has been termed Simony. The sale of advowsons is inseparable from the allowance of private patronage ; as patronage would otherwise devolve to the most indigent, and for that reason the most improper hands it could be placed in. Nor did the law ever intend to pro- hibit the passing of advowsons from one patron to another ; but to restrain the patron, who pos- sesses the right of presenting at the vacancy, from being influenced, in the choice of his presen- tee, by a bribe, or benefit to himself. It is the same distinction with that which obtains in a free- holder's vote for his representative in parliament. The right of voting, that is, the freehold to which the rignt pertains, may be bought and sold as freely as any other property; but the exercise of that right, the vote itself, may not be pur- chased, or influenced by money. For this purpose, the law imposes upon the presentee, who is generally concerned in the si- mony, if there be any, the following oath : " I do swear, that I have made no simoniacal payment, contract, or promise, directly or indirectly, by my- self, or by any other to my knowledge, or with my consent, to any person or persons whatsoever, for or concerning the procuring and obtaining of this ecclesiastical place, &c. ; nor will, at any time here- after, perform, or satisfy, any such kind of pay- ment, contract, or promise, made by any other without my knowledge or consent: so help me God, through Jesus Christ !" It is extraordinary that Bishop Gibson should have thought this oath to be against all promises whatsoever, when the terms of the oath expressly restrain it to simoniacal promises; and the law alone must pronounce what promises, as well as what payments and contracts, are simoniacal, and consequently come within the oath ; and what do not so. Now the law adjudges to be simony, SUBSCRIPTION TO ARTICLES OF RELIGION, 03 scension in for it tends the clergy to introuui 1. All payments, contracts, or promises, made by any person for a benefice already vacant. The advowson of a void turn, by law, cannot be transferred from one patron to another ; there- fore, if the -void turn be procured by money, it must l>e by a pecuniary influence upon the then subsisting patron in the choice of his presonUr, which is the very practice the law condemns. 2. A clergyman's purchasing of the next turn for a benefice/or himself, " directly or indirectly," that is, by himself, or by another person with his money. It does not appear that the law prohibits a clergyman from purchasing the perpetuity of a patronage, more than any other person: but pur- chasing the perpetuity, and forthwith selling it again with the reservation of the next turn, and with no other design than to possess himself of the next turn, is infraudem legis, and inconsis- tent with the oath. 3. The procuring of a piece of preferment, by ceding to the patron any rights, or probable rights, Mousing to it. This is simony of the worst kind ; for it is not only buying preferment, but robbing the succession to pay for it. 4. Promises to the patron of a portion of the profit, of a remission of tithes and dues, or other advantage out of the produce of the benefice; which kind of compact is a pernicious conde- ;y, independent of the oath ; uce a practice, which may very soon become general, of giving the revenue of churches to the lay patrons, and supplying the duty by indigent stipendiaries. 5. General bonds of resignation, that is, bonds to resign upon demand. I doubt not but that the oath against simony is binding upon the consciences of those who take it, though I question much the expediency of re- quiring it. It is very fit to debar public patrons, such as the king, the lord chancellor, bishops, ec- clesiastical corporations, and the like, from tliis kind of traffic: because from them may be ex- pected some regard to the qualifications of the persons whom they promote. But the oath lays a snare for the integrity of- the clergy ; and I do not perceive, that the requiring of it in cases of private patronage, produces any good effect suf- ficient to compensate for this danger. Where advowsons are holden along with ma- nors, or other principal estates, it would be an easy regulation to forbid that they should ever hereafter l)e separated ; and would, at least, keep church- preferment out of the hands of brokers. CHAPTER XXI. Oaths to Observe Local Statutes. MEMBERS of colleges in the Universities, and of other ancient foundations, are required to swear to the observance of their respective statutes; which observance is become in some cases un- lawful, in others impracticable, in others useless, in others inconvenient. Unlawful directions are countermanded by the authority which made them unlawful. Impracticable directions are dispensed with by the necessity of the case. The only question is, how far the members of these societies may take upon themselves to judge of the inconvenicncy of any particular direction, and make that a reason for laying aside the ob- servation of it. \ The animus imponentis, which is the mea- sure of the juror's duty, seems to be satisfied, when nothing is omitted, but what, from some change in the circumstances under which it was prescribed, it may fairly be presumed that the founder himself would have dispensed with. To bring a case within this rule, the inconve- niency must 1. Be manifest; concerning which there is no doubt. 2. It must arise from some change in the cir- cumstances of the institution : for, let the incon- veniency be what it will, if it existed at the time of the foundation, it must be presumed that the founder did not deem the avoiding of it of suf- ficient importance to alter his plan. 3. The direction of the statute must not only be inconvenient in the general (for so may the institution itself be,) but prejudicial to the particu- lar end proposed by the institution: for, it is this last circumstance which proves that the founder would have dispensed with it in pursuance of his own purpose. The statutes of some colleges forbid the speak- ing of any language but Latin, within the walla of the college ; direct that a certain number, and not fewer than that number, be allowed the use of an apartment amongst them ; that so many hours of each day be employed in public exercises, lec- tures, or disputations ; and some other articles of discipline adapted to the tender years of the stu- dents who in former tunes resorted to universi- ties. Were colleges to retain such rules, nobody now-a-days would come near them. They are laid aside therefore, though parts of the statutes, and as such included within the oath, not merely because they are inconvenient, but because there is sufficient reason to believe, that the founders themselves would have dispensed with them, as subversive of their own designs. CHAPTER XXII. Subscription to Articles of Religion. SUBSCRIPTION to articles of religion, though no morerthan a declaration of ihe subscriber's assent, may properly enough be considered in connexion with the subject of oaths, because it is governed by the same rule of interpretation : Which rule is the animus imponentis. The inquiry, therefore, concerning subscription, will be, quis imposuit, et quo animo ? The bishop who receives the subscription, is not the imposer, any more than the crier of a court, who administers the oath to the jury and wit- nesses, is the person that imposes it ; nor, conse- quently, is the private opinion or interpretation of the bishop of any signification to the subscriber one way or other. The compilers~of the Thirty-nine Articles are not to be considered as the imposers of subscrip- tion, any more than the framer or drawer up of a law is the person that enacts it. The legislature of the 13th Eliz. is the im- poser, whose intention the subscriber is bound to satisfy. They who contend, that nothing less can ius- tify subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles, than Gi MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the actual belief of each and every separate pro- position contained in them, must suppose, tin) the legislature expected the consent of ten thousand inni, and that, ill perpetual succession, not to one controverted proposition, but to many hundreds. It is difficult to conceive how this could he ex- pected by any, who observed the incurable diver- sity of human opinion upon all subjects short of demonstration. If the authors of the law did not intend this, what did they intend 1 They intended to exclude from offices in the church, 1. All abettors of popery : 2. Anabaptists ; who were at that time a pow- erful party on the Continent. 3. The puritans; who were hostile to an epis- copal constitution: and in general the members of such' leading sects or foreign establishments as threatened to overthrow our own. Whoever finds himself comprehended within these descriptions, ought not to subscribe. Nor csni a subscriber to the Articles take advantage of any latitude which our rule may seem to allow, who is not first convinced that he is truly and substantially satisfying the intention of the legis- lature. During the present state of ecclesiastical pa- tronage, in which private individuals are per- mitted to impose teachers upon parishes with which they are often little or not at all connected, some limitation of the patron's choice may be ne- cessary to prevent Unedifying contentions between neighbouring teachers, or between the teachers, and their respective congregations. But this danger, if it exist, may be provided against with equal effect, by converting the articles of faith into articles of peace. CHAPTER XXIII. Wills. THE fundamental question upon this subject is, whether Wills are of natural or of adventitious right 1 that is, whether the right of directing the disposition of property after his death belongs to a man in a state of nature, and by the law of na- ture, or whether it be given him entirely by the positive regulations of the country he lives in 1 The immediate produce of each man's personal labour, as the tools, weapons, and utensils, which he manufactures, the tent or hut that he builds, and perhaps the flocks and herds which he breeds and rears, are as much his own as the labour was which he employed upon them; that is, are his property naturally and absolutely; and conse- quently he may give or leave them to whom he pleases, there being nothing to limit the con- tinuance of his right, or to restrain the alienation of it. But every other species of property, especially property in land, stands upon a different founda- tion. We have seen, in the Chapter upon Property, that, in a state of nature, a man's right to a par- ticular spot .flf ground arises from his using it and his wanting it; consequently ceases with the use and want: so that at his death the. estate reverts to the community, without any regard to the last owner's will, or even any preference of his family, further than as they become the first occupier* after him, and succeed to the s;ime want and use. Moreover, as natural rights cannot, like rights created by act of parliament, expire at the end of a certain number of years: if the testator have a right, by the law of nature, to dispose of his property one moment after his death, be has the. same right to direct the disposition of it for a mil- lion of ages after him ; which is absurd. The ancient apprehensions of mankind upon the subject were conformable to this account of it: for, wills have been introduced into most coun- tries by a positive act of the state: as by the 1 .awn of Solon into Greece; by the Twelve Tables into Rome; and that not till after a considerable progress had been made in legislation, and in the economy of civil life. Tacitus relates, that amongst the Germans they were disallowed ; and what is more remarkable, in this country, since the Conquest, lands could not be devised by will, till within little more than two hundred years ago, when this privilege was restored to the subject, by an act of parliament, in the latter end of the reign of Henry the Kighth. No doubt, many beneficial purposes are at- tained by extending the owner s power over his property beyond his life, nd beyond his natural right. It invites to industry ; it encourages mar- riage; it secures the dutifulness and dependency of children : but a limit must be assigned to the duration of this power. The utmost extent to which, in any case, entails are allowed bv the laws of England to operate, is during the lives in existence at the death of the testator, and one-and- wenty years beyond these; after which, there are ways and means of setting them aside. From the consideration that wills are the crea- tures of the municipal law which gives them their 'ffieacy, may be deduced a determination of the, juestion, whether the intention of the testator in an informal will, be binding upon the conscience of those, who, by operation of law, succeed to his estate. By an informal will, I mean a will void in aw for want of some requisite formality, though no doubt be entertained of its meaning <>r authen- ticity: as, suppose a man make his will, devising lis freehold estate to his sister's son, and the will be attested by two only, instead of three, sub- scribing witnesses; would the brother's son, who is heir at law to the testator, be bound in con- science to resign his claim to the estate, out of lefcrencc to his uncle's intention ? or, on the con- trary, would not the devisee under the will be .)ound, upon discovery of this flaw in it, to sur- render the estate, suppose lie had gained posses- sion of it, to the heir at law ! Generally speaking, the heir at law is not bound by the intention of the testator: for the intention can signify nothing, unless the person intending have a right to govern the descent of the estate. That is the first <]uestion. Now this right the testator can only derive from the law of the land: but the law comen the right upon certain con- ditions, with which conditions lie has not. com- plied; therefore, the testator can lay no claim to :!ie power which lie pretends to exercise, as be hath not entitled himself to the hem lit of that law, by virtue of which alone the estate ouirht to ittend' his disposal. < 'onse<]uenlly, the devisee, under the will, who, by concealing this flaw in it, keeps possession of the estate, is in the situation of any other person who avails himself of his WILLS. 65 neighbour's ignorance to detain from him his pro- perty. The will is so much waste paper, from the defect of right in the person who made it. Nor is this catching at an expression of law to pervert the substantial design of it : for I apprehend it to be the deliberate mind of the legislature, that no will should take effect upon real estates, unless au- thenticated in the precise manner which the sta- tute descrilx?s. Had testamentary dispositions been founded in any natural right, independent of {Mtsitive constitutions 1 should have thought differently of this question : for then I should have considered the law rather as refusing its assistance to enforce the right of the devisee, than as ex- tinguishing or working any alteration in the right itself. And after all, I should choose to propose a case, where no consideration of pity to distress, of duty to a parent, or of gratitude to a benefactor, interfered with the general rule of justice. The regard due to kindred in the disposal of our fortune (except the case of lineal kindred, which is different) arises either from the respect we owe to the presumed intention of the ancestor from whom we received our fortunes, or from the expectations wliich we have encouraged. The intention of the ancestor is presumed with greater certainty, as well as entitled to more respect, the fewer degrees he is removed from us ; which makes the difference in the different degrees of kindred. For instance, it may be presumed to be a father's intention and desire, that the inheritance which he leaves, after it has served the turn and generation of one son, should remain a provision for the families of his other children, equally re- lated and dear to him as the oldest. Whoever, therefore, without cause, gives away his patrimony from his brother's or sister's family, is guilty not so much of an injury to them, as of ingratitude to his parent. The deference due from the pos- sessor of a fortune to the presumed desire of his ancestor, will also vary with this circumstance : whether the ancestor earned the fortune by his' personal industry, acquired it by accidental suc- cesses, or only transmitted the inheritance which he received. Where a man's fortune is acquired by himself, and he has done nothing to excite expectation, but rather has refrained from those particular attentions which tend to cherish expectation, he is perfectly disengaged from the force of the above reasons, and at liberty to leave his fortune to his friends, to charitable or public purposes, or to whom he will : the same bloodj proximity of blood, and the like, are merely modes of speech, implying nothing real, nor any obligation of them- selves. There is always, however, a reason for pro- viding for our poor relations, in preference to others who may be equally necessitous, which ie, that if we dp not, no one else will; mankind, by an established consent, leaving the reduced branches of good families to the bounty of their wealthy alliances. The not making a will, is a very culpable omission, where it is attended with the following effects: where it leaves daughters, or younger children, at the mercy of the oldest son ; where it distributes a personal 'fortune equally amongst the children, although there be no equality in their exigences or situations ; where it leaves an open- ing for litigation ; or lastly, and principally, where it defrauds creditors ; for, by a defect in our laws, which has been long and strangely overlooked, real estates are not subject to the payment of debts by simple contract, unless made so by will; although credit is, in fact, generally given to the .possession of such estates : he, therefore, who ne- glects to niake the necessary appointments for the payment of his debts, as far as his effects extend, sins, as it has been justly said, in his grave ; and if he omits tliis on purpose to defeat the demands of his creditors, he dies with a deliberate fraud in his heart. Anciently, when any one died without a will, the bishop of the diocese took possession of his personal fortune r in order to dispose of it for the benefit of his soul, that is, to pious or charitable uses. It became necessary, therefore, that the bishop should be satisfied of the authenticity of the will, when there was anv, In- lore he resigned the right which he had to take possession of the dead man's fortune in case of intestacy. In this way wills and controversies relating to wills, came within the cognizance of ecclesiastical courts ; un- der the jurisdiction of wliich, wills of personals (the only wills that were made formerly) still con- tinue, though in truth, no more now-a-days con- nected with religion, than any other instruments of conveyance. Tliis is a peculiarity in the En- glish laws. Succession to intestates must be regulated by positive rules of law, there being no principle of natural justice whereby to ascertain the propor- tion of the different claimants : not to mention that the claim itself, especially of collateral kin- ilrnl. seems to have little foundation in the laws of nature. These regulations should be guided by the duty and presumed inclination of the deceased, so far as these considerations can be consulted by general rules. The statutes of Charles the Second, com; monly called the Statutes of Distribution, which adopt the rules of the Roman law in the dis- tribution of personals, are sufficiently equitable. They assign one-third to the widow, and two- thirds to the children ; in case of no children, one half to the widow, and the other half to the next of kin ; where neither widow nor lineal descendants survive, the"" whol^ to the next of kin, and to be equally divided amongst kindred of equal degree, without distinction of whole.blood and half blood, or of consanguinity by the father's or mother's side. The descent of real estates, of houses, that is, and land, having been settled in more remote and in ruder times, is less reasonable. There never can be much to complain of in a rule which every person may avoid, by so easy a provision as that of making his will : otherwise, our law in this re- spect is chargeable with some flagrant absurdities; such as, that an estate shall in no wise go to the brother or sister of the half blood, though it came to the deceased from the common parent ; that it shall go to the remotest relation the intestate has in the world, rather than to his own father or mother; or even be forfeited for want of an heir, though both parents survive ; that the most dis- tant paternal relation shall be preferred to an un- cle, or own cousin, by the mother's side, notwith- standing the estate was purchased and acquired by the intestate himself. Land not being so -divisible as money, may be a reason for making a difference in the course of 6* GG MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. inheritance : but there ought to be no difference but what is founded upon that reason. The Ro- man law made none. > BOOK III. PART II. . OF RELATIVE DUTIES WHICH ARE INDETER- MINATE. CHAPTER I. Charity. I USE the term Charity neither in the common eense of bounty to the poor, nor in St. Paul's sense of benevolence to all mankind : but I apply it at present, in a sense more Commodious to my purpose, to signify the promoting the happiness of our inferiors. Charity, in this sense, I take to be the princi- pal province of virtue and religion : for, whilst worldly prudence will direct our behaviour to- wards our superiors, and politeness towards our equals, there is little beside the consideration of duty, or an habitual humanity which comes into the place of consideration, to produce a proper conduct towards those who are beneath us, and dependant upon us. There are three principal methods of promoting the happiness of our inferiors. 1. By the treatment of our domestics and de- pendants. 2. By professional assistance, 3. By pecuniary bounty. CHAPTER II. . Charity. THE TREATMENT OP OUR DOMESTICS AND DE- PENDANTS. A PARTY of friends setting out together upon a journey, soon find it to be the best for all sides, that while they are upon the road, one of the com- pany should wait upon the rest ; another ride for- ward to seek out lodging and entertainment ; a third carry the portmanteau ; a fourth take charge of the horses ; a fifth bear the purse, conduct and direct the route ; not forgetting, however, that, as they were equal and independent when they set out, so they are all to return to a level again at , their journey's end. The same regard and re- spect; the same forbearance, lenity, and reserve in using their service ; the same mildness in de- livering commands ; the same study to make their Journey comfortable and pleasant, which he whose jlot it was to direct the rest, would in common decency think himself bound to observe towards them; ought 'we to show to those who, in the casting of the parts of human society, happen to be placed within our power, or to depend upon us. Another reflection of a Like tendency with the former is, that our obligation to them is mnch greater than theirs to us. It is a mistake to sup- pose, that the rich man maintains lu's servants, tradesmen, tenants, and. labourers : the truth is, they maintain him. It is their industry which supplies his table, furnishes his wardrobe, builds his houses, adorns his equipage, provides his amusements. It is not the estate, but,thc labour employed upon it, that pays his rent. All that he does, is to distribute wliat others produce j which is the least part of the business. Nor do I perceive any foundation for an opinion, which is often handed round in genteel company, that good usage is thrown away upon low and ordinary minus ; that they are insensible of kind- ness, and incapable of gratitude. If by " low and ordinary minds" are meant the minds of men in low and ordinary stations, they seem to be affect- ed by benefits in the same way that all others are, and to be no less ready 'to requite them: and it would be a very unaccountable law of nature if it were otherwise. Whatever uneasiness we occasion to our domes- tics^ w,hich neither promotes our service, nor an- swers the just ends of punishment, is manifestly wrong ; were it only upon the general principle of diminishing the sum of human happiness. By which rule we are forbidden, 1. To enjoin unnecessary labour or confine- merit from the mere love and wantonness of domi- nation. 2. To insult our servants by harsh, scornful, or opprobrious language. 3. To refuse them any harmless pleasures. And, by the same principle, are also forbidden causeless or immoderate anger, habitual peevish- ness, and groundless suspicion.. CHAPTER III. Slavery. THE prohibitions of the last chapter extend to the treatment of slaves, being founded upon a principle independent of the contract between masters and servants. I define slavery to .be " an obligation to labour for the benefit of the master, without the contract or consent of the servant." This obligation may arise, consistently with the [aw of nature, from three causes : 1 . From crimes. 2. From captivity. 3. From debt. In the first case, the continuance of the slavery, as of any other punishment, owjht to l>e propor- tioned to the crime; in the second and third nisr^ it ought to cease, as soon as the demand of the in- jured nation, or private creditor, is satisfied. The slave-trade upon the coast of Africa is not xcused by these principles. When slaves in that country are brought to market, no questions, I believe, are asked about the origin or justice of the vendor's- title. It may be presumed, therefore, that this title is not always, if it be ever, founded in any of the causes above assigned. But defect of right in the first purchase, is the least crime with which this traffic is chargeable. The natives are excited to war and mutual depre- dation, for the sake of supplying their contracts, or furnishing the market with slaves. With this CHARITY. the wickedness begins. The slaves, torn away from parents, wives, children, from their friends and companions, their fields and flocks, their home and country, are transported to the Eu- ropean settlements in America, with no other ac- commodation on shipboard than what is provided for brutes. This is the second stage of cruelty ; from which the miserable exiles are delivered, only to be placed, and that for life, in subjection to a dominion and system of laws, the most mer- ciless and tyrannical that ever were tolerated upon the face of the earth ; and from all that can be learned by the accounts of the people upon the spot, the inordinate authority which the planta- tion-laws confer UJKHI the slave-holder is exercised, by the English slave-holder especially, with rigour and brutality. But necessity is pretended; the name under which every enormity is attempted to be justified. And, after all. what is the necessity'? It has never been proved that the land could not be cultivated there, as it is here, by lured servants. It is said that it could not lie cultivated with quite the same convenieuey and cheapness, as by the lal>our of slaves : by which means, a pound of sugar, which the planter now sells lor sixpence, could not .be aflbrded under sixpence-halfpenny ; and this is the necessity. The great revolution which has taken place in the Western work!, may probably conduce (and who knows but that it was designed ?) to accele- rate the fall of this ajxmii liable tyranny : and now that this contest, and the pas-ion's which attend it, are no more, there may succeed perhaps a season for reflecting, whether a legislature which had so lonn lent its assistance to the support of an insti- tution replete with human miserv, was fit to be trusted with an empire the most' extensive that ever obtained in any age or quarter of the world. Slavery was a part of the civil constitution of most countries, when Christianity appeared ; yet no passage is to be found in the Christian Scrip- tures, by which it is condemned or prohibited. This is true ; for Christianity, soliciting admis- sion into all nations of the world, abstained, as behoved it, from intermeddling with the civil in- stitutions of any. But does it follow, from the silence of Scripture concerning them, that all the civil institutions which then prevailed were right 1 or that the bad should not be exchanged for bet- ter 1 Besides this, the discharging of slaves from all obligation to obey their masters, which is the con- sequence of pronouncing slavery to be unlawful, would have had no better effect than to let loose one half of mankind upon the other. Slaves would have been tempted to embrace a religion, which asserted their right to freedom; masters would hardly have been persuaded to consent to claims founded upon such authority; the most calamitous of all contests, a bellum servile, might probably have ensued, to the reproach, if not the 1 extinction, of the Christian name. \ The truth is, the emancipation of slaves should .. !be gradual and be carried on by provisions of law, and under the protection of civil government. Christianity can only operate as an alterative. By the mild diffusion of its light and influence, the minds of men are insensibly prepared to perceive and correct the enormities, which folly, or wicked- ness, or accident, have introduced into their public establishments. In this way the Greek and Ro- man slavery, and since these, the feudal tyranny, has declined before it. And we trust that, as the knowledge and authority of the same religion ad- vance in the world, they will banish what remains of this odious institution. CHAPTER IV. Charity. PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE. THIS kind of beneficence is chiefly to be ex- pected from members of the legislature, magis- trates, medical, legal, and sacerdotal professions. 1. The care of the poor ought to be the prin- cipal object of all laws', for this plain reason, that the rich are able to take care of themselves. Much has- been, and more might be; done by the laws of this country, towards the relief of the impotent, and the protection and encouragement of the industrious poor. Whoever applies him- self to collect observations upon the state and ojx?ration of tb.Q poor laws, and to contrive reme- dies for the imperfections and abuses which he o!'-erves, and digests these remedies into acts of parliament ; and conducts them, by argument or influence, through the two branches of the legisla- ture, or communicates his ideas to those who are more likely to carry them into effect, deserves well of a class of the community so numerous, that their happiness forms a principal part of the whole. The study and activity thus employed, is charity, in the most meritorious sense of the word. 2. The application of parochial relief is in- trusted, in the first instance, to overseers and con- tractors, who have an interest in opposition to that of the poor, inasmuch as whatever they allow them comes in part out of their own pockp t. For this reason, the law has deposited with justices of the peace a power of superintendence and con- trol; and the judicious interposition of this power is a most useful exertion, of charity, and oft-times within the ability of those who have no other way of serving their generation. A country gentle- man of very moderate education, and who has little to spare from his fortune, by learning so much of the poor-law as is to be found in Dr. Burn's Jus- tice, and by furnishing himself with a knowledge of the prices of labour and provision, so as to be able to estimate the exigencies of a family, and what is to be expected from their industry, may, in this way, place out the one talent committed to him, to great account. 3. Of all private professions, that of medicine puts it in a man's power to do the most good at the least expense. Health, which is precious to all, is to the poor invaluable : and their complaints, as agues, rheumatisms, &c. are often such as yield to medicine. And, with respect to the expense, drugs at first hand cost little, and advice costs no- thing, where it is only bestowed upon those who could not afford to pay for it. 4. The rights of the ]>oor are not so important or intricate, as- their contentions are violent and ruinous. A lawyer or attorney, of tolerable knowledge in his profession, has commonly judg- ment enough to adjust these disputes, with all the effect, and without the expense, of a law-suit ; and he may be said to give a poor man twenty pounds MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. who prevents his throwing it away upon law. A legal man, whether of the profession or not, who, together with a spirit of conciliation, possesses the confidence of his neighbourhood, will l>e much resorted to for this purpose, especially since the great increase of costs has produced a general dread of going to law. Nor is this line of beneficence confined to arbi- tration. Seasonable counsel, coming with the weight which the reputation of the adviser gives it, will often keep or extricate the rash and unin- formed out of great difficulties. Lastly, I know not a more exalted charity than that which presents a shield against the rapacity or persecution of a tyrant. 5. Betwixt argument and authority (I mean that authority which flows from voluntary respect, and attends upon sanctity and disinterestedness of character) something may be done, amongst the lower orders of mankind, towards the regulation of their conduct, and the satisfaction of their thoughts. This office belongs to the ministers of religion; or rather, whoever undertakes it, be- comes a minister of religion. The inferior clergy, who are nearly upon a level with the common sort of their parishioners, and who on that account gain an easier admission to their society and con- fidence, have in this respect more in their power than their superiors : the discreet use of this power constitutes one of the most respectable functions of human nature. CHAPTER V. Charity. PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 1. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. II. The manner of bestowing it. III. The pretences by which men excuse tliem- selvesfrom it. 1. The obligation to bestow relief upon the poor. THEY who rank pity amongst the original im- pulses of our nature, rightly contend, that, when this principle prompts us to the relief of human misery, it indicates the Divine indention, and our duty. Indeed, the same conclusion is deducible from the existence of the passion, whatever ac- count be given of its origin. Whether it be an- instinct or a habit, it is in fact a property of our nature, which God appointed : and the final cause for which it was appointed, is, to afford to the miserable, in the compassion of their fellow-crea- tures, a remedy for those inequalities and distress- es which God foresaw that many must be exposed to, under every general rule for the distribution of property. Beside this, the poor have a claim founded in the law of nature, which maybe thus explained : All things were originally common. No one be- ing able to produce a charter from Heaven, had any better title to a particular possession than his next neighbour. There were reasons for man- kind's agreeing upon a separation of this common fund ; and God for these reasons is presumed to have ratified it. But this separation was made and consented to, upon the expectation and condition that every one should have left a sufficiency for his subsistence, or the means of procuring it : and as no fixed laws for the regulation of property can be so contrived, as to provide for the relief of every case and distress which may arise, these discs and distresses, when their right and- share in the common stock were given up or taken from them, were supposed to be left to the voluntary bounty of those who might be acquainted with the exigencies of their situation, and in the way of affording assistance. And, therefore, when the partition of property is rigidly maintained against the claims of indigence and distress, it is main- tained in opposition to the intention of those who made it, and to his, who is the Supreme Proprietor of every thing, and who has filled the world with plenteousness, for the sustentatiori and comfort of all whom he sends into it. The Christian Scriptures are more copious and explicit upon this duty than upon almost any other. The description which Christ hath left us of the proceedings of the last day, establishes the obligation of bounty beyond controversy ; "AVhen the son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory, and before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from another. Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world : For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me. And inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."* It is not necessary to under- stand this passage as a literal account of what will actually pass on that day. Supposing it only a scenical description of the rules and principles, by which the Supreme Arbiter of our destiny will regulate his decisions, it conveys the same lesson to us ; it equally demonstrates of how great value and importance these duties in the sight of God are, and what stress will be laid upon them. The apostles also describe this virtue as propitiating the Divine favour in an eminent degree. And these recommendations have produced their etiect. It does not appear that, before the times of Chris- tianity, an infirmary, hospital, or public charity of any kind, existed in the world ; whereas most countries in Christendom, have long abounded with these institutions. To which may be added, that a spirit of private liberality seems to flourish amidst the decay of many other virtues ; not to mention the legal provision for the poor, which obtains in this country, and which was unknown and unthought of by the most humanised nations of antiquity. St. Paul adds upon the subject an excellent direction, and which is practicable by all who liave any thing to give : " Upon the first day of the week (or any other stated time) let every one of you lay by in store, as God hath prospered iim." By which I understand St. Paul to re- commend what is the very thing wanting with mos.t men, the being charitable upon a plan ; that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our fortunes with the reasonable expenses and expectation of our families, to compute what we can spare, and * Matthew, xxv. 31. PECUNIARY BOUNTY. 69 to lay by so much for charitable purposes in some mode or other. The mode will be a consideration afterwards. The effect which Christianity produced upon some of its first converts, was such as might be looked for from a divine religion, coming with full force and miraculous evidence upon the con- sciences of mankind. It overwhelmed all worldly considerations in the expectation of a more im- portant existence : " And the multitude of them that believed, were of one heart and of one soul ; neither said any of them that aught of the tilings which he possessed was his own ; but they had all things in common. Neither was there any among them that lacked; for as many as were possessors of lands or houses, sold them, and brought the prices of the tilings th;rt were sold, and laid them down at the apostles' feet ; and dis- tribution was made unto every man according as he had need." Acts iv. 32. Nevertheless, this community of goods, 'how- ever it manifested the sincere zeal of the primitive Christians, is no precedent for our imitation. It was confined to the church at Jerusalem; con- tinued not long there ; was never enjoined upon any (Acts v. 4. ;) and although it might suit with the particular circumstances of a small and select society, is altogether impracticable in a large and mixea community. The conduct of the apostles upon the occasion, deserves to be noticed. Their followers laid down their fortunes at their feet : but so far were they from taking advantage of this unlimited confidence. to enrich themselves, or to establish their own au- thority, that they soon after got rid of this business, as inconsistent with the main object of their mis- sion, and transferred the custody and management of the public fund to deacons elected to that office by the people at large. (Acts vi.) II. The manner of bestowing bounty ; or the different kinds of charity. Every question between the different kinds of charity, supposes the sum bestowed to be the same. There are three kinds of charity which prefer a claim to attention. The first, and in my judgment one of the best, is to give stated and considerable sums, by way of pension or annuity, to individuals or families, with whose behaviour and distress we ourselves are acquainted. When I speak of considerable sums, 1 mean only that five pounds, or any other sum, given at once, or divided amongst five or fewer families, will do more good than the same sum distributed amongst a greater number in shil- lings or half-crowns ; and mat, because it is more likely to be properly applied by the persons who receive it. A poor fellow, who can find no bet- ter use for a shilling than to drink his benefactor's health, and purchase half an hour's recreation -for himself, would hardly break into a guinea for any such a purpose, or be so improvident as not to lay it by for an occasion of importance, e. g. for his rent, his clothing, fuel, or stock of winter's pro- vision. It is a still greater recommendatioixof this kind of charity, that pensions and annuities, which are paid regularly, and can be expected at the time, are the only way by which we can prevent one part of a poor man's sufferings, the dread of want. 2. But as this kind of charity supposes that proper objects of such expensive benefactions fall within our private knowledge "and observation, which does not happen to all, a second method of doing good, which is in every one's power who has the money to spare, is by subscription to pub- lic charities. Public charities admit of this ar- gument in their favour, that your money goes farther towards attaining the end for which it is given, than it can do by any private and separate beneficence. A guinea, for example, contributed to an infirmary, becomes the means of providing one patient at least with a physician, surgeon, apothecary, with medicine, diet, lodging, and suit- able attendance ; which is not the tenth part of what the same assistance, if it could be procured at all, would cost to a sick person or family in any other situation. 3. The last, and, compared with the former, the lowest exertion of benevolence, is in the re- lief of beggars. Nevertheless, I by no means approve the indiscriminate rejection of all who implore our alms in this way. Some may perish h\ such a conduct. Men are sometimes overtaken by distress, for which all other relief would come too late. Beside which, resolutions of this kind compel us to offer such violence to our humanjty, as may go near, in a little while, to suffocate the principle itself; which is a very serious considera- tion. A good man, if he do not surrender himself to his feedings without reserve, will at least lend an ear to importunities which come accompanied with outward attestations of distress ; and after a pa- tient audience of the complaint, will direct him- self, not so much by any previous resolution which he may have formed upon the subject, as by the circumstances and credibility of the account that he receives. There are other species of charity well con- trived to make the money expended go far: such as keeping down the price of fuel or provision, in case of monopoly or temporary scarcity, by pur- chasing the articles at the best market, and retail- ing them at prime cost, or at a small loss; or the adding of a bounty to particular species of labour, when the price is accidentally depressed. The proprietors of large estates have it in their power to facilitate the maintenance, and thereby to encourage the establishment, of families, (which is one of tne noblest purposes to which the rich and great can convert their endeavours,) by build- ing cottages, splitting farms, erectjng manufacto- ries, cultivating wastes, embanking the sea, drain- ing marshes, and other expedients which the situation of each estate points out. If the profits of these undertakings do not repay the expense, let the authors of them place the difference to the account of charity. It is true of almost all such projects, that the public is a gainer by them, what- ever the owner be. And where the loss can be spared, this consideration is sufficient. It is become a question of some importance, under what circumstances works of chanty ought to be done in private, and when they may be made public without detracting from the merit of the action, if indeed they ever may ; the Author of our religion having delivered a rule upon this sub- ject which seems to enjoin universal secrecy : " When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth ; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy Father, .which seeth in secret, himself shall reward thee openly." (Mat. vi. 3, 4.) From the preamble to this prohibition I think it, however, plain, that our Saviour's sole 70 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. design was to forbid ostentation, and all publish- ing of good works which proceeds from that mo- tive. " Take heed that ye do not your alms be- fore men, to be seen of them ; otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven ; therefore, when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do, in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, they have their reward." ver. 1, 2. There are motives for the doing our alms in public, beside those of ostentation, with which therefore bur Saviour's rule has no concern : such as to testify our ap- probation of some particular species of charity, and to recommend it to others ; to take off the prejudice which the want, or, which is the same thing, the suppression, of our name in the list of contributors might excite against the charity, or against ourselves. And, so 'long as these motives are free from any mixture of vanity, they are in no danger of invading our Saviour's prohibition; they rather seem to comply with another direction which he has left us: "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." If it be necessary to propose a precise distinction upon the subject, I can think of none better than the following : When our boun*y is beyond our fortune and station, that is, when it is more than could be expected from us, our charity should be private, if privacy be practicable : when it is not more than might be expected, it may be public: for we cannot nope to influence others to the imi- tation of extraordinary generosity, and therefore want, in the former case, the only justifiable rea- son for making it public. Having thus described several different exer- tions of charity, it may not be improper to take notice of a species of liberality, which is not charity, in any sense of the word : I mean the giving of entertainments or liquor, for the sake of popularity; or the rewarding, treating, and maintaining, the companions of our diversions, as hunters, shooters, fishers, and the like. I do not say that this is criminal ; I only say that it is not charity; and that we are not to suppose, be- cause we give, and give to the poor, that it will stand in the place,' or supersede the obligation, of more meritorious and disinterested bounty. III. The pretences by which men excuse them- selves from giving to the poor. 1. " That they have nothing to spare," i. e. nothing for which they have not provided some other use ; nothing which their plan or expense, together with the savings they have resolved to lay by, will not exhaust: never reflecting whether it be in their power, or that it is their duty, to retrench their expenses, and contract their plan, " that they may have to give to them that need:" or, rather, that this ought to have been part of their plan originally. 2. " That they have families of their own, and that charity begins at home." The extent of this plea will be considered, when we come to explain the duty of parents. 3. "That charity docs not consist in giving money, but in benevolence, philanthropy, love to all mankind, goodness of heart," &c. Hear St. James : " If a brother or mister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, depart in peace ; be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give tliem not those things which arc needful to the body; what doth it profit'?" (James ii. 15, 16.) 4. "That giving to the poor is not mentioned in St. Paul's description .of charity, in the thir- teenth chapter of his First Epistle to the Corin- thians." This is not a description of charity, but of good-nature ; and it is necessary that every duty be mentioned in every place. 5. " That they pay the poor-rates." They might as well allege that they pay their debts : for the poor have the same right to that portion of a man's property which the laws assign to them, that the man himself has to the remainder. 6. " That they employ many poor persons;" for their own sake, not the poor's otherwise it is a good plea. 7. " That the poor do not suffer so much as we imagine; that, education and habit have re- conciled them to the evils of their condition, and make them easy under it." Habit can never reconcile human nature" to the extremities of cold, hunger, and thirst, any more than it can reconcile the hand to the touch of a red-hot iron: besides, the question is not, how unhappy any one is, but how much more happy we can make him. 8. "That these people, give them what you will, will never thank you, or think of you for it." In the first place, this is not true : in the second place, it was not for the sake of their thanks that you relieved them. 9. " That we are liable to be imposed upon." If a due inquiry be made, our merit is the same : beside that the distress is generally real, although the cause be untruly stated. 10. " That they should ajrply to their parishes." This is not always practicable : to which we may add, that there are many requisites to a comfort- able subsistence, which parish relief dors not sup- ply ; and that there are some, who would suffer almost as much from receiving parish relief as by the want of it ; and, lastly, that there are many modes of charity to which this answer does not relate at all. 11. " That giving money, encourages idleness and vagrancy.^ This is true only of injudicious and indiscriminate generosity. 12. " That we have too many objects of charity at home, to bestow any thing upon strangers; or, that there are other charities, which are more use- ful, or stand in greater need." The value of this excuse depends entirely upon the fact, whether we actually relieve those neighbouring objects, and contribute to those other charities. Beside all these excuses, pride, or prudery, or delicacy, or -love of ease, keep one half of the world out of the way of observing what the other half suffer. CHAPTER VI. Resentment. RESENTMENT may be distinguished into anger arid revenge. By anger, I mean the pain we suffer upon the receipt of an injury or affront, with the usual ef- fects of that pain upon ourselves. By revenge, the inflicting of pain upon the person who has injured or offended us, farther than the just enda of punishment or reparation require. REVENGE, 71 Anger prompts to revenge ; but it is possible to suspend the effect, when we cannot altogether quell the principle. We are bound also to en- deavour to qualify and correct the principle itself. So that our duty requires two different applica- tions of the mind ; and, for that reason, anger aud revenge may be considered separately. CHAPTER VII. Anger. " BE ye angry, and sin not ;" therefore all an^cr is not sinful; I suppose, because some degree of it. and u]K>n some occasions, is inevitable. It becomes sinful, or contradicts, however, the rule of Scripture, when it is conceived upon slight and inadequate provocations, and, when it continues louir. 1. When it- is conceived upon slight provoca- tions : for, " charity suffered! long, is not easily provoked." " Let every man be slow to anger." Peace, lone-suflering, gentleness, meekness, are enumerated among the fruits of the Spirit, Gal. v. ^3. and compose the true Christian temper, as to this article of duty. 2. When it continues long : for, " let not the sun go down upon your wrath." These precepts, and all reasoning indeed on the subject, suppose the passion of anger to be within our power ; and this power consists not so much in any faculty we possess of appeasing our wrath at the time, (for we are passive under the smart which an injury or affront occasions, and all we can then do, is to prevent its breaking out into action,) as in so mollifying our minus by habits of just reflection, as to be less irritated by impressions of injury, and to be sooner pacified. Reflections proper for this purpose, and which may be called the sedatives of ani^er, are the fol- lowing : the possibility of mistaking the motives from which the conduct that offends us proceeded ; how often our offences have been the effect of inadvertency, when they were construed into in- dications of malice ; the inducement which prompt- ed our adversary to act as he did, and how power- fully the same inducement has, at one time or other, operated upon ourselves: that he is suf- fering perhaps under a contrition, which he is ashamed or wants opportunity to confess; and how ungenerous it is to triumph by coldness or insult over a spirit already humbled in secret; that the returns of kindness are sweet, and that there is neither honour, nor virtue, nor use, in re- sisting them: for, some persons -think them- selves bound to cherish and keep alive their in- dignation, when they find it dying away of itself. We may remember that others have their pas- sions, their prejudices, their favourite aims, their fears, their cautions, their interests, their sudden impulses, their varieties of apprehension, as well as we: we may recollect what hath sometimes passed in our minds, when we have gotten on the wrong side of a quarrel, and imagine the same to be passing in our adversary's mind now ; when we became sensible of our misbehaviour, what palliations we perceived in it, and expected others to perceive ; how we were affected by the kind- ness, and felt the superiority, of a generous re- ception and ready forgiveness ; how persecution revived our spirits wjta our enmity, and seemed to justify the conduct in ourselves which we be- fore blamed. Add to this, the indecency of ex- travagant anger ; how it renders us, whilst it lasts, the scorn and sport of all about us, of which it leaves us, when it ceases, sensible and ashamed ; the inconveniences and irretrievable misconduct into which our irascibility has sometimes betrayed us ; the friendships it has lost us j the distresses and embarrassments in which we have been involved by it ; and the sore repentance which, on one ac- count or other, it always cost us. But the reflection calculated above all others to allay the haughtiness of temper which is ever finding out provocations, and which renders anger so impetuous, is that which the Gospel proposes ; namely, that we ourselves are, or shortly shall be, suppliants for mercy and pardon at the judgment- seat of God. Imagine our secret sins disclosed and brought to light ; imagine us thus humbled and exposed; trembling under the hand of God; cast- ing ourselves on his compassion ; crying out for mercy ; imagine such a creature to talk of satis- faction and revenge; refusing to be entreated, disdaining to forgive; extreme to mark and to resent what is done amiss; imagine, I say, this, and you can hardly frame to yourself an instance of more impious and unnatural arrogance. The point is, to habituate ourselves to these reflections, till they rise up of their own accord when they are wanted, that is, instantly upon the receipt of an injury or affront, and with such force and colouring, as both to mitigate the paroxysms of our anger at the time, and at length to produce an alteration in the temper and disposition itself. CHAPTER VIII. Rerenge. ALL pain occasioned to another in consequence of an offence or injury received from him, further than what is calculated to procure reparation, or promote the just ends of punishment, is so much revenge. There can be no difficulty in knowing when we occasion pain to another ; nor much in dis- tinguishing whether we do so, with a view only to the ends of punishment, or from revenge ; for, in the one case we proceed with reluctance, in the other with pleasure. It is highly probable, from the light of nature, that a passion, which seeks its gratification im- mediately and expressly in giving pain, is dis- agreeable to the benevolent will and counsels of the Creator. Other passions and pleasures may, and often do, produce pain to some one : but then pain is not, as it is here, the object of the passion, and the direct cause of the pleasure. This pro- bability is converted into certainty, if we give credit to the authority which dictated the several passages of the Christian Scriptures that condemn revenge, or, what is the same tiling, which enjoin forgiveness. We will set down the principal of these pas- sages ; and endeavour to collect from them, what conduct upon the whole is allowed towards an enemy, and what is forbidden. " If ye forgive men their trespasses, your hea- venly Father will also forgive you ; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."" And hia lord was 72 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him : so like- wise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses." "Put on bowels of mercy, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering ; forbearing one another, forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any, even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." "Be patient towards all men; see that none render evil for evil to any man." " Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath : for it is written, Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for, in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."* I think it evident, from some of these passages taken separately, and still more so from all of them together, that revenge, as described in the beginning of this chapter, is forbidden in every degree, under all forms, and upon every occasion. We are likewise forbidden to refuse to an enemy even the most imperfect right: "if he hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ;"t which are examples of imperfect rights. If one who has offended us, solicit from us a vote to which his qualifications entitle him, we may not refuse it from motives of resentment, or the remembrance of what we have suffered at his hands. His right, and our obligation which follows the right, are not altered by his enmity to us, or by ours to him. On the other hand, I do not conceive that these prohibitions were intended to interfere with the punishment or prosecution of public offenders. In the eighteenth chapter of St. Matthew, our Sa- viour tells his disciples, " If thy brother who has trespassed against thee neglect to hear the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man, and a publican." Immediately after this, when St. Pe- ter asked him, " How oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him 1 till seven times 1" Christ replied, " I say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times seven ;" that is, as often as he repeats the offence. From these two adjoining passages compared together, we are au- thorised to conclude that the forgiveness of an enemy is not inconsistent with the proceedings against him as a public offender ; and that the dis- cipline established in religious or civil societies, for the restraint or punishment of criminals, ought to be upholden. If the magistrate be not tied down with these prohibitions from the execution of his office, nei- ther is the prosecutor ; for the office of the prose- cutor is as necessary as that of the magistrate. Nor, by parity of reason, are private persons withholden from the correction of vice, when it is in their power to exercise it ; provided they be as- sured that it is the guilt which provokes them, and not the injury ; and that their motives are pure from all mixture and every particle of that spirit which delights and, triumphs in the humiliation of an adversary. * Matt. vi. 14, 15: xviii. 34, 35. Col. iii. 12, 13. 1 Thes. v. 14, 15. Rom. xii. 19, 20, 21. t See also Exodus, xxiii. 4. " If thou meet thine ene- my's ox, or his ass, going astray, thou, shalt surely bring it back to him again ; if thou see the ass of him that hateth thee, lying under his burden, and wouldst for- bear to heip him, thou shalt surely help with him." Thus it is no breach of Christian charity, lo withdraw our company or civility when the same tends to discountenance any vicious practice. This is one branch of that extrajudicial discipline, which supplies the defects and the remissness of law; and is expressly authorised by St. Paul (1 Cor. v. 11.) " But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner ; with such an one, no not to eat." The use of this as- sociation against vice continues to be experienced in one remarkable instance, and might be extend- ed with good effect to others. The confederacy amongst women of character, to exclude from their society kept-mistresses and ' prostitutes, contri- butes more perhaps to discourage that condition of life, and prevents greater numbers from enter- ing into it, than all the considerations of prudence and religion put together. We are likewise allowed to practise so much caution as not to put ourselves in the way of inju- ry, or invite the repetition of it. If a servant or tradesman has cheated us, we are not bound to trust him again ; for this is to encourage him in his dishonest practices, which is doing him much harm. Where a benefit can be conferred only upon one or few, and the choice of the person upon whom it is conferred is a proper object of favour, we are at liberty to prefer those who have not of- fended us to those who have; the contrary being no where required. Christ, who, as hath been well demonstrated,* estimated virtues by their solid utility, and not by their fashion or popularity, prefers this of the for- giveness of injuries to every other. He enjoins it oftener ; with more earnestness ; under a great- er variety of forms ; and with this weighty and pe- culiar circumstance, that the forgiveness of others is the condition upon which alone we are to ex- pect, or even ask, from God, forgiveness for our- selves. And this preference is justified by the superior importance of the virtue itself. The feuds and animosities in families, and between neighbours, which disturb the intercourse of hu- man life, arid collectively compose half the misery of it, have their foundation in the want of a for- giving temper ; and can never cease, but by the exercise of this "virtue, on one side, or on both. CHAPTER IX. Duelling. DUELLING as a punishment is absurd ; because it is an equal chance, whether the punishment fall upon the offender, or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a reparation: it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction consists, or how it fends to undo the injury, or to afford a compensation for the damage already sustained. The truth is it is not considered as either. A law of honour having annexed the imputation of cowardice to patience under an affront, challenges are given and accepted with no other design than to prevent or wipe off this suspicion ; without malice against the adversary, generally without a * See a View of the Internal Evidence of the Chris- tian Religion. LITIGATION. 73 wish to destroy him, or any other concern than to preserve the duellist's own reputation and recep- tion in the world. ' The unreasonahleness of this rule of manners is one consideration ; the duty and conduct of in- dividuals, while such a rule exists, is another. As to which, the proper and single question is this, whether a regard tor our own reputation is, or is not, sufficient to justify the taking away the life of another ? Murder is forbidden; and wherever human life is deliberately taken away, otherwise than b\ pu!- lic authority j there is murder. The value and se- curity of human life make this rule necessary; for I do not see what other idea or definition of mur- der can le admitted, which will not let in so much private violence, as to render society a scene of peril and bloodshed. If unauthorised laws of honour be allowed to create exceptions to divine prohibitions, there is an end of all morality, as founded in the.will of the Deity; and the obligation of cve.ry,duty may. at one time or other, be discharged by the caprice and fluctuations of fashion. " But a sense of shame is so much torture ;~and no relief presents itself otherwise than by an at- tempt upon the life of our adversary." What then ? The distress which men -sutler by the waht^-of money is oftentimes extreme, and no resource c tn be discovered but that of removing a life which' stands between the distressed person and his in- heritance. The motive in this case is as urgent, and the means much the same, us in the former: yet this case finds no advocate. Take away the circumstance of the duellist's exposing his own life, and it becomes assassina- tion; add this circumstance, and what difference does it make? IS'one but this, that the fewer JK r- haps will imitate the example, and human life will be somewhat more safe, when it cannot he attacked without equal danger to the aggressor's own. Experience, however, proves that there is fortitude enough in mo>t men to undertake this hazard; and were it otherwise, the defence, at best, would be only that which a highwayman or housebreaker might plead,' whose attempt had been so daring and desperate, that few were likely to repeat the same. In expostulating with the duellist, I all along suppose his adversary to fall. Which supposition" I am at liberty to make, because, if he have n, ( right to kill his adversary, he- has none toaUempt it. In return, I forbear from applying to the case of duelling the Christian principle of the forgive- ness of injuries; because it is j>ossihle to suppose the injury robe forgiven, and the duellist to act entirely from a concern for his own reputation: where this is not the case, the guilt of duelling is manifest, and is greater. In this view it seems unnecessary to distinguish between him who gives, and him who accepts, a challenge: for, on the one hand, they incur an equal hazard of destroying life ; and on the other, both act upon the same persuasion, that what they do is necessary, in order ,to recover or preserve the good opinion of the world. Public opinion is not easily controlled by civil institutions : for which reason' I question whether any regulations can be contrived, of sufficient force to suppress or change the rule of honour, which stigmatises all scruples about duelling with the reproach of cowardice. The insufficiency of the redress which the law of the land atibrds, tor those injuries which chiefly aflect a man in his sensibility and reputation, tempts many to redress themselves. Prosecutions for such" offences, by the trirling damages that are recovered, serve only^to make the sufferer more ridiculous. This ought to be remedied. For the army, where the point of honour is cultivated with exquisite attention and refinement, I would establish a Court of Honour, with a power .of awarding those submissions and acknowledg- ments, which it is generally the purpose of a challenge to obtain ; and it might grow into a fashion, with persons of rank of all professions, to refer their quarrels to this tribunal. Duelling, as the law now stands, can seldom be overtaken by legal punishment. The challenge, appointment, ant} other previous circumstances, which indicate- the intention with which the com- batants met, being suppressed, nothing appears to,a court, of justioe, but the actual rencounter; and if a person be slain when actually fighting with his adversary, the la_w deems his death no- thing more than manslaughter. CHAPTER X. Litigation. "!F it l>e possible, live peaceably with all men;" which precept contains an indirect confession that this is not always possible. The instances * in the fifth chapter of Sahit Matthett are rather to be understood as proverbial methods of describing the general duties of for- giveness and benevolence, and the temper which we ought to aim at acquiring, than as directions to be specifically pbserved ; or of themselves of any great importance to be observed. The first of these is. If thine enemy smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also ;" yet, when one of the officers struck Jesus with the palm of his hand, we find Jesus rebuking him for the outrage with becoming indignation ; /" If I have spoken evil, bear witness ott he evil; but if well, why smitest thou me 7" (John xviii. 43.) It may be observed, likewise, .that the several examples are drawn from instances of small and tolerable injuries. A rule which forbade all opposition to injury, or de- fence.against it. could have no other effect, than to put the gcKxf in subjection to the bad, and de- liver one half of mankind to the depredations of the other half; which must be the case, so long as some considered themselves as bound by such a rule, whilst others despised it. Saint Paul, though no one inculcated forgiveness and forl>earance with a deeper sense of the value and obligation of these virtuesj did^not interpret either of them to require an unresisting submission to every contumely, or a neglect of trie means of safety and self-defence. He took refuge in the laws of his country, and in the privileges of a Roman citizen, from the con- spiracy of the Jews .(Acts xxv. 11:) and from the clandestine violence of the chief captain (Acts xxii. 25.) And yet this is the same apostle who * " Whosoever shall smite thee on tby rijrht cheek, turn to him the other also: and if any man will sue thee at the law, 'and take awjly thy coat, let him have thy cloak also ; and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go witfi him twain." 74 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. reproved the litigiousness of his Corinthian con- verts with so much severity. " Now, therefore, there is utterly a fault among you, because ye go to law one with another. Why do ye not rather take wrong ? why do ye not rather suffer your- selves to be defrauded"? On the one hand, therefore, Christianity ex- cludes all vindictive motives, and all frivolous causes, of prosecution ; so that where the injury is small, where no good purpose of public example is answered, where forbearance is not likely to invite a repetition of the injury, or where the ex- pense of an action becomes a punishment too se- vere for the offence ; there the Christian is with- holden by the authority of his religion from going to law. On the other hand, a law-suit is inconsistent with no rule of the Gospel, when it is instituted, 1. For the establishing of some important right. 2. For the procuring a compensation for some considerable damage. - 3. For the preventing of future injury. But since it is supposed to be undertaken sim- ply with a view to the ends of justice and safety, the prosecutor of the action is bound to confine himself to the cheapest process which will ac- complish these ends, as well as to consent to any peaceable expedient for the same purpose; as to a reference, in which the arbitrators can do, what the law cannot, divide the damage, when the fault is mutual ; or to a compounding of the dispute, by accepting a compensation in the gross, without entering into articles and items, which it is often very difficult to adjust separately. As to the rest, the duty of the contending par- ties may be expressed in the following directions : Not by appeals to prolong a suit against your own conviction. Not to undertake or defend a suit against a poor adversary, or render it more dilatory or ex- pensive than necessary, with the hope of intimi- dating or wearing him out by the expense. Not to influence evidence by authority or ex- pectation ; Nor to stifle any in your possession, although it make against you. Hitherto we have treated of civil actions. In criminal prosecutions, the private injury should be forgotten, and the prosecutor proceed with the same temper, and upon the same motives, as the magistrate ; the one being a necessary minister of justice as well as the other, and both bound to di- rect their conduct by a dispassionate care of the public welfare. In whatever degree the punishment of an of- fender is conducive, or his escape dangerous, to the interest of the community, in the same degree is the party against whom the crime was com- mitted bound to prosecute ; because such prosecu- tions must in their nature originate from the suf- ferer. Therefore great public crimes, as robberies, forgeries, and the like, ought not to be spared, from an apprehension of trouble or expense in carrying on the prosecution, from false shame, or misplaced compassion. There are many offences, such as nuisances, neglect of public roads, forestalling, engrossing, smuggling, sabbath-breaking, profaneness, drunk- enness, prostitution, the keeping of lewd or dis- orderly houses, the writing, publishing, or expos- ing to sale, lascivious books or pictures, with some others, the prosecution of which, being of equal concern to the whole neighbourhood, cannot be charged as a peculiar obligation upon any. Nevertheless, there is great merit in the person who undertakes such prosecutions upon proper motives ; which" amounts to the same thing. The character of an informer is in this country undeservedly odious. Ihit where any public ad- vantage is likely to be attained by information, or other activity in promoting the execution of the laws, a good man will despise a prejudice founded in no just reason, or will acquit himself of the imputation of interested designs by giving away his share of the penalty. On the other hand, prosecutions for the sake of the reward, or for the gratification of private enmity, where the offence produces no public mischief, or where it arises from ignorance or in- advertency, are reprobated under the general de- scription of applying a rule of law to a purpose for which it was not intended. Under winch description may be ranked an officious revival of the laws against Popish priests, and dissenting teachers. CHAPTER XL Gratitude. EXAMPLES .of ingratitude check and discourage voluntary beneficence : and in this, the mischief of ingratitude consists. Nor is the mischief small ; for after all is done that can be done, towards pro- viding for the public happiness, by prescribing rules of justice, and enforcing the observation ot them by penalties or compulsion, much must be left to those offices of kindness, which men remain at liberty to exert or withhold. Now not only the choice of the objects, but the quantity and even the existence of this sort of kindness in the world, depends, in a great measure, upon the return which it receives : and this is a consideration of general importance. A second reason for cultivating a grateful tem- per in ourselves, is the following: The same principle, which is touched with the kindness of human benefactor, is capable of being affected by the divine goodness, and of becoming, under the influence of that affection, a source of the purest and most exalted virtue. The love of God is the subljmest gratitude. It is a mistake, there- fore, to imagine, that this virtue is omitted in the Christian Scriptures ; for every precept which commands us " to love God, because he first loved us," .presupposes the principle of gratitude, and directs it, to, its proper object, It is impossible to particularise the several ex- pressions ol gratitude, inasmuch as they vary with the character and situation of the benefactor, and with the opportunities of the person obliged-, which variety admits of no bounds. It may be observed, however, that gratitude can never oblige a man to do what is wrong, and what by consequence he is previously obliged not to do. It is no ingratitude to refuse to do, what we cannot reconcile to any apprehensions of our duty ; but it is ingratitude and hypocrisy together, to pretend this reason, when it is not the real one: and the frequency 6f such pretences has brought this apology for non-compliance with the will of a benefactor into unmerited disgrace. PUBLIC USE OF MARRIAGE INSTITUTIONS. 75 It has long been accounted a violation of delica- cy and generosity to upbraid men with the favours they have received : but it argues a total \lestitu- tion of both these qualities,, as well as of moral probity, to take advantage of that ascendency which the conferring of benefits justly creates, to draw or drive those whom we have obliged into mean or dishonest compliances. CHAPTER XII. Slander. SPEAKING is acting, both in philosophical strict- ness, and as to all moral purposes : < for if the mis- chief and motive of our conduct be the same, the means which we use make no difference. And this is in effect what our Saviour declares, Matt. xii. 37: "By thy words thou shall be justified, and by thy words thou shall be condemn- ed:" by thy words, as well, that is, as by thy actions; the one shall bte taken into the account as well as the other, for they bolh possess the same property of voluntarily producing ;;ood or evil. Slander mav be distinguished into two kinds: malicious slander, and inconsiderate slander. Malicious slander is the relating of either truth or falsehood, for the. purpose of creating misery. I acknowledge that the truth or falsehood of what is related, varies the decree of guilt con sider- ably; and that slander, in the ordinary accepta- tion of the lenn, signifies the circulation of mis- chievous falsehood: but truth may be made instru- mental to the success of malicious designs as well as falsehood ; and if the end be bad, the means cannot be innocent. I think the idea of slander ought to be confined to the production of gratuitous mischief. When we have an end or interest of our own to serve, if we attempt to compass it by falsehood, it is fraud ; if by a publication of the truth, it is not without some additional circumstance of breach of promise, betraying of confidence, or the like, to be deemed criminal. Sometimes the pain is intended for the person to whom we are shaking ; at other times, an en- mity is to be gratified by the prejudice or disquiet of a third person. To infuse suspicions, to kindle or continue disputes, to avert the fevour and es- teem of benefactors from their dependents, to ren- der some one whom we dislike contemptible or obnoxious in the public opinion, are all offices of slander ; of which the guilt must be measured by the intensity and extent of the misery produced. The disguises under which slander is conveyed, whether in a whisper, with injunctions of secrecy by way of caution, or with affected reluctance, are all so many aggravations of the offence, as they indicale more deliberation and design. Inconsiderate slander is a different offence, al- though the same mischief actually follow, and al- though the mischief might have been foreseen. The not being conscious of that design which we have hitherto attributed to the slanderer, makes the difference. The guilt here consists in the want of that re- gard to the consequences of our conduct, which a just affection for human happiness, and concern for our duty would not have failed to have pro- duced in us. And it is no answer to this crimina- tion to say, that we entertained no evil design. A servant may be a very bad servant, and yet seldom or never design to act in opposition to his mas- ter's interest or will : and his master may justly punish such servant for a thoughtlessness and neglect nearly as prejudicial as deliberate disobe- dience. I accuse you not, he may say, of any express intention to hurt me ; bul had not the fear of my displeasure, the care of my interest, and indeed all the qualities which constitute the merit of a good servant, been wanting in you, they would not only have excluded every direct purpose of giving me uneasiness, bul have been so iar present to your thoughts, as to have checked that unguarded licentiousness by which I have suffered so much, and inspired you in its place with an habitual solicitude about the effects and tendency of what you did or said. This very much resembles the ease of all sins of inconsidera- tion; and, amongst the : foremosl of Ihese, lhat of inconsiderate slander. Information communicated for the real purpose of warning, or cautioning, is not slander. Indiscriminate praise is the opposite of slander, but it is the opposite extreme ; and, however it may affect to be thought to be excess of candour, is commonly the effusion of a frivolous under- standing, or proceeds from a settled contempt of all moral distinctions. ' BOOK III. PART III. OF RELATIVE DtJTlES WHICH RESULT FROM THE CONSTITUTION OF THE SEXES. THE constitution of the sexes is the foundation of marriage. Collateral to the subject of marriage, are for- nication, seduction, adultery, incest, polygamy, divorce. Consequential to marriage, is the relation and reciprocal duty of parent and child. We will treat of these subjecls in the following order : first, of the public use of marriage institu- tions ; secondly, of the subjects collateral to mar- riage, in the order in which we have here pro- posed them ; thirdly, of marriage itself; and, lastly, of the relation and reciprocal duties of pa- renls and children. CHAPTER I. ' Of the Public Use of Marriage Institutions. THE public use of marriage institutions con- sists in their promoting the following beneficial effects. 1 . The private comfort of individuals, especially of the female sex. Il may be true, that all are not interested in this reason ; nevertheless, it is a rea- son to all for abstaining from any conduct which tends in its general consequence to obstruct mar- riage : for whatever promotes the happiness of the majority, is binding upon the whole. 2. The production of the greatest number of 76 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. healthy children, their better education, and the making of due provision for their settlement in life. 3. The peace of human society, in cutting off' a principal source of contention, by assigning one or more women to one man," and protecting his exclusive right by sanctions of morality and law. 4. The better government of society, by dis- tributing the community into separate families, and appointing over each the authority of a mas- ter of a family, which has more actual influence than all civil authority put together. 5. The same end, in the additional security which the state receives for the good behaviour of its citizens, from the solicitude they -feel for the welfare of their children, and from their being confined to permanent habitations. 6. The encouragement of industry. Some ancient nations appear to have been more sensible of the importance of marriage institutions than we are. The Spartans obliged their citizens to marry by penalties, and the Romans encouraged theirs by the jus trium liberoricm. A man who had no child, was entitled ny the Roman law only to one half of any legacy that should be left him, that is, at the most, could only receive one half of the testator's fortune. CHAPTER II. Fornication. THE first and great mischief, and by conse- quence the guilt, of promiscuous concubinage, consists in its tendency to diminish marriages, and thereby to defeat the several beneficial pur- poses enumerated in the preceding chapter. Promiscuous concubinage discourages marriage, by abating the chief temptation to it. The male part of the species will not undertake the en- cumbrance, expense, and restraint of married life, if they can gratify their passions "at a- cheaper price ; and they will undertake any thing, rather than not gratify them. The reader will learn to comprehend the mag- nitude of this mischief, by attending to the im- portance and variety of the uses to which mar- riage is subservient ; and by recollecting withal, that the malignity and moral quality of each crime is not to be estimated by the particular effect of one offence, or of one person's offending, but by the general tendency and consequence of crimes of the same nature. The libertine may not be conscious that these irregularities hinder his own marriage, from which he is deterred, he may al- lege, by different considerations ; much less does he perceive how his indulgences can hinder other men from marrying; but what will he say would be the consequence, if the same licentiousness were universal 7 or what should hinder its be- coming universal, if it be innocent or allowable in him 7 2. Fornication supposes prostitution ; and pros- titution brings and leaves the victims of it to al- most certain misery. It is no small quantity of misery in the aggregate, which, between want, disease, and insult, is suffered by those outcasts of human society, who infest populous cities ; the whole of which is a general consequence of for- nication, and to the increase and continuance of which, every act and instance of fornication con- tributes. 3. Fornication* produces habits of ungovernable lewdness, which introduces the more aggravated crimes of seduction, - adultery, violation, &c. Like- wise, however it be accounted ibr, the criminal commerce .of the sexes corrupts and depraves the 'mind and moral character more than any single species of vice whatsoever. That ready percep- tion of guilt, that prompt and decisive resolution against it, which constitutes a virtuous character, is seldom found in persons'- addicted to thes'e in- dulgences. .They prepare'an easy admission for every, sin that seeks it ; are, in low life, usually the first stage in men's, progress to the most desperate villanies ; and, in high life, to that lamented disso- luteness <>f principle, which manifests itself in a profligacy of public conduct, and a contempt of the obligations of religion and of moral probity. Add to this, that habits of libertinism incapacitate and indispose the mind lor all intellectual, moral, and religious -pleasures ; which is a great U>ss to any man's happiness. 4. Fornication perpetuates a disease, which may be accounted one of the sorest maladies of human nature ; and the effects of which are said to visit the constitution of even distant genera- tions. . The passion being natural, proves that it was intended to be gratified : but under what restric-. tions, or whether without any, must be collected from different considerations. The Christian Scriptures condemn fornication absolutely and peremptorily. " Out of the heart," says our. Saviour, " proceed evil thoughts, mur- ders, adulteries, fornication, thefts, false 'witness, blasphemies ; |hese are the things which defile a man." These are Christ's own words : and one word from him upon the subject, is final. It may be observed with what society fornication is class- ed ; with murders, thefts, false witness, blasphe- mies. I do not mean that these crimes are all equal, because they are all mentioned together ; but it proves that they are all crimes. The apos- ,tles are more full upon this topic. One well-known passage in the Epistle to the Hebrews, may stand in the place of all others ; because, admitting the ^authority by which the apostles of Christ spake and wrote, it is decisive : " Marriage and the bed undefiled is honourable amongst all men : but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge ;" which was a great deal to say, at a time when it was not agreed, even amongst philosophers them- selves, that fornication was a crime. The 'Scriptures give no sanction to those aus- terities, which have been since imposed upon the world under the name of Christ's religion ; as the celibacy of the clergy, the praise of perpetual vir- ginity, the prohibitio concubitus cum gramda uxore ; but with a just knowledge of, and regard to, the condition and interest of the human sj>e- cies, have provided, in the marriage of one man with one woman, an adequate gratification for the propensities of their nature, and have restricted them to that gratification. The avowed toleration, and in some countries the licensing, taxing, and regulating of public brothels, has appeared to the people an authorising of fornication; and has contributed, with other * Of tliis passion it 1ms been truly said, that " irregu- larity has no limits; that one excess draws on another; that the most easy, therefore, as well as the most excel- lent way of being virtuous, is to be so entirely." Ogden, Serin, xvi. SEDUCTION. 77 Causes, so far to vitiate the public opinion, that there is no practice of which the immorality is so little thought of or acknowledged, although there are few in which it can more plainly be made out. The legislators who have patronised receptacles of prostitution, ought to have foreseen this- effect, as well as considered, that whatever facilitates for- nication, diminishes marriages. And, as to the usual apology for this relaxed discipline, the danger of greater enormities, if access to prosti- tutes were too strictly watched and prohibited, it will be time enough to look to that, when the laws and the magistrates have done their Utmost. The greatest vigilance of both will do no more, than oppose some bounds and some difficulties to this intercourse. And, after all, these pretended fears are without foundation in exjK'rience. The men are in all resjH-cts the most \irtuous, in countries where the women are most chaste. There is a species of colm) illation, distinguish- able, no doubt, from vtfgrant concubinage, and which, by reason of its resemblance to marriage^ inay be thought U> participate' of the sanctity and innocence of that estate ; I mean the case of kept mistresses, under the favourable circumstance of mutual fidelity. This case 1 have heard defended by some such apology as the following : " That the marriage-rite being different in dif- ferent countries, and in the same country amongst different sects, and with some scarce any thing ; and, moreover, not being preseril>ed or even men- tioned in Scripture, can be accounted for only as of a form and ceremony of human invention: that, consequently, if a man and woman betroth and confine themselves to each other, their inter- course must be the same, as to all moral purposes, as if they were legally married ; for the addition or omission of that which is a mere form and cere- nr.ony, can make no difference in the sight of God, or in the actual nature of right and wrong." To all which it may IM* replied, 1. If the situation of the parties be the same thing as marriage, why do they not marry 1 2. If the man choose to hu\e it in his power to dismiss the woman at his pleasure, or to retain her in a state of humiliation and dependence in- consistent with the rights wliich marriage Would confer upon her, it is not the same thing. It is not at any rate the same thing to the children. Again, as to the marriage-rite being a more form, and that also variable, the same may be said of signing and sealing of bonds, wills, deeds of conveyance, and the like, which yet make a great difference in the rights and obligations of the parties concerned in them. And with respect to the rite not being appoint- ed in Scripture; the Scriptures forbid fornica- tion, that is, cohabitation without marriage, leaving it to the law of each country to pronounce what' is, or what makes, a marriage ; in like manner as they forbid thefts, that is, the taking away of another's property, leaving it to the municipal law to fix what makes the thing property, or whose it is ; which also, as well as marriage, de- pend upon arbitrary and mutable forms. Laying aside the injunctions of Scripture, the plain account of the question seems to be this : It is immoral, because it is pernicious, that men and women should cohabit, without undertaking cer- tain irrevocable obligations, and mutually con- ferring certain civil rights; if, therefore, the law has annexed these rights and obligations to cer- tain forms, so that they cannot be secured or un- dertaken by any other means, which is the case here (for, whatever the parties may promise to ^each other, nothing but the marriage-ceremony can make their promise irrevocable,) it becomes in the same degree inunoral, that men and women should cohabit without the interposition of these forms. v If fornication be crimkial, all those incentives Which lead to it are accessaries to the crime ;- as lascivious conversation, whether expressed in ob- scene, or disguised under modest phrases; also wanton songs, pictures, books ; the writing, pub- lishing, and circulating of which, whether out of frolic, or for some pitiful profit, is productive of so extensive a mischief from so mean a temptation, that few crimes, within the reach of private wick- edness, have more to answer for, or less to pjead in their excuse. Indecent conversation, and by parity of reason all the rest, are forbidden by Saint Paul, Eph. iv. 29. " Let no corrupt communication proceed out ef your mouth ;" and .again, Col. iii. "8. " Put off lilthy communication out of your mouth." The invitation, or voluntary admission, of im- pure thoughts, or the suffering them to get pos- session of the imagination^falls within the same :1 -.-= -ription, and is condemned by Christ, Matt. v. 28. " Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in liis heart." Christ, by thus enjoining a regulation of the thoughts, strikps at the root of the evil. CHAPTER III. Seduction. THE seducer practises the same stratagems to draw a woman's person into his power, that a windier does to get possession of your goods, or money : yet the law of honour, which abhors de- ceit, am 1 ' ' ' so much is this capricious rule guided by names, and with such facility does it accommodate itself to the pleasures and conveni^ncy of higher life ! Seduction is seldom accomplished without fraud ; and the fraud is by so much more criminal than other frauds, as the injury effected by it is greater, continues longer, and less admits reparation. This injury is threefold : to the woman, to her family, and to the public. I. The injury to the woman is made up of the pain she surfers from shame, or the loss she sustains in her reputation and prospects of marriage, and of the depravation of her moral principle. 1 . This pain must be extreme, if we may judge of it from those barbarous endeavours to conceal their disgrace, to which women, under such cir- cumstances, sometimes have recourse ; comparing also this barbarity with their passionate fondness for their offspring in other cases. Nothing but an agony of mind the most insupportable can induce a woman to forget her nature, and the pity which even a stranger would show to a helpless and im- ploring infant. It is true, that all are not urged to this extremity ; but if any are, it affords an in- dication of how much all suffer from the same cause. What shall we say to the authors of such mischief? < 78 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. 2. The loss which a woman sustains by the ruin of her reputation, almost exceeds computation. Every person's happiness depends in part upon the respect and reception which they meet with in the world ; and it is no inconsiderable mortifi- cation, even to the firmest tempers, to be rejected from the society of their equals, or received there with neglect and disdain. But this is not all, nor the worst. By a rule of life, which it is not easy to blame, and which it is impossible to alter, a woman loses with her chastity the chance of mar- rying at all, or in any manner equal to the hopes she had been accustomed to entertain. Now mar- riage, whatever it be to a man, is that from which every woman expects her chief happiness. And this is still more true in. low life, of which con- dition the women are who are most exposed to solicitations of this sort. Add to this, that where a woman's maintenance depends upon her cha- racter (as it does, in a great measure, with those who are to support themselves by service,) little sometimes is left to the forsaken sufferer, but to starve for want of employment, or to have re- course to prostitution for food and raiment. 3. As a woman collects her virtue into this point, the loss of her chastity is generally the destruction of her moral principle ; and this con- sequence is to be apprehended, whether the cri- minal intercourse be discovered or not. ' II. The injury to the family may be understood, by the application of that infallible rule, "of do- ing to others, what ice would that others should do unto us." l,et a father or a brother say, for what consideration they Would suffer this injury to a daughter or a sister ; and whether any, or even a total, loss of fortune, could create equal affliction and distress. And when they reflect upon this, let them distinguish, if they can, be- tween a robbery, committed upon their property by fraud or forgery, and the ruin of their happiness by the treachery of a seducer. III. The public at large lose the benefit of the woman's service in her proper place and destina- tion, as a wife and parent. This, to the whole community, may be little ; but it is often more than all the good which the seducer does to the community can recompense. Moreover, prostitu- tion is supplied by seduction ; and in proportion to the danger there is of the woman's betaking herself, after her first sacrifice, to a life of public lewdness, the seducer is answerable for the mul- tiplied evils to which his crime gives birth. Upon the whole, if we pursue the effects of se- duction through the complicated misery which it occasions, ana if it be right to estimate crimes by the mischief they knowingly produce, it will ap- pear something more than mere invective to as- sert, that not one half of the crimes, for which men suffer death by the laws of England, are so flagitious as this.* CHAPTER IV. Adultery. A NEW sufferer is introduced, the injured husband, who receives a wound in his sensibility * Yet the law has provided no punishment for this offence beyond a pecuniary satisfaction to the injured family ; and this can only be come at, by one of the quaintest fictions in the world : by the father's bringing his action against the seducer, for the loss of his daughter's service, during her pregnancy and nurturing. and affections, the most painful and incurable that human nature knows. In all other respects, adultery on the part of the man who solicits the chastity of a married woman, includes the crime of seduction, and is attended with the same mis- chief. The infidelity of the woman is aggravated by cruelty to her children, who are generally in- volved in their parents' shame, and always made unhappy by their quarrel. If it be said that these consequences are charge- able not so much upon the crime, as the discovery, we answer, first, that the crime could not be dis- covered unless it were committed, and' that the commission is never secure from discovery ; and secondly, that if we excuse adulterous connexions, whenever they can hope to escape detection, which is the conclusion to which this argument conducts us, we leave the husband no other se- curity for his wife's chastity, than in her want of opportunity or temptation ; which would probably either deter men from marrying, or render mar- riage a state of such jealousy and alarm to the husband, as must end in the slavery and confine- ment of the wife. The vow, by which married persons mutually engage their fidelity, " is witnessed before God," and accompanied with circumstances of solemnity and religion, which approach to the nature of an oath. The married offender therefore incurs a crime little short of perj ury , and the seduction of u married woman is little less than subornation of perjury ; and this guilt is independent of the discovery. All behaviour which is designed, or which knowingly tends, to captivate the affection of a married woman, is a barbarous intrusion upon the peace and virtue of a family, though it fall short of adultery. The usual and only apology for adultery is, the prior transgression of the other party. There are degrees, no doubt, in this, as in other crimes: and so far as the bad effects of adultery are anti- cipated by the conduct of the husband or wife who offends first, the guilt of the second offender is less. But this falls very far short of a justifica- tion ; unless it could be shown that the obligation of the marriage-vow depends upon the condition of reciprocal fidelity ; for which construction there appears no foundation, either in expediency, or in the terms of the promise, or in the design of the legislature which prescribed the marriage-rite. Moreover, the rule contended for by this plea, has a manifest tendency to multiply the offence, but none to reclaim the offender. The way of considering the offence of one party as a provocation to the other, and the other as only retaliating the injury by repeating the crime, is a childish trifling with words. "Thou shalt not commit adultery," was an interdict delivered by God himself. By the Jew- ish law, adultery was capital to both parties in the crime: "Even he that committeth adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and adul- teress shall surely be put to death." Levit. xx. 10. Which passages prove, that the Divine Legis- lator placed a great difference between adultery and fornication. And with this agree the Chris- tian Scriptures : for, in almost all the catalogues they have left us of crimes and criminals, they enumerate "fornication, adultery, whoremongers, adulterers." (Matthew xv. 19. 1 Cor. vi. 9. Gal, INCEST. 79 v. 9. Heb. viii. 4.) by which mention of both, they show that they did not consider them as the same : but that the crime of attultery was, in their ap- prehension, distinct from, and accumulated upon that of fornication. The history cf the woman taken in adultery, recorded in the eighth chapter of St. John's Gos- pel, has been thought by some to give countenance to that crime. As Christ told the woman, "Neither do I condemn thee," we must believe, it is .said, that he deemed her conduct either not criminal, or not a crime, however, of the heinous nature which we represent it to be. A more attentive examination of the case will, I think, convince us, that from it nothing can be concluded as to Christ's opinion concerning adultery, either one way or the other. The transaction is thus related : "Early in the morning Jesus came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him: and he sat down and taught them. And the Scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taki n in adultery: when they had set her in the midst. they say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act : now Moses in the law commanded that such should be stoned ; but what sayestthou? This they said tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stoop- ed down, and with Ms linger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So when they continued asking him, he lift up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin amongst you, let him first cast a stone at her; and again he stooped down and wrote on the ground : and tlujy which heard it. being convicted by their own con- science, went out one by one, l>eginning at the eldest even unto the last ; and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lift up himselt, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers'? hath no man condemned thee 1 She said unto him, No man, Lord. And he said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more." "This they said tempting him, that they might have to accuse him;" to draw him, that is, into an exercise of judicial authority, that they might have to accuse him before the Roman governor, of usurp- ing or intermeddling with the civil govern men t. Tnis was their design; and Christ s behaviour throughout the whole affair proceeded from a knowledge of this design, and a determination to defeat it. He gives them at first a cold and sullen reception, well suited to the insidious intention with which they came: "He stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not." "When they continued ask- ing him," when they teased him to speak, he dis- missed them with a rebuke, which the impertinent malice of their errand, as well as the sacred cha- racter of many of them, deserved : "He that is with- out sin (that is, this sin) among you, let him first cast a stone at her." This had its effect. Stung with the reproof, and disappointed of their aim, they stole away one by one, and left Jesus- and the woman alone. And then follows the con- versation, which is the part of the narrative most material to our present subject. "Jesus said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers'? hath no man condemned thee 1 She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more." Now, when Christ asked the woman, "Hath no man con- demned thee?" he certainly spoke, and was un- derstood by the woman to speak, of a legal and judicial condemnation; otherwise, her answer, "No man, Lord," was not true. In every other sense of condemnation, as blame, censure, reproof, private judgment, and the like, many had con- demned her; all those indeed who had brought her to Jesus. If then a judicial sentence was what Christ meant by condemning in the question, the common use ol language requires us' to suppose that he meant the same in his reply, "Neither do I condemn thee," t. e. I pretend to no judicial character or authority over thee ; it is no office or business of mine to pronounce or execute the sen- tence of the law. When Christ adds, "Go, and sin no more," he in effect tells her, that she had sinned already : but as to the degree or quality of the sin, or Christ s opinion concerning it, nothing is declared, or can be inferred, either way. Adultery, which was punished with death dur- ing the Usurpation, is now regarded by.- the law of England only as a civil injury ; for which the imperfect satisfaction that money can afford, may be recovered by the husband. CHAPTER V. Incest. IN order to preserve chastity in families, and between persons of different sexes, brought up and living together in a state of unreserved in- timacy, it is necessary, by every method possible, to inculeate an abhorrence of incestuous conjunc- tions ; which abhorrence can only be upholden by the absolute reprobation of all commerce of the sexes l>etween near relations. Upon this prin- ciple, the marriage as well as other cohabitations of brothers and sisters, of lineal kindred, and of all who usually live in the same family, may be said to be forbidden by the law of nature. Restrictions which extend to remoter degrees of kindred than what this reason makes it neces- sary to prohibit from intermarriage, are founded in the authority of the positive law which ordains them, and can only be justified by their tendency to diffuse wealth, to connect families, or to pro- mote some political advantage. The Levitical law, which is received in this country, and from which the rule of the Roman law differs very little, prohibits* marriage between relation?, within three degrees of kindred ;. com- puting the generations, not from, but through the common ancestor, and accounting .affinity the same as consanguinity. The issue, however, of such marriages, are not bastardised, unless the parents he divorced during their life-time. The Egyptians are said to have allowed of the marriage of brothers and sisters. Amongst the Athenians, a very singular regulation prevailed ; brothers and sisters of the half-blood, if related by the father's side, might marry ; if by the mother s side, they "were prohibited from marrying. The same custom also probably obtained in Chaldea so early as the age in which Abraham left it ; for he and Sarah his wife stood in this relation to each * The Roman law continued the prohibition to the descendants of brothers and sisters without limits. In the Levitical and English law, there is nothing to hin- der a man from marrying his great-niece. 80 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. other: "And yet, indeed, she is my sister; she is the daughter of my father, but not of my mother ; and she became my wife." Gen. xx. 12. CHAPTER VI. Polygamy. THE equality* in the number of males and fe- males born into the world, intimates the intention of God, that one woman should be assigned to one man : for if to one man be allowed an exclusive right to five or more women, four or more men must be deprived of the exclusive possession of. any : which could never be the order intended. It seems also a significant indication of the di- vine will, that he at first created only one -woman to one man-. Had God intended polygamy for the species, it is probable he would have begun with it ; especially as, "by giving to Adam more wives than one, the multiplication of the human race would have proceeded with a quicker progress. Polygamy not only violates the constitution of nature, and the apparent design of the Deity, but produces to the parties themselves, and to the pub- lic, the following bad effects ; contests and jealou- sies amongst the wives of the same husband ; dis- tracted affections, or the loss of all affection, in the husband himself: a voluptuousness in the rich, which dissolves the vigour of their intellectual as well as active faculties, producing that indolence, and imbecility both of mind and body, which have long characterised the nations of the East ; the abasement of one half of the human species, who, in countries where polygamy obtains, are degraded into mere instruments of physical pleasure to the other half; neglect of children ; and the mani- fold, and sometimes unnatur-al mischiefs, which arise from a scarcity of women. To compensate for these evils, polygamy does not offer a single advantage. In. the article of population, which it has been thought to promote, the cbmmunity gain nothing :t for the question is nbt, whether one man will have more children by five or more wives than by one ; but whether these five wives would not bear the same or a greater number of children to five separate husbands. And as to the care of the children, when produced, and the sending of them into the world in situations in which they may be likely to form and bring up families of *. This equality is not exact. The number of male infants exceeds that of females in the proportion of nineteen to eighteen, or thereabouts: which excess pro- vides for the greater consumption of males by war, sea- faring, and other dangerous or u'nhealthyoccupations. t Nothing, I mean, compared with a state in which marriage is nearly universal. Where marriages are less general, and many women unfruitful from the want of husbands, polygamy might at first-add a little to popula- tion, and but a little ; for, as a variety of wives would be sought chiefly from temptations of voluptuousness, it would rather increase the demand for female beauty, than for the F;;X at large. And this littls would soon be made less by many deductions. For, first, as nofteTSut the opulent can maintain a plurality of wives, where polygamy obtains, the rich indulge in it while the* rest take up with a vague and barren incontinency. And, secohdly, women would grow less jealous of their vir- tue, when they had nothing for which to' reserve it, but a chamber in the haram; when their chastity was no longer to be rewarded with the rights and happiness of a wife, as enjoyed under the marriage of one woman to one man. These considerations may be added to what is mentioned in the text, concerning the easy and early settlement of children in the world. their own, upon which the increase and succes- sion of the human species in a great degree depend ; this is less provided for, and less practi- cable, where twenty or thirty children are to be supported by the attention and fortunes of one father, than if they were "divided into five or six families, to each of which were assigned the indus- try and inheritance of two parents. Whether simultaneous polygamy wps permit- ted by the law of . Moses, seems doubtful ;* but whether permitted- or not, it was certainly practised by the Jewish patriarchs, both before that law, and under it. The permission, if there were any, might be like that of divorce, " for the hardness of their heart," in condescension to their established indulgences, rather than from the general rectitude or propriety of the thing itself. The state of manners in Judea had probably undergone a reformation in this respect before the time of Christ; for in the New Testament we meet with no trace or mention of any such prac- tice being tolerated. For which reason, -and because it was likewise forbidden amongst the Greeks and Romans, we cannot expect to find any express law upon the sXibject in the Christian' code. The words of Christ t (Matt. xix. 9.) may be construed, by an easy implication, to prohibit polygamy: for, if whoever putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery," he who marrieth another without putting away the first, is no less guilty of adultery : because the adultery does not consist in the repudiation of the first wife (for, however unjust or cruel that may be, it is not adultery,) but in entering into a second marriage during the legal existence and obligation of the first. The several passages in St. Paul's writings, which speak of marriage, always suppose it to signify the union of one man with one woman. Upon this supposition he argues, Rom. vii. 1, 2, 3. " Know ye not, brethren, (for I speak to them that know the law,) how that the law hath dominion over a man, as long as he liveth 1 For the woman which hath an husband, is bound by the law to her husband so long as he liveth ; but if the husband be dead, she is loosed from the law of her husband : so then, if while her husband liveth she be married to another man, she shall be called -an adulteress." When the same apostle permits marriage to his Corinthian converts, (which, " for the present distress," he judges to be inconvenient,) he restrains the permission to the marriage of one husband with one wife : " It is good for a man not to touch a woman ; neverthe- less, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband." The manners of different countries have varied in ripthing more than in their domestic constitu- tions. Less polished and more luxurious nations have either not perceived the bad effects of poly- gamy, or, if they did perceive them, they who in such countries possessed the power of reforming the hrws have been unwilling to resign their own gratifications. Polygamy is retained at this day among the Turks, and throughout every part of Asiam which Christianity is not professed. In Christian countries, it. is universally prohibited. *SeeDeut. xvii. 17 ; xxi. 15. f I say unto you. Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery. DIVORCE. 81 In Sweden, it is punished with death. In Eng- land, besides the nullity of the second marriage, it subjects the offender to transportation, or im- prisonment and branding, for the first offence, and to capital punishment for the second. And whatever may be said in behalf of polygamy when it is authorised by the law of the land, the mar- riage of a second wife during the life-tune of the first, in countries where such a second marriage is void, must be ranked with the most dangerous and cruel of those frauds, by which a woman is cheated out of her fortune, her person, and her happiness. The ancient Medcs compelled their citizens, in one canton, to take seven wives ; in another, each woman to receive five husbands : according as war had made, in one quarter of their country, an extraordinary havoc among the men, or the women had been carried away by an enemy from another. This regulation, so far as it was adapted to the projx)rtion which subsisted between the number of males and females, was founded in the reason upon which the most approved nations of Europe proceed at present. Caesar found amongst the inhabitants of this island a species of polygamy, if it may be so called, which was perfectly singular. Uxores, says he, habent dent duodenique inter se communes ; et maxime fratres cum fratribus, parentesque cum liberis ; sed si qui sint ex his nati, eorum kabcn- tur liberi, quo primum virgo qaccquc dcductaest. CHAPTER VII. Of Divorce. BY divorce, I mean a dissolution of the mar- riage-contract, by the act, and at the will, of the husband. This power was allowed to the husband, among the Jews, the Greeks, and latter Romans ; and is at this day exercised by the Turks and Per- sians. The congruity of such a right with the law of nature, is the question before us. And, in the first place, it is manifestly incon- sistent with the duty which the parents owe to their children ; which duty can never be so well fulfilled as by their cohabitation and united care. It is also incompatible with the right which the mother possesses, as well as the father, to the gratitude of her children, and the comfort of their society ; of both which she is almost necessarily deprived, by her dismission from her husband's family. Where this objection does not interfere, I know of no principle of the law of nature applicable to the question, beside that of general expediency. For, if we say that arbitrary divorces are ex- cluded by the terms of the marriage-contract, it may be answered, that the contract might be so framed as to admit of this condition. If we argue, with some moralists, that the obligation of a contract naturally continues, so loner as the purpose, which the contracting parties had in view, requires its continuance ; it will be difficult to show what purpose of the contract (the care of children excepted,) should confine a man to a woman, from whom he seeks to be loose. If we contend, with others, that a contract can- not, by the law of nature, be dissolved, unless the parties be replaced in the situation which each | possessed before the contract was entered into; we shall be called upon to prove this to be an universal or indispensable property of contracts. I confess myself unable to assign any circum- stance in the marriage-contract, which essentially distinguishes it from other contracts, or which proves that it contains, what many have ascribed to it, a natural incapacity of being dissolved by the consent of the parties, at the option of one of them, or either of them. But if we trace the effects of such a rule upon the general happiness of married life, we shall perceive reasons of expe- diency, that abundantly justify the policy of those laws which refuse to the husband the power of divorce, or restrain it to a few extreme and spe- cific provocations : and our principles teach us to pronounce that to be contrary to the law of na- ture, which can be proved to be detrimental to the common happiness of the human species. A lawgiver, whose counsels are directed by views of general utility, and obstructed by no local impediment, woukl make the marriage contract indissoluble during the joint lives of the parties, for the sake of the following advantages : I. Because this tends to preserve peace and concord between married persons, by perpetuating their common interest, and by inducing a neces- sity of mutual compliance. There is great weight and substance in both these considerations. An earlier termination of the union would produce a separate interest. The wife would naturally look forward to the dissolu- tion of the partnership, and endeavour to draw to herself a fund against the time when she was no longer to have access to the same re- sources. This would beget peculation on one side, and mistrust on the other ; -evils which at present very little disturb the confidence of a married life. The second effect of making the union detcrmin- able only by death, is not less beneficial. It ne- cessarily happens that adverse tempers, habits, and tastes, oftentimes meet in marriage. In which case, each party must take pains to give up what offends, and practise what may gratify the other. A man and woman in love with each other, do this insensibly ; but love is neither general nor durable ; and where that is wanting, no lessons of duty, no delicacy of sentiment, will go half so far with the generality of mankind and womankind as this one intelligible reflection, that they must each make the best of their bargain ; and that, seeing they must either both be miserable, or both share the same happiness, neither can find their own comfort but in promoting the pleasure of the other. These compliances, though at first ex- torted by necessity, become in time easy and mu- tual ; and, though less endearing than assiduities which take their rise from affection, generally pro- cure to the married pair a repose and satisfaction sufficient for their happiness. II. Because new objects of desire would be con- tinually sought after, if men could, at will, be re- leased from their subsisting engagements. Sup- pose the husband to have once preferred his wife to all other women, the duration of this preference cannot be trusted to. Possession makes a great difference : and there is no other security against the invitations of novelty, than the known impos- sibility of obtaining the object. Did the cause which brings the sexes together, hold them together by the same force with which it first attracted them to each other; or could the woman MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. be restored to her personal integrity, and to all the advantages of her virgin estate ; the power of divorce might be deposited in the hands of the husband, with less danger of abuse or inconve- niency. But constituted as mankind are, and injured as the repudiated wife generally must be, it is necessary to add a stability to the condition of married women, more secure than the con- tinuance of their husbands' affection; and to supply to both sides, by a sense of. duty and of obligation, what satiety has impaired of passion and of personal attachment. Upon the whole, the power of divorce is evidently and greatly to the disadvantage of the woman : and the only question appears to be whether the real and permanent happiness of one half of the species should be sur- rendered to the caprice and voluptuousness of the other? We have considered divorces as depending upon the will of the husband, because that is the way in which they have actually obtained in many parts of the world : but the same objections apply, in a great degree, to divorces by mutual consent; especially when we consider the indeli- cate situation and small prospect of happiness, which remains to the party who opposed his or her dissent to the liberty and desire of the other. The law of nature admits of an exception in favour of the injured party, in cases of adultery, of obstinate desertion, of attempts upon life, of outrageous cruelty, of incurable madness, and perhaps of personal imbecility ; but by no means indulges the same privilege to mere dislike, to op- position of humours and inclination, to contrariety of taste and temper, to complaints of coldness, neglect, severity, peevishness, jealousy : not that these reasons are trivial, but because such objec- tions may always be alleged, and are impossible by testimony to be ascertained ; so that to allow implicit credit to them, and to dissolve marriages whenever either party thought fit to pretend them, would lead in its effect to all the licentious- ness of arbitrary divorces. Milton's story is well known. Upon a quar- rel with his wife, he paid his addresses to another woman, and set forth a public vindication of his conduct, by attempting to prove, that confirmed dislike was as just a foundation for dissolving the marriage-contract, as adultery : to which position, and to all the arguments by which it can be sup- ported, the above consideration affords a sufficient answer. And if a married pair, in actual and ir- reconcileable discord, complain that their happi- ness would be better consulted, by permitting them to determine a connexion which is become odious to both, it may be told them, that the same permission, as a general rule, would produce liber- tinism, dissension, and misery, amongst thousands, who are now virtuous, and quiet, and happy in their condition : and it ought to satisfy them to reflect, that when their happiness is sacrificed to the operation of an unrelenting rule, it is sacri- ficed to the happiness of the community. The Scriptures seem to have drawn the obliga- tion tighter than the law of nature left it. " Who- soever," saith Christ, " shall put away his wife, ex- cept it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery; and whoso marrieth her which is put away, doth commit adultery." Matt. xix. 9. The law of Moses, for reasons of local expediency, permitted the Jewish husband to put away his wife: but whether for every cause, or for what causes, appears to have been controverted amongst the interpreters of those times. Christ, the precepts of whose religion were calculated for more general use and observa- tion, revokes this permission (as given to the Jews, " for the hardness of their hearts,") and promulges a law which was thenceforward to confine divorces to the single case of adultery in the wife. And I see no sufficient reason to de- part from the plain and strict meaning of Christ's words. The rule was new. It both surprised and offended his disciples ; yet Christ added nothing to relax or explain it. Inferior causes may mstify the separation of husband and wife, although they will not au- thorise such a dissolution of the marriage con- tract as would leave either party at liberty to marry again : for it is that liberty, in which the danger and mischief of divorces principally con- sist. If the care of children does not require that they should live together, and it is become, in the serious judgment of both, necessary for their mu- tual happiness that they should separate, let them separate by consent. Nevertheless, this necessity can hardly exist, without guilt and misconduct on one side or both. Moreover, cruelty, ill-usage, ex- treme violence, or moroseness of temper, or other great and continued provocations, make it lawful for the party aggrieved to withdraw from the so- ciety of the offender without his or her consent. The law which imposes the marriage-vow, where- by the parties promise to " keep to each other," or in other words, to live together, must be under- stood to impose it with a silent reservation of these cases ; because the same law has constituted a ju- dicial relief from the tyranny of the husband, by the divorce a mensa et toro, and by the provision which it makes for the separate maintenance of the injured wife. St. Paul likewise distinguishes between a wife's merely separating herself from the family of her husband, and her marrying again: "Let not the wife depart from her hus- band : but and if she do depart, let her remain unmarried." The law of this country, in conformity to our Saviour's injunction, confines the dissolution of the marriage-contract to the single case of adul- tery in the wife ; and a divorce, even in that case, can only be brought about by the operation of an act of parliament, founded upon a previous sen- tence in the ecclesiastical court, and a verdict against the adulterer at common law : which pro- ceedings taken together, compose as complete an investigation of the complaint as a cause can re- ceive. It has lately been proposed to the legisla- ture to annex a clause to these acts, restraining the offending party from marrying with the com- panion of her crime, who, by the course of pro- ceeding, is always known and convicted : for there is reason to fear, that adulterous connexions are often formed with the prospect of bringing them to this conclusion ; at least, when the seducer has once captivated the affection of a married woman, he may avail himself of this tempting argument to subdue her scruples, and complete his victory ; and the legislature, as the business is managed at present, assists by its interposition the criminal design of the offenders, and confers a privilege where it ought to inflict a punishment. The pro- posal deserved an experiment: but something more penal will, I apprehend, be found necessary to check the progress of this alarming depravity. MARRIAGE. 83 Whether a law might not be framed directing the fortune of the adulteress to descend as I'M case of tier natural death ; reserving, however, a certain proportion of the produce of it, by way of annuity, for her subsistence (such annuity, in no case, to exceed a fixed sum,) and also so far suspending the estate in the hands of the heir as to preserve the inheritance to any children she might bear to a second marriage, in case there was none to succeed in the place of their mother by the first ; whether, I say, such a law would not render female virtue in higher life less vincible, as well as the seducers of that virtue less urgent in their suit, we recommend to the deliberation of those who are willing to attempt the reformation of this important, but most incorrigible, class of the community. A passion for splendor, for ex- pensive amusements and distinction, is commonly found, in that description of women who would become the objects of such a law, not less inordi- nate than their other appetites. A severity of the kind we propose, applies immediately to that pas- sion. And there is no room for any complaint of injustice, since the provisions above stated, with others which might be contrived, confine the punishment, so far as it is possible, to the person of the offender; suffering the estate to remain to the heir, or within the family, of the ancestor from whom it came, or to attend the appointments of his will. Sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, which release the parties a rinculo matrimonii by rea- son of impulxrty, frigidity, consanguinity within the prohibited dr^nvs. prior marriage, or want of the requisite consent of parents and guardians, are not dissolutions of the marriage-contract, but judicial declarations that there never was any marriage ; such impediment subsisting at the time, as rendered the celebration of the marriage-rite a mere nullity. And the rite itself contains an ex- ception of these impediments. The man and wo- man to be married are charged, " if they know any impediment why they may not be lawfully joined together, to confess it;" and assured "that so many as are coupled together, otherwise than God's wordi doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful ;" all which is intended by way of solemn notice to the parties, that the vow they are about to make will bind their consciences and authorise their cohabitation, only upon the supposition that no legal impedi- ment exists. CHAPTER VIII. Marriage. WHETHER it hath grown out of some tradition of the Divine appointment of marriage in the persons of our first parents, or merely from a de- sign to impress the obligation of the marriage-con- tract with a solemnity suited to its importance, the marriage-rite, in almost all countries of the world, has been made a religious ceremony ;* al- * It was not, however, in Christian countries re- quired that marriages should be celebrated in churches till the thirteenth century of the Christian aera. Mar- riages in England during the Usurpation, were so- lemnized before justices of'the peace : but for what pur- pose this novelty was introduced, except to degrade the clergy, does not appear. though marriage, in its own nature; and abstract- ed from the rules and declarations which the Jew- ish and Christian Scriptures deliver concerning it, be properly a civil contract, and nothing more. With respect to one main article in matrimonial alliances, a total alteration has taken place in the fashion of the world ; the wife now brings money to her husband, whereas anciently the husband paid money to the family of the wife ; as was the case among the Jewish patriarchs, the Greeks, and the old inhabitants of Germany* This al- teration has proved of no small advantage to the female sex : for their importance in point of for- tune procures to them, in modern times, that as- siduity and respect, whicn are always wanted to compensate for the inferiority of their strength ; but which their personal attractions would not always secure. Our business is with marriage, as it is esta- blished in this country. And in treating thereof, it will be necessary to state the terms of the mar- riage vow, in order to discover : 1. What duties this vow creates. 2. What a situation of mind at the time is in- consistent with it. 3. By what subsequent behaviour it is violated. The husband promises on his part, " to love, comfort, honour, and keep, his wife :" the wife on hors, " to obey, serve, love, honour, and keep, her husband;" in every variety of health, fortune, and condition : and both stipulate " to forsake all others, and to keep only unto one another, so long as they both shall live." This promise is called the marriage vow ; is witnessed before God and the congregation ; accompanied with prayers to Almighty God for his blessing upon it ; and at- t cm led with such circumstances of devotion and solemnity as place the obligation of it, and the guilt of violating it, nearly upon the same foun- dation with that of oaths. The parties by this vow engage their personal fidelity expressly and specifically; they engage likewise to consult and promote each other's hap- piness ; the wife, moreover, promises obedience to her husband. Nature may have made and left the sexes of the human species nearly equal in their faculties, and perfectly so in their rights ; but to guard against those competitions which equality, or a contested superiority, is almost sure to produce, the Christian Scriptures enjoin upon the wife that obedience which she here promises, and in terms so peremptory and absolute, that it seems to extend to every thing not criminal, or not en- tirely inconsistent with the woman's happiness. " Let the wife," says St. Paul, " be subject to her husband in every thing." " The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit/' says the same apostle, speaking of the duty of wives, "is, in the sight of God, of great price." No words ever expressed the true merit of the female character so well as these. The condition of human life will not permit us to say, that no one can conscientiously marry, who does not prefer the person at the altar to all other men or women in the world : but we can have no difficulty in pronouncing (whether we respect the end of the institution, or the plain * The ancient Assyrians sold their beauties by an an- nual auction. The prices were applied by way of por- tions to the more homely. By this contrivance, all of both sorts were disposed of in marriage. 84 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. terms in which the contract is conceived,) that whoever is conscious, at the time of his marriage, of such a dislike to the woman he is about to mar- ry, or of such a subsisting atta.chment to some other Woman, that he cannot reasonably, nor does in fact, expect ever to entertain an affection for his future wife, is guilty, when he pronounces the marriage vow, of a direct and deliberate prevarica- tion ; and -that, too, aggravated by the presence of those ideas of religion, and of the Supreme Being, which the place, the ritual, and the solemnity of tne occasion, cannot fail of bringing to his thoughts. The same likewise of the woman. This charge must be imputed to all who, from mercenary mo- tives, marry the objects of their aversion and dis- gust ; and likewise to those who desert, from any motive whatever, the object of their affection, and, without being able to subdue that affection, marry another. The crime of falsehood is also incurred by the man who intends, at the tune of his marriage, to commence, renew, or continue a personal com- merce with any other woman. And the parity of reason, if a wile be capable of so much guilt, ex- tends to her. The marriage-vow is violated, I. By adultery. II. By any behaviour which, knowingly, ren- ders the life of the other miserable ; as desertion, neglect, prodigality, drunkenness, peevishness, penuriousness, jealousy, or any levity of conduct which administers occasion of jealousy. A late regulation in the law of marriages, in this country, has made the consent of the father, if he be living, of the mother, if she survive the father, and remain unmarried, or of guardians, if both parents be dead, necessary to the marriage of a person under twenty-one years of age. By the Roman law, the consent et avi et patris was re- quired so long as they lived. In France, the con- sent of parents is necessary to the marriage of sons, until they attain to thirty years of age ; of daughters, until twenty-five. In Holland, for sons till twenty-five; for daughters till twenty. And this distinction between the sexes appears to be well founded; for a woman is usually as properly qualified for the domestic and interior duties of a wife or mother at eighteen, as a man is for the business of the world, and the more arduous care of providing for a family, at twenty-one. The constitution also of the human species in- dicates the same distinction.* CHAPTER IX. Of the Duty of Parents. THAT virtue, which confines its beneficence within the walls of a man's own house, we have been acettstomed to consider as little better than a more refined selfishness ; and yet it will be con- fessed, that the subject and matter of this class of duties are inferior to none in utility and im- portance : and where, it may be asked, is virtue, the most valuable, but where it does the most good 1 What duty is the most obligatory, but that on which the most depends 1 And where have we * Cum vis prolem procreandi diutius heereat in mare quam in fcemina populi numerus nequaquam minuetur, si seriua venerem colere inceperint viri. happiness and misery so much in our power, or liable to be so affected by our conduct, as in our own families 1 It will also be acknowledged that the good order and happiness of the world are bet- ter upholden whilst each man applies himself to his own concerns and the care of his own family, to which he is present, than if every man, from an excess of mistaken generosity, should leave his own business, to undertake his neigh- bour's, which he must always manage with less knowledge, conveniency, and success. If there- fore, the low estimation of these virtues be well founded, it must be owing, not to their inferior importance, but to some defect or impurity in the motive. And indeed it cannot be denied, that it is in the power of association so to unite our children's interest with our own. as that we shall often pursue both from the same motive, place both in the same object, and with as little sense of duty in one pursuit as in the other. Where this is the case, the judgment above stated is not far from the truth. And so often as we find a so- licitous care of a man's own family, in a total ab- sence or extreme penury of every other virtue, or interfering with other duties, or directing its operation solely to the temporal happiness of the children, placing that happiness in amusement and indulgence whilst they are young, or in ad- vancement of fortune when they grow up, there is reason to believe that this is the case. In this way, the common opinion concerning these duties may be accounted for and defended. If we look to the subject of them, we perceive them to be in- dispensable. If we regard the motive, we find them often not very meritorious. Wherefore, al- though a man seldom rises high in our esteem who has nothing to recommend him beside the care of his own family, yet we always condemn the ne- glect of this duty with the utmost severity ; both by reason of the manifest and immediate mischief which we see arising from this neglect, and be- cause it argues a want not only of parental af- fection, but of those moral principles which ought to come in aid of that affection where it is want- ing. And if, on the other hand, our praise and esteem of these duties be not proportioned to the good they produce, or to the indignation with which we resent the absence of them, it is for this reason, that virtue is the most valuable, not where it produces the most good, but where it is the most wanted : which is not the case here ; be- cause its place is often supplied by instincts, or in- voluntary associations. Nevertheless, the offices of a parent may be discharged from a conscious- ness of their obligation, as well as other duties ; and a sense of this obligation is sometimes neces- sary to assist the stimulus of parental affection ; especially in stations of life in which the wants of a family cannot be supplied without the continual hard labour of the father, and without his re- fraining from many indulgences and recreations which unmarried men of like condition are able to purchase. Where the parental allection is suf- ficiently strong, or has fewer difficulties to sur- mount, a principle of duty may still be wanted to direct and regulate its exertions : for otherwise it is apt to spend and waste itself in a womanish fondness for the person of the child; an impro- vident attention to his present ease and gratifica- tion; a pernicious facility and compliance with his humours ; an excessive and superfluous care to provide the externals of happiness, with little DUTY OP PARENTS. 85 OT no attention to the internal sources of virtue and satisfaction. Universally , wherever a parent's conduct is prompted or directed by a sense of duty, there is so much virtue. Having premised thus much concerning the place which parental duties hold in the scale of human virtues, we proceed to state and explain the duties themselves. When moralists tell us, that parents are bound to do all they can for their children, they tell us more than is true ; for, at that rate, every expense which might have been spared, and every profit omitted which might have been made, would be criminal. The duty of parents has its limits, like other duties ; and admits, if not of perfect precision, at least of rules definite enough for application. These rules may be explained under the several heads of maintenance, education, and a reasonable provision for the child's happiness in respect of outward condition. I. Maintenance. The wants of children make it necessary that some person maintain them: and, as no one has a right to burthen others by liis act, it follows, that the parents are bound to undertake this charge themselves. Beside this plain inference, the affection of parents to their children, if it he instinctive, and the provision which nature has prepared in the person of the mother for the sus- tentation of the infant, concerning the existence and design of which there can be no doubt, are manifest indications of the Divine will. Hence we learn the guilt of those who run away from their families, or (what is much the same,) in consequence of idleness or drunkenness, throw them upon a parish ; or who leave them destitute at their death, when, by diligence and frugality, they might have laid up a provision for their support : also of those who refuse or neglect the care of their bastard offspring, abandoning them to a condition in which they must either perish or become burthensome to others ; for the duty of maintenance, like the reason upon which it is founded, extends to bastards, as well as to legitimate children. The Christian Scriptures, although they con- cern themselves little with maxims of prudence or economy, and much less authorize worldly- mindedness or avarice, have yet declared in ex- plicit terms their judgment of the obligation of this duty : " If any provide not for his own, especially for those of his own household, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel," (1 Tim. v. 8. ;) he hath disgraced the Christian profession, and fallen short in a duty which even infidels acknow- ledge. ft. Education. Education, in the most extensive sense of the word, may comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for the sequel of our lives; and in this sense I use it. Some such preparation is necessary for children of all conditions, because without it they must be miserable, and probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from want of the means of subsistence, or from want of rational and inoffensive occupation. In civilized life, every thing is effected by art and skill. Whence a person who is provided with neither and neither can be acquired without exercise and instruction) will be useless ; and he that is useless, will generally be at the same time mischievous to the community. So that to send an uneducated child into the world, is injurious to the rest of mankind ; it is little better than to turn out a mad dog or a wild beast into the streets. In the inferior classes of the community, this principle condemns the neglect of parents, who do not inure their children betimes to labour and restraint, by providing them with apprenticeships, services, or other regular employment, but who suffer them to waste their youth in idleness and vagrancy, or to betake themselves to some lazy, trifling, and precarious calling: for the conse- quence of having thus tasted the sweets of na- tural liberty, at an age when their passion and relish for it are at the liighest, is, that they become incapable, for the remainder of their lives, of con- tinued industry, or of persevering attention to any thing ; spend their time in a miserable struggle between the importunity of want, and the irk- someness of regular application; and are pre- pared to embrace every expedient, which presents a hope of supplying their necessities without con- fining them to the plough, the loom, the shop, or the counting-house. In the middle orders of society, those parents are most reprehensible, who neither qualify their children for a profession, nor enable them to live without one ;* and those in the highest, who, from indolence, indulgence, or avarice, omit to procure their children those liberal attainments which are necessary to make them useful in the stations to which they are destined. A man of fortune, who permits his son to consume the season of educa- tion in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting horse- races, assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vi- cious, diversions, defrauds the community of a benefactor, and bequeaths them a nuisance. Some, though not the same, preparation for the sequel of their lives, is necessary for youth of every description ; and therefore for bastards, as well as for children of better expectations. Consequently, they who leave the education of their bastards to chance, contenting themselves with- making pro- vision for their subsistence, desert half their duty. III. A reasonable provision for the happiness of a child, in respect of outward condition, re- quires three things : a situation suited to his ha- bits and reasonable expectations; a competent provision for the exigencies of that situation ; and a probable security for his virtue. The first two articles will vary with the con- dition of the parent. A situation somewhat ap- proaching in rank and condition to the parent's own ; or, where that is not practicable, similar to what other parents of like condition provide for their children ; bounds the reasonable, as well as (generally speaking) the actual, expectations of the child, and therefore contains the extent of the parent's obligation. Hence, a peasant satisfies his duty, who sends out his children, properly instructed for their oc- cupation, to husbandry or to any branch of manu- facture. Clergymen, lawyers, physicians, officers in the army or* navy, gentlemen possessing mo- derate fortunes of inheritance, or exercising trade in a large or liberal way, are required by the same rule to provide their sons with learned professions, * Amongst the Athenians, if the parent did not put his child into a way of getting a livelihood, the child was not bound to make provision for the parent when old and necessitous. MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. commissions in the army or navy, places in public offices, or reputable branches of merchandise. Providing a child with a situation, includes a competent supply for the expenses of that situa- tion, until the profits of it enables the child to sup- port himself. Noblemen and gentlemen of high rank and fortune may be bound to transmit an inheritance to the representatives of their family, sufficient for their support without the aid of a trade or profession, to which there is little hope that a youth, who has been nattered with other expectations, will apply himself with diligence or success. In these parts of the world, public opinion has assorted the members of the community into four or five general classes, each class comprising a great variety of employments and professions, the choice of which must be committed to the private discretion of the parent.* All that can be expected from parents as a duty, and therefore the only rule which a moralist can deliver upon the subject, is, that they endeavour to preserve their children in the class in which they are born, that is to say, in which others of similar expectaT tions are accustomed to be placed ; and that they be careful to confine their hopes and habits of in- dulgence to objects which will continue to be at- tainable. It is an ill-judged thrift, in some rich parents, to bring up their sons to mean employments, for the sake of saving the charge of a more expensive education : for these sons, when they become mas- ters of their liberty and fortune, will hardly con- tinue in occupations by which they think them- selves degraded, and are seldom qualified for any thing better. An attention, in the first place, to the exigen- cies of the children's respective conditions in the world ; and a regard, in the second place, to their reasonable expectations, always postponing the expectations to the exigencies when both cannot be satisfied, ought to guide parents in the disposal of their fortunes after their death. And these exigencies and expectations must be measured by * The health and virtue of a child's future life are considerations so superior to all others, that whatever is likely to have the smallest influence upon these, de- serves the parent's first attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all active, rural, and out-of-door em- ployments, are to be preferred to manufactures and se- dentary occupations. In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which the advantage is mutual, in which the profit on one side is connected with the benefit of the other (which is the case in trade, and all serviceable art or labour,) is more favourable to the moral charac- ter, than callings in which one man's gain is another man's loss; in which what you acquire, is acquired without equivalent, and parted with in distress ; as in gaming, and whatever partakes of gaming, and in the predatory profits of war. The following distinctions also deserve notice : A business, like a retail trade, in which the profits are small and frequent, and accruing from the employment, furnishes a moderate and con- stant engagement of the mind, and, so far, suits better with the general disposition of mankind, than profes- sions which are supported by fixed salaries, as stations in the church, army, navy, revenue, public offices, &c. or wherein the profits are made in large sums, by a few great concerns, or fortunate adventures ; as in many branches of wholesale and foreign merchandise, in which the occupation is neither so constant, nor the activity so kept alive by immediate encouragement. For security, manual arts exceed merchandise, and such as supply the wants of mankind are better than those which minister to their pleasure. Situations which promise an early settlement in marriage, are on many accounts to be chosen before thoae which require a longer waiting for a larger establishment. the standard which custom has established : for there is a certain appearance, attendance, estab- lishment, and mode of living, which custom has annexed to the several ranks and orders of civil life (and which compose what is called decency,) together with a certain society, and particular pleasures, belonging to each class : and a young person who is withheld from sharing in these for want of fortune, can scarcely be said to have a fair chance for happiness; the indignity and mor- tification of such a seclusion being what few tempers can bear, or bear with contentment. And as to the second consideration, of what a child may reasonably expect from his parent, he will expect what he sees all or most others in similar circum- stances receive ; and we can hardly call expecta- tions unreasonable, which it is impossible to sup- press. By virtue of this rule, a parent is justified in making a difference between his children accord- ing as they stand in greater or less need of the assistance of his fortune, in consequence of the difference of their age or sex, or of the situations in which they are placed, or the various success which they have met with. On account of the few lucrative employments which are left to the female sex, and by conse- quence the little opportunity they have of adding to their income, daughters ought to be the par- ticular objects of a parent's care and foresight ; and as an option of marriage, from which they can reasonably expect happiness, is not presented to every woman who deserves it, especially in times in which a licentious celibacy is in fashion with the men, a father should endeavour to enable his daughters to lead a single life with independence and decorum, even though he subtract more for that purpose from the portions of his sons than is agreeable to modern usage, or than they expect. But when the exigencies of their several situa- tions are provided tor, and not before, a parent ought to admit the second consideration, the satis- faction of his children's expectations ; and upon that principle to prefer the eldest son to the rest, and sons to daughters : which constitutes the right, and the whole right, of primogeniture, as weS as the only reason for the preference of one sex to the other. The preference, indeed, of the first- born, has one public good effect, that if the estate were divided equally amongst the sons, it would probably make them all idle; whereas, by the present rule of descent, it makes only one so; which is the less evil of the two. And it must further be observed on the part of the sons, that if the rest of the community make it a rule to pre- fer sons to daughters, an individual of that com- munity ought to guide himself by the same rule, upon principles of mere equality. For, as the son suffers by the rule, in the fortune he may expect in marriage, it is but reasonable that he should receive the advantage of it in his own inheritance. Indeed, whatever the rule be, as to the preference of one sex to the ether, marriage restores the equality. And as money is generally more con- vertible to profit, and more likely to promote in- dustry, in the hands of men than of women, the custom of this country may properly be complied with, when it does not interfere with the weightier reason explained in the last paragraph. The point of the children's actual expectations, together with the expediency of subjecting the il- licit commerce of the sexes to every discourage- DUTY OF PARENTS. 87 ment which it can receive, makes the difference between the claims of legitimate children and of bastards. But neither reason will in any case justify the leaving of bastards to the world with- out provision, education, or profession ; or, what is more cruel, without the means of continuing in the situation to which the parent has intro- duced them ; which last is, to leave them to in- evitable misery. After the first requisite, namely, a provision for the exigencies of his situation, is satisfied, a parent may diminish a child's portion, in order to punish any flagrant crime, or to punish contumacy and want of filial duty in instances not otherwise criminal : for a child who is conscious of bad be- haviour, or of contempt of his parent's will and happiness, cannot reasonably expect the same in- stances of his munificence. A child's vices may be of that sort, and his vicious habits so incorrigible, as to afford much the same reason for believing that he will waste or misemploy the fortune put into liis power, as if he were mad or idiotish, in which case a parent may treat him as a madman or an idiot ; tfiat is, may deem it sufficient to provide for his support, by an annuity equal to his wants and innocent enjoyments, and which he maybe restrained from alienating. This seems to be the only case in which a disinherison, nearly absolute, is jus- tifiable. Let not a father hope to excuse an inofficious disposition of his fortune, by alleging, that " every man may do what he will with his own." All the truth which this expression contains is, that this discretion is under no control of law; and that his will, however capricious, will be valid. This by no means absolves his conscience from the ob- ligations of a parent, or imports that he may ne- glect, without injustice, the several wants and ex- pectations of his family, in order to gratify a whim or pique, or indulge a preference founded in no reasonable distinction of merit or situation. Although in his intercourse with his family, and in the lesser endearments of domestic life, a pa- rent may not always resist his partiality to a fa- vourite child (which, however, should be both avoided and concealed, as oftentimes productive of lasting jealousies and discontents;) yet, when he sits down to make his will, these tendernesses must give place to more manly deliberations. A father of a family is bound to adjust his economy with a view to these demands upon his fortune ; and until a sufficiency for these ends is acquired, or in due time probably will be acquired (for, in human affairs, probability ought to con- tent us,) frugality and exertions of industry are duties. He is also justified in the declining ex- pensive liberality : for, to take from those who want, in order to give to those who want, adds nothing to the stock of public happiness. Thus far, therefore, and no farther, the plea of "children," of " large families," " charity begins at home," &c. is an excuse for parsimony, and an answer to those who solicit our bounty. Beyond this point, as the use of riches becomes less, the desire of laying up should abate proportionably. The truth is, our children gain not so much as we imagine, in the chance of this world's happiness, or even of its external prosperity, by setting out in it with large capitals. Of those who have died rich, a great part began with little. And in re- spect of enjoyment, there is no comparison between a fortune which a man acquires by well-applied industry, or by a series of success in his business, and one found in his possession, or received from another. A principal part of a parent's duty is still be- hind, viz : the using of proper precautions and expedients, in order to form and preserve his children's virtue. To us, who believe that, in one stage or other of our existence, \irtue will conduct to nappiness, and vice terminate in misery ; and who observe withal, that men's virtues and vices are, to a cer- tain degree, produced or affected by the manage- ment of their youth, and the situations in which they are placed ; to all who attend to these reasons, the obligation to consult a child's virtue will ap- pear to differ in nothing from that by which the parent is bound to provide for his maintenance or fortune. The child's interest is concerned in the one means of happiness as well as in the other ; and both means are equally, and almost exclu- sively, in the parent's power. For this purpose, the first point to be endeav- oured after is, to impress upon children the idea of accountableness, that is, to accustom them to look forward to the consequences of their actions in another world ; which can only be brought about by the parents visibly acting with a view to these consequences themselves. Parents, to do them justice, are seldom sparing of lessons of virtue and 'religion: in admonitions which cost little, and which profit less ; whilst their example exhibits a continual contradiction of what they teach. A father, for instance, will, with much solemnity and apparent earnestness, warn his son against idleness, excess in drinking, debauchery, and ex- travagance, who himself loiters about all day without employment; comes home every night drunk ; is made infamous in his neighbourhood by some profligate connexion ; and wastes the for- tune which should support, or remain a provision for his family, in riot, or luxury, or ostentation. Or he will discourse gravely before his children of the obligation and importance of revealed re- lioion, whilst they see the most frivolous and oftentimes feigned excuses detain him from its reasonable and solemn ordinances. Or he will set before them, perhaps, the supreme and tre- mendous authority of Almighty God ; that such a Being ought not to be named, or even thought upon, without sentiments of profound awe and veneration. This may be the lecture he delivers to his family one hour; when the next, if an occasion arise to excite his anger, his mirth or his surprise, they will hear him treat the name of the Deity with the most irreverent profanation, and sport with the terms and denunciations of the Christian religion, as if they were the language of some ridiculous and long exploded superstition. Now, even a child is not to be imposed upon by such mockery. He sees through the grimace of this counterfeited concern ,for virtue. He dis- covers that his parent is acting a part ; and re- ceives his admonitions as he would hear the same maxims from the mouth of a player. And when once this opinion has taken possession of the child's mind, it has a fatal effect upon the parent's influence in all subjects; even those, in which he himself may be sincere and convinced. Whereas a silent, but observable, regard to the duties of re- ligion, in the parent's own behaviour, will take a sure and gradual hold of the child's disposition; 88 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. much beyond formal reproofs and eludings, which, being generally prompted by some present provo- cation, discover* more of anger than of principle, and are always received with a temporary alien- ation and disgust. A good parent's first care is, to be virtuous himself ; a second, to make his virtues as easy and engaging to those about him as their nature will admit. Virtue itself offends, when coupled with forbidding manners. And some virtues may be urged to such excess, or brought forward so un- seasonably, as to discourage and repel those who observe and who are acted upon by them, instead of exciting an inclination to imitate and adopt them. Young minds are particularly liable to these unfortunate impressions. For instance, if a father's economy degenerate into a minute and teasing parsimony, it is odds but that the son, who has suffered under it, sets out a sworn enemy to all rules of order and frugality. If a father s piety be morose, rigorous, and tinged with melan- choly, perpetually breaking in upon the recreation of his family, and surfeiting them with the lan- guage of religion on all occasions, there is danger lest the son carry from home with him a settled prejudice against seriousness and religion, as in- consistent with every plan of a pleasureable life ; and turn out, when he mixes with the world, a character of levity or dissoluteness. Something likewise may be done towards the correcting or improving of those early inclinations which children discover, by disposing them into situations the least dangerous to their particular characters. Thus, I would make choice of a retired life for young persons addicted to licen- tious pleasures ; of private stations for the proud and passionate ; of liberal professions, and a town life, for the mercenary and sottish : and not, according to the general practice of parents, send dissolute youths into the army ; penurious tem- pers to trade ; or make a crafty lad an attorney ; or flatter a vain and haughty temper with ele- vated names, or situations, or callings, to which the fashion of the world has annexed precedency and distinction, but in which his disposition, with- out at all promoting his success, will serve both to multiply and exasperate his disappointments. In the same way, that is, with a view to the particu- lar frame and tendency of the pupil's character, I would make choice of a public or private education. The reserved, timid, and indolent, will have their faculties called forth, and their nerves invigorated, by a public education. Youths of strong spirits and passions will be safer in a private education. At our public schools, as far as I have observed, more literature is acquired, and more vice ; quick parts are cultivated, slow ones are neglected. Under private tuition, a moderate proficiency in juvenile learning is seldom exceeded, but with more certainty attained. CHAPTER X. The Rights of Parents. THE rights of parents result from their duties. If it be the duty of a parent to educate his chil- dren, to form them for a life of usefulness and vir- tue, to provide for them situations needful for their subsistence, and suited to their circumstances, and to prepare them for those situations ; he has a right to such authority, and in support of that authority to exercise such discipline as may be necessary for these purposes. The law of nature acknowledges no other foundation of a parent's right over his children, besides his duty towards them. (I speak now of such rights as may be enforced by coercion.) This relation confers no property in their persons, or natural dominion over them, as is commonly supposed. Since it is, in general, necessary to determine the destination of children, before they are capa- ble of judging of their own happiness, parents have a right to elect professions for them. As the mother herself owes obedience to the father, her authority must submit to his. In a competition, therefore, of commands, the father is to be obeyed. In case of the death of either, the authority, as well as duty, of both parents, de- volves upon the survivor. These rights, always following the duty, be- long likewise to guardians ; and so much of them as is delegated by the parents to guardians, be- longs to tutors, school-masters, &c. From this principle, "that the rights of parents result from their duty," it follows, that parents have no natural right over the lives of their chil- dren, as was absurdly allowed to Roman fathers ; nor any to exercise unprofitable severities ; nor to command the commission of crimes : for these rights can never be wanted for the purpose of a parent's duty. Nor, for the same reason, have parents any right to sell their children into slavery. Upon which, by the way, we may observe, that the children of slaves, are not, by the law of nature born slaves : for, as the master's right is derived to him through the parent, it can never be greater than the parent's own. Hence also it appears, that parents not only pervert, but exceed their just authority, when they consult their own ambition, interest, or pre- judice, at the manifest expense of their children's happiness. Of which abuse of parental power, the following are instances: the shutting up of daughters and younger sons in nunneries, and monasteries, in order to preserve entire the estate and dignity of the family ; or the using of any arts, either of kindness or unkindness, to induce them to make choice of this way of life themselves; or, in countries where the clergy are prohibited from marriage, putting sons into the church for the same end, who are never likely to do or receive any good in it, sufficient to compensate for this sacrifice ; the urging of children to mar- riages from which they are averse, with the view of exalting or enriching the family, or for the sake of connecting estates, parties, or interests ; or the opposing of a marriage, in which the child would probably find his happiness, from a motive of pride or avarice, of family hostility, or personal pique. CHAPTER XI. The Duty of Children. THE duty of children may be considered, I. During childhood. II. After they have attained to manhood, but continue in their father's family. III. After they have attained to manhood, and have left their father's family. DUTY OF CHILDREN. J. During childhood. Children must l>e supposed to have attained to Borne degree of discretion before they are capable of any duty. There is an interval of eight or nine years between the dawning and the maturity of reason, in which it is necessary to subject the in- clination of children to many restraints, and di- rect their application to many employments, of the tendency and use of which they cannot judge ; for which cause, the submission of children during this period must be ready and implicit, with an exception, however, of any manifest crime wliich may be commanded them. II. After they Jtarc attained to manJioad, but continue in their father's family. If children, when they are grown up, volun- tarily continue members of their father's family, they are bound, beside the general duty of grati- tude to their parents, to observe such regulations of the family as the father shall appoint ; con- tribute their labour to its support, if required ; and confine themselves to such expenses as lie shall allow. The obligation would be the same, if they were admitted into any other family, or received support from any other hand. III. After they have attained to manJtood, and have left their father's family. In this state of the relation, the duty to parents is simply the duty of gratitude; not different in kind, from that which we owe to any other benefactor; in degree, just so much exceeding other obligations, by how much a parent has been a greater benefactor than any other friend. The services and attentions, by which filial gratitude may be testified, can be comprised within no enu- meration. It will show itself in compliances with the will of the parents, however contrary to the child's own taste or judgment, provided it lx> nei- ther criminal, nor totally inconsistent with his happiness; in a constant endeavour to promote their enjoyments, prevent their wishes, and soften their anxieties, in small matters as well as in great : in assisting them in tlieir business ; in con- tributing to their support, ease, or better accom- modation, when their circumstances require it; in affording them our company, in preference to more amusing engagements; in waiting upon their sickness or decrepitude ; in bearing with the infirmities of their health or temper, with the peevishness and complaints, the unfashionable, negligent, austere manners, and offensive habits, which often attend upon advanced years : for where must old age find indulgence, if it do not meet with it in the piety and partiality of children 1 The most serious contentions between parents and their children are those commonly which re- late to marriage, or to the choice of a profession. A parent has, in no case, a right to destroy his child's happiness. If it be true, therefore, that there exist such personal and exclusive attach- ments between individuals of different sexes, that the jxjssession of a particular man or woman in marriage be really necessary for the child's hap- piness ; or, if it be true, that an aversion to a par- ticular profession may be involuntary and uncon- querable ; then it will follow, that parents, wherd this is the case, ought not to urge their authority, and that the child is not bound to obey it. The point is, to discover how far, in any par- ticular instance, this is the case. Whether the fondness of lovers ever continues with such in- tensity, and so long, that the success of their de- M sires constitutes, or the disappointment affects any considerable portion of their happiness, com- pared with that of their whole hie, it is difficult to determine ; but there can be no difficulty in pro- nouncing, that not one half of those attachments, which young people conceive with so much haste and passion, are of tliis sort. I believe it also to be true, that there are few aversions to a profes- sion, which resolution, perseverance, activity in going about the duty of it, and, above all, despair of changing, will not subdue : yet there are some such. Wherefore, a child who respects his pa- rents' judgment, and is, as he ought to be, tender of their happiness, owes, at least, so much de- ference to their will, as to try fairly and faithfully, in one case, whether time and absence will not cool an affection which they disapprove; and, in the other, whether a longer continuance in the profession which they have chosen for him may not reconcile him to it. The whole depends upon the experiment being made on the child's part with sincerity, and not merely with a design of compassing his purj>ose at last, by means of a simulated and temporary compliance. It is the nature of love and hatred, and of all violent af- fections, to delude the mind with a persuasion t^iat we shall always continue to feel them as we feel them at present; we cannot conceive that they will either change or cease. Experience of similar or greater changes in ourselves, or a habit of giving credit to what our parents, or tutors, or books, teach us, may control this persuasion, otherwise it renders youth very untractablc : for they see clearly and truly that it is impossible they should be happy under the circumstances proposed to them, in tlieir present state of mind. After a sincere but ineffectual endeavour, by the child, to accommodate his inclination to his pa- rent's pleasure, he ought not to suffer in his pa- rent's affection, or in his fortunes. The parent, when he has reasonable proof of this should ac- quiesce ; at all events, the child is then at liberty to provide for his own happiness. Parents have no right to urge their children upon marriages to which they are averse : nor ought, in any sha^pe, to resent the children's dis- obedience to such commands. This is a different case from opjx>sing a match of inclination, because the child's misery is a much more probable con- sequence ; it being easier to live without a person that we love, than with one whom we hate. Add to this, that compulsion in marriage necessarily leads to prevarication ; as the reluctant party pro- mises an affection, which neither exists, nor is ex- pected to take place : and parental, like all humaa authority, ceases at the point where obedience be- comes criminal. In the above-mentioned, and in all contests be- tween parents and children, it is the parent's duty to represent to the child the consequences of his conduct ; and it will be found his best policy to represent them with fidelity. It is usual for pa- rents to exaggerate these descriptions beyond pro- bability, and by exaggeration to lose all credit with their children ; thus, in a great measure, defeating their own end. Parents are forbidden to interfere, where a trust is reposed personally in the son ; and where, con- sequently, the son was expected, and by virtue of that expectation is obliged, to pursue his own judgment, and not that of any other: as is the case with judicial magistrates hi the execution of 90 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. their office ; with members of the legislature in their votes ; with electors where preference is to be given to certain prescribed qualifications.- The son may assist his own judgment by the advice of his father, or of any one whom he chooses to con- sult : but his own judgment, whether it proceed upon knowledge or authority, ought finally to de- termine his conduct. The duty of children to their parents was thought worthy to be made the subject of one of the Ten Commandments ; and, as such, is re- cognised by Christ, together with the rest of the moral precepts of the Decalogue, in various places of the Gospel. The same divine Teacher's sentiments con- cerning the relief of indigent parents, appear sufficiently from that manly and deserved indig- nation with which he reprehended the wretched casuistry of the Jewish expositors, who, under the name of a tradition, had contrived a method of evading this duty, -by converting, or pretending to convert, to the treasury of the temple, so' much of their property as their distressed parent might be entitled by their law to demand. Agreeably to this law of Nature and Chris- tianity, children are, by the law of England, bound to support, as well their immediate parents, as their grandfather and grandmother, or remoter ancestors, who stand in need of support. Obedience to parents is enjoined by St. Paul to the Ephesians : " Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right;" and to the Colossians : " Children, obey your .parents in all things, for this is well-pleasing unto the Lord."* By the Jewish law, disobedience to parents was in some extreme cases capital : Deut. xxi. 18. BOOK IV. DUTIES TO OURSELVES. THIS division of the subject is retained merely for the sake of method, by which the writer and the reader are equally assisted. To the subject itself it imports nothing; for, the obligation of all duties being fundamentally the same, it matters little under what class or title any of them are considered. In strictness, there are few duties or crimes which terminate in a man's self; and so far as others are affected by their operation, they have been treated of in some article of the pre- ceding book. We have reserved, however, to this head, the rights of self-defence ; also the con- sideration of drunkenness and suicide, as offences against that care of our faculties, and preservation of our persons, which we account duties, and call duties to ourselves. CHAPTER I. The Rights of Self -Defence. IT has been asserted, that in a state of nature we might lawfully defend the most insignificant * Upon which two phrases, " this is right/' and, " for this is well-pleasin? unto the Lord," beinsr used by St. Paul in a sense perfectly parallel, we may observe, that moral rectitude, and conformity to tUe Divine will, were in his apprehension the same. right, provided it were a perfect determinate right, by any extremities which the obstinacy of the aggressor rendered necessary. Of this I doubt; Because I doubt whether the general rule be worth sustaining at such an expense ; and because, apart from the general consequence of yielding to the attempt, it cannot be contended to l>e for the aug- mentation of human happiness, that one man should lose his life, or a limb, rather than another a pennyworth of his property. Nevertheless, perfect rights can only be distinguished by their value ; and it is impossible to ascertain the value at which the liberty of using extreme violence be- gins. The person attached, must balance, as well as he can, between the general consequence of yielding, and the particular effect of resistance. However, this right, if it exist in a state of na- ture, is suspended by the establishment of civil society : because thereby other remedies are pro- vided against attacks upon our property, and be- cause it is necessary to the peace and safety of the community, that the prevention, punishment, and redress of injuries, be adjusted by public laws. Moreover, as the individual is assisted in the re- covery of his right, or of a compensation for his right, by the public strength, it is no less equitable than expedient, that he should submit to public arbitration the kind, as well as the measure of the satisfaction which he is to obtain. There is one case in which all extremities arc justifiable ; namely, when our life is assaulted, and it becomes necessary for our preservation to kill the assailant. This is evident in a state of nature ; unless it can be shown, that we are bound to pre- fer the aggressor's life to our own, that is to say, to love our enemy better than ourselves, which can never be a debt of justice, nor any where ap- pears to be a duty of charity. Nor is the case altered by pur living in civil society ; because, by the supposition, the laws of society cannot inter- pose to protect us, nor, by the nature of the case, compel restitution. This liberty is restrained to cases in which no other probable means of pre- serving our life remain, as flight, calling for assist- ance, disarming the adversary, &c. The rule holds, whether the danger proceed from a volun- tary attack, as by an enemy, robber, or assassin ; or from an involuntary one, as by a madman, or person sinking in the water, and dragging us after him ; or where two persons are reduced to a situa- tion hi which one or both of them must perish : as in a shipwreck, where two seize upon a plank, which will support only one : although, to say the truth, these extreme cases, which happen seldom, and hardly, when they do happen, admit of moral agency, are scarcely worth mentioning, much less discussing at length. The instance which approaches the nearest to the preservation of life, and which seems to justify the same extremities, is the defence of chastity. In all other cases, it appears to me the safest to consider the taking away of life as authorised by the law of the land ; and the person who takes it away, as in the situation of a minister or execu- tioner of the kw. In which view, homicide, in England, is justi- fiable : 1. To prevent the commission of a crime, which, when committed, would be punishable with death. Thus, it is lawful to shoot a highwayman, or one attempting to break into a house by night ; but not so if the attempt be made in the day-time; DRUNKENNESS. which particular distinction, by a consent of le- gislation that is remarkable, obtained also in the Jewish law, as well as in the laws both of Greece and Rome. 2. In necessary endeavours to carry the law into execution, as in suppressing riots, apprehend- ing malefactors, preventing escapes, &c. 1 do not know that the law holds forth its au- thority to any cases besides those which fall within one or other of the above descriptions ; or, that, after the exception of immediate danger to life or chastity, the destmction of a human being can be innocent without an authority. The rights of war are not here taken into the account. CHAPTER II. Drunkenness. DRUXKKN T NESS is either actual or habitual ; just as it is oni- thing to be drunk, and another to be a drunkard. What we shall delivrr upon the subject must principally be understood of a Inihit of intemi>erance ; although part of the guilt and danger described, may bo applicable to casual ex- cesses ; and all of it in a certain degree, forasmuch as every habit is only a repetition of single in- stances. The mischief of drunkenness, from which we are to compute the guilt of it, consists in following the bad effects : 1. It betrays most constitutions either to extra- vagances of anger, or sins of lewdness. . It disqualilies men for the duties of their station, both by the temporary disorder of their faculties, and at length by a constant incapacity and stupefaction. 3. It is attended with expenses, which can often be ill spared. 4. It is sure to occasion uneasiness to the family of the drunkard. 5. It shortens life. To these consequences of drunkenness must be added the peculiar danger and mischief of the example. Drunkenness is a social festive vice ; apt, beyond any vice that can be mentioned, to draw in others by the example. The drinker collects Iris circle ; the circle naturally spreads ; of those who are drawn within it, many become the corrupters and centres of sets and circles of their own ; every one countenancing, and perhaps emu- lating the rest, till a whole neighbourhood be in- fected from the contagion of a single example. This account is confirmed by what we often ob- serve of drunkenness, that it is a local vice ; found to prevail in certain countries, in certain districts of a country, or in particular towns, without any reason to be given for the fashion, but that it had been introduced by some popular examples. With this observation upon the spreading quality of drunkenness, let us connect a remark which be- longs to the several evil effects above recited. The consequences of a vice, like the symptoms of a dis- ease, though they be all enumerated in the de- scription, seldom all meet in the same subject. In the instance under consideration, the age and temperature of one drunkard may have little to fear from inflammations of lust or anger ; the for- tune of a second may not be injured by the ex- pense j a third may have no family to be disquieted | by his irregularities ; and a fourth may possess a constitution fortified against the poison of strong liquors. But if, as we always ought to do, we comprehend within the consequences of our conduct the mischief and tendency of the exam- ple, the above circumstances, however fortunate for the individual, will be found to vary the guilt of his intemperance less, probably, than he sup- poses. The moralist may expostulate with him thus : Although the waste of time and of money be of small importance to you, it may be of the utmost to some one or other whom your society corrupts. Repeated or long-continued excesses, which hurt not your health, may be fatal to your companion. Although you have neither wife or child, nor parent, to lament your absence from home, or expect your return to it with terror : other families, in which husbands and fathers have been invited to share in your ebriety, or encouraged to imitate it, may justly lay their misery or ruin at your door. '.This vvill hold good whether the per- son seduced be seduced immediately by you, or the vice be propagated from you to nim through several intermediate examples. All these consid- erations it is necessary to assemble, to judge truly of a \L-t- which usually meets with milder names and more indulgence than it deserves. I omit those outrages upon one another, and upon the peace and safety of the neighbourhood, in which drunken revels often end ; and also those deleterious and maniacal effects which strong li- quors produce upon particular constitutions : be- cause, in general propositions concerning drunk- rnnrss. no consequences should be included, but what are constant enough to be generally ex- pected. Drunkenness is repeatedly forbidden by St. Paul : " Be not drunk with wine, wherein is ex- cess." " Let us walk honestly as in the day, not in rioting and drunkenness." " Be not deceived; neither lornicators, nor drunkards, nor revilers. nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. Ephes. v. 18; Romans xiii. 13; 1 Cor.vi. 9, 10. The same apostle likewise condemns drunkenness, as peculiarly inconsistent with the Christian pro- fession : " They that be drunken, are drunken in the night : but let us, who are of the day, be sober." I Thess. v. 7, 8. We are not concerned with the argument: the words amount to a pro- hibition of drunkenness, and the authority is con- clusive. It is a question of some importance, how far drunkenness is an excuse for the crimes which the drunken person commits. In the solution of this question, we will first suppose the drunken person to be altogether de- prived of moral agency, that is to say, of all re- flection and foresight. In this condition, it is evi- dent that he is no more capable of guilt than a madman ; although, like him, he may be extreme- ly mischievous. The only guilt with which he is chargeable, was incurred at the time when he vo- luntarily brought himself into tins-situation. And as every man is responsible for the consequences which he foresaw, or might have foreseen, and for no other, this guilt will be in proportion to the probability of such consequences ensuing. From which principle results the following rule, viz. that the guilt of any action in a drunken man, bears the same proportion to the guilt of the like action in a sober man, that the probability of its being the consequence of drunkenness, bears to absolute MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. certainty. By virtue of this rule, those vices which are the known effects of drunkenness, either in general or upon particular constitutions, are in all, or in men of such constitutions, nearly as crimina as if committed with all their faculties and senses about them. If the privati6n of reason be only partial, the guilt will be of a mixed nature. For so much of his self-government as the drunkard retains, he is as responsible then as at any other time. He is entitled to no abatement beyond the strict propor- tion in which his moral faculties are impaired. Now I call the guilt of the crime, if a sober man had committed it, the whole guilt. A person in the condition we describe, incurs part of this at the instant of perpetration ; and by bringing him- self into such a condition, he incurred that fraction of the remaining part, which the danger of this consequence was of an integral certainty. For the sake of illustration, we are at liberty to sup- pose, that a man loses half his moral faculties by drunkenness; this leaving him but half his re- sponsibility, he incurs, when he commits the action, half of the whole guilt. We will also suppose that it was known beforehandj that it was an even chance, or half a certainty, that this crime would follow his getting drunk. This makes him charge- able with half of the remainder; so that alto- gether, he is responsible in three-fourths of the guilt which a sober man would have incurred by the same action. I do not mean that any real case can be reduced to numbers, or the calculation be ever made with arithmetical precision ; but these are the ' princi- ples, and this the rule by which our general ad- measurement of the guilt of such offences should be regulated. The appetite for intoxicating liquors appears to me to be almost always acquired. One proof of which is, that it is apt to return only at particular tunes and places : as- after dinner, in the evening, on the market-day, at the market-town, in such a company, at such a tavern. And this may be the reason that, if a habit of drunkenness be ever over- come, it is upon some change of place, situation, company, or profession. A man sunk deep in a habit of drunkenness will, upon such occasions as these, when he finds himself loosened from the associations which held him fast, sometimes make a plunge, and get out. In a matter of so great im- portance, it is well worth while, where it is in any degree practicable, to change our habitation and society, for the sake of the experiment. Habits of drunkenness commonly take their rise either from a fondness for, and connexion with, some company, or some companion, already ad- dicted to this practice; which affords an almost irresistible invitation to take a share in the indul- gences which those about us are enjoying with so much apparent relish and delight ; or from want of regular employment, which is sure to let in many superfluous-cravings and customs, and often this among the rest ; or, lastly, from grief, or fa- tigue, both which strongly solicit that relief which inebriating liquors administer, and also furnish a specious excuse for complying with the incli- nation. But the habit, when once set in, is con- tinued by different motives from those to which it owes its origin. Persons addicted to excessive drinking, suffer in the intervals of sobriety, and near the return of their accustomed indulgence, a faintncss and oppression circa pr(Ecordia } which it exceeds the ordinary patience of human nature to endure. This is usually relieved for a short time, by a repetition of the same excess ; and to this relief, as to the removal of every long contin- ued pain, they who have once experienced it, are urged almost beyond the power of resistance. This is not all : as the liquor loses its stimulus, the dose must be increased, to reach the same pitch of elevation or ease ; which increase propor- tionably accelerates the progress of all the mala- dies that drunkenness brings on. Whoever re- flects upon the violence of the craving in the advanced stages of the habit, and the fatal termi- nation to wliich the gratification of it leads, will, the moment he perceives in himself the first symptoms of a growing inclination to intem- perance, collect his resolution to this point; or (what perhaps, he will find his best security,) arm himself with some peremptory rule, as to the times and quantity of his indulgences. 1 own myself a friend to the laying down of rules to ourselves of this sort, and rigidly abiding by them. They may be exclaimed against as stiff, but they are often salutary. Indefinite resolutions of ab- stemiousness are apt to yield to extraordinary occasions ; and' extraordinary occasions' to occur perpetually. Whereas, the stricter the rule is, the more tenacious we grow of it ; and many a man will abstain rather than break his rule, who would not easily be brought to exercise the same mortification from higher motives. Not to men- tion, that when our rule is once known, we are provided with an answer to every importunity. There is a difference, no doubt, between con- vivial intemperance, and that solitary sottishness which waits neither for company nor invitation. But the one, I am afraid, commonly ends in the other: and this last, in the basest degradation to which the faculties and dignity of human na- ture can be reduced. CHAPTER III. Suicide. THERE is no subject in morality in which the consideration of general consequences is more necessary than in this of Suicide. Particular and extreme cases of suicide may be imagined, and may arise, of which it would be difficult to assign the particular mischief, or from that con- sideration alone to demonstrate the guilt; and these cases have been the chief occasion of con- fusion and doubtfulness in the question: albeit, ;his is no more than what is sometimes true of ;he most acknowledged vices. I could propose many possible cases even of murder, which, if ;hey were detached from the general rule, and governed by their own particular consequences alone, it would be no easy undertaking to prove crimipal. ^The true question in this argument is no other than this : May every man who chooses to de- stroy his life, innocently do so? Limit and dis- inguish the subject as you can, it will come at ast to this question. - For, shall we say, that we are then at liberty ;o commit suicide when we find our continuance ;n life become useless to mankind ? Any one who pleases, may make himself useless ; and melan- choly minds are prone to think themselves use- SUICIDE. less, when they really are not so. Supposing a law were promulgated, allowing each private per- son to destroy every man he met, whose longer continuance in the world he judged to be useless ; who would not condemn the latitude of such a rule 1 who does not perceive that it amounts to a permission to commit murder at pleasure 1 A similar rule, regulating the right over our own lives, would be capable of the same extension. Beside which, no one is useless for the purpose of this plea, but he who has lost every capacity and opportunity of being useful, together with the pos- sibility of recovering any degree of either ; which is a state of such complete destitution and despair, as cannot, I believe, be predicated of any man living. Or rather, shall we say that to depart volunta- rily out of life, is lawful for those alone who leave none to lament their death ? If this consideration is to be taken into the account at all, the subject of debute will be, not whether there are- any to sorrow for us, but whether their sorrow for our death will exceed that which we should suffer by continuing to live. Now this is a comparison of things so indeterminate in their nature, capable of so different a judgment, and concerning which the judgment will differ so much according to the state of the spirits, or the pressure of any present anxiety, that it would vary little, in hypochon- driacal constitutions, from an unqualified license to commit suicide, whenever the distresses which men felt, or fancied, rose high enough to over- come the pain and dread of death. Men are never tempted to destroy themselves but when under the oppression of some grievous uneasi- ness : the restrictions of the rule therefore ought to apply to these cases. But what effect can we look for from a rule which proposes to weigh our pain against that of another ; the misery that is Felt, against that which is only conceived ; and in so corrupt a balance as the party's own distempered imagination 1 In like manner, whatever other rule vou assign, it will ultimately bring us to an indiscriminate toleration of suicide, in all cases in which there is danger of its being committed. It remains, there- fore, to inquire what would be the effect of such a toleration : evidently, the loss of many lives to the community, of which some might be useful or important; the affliction of many families, and the consternation of all : for mankind must live in continual alarm for the fate of their friends and dearest relations, when the restraints of religion and morality are withdrawn ; when every disgust which is powerful enough to tempt men to suicide, shall be deemed sufficient to justify it ; and when the follies and vices, as well as the inevitable ca- lamities, of human life, so often make existence a burthen. A second consideration, and perfectly distinct from the former, is this : by continuing in the world, and in the exercise of those virtues which remain within our power, we retain the oppor- tunity of meliorating our condition in a future state. This argument, it is true, does not in strict- ness prove suicide to be a crime ; but if it supply a motive to dissuade us from committing it, it amounts to much the same thing. Now there is no condition in human life which is not capable of some virtue, active or passive. Even piety and resignation under the sufferings to which we are called, testify a trust and acquiescence in the Di- , vine counsels, more acceptable perhaps, than the most prostrate devotion; afford an edifying ex- ample to all who observe them ; and may hope for a recompense among the most arduous of human virtues. These qualities are always in the power of the miserable ; indeed of none but the miserable. The two considerations above stated, belong to all cases of suicide whatever. Beside which general reasons, each case will be aggravated by its own proper and particular consequences ; by the duties that are deserted ; by the claims that are defrauded ; by the loss, affliction , or disgrace, which our death, or the manner of it, causes our family, kindred, or friends; by the occasion we give to many to suspect the sincerity of our moral and religious professions, and, together with ours, those of all others ; by the reproach we draw upon our order, calling, or sect; in a word, by a great variety of evil consequences attending upon pe- culiar situations, with some or other of which every actual case of suicide is chargeable. I refrain from the common topics of " deserting our post," " throwing up our trust," " rushing uncalled into the presence of our Maker," with some others of the same sort, not because they are common, (for that rather affords a presumption in their favour,) but because I do not perceive in them much argument to which an answer may nut easily be given. Hitherto we have pursued upon the subject the light of nature alone ; taking however into the account, the expectation of a future existence, without which our reasoning upon this, as indeed all reasoning upon moral questions, is vain: we proceed to inquire, whether any thing is to be met with in Scripture, which may add to the proba- bility of the conclusions we have been endeavour- ing to support. And here I acknowledge, that there is to be found neither any express determi- nation of the question, nor sufficient evidence to prove that the case of suicide was in the contem- plation of the law which prohibited murder. Any inference, therefore, which we deduce from Scrip- ture, can be sustained only by construction and implication : that is to say, although they who were authorised to instruct mankind, have not decided a question which never, so.far as appears to us, came before them ; yet I think, they have [eft enough to constitute a presumption how they would have decided it, had it been proposed or thought of. What occurs to this purpose, is contained in the following observations : 1. Human life is spoken of as a term assigned or prescribed to us : "Let us run with patience the race that is set before us." " I have finished my course." " That I may finish my course with ioy." " Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise." These expressions appear to me in- consistent with the opinion, that we are at lil>erty to determine the duration of our lives for ourselves, [f this were the case, with what propriety could life be called a race that is set before us ; or, which is the same thing, "our course;" that is, the course set out or appointed to us 1 The re- maining quotation is equally strong: "That af- ter ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise." The most natural meaning that can be given to the words, " after ye have done the will of God," is, after ye have discharged the duties of life BO long as God is pleased to continue 91 MORAL AND POLITTCAL PHILOSOPHY. you in it. According to which interpretation, the text militates strongly against suicide: and they who reject this paraphrase, will please to propose a better. 2. There is not one quality which Christ and his apostles inculcate upon their followers so often, or so earnestly, aa that of patience under affliction. Now this virtue would have been in a great mea- sure superseded, and the exhortations to it might have been spared, if the disciples of his religion had been tt liberty to quit the world as soon as they grew weary of the ill usa^e which they re- ceived in it. When the evils ot life pressed sore, they were to look forward to a " far more exceed- ing and eternal weight of glory ;" they were to receive them, "as chastenings of the Lord," as intimations of his care and love : by these and the like reflections they were to support and improve themselves under their sufferings ; but not a hint has any where escaped of seeking relief in a volun- tary death. The following text in particular strongly combats all impatience of distress, of which the greatest is that which prompts to acts of suicide : " Consider Him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds." I would offer my comment upon this passage, in these two queries : first, Whether a Christian convert, who had been impelled by the continuance and urgency of his sufferings to destroy his own life, would not have been thought by the author of this text " to have been weary," to have " fainted in his mind," td have fallen off' from that example which is here proposed to the meditation of Christians in dis- tress 1 And yet, secondly, Whether such an act would not have been attended with all the circum- stances of mitigation which can excuse or extenu- ate suicide at this day 1 3. The conduct of the apostles, and of the Christains of the apostolic age, affords no obscure indication of their sentiments upon this point. They lived, we are sure, in a confirmed persuasion of the existence, as well as of the happiness, of a future state. They experienced in this world every extremity of external injury and distress. To die, was gain. The change which death brought with it was, in their expectation, infinitely bene- ficial. Yet it never, that we can find, entered into the intention of one of them to hasten this change by an act of suicide ; from which it is difficult to say what motive could have so universally with- held them, except an apprehension of some un- lawfulness in the expedient. Having stated what we have been able to collect in opposition to the lawfulness of suicide, by way of direct proof, it seems unnecessary to open a sepa- rate controversy with all the arguments which are made use of to defend it ; which would only lead us into a repetition of what has been offered already. The following argument, however, being somewhat more artificial and imposing than the rest, as well as distinct from the general consider- ation of the subject, cannot so properly be passed over. If we deny to the individual a right over his own life, it seems impossible, it is said, to re- concile with the law of nature that right which the state claims and exercises over the lives of its sub- jects, when it ordains or inflicts capital punish- ments. For this right, -like all other just authority in the state, can only be derived from the compact and virtual consent of the citizens which compose the state ; and it seems self-evident, if any prin- ciple in morality be so, that no one, by his consent, can transfer to another a right which he does not possess himself. It will be equally difficult to ac- count for the power of, the state to commit its subjects to the dangers of war, and to expose their lives without scruple in the field of battle ; espe- cially in offensive hostilities, in which the privi- leges of self-defence cannot be pleaded with any appearance of jtruth : and still more difficult to ex- plain, how in such, or in any circumstances, pro- digality of life can be a virtue, if the preservation of it be a duty of our nature. This whole reasoning sets out from one error, namely, that the state acquires its right over the life of the subject from the subject's own consent, as a part of what originally and personally belong- ed to himself, and which he has made over to his governors. The truth is, the state derives this right neither from the consent of the subject, nor through the medium of that consent ; but, as I may say, immediately from the donation of the Deity. Finding that such a power in the sove- reign of the community is expedient, if not ne- cessary, for the community itself, it is justly pre- sumed to be the will of God, that the sovereign should possess and exercise it. It is this presump- tion which constitutes the right ; it is the same indeed which constitutes every other : and if there were the like reasons to authorise the presumption in the case of private persons, suicide would be as justifiable as war, or capital executions. But un- til it can be shown that the power over human life may be converted to the same advantage in the hands of individuals over their own, as in those of the state over the lives of its subjects, and that it may be entrusted with equal safety to both, there is no room for arguing, from the exist- ence of such a right in the latter, to the toleration of it in the former. BOOK V. DUTIES TOWARDS GOD. CHAPTER I. Division of these Duties. IN one sense, every duty is a duty towards God, since it is his will which makes it a duty: but there are some duties of which God is the object, as well as the author; and these are peculiarly, and in a more appropriated sense, called duties towards God. That silent piety, which consists in a habit of tracing out the Creator's wisdom and goodness in the objects around us, or in the history of his dispensations ; of referring the blessings we enjoy to his bounty, and of resorting in our distresses to his succour ; may possibly be more acceptable to the Deity than any visible expressions of devotion whatever. Yet these latter, (which, although they may be excelled, arc not superseded, by the for- mer,) compose the only part of the subject which admits of direction or disquisition from a moralist. I Our duty towards God, so far as it is external; Is divided into worship and rtrerence. God is j fee immediate object of both ; and the difference DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 95 between them is, that the one consists in action, the other in forbearance. When we go to church on the Lord's day, led thither by a sense of duty towards God, we perform an act of worship : when, from the same motive, we restin a journey upon that day, we discharge a duty of rev. Divine worship is made up of adoration, thanks- giving, and prayer. But, as what we have to offer concerning the two former may be observed of prayer, we shall make that the title of the fol- lowing" chapters, and the direct subject of our consideration. CHAPTER II. Of the Duty and of the Efficacy of Prayer, so far as the same appear from tlieJUigitt of Mature. WHEN one man desires to obtain any. thing of another, he betakes himself to entreaty ; and this may be observed of mankind in all ages and coun- tries of the world. Now, what is universal, may be called natural ; and it seems probable that God, as our supreme governor, should expect that to- wards himself, which, by a natural imjwlse, or by the irresistible order of our constitution, he has prompted us to pay to every other being on whom we drpend. The same may l>e said of thanksgiving. Prayer likewise is necessary to keep up in the minds of mankind a sense of God's agency in the uimi-rse, and of their own dependency upon him. Yet, atler all, the duty of prayer depends upon its efficacy : for I confess myself unable to con- rt'i\e, how any man can pray, or be obliged to pray, who expects nothing from his prayers ; but who is persuaded, at the time he utters lus request, that it cannot possibly produce the smallest im- pression upon the being to whom it is addressed, or advantage to himself. Now, the efficacy of prayer imports, that we obtain something in con- sequence of praying, which we should not have received without prayer ; against all expectation of which, the following objection has been often and seriously alleged :" If it be most agreeable to perfect wisdom and justice that we should receive what we desire, God, as perfectly wise and just, will give it to us without asking ; if it be not agreeable to these attributes of his nature, pur en- treaties cannot move him to give it us, and it were impious to expect that they should." In fewer words, thus : " If what we request be fit for us, we shall have it without praying; if it be not fit for us, we cannot obtain it by praying." This objection admits but of one answer, namely, that it may be agreeable to perfect wisdom to grant that to our prayers, which it would not have been agreeable to the same wisdom to have given us without praying for. But what virtue, you will ask, is there in prayer, which should make a favour con- sistent with wisdom, which would not have been so without it 7 To this question, which contains the whole difficulty attending the subject, the fol- lowing possibilities are offered in reply : 1. A favour granted to prayer may be more apt, on that very account, to produce good effects upon the person obliged. It may hold in the Divine bounty, what experience has raised into a proverb in the collation of human benefits, that what is obtained without asking, is oftentimes received without gratitude. 2. It may be consistent with the wisdom of the Deity to withhold his favours till they be asked for, as an expedient to encourage devotion in his rational creation, hi order thereby to keep up and circulate a knowledge and sense of their depen- dency upon him. 3. Prayer has a natural tendency to amend the petitioner himself; and thus to bring him within the rules :s r hich the wisdom of the Deity has pre- scribed to the dispensation of his favours. If these, or any other assignable suppositions, serve to remove the apparant repugnancy between the success of prayer and the character of the Deity, it is enough ; for the question with the pe- titioner is not from which, out of many motives, God may grant his petition, or in what particular manner he is moved by the supplications of his creatures; but whether it be consistent with his nature to be moved at all, and whether there be any conceivable motives which may dispose the Divine Will to grant the petitioner what he wants, in consequence of his praying for it. It is suffi- cient for the petitioner, that he gain his end. It is not necessary to devotion, perhaps not very consistent with it, that the circuit of causes, by which his prayers prevail, should be known to the petitioner, much less that they should be present to his imagination at the time. All that is neces- sary is, that there be no impossibility apprehended in the matter. Thus much must be conceded to the objection: that prayer cannot reasonably be offered to God with all the same views, with which we often- times address our entreaties to men (views which are not commonly or easily separated from it,) viz. to inform them of our wants and desires ; to tease them out by importunity ; to work upon tlu-ir indolence or compassion, in order to per- suade them to do what they ought to have done before, or ought not to do at all. But suppose there existed a prince, who was known by his subjects to act, of his own accord, always and invariably for the best ; the situation of a petitioner, who solicited a favour or pardon from such a prince, would sufficiently resemble ours: and the question with him, as with us, would be, whether, the character of the prince being considered, there remained any chance that he should obtain from him by prayer, what he would not have received without it. I do not con- ceive that the character of such a prince would necessarily exclude the effect of his subject's prayers ; for when that prince reflected that the earnestness and humility of the supplication had generated in the suppliant a frame of mind, upon which the pardon or favour asked would produce a permanent and active sense of gratitude; that the granting of it to prayer would put others upon praying to him, and by that means preserve the the love and submission of his subjects, upon which love and submission their own happiness, as well as his glory, depended ; that, beside that the memory of the particular kindness would be heightened and prolonged by the anxiety with which it had been sued for, prayer had in other respects so disposed and prepared the mind of the petitioner, as to render capable of future services him who before was unqualified for any: might not that prince, I say, although he proceeded upon no other considerations than the strict rectitude and expediency of the measure, grant a favour or pardon to this man, which he did not grant to 96 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. another, who was too proud, too lazy, or too busy, too indifferent whether he received it or not, or too insensible of the sovereign's absolute power to give or to withhold it, ever to ask for it 1 or even to the philosopher, who, from ari opinion of the fruitlessness of all addresses to a prince of the cha- racter which he had formed to himself, refused in his own example, and discouraged in others, all outward returns of gratitude, acknowledgment of duty, or application to the sovereign's mercy or bounty ; the disuse of which, (seeing affections do not long subsist which are never expressed) was followed by a decay of loyalty and zeal amongst his subjects, and threatened to end in a forgetful- ness of his rights, and a contempt of his authority 1 These, together with other assignable considera- tions, and some perhaps inscrutable, and even in- conceivable, by the persons -upon whom his will was to be exercised, might pass in the mind of the prince^ and move his counsels ; whilst nothing, in the mean time, dwelt in the petitioner's thoughts, but a sense of his own grief and wants ; of the power and goodness from which alone he was to look for relief; and of his obligation to endeavour, by^ future obedience, to render that person pro- pitious to his happiness, in whose hands, and at the disposal of whose mercy, he found himself to be. The objection to prayer supposes, that a per- fectly wise being must necessarily be inexorable : but where is the proof, that inexorability is any part of perfect wisdom ; especially of that wisdom which is explained to consist in bringing about the most beneficial ends by the wisest means 7 The objection likewise assumes another prin- ciple, which is attended with considerable difficulty and obscurity, namely, that upon every occasion there is one, and only one, mode of acting < /br the best ; and that the Divine Will is necessarily de- termined and confined to that mode : both which positions presume a knowledge of universal na- ture, much beyond what we are capable of at- taining. Indeed, when we apply to the Divine Nature such expressions as these, "God must always do what is right," " God cannot, from the moral perfection and necessity of his nature, act otherwise than for the best," we ought to apply them with much indetcrminateness and reserve ; or rather, we ought to confess, that there is some- thing in the subject out of the reach of our appre- hension; for, in our apprehension, to be under a necessity of acting according to any rule, is in- consistent with free agency; and it makes no difference which we can understand, whether the necessity be internal or external, or that 'the rule is the rule of perfect rectitude. But efficacy is ascribed to prayer without the proof, we are told, which can alone in such a sub- ject produce conviction, the confirmation of ex- perience. Concerning the appeal to experience, 1 shall content myself with this remark, that if prayer were suffered to disturb the order of second causes appointed in the universe, too much, or to produce its effects with the same regularity that they do, it would introduce a change into human affairs, which, in some important respects, would be evidently for the worse. Who, for example, would labour, if his necessities could be supplied with equal certainty by prayer 1 How few would contain within any bounds of moderation those passions and pleasures, which at present are checked only by disease, or the dread of it, if prayer would infallibly restore health 1 In short, if the efficacy of prayer were so constant and ob- servable as to be relied upon beforehand, it is easy to foresee that the conduct of mankind would, hi proportion to that reliance, become careless and disorderly. It is possible, in {lie nature of things, that our prayers may, in many instances, be ef- ficacious, and yet our experience of their efficacy be dubious and obscure. Therefore, if the light of nature instruct us by any other arguments to hope for effect from prayer; still more, if the Scriptures authorise these hopes by promises of acceptance j it seems not a sufficient reason for calling in ques- tion the reality of such effects, that our observa- tions of them are ambiguous ; especially since it appears probable, that this very ambiguity is ne- cessary to the happiness and safety of human life. But some, whose objections do not exclude all prayer, are offended with the mode of prayer in use amongst us, and with many of the subjects which are almost universally introduced into pub- lic worship, and recommended to private devotion. To pray for particular favours by name, is to dic- tate, it has been said, to Divine wisdom and good- ness : to intercede for others, especially for whole nations and empires, is still worse ; it is to presume that we possess such an interest with the Deity, as to be able, by our applications, to bend the most important of his counsels ; and that the happiness of others, and even the prosperity of communities, is to depend upon this interes't, and upon our choice. Now, how unequal soever our knowledge of the Divine economy may be to the solution of this difficulty, which requires perhaps a compre- hension of the entire plan, and of all the ends of God's moral government, to explain satisfactorily, we can understand one thing concerning it: that it is, after all, nothing more than the making of one man the instrument of happiness and misery to another ; which is perfectly of a piece with the course and order that obtain, and which we must believe were intended to obtain, in human affairs. Why may we not be assisted by the prayers of other men, who are beholden for our support to their labour 1 Why may not our happiness be made in some cases to depend upon the interces- sion, as it certainly does in many upon the good offices, of our neighbours? The happiness and misery of great numbers we see oftentimes at the disposal of one man's choice, or liable to be much affected by his conduct : what greater difficulty is there in supposing, that the prayers of an in- dividual may avert a calamity from multitudes, or be accepted to the benefit of whole communities 1 CHAPTER III. Of the Duty and Efficacy of Prayer as Re- presented in Scripture. THE reader will have observed, that the reflec- tions stated in the preceding chapter, whatever truth and weight they may be allowed to contain, rise many of them no higher than to negative ar- guments in favour of the propriety of addressing prayer to God. To prove that the efficacy of prayers is not inconsistent with the attributes of the Deity, does not prove that prayers are actually efficacious: and in the want of that unequivocal testimony, which experience alone could afford to this point, (but which we do not possess, and have DUTY AND EFFICACY OF PRAYER. 97 seen good reason why we are not to expect,) the light of nature leaves us to. controverted proba- bilities, drawn from the impulse by which man- kind have been almost universally prompted to devotion, and from some beneficial purposes, which, it is conceived, may be better answered by the audience of prayer than by any other mode of communicating the same blessings. The revela- tions which wexleem authentic, completely supply this defect of 'natural religion. They require prayer to God as a duty; and they contain posi- tive assurance of its efficacy a ml acceptance. We could have no reasonable motive for the exercise of prayer, without believing that it may avail to the relief of oiir wants. This belief can only be founded, either in a sensible experience o the ef- fect of prayer, -or in promises of acceptance sig- nified by Divine authority. Our knowledge would have come to us in the i'onurr way, less capable indeed of doubt, but subjected to the abuses and inconveniences briefly described above; in the latter way, that is, by authorized significations of God's general disposition to hear and answer the devout supplications of his creatures, we are en- couraged to pray, but not place such a dependence upon prayer as might relax other obligations, or confound the order of events and of human ex- pectations. The Scriptures not only affirm the propriety of prayer in general, but furnish precepts or ex- amples which justify some topics and some modes of prayer that have been thought exceptionable, And as the whole subject rests so much upon the foundation of Scripture, 1 shall put down at length texts applicable to the live following heads : to the duty and efficacy of praver in general ; of prayer for particular favours by name ; for public national blessings; of intercession for others; of the repe- tition of unsuccessful prayers. 1 . Texts enjoying prayer in general : " Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall find : If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts Unto your children, how much more shall your Father, which is in heaven, give good things to them that ask him 1" " Watch ye, therefore, and pray al- ways, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape all those things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man." " Serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing instant in prayer." {< Be carefuj for nothing, but in every thing, by prayer and sup- plication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God." " I will, therefore, that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands without wrath and doubting." " Pray without ceasing." Matt. vii. 7. 11; Luke xxi. 36; Rom. xii. 12 ; Phil. iv. 6 ; 1 Thess. v. 17; 1 Tiin. ii. 8. Add to these, that Christ's reproof of the ostenta- tion and prolixity of pharisaical prayers, and his recommendation to his disciples, of retirement and simplicity in theirs, together with his dictating a particular form of prayer, all presuppose prayer to be an acceptable and availing service. 2. Examples of prayer for particular favours by name :. " For this thing" (to wit, some bodily infirmity, which he calls 'a thorn given him in the flesh') " I besought the Lord thrice, that it might, depart from me."" Night and day praying ex- ceedingly, that we might see your face, and per- fect that which is lacking in your faith " 2 Cor xii. 8; 1 Thess. iii. 10. 3. Directions to pray for national or public blessings : " Pray for the peace of Jerusalem" " Ask ye of the Lord rain,-in the time of the latter rain; so the Lord shall make- bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass in the field."" I exliqrt, therefore, that first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions,"and giving of thanks, be inade for all men ; for kings, and for all that are in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all' godliness and honesty; lor this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour." Psalm cxxii: t> ; Zech. x.J ; 1 Tim. ii. 1, 2, 3. 4. Examples of intercession, and exhortations to intercede for others : " And Moses besought the Lord his God, and said, 'Lord, why doth thy wrath wax hot against thy people 1 / Rememoer Abraham, Isaac,- and v Israel, thy servants. And the Lord repented of the evil which he thought to .do unto his people." " Peter, therefore, was kept in prison, but prayer was made without ceas- ing of the church unto God for him." : " For God is my witness, that without ceasing / make men- tion of you (tiways in~~vny prayers." "Now I ivseeeh you, bretheren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me, in your prayers for me"-^ " Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed : the ef- fectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much,." Exod. xxxii. 11 ; Acts xii, 5; Rom. i. 9. xv. 30 ; James \ M 10. 5. Declarations and examples authorising the repetition of unsuccessful prayer : " A^nd he spake a parable unto them, to this end, that men ought always to pray; and not to faint."" And he left them, and went away again, and prayed the third time; saying the same words." " For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me." Luke xviii. 1 ; Matt. xxvi. 44 ; 2 Cor. xii. 8.* CHAPTER IV. Of Private Prayer, Family Prayer, and Public Worship. CONCERNING these three descriptions of de- vetion, it is first of all to bo observed, that each has its separate and peculiar use; and therefore, "that the exercise of one species of worship, how- ever regular it be, does not supersede, or dispense with, the obligation of either of the other two. 1. Private Prayer is recommended for the sake of the following advantages : Private wants cannot always be made the sub- ject of public prayer : but whatever reason there is for praying at all, there is the same fof making the sore and grief of each man's, own heart the business of his application to God. This must be the office of private exercises of devotion, being imperfectly, if at all, practicable in afly other. * The reformed Churches of Christendom, sticking close in this article, to thfir guide, have laid aside pray- ers tor the dead, as authorised by no precept or precedent found in Scripture. For the same reason they properly reject the invocation of sairits ; as also because such in- vocations suppose;, in the saints whom they address, a knowlpfippwhichcan perceive_vvhat passes in different regions of the earth at the same time. And they deem it too much to take for granted, without the smallest in- timation of such a thing in Scripture, that any created being possesses a faculty little short of that omniscience and omnipresence which they ascribe to the Deity, 9 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. Private prayer is generally more devout and earnest than the share we are capable of taking in joint acts of worship ; because it affords leisure and opportunity for the circumstantial recollection of those personal wants, by the remembrance and ideas of which the warmth and earnestness of prayer are chiefly exeited. Private prayer, in proportion as it is "usually ac- companied with more actual thought and reflection of the petitioner's own, has a greater tendency than other modes of devotion to revive and fasteij upon the mind the general impressions of religion. 'So- litude powerfully assists this effect. When a^man finds himself alone in communication with his Creator, his imagination becomes filled with' a conflux of awful ideas concerning the universal agency, and invisible presence, \>f that Being; concerning what is likely to become of himself: and of the superlative importance of providing for the happiness of his future existence by endea- vours to please him who is the arbiter of his des- tiny : reflections which, whenever they gain ad- mittance, for a season overwhelm all others ; and leave, when they depart, a solemnity upon the thoughts, that will seldom fail, in some degree, to affect the conduct of life. Private prayer, thus recommended by its own propriety and by advantages not attainable in any form of religious communion, receives a superior sanction from the authority and example of Christ : " When thou prayest, enter into thy closet ; and when thou hast shut the door,j>ray to thy Father, which is in secret ; and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly." " And when he had sent the multitudes , away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray." Matt. vi. 6; xiv. 23. II. Family Prayer. The peculiar use of family piety consists in its influence upon servants, and the young members of a family, who want ^ sufficient seriousness and reflection to retire of their own accord to the- ex- ercise of private devotion, and whose attention you cannot easily command in public worship. The example also and authority of a father and master act in this way with the greatest force ; for his private prayers, to which his children and servants are not witnesses, aet not at all upon them as ex- amples ; and his attendance upon public worship they will readily impute to fashion, to a care to preserve appearances, to a concern for decency, and character, and to many motives besides a sense of duty to God. Add to this, that forms of public worship, in proportion as they are more compre- hensive, are always less interesting, .than family prayers ; and that the ardour of devotion, is better supported, and the sympathy more easily propaga- ted, through a small assembly, connected by the affections of domestic society, than in the presence of a mixed congregation. . III. Public Worship. If the worship of God be a duty of religion, public worship is a necessary institution ; foras- much as without it, the greater part of mankind would exercise no religious .worship at all.. These assemblies a-ffbrd also, at the same time, opportunities for moral and religious instruction to those who otherwise would receive none. In all protestant, and in -most Christian countries, the elements of natural religion, and the important parts of the Evangelic history, are familiar to the lowest of the people. This competent degree and general diffusion of religious knowledge amongst all orders of Christians, which will appear a great thing when compared'withthe intellectual condition of barbarous nations, can fairly, I think, be ascrib- ed to no other ca use tlisui the regular establishment of assemblies for divine worship ; in which, either portions of Scripture are recited ;md explalned^er the principles of Christian erudition are so cen- stantly taught in sermons, incorporated with li- turgies, or expressed in extempore prayer, as to imprint, by the very repetition, some knowledge and memory of these subjects upon the most un- qualified and careless hearer. The two reasons above stated, bind all the mem- bers of a community to uphold public worship, by their presence and example, although the helps and opportunities which it affords may not be necessary to the devotion or edification of all ; and to some may be useless : for it is easily foreseen, how soon religious assemblies would fall into contempt and disuse, if that class of mankind who are alwve seeking instruction in them, and want not that their own piety should be assisted -by either forms or society in- devotion, were to withdraw their at- tendance ; especially wheu it is considered, that all who please, are at liberty to rank themselves of this class. This argument meets the only se- rious apology that can be made for the absenting of ourselves from public worship. " Surely (some will say) I may be excused from going to church, so long as I pray at home : and have no reason to doubt that my prayers are as acceptable and effi- oicious in my closet, as in a cathedral ; still less can I think myself obliged to sit out a tedious sermon, in order to hear what is known already, what is better learnt from books, or suggested by medita- tion." They, whose, qualifications and habits best supply to themselves, all the effect of public ordinances^ will be the last to prefer this excuse, when they advert /to the general consequence of setting up such an exemption, as well as when they consider the turn which is sure to be given in the neighbourhood to their absence from public worship. You stay from church, to employ the Sabbath at home iu exercises and studies suited to its proper business : your next neighbour stays from church to spend the seventh day less reli- giously than he passed any of the six, in a sleepy, stupid rest, or at some rendezvous of drunkenness and debauchery, and yet thinks that lie is only imitating you, because you both agree in not going to church. The same consideration should over- rule many small scruples concerning the rigorous propriety of some things, which maybe contained in the forms, or admitted into the administration, of the public worship of our communion: for it seems impossibly that even " two or three should be gathered together" in any act of social worship, if each one require from the rest an implicit sub- mission to his objections, and, if no man will at- tend upon a religious service Which in any. point contradicts his opinion of truth ? or falls short of his ideas of perfection. Beside the direct necessity of public jvorship to the greater part of every Christian community, (supposing worship at all to be a Christian duty,) there are other valuable advantages growing out of the use of religious assemblies, without being designed in the institution or thought of by the individuals who compose them. 1^ Joining in ; prayer and praises to their com- mon Creator and Governor, has a sensible ten- OF FORMS OF PRAYER. 99 dcncy to unite mankind together, and to cherish and enlarge the generous affections. So many pathetic reflections are awakened by every exercise ef social devotion, that most men, 'I believe, carry away from public worship a better temper towards the rest of mankind, than they brought with them. Sprung from the sama ex- traction, preparing together for the period of all worldly distinctions, reminded of their mutual in- firmities and common dependency, imploring and receiving- support and supplies from the same great source of power and bounty, having all one in- terest to secure, one Lord to'serve, one-judgment, the supreme object to all of their hopes and fears, to look towards; it is hardly possible, in this po- sition, to behold mankind us Btrengen, pofDpetitoani. or enemies; or not to regard them as children of the same family, assembled In-tore their common parent, and with some portion of the tenderness which Wongs to the most endearing of our do- mestic relations. It is not to be expected, that any single effect of this kind should IM> considerable or lasting ; but the frequent return of such sentiments as the 3 presence of a devout congregation naturally suggests, will gradually melt down the rugged- ness of many unkind passions, and may generate, in time, a permanent and productive benevolence. 2. Assemblies for the purjKwe of divine wor- ship, placing men under impressions by which they are taught to consider their relation to the Deity, and to contemplate those around them with a view to that relation, force upon their thoughts the natural equality of the human species, and thereby promote humility and condescension in the highest orders of the community, and in- spire the lowest with a sense of their rights. The distinctions of civil IH'e are almost always insisted npon too much, and urged too far. Whatever,, therefore, conduces to restore the level, by quali- fying the dispositions which grew out of -great elevation or depression of rank, improves the cha- racter on both sides. Now Quag* are made to appear little, by^being placed beside what i In which manner, su|>eriorities, that, occupy the whole field of imagination, will vanish or shrink to their proper dhninutiveness, when compared with the distance by which even the highest of men are removed from the Supreme Bting; and this comparison is naturally introduced by all acts of joint worship. If ever the poor man holds up his head, it is at church: if ever the rich man views him with respect, it is there .: and both will be the better, and the public profited, the oftener they meet in a situation, in wnich the conscious- ness of dignity in the one is tempered and miti- gated, and the spirit of the other erected and con- firmed. We recommend nothing adverse to sub- ordinations which are established and necessary : but then it should be remembered, that subordi- nation itself is an evil, being an evil to the sub- ordinate, who are the majority, and therefore ought not to be carried a tittle beyond what the greater good, the peaceable government of the community, requin The public worship of Christians is a duty of Divine appointment "Where two or three/' says Christ, " are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."* This invita- tion will want nothing of the force of a command with those who respect the person and authority from which it proceeds. Again, in the Epistle to the Hebrews ; " not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is ;"* which reproof seems as applicable to the desertion of our public worship at this day, as to the for- saking the religious assemblies of Christians in the age of the apostle. Independently of these passages of Scripture, a disciple of Christianity will hardly think himself at liberty to dispute a practice set on foot by the inspired preachers of his religion, coeval -with its institution, and re- tained by every sect into which it has been since divided. CHAPTER V. Qf Forms of Prayer in Public Worship. LITURGIES, or preconcerted forms of public de- votion, being neither enjoined in Scripture, nor forbidden, there can be no good reason for either receiving or rejecting them,' but that of expe- diency ; which expediency is to be gathered from a comparison of the advantages and disadvantages attending upon this mode of worship, with those which usually accompany, extemporary prayer. The advantages of a liturgy are these : I. That it prevents absurd, extravagant, or im- pious addresses to God, which, in an order of men so numerous as the sacerdo,tal, the folly and enthusiasm of many must always be in danger of. producing, where the conduct of the public wor- ship is entrusted, without restraint or assistance, to the discretion and abilities of the officiating minister. II. That it prevents the confusion of extem- porary /prayer, in which" the congregation, being ignorant of each petition before they hear it, and having little or no time to join in it after they have heard it, are^ confounded between their attention to the minister, and to their own devotion. The devotion of the hearer is necessarily suspended, until a petition be concluded; and before he can assent to it, or properly adopt it, that is., before he can address the same request to God for himself, and from himself, his attention is called off to keep pace with what succeeds. Add to this, that the mind of the hearer is held in continual expecta- tion, and detained from its proper business, by the very novelty with which it is gratified. A con- gregation may be pleased and affected with the prayers and devotion of their minister, -without joining in them ; in like manner as an audience oftentimes are with the representation of devotion upon the stage, who, nevertheless, come away without being conscious of having exercised any act of devotion themselves. Joint prayer, which amongst #11 denominations of Christians is the declared design of "coming together," is prayer in which.all-jtnn ; and not that which one alone in the congregation conceives and delivers, and of which the rest are merely hearersv This objection seems fundamental, and holds even where the minister's office is discharged with every possible advantage and accomplishment. The labouring recollection, and embarrassed or tumultuous de- livery, of many extempore speakers, form an ad- ditional objection to this mode of -public worship; for these imperfections are very general, and give * Matt, xviii. 20. * Heb. x. 25. 100 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. great pain to the serious part of a congregation, as well as afford a profane diversion to the levity of the other part. These advantages of a liturgy are connected with two principal inconveniences : first, that forms of prayer com}>osed in one age become unlit for another, by the unavoidable change of lan- guage, circumstances, and opinions : secondly, that the perpetual repetition of me same form of wo'rds produces weariness and inattSntiveness in the congregation. However, both these inconveniences are m their nature vincible. Occasional revisions of a liturgy may obviate the first, and devotion will supply a remedy for the second : or they may both subsist in a considerable degree, and yet be out- weighed by the objections which are insepara- ble from extemporary prayer. The Lord's Prayer is a precedent, as well as a pattern, for forms of prayer. Our Lord appears, if not to hare prescribed, at least to have au- thorized, the use of fixed forms, when he com- plied with the ^request of the disciple, who said unto him, " Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples." Luke xi. I. The properties required in a public liturgy are, that it be compendious ; that it express just con- ceptions of the Divine Attributes; that it recite such wants as a congregation are likely to feel, and no other-; and that it contain as few contro- verted propositions as possible. I. That it be compendious. It were no difficult task to contract the liturgies of most churches into half their present compass, and yet retain every distinct petition, as well as the substance of every sentiment which can be found in them. But brevity may be studied too much. The composer of a liturgy must not sit down to his work With the hope, that the devotion of the congregation will be uniformly sustained throughout, or that every part will be attended to by every hearer. If this could be depended- upon, a very short service would be sufficient for every purpose that can be answered or designed by so- cial worship : but seeing the attention of most men is apt to wander and return at intervals, and by starts, he will admit a certain degree-of amplifica- tion and repetition, of diversity of expression upon the same subject, and variety of phrase and form with little addition to the sense, to the end that the attention, which has been slumbering or ab- sent during one part ef the service, may be ex- cited and recalled by anotherj and the assembly kept together until it may reasonably be presumed, that the most heedless and inadvertent have per- formed some act of devotion, and the most de- sultory attention been, caught by some part or other of the public service. ^On the other hand, the too great length of church-services is more unfavourable to piety, than almost any fault of composition can be. It -begets, in many, an early and unconquerable dislike to the public worship of their country or communion. They come to church seldom, and enter the doors, when they do come, under the apprehension of a tedious attendance, which they prepare for at first, or soon after relieve, by composing themselves to a drowsy forgetfulness of the place and duty, or by sending abroad their thoughts in search of more amusing occupation. Altnough there may -be some few of a disposition not to be wearied with religious exercises ; yet, where a ritual is prolix, and the celebration of divine service long, no ef- fect is in general to be looked for, but that in- dolence will find in it an excuse, and piety be dis- concerted by impatience. The length and repetitions complained of in our liturgy, are not so much the fault of the com- pilers;- as the effect of uniting into one service what was originally, but with very little regard to the conyeniency of the people, distributed into three. Notwithstanding, that dread of innov ations in religion, which seems to ha vebecomeithe panic of the age, -few, I should suppose, would be dis- pleased with such omissions, abridgements, or change in the arrangement, as the combination of separate services must necessarily require, even supposing each to have been faultless in itself. If, together with these alterations, the Epistles and Gospels, and Collects which precede them, were composed and selected wkh more regard to unity of subject and design ; and the Psalms and Lessons either left to the choi.ce of the minister, or better accommodated to the capacity of the au- dience, and the edification, of modern life; the church of England would be in possession of a liturgy, in which those who assent to her doctrines would have little to blame, and the most dis- satisfied must acknowledge many beauties. The style throughout is excellent'; calm, without cold- ness ; and, though every where sedate, oftentimes affecting. The pauses in the service are disposed at proper intervals. The transitions from one office of devotion to another, from confession to prayejr, from prayer to thanksgiving, from thanks- giving to "hearing of the word," are contrived like scenes in the drama, to supply the mind with a succession of diversified engagements. As much variety is introduced also in the form of praying, as this kind of composition seems capable of ad- mitting. The prayer at one time is continued ; at another, broken by responses, or cast into short articulate ejaculations : and sometimes the con- gregation is called upon. to take its share in the service, by being left to complete a sentence which the minister had begun. The enumeration of human wants -and sufferings in the Litany, is almost complete. A Christian petitioner can have few things to ask of God, or to deprecate, which he will not find there expressed, and for the most part with inimitable 'tenderness and simplicity. II. That it express just conceptions of the Di- vine Attributes. Tin's is aa article in which no care can be too great.- The po'pular notions of God are formed, n a great measure, from the accounts which the people receive of his nature and character in their religious assemblies. An error here becomes the error of multitudes : and as it is a subject in which almost every opinion leads the way to some prac- tical' consequence, the purity or depravation of public manners will be , affected, amongst other causes, by the truth or corruption of the public forms ef worship. III. That it recite such wants as the congrega- tion are likely to feel, and no other. Of forms of prayer which, offend not egregiously against truth and decency, that has the most merit, which is best calculated "to keep alive the devotion of the assembly. It were to be wished, therefore, that every part of a liturgy were per- sonally applicable to every individual in the con- gregation; and that nothing were introduced to interrupt the passion, or damp the flame, which it is not easy to rekindle. Upon this principle, the USE OF SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 101 state prayers in our liturgy should be fewer and shorter. Whatever may be pretended, the con- gregation do not feel that concern in the subject of these prayers, which must be felt, ere ever prayers be made to God -with earnestness. The state style likewise seems unseasonably introduced into these prayers, as ill according with that annihilation of human greatness, of which every act that carries the mind to God, presents the idea. IV. That it contain as few controverted pro- positions as possible. We allow to each church the truth of its pe- culiar tenets, and all the importance which zeal can ascribe to them. We dispute not here the right or the expediency of framing creeds, or of imposing subscriptions. But why should every position which a church maintains, be \vo\di with so much industry into her forms of public worship 1 Some are offended, and some are ex- cluded j this is an evil of itself, at least to them : and what advantage or satisfaction can be derived to the rest, from the separation of their brethren, it is difficult to imagine ; unless it were a duty to publish our system of polemic divinity, under the name of making confession of our faith, every time we worship God ; or a sin to agree in re- ligious exercises with those from whom wo ditier in some religious opinions. Indeed, where one man thinks it his duty constantly to worship a being, whom another cannot, with the assent of his conscience, permit himself to worship at all^ there seems to be no place for comprehension, or any expedient left but a quiet secession. All other differences may be compromised by silence. If sects and schisms he an evil,*thoy are as much to be avoided by one side as the other. If sectaries are blamed for taking unnecessary offence, es- tablished churches are no less culpable for unne- cessarily giving it; they are bound at least to produce a command, or a reason of equivalent utility, for shutting out any from their communion, by mixing with divine worship doctrines, which, whether true or false, are unconnected in their nature with devotion. CHAPTER VI. Of the Use of Sabbatical Institutions. Ax assembly cannot be collected, unless the time of assembling be fixed and known before- hand : and if the design of the assembly require that it be holden frequently, it is easiest that it should return at stated intervals. This produces a^ necessity of appropriating set seasons to the so- cial offices of religion. It is also highly convenient that the same seasons be observed throughout the country, that all may be employed, or all at leisure, together; for if the recess from worldly occupation be not general, one man's business will perpetually interfere with another man's devotion ; the buyer will be calling at the shop when the seller is gone to church. This part, therefore, of the religious distinction of seasons, namely, a general inter- mission of labour and business during times pre- viously set apart for the exercise of public wor- ship, is founded in the reasons which make public worship itself a duty. But the celebration of di- vine service never occupies the whole day. What remains, therefore, of Sunday, beside the part of it employed at church, must be considered as a mere rest /rom the ordinary occupations of civil life: and he who would defend the institution, as it is required by law to be observed in Christian countries, unless he pan produce a command for a Christian Sabbath, must point out the uses of it in that view. first] then, that interval of relaxation which Sunday affords to the laborious part of mankind, contributes greatly to the comfort and satisfaction of their lives, both as it refreshes them for the time, and as it relieves their six days' labour by the prospect of a day of rest always approaching ; which could not be said of casual indulgences of leisure and rest, even were they more frequent than there is reason to expect they would be if left to the discretion or humanity of interested task- masters. To this difference it may be added, that holy-days which come seldom and unexpected, are unprovided, when they do come, with any duty or employment; and the manner of spending them being regulated by no public decency er es- tablished usage, they are commonly consumed in rude, if not criminal pastimes, in stupid sloth, or brutish intemperance. - Whoever considers how much sabbatical institutions conduce, in this re- spect, to the happiness and civilization of the la- bouring classes of mankind, and reflects how great a majority of the human species these classes com- pose, will acknowledge the utility, whatever he may believe. of the origin, of this distinction; and will consequently perceive it to be every man's duty to uphold the observation of Sunday when once established, let the establishment have pro- ceeded from whom or from what authority it will. Nor is there any thing lost to the community by the intermission of public industry one day in the week. For, in countries tolerably advanced in population and the arts of civil life, there is al- ways enough of human labour, and to spare. The difficulty is not so much to procure, as to employ it. The addition of the seventh day's labour to that of the other six, would have no other effect than to reduce the price. The labourer himself, who deserved and suffered most by the change, would gain nothing. 2. Sunday, by suspending many public diver- sions, and the ordinary rotation of employment, leaves to men of all ranks and professions suf- ficient leisure, and not more than what is suf- ficient, both for the external offices of ..Christianity, and the retired, but equally necessary duties of religious meditation and inquiry. It is true, that many do not convert their leisure to this purpose ; but it is of moment, and is all which a public con- stitution can effect, that to every one be allowed the opportunity. . 3. They, whose humanity embraces the whole sensitive creation, will esteem it no inconsiderable recommendation of a weekly return of public rest, that it affords a respite to the toil of brutes. Nor can w omit to recount this among the uses which the Divine Founder of the Jewish Sabbath ex- pressly appointed a law of the institution. We admit, that none of these reasons show why Sunday should be preferred to any other day in the week, or one day in seven to one day in six, or eight : but .these points, which in their nature are of arbitrary determination, being established to our hands, our obligation applies to the subsisting establishment, so long as we confess that some such institution is necessary, and are neither able nor attempt to substitute any other in its place. 102 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. CHAPTER VII. Of the Scripture Account of Sabbatical Institu- tions, j THE subject, so far as it makes any part of Christian morality, is contained in two questions : I. Whether the command, by which the Jew- ish Sabbath was instituted, extends to Christians '\ II. Whether any new command was delivered by Christ; or any other day substituted in the place of the Jewish Sabbath by the authority or example of his apostles.? In treating of the first question, it will be ne- cessary to collect the accounts which are pr.e- served of the institution, in the Jewish history : for the seeing these accounts together, and in one point of view, will be the best preparation for the discussing or judging of any arguments on one side or the other. In the second chapter of Genesis, the historian, having concluded his account of the six^days' creation, proceeds thus: "And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made ; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made; and God blessed the seventh" day and sanctified it, because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made." After this, we hear no more of the Sab- bath, or of the seventh day, as in any manner distinguished from the other six, until the history brings us down to the sojourning of the Jews in the wilderness, when the following remarkable passage occurs. Upon the complaint of the peo- ple for want of food, God was pleased to provide, for their relief by a miraculeus supply of manna, which was found every morning upon the ground about the camp: "and they gathered it every morning, every man according to his eating ; and when the sun waxed hot, it melted : and it came to pass, that on the sixth day they gathered twice as much bread, two omers for one man; and all the rulers of the congregation came and told Moses : and he said unto them, this is that which the Lord hath said, To-morrow is the rest of the Holy-Sabbath unto the Lord:, bake, that which ye will bake to-day, and seethe that ye will seethe ; and that which remaineth over, lay up for you, to be kept until the morning. And they laid it up till the morning, as Moses bade ; and it did not stink [as it had done before, when some of them left it till the morning,] neither was there any worm therein. And Moses said, Eat that to-day : for. to-day is a Sabbath unto the Lord; to-day ye shall not find it in the field. Six days ye shall gather it, but on the seventh day, which is the Sabbath, in it there shall be none. And it came to pass, that there went out some of the people on the seventh da,y for to gather, and they found none. And the Lord said unto Moses, How long refuse ye to keep my commandments and my laws 1 See, for that the Lord hath given you the Sabbath, therefore he- giveth you on the sixth day the bread of two days: abide ye every man in his place : let no man go out of his place on the seventh day. So the peo- ple rested on the seventh day." Exodus xvi. Not long after this, the Sabbath, as is well known, was established with great solemnity, in the fourth commandment. Now, in my opinion, the transaction in the wilderness above recited, was the first actual in- stitution of the Sabbath. For if the Sabbath had been instituted at the time of the creation, as the words in Genesis may seem at first sight to im- port ; and if it had been observed all along from that time to the departure of the Jews 'out of Egypt, a period of about two thousand five hun- dred years ; it appears unaccountable that no men- tion of it, no occasion of even the obscurest allu- sion to it, should occur, either in the general history of the world before the call of Abraham, which contains, we admit, only a few memoirs of its early ages, and those extremely abridged ; or, which is more to be wondered at, in that of the lives of the first three Jewish patriarchs, which, in many parts of the account, is sufficiently cir- cumstantial and domestic. Nor is there, in the passage above quoted from the sixteenth chaMer of Exodus, any intimation that the Sabbath, wnen appointed to be observed, was only the revival of an ancient institution, which had been neglected, forgotten, or suspended ; nor is any such neglect imputed either to the inhabitants of the old world, or to any part of the family of Noah; nor, lastly, is any permission recorded to dispense with the institution during the captivity of the Jews in Egypt, or on any other public emergency. The passage in the secund chapter of Genesis, which creates the whole controversy upon the subject, 'is not inconsistent with this opinion : for as the seventh day was erected into a Sabbath, on account of God's resting upon that day from the -work of the creation, it was natural in the histo- rian, when he had related the history of the crea- tion, and of God's ceasing from it on the seventh day, to add ; " And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it, because that on it he had rested from all his work which God created and made ;" although the blessing and sanctification, i. e. the religious distinction and appropriation of that day, were not actually made till many ages afterwards. The words do not assert that God then " blessed" and "sanctified'- the seventh day, but that he blessed and sanctified it for that reason ; and if any ask, why the Sabbath, or sanctification of the seventh day, was then mentioned, if it was not then appointed, the answer is at hand : the order of connexion, and not of time, introduced the mention of the Sabbath, in the history of the sub- ject which it was ordained to commemorate. This interpretation is strongly supported by a passage in the prophet Ezekiel, where the Sab- bath is plainly spoken of as given, (and what else can that -mean, but as first instituted ?) in the wilderness. " Wherefore I caused them to go forth out of the land of Egypt, and brought them into the wilderness : and I gave them my statutes and showed them my judgments, which if a man do, he shall even live in them : moreover also I gave them my Sabbaths, to be a sign between me and them, that they might 'know that I am the Lord that sanctify them." Ezek. xx. 10, 11, 19. Nehemiah also recounts the promulgation of the sabbatical law amongst the transactions in the wilderness; which supplies another considerable argument in aid of our opinion : " Moreover thou leddest them in the day by a cloudy pillar, and in the night by a pillar of fire, to give them light' in the way wherein they should go. Thou earnest down also upon mount Sinai, and spakcst with thdm from heaven, and gavest them right judg- ments and true laws, good statutes and com- mandments, and madest known unto them thy holy Sabbath, and commandedst them precepts, SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 103 Statutes, and laws, by the hand of Moses thy ser- vant, and gavcst them bread from heaven for their hunger, and broughte&t forth water for them out of the rock.'!* jNehem. ix. 12. If it be inquired what duties were appointed for the Jewish Sabbath, and under what penalties and in what manner it was observed amongst the ancient Jews ; we lind that, by the fourth com- mandment, a strict cessation from work was en- joined, not only upon Jews by birth, or religious profession, but upon all who resided within the limits of the Jewish state ; that the same was to be permitted to their slaves and their cattle ; that this rest was not to lx> violated, under pain of death : " Whosoever doeth any work in the Sab- bath-day, he shall surely be put to death." Exod. xxxi. 15. Beside which, the seventh day was to. be solemnized by double sacrifices in the temple: " And on the Sabbat h-dav tiro lambs of the first year without spot, and two tenth-deals of Hour for a meat-offering, mingled with oil, and the drink- offering thereof; this is the burnt-offering of c\ery SabbaUi, beside the continual burnt-ollering and his drink-offering:" Numb, xxviii. 9, 10. Also holy convocations, which mean, we pre.-ume., as semblies for the purpose of public wdrship or re- ligious instruction, were directed to 1* holden on the Sabbath-day: "the seventh day is a sal >bath of rest, an holy convocation." Levit. xxiii. 3. And accordingly we read, that the Sabbath was in fact observed amongst the Jews by a scrupulous abstinence from every tiling which, by any pos- sible construction, could be deemed labour; as from dressing meat, from- travelling beyond a Sabbath-day's journey, or about a single mile. In the Maccabeu) wars.'they suffered a thousand of their numU-r to lx> slain, rather than do any thing in their own defence on the Sabbath-day. In the final siege of Jerusalem, alter they iiad so far overcome their scruples as to defend their persons when attacked, they refused any oj>eration on the Sabbath-day, by which they might have inter- rupted the enemy in filling up the trench. Afler the establishment of synagogues, (of the oriuin of which we have no account,) it was the custom to assemble in them on the" Sabbath-day, for the purpose of hearing the law rehearsed and ex- plained, and for the exercise, it Is probable, of public devotion: "For Moses of old time hath in every city them that preach him, being read in the syiHitfux-iu'x cccry Sabbath-day." The seventh day is f^alurday; and, agreeably to the Jewish way of computing the day, the Sabbath held, from six o'clock on the Friday evening, to six o'clock on Saturday evening. These observations In-ing premised, we approach the main question, Whe- ther the command by which the Jewish Sabbath was instituted, extend to us 1 If the Divine command was actually delivered at the creation, it was addressed, no doubt, to the whole human species alike, and continues, unless * From the mention of the Sabbath in so lose a con- nexion with tlio descent of God upon mount Sinai, and the delivery of the law from thence, one would be in- clined to believe that Nehemiah referred solely to the fourth commandment Hut the fourth commandment certainly did not first make known the Sabbat Ir. And it is apparent, that Neliciniali observed not the onl.-r of events; for he speaks of what passed upon mount Sinai before he mentions the miraculous supplies of bread and water, though the Jews did not arrive at mount Sinai, till some time after both tlwsc miracles were wrought. repealed by some subsequent revelation, binding uppn all who come to the knowledge of it. If the command was published for the first time in the wilderness, then it was immediately directed to the Jewish people alone; and something .further, either in the subject or circumstances ot the com- mand, will be necessary to show, that it was de- signed for any other. It is on this account that the question concerning the date of the institution was first to be considered. The former opinion precludes all debate about the extent of the ob- ligation : the latter admits, and, prima facie in- duces a belief 1 that the Sabbath ought to be con- sidered as part^of the peculiar law of the Jewish policv. - . Which belief receives great confirmation from the following arguments: The Sabbath is described as a sign between God and the people of Israel:" Wherefore the children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, to ob- serve the Sabbath throughout their generations, for a perpetual covenant ; it is a sign between me and the children of Israel for ever." Exodus xxxi. 16,- 17. ' , Ajrain : " And I gave them my statutes, and showed them my judgments, which if a man do he shall'even live in them ; moreover also I gave them my Sabbaths, to be a sign be- tween me and them, that they might know that I amtheLordthatt>anctifythem."E/ek.xx. 12.NoW it does not seem easy to understand how the Sab- bat h could l>e a sign between God and the people of Israel, unless the observance of it was pecuhar to that ]>eople, and designed to be so. The distinction of the Sabbath is, in its nature, as much a positive ceremonial institution, as that of many other seasons, which were appointed by the Levitical law to" -be kept holy, and to be ob- scru-d by a strict rest; as the first and seventh days of unleavened bread ; the feast of Pentecost : the feast of tabernacles ; and in the twenty-third chapter of Exodus, the Sabbath and these are re- cited together. If the command by which the Sabbath was. in- stituted be binding upon Christians, i^ must be binding as to the day, the duties, and the penalty; in none of which it is received. The observance of the Sabbath was not one of. the articles enjoined by the Apostles, in the fif- teenth chapter of Acts, upon them" which, from %mong-the Gentiles, were turned unto God." St. Paul evidently appears to have considered the Sabbath as part of the Jewish ritual, and not obligatory upon Christians as such: "Let no man therefore judge you in meat or in drink, or in respect of an. holy day, or of the new moon, or of the Sabbath days, which are .a shadow of things to come, but the body is of Christ." Col. ii. 16, 17. I am aware of only two objections which,can be opposed to the force of these 'arguments; one is, that the reason assigned in the fourth command- ment for hallowing the^-seventb, day, namely, " because God rested on the seventh day from the work bf tlfe creation,", is a reason which pertains to all mankind: the other, that "the command which enjoins the observance of the Sabbath is inserted in the Decalogue, of which all the other precepts and prohibitions are of moral and univer- sal obligation. Upon tlie first objection it may t>e remarked, that although in Exodus the commandment is founded upon God's rest from the creation, in 104 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. Deuteronomy the commandment is repeated with a reference to a different event : " Six days shal thou labour, and do all thy work 5 but the seventl day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God;. in i thou shalt not do any work ; thou, nor thy son nor thy daughter, nor thy man-servant/nor thy maid-servant, nor thine ox, nor thine ass, nor any of thy cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates ; that thy man-servant and thy maid-servaot may rest as well as thou : and remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, arid that the Lord 'thy God brought thee out thence; through a mighty hand, and by a stretched-out arm ; there- fore the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the Sabbath-day." It is farther observable, that God's rest- from the, creation is proposed as the reason of the institution, even where- the institu- tion itself is spoken of as peculiar to the Jews : t( Wherefore the children of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, to observe the Sabbath throughout their generationSjlfor a perpetuar covenant : it is a sign between me and the children of Israel for ever : for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested and was re- freshed." The truth is, these different reasons were assigned, to account for different circum- stances in the command. If a Jew inquired, why the. seventh day was sanctified rather than the sixth or eighth, his law told him~ because God rested on the seventh day from the creation. If he asked, why was the same rest indulged to slaves? his law bade him remember, that he also was a slave in the land of Egypt, and " that the Lord his God brought him out thence." In this view, the two reasons are perfectly compatible with each other, and with a third end of the -in- stitution, its being a sign between God and the people of Israel ; but in this view they determine nothing concerning the extent of the obligation. If the reason by its proper energy had constituted a natural obligation,' or if it had been mentioned with a view to the extent of the obligation, we should submit to the conclusion that all were comprehended by the command who are concerned in the reason. But the sabbatic rest being a duty which results from the ordination and authority of a positive law, the reason can be alleged no farther than as it explains the design of the legis- lator : and if it appear to be recited with an in- tentional application to on part of the law, it ex- plains his design upon no other"; if it be mentioned merely to account for the choice of the day, it does not explain his desigruas to the extent of the obligation. With respect to the second objection, that in- asmuch as the other nine commandments are con- fessedly of moral and universal obligation, it may reasonably be presumed that this is of the same ; we answer, that this argument will have less weight, when k is considered that the distinction between . positive and natural duties, like other distinctions of modern ethics, was unknown to the simplicity of ancient language ; and that there are various passages in Scripture, in whjch duties of a political, or ceremonial, or positive nature; and confessedly of partial obligation, are enumerated, and without any mark of discrimination, along with others which are natural and universal. Of this the following is an , incontestable example." "But if a man be just, and do that which is law- ful and right ; and hath not eaten upon the moun- tains, nor hath lifted up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel ; neither hath defiled his neigh- bour's wife, neither hath come near to a men- etruouX woman ; and hath not oppressed any, but hath restored to thetlehtor his pledge; hath sptfifcd hone by violence ; hath given his bread to the hungry, and -hath covered the naked with a gar- ment; he that hath not given itpon risury, nei- ther hath taken any increase ; that hath with- drawn his haraJ from iniquity ; hath executed true judgment between man and man; hath walk- ed in my statutes, and hatli kept my judgments, to deal truly ; he is just, he shall surely live, saith the Lord God." Ezckiel xviii. 5 9. The same thing may be observed of the apostolic decree re- corded in the -fifteenth chapter of the Acts : ; " It seemed good to the Holy Ghost, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burthen than these necessary things, that ye abstain from meats offered to idols, and -from blood, and from things strangled, and from fornioation : from which if ye keep your- selves, ye shall do well." IL If the law by which the Sabbath was in- stituted, was a law only to the Jews, it becomes an important question with the Christian inquirer, whether the Founder of his religion delivered any new command upon the subject ; or, if that should not appear to be the case, whether any day was appropriated to the service of religion by the au- thority or example of his apostles. The practice of holding religious assemblies upon the first day of the week, was so early and universal in the Christian Church, that it carries with it considerable proof of having originated Tom some.pfecept of Christ; or of "his apostles, though none such be now extant. It was upon the first day of the week that the disciples were assembled, when Christ appeared to them for the Irst time after his resurrection; " then the same day at evening," being, the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled, for jear. of the Jews, came Jesus, and stood in the midst of them." John xx. 19. This, for any thing that appears in the account, might, as to the day, have been accidental ; bu in the 26th verse of the same chapter we read, that he week looks like an- appointment and design to meet on that particular day. Ih the twentieth chapter of the Acts- of tho Apostles, we find the same custom in a Christian church at a great distance from Jerusalem : " And we- came unto hem to Troas hi five days, where we abode seven days ; and upon the first day of the week, when he disciples came together to break^brcad, Paul >reachcd unto them." Acts xx. 6, 7. The man- ner in which the historian mentions the disciples coming ^together to break -bread on the first day )f the week, shows, I tMnk. that the practice by his time was familiar and established. St. Paul o the. Corinthians writes thus : " Concerning the ollcction for the saints, as 1 have .given order to he Churches of Galntia, even so dd ye ; upon the first day of the week lot every one of- you lay-by lim in store as God hath prospered him, that there >e no gathering when I come." 1 Cor. xvi. ,1, 2. Which -direct ion affords, a probable proof, that the first day of the week was already, amongst the Christians both of Corinth and Galatia, distin- guished from the rest by some religious applica- ion or other. At the time that St. John wrote VIOLATION OF THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 105 the book of his Revelation, the first day of the week had obtained the name of the Lord's day ; 11 1 was in the spirit," says he, " on the Lord's day." Rev. i. 10. Which name, and St. John's use of it, sufficiently denote the appropriation of this day to the service of religion, and that thih appropriation was perfectly known to the Churches of Asia. I make no doubt that by the Lord's day was meant the first day of the week ; for we find no footsteps of any distinction of days, which could entitle any other to that appellation. The subsequent history of Christianity corresponds with the accounts delivered on this subject in Scripture. It will be remembered, that we are contending, by these proofs, for no other duty upon the first day of the week, than that of holding and fre- quenting religious assemblies. A cessation upon that day from labour, lx>yond the time of attend- ance upon public worship, is not intimated in any passage of the New Testament ; nor did Christ or his apostles deliver, that we know of, any com- mand to their disciples for a discontinuance, ujxm that day, of the common offices of their profes- sions ; a reserve which none will see reason to wonder at, or to blame as a defect in the institu- tion, who consider that, in the primitive condition of Christianity, the observance of a new Sabbath would have been useless, or inconvenient, or im- practicable. During Christ's personal ministry, his religion was preached to the Jews alone. Tkcy already had a Sabbath, which, as eiti/.ens and subjects of that economy, they were obliged to keep ; and did keep. It was not therefore pro- bable that Christ would enjoin another day of rest in conjunction with this. When the new re- ligion came forth into the Gentile world, converts to it were, for the most part, made from those classes of society who have not their time and labour at their own disposal ; and it was scarcely to be expected, that unbelieving masters and magistrates, and they who directed the employ- ment of others, would permit their slaves and la- bourers to rest from their work every seventh day : or that civil government, indeed, would have submitted to the loss of a seventh part of the public industry, and that too in addition to the numerous festivals which the national re- ligions indulged to the people ; at least, this would have been an incumbrance, which might Ii;i\ greatly retarded the reception of Christianity in the world. In reality, the institution of a weekly Sabbath is so connected with the functions of civil life, and requires so much of the concurrence of civil law, in its regulation and support, that it cannot, perhaps, properly be made the ordinance of any religion, till that religion be received as the religion of the state. The opinion, that Christ and his apostles meant to retain the duties of the Jewish Sabbath, shifting only the day from the seventh to the first, seems to prevail without sufficient proof; nor does any evidence remain in Scripture (of what, how- ever, is not improbable,) that the first day of the week was thus distinguished in commemoration of our Lord's resurrection. The conclusion from the whole inquiry (for it Is our business to follow the arguments, to what- ever probability they conduct us,) is this : The assembling upon the first day of the week for the purpose of public worship and religious instruc- tion, is a law of Christianity of Divine appoint- ment ; the resting on that day from our employ- ments longer than we are detained from them by attendance upon these assemblies, is to Christians an ordinance of human institution ; binding never- theless upon the conscience of every individual of a country in which a weekly Sabbath is esta- blished, for the sake of the beneficial purposes which the public and regular observance of it pro- motes, and recommended perhaps in some de- free to the Divine approbation, by the resem- lance it bears to what God was pleased to make a solemn part of the law which he delivered to the people of Israel, and by its subserviency to many of the same uses. CHAPTER VIII. By ichat Acts and Omissions the Duty of the Christian Sabbath is violated. SINCE the obligation upon Christians to com- ply with the religious observance of Sunday, arises from the public uses of the institution, and the authority of the apostolic practice, the manner of observing it ought to be that which best fulfils these uses, and conforms the nearest to this prac- tice. The us(?s proposed by the institution are : 1. To facilitate attendance upon public ship. 2. To meliorate the condition of the laborious classes of mankind, by regular and seasonable returns of rest . 3. By a general suspension of business and amusement, to invite and enable persons of every <1 -script ion to apply their time and thoughts to biects appertaining to then* salvation. With the primitive Christians, the peculiar, and probably for sometime the only, distinction of the first day of the week, was the holding of rc- e: lie wor- iborinim ligious assemblies upon that day. We learn, however, from the testimony of a very early writer amongst them, that they also reserved the day for religious meditations ; Unusquisque nos- trum (saith Irenseus) sabbatizat spiritualiter, me- ditatione legisgaudens, opificium Dei admirans. WHEREFORE the duty of the day is violated, 1st, By all such employments or engagements as (though differing from our ordinary occupation) hinder our attendance upon public worship, or take up so much of our time as not to leave a sufficient part of the day at leisure for religious reflection ; as the going of journeys, the paying or receiving of visits which engage the whole day, or employing the tune at home in writing letters, set- tling accounts, or in applying ourselves to studies, or the reading of books, which bear no relation to the business of religion. 2dly, By unnecessary encroachments on the rest and liberty which Sunday ought to bring to the inferior orders of the community ; as by Keeping servants on that day confined and busied hi pre- parations for the superfluous elegancies of our able, or dress. 3dly, By such recreations as are customarily "orborne out of respect to the day ; as hunting, shooting, fishing, public diversions, frequenting taverns, playing at cards or dice. If it be asked, as it often has been, wherein consists the difference between walking out with four staff or with your gun 1 between spending 106 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the evening at home, or in a tavern? between passing the Sunday afternoon at a game of cards, or in conversation not more edifying, not always so inoffensive 1 to these, and to the same question under a variety of forms, and in a multitude of similar examples, we return the following an- swer: That the religious observance of Sunday, if it ought to be retained at all, must be uphoklen by some public and visible distinctions : that, draw the line of distinction whore you will, many ac- tions which are situated on the confines of the line, will differ very little, and yet lie on the op- posite sides of it : that every trespass upon that reserve which public decency has established, breaks down the fence by which the day is sepa- rated to the service of religion : that it is unsafe to trifle with scruples and habits that have a beneficial tendency, although founded merely in custom: that these liberties, however intended, will certainly be considered by those who observe them, not only as disrespectful to the day and in- stitution, but as proceeding from a secret contempt of the Christian faith : that consequently, they diminish a reverence for religion in others, so far as the authority of our opinion, or the efficacy of our example, reaches ; or rather, so far as either will serve for an excuse of negligence to those who are glad of any : that as to cards and dice, which put in their claim to be considered among the harmless occupations of a vacant hour, it may be observed that few find any difficulty in refraining from play on Sunday, except they who sit down to it with the views and eagerness of game- sters : that gaming is seldom innocent : that the anxiety and perturbations, however, which it excites, are inconsistent with the tranquillity and frame of temper in which the duties and thoughts of religion should always both find and leave us : and lastly, we shall remark, that the example of other countries, where the same and greater li- cence is allowed, affords no apology for irregularities in our own ; because a practice which is tolerated by public usage, neither receives the same con- struction, nor gives the same offence, as where it is censured and prohibited. CHAPTER IX. Of Reverencing the Deity. IN many persons, a seriousness, and sense of awe, overspread the imagination, whenever the idea of_ the Supreme Being is presented to their thoughts. This effect, which forms a considera- ble security against vice, is the consequence not so much of reflection, as of habit ; which habit being generated by the external expressions of reverence which we use ourselves, or observe in others, may be destroyed by causes opposite to these, and especially by that familiar levity with which some learn to speak of the Deity, qf his attributes, providence, revelations, or worship. God hath been pleased (no matter for what rea- son, although probably for this) to forbid the vain mention of his name : " Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain." Now the mention is Tain, when it is useless: and it is useless, when it is neither likely nor intended to serve any good purpose ; as when it flows from the lips idle and unmeaning, or is applied, on oc- casions inconsistent with any consideration of re- ligion and devotion, to express our anger, our earnestness, our courage, or our mirth : or indeed when it is used at all, except in acts of religion, or in serious and seasonable discourse upon religious subjects. The prohibition of the third commandment is recognised by Christ, in his sermon upon the mount; which sermon adverts to none but the moral parts of the Jewish law : "I say unto you, Swear not at all; but let your communication be Yea, yea ; Nay, nay : for whatsoever is more than these, cometh of evil." The Jews probably in- terpreted the prohibition as restrained to the name JEHOVAH, the name which the Deity had appointed and appropriated to himself; Exod. \i. 3. The words of Christ extend the prohibition beyond the name of God, to every thing associated with the idea : " Swear not, neither by heaven, for it is God's throne ; nor by the earth, for it is his foot- stool ; neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King." Matt. v. 35. The offence of profane swearing is aggravated by the consideration, that in it duty and decency are sacrificed to the slenderest of temptations. Suppose the habit, either from affectation, or by negligence and inadvertency, to be already formed, it must always remain within the power of the most ordinary resolution to correct it ; and it can- not, one would think, cost a great deal to relinquish the pleasure and honour which it confers. A concern for duty is in fact never strong, when the exertion requisite to vanish a habit founded in no antecedent propensity, is thought too much, or too painful. A contempt of positive duties, or rather of those duties for which the reason is not so plain as the command, indicates a disposition upon which the authority of Revelation has obtained little influ- ence. This remark is applicable to the oflence of profane swearing, and describes, perhaps, pretty exactly, the general character of those who are most addicted to it. Mockery and ridicule, when exercised upon the Scriptures, or even upon the places, persons, and forms, set apart for the ministration of religion, fall within the meaning of the law which forbids the profanation of God's name ; especially as that law is extended by Christ's interpretation. They are, moreover, inconsistent with a religious frame of mind : for, as no one ever feels himself disposed to pleasantry, or capable of being diverted with the pleasantry of others, upon matters in which he is deeply interested ; so a mind intent upon the acquisition of heaven, rejects with indignation every attempt to entertain it with jests, calculated to degrade or deride subjects which it never recol- lects but with seriousness and anxiety. Nothing but stupidity, or the most frivolous dissipation of thought, can make even the inconsiderate forget the supreme importance of every tiling which re- lates to the expectation of a future existence. Whilst the infidel mocks at the superstitions of the vulgar, insults over their credulous fears, their childish 5 errors, or fantastic rites, it does not occur to him to observe, that the most preposterous de- vice by which the weakest devotee ever believed he was securing the happiness of a future life, is more rational than unconcern about it. Upon this subject, nothing is so absurd as indifference ; no folly so contemptible as thoughtlessness and levity. Finally; the knowledge of wliat is due to the OF REVERENCING THE DEITY. 107 solemnity of those interests, concerning wliich Revelation professes to inform and direct us, may teach even those who are least inclined to respect the prejudicies of mankind, to observe a decorum in the style and conduct of religious disquisitions, with the neglect of which many adversaries of Christianity are chargeable. Serious ar justly < guments are fair on all sides." Christianity is 1m ill defended by refusing audience or toleration t the objections of unbelievers. But whilst w would have freedom of inquiry restrained by n laws but those of decency, we are entitled to de mand, on behalf of a religion which holds fort] to mankind assurances of immortality, that it credit be assailed by no other weapons than those of sober discussion and legitimate reasoning : tha the truth or falsehood of Christianity be neve; made a topic of raillery, a theme for the exercise of wit or eloquence, or a subject of contention fo: literary fame and victory : that the cause be trie( upon its merits : that all applications to the fancy passions, or prejudices of the reader, all attempts to pre-occupy, ensnare, or perplex his judgment by any art, influence, or impression whatsoever extrinsic to the proper grounds and evidence upoi which his assent ought to proceed, be r. ; -t i from a question which involves in its determination the hopes, the virtue, and the repose, of millions : that the controversy 1>< managed on both side.-, with sincerity; that is, that nothing be produced in the writings of either, contrary to, or beyond the writer's own knowledge and ptlMMioa: that objections and difficulties be proposed, from no other motive than an honest and serious desirt to obtain satisfaction, or to communicate informa- tion which may promote the discovery and pro- gress of truth : that in conformity with this de- sign, every tiling be stated wilh inteirrity, with method, precision, and simplicity ; and above all, that whatever is published in opposition to re- ceived and confessedly beneficial persuasions, be set forth under a form which is likely to imite in- quiry and to meet examination. If with these moderate and equitable conditions be compared the manner in which hostilities have IK en waged against the Christian religion, not only the votaries of the prevailing faith, but every man who looks forward with anxiety to the desti nation of his being, will see much to blame and to complain of. By one unbeliever, all the follies which have adhered, in a long course of dark and superstitious ages, to the popular creed, are assumed as so many doctrines of Christ and his apostles, for the purpose of sub- verting the whole system by the absurdities which it is thus represented to contain. By another, the ignorance and vices of the sacerdotal order, their mutual dissensions and persecutions, their usur- pations and encroachments upon the intellectual liberty and civil rights of mankind, have been dis- played with no small triumph and invective ; not so much to guard the Christian laity against a repetition of the same injuries, (which is the only proper use to be made of the most flagrant exam- ples of the past,") as to prepare the way for an in- sinuation, that the religion itself is nothing but a profitable fable, imposed upon the fears and cre- dulity of the multitude, and upheld by the frauds and influence of an interested and crafty priest- hood. And yet, how remotely is the character of the clergy connected with the truth of Christiani- ty ! What, after all, do the most disgraceful pages of ecclesiastical history prove, but that the passions , of our common nature are not altered or excluded by distinctions of name, and that the characters of men are formed much more by the temptations than the duties of their profession 1 A third finds delight in collecting and repeating accounts of wars and massacres, of tumults and insurrections, exci- ted in almost every age of the Christian sera by reli- gious zeal ; as though the vices of Christians were parts of Christianity ; intolerance and extirpation precepts of the Gospel ; or as if its spirit could be judged of from the counsels of princes, the in- trigues of statesmen, the pretences of malice and ambition, or the unauthorised cruelties of some gloomy and virulent superstition. By a fourth, the succession and variety of popular religions ; the vicissitudes with which sects and tenets have flourished and decayed; the zeal with which they were once supported, the negligence with which they are now remembered ; the little share which reason and argument appear to have had in fram- ing the creed, or regulatingthe religious conduct, of the multitude ; the indifference and submission with which the religion of the state is generally rcet i \ ed by* the common people ; the caprice and vehemence with which it is sometimes opposed; the phrcnsy with which men have been brought to contend for opinions and ceremonies, of which they knew neither the proof, the meaning, nor the original : lastly, the equal and undoubting confi- dence with which we hear the doctrines of Christ or of Confucius, the law of Moses or of Mahomet, the Bible, the Koran, or the Shaster, maintained or anathematized, taught or abjured, revered or derided, according as we live on this or on that side of a river ; keep within or step over the boun- daries of a state ; or even in the same country, and t>y the same people, so often as the event of battle, or the issue of a negociation, delivers them to the dominion of a new master ; points, I say, of this sort are exhibited to the public attention, as so many arguments against the truthof the Christian religion; and with success. For these topics, being brought together, and set off with some ag- gravation of circumstances, and with a vivacity if style and description familiar enough to the vritings and conversation of free-thinkers, insen- sibly lead the imagination into a habit of classing Jhristianity with the delusions that have taken jossession, by turns, of the public belief; and of egarding it, as what the scoffers of our faith re- resent it to be, Hie superstition of tlie day. But is tlu's to deal honestly by the subject, or with the world 1 May not the same things be said, may not the same prejudices be excited by these epresentations, whether Christianity be true or ilse, or by whatever proofs its truth be attested 1 Vlay not truth as well as falsehood be taken upon redit 1 May not a religion be founded upon evi- ence accessible and satisfactory to every mind com- etent to the inquiry, which yet, by the greatest rart of its professors, is received upon authority? But if the matter of those objections be repre- ensible,jis calculated to produce an effect upon le reader beyond what their real weight and place n the argument deserve, still more shall we disco- er of management and disingenuousness in the ~orm under which they are dispersed among the ublic. Infidelity is served up in every shape xat is likely to allure, surprise, or beguile the nagination ; in a fable, a tale, a novel, a poem ; n interspersed and broken hints, remote and ob- que surmises ; in books of travels, of philosophy, 108 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. of natural history ; in a word, in any form rather than the right one, that of a professed and regular disquisition. And because the coarse buffoonery, and broad laugh, of the old and rude adversaries of the Christian faith, would oile.nd the taste, perhaps, rather than the virtue, of this cultivated age, a graver irony, a more skilful and delicate banter, is substituted in their place. An eloquent historian, beside his more direct, and therefore fairer attacks upon the credibility of Evangelic story, has contrived to weave into his narration one continued sneer upon the cause of Christianity, and upon the writings and characters of its ancient patrons. The knowledge which this author pos- sesses of the frame and conduct of the human mind, must have led him to observe, that such at- tacks do their execution without inquiry. Who can refute a sneer ? Who can compute the num- ber, much less, one by one, scrutinize the justice, of those disparaging insinuations which crowd the pages of this elaborate history 7 What reader sus- pends his curiosity, or calls off his attention from the principal narrative, to examine rofon/nces, or to search into the foundation, or to weigh the reason, propriety, and force, of every transient sarcasm, and sly allusion, by which the Christian testimony is depreciated and traduced : and by which, nevertheless, he may find his persuasion afterwards unsettled and perplexed 1 But the enemies of Christianity have pursued her with poisoned arrows. Obscurity itself is made the vehicle of infidelity. The awful doc- trines, if we be not permitted to call them the sa- cred truths, of our religion, together with all the adjuncts and appendages of its worship and ex- ternal profession, have been sometimes impudent- ly profaned by an unnatural conjunction with impure and lascivious images. The fondness for ridicule is almost universal : and ridicule, to many minds, is never so irresistible, as when seasoned with obscenity, and employed upon religion. But in proportion as these noxious principles take hold of the imagination, they infatuate the judgment : for trains of ludicrous and unchaste associations adhering to every sentiment and mention of re- ligion, render the mind indisposed to receive either conviction from its evidence, or impressions from its authority. And this effect being exerted upon the sensitive part of our frame, is altogether inde- pendent of argument, proof, or reason ; is as for- midable to a true religion, as to a false one ; to a well grounded faith, as to a chimerical mythology, or fabulous tradition. Neither, let it be observed, is the crime or danger less, because impure ideas are exhibited under a veil, in covert and chastised language. Seriousness is not constraint of thought ; nor levity, freedom. Every mind which wishes the advancement of truth and knowledge, in the most important of all human researches, must abhor this licentiousness, as violating no less the laws of reasoning, than the rights of decency. There is but one description of men, to whose principles it ought to be tolerable; I mean that class of reason- ers who can see little in Christianity, even sup- posing it to be true. To such adversaries we address this reflection Had Jesus Christ deliver- ed no other declaration than the following " The hour is coming, in the which all that are in the grave shall hear his voice, and shall come forth : they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life j and they that have done evil, unto the re- surrection of damnation :" he had pronounced a message of inestimable importance, and well wor- thy of that splendid apparatus of prophecy and mira- cles with which his mission \\as introduced and at- tested : a message in which the wisest of mankind would rejoice to find an answer to their doubts, and rest to their inquiries. It is idle to say, that a future state had teen discovered already: it had been discovered as the Copernican system was, it was one guess among many. He alone discovers, who proves; and no man can prove this point, but the teacher who testifies by miracles that liis doctrine comes from God. BOOK VJ. ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL KNOWLEDGE. CHAPTER I. Of the Origin of Civil Government. GOVERNMENT, at first, was either patriarchal or military : that of a parent over his family, or of a commander over his fellow-warriors. I. Paternal authority, and the order of domestic life, supplied the foundation of civil government. Did mankind spring out of the earth mature and independent, it would be found perhaps impossible to introduce subjection and subordination among them : but the condition of human inl'ancy pre- pares men for society, by combining individuals into small communities, and by placing them from the beginning, under direction and control. A family contains the rudiments of an empire. The authority of one over many, and the disposition to govern and to be governed, are in this way inci- dcatal to the very nature, and coeval no doubt with the existence, of the human species. Moreover, the constitution of families not only assists the formation of civil government, by the dispositions which it generates, but also furnishes the first steps of the process by which empires have been actually reared. A parent would retain a considerable part of his authority after his chil- dren were grown up, and had formed families of their own. The obedience of which they remem- bered not the beginning, would be considered as natural ; and would scarcely, during the parent's life, be entirely or abruptly withdrawn. Hero then we see the second stage in the progress of dominion. The first was, that of a parent over his young children ; this, that of an ancestor pre- siding over his adult descendants. Although the original progenitor was the centre of union to his posterity, yet it is not probable that the association would be immediately or alto- gether dissolved by his death. Connected by ha- bits of intercourse and affection, and by some common rights, necessities, and interests, they would consider themselves as allied to each other in a nearer degree than to the rest of the species. Almost all would be sensible of an inclination to continue in the society in which they had been brought up ; and experiencing, as they soon would do, many inconveniences from the absence of that authority which their common ancestor exercised, especially in deciding their disputes, and directing their operations in matters in which it was ne- ORIGIN OP CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 109 eessary to act in conjunction, they might be in- duced to supply his place by a formal choice of a successor ; or rather might willingly, and almost imperceptibly, transfer their obedience to some one of the family, who by his age or services, or by the part he possessed in the direction of their affairs during the lifetime of the parent, had al- ready taught them to respect his advice, or to at- tend to his commands ; or lastly, the prospect of these inconveniences might prompt the first an- cestor to appoint a successor ; and his posterity, from the same motive, united with an habitual de- ference to the ancestor's authority, might receive the appointment with submission. Here then we have a tribe or clan incorporated under one chief. Such communities might be increased by consider- able numbers, and fulfil the purposes of civil union without any other or more regular conven- tion, constitution, or form of government, than what we have described. Every branch which was slipped off from the primitive stock, and re- moved to a distance from it, would in like manner take root, and grow into a separate clan. Two or three of these clans vro re frequently, we may sup}X)se, united into one. Marriage, conquest, mutual defence, common distress, 01 rnore g^. dental coalitions, might produce this effect. II. A second source of personal authority, and which might easily extend, or sometimes perhaps supersede, the patriarchal, is that which results from military arrangement. In wars, either of aggression or defence, manifest necessity would prompt those who fought on the same side to ar- ray themselves under one leader. And although their leader was advanced to this eminence for the purpose only, and during the operations, of a single expedition, yet his authority would not always terminate with the reasons for which it was conferred. A warrior who had led forth his tribe against their enemies, with repeated success, would procure to himself, even in the delibera- tions of peace, a powerful and permanent in- fluence. If this advantage were added to the au- thority of the patriarchal chief, or favoured by any previous distinction of ancestry, it would be no difficult undertaking for the person who possessed it, to obtain the almost absolute direction of the affairs of the community ; especially if he was careful to associate to himself proper auxiliaries, and content to practise the obvious art of gratify- ing or removing those who opposed his preten- sions. But although we may be able to comprehend how by his personal abilities or fortune one man may obtain the rule over many, yet it seems more difficult to explain how empire became hereditary, or in what manner sovereign power, which is never acquired without great merit or manage- ment, learns to descend in a succession which has no dependance upon any qualities either of un- derstanding or activity. The causes which have introduced hereditary dominion into so general a reception in the world, are principally the follow- ing: the influence of association, which com- municates to the son a portion of the same respect which was wont to be paid to the virtues or sta- tion of the father ; the mutual jealousy of other competitors ; the greater envy with which all be- hold the exaltation of an equal, than the con- tinuance of an acknowledged superiority ; a reign- ing prince leaving behind him many adherents, who can preserve their own importance only by supporting the succession of his children : add to these reasons, that elections to the supreme power having, upon trial, produced destructive conten- tions, many slates would take a refuge from a re- turn of the same calamities in a rule of succession ; and no rule presents itself so obvious, certain, and intelligible, as consanguinity of birth. The ancient state of society in most countries, and the modern condition of some uncivilized parts of the world, exhibit that appearance which thia account of the origin of civil government would lead us to expect. The earliest histories of Pa- lestine, Greece, Italy, Gaul, Britain, inform us, that these countries were occupied by many small independent nations, not much perhaps unlike those which are found at present amongst the savage inhabitants of North America, and upon the coast of Africa. These nations I consider as the amplifications of so many single families ; or as derived from the junction of two or three families, whom society in war, or the approach of some common danger, had united. Suppose a country to have been first peopled by slupwreck on its coasts, or by emigrants or exiles from a neighbouring country ; the new settlers, having no enemy to provide against, and occupied with the care of their personal subsistence, would think ^tje of digesting a system of laws, of contriving a fpn^of government, or indeed of any political union whatever ; but each settler would remain at the head of his own family, and each family would include all of every age and generation who were descended from him. So many of these families as wore holden together after the death of the original ancestor, by the reasons and in the method above recited, would wax, as the indi- viduals were multiplied, into trilx^, clans, hordes, or nations, similar to those into which the ancient inhabitants of many countries are known to have been divided, and which are still found wherever the state of society and manners is immature and uncultivated. Nor need we be surprised at the early exist- ence in the world of some vast empires, or at the rapidity with which they advanced to their great- ness, from comparatively small and obscure ori- ginals. Whilst the inhabitants of so many coun- tries were broken into numerous communities, unconnected, and oftentimes contending with each other ; before experience had taught these little states to see their own danger in their neigh- bour's ruin ; or had instructed them in the neces- sity of resisting the aggrandizement of an as- piring power, by alliances, and timely prepara- tions; in this condition of civil policy, a particular tribe, which by any means had gotten the start of the rest in strength or discipline, and happened to fall under the conduct of an ambitious chief, by directing their first attempts to the part where success was most secure, and by assuming, as they went along, those whom they conquered into a share of their future enterprises, might soon ga- ther a force which would infallibly overbear any opposition that the scattered power and unpro- vided state of such enemies could make to the progress of their victories. Lastly, our theory affords a presumption, that the earliest governments were monarchies ; because the government of families, and of armies, from which, according to our account, civil government derived its institution, and probably its form, is universally monarchical. 110 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. CHAPTER II. How Subjection to Civil Government is Main- tained. COULD we view our own species from a dis- tance, or regard mankind with the same sort of observation with wliich we read the natural history, or remark the manners, of any other animal, there is nothing in the human character which would more surprise us, than the almost universal subjugation of strength to weakness; than to see many millions of robust men, in the complete use and exercise of their personal facul- ties, and without any defect of courage, waiting Upon the will of a child, a woman, a driveller, or a lunatic. And although, when we suppose a vast empire in absolute subjection to one person, and that one depressed beneath the level of his spe- cies by infirmities, or vice, we suppose perhaps an extreme case: yet in all cases, even the most popular forms of civil government, the physical strength resides in the governed. In what man- ner opinion thus prevails over strength, or how power, which naturally belongs to superior force, is maintained in opposition to it ; in other words, by what motives the many are induced to submit to the few, becomes an inquiry which lies at th^ root of almost every political speculation. Ic re- moves, indeed, but does not resolve, the difficulty, to say, that civil governments arc now-a-days al- most universally upholden by standing armies; for, the question still returns; How are these ar- mies themselves kept in subjection, or made to obey the commands, and carry on the designs, of the prince or state which employs them 1 Now, althuugh we should look in vain for any single reason which will account for the general submission of mankind to civil government ; yet it may not be difficult to assign for every class and character in the community, considerations powerful enough to dissuade each from any at- tempts to resist established authority. Every man has his motive, though not the same. In this, as in other instances, the conduct is similar, but the principles which produce it, extremely various. There are three distinctions of character, into which the subjects of a state may be divided : into those who obey from prejudice ; those who obey from reason; and those who obey from self-in- terest. I. They who obey from prejudice, are deter- mined by an opinion of right in their governors ; which opinion is founded upon prescription. In monarchies and aristocracies which are hereditary, the prescription operates in favour of particular families ; in republics and elective offices, in fa- vour of particular forms of government, or consti- tution. Nor is it to be wondered at, that mankind should reverence authority founded in prescrip- tion, when they observe that it is prescription which confers the title to almost every thing else. The whole course, and all the habits of civil life, favour this prejudice. Upon what other founda- tion stands any man's right to his estate ? The right of primogeniture, the succession of kindred, the descent of property, the inheritance of honours, the demand of tithes, tolls, rents, or services, from the estates of others, the right of way, the powers of office and magistracy, the privileges of nobility, the immunities of the clergy, upon what are they all founded, in the apprehension at least of the multitude, but upon prescription 1 To What else, when the claims are contested, is the appeal made ? It is natural to transfer the same principle to the affairs of government, and to regard those exertions of power which have been long ex- ercised and acquiesced in, as so many rights in the sovereign ; and to consider obedience to his commands, within certain accustomed limits, as enjoined by that rule of conscience, which re- quires us to render to every man his due. In hereditary monarchies, the prescriptive title is corroborated, and its influence considerably augmented by an accession of religious senti- ments, and by that sacredness which men are wont to ascribe to the persons of princes. Princes themselves have not failed to take advantage of this disposition, by claiming a superior dignity, as it were, of nature, or a peculiar delegation from the Supreme Being. For this purpose were in- troduced the titles of Sacred Majesty, of God's Anointed, Representative, Vicegerent, together with the ceremonies of investitures and corona- tions, which are calculated not. so much to recog- nize the authority of sovereigns, as to consecrate their persons. where a fabulous religion per- mitted it, * ko public veneration has been chal- lemr^ b 7 bolder pretensions. The Roman em- perors usurped the titles and arrogated the wor- ship of gods. The mythology of the heroic ages, and of many barbarous nations, was easily converted to this purpose. Some princes, like the heroes of Homer, and the founder of the Roman name, derived their birth from the gods ; others, with Numa, pretended a secret communication with some divine being; and others, again, like the incas of Peru, and the ancient Saxon kings, extracted their descent from the deities of their countries. The Lama of Thibet, at this day, is held forth to his subjects, not as the offspring or successor of a divine race of princes, but as the immortal God himself, the object at once of civil obedience and religious adoration. This instance is singular, and may be accounted the farthest point to which the abuse of human credulity has ever been carried. But in all these instances the purpose was the same, to engage the reverence of mankind, by an application to their religious principles. The reader will be careful to observe that, in this article, we denominate every opinion, whe- ther true or false, a prejudice, which is not found- ed upon argument, in the mind of the person who entertains it. II. They who obey from reason, that is to say, from conscience as instructed by reasonings and conclusions of their own, are determined by the consideration of the necessity of some government or other ; the certain mischief of civil commotions ; and the danger of re-settling the government of their country better, or at all, if once subverted or disturbed. III. They who obey from self-interest, are kept in order by want of leisure ; by a succession of private cares, pleasures, and engagements; by contentment, or a sense of the ease, plenty, and safety, which they enjoy ; or lastly, and princi- pally, by fear, foreseeing that they would bring themselves by resistance into a worse situation than their present, inasmuch as the strength of government, each discontented subject reflects, is greater than his own, and he knows not that others would join him. SUBMISSION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT EXPLAINED. Ill This last consideration has often been called opinion of power. This account of the principles by which man- kind are retained in their obedience to civil govern- ment, may suggest the following cautions. 1. Let civil governors learn hence to rospect their subjects ; let them be admonished, that the physical strength resides in the governed ; that this strength wants only to be felt and roused, to lay prostrate the most ancient and confirmed do- minion ; that civil authority is founded in opinion ; that general opinion therefore ought always to be treated with deference, and managed with delicacy and circumspection. 2. Opinion- of right, always following the cus- tom, being for the most part founded in notliing else, and lending one principal support to govern- ment, every innovation in the constitution, or in other word*, in tfl* custom of governing, di- minishes Ae steJnlity of government. Hence some absurdities/ are to be retained, and many small inconveniencies endured in every country, rather than that usage should be violated, or the course of public affairs diverted from their old and smooth channel. Even names are not indifferent. When the multitude are to be dealt with, there is a charm in sounds. It was upon this principle, that several statesmen of those times a ing its privileges, and acquiescing in its laws ; more especially, by the purchase or inheritance of lands to the possession of which, allegiance to the state is annexed, as the very service and condition of the tenure." Smoothly as this train of argument proceeds, little of it will endure examination. The native subjects of modern states are' not conscious of any stipulation with the sovereigns, of ever ex- ercising an election whether they will be bound or not by the acts of the legislature, of any alterna- tive being proposed to their choice, of a promise either required or given ; nor do they apprehend that the validity or authority of the law depends at all upon their recognition or consent. In all stipulations, whether they be expressed or implied, private or public, formal or constructive, the par- ties stipulating must both possess the liberty of assent and refusal, and also be conscious of this liberty ; which cannot with truth be affirmed of the subjects of civil government as government is now, or ever was, actually administered. This is a defect, which no arguments can excuse or supply : all presumptions of consent, without this conscious- ness, or in opposition to it, are vain and erroneous. Still less is it possible to reconcile with any idea of stipulation, the practice, in which all European nations agree, of founding allegiance upon the cir- cumstance of nativity, that is, of claiming and treating as subjects all those who are born witliin the confines of their dominions, although removed to another country in their youth or infancy. In this instance certainly, the state does not presume a compact. Also if the subject be bound only by his own consent, and if the voluntary abiding in the country be the proof and intimation of that consent, by what arguments should we defend the ri^ht, which sovereigns universally assume, of pro- hibiting, when they please, the departure of their subjects out of the realm 1 AjTidn, when it is contended that the taking and holding possession of land amounts to an acknow- ledgment of the sovereign, and a virtual promise of allegiance to his laws, it is necessary to the va- lidity of the argument to prove, that the inhabitants SUBMISSION TO CIVIL GOVERNMENT EXPLAINED. 113 who first composed and constituted the state, col- lectively possessed a right to the soil of the coun- try ; a right to parcel it out to whom they pleased, and to annex to the donation what conditions they thought fit. . How came they by this right 1 An agreement amongst themselves would not confer it; that could only adjust what already belonged to them. A society of men vote themselves to be the owners of a region of the world; does that vote, unaccompanied especially with any culture, enclosure, or proper act of occupation, make it theirs 1 does it entitle them to exclude others from it, or to dictate the conditions upon which it shall be enjoyed 1 Yet this original collective right and ownership is the foundation for all the reasoning by which the duty of allegiance is inferred from thepossession of land. The theory of government which affirms the ex- istence and the obligation of a social compact, would, after all, merit Tittle discussion, and however groundless and unnecessary, should receive no opposition from us, did it not appear to lead to con- clusions unfavourable to the improvement, and to the peace of human society. 1st. Upon the supposition that government was first erected by, and that it derives all its just au- thority from, resolutions entered into by a conven- tion of the people, it is capable of being presumed, that many points were settled by that convention, anterior to the establishment of the subsisting" le- gislature, and which the legislature, consequently has no right to alter, or interfere with. These points are called ih? fundamentals of the consti- tution: and as it is impossible to determine how many, or what, they are, the suggesting of any such serves extremely to embarrass the delibera- tions of the legislature, and affords a dangerous pre- tence for disputing the authority of the laws. It was this sort of reasoning (so far as reasoning of any kind was employed in the question) that pro- duced in this nation the doubt, which so much agitated the minds of men in the reign of the second Charles, whether an Act of Parliament could of right alter or limit the succession of the Crown. 2dly. If it be by virtue of a compact, that the subject owes obedience to civil government, it will follow that he ought to abide by the form of govern- ment which he finds established, be it ever so ab- surd or inconvenient. He is bound by his bargain. It is not permitted to any man to retreat from his engagement, merely because he finds the perform- ance disadvantageous, or because be has an oppor- tunity of entering into a better. This law of con- tract, is universal : and to call the relation between the sovereign and the subjects a contract ; yet not to apply to it the rules, or allow of the effects of a con- tract, is an arbitrary use of names, and an un- steadiness in reasoning, which can teach nothing. Resistance to the encroachments of the supreme magistrate may be justified on this principle ; re- course to arms, for the purpose of bringing about an amendment of the constitution, never can. No form of government contains a provision for its own dis- solution ; and few governors will consent to the ex- tinction, or even to any abridgement, of their own - power. It does not therefore appear, how despotic governments can ever, in consistency with the obli- gation of the subject, be changed or mitigated. Des- potism is the constitution of many states: and whilst a despotic prince exacts from liis subjects the most rigorous servitude according to this account, he is only holding them to their agreement. A people may vindicate, by force, the rights which the con- stitution has left them ; but every attempt to narrow the prerogative of the xrown by new limitations,, and in opposition to the will of the reigning prince, whatever opportunities may invite, or success follow it, must be condemned as an infraction of the com- pact between the sovereign and the subject. 3dly. Every violation of the compact on the part of the governor, releases the subject from -his alle- giance, and dissolves the government. I do not and other contracts. In private contracts, the viola- tion and non-performance of the conditions, by one of the parties, vac, ties the obligation of the other. Now the terms and articles of the social compact being no where extant or expressed : the rights and offices of the administrator of an empire being so many and various ; the imaginary and controverted line of his prerogative being so liable to be over- stepped in one part or other of it; the position that every such transgression amounts to a forfeiture of the government, and consequently authorises the }>eop1e to withdraw their obedience, and pro- vide for themselves by a new settlement, would en- danger the stability of every political fabric in the world, and has in fact always supplied the disaf- fected with a topic of seditious declamation. If occasions have arisen, in which this plea has been resorted to with justice and success, they have been occasions in which a revolution was defensible upon other and plainer principles. The plea itself is at all times captious and unsafe. Wherefore, rejecting the intervention of a com- pact, as unfounded in its principle, and dangerous in the application, we assign for the only ground of the subject's obligation, THE WILL OF GOD AS COLLECTED FROM EXPEDIENCY. The step by which the argument proceeds, are few and direct." It is the will of God that the happiness of human life be promoted :" this is the first step, and the foundation not only-of this, but of every, moral conclusion. " Civil society conduces to that end :" this is the second proposition. " Civil societies cannot be upholden, unless, in each, the interest of the whole society be binding upon every part and member of it :" this is the third step, and .^ conducts us to the conclusion, namely, "that so long as the interest of the whole society requires it, that is, so long as the established government cannot be resisted or changed without public incon- veniency, it is the will of God (which ic ill univer- sally determines our duty) that the established go- vernment be obeyed," and ho longer. This principle being admitted, the justice of every particular case of resistance is reduced to a computation of the quantity of the danger and grievance on the one side, and of the probability and expense of redressing it on the other. But who shall judge this 1 We answer, "Every man for himself." In contentions between the sovereign and the subject, the parties acknowledge no common arbitrator ; and it would be absurd to refer the decision to those whose conduct has pro- voked the question, and whose*own interest, autho- rity, and fate, are immediately concerned in it. The danger of error and abuse is no objection to the ruleof expediency, because every other rule is liable 10* 114 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. to the earno or greater : and every rule that can be propounded upon the subject (like all rules indeec which appeal to, or bind the conscience) must in the application depend upon private judgment. Ii may be observed, however, that it ought equally to be accounted the exercise of a man ; own privuti judgment, whether he be determined by reason- ings and conclusions of his owu, or submit to be directed by the advice of others, provided he be free to choose his guide. We proceed to point out some easy but im- portant inferences, which result from the sub- stitution of public expediency into the place of all implied compacts, promises, or conventions, whatsoever. I. It may be as much a duty, at one time, to resist government, as it is, at another, to obey il ; to wit, whenever more advantage will, in our opinion, accrue to the community from resist- ance, than mischief. II. The lawfulness of resistance, or the law- fulness of a revolt, does not depend alone upon the grievance which is sustained or feared, but also upon the probable expense and event of the contest. They who concerted the Revolution in England, were justifiable in their counsels, be- cause, from the apparent disposition of the nation, and the strength and character of the parties en- gaged, the measure was likely to be brought about with little mischief or bloodshed ; whereas it might have been a question with many friends of their country, whether the injuries then endur- ed and threatened would have authorised the re- newal of a doubtful civil war. III. Irregularity in the first foundation of a state, or subsequent violence, fraud, or injustice, in getting possession of the supreme power, are not sufficient reasons for resistance, after the government is onqe peaceably settled. No sub- ject of the British empire conceives himself en- gaged to vindicate the justice of the Norman claim or conquest, or apprehends that his duty in any manner depends upon that controversy. So, likewise, if the house of Lancaster, or even the posterity of Cromwell, had been at this day seat- ed upon the throne of England, we should have been as little concerned to inquire how the found- er of the family came there. No civil contests are so futile, although none have been so furious and sanguinary, as those which are excited by a disputed succession. IV. Not every invasion of the subject's rights, or liberty, or of the constitution ; not every breach of promise, or of oath ; not every stretch of pre- rogative, abuse of power, or neglect of duty by the chief magistrate, or by the whole or any branch of the legislative body, justifies resistance, unless these crimes draw after them public con- sequences of sufficient magnitude to outweigh the evils of civil disturbance. Nevertheless, every violation of the constitution ought to be watched with jealousy, and resented as such, beyond what the quantity of estimable damage would re- quire or warrant; because a known and settled usage of governing affords the only security against the enormities of uncontrolled dominion, and because tills -security is weakened by every encroachment which is mafle without opposition, or opposed without affect. V. No usage, law, or authority whatsoever, is so binding, that it need or ought to be con- tinued, when it may be changed with advantage to the community. The family of the prince, th6 order of succession, the prerogative of the crown, the form and parts of the legislature, together with the respecfive -powers, office, duration, and mutual dependency, of the se\-ra! parts, sire all only so many /air*, mutable like other laws, wheiK'vr expediency requires, either by the ordi- nar/ act of the legislature, or, if the occasion de- serve it, by the interposition of -the people. These points are wont to be approached with a kind of awe; they are represented to the mind as principles of the constitution settled by our ances- tors, and, being settled, -to be no more committed to innovation and dclmte ; as foundations never to be stirred ; as the terms and conditions of the so- Qial compact, to which every citizen of the state has engaged his fidelity, by virtue of a promise which he cannot now recall. Such reasons ha\o no place in our system : to us, if there be any good reason for treating these with more defer- ence and respect than other laws, it is either the advantage of the present constitution of govern- ment (which reason must be of dill'erent force in different countries,) or because in all countries it is of importance that the form and usage of gov- erning be acknowledged and understood, as well by the governors as by the governed, and because, the seldomer it is changed, the more perfectly it will be known by both sides. VI. As all civil obligation is resolved into ex- pediency, what, it may he asked, is (he difference between the obligation of an Englishman and a Frenchman 1 or why, since the obligation of both appears to be founded in the same reason, is a Frenchman bound in conscience to bear any thing from his king, which an Englishman would not be bound to bear'? Their conditions may differ, but their rights, according to account, should seem to be equal : and yet we are accus- tomed to speak of the rights, as well as of the happiness of a free people, compared with what belong to the subjects of absolute monarchies ; how, you will say, can this comparison be ex- plained, unless we refer to a difference in the compacts by which they are respectively bound 1 This is a fair question, and the answer to it will afford a farther illustration of our principles. We admit then that there are many things which a Frenchman is bound in conscience, as well as by coercion, to endure at the hands of his prince, to which an Englishman would not be obliged to submit : but we assert, that it is for these two rea- sons alone : Jirst, because the same act of the prince is not the same grievance, where it is agreeable to the constitution, and where it in- fringes it; secondly, because redress in the two cases is not equally attainable. Resistance cannot attempted With equal hopes of success, or with the same prospect of receiving support from others, where the people are reconciled to their sufferings, as where' they are alarmed by in- novation. In this way, and no otherwise, the subjects of different states possess different civil rights; the duty of obedience is defined by differ- ent boundaries ; and the point of justifiable resist- ance placed at different parts of the scale of suf- fering; all which is sufficiently intelligible with- out a social compact. VII. " The interest of the whole society is binding upon every part of it. No rule, short of ;his, will provide for the stability of civil govern- ment, or for the peace and safety of social life. DUTY OF CIVIL OBEDIENCE. 115 Wherefore, as individual members of the state are not permitted to pursue their emolument to the prejudice of the community, so is it equally a consequence of this rule, that no particular co- lony, province, town, or district, can justly concert measures lor their separate interest, which shall appear at the same time to diminish the sum of prosperity. 1 do not mean, that it is necessary to the justice of a measure, that it profit each -and every part of the community, (for, as the happi- ness of the whole may be increased, whilst that of some parts is diminished, it is possible that the conduct of one part of an empire may be detri- mental to some other part, and yet just, provided one part gain more in happiness than the other part loses, so that the common weal be augment- ed by the change;) but what 1 aflirmis, that those counsels can never be reconciled with the obliga- tions resulting from civil union, which cause the whole happiness of the society to be impaired for the conveniency of a part. This conclusion is, applicable to the question of right between Great Ismaitvjintl her revolted colonies. 'Had 1 bet MI an American, I should not have thought itenough to have had it even demonstrated, that a si par i- tion from the parent state would produce ellecis beneficial to America; my relation to that state imposed u[)on me a further inquiry, namelv. whether the whole happiness of the empire was likely to be promoted by such a measure: not in- deed the happiness ot every part; that was not :rv. nor to be expected; but whether what Great Britian would lose by the separation, was likely to be compensated to the joint stock ofhap- pine-s, by the advantages which America would receive from it. The contested claims of sove- reign st-desand their remote dependencies, may be submitted to the adjudication of this rule with mutual safety. A public advantage is measured by the advantage which each individual receives. and by the numlrcr of those who receive it. A public evil is compounded of the same proportions. VVhilst, therefore, a colony is small, , or a province thinly inhabited, if a competition of interests arises between the original country and their acquired dominions, the former ought to be preferred : because it is fit that, if one must necessarily be sacrificed, the less give place to the greater ; but when, by an increase of population, the interest of the provinces begins to bear a considerable pro- portion to the entire interest of the community, it is possible that they may suffer so much by their subjection, that not only theirs, but the wh,ole happiness of the empire, may be obstructed by their union. The rule and principle of the cal- culation being still the same, the result is differ- ent : and this difference begets a new situation, which entitles the subordinate parts of the states to more equal terms of confederation, and if these be refused, to independency. CHAPTER IV. The Duty of Civil Obedience, as stated in the Christian Scriptures. We affirm that, as to the extent of our civil rights and obligations, Christianity hath left us where she found us ; that she hath neither altered it nor ascertained it ; that the New Testament con- tains not one passage, which, fairly interpreted, affords either argument or objection applicable to any conclusions upon the subject, that are de- duced from the law and religion of nature. The only passages which have been seriously alleged in the controversy, or which it is neces- sary for us to state and examine, are the two fol- lowing ; the one extracted from St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, the other from the First General Epistle of St. Peter: ROMANS xiii. 17. "Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers : for therd is no power but of God : the powers that be, are; ordained of God. Who- soever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God ; and they that resist, shall re- ceive to themselves damnation. For rulers aro not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power 1 Do that which is good, and thou shall pave praise of the same ; for he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if you do that which is evil, be afraid ; tor he bearcth not the sword in vain : for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil. Wherefore ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but also for conscience' sake. For, for this cause pay ye tribute also ; for they are God's ministers, attending continually upon this very thing. Render there- fore to all their dues; tribute to whom tribute is due, custom to whom custom, fear to whom fear, honour to whom honour." 1 PETER ii. 1318. " Submit for the Lo supreme; or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the praise of them that do well. For so is the will of God, that- with well-doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men : as free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of ma- licious'ness, but as the servants of God." To comprehend the proper import of these in- structions, let the reader reflect, that upon the subject of civil obedience there are two questions : the first, whether to obey government be a moral duty and obligation upon the conscience at all ; the second, how far, and to what cases, that obe- dience ought to extend 1 that these two questions are so distinguishable in the imagination, that it is possible to treat of the one, without any thought of the other ; and lastly, that if expressions which relate to one of these questions be transferred and applied to the other, it is with great danger of giving them a signification very different from the author's meaning. This distinction is not only possible, but natural. If I met with a person who appeared to entertain doubts, whether civil obe- dience were a moral duty which ought to be vo- luntarily discharged, or whether it were not a mere submission to force, like that which we yield to a robber who holds a pistol to our breast, I should represent to him the use and offices of civil government, the end and the necessity of civil subjection ; or, if I preferred a different theory, I should explain to him the social compact, urge him with the obligation and the equity of his im- plied promise and tacit consent to be governed by the laws of the state from which he received pro- tection ; or I should argue, perhaps, that Nature herself dictate:! tlie law of subordination, when it yourselves to every ordinance of man rd's sake ; whether it be to the king, a 11C MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. she planted within us an inclination to associate with our species, and framed us with capacities so various and unequal. From whatever prin- ciple I set out, 1 should labour to infer from it this conclusion, "That obedience to I ho state is to be numbered among the relative duties of hu- man life, for the transgression of which we shall be accountable at the tribunal of Divine justice, whether the magistrate be able to punish us for it or not ;" and being arrived at this conclusion, I should stop, having delivered the conclusion itself, and throughout the whole argument expressed the obedience, which I inculcated, in the most general and unqualified terms; all reservations and re- strictions being superfluous, and foreign to the doubt I was employed to remove. If, in a short time afterwards, I should be ac- costed by the same person, with complaints of public grievances, of exorbitant taxes, of acts of cruelty and oppression, of tyrannical encroach- ments upon the ancient or stipulated rights of the people, and should be consulted whether it were lawful to revolt, or justifiable to join in an attempt to shake off the yoke by open resistance ; I should certainly consider myself as having a case and Question before me very different from the former, should now define and discriminate. I should reply, that if public expediency be the foundation, it is also the measure, of civil'obcdience : that the obligation of subjects and sovereigns is recipro- cal; that the duty of allegiance, whether it be founded in utility or compact, is neither unlimited nor unconditional ; that peace may be purchased too dearly ; that patience becomes culpable pusil- lanimity, when it serves only to encourage our rulers to increase the weight of our burthen, or to bind it the faster ; that the submission which sur- renders the liberty of a nation, and entails slavery upon future generations, is enjoined by no law of rational morality ; finally, I should instruct the inquirer to compare the peril and expense of his enterprise with the effects it was expected to pro- duce, and to make choice of the alternative by which not his own present relief or profit, but the whole and permanent interest pf the state, was likely to be best promoted. If any one who had been present at both these conversations should upbraid me with change or inconsistency of opinion, should retort upon me the passive doc- trine which I before taught, the large and ab- solute terms in which I then delivered lessons of obedience and submission, I should account my- self unfairly dealt with. I should reply, that the only difference which the language of the two conversations presented was, that I added now many exceptions and limitations, which were omitted or unthought of then : that this difference arose naturally from the two occasions, such ex- ceptions being as necessary to the subject of our present conference, as they would have been su- perfluous and unseasonable in the former. Now the difference in these two conversations is precisely the distinction to be taken in inter- preting those passages of Scripture, concerning which we are debating. They inculcate the duty, they do not describe the extent of it. They en- force the obligation by the proper sanctions of Christianity, without intending either to enlarge or contract, without considering, indeed, the limits by which it is bounded. This is also the method in which the same apostles enjoin the duty of ser- vants to their masters, of children to their parents, of wives to their husbands: " Servants, be subject to your masters." " Children, obey your parents in all things." " Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands." The same concise and absolute form of expression occurs in all these precepts ; the same silence as to any exceptions or distinctions : yet no one doubts that the com- mands of masters, parents, and husbands, are often so immoderate, unjust, and inconsistent with other obligations, that they both may and ought to be resisted. In letters or dissertations written professedly upon separate articles of mo- rality, we might with more reason have looked for a precise delineation of our duty, and some degree of modern accuracy in the rules which were laid down for our direction : but in those short collec- tions of practical maxims which compose the con- clusion, or some small portion, of a doctrinal or perhaps controversial epistle, we cannot be sur- prised to find the author more solicitous to impress the duty, than curious to enumerate exceptions. The consideration of this distinction is alone sufficient to vindicate these passages of Scripture from any explanation which may be put upon them, in favour of an unlimited passive obedience. But if we be permitted to assume a supposition which many commentators proceed upon as a certainty, that the first Christians privately che- rished an opinion, that their conversion to Chris- tianity entitled them to new immunities, to an exemption as of right (however they might give way to necessity,) from the authority of the Ro- man sovereign; we are furnished with a still more apt and satisfactory interpretation of the apostles' words. The two passages apply with great propriety to the refutation of this error: they teach the Christian convert to obey the ma- gistrate "for the Lord's sake;" "not only for wrath, but for conscience' sake;" "that there is no power but of God ;" " that the powers that be," even the present rulers of the Roman empire, though heathens and usurpers, seeing they are in possession of the actual and necessary authority of civil government, " are ordained of God ;" and, consequently, entitled to receive obedience from those who profess themselves the peculiar ser- ants of God, in a greater (certainly not in a less) degree than from any others. They briefly de- scribe the office of " civil governors, the punish- ment of evil-doers, and the praise of them that do well;" from- which description of the use of govern- ment, they justly infer the duty of subjection ; which duty, being as extensive as the reason upon which it is founded, belongs to Christians, no less than to the heathen members of the community. If it be admitted, that the two apostles wrote with a view to this particular question, it will Ire con- fessed, that their words cannot be transferred to a question totally different from this, with any cer- tainty of carrying along with us their authority and intention. There exists no resemblance be- tween the case of a primitive convert, who dis- puted the jurisdiction of the Roman government over a disciple of Christianity, and his who, ac- knowledging the general^ authority of the state over all its subjects, doubts whether that authority be not, in -some important branch of it, so ill con- stituted or abused, as to warrant the endeavours of the people to bring about a reformation by force. Nor .can we judge what reply the apostles would have made to this second question if it had l>een proposed to them, from any thing they have de- OP CIVIL LIBERTY. 117 livered upon the first ; any more than, in the two consultations above described, it could be known beforehand what I would say in the latter, from the answer which I gave the former. The only detect to this account is, that neither the Scriptures, nor any subsequent history of the early ages of the Church, furnish any direct at- testation of the existence of such disaffected sen- timents amongst the primitive converts. They supply indeed some circumstances which render probable the opinion, that extravagant notions of the political rights of the Christian state were at that time entertained by many proselytes to the re- ligion. from the question proposed unto Christ, " Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar V it may be ? resumed that doubts had been started in the ewish schools concerning the obligation, or even the lawfulness, of submission to the Roman yoke. The accounts delivered by Josephus, of various insurrections of the Jews of that and the following age, excited by this principle, or upon this pre- tence, confirm the presumption. Now, as the Christians were at first chiefly taken from the Jews, confounded with them by the rest of the world, and, from the affinity of the two religions, apt to intermix the doctrines of both, it is not to be wondered at, that a tenet, so flattering to the self-importance of those who embraced it, should have been communicated to the new institution. A^ain, the teachers of Christianity, amongst the privileges which their religion conferred upon its professors, were wont to extol the " liberty into which they were called," "in which Christ had made them free." This liberty, which was in- tended of a deliverance from the various servitude, in which they had heretofore lived, to the domina- tion of sinful passions, to the superstition of the Gentile idolatry, or the encumbered ritual of the Jewish dispensation, might by some be interpreted to signify an emancipation from all restraint which was imposed by an authority merely human. At least, they might be represented by their enemies as maintaining notions of this dangerous tendency. To some error or calumnv of this kind, the words of St. Peter seem to allude : " For so is the will of God, that with well-doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men : as free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness (t. e. sedition,) but as the servants of God." After all, if any one think this conjecture too feebly supported by testimony, to be relied upon in the interpretation of Scripture, he will then revert to the consider- ations alleged in the preceding part of this chapter. After so copious an account of what we appre- hend to be the general design and doctrine of these much-agitated passages, little need be added an explanation of particular clauses. St. Paul has said, " Whosoever resisteth the power, re- sisteth the ordinance of God." This phrase, " the ordinance of God," is by many so interpreted as to authorise the most exalted and superstitious ideas of the regal character. But surely, such interpreters have sacrificed truth to adulation. For, in the first place, the expression, as used by St. Paul, is just as applicable to one kind of government, and to one kind of succession, as to another ; to the elective magistrates of a pure republic, as to an absolute hereditary monarch. In the next place, it is not affirmed of the supreme magistrate exclusively, that he is the ordinance of God; the title, whatever it imports, belongs to every inferior officer of the state as much as to the highest. The divine right of kings is, like the divine right of other magistrates, the law of the land, or even actual and quiet possession of their office ; a right ratified, we humbly presume, by the divine approbation, so long as obedience to their authority appears to be necessary or condu- cive to the common welfare. Princes are ordain- ed of God by virtue only of that general decree by which he assents, and adds the sanction of his will, to every law of society which promotes his own purpose, the communication of human hap pi ness ; according to which idea of their origin and constitution (and without any repugnancy to the words of St. Paul,) they are by St. Peter de- nominated the ordinance of man. CHAPTER V. Of Civil Liberty. CIVIL LIBERTY is the not being restrained by any law, but what conduces in a greater degree to the public welfare. . To do what we will, is natural liberty : to do what we will, consistently with the interest of the community to which we belong, is civil liberty; that is to say, the only liberty to be desired in a state of civil society. I should wish, no doubt, to be allowed to act in every instance as I pleased, but I reflect that the rest also of mankind , would then do the same ; in which state of universal independence and self- direction, I should meet with so many checks and obstacles to my own will, from the interference and opposition of other men's, that not only my hap- piness, but my liberty, would be less, than whilst the whole community were subject to the domi- nion of equal laws. The bdasted liberty of a state of nature exists ' only in a state of solitude. In every kind and de- gree of union and intercourse with his species, it is possible that the liberty of the individual may be augmented by the very laws which restrain it: because he may gain more from the limitation of other men's freedom than he suffers by the dimi- nution of his own. Natural liberty is the right of common upon a waste ; civil liberty is the safe, exclusive, unmolested enjoyment of a cultivated enclosure. Thedefinition of civil liberty above laid down, im- ports that the laws of a free people impose no re- straints upon the private will of the subject, which do not conduce in a greater degree to the public happiness ; by which it is intimated, 1st, that re- straint itself is an evil ; 2dly, that this evil ought to be overbalanced by some public advantage ; 3dly, that the proof of this advantage lies upon the le- gislature ; 4thly, that a law being found to pro- duce no sensible good effects, is a sufficient reason for repealing it, as adverse and injurious to the rights of a free citizen, without demanding spe- cific evidence of its bad effects. This maxim might be remembered with advantage in a revision of many laws of this country ; especially of the game-laws ; of the poor-laws, so far as they lay restrictions upon the poor themselves ; of the laws against Papists and Dissenters: and, amongst people enamoured to excess and jealous of their liberty, it seems a matter of surprise that this principle has been so imperfectly attended to. The degree of actual liberty always bearing, 118 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. according to this account of it, a reversed propor- tion to the number and severity of the restrictions which are- either useless, or the utility of which does not outweigh the evil of the restraint, it fol- lows, thabevery nation possesses some, no nation perfect, liberty : that this liberty may be enjoyed under every form of government : that it may be impaired indeed, or increased, but that it is neither gained, nor lost, nor recovered, by any single re- gulation, change, or event whatever : that conse- quently, those popular phrases which speak of a free people ; of a nation of slaves ; which call one revolution the aera of liberty, or another the loss of it ; with many expressions of a like absolute form ; are intelligible only in^a comparative sense. Hence also we are enabled to apprehend the distinction between personal and civil liberty. A citizen of the v freest republic in the world may be imprisoned for his crimes ; and though his per- sonal freedom be restrained by bolts anu fetters, so long as his confinement is the effect of a benefi- cial public law, his civil liberty is not invaded. If this instance appear dubious, the following will be plainer. A passenger from the Levant, who, upon his return to England, should be conveyed to a lazaretto by an order of quarantine, with what- ever impatience he might desire his enlargement, and though he saw a guard placed at the door to oppose his escape, or even ready to destroy his life if he attempted it, would hardly accuse govern- ment of encroaching upon his civil freedom ; nay, might, perhaps, be all the while congratulating himself that he had at length set his foot again in a land of liberty. The manifest expediency of the measure not only justifies it, but reconciles the most odious confinement with the -perfect pos- session, and the loftiest notions, of civil liberty. And if this be true of the coercion of a prison, that it is compatible with a state of civil freedom, it cannot with reason be disputed of those more mo- derate constraints which the ordinary operation of government imposes upon the will of the individual. It is not the rigour, but the inexpediency of laws and acts of authority, which makes them tyrannical. There is another idea of civil liberty, which, though neither so simple nor so 'accurate as the former, agrees better with the signification, which the usage of common discourse, as well as the ex- ample of many respectable writers upon the sub- ject, has affixed to the term. This idea places liberty in security ; making it to consist not merely in an actual exemption from the constraint of useless and noxious laws and acts of dominion, but in being free from the danger of having such hereafter imposed or exercised. Thus, speaking of the political state of modern Europe, we are accustomed to say of Sweden, that she hath lost her liberty by the revolution which lately took place in that country ; and yet we are assured that the people continue to be governed by the same laws as before, or by others which are wiser, milder, and more equitable. What then have they lost 1 They have lost the power and func- tions of their diet; the constitution of their states and orders, whose deliberations and concurrence were required in the formation and establishment of every public law; and thereby have parted with the security which they possessed against any attempts of the crown to harass its subjects, by oppressive and useless exertions of prerogative. The loss of this security we denominate the loss of liberty. They have changed, not their laws, but their legislature; not their enjoyment, but their safety ; not their present burthens, but their pros- pects of future grievances ; and this we pronounce a change from the condition of freemen to that of slaves. In like manner, in our own country, the act of parliament, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, which gave to the king's proclamation the force of law, has properly been called a com- plete and formal surrender of the liberty of the nation; and would have been so, although no proclamation were issued in pursuance of these new powers, or none but what was recommended by the highest wisdom and utility. The security was gone. Were it probable that the welfare and accommodation of the people would be as stu- diously, and as providently, consulted in the edicts of a despotic prince, as by the resolutions of a popular assembly, then would an absolute form of government be no less free than the purest demo- cracy. The different degree of care and know- ledge of the public interest, which may reasonably be expected from the different form and composi- tion of the legislature, constitutes the distinction, in respect of liberty, as well between these two extremes, as between all the intermediate modifi- cations of civil government. The definitions which have been framed of civil liberty, and which have become the subject of much unnecessary altercation, are most of them adapted to this idea. Thus one political writer makes the very essence of the subject's liberty to consist in his being governed by no laws but those to which he hath actually consented ; another is satisfied with an indirect and virtual consent; an- other, again, places civil liberty in the separation of the legislative and executive offices of govern- ment ; another, in the being governed by law; that is, by known, preconstituted, inflexible rules of action and adjudication ; a fifth, in the exclu- sive right of the people to tax themselves by their own representatives ; a sixth, in the freedom and purity of elections of representatives ; a seventh, in the control which the democratic party of the constitution possesses over the military establish- ment. Concerning which, and some other simi- lar accounts of civil liberty, it may be observed, that they all labour under one inaccuracy, viz. that they describe not so much liberty itself, as the safeguards and preservatives of liberty : for exam- ple, a man's being governed by no laws but those to which he has given his consent, were it practi- cable, is no otherwise necessary to the enjoyment of civil liberty, than as it affords a probable secu- rity against the dictation of laws imposing super- fluous restrictions upon his private will. This remark is applicable to the rest. The diversity of these definitions will not surprise us, when we consider that there is no contrariety or opposition amongst them whatever : for, by how many dif- ferent provisions and precautions civil liberty is fenced and protected, so many different accounts of liberty itself, all sufficiently consistent with truth and with each other, may, according to this mode of explaining the term, be framed and adopted. Truth cannot be offended by a definition, but propriety may. In which view, those definitions )f liberty ought to be rejected, which, by making that essential to civil freedom which is unattain- able in experience, inflame expectations that can never be gratified, and disturb the public content with complaints, which no wisdom or benevolence of government can remove. OP DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT. 119 It will not be thought extraordinary, that an idea, which occurs so much oftener as the subject of panegyric and careless declamation, than of just reasoning or correct knowledge, should be attend- ed with uncertainty and confusion ; or that it should be found impossible to contrive a definition, which may include the numerous, unsettled, and ever-varying significations, which the term is made to stand for, and at the same time accord with the condition and experience of social life. Of the two ideas that have been stated of civil liberty, whichever we assume, and whatever rea- soning we found upon them, concerning its extent, nature, value, and preservation, this is the conclu- sion ; that that people, government, and consti- tution, is the freest, which makes the best provi- sion for the enacting of expedient and salutary laws. CHAPTER VI. Of different Forms of Government. As a series of appeals must be finite, there ne- cessarily exists in every government a power from which the constitution has provided no appeal ; and which power, for that reason, may be termed ab- solute, omnipotent, uncontrollable, arbitrary, des- potic ; and is alike so in all countries. The person, or assembly, in whdm this power resides, is called the sovereign, or the supreme power of the state. Since to the same power universally appertains the office of establishing public laws, it is called also the legislature of the state. A government receives its denomination from the form of the legislature ; which form is likewise what we commonly mean by the constitution of a country. Political writers enumerate three principal forms of government, which, however, are to be regarded rather as the simple forms, by some com- bination and intermixture of which all actual go- vernments are composed, than as any where ex- isting in a pure and elementary state. These forms ' are, I. Despotism, or absolute MONARCHY, where the legislature is in a single person. II. An ARISTOCRACY, where the legislature is in a select assembly, the members of which either 1 fill up by election the vacancies in their own body, or succeed to their places in it by inheritance, pro- perty, tenure of certain lands, or in respect of some personal right, or qualification. III. A REPUBLIC, or democracy, where the peo- ple at large, either collectively or by representation, constitute the legislature. The separate advantages of MONARCHY, are, unity of counsel, activity, decision, secrecy, de- spatch; the military strength and energy which result from these qualities of government ; the ex- clusion of popular and aristrocratical contentions ; the preventing, by a known rule of succession, of all competition for the supreme power ; and there- by repressing the hopes, intrigues, and dangerous ambition of aspiring citizens. The mischiefs, or rather the dangers, of MO- NARCHY are, tyranny, expense, exaction, military domination : unnecessary wars, waged to gratify the passions of an individual; risk of the charac- ter of the reigning prince j ignorance, in the go- vernors, of the interests and accommodation of the people, and a consequent deficiency of salutary regulations ; want of constancy and uniformity in the rules of government, and, proceeding from thence, insecurity of person and property. The separate advantage of an ARISTOCRACY consists in the wisdom which may be expected from experience and education : a permanent council naturally possesses experience ; and the members who succeed to their places in it by inheritance, will, probably, be trained and educated with a view to the stations which they are destined by their birth to occupy. The mischiefs of an ARISTOCRACY are, dissen- sions in the ruling orders of the state, which, from the want of a common superior, are liable to proceed to the most desperate extremities ; oppression of the lower orders by the privileges of the higher, and by laws partial to the separate interest of the law- makers. The advantages of a REPUBLIC are, liberty, or exemption from needless restrictions; equal laws; regulations adapted to the- wants and circumstances of the people; public spirit, frugality, averseness to War ; the opportunities which democratic as- semblies afford to men of every description, of pro- ducing their abilities and counsels to public obser- vation, and the exciting thereby, and calling forth to the sen-ice of the commonwealth, the faculties of its best citizens. The evils of a REPUBLIC are, dissension, tumults, faction ; the attempts of powerful citizens to pos- sess themselves of the empire ; the confusion, rage, and clamour, which are the inevitable consequences of assembling multitudes, and of propounding ques- tions of state to the discussion of the people ; the delay and disclosure of public counsels and designs ; and the imbecility of measures retarded by the ne- cessity of obtaining the consent of numbers : lastly, the oppression of the provinces which are not ad- mitted to a participation in the legislative power. A mixed government is composed by the com- bination of two or more of the simple forms of go- vernment above described : and in whatever pro- portion each form enters into the constitution of a government, in the same proportion may both the advantages and evils, which we have attributed to that form, be expected : that is, those are the uses to lie maintained and cultivated in each part of the constitution, and these are the dangers to be pro- vided against in each. Thus, if secrecy and de- spatch be truly enumerated amongst the separate excellencies of regal government, then a mixed go- vernment, which retains monarchy in one part of its constitution, should be careful that the other estates of the empire do not, by an officious and inquisitive interference with the executive func- tions, which are, or ought to be, reserved to the administration of the prince, interpose delays, or divulge what it is expedient to conceal. On the other hand, if profusion, exaction, military domi- nation, and needless wars, l>e justly accounted natu- ral properties of monarchy, in its simple unqualified form ; then are these the objects to which, in a mixed government, the aristrocratic and popular part of the constitution ought to direct their vigi- lance ; the dangers against which they should raise and fortify their barriers ; these are departments of sovereignty, over which a power of inspection and control ought to be deposited with the people. The same observation may be repeated of all the other advantages and inconveniences which have 130 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. been ascribed to the several simple forms of gov- ernment; and affords a rule whereby to direct the construction, improvements, and administration, of mixed governments subjected however to this remark, that a quality sometimes results from the conjunction of two simple forms of government, which belongs not to the separate existence of either : thus corruption, which has no place in an absolute monarchy, and little in a pure republic, is sure to gain admission into a constitution which divides the" supreme power between an executive magistrate and a popular council. An hereditary MONARCHY is universally to be preferred to an elective monarchy. The confes- sion of every writer on the subject of civil govern- ment, the experience of ages, the example of Po- land, and of the papal dominions, seem to place this amongst the few indubitable maxims which the science of politics admits of. A crown is too splendid a prize to be conferred upon merit : the passions or interests of the electors exclude all consideration of the qualities of the competitors. The same observation holds concerning the ap- pointments to any office which is attended with a great share of power or emolument. Nothing is gained by a popular choice, worth the dissensions, tumults, and interruption of regular industry, with which it is inseparably attended. Add to this, that a king, who owes his elevation to the event of a contest, or to any other cause than a fixed rule of succession, will be apt to regard one part of his subjects as the associates of Ms fortune, and the other as conquered foes. Nor should it be forgotten, amongst the advantages of an heredi- tary monarchy, that, as plans of national im- provement and reform are seldom brought to ma- turity by the exertions of a single reign, a nation can not attain to the degree t)f happiness and pros- perity to which it is capable of being carried, unless an uniformity of counsels, a consistency of public measures and designs, be continued through a succession of ages. This benefit may be expected with greater probability where the supreme power descends in the same race, and where each prince succeeds, in some sort, to the aim, pursuits, and disposition of his ancestor, than if the crown, at every change, devolve upon a stranger, whose first care will commonly be to pull down what his predecessor had built up; and to substitute systems of administration, which must, in their turn, give way to the more favour- ite novelties of the next successor. ARISTOCRACIES are of two kinds. First, where the power of the nobility belongs to them in their collective capacity alone ; that is, where, although the government reside in an assembly of the or- der, yet the members of that assembly separately and indvidually possess no authority or privilege beyond the rest of the community : this describes the constitution of Venice. Secondly, where the nobles are severally invested with great personal power and immunities, and where the power of the senate is little more than the aggregated power of the individuals who compose it : this is the constitution of Poland. Of these two forms of government, the first is more tolerable than the last ; for, although the members of a senate should many, or even all of them, be profligate enough to abuse the authority of their stations in the prosecution of private designs, yet, not being all under a temptation to the same injustice, not having all the same end to gain, it would still be difficult to obtain the consent of a majority to any specific act of oppression which the iniquity of an individual might prompt him to propose : or if the will were the same, the power is more confined ; one tyrant, whether the tyranny reside in a single person, or a senate, cannot exercise oppression at so many places, at the same time, as it may be carried on by the dominion of a numerous nobiUty over their respective vassals and dependants. Of all species of domination, this is the most odious : the freedom and satisfaction of private life are more constrained and harassed by it than by the most vexatious law, or even by the lawless will of an arbitrary monarch, from whose knowledge, and from whose injustice, the greatest part of his subjects are removed by their distance, or con- cealed by their obscurity. Europe exhibits more than one modern example, where the people, aggrieved by the exactions, or provoked by the enormities, of their immediate superiors, have joined with the reigning prince in the overthrow of the aristocracy, deliberately ex- changing their condition for the miseries of despot- ism. About the middle of the last century, the commons of Denmark, weary of the oppressions which they had long suffered from the nobles, and exasperated by some recent insults, presented themselves at the foot of the throne with a formal offer of their consent to establish unlimited do- minion in the king. The revolution in Sweden, still more lately brought about with the acqui- escence, not to say the assistance, of the people, owed its success to the same cause, namely, to the prospect of deliverance that it afforded from the tyranny which their nobles exercised under the old constitution. In England, the people beheld the depression of the barons, under the house of Tudor, with satisfaction, although they saw the crown acquiring thereby a power which no limi- tations that the constitution had then provided were likely to confine. The lesson to be drawn from such events, is this : that a mixed govern- ment, which admits a patrician order into its con- stitution, ought to circumscribe the personal pri- vileges of the nobility, especially claims of here- ditary jurisdiction and local authority, with a jealousy equal to the solicitude with which it wishes its own preservation : for nothing so alienates the minds of the people from the govern- ment under which they live, by a perpetual sense of annoyance and inconveniency, or so prepares them for the practices of an enterprising prince or a factious demagogue, as the abuse which almost always accompanies the existence of separate immunities. Amongst the inferior, but by no means incon- siderable advantages of a DKMOCRATIC constitu- tion, or of a constitution in which the people par- take of the power of legislation, the following should not be neglected : I. The direction which it gives to the educa- tion, studies, and pursuits, of the superior orders of the community. The share which this has in forming the public manners and national charac- ter, is very important. In countries, in which the gentry are excluded from all concern in the government, scarcely any thing is left which leads to advancement, but the profession of arms. They who do not addict themselves to this pro- fession (and miserable must that country be, which constantly employs the military service of a great proportion of any order of its subjects !) aiQ OF DIFFERENT FORMS OF GOVERNMENT. 121 commonly lost by the more \v;rat of object and des- tination : that is, they either fall, without reserve, into the more sottish habits of animal gratification, or entirely devote themselves to the attainment of those futile arts and decorations which compose the business and recommendations of a court : on the other hand, where the whole, or any effective portion, of civil power is possessed by a popular as- sembly, more serious pursuits will be encouraged ; purer morals, and in a more intellectual character, will engage the public esteem; those faculties which qualify men for delilvration and debate, and which are the fruit of sober habit*, of early and long-continued application, will be roused and animated by the reward which, of all others, most readily awakens the ambition of the human mind political dignity and importance. II. Popular elections procure to the common people courtesy from their superiors. That con- temptuous and overbearing insolence, with which the lower orders of the community are wont to lx? treated by the higher, is greatly mitigated where the people have something to give. The assi- duity with which their favour is sought upon these occasions, serves to generate settled habits of condescension and respect ; and as human life is more embittered by affronts than injuries, what- ever contributes to procure mildness and civi- lity of manners towards those who are most liable to suffer from a contrary behaviour, corrects, with the pride, in a great measure, the evil of ine- quality, and deserves to be accounted among tl^e most generous institutions of social life. III. The satisfactions which the people in free governments derive from the knowledge and agitation of political subjects ; such as the proceed- ings and debates of tlie senate; the conduct and characters of ministers ; the revolutions, intrigues, and contention* of parties; and, in general, from the discussion of public measures, questions, and occurrences. Subjects of this sort excite just enough of interest and emotion to afford a mode- rate rngageinent to the thoughts, without rising to any painful degree of anxiety, or ever leaving a fixed operation upon the spirits ; and what is this, but the end and aim of all those amusements which compose so much of the business of life and of the value of riches 1 For my part (and I believe it to be the case with most men who are arrived at the middle age, and occupy the middle classes of life.) had I all the money which I pay in taxes to government, at liberty to lay out upon amusement and diversion, I know not whether I could make choice of any in which I could find greater pleasure than what I receive from expect- ing, hearing, and relating public news ; reading parliamentary debates and proceedings ; canvass- in ir the political arguments, projects, predictions, and intelligence, which are conveyed by various channels, to every corner of the -kingdom. These topics, exciting universal curiosity, and being such as almost every man is ready to form and prepared to deliver his opinion about, greatly pro- mote, and, I think, improve conversation. . They render it more rational and more innocent ; they supply a substitute for drinking, gaming, scandal,-, and obscenity. Now the secrecy, the jealousy, the solitude, and precipitation, of despotic govern- ments, exclude all this. .But the loss, you say, is trifling. I know that it is possible to render even the mention of it ridiculous by representing it as the idle employment of the most insignificant part of the nation, the folly of village-statesmen and coffee-house politicians: but I allow nothing to be a trifle which ministers to the harmless gratifica- tion of multitudes ; nor any order of men to be in- significant, whose number bears a respectable proportion to the sum of the whole community. We have been accustomed to an opinion, that a REPUBLICAN form of government suits only with the affairs of a small state : which opinion is found- ed in the consideration, that unless the people, in every district of the empire, be admitted to a share in the national representation, the govern- ment is not, as to them, a republic ; that elections, where the constituents are numerous, and dis- tl trough a wide extent of country, are con- ducted with difficulty, or 'rather, indeed, managed by the "intrigues, and combinations of a few, who are situated near the place of election each voter considering his single sul)ra<_re as too minute a portion of the general interest te deserve his care or attendance, much less to be worth any opposi- tion to influence and application ; that whilst we contract the representation within a compass small enough to admit of orderly debate, the in- terest of the constituent becomes too small, of the representative too great, ft is difficult also to maintain any connexion between them. He who represents two hundred thousand, is neces- sarily a stranger to the greatest part of those who elect him : and when his interest amongst them ceases to depend upon an acquaintance with their persons and character, or a care or know- ledge of* their affairs ; when such a representative finds the treasures and honours of a great empire at the disposal of a few, and himself one of the few, there is little reason to hope that he will not prefer to his public duty those temptations of personal aggrandisement -which his situation of- fers, and, which the price of his vote will always purchase. All appeal to the people is precluded by the impossibility of collecting a sufficient pro- portion of their force and numbers. The factions and the unanimity of the senate are equally danger- ous. Add to these considerations, that in a de- mocratic constitution the mechanism is too compli- cated, and the motions too slow, for the operations of a great empire ; whose defence and govern- ment require execution and despatch, in propor- tion to the magnitude, extent, and variety, of its concerns. There is weight, no doubt, m these reasons ; but much of the objection seems to be done away by the contrivance of a federal republic, which, distributing the country into districts of a cocpjpodious extent, and leaving to each district its internal legislation, reserves to a convention of the states the adjustment of their relative claims ; the levying, direction, and government, of the common fgrce of the confederacy ; the requisition of subsidies for the support of this force ; the mak- ing of peace and war ; the entering into treaties ; the regulation of foreign commerce ; the equali- zation of duties upon imports, so as to prevent the defrauding the revenue of one province by smuggling articles of taxation from the borders of another ; and likewise so as to guard against un- due partialities in the encouragement of trade. To what limits, such a republic, might, without inconveniency, enlarge its dominions, by assuming neighbouring provinces into the confederation ; or how far it is capable of uniting the liberty of a small commonwealth with the safety of a power- ful empire ; or whether, amongst co-ordinate 122 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. powers, dissensions and jealousies would not be likely to arise, which, for want of a common su- perior, might proceed to fatal extremities ; are questions upon which, the records of mankind do not authorise us to decide with tolerable certainty. The experiment is about to be tried in America upon a large scale. CHAPTER VII. Of the British Constitution. By the CONSTITUTION of a country, is meant so much of its law, as relates to the designation and form of the legislature ; the rights .and func- tions of the several parts of the legislative body ; the construction, office, and jurisdiction, of courts of justice. The constitution is one principal di- vision, section, or title, of the code of public laws ; distinguished from the rest only by the superior importance of the subject of which it treats. Therefore the terms constitutional and unconsti- tutional, mean legal and illegal. The distinction and the ideas wliich these terms denote, are found- ed in the same authority with the law of the land upon any other subject; and to be ascer- tained by the same inquiries. In England, the sys- tem of public jurisprudence is made up of acts of parliament, of decisions of courts of law, and of im- memorial usages ; consequently, these are the principles of which the English constitution itself consists, the sources from which ail our know- ledge of its nature and limitations is to be deduced. and the authorities to wliich all appeal ought to be made, and by which every constitutional doubt and question can alone be decided. This plain and intelligible definition is the more necessary to be preserved in our thoughts, as some writers upon the subject absurdly confound what is con stitutional with what is expedient ; pronouncing forthwith a measure to be unconstitutional, which they adjudge in any respect to be detrimental or dangerous : whilst others, again, ascribe a kind of transcendant authority, or mysterious sanctity, to the constitution, as if it were founded in some higher original than that which gives force and obligation to the ordinary laws and statutes of the realm, or were inviolable on any other account than its intrinsic utility. An act of parliament in England can never be unconstitutional, in the strict and proper acceptation pf the term ; in a lower sense it may, viz. when it militates with the spirit, contradicts the analogy, or defeats the pro- vision, of other laws, made to regulate the form of government. Even that flagitious abuse of their trust, by which a parliament of Henry the Eighth conferred upon the king's proclamation the au- thority of law, was unconstitutional only in this latter sense. Most of those who treat of the British consti- tution, consider it as a scheme of government formally planned and contrived by our ancestors, in some certain era of our national history, and as set up in pursuance of such regular plan and de- sign. Something of this sort is secretly sup- posed, or referred to, in the expressions of those who speak of the " principles of the constitution," of bringing back the constitution >to its "first principles, of restoring it to its " original pu- rity," or " primitive model." Now this appears to me an erroneous conception of the subject. No such plan was ever formed, consequently IK> such first principles, original model, or standard, exist: I mean, there never was a date or point of time 'in our history, when the government of England was to be set up anew, and when it was referred to any single person, or assembly, or committee, to frame a charter for the i'uture go- vernment of the country ; or when a constitution so prepared and digested, was by common consent received and established. In the time of the civil wars, or rather between the death of Charles the First and the restoration of his son, many such projects were published, but none were carried into execution. The Great Charter, and the Bill of Rights, were wise and strenuous efforts to obtain security against certain abuses of regal power, by wliich the subject had been formerly aggrieved : but these were, either of them, much too partial modiJieations of the constitution, to give it a new original. The constitution of Eng- land, like that of most countries of Europe, hath grown out of occasion and emergency ; from the fluctuating policy of different ages-; from the con- tentions, successes, interests, and opport unities, of different orders and parties of men in the com- munity. It resembles one of those old mansions, which, instead of being built all at once, after a regular plan, and according to the rules of architecture at present established, has been reared in different ages of the art. has been altered from time to time, and has been continually re- ceiving additions and repairs suited to the taste, fortune, or conveniency, of its successive pro- prietors. In such a building, we look in vain for the elegance and proportion, for the just order and correspondence of parts, which we expect in a modern edifice; and which external symmetry, after all, contributes much more perhaps to the amusement of the beholder, than the accommoda- tion of the inhabitant. In the British, and possibly in all other consti- tutions, there exists a wide difference between the actual state of the government and the theory. The one results from the other : but still they are different. When we contemplate the theory of the British government, we see the king invested with the most absolute personal impunity ; with a power of rejecting laws, which have been re- solved upon by both houses of parliament ; of con- ferring by his charter, upon any set or succession of men he pleases, the privilege of sending re- presentatives into one house of parliament, as by ,his immediate appointment he can place whom he will in the other. What is this, a foreigner might ask, but a more circuitous despotism ? Yet, when we turn our attention from the legal extent, to the^actual exercise of royal authority in Eng- land, we see these formidable prerogatives dwin- dled into mere ceremonies ; and, in their stead, a sure and. commanding influence, of which the constitution, it seems, is totally ignorant, grow- ing out of that enormous patronage which the increased territory and opulence of the empire have placed in the disposal of the executive ma- gistrate. . Upon questions of reform, the habit of reflec- tion to be encouraged, is a sober comparison of the constitution under which we live, not with models of speculative perfection, but with the ac- tual chance of obtaining a better. This turn of thought will generate a political disposition, equally removed from that puerile admiration of OP THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 123 present establishments, which sees no fault, and can endure no change; and that distempered sensibility, which is alive only to perceptions of inconveniency, and is too impatient to be -deliver- ed from the uneasiness which it feels, to compute either the peril or expense of the remedy. Po- litical innovations commonly produce many effect! beside those that are intended. The direct con- sequence is often the least important. Incidental, remote, and unthought-of evil or advantages, fre- quently exceed the good that is designed, or the mischief that is foreseen. It is from the silent and unobserved operation, from the obscure pro- gress of causes set at work for different purposes, that the crreatest revolutions take thoir rise. "When Elizabeth, and her immediate successor, applied themselves to the encouragement and regulation of trade by many wise 1 tws. they knew not, that, to- gether with wealth and industry, they were dif- fusing a consciousness of strength and independ- ency, which would not long endure, under the, forms of a mixed government, the dominion of arbitrary prince^. When it was debated whether the mutiny act, the law by which the army is governed and maintained, should be- temporary or perpetual, little else probably occurred to the ad- vocates of an annual bill, than the expedii retaining a control over the most dangerous pre- rogative of the crown, the direction and maud of a standing army ; whereas, in its filed, this single reservation has altered the who. and quality of the British constitution. For since, in consequence ui'thti military system which pre- vails in neighlxnrringand rival nations, as well as on account of the internal exigencies of govern- ment, a standing army has Uvome essential to the safety and administration of the empire, it enables parliament, by discontinuing this ne.vs- sary provision, so to enforce its resolutions upon any other subject, as to render the king's dissent to a law which has received the approbation of both houses, too dangerous an exj>eriinent any- longer to l>e advised. A contest between the king and parliament, cannot now be persevered in with- out a dissolution of the government. Lastly, w Inn the constitution conferred upon the crown the nomination to all employments in the public ser- vice, the authors of this arrangement were led to it, by the obvious propriety of leaving to a master the choice of his servants; and by the manifest inconveniency of engaging the national council, upon every vacancy, in those personal contests which attend elections to places of honour and emolument. Our ancestors did not observe that this disposition added an influence to the regal office, which, as the number and value of public employments increased, would supersede in a great measure the forms, and change the charac- ter, of the ancient constitution. They knew not, what the experience and reflection of modern ages have discovered, that patronage, universally, is power ; that he who possesses in a sufficient decree the means of gratifving the desires of mankind after wealth and distinction, by whatever checks and forms his authority may be limited or dis- guised, will direct the management of public af- fairs. Whatever be the mechanism of the political engine, he will guide the motion. These instances. are adduced in order to illustrate the proposition which we laid down, that, in poU'tics, the most important and permanent effects have, for the most part, been incidental and unforeseen: and this proposition we inculcate, for the sake of the caution which teaches that changes ought not to be adventured upon without a comjirchensirc dis- cernment of the consequences, without a know- ledge as well of the remote tendency, as of the immediate design. The courage of a statesman should resemble that of a commander, who, how- ever regardless of personal danger, never forgets, that, with his own, he commits the lives and for- tunes .of a multitude ; and who does not consider it as any proof of zeal or valour, to. stake the safety of other men upon the success of a perilous or des- perate enterprise. There is one end of civil government peculiar to a good constitution, namely, the happiness of its subjects ; there is another end essential to a good government, but common to it with many bad ones, its own preservation. Observing that the best fonn of government would be defective, which did not provide lor its own permanency, in our political reasonings we consider all such pro- visions as expedient ; and are content to accept as a sufficient ground for a measure, or law, that it is necessary or conducive to the preservation of the constitution. Yet, in truth, such provisions are absolutely expedient, and such an excuse linnl, only whilst the constitution is worth preserving; : In; is, until it can be exchanged for a better. I this distinction, because many things in the English, as in every constitution, are to be vindicated and accounted for solely from their tendency to maintain the government in its pre- sent state, and the several parts of it in possession of the..powcrs which the constitution has assigned to them; and because I would wish it to be re- marked, that such a consideration is always sub- ordinate to another, the value and usefulness of the constitution itself. The Government of England, which has been sometimes called a mixed government, sometimes a limited monarchy, is formed by a combination of the. three regular species of government : the monarchy residing in the King ; the aristocracy, in the House of Lords ; and the republic, being represented by the House of Commons. The perfection intended by such a scheme of govern- ment is, to unite the advantages of the several simple forms, and to exclude the inconvcniencies. To what degree this purpose is attained or attain- able in the British constitution; wherein it is lost sight of or neglected ; and by what means it may in any part be promoted with better success, the reader will be enabled to judge, by a separate recollection of these advantages and inconve- niencies, as enumerated in the preceding chapter, and a distinct application of each to the political condition of this country. \Ve will present our remarks upon the subject in a brief account of the expedients by which the British constitution provides, 1st, For the interest of its subjects. 2dly, For its own preservation. The contrivances for the first of their purposes, are the following : In order to promote the establishment of salu- tary public laws, every citizen of the state is ca- pable of becoming a member of the senate : and every senator possesses the right of propounding to the deliberation of the legislature whatever law he pleases. Every district of the empire enjoys the privilege of choosing representatives, informed 01 the in- MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. rf, and circumstances, and desires of their constituents, and entitled by their situation to communincate that information to the national council. The meanest subject' has some one whom he can call upon to bring forward liis com- plaints and requests to public attention. By annexing the right of voting for members of the House of Commons to different qualifications in different places, each order and profession of men in the community become virtually repre- sented ; that is, men of all orders and professions, statesmen, courtiers, country-gentlemen, lawyers, merchants, manufacturers, soldiers, sailors, in- terested in the prosperity, and experienced in the occupation, of their respective professions, obtain seats in parliament. The elections, at the same time, are so con- nected with the influence of landed property, as to afford a certainty that a considerable number of men of great estates will- be returned to par- liament ; and are also so modified, that men the most eminent and successful in their respective professions, are the most likely, by their riches, or the weight of their stations, to prevail in these competitions. The number, fortune, arid quality, of the mem- bers; the variety of interests and characters amongst them; above all, the temporary dura- tion of their power, and the change of men which every new election produces ; are so many secu- rities to the public, as well against the subjection of their judgments to any external dictation, as against the formation of a junto in their own body, sufficiently powerful to govern their de- cisions. The representatives are so intermixed with the constituents, and the constituents with the rest of the people, that they cannot, without a par- tiality too flagrant to be endured, impose any burthen upon the subject, in which they do not share themselves; nor scarcely can they adopt an advantageous regulation, in which their own interests will not participate of the advantage. The proceedings and debates of parliament, and the parliamentary conduct of each representative, are known by the people at large. - The representative is so far dependent upon the constituent, and political importance upon public favour, that a member of parliament cannot more effectually recommend himself to eminence and advancement in the state, than by contriving and patronizing laws of public utility. When intelligence of the condition, wants, and occasions, of the people, is thus collected from every quarter ; when such a variety of invention, and so many understandings, are set at work upon the subject ; it may be presumed, that the most eligible expedient', remedy, or improvement, will occur to spme one or other : and when a wise counsel, or beneficial regulation, is once suggested, it may be expected, from the disposition o'f an assembly so constituted as the British House of Commons is, that it cannot fail of receiving the approbation of a majority. To prevent those destructive contentions for the supreme power, which are sure to take- place where the members of the state do not live under an acknowledged head, and- a known rule of sue-" cession ; to preserve the people in tranquillity at home, by a speedy and vigorous execution of the laws ; to protect their interest abroad, by strength and energy in military operations, by those advan- tages of decision, secrecy, and despatch, which belong to the resolutions of monarchical coun- cils; for these purposes, the constitution has committed the executive government to the ad- ministration and limited authority of an hereditary king. In the defence of the empire; in the main- tenance of its power, dignity, and privileges with foreign nations ; in the advancement of its trade by treaties and conventions ; and in the providing for the general administration of municipal jus- tice, by a proper choice and appointment of ma- gistrates ; the inclination of the king and of the people usually coincides ; in this part, therefore, of the regal office, the constitution entrusts the prerogative with ample powers. The dangers principally to be apprehended from regal government, relate to the two articles taxation and punishment. In every form of go- vernment, from which the people are excluded, it is the interest of the governors to get as much, and of- the governed to give as little, as they can : the power also of punishment, in the hands of an arbitrary prince, oftentimes becomes an engine of extortion, jealousy, and revenge. Wisely, there- fore, hath the British constitution guarded the safety of the people, in these two points, by the most studious precautions. Upon that of taxation, every law which, by the remotest construction, may be deemed to levy money upon the property of the sub- ject, must originate, that is, must first be pro- posed and assented to, hi the House of Com- mons : by which regulation, accompanying the weight which that assembly possesses in all its functions, the levying of taxes is almost ex- clusively reserved to the popular part of the con- stitution, who, it is presumed, will not tax them- selves, nor their fellow-subjects, without beincr first convinced of the necessity of the aids which they grant. The application also of the public supplies^ is watched with the same circumspection as the as- sessment. Many taxes are annual ; the produce of others is mortgaged, or appropriated to specific services : the expenditure of all of them is ac- counted for in the House of Commons; as com- putations of the charge of the purpose for which they are wanted, are previously submitted to the same tribunal. In the infliction of punishment, the power of the crown, and of the magistrate appointed by the crown, is confined by the most precise limitations : the guilt of the offender must be pronounced by twelve, men of his'own order, indifferently chosen out of the county where the offence was com- mitted : the punishment, or the limits to which the punishment maybe extended, are ascertained, and affixed to the crime, by laws which know not the person of the criminal. * And whereas arbitrary or clandestine confine- ment is the injury most to be, dreaded from the strong hand of the executive government, because it deprives the prisoner at once of protection and defence, and delivers him into the power, and to the malicious or interested designs, of his enemies ; the "constitution has provided against this danger with double solicitude. The ancient writ of ha- beas corpus, the last habeas-corpus act of Charles the Second, and the practice and determinations of our sovereign courts of justice founded upon OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 125 these laws, afford a complete remedy for every conceivable case of illegal imprisonment.* Treason being that charge, under colour o which the destruction of an obnoxious individua is often sought ; and government being at a times more immediately a party in the prosecu tionj the law, beside the general care with wind it watches over the satety of the accused, in tin case, sensible of the unequal contest in which tin subject is engaged, has assisted his defence with extraordinary indulgences. By two statutes enacted since the Revolution, every person in dieted for high treason shall have a copy of hi indictment, a list of the witnesses to be produced and of the jury impannelled, delivered to him tci days before the trial ; lie is also permitted to make his defence by counsel : privileges which are not allowed to the prisoner, in a trial for any other crime : and, what is of more importance to the party than all the rest, the testimony of two wit- nesses, at the least, is required to convict a person of treason ; whereas, one positive witness is suf- ficient in almost every other species of accusation We proceed, in the second place, to inquire ii: what manner the constitutiorrhas provided for its, own preservation ; that is, in what manner each part of the legislature is secured in the of the powers assigned to it, from the encroach ments of the other parts. This security is some times called the balance of the constitution: am the political equilibrium, which this phrase de- notes, consists in two contrivances^ a balance of power, and a balance of interest. By a balance of power is meant, that there is no power possessed by one part of the legislature, the abuse or excess of which is not checked by some antagonist power, residing in another part. Thus the power of the two houses of parliament to frame laws, is checked by the king's negative : that, if laws subversive of regal government should obtain the consent of parliament, the reigning prince, by interposing his prerogative, may save the necessary rights and authority of his station. On the other hand, the arbitrary application of this negative is checked by the privilege which parliament possesses, of re- fusing supplies of money to the exigencies of the king's administration. The constitutional maxim, "that the king can do no wrong," is balanced by * Upon complaint in writing by, or on behalf of, any person in confinement, to any of the four courts of Westminster-Hall, in term-time, or to the Lord Chan- cellor, or one of the Judges, in the vacation ; and upon a probable reason being suggested to question the le- gality of the detention ; a writ is issued to the person in whoso custody the complainant is alleged to be, commanding him, within a certain limited and short time, to produce the body of the prisoner, and the au- thority under which he is detained. Upon the return of the writ, strict and instantaneous obedience to which is enforced by very severe penalties, if no lawful cause of imprisonment appear, the court or judge, before whom the prisoner is brought, is authorized and bound to discharge him ; oven though he may have been com- mitted by a secretary, or other high officer of state, by he privy-council, or by the king in person : so that no subject of this realm can be held in confinement by any power, or under any pretence whatever, provided lie can find means to convey his complaint to one of the four courts of Westmirrtter-Hall, or, during their recess, to any of the Judges of the same, unless all these several tribunals agree in determining his imprisonment to be j < mavmake application to thorn in succession ; and if one out of the number be found, who thinks the prisoner entitled to his liberty, that one possesses au- - Uiority to restore it to him. another maxim, not less constitutional, " that the illegal commands of the king do not justify those who assist, or concur, in carrying them into exe- cution;" and by a second rule, subsidiary to this, " that the acts of the crown acquire not a legal force, until authenticated by the subscription of some of its great officers.' 7 The \visdom of this contrivance is worthy of observation. As the king could not be punished, without a civil war, the constitution exempts his person from trial or account ; but, lest this impunity should encourage a licentious exercise of dominion, various obsta- cles are opposed to the private will of the sove- reign, when directed to illegal objects. The pleasure of the crown must be announced with certain solemnities, and attested by certain officers of state. In some cases, the royal order must be signified by a secretary of state ; in others it must pass under the privy, seal: and, in many, under the great seal. And when the king's command is regularly published, no mischief can be achieved by it, without the ministry and compliance of those to whom it is directed. Now all who either concur irr an illegal order by authenticating its publication with their seal or subscription, or who in any manner assist in carrying it into execution, subject themselves to prosecution and punishment, for the part they haver taken ; and are not per- mitted to plead or produce the command of the king in justification of their obedience* But farther: the power of the crown to direct the military force of the kingdom, is balanced by the annual necessity of resorting to parliament for the maintenance and government of that force. The power of the king to declare war, is checked by the privilege of the House of Commons, to grant or withhold the supplies by which the war must be carried on. The king's choice of his ministers is controlled *by the obligation he is under of ap- pointing those men to offices in the state, who are found capable of managing the affairs of hie go- vernment, with the two Tiouses of parliament. Which consideration imposes such a necessity upon the crown, as hath in a great measure sub- dued the influence of favouritism ; insomuch that it is become no uncommon spectacle in this coun- try, to see men promoted by the king to the high- est offices and richest preferments which he has in his power to bestow, who have been distin- guished by their opposition to his personal in- clinations. By the balance of interest, which accompanies and gives efficacy to the balance of power, is meant this ; that the respective interests of the hree estates of the empire are so disposed and idj usted, that whichever of the three shall attempt any encroachment, the other two will unite in re- isting it. If the king should endeavour to extend * Amongst the checks which Parliament holds over he administration of public affairs, I forbear to men- on the practice of addressing the king, to know by vhose advice he resolved upon a particular measure ; ml of punishing the authors of that advice, for the ounscl they had given. Not because I think this nie- hod either unconstitutional or improper ; but for this eason, that it does not so much subject the king to he control of Parliament, as it supposes him to be Iready in subjection. For if the king were so far out f the reach of the resentment of the House of Com- ions, as to be able with safety to refuse the informa- on requested, or to take upon himself the respon- bility inquired after, there must be an end of all pro- ceedings founded in this mode of application. 126 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. his authority, by contracting the power and pri- vileges of the Commons, the House of Lords would see their own dignity endangered by every advance which the crown made to independency upon the resolutions of parliament. The admis.- sion of arbitrary power is no less formidable to the grandeur of the aristocracy, than it is fatal to the Sberty of the republic ; that is, it would reduce the nobility from the hereditary share they possess in the national councils, in which their real great- ness consists, to the being made a part of the empty pageantry of a despotic court. On the other hand, if the House of Commons should in- trench upon the distinct province, or usurp the established prerogative of the crown, the House of Lords would receive an instant alarm from every new stretch of popular power. In every contest in which the king may be engaged with the representative body, in defence of his esta- blished share of authority, he will find a sure ally in the collective power of the nobility. An attach- ment to the monarchy, from which they derive their own distinction ; the allurements of a court, in the habits and with the sentiments of which they have been brought up ; their hatred of equa- lity and of all levelling pretensions, which may ultimately affect the privileges, or even the ex-, istence, of their order; in short, every principle and every prejudice which are wont to actuate human conduct, will determine their choice to the side and support of the crown. Lastly, if the nobles themselves should attempt to revive the superiorities which their ancestors exercised under the feudal constitution, the king and the people would alike remember, how the one had been in- sutted, and the other enslaved, by that barbarous tyranny. They would forget the natural opposi- tion of their views and inclinations, when they saw themselves threatened with the return of a domination which was odious and intolerable to both. THE reader will have observed, that in describing the British constitution, little notice has been taken of the House of Lords. The proper use and de- sign of this part of the constitution, are the follow- ing : First, to enable the king, by his right of be- stowing the peerage, to reward the servants of the public, in a manner most, grateful to them, at a small expense to the nation : secondly, to fortify the power and to secure the stability of regal go- vernment, by an order of men naturally allied to its interests: and, thirdly, to answer a purpose, which, though of superior importance to the other two, does not occur so readily to our observation ; namely, to stem the progress of popular fury. Large bodies of men are subject to sudden phreri- sies. Opinions are sometimes circulated amongst a multitude without proof or examination, ac- quiring confidence and reputation merely by be- ing repeated from one to another ; and passions founded upon these opinions, diffusing themselves with a rapidity which can neither be accounted for nor resisted, may agitate a country with the most violent commotions. Now the only way to stop the fermentation, is to divide the mass ; that is, to erect different orders in the community, with separate prejudices and interests. And this may occasionally become the use of an hereditary no- bility, invested with a share of legislation. Averse to those prejudices which actuate the minds of the vulgar ; accustomed to 'condemn the clamour of the populace; disdaining to receive laws and opinions from their interiors in rank ; they will oppose resolutions which arc founded in the folly and violence of the lower part of the community. Were the voice of the people always dictated by reflection ; did every man, or even one man, in a hundred, think for himself, or actually consider the measure he was about to approve or censure ; or even were the common people tolerably stead- fast in the judgment which they formed, I should hold the interferences of a superior order not only superfluous, but wrong: for when every thing is allowed to difference of rank and education, which the actual state of these advantages de- serves, that, after all, is most likely to be right and expedient, which appears to be so to the separate judgment and decision of a great majority of the nation ; at least, that, in general, is right for them, which is agreeable to their fixed opinions and de- sires. But when we observe what is urged as the public opinion, to be, in truth, the opinion only, or perhaps the feigned profession, of a few crafty leaders ; that the numbers who join in the cry, serve only to swell and multiply the sound, with- out any accession of judgment, or exercise of un- derstanding ; and that oftentimes the wisest coun- sels have been thus overborne by tumult and uproar ; we may conceive occasions to arise, in which the commonwealth may be saved by tho reluctance of the nobility to adopt the caprices, or to yield to the vehemence, of the common people. In expecting this advantage from an order of no- bles, we do not suppose the nobility to be more unprejudiced than others ; we only suppose that their prejudices will be different from, and may occasionally counteract, those of others. If the personal privileges of the peerage, which are usually so many injuries to the rest of the community, be restrained, I see little inconve- niency in the increase of its number ; for it is only dividing the same quantity of power amongst more hands, which is rather favourable to public freedom than otherwise. The admission of a small number of ecclesias- tics into the House of Lords, is but an equitable compensation to the clergy for the exclusion of their order from the House of Commons. They are a set of men considerable by their number and property, as well as by their influence, and the duties of their station; yet, whilst every other pro- fession has those amongst the national represen- tatives, who, being conversant in the same occu- pation, are able to state, and naturally disposed to support, the rights and interests of the class and calling to which they belong, the clergy alone are deprived of this advantage : which hardship is made up to them by introducing the prelacy into parliament ; and if bishops, from gratitude or ex- pectation, be more obsequious to the will of the crown than those who possess great temporal in- heritances, they are properly inserted into that part of the constitution, from which much or fre- quent resistance to the measures of government is not expected. I acknowledge, that I perceive no sufficient reason for exempting the persons of members of either house of parliament from arrest for debt. The counsels or suffrage of a single senator, especially of one who in the management of his own affairs may justly be suspected of a want of prudence or honesty, can seldom be so necessary OP THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. 127 to those of the public, as to justify a departure from that wholesome policy, by which the laws of a commercial state punish and stigmatize insol- vency. But, whatever reason may be pleaded for their personal immunity, when this privilege of parliament is extended to domestics and retainers, or when it is permitted to impede or delay the course of judicial proceedings, it becomes an ab- surd sacrifice of equal justice to imaginary dignity. There is nothing in the British constitution so remarkable, as the irregularity of the popular re- presentation. The Plouse of Commons consists of live hundred and fifty-eight members, of whom two hundred are elected by seven thousand con- stituents ; so that a majority of these seven thou- sand, without any reasonable title to superior weight or influence in the state, may, under cer- tain circumstances, decide a question against the opinion of as many millions. Or, to place the same object in another point of view : If my estate be situated in one county of the kingdom, I pos- sess the ten-thousandth part of a single represen- tative ; if in another, the thousandth ; if in a par- ticular district, I may be one in twenty who choose two representatives; if in a still more favoured spot, I may enjoy the riglit of appointing two myself. If I have been born, or dwell, or have served an apprenticeship, in one town, I am re- presented in the national assembly by two depu- ties, in the choice of whom I exercise an actual and sensible share of power; if accident has thrown my birth, or habitation, or service, into another town, I have no representative at all, nor more power or concern in the election of those who make the laws by which I am governed, than if I was a subject of the Grand Signior : and this partiality subsists without any pretence whatever of merit or of propriety, to justify the preference of one place to another. Or, thirdly, to descrilx' the state of national representation as it exists in reality, it may be affirmed, I believe, with truth, that about one half of the House of Commons obtain their seats in that assembly by the election of the people, the other half by purchase, or by the nomination of single proprietors of gre it r This is a llagrant incongruity in the constitu- tion; but it is one of those objections which strike most forcibly at first sight. The effect of all rea- soning upon the subject is, to diminish the iirst impression; on which account it deserves the more attentive examination, that we may be as- sured, before we adventure upon a reformation, that the magnitude of the evil justices the danger of the experiment. In a few remarks that follow, we would be understood, in the first place, to decline all conference with those who wish to al- ter the form of government of these kingdoms. The reformers with whom we have to do, are they who, whilst they change this part of the sys- tem, would retain the rest. If any Englishman expect more happiness to his country under a re- public, he may very consistently recommend a new-modelling of elections to parliament; because, if the King and House of Lords were laid aside, the present disproportionate representation would produce nothing but a confused and ill-digested oligarchy. In like manner we have a controversy with those writers who insist upon representation as a natural right :* we consider it so far only as * If this right be natural, no doubt it must be equal ; and the right, we may add, of oue sex, as well aa of the a right at all, as it conduces to public utility; that is, as it contributes to the establishment of good laws, or as it secures to the people the just ad- ministration of these laws. These effects depend upon the disposition and abilities of the national counsellors. Wherefore, if men the most likely by their qualifications to know and to promote the public interest, be actually returned to parliament, it signifies little who return them. If the proper- est persons be elected, what matters it by whom they are elected? At least, no prudent statesman would subvert long-established or even settled rules of representation, without a prospect of pro- curing wiser or better representatives. This men being well observed, let us, before we seek to ob- tain any thing more, consider duly what we al- ready have. vVe hare a House of Commons composed of five hundred and fifty-eight mem- bers, in which number are found the most considerable landholders and merchants of the kingdom ; the heads of the army, the navy, and the law ; the occupiers of great offices in the state ; together with many private individuals, eminent by their knowledge, eloquence, or activity. Now if the country be not sale in such hands, in whose may it confide its interests'? If such a number of such men be liable to the influence of corrupt mo- tives. wliat assembly of men will be secure from the same danger 1 Does any new scheme of re- presentation promise to collect together more wisdom, or to produce firmer integrity.'? In this view of the subject, and attending not to ideas of order and proportion (of which many minds are much enamoured,) but to effects alone, we may discover just excuses for those parts of the present representation which appear to a hasty observer most exceptionable and absurd. It should be re- membered, as a maxim extremely applicable to this subject, that no order or assembly of men whatever can long maintain their place and au- thority in a mixed LTO\ eminent, of which the mem- bers do not individually possess a respectable share of personal importance. Now whatever may be the defects of the present arrangement, it infalli- bly secures a great weight of property to the House of Commons, by^ rendering many seats in that house accessible to men of large fortunes, and to such men alone.. By which means those cha- racters are engaged in the defence of the separate rights and interests of this branch of the legisla- ture, that are best able to support its claims. The constitution of most of the small boroughs, espe- cially the burgage tenure, contributes, though un- designedly,* to the same effect : for the appoint- ment of the representatives we find commonly annexed to certain great inheritances. Elections purely popular are in this respect uncertain: in times of tranquillity, the natural ascendancy of wealth will prevail; but when the minds of men are inflamed by political dissensions, this in- fluence often yields ta more impetuous motives. The variety of tenures and qualifications, upon which the right of voting is founded, appears to me a recommendation of the mode which now subsists, as it tends to introduce into parliament a other. Whereas every plan of representation that we have heard of, begins by excluding the votes of wojnen ; thus cutting off, at a single stroke, one half of the pub- lic from a right which is asserted to be inherent in all; a riuht too, as some represent it, not only universal, but (inalienable, and indefeasible, and imprescriptible. 128 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY corresponding mixture of characters and profes- sions. It has been long observed that conspicuous abilities are most frequently found with the re- presentatives of small boroughs. And this is no- thing more than what the laws of human conduct might teach us to expect : when such boroughs are set to sale, those men are likely to become pur- chasers, who are enabled by their talents to make the best of their bargain : when a seat is not sold, but given by the opulent proprietor of a burgage tenure, the patron finds his own interest consulted, by the reputation and abilities of the member whom he nominates. If certain of the nobility hold the appointment of some part of the House of Com- mons, it serves to maintain that alliance between the two branches of the legislature which no good citizen would wish to see dissevered : it helps to keep the government of the country in the House of Commons, in which it would not perhaps long continue to reside, if so powerful and wealthy a part of the nation as the peerage compose, were excluded from all share and interest in its con- stitution. If there be a few boroughs so circum- stanced as to lie at the disposal of the crown, whilst the number of such is known and small, they may be tolerated with little danger. For where would be the impropriety or the inconve- niency, if the king at once should nominate a limited number of his servants to seats in parlia- ment ; or, what is the same thing, if seats in par- liament were annexed to the possession of certain of the most efficient and responsible offices in the state 1 The present representation, after all these deductions, and under the confusion in which it confessedly lies, is still in such a degree popular, or rather the representatives are so connected with the mass of the community by a society of interests and passions, that the will of the people, when it is determined, permanent and general, almost always at length prevails. Upon the whole, in the several plans which have been suggested, of an equal or a reformed representation, it will be difficult to discover any proposal that has a tendency to throw more of the business of the nation into the House of Com- mons, or to collect a set of men more fit to trans- act that business, or in general more interested in the national happiness and prosperity. One con- sequence, however, may be expected from these projects, namely, " less flexibility to the influ r ence of the crown." And since the diminution of this influence is the declared and perhaps the sole design of the various schemes that have been produced, whether for regulating the elections, contracting the duration, or for purifying the constitution of parliament by the exclusion, of placemen and pensioners ; it is obvious to remark, that the more apt and natural, as well as the more safe and quiet way of 'attaining the same end, would be by a direct reduction of the patronage of the crown, which might be, effected to a certain extent without hazarding further consequences. Superfluous and exorbitant emoluments of office may not only be suppressed for the .present ; but provisions of law be devised, which should for the future restrain within certain limits the number and value of the offices in the donation of the king. But whilst we dispute concerning different schemes of reformation, all directed to the same end, a previous doubt occurs in the debate, whe- ther the end itself be good or safe : whether the influence so loudly complained of, can be destroy- ed, or even much diminished, without danger to the state. Whilst the zeal of some men beholds this influence with a jealousy which nothing but its entire abolition can appease, many wise and virtuous politicians deem a considerable portion of it to be as necessary a part of the British consti- tution, as any other ingredient in the composition ; to be that, indeed, which gives cohesion and so- lidity to the whole. Were the measures of go- vernment, say they, opposed from nothing but principle, government ought to have nothing but the rectitude of its measures to support them: but since opposition springs from other motives, government must possess an influence to counter- act these motives ; to produce, not a bias of the passions, but a neutrality ; it must have some weight to cast into the scale, to set the balance even. It is the nature of power, always to press upon the boundaries which confine it. Licen- tiousness, faction, envy, impatience of control or inferiority ; the secret pleasure of mortifying the great, or the hope of dispossessing them, a con- stant willingness to question and thwart whatever is dictated or even proposed by another ; a dispo- sition common to all bodies of men, to extend the claims and authority of their orders ; above all, that love of power, and of showing it, which resides more or less in every human breast, and which, in popular assemblies, is inflamed, like every other passion, by communication and en- couragement : these motives, added to private designs and resentments, cherished also by popu- lar acclamation, and operating upon tlI6 great share of power already possessed by the House of Commons, might induce a majority, or, at least a large party of men in that assembly, to unite in endeavouring to draw to themselves the whole go- vernment of 'the state : or, at least, so to obstruct the conduct of public affairs, by a wanton and perverse opposition, as to render it impossible for the wisest statesman to cany forwards the business of the nation with success or satisfaction. Some passages of our national history afford grounds for these apprehensions. Before the ac- cession of James the First, or, at least, during the reigns of his three immediate predecessors, the government of England was a government by force ; that is, the king carried his measures in parliament by intimidation. A sense of personal danger kept the members of the House of Com- mons in subjection. A conjunction of fortunate causes delivered, at last, the parliament and nation from slavery. That overbearing system which had declined in the hands of James, expired early in the reign of his son. After the Restoration, there succeeded in its place, and, since the Revo- lution, has been methodically pursued, the more successful expedient of influence. Now we re- member what passed between the loss of terror, and the establishment of influence. The trans- actions of that interval, whatever WP m:iy think of their occasion or cilect, no friend of reg.il govern- ment would wish to see revived. But the af lairs of this kingdom afford a more recent attestation to the same doctrine. In the British colonies of North America, the late assemblies possessed much of the power and constitution of our House of Commons. The king and government "of Great Britain held no patronage in the country, which could create attachment and influence suf- ficient to counteract that restless arrogating spirit, which, in popular assemblies, when left to itself, OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 1-20 will never brook an authority that checks and in- terferes with its own. To this cause, excited per- haps by some unseasonable provocations, we may attribute, as to their true and proper original, (we will not say the misfortunes, but) the changes that have taken place in the British empire. The ad- monition which such examples suggest, will have its weight with those who are content with the general frame of the English constitution; and who consider stability amongst the first perfections of any government. We protest, however, against any construction by which what is here said shall be attempted to be applied to the justification of bribery, or of any clandestine reward or solicitation whatever. The very secrecy of such negotiations confesses or be- gets a consciousness of guilt ; which when the mind is once taught to endure without uneasiness, the character is prepared for e\erv compliance: and there is the greater danger in these corrupt practices, as the extt ut of their operation is un- limited and unknown. Our apology relates solely to that influence, wliich results from the accept- ance or expectation of public preferments. Nor does the intluence, which we defend, require any sacrifice of personal probity. In political, above all other subjects, the arguments or rather the conjectures on each side of the question, are often so equally poised, that the wisest jud_niu nts may be held in" suspense: these I call subjects of indifference. But again; when the subject is not indifferent in itself, it will appear such to a great, part of those to whom it is proposed, for want of information, or reflection, or experience, or of capacity to collect and weigh the reasons by which cither side is supported. These are subjects of apparent indifference. This indifference occurs still more frequently in personal contests: in which we do not often disco\cr any reason of public utility for the preference of one competitor to another. These cas. s compose the province of influence : that is, the decision in these cases will inevitably be determined by influence of some sort or other. The only doubt "is, what influence shall be admitted. If you remove the influence of the crown, it is only to make way for influence from a different quarter. 1 f motives of expectation and gratitude be withdrawn, other motives will suc- ceed in their place, acting probably in an opposite direction, but equally irrelative and external to the proper merits of the question. There exist, as we have seen, passions in the human heart. which will always make a strong party against the executive power of a mixed government. Ac- cording as the disposition of parliament is friendly or adverse to the recommendation of the crown in matters which are really or apparently indifferent, as indifference hath been now explained, the bu- siness of the empire will be transacted with ease and convenience, or embarrassed with endless contention and difficulty. Nor is it a conclusion founded in justice, or warranted by experience, that because men are induced by views of interest to yield their consent to measures concerning wliich their judgment decides nothing, they may be brought by the same influence to act in deli- berate opposition to knowledge and duty. Who- ever reviews the operations of government in this country since the Revolution, will iind few even of the most questionable measures of administra- tion, about which the best-instructed judgment might not have doubted at the time j but of which R we may affirm with certainty, they were indiffer- ent to the greatest part of those who concurred in them. From the- success, or the facility, with which they wjho dealt out tbe patronage of the crown carried measures like these, ought we to conclude, that a similar application of honours and emoluments would procure the consent of parliaments to counsels evidently detrimental to the common welfare 1 Is there not, on the con- trary, more reason to fear, that the prerogative, if deprived of influence, would not be long able to sup- port itself? For when we reflect upon the power of the House of Commons to extort a compliance with its resolution from the other parts of the le- gislature ; or to put to death the constitution by a refusal of the annual grants of money to the sup- port of the necessary functions of government ; when we reflect also what motives there are, which, in the. vicissitudes of political interests and passions, may one day arm and point this power against the executive magistrate ; when we attend to these considerations, we shajl be led perhaps to acknowledge, that there is not more of paradox than of truth in that important, but much decried apothegm, "that an independent parliament is incompatible with the existence of the monarchy." CHAPTER VIII. Of the Administration of Justice. THE first maxim of a free state is, that the laws be made by one set of men, and administered by another; in other words, that the legislative anil judicial characters lie kept separate. When these offices are united in the same person or assembly, particular laws are made for particular cases, springing oftentimes from partial motives, and di- rected to priv ate ends : whilst they are kept sepa- rate, general laws are made by one body of men, without foreseeing whom they may affect; and, when made, must be applied by the other, let them affect whom they will. For the sake of illustration, let it be supposed, in this country, eitherthat, parliaments being laid aside, the courts of Westminster-Hall made their own laws; or that the two houses of parliament, with the King at their head, tried and decided causes at their bar : it is evident, in the first place, that the decisions of such a judicature would be so many law r s; and in the second place, that, when the parties and the interests to be affected by the law were known, the inclinations of the law-ma- kers would inevitably attach to one side or the other; and that where there were nrither any fix- ed rules to regulate their determinations, nor any superior power to control their proceedings, these inclinations would interfere with the integrity of public justice. The consequence of which must IH-, that the subjects of such a constitution would live either without any constant laws, that is, with- out any known pre-established rules of adjudica- tion whatever ; or under laws made for particular persons, and partaking of the contradictions and iniquity of the motives to which they owed their origin. Which dangers, by the division of the legisla- tive and judicial functions, are in this country ef- fectually provided against. Parliament knows not the individuals upon whom its acts will operate ; it has no cases or parties before it ; no private de- 130 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. signs to serve ; consequently, its resolutions will be suggested by the consideration of universal ef- fects and tendencies, which always produces im- partial, and commonly advantageous regulations. When laws are made, courts of justice, whatever be the disposition of the judges, must abide by them : for the legislative being necessarily the su- preme power of the state, the judicial and every other power is accountable to that; and it cannot be doubted that the persons who possess the sove- reign authority of government, will be tenacious of the laws which they themselves prescribe, and sufficiently jealous of the assumption of dispensing and legislative power by any others. This fundamental rule of civil jurisprudence is violated in the case of acts of attainder or confis- cation, in bills of pains and penalties, and in all ex post facto laws whatever, in which parliament exercises the double office of legislature and judge. And whoever either understands the value of the rule itself, or collects the history of those instances in which it has been invaded, will be induced, I believe, to acknowledge, that it had been wiser and safer never to have departed from it. He will con- fess, at least, that nothing but the most manifest and immediate peril of the commonwealth will justify a repetition of these dangerous examples. If the laws in being do not punish an offender, let him go unpunished ; let the legislature, admonish- ed of the defect of the laws, provide against the commission of future crimes of the same sort. The escape of one delinquent can never produce so much harm to the community as may arise from the infraction of a rule upon which the purity of public justice, and the existence of civil liberty, essentially depend. The next security for the impartial administra- tion of justice, especially in decisions to which go- vernment is a party, is the independency of the judges. As protection against every illegal attack upon the rights of the subject by the servants of the crown is to be sought for from these tribunals, the judges of the land become not unfrequently the arbitrators between the king and the people, on which account they ought to be independent of either ; or, what is the same thing, equally de- E 1 snt upon both ; that is, if they be appointed e one, they should be removeable only by the . This was the policy which dictated that memorable improvement in our constitution, by which the judges, who before the Revolution held their offices during the pleasure of the king, can now be deprived of them only by an address from both houses of parliament ; as the most regular, solemn, and authentic way, by which the dissatis- faction of the people can be expressed. To make this independency of the judges complete, the public salaries of their office ought not only to be certain both in amount and continuance, but so liberal as to secure their integrity from the tempta- tion of secret bribes ; which liberality will answer also the further purpose of preserving their juris- diction from contempt, and their characters from suspicion ; as well as of rendering the office worthy of the ambition of men of eminence in their pro- fession. A third precaution to be observed in the forma- tion of courts of justice is, that the number of the judges be small. For, beside that the violence and tumult inseparable from large assemblies are in- consistent with the patience, method, and atten- tion requisite in judicial investigations; beside that , all passions and prejudices act with augmented force upon a collected multitude; beside, these ob- jections, judges, when they are numerous, divide the shame of an unjust determination ; they shel- ter themselves under one another's example ; each man thinks his own character hid in the crowd : for which reason, the judges ought always to be so few, as that the conduct of each may be pon- spicuous to public observation ; that each may be responsible in his separate and particular reputa- tion for the decisions in which he concurs. The truth of the above remark has been exemplified in this country, in the effects of that wise regulation which transferred the trial of parliamentary elec- tions from the House of Commons at large to a select committee of that House, composed of thir- teen members. This alteration, simply by re- ducing the number of the judges, and, in conse- quence of that reduction, exposing the judicial conduct of each to public animadversion, has given to a judicature, which had been long swayed by interest and solicitation, the solemnity and virtue of the most upright tribunals. 1 should prefer an even to an odd number of judges, and four to al- most any other number : for in this number, beside that it sufficiently consults the idea of separate re- sponsibility, nothing can be decided but by a ma- jority of three to one: and when we consider that every decision establishes a perpetual precedent, we shall allow that it ought to proceed from an au- thority, not less than this. If the court be equally divided, nothing is done ; things remain as they were ; with some inconveniency, indeed, to the par- ties, but without the danger to the public of a hasty precedent. A fourth requisite in the constitution of a court of justice, and equivalent to many checks upon the discretion of judges, is, that its proceed ings lie car- ried on in public, apertis foribus ; not only before a promiscuous concourse of by-standers, but in the audience of the whole profession of the law. The opinion of the bar concerning what passes, will be impartial ; and will commonly guide that of the public. The most corrupt judge will fear to in- dulge his dishonest wishes in the presence of such an assembly : he must encounter, what few can support, the censure of his equals and companions, together with the indignation and reproaches of his country. Something is also gained to the public by ap- pointing two or three courts of concurrent jurisdic- tion, that it may remain in the option of the suitor to which he will resort. By this means a tribu- nal which may happen to be occupied by ignorant or suspected judges, will be deserted "for others that possess more of the confidence of the nation. But, lastly, if several courts co-ordinate to and independent of each other, subsist together in the country, it seems necessary that the appeals from all of them should meet and terminate in the same judicature ; in order that one supreme tribunal, by whose final sentence all others are bound and concluded, may superintend and preside over the rest. This constitution is necessary for two pur- poses : to preserve an uniformity in the decisions of inferior courts, and to maintain to each the proper limits of its j urisdiction . Without a common superior, different courts might establish contra- dictory rules of adjudication, and the contradiction be final and without remedy ; the same question might receive opposite determinations, according as it was brought before one court or another, and OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 131 the determination in each be ultimate and irreversi- ble. A common appellant jurisdiction, prevents or puts an end to this confusion. For when the judgments upon appeals are consistent (which may be expected, whilst it is the same court which is at last resorted to,) the different courts, from which the appeals are brought, will be re- duced to a like consistency with one another. Moreover, if questions arise between courts inde- pendent of each other, concerning the extent and boundaries of their respective jurisdiction, as each will be desirous of enlarging its own, an authority which both acknowledge can alone adjust the controversy. Such a power, therefore, must re- side somewhere, lest the rights and repose of the country lie distracted by the endless opposition and mutual encroachments of its courts of jus- tice. There are two kinds of judicature ; the one where the office of the judge is permanent in the same person, and consequently where the judge is appointed and known long before the trial; the other, where the judge is determined by lot at the time of the trial, and for that turn only. The one mav be called iijixed, the other a casual judica- ture. From the former may be umeetM those qualifications which are preferred and sought for in the choice of judges, and that knowledge ami readiness which result from experience in the of- fice. But then, as the judge is known beforehand, he is accessible to the parties ; there exists a pos- sibility of secret management and undue practices ; or, in contests between the crown and the subject, the judge appointed by the crown may be sus- pected of partiality to his patron, or of entertaining inclinations favourable to the authority from which he derives his own. The advantage attending the second kind of judicature, is iridiHerency ; the defect, the want of that legal science which pro- duces uniformity and justice in legal decisions. The construction of English courts of law, in which causes are tried by a jury, with the assist- ance of a judge, combines the two species with peculiar success. This admirable contrivance unites the wisdom of a fixed with the integrity of a casual judicature; and avoids, in a great mea- sure, the inconveniences of both. The judge imparts to the jury the benefit of his erudition and experience; the jury, by their disinterestedness, check any corrupt partialities which previous ap- Slication may have produced in the judge. If the etermination were left to the judge, the party might suffer under the superior interest of his ad- versary : if it were left to an uninstructed jury, his rights would be in still greater danger, from the ignorance of those who were to decide upon them. The present wise admixture of chance and choice in the constitution of the court in which his cause is tried, guards him equally against the fear of in- jury from either of these causes. In proportion to the acknowledged excellency of this mode of trial, every deviation from it ought to be watched with vigilance, and admitted by the legislature with caution and reluctance. Sum- mary convictions before justices of the peace, es- pecially for offences against the game laws ; courts of conscience ; extending the jurisdiction of courts of equity; urging too far the distinction between questions of law and matters of fact ; are all so many infringements upon this great charter of public safety. Nevertheless, the trial by jury is sometimes found inadequate to the administration of equal justice. This imperfection takes place chiefly in disputes in which some popular passion or preju- dice intervenes; as where a particular order of men advance claims upon the rest of the commu- nity, which is the case of the clergy contending for tithes ; or where an ordc: of men are obnox- ious by their professions, as are officers of the revenue, bailifls, baliils' followers, and other low ministers of the law ; or where one of the parties has an interest in common with the general interest of the jurors, and that of the other is opposed to it, as in contests between landlords and tenants, between lords of manors and the holders of estates under them ; or, lastly, where the minds of men are inflamed by political dis- sensions or religious hatred. These prejudices act most powerfully upon the common people ; of which order Junes are made up. The force and danger of them are also increased by the very circumstance of taking juries out of the county in which the subject of dispute arises. In the neighbourhood of the parties, the cause is often prejudged : anil these secret decisions of the mind proceed commonly more upon sentiments of fa- vour or hatred,-upon some opinion concerning the sect, family, profession, character, connexions, or circumstances of the parties, than upon an knowledge or discussion of the proper merits o't the question. More exact justice would, in many instances, be rendered to the suitors, if the deter- mination were left entirely to the judges ; provided we could depend upon the same purity of conduct, when the power of these magistrates was enlarged, which they have long manifested in the exercise of a mixed and restrained authority. But this is an experiment too big with public danger to be haz- arded. The effects, however, of some local preju- dices, might be safely obviated by a law empow- ering the court in which the action is brought, to send the cause to trial in a distant county; the ex- penses attending the change of place always fall- ing upon the party who applied for it. There is a second division of courts of justice, which presents a new alternative of difficulties. Either one, two, or a few sovereign courts may be erected in the metropolis, for the whole kingdom to resort to; or courts of local jurisdiction may be fixed in various provinces and districts of the empire. Great, though opposite, inconveniences attend each arrangement. If the court be remote and solemn, it becomes, by these very qualities, expensive and dilatory : the expense is unavoid- ably increased when witnesses, parties, and agents, must be brought to attend from distant parts of the country : and, where the whole judicial busi- ness of a large nation is collected into a few supe- rior tribunals, it will be found impossible, even if the prolixity of forms which retards the progress of causes were removed, to give a prompt hearing to every complaint, or an immediate answer to any. On the other hand, if, to remedy these evils, and to render the administration of justice cheap and speedy, domestic and summary tribunals be erected in each neighbourhood, the advantage of such courts will be accompanied with all the dan- gers of ignorance and partiality, and with the certain mischief of confusion and contrariety in then- decisions. The law of England, by its cir- cuit, or itinerary courts, contains a provision for the distribution of private justice, in a great measure relieved from both these objections. As 132 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the presiding magistrate comes into the country a stranger to its prejudices, rivalships, and connex- ions, ne brings with him none of those attach- ments and regards which are so apt to pervert the course of justice when the parties and the judges inhabit the same neighbourhood. Again ; as this magistrate is usually one of the judges of the su- preme tribunals of the kingdom, and has passed his life in the study and administration of the laws, he possesses, it may be presumed, those pro- fessional qualifications which befit the dignity and importance of his station. Lastly, as both he, and the advocates who accompany him in his .circuit, are employed in the business of those superior courts (to which also their proceedings are amena- ble,) they will naturally conduct themselves by the rules of adjudication which they have applied or learned there ; and by this means maintain, what constitutes a principal perfection of civil govern- ment, one law of the land in every part and dis- trict of the empire. Next to the constitution of courts of justice, we are naturally led to consider the maxims which ought to guide their proceedings ; and, upon this subject, the chief inquiry will be, how far, and for what reasons, it is expedient to adhere to for- mer determinations ; or whether it be necessary for judges to attend to any other consideration than the apparent and particular equity of the case before them. Now, although to assert that precedents established by one set of judges ought to be incontrovertible by their successors in the same jurisdiction, or by those who exercise a high- er, would be to attribute to the sentence of those judges all the authority we ascribe to the most solemn acts of the legislature : yet the general se- curity of private rights, and of civil lile, requires that such precedents, especially if they have been confirmed by repeated adjudications, should not be overthrown, without a detection of manifest error, or without some imputation of dishonesty upon the court by whose judgment the question WP.J first decided. And this deference to prior decisions is founded upon two reasons : first, that the discretion of j udges may be bound down by positive rules ; and secondly, that the subject, up- on every occasion in which his legal interest is concerned, may know beforehand how to act, and what to expect. To set j udges free from any obli- gation to conform themselves to the decisions of their predecessors, would be to lay open a latitude of judging with which no description of men can safely be intrusted ; it would be to allow space for the exercise of those concealed partialities, which, since they cannot by any human policy be exclud- ed, ought to be confined by boundaries and land- marks. It is in vain to allege, that the superin- tendency of parliament is always at hand to con- trol and punish abuses of judicial discretion. By what rules can parliament proceed 1 How shall they pronounce a decision to be wrong, where there exists no acknowledged measure or stan- dard of what is right: which, in a multitude of in- stances, would be the case, if prior determinations were no longer to be appealed to 1 Diminishing the danger of partiality, is one thing gained by adhering to precedents ; but not the principal thing. The subject of every system of laws must expect that decision in his own case, which he knows that others have received in cases similar to his. If he expect not this, he can expect nothing. There exists no other rule or principle of reasoning, by which he can foretell, or even conjecture, the event of a judicial contest. To remove therefore the grounds of this expecta- tion, by rejecting the force and authority of pre- cedents, is to entail upon the subject the worst property of slavery, to have no assurance of his rights, or knowledge of his duty. The quiet also of the country, as well as the confidence and satis- faction of each man's mind, requires uniformity in judicial proceedings. Nothing quells a spirit of litigation, like despair of success: therefore nothing so completely puts an end to law-suits, as a rigid adherence to known rules of adjudication. Whilst the event is uncertain, which it ever must be whilst it is uncertain whether former determina- tions upon the same subject will be followed or not, law-suits will be endless and innumerable: men will commonly engage in them, either from the hope of prevailing in their claims, which the smallest chance is sufficient to encourage ; or with the design of intimidating their adversary by the terror of a dubious litigation. When justice is rendered to the parties, only half the business of a court of justice is done : the more important part of its office remains ; to put an end, for the future, to every fear, and quarrel, and expense, upon the same point; and so to regulate its proceedings, that not only a doubt once decided may be stirred no more, but that the whole train of law-suits, which issue from one uncertainty, may die with the parent-question. Now this advantage can be attained only by considering each decision as a di- rection to succeeding judges. And it should be observed, that every departure from former deter- minations, especially if they have been often re- peated or long submitted to, shakes the stability of all legal title. It is not fixing a point anew , it is leaving every thing unfixed. For by the game stretch of power by which the present race of judges take upon them to contradict the judg- ment of their predecessors, those who try the question next may set aside theirs. From an adherence however to precedents, by which so much is gained to the public, two con- sequences arise which are often lamented ; the hardship of particular determinations, and the in- tricacy of the law as a science. To the first of these complaints, we must apply this reflection : " That uniformity is of more importance than equity, in proportion as a general uncertainty would be a greater evil than particular injustice." The second is attended with no greater mconve- niency than that of erecting the practice of the law into a separate profession ; which this reason, we allow, makes necessary : for if we attribute so much authority to precedents, it is expedient that they be known, in every cause, both to the advo- cates and to the judge : this knowledge cannot be general, since it is the fruit oftentimes of laborious research, or demands a memory stored with long- collected erudition. To a mind revolving upon the subject of hu- man jurisprudence, there frequently occurs this question : Why, since the maxims of natural justice are few and evident, do there arise so many doubts and controversies in their application 1 Or, in other words, how comes it to pass, that although the principles of the law of nature be simple, and for the most part sufficiently obvious, there should OP THE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 133 exist, nevertheless, in every system of municipal laws, and in the actual administration of relative justice, numerous uncertainties and acknowledged difficulty 1 Whence, it may be asked, so much room for litigation, and so many subsisting dis- putes, if the rules of human duty be neither ob- scure nor dubious 1 If a system of morality con- taining both the precepts of revelation and the deductions of reason, may be comprised within the compass of one moderate volume ; and the moralist be able, as he pretends, to describe the rights and obligations of mankind, in all the dif- ferent relations they may hold to one another; what need of those codes of positive and particu- lar institutions, of those tomes of statutes and re- ports, which require the employment of a long life even to peruse ? And this question is immedi- ately connected with the argument which has been discussed in the preceding paragraph : for, unless there be found some greater uncertainty in the law of nature, or what may be called natural equity, when it comes to be applied to real cases and to actual adjudication, than what appears in the rules and principles of the science, as delivered in the writings of those who treat of the subject, it were better that the determination of every CM use should be left to the conscience of the judge, unfettered by precedents and authorities ; since the very purpose for which these are introduced, is to give a certainty to judicial proceedings, which such proceedings would want without them. Now to account for the existence of so many sources of litigation, notwithstanding the clearness and perfection of natural justice, it should be ob- served, in the first place, that treatises of morality always suppose facts to be ascertained ; and not only so, but the intention likewise of the parties to be known and laid bare. For example : when we pronounce that promises ought to be fulfilled in that sense in which the promiser apprehended, at the time of making the promise, the other party received and understood it : the apprehension of one side, and the expectation of the other, must be discovered, before this rule can be reduced to practice, or applied to the determination of any actual dispute. Wherefore the discussion of facts which the moralist supposes to be settled, the discovery of intentions which he presumes to be known, still remain to exercise the inquiry of courts of justice. And as these facts and inten- tions are often to be inferred, or ratherconjectured, from obscure indications, from suspicious testimo- ny, or from a comparison of opposite and contend- ing probabilities, they afford a never-failing supply of doubt and litigation. For which reason, as hath been observed in a former part of this work, the science of morality is to be considered rather as a direction to the parties, who are conscious of their own thoughts and motives, and designs, to which consciousness the teacher of morality constantly appeals ; than as a guide to the judge, or to any third person, whose arbitration must proceed upon rules of evidence, and maxims of credibility, with which the moralist has no concern. Secondly ; there exists a multitude of cases, in which the law of nature, that is, the law of public expediency, prescribes nothing, except that some certain rule l>e adhered to, and that the rule ac- tually established, be preserved; it either being indifferent what rule obtains, or, out of many rules, no one being so much more advantageous than the rest, as to recompense the inconveniency of an alteration. In all such cases, the law of nature sends us to the law of the land. She di- rects that either some fixed rule be introduced by an act of the legislature, or that the rule which accident, or custom, or common consent, hath al- ready established, be steadily maintained. Thus, in the descent of lands, or the inheritance of per- sonals from intestate proprietors, whether the kindred of the grandmother, or of the great-grand- mother, shall be preferred in the succession; whether the degrees of consanguinity shall be com- puted through the common ancestor, or from him ; whether the widow shall take a third or a moiety of her husband's fortune ; whether sons shall be preferred to daughters, or the. elder to the younger ; whether the distinction of age shall be regarded amongst sisters, as well as between brothers ; in these, and in a great variety of questions which the same subject supplies, the law of nature deter- mines nothing. The only answer she returns to our inquiries is, that some certain and gene- ral rule be laid down by public authority ; be obeyed when laid down ; and that the quiet of the country be not disturbed, nor the expectation of heirs frustrated, by capricious innovations.. This silence or neutrality of the law of nature, which we have exemplified in the ease of intestacv, holds con- (erninga great part of the questions that relate to the right or acquisition of property. Recourse then must necessarily be had to statutes, or precedents, or usage, to fix what the law of nature has left loose. The interpretation of these statutes, the search after precedents, the investigation of cus- toms, compose therefore an unavoidable, and at the same time a large and intricate, portion of fo- rensic business. Positive constitutions or judicial authorities are, in like manner, wanted to give precision to many things which are in their nature indeterminate. The age of legal discretion; at what time of life a person shall be deemed com- petent to the performance of any act which may bind his property; whether at twenty, or twenty- one, or earlier or later, or at some point of time between these years ; can only be ascertained by a positive rule of the society to which the party be- longs. The line has not been drawn by nature ; the numan understanding advancing to maturity by insensible degrees, and its progress varying in different individuals. Yet it is necessary, for the sake of mutual security, that a precise age be fixed, and that what is fixed be known to all. It is on these occasions that the intervention of law sup- plies the inconstancy of nature. Again, there are other things which are perfectly arbitrary, and capable of no certainty but what is given to them by positive regulation. It is fit that a limited time should be assigned to defendants, to plead to the complaints alleged against them; and also that the default of pleading within a certain tune should be taken for a confession of the charge : but to how many days or months that term should be extended, though necessary to be known with certainty, cannot be known at all by any informa- tion which the law of nature affords. And the same remark seems applicable to almost all those rules of proceeding, which constitute what is call- ed the practice of the court : as they cannot be traced out by reasoning, they must be settled by authority. Thirdly ; in contracts, whether express or im- plied, which involve a great number of conditions; 134 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. as in those which arc entered into between mas- ters and servants, principals and agents ; many also of merchandise, or for works of art ; in some likewise which relate to the negotiation of money or bills, or to the acceptance of credit or security : the original design and expectation of the parties was, that both sides should be guided by the course and custom of the country in transactions of the same sort. Consequently, when these contracts come to be disputed, natural justice can only refer to that custom. But as sucn customs are not al- ways sufficiently uniform or notorious, but often to be collected from the production and compa- rison of instances and accounts repugnant to one another ; and each custom being only that, after all, which amongst a variety of usages seems to predominate ; we have here also ample room for doubt and contest. Fourthly ; as the law of nature, founded in the very construction of human society, which is form- ed to endure through a series of perishing gene- rations, requires that the just engagements a man enters into should continue in force beyond his own life ; it follows, that the private rights of per- sons frequently depend upon what has been trans- acted, in times remote from the present, by their ancestors or predecessors, by those under whom they claim, or to whose obligations they have suc- ceeded. Thus the questions which usually arise between lords of manors and their tenants, be- tween the king and those who claim royal fran- chises, or between them and the persons affected by these franchises, depend upon the terms of the original grant. In like manner, every dispute concerning tithes, in which an exemption or com- position is pleaded, depends upon the agreement which took place between the predecessor of the claimant and the ancient owner of the land. The appeal to these grants and agreements is dictated by natural equity, as well as by the municipal law ; but concerning the existence, or the condi- tions, of such old covenants, doubts will perpetu- ally occur, to which the law of nature affords no solution. The loss or decay of records, the pe- rishableness of living memory, the corruption and carelessness of tradition, all conspire to multiply uncertainties upon this head; what cannot be produced or proved, must be left to loose and fal- lible presumption. Under the same head may be included another topic of altercation ; the tracing out of boundaries, which time, or neglect, or unity of possession, or mixture of occupation, has confounded or obliterated. To which should be added, a difficulty which often presents itself in disputes concerning rights of way, both public and private, and of those easements which one man claims in another man's property, namely, that of distinguishing, after a lapse of years, the use of an indulgence from the exercise of a right. Fifthly; the quantity or extent of an injury, even when the cause and author of it are known, is often dubious and undefined. If the injury, consists in the loss of some specific right, the va- lue of the right measures the amount of the in- jury: but what a man may have suffered in his person, from an assault ; in his reputation, by slander; or in the comfort of his life, by the seduction of a wife or daughter ; or what sum of money shall be deemed a reparation for damages such as these ; cannot be ascertained by any rules which the law of nature supplies. The law of nature commands, that reparation be made ; and adds to her command, that, when the aggressor and the sufferer disagree, the damage be assessed by authorised and indifferent arbitrators. Here then recourse must be had to courts of law, not only with the permission, but in some measure by the direction, of natural justice. Sixthly; when controversies arise in the inter- pretation of written laws, they for the most part arise upon some contingency which the composer of the law did not foresee or think of. In the ad- judication of such cases, this dilemma presents itself; if the laws be permitted to operate only upon the cases which actually were contemplated by the law-makers, they will always be found de- fective : if they be extende'd to every case to which the reasoning, and spirit, and expediency, of the provision seem to belong, without any farther evi- dence of the intention of the legislature, we shall allow to the judges a liberty of applying the law, which will fall very little short of the power of making it. If a literal construction be adhered to, the law will often fail of its end ; if a loose and vague exposition be admitted, the law might as well have never been enacted ; for this license will bring back into the subject all the discretion and uncertainty which it was the design of the le- gislature to take away. Courts of justice are, and always must be, embarrassed by these opposite difficulties ; and, as it never can be known before- hand, in what degree either consideration may prevail in the mind of the judge, there remains an unavoidable cause of doubt, and a place for con- tention. Seventhly; the deliberations of courts of jus- tice upon every new question, are encumbered with additional difficulties, in consequence of the authority which the judgment of the court pos- sesses, as a precedent to future judicatures ; which authority appertains not only to the conclusions the court delivers, but to the principles and arguments upon which they are built. The view of this ef- fect makes it necessary for a judge to look beyond the case before him ; and, beside the attention he owes to the truth and justice of the cause between the parties, to reflect whether the principles, and maxims, and reasoning, which he adopts and au- thorises, can be applied with safety to all cases which admit of a comparison with the present. The decision of the cause, were the eftects of the de- cision to stop there, might be easy : but the con- sequence of establishing the principle which such a decision assumes, may be difficult, though of the utmost importance, to be foreseen and regu- lated. Finally ; after all the certainty and rest that can be given to points of law, either by the interposi- tion of the legislature or the authority of prece- dents, one principal source of disputation, and into point of law has been once adjudged, neither that question, nor any which completely, and in all its circumstances, corresponds with that, can be brought a second time into dispute : but questions arise which resemble this only indirectly and in part, in certain views and circumstances, and which may seem to bear an equal or a greater affinity to other adjudged cases; questions which can be brought within any fixed rule only by analogy, and which hold a relation by analogy to different OP THE ADMINISTRATION OP JUSTICE. 135 rules. It is by the urging of the different analo- gies that the contention of the bar is carried on : and it is in the comparison, adjustment, and re- conciliation of them with one another; in the discerning of such distinctions ; and in the fram- ing of such a determination, as may either save the various rules alleged in the cause, or if that be impossible, may give up the weaker analogy to the stronger ; that the sagacity and wisdom of the court are seen and exercised. Amongst a thou- sand instances of this, we may cite one of general notoriety, in the contest that has lately been agi- tated concerning literary property. The personal industry which an author expends upon the corn- rule are not so detrimental, as the rule itself is un- reasonable ; in criminal prosecutions, it operates considerably in favour of the prisoner: for if a juror find it necessary to surrender to the obsti- nacy of others, he will much more readily resign his opinion on the side of mercy than of condem- nation : in civil suits, it adds weight to the direc- tion of the j udge ; for when a conference with one another does not seem likely to produce, in the jury, the agreement that is necessary, they will naturally close their disputes by a common submission to the opinion delivered from the bench. However, there seems to be less of the concurrence of separate judgments in the same position of his work, bears so near a resemblance conclusion, consequently less assurance that the to that by which every other kind of property is conclusion is founded in reasons of apparent truth earned, or deserved, or acquired ; or rather there and justice, than if the decision were left to a exists such a correspondency between what is plurality, or to some certain majority of voices, created by the study of man's mind, and the pro- The second circumstance in our constitution duction of his labour in any other way of applying which, however it may succeed in practice, does it, that he seems entitled to the same exclusive, not seem to have been suggested by any intelli- assignable, and perpetual, right in both ; and that gible fitness in the nature of the thing, is the right to the same protection of law. This was choice that is made of the House of Lords as a the analogy contended for on one side. On the court of appeal from every civil court of judicature other hand, a book, as to the author's right in it, in the kingdom ; and the last also and highest ap- appears similar to an invention of art, as a ma- peal to which the subject can resort. There ap- chme, an engine, a medicine : and since the law pears to be nothing in the constitution of that permits these to be copied, or imitated, except assembly ; in the education, habits, character, or where an exclusive use or sale is reserved to the professions, of the members who compose it ; in inventor by patent, the same liberty should be al- the mode of their appointment, or the right by lowed in the publication and sale of books. This which they succeed to their places in it ; that was the analogy maintained by the advocates of an should qualify them for tin's arduous office; ex- open trade. And the competition of these oppo- cept perhaps, that the elevation of their rank and site analogies constituted the difficulty of the case, fortune affords a security against the offer and as far as the same was argued, or adjudged, upon influence of small bribes. Officers of the army principles of common law. One example may and navy, courtiers, ecclesiastics ; young men serve to illustrate our meaning: but whoever takes who have just attained the age of twenty-one, up a volume of Reports, will find most of the ar- and who have passed their youth in the dissipation guments it contains, capable of the same analysis: and pursuits which commonly accompany the although the analogies, it must be confessed, are possession or inheritance of great fortunes ; coun- somet imes so entangled as not to be easily unra- try-gentlemen, occupied in the management of veiled, or even perceived. their estates, or in the care of their domestic con- Doubtful and obscure points of law are not cerns and family interests ; the greater part of the however nearly so numerous as they are appre- assembly born to their station, that is, placed in it he ruled to be. Out of the multitude of causes by chance ; most of the rest advanced to the peer- which, in the course of each year, are brought to age for services, and from motives, utterly uncon- trial in the metropolis, or upon the circuits, there nected with legal erudition : these men compose are few in which any point is reserved for the the tribunal, to which the constitution entrusts judgment of su|>erior courts. Yet these few con- the interpretation of her laws, and the ultimate tain all the doubts with which the law is charge- decision of every dispute between her subjects, able: for as to the rest, the uncertainty, as hath These are the men assigned to review judgments been shown above, is not in the law, but in the of law, pronounced by sages of the profession, means of human information. who have spent their lives in the study and prac- tice of the jurisprudence of their country. Such _,, is the order which our ancestors have established. There are two peculiarities in the judicial con- The effect only proves the truth of this maxim- stitution of this country, which do not carry with " That when a single institution is extremely dis- them that evidence of their propriety which recom- sonant from other parts of the system to which it mends almost every other part of the system. The belongs; it will always find someway of recon- farst ot these is the rule which requires that juries ciling itself to the analogy which governs and per- imous in their verdicts. To expect that | vades the rest." By constantly placing in the tentimes the wisest judgments might be holden stract question of law awaits their determina- in suspense; or to suppose that any real una- tion; by the almost implicit and undisputed de- nity or change of opinion, in the dissenting ference, which the uninformed part of the house jurors could be procured by confining them until find it necessary to pay to the learning of their they all consented to the same verdict, bespeaks colleagues ; the appeal to the House of Lords be- more of the conceit of a barbarous age, than of the | comes in fact an appeal to the collected wisdom policy which could dictate such an institution as of our supreme courts of justice ; receiving indeed that of junes, Nevertheless, the effects of this solemnity, but little perhaps of direction, frovn 130 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, the presence of the assembly in which it is heard and determined. These, however, even if real, are minute imper- fections. A politician who should sit down to delineate a plan for the dispensation of public jus- tice, guarded against all access to influence and corruption, and bringing together the separate ad- vantages of knowledge and impartiality, would find, when he had done, that he had been trans- cribing the Judicial constitution of England. And k may teach the most discontented amongst us to acquiesce in the government of his country, to reflect, that the pure, and wise, and equal ad- ministration of the laws, forms the first end and blessing of social union ; and that this blessing is enjoyed by him in a perfection, which he will seek in vain in any other nation of the world. CHAPTER IX. / Of Crimes and Punishments. f THE proper end of human punishment is not /the satisfaction of justice, but the prevention of crimes. By the satisfaction of justice, I mean the retribution of so much pain for so much guilt ; which is the dispensation we expect at the hand of God, and which we are accustomed to consider as the order of things that perfect justice dictates and requires. In what sense, or whether with truth in any sense, justice may be said to demand the punishment of offenders, I do not now inquire : but I assert, that this demand is not the motive or occasion of human punishment. What would it be to the magistrate, that offences went altogether unpunished, if the impunity of the offenders were followed by no danger or prejudice to the common- wealth 1 The fear lest the escape of the criminal should encourage him, or others by his example, to repeat the same crime, or to commit different crimes, is the sole consideration which authorises the infliction of punishment by human laws. Now that, whatever it be, which is the cause and end of the punishment, ought undoubtedly to regulate the measure of its severity. But this cause ap- pears to be founded, not in the guilt of the offender, but in the necessity of preventing the repetition of the offence : and hence results the reason, that crimes are not by any government punished in pro- portion to their guilt, nor in all cases ought to be so, but in proportion to the difficulty and the ne- cessity of preventing them. Thus the stealing of goods privately out of a shop may not, in its moral quality, be more criminal than the stealing of them out of a house ; yet being equally necessary and more difficult to be prevented, the law, in certain circumstances, denounces against it a severer pun- ishment. The crime must be prevented by some means or other; and consequently, whatever means appear necessary to this end, whether they be proportionable to the guilt of the criminal or not, are adopted rightly, because they are adopted upon the principle which alone justifies the infliction of punishment at all. From the same consideration it also follows, that punishment ought not to be em- ployed, much less rendered severe, when the crime can be prevented by any other means. Punishment is an evil to which the magistrate resorts only from its being necessary to the prevention of a greater. This necessity does not exist, when the end may be attained, that is, when the public may be de- fended from the effects of the crime, by any other expedient. The sanguinary laws which have been made against counterfeitiiijj; or (liniinishinrr the gold coin of the kingdom mijTht be just until the method of detecting the fraud, by weighing the money, was introduced into general usage. Since that precaution was practised, these laws have slept ; and an execution under them at this day would be deemed a measure of unjustifiable se- verity. The same principle accounts for a circum- stance which has been often censured as an ab- surdity in the penal laws of this, and of most modern nations, namely, that breaches of trust are either not punished at all, or punished with les rigour than other frauds. Wherefore is it, some have asked, that a violation of confidence, which increases the guilt, should mitigate the penalty ? This lenity, or rather forbearance, of the laws, is founded in the most reasonable distinction. A due circumspection in the choice of the persons whom they trust ; caution in limiting the extent of that trust; or the requiring of sufficient secu- rity for the faithful discharge of it, will commonly guard men from injuries of this description ; and the law will not interpose its sanctions to protect negligence and credulity, or to supply the place 04 domestic care and prudence. To be convinced that the law proceeds entirely upon this considera- tion, we have only to observe, that where the con- fidence is unavoidable, where no practicable vigi- lance could watch the offender, as in the case of theft committed by a servant in the shop or dwell- ing house of his master, or upon property to which he must necessarily have access, the sentence of the law is not less severe, and its execution com- monly more certain and rigorous, than if no trust at all had intervened. It is in pursuance of the same principle, which pervades indeed the whole system of penal juris- prudence, that the facility with which any species of crimes is perpetrated, has been generally deem- ed a reason for aggravating the punishment. Thus, sheep-stealing, horse-stealing, the stealing of cloth from tenters or bleaching grounds, by our laws, subject the offenders to sentence of death : not that these crimes are in their nature more heinous than many simple felonies which are punished by im- prisonment or transportation, but because the pro- perty, being more exposed, requires the terror of capital punishment to protect it. This severity would be absurd and unjust, if the guilt of the of- fender were the immediate cause and measure of the punishment ; but is a consistent and regular consequence of the supposition, that the right of punishment results from the necessity of prevent- ing the crime ; for if this be the end proposed, the severity of the punishment must be increased in proportion to the expediency and the difficulty of attaining this end ; that is, in a proportion com- pounded of the mischief of the crime, and of the ease with which it is executed. The difficulty of discovery is a circumstance to be included in the same consideration. It constitutes indeed, with respect to the crime, the facility of which we speak. By how much therefore the detection of an offender is more rare and uncertain, by so much the more severe must be the punishment when he is detected. Thus the writing of incendiary letters, though in itself a pernicious and alarming injury, calls for a more condign and exemplary punish- ment, by the very obscurity with which the crime is committed. OF CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 137 From the justice of God, we are taught to lool for a gradation of punishment exactly proportionec to the guilt of the offender : when therefore, in as signing the degrees of human punishment, we in troduce considerations distinct from that guilt, and a proportion so varied by external circumstances that eqjual crimes frequently undergo unequa punishments, or the less crime the greater: it i.- natural to demand the reason why a different mea sure of punishment should be expected from God and observed by man ; why that rule which befit* the absolute and perfect jusfice'of the Deity, should not be the rule which ought to-be pursued apd imi- tated by human laws. The solution of this diili- culty must be sought for in those peculiar tittri- butes of the Divine nature, which distinguish the dispensations of Supreme Wisdorrr from the pro- ceedings of human judicature. A being whose knewledge denetrate0 every concealment, from the operation of whose will no art or flight can escape, and in whose hands punishment is sure: such a Being may conduct the moral government of his creation, in the best and 'wisest manner, by pronouncing a law that every crime shall finally receive a punishment proportioned to the guilt which it contains, abstracted from any foreign con- sideration whatever ; and may testify his- veracity to the sjxTtators of his judgments, by earrvinir this law into strict execution. But when the care of the public safety is intrusted to men, whose au- thority over their fellow-creatures is limited by de- fects of power and knowledge ; from whose utmost vigilance and sagacity the greatest offenders often lie hid; whose wisest precautions and speediest pursuit may be eluded by artifice or concealment 5 a different necessity, a new rule of proceeding, re- sults from the very imperfection of their faculties. In their hands, the uncertainty of punishment must be compensated by the severity. The e;is<- with which crimes arc committed or eomvnled. must be counteracted by additional penalties and increased terrors. The very end for which human government is established, requires that its n fil- iations be adapted to the suppression of crimes. This end, whatever it may do in the plans of Infinite Wisdom, does not, in the designation of temporal penalties, always coincide with the proportionate punishment of guilt. There are two methods of administering penal justice. The first method assigns capital punishment to few offences, and inflicts it invariably. The second methoeforehand; or to ascertain however with that exactness which is requisite in legal descriptions. Hence, although it be necessary to fix by precise rules of law the boundary on one. side, that is. the limit to which the punishment may be extended; and also that nothing less than the authority of the whole legislature l>e suffered to determine that boundary, and assign these rules ; 8 yet the mitigation of punishment, the exercise of lenity, may without danger be intrusted to the exe- cutive magistrate, whose discretion will operate ii|HMi those numerous, unforeseen, mutable, and indefinite circumstances, both of the crime and the criminal, which constitute or qualify the ma- lignity of each offence. Without the power of re- laxation lodged in a living authority, either some offenders would- escape capital punishment, whom the public safety required to suffer ; or some would undergo tlu's punishment, where it was neither de- served nor necessary. For if judgment of death were reserved for one or two .species of crimes only (which would probably be tke case if that judg- ment was intended to be executed without excep- tionj) crimes might occur of the most dangerous example, and accompanied with circumstances of heinous aggravation, which did not fall within any description- of' offences that the laws had made capital, and which consequently could not receive the punishment their own malignity and the pub- lic s.iietv required. What is worse, it would bo known .before-hand, that such .crimes might be committed without danger to the offender's life. On the other hand, if to reach these possible cases, the whole class of offences to wluch they belong be'subjected to pains of death, and no- power of remitting this severity remain any where, the ex- ecution of the laws will become more sanguinary than the public compassion would endure, or than is necessary to the grneral security. The law of England is constructed upon a different and a better policy. By the number of statutes creating capital offences, it sweeps into the net every crime which, under any possible circumstances, may merit the punishment of death: but when the execution of this sentence comes to be deliberated upon, a small proportion of each iass arc singled out, the general character, or the peculiar aggravations of whose crimes, render :hem lit examples of public justice. By this ex- pedient, few actually suffer death, whilst the dread uid danger of it hang, over the crimes of many. The tenderness of the law cannot be taken ad- vantage of. The life of the subject is spared as far as the necessity of restraint and intimidation permits ; yet no one will adventure upon the com- ni&sion of any enormous crime, from a know- edge that the laws liave not provided for its punishment. The wisdom and humanity of this design furnish a just excuse for the multiplicity of capital offences, which the laws of England are accused of creating beyond those of other coun- n ries. The charge of cruelty is answered by ob- serving, that these laws wfere never meant to be arried into indiscriminate execution^ that the egislature, when it establishes its last and highest auctions, trusts to the"benignity of -the crown to elax their severity as often as circumstances ppear ta palliate the offence, oryeven as -often as hose circumstances of aggravation are wanting vhich rendered this rigorous interposition neces- sary. Upon this plan, it is enough to vindicate he lenity of the laws, that some instances are to be found" in each class of capital crimes, which re- quire the restraint of capital punishment, and that this restraint could not be applied without subject- ing the whole class lo the same condemnation. There is however one species of crimes, the making of which capital, can hardly, I think, be defended even upon the comprehensive principle just now stated : I mean that of privately steal- 12* 138 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. ing from the person. As every degree of force is excluded by the description of the crime, it will be difficult to assign an example, where either the amount or circumstances of the theft place it upon a level with those dangerous attempts to which the punishment of death should be confined. It will be still more difficult to show, that, without gross and culpable negligence on the part of the sufferer, such examples can .ever become so fre- quent, as to make it necessary to constitute a class of capital offences, of very wide and large extent. The prerogative of pardon is properly reserved to the chief magistrate. The power of suspend- ing the laws is a privilege of too high a nature to be committed to many hands, or to those of any inferior officer in the state. The king also can best collect the advice by which his resolutions should be governed: and is at the same time re- moved at the greatest distance from the influence of private motives. But let this power be de- posited where it will, the exercise of it ought to DC regarded, not as a favour to be yielded to so- licitation, granted to friendship, or, least of all, to be made subservient to the conciliating or gratify- ing of political attachments, but as a judicial act; as a deliberation to be conducted with the character of impartiality, with the same exact and diligent attention to the proper merits and cir- cumstances of the case, as that which the judge upon the bench was expected to maintain and show in the trial of the prisoner's guilt. The questions, whether the prisoner be guilty, and whether, being guilty, he ought to be executed, are equally questions of public justice. The adjudication of the latter question is as much a function of magistracy, as the trial of the former. The public welfare is interested in both. The conviction of an offender should depend upon nothing but the proof of his guilt ; nor the execu- tion of the sentence upon any thing beside the quality and circumstances of his crime. It is necessary to the good order of society, and to the reputation and authority of government, that this be known and believed to be the case in each part of the proceeding. Which reflections show, that the admission of extrinsic or oblique considerations, in dispensing the power of pardon, is a crime, in the authors and advisers of such unmerited par- tiality, of the same nature with that of corruption in a judge. Aggravations, which ought to guide the ma- gistrate in the selection of objects of condign punishment, are principally these three, repeti- tion, cruelty, combination. The first two, it is manifest, add to every reason upon which the justice or the necessity of rigorous measures can be founded ; and with respect to the last circum- stance, it may be observed, that when thieves and robbers are once collected into gangs, their violence becomes more formidable, the confederates more desperate, and the difficulty-of defending the pub- lic against their depredations much greater, than in the case of solitary adventurers. Which se- veral considerations compose a distinction that is properly adverted to, in deciding upon the fate of convicted malefactors. In crimes, however, which are perpetrated by a multitude, or by a gang, it is proper to separate, in the punishment, the ringleader from his fol- lowers, the principal from nis accomplices, and even the person who struck the blow, broke the lock, or first entered the house, from those who joined him in the felony; not so much on account of any distinction in the guilt of the offenders, as for the sake of casting an obstacle in the way of such confederacies, by rendering it difficult for the confederates to settle who shall begin the attack or to lincl a num amongst their number willing to expose himself to greater danger than his as- sociates. This is another instance in which the punishment which expediency directs, does not pursue the exact proportion of the crime. Injuries effected by terror and violence, are those which jt. is the first and chief concern of legal go- vernment to repress; because, their extent is un- limited ; because no private precaution can protect the subject against them; because they endanger life and safety, -as well as property ; and lastly, be- cause they render the condition of society wretched, by a sense of personal insecurity. These reasons do not apply to frauds which circumspection may prevent ; which must wait for opportunity ; which can proceed only to certain limits; and by the apprehension of which, although the business of life be incommoded, life itself is not made misera- ble. The a'ppearance of this distinction has led some humane writers to express a wish, that capital punishments might be confined to crimes of violence. In estimating the comparative malignancy of crimes of violence, regard is to be had, not only to the proper and intended mischief of the crime, but to the fright occasioned by the attack, to the general alarm excited by it in others, and to the conse- quences which may attend future attempts of the same kind. Thus, in affixing the punishment of burglary, or of breaking into dwelling-houses by night, we are to consider not only -the peril to which the most valuable property is exposed by this crime, and which may be called the direct mischief of it, but the danger also of murder in case of resistance, or for the sake of preventing discovery ; and the universal dread with which the silent and defenceless hours of rest and sleep must be disturbed, were attempts of this sort to become frequent; and which dread alone, even without the mischief wlu'ch is the object of it, is not only a public evil, but almost of all evils the most in- supportable. These circumstances place a dif- ference between the breaking into a dwelling- house by day, and by night; which difference obtains in the punishment of the offence by the law of Moses, and is probably to l>c found in the judicial codes of most countries, from the earliest ages to the present. Of frauds, or of injuries which are effected without force, the most noxious kinds are, forgeries, counterfeiting or diminishing of the coin, and the stealing of letters in the course of their conveyance ; inasmuch as these practices tend to deprive the public of accommodations, which not Only improve the conveniences of so- cial life, but are essential to the prosperity, and even the existence, of commerce. Of these crimes it may be said, that although they seem to affect property alone, the mischief of their operation does not terminate there. For let it_be supposed, that the remissness or lenity of the laws should, in any country, suffer offences of this sort to grow into such a frequency, as to render the use of money, the circulation of bills, or the public con- veyance of letters, no longer sale or practicable ; what would follow, but that every species of trade and of activity must decline under these dis- OP CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 139 couragements ; the sources of subsistence fail, by whictf the inhabitants of the country are sup- ported ; the country itself, where the intercourse of civil life was so endangered and defective, IK' deserted ; and that, beside the distress and poverty which the loss of employment would produce to the industrious and valuable part of the existing community, a rapid depopulation must take place. each generation becoming less numerous than the last; till solitude and barrenness overspread the land ; until a desolation similar to what obtains in many countries of Asia, which were once the most civilized and frequented parts of the world, succeed in the place of crowded cities, of cultivated fields, of liappy and well peopled regions^ When therefore we carry forwards our views to the more distant, but not less certain consequences of these crimes, we perceive that, though no' livin turo lw destroyed by them, yet human lite is di- minished: that an oilence, the particular conse- quence of which deprives only an individual of a small portion of his property, and which even in its general tendency seems to do nothing more than obstruct the enjoyment of certain public conveniences, may nevertheless, by its ultimate effects, conclude in the laying waste of human existence. This ol>servation will enable those who regard the divine rule of " life for life, and blood for blood," as the only authorized and jus- tifiable measure of capital punishment, to perceive, with respect to the effects and quality of the ac- tions, a greater resemblance than they suppose to exist between certain atrocious frauds, and those crimes which attack personal safety. In the case of forgeries, there appears a sub- stantial difference between the forging of bills of exchange, or of securities which are circulated, and of which the circulation and currency are found to serve and facilitate valuable purposes of commerce; and the forging of bonds, leases, mortgages, or of instruments which are not conk monly transferred from one hand to another; lo- calise in the former case, credit is necessarily given to the signature; and without that credit the negotiation of such property could not be carried on, nor the public utility, sought from it, be at- tained: in the other case, all possibility of deceit might be precluded, by a direct communication between the parties, or by due care in the choice of their agents, with little interruption to busi- ness, and without destroying, or much encumber- ing, the uses for which these instruments are cal- culated. This distinction I apprehend to be not only real, but precise enough to afford a line of division between forgeries, which as the law now stands, are almost universally capital, and punished with undistinguishing severity. Perjury is another crime, of the same class and magnitude. And, when we consider what re- liance is necessarily placed upon oaths ; that all judicial decisions proceed upon testimony ; that consequently there is not a right that a man pos- sesses, of which false witnesses may not deprive him; that reputation, property, and life itself, lie open to the attempts of perjury ; that it may often be committed without a possibility of contradic- tion or discovery; that the success and prevalency of this vice tend to introduce the most grievous and fatal injustice into the administration of hu- man affairs, or such a distrust of testimony a.s must create universal embarrassment and con- fusion: when we reflect upon these mischiefs, we shall be brought, probably, to agree with the opinion of those who contend that perjury, in its punishment, especially that which is attempted in solemn evidence, and in the face of a court of jus- tice, should be placed upon a level with the most flagitious frauds. The obtaining of money by secret threats, whether we regard the difficulty with which the crime is traced out, the odious imputations to which it may lead, or the profligate conspiracies that are sometimes formed" to carry it into execu- tion, deserves to be reckoned amongst the worst species of robbery. The frequency of capital executions in this country o\ves it necessity to three causes ; much liberty, great cities, and the want of a punishment short of death, possessing a sufficient degree of terror. And if the taking away of the life of male- factors be more rare in other countries than in ours, the reason will be found in some difference in these articles. The liberties v of a free people, and still more the jealousy with which these liber- ties are watched, and by which they arc preserved, permit not those precautions and restraints, that inspection, scrutiny, and control, which are ex- ercised with success in arbitrary governments. For example, neither the spirit of the laws, nor of the people, will suffer the detention or confine- ment of suspected persons, without proofs of their guilt, which it is often impossible to obtain ; nor will they allow that masters of families be obliged to record and render up a description of the strangers or inmates whom they entertain; nor that an ac- count be demanded, at the pleasure of the magis- trate, of each man's time, employment, and means of subsistence ; nor securities to be required when these accounts appear unsatisfactory or dubious; nor men to be apprehended upon the mere sug- gestion of idleness or vagrancy; nor to be con- liued to certain districts; nor the inhabitants of each district to be -made responsible for one another's behaviour; nor passports to be exacted from all persons entering or leaving the kingdom: least of all will they tolerate the appearance of an armed force, or of military law ; or suffer the streets and public road* to be guarded and patrolled by soldiers ; qr lastly, intrust the police with such dis- cretionary powers, as may make sure of the guilty, however they involve the innocent. These ex- }>edients, although arbitrary and rigorous, are many of them effectual : and in proportion as they render the commission or concealment of crimes more difficult, they subtract from the necessity of severe punishment. Great cities multiply crimes, by presenting easier opportunities, and more in- centives to libertinism, which in low life is com- monly the introductory-stage to other enormities ; by collecting thieves and robbers into the same neighbourhood, which enables them to form com- munications and confederacies, that increase their art and courage, as well as strength and wicked- ness ; but principally by the refuge they afford to villany, in the means of concealment, and of sub- sisting in secrecy, v^iich crowded towns supply to men of every description. These temptations and facilities can only be counteracted by adding to the number of capital punishments. But a third cause, which increases the frequency of capital executions, in England, is, a defect of the laws, in not being provided with any other punishment than that of death, sufficiently terrible to keep offenders in awe. Transportation, which is th 140 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. sentence second in the order of severity, appears to me to answer the purpose of example very im- perfectly: not only because exile is in reality a slight punishment to those who have neither property, nor friends, nor reputation, nor regular means of subsistence, at home; and because their situation becomes little worse by their erime, than it was before they committed it ; but because the punishment, whatever it be, is unobserved and unknown. A transported convict may suifer under his sentence, but his sufferings are re- moved from the view of his countrymen : his misery is unseen ; his condition strikes no terror into the minds of those for whose warning and admonition; it was intended. This chasm in the scale of punishment produces also two farther imperfections in the administration of penal jus- tice; the first is, 'that the same punishment is extended to crimes of very different character and malignancy: the second, that punishments separated by a great interval, are assigned to crimes hardly distinguishable in their guilt and mischief. The end of punishment is two-fold ; amend- ment, and example. In the first of these, the re- formation of c'riminals, little "has- .ever been ef- fected, and little, I fear, is practicable. From every species of punishment that has hitherto been de- vised, from imprisonment and exile, from pain and infamy, malefactors return more hardened in their crimes, and more instructed. If there be any tiling that shakes the soul of a confirmed villain, it is the expectation of approaching death. The horrors of this situation may cause such a wrench in the mental organSj as to give them a holding turn : and I think it probable, that many of those who are executed, would, if they were delivered at the point of deafeh, retain such a remembrance of their sensations, as might preserve them, unless urged by extreme want, from relapsing into their former crimes. But this is an experiment that, from its nature, cannot be repeated often. Of the reforming punishments which have not yet been tried, none promises so much success as that of solitary imprisonment, or the confinement of criminals in separate apartments. This im- provement augments the terror of the punish- ment ; secludes the criminal from the society of his fellow-prisoners, in which society the worse are sure to corrupt the better ', weans him from the knowledge of his companions, and from the love of that turbulent, precarious life in which his vices had engaged him : is calculated to raise up in him reflections on the folly of his choice, and to dispose his mind to such bitter ami continued penitence, as may produce a lasting alteration in the principles of his conduct. As aversion to kbour is the cause from which half of the vices of low life deduce .their origin and continuance, , punishments ought Jx> be contrived with a view to the conquering of this disposition. Two opposite expedients have been recommended for this purpose; the one, solitary confinement with hard labour ; the other, solitary confinement with nothing to do. Both expedients seek the same end ; to reconcile the idle to a life of in- dustry. -The former hopes to effect this by making labour habitual ; the latter, by making idleness in- supportable : and the preference of one method to the other depends upon the question, whether a man is more likely to betake himself, of his own accord, to work, who has been accustomed to em- ployment, or who has been distressed by the want of it. When jails are once provided for the sepa- rate confinement of prisoners, which both propo- sals require, the choice between them may soon be determined by experience. If labour he exacted, I would leave the whole, or a portion, of the earn- ings to the prisoner's use, and 1 would debar him from any other provision or supply ; that his sub- sistence, however coarse and penurious, may be proportioned to his diligence, and that he may taste the advantage of industry together with the toil. I would go further ; I would measure the confinement, not by the duration of time, but by quantity of work, in order both to excite industry, and to render it more voluntary. But the prin- cipal difficulty remains still ; namely, how to dis- pose of criminals after their enlargement. By a rule of life, which is perhaps too invariably and indiscriminately adhered to, no one will receive a man or woman out of a jail, into any service or employment whatever. This is the common misforturie of public punishment, that they pre- clude the offender from all honest means of future support.* ' It seems incumbent upon the state to secure a maintenance to those who are willing to work for it p and yet it is absolutely necessary to divide criminals as far asunder from one another as possible. Whether male prisoners might not, after the term of their confinement was expired, her distributed in the country, detained within certain limits, and employed upon the public roads; and females be remitted to the overseers of country parishes, to be there furnished with dwellings, and with the materials and implements of occupation; whether by these, or by what other methods, it may be possible to effect the two purposes of employment and dispersion, well merits the attention of all who arc anxious to perfect the internal regulation of their country. Torture is applied either to obtain confessions of guilt, or to exasperate or prolong the pains of d.eath. No bodily punishment, however excru- ciating or long-continued,. receives the name of torture, unless it be designed to kill the criminal by a more lingering death ; or to extort from him the discovery of some secret, which is supposed to lie concealed in his breast. The question by tor- ture appears to be equivocal in its effects: for since extremity of pain, and not any conscious- ness of remorse in the mind, produces those ef- fects : an innocent man may sink under the tor- ment, as well as he who is guilty. The latter has as much to fear from yielding, as the former. The instant and almost irresistible desire of relief may draw from one sufferer false accusations' of him- self or others, as it may sometimes extract the truth out of another. This ambiguity renders the use of torture, as a means of procuring information in criminal proceedings, liable to the risk of griev- ous and irreparable injustice. For which reason, though recommended by ancient and general example, it has been properly exploded from the mild and cautious system of penal jurisprudence established in this country. Barbarous spectacles of human agony are justly found fault with, as tending to harden and deprave the public feelings, and to destroy that sympathy * Until thjs inconvenience be remedied, small offences lad perhaps better go unpunished : I do not mean that :he law should exempt them from punishment, but that private persons should be tender in prosecuting them. OP CRIMES AND PUNISHMENTS. 141 with which the sufferings of our fellow-creatures ought always to be seen; or, if no effect of this kind follow' from them, they counteract in some measure their o\vn design, by sinking men's ab- horrence of the crime in their commiseration of the criminal. But it' a mode of execution could l>e devised, which would augment the horror of the punishment, without offending or impairing the public sensibility by cruel or unseemly exhibitions of death, it might add something to the ellicacy of the example: and, by being reserved for a few atrocious crimes, might. also enlarge the scale of punishment ; an addition to which seems want- ing: for, as the matter remains at present, you hang a malefactor for a simple robbery, and can do no more to the villain who has poisoned his father. Somewhat of the sort we have been describing, was the proj>osal, not long since sug- gested, of casting murderers into a den of wild beasts, whore they would perish in a manner dreadful to the imagination, yet concealed from the view. Infamous punishments are mismanaged in this country, with respect both to the crimes and the criminals. In the iirst place, they ought to be confined to offences which are holden in un- disputed and universal detestation. To condemn to the pillory the author or editor of a libel against the state, who has rendered himself the favourite of a party , if not of the |x>ople, by the very act for which he stands there, is to gratify the offender, and to expose the law to mockery and insult. In the second place; the delinquents who receive this sentence, are for the most part such as have long ceased either to value reputation, or to fear shame; of whose happiness, and of whose en- joyments, character makes no part. Thus the low ministers of lilx>rtinism, the keepers of bawdy or disorderly houses, are. threatened in \aiii with a punishment that affects a sense which they have not; that applies solely to the imagination, to the virtue and the pride of human nature. The pil- lory, or any other infamous distinction, might be employed rightly, and with effect, in ttie punish- ment of some offences of higher life ; as of frauds and peculation in office; of collusions and con- nivances, by which the public treasury is de- frauded ; of breaches of trust ; of perjury, and subornation of jx'rjury; of the clandestine and forbidden sale of places; of flagrant abuses of authority, or neglect of duty ; and lastly, of cor- ruption in the exercise of confidential or judicial offices. In all which, the more elevated was the station of the criminal, the more signal and con- spicuous would be the triumph of justice. The certainty of punishment is of more con- sequence than the severity. Criminals do not so much flatter themselves with the lenity of the sentence, as with the hope of escaping. They are not so apt to compare what they gain by the crime with what they may suffer from the punish- ment, as to encourage themselves with the chance of concealment or flight. For which reason, a vigilant magistracy, an accurate police, a proper distribution of force and intelligence, together with due rewards for the discovery and apprehension of malefactors, and an undeviating impartiality in carrying the laws into execution, contribute more to the restraint and suppression of crimes than any violent exacerbations of punishment. And, for the same reason, of all contrivances directed to this end, those perhaps are most effectual which facilitate the conviction of criminals. The offence of counterfeiting the coirr could not be checked by all the terrors and the utmost severity of kw, whilst the act of coining was necessary to be es- tablished by specific proof The statute which made possessioa-of the implements of coining capital, that -is, which constituted that possession complete evidence of the offender's guilt, was the first thing that gave force and efficacy to the de- nunciations of law upon this subject. The statute of James the First, relative to the murder of bas- tard children, which ordains that the concealment of the birth should be deemed incontestable proof of the charge, though a harsh law, was, in like manner with the former, well calculated to put a stop to the crime. It is upon the principle of this observation, that I apprehend much., harm to have been done to the community, by the over-strained scrupulousness, or weak timidity, of juries, which demands often, such proof of a prisoner's guilt, as the nature and secrecy of his crime scarce possibly admit of; and which holds it the part of a safe conscience not to condemn any man, whilst there exists the minutest possibility of his innocence. Any story they may happen to have heard or read, whether real or feigned, in which courts of justice have been misled by presumptions of guilt, is enough, in their minds, to fount! an acquittal upon, where positive proof is wanting. 1 do not mean that juries should indulge conjectures, should magnify suspicions into proofs, or even that they should weigh probabilities in gold scales: but when the preponderation of evidence is so manifest as to I it r>u,idee\erv private understanding of the prison- er's guilt; when it furnishes the degree of credi- bility upon which men decide and act in all other doubts, and which experience hath shown that they may decide and act upon with sufficient safety ; to reject'such proof, from an insinuation of uncertainty that belongs to all human affairs, and from a general dread lest the charge of innocent blood should lie at their doors, is a conduct, which, however natural to a mind studious of its own quiet, is authorised by no considerations of recti- tude or utility. It counteracts the care and damps the activity of government ; it holds out public encouragement to viljany, by confessing the im- possibility of bringing villains to justice; and that species of encouragement which, as hath been just now observed, the minds of such men are most apt to entertain and dwell upon. There are two popular maxims, which seem to have a considerable influence in producing the injudicious acquittals of which we complain. One is : " That circumstantial evidence falls short of positive proof." This assertion, in the unqualified sense in which it is applied, is not true. A con- currence of well-authenticated circumstances com- pose a stronger ground of assurance than positive testimony, unconfirmed by circumstances, usually affords. Circumstances cannot lie. The conclu- sion also which results from them, though deduced by only probable inference, is commonly more to be relied upon than the veracity of an unsupported solitary witness. The danger of being deceived is less, the actual instances of deception are fewer, in the one case than the other. What is called positive proof in criminal matters, as where a man swears to the person of the prisoner, and that he actually saw him commit the crime with which he is charged, may be founded in the mistake or per- 142 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. jury of a single witness. Such mistakes, and such perjuries, are not without many examples. \Vhereas, to impose upon a court of justice a chain of circumstantial evidence in support of a fabricated accusation, requires such a number of false witnesses as seldom meet together ; an union also of skill and wickedness which is still more rare; and, after all, this species of proof lies much more open to discussion, and is more likely, if false, to be contradicted, or to betray itself by some unforeseen inconsistency, than that direct proof,, which, being confined within the knowledge of a single person, which, appealing to, or standing connected with, no external or collateral circum- stances, is incapable, by its very simplicity, of being confronted with opposite probabilities. The other maxim, which deserves a similar examination, is this:" That it is better that ten guilty persons escape, than that one innocent man should suffer." If by saying it is better, be meant that it is more for the public advantage, the proposition, I think, cannot be maintained. The security of civil life, which is essential to the value and the enjoyment of every blessing it contains, and the interruption of which is followed by uni- versal misery and confusion, is protected chiefly by the dread of punishment. The misfortune of an individual (for such may the sufferings, or even the death, of an innocent person be called when they are occasioned by no evil intention,) cannot be placed in competition with this object. I do not contend that the life or safety of the meanest sub- ject ought, in any case, to be knowingly sacrificed : no principle of judicature, no end of punishment, can ever require that. But when certain rules of adjudication must be pursued, when certain degrees of credibility must be accepted, in order to reach the crimes with which the public are infested ; courts of jus- tice should not be deterred from the application of these rules by every suspicion of danger, or by the mere possibility of confounding the innocent with the guilty. They ought rather to reflect, that he who falls by a mistaken sentence, may In- considered as falling for his country; whilst he suffers under the operation of those rules, by the general effect and tendency of which the welfare of the community is maintained and upholden. CHAPTER X. Of Religious Establishments and of Toleration. "A RELIGIOUS establishment is no part of Christianity : it is only the means of inculcating it." Amongst the Jews, the rights and offices, the order, family, and succession of the priesthood, were marked out by the authority which declared the law itself. These, therefore, were parts of the Jewish religion, as well as the means of trans- mitting it. Not so with the new institution. It cannot be proved that any form of church-govern- ment was laid down in the Christian, as it had been ill the Jewish Scriptures, with a view of fixing a constitution for succeeding ages; and which constitution, consequently, the disciples of Christianity would every where, and at all times, by the very law of their religion, be obliged to adopt. Certainly, no command for this purpose was delivered by Christ himself; and if it be shown that the apostles ordained bishops and presbyters amongst their first converts, it must be remembered that deacons also and deaconesses were appointed by them, with functions very dissimilar to any which obtain in the church at present. The truth seems to have been, that such offices were at first erected in the Chris- tian church, as the good order, the instruction, and the exigencies of the society at that time re- quired, wkhout any intention, at least without any declared design, of regulating the appoint- ment, authority, or the distinction, of Christian ministers under future circumstances. This re- serve, if We may so call it, in the Christian Legis- lator, is sufficiently accounted for by two consider- ations : First, that no precise constitution could be framed, which would suit with the condition of Christianity in its primitive state, and with that which it was to assume when it should be advanced into a national religion: Secondly, that a par- ticular designation of office or authority amongst the ministers of the new religion, might have so interfered with the arrangements of civil policy, as to have formed, in some countries, a considerable obstacle to the progress and reception of the reli- gion itself. The authority therefore of a church-establish- ment is founded in its utility : and whenever, upon this principle, we deliberate concerning the form, propriety, or comparative excellency o? dif- erent establisliments, the single view under which we ought to consider any of them is, that of "a scheme of instruction ;" the single end we ought to propose by therfi js, " the preservation and communication of religious knowledge." Every other idea, and every other end, that have been mixed- with this, as the making of the church an engine, or even an ally, of the state ; converting it into the means of strengthening or diffusing in- fluence ; or regarding it as a support of regal, in opposition to popular forms of government ; have served only to debase the institution, and to intro- duce into it numerous corruptions and abuses. The notion of a religious establishment com- prehends three things : a clergy, or an order of men secluded from other professions to attend upon the offices of religion ; a legal provision for the maintenance of the clergy ; and the confining of that provision to the teachers of a particular i sect of Christianity. If any one of these three ] things be wanting, if there be no clergy as amongst ' the Gluakers ; or if the clergy have no other pro- / vision than what they derive from the voluntary contribution of their hearers ; or if the provision which the laws assign to the support of religion be extended to various sects and denominations of Christians ; there exists no national religion or established church, according to the sense which these terms are usually made to convey. He, there- fore, who would defend ecclesiastical establish- ments, must show the separate utility of these three essential parts of their constitution : 1. The question first in order upon the subject, as well as the most fundamental in its importance, is, whether the knowledge and profession of Chris- tianity can l maintained in a country without a class of men set apart by public authority to the study and teaching of religion, and to the conduct- ing of public worship ; and for these purposes se- cluded from other employments. I add this last circumstance, because in it consists, as I take it, the substance of the controversy. Now it must be remembered, that Christianity is an historical OP RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, AND OP TOLERATION. 143 religion, founded in facts which are related to have passed, upon discourses which were holden, and letters which were written, in a remote age, and distant country of the world, as well as under a state of life and manners, and during the preva- lency of opinion? customs, and institutions, very unlike any which, are found amongst mankind at present. Moreover, this religion, having been first published in the country of Judea, and being built upon the more ancient religion of the Jews, is necessarily and intimately connected with the sacred writings, with the history and j>olitv of that singular people : to which must be added, that the records of both revelations are preserved in languages which have long ceased to be spo- ken in any part of the world. Books which come down to us from times so remote, and under so many causes of unavoidable obscurity, cannot, it is evident, be understood without study and P^pa- ration. The languages must be learned. The various writings which these volumes contain, must be can-fully compared with one another, and with themselves. What remains of contemporary authors, or of authors connected with the age, thie country, or the subject of our scriptures, must be perused and consulted, in order to interpret doubt- ful forms of speech, and to explain allusions which refer to objects or usages that no longer exist. Above all, the modes of expression, the habits of reasoning and argumentation, which were then in use, and to which the discourses even of in- spired teachers were necessarily adapted, must be sufficiently known, and can only be known at all by a due acquaintance with ancient litera- ture. And lastly, to establish the genuineness and integrity of the canonical scriptures themselves, a series of testimony, rccoLrnisin-r the notoriety and reception of these l>ooks, must be deduced from times near to those of their first publication, down the succession of ages through which they have been transmitted to us. The qualifications ne- cessary for such researches demand, it is confessed, a degree of leisure, and a kind of education, in- consistent with the exercise of any other profes- sion. But how few arc there amongst the cleriry. from whom any thing of this sort can be expected ! how small a proportion of their numlx r. \\lio seem likely either to augment the fund of sacred literature, or even to collect what is already known! To this objection it may lx^ replied, that we sow many seeds to raise one flower. In order to produce a few capable of improving and continu- ing the stock of Christian erudition, leisure and_ opportunity must be afforded to great numbers. Original knowledge of this kind can never be universal ; but it is of the utmost importance, and it is enough that there be, at all times, found some qualified for such inquiries, and in whose concurring and independent conclusions upon each subject, the rest of the Christian community may safely confide : whereas, without an order of clergy educated for the purpose, and led to the prosecution of these studies by the habits, the leisure, and the object, of their vocation, it mav well be questioned whether the learning itself would not have been lost, by which the records of our faith are interpreted and defended. We contend, therefore, that an order of clergy is ne- cessary to perpetuate the evidences of Revelation, and to interpret the obscurity of those ancient "writings, in which the religion" is contained. But besides this, which forms, no doubt, one design of their institution, the more ordinary offices of pub- lic teaching, and of conducting public worship, call for qualifications not usually to be met with amidst the employments of civil life. It has been acknowledged by some, who cannot be suspected of making unnecessary concessions in favour of establishments, " to be barely possible, that a person who was never educated for the office should acquit himself with decency as a public teacher of religion.'' And that surely must be a verv defective policy which trusts to possibilities for success, when provision is to be made for regu- lar and general instruction. Little objection to this argument can be drawn from the example of the Gluakers, who, it may be said, furnish an ex- perimental proof that the worship and profession of Christianity may be upholden without a sepa- rate clergy. These sectaries every where subsist in conjunction with a regular establishment. They 'have access to -the wntings, they profit by the labours, of the clergy, in common with other Chris- tians. They participate in that general diffusion of religious knowledge, which the constant teach- ing of a more regular ministry keeps up in the country : with such aids, and under such circum- stances, the defects of a plan may not be much felt, although the plan itself be altogether unfit for general imitation. "2. If then an order of clergy be necessary, if it be necessary also to seclude them -from the em- ployments and profits, of other professions, it is evident they ought to lie enabled to derive a main- tenance from thei r own. Now this maintenance must either dep. ud upon the voluntary contribu- tions of their hearers, or arise from revenues as- signed by authority of law. To the scheme of voluntary contribution there exists this insur- mountable objection, that few would ultimately contribute any thing at all. However the zeal of a sect, or the novelty of a change, might support such an experiment for a while, no refiance could be placed upon it as a general and permanent pro- \ isi< n. It is at all times a bad constitution, which presents temptations of interest in opposition to the duties of religion ; or which makes the offices of religion expensive fo those who attend upon them ; or which allows pretences of conscience to be an excuse for not sharing in a public burthen. If, by declining to frequent religious assemblies, men could save their money, at the same time that they indulged their indolence, and their disinclina- tion to exercises of seriousness and reflection ; or, if by dissenting from the national religion, they could be excused from contributing to the support of the ministers of religion ; it is to be feared that many would take advantage of the option which was thus imprudently left open to them, and that this lil>erty might finally oj>erate to the decay of virtue, and an irrecoverable forgetfulness of all re- ligion in 'the country. Is there not too much reason to fear, that, if it were referred to the dis- cretion of each neighbourhood, whether they would maintain amongst them a teacher of religion or not, many districts would remain unprovided with any ; that, with the difficulties which encumber every measure requiring the co-operation of num- bers, and where each individual of the number has an interest secretly pleading against the success of the measure itself, associations for the support of Christian worship and instruction would .neither be numerous nor long continued'? The devout and pious might lament in vain the want or the 14* MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. distance of a religious assembly ; they could no! form or maintain one, without the concurrence of neighbours who felt neither their zeal nor their liberality. From the difficulty with which congregations Would be established and upheld upon the volun- tary plan, let us carry our thoughts to the condi- tion of those who are to officiate in them. Preach- ing, in time, would become a mode of begging. With what sincerity, or with what dignity, can a preachefHispense the truths of Christianity, whose thoughts are perpetually solicited to the reflection how he may increase his subscription^ His elo- quence, if he possesses any, resembles rather the exhibition of a player who is computing the profits of his theatre, than the simplicity of a man who, feeling himself the-awful expectation's of .religion, is seeking to bring others to such a sense and un- derstanding of their duty as may save their souls. Moreover, a little experience of the disposition of the common people will in every country inform us, that it is one thing to edify them in Christian knowledge, and another to gratify their taste for vehement, impassioned oratory ; that he, not only whose success, but whose subsistence, depends upon collecting and pleasing a crowd, must resort to other arts than the acquirement and communi- cation of sober and profitable instruction. For a preacher to be thus at the mercy of his audience ; to be obliged to adapt his doctrines to the pleasure of a capricious multitude ; to be continually affect- ing a style and manner neither natural to him, nor agreeable to his judgment ; to live in constant bondage to tyrannical and insolent directors ; are circumstances so mortifying, not only to the pride of the human heart, but to the virtuous love of in- dependency, that they are rarely submitted to without a sacrifice of principle, and a deprivation of character ; at least it may be pronounced, that a ministry so degraded would fall into the lowest hands: for it would be found impossible to engage men of worth and ability in so precarious and humiliating a profession. If, in deference then to these reasons, it be admitted, thai; a legal provision for the clergy, com- pulsory upon those who contribute to it, is expe- dient ; the next question will be, whether this pro- vision should be confined to one sect of Christianity, or extended indifferently to all] Now it should be observed, that this question never can offer itself where the people are agreed in their religious opinions ; and that it never ought to arise, where . a system may be framed of doctrines and worship wide enough to comprehend their disagreement ; and which might satisfy all, by uniting all in the articles of their common faith, and in a mode of divine worship that omits every subject of contro- versy or offence. Where such a comprehension is practicable, the comprehending religion ought to be made that of the state. But if this be de- spaired of; if religious opinions exist, not only so various, but so contradictory, as to render it, im- possible to reconcile them to each other, or to any one confession of faith, rule of discipline, or form of worship ; if, consequently, separate congrega- tions and different sects must unavoidably con : tinue in the country : under such circumstances, whether the laws ought to establish one sect in preference to the rest, that is, whether they ought to confer the provision assigned to the mainte- nance of religion upon the teachers of one system of doctrines alone, becomes a question of neces- sary discussion and of great importance. And whatever we mny determine concerning specula- tive rights and abstract proprieties, when we set about the framing of an ecclesiastical constitution Adapted to real life, and to the art mil state of reli- gion in the country, we shall find this question. very nearly related to and principally indeed de- pendent upon another ; namely, " In what way, or by Whom, ought the ministers of religion to be appointed?" If the species of patronage be retain- ed to which we are accustomed in this country, and we stationed in each, (which the, plan seems to suppose.) the expense of their mainte- nance will become too burthensoMie a er the country to support. If. to reduce the expense, the districts be enlarged, the place of assembling will oftentimes be too far removed from tin- re.xi- dence of the persons who ought to resort to it. A^aiu: the making the pecuniary success of the different teachers of religion to depend on the number and wealth of their respective followers, would naturally generate strifes and indecent jealousies amongst them; as well as produce a polemical and proselyting spirit, founded in or mixed with views of private gain, which would both deprave the principle* of the cl>njy, and distract the country with endless contentions. The argument, then, by which rrclesia h tical establishments are defended, proceeds by these steps : The knowledge and profession of Chris- tianity, cannot be upholden without a clergy : a clergy cannot be supported without a legal provi- sion ; a legal provision for the clergy, cannot be constituted without the preference of one sect of Christians to the rest : and the conclusion will be conveniently satisfactory in the degree in which the truth of these several propositions ran be made out. If it be deemed expedient to establish a national religion, that is to say, one sect in preference to all others; some test, by which tiie teachers of that sect may be distinguished from the teachers of dif- ferent sects, appears to be an indisj>ensal>Ie conse- quence. The existence of such an establishment supposes it: the very notion of a national religion includes that of a te'st. But this necessity, which is real, hath, according to the fashion of human affairs, furnished to almost every church a pretence for extending, multiplying, and continuing, such tests beyond what the occa- sion justified. For though some purposes of order and tranquillity may.be answered by the establish- ment of creeds and confessions, yet they are at all times attended with serious inconveniencies : they check inquiry ; they violate lil>erty ; they ensnare the consciences of the clergy, by holding out temp- tations to prevarication ; however they may express" the persuasion, or be accommodated to the contro- versies or to the fears of the age in which they are composed, in process of time, and by reason of-the changes which are Wont to take place in the judg- ment of mankind upon religious subjects, they come at length to contradict the actual opinions of tie church, whose doctrines they profess to con- tain; and they often perpetuate the proscription of sects, and tenets, from which anj danger has long ! to be apprehended. It may not follow from these objections, that tests and subscriptions ought to be abolished : but it fol- lows, that they ought to be made as simple and easy as possible ; that they should be adapted, from time to time, to the varying sentiments and cir- cumstances of the church in which they are re- ceived; and that they should at no time advance one step farther than some subsisting necessity re- quires. If, for instance, promises of conformity to the rites, liturgy, and offices of the church, be suf- ficient to prevent confusion and disorder in the celebration of divine worship, then such promises ought to IH> accepted in the place of stricter sub- scriptions. If articles of peace, as they are called, that is, engagements not to preach certain doctrines, nor to revive certain controversies, would exclude indecent altercation^ amongst the national clergy, as well as secure to the public teaching of religion, as much of uniformity and quiet as -is necessary to edification; then confessions of faith ought to be converted into articles of peace. In a word, it ought to be holden a sufficient reason for relaxing the terms of subscription, or for dropping any or all of the articles to l>e subscribed, that no present v requires the strictness which is com- plained of, or tliat it should be extended to so many points of doctrine. The division of the country into districts, and the stationing in each district a teacher of religion, forms the substantial part of every church estab- lishment. The varieties that have been introduced into the government and discipline of different churches, arc of inferior importance when com- pared with this, in which they all agree. Of these economical questions, none seems more material than that which has been long agitated in the re- formed churches of Christendom, whether a parity amongst the clergy, or a distinction of orders in the- ministry, be more conducive to the general ends of the institution. In favour of that system which the laws of this country have preferred, we may allege the following reasons : that it secures tranquillity and subordination amongst the clergy themselves ; that it corresponds with the gradations of rank in civil life, and provides for the edifica- tion of each rank, by stationing in each an order of clergy of their own chisssnid quality: and, lastly, that the" same fund produces more ellk-t. both as an allurement to men of talents to enter into the chinch, and ;<^ a .-limulus to i he industry of those who are already in it, when distributed into prizes of different value, than when divided into equal shares. 13 146 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. After the state has once established a particular system of faith as a national religion, a question will soon occur, concerning the treatment and toleration of those who dissent from it. This Question is properly preceded by another, concern- ing the right which the civil magistrate possesses to interfere in matters of religion at all : for, al- though this right be acknowledged whilst he is employed solely in providing means of public in- struction, it will probably be disputed, (indeed it ever has been,) when he proceeds to inflict penal- ties, to impose restraints or incapacities, on the ac- count of religious distinctions. They who admit no other just original of civil government, than what is founded m some stipulation with its sub- jects, are at liberty to contend that the concerns of religion were excepted out of the social com- pact; that, in an a/fair which can only be trans- acted between Cfod and a man's own conscience, no commission or authority was ever delegated to the civil magistrate, or could indeed be transferred from the person himself to any other. We, how- ever, who have rejected this theory, because we cannot discover any actual contract between the state and the people, and because we cannot allow any arbitrary fiction to be made the foundation of real rights and of real obligations, find ourselves precluded from this distinction. The reasoning which deduces the authority of civil government from the will of God, and which collects that will from public expediency alone, binds us to the un- reserved conclusion, that the jurisdiction of the magistrate is limited by no consideration but that of general utility : in plainer terms, that whatever be the subject to be regulated, it is lawful for him to interfere whenever his inteference, in its gene- ral tendency, appears to be conducive to the com- mon interest. There is nothing in the nature of religion, as such, which exempts it from the au- thority of the legislator, when the safety or welfare ^f A.1 T_ _ j - -WA of the community requires his interposition. It ""g pi vince of civil government, the office' of which unity rec , indeed, has been said the interests of a life to come, lies beyond the that religion, pertaining to iro- is confined to the affairs of this life. But in reply to this objection, it may be observed, that when the laws interfere even in religion, they interfere only with ternvwrals; their effects terminate, their power operates only upon those rights and in- terests, which confessedly belong to their disposal. The acts of the legislature, the edicts of the prince, the sentence of the judge, cannot affect my sal- vation: nor do they, without the most absurd arrogance, pretend to any such power : but they may deprive me of liberty, of property, and even of fife itself, on account of my religion ; and how- ever I may complain of the injustice of the sen- tence by which I am condemned, I cannot allege, that the magistrate has transgressed the boundaries of his jurisdiction ; because the property, the lib- erty, and the life of the subject, may be taken away by the authority of the laws, for any reason which, in the judgment of the legislature, renders such a measure necessary to the common welfare. Moreover, as the precepts of religion may regulate all the offices of life, or may be so construed as to extend to all, the exemption of religion from the control of human laws might afford a plea, which would exclude civil government from every autho- rity over the conduct of its subjects. Religious liberty is, like civil liberty, not an immunity from what in a greater degree conduces to the public welfare. Still it is right " to obey God rather than man." Nothing that we have said encroaches upon the truth of this sacred and undisputed maxim : the right of the magistrate to ordain, and the obliga- tion of the subject to obey, in matters of religion, may be very different ; and will be so, as often as they flow from opposite apprehensions of the Di- vine will. In affairs that are properly of a civil na- ture, in " the things that are Csesar's," this differ- ence seldom happens. The law authorises the act which it enjoins ; Revelation being either silent upon the subject, or referring to the laws of the country, or requiring only that men act by some fixed rule, and that this rule be established by competent authority. But when human laws in- terpose their direction hi matters of religion, by dictating, for example, the object or the mode of divine worship ; by prohibiting the profession of some articles of faith, and by exacting that of others, ;hey are liable to clash with what private persons relieve to be already settled by precepts of Reve- lation; or to contradict what God himsc think, hath declared to be true. limself, they In this case, on wliichcver side the mistake lies, or whatever plea he state may allege to justify its edict, the sub- ect can have none to excuse his compliance. The same consideration also points out the distinction, as to the authority of the state, between temporals and spirituals. The magistrate is not to be obeyed n temporals more than spirituals, where a repug- nancy is perceived between his commands and any credited manifestations of the Divine will; sut such repugnancies are much less likely to arise n one case than the other. When we grant that it is lawful for the ma- gistrate to interfere in religion as often as his in- terference appears to him to conduce, in its general ;endency, to the public happiness ; it may be argued, from this concession, that since salvation is the highest interest of mankind, and since, consequent- ly, to advance that, is to promote the public hap- piness in the best way, and in the greatest degree, n which it can be promoted, it follows, that it is lot only the right, but the duty, of every magis- :rate invested with supreme power, to enforce upon his subjects the reception of that religion which he leems most acceptable to God ; and to enforce it by such methods as may appear most effectual for the end proposed. A popish king, for example, who should believe that salvation is not attainable out of the precincts of the Rornish church, would derive a right from our principles (not to say that he would be bound by them) to employ the power with which the constitution intrusted him, and which power, in absolute monarchies, commands the lives and fortunes of every subject of the empire, in reducing his people within that communion. We confess that this consequence is inferred from the principles we have laid down concerning the foun- dation of civil authority, not without the resem- blance of a regular deduction : we confess also that it is a conclusion which it behoves us to dispose of; because, if it really follow from our theory of go- vernment, the theory itself ought to be given up. Now it will be remembered, that the terms of our proposition are these : " That it is lawful for the magistrate to interfere in the affairs of religion, whenever his interference appears to him to con- duce, by its general tendency, to the public hap- restraint,' but the being restrained by no law, but j piness." The clause of" general tendency," when OF RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS, AND OF TOLERATION. 147 this rule comes to be applied, will be found a very I By a man who acts with a view to a future judg- significant part of the direction. It obliges the ma- ment, the authority of a religion is the first thing gistrate to reflect, not only whether the religion inquired after ; a religion which wants authority, which he wishes to propagate amongst his sub- with him wants every thing. Since then this au- jects, be that which will best secure their eternal thority appertains, not to the religion which is welfare; not only, whether the methods he employs most commodious, to the religion which is most be likely to effectuate the establishment of that sublime and efficacious, to the religion which suits religion ; but also upon this farther question : best with the form, or seems most calculated to Whether the kind of interference which he is uphold the power and stability, of civil govern- about to exercise, if it were adopted as a common ment, but only to that religion which comes from maxim amongst states and princes, or received as God; we are justified in pronouncing the true a general rule for the conduct of government in religion, by its very truth, and independently of matters of religion, would, upon the whole, and in all considerations of tendencies, aptness, or any the mass of instances in which his example might other internal qualities whatever, to be universally be imitated, conduce to the furtherance of human the best. salvation. If the magistrate, for example, should From the first proposition follows this inference, think that, although the application of his power that when the state enables its subjects to learn might, in the instance concerning which he de- some form of Christianity, by distributing teach- liberates, advance the true religion, and together ers of a religious system throughout the country, with it, the happiness of his people, yet that the and by providing for the maintenance of these same engine, in other hands, who might assume teachers at the public expense ; that is, in fewer the right to use it with the like pretensions of rea- terms, when the laws est abllsh a national religion, son and authority that he himself alleges, would they exercise a power and an interference, which more frequently shut out truth, and obstruct the are likely, in their general tendency, to promote means of salvation ; he would be bound by this the interest of mankind ; for, even supposing the opinion, still admitting public utility to le the su- species of Christianity which the laws patronise preme rule of his conduct, to refrain from expe- to be erroneous and corrupt, yet when the option dients, which, whatever particular rtlivts he may lies Mween this religion and no religion at all, expect from them, are, in their general operation, (which would be the consequence of leaving the dangerous or hurtful. If there be any difficulty people without any public means of instruction, in the subject, it arises from that which is the or any regular celebration of the offices of Chris- cause of every difficulty in morals; the competi- tianity,) our proposition teaches us that the former tion of particular and general consequences ; or, alternative is constantly to be preferred, what is the same tiling, thr submission of one ge- But after the right of the magistrate to establish ncral rule to another rule which is still more a particular religion has been, upon this principal, general. admitted; a doubt sometimes presents itself, whe- Bearing then in mind, that it is the general ther the religion which he ought to establish, be tendency of the measure, or. in other words, the that which he himself professes, or that which he effects which would arise from the measure be- observes to prevail amongst the majority of the ing generally adopted, that fixes upon it the cha- people. Now when we consider this question racter of rectitude or injustice ; we proceed to with a view to the formation of a general rule inquire what is the degree and the sort of inter- upon the subject, (which view alone can furnish a ference of secular laws in matters of religion, just solution of the doubt,) it must be assumed to which are likely to be beneficial to the public be an equal chance whether of the two religions happiness. There are two maxims which will contain more of truth, that of the magistrate, or in a great measure regulate our conclusions upon that of the people. The chance then that is left this head. The first is, that any form of Chris- to truth l*MMg <'<|ii:il upon both suppositions, the tianity is better than no religion at all : the second, remaining consideration will be, from which ar- that, of different systems of faith, that is the best rangement more efficacy can be expected ; from which is the truest. The first of these positions an order of men appointed to teach the people their will hardly be disputed, when we reflect that own religion, or to convert them to another 1 In every sect and modification of Christianity holds my opinion, the advantage lies on the side of the out the happiness and misery of another life, as former scheme ; and this opinion, if it be assented depending cniefly upon the practice of virtue or to, makes it the duty of the magistrate, in the of vice in this ; and that the distinctions of virtue choice of the religion which he establishes, to and vice are nearly the same in all. A person -consult the faith of the nation, rather than his own. who acts under the impression of these hopes and The case also of dissenters must be determined fears, though combined with many errors and su- by the principles just now stated. Toleration is perstitions, is more likely to advance both the of two kinds ; the allowing to dissenters the un- public happiness and his own, than one who is molested profession and exercise of their religion, destitute of all expectation of future account, but with an exclusion from offices of trust and The latter proposition is founded in the consider- emolument in the state ; which is a partial tple- ation, that the principal importance of religion ration : and the admitting them, without distinc- consists in its influence upon the fate and condi- tion, to all the civil privileges and capacities of tion of a future existence. This influence be- other citizens ; which is a complete toleration, longs only to that religion which comes from God. The expediency of toleration, and consequently the A political religion may be framed, which shall right of every citizen to demand it, as far as relates embrace the purposes, and describe the duties of to liberty of conscience, and the claim of being pro- political society perfectly well ; but if it be not de- tected in the free and safe profession of his reli- livered by God, what assurance does it afford, gion, is deducible from the second of those proposi- that the decisions of the Divine judgment will Sons which we have delivered as the grounds of have any regard to the rules which it contains 1 \ our conclusions upon the subject. That proposi- 148 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. tion asserts truth, and truth in the abstract to be the supreme perfection of every religion. The advancement, consequently, and discovery of truth, is that end to which all regulations concerning re- ligion ought principally to be adapted. Now, every species of intolerance which enjoins suppression and silence, and every species of persecution which enforces such injunctions, is adverse to the progress of truth; forasmuch as it causes that to be fixed !>v one set of men, at one time, which is much better arid with much more probability of success, left to the independent and progressive inquiry of sepa- rate individuals. Truth results from discussion and controversy, and is investigated by the labours and researches of private persons. Whatever, therefore, prohibits these, obstructs that industry and that liberty, which it is the common interest of mankind to promote. In religion, as in other subjects, truth, if left to itself, will almost always obtain the ascendency. If different religions be professed in the same country, and the minds of men remain unfettered and unawed by intimida- tions of law, that religion which is founded in maxims of reason and credibility, will gradually gain over the other to it. I do not mean that men will formally renounce their ancient religion, but that they will adopt into it the more rational doc- trines, the improvements and discoveries of the neighbouring sect; by which means the worse religion, without the ceremony of a reformation, will insensibly assimilate itself to the better. If popery, for instance, and protestantism, were per- mitted to dwell quietly together, papists might not become protcstants (for the name is commonly the kst thing that is changed,*) but they would be- come more enlightened and informed ; they would by little and little incorporate into their creed many of the tenets of protestantism, as well as imbibe a portion of its spirit and moderation. The justice and expediency of toleration we found primarily in its conduciveness to truth, and in the superior value of truth to that of any other quality which a religion can possess : this is the principal argument ; but there are some auxiliary considerations, too important to be omitted. The confining of the subject to the religion of the state, is a needless violation of natural liberty, and is an instance in which constraint is always grievous. Persecution produces no sincere conviction, nor any real change of opinion ; on the contrary, it vitiates the public morals, by driving men to pre- varication ; and commonly end sin a general though secret infidelity, by imposing, under the name of revealed religion, systems of doctrine which men cannot believe, and dare not examine : finally, it disgraces the character, and wounds th reputa- tion of Christianity itself, by making it the author of oppression, cruelty, and bloodshed. Under the idea of religious toleration, I in- clude the toleration of all books of serious ar- gumentation : but I deem it no infringement of religious liberty, to restrain the circulation of ridi- cule, invective, and mockery, upon religious sub- jects; because this species of writing applies solely to the passions, weakens the judgment, and contaminates the imagination, of its readers ; has no tendency whatever to assist either the investi- * Would we let the name stand, we might often at- tract men, without their perceiving it, much nearer to ourselves, than, if they did perceive it, they would be willing to come. gation or the impression of truth : on the contrary, whilst it stays not to distinguish between the au- thority of dillerent religions, it destroys alike the influence of all. Concerning the admission of dissenters from the established religion tooliiees and employments in the public service, (which is necessary, to ren- der toleration complete,) doubts have been enter- tained, with some appearance of reason. It is possible that such religious opinions may le hold- en, as are utterly incompatible with the neccssary functions of civil government ; and which opinions consequently disqualify those who maintain them from exercising any share in its administration. There have been enthusiasts who held that Chris- tianity has abolished all distinction of property, and that she enjoins upon her followers a com- munity of goods. With what tolerable propriety could one of this sect be appointed a judge or a magistrate, whose office it is to decide upon ques- tions of private right, and to protect men in the exclusive enjoyment of their property 1 It would be equally absurd to intrust a military command to a Cluaker, who believes it to be contrary to the Gospel to take up arms* This is possible'; there- fore it cannot be laid down as an universal truth, that religion is not, in its nature, a cause which will justify exclusion from public employments. When we examine, however, the sects of Chris- tianity which actually prevail in the world, we must confess that, with the single exception of refusing to bear arms, we find no tenet in any of them which incapacitates men for the service of the state. It has indeed been asserted, that discordancy of religions, even supposing each religion to be free from any errors that affect the safety or the conduct of government, is enough to render men unfit to act together, in public stations. But upon what argument, or upon what expe- rience, is this assertion founded 1 I perceive no reason why men of different religious persuasions may not sit upon the same tench, deliberate in the same council, or fight in the same ranks, as well as men of various or opposite opinions upon any controverted topic of natural philosophy, his- tory, or ethics. There are two cases in which test-laws are wont to be applied, and in which, if in any, they may be defended. One is, where two or more re- ligions are contending for establishment; and where there appears no way of putting an end to the contest, but -by giving to one religion such a decided superiority in the legislature and govern- ment of the country, as to secure it against dan- ger from any other. I own that I should assent to this precaution with many scruples. If the dis- senters from the establishment become a majority of the people ; the establishment itself ought to te altered or qualified. If there exists amongst the different sects of the country such a parity of numbers, interest, and power, as to render the preference of oric sect to the rest, and the choice of that sect, a matter of hazardous success, and of doubtful election, some plan similar to that which is meditated in North America, and which we have described in a preceding part of the present chapter, though encumbered with great difficulties, may perhaps suit tetter with this divided state of public opinion, than any constitution of a national church whatever. In all other .situations, the es- tablishment will be strong enough to maintain it- self. However, if a test te applicable with justice OF POPULATION AND PROVISION. 149 upon this principle at all, it ought to be applied in regal governments, to the chief magistrate him- self, whose power might otherwise overthrow or change the established religion of the country, in opposition to the will and sentiments of the people. The second case of extension, and in which, I think, the measure is more easily vindicated, is that of a country in which some disaffection to the subsisting government happens to be connected with certain religious distinctions. The state un- doubtedly has a right to refuse its power and its confidence to those who seek its destruction. Wherefore, if the generality of any religious sect entertain dispositions hostile to the constitution, and if government have no other way of knowing its enemies than by the religion which they pro- fess, the professors of that religion may justly be excluded from offices of trust and authority. But even here it should be observed, that it is not against the religion that government shuts its doors, but ana inst those political principles, which, however independent they may lie of any article of religious faith, the meinlxTs of that communion are found in fact to hold. Nor would the legisla- tor make religious tenets the test of men's incli- nations towards the state, if he could discover any other that was equally certain and notorious. Thus, if the members of the Romish church, for the most part adhere to the interests, or maintain the right, of a foreign pretender to the crown of these Kingdoms ; and it there be no way of dis- tinguishing those who do from those who do not retain such dangerous prejudices; government is well warranted in fencing out the whole sect from situations of trust and power. Unt even in this example, it is not to popery that the laws object, but to popery as the mark of jacobitism ; an equivo- cal indeed and fallacious mark, but the best and per- haps the only one, that can be devised. But then it should be remembered, that as the connexion between popery and jacobitism, which is the sole cause of suspicion and the sole justification of those severe and jealous laws which have been enacted against the professors of that religion, was accidental in its origin, so probably it will be temporary in its duration; and that these restric- tions ought not to continue one day longer than some visible danger renders them necessary to the preservation of public tranquillity. After all, it may be asked ; >Vhy should not the legislator direct his test against the political principles themselves which he wishes to exclude, rather than encounter them through the medium of religious tenets, the only crime and the only danger of which consist in their presumed al- liance with the former? Why, for example, should a man be required to renounce transub- stantiation, before he be admitted to an office in the state, when it might seem to be sufficient that he abjure the pretender 1 There are but two answers that can be given to the objection which this question contains : first, that it is not opinions which the laws fear, so much as inclinations ; and, that political inclinations are not so easily detected by the affirmation or denial of any abstract pro- position in politics, as by the discovery of the religious creed with which they are wont to be united : secondly, that when men renounce their religion, they commonly quit all connexion with the members of the church which they have left ; that church no longer expecting assistance or friendship from them: whereas particular persons might insinuate themselves into offices of trust and authority, by subscribing political assertions, and yet retain their predilection for the interests of the religious sect to which they continued to belong. By which means, government would sometimes find, though it could not accuse the individual, whom it had received into ks service, of disaffection to the civil establishment, yet that, through him, it had communicated the aid and influence of a powerful station to a party who were hostile to the constitution. These answers, however, we propose rather than defend. The measure certainly cannot be defended at all, ex- cept where the suspected union between certain obnoxious principles in politics, and certain tenets in religion^ is nearly universal ; in which case, it makes little difference to the subscriber, whether the test be religious or political; and the state is somewhat better secured by the one than the other. The result of our examination of those general tendencies, by which every interference of civil government in matters of religion ought to be tried, is this : " That a comprehensive national religion, guarded by a few articles of peace and conformity, together with a legal provision for the clergy of that religion ; and with a complete toleration of all dissenters from the established church, without any other limitation or exception, than what arises from the conjunction of dangerous political dispo- sitions with certain religious tenets ; apj>ears to be, not only the most just and liberal, but the wisest and safest system, which a state can adopt ; in- asmuch as it unites the several perfections which a religious constitution ought to aim at : liberty of conscience, with means of instruction; the progress of truth, with the peace of society ; the right of private judgment, with the care of the public safety." CHAPTER XI. Of Population and Provision ; and of Agricul- ture and Commerce, as subservient thereto. THE final view of all rational politics is, to pro- duce the greatest quantity of happiness in a given tract of country. The riches, strength, and glory of nations; the topics which history celebrates, and which alone almost engage the praises and possess the ad miration of mankind ; have no value farther than as they contribute to this end. When they interfere with it, they are evils, and not the less real for the splendour that surrounds them. Secondly : Although we speak of communities as of sentient beings; although we ascrit)e to them happiness and misery, desires, interests, and passions; nothing really exists or feels but individuals. The happiness of a people is made up of the happiness of single persons ; and the quantity of happiness can only be augmented by increasing the number of the percipients, or the pleasure of their perceptions. Thirdly: Notwithstanding that diversity of condition, especially different degrees of plenty, freedom, and security, greatly vary the quantity of happiness enjoyed by the same number of individuals; and notwithstanding that extreme cases may be found, of human beings so galled by the rigours of slavery, that the increase of numbers is only the amplification of misery ; yet, within certain limits, and within those limits 13* 150 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. to which civil life is diversified under the tem- perate governments that obtain in Europe, it may be affirmed, 1 think, with certainty, that the quan- tity of happiness produced in any given district, so far depends upon the number of inhabitants, that, in comparing adjoining periods in the same country, the collective happiness will be nearly in the exact proportion of the numbers ; that is, twice the number of inhabitants will produce double the quantity of happiness : in distant pe- riods, and different countries, under great changes or great dissimilitude of civil condition, although the proportion of enjoyment may fall much short of the numbers, yet still any considerable excess of numbers will usually carry with it a prepon- deration of happiness ; that, at least, it may and ought to be assumed, in all political deliberations, that a larger portion of happiness is enjoyed amongst ten persons, possessing the means of healthy subsistence, than can be produced by Jive persons, under every advantage of power, affluence, and luxury. From these principles it follows, that the quan- tity of happiness in a given district, although it is possible it may be increased, the number of in- habitants remaining the same, is chiefly and most naturally affected by alteration of the numbers : that, consequently, the decay of population is the greatest evil that a state can suffer ; and the im- provement of it, the object which ought, in all countries, to be aimed at, in preference to every other political purpose whatsoever. The importance of population, and the supe- riority of it to every other national advantage, are points necessary to be inculcated, and to be understood ; inasmuch as false estimates, or fan- tastic notions, of national grandeur, are per- petually drawing the attention of statesmen and legislators from the care of this, which is, at all times, the true and absolute interest of a country : for which reason, we have stated these points with unusual formality. We will confess, how- ever, that a competition can seldom arise between the advancement of population and any measure of sober utility ; because, in the ordinary progress of human affairs, whatever, in any way, con- tributes to make a people happier, tends to render them more numerous. In the fecundity of the human, as of every other species of animals, nature has provided for an indefinite multiplication. Mankind have in- creased to their present number from a single pair ; the offspring of early marriages, in the or- dinary course of procreation, do more than replace the parents: in countries, and under circum- stances very favourable to subsistence, the popu- lation has been doubled in the space of twenty years; the havoc occasioned by wars, earthquakes, famine, or pestilence, is usually, repaired in a short time. These indications sufficiently demonstrate the tendency of nature, in the human species, to a continual increase of its numbers. It becomes, therefore, a question that may reasonably be pro- pounded, what are the causes which confine or check the natural progress of this multiplication 1 And the answer which first presents itself to the thoughts of the inquirer is, that the population of a country must stop when the country can main- tain no more ; that is, when the inhabitants are already so numerous as to exhaust all the pro- vision which the soil can be made to produce. This, however, though an insuperable bar, will seldom be found to be that which actually checks the progress of population in any country of the world ; because the number of the people have seldom, in any country, arrived at this limit, or even approached to it. The fertility of the ground, in temperate regions, is capable of being improved by cultivation to an extent which is unknown ; much, however, beyond the state of improvement in any country in Europe. In our own, which holds almost the first place in the knowledge and encouragement of agriculture, let it only be sup- posed that every field in England, of the same original quality with those in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, and consequently capable of the same fertility, were, by a like management, made to yield an equal produce ; and it may be asserted, I believe with truth, that the quantity of human provision raised in the island would be increased five-fold. The two principles, therefore, upon which population seems primarily to depend, the fecundity of the species, and the capacity of the soil, would in most, perhaps in all countries, enable it to proceed ( much farther than it has yet advanced. The number of marriageable women, who, in each country, remain unmarried, afford a computation how much the agency of nature in the diffusion of human life is cramped and con- tracted ; and the quantity of waste, neglected, or mismanaged surface, together with a comparison, like the preceding, of the crops raised from the soil in the neighbourhood of populous cities, and un- der a perfect state of cultivation, with those which lands of equal or superior quality yield in different situations, will show in what proportion the in- digenous productions of the earth are capable of being farther augmented. The fundamental proposition upon the subject of population, which must guide every endeavour to improve it, and from which every conclusion concerning it may be deduced,. is this: " Wherever the commerce between the sexes is regulated by marriage, and a provision for that mode of sub- sistence, to which each class of the community is accustomed, can be procured with ease and cer- tainty, there the number of the people will in- crease ; and the rapidity, as well as the extent, of the increase, will be proportioned to the degree in which these causes exist." This proposition we will draw out into the se- veral principles which it contains. J. First, the proposition asserts the "necessity of confining the intercourse of the sexes to the marriage-union." It is only in the marriage-union that this intercourse is sufficiently prolific. Be- side which, family establishments alone arc fitted to perpetuate a succession of generations. The offspring of a vague and promiscuous concubinage are not only few, and liable to perish by neglect, but are seldom prepared for, or introduced into situations suited to the raising of families of their own. Hence the advantages of marriages. Now nature, in the constitution of the sexes, has pro- vided a stimulus which will infallibly secure the frequency of marriages, with all their beneficial effects upon the state of population, provided the male part of the species be prohibited from ir- regular gratifications. This impulse, which is suf- ficient to surmount almost every impediment to marriage, will operate in proportion to the dif- ficulty, expense, danger, or infamy, the sense of guilt, or the fear of punishment, which attend li- centious indulgences. Wherefore, in countries in OP POPULATION AND PROVISION. 151 xvhich subsistence is become scarce, it behoves the state to watch over the public morals with in- creased solicitude ; for nothing but the instinct of nature, under the restraint of chastity, will induce men to undertake the labour, or consent to the sa- crifice of personal liberty and indulgence, which the support of a family, in such circumstances, requires. II. The second requisite which our proposition states as necessary to the success of population, is, " the ease and certainty with which a provision can be procured for that mode of subsistence to which each class of the community is accustomed." It is not enough that men's natural wants be supplied ; that a provision adequate to the real exigencies of human life be attainable : habitual superfluities become" actual wants; opinion and fashion convert articles of ornament and luxury into necessaries of life. And it must not be ex- pected from men in general, at least in the present relaxed state of morals and discipline, that they will enter into marriages which degrade their con- dition, reduce their mode of living, deprive them of the accommodations to which they have been accustomed, or even of those ornaments or ap- pendages of rank and station which they have been taught to regard as belonging to their birth, or class, or profession, or place in society. The same consideration, namely, a view to their ac- customed mode of life, wliich is so apparent in the superior order of the people, has no less influence upon those ranks which eoni|>osr the mass of the community. The kind and quality of food and liquor, the species of habitation, furniture, and clothing, to which the common people of each country are habituated, must be attainable with ease and certainty, before marriages will be suf- ficiently early and general to carry the progress of population to its just extent. It is in vain to allege, that a more simple diet, ruder habitations, or coarser apparel, would l>e sufficient for the pur- poses of life and health, or even of physical ease and pleasure. Men will not marry with this en- couragement. For instance : when the common people of a country are accustomed to eat a large proportion of animal food, to drink wine, spirits, or beer, to wear shoes and stockings, to dwell in stone houses, they will not marry to live in clay cottages, upon roots and milk, with no other clothing than skins, or what is necessary to de- fend the trunk of the body from the effects of cold ; although these last may be all that the sus- tentation of life and health requires, or that even contribute much to animal comfort and enjoy- ment. The ease, then, and certainty, with which the means can be procured, not barely of subsistence, but of that mode of subsisting which custom hath in each country established, form the point upon which the state and progress of population chiefly depend. Now, there are three causes which evi- dently regulate this point: the mcde itself of sub- sisting which prevails in 'the country; the quan- tity of provision suited to that mode oif subsistence, which is either raised in the country or imported into it ; and, lastly, the distribution of that provision. These three causes merit distinct consideration. I. The mode of living which actually obtains in a country. In China, where the inhabitants fre- quent the sea shore, or the banks of large rivers, and subsist in a great measure upon fish, the population is described to be excessive. This pe- culiarity arises, not probably from any civil advan- tages, any care or policy, any particular consti- tution or superior wisdom of government; but simply from hence, that the species of food, to which custom hath reconciled the desires and in- clinations of the inhabitants, is that which, of all others, is procured in the greatest abundance, with the most ease, and stands in need of the least preparation. The natives of Indostan being confined, by the laws of their religion, to the use of vegetable food, and requiring little except rice, which the country produces in plentiful crops ; and food, in warm climates, composing the only want of life ; these countries are populous, under all the injuries of a despotic, and the agitations of an unsettled government. If any revolution, or what would be called perhaps refinement of manners, should generate in these people a taste for the flesh of animals, similar to what prevails amongst the Arabian hordes; should introduce flocks and herds into grounds which are now co- vered with corn ; should teach them to account a certain portion of this species of food amongst the necessaries of life ; the population, from this sin- gle change, would suffer m a few years a great diminution : and this diminution would follow, in spite of every effort of the laws, or even of any improvement that might take place in their civil condition. In Ireland, the simplicity of living alone, maintains a considerable degree of popula- tion, under great defects of police, industry, and commerce. Under this head, and from a view of these con- siderations, may be understood the true evil and proi>er danger of luxury. LUXURY, as it supplies employment and pro- motes industry, assists population. But, then there is another consequence attending it, which counteracts and often overbalances these advan- tages. When, by introducing more superfluities into general reception, luxury has rendered the usual accommodations of life more expensive, ar- tificial, and elaborate, the difficulty of maintaining a family conformably with the established mode of living, becomes greater, and what each man has to spare from his personal consumption pro- portionably less : the effect of which is, that mar- riages grow less frequent, agreeably to the maxim above laid down, and winch must be remembered as the foundation of all our reasoning upon the subject, that men will not marry to sink their place or condition in society, or to forego those indulgences which their own habits, or what they observe amongst their equals, have rendered ne- cessary to their satisfaction. This principle is ap- plicable to every article of diet and dress, to houses, furniture, attendance ; and this effect will be felt in every class of the community. For instance : the custom of wearing broad-cloth and fine linen, repays the shepherd and flax-grower, feeds the manufacturer, enriches the merchant, gives not only support but existence to multitudes of fami- lies : hitherto, therefore, the effects are beneficial ; and were these the only effects, such elegancies, or, if you please to call them so, sach luxuries, could not be too universal. But here follows the mischief: when once fashion hath annexed the use of these articles of dress to any certain class, the middling ranks, for example, of the com- munity, each individual of that rank finds them to be necessaries of life, that is, finds himself obliged to comply with the example of his equals, 152 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. and to maintain that appearance which the cus- tom of society requires. This obligation creates such a demand upon his income, and adds so much to the cost and burden of a family, as to put it out of his power to marry, with the pros- pect of continuing his habits, or of maintaining his place and situation in the world. We see, in this description, the cause which induces men to waste their lives in a barren celibacy ; and this cause, which impairs the very source of popula- tion, is justly placed to the account of luxury. It appears, then, that luxury, considered with a view to population, acts by two opposite effects ; and it seems probable that there exists a point in the scale, to which luxury may ascend, or to which the wants of mankind may be multiplied with ad- vantage to the community, and beyond which the prejudicial consequences begin to preponderate. The determination of this point, though it as- sume the form of an arithmetical problem, depends upon circumstances too numerous, intricate, and undefined, to admit of a precise solution. How- ever, from what has been observed concerning the tendency of luxury to diminish marriages, in which tendency the evil of it resides, the fol- lowing general conclusions may be established : 1st, That, of different kinds of luxury, those are the most innocent which afford employment to the greatest number of artists and manufac- turers; or those, in other words, in which the price of the work bears the greatest proportion to that of the raw material. Thus, luxury in dress or furniture, is universally preferable to luxury in eating, because the articles which constitute the one, are more the production of human art and industry, than those which supply the other. 3dly, That it is the diffusion, rather than the degree of luxury, which is to be dreaded as a na- tional evil. The mischief of luxury consists, as we have seen, in the obstruction which it forms to marriage. Now it is only a small part of the people that the higher ranks in any country com- pose ; for which reason, the facility or the difficulty of supporting the expense of their station, and the consequent increase or diminution of marriages among them, will influence the state of popula-. tion but little. So long as the prevalency of luxury is confined to a few of elevated rank, much of the benefit is felt, and little of the incou-veniency. But when the imitation of the same manner de- scends, as it always will do, into the mass of the people ; when it advances the requisites of living, beyond what it adds to men's abilities to purchase them ; then it is that luxury checks the formation of families, in a degree that ought to alarm the public fears. 3dly, That the condition most favourable to population is that of a laborious, frugal people, ministering to the demands of an opulent, luxurious nation; because this situation, whilst it leaves them every advantage of luxury, exempts them from the evils which naturally accompany its ad- mission into any country. II. Next to the mode of living, we are to con- sider "the quantity of provision suited to that mode, which is either raised in the country, or imported into it :" for this is the order in which we assigned the causes of population, and under- took to treat of them. Now, if we measure the quantity of provision by the number of human bodies it will support in due health and vigour, this quantity, the extent and quality of the soil from which it is raised being given, will depend greatly upon the kind. For instance : a piece of ground capable of supplying animal food suf- ficient for the subsistence of ten persons, would sustain, at least, the double of that number with grain, roots, and milk. The first resource oi'.- life is in the llesh of wild animals ; heuce the num- bers amongst savage nations, compared with the tract of country which they occupy, are univer- sally small ; because this species of provision is, of all others, supplied in the slenderest proportion. The next step was the invention of pasturage, or the rearing of flocks and herds of tame animals : this alteration added to the stock of provision much. But the last and principal improvement was to follow; namely z tillage, or the artificial production of corn, esculent plants, and roots. This discovery, whilst it changed the quality of human food, augmented the quantity in a vast proportion. So far as the state of population is governed and limited by the quantity of provision, perhaps there is no single cause that atiects it so powerfully, as the kind and quality of food which chance or usage hath introduced into a country. In England, notwithstanding the produce of the soil has been, of late, considerably increased, by the enclosure of wastes, and the adoption, in many places, of a more successful husbandry, yet we do not observe a corresponding addition to the number of inhabitants ; the reason of which ap- pears to me to be, the more general consumption of animal food amongst us. Many ranks of peo- ple whose ordinary diet was, in the last century, prepared almost entirely from milk, roots, and vegetables, now require every day a considerable portion of the flesh of animals. 'Hence a great part of the richest lands of the country are con- verted to pasturage. Much also of the bread-corn, which went directly to the nourishment of human bodies, now only contributes to it by fattening the flesh of sheep and oxen. The mass and volume of provisions are hereby diminished ; and what is gained in the melioration of the soil, is lost in the quality of the produce. This consideration teaches us, that tillage, as an object of national care and encouragement, is universally preferable to pas- turage, because the kind of provision which it yields, goes much farther in the sustentation of human life. Tillage'is also recommended by this additional advantage, that it affords employment to a much more numerous peasantry. Indeed, pasturage seems to be the art of a nation, either imperfectly civilized, as are many of the tribes which cultivate it in the internal parts of Asia; or of a nation, like Spain, declining from its sum- mit by luxury and inactivity. The kind and quality of provision, together with the extent and capacity of the soil from which it is raised, being the same ; the quantity procured will principally depend upon two circum- stances. the ability of the occupier, and the en- couragement which he receives. The greatest misfortune of a country is an indigent tenantry. Whatever be the native advantages of the soil, or even the skill and industry of the occupier, the want of a sufficient capital confines every plan, as well as crii'ples and weakens every operation of husbandry! This evil is felt, where agriculture is accounted a servile or mean employment ; where farms are extremely subdivided and badly fur- , nished with habitations; where leases are un- known, or are of short or precarious duration. OF POPULATION, AND PROVISION. 153 With respect to the encouragement of husbandry; in this, as in every other employment, the true re- ward of industry is in the price and sale of the produce. The exclusive right to the produce, is the only incitement which acts constantly and universally; the only spring which keeps hu- man labour in motion. All therefore that the laws can do, is to secure this right to the occupier of the ground ; that is, to constitute such a system of tenure, that the full and entire advantage of every improvement go to the benefit of the im- prover ; that every man work for himself, and not for another ; and that no one share in the profit who does not assist in the production. By the occupier I here mean, not so much the person who performs the work, as him who procures the labour and directs the immurement : and I con- sider the whole profit as receired by the occupier, when the occupier is benefited by the whole value of what is produced, which is the case with the tenant who pays a fixed rent for the use of land, no less than with the proprietor who holds it as his own. The one has the same interest in the produce, and in the advantage of e\ ry im- provement, as the other. Likewise the proprietor, though he grant out his estate to farm, may be considered as the occupier, insomuch as he regu- lates the occupation by the choice, superintend- ency, and encouragement, of his tenants, by the disposition of his lands, by erecting build ings, pro- viding accommodations. 1>\ prescribing conditions, or supplying implement sand materials of improve- ment ; and is entitled, by the rule of public expe- diency above mentioned, to receive, in the advance of his rent, a share of the benefit which arises from the increased produce of his estate. The violation of this fundamental maxim of agrarian policy constit utes t he chief objection to the- holdini: of lands by the state, by the king, by corporate bodies, by private JHTSOIIS in right of their ollices or benefices. The inconveniency to the public arises not so much from the unahenalile quality of lands thus holden in perpetuity, as from hence ; that proprietors of this description seldom con- tribute much either of attention or expense to the cultivation of their estates, yet claim, by the rent, a share in the profit of every improvement that is made upon them. This complaint can only be obviated by "long leases at a fixed rent," which convey a large portion of the interest to those who actually conduct the cultivation. The same ob- jection is applicable to the holding of lands In- foreign proprietors, and in some degree to estates of too great extent being placed in the same hands. III. Beside the production of provision, there remains to be considered the DISTRIBI/TIO.V. It is in vain that provisions abound in the country, unless I be able to obtain a share of them. This reflection belongs to every individual. The plenty of provision produced, the quantity of the public stock affords subsistence to individuals, and en- couragement to the formation of families, only in proportion as it is distributed, that is, in propor- tion as these individuals are allowed to draw from it a supply of their own wants. The distribution, therefore, becomes of equal consequence to popu- lation with the production. Now there is but one principle of distribution that can ever become universal, namely, the principle of "exchange ;" or, in other words, that every man have something to give in return for what he wants. Bounty] however it may come in aid of another principle, however it may occasionally qualify the rigour, or supply the imperfection, of an established rule of distribution, can never itself become that rule or principle ; because men will not work to give the produce of their lal>our away. Moreover, the only equivalents that can be .offered in exchange for provision are power and labour. All property is power. What we call property in land, is the power to use it, and to exclude others from the use. Money is the representative of power, be- 'an it is convertible into power: the value of it consists in its faculty of procuring power over things and persons. But power which results from ci\il conventions (and of this kind is what we call a man's fortune or estate,) is necessarily confined to a few, and is withal soon exhausted: whereas the capacity of labour is every man's natural |>ossession, aiul eoni]>oses a constant and renewing fund. The hire, therefore, or produce of personal industry, is that which the bulk of every community must bring to market, in ex- change for the means of subsistence; in other words, employment must, in every country y be the medium of distribution and the source of supply to individuals. But when we consider the pro- duction and distribution of provision, as distinct from, and independent of, each other; when, sup- p-'.-iiij the same quantity to be produced, we inquire in what way, or according to what rule, it may be distributed; we are led to a conception of the subject not at all agreeable to truth and reality ; for, in truth and reality, though provision must be produced before it be distributed, yet the production depends, in a great measure, upon the distribution. The quantity of provision raised out of the ground, so far as the raising of it requires human art or labour, will evidently be regulated by the demand : the demand, or, in other -words, the price and sale, being that which alone rewards the care, or excites the diligence, of the husbandman. But the sale of provision depends upon the number, not of those who want, but of those who have something to offer in return for what they want ; not of those who would consume, but of those who can buy ; that is, upon the num- ber of those who have the fruits of some other kind of industry to tender in exchange for what they stand in need of from the production of the soil. We see, therefore, the connection between po- pulation and employment. Employment affects population " directly," as it affords the only me- dium of distribution by which individuals can obtain from the common stock a supply for the wants of their families : it affects population, "in- directly," as it augments the stock itself of provi- sion, in the only way by which the production of it can be effectually encouraged, by furnishing purchasers. No man can purchase without an equivalent ; and that equivalent, by the generality of the people, must in every country be derived from employment. And upon this basis is found- ed the public benefit of trade, that is to say, its subserviency to population, in wliich its only real utility consists. Of that industry, and of those arts and branches of trade, which are employed in the production, conveyance, and preparation, of any principal species of human food, as of the business- of the husbandman, the butcher, baker, brewer, corn merchant, &c. we acknowledge the necessity : likewise of those manufactures which 154 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. furnish us with warm clothing, convenient habi- tations, domestic utensils, as of the weaver, tailor, smith, carpenter, &c. we perceive (in climates, however, like ours, removed at a distance from the sun,) the conduciveness to population, by their rendering human life more healthy, vigorous, and comfortable. But not one half the occupations which compose the trade of Europe, fall within either of these descriptions. Perhaps two-thirds of the manufacturers in England are employed upon articles of confessed luxury, ornament, or splendour ; in the superfluous embellishment of some articles which are useful in their kind, or upon others which have no conceivable use or- value but what is founded in caprice or fashion. What can be less necessary or less connected with the sustentation of human life, than the whole produce of the silk, lace, and plate maimiiie- tory ? yet what multitudes labour in the different branches of these arts ! What can be imagined more capricious than the fondness for tobacco and snuff? yet how many various occupations, and how many thousands in each, are set at work in administering to this frivolous gratification ! Con- cerning trades of this kind, (and this kind com- prehends more than half the trades that are exer- cised,) it may fairly be asked, " How, since they add nothing to the stock of provision, do they tend to increase the number of the people 1 " We are taught to say of trade, " that it maintains multi- tudes;" but by what means does it maintain them, when it produces nothing upon which the support of human life depends '\ In like manner with respect to foreign commerce ; of that mer- chandise which brings the necessaries of life into a country, which imports, for example, corn, or cattle, or cloth, or fuel, we allow the tendency to advance population, because it increases the stock of provision by which the people are subsisted. But this effect of foreign commerce is so little seen in our own country, that I believe, it may be af- firmed of Great Britain, what Bishop Berkley said of a neighbouring island, that, if it were encom- passed with a wall of brass fifty cubits high, the country might maintain the same number of in- habitants that find subsistence in it at present ; and that every necessary, and even every real comfort an& accommodation of human life, might be supplied in as great abundance as they now are. Here, therefore, as before, we may fairly ask, by what operation it is, that foreign commerce, which brings into the country no one article of human subsistence, promotes the multiplication of human life? The answer of this inquiry, will be contained in the discussion of another, viz : Since the soil will maintain many more than it can employ, what must be done, supposing the country to be full, with the remainder of the in- habitants 1 They who, by the rules of partition, (and some such must be established in every country,) are entitled to the land ; and they who, by their labour upon the soil, acquire a right in its produce, will not part with their property for nothing ; or, rather, they will no longer raise from the soil what they can neither use themselves, nor exchange for what they want. Or, lastly, if these were willing to distribute what they could spare of the provision which the ground yielded, to others who had no share or concern in the pro- perty or cultivation of it, yet still the most enor- mous mischiefs would ensue, from great numbers remaining unemployed. The idleness of one half of the community would overwhelm the whole with confusion and disorder. One only way pre- sents itself of removing the difficulty which this question states, and which is simply this : that they, whose work is not wanted, nor can be em- ployed, in the raising of provision out of the ground, convert their hands and ingenuity to the fabrication of articles which may gratify and re- 3uite those who are so employed, or who by the rvisioii of lands in the country, are entitled to the exclusive possession of certain parts of them. By this contrivance, all things proceed well. The occupier of the ground raises from it the utmost that he can procure, because he is repaid for what he can spare by something else which he wants, or with which he is pleased : the artist or manufac- turer, though he have neither any property in the soil, nor any concern in its cultivation, is regularly supplied with the produce, because he gives, in exchange for what he stands in need of, something upon which the receiver places an equal value : and the community is kept quiet, while both sides ar,e engaged in their respective occupa- tions. It appears, then, that the business of one half of mankind is, to set the other half at work ; that is, to provide articles which, by tempting the desires, may stimulate the industry, and call forth the activity, of those upon the exertion of whose industry, and the application of whose faculties, the production of human provision depends. A certain portion only of human labour is, or can be productive; the rest is instrumental; both equal- ly necessary, though the one have no other object than to excite the other. It appears also, that it signifies nothing, as to the main purpose of trade, how superfluous the articles which it furnishes are; whether the want of them be real or imaginary ; whether it be founded in nature, or in opinion, in fashion, habit, or emulation : it is enough that they be actually desired and sought after. Flourishing cities are raised and supported by trading in to- bacco ; populous towns subsist by the manufac- tory of ribands. A watch may be a very unne- cessary appendage to the dress of a peasant ; yet if the peasant will till the ground in order to ob- tain a watch, the true design of trade is answered : and the watchmaker, while he polishes the case, or files the wheels of his machine, is contributing to the production of corn as effectually, though not so directly, as if he handled the spade or held the plough. The use of tobacco has been mentioned already, not only as an acknowledged superfluity, but as affording a remarkable example of the caprice of human appetite : yet if the fisher- man will ply his nets, or the mariner fetch rice from foreign countries, in order to procure, to himself this indulgence, the market is supplied with two important articles of provision, by the instrumentality of a merchandise which has no other apparent use than the gratification of a vitiated, palate. But it may come to pass that the husbandman, land-owner, or whoever he be that is entiled to the produce of the soil, will no longer exchange it for what the manufacturer has to oficr. He is already supplied to the extent of his desires. For instance, he wants no more cloth ; he will no longer therefore give the weaver corn in return for the produce of his looms : but he would readily give it for tea, or for wine. When the weaver OF POPULATION AND PROVISION. 155 finds this to be the case, he has nothing to do bu to send his cloth abroad, in exchange for tea or for wine, which he may barter for tliat provision which the offer of his cloth will no longer procure The circulation is thus revived : and the benefi of the discovery is, that, whereas the number ot weavers, who could find subsistence from their employment, was before limited by the consump- tion of cloth in the country, that number is now augmented, in proportion to tbe demand for tea and wine. This is the principle of foreign com- merce. In the magnitude and complexity of the machine, the principle of motion is sometimes losl or unobserved ; but it is always simple and the same, to whatever extent it may be diversilie*; and enlarged in its operation. The ellect of trade upon agriculture, the process of which we have been endeavouring to describe : is visible in the neighbourhood of trading towns, and in those districts which carry on a coinmuni- catitui with the markets of trading towns. The husbandmen are busy and skilful ; the peasantry laborious ; the land is managed to the best advan- tage ; and double the quantity of com or herbage (articles which are ultimately converted into hu- man provision) raised from it, of what the same soil yields in remoter and more neglected parts oi the country. Wherever a thrhinir manufactory finds means to establish itself, a new vegetation springs up around it. I believe it is true that agri- culture never arrives at any considerable, much less at its highest, degree of perfect ion, where it is not connected with trade ; tnat is, where the de- mand for the produce is not increased by the con- sumption of trading cities. Let it be remembered then, that agriculture is the immediate source of human provision ; that trade conduces to the production ot provision only as it promotes agriculture ; that the whole system of commerce, vast and various as it is, hath no other public importance than its subserviency to this end. We return to the proposition we laid down, that " employment universally promotes population." From this proposition it follows, that the compa- rative utility of different branches of national com- merce is measured by the number which each branch employs. Upon which principle a scale may easily l>e constructed, which shall assign to the several kinds and divisions of foreign trade, their respective degrees of public importance. In this scale, the first place k-lon^s to the exchange of wrought goods for raw materials, as of broad cloth for raw silk ; cutlery for wool ; clocks or watches for iron, flax, or furs ; because this traffic provides a market for the labour that has already been expended, at the same time that it supplies materials for new industry. Population always flourishes where this species of commerce obtains to any considerable degree. It is the cause of employment, or the certain indication. As it takes off the manufactures of the country, it pro- motes employment ; as it brings in raw materials, it supposes the existence of manufactories in the country, and a demand for the article when manu- factured. The second place is due to that com- merce, which barters one species of wrought goods for another, as stuffs for calicoes, fustians for cam- brics, leather for paper, or wrought goods for articles which require no farther preparation, as for wine, oil, tea, sugar, &c. This also assists employment ; because, when the country is stock- ed with one kind of manufacture, it renews the demand by converting it into another: but it is in- ferior to the former, as it promotes this end by one side only of the bargain, by what it carries out. The .last, the lowest, and most disadvantageous species of commerce, is the exportation of raw materials- in return for wrought goods : as when wool is sent abroad to purchase velvets ; hides or peltry, to procure shoes, hats, or linen cloth. This trade is unfavourable to population, because it Iea\es no room or demand for employment, either in what it takes out of the country, or in what it brings into it. Its operation on both sides is noxious. By its exports, it diminishes the very subject upon which the industry of the inhabit- ants ought to be exercised ; by its imports, it les- sens the encouragement of that industry, in the same proportion that it supplies the consumption of the country with the produce of foreign labour. Of diilerent [tranches of manufactory, those are, in their nature, the most beneficial, in which the price of the wrought article exceeds in the highest proportion that of the raw material : for this excess measures the quantity of employment, or, in other words, the number of manufacturers, which each branch sustains. The produce of the ground is in u r the most advantageous article of foreign commerce. Under a perfect state of public econ- omy, the soil of the country should be applied solely to the raising of provisions for the inhabit- ants, and its trade be supplied by their industry. A nation will never reach its proper extent of population, so long as its principal commerce con- sists in the exportation of corn or cattle, or even of wine, oil, tobacco, madder, indigo, timber ; be- cause these last articles take up that surface which ought to be covered with the. materials of human subsistence. It must lie here however noticed, that we have all along considered the inhabitants of a country as maintained by the produce of the country ; and that what we have said is applicable with strictness to this supposition alone. The reasoning, never- theless, may easily be adapted to a different case : for when provision is not produced, but imported, what has been affirmed concerning provision, will be, in a great measure, true of that article, whe- ther it be money, produce, or labour, which is exchanged for provision. Thus, when the Dutch mise madder, and exchange it for corn ; or when the people of America plant tobacco, and send it to Europe for cloth ; the cultivation of madder and tobacco becomes as necessary to the subsistence of ;he inhabitants, and by consequence will aflect :he state of population in these countries as sensi- bly, as the actual production of food, or the manu- factory of raiment. In like manner, when the same inhabitants of Holland earn money by the carriage of the produce of one country to another, and with that money purchase the provision from abroad, which their own land is not extensive enough to supply, the increase or decline of this carrying trade will influence the numbers of the >eople no less than similar changes would do in he cultivation of the soil. The few principles already established, will ;nable us to describe the effects upon population which may l>e Expected from the following im- xirtant articles of national conduct and economy : 1. EMIGRATION. Emigration may be either he overflowing of a country, or the desertion. As the increase of the species is indefinite ; and 156 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the number of inhabitants which any given tract or surface can support, finite ; it is evident that great numbers may be constantly leaving a country, and yet the country remain constantly full. Or whatever be the cause which invincibly limits the population of a country ; when the number of the people has arrived at that limit the progress of generation, beside continuing the succession, will supply multitudes for foreign emigration. In these two cases, emigration nei- ther indicates any political decay, nor in truth diminishes the number of the people ; nor ought to be prohibited or discouraged. But emigrants may relinquish their country, from a sense ol insecurity, oppression, annoyance, and inconveniency. Nei- ther, again, here is it emigration which wastes the people, but the evils that occasion it. It would be in vain, if it were practicable, to confine the inhabitants at home ; for the same causes which drive them out of the country, would pre- vent their multiplication if they remained in it. Lastly ; men may be tempted to change their sit- uation by the allurement of a better climate, of a more refined or luxurious manner of living ; by the prospect of wealth ; or, sometimes, by the mere nominal advantage of higher wages and prices. This class of emigrants, with whom alone the laws can interfere with effect, will never, I think, be numerous. "With the. generality of a people, the attachment of mankind to their homes and country, the irksomencss of seeing new habita- tions, and of living amongst strangers, will out- weigh, so long as men possess the necessaries 1 of life in safety, or at least so long as they can ob- tain a provision for that mode of subsistence which the class of citizens to which they belong are accustomed to enjoy, all the inducements that the advantages of a foreign land can offer. There appear, therefore, to be few cases in which emi- gration can be prohibited, with advantage to the state ; it appears also that emigration is an equi- vocal symptom, which will probably accompany the decline of the political body, but which may likewise attend a condition of perfect health and vigour. II. COLONIZATION. The only view under which our subject will permit us to consider colonization, is in its tendency to augment the population of the parent state. Suppose a, fertile, but empty island, to lie within the reach of a country in which arts and manufactures are al- jready established ; suppose a colony sent out from such a country, to take possession of the island, and to live there under the protection and au- thority of their native government : the new set- tlers will naturally convert their labour to the cul- tivation of the vacant soil, and With the produce of that soil will draw a supply of manufactures from their countrymen at home. Whilst the in- habitants continue few, and lands cheap and fresh, the colonists will find it easier and more profitable to raise corn, or rear cattle, and with corn and cat- tle to purchase woollen cloth, for instance, or linen, than to spin or weave these articles for themselves. The mother-country, meanwhile, derives from this connexion an increase both of provision and em- ployment. It promotes at once the two great re- quisites upon which the facility of subsistence, and by consequence the state of population, depend, production and distribution; and this in a man- ner the most direct and beneficial. No situation can be imagined more favourable to population, than that of a country which works np goods for others, whilst these others are cultivating new tracts of land for them : for as, in a genial cli- mate, and from a fresh soil, the labour of one man will raise provision enough for ten, it is manifest that, where all are employed. in agriculture, much the greater part of the produce will be spared from the consumption ; and that three out of four, at least to those who arc maintained by it, will reside in the country which receives the redun- dancy. When the new country does not remit provision to the old one, the advantage is less ; but still the exportation of wrought goods, by whatever return they are paid for, advances popu- lation in that secondary way, in which those trades promote it that are not employed in the produc- tion of provision. Whatever prejudice, therefore, some late events have excited against schemes of colonization, the system itself is Ibunded in ap- parent national utility ; and what is more, upon principles favourable to the common interest of human nature; for it does not appear by what other method newly-discovered and unfrequented countries can be peopled, or during the infancy of their establishment be protected or supplied. The error which we of this nation at present lament, seems to have consisted not so much in the ori- ginal formation of colonies, as in the subsequent management; in imposing restrictions too rigor- ous, or in continuing them too long ; in not per- ceiving the point of time when the irresistible order and progress of human affairs demand a change of laws and policy. III. MONEY. Where money abounds, the peo- ple are generally numerous : yet gold and silver neither feed nor clothe mankind ; nor are they in all countries converted into provision by pur- chasing the necessaries of life at foreign markets ; nor do they, in any country, compose those arti- cles of personal or domestic ornament which cer- tain orders of the community have learnt to re- gard as necessaries of life, and without the means of procuring which, they will not enter into family- establishments : at least, this property of the precious metals obtains in a very small degree. The effect of money upon the number of the peo- ple, though visible to observation, is not explained without some dilficulty. To understand this con- nexion properly, we must return to the proposi- tion with which we concluded our reasoning upon the subject ; " that population is chiefly promoted by employment." Now of employment, money is partly the indication, and partly the cause. The only way in which money regularly and spon- taneously flows into a country, is in return for the goods that are sent out of it, or the work that is performed by it; and the only way in which mo- ney is retained in a country, is by the country's supplying, in a great measure, its own consump- tion of manufactures. Consequently, the quan- tity of money found in a country, denotes the amount of labour and employment; but still, employment, not money, is the cause of popula- tion ; the accumulation of money being merely a collateral eflect of the same cause, or a circum- stance which accompanies the existence, and measures the operation, of that cause. And this s true of money, only whilst it is acquired by the ndustry of the inhabitants. The treasures which jelong to a country by the possession of mines, or by the exaction of tribute from foreign dependen- cies, afford no conclusion concerning the state of DP POPULATION AND PROVISION. 157 population. The influx from these sources may be immense, and yet the country remain poor and ill-peopled ; of which we see an egregious example in the condition of Spain, since the acquisition of its South- American dominions. But, secondly, money may become also a real and an operative cause of population, by acting as a stimulus to industry, and by facilitating the means of subsistence. The ease of subsistence, and the encouragement of industry, depend nei- ther upon the price of labour, nor upon the price of provision, but upon the proportion which one bears to the other. Now the influx of money into a country, naturally tends to advance this pro- portion ; that is, every fresh accession of money raises the price of labour Ix-fore it raises the price of provision. When money is brought from abroad, the persons, be they who they will, into whose hands it lirst arrives, do not buy up pro- vision with it, but apply it to the purchase and payment of labour. If the state receives it, the state dispenses what it receives amongst soldiers, sailors, artificers, engineers, shipwrights, work- men; if private persons bring home treasures of gold and silver they usually expend them in the building of houses, the improvement of estates, the purchase of furniture, dress, equipage, in ar- ticles of luxury or splendour: if the merchant be enriched by returns of his foreign commerce, he applies his increased capital to the enlargement of his business at home. The money ere long comes to market for provision; but it comes thither through the hand* of the manufacturer, the artist, the ImsKindman, and labourer. Its effect, therefore, upon the price of art and lalxnir, will precede its effect upon the price of provision ; and during the interval between one effect and the other, the means oi subsistence will be multiplied and facilitated, as well as industry be excited by new rewards. When the greater plenty of money in circulation has produced an advance in the price of provision, Corresponding to the advanced price of labour, its effect ceases. The labourer no longer gains any thing by the increase of his wages. It is not, therelore, the quantity of specie collected into a country, but the continual in- crease of that quantity, from which the advantage arises to employment and population. It is only the accession of money which produces the effect, and it is only by money constantly flowing into a country that the effect can be constant. Now whatever consequence arises to the country from the influx of money, the contrary may be ex- pected to follow from the diminution of its quan- tity: and accordingly we find, that whatever cause drains off the specie of a country, faster than the streams which feed it can supply, not only impoverishes the country, but depopulates it. The knowledge and experience of this effect have given occasion to a phrase which occurs in almost every discourse upon commerce or politics. The balance of trade with any foreign nation is said to be against or in favour of a country, sim- ply as it tends to carry money out, or bring it in : that is, according as the price of the imports ex- ceeds or falls short of the price of the exports : so invariably is the increase or diminution of the specie of a country regarded as a test of the pub- lic advantage or detriment which arises from any branch of its commerce. IV. TAXATION. As taxes take nothing out of a country; as they do not diminish the public stock, only vary the distribution of it, they are not necessarily prejudicial to population. If the state exact money from certain members of the community, she dispenses it also amongst other members of the same community. They who contribute to the revenue, and they who are sup- ported or benefited by the expenses of govern- ment, are to lie placed one against the other ; and whilst what the subsistence of one part is profited by receiving, compensates for what that of the other suffers by paying, the common fund of the society is not lessened. This is true : but it must be observed, that although the sum distributed by the state be always equal to the sum collected from the people, yet the gain and loss to the means of subsistence may be very unequal ; and the balance will remain on the wrong or the right side of the account, according as the money passes by taxation from the industrious to the idle, from the many to the few, from those who want to those who abound, or in a contrary di- rection. For instance : a tax upon coaches, to be laid out in the- repair of roads, would probably im- prove the population of a neighbourhood ; a tax upon cottages, to lie ultimately expended in the purchase and support of coaches, would certainly diminish it. In like manner, a tax upon wine or tea distributed in bounties to fishermen or hus- bandmen, would augment the provision of a coun- try ; a tax upon fisheries and husbandry, how- ever indirect or concealed, to be converted, when raised, to the procuring of wine or tea for the idle and opulent, would naturally impair the public stock. The effect, therefore, of taxes, upon the means of subsistence, depends not so much upon the amount of the sum levied, as upon the object of the tax and the application. Taxes likewise may be so adjusted as to conduce to the restraint of luxury, and the correction of vice ; to the encouragement of industry, trade, agricul- ture, and marriage. Taxes thus contrived, become rewards and penalties ; not only sources of re- venue, but instruments of police. Vices indeed themselves cannot be taxed, without holding forth such a conditional toleration of them as to destroy men's perception of their guilt ; a tax comes to be considered as a commutation : the materials, how- ever, and incentives of vice, may. Although, for instance, drunkenness would be, on tlu's account, an unfit object of taxation, yet public houses and spirituous liquors are very properly subjected to heavy imposts. Nevertheless, although it may be true that taxes cannot be pronounced to be detrimental to population, by an absolute necessity in their na- ture ; and though, under some modifications, and when urged only to a certain extent, they may- even operate in favour of it ; yet it will be found, in a great plurality of instances, that their ten- dency is noxious. Let it be supposed that nine families inhabit a neighbourhood, each possessing barely the means of subsistence, or of that mode of subsistence which custom hath established amongst them ; let a tenth family be quartered upon these, to be supported by a tax raised from the nine ; or rather, let one of the nine have his income augmented by a similar deduction from the incomes of the rest ; in either of these cases, it is evident that the whole district would be broken up : for as the entire income of each is supposed to be barely sufficient for the establish- ment which it maintains, a deduction of any part 14 158 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. destroys that establishment. Now. it is no answer to this objection, it is no apology for the grievance to say, that nothing is taken out of the neighbour- hood ; that the stock is riot -diminished : the mis- chief is done by deranging the distribution. Nor, again, is the luxury of one family, or even the maintenance of an additional family, a recom- pense to the country for the ruin of nine others. Nor, lastly, will it alter the effect though it nuiy conceal the cause, that the contribution, instead of being levied directly upon each day's wages, is mixed up in the price of some article of con- stant use and consumption, as in a tax upon candles, malt, leather, or fuel. This example illus- trates the tendency of taxes to obstruct subsist- ence ; and the minutest degree of tin's obstruction will be felt in the formation of families. The example, indeed, forms an extreme case ; the evil is magnified, in order to render its operation dis- tinct and visible. In real life, families may not be broken up, or forced from their habitation, houses be quitted, or countries suddenly deserted, in con- sequence of any new imposition whatever ; but marriages will become gradually less frequent. It seems necessary, however, to distinguish be- tween the operation of a new tax, and the effect of taxes which have been long established. In the course of circulation, the money may flow back to the hands from which it was taken. The pro- portion between the supply and the expense of subsistence, which had been disturbed by the tax, may at length recover itself again. In the in- stance just now stated, the addition of a tenth family to the neighbourhood, or the enlarged ex- penses of one of the nine, may, in some shape or other, so advance the profits, or increase the em- ployment, of the rest, as to make full restitution for the share of their property of which it deprives them ; or, what is more likely to happen, a reduc- tion may take place in their mode of living, suited to the abridgment of their incomes. Yet still the ultimate and permanent effect of taxation, though distinguishable from the impression of a new tax, is generally adverse to population. The proportion above spoken of, can only be restored by one side or other of the following alternative : by the peo- ple either contracting their wants, which at the same time diminishes consumption and employ- ment ; or by raising the price of labour, which ne- cessarily adding to the price of the productions and manufactures of the country, checks their sale at foreign markets. A nation which is bur- thened with taxes, must always be undersold by a nation which is free from them, unless the dif- ference be made up by some singular advantage of climate^ soil, skill, or industry. This quality belongs to all taxes which affect the mass of the community, even when imposed upon the proper- est objects, and applied to the fairest purposes. But abuses are inseparable from the disposal of public money. As governments are usually ad- ministered, the produce of public taxes is ex- pended upon a train of gentry, in the maintaining of pomp, or in the purchase of influence. The conversion of property which taxes "effectuate, when they are employed in this manner, is at- tended with obvious evils. It takes from the in- dustrious, to give to the idle; it increases the number of the latter; it tends to accumulation; it sacrifices the conveniency of many to the luxury of a few ; it makes no return to the people, from whom the tax is drawn, that is satisfactory or in- telligible ; it encourages no activity which is use- ful or productive. The sum to be raised being settled, a wise statesman will contrive his taxes principally with a view to their effect upon population ; that is, he will so adjust them as to give the least possible obstruction to those means of subsistence by which the mass of the community is maintained. We are accustomed to an opinion, that a tax, to be just, ought to be accurately proportioned to the circumstances 'of the persons who pay it. But upon what, it might be asked, is this opinion founded; unless it could be shown that such a proportion interferes the least with the general conveniency of subsistence 1 Whereas I should rather believe, that a tax, constructed with a view to that conveniency, ought to rise upon the dif- ferent classes of the community, in a much higher ratio than the simple proportion of their incomes. The point to be regarded is, not what men have, but what they can spare ; and it is evident that a man who possesses a thousand pounds a year, can more easily give up a hundred, than a man with a hundred pounds a year can part with ten ; ;hat is, those habits of life which are reasonable and innocent, and upon the ability to continue which the formation of families depends, will be iiuch less affected by the one deduction than the other : it is still more evident, that a man of a lundred pounds a year would not be so much distressed in his subsistence, by a demand from him of ten pounds, as a man of ten pounds a year would be by the loss of one : to which we must add, that the population of every country being replenished by the marriages of the lowest ranks of the society, their accommodation and re- lief become of more importance to the state, than .the conveniency of any higher but less numerous order of its citizens. But whatever be the pro- portion which public expediency directs, whether the simple, the duplicate, or any higher or inter- mediate proportion of men's, incomes, it can never be attained by any single tax* as no single object of taxation can be found, which measures the ability of the subject with sufficient generality and exactness. It is only by a system and variety of taxes, mutually balancing and equalising one another, that a due proportion can be preserved. For instance: if a tax upon lands press with greater hardship upon those who live in the country, it may be properly counterpoised by a tax upon the rent of houses, which will affect principally the inhabitants of large towns. Dis- tinctions may also be framed in some taxes, which shall allow abatements or exemptions to married persons ; to the parents of a certain number of legitimate children ; to improvers of the soil ; to particular modes of cultivation, as to tillage in preference to pasturage; and in general to that industry which is immediately productive, in pre- ference to that which is only instrumental ; but above all, which may leave the heaviest part of the burthen upon the methods, whatever they be, of acquiring wealth without industry, or even of subsisting in idleness. V. EXPORTATION OF BREAD- CORN. Nothing seems to have a more positive tendency to reduce the number of the people, than the sending abroad part of the provision by which they are maintained ; yet this has been the policy of legislators very studious of the improvement of their country. In order to reconcile ourselves to a practice which OF POPULATION AND PROVISION, 159 appears to militate with the chief interest, that is, with the population of the country that adopts it, we must be reminded of a maxim which belongs to the productions both of nature and art, " that it is impossible to have enough without a super- fluity. The point of sufficiency cannot, in any case, be so exactly hit upon, as to have nothing to spare, yet never to want. This is peculiarly true of bread-corn, of which the annual increase is extremely valuable. As it is necessary that the crop be adequate to the consumption in a year of scarcity, it must, of consequence, greatly exceed it in a year of plenty. A redundancy therefore will occasionally arise from the very care that is taken to secure the people against the danger of want; and it is manifest that the exportation of this redundancy subtracts nothing from the num- ber that can regularly be maintained by the pro- duce of the soil. Moreover, as the exportation of corn, under these circumstances, is attended with no direct injury to population, so the benefits which indirectly arise to population from foreign commerce, belongs to this, in common with other species of trade ; together with the peculiar advan- tage of presenting a constant incitement to the skill and industry of the husbandman, by the promise of a certain sale and an adequate price, under every contingency of season and produce. There is another situation, in which corn may not only be exported, but in which the people can thrive by no other means; that is, of a newly settled country, with a fertile soil. The exporta- tion of a large proportion of the corn which a coun- try produces, proves, it is true, that the inhabitants have not yet attained to the mimlx-r which the country is capable of maintaining : but it does not prove but that they may l>e hastening to this limit with the utmost practicable celerity, which is the perfection to be sought for in a young establish- ment. In all cases except these two, and in the former of them to any greater degree than what is necessary to take off occasional redundancies, the exportation of corn is either itself noxious to population, or argues a defect of population arising from some other cause. VI. ABRIDGMENT OP LABOUR. It has long been made a question, whether those mechanical contrivances which abridge labour, by perform- ing the same work by fewer hands, be detrimental or not to the population of a country. From what has been delivered in preceding parts of the present chapter, it will be evident that this ques- tion is equivalent to another, whether such con- trivances diminish or not the quantity of employ- ment. The first and most obvious effect undoubt- edly is this ; because, if one man be made to do what three men did before, two are immediately discharged : but if, by some more general and re- moter consequence, they increase the demand for work, or, what is the same thing, prevent the di- minution of that demand, in a greater proportion than they contract the number of hands by which it is performed, the quantity of employment, upon the whole, will gain an addition, tjpon which principle it may be observed, first, that whenever a mechanical invention succeeds in one place, it is necessary that it be imitated in every other, where the same manufacture is carried on ; for, it is mani- fest, that he who has the benefit of a conciser ope- ration, will soon outvie and undersell a competitor who continues to use a more circuitous labour. It is also true, in the second place, that whoever Jirsf, discover or adopt a mechanical improvement, will, for some time, draw to themselves an increase of employment ; and that this preference may con- tinue even after the improvement has become general ;- for, in every kind of trade, it is not only a great but permanent advantage, to have once preoccupied the public reputation. Thirdly, alter every superiority wliich might be derived from the possession of a secret, has ceased, it may be well questioned whether even then any loss can accrue to employment^- The same money will be spared to the same article still. Wherefore, in proportion as the article can be afforded at a lower price, by reason of an easier or shorter process in the manu- facture, it will either grow into more general use, or an improvement will take place in the quality and fabric, which will demand a proportionable addition of hands. The number of persons em- ployed in the manufactory of stockings, has not, I apprehend, decreased since the invention of stock- ing-mills. The amount of what is expended upon the article, after subtracting from it the price of the raw material, and consequently what is paid for work in this branch of our manufactories, is not less than it was before. Goods of a finer texture are worn in the place of coarser. This is the change which the invention has produced; and which compensates to the manufactory for every other inconveniency. Add to which, that in the above, and in almost every instance, an im- provement which conduces to the recommenda- tion of a manufactory, either by the cheapness or the quality of the goods, draws up after it many dependent employments, in which no abbreviation has taken place. From the reasoning that has been pursued, and the various considerations suggested in this chap- ter, a judgment may, in some sort, be formed, how far regulations of law are in their nature capable of contributing to the support and advancement of population. I say how far; for, as in many sub- jects, so especially in those which relate to com- merce, to plenty, to riches, and to the number of people, more is wont to be expected from laws, than taws can do. Laws can only imperfectly restrain that dissoluteness of manners, which, by diminish- ing the frequency of marriages, impairs the very source of population. Laws cannot regulate the wants of mankind, their mode of living, or their desire of those superfluities which fashion, more irresistible than laws, has once introduced into general usage ; or, in other words, has erected into necessaries of life. Laws cannot induce men to enter into marriages, when the expenses of a family must deprive them of that system of ac- commodation to which they have habituated their expectations. Laws, by their protection, by as- suring to the labourer the fruit and profit of his labour, may help to make a people industrious ; but without industry, the laws cannot provide either subsistence or employment; laws cannot make corn grow without toil and care, or trade flourish without art and diligence. In spite of all laws, the expert, laborious, honest workman, will be employed, in preference to the lazy, the un- skilful, the fraudulent, and evasive : and this is not more true of two inhabitants of the same village, than it is of the people of two different countries, which communicate either with each other, or with 160 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the rest of the World. The natural basis of trade is rivalahip of quality and price ; or, which is the same thing, of skill and industry. Every attempt to force trade by operation of law, that is, by com- pelling persons to buy goods atone market, which they can obtain cheaper and better from another, is sure to be either eluded by the quick-sighted- ness and incessant activity ot private interest, or to be frustrated by retaliation. One half of the commercial laws of many states are calculated merely to counteract the restrictions which have been imposed by other states. Perhaps the only way in which the interposition of law is salutary in trade, is in the prevention of frauds. Next to the indispensable requisites of internal peace and security, the chief advantage which can be derived to population from the interference of law, appears to me to consist in the encourage- ment of agriculture. This, at least, is the direct way of increasing the numl>cr of the people : every other mode being effectual only by its influence upon this. Now the principal expedient by which such a purpose can be promoted, is to adjust the laws of property, as nearly as possible, to the two following rules: first, " to give to the occupier all the power over the soil, which is necessary for its perfect cultivation ;" secondly, " to assign the whole profit of every improvement to the persons by whose activity it is carried on." What we call property in land, as hath been observed above, is power over it. Now it is indifferent to the public in whose hands this power resides, if it be rightly used ; it matters not to whom the land belongs, if it be well cultivated. When we lament that great estates are often united in the same hand, or complain that one man possesses what would be sufficient for a thousand, we suffer ourselves to be misled by words. The owner of ten thousand pounds a-year, consumes little more of the produce of the soil than the owner of ten pounds a-year. If the cultivation be equal, the estate in the hands of one great lord, affords subsistence and employment to the same number of persons as it would do if it were divided amongst a hundred proprietors. In like manner we ought to judge of the effect upon the public in- terest, which may arise from lands being holden by the king, or by the subject; by private persons, or by corporations ; by laymen, or ecclesiastics ; in fee, or for life ; by virtue of office, or in right of in- heritance. I do not mean that these varieties make no difference, but I mean that all the difference they do make respects the cultivation of the lands which are so holden. There exist in this country, conditions of tenure which condemn the land itself to perpetual sterility. Of this kind is the right of common, which pre- cludes each proprietor from the improvement, or even the convenient occupation, of his estate, with- out (what seldom can be obtained) the consent of many others. This tenure is also usually embar- rassed by the interference of manorial claims, under which it often happens that the surface be- longs to one owner, and the soil to anotlier ; so that neither owner can stir a clod without the con- currence of his partner in the property. In many manors, the tenant is restrained from granting leases beyond a short term of years ; which renders every plan of solid improvement impracticable. In these cases, the owner wants, what the first rule of rational policy requires, "sufficient power over the soil for its perfect Cultivation." This power ought to be extended to lu'm by some easy and general law of enfranchisement, partition, and enclosure; which, though compulsory upon the lord, or the rest of the tenants, whilst it has in view the melioration of the soil, and tenders an equitable compensation for every right that it takes away, i* neither more arbitrary, nor more dangerous to the stability of property, than that wliich is done in the construction of roads, bridges, embankments, navigable canals, and indeed in almost every pub- lic work, in which private owners of land are obliged to accept that price for their property which an indifferent jury may award. It may here, how- ever, be proper to observe, that although the en- closure of wastes and pastures be generally bene- ficial to population, yet the enclosure of lands in tillage, in order to convert them into pastures, is as generally hurtful. But, secondly, agriculture is discouraged by every constitution of landed property which lets in those, who have no concern in the improvement, to a participation of the profit. This objection is ap- plicable to all such customs of manors as subject the proprietor, upon the death of the lord or tenant, or the alienation of the estate, to a fine apportioned to the improved value of the land. But of all in- stitutions which are in this way adverse to culti- vation and improvement, none is so noxious as that of tithes. A. claimant here enters into the produce who contributed no assistance whatever to the pro- duction. When years, perhaps, of care and toil have matured an improvement ; when the hus- bandman sees new crops ripening to his skill and industry ; the moment he is ready to put his sickle to the grain, he finds himself compelled to di- vide his harvest with a stranger. Tithes are a tax not only upon industry, but upon that industry which feeds mankind ; upon that species of exer- tion which it is the aim of all wise laws to cherish and promote ; and to uphold and excite which, composes, as we have seen, the main benefit that the community receives from the whole system of trade, and the success of commerce. And, toge- ther with the more general inconveniency that at- tends the exaction of tithes, there is this additional evil, in the mode at least according to which they are collected at present, that they operate as a bounty upon pasturage. The burthen of the tax falls with its chief, if not with its whole weight, upon tillage ; that is to say, upon that precise mode of cultivation, which, as hath been shown above, it is the business of the state to relieve and remu- nerate, in preference to every other. No mea- sure of such extensive concern appears to me so practicable, nor any single alteration so beneficial, as the conversion of tithes into corn-rents. This commutation, I am convinced, might be so adjusted as to secure to the tithe-holder a complete and perpetual equivalent for his interest, and to leave to industry its full operation, and entire reward. CHAPTER XII. Of War, and of Military Establishments. BECAUSE the Christian Scriptures describe wars as what they are, as crimes or judgments, some have been led to believe that it is unlawful for a Christian to bear arms. But it should be remem- bered that it may be necessary for individuals to unite their force, and for this end to resign them- selves to the direction of a common will ; and yet OF WAR, AND OF MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 161 it may be true that that will is often actuated by crimiiial motives, and often determined to destruc- tive purposes. Hence, alt hough the origin of wars be ascribed, in Scripture, to tire operation of law- less and malignant passion ;* and though war it- self be enumerated among the sorest calamities with which a land can be visited, the profession of a soldier is nowhere forbidden or condemned. When the soldiers demanded of John the Baptist what they should do, he said unto them, " Do vio- lence to no man, neither accuse any falselv. and be content with your wages. ''t In which answer we do not find that, in order to prepare themselves for the reception of the kingdom of Clod, it was required of soldiers to relinquish their profession, but only that tliry should beware of the vices of which that profession was art-used. The precept wlu'ch follows, " Be content with your v. supposed them to continue in their situation. It was of a -Roman centurion that Christ pronounced that memorable eulogy. " 1 h ive not found so great faith, no, not in Israel."'* The first (Jentile cou- vert who was received into the Christian church, and to whom the Gospel was imparted by the im- mediate and especial direction of Heaven, held the same station: and in the history of this trans- action we discover not the smallest intimation, that Cornelius, upon Incoming a Christian, quit- ted the sen ice of the Roman legion: that hi- pro- fession was objected to. or his emit in 11.1 nee in it con- sidered as in any wise inconsistent with his new character. In applying the principles of morality to the af- fairs of nations, the diilicultv which meets us. arises from hence, " that the particular con* quence sometimes appears to exceed the value of the gen- eral rule." In this circumstance! is founded the only distinction that exists between the < independent states, and of independent indi- viduals. In the transactions of private persons, no advantage that results from the breach of a general law of justice, can compensate to the public for the violation of the law : in the concerns of empire, this may sometimes \w doubted. Thus, that, the faith of promises ought to be maintained! as far as is lawful, and as far as was intended by the parties, whatever jnconveniev.cv either of them may sutler by his fidelity, in the intercourse of private life, is seldom disputed : because it is evident to almost every man who reflects upon the subject, that the common happiness gains more by the preservation of the rule, than it could do by the removal of the inconvenicncy. But when the adherence to a public treaty would en- slave a whole people; would block up "seas, rivers, or harbours; depopulate cities; condemn fertile regions to eternal desolation ; cut off a country from its sources of provision, or deprive it of those commercial advant-ages to which its climate, pro- duce, or situation naturally entitle it : the magni- tude of the particular evil induces us to call in question the obligation of the general rule. Moral Philosophy furnishes no precise solution to these doubts. She cannot pronounce that any rule of morality is so rigid as to bend to no exceptions ; nor. on the other hand, can she comprise exceptions within any previous description. She confesses that the obligation of every law depends * James iv. 1. J Luke vii. 9. X t Luke iii. 14. Acts. x. 1. upon its ultimate utility ; that this utility, having a finite and determinate value, situations may be feigned, and consequently may possibly arise, in which the general tendency is outweighed by the enormity of the particular mischief: but she re- calls, at the same time, to the consideration of the inquirer, the almost inestimable importance, as of other general rules of relative justice, so especially of national and personal fidelity; the unseen, if not unbounded, extent of the mischief which must follow from tfte want of it ; the danger of leaving it to the sufferer to decide upon the comparison of particular and general consequences ; and the still greater danger t>f such decisions being drawn into future precedents. If treaties, for instance, be no longer landing than whilst they are conve- nient, or until the incoiiveiiiency ascend to a certain point, (which point, must \w fixed by the judgment, or rather by the feelings, of the- com- plaining party ;) or if such an opinion, after being authorised by a few examples, come at length to prevail : one and almost the only method of avert- ing or closing the calamities of war, of either pre- venting or putting' a stop to the destruction of mankind, is lost to the world 1br ever. We do not sav that no evil can exceed this, nor any pos- sible advantage compensate it ; but we say that a l.-ss, which affects nil. will scarcely be made up to the common stock of human happiness by any benefit that can be procured to a single nation, which, however respectable when compared with any other single nation, bears an inconsiderable proportion to the whole. These, however, are the principles upon which the calculation is to bo f'rmed. It is enough, in this place, to remark the cause which produces the hesitation that we sometimes feel, in applying rules of personal pro- bity to the conduct of nations. As between individuals it js found impossible iin e\t TV duty by an immediate reference to public utility, not only Ix-cause such reference is oftentimes too remote for the direction of private consciences, but because a multitude ofcasesarise in which it is indillercnt to the general interest by what rule men act, though it be absolutely neces- sary that they act by some ^constant and known rule or other: and as, for these reasons, certain positive constitutions are wont to be established in very society, which, when established, become as obligatory as the original principles of natural just ice themselves; so, likewise, it is between in- dependent communities. Together with those maxims of universal equity which are common to states and to individuals, and by which the rights and conduct of the one as well as the other, ought to be adjusted, when they fall within the scope and application of such maxims ; there exists also amongst sovereigns a system of artificial jurispru- dence, under the name of the law of nations. In this code are found the rules which determine the right to vacant or newly discovered countries ; those which relate to the protection of fugitives, the privileges of ambassadors, the condition and duties of neutrality, the immunities of neutral ships, ports, and coasts, the "distance from shore to which these immunities extend, the distinction between free and contraband goods, and a variety its of the same kind. Concerning which examples, and indeed the principal part of what is called the jus gentium, it may be observed, that the rules derive their moral force, (by which I mean the regard that ought to be paid to them by 14* 162 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. the consciences of sovereigns,) not from their in- ternal reasonableness or justice, for many of them are perfectly arbitrary, nor yet from the authority by which they were established, for the greater part have grown insensibly into usage, without any public compact, formal acknowledgment, or even known original ; but simply from the fact of their being established, and the general duty of conforming to established rules upon questions, and between parties, where nothing but positive regulations can prevent disputes, and where dis- putes are followed by such destructive conse- quences. The first of the instances wjiich we have just now enumerated, may be selected for the illus- tration of this remark. The nations of Europe consider the sovereignty of newly-discovered coun- tries as belonging to the prince or state whose subject makes the discovery : and in pursuance of this rule, it is usual for a navigator, who falls upon an unknown shore, to take possession of it, in the name of his sovereign at home, by erecting his standard, of displaying his flag upon a desert coast. Now nothing can be more fanciful, or less substantiated by any considerations of reason or justice, than the right which such discovery, or the transient occupation and idle ceremony that accompany it, confer upon the country of the dis- coverer. Nor can any stipulation be produced, by which the rest of the world have bound them- selves to submit to this pretension. Yet when we reflect that the claims to newly-discovered coun- tries can hardly be settled, between the different nations which frequent them, without some posi- tive rule or other ; that such claims, if left un- settled, would prove sources of ruinous and fatal contentions; that the rule already proposed, how- ever arbitrary, possesses one principal quality of a rule, determination and certainty : above all, that it is acquiesced in, and that no one has power to substitute another, however he might _xon- trive a better, in its place : when we reflect upon these properties of the rule, or rather upon these consequences of rejecting its authority, we are led to ascribe to it the virtue and obligation of a pre- cept of natural justice, because we perceive in it that which is the foundation of justice itself, public importance and utility. And a prince who tranquillity of nations, and at the same time lay the foundation of future disturbances, would be little less criminal than he who breaks the public Cce, by a violation of engagements to which he himself consented, or by an attack upon those national rights which are founded immediately in the law of nature, and in the first perceptions of equity. The same thing may be repeated of the rules which the law of nations prescribes in the other instances that were mentioned, namely, that the obscurity of their origin, or the arbitrariness of their principle, subtracts nothing from the respect that is due to them, when once established. War may be considered with a view to its causes and its conduct. The justifying causes of war, are, deliberate invasions of right, and the necessity of main- taining such a balance of power amongst neigh- bouring nations, as that no single state, or con- 'ederacy of states, be strong enough to overwhelm :he rest. The objects of just war, are, precaution, defence, or reparation. In a larger sense, every ~ust war is a defensive war, inasmuch as every ust war supposes an injury perpetrated, at- tempted, or feared. The insufficient causes or unjustifiable mo- tives of war, are the family alliances, the personal friendships, or the personal quarrels, of princes ; the internal disputes which are carried on in other nations ; the justice of other wars; the extension of territory, or of trade ; the misfortunes or acci- dental weakness of a neighbouring or rival nation. There are two lessons of rational and sober policy, which, if it were possible to inculcate them into the councils of princes, would exclude many of the motives of war, and allay that restless am- bition which is constantly stirring up one part of mankind against another. The first of these lessons admonishes princes to "place their glory and their emulation, not in extent of territory, but in raising the greatest quantity of happiness out of a given territory." The enlargement of territory by conquest is not onlynot a justobjectof war, but in the greater part of the instances in which it is attempted, not even desirable. It is certainly not desirable where it adds nothing to the numbers, the enjoyments, or the security, of the conquerors. What com- monly is gained to a nation, by the annexing of new dependencies, or the subjugation of other countries to its dominion, but a wider frontier to defend ; more interfering claims to vindicate ; more quarrels, more enemies, more rebellions, to encounter ; a greater force to keep up by sea and land ; more services to provide for, and more establishments to pay 1 And, in order to draw from these acquisitions something that may make up for the charge of keeping them, a revenue is to be extorted, or a monopoly to be enforced and watched, at an expense which costs half their produce. Thus the provinces are oppressed, in order to pay for being ill-governed ; and the ori- ginal state is exhausted in maintaining a feeble authority over discontented subjects. No assign- able portion of country is benefited by the change ; and if the sovereign appear to himself to be en- riched or strengthened, when every part of his dominion is made poorer and weaker than it was, it is probable that he is deceived by apppearances. Or were it true that the grandeur of the prince is magnified by those exploits ; the glory which is purchased, and the ambition which is gratified, by the distress of one country -without adding to the happiness of another, which at the same time enslaves the new and impoverishes the ancient part of the empire, by whatever names it may be known or flattered, ought to be an object of uni- versal execration ; and oftentimes not more so to the vanquished, than to the very people whose armies or whose treasures have achieved the victory. There are, indeed, two cases in which the ex- tension of territory may be of real advantage, and to both parties. The first is, where an empire thereby reaches to the natural boundaries which divide it from the rest of the world. Thus we ac- count the British Channel the natural boundary which separates the nations of England and France ; and if France possessed any countries on this, or England any cities or provinces on that, side of the sea, recovery of such towns and districts OP WAR, AND OF MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 1C3 to what may be called their natural sovereign, though it may not be, a just reason for commencing war, would be a proper use to make of victory. The other case is, where neighbouring states, being severally too small and weak to defend themselves against the dangers that surround them, can only be safe by a strict and constant junction of their strength : here conquest will affect the purposes of confederation and alliance ; and the union which it produces is often more close and permanent than that which results from voluntary association. Thus, if the heptarchy had continued in England, the different kingdoms of it might have separately fallen a prey to foreign invasion: and although the interest and danger of one part of the island were in truth common to eve ryot her part, it might have been difficult to have circulated this persua- sion amongst independent nations, or to have united them in any regular or steady opposition to their continental enemies, had not the valour and fortune of an enterprising prince incorporated the whole into a single monarchy. Here, the con- quered gained as much by the revolution, as the conquerors. In like manner, and for the same reason, when the two royal families of Spain were met together in one race of princes, and tin- several provinces of France had devolved into the possession of a single sovereign, it became unsafe for the inhabitants of Great Britain any longer to remain under separate governments. The union of England and Scotland, which transformed two quarrelsome neighbours into one powerful empire, and which was lirst brought about by the course of succession, and afterwards completed by amica- ble convention, would have been a fortunate con- clusion of hostilities, had it been effected by the operations of war. These two cases being ad- mitted, namely, the obtaining of natural bounda- ries and barriers, and the including under the same government those who have a common danger and a common enemy to guard against ; I know not whether a third can be thought of, in which the extension of empire by conquest is useful even to the conquerors. The second rule of prudence which ought to be recommended to those who conduct the affairs of nations, is, " never to pursue national honour as distinct from national interest." This rule ac- knowledges that it is often necessary to assert the honour of a nation for the sake of its interest. The spirit and courage of a people are supported by llattering their pride. Concessions which betray too much of fear or weakness, though they relate to points of mere ceremony, invite demands and attacks of more serious importance. Our rule allows all this ; and only directs that, when points of honour become subjects of contention between sovereigns, or are likely to be made the occasion of war, they be estimated with a reference to utility, and not by themseltes. " The dignity of his crown, the honour of his flag, the glory of his arms," in the mouth of a prince, are stately and imposing terms ; but the ideas they inspire, are insatiable. It may be always glorious to conquer, whatever be the justice of the war, or the price of the vic- tory. The dignity of a sovereign may not permit him to recede from claims of homage and respect, at whatever expense of national peace and happi- ness they are to be maintained; however unjust they may have been in their original, or in their continuance however useless to the possessor, or mortifying and vexatious to other states. The pur- suit of honour, when set loose from the admonitions of prudence, becomes in kings a wild and romantic passion : eager to engage, and gathering fury in its progress, it is checked by no difficulties, repelled by no dangers ; it forgets or despises those considera- tions ot safety, ease, wealth, and plenty, which, in the eye of true public wisdom, compose the objects to which the renown of arms, the fame of victory, are only instrumental and subordinate. The pur- suit of interest, on the other hand, is a sober princi- ple ; computes costs and consequences ; is cautious of entering into war ; stops in time : when regulated by those universal maxims of relative justice which belong to the affairs of communities as well as of private persons, it is the right principle for nations to proceed by : even when it trespasses upon these regulations, it is much less dangerous, because much more temperate than the oilier. II. The conduct of war. If the cause and end of war be justifiable; all the means that appear necessary to the end, are justifiable also. This is the principle which defends those extremities to which the violence of war usually proceeds : for since war is a contest by force between parties who acknowledge no common superior, and since it includes not in its idea the supposition of any con- vention which should place limits to the opera- tions of force, it has naturally no boundary but (hat in which force terminates, the destruction of the life against which the force is directed. Let it be observed, however, that the license of war au- thorises no acts of hostility but wlxat are necessary or conducive to the end and object of the war. Gratuitous barbarities borrow no excuse from this plea : of which kind is every cruelty and every in- sult that serves only to exasperate the sufferings, or to incense the hatred, of an enemy, without weakening his strength, or in any manner tending to procure his submission ; such as the slaughter of captives, the subjecting of them to indignities or torture, the violation of women, the profanation of temples, the demolition of public buildings, libraries, statues, and in general the destruction or defacing of works that conduce nothing to an- noyance or defence. These enormities are pro- hibited not only by the practice of civilized nations, but by the law of nature itself; as having no proper tendency to accelerate the termination, or accom- plish the object of the war ; and as containing that which in peace and war is equally unjustifiable, ultimate and gratuitous mischief. There are other restrictions imposed upon the conduct of war, not by the law of nature primarily, but by the laws of war, first, and by the law of nature as seconding and ratifying the laws of war. The laws of war are part of the law of nations ; and founded, as to their authority, upon the same principle with the rest of that code, namely, upon the fact of then* being established, no matter when or by whom ; upon the expectation of their being mutually observed, in consequence of that esta- blishment; and upon the general utility which results from such observance. The binding force of these rules is the greater, because the regard that is paid to them must be universal or none. The breach of the rule can only be punished by the subversion of the rule itself: on which account, the whole mischief that ensues from the laws of thoso salutary restrictions which such rules prescribe, is justly chargeable upon the first aggressor. To this consideration may be referred the duty of re- fraining in war from poison and from assassina- 164 MORAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY. tion. If the law of nature simply l>e consulted, it may be difficult to distinguish between these and other methods of destruction, which arc prac- tised without scruple by nutions at war. If it be lawful to kill an enemy at all. it serins lawful to do so by one mode of death as well a.-; !>v another; by a dose of poison, as by the point of a sword ; by the hand of an assassin, as by the attack of an army: for if it be said that one species of assault leaves to an enemy the power of defending itself against it, and that the other two does not ; it may be answered, that we possess at least the same right to cut off an enemy's defence/that we have to seek his destruction. In this manner might the ques- tion be debated, if there existed no rule or law of war upon the subject. But when we observe that such practices are at present excluded by the usage and opinions of civilized nations; that the first re- course to them would be followed by instant re- taliation ; that the mutual license which such attempts must introduce, would fill both sides with the misery of continual dread and suspicion, with-, out adding to the strength or" success of either ; that when the example came to be more generally imitated, which it soon would be, after the senti- ment that condemns it had been once broken in upon, it would greatly aggravate the horrors and calamities of war, yet procure no superiority to any of the nations engaged in it"; when we view these effects, we join in the public reprobation of such fatal expedients, as of the admission amongst mankind of new and enormous evils without ne- cessity or advantage. The law of nature, we see at length, forbids these innovations, as so many transgressions of a beneficial general rule actually subsisting. The license of war then acknowledges two limi- tations : it authorises no hostilities which have not an apparent tendency to effectuate the object of the war; it respects those positive laws which the custom of nations hath sanctified, and which whilst they are mutually conformed to, mitigate the calamities of war, without weakening its ope- rations, or diminishing the power or safety of belligerent states. Long and various experience seems to have convinced the nations of Europe, that nothing but a standing army can oppose a standing army, where the numbers on each side bear any mode- rate proportion to one another. The first stand- ing army that appeared in Europe after the fall of the Roman legion, was that which was erected in France, by Charles VII. about the middle of the fifteenth century : and that the institution hath since become general, can only be attributed to the superiority and success which are every where ob- served to attend it. The truth is, the closeness, regularity, and quickness, of their movements ; the unreserved, instantaneous, and almost mechanical, obedience to orders ; the sense of jx^rsonal honour, and the familiarity with danger, which In-long to a disciplined, veteran, and embo'died soldiej} r , give such firmness and intrepidity to their approach, such weight and execution to their attack, as are not to be withstood by loose ranks of occasional nnd newly-levied troops, who are liable by their inex- perience to disorder and confusion, and in whom fear is constantly augmented by novelty and sur- prise. It is possible that a militia, with a great excess of numbers, and a ready supply of recruits may sustain a defensive or a Hying war against regular troops: it, is also true that any service, which keeps soldiers for a while together* and inures them by little and little to the ha bits of war and the dangers of action, transforms them in ef- fect into a standing army. But upon this plan it may be necessary for almost a whole nation to go out to war to repel an invader; beside that a peo- ple so unprepared must always have the seat, and with it the miseries, of war alt home, being utterly incapable of carry ing their operations into a foreign country. From the acknowledged superiority of standing armies, it follows, not only that it is unsafe* for a nation to disband its regular troops, whilst neigh- bouring kingdoms retain theirs; but also that regular troops provide for the public service at the least possible expense. I suppose a certain quan- tity of military strength to be necessary, and 1 say that a standing army costs the community less than any other establishment which presents to an enemy the .same force. The constant drudgery of low employments is not only incom- patible with any great degree of perfection or ex- pertness in the profession of a soldier, but the pro- fession of a soldier almost always unfits men for the business of regular occupations. Of three in- habitants of a village, it is better that one should addict himself entirely to arms, and the other two stay constantly at home to cultivate the ground, than that all three should mix the avocations of a camp, with the business of husbandry. By the former arrangement, the country gains one com- plete soldier, and two Jndustrious husbandmen ; from the latter it receives three raw militia-men, who are at the same time three idle and profligate peasants. It should be considered also, that the emergencies of war wait not for seasons. Where there is no standing army ready for immediate service, it may be necessary to call the reaper from the fields in harvest, or the ploughman in seed time ; and the provision of a whole year may perish by the interruption of one month's labour. A standing army, therefore, is not only a more effectual, but a cheaper, method of providing for the public safety, than any other, because it adds more than any other to the common strength, and takes less from that which composes the wealth of a nation, its stock of productive industry. There is yet another distinction between stand- ng armies and militias, which deserves a more at- tentive consideration than any that has been mentioned. When the state relies, for its defence, upon a militia, it is necessary that arms be put into the hands of the people "at large. The mi- litia itself must l>e numerous, in proportion to the want or inferiority of its discipline, and the imbe- cilities or defects of its constitution. Moreover, as such a militia must be supplied by rotation, allot- ment, or some mode of succession whereby they who have served a certain time are replaced by fresh drafts from the country ; a much greater number will be instructed in the use of arms, and will have been occasionally embodied together, than are actually employed, or than are supposed to be wanted, at the same time. Now what effects upon the civil condition of the country may be looked for from this general diffusion of the military character, becomes an inquiry of great importance and delicacy. To me it appears doubt- ful whether any government can be long secure, OF WAR, AND OP MILITARY ESTABLISHMENTS. 165 where the people are acquainted with the use ol arms, and accustomed to resort to them. Every faction will find itself at the head of an army every disgust will excite commotion, and every commotion become a civil war. Nothing, perhaps, can govern a nation of armed citizens but that which governs an army, despotism. I do not mean tnat a regular government would become despotic by training up its subjects to the know- ledge and exercise of arms, but that it would ere long be forced to give way to despotism in some other shape ; and that the country would be liable to what is even worse than a settled and constitu- tional despotism to perpetual rebellions, and to perpetual revolutions ; to short and violent usur- pations ; to the successive tyranny of governors, rendered cruel and jealous by the danger and in- stability of their situation. The same purposes of strength and efficacy which make a standing army necessary at all, make it necessary in mixed governments, that this array be submitted to the management and direction of the prince : for however wella popular council may be qualified for the offices of legisla- tion, it is altogether unfit for the conduct of war : in which, success usually depends upon vigour and enterprise ; upon secrecy, dispatch, and una- nimity ; upon a quick perception of opportunities, and the power of seizing every opportunity immediately. It is likewise necessary that the obedience of an army be as prompt and active as possible ; for which reason it ought to be made an obedience of will and emulation. Upon this con- sideration is founded the expediency of leaving to the prince not only the government and destina- tion of the army, but the appointment and pro- motion of its officers: because a design is tnen alone likely to be executed with zeal and fidelity when the person who issues the order, chooses the instruments, and rewards the service. To which we may subjoin, that, in governments like ours, if the direction and officering of the army were placed in the hands of the democratic part of the constitution, this power, added to what they already possess, would so overbalance all that would be left of regal prerogative, that little would remain of monarchy in the constitution, but the name and expense; nor would these probably remain long. Whilst we describe, however, the advantages of standing armies, we must not conceal the danger. These properties of their constitution, the sol- diery being separated in a great degree from the rest of the community, their being closely linked amongst themselves by habits of society and sub- ordination, and the dependency of the whole chain upon the will and favour of the prince, however essential they may be to the purposes for which armies are kept up, give them an aspect in no wise favourable to public liberty. The danger, lowever, is diminished, by maintaining, on aH occasions, as much alliance of interest, and as much intercourse of sentiment, between the mili- tary part of the nation and the other orders of the people, as are consistent with the union and dis- cipline of an army. For which purpose, officers of the army, upon whose disposition towards the commonwealth a great deal may depend, should >e taken from the principal families of the country, and at the same time also be encouraged to esta- >lish in it families of their own, as well as be ad- mitted to seats in the senate, to hereditary distinc- ions, and to all the civil honours and privileges hat are compatible with their profession : which circumstances of connexion and situation will give them such a share in the general rights of the )eople, and so engage their inclinations on the side of public liberty, as to afford a reasonable se- curity that they cannot be brought, by any promises of personal aggrandizement, to assist, in the exe- cution of measures which might enslave their posterity, their kindred, and their country. HORJE PAULINA: OR, THE TRUTH OF THE SCRIPTURE HISTORY OF ST. PAUL EVINCED. TO THE RIGHT REVEREND JOHN LAW, D. D. LORD BISHOP OF KILLALA AND ACHONRY, As a testimony of esteem for his virtues and learning, and of gratitude for the long and faithful friendship with which the Author has been honoured by him, this attempt to confirm the Evidence of the Christian History is inscribed, by his affectionate and most obliged Servant, W. PALEY. CHAPTER I. Exposition of the Argument. volume of Christian Scriptures contains thirteen letters purporting to be written by St. Paul : it contains also a book, which, amongst other things, professes to deliver the history, or ra- ther memoirs of the history, of this same person. By assuming the genuineness of the letters, we may prove the substantial truth of the history : or, by assuming the truth of the history, we may ar- gue strongly in support of the genuineness of the letters. But I assume neither one nor the other. The reader is at liberty to suppose these writings to have been lately discovered in the library of the Escurial, and to come to our hands destitute of any extrinsic or collateral evidence whatever ; and the argument I am about to offer is calculated to show, that a comparison of the different writings would, even under these circumstances, afford good rea- son to believe the persons and transactions to have been real, the letters authentic, and the narration in the main to be true. Agreement or conformity between letters bear- ing the name of an ancient author, and a received history of that author's life, does not necessarily establish the credit of either; because, 1. The history may, like Middleton's Life of Cicero, or Jortin's Life of Erasmus, have been wholly, or in part, compiled from the letters ; in which case it is manifest that the history adds no- thing to the evidence already afforded by the let- ters; or, 2. The letters may have been fabricated out of the history ; a species of imposture which is cer- tainly practicable; and which, without any acces- sion of proof or authority, would necessarily pro- duce the appearance of consistency and agree- ment j or, 3. The history and letters may have been founded upon some authority common to both ; as upon reports and traditions which prevailed in the age in which they were composed, or upon some ancient record now lost, which both writers con- sulted; in which case also, the letters, without being genuine, may exhibit marks of conformity with the history ; and the history, without being true, may agree with the letters. Agreement, therefore, or conformity, is only to be relied upon so far as we can exclude these several suppositions. Now the point to be noticed is, that in the three cases above enumerated, con- formity must be the effect of design. Where the history is compiled from the letters, which is the first case, the design and composition of the work are in general so confessed, or made so evident by comparison, as to leave us in no danger of con- founding the production with original history, or of mistaking it for an independent authority. The agreement, it is probable, will be close and uniform, and will easily be perceived to result from the in- tention of the author, and from the plan and con- duct of his work. Where the letters are fabri- cated from the history, which is the second case, it is always for the purpose of imposing a forgery upon the public ; and in order to give colour and probability to the fraud, names, places, and cir- cumstances, found in the hwtory, may be stu- diously introduced into the letters, as well as a gen- eral consistency be endeavoured to be maintained. But here it is manifest that whatever congruity appears, is the consequence of meditation, artifice, and design. The third case is that wherein the history and the letters, without any direct privity or communication with each other, derive their materials from the same source ; and, by reason of their common original, furnish instances of ac- cordance and correspondency. This is a situation 166 EXPOSITION OP THE ARGUMENT. 107 hi which we must allow it to be possible for ancient writings to be placed ; and it is a situation in which it is more difficult to distinguish spu- rious from genuine writings, than in either of the cases described in the preceding suppositions ; inasmuch as the congruities observable are so far accidental, as that they are not produced by the immediate transplanting of names and circum- stances out of one writing into the other. But although, with respect to each other, the agree- ment in these writings be mediate and secondary, yet it is not properly or absolutely undesigned: because, with respect to the common original from which the information of the writers proceeds, it is studied and factitious. The case of which we treat must, as to the letters, be a case of forgery : and when the writer who is personating another, sits down to his composition whether he have the history with which we now compare the letters, or some other record before him ; or whether he have only loose tradition and reports to go by he must adapt his imposture, as well as he can, to what he finds in these accounts ; and his adaptations will be the result of counsel, scheme, and industry : art must be employed ; and vestiges will appear of management and design. Add to this, that, in most of the following examples, the circumstances in which the coincidence is remarked, are of too particular and domestic a nature, to have floated down upon the stream of general tradition. Of the three cases which- we have stated, the difference between the first and the two others is, that in the first the design may be fair and honest, in the others it must be accompanied with the consciousness of fraud ; but in all there is design. In examining, therefore, the agreement between ancient writings, the character of truth and ori- ginality is undesignedness : and this test applies to every supposition ; for, whether we suppose the history to be true, but the letters spurious ; or, the letters to be genuine, but the history false ; or, lastly, falsehood to belong to both the history to be a fable, and the letters fictitious : the same in- ference will result that either there will be no agreement between them, or the agreement will be the effect of design. Nor will it elude the principle of this rule, to suppose the same person to have been the author of all the letters, or even the author both of the letters and the history; for no less design is necessary to produce coincidence between different parts of a man's own writings, especially when they are made to take the differ- ent forms of a history and of original letters, than to adjust them to the circumstances found in any other writing. With respect to those writings of the New Testament which are to be the subject of our present consideration, I think, that, as to the au- thenticity of the epistles, this argument, where it is sufficiently sustained by instances, is nearly conclusive ; for I cannot assign a supposition of forgery, in which coincidences of the kind we inquire after are likely to appear. As to the history, it extends to these points : It proves the general reality of the circumstances : it proves the historian's knowledge of these circumstances. In the present instance it confirms his pretensions of having been a contemporary, and in the latter part of his history, a companion, of St. Paul. In a word, it establishes the substantial truth of the narration; and substantial truth is that, which, in every historical inquiry, ought to be the first thing sought after and ascertained: it must be the groundwork of every other observation. The reader then will please to remember this word undesignedness, as denoting that upon which the construction and validity of our argu- ment chiefly depend. As to the proofs of undesignedness, I shall in this place say little ; for I had rather the reader's persuasion should arise from the instances them- selves, and the separate remarks with which they may be accompanied, than from any previous for- mulary or description of argument. In a great plurality of examples, I trust he will be perfectly convinced that no design or contrivance whatever has been eAfrcisstd . and if some of the coincidences alleged appear to be minute, circuitous, or oblique, let him reflect that this very indirectness and sub- tility is that which gives force and propriety to the example. BroaJ, obvious, and explicit agree- ments prove little ; because it may be suggested that the insertion of such is the ordinary expe- dient of every forgery : and though they may occur, and probably will occur in genuine writings, yet it cannot be proved that they are peculiar to these. Thus what St. Paul declares in chap. xi. of 1 Cor. concerning the institution of the eueharist " For I have received of the Lord that which I also de- livered unto you, that the Low! Jesus, the same night in which lie was betrayed, took bread ; and when he had given thanks he brake it, and said, Take, eat ; this is my body, which is broken for you ; this do in remembrance of me" though it be in close and verbal conformity with the account of the same transaction preserved by St. Luke, is yet a conformity of whim no use can be made in our argument ; for if it should be objected' that this was a mere recital from the gospel, borrowed by the author of the epistle, for the purpose of setting off his composition by an appearance of agreement with the received account of the Lord's supper, I should not know how to repel the insinuation. In like manner, the description which St. Paul gives of himself in his epistle to the Philippians (in. 5.) " Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews ; as touching the law, a Pharisee ; concerning zeal, persecuting the Church ; touch- ing the righteousness which is in the law, blame- less" is made up of particulars so plainly de- livered concerning him, in the Acts of the Apos- tles, the Epistle to the Romans, and the Epistle to the Galatians, that I cannot deny but that it would be easy for an impostor, who was fabrica- ting a letter in the name of St. Paul, to collect these articles into one view. This, therefore, is a conformity which we do not adduce. But when, I read in the Acts of the Apostles, that when " Paul came to Derbe and Lystra, behold a certain disciple was there, named Timotheus, the son of a certain woman which was a Jewess;" and when, in an epistle addressed to Timothy, I find him re- minded of his " having known the Holy Scrip- tures from a child;" which implies that he must, on one side or both, have been brought up by Jewish parents : I conceive that I remark a coin- cidence which shows, by its very obliquity, that scheme was not employed in its formation. In like manner, if a coincidence depend upon a com- parison of dates, or rather of circumstances from which the dates are gathered the more intricate that comparison shall be ; the more numerous the intermediate steps through which the conclusion 168 HOIU2 PAULINA, is deduced ; in a word, the more circuitous the in vestigation is, the better, because the agreemen which finally results is thereby farther removet from the suspicion of contrivance, affectation, or design. And it should be remembered, concern- ing these coincidences, that it is one thing to be minute, and another to be precarious ; one thing to be unobserved, and another to he obscure ; one thing to be circuitous or oblique, and another to be forced, dubious, or fanciful. And this distinc- tion ought always to be retained in our thoughts. The very particularity of St. Paul's epistles ; the perpetual recurrence of names of persons and places ; the frequent allusions to the incidents of his private life, and the circumstances of his con- dition and history ; and the connexion and paral- lelism of these with the same circumstances in the Acts of the Apostles, so as to enable us, for the most part, to confront them one with another ; as well as the relation which subsists between the circumstances, as mentioned or referred to in the different Epistles afford no inconsiderable proof of the genuiness of the writings, and the reality of the transactions. For as no advertency is suf- ficient to guard against slips and contradictions, when circumstances are multiplied, and when they are liable to be detected by contemporary accounts equally circumstantial, an impostor, I should expect, would either have avoided particu- lars entirely, contenting himself with doctrinal discussions, moral precepts, and general reflec- tions ; * or if, for the sake of imitating St. Paul's style, he should have thought it necessary to inter- sperse his composition with names and circum- stances, he would have placed them out of the reach of comparison with the history. And I am confirmed in this opinion by the inspection of two attempts to counterfeit St. Paul's epistles, which have come down to us^ and the only attempts of which we have any knowledge, that are at all de- serving of regard. One of these is an epistle to the Laodiceans, extant in Latin, and preserved by Fabricius, in his collection of apocryphal scrip- tures. The other purports to be an epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians, in answer to an epistle from the Corinthians to him. This was trans- lated by Scroderus from a copy in the Arminian language which had been sent to W. Whiston, and was afterwards, from a more perfect copy procured at Aleppo, published by his sons, as an appendix to their edition of Moses Chorenensis. No Greek copy exists of either : they are not only not supported by ancient testimony, but they are nega- tived and excluded ; as they have never found ad- mission into any catalogue of apostolical writings, acknowledged by, or known to, the early ages of Christianity. In the first of these I found, as I expected, a total evitation of circumstances. It is * This, however, must not be misunderstood. A person writing to bis friends, and upon a subject in which the transactions of his own life were concerned, would probably be led, in the course of his letter, espe- cially if it was a long one, to refer to passages found in his history. A person addressing an epistle to the pub- lic at large, or under the form of an epistle delivering a discourse upon some speculative argument, would not, it is probable, meet with an occasion of alluding to the circumstances of his life at all ; he might, or he might not ; the chance on either side is nearly equal. This is the situation of the catholic epistle. Although, there- fore, the presence of these allusions and agreements be a valuable accession to the arguments by which the authenticity of a letter is maintained, yet the want of them certainly forms no positive objection. simply a collection of sentences from the canon- ical epistles, strung together with very little skill. The second, wliich is a more versute and specious forgery, is introduced with a list of names of per- sons who wrote to St. Paul from Corinth ; and is preceded by an account sufficiently particular of the manner in which the epistle was sent from Corinth to St. Paul, and the answer returned. But they are names which no one ever heard of; and the account it is impossible to combine with any thing found in the Acts, or in the other epis- tles. It is not necessary for me to point out the internal marks of spuriousness and imposture which these compositions betray ; but it was ne- cessary to observe, that they do not afford those coincidences which we propose as proofs of authen- ticity in the episllos which we defend. Having explained the general scheme and form- ation of the argument, 1 may be permitted to sub- join a brief account of the manner of conducting it. I have disposed the several instances of agree- ment under separate numbers : as well to mark more sensibly the divisions of the subject, as for another purpose, viz : that the reader may thereby be reminded that the instances are independent of one another. I have advanced nothing which I did not think probable ; but the degree of probability by which different instances are supported, is un- doubtedly very different. If the reader, therefore, meets with a number which contains an instance that appears to him unsatisfactory, or founded in mistake, he will dismiss that number from the argument, but without prejudice to any other. He will have occasion also to observe that the co- incidences discoverable in some epistles are much fewer and weaker than what are supplied by- others. But he will add to his observation this important circumstance that whatever ascertains the original of one epistle, in some measure esta- blishes the authority of the rest. For, whether these epistles be genuine or spurious, every thing about them indicates that they come from the same hand. The diction, which it is extremely difficult to imitate, preserves its resemblance and peculiarity throughout all the epistles. Numer- ous expressions and singularities of style, found in no other part of the New Testament, are repeated in different epistles ; and occur in their respective places, without the smallest appearance of force or art. An involved argumentation, frequent obscu- rities, especially in the order and transition of thought, piety, vehemence, affection, bursts of rapture, and of unparalleled sublimity, are pro- perties, all or most of them, discernible in every letter of the collection. But although these epis- tles bear strong marks of proceeding from the same hand, I think it is still more certain that they were originally separate publications. They form no continued story ; they compose no regular corres- pondence ; they comprise not the transactions of any particular period ; tliey carry on no connexion of argument ; they depend not upon one another ; except in one or two instances, they refer not to one another. I will farther undertake to say, that no study or care- has been employed to produce or preserve an appearance of consistency amongst them. All which observations show that they were not intended by the person, whoever he was, that wrote them, to come forth or be read together : that they appeared at first separately, and have been collected since. The proper purpose of the following work is to EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 1G9 bring together, from the Acts of the Apostles, am from the different epistles, such passages as fur- nish examples of undesigned coincidence ; but 1 have so far enlarged upon this plan, as to take into it some circumstances found in the epistles, which contributed strength to the conclusion though not strictly objects of comparison. It appeared also a part of the same plan, to examine the difficulties which presented them- selves in the course of our inquiry. I do not know that the subject has been pro- posed or considered in this view before. Ludovi- cus, CajK-llus, Bishop Pearson, Dr. Benson, and Dr. Lardner, have each given a continued history of St. Paul's life, made up from the Acts of the Apostles and the Kpistles joined together. But this, it is manifest, is a different undertaking from the present, and directed to a dillerent pur- pose. If what is here offered shall add one thread to that complication of probabilities by which the Christian history is attested, the reader's atten- tion will be repaid by the supreme imjK>rtance of the subject ; and iny design will be fully an- swered. CH The Epist THE first passage I epistle, and ujwn which a good will be founded, is the following: "But now I go unto Jerusalem, to minister unto the saints; for it hath pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia. to make a certain contri- bution for the poor saints which are at Jerusa- lem." Rom. xv. iJ5. -JtJ. In this quotation three distinct circumstances are stated a contribution in Macedonia for the relief of the Christians of Jerusalem, a contribu- tion in Achaia for the same purpose, and an in- tended journey of St. Paul to Jerusalem. These circumstances are stated as taking place at the same time, and that to be the time when the epis- tle was written. Now let us inquire whether we can find these circumstances elsewhere, and whe- ther, if we do find them, they meet together in respect of date. Turn to the Acts of the Apos- tles, chap. xx. ver. 2, 3, and you read the follow- ing account: "When he had gone over those parts, (viz. Macedonia,) and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece, and there abode three months; and when the Jews laid wait for him, as he yeas about to sail into Sy- ria, he proposed to return through Macedonia." From this passage, compared with the account of St. Paul's travels given before, and from the se- quel of the chapter, it appears that upon St. Paul's second visit to the peninsula of Greece, his inten- tion was, when he should leave the country, to proceed from Achaia directly by sea to Syria; but that to avoid the Jews, who were lying in wait to intercept him in his route, he so far changed his purpose as to go back through Mace- donia, embark at Philippi, and pursue his voyage from thence towards Jerusalem. Here, therefore, is a journey to Jerusalem ; but not a syllable of any contribution. And as St. Paul had taken several journeys to Jerusalem before, and one also immediately after lusjirst visit into the peninsula of Greece, (Acts xviii, 21,) it cannot from hence be collected in which of these visits the epistle was written, or with certainty, that it was written in either. The silence of the historian, who pro- fesses to have been with St. Paul at the tune, (c. xx. v. 6,) concerning any contribution, might lead us to look out for some different journey, or might induce us, perhaps, to question Ihe con- sistency of the two records, did not a very acci- dental" reference, in another part' of the same history, afford us sufficient ground to believe that tins silence was omission. When St. Paul made his reply before Felix, to the accusations of Ter- tullus, he alleged, as was natural, that neither the errand which brought him to Jerusalem, nor his conduct whilst he remained there, merited the calumnies with which the Jews had aspersed him. " Now alter many years (i. e. of absence,) I came to bring alms to my nation, and offer- ings ; whereupon certain Jews from Asia found me purified in the temple, neither with multitude, nor with tumult, who ought to have been here before thee, and object, if they had aught against me." Acts xxiv. 17 19. This mention of alms offerings certainly brings the narrative in the tr to an accordancy with the epistle ; yet I am persuaded, will suspect that this was put into St. Paul's defence, either to the omission in the preceding narrative, or y view to such accordancy. all, nothing is yet said or hinted, con- ing the place of the contribution; nothing concerning Macedonia and Achaia. Turn there- to the First Epistle to the Corinthians, chap. xvi. ver. 1 4, and you have St. Paul de- iverinu the following directions : " Concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given or- ders to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye: upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered dim, that there be no gatherings when I come. And when I come, whomsoever you shall approve ly your letters, them will I send to bring your iberality unto Jerusalem ; and if it be meet, that [ go also, they shall go with me." In this pas- sage we find a contribution carrying on at Co- rinth, the capital of Achaia, for the Christians of Ferusalem ; we find also a hint given of the pos- sibility of St. Paul going up to Jerusalem him- self, after he had paid his visit into Achaia : but his is spoken of rather as a possibility than as my settled intention ; for his first thought was, ' Whomsoever you shall approve by your letters, hem will I send to bring your liberality to Jeru- salem :" and irt the sixth verse he adds, "that ye may bring me on my journey whithersoever I go. This epistle purports to be written after St. 'aul had been at Corinth : for it refers through- )ut to what he had done and said amongst them whilst he was there. The expression, therefore, when I come," must relate to a second visit; gainst which visit the contribution spoken of was lesired to be in readiness. But though the contribution in Achaia be ex- >ressly mentioned, nothing is here said concern- ng any contribution in Macedonia. Turn, there- ore, in the third place, to the Second Epistle to he Corinthians, chap. viii. wr. 1 4, and you vill discover the particular which remains to be ought for: "Moreover, brethren, we do you to 15 170 HOR^E PAULINA. wit of the grace of God bestowed on the churches of Macedonia ; how that, in a great trial of af- fliction, the abundance of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their libera- lity: for to their power, I bear record, yea ant beyond their power, they were willing of them- selves : praying us with muoh entreaty, that we would receive the gift, and take upon us the fel- lowship of the ministering to the saints." To wliich add, chap. ix. ver. 2 : " I know the forward- ness of your mind, for which I boast of you to thtai of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago." In this epistle we find St. Paul ad- vancedT as far as Macedonia, upon that second visit to Corinth wluch he promised in his former epistle ; we find also, in the passages now quoted from it, that a contribution was going on in Ma- cedonia at the same tune with, or soon however following, the contribution which was made in Achaia ; but for whom the contribution was made does not appear in this epistle at all: that in- formation must be supplied from the first epistle. Here, therefore, at length, but fetched from three different writings, we have obtained the several circumstances we inquired after, and which the Epistle to the Romans brings to- gether, viz. a contribution in Achiaia for the Christians of Jerusalem ; a contribution in Ma- cedonia for the same ; and an approaching jour- ney of St. Paul to Jerusalem. We have these circumstances each by some hint in the pas- sage in which it is mentioned, or by the date of the writing in which the passage occurs fixed to a particular time; and we have that time turn- ing out upon examination to be in all the same : namely towards the close of St. Paul's second visit to the peninsula of Greece. This is an in- stance of conformity beyond the possibility, I will venture to say,' of random writing to produce. I also assert, that it is in the highest degree im- probable^ that it should have been the effect of contrivance and design. The imputation of de- sign amounts to this : tliat the forger of the Epis- tle to the Romans inserted in- it the passage upon which our observations are founded, for the pur- pose of giving colour to his forgery by the ap- pearance of conformity with other writings which were then extant. I reply, in the first place, that, if he did this to countenance his forgery, he did it for the pu.. x>se of an argument which would not strike one reader in ten thousand. Coincidences so circuitous as this, answer not the ends of for- gery ; are seldom, I believe, attempted by it. In the second place, I observe, that he must have had the Acts of the Apostles, and the two epis- tles to the Corinthians, before him at the time. In the Acts of the Apostles I mean that part of the Acts which relate to this period,) he would have found the journey to Jerusalem ; but nothing about the contribution. In the First Epistle to the Corinthians he would have found a contribution going on in Achaia for the Christians of Jerusa- lem, and a distant hint of the possibility of the journey ; but nothing concerning a contribution in Macedonia. In the Second Epistle to the Co- rinthians he would have found a contribution in Macedonia accompanying that in Achaia ; but no intimation for whom either was intended, and not a word about the journey. It was only by a close and attentive collation of l the three writings, that he could have picked out the circumstances which he has united in his epistle ; and by a still more nice examination, that he could have determined them to belong to the same period. In the third place, I remark, what diminishes very much the suspicion of fraud, how aptly and connectedly the mention of the circumstance's in question, viz. the journey to Jerusalem, and of the occasion of that journey, arises from the context, " Whensoever I take my journey into Spain, I will come to you; for I trust to see you in my journey, and to be brought on my way thitherward by you, if first I be somewhat filled with your company. But now I go unto Jerusalem, to minister unto the saints ; for it hath, pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia to make a certain contribution for the poor saints which are at Jerusalem. It hath pleased them verily, and their debtors they are ; for if the Gentiles have been made partakers of their spiritual things, their duty is also to minis- ter unto them in carnal things. When therefore I have performed this, and have sealed them to this fruit, I will come by you into Spain." Is the passage in Italics like a passage foisted in for an extraneous purpose 1 Does it not arise from what goes before, by a junction as easy as any example of writing upon real business can fur- nish'? Could any thing be more natural than that ^ St. Paul, in writing to the Romans, should peak of the time when he hoped to visit them ; hould mention the business which then detained liim ; and that he purposed to set forwards upon his journey to them when that business was com- pleted'? No. II. t By means of the quotation which formed the subject of the preceding number, we collect that the Epistle to the Romans was written at the conclusion of St. Paul's second visit to the penin- sula of Greece ; but this we collect, not from the epistle itself, nor from any thing declared con- cerning the time and place in any part of the epistle, but from a comparison of circumstances referred to in the epistle, with the order of events recorded in the Acts, and with references to the same circumstances, though for quite different purposes, in the two epistles to the Corinthians. Now would the author of a forgery, who sought to gain credit to a spurious letter by congruities, depending upon the time and place in which the etter was supposed to be written, have left that ime and place to be made out, in a manner so obscure and indirect as this is 1 If therefore coin- cidences of circumstances can be pointed out in ;his epistle, depending upon its dato,.or the place where it was written, whilst that date and place are only ascertained by other circumstances, such coincidences may fairly be stated as undesigned. Under this head I adduce Chap. xvi. 2123: " Timotheus, my work- iellow, and Lucius, and Jason, and Sosipater, my cinsmen, salute you. I, Tertius, who wrote this epistle, salute you in the Lord. Gains, mine host, and of the whole church, saluteth you; and duartus, a brother." With this passage I com- 3are, Acts xx. 4 : " And there accompanied him nto Asia, Sopater of Berea ; and, of the Thessa- onians, Aristarchus and Secundus; and Gaius of Derbe, and Timotheus; and, of Asia, Tychicus and Trophimus." The Epistle to the Romans, we have seen, was written just before St. Paul's departure from Greece, after his second visit to that peninsula: the persons mentioned in the EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 171 quotation from the Acts are those who accom- panied him in that departure. Of seven whose names are joined in the salutation of the church of Rome, three, viz. Sosipater, Gains, and Timo- thy, are proved, by this passage in the Acts, to have been with St. Paul at the time. And this is perhaps as much coincidence as could be exported. from reality, though less, I am apt to think, than would have been produced by design. Four are mentioned in the Acts who arc not joined in the salutation ; and it is in the nature of the case probable that there should be many attending St. Paul in Greece, who knew nothing of the con- verts at Rome, nor were known by them. In like manner, several are joined in the salutation who are not mentioned in the passage referred to in the Acts. This also was to be expected. The occasion of mentioning them in the Acts was their proceeding with St. Paul upon his journey. But we may !>< sure that then 1 were man\ 'eminent Christians with St. Paul in Greece, besides those who accompanied him into Asia.* But if any one shall still contend that a forger of the epistle, with the Acts of the Ajxjstles before him, and having settled this scheme of writing a letter as from St. Paul, upon his second visit into Greece, would easily think of the expedient of putting in the names of those persons who ap- peared to be with St. P;ml at the time as an ob- vious recommendation of the imposture: I then repeat my observations ; first, that he would have made the catalogue more complete : and, secondly, that with this contrivance in las thoughts, it was certainly his business, in order to avail himself of the artiiice, to have stated in the body of the epis- tle, that Paul was in Greece when he wrote it, and that he was there upon his second visit. Neither of which he has done, either directlv, or even so as to be discoverable by any circumstance found in the narrative delivered in the Acts. Under the same head, viz. of coincidences de- pending upon date, I cite from the epistle the fol- lowing salutation: "Greet Priscilla and Aquila, my helpers in Jesus Christ, who have for my lile laid down their own necks ; unto whom not only I irivf thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles." Chap. XVR 3. It appears, from the Acts of the Apostles, that Priscilla and Aquila had originally been in habitants of Rome; for we read, Acts xviii. 2, that " Paul found a certain Jew, named Aquila, lately come from Italy with * Of these Jason is one, whose presence upon this oc- casion is very naturally accounted for. Jason was an inhabitant of Thessalonica in Macedonia, and enter- tained St. Paul in his house upon his first visit to that country. Acts xvii. 7. St. Paul, upon this his second visit, passed through Macedonia on his way to Greece, and, from the situation of Thessalonica, most likely through that city. It appears, from various instances in the Acts, to have been the practice of many converts, to attend St. Paul from place to place. It is therefore highly probable, I mean that it is highly consistent, with the account in the history, that Jason.'accordin-r to that account a zealous disciple, the inhabitant of a city at no great distance from Greece, and through which" as t should seem, St. Paul had lately passed, should have accompanied St. Paul into Greece, and have Ix^n with him there at this time. Lncius is another name in the epistle. A very slight alteration would convert AOUK.OJ mto AMtMf, Lucius into Luke, which would produce an additional coincidence : for, if Luke was the author of the history, he was with St. Paul at the time ; in- asmuch as, describing the voyage which took place soon after the writing of this epistle, the historian uses the first person" We sailed away from Philippi." Acts xx. 6. his wife Priscilla, because that Claudius had commanded all Jews to depart from Rome}' They were connected, therefore, with the place to which the salutations are sent. That is one coincidence; another is the following: St. Paul became acquainted with these persons at Corinth during his first return into Greece. They accom- panied him upon his visit into Asia ; were settled for some time at Ephesus, Acts xviii. 19 26, and appear to have been with St. Paul when he wrote from that place his First Epistle to the Corinthians, 1 Cor. xvi. 19. Not long after the writing of which epistle St. Paul went from Ephesus into Macedonia, and, "after he had gone over those parts," proceeded from thence upon his second visit into Greece ; during which visit, or rather at the conclusion of it, the Epistle to the Romans, as hath been shown, was written. We have therefore the time of St. Paul's residence at Ephesus- alter he had written to the Corin- thians, the time taken up by his progress through Macedonia, ("which is indefinite, and was probably considerable,) and his three months' abode in Greece ; wo have the sum of those three periods allowed for Aquila and Priscilla going back to Rome, so as to be there when- the epistle before us was written. Now what this quotation leads us to observe is, the danger of scattering names and circumstances in writings like the present, how implicated they often are with dates and places, and that nothing but truth can preserve consistency. Had the notes of time in the Epistle to the Romans fixed the writing of it to any date prior to St. Paul's first residence at Corinth, the salutation of Aquila and Priscilla would have contradicted the history, because it would have I>een prior to his acquaintance with these persons. If the notes of time had fixed it to any period during that residence at Corinth, during his jour- ney to Jerusalem when he first returned out of Greece, during his stay at Antioch, whither he went down to Jerusalem, or during his second progress through the Lesser Asia, upon which he proceeded from Antioch, an equal contradiction would have been incurred; because from Acts xviii. 218, 1926, it appears that during all this time Aquila and Priscilla were either along with St. Paul, or were abiding at Ephesus. Lastly, had the notes of time in this epistle, which we h;i'.e seen to be perfectly incidental, compared with the notes of time in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, which are equally incidental, fixed this epistle to be either contemporary with that, or prior to it, a similar contradiction would have ensued ; because, first, when the Epistle to the Corinthians was written, Aquila and Priscilla were along with St. Paul, as they joined in the salutation of that church, 1 Cor. xvi. 19; and because, secondly, the history does not allow us to suppose, that between the time of their becoming acquainted with St. Paul and the time of St. Paul's writing to the Corinthians, Aquila and Priscilla could have gone to Rome, so as to have been saluted in an epistle to that city ; and then come back to St. Paul at Ephesus, so as to be joined with him in saluting the church of Corinth. As it is, all things are consistent. The Epistle to the Romans is posterior even to the Second Epis- tle to the Corinthians; because it speaks of a con- tribution in Achaia being completed, which the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, chap, viii, is only soliciting. It is sufficiently therefore posterior 172 HOR^l PAULINA. to the First Epistle to the Corinthians, to allow time in the interval for Aquila and Priscilla's re- turn from Ephesus to Rome. Before we dismiss these, two persons, we may take notice of the terms of commendation in which St. Paul describes them, and of the agreement of that encomium with the history. " My helpers in Christ Jesus, who have for my life laid down their necks; unto whom not only I give thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles." In the eighteenth chapter of the Acts, we are informed that Aquila and Priscilla were Jews; that St. Paul first met with them at Corinth; that for some time he abode in the same house with them ; that St. Paul's contention at Corinth was with the unbelieving Jews, who at first " opposed and blasphemed, and afterwards with one accord raised an insurrection against him;" that Aquila and Priscilla adhered, we may conclude, to St. Paul throughout this whole contest ; for, when he left the city, they went with him, Acts xviii. 18. Un- der these circumstances, it is highly probable- that they should be involved in the dangers and per- secutions which St. Paul underwent from the Jews, being themselves Jews ; and, by adhering to St. Paul in this dispute, deserters, as they would be accounted, of the Jewish cause. Farther, as they, though Jews, were assisting to St. Paul in preaching to the Gentiles at Corinth, they had taken a decided part in the great controversy of that day, the admission of the Gentiles to a parity of religious situation with the Jews. For this conduct alone, if there was no other reason, they may seem to have been entitled to " thanks from the churches of the Gentiles." They were Jews taking part with Gentiles. Yet is all this so indirectly intimated, or rather so much of it left to inference, in the account given in the Acts, that I do not think it probable that a forger either could or would have drawn his representation from thence ; and still less probable do I think it, that, without having seen the Acts, he could, by mere accident and without truth for his guide, have delivered a representation so conformable to the circumstances there recorded. The two congruities last adduced, depended upon the time, the two following regard the place, of the epistle. 1. Chap. xyi. 23. "Erastus,' the chamberlain of the city, saluteth you" of what city 1 We have seen, that is, we have inferred from circumstances found in the epistle, compared with circumstances found in the Acts of the Apostles, and in the two epistles to the Corinthians, that our epistle was written during St. Paul's second visit to the peninsula of Greece. Again, as St. Paul, in his epistle to the church of Corinth, 1 Cor. xvi. 3, speaks of a collection going on in that city, and of his desire that it might be ready against he came thither ; and as in this epistle he speaks of that collection being ready, it follows that the epistle was written either whilst he was at Corinth, or after he had been there. Thirdly, since St. Paul speaks in this epistle of his journey to Jerusalem, as about instantly to take place ; and as we learn, Acts xx. 3, that his design and attempt was to sail upon that journey immediately from Greece, properly so called, i. e. as distinguished from Macedonia ; it is probable that he was in this country when he wrote the epistle, in which he speaks of himself as upon the eve of setting out. If in Greece, he was most likely at Corinth ; for the two Epistles to the Corinthians show that the principal end of his coming into Greece, was to visit that city, where he hud founded a church. Certainly we know no place in Greece in which his presence was so probable ; at least, the placing of him at Corinth satisfies every circumstance. Now that Erastus was an inhabitant of Corinth, or had some connexion with Corinth, in rendered a fair subject of presumption, by that which is ac- cidentally said of him in the Second Epistle to Timothy, chap. iii. 20. " Erastus ahode at Co- rinth." St. Paul complains of his solitude, and is telling Timothy what was become of his com- panions: "Erastus abode at Corinth; but Tro- phimus have I left at Miletum sick." Erastus was one of those who had attended St. Paid in his travels, Acts xix. 22: and when those travels had. upon some occasion, brought our apostle and his train to Corinth, Erastus staid there, for no reason so probable, as that it was his home. I allow that this coincidence, is not so precise as some others, yet I think it too clear to be pro- duced by accident : for, of the many places, which this same epistle has assigned to different persons, and the innumerable others which it might have mentioned, how came it to fix upon Corinth for Erastus 1 And, as far as it is a coincidence, it is certainly undesigned on the part of the author of the Epistle to the Romans : because he has not told us of what city Erastus was the chamberlain ; or, which is the same thing, from what city the epistle was written, the setting forth of which was ab- solutely necessary to the display of the coinci- dence, if any such display had been thought of : nor could the author of the Epistle to Timothy leave Erastus at Corinth, from any thing he might have read in the Epistle to the Romans, because Corinth is nowhere in that epistle mentioned either by name or description. 2. Chap. xvi. 13. "I commend unto you Phoebe, our sister, which is a servant of the church which is at Cenchrea, that ye receive her in the Lord, as becometh saints, and that ye as- sist her in whatsoever business she hath need of you ; for she hath been a succourer of many, and of myself also." Cenchrea adjoined to Corinth ; St. Paul therefore, at the time of writing the let- ter, was in the neighbourhood of the woman whom he thus recommends. But, farther, that St. Paul had before this been at Cenchrea itself, appears from the eighteenth chapter of the Acts ; and appears by a circumstance as incidental, and as unlike design, as any that can be imagined. " Paul after this tarried there (viz. at Corinth,) yet a good while, and then took his leave of his brethren, and sailed thence into Syria, and with him Priscilla and Aquila, having shorn his head in Cenchrea, for he had a vow." xviii. 18. The shaving of the head denoted the expiration of the Nazaritic vow. The historian, therefore, by the mention of this circumstance, virtually tells us that St. Paul's vow was expired before he set for- ward upon his voyage, having deferred probably his departure until he should be released from the restrictions under which his vow laid him. Shall we say that the author of the Acts of the Apos- tles feigned this anecdote of St. Paul at Cenchrea, because he had read in the Epistle to the Romans that " Phoebe, a servant of the church of Cenchrea, had been a succourer of many, and of him also?'' or shall we say that the author of the Epistle to the Romans, out of his own imagination, created EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 173 Phoelje "a servant of the church at Cenchrea," because he read in the Acts of the Apostles that Paul had " shorn his head" in that place 1 No. III. Chap. i. 13. " Now I would not have you ig- norant, brethren, that oftentimes I purposed to come unto you, but was let hitherto, that I might have some fruit among" you also, even as among other Gentiles." Again, xv. 23, 24 : " But now having no more place in these parts, and having a great desire these many years (s-x.*., often- times,) to come unto you, whensoever 1 take my journey into Spain I will come to you ; for 1 trust to see you in my journey, and to be brought on my way thitherward by you : but now I go up unto Jerusalem to minister to the saints. When, therefore, I have performed this, and have sail- ed to them this fruit, I will come by you into Spain." With these passages compare Acts- xix. 21. " After these things were ended, (viz. at Ephe- sus,) Paul purposed in the spirit, when he had Sassed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to erusalem; saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome." Let it be observed that our epistle purports to have been written at the conclusion of St. Paul's second journey into Greece: that the quotation from the Acts contains words said to have been spoken by St. Paul at Ephesus, some time before he set forwards upon that journey. Now I con- tend that it is impossible that two independent fictions should have attributed to St. Paul the same purpose, especially a purpose so : pecific and particular as this, which was not merely a yem-ml design of visiting Rome after he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, and alter he had performed a voyage from these countries to Jeru- salem. The conformity between the history and the epistle is perfect. In the first quotation from the epistle, we find that a design of visiting Rome had long dwelt in the apostle's mind : in the quo- tation from the Acts, we find that design ex- pressed a considerable time before the epistle was written. In the history, we find that the plan which St. Paul had formed was, to pass through Macedonia and Achaia ; after that to go to Jeru- salem ; and when he had finished his visit there, to sail for Rome. When the epistle was written, he had executed so much of his plan, as to have passed through Macedonia and Achaia ; and was preparing to pursue the remainder of it, by speed- ily setting out towards Jerusalem: and in this point of his travels he tells his friends at Rome, that, when he had completed the business which carried him to Jerusalem, he would come to them. Secondly, I say, that the very inspection of the passages will satisfy us that they were not made up from one another. " Whensoever I take my journey into Spain, I will come to you ; for I trust to see you in my journey, and to be brought on my way thither- ward by you ; but now I go up to Jerusalem to minister to the saints. When, therefore, I have performed this, and have sealed to them this fruit, I will come by you into Spain." This from the epistle. "Paul purposed in the spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem: saying, After I have been there, I must also see Rome." This from the Acts. If the passage in the epistle was taken from that in the Acts, why was Spain put in 1 If the passage in the Acts was taken from that in the epistle, why was Spain left out 1 If the two passages were unknown to each other, nothing can account for their conformity but truth. Whe- ther we suppose the history and the epistle to be alike fictitious, or the history to be true but the letter spurious, or the letter to be genuine but the history a iable, the meeting with this circum- stance in both, if neither borrowed it from the other, is upon all these suppositions equally in- explicable. No. IV. The following quotation I offer for the purpose of pointing out a geographical coincidence, of so much importance, that Dr. Lardner considered it as a confirmation of the whole history of St. Paul's travels. Chap. xv. 19. " So that from Jerusalem, and round about unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the Gospel of Christ/' I do not think that these words necessarily im- port that St. Paul had penetrated into Illyricum, or preached the Gospel in that province ; but ra- ther that he had come to the confines of Illyricum, (MIX?' * ux.u<.x8,) and that these confines were the external boundary of his travels. St. Paul considers Jerusalem as the centre, and is here viewing the circumference to which his travels extended. The form of expression in the original conveys this idea eur ii(*>,t* ** xuxx Axe T ixxo ? x. Illyricum was the part of this cir- cle which he mentions in an epistle to the Ro- mans, because it lay in a direction from Jerusa- lem towards that city, and pointed out to the Ro- man readers the- nearest place to them, to which his travels from Jerusalem had brought him. The name of Illyricum nowhere occurs in the Acts of the Apostles ; no suspicion, therefore can be received that the mention of it was borrowed from thence. Yet I think it appears, from these same Acts, that St. Paul, before the time when he wrote his Epistle to the Romans, had reached the confines of Illyricum ; or, however, that he might have done so, in perfect consistency with the ac- count there delivered. Illyricum adjoins upon Macedonia; measuring from Jerusalem towards Rome, it lies close behind it. If, therefore, St. Paul traversed the whole country of Macedonia, the route would necessarily bring him to the con- fines of Illyricum, and these confines would be described as the extremity of his journey. Now the account of St. Paul's second visit to the peninsula of Greece, is contained in these words: "He departed for to go into Macedonia; and when he had gone oxer these parts, and had given them much exhortation, he came into Greece." Acts xx. 2. This account allows, or rather leads us to suppose, that St. Paul, in going over Macedonia (&u\&,a." With this compare Acts xx. 22, 23: " And now, behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there, save that the Holy Ghost witnes- seth in every city, saying that bonds and afflic- tions abide me." Let it be remarked, that it is the same journey to Jerusalem which is spoken of in these two pas- sages ; that the epistle was written immediately before St. Paul set forwards upon this journey from Achaia ; that _the words in the Acts were uttered by him when he had proceeded in that journey as far as Miletus, in Lesser Asia. This being remembered, 1 observe that the two pas- sages, without any resemblance between them that could induce us to suspect that they were borrowed from one another, represent the state of St. Paul's mind, with respect to the event of the journey, in terms of substantial agreement. They both express his sense of danger in the ap- proaching visit to Jerusalem : they both express the doubt which dwelt upon his thoughts con- cerning what might there befall him. When, in his epistle, he entreats the Roman Christians, *' for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, to strive together with him in their prayers to God for him, that he might be delivered from them which do not believe, in Judsea,'" he sufficiently confesses his fears. In the Acts of the Apostles we see in him the same apprehensions, and the same uncertainty : " I go bound in the spirit to Jerusalem, not knowing tha things that snail befall me there." The only difference is, that in the history his thoughts are more inclined to despondency than in the epistle. In the epis- tle he retains his hope "that he should come unto them with joy by the will of God :" in the history, his mind yields to the reflection, " that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city that bonds and afflictions awaited him." Now that his fears should be greater, and his hopes less, in this stage of his journey than when he wrote his epis- tle, that is, when he first set out upon it, is no other alteration than might well be expected; since those prophetic intimations to which he re- fers, when he says, " the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city," had probably been received by him in the course of his journey, and were probably similar to what we know he received hi the re- maining part of it at Tyre, xxi. 4 ; and afterwards from Agabus at Caesarca, xxi. 11. No. VI. There is another strong remark arising from the same passage in the epistle ; to make which understood^ it will be necessary to state the pas- sage over again, and somewhat more at length. "I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me, that 1 may be delivered from them that do not believe, in Judaea that I may come unto you with joy by the will of God, and may with you be refreshed." I desire the reader to call to mind that part of St. Paul's history which took place after his ar- rival at Jerusalem, and which employs the seven last chapters of the Acts; and I build upon it this observation thaj supposing the Epistle to the Romans to have been a forgery, and the author of the forgery to have had the Acts of the Apos- tles before him, and to have there seen that St. Paul, in fact, " was not delivered from the un- believing Jews," but on the contrary, that he was taken into custody at Jerusalem, and brought to Rome a prisoner it is next to impossible that he should have made St. Paul express expectations so contrary to what he saw had been the event ; and utter prayers, with apparent hopes of success, which he must have known were frustrated in the issue. This single consideration convinces me, that no concert or confederacy whatever subsisted be- tween the Epistle and the Acts of the Apostles ; and that whatever coincidences have been or can be pointed out between them, are unsophisticated, and are the result of truth and reality. It also convinces me that the epistle was writ- ten not only in St. Paul's life-time, but before he arrived at Jerusalem ; for the important events re- lating to him which took place after his arrival at that city, must have been known to the Chris- tian community soon after they happened : they form the most public part of his history. But had they been known to the author of the epis- tle in other words, had they then taken place the passage which we have quoted from the epis- tle would not have been found there. No. VII. I now proceed to state the conformity which exists between the argument of this epistle and the history of its reputed author. It is enough for this purpose to observe, that the object of the epistle, that is, of the argumentative part of it, was to place the Gentile convert upon a parity of situation with the Jewish, in respect of his re- ligious condition, and his rank in the divine fa- vour. The epistle supports this point by a variety of arguments ; such as, that no man of either de- scription was justified by the works of the law for this plain reason, that no man had performed them ; that it became therefore necessary to ap- point another medium or condition of justification, in which new medium the Jewish peculiarity was merged and lost ; that Abraham's own justifica- tion was anterior to the law, and independent of it : that the Jewish converts were to consider the law as now dead, and themselves as married to another; that what the law in truth could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God had EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS. 175 done by sending his Son ; that God had rejected the unbelieving Jews, and had substituted in their place a society of believers in Christ, collected in- differently from Jews and Gentiles. Soon after the writing of this epistle, St. Paul, agreeably to the intention intimated in the epistle itself, took his journey to Jerusalem. The day after he ar- rived there, he was introduced to the church. What passed at this interview is thus related, Acts xxi. 19 : " When he had saluted them, he de- clared particularly what things God had wrought among the Gentiles by his ministry : and when they heard it, they glorified the Lord : and said unto him, thou seest, brother, how many thou- sands of Jews there are which believe ; and they are all zealous of the law ; and they are informed ofthee, that thou teachest all the Jews which are among the Gentiles to forsake Moses, saying, that they ought not to circumcise their children, nei- ther to walk after the customs." St. Paul dis- claimed the charge: but there must have been something to have led to it. Now it is only to suppose tliat St. Paul openly professed the prin- ciples which the epistle contains; that, in the course of his ministry, he had uttered the senti- ments which he is here made to write : and the matter is accounted for. Concerning the accusa- tion which public rumour had brought against him te Jerusalem, I will not say that it was just; but I will say, that if he was the author of the epistle before us, and if his preaching was con- sistent with his writing, it was extremely natural : for though it be not a necessary, surely it is an r:isy inference, that if the Gentile convert, who did not observe the law of Moses, held as advan- tageous a situation in his religious interests as the Jewish convert who did, there could be no strong reason for observing that law at all. The re- monstrance therefore of the church of Jerusalem, and the report which occasioned it. were founded in no very violent misconstruction of the ajx>stlc "s doctrine. His reception at Jerusalem was exactly what I should ha\r expected the author of this epistle to have met with. I am entitled therefore to arifue. that a separate narrative of ellects ex- perienced by St. Paul, similar to what a p-rs..n might be expected to experience who held the doctrines advanced in this epistle, forms a proof that he did hold these doctrines; and that the epistle bearing his name, in which such doctrines are laid down, actually proceeded from him. No. VIII. This number is supplemental to the former. I propose to point out in it two particulars in the conduct of the argument, perfectly adapted to the historical circumstances under which the epistle was written; which yet are free from all ap- pearance of contrivance, and which it would not, I think, have entered into the mind of a sophist to contrive. 1. The Epistle to the Galatians relates to the same general question as the Epistle to the Ro- mans. St. Paul had founded the church of Ga- latia; at Rome, he had never been. Observe now a difference in his manner of treating of the same subject, corresponding with this difference in his situation. In the Epistle to the Galatians he puts the point in a great measure upon au- thority : " I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ unto another Gospel." Gal. i. 6. " I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached of me, is not after man ; for T neither received it of man, neither was I taught it but by the revelation of Jesus Christ." ch. i. 11, 12. " I am afraid, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain." iv. 11, 12, " I desire to be present with yon now, for I stand in doubt of you/' iv. 20. " Behold, I, Paul, say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing." v. 2. " This persuasion cometh not of him that called you." v. 8. This is the style in which he accosts the Galatians. In the epistle to the converts of Rome, where his authority was not established, nor his person known, he puts the same points entirely upon argument. The perusal of the epistle will prove this to the satisfaction of every reader : and, as the observation relates to the whole contents of the epistle, I forbear adducing separate extracts. I repeat, therefore, that we have pointed out a dis- tinction in the two epistles, suited to the relation in wliich the author stood to his different corres- pondents. Another adaptation, and somewhat of the same kind, is the following : 2. The Jews, we know, were very numerous at Rome, and probably formed a principal part amonjTst the new converts; so much so, that the Christians seem to have been known at Rome rather as a denomination of Jews, than as any thin;; else. In an epistle consequently to the Ro- man believers, the point to be endeavoured after by St. Paul was to reconcile the Jewish converts to the opinion, that the Gentiles were admitted by God to a parity of religious situation with them- sehes. and that without their being bound by the law of Moses. The Gentile converts would pro- bably accede to this opinion very readily. In this epistle, therefore,, though directed to the Roman church in general, it is in truth a Jew writing to Accordingly you will take notice, that as often as his argument leads him to say any tiling derogatory from the Jewish institution, he con- stantly follows it by a softening clause. Having (ii. 28, 29,) pronounced, not much perhaps to the satisfaction of the native Jews, " that he is not a Jew which is one outwardly, neither that circum- cision which is outward in the flesh :" he adds immediately, "What advantage then hath the Jew, or what profit is there in circumcision'? Much every way." Having, in the third chapter, ver. 28, brought his argument to this formal con- clusion, " that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law," he presently subjoins, ver. 31, " Do we then make void the law through faith? God forbid! Yea, we establish the law.'* In the seventh chapter, when in the sixth verse he had advanced the bold assertion, "that now we are delivered from the law, that being dead wherein we were held;" in the very next verse he comes in with this healing question, "What shall we say, then 1 Is the law sin 1 God forbid ! Nay, I had not known sin but by the law. Having in the following words insinuated, or rather more than insinuated, the inefficacy of the Jewish law, viii. 3, " for what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh :" after a digression indeed, but that sort of a digression which he could never resist, a rapturous contemplation of his Christian hope, and which occupies the latter part of this chapter j we find him in the 176 HOfUE PAULINA/ next, as if sensible that he had said something which would give offence, returning to his Jewish brethren in terms of the warmest affection and re- spect : " I say the truth in Christ Jesus ; I lie not ; rny conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and con- tinual sorrow in my heart ; for I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ, for my bre- thren, my kinsmen according to the Jlesh, who are Israelites, to whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the laic, and the service of God, and the pro- mises ; whose are the fathers ; and of whom, as concerning the Jlesh, Christ came." When, in the thirty-first and thirty-second verses of this ninth chapter, he represented to the Jews the er- ror of even the best of their nation, by telling them that " Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, had not attained to the law of righteousness, because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law, for they stumbled at that stumbling stone," he takes care to annex to this declaration these conciliating expressions: "Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they might be saved ; for I bear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge." Lastly, having ch. x. 20, 21, by the application of 'a pas- sage in Isaiah, insinuated the most ungrateful of all propositions to a Jewish ear, the rejection of the Jewish nation, as God's peculiar people ; he hastens, as it were, to qualify the intelligence of their fall by this interesting expostulation : " I say, then, hath God cast away his people, (i. e. wholly and entirely 7") God forbid ! for I also am an Is- raelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. God hath not cast away his people, which he foreknew ;" and follows this thought, throughout the whole of the eleventh chapter, in a series of reflections calculated to soothe the Jew- ish converts, as well as to procure from their Gen- tile brethren respect to the Jewish institution. Now all this is perfectly natural. In a real St. Paul, writing to real converts, it is what anxiety to bring them over to his persuasion would na- turally produce ; but there is an earnestness and a personality, if I may so call it, in the manner, which a cold forgery, I apprehend, would neither have conceived nor supported. CHAPTER III. The First Epistle to the Corinthians. No. I. BEFORE we proceed to compare this epistle with the history, or with any other epistle, we will employ one number in stating certain re- marks applicable to our argument, which arise from a perusal of the epistle itself. By an expression in the first verse of the seventh chapter, "now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me," it appears, that this letter to the Corinthians was written by St. Paul in answer to one which he had received from them ; and that the seventh, and some of the fol- lowing chapters, are taken up in resolving certain doubts, and regulating certain points of order, concerning which the Corinthians had in their letter consulted him. This alone is a circum- stance considerably in favour of the authonti-i'V of the epistle ; for it must have born a far- fete he'd contrivance in a forgery, first to have feigned the receipt of a letter from the Church of Corinth, which letter does not appear; and then to have drawn up a fictitious answer to it, relative to a great variety of doubts and inquiries, purely economical and domestic; and which, though likely enough to have occurred to an infant so- ciety, in a situation and under an institution so novel as that of a Christian Church then was, it must have very much exercised the author's in- vention, and could have answered no imaginable purpose of forgery, to introduce the mention of at all. Particulars of the kind we refer to, are such as the following : the rule of duty and prudence relative to entering into marriage, as applicable to virgins, to widows ; the case of husbands married to unconverted wives ; of wives having uncon- verted husbands ; that case where the unconverted party chooses to separate, where he chooses to continue the union ; the effect which their conver- sion produced upon their prior state, of circumci- sion, of slavery j the eating of things orlered to idols, as it was in itself, as others were affected by it ; the joining in idolatrous sacrifices ; the deco- rum to be observed in their religious assemblies, the order of speaking, the silence of women, the covering or uncovering of the head, as it became men, as it became women. These subjects, with their several subdivisions, are so particular, minute, and numerous, that though they be exactly agree- able to the circumstances of the persons to whom the letter was written, nothing, I believe, but the existence and reality of those circumstances could have suggested to the writer's thoughts. But this is not the only nor the principal observa- tion upon the correspondence between the church of Corinth and their apostle, which I wish to point out. It appears, I think, in this correspond- ence, that although the Corinthians had written to St. Paul, requesting his answer and his direc- tions in the several points above enumerated, yet that .they had not said one syllable about the enormities and disorders which had crept in amongst them, and in the blame of which they all shared ; but that St. Paul's information concern- ing the irregularities then prevailing at Corinth had come round to him from other quarters. The quarrels and disputes excited by their contentious adherence to their different teachers, and by their placing of them in competition with one another, were not mentioned in their letter, but communi- cated to St. Paul by more private intelligence : " It hath been declared unto me, my brethren, by them which are of the house of Chloe, that there are contentions among you. Now this I say, that every one of you saith, I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Christ." (i. 11, 12.) The incestuous marriage " of a man with bis father's wife," which St. Paul reprehends with so much severity in the fifth chapter of our epistle, and which was not the crime of an indi- vidual only, but a crime in which the whole church, by tolerating and conniving at it, had rendered themselves partakers, did not come to St. Paul's knowledge by the letter, but by a rumour which had reached his ears : " It is reported commonly that there is fornication among you, and such fornication as is not so much as named among the Gentiles, that one should have his father s wife ; and ye are pulled up, arid have not FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 177 rather mournct! that he that hath done this deed might be taken avVay from among you." (v. 1, 2.) Their going to law before the judicature of the country, rather than arbitrate and adjust their disputes among themselves, which St. Paul ani- madverts upon with his usual plainness, was not. intimated to him hi the letter, because lie tells them his opinion of this conduct before he conies to the contents of the letter. Their litigiousness is cen- sured by St. Paul in the sixth chapter of his epis- tle, anil it is only at the beginning of the seventh chapter that he proceeds upon the articles which he found in their letter; and he proceeds upon them with this preface : " Now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me," (vii. 1,) which introduction he would not have used if he had been already discussing any of the subjects con- cerning which they h.id written. Their irregu- larities in celebrating the Lord's supper, and the utter perversion of the institution which ensued, were not in the letter, as is evident from the terms in which St. Paul mentions the notice he had re- ceived of it : " Now in this that I declare unto you, I praise you not, that ye come together not for the better, but for the worse ; for first of all, when ye come together in the church, I hear that there be divisions among you, and / partly believe it." Now that the Corinthians should, in their own letter, exhibit the fair side of their conduct to the apostle, and conceal from him the faults of their behaviour, was extremely natural, and extremely probable : but it was a distinction which would not, I think, have easily occurred to the author of a forgery ; and much less likely is it, that it should have entered into his thoughts to make tin dis- tinction appear in the way in which it does ap- pear, viz: not by the original letter, not by any express observation upon it in the answer, but distantly by marks perceivable in the manner, or in the order, in wliich St. Paul takes notice of their faults. No. II. Our epistle purports to have been written after St. Paul had already teen at Corinth :" I, bre- thren, when I came unto you, came not with excel- lency of speech or of wisdom," (ii. 1,) and in many other places to the same effect. It puriorts also to have been written upon the eve of another visit to that church : " I will come to you shortly, if the Lord will," (iv. 19 ;) and again, " I will come to you when I shall p;iss through Macedonia,' (xvi. 5.) Now the history relates that St. Paul did in fact visit Corinth twice : once as recorded at length in the eighteenth, and a second time as mentioned briefly in the twentieth chapter of the Acts. The same history also informs us, (Acts xx. 1,) that it was from Ephesus St. Paul pro- ceeded upon his second journey into Greece. Therefore, as the epistle purjx>rts to have been written a short time preceding that journey; and as St. Paul, the history tells us. hud resided more than two years ;tt Kphesus, before he set out ii}H>n it. it follows that it must have been from Kph'-siis. to be consistent with the history, that the epi>tle \\ is written : and eserv note of /;A/enod : "When divers were hardened and believed" not, but spake evil of that way before the multitude, he departed from them, and separated the disciples." The conformity, therefore, upon this head of comparison, is circumstantial and perfect. If any one think that this is a conform- ity so obvious, that any forger of tolerable caution a in I sagacity would have taken care to preserve it, I must desire such a one to read the epistle for himself; and, when he has done so, to declare whether he has discovered one mark of art or design ; whether the notes of time and place ap- pear to him to be inserted with any reference to each other, with any view of their being compared with each other, or for the purpose of establishing a visible agreement with the history, in respect of them. No. III. Chap. iv. 1719. " For this cause I have sent unto you Timotheus, who is my beloved son and faithtul in the Lord, who shall bring you into re- membrance of my ways which be in Christ, as I teach every where in every church. Now some are puffed up, as though I would not come unto you; but I will come unto you shortly, if the Lord will." - With this I compare Acts xix. 21, 22: "After { these things were ended, Paul purposed in the j spirit, when he had passed through Macedonia i and Acliaia, to go to Jerusalem; saying, After I 1 ha\e In-eii there. 1 must also see Rome; HO he sent unto Macedonia two of them that ministered unto him, Tunofhr.ii6- and Krastus." Though it be not sojd. it appears. I think, with sufficient certainty, I mean from the history, in- dependent !v of the epistle, that Timothy was sent upon this occasion into Ackaia, of which Corinth was the capital citv, as well as into Macedonia : for the sending of Timothy and Erastus is, in the passage when; it is mentioned, plainly connected i with St. Paul's own journey : he sent them before 178 HOR^E PAULINA. him. As he therefore .purposed to go into Achaia himself, it is highly probable that they were to go thither also. Nevertheless, they are said only to have been sent into Macedonia, because Mace- donia was in truth the country to which they went immediately from Ephesus ; being directed, as we suppose, to proceed afterwards from thence into Achaia. If this be so, the narrative agrees with the epistle ; and the agreement is attended with very little appearance of design. One thing at least concerning it is certain : that if this pas- sage of St. Paul's history had been taken from his letter, it would have sent Timothy to Corinth by name, or expressly however into Achaia. But there is another circumstance in these two passages much less obvious, in which an agree- ment holds without any room for suspicion that it was produced by design. We have observed that the sending of Timothy into the peninsula of Greece was connected in the narrative with St. Paul's own journey thither ; it is stated as the effect of the same resolution. Paul purposed to go into Macedonia ; " so he sent two of them that ministered unto him, Timotheus and Erastus." Now in the epistle also you remark, that, when the apostle mentions his having sent Timothy unto them, in the very next sentence he speaks of his own visit ; " for this cause have I sent unto you Timotheus who is my beloved son, &c. Now some are puffed up, as though I would not come to you; but I will come to you shortly, if Gtxl will." Timothy's journey, we see, is mentioned in the history and in the epistle, in close connexion with St. Paul's own. Here is the same order of thought and intention ; yet conveyed under such diversity of circumstance and expression, and the mention of them in the epistle so allied to the oc- casion which introduces it, viz. the insinuation of his adversaries that he would come to Corinth no mpre, that I am persuaded no attentive reader will believe, that these passages were written in concert with one another, or will doubt but that the agreement is unsought and,uncontrived. But, in the Acts, Erastus accompanied Timothy in this journey, of whom no mention is made in the epistle. Prom what has been said in our ob- servations upon the Epistle to the Romans, it ap- pears probable that Erastus was a Corinthian. If so, though he accompanied Timothy to Corinth, he was only returning home, and Timothy was the messenger charged with St. Paul's orders. At any rate this discrepancy shows that the pas- sages were not taken from one another. No. IV. Chap. xvi. 10, 11. "Now if Timotheus come, see that he may be with you without fear ; for he worketh the work of the Lord, as I also do : let no man therefore despise him, but conduct him forth in peace, that he may come unto me, for I look for him with the brethren. From the passage considered in the preceding number, it appears that Timothy was sent to Corinth either with the epistle, or before it. : " for this cause have I sent unto you Timotheus." From the passage now quoted, we infer that Timothy was not sent with the epistle ; for had he been the bearer of the letter, or accompanied it, would St. Paul in that letter have said, "If Timo- thy come'?" Nor is the sequel consistent with the supposition of his carrying the letter ; for if Timothy was with the apostle when he Wrote the letter, could he say, as he does, " I look for him with the brethren 1" I conclude, therefore, that Timothy had left St. Paul to proceed upon his journey before the letter was written. Farther, the passage before us seems to imply, that Timo- thy was not expected by St. Paul to arrive at Corinth, till after they had received the letter. He gives them directions in the letter how to treat him when he should arrive : "If he come," act towards him so and so. Lastly, the whole form of expression is most naturally applicable to the supposition of Timothy's coming to Corinth, not directly from St. Paul, but from some other quarter ; and that his instructions had been, when he should reach Corinth, to return. Now, how stands this matter in the history 1 Turn to the nineteenth chapter and twenty-first verse of the Acts, and you will find that Timothy did not, when sent from Ephesus, where he left St. Paul, and where the present epistle was written, pro- ceed by a straight course to Corinth, but that he went round through Macedonia. This clears up every thing; for, although Timothy was sent forth upon his journey belbre the letter was writ- ten, yet he might not reach Corinth till after the letter arrived there ; and he would come to Co- rinth, when he did come, not directly from St. Paul at Ephesus, but from some part of Mace- donia. Here, therefore, is a circumstantial and critical agreement, and unquestionably without design ; for neither of the two passages in the epistle mentions Timothy's journey into Mace- donia at all, though nothing but a circuit of that kind can explain and reconcile the expressions which the writer uses. No.V. Chap. i. 12. " Now this I say, that every one of you saith, I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Christ." Also, iii. 6. " I have planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase." This expression, " I have planted, Apollos watered," imports two things ; first, that Paul had been at Corinth before Apollos ; secondly, that Apollos had been at Corinth after Paul, but before the writing of this epistle. This implied account of the several events, and of the order in which they took place, corresponds exactly with the history. St. Paul, after his first visit into Greece, returned from Corinth into Syria by the way of Ephesus ; and, dropping his companions Aquila and Priscilla at Ephesus, he proceeded forwards to Jerusalem ; from Jerusalem he descended to Antioch ; and from thence made a progress through some of the upper or northern provinces of the Lesser Asia, Acts xviii. 19. 23: during which progress, and consequently in the interval between St. Paul's first and second visit to Co- rinth, and consequently also before the writing of this epistle, which was at Ephesus two years at least after the apostle's return from his progress, we hear of Apollos, and we hear of him at Corinth. Whilst St. Paul was engaged, as hath been said, in Phrygia and Galatia, Apollos came down to Ephesus ; and being, in St. Paul's absence, in- structed by Aquila and Priscilla, and having ob- tained letters of recommendation from the church at Ephesus, he passed over to Achaia ; and when he was there, we read that he " helped them much which had believed through grace, for he mightily convinced the Jews, and that publicly." Acts FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 179 xviii. 27, 28. To have brought Apollos into Achaia, of which Corinth was the capital city, as well as the principal Christian church; and to have shown that he preached the Gospel in that country, would have been sufficient for our pur- pose. But the history happens also to mention Corinth by name, as the place in which Apollos, after his arrival at Achaia, fixed his residence : for, proceeding with the account of St. Paul's travels, it tells us, that while Apollos was at Corinth, Paul, having passed through the upper coasts, came down to Ephesus, xix. 1. What is said there- fore of Apollos in the epistle, coincides exactly, and especially in the point of chronology, with what is delivered concerning him in the history. The only question now is, whether the allusions were made with a regard to this coincidence. Now, the occasions and purj>oses for which the name of Apollos is introduced in the Acts and in the Epistles', are so independent and so remote, that it is impossible to discover the smallest refer- ence from one to the other. Apollos is mentioned in the Acts, in immediate connexion with the history of Aquila and Priscilla. and for the very singular circumstance of his " knowing only the baptism of John." In the epistle, where none of these circum- stances are taken notice of, his name first occurs, for the purpose of reproving the contentious spirit of the Corinthians; and it occurs only in conjunc- tion with that of some others : " Every one of you saith, I am of Paul, and I of Apollos, and I of Cephas, and I of Christ." The second passage in which Apollos appears, " I have planted, Apollos watered," fixes, as we have observed, the order of time amongst three distinct events : but it fixes this, I will venture to pronounce, without the writer perceiving that he was doing any such thing. The sentence fixes this order in exact conformity with the history ; but it is, itself intro- duced solely for the sake of the reflection which follows : " Neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth, but God that giveth the increase." No. VI. Chap. iv. 11, 12. "Even unto this present hour we both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling- place ; and labour, working with our own hands." We are expressly told in the history, that at Corinth St. Paul laboured with his own hands : " He found Aquila and Priscilla ; and, because he was of the same craft, he abode with them, and wrought ; for by their occupation they were tent- makers." But, in the text before us, he is made to say, that " he laboured even unto the present hour" that is, to the time of writing the epistle at Ephesus. Now, in the narration of St. Paul's transactions at Ephesus, delivered in the nine- teenth chapter of the Acts, nothing is said of his working with his own hands ; but in the twentieth chapter we read, that upon his return from Greece, he sent for the elders of the Church of Ephesus, to meet him at Miletus; and in the dis- course which he there addressed to them, amidst some other reflections which he calls to their re- membrance, we find the following: "I have coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel ; yea, yourselves also know, that these hands have mi- nistered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me." The reader will not forget to remark, that though St. Paul be now at Miletus, it is to the elders of the church of Ephesus he is speaking, when he says, "Ye yourselves know that these hands have ministered to my necessities;" and that the whole discourse relates to his conduct during his last preceding residence at Ephesus. That manual labour, therefore, which he had ex- ercised at Corinth, he continued at Ephesus, and not only so, but continued it during that parti- cular residence at Ephesus, near the conclusion of which this epistle was written ; so that he might with the strictest truth say at the time of writing the epistle, " Even unto thi&^present hour we labour, working with our own hands." The correspondency is sufficient, then, as to the unde- siirnedness of it. It is manifest to my judgment, that if the history, in this article, had been taken from the epistle, this circumstance, if it appeared at all, would have appeared in its place, that is, in the direct account of St. Paul's transactions at Ephesus. The correspondency would not have I >crn effected, as it is, by a kind of reflected stroke, that is, by a reference in a subsequent speech, to what in the narrative was omitted. Nor is it likely, on the other hand, that a circumstance which is not extant in the history of St. Paul at Ephesus, should have been made the subject of a factitious allusion, in an epistle purporting to be written by him from that place ; not to mention that the allusion itself, especially as to time, is too oblique and general to answer any purpose of for- gery whatever. No. VII. Chap. ix. 20. " And unto the Jews, I became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to them that are under the law, as under the law." We have the disposition here described, ex- emplified in two instances which the history re- cords; one, Acts xvi. 3, " Him (Timothy) would Paul have to go forth with him, and took and cir- cumcised him, because of the Jews in those quar- ters ; for they knew all that his father was a Greek." This was before the writing of the epis- tle. The other, Acts xxi. 23, 26, and after the writing of the epistle : " Do this that we say to thee : we have four men which have a vow on them ; them take, and purify thyself with them, that they may shave their heads ; and all may know that those things, whereof they were in- formed concerning thee, are nothing; but that thou thyself also walkest orderly, and keepest the law. Then Paul took the men, and the next day, purifying 1 himself irith them, entered into the templet Nor does this concurrence between the character and the instances look like the result of contrivance. St. Paul, in the epistle, describes, or is made to describe, his own accommodating conduct towards Jews and towards Gentiles, to- wards the weak and over-scrupulous, towards men indeed of every variety of character; "to them that are without law as without law, l>eing not without law to God, but under the law to Christ, that I might gain them that are without law ; to the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak ; I am made all things to all men, that I might gain some." This is the sequel of the text which stands at the head of the present number. Taking therefore the whole passage to- gether, the apostle's condescension to the Jews is mentioned only as a part of his general disposition towards all. It is not probable that this character 180 HOR^E PAULIN^E. should have been made up from the instances in the Acts, which relate solely to his dealings with the Jews. It is not probable that a sophist should take his hint from those instances, and then ex- tend- it so much In-yond UK in ; and il i.; still more incredible that the two instances, in the Acts cir- cumstantially related and interwoven with the his- tory, should have been fabricated in order to suit the character which. St. Paul gives of himself in the epistle. No. VIII. Chap. i. 14 17. " I thank God that I bap- tized none of you but Crispus and Gaius, lest any should say that I baptized in my own name ; and I baptized also the household of Stephanas : be- sides, I know not whether I baptized any other : for Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the Gospel." It may be expected, that those whom the apos- tle baptized with his own hands, were converts distinguished from the rest by some circumstance, either of eminence or of connexion with him. Accordingly, of the three names here mentioned, Crispus, we .find, from Acts xviii. $, was a "chief ruler of the Jewish synagogue at Corinth, who believed in the Lord with oil his house." Gaius, it appears from Romans xvi. 23, was St. Paul's host at Corinth, ind the host, he tells us, " of the whole church." The household of Stephanas, we read in the sixteenth chapter of tliis epistle, " were the first fruits of Achaia." Here, there- fore, is the propriety we expected : and it is a proof of reality not to be contemned ; for their names appearing in the several places in which they occur, with a mark of distinction belonging to each, could hardly be the effect of chance, with- out any truth to direct it: and on the other hand, to suppose that they were picked out from these passages, and brought together in the text before us, in order to display a conformity of names, is both improbable in itself, and is rendered more so, by the purpose for which they are introduced. They come in to assist St. Paul's exculpation of himself, against the possible charge of having as- sumed the character of the founder of a separate religion, and with no other visible, or, as I think, imaginable design.* * Chap. i. 1. " Paul called to bs an apostle of Jesus Christ, through the will of God, and Sosthenes, our bro- ther, unto the Church of God which js at Corinth." The only account we have of any person who bore the name of Sosthenes, is found in the eighteenth chapter of the Acts. When the Jews at Corinth had brought Paul be- fore Gallio, and Gallio had dismissed their complaint as unworthy of his interference, and had driven them from the judgment-seat; " then all the Greeks," says the his- torian, " took Sosthenes, the chief ruler of the syna- gogue, " and beat him before the judgment-seat." The Sosthenes here spoken of, was a Corinthian ; and, if he was a Christian, and with St. Paul when he wrote this epistle, was likely enough to be joined with him in the salutation of the Corinthian church. But here occurs a difficulty. If Sosthenes was a Christian at the time of this uproar, why should the Greeks boat him? The assault upon the Christians was made by the Jews. It was the Jews who had brought Paul before the mairis- trate. If it had been the Jews also who had licar.cn Sosthenes, I should not have doubted but that he had been a favourer of St. Paul, and the same person who is joined with him in the epistle. Let us see therefore whether there be not some error in our present text. The Alexandrian manuscript gives TTXVTS; alone, with- out 01 EAA>JSS, and is followed in this reading by the No. IX. Chap. xvii. 10, 11. " Now, if Timotheus come let no man despise him." Why r/r^/v; him? This charge is not given concerning any other messenger whom St. Paul sent, and, iu the dif- ferent epistles, many sue! ;irr men- tioned. Turn to 1 Tim. chap. iv. I'J. :md you will find that Timothy was a ytniitg ?m//<. younger pro- bably than those who were usually employed in the Christian mission; and that St. Paul, apprehending lest he should, on that account, be exposed to con- tempt, urges upon him the caution which is there inserted " Let no man despise thy youth." No. X. Chap. xvi. 1. " Now, concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye." The churches of Galatia and Phrygia were the last churches which St. Paul had visited before the writing of this epistle. He was now at Ephesus, and he came thither immediately from visiting these churches : " He went over all the .country of ( ;i l;i- tia and Phrygia, in order, strengthening ;dl the dis- ciples. And it came to pass that Paul having pnsscd through the upper coasts, (viz. the aho\r -named countries, called the upper consts. ;is being the northern part of Asia Minor,) came to Ephesus," Acts xviii. 23 ; xix. 1. These therefore, probably, were the last churches at which he left directions for their public conduct during his absence. Al- though two years intervened between his journey to Ephesus and his writing this epistle, yet it does not appear that during that time he visited any other church. That he had not been silent when he was in Galatia, upon this subject of contribu- tion for the poor, is farther made out from a hint which he lets fall in his epistle to that church : " Only they (viz. the other apostles,) would that we should remember the poor, the same also which I was forward to do." No. XL Chap. iv. 18. " Now some are puffed up, as though I would not come unto you." Coptic version, by the Arabian version, published by Arpenius. by the Vulgate, and by Bede's Latin version. The Greek manuscripts again, as well as Chrysostom, give ot i5uicu, in the place of 01 EX.A.HVS?. A gient plu- rality of manuscripts authorize the reading whica is retained in our copies. In this variety it appears to me extremely probable that the historian originally wrote TTXVTS? aionc, and that o< EX.MVS?, and ci \o'\>$n>i have been respectively added as explanatory of what the word ^VTS; was supposed to mean. The sentence, without the addition of either name,\\ ould run very per- spicuously, thUS, " XXI X.7TY,K:>x.to-vvxy when we were come into Macedonia, our flesh hac no rest ; without were fightings, within were fears nevertheless, God, that comfbrteth those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus.' Yet even here, I think, no one will contend, that St. Paul's coming to Macedonia, or being in Ma- cedonia, was the principal thing intended to be told ; or that the telling of it, indeed, was any part of the intention with which the text was written; or that the mention even of the name of Mace- donia was not purely incidental, in the description of those tumultuous sorrows with which the writer's mind hath been lately agitated, and from which he was relieved by the coming of Titus. The first five verses of the eighth chapter, which commend the liberality of the Macedonian churches, do not, in my opinion, by themselves, jm>ve St. Paul to have been at Macedonia at the time of writing the epistle. 2. In the First Epistle, St. Paul denounces a severe censure against an incestuous marriage, which had taken place amongst the Corinthian converts, with the connivance, not to say with the approbation, of the church ; and enjoins the church to purge itself of this scandal, by expelling the of- fender from its society: "It is reported commonly, that there is fornication among you, and such for- nication, as is not so much as named amongst the Gentiles, that one should have his father's wife ; and ye are puffed up, and have not rather mourn- ed, that he that hath done this deed might be taken away from among you; for I, verily, as absent in body, but present in spirit, have judged already, as though I were present, concerning him that hath done this deed : in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, when ye are gathered together, and my spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, to deliver such a one unto Satan for the destruc- tion of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord," chap. v. 15. In the Second Epistle, we find this sentence executed, and the offender to be so affected with the punish- ment, that St. Paul now intercedes for his resto- ration ; " Sufficient to such a man is this punish- ment, which was inflicted of many ; so that, con- trariwise, ye ought rather to forgive him and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swallowed up with over-much sorrow; wherefore, I beseech you that ye would confirm your love towards him," 2 Cor. chap. ii. 7, 8. Is this whole business feigned for the sake of carrying on a continuation of story through the two epistles? i The church also, no less than the offender, was brought by St. Paul's reproof to a deep sense of the impropriety of their conduct. Their penitence, and their respect to his authority, were, as might be expected, exceeding grateful to St. Paul : " We were comforted not by Titus' coming only, but by the consolation wherewith he was comforted in you, when he told us your earnest desire, your mourning, your fervent mind towards me, so that I rejoiced the more; for, though I made you sorry with a letter, I do not repent, though I did repent; for I perceive that the same epistle made you sorry, though it were but for a season. Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sor- rowed to repentance ; for ye were made sorry, af- ter a godly manner, that ye might receive damage by us in nothing," chap. vii. 7 9. That this passage is to be referred to the incestuous mar- riage, is proved by the twelfth verse of the same chapter: " Though I wrote unto you, I did it not for his cause that had done the wrong, nor for his cause that suffered wrong ; but that our care for you, in the sight of God, might appear unto you." There were, it is true, various topics of blame noticed in the First Epistle ; but there was none, except this of the incestuous marriage, which could be called a transaction between pri- vate parties, or of which it could be said that one particular person had done the " wrong," and an- other particular person had " suffered it." Could all this be without foundation ? or could it be put into the Second Epistle, merely to furnish an ob- scure sequel to what had been said about an in- cestuous marriage in the first 1 3. In the sixteenth chapter of the First Epistle, a collection for the saints is recommended to be set forwards at Corinth : " Now, concerning the collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of Galatia, so do ye," chap. xvi. 1. In the ninth chapter of the Second Epistle, such a collection is spoken of, as in readiness to be re- ceived: "As touching the ministering to the saints, it is superfluous for me to write to you, for 1 know the forwardness of your mind, for which I boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago, and your zeal hath provoked very many," chap. ix. 1,2. This is such a con- tinuation of the transaction as might be expect- ed ; or, possibly it will be said, as might easily be counterfeited ; but there is a circumstance of nicety in the agreement between the two epistles, which, [ am convinced, the author of a forgery would not iave hit upon, or which, if he had hit upon it, he would have set forth with more clearness. The Second Epistle speaks of the Corinthians as hav- ng begun this eleemosynary business a year be- fore : " This is expedient for you who have begun Before, not only to do, but also to be forward a year ago," chap. viii. x. " I boast of you to them of Macedonia, that Achaia was ready a year ago," chap. ix. 2. From these texts it is evident, that something had been done in the business a year >efore. It appears, however, from other texts n the epistle, that the contribution was not yet collected or paid; for brethren were sent from St. Paul to Corinth, " to make up their boun- y," chap. ix. 5. They are urged to "perform he doing of it," chap. viii. 11. "And every man was exhorted to give as he purposed in his leart," chap. ix. 7. The contribution, there- ore, as represented in our present epistle, was in readiness, yet not received from the contributors ; was begun, was forward long before, yet not hitherto collected. Now this representation agrees with one, and only with one, supposition, namely, that every man had laid by in store, had already provided the fund, from which he was afterwards to contribute the very case which the First Epis- tle authorises us to suppose to have existed ; for in that epistle St. Paul had charged the Corinthians, SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. IBS " upon the first day of the week, every one of them, to lay by in store as God had prospered him,"* 1 Cor. chap. xvi. 2. No. II. In comparing the Second Epistle to the Corin- thians with the Acts of the Apostles, we are soon brought to observe, not only that there exists no Testige either of the epistle having been taken from the history, or the history from the epistle ; but also that there appears in the contents of the f pistle positive evidence, that neitherwas borrowed from the other. Titus, who bears a conspicuous part in the epistle, is not mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles at all. St. Paul's sufferings enu- merated, chap. xi. 24. "of the Jews five tunes re- ceived I forty stripes save one ; thrice was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice I suffered shipwreck ; a night and a day I have been in the deep," cannot be made out from his history as de- livered in the Acts ; nor would this account have been given by a writer, who either drew his know- ledge of St. Paul from that history, or who was careful to preserve a conformity with it. The account in the epistle of St. Paul's escape from Damascus, though agreeing in the main fact with the account of the same transaction in the Acts, is related with such difference of circumstance, as renders it utterly improbable that one should be derived from the other. The two accounts, placed by the side of each other, stand as follows : * The following observations will satisfy us concern- ing the purity of our apostle's conduct in the suspicious business of a pecuniary contribution. 1. He disclaims the having received any inspired authority for the directions which he is giving; "I speak not by commandment, but by occasion of the for- wardness of others, and to prove the sincerity of your love," 2 Cor. chap. viii. 8. Who, that had a sinister purpose to answer by the recommending of subscrip- tions, would thus distinguish, and thus lower the credit of his own recommendation ? 2. Although he asserts the general right of Christian ministers to a maintenance from their ministry, yet ho protests against the making use of this right in his own person : " Even so hath the Lord ordained, that they which preach the Gospel should live of the Gospel ; but I have used none of these things, neither have I written these things that it should be so done unto me ; for it were better for me to die than that any man should make my glorying, i. e. my professions of disinterested- ness, void," 1 Cor. chap. ix. 14, 15. 3. He repeatedly proposes that there should be asso- ciates with himself in the management of the public bounty; not colleagues of his own appointment, but persons elected for that purpose by the contributors themselves. " And when I come, whomsoever ye shall approve by your letters, them will I send to bring your liberality unto Jerusalem ; and if it be meet that I go also, they shall go with me," 1 Cor. chap. xvi. 3, 4. And in the Second Epistle, what is here proposed, we find actually done, and done for the very purpose of guarding his character against any imputation that might be brought upon it, in the discharge of a pecu- niary trust : " And we have sent with him the brother, whose praise is in the Gospel throughout all the churches ; and not that only, but who was also chosen of the churches to travel with us with this grace (gift) which is administered by us to the glory of the same Lord, and the declaration of your ready mind : avoid- ing this, that no man should blame us in this abund- ance which is administered by us ; providing for things honest, not only in the sight of the Lord, but also in the sight of men ;" i. e. not resting in the consciousness of our own integrity, but, in such a subject, careful also to approve our integrity to the public judgment. 2 Cor. chap. viii. 1821. 2 Cor. chap. xi. 32, 33. In Damascus, the governor under Aretas the king, kept the city of the Damascenes with a garrison, desirous to apprehend me ; and through a window in a basket was I let down by the wall, and escaped his hands. Acts, chap. Jx. 332*. And after many days were fulfilled, the Jews took counsel to kill him ; but their laying in wait was known "of t'aul, and they watched the gates day and night to kill him: then the disciples took him by night, and let him down by the wall in a basket. Now if we be satisfied in general concerning these two ancient writings, that the one was not known to the writer of the other, or not consulted by him; then the accordances which may be pointed out between them, will admit of no solu- tion so probable, as the attributing of them to truth and reality, as their common foundation. No. III. The opening of this epistle exhibits a connexion with the history, which alone would satisfy my mind that the epistle was written by St. Paul, and by St. Paul in the situation in which the history places him. Let it be remembered, that in the nineteenth chapter of the Acts, St. Paul is repre- sented as driven away from Ephesus, or as leaving however Ephesus, in consequence of an uproar in that city, excited by some interested adversaries of the new religion. The account of the tumult is as follows : "\Vhen they heard these sayings," viz. Demetrius's complaint of the danger to be apprehended from St. Paul's ministry to the es- tablished worship of the Ephesian goddess, " they were full of wrath, and cried out, saying, Great is Diana of the Ephesians. And the whole city was filled with confusion; and having caught Gaius and Aristarchus, Paul's companions in travel, they rushed with one accord into the theatre ; and when Paul would have entered in unto the people, the disciples suffered him not; and certain of the chief of Asia, which were his friends, sent unto him, desiring that he would not adventure him- self into the theatre. Some, therefore, cried one thing, and some another; for the assembly was confused, and the more part knew not wherefore they were come together. And they drew Alex- ander out of the multitude, the Jews putting him forward ; and Alexander beckoned with his hand, and would have made his defence unto the people ; but, when they knew that he was a Jew, all with one voice, about the space of two hours, cried out, Great is Diana of the Ephesians. And after the uproar was ceased, Paul called unto him the dis- ciples, and embraced them, and departed for to go into Macedonia." When he was arrived in Ma- cedonia, he wrote the Second Epistle to the Co- rinthians which is now before us ; and he begins his epistle in this wise: " Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort, who com- forteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For, as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ ; and whether we be afflicted, it is for your conso- lation and salvation, which is effectual in the en- during of the same sufferings which we also suffer; or whether we be comforted, it is for your consola- tion and salvation : and our hope of you is stead- fast, knowing that, as ye are partakers of the suf- ferings, so shall ye be also of the consolation. For 184 HOILE PAULINJE. we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of ou trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure. abov strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life; but we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we shoulc not trust in ourselves, but in God, which raisetl. the dead, who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver; in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us." Nothing could be more ex- pressive of the circumstances in which the history describes St. Paul to have been at the time when the epistle purports to be written; or rather nothing could be more expressive of the sensa tions arising from these circurhstances, than this passage. It is the calm recollection of a mind emerged from the confusion of instant danger. It is that devotion and solemnity of thought, which follows a recent deliverance. There is just enough of particularity in the passage to show that it is to be referred to the tumult at Ephesus: " We would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia. And there is nothing more ; no mention of Demetrius, of the seizure of St. Paul's friends, of the interference of the town-clerk, of the occasion or nature of the danger which St. Paul had escaped, or even of the city where it happened ; hi a word, no recital from which a suspicion could be conceived, either that the author of the epistle had made use of the narrative in the Acts ; or, on the other hand, that he had sketched the outline, which the narrative in the Acts only filled up. That the forger of an epistle, under the name of St. Paul, should borrow circumstances from a history of St. Paul then ex- tant ; or, that the author of a history of St. Paul should gather materials from letters bearing St. Paul's name, may be credited ; but I cannot believe that any forger whatever, should fall upon an ex- pedient so refined, as to exhibit sentiments adapted to a situation, and to leave his readers to seek out that situation from the history ; still less that the author of a history should go about to frame facts and circumstances, fitted to supply the sentiments which he found in the letter. It may be said, per- haps, that it does not appear from the history, that any danger threatened St. Paul's life in the up- roar at Ephesus, so imminent as that from which in the epistle he represents himself to have been delivered. This matter, it is true, is not stated by the historian in form ; but the personal danger of the apostle, we cannot doubt, must have been ex- treme, when the " whole city was filled with con- fusion ;" when the populace had " seized his com- panions;" when, in the distraction of his mind, he insisted upon " coming forth amongst them ;" when the Christians who were about him "would not suffer him;" when " his friends, certain of the chief of Asia, sent to him, desiring that he would not adventure himself in the tumult;" when, last- ly, he was obliged to quit immediately the place and the country, "and when the tumult was ceased, to depart into Macedonia." All which particulars are found in the narration, and justify St. Paul's own account, " that he was pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that he despaired even of life ; that he had the sentence of death in himself;" i. e. that he looked upon himself as a man condemned to die. No. IV. tt has already been remarked, that. St. Paul's original intention was to have visited Corinth in liis way to Macedonia: "I was minded to come unto you More, and to pass by you into Macedo- nia," 2 Cor. chap. i. 15, lb'. It has also been re- marked that he changed his intention, and ulti- mately resolved upon goinir through Macedonia first. Now upon this headthere exists a circum- stance of correspondency bct\secn our epistle and the history, which is not very obvious to the read- er's observation; but which, when observed, will be found, I think, close and exact. Which cir- cumstance is this: that though the change of St. Paul's intention be expressly mentioned only in the second epistle, yet it appears, both from the history and from this second epistle, that the change had taken place before the writing of the first epistle; that it appears however from neither, otherwise than by an inference, unnoticed per- haps by almost every one who does not sit down professedly to the examination. First, then, how does this point appear from the history'? In the nineteenth chapter of the Acts, and* the twenty-first verse, we are told, that " Paul purposed in the spirit when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia, to go to Jerusa- lem. So he sent into Macedonia two of them that ministered unto him, Timotheus and Erastus ; but he himself stayed in Asia for, a season." A short time after this, and evidently in pursuance of the same intention, we find (chap. xx. 1, 2.) that Paul departed from Ephesus for to go into Macedonia: and that when he had gone over those parts, he came into Greece." The resolu- tion therefore of passing first through Macedonia, and from thence into Greece, was formed by St. Paul previously to the sending away of Timothy. The "order in which the two countries are men- tioned shows the direction of his intended route, " when he had passed through Macedonia and Achaia." Timothy and Erastus, who were to precede him in his progress, were sent by him from Ephesus into Macedonia. He himself a short time afterwards, and, as hath been ob- served, evidently in continuation and pursuance of the same design, " departed for to go into Ma- cedonia." If he had ever, therefore, entertained different plan of his journey, which is not hinted in the history, he must have changed that plan before this time. But, from the 17th verse of the fourth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians, we discover, that Timothy had been sent away from Ephesus before that epistle was written : " For this cause have 1 sent unto you Timotheus, who is my beloved son." The change, therefore, of St. Paul's resolution, which was prior to the sending away of Timothy, was necessarily prior to the writing of the First Epistle :o the Corinthians. Thus stands the order of dates, as collected from ;he history, compared with the L'irst Kpistle. Now et us inquire, secondly, how this matter is repre- sented in the epistle before us. In the sixteenth erse of the first chapter of this epistle, St. Paul peaks of the intention which he had once enter- aincd of visiting Achaia, in his way to Macedo- lia: "In this confidence I was minded to come unto you before, that ye might have a second bene- it : and tt) puss by yo"u into Macedonia.' 7 Alter jrotfsting, in the seventeenth verse, against any >vil construction that might be put upon hi ng aside of this intention, in the twenty -thinl /erse he discloses the, cause of it: '' Moiv.ner I call God for a record upon my soul, that, to spare SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 185 you, 1 came not as yet unto Corinth." And then he proceeds as follows: "But I determined this with myself, that I would not come again to you in heaviness : for, if 1 make you sorry, who is he then that maketh me glad, but the same which is made sorry by me 1 And I wrote th is same untu you, lest when I came 1 should have eorrow from them of whom I ought to rejoice ; having confi- dence in you all, that my joy is the joy of you all; for, out of much affliction and anguish of heart, / wrote unto you icith many tears ; not that ye should be grieved, but that ye might know the love which 1 have more abundantly unto you: but if any have caused grief, he hath" IK it grieved me but in part, that 1 may not oven-barge you all. Sufficient to such a man" is this punishment", which was inflicted of mnny." hi this quotation, let the reader iirst direct his attention to the clause marked by Italics, " and I wrote this same unto youj" and let him consider, whether from the context, and from the structure of the whole passage, it be not evident that this writing was after St. Paul bad "determined with himself, that he would not come again to them in heaviness V whether, indeed, it was not in consequence of this determination, or at least with this determination upon his mind .' And, in the next place, let him consider whether the sentence, "1 determined this \\ith myself that I would not come again to you in heaviness," do not plainly refer to th.it pbApeiUBf of bis \\<\l. to which lie had alluded in tin- \erse but one before, when he said, "I call God for a record upon my soul, that, to spare you, I came not as yet unto Corinth:" and whether this be net the" visit of which he speaks in the sixteenth verse, wherein he informs the Corinthians, "that he bad been iiiiinledto pass by them into Macedonia; but that, for reasons, which argued no levity or fickleness in his disposition, he bad been compelled to change his purpose. If this be so, then it follows that tin- writ ing here mentioned was posterior to the change of his intention. The only question, there- fore, that remains, will be, whether this writing relate to the letter which we now have under tin- title of the First Epistle to the Corinthians, or to some other letter not extant! And upon this, question. I think Mr. Locke 'sol>servatim deci>ive : namely, that the second clause marked in thequo- tation by Italics, " I wrote unto you with many tears," and the first clause so marked. " I wrote this same unto you, ' belong to one writing, what- ever that was; and that the second clause goes on to advert to a circnmstanee which is found" in our present First Epistle to the Corinthians ; namely, the case and punishment of the incestuous person. Upon the whole, then, we see, that it is capable of being inferred from St. Paul's own words, in the loiiL r extract which we have quoted, that the First Epistle to the Corinthians was written after St. Paul had determined to postpone his journey to Corinth ; in other words, that the change of his purpose with respect to the course of bis journey, though expressly mentioned only in the Second Epistle, had taken place before the writing of the First; the point which we made out to be implied in the history, by the order of the e\ents there re- corded, and the allusions to those events in t In-- First Epistle. Now this is a species of congruity of all others the most to 1x5 relied upon. Itw not an agreement between two accounts of the same transaction, or between different statements of the same fact, for the fact is not stated : nothing that 2A can be called an account is given ; but it is the junction of two conclusions, deduced from inde- pendent sources, and deductible only by investiga- tion and comparison. This point, viz. the change of the route, being prior to the writing of the First Epistle, also falls in with, and accounts for, the manner in which he speaks in that epistle of his journey.' His first intention had. been, as he here declares, to " pass by them into Macedonia:" that intention having been previously given up, he writes, in his First Epistle, " that he would not sec them now by the way," i. e. as he'- must have done, upon his iirst plan ; ' ; but that he trusted to tarry awhile with them, and possibly to abide, yea and winter with them," 1 Conn. chap. xvi. 5, 6. It also accounts for a singularity in the text referred to, which must strike e\erv reader: " 1 will come to you when 1 pass through Macedonia; for 1 do pass Ihrough Macedonia.'' The supplemental sentence, " for I through Macedonia," imports that there had been some pve\ ions communication upon the subject of the journey; and also that there had been some vacillation and indecisiveness in the ' plan: both which we no^i perceive to have been the case. The sentence is as much as to say, " This is what I at last resolve ^ipon." The expression, " OTMV M*xJ6v* \5u>," is ambi- guous ; it may denote either " when I pass, or when I shall have passed, through Macedonia:'' the con- siderations oilervd above Jix it to the latter sense. Lastly, the point we have endeavoured to make out, confirms, or rather, indeed, is necessary to the support of a conjecture, which forms .the subject of a number in our observations upon the First Epistle, that the insinuation of certain of the church of Corinth, that he would come no more amongst them, was founded on some previous disappoint- ment of their expectations. No; V. But if St. Paul had changed his purpose before the writing of the First Epistle, why did he defer explaining himself to the Corinthians, concerning the reason of that change, until he wrotv the Se- cond"? This is a very lair question ; and we are able. 1 think, to return to H a satisfactory answer. The real cause, and the cause at length assigned by St. Paul for ]>osinoning his visit to Corinth, and not travelling by the route which he had at Iirst designed, was the disorderly state of the Co- rinthian church at the time, and the painful severi- ties which he should have found himself obliged to exercise,, if he Itad come amongst them during the existence of these irregularities. He Was willing therefore to try, before he came in person, what a letter of authoritative objurgation would do amongst them, and to leave time tor the operation of the experiment-. That was his s.-heme in writing the First Epistle. But it was not for him to acquaint them with the, scheme. Alter the epistle had pro- duced its etlect (and to the utmost extent, as it should seem, of the apostle's hopes;) when he had wrbught'in them a deep sense of their fault, and an almost passionate solicitude to restore them- selves to the approbation of their teacher; when Titus (chap. vii. 0,.7, 11.) had brought him intel- ligence ."of their earnest desire, their mourning, their fervent mind towards him, of their sorrow and their penitence; what carefulness, what clear- ing of themselves, what indignation, what fear, what vehement desire, what zeal, what revenge," 16* 18G HOR-aa PAULINA. his letter, and the general concern occasioned by it, had excited amongst them ; he then opens him- self fully upon the subject. The affectionate mind of the apostle is touched by this return of zeal and duty. He tells them that he did not visit them at the time proposed, lest their meeting should have been attended with mutual grief; and with grief to him embittered by the reflection, that he was giving pain to those, from whom alone he could receive comfort : " I determined this with myself, that I would not come again to you in heaviness ; for, if I make you sorry, who is he that maketh me glad but the same which is made sorry by me?' chap. ii. 1, 2 : that he had written his former epistle to warn them beforehand of their fault, " lest when he came he should have sorrow of them of whom he ought to rejoice ;" chap. ii. 3 : that he had the farther view, though perhaps unperceived by them, of making an experiment of their fidelity, " to know the proof of them, whether they are obedi- ent in all things," chap. ii. 9. This full discovery of his motive came very naturally from the apostle, after he had seen the success of his measures, but would not have been a seasonable communication before. The whole composes a train of sentiment and of conduct resulting from real situation, and from real circumstance, and as remote as possible from fiction or imposture. No. VI. Chap. xi. 9. " When I was present with you and wanted, I was chargeable to no man : for that which was lacking to me, the brethren which came from Macedonia supplied." The principal fact set forth in this passage, the arrival at Corinth of brethren from Macedonia during St. Paul's first residence in that The history of a period of sixteen years is com- prised in less than three chapters ; and of these, a material part is taken up with discourses. After his conversion, he continued in the neighbourhood of Damascus, according to the history, for a cer- tain considerable, though indefinite, length of time, according to his own words, (Gal. i. 18,) for three years ; of which no other account is given than this short one, that "straightway he preached Christ in the synagogues, that he is the Son of God ; that all that heard him were amazed, and said, Is not this he that destroyed them which called on .this name, in Jerusalem'? that he in- creased the more in strength, and confounded the Jews which dwelt at Damascus ; and that, after many days were fulfilled, the Jews took counsel to kill him." From Damascus he proceeded to Jerusalem: and of his residence there nothing more particular is recordedj than that " he was with the apostles, coming in and going out ; that he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians, who went about to kill him." From Jerusalem, the history sends him to his native city of Tarsus.* It seems probable, from the order and disposition of the his- tory, that St. Paul's stay at Tarsus was of some continuance; for we hear nothing of him, until, after a long apparent interval, and much inter- jacent narrative, Barnabas desirous of Paul's as- sistance upon the enlargement of the Christian * Acts ix. 30. 188 HOR-32 PAULINA. mission, ft went to Tarsus for to seek him."* We cannot doubt but that the new apostle had been busied in his ministry; yet of what he did, of what he suffered, during this period, 'which may include three or four years, the history pro lessen- not to deliver any -information. As Tarsus was situated upon the sea-coast, and as, though Tarsus was his home, yet it is probable he visited from . thence many other, places, for the purpose of preaching the Gospel, it is not unlikely, that, in the course of three or four years, he might under- take many short voyages to neighbouring coun- tries, in the navigating of which we may be al- lowed to suppose that some of those disasters and shipwrecks befell him, to which he -refers in the quotation before us, "thnce I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep." This last clause I am inclined to interpret of his being obliged to take to an open boat, upon the loss of the ship, and his continuing out at sea, in that dangerous situation, a night and a day. St. Paul is here recounting his sufferings, not relating mi- racles. From Tarsus, Barnabas brought Paul to Antioch, and there^he remained a year: but of the transactions of that year no other description is given than what is contained in the last four verses of the eleventh, chapter. After a more solemn dedication to- the ministry, Barnabas and Paul proceeded from Antioch to Cilicia, and from thence they sailed to pyprus, of which voyage no particulars are mentioned. Upon their- return from Cyprus, they made a progress together through the Lesser Asia; and though two re- markable speeches be preserved, and a few in- cidents in the course of their travels circumstan- tially related, yet is the account of this progress, upon the whole, given professedly with concise- ness ; for instance, at Joonium k is said that they abode a long time ;t yet of this long abode, except concerning the manner in which they were driven away, no-memoir is 'inserted in the history. Th whole is wrapped up in one "short summary, " They spake boldly in the Lord, which gave tes- timony unto the word of his grace, and granted, signs and wonders to be done by their hands." Having completed their progress, the two apos- tles returned to Antioch, " and there they abode long time with the disciples." Here we have another large portion of time passed over in si- lence. To this succeeded a journey to Jerusalem; , upon a dispute which then much agitated the Christian church, concerning the obligation of the law of Moses 1 . When the object of that journey was completed, Paul proposed to Barnabas to go again and visit'their brethren in every city where they had preached the word of the Lord. The execution of this plan carried our apostle through Syria, Cilicia, and many provinces of the Lesser Asia; yet is the account of the whole journey dispatched in fcmr verses of the sixteenth chapter. If the Acts of the Apostles had undertaken to exhibit regular annals of St. Paul's ministry, or, even any continued account of his life, from his conversion at Damascus to his imprisonment at Rome, I should have thought -the omission of the circumstances referred to irt our epistle, a matter of reasonable objection. But when it appears, from the history itself, that large portions of St. Paul's lite were either passed over in silence, or only slightly touched upon, and that nothing more * Acts xi. 25. t Chap. xiv. 3. than certain detached incidents and discourses ia related ; when we observe also, that the author of the history did not join our apostle's society till a few years before the writing of the epistle, at least (hat there is no proof in the history that he did so, in comparing the history with the epistle, we shall not be surprised by the discovery of omissions; we shall ascribe it to truth that there is no contra- diction. No. X. Chap. iii. 1. " Do we begin again to commend ourselves! or need we, as some others, epistles of commendation to you?' "As some others."- Turn to Acts xviii. 27, and you will find that, a short time before the writing of that epistle, Apolloshad gone to Corinth with letters of commendation from the Ephcsian Christians; "and when Apollos was disposed to pass into Achaia, the brethren wrote, exhorting the disciples to receive him." Here the words of the epistle bear the appearance of alluding to some specific instance, and the history supplies that in- stance ; it supplies at least an instance as apposite as possible to the terms which the apostle uses, and to the date and direction of the epistle, in which they are found. - The letter which Apollos carried from Ephesus, was precisely the letter of commendation which St. Paul meant ; and it was to. Achaia, of which- Corinth was the capital, and indeed to Corinth itself, ^Acts, chap. xix. 1,) that Apollos carried itj and it was about two years before the writing of this epistle. If St. Paul's words be rather thought to refer to some general usage, which then obtained among Christian churches, the case of Apollos exemplifies that usage; and affords that species of confirmation to the epistle, which arises from seeing the manners of the age, in which it purports to be written, faith- fully preserved. No. XL Chap xiii. 1. "This is the third time I am Coming to you:" T^TOV ruro IQWUXI. Do not these words import that the writer had been at Corinth twice before % Yet, if they im- port this, they overset every congruity we have been endeavouring to establish. The Acts of the Apostles record only two journeys of St. Paul to Corinth. We have all along supposed, what every mark of time except this expression indicates, that this epistle was written between the first and se- cond of these journeys. If St. Paul had been already twice at Corinth, this supposition must be given up; and every argument or observation which depends upon it falls to the ground. Again, the Acts of the Apostles not only record no more than two journeys of St. Paul to Corinth, but do not -allow us to suppose that more than two such journeys could be made or intended by him within the period which the history comprises ; for from his first journey into Greece to his first imprison- ment at Rome, with which the history concludes, the apostle's time is accounted for. "if therefore the epistle was written after the second journey to Corinth, and upon the view and expectation of a third, it must have been written after his first im- prisonment at Rome. i. c. after the time to which the history extends. When I first read over this epistle with the particular view of comparing it with the history, which I chose to do without con- sulting any commentary whatever, I own that I SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. 189 felt myself confounded by this text. It appeared to contradict the opinion, which I had been led by a great variety of circumstances to form, concern- ing the date and occasion of the epistle: At length, however, it occurred to my thoughts to in- quire, whether the passage did necessarily imply* that St. Paul had been at Corinth twice ; Or, whether, when he says, "this is the third time I am coming to you," he" might mean only that this was the third time that he was ready, that he was prepared, that he intended to set out upon his jour- ney to Corinth. I recollected that he had once before this purposed to visit Corinth, and had been disappointed in this purpose; which disappoint- ment forms the subject of much apology and pro- testation, in the first and second chapters of the epistle. Now, if the journey in which he had been disappointed was reckoned by him one of the times in which " he was coming to them," then the present would be the third time, i. e. ef his being ready and prepared to come; although he had been actually at Corinth only once before. This conjecture being taken up, a farther exami- nation of the passage and the epistle, produced proofs which phu-ed it beyond doubt. " This is the third time I am coming to you:" in the verse following these words, he adds, " I told you before, and foretell you, as if I were present the second time; and being absent, now I write to them which heretofore nave sinned, and to all other, that, if I come again, I will not spare." In this verse, the apostle is declaring beforehand what he would do in his intended visit ; his expression then-lore, " as if I were present the second time," relates to that visit. But, if his future visit would only make him present among them a second time, it follows that lie had been already there but once. Again, in the fifteenth verse of the first chapter, lie tells them, " In this confidence, I was minded to come unto you before, that ye might have a second benefit :" Why a second, and not a third benefit 1 why &IVTI( v, and not T^T^ je*?' v , if the T^ITOV ifzoftau in the fifteenth chapter, meant a third visit 1 for^ though the visit in the first chapter be that visit in which he was disappointed, yet, as it is evident from the epistle that he had never been at Corinth from the time of the disappointment to the time of writing the epistle, it follows. th;it if it was only a second visit in which he was disappointed then, it could only be a second visit which he proposed now. But the text which I think is decisive of the question, if any question remain upon the sub- ject, is the fourteenth verse of the twelfth chapter : " Behold the third time I am ready to come to you ;" is* Tfirov JTO^UJJ i% M ix5sv. It is very clear that the TJITOV ITO^WJ %o ekSnv of the twelfth chapter, and the r^imv -rsro t^s^a. of the thir- teenth chapter, are equivalent expressions, were intended to convey the same meaning, and to re- late to the same journey. The comparison of these phrases gives us St. Paul's own explanation of his own words ; and it is that very explanation which we are contending for, viz. that T^TOC T*TO tw>i*.i does not mean that he was coming a third time, but that this was the third time he was in readi- ness to come, Tf Toi/ 'tTsiftersecutor to an indefati- gable preacher, his labours amongst the Gentiles, and his zeal for the liberties of the Gentile chun-h, were so notorious as to occur readily to the mind of any Christian, who should choose to personate his character, and counterfeit his name ; it was only to write what every body knew. Now I think that this supposition viz. that the epistle was composed upon general information, and the general publicity of the facts alluded to, and that the author did no more than weave into his work what the common fame of the Christian church had reported to his ears is repelled by the parti- cularity of the recitals and references. This par- ticularity is observable in the following instances. in perusing which, I desire the reader to reflect, whether they exhibit the language of a man who had nothing but general reputation to proceed upon, or of a man actually speaking of himself and of his own history, aim consequently ofthin^s concerning which he possessed a clear, intimate. and circumstantial knowledge. 1. The history, in giving an account of St. Paul after his conversion, relates, "that, after many days," effecting, by the assistance of the disciples, his escape from Damascus, " he proceeded to Jeru- salem," Acts, chap. ix. -J5. The epistle, speakinj; of the same period, makes St. Paul say, that " he went into Arabia," that he returned again to Da- mascus, that after three years he went up to Jeru- salem. Chap. i. 17, 18. 2. The history relates, that when Saul was come from Damascus, "he was with the disciples coming in and going out," Acts, chap. ix. 28. The epistle, describing the same journey, tells us, " that he went up to Jerusalem to see Peter, and abode with him fifteen days," chap. i. 18. 3. The history relates, that when Paul was come to Jerusalem, " Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles," Acts, chap. ix. 27. The epistle, " that he saw Peter ; but other of the apos- tles, saw he none, save James, the Lord's brother." chap. i. 19. Now this is as it should be. The historian de- livers his account in general terms, as of facts to which he was not present. The person who is the subject of that account, whenhe comes to speak of these facts himself, particularises time, names, and circumstances. 4. The like notation of places, persons, and dates, is met with in the account of St. Paul's journey to Jerusalem, given in the second chap- ter of the epistle. It was fourteen years after his conversion ; it was in company with Barnabas and Titus; it was then that he met with James, Ce- phas, and John ; it was then also that it was agreed amongst them, that they should go to the circumcision, and he unto the Gentiles. 5. The dispute with Peter, which occupies the sequel of the second chapter, is marked with the same particularity. It was at Antioch; it was ailer certain came from James ; it was whilst Bar- nabas was there, who was carried away by their dissimulation. These examples negative the in- sinuation, that the epistle presents nothing but indefinite allusions to public facts. No. IV. Chap. iv. 11 16. " I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain. Brethren, I beseech you, be as I am, tor I am as ye are. Ye have not injured me at all. Ye know how, through infirmity of the flesh, I preached the gospel unto you at the first; and my temptation, which 'was in thejlesh, ye despised not, nor rejected; but re- ceived me as an angel of God. even as Christ Je- sus. Where is then the blessedness you spake oi"? for I bear you record, that, if it had I teen possible, yo would have plucked out your own eyes and have given them unto me. Am I therefore become your enemy. l>ecause I tell you the truth 1" With this passage compare 2 Cor. chap. xii. 1 9: "It is not expedient for me. doubtless, to glory; I will come to visions and revelations of the Lord. I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body I cannot tell, or whether out of the body, I cannot tell ; God know- cth ;) such a one was caught up to the third hea- ven : and I knew such a man, (whether in the body, or out of the body I cannot tell, God know" eth,) how that he was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable words, wliich it is not law- ful for a man to utter. Of such a one will I glory, yet of myself will I not glory, but in mine infirmi- ties: for, though I would desire to glory, I shall not be a fool ; fpr I will say the truth. But now I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth me to be, or that he heareth of me. And lest I should be exalted above mea- sure, through the abundance, of the revelations, * there was given to me a. thorn in thejlesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I ^should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my in- firmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." There can be no doubt but that " the tempta- tion which was in the flesh," mentioned in the Epistle to the Galatians, and " the thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him," men- tioned in the Epistle to the Corinthians, were in- tended to denote the same thing. Either r there- fore, it was what we pretend it to have been, the same person in both, alluding, as the occasion led him, to some bodily infirmity under which he la- boured ; that is, we'are reading the real letters of a real apostle ; or, it was that a sophist, who had seen the circumstance in one epistle, contrived, for 194 HOR^E PAULINA. the sake of correspondency, to bring it into an- other ; or, lastly, it was a circumstance in St. Paul's personal condition, supposed to be well known to those into whose hands the epistle was likely to fall; and for that reason, introduced into a wilting designed to bear his name. I have extracted the quotations at length, in order to enable the reader to judge accurately of the manner in which the mention of this particular comes in, in each ; be- cause that judgment, I think, will acquit the au- thor of the epistle of the charge of having studiously inserted it, either with a view of producing an ap- parent agreement between, or for any other pur- pose whatever. The context, by which the circumstance before us is introduced, is in the two places totally differ- ent and without any mark of imitation : yet in both places does the circumstance rise aptly and naturally out of the context, and that context from the train of thought carried on in the epistle. The Epistle to the Galatians, from the begin- ning to the end, runs in a strain of angry com- plaint of their defection from the apostle, and from the principles which he had taught them. It was very natural to contrast with this conduct, the zeal with which they had once received him; and it was not less so to mention, as a proof of their former disposition towards him, the indulgence which, whilst he was amongst them, they had shown to his infirmity ; " My temptation which was in the flesh, ye despised not, nor rejected, but received me as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus. Where is then the blessedness you .spake of," i. e. the benedictions which you bestowed upon me'? " for I bear you record, that, if it had been possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have given them to me." In the two epistles to the Corinthians, especially in the second, we have the apostle contending with certain teachers in Corinth, who had formed a party in that church against him. To vindicate his personal authority, as well as the dignity and credit of his ministry amongst them, he takes oc- casion (but not without apologising repeatedly for the folly, that is, for the indecorum of pronouncing his own panegyric,*) to meet his adversaries in their boastings: "Whereinsoever any is bold, (I speak foolishly,) I am bold also. Are they He- brews 1 so am I. Are they Israelites 1 so am I. Are they the seed of Abraham 1 so am I. Are they the ministers of Christ 1 (I speak as a fool,) I am more ; in labours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft." Being led to the subject, he goes on, as was natural, to recount his trials and dangers, his in- cessant cares and labours in the Christian mission. From the proofs which he had given of his zeal and activity in the service of Christ, he passes (and that with the same view of establishing his claim to be considered as " not a whit behind the very chiefest of the apostles,") to the visions and reve- lations which from time to time have been vouch- safed to him. And then, by a close and easy connexion, comes in the mention of his infirmity : " Lest I should be exalted," says he, " above mea- * " Would to God you would bear with me a little in my folly, and indeed- bear with me! chap. xi. 1. " That which I speak, I speak it not after the Lord, but as it were foolishly, in this confidence of boasting," chap. xi. 17. " I am become a fool in glorying; ye have compelled me," chap. xii. 11. sure, through the abundance of revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messen- ger of Satan to buffet, me." Thus then, in both epistles, the notice of his infirmity is suited to the place in which it is found. In the Epistle to the Corinthians, the train of thought draws up to the circumstance, by a regu- lar approximation. In this epistle, it is suggested by the subject and occasion of the epistle itself. Which observation we offer as an argument to prove that it is not, in either epistle, a circumstance industriously brought forward for the sake of pro- curing credit to an imposture. A reader will be taught to perceive the force of this argument, who shall attempt to introduce a given circumstance into the body of a writing. To do this without abruptness, or without betray- ing marks of design in the transition, requires, ho will find, more art than he expected to be neces- sary, certainly more than any one can believe to have been exercised in the composition of these epistles. No. V. Chap. iv. 29. "-But as then he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the spirit, even so it is now." Chap. v. 11. " And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution 1 Then is the offence of the cross ceased." Chap. vi. 17. " From henceforth, let no man trouble me, for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." From these several texts, it is apparent that the persecutions which our apostle had undergone, were from the hands or by the instigation of the Jews ; that it was not for preaching Christianity in opposition to heathenism, but it was for preach- ing it as distinct from Judaism, that he had brought upon himself the sufferings which had attended his ministry. And this representation perfectly coincides with that which results from the detail of St. Paul's history, as delivered in the Acts. At Antioch, in Pisidia, the " word of the Lord was published throughout all the region : but the Jews stirred up the devout and honourable women and the chief men of the city, and raised persecution against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts," Acts, chap. xiii. 50. Not long after, at Iconium, " a great multitude of the Jews and also of the Greeks believed ; but the un- believing Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil affected against the brethren," chap. xiv. 1, 2. " At Lystra there came certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium, who persuaded the people; and having stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had hern dead/' chap. xiv. 19. The same enmity, and from the same quar- ter, our apostle experienced in Greece : " At Thes- salonica, some of them (the Jews) believed, and consorted with Paul and Silas : and of the devout Greeks a great multitude, and of the chief women not a few : but the Jews which bettered not, moved with envy, took unto them certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, and gathered a company, and set all the city in an uproar, and assaulted the house of Jason, and sought to bring them out to the peo- ple." Acts, chap. xvii. 4, 5. Their persecutors follow them to Berea: "When the Jews of Thes- salonica had knowledge that the word of God was preached of Paul at Berea, they came thither also, and stirred up the people," chap. xxii. 13. And EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. 195 lastly at Corinth, when Gallic was deputy of Achaia, " the Jews made insurrection with one accord against Paul, and brought him to the judg- ment-seat." I think it does not appear that our apostle was ever set upon by the Gentiles, unless they were first stirred up by the Jews, except in two instances ; in both which the persons who be- gan the assault were immediately interested in his expulsion from the place. Once this happened at Philippi, after the cure of the Pythoness: "When the masters saw the hope of their gains was gone, they caught Paul and Silas, and drew them into the market-place unto the rulers," chap. xvi. li>. And a second time at Ephesus, at the instance of Demetrius, a silversmith which made silver shrines for Diana, "who culled together workmen of like occupation, and said, Sirs, ye know that by this craft we have our wealth ; moreover ye see and hear, that not only at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul hath persuaded away much i>eople, saying, that they be no gods which are made witli hands ; so that not only this our craft is in danger to be set at nought, but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised, and her magnificence should be de- stroyed, whom all Asia and the world worshippeth." No. VI. I observe an agreement in a somewhat peculiar rule of ( 'liristian conduct, as laid down in this epistle, and as exemplified in the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. It is not the repetition of the same general precept, which would have been a coincidence of little value ; but it is the general precept in one place, and the application of that precept to an actual occurrence in the other. In the sixth chapter and first verse of this epistle, our apostle gives the following direction : " Brethren. ii a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meek- ness." In "2 Cor. chap. ii. G 8, he writes thus : " Sufficient to such a man" (the incestuous per- son mentioned in the First Epistle,) " is this pu- nishment, which was inflicted of many: so that, contrariwise, ye ought rather to forgive him and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swallowed up with over-much sorrow ; wherefore I beseech you that ye would confirm your love towards him." I have little doubt but that it was the same mind which dictated these two passages. No. VII. Our epistle goes farther than any of St. Paul's epistles ; for it avows, in direct terms, the SUJKT- session of the Jewish law, as an instrument of salvation, even to the Jews themselves. Not only were the Gentiles exempt from its authority, but even the Jews were no longer either to place any dependency upon it, or consider themselves as subject to it on a religious account. Before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be revealed; wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith ; but, after that faith is come, ire are no' longer under a schoolmaster" chap. iii. 23 25. This was undoubtedly spoken of Jews, and to Jews. In like manner, chap. iv. 1 5 : " Now I say that the heir, as long as he is a child, diflTereth nothing from a servant, though he be lord of all j but is under tutors and governors until the time appoint- ed of the father : even so we, when we were chil- dren, were in bondage under the elements of the world ; but when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that ircre under the law, that we might receive the adoption of sons." These passages are nothing short of a declaration, that the obligation of the Jewish law, j considered as a religious dispensation, the eilects of which were to take place in another life, had ceased, with respect even to the Jews themselves. What then should be Ihe conduct of a Jew, (for such St. Paul was,) who preached this doctrine'? To be consistent with himself, either he would no longer comply, in his own person, with the direc- tions of the law ; or, if he did comply, it would be for some other reason than any confidence which he placed in its efficacy, as a religious institution. Now so it happens, that whenever St. Paul's com- pliance with the Jewish law is mentioned in the history, it is mentioned in connexion with circum- stances which point out the motive from which it proceeded ; and this motive appears to have been always exoteric, namely, a love of order arid tran- quillity, or an unwillingness to give unnecessary offence. Thus, Acts, chap. xvi. 3: "Him (Ti- mothy,) would Paul have to go forth with him, and took and circumcised him, because of the Jews which were in those quarters. Again, Acts, chap. xxi. 2(>, when Paul consented to exhibit an example of public compliance with a Jewish rite by purifying himself in the temple, it is plainly intimated that he did this to satisfy " many thou- sands of Jews who believed, and who were all zealous of the law." So far the instances related in one hook, correspond with the doctrine deliver- ed in another. No. VIII. Chap. i. 18. "Then, after three years, I went up to Jerusalem to see Peter, and abode with him fifteen days." The shortness of St. Paul's stay at Jerusalem is what I desire the reader to remark. The direct account of the same journey in the Acts, chap. ix. 28, determines nothing concerning the time of his continuance there : " And he was with them (the apostles) coming in, and going out, at Jerusalem ; and he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians: but they went about to slay him ; which when the brethren knew, they brought him down to Caesarea." Or rather this account, taken by itself, would lead a reader to suppose that St. Paul's abode at Jerusalem had been longer than fifteen days. But turn to the twenty-second chapter of the Acts, and you will find a reference to this visit to Jerusalem, which plainly indicates that Paul's continuance in that city had been of short duration : " And it came to pass, that when I was come again to Jerusalem, even while I prayed in the temple, I was in a trance, and saw him saying unto me, Make haste, get thee quickly out of "Jerusalem, for they will not receive thy testimony concerning me." Here we have the general terms of one text so explained by a distant text in the same book, as to bring an in- determinate expression into a close conformity with a specification delivered in another book : a sjxries of consistency not, 1 think, usually found in fabulous relations. IDG HOR.E PAULINA. No. IX. Chap. vi. 11. "Ye see how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own hand." These words imply that he did not always write with his own hand ; which is consonant to what \ve find intimated- in some other of the epistles. The Epistle to the Romans was written by Tjer- tius: "I, Tertius, who wrote this epistle, salute you in the Lord," chap. xvi. 22. The First Epis- tle to the Corinthians, the Epistle to the Colos- eians, and the Second to the Thessalonians, have all, near the conclusion, this clause, " The salu- tation of me, Paul, with mine own hand ;" which must be understood, and is universally understood to import, that the rest of the epistle was written by another hand. I do not think it improbable that an impostor, who had remarked this subscrip- tion in some other epistle, should invent the same in a forgery ; but that is riot done here. The author of this epistle does not imitate the manner of giving St. Paul's signature ; he only bids the Galatians observe how large a letter he had writ- ten to them with his own hand. He does not say this was different from his ordinary usage ; that is left to implication. Now to suppose that this was an artifice to procure credit to an imposture, is to suppose that the author of the forgery, be- cause he knew that others of St. Paul's were not written by himself, therefore made the apostle say that this was : which seems an odd turn to give to the circumstance, and to -be given for a purpose which would more naturally and more directly have been answered, by subjoining the salutation or signature in the form in which it is found in other epistles.* No. X. An exact conformity appears in the manner in which a certain apostle or eminent Christian, whose name was James, is spoken of in the epistle and^in the history. Both writings refer to a situa- tion of his at Jerusalem, somewhat different from that of the other apostles ; a kind of eminence or presidency in the church there, or at least a more fixed and stationary residence. Chap. ii. 12: " When Peter was at Antioch, before that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles." This text plainly attributes a kind of pre-eminency to James : and, as we hear of him twice in the same epistle dwelling at Jerusalem, chap. i. 19, and ii. 9, we must apply it to the situation which he held in that church. In the Acts of the Apostles divers intimations occur, conveying the same idea of James's situation. When Peter was miraculously delivered from prison, and had surprised his friends by his appearance among them, after declaring unto them how the Lord had brought him out of prison, " Go show," says he, " these things unto James, and to the brethren," Acts, chap. xii. 17. Here James is manifestly spoken of in terms of distinction. He appears again with like distinc- tion in the twenty-first chapter and the seventeenth and eighteenth verses: " And when we (Paul and his company) were come to Jerusalem, the llay * The words ITXX.IXOI; yexp.p.xirtv may probably be meant to describe the character in which hf wrote, and not the length of the letter. But this will not alter the truth of our observation. I think, however, that as St. Paul, by the mention of his own hand, designed to ex- press to" the Galatians the great concern which he felt for them, the wonts, whatever they signify, belong to tho whole of the epistle ; and not, as Grot ins, after St. Jerome, interprets it, to the few verses which follow. following, Paul went in with us unto James, and all the elders were present/'' In the debate which took place upon the business of the Gentile con- verts, in the council at Jerusalem, this same per- son seems to have taken the lead. It was he who closed the debate, and proposed the resolution in which the council ultimately concurred : " Where- fore my sentence is, that we trouble not them which from among the Gentiles are turned to God." Upon the whole, that there exists a conformity in the expressions used concerning James through- out the history, and in the epistle, is unquestion- able. But admitting this conformity, and admit- ting also the undesignedness of it, what does it Cve? It proves that the circumstance itself is nded in truth ; that is, that James was a real person, who held a situation of eminence in a real society of Christians at Jerusalem. It confirms also those parts of the narrative which are con- nected with this circumstance. Suppose, for in- stance, .the truth of the account of Peter's escape from prison was to be tried upon the testimony of a witness who, among other things, made Peter, after his deliverance, say, " Go show these things to James and to the brethren;" would it not be material, in such a trial, to make out by other in- dependent proofs, or by a comparison of proofs, drawn from independent sources, that there was actually at that time, living at Jerusalem, such a person as James; that this person held such a situation in the society amongst whom these things were transacted, as to render the words which Peter is said to have used concerning him, proper and natural for him to have used 1 If this would be pertinent in the discussion of oral testimony, it is still more so in appreciating the credit of remote history. It must not be dissembled, that the comparison of our epistle with the history presents some dif- ficulties, or, to say the least, some questions of considerable magnitude. It may be doubted, in the first place, to what journey the words which open the second chapter of the epistle, "then, fourteen years afterwards, I went unto Jerusa- lem," relate. That which best corresponds with the date, and that to which most interpreters ap- ply the passage, is the journey of Paul and Bar- nabas to Jerusalem when they went thither from Antioch upon thq business of the Gentile con- verts; and which journey produced the famous council and decree recorded in the fifteenth chap- ter of Acts. To me this opinion appears to be encumbered with strong objections. In the epis- tle Paul tells us that " he went up by revelation," chap. ii. 2. In the Acts, we read that he was sent by the church of Antioch: "after no small lissension and disputation, they determined that Paul and Barnabas, and certain other of them, ihould go up to the apostles and elders about this question," Acts, chap. xv. 2. This is not very reconrileable. In the epistle, St. Paul writes that, when he came to Jerusalem, " he com- municated that Gospel which he preached among the Gentiles, but privatclv to them which were of reputation," chap. ii. 2. If by "that Gospel" he meant the immunity of the Gentile Christians from the Jewish law, (arid I know not what else "t can mran.) it is not easy to conceive how he should communicate that privately, which was the object of his public message. But a yet greater difficulty remains, vi/. that in the account which the epistie gives of what passed upon this EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. 197 visit at Jerusalem, no notice is taken of the de- liberation and decree which are recorded in the Acts, and which, according to that history, formed the business for the sake of which the journey was undertaken. The mention of the council arid of its determination, whilst the apostle was re- lating his proceedings at Jerusalem, could hardly have been avoided, if in truth the narrative be- long to the same journey. To me it appears more probable that Paul and Barnabas had taken some journey to Jerusalem, the mention of which is omitted in the Acts. Prior to the apostolic de- cree, we read that " Paul and Barnabas abode at Antioch a long time with the disciples," Acts chap. xiv. 28. Is it unlikely that, during this long abode, they might go up to Jerusalem and return to Antioch 7 Or would the omission of such a journey be unsuitable to the general bre- vity with which these memoirs art' written, es- pecially of those parts of St. Paul's history which took place before the historian joined his society 1 But, again, the first account we find in the Acts of the Apostles of St. Paul's visiting Ga- latia, is in the sixteenth chapter and the sixth verse : " Now when they had gone through Phry- gia and the region of Galatia, they assayed to go into Bithynia.' The progress here recorded was subsequent to the apostolic decree ; therefore that decree must have been extant when our epistle was written. Now, as the professed design of the epistle was to establish the exemption of the Gen- tile converts from the law of Moses, and as the decree pronounced and confirmed that exemption, it may seem extraordinary that no notice whatever is taken of that determination, nor any appeal made to its authority. Much however of the weight of this objection, which applies also to some other of St. Paul's epistles, is removed by the following reflections. 1. It was not St. Paul's manner, nor agreeable to it, to resort or defer much to the authority of the other apostles, especially whilst he was in- sisting, as he does strenuously throughout this epistle insist, upon his own angina] inspiration. He who could speak of the very chiefest of the apostles in such terms as the following " of those who seemed to be somewhat, (whatsoever tfiey were it maketh no matter to me, God accepteth no man's person,) for they who seemed to be somewhat in conference added nothing to me,' ; he, I say, was not likely to support himself by their decision. 2. The epistle argues the point upon principle : and it is not perhaps more to be wondered at, that in such an argument St. Paul should not cite the apostolic decree, than it would be that, in a dis- course designed to prove the moral and religious duty of observing the Sabbath, the writer should not quote the thirteenth canon. 3. The decree did not go the length of the po- sition maintained in the epistle ; the decree only declares that the apostles and elders at Jerusalem did not impose the observance of the Mosaic law upon the Gentile converts, as a condition of their being admitted into the Christian church. Our epistle argues that the Mosaic institution itself was at an end, as to all effects upon a future state, even with respect to the Jews themselves. 4. They whose error St. Paul combated, were not persons who submitted to the Jewish law, because it was imposed by the authority, or because it was made part of the lav? of the Chris- tian church; but they were persons who, having already become Christians, afterwards voluntarily took upon themselves the observance of the Mo- saic code, under a notion of attaining thereby to a greater perfection. This, I think, is precisely the opinion which St. Paul opposes in this epis- tle. Many of his expressions apply exactly to it : "Are ye so foolish 1 having begun in the spirit, are ye now made perfect in the flesh?' chap, iii. 3. " Tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law?' chap. iv. 21. " How turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements, whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage?' chap. iv. .9. It cannot be thought extraordinary that St. Paul should resist this opinion with earnestness: for it both changed the character of the Christian dispensation, and derogated expressly from the completeness of that redemption which Jesus Christ had wrought for them that believed in him^ But it was to no purpose to allege to such persons the decision at Jerusa- lem ; for that only showed that they were not Ixmnd to these observances by any law of the Christian church ; they did not pretend to be so bound ; nevertheless they imagined that there was an efficacy in these observances, a merit, a recom- mendation to favour, and a ground of acceptance with God for those who complied with them. This was a situation of thought to which the tenor of the decree did not apply. Accordingly, St. Paul's address to the Galatians, which is throughout adapted to this situation, runs in a strain widely different from the language of the decree : " Christ is become of no effect, unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law ;" chap. v. 4 ; i. e. who- soever places his dependence upon any merit he may apprehend there to be in legal observances. The qecree had said nothing like this ; therefore it would have been useless to have produced the decree in an argument of which this was the burden. In like manner as in contending with an anchorite, who should insist upon the superior holiness of a recluse, ascetic life, and the value of such mortifications in the sight of God, it would be to no purpose to prove that the laws of the church did not require these vows, or even to prove that the laws of the church expressly left every Christian to his liberty. This would avail little towards abating his estimation of their merit, or towards settling the point in controversy.* * Mr. Locke's solution of this difficulty is by no means satisfactory. " St. Paul," he says, " did not remind the Galatians of the apostolic decree, because they already had it." hi the first place, it does not appear with cer- tainty that they had it ; in the second place, if they had it, this was rather a reason, than otherwise, for refer- ring them to it. The passage in the Acts, from which Mr. Locke concludes that the Galatic churches were in possession of the decree, is the fourth ver^se of the six- teenth chapter : " And as they" (Paul and Timothy) " went through the cities, they delivered them the de- crees for to keep, that were ordained of the apostles and elders which were at Jerusalem." In my opinion, this delivery 6T the decree was confined to the churches to which St. Paul came, in pursuance of the plan upon which he set out, "of visiting the brethren in every city where he had preached the word of the Lord ;" the history of which progress, and of all that pertained to it, is closed in the fifth verse, when the history informs that, "so were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily." Then the history pro- ceeds upon a new section of the narrative, by telling us, that " when they had gone throughout Phrygia and the region of Galatia, they assayed to go into Bithynia." The decree itself is directed to " the brethren, which 198 HOR^E PAULINuE. Another difficulty arises from the account of Peter's conduct towards the Gentile converts at Antioch, as given in the epistle, in the latter part of the second chapter ; which conduct, it is said, is consistent neither with the revelation commu- nicated to him upon the conversion of Cornelius, nor with the part he took in the debate at Jeru- salem. But, in order to understand either the difficulty or the solution, it will be necessary to state and explain the passage itself. "When Peter was come to Antioch, 1 withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed ; for, be- fore that certain came from James, he did eat with the Gentiles ; but when they were come, he withdrew and separated himself, fearing them which were of the circumcision ; and the other Jews dissembled likewise with him, insomuch that Barnabas also was carried away with their dissimulation ; but when I saw they walked not uprightly, according to the truth of the Gospel, I said unto Peter, before them all, If thou, being a Jew, livest after the manner of the Gentiles, and not as do the Jews, why compellest thou the Gen- tiles to live as do the Jews 1" Now the question that produced the dispute to which these words relate, was not whether the Gentiles were capable of being admitted into the Christian covenant ; that had been fully settled: nor was it whether it should be accounted essential to the profession of Christianity that they should conform themselves to the law of Moses ; that was the question at Jerusalem : but it was, whether, upon the Gen- tiles becoming Christians, the Jews might hence- forth eat and drink with them, as with their own brethren. Upon this point St. Peter betrayed some inconstancy; and so he might, agreeably enough to his history. He might consider the vision at Joppa as a direction for the occasion, ra- ther than as universally abolishing the distinction between Jew and Gentile ; I do not mean with respect to final acceptance with God, but as to the manner of their living together in society : at least are of the Gentiles in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia, that is, to churches already founded, and in which this question had been stirred. And I think the observation of the noble author of the Miscellanea Sacra is not only ingenious but highly probable, viz. that there is, in this place a dislocation of the text, and that the fourth and fifth verses of the sixteenth chapter ought to follow the last verse of the fifteenth, so as to make the entire pas- sage run thus: " And they went through Syria and Ci- licia," (to the Christians of which country the decree was addressed) " confirming the churches ; and as they went through the cities, they delivered them the decrees for to keep, that were ordained of the apostles and el- ders which were at Jerusalem ; and so were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily." And then the sixteenth chapter takes up a new and un- broken paragraph : " Then came he to Derbe and Lystra, &c." When St. Paul came, as he did into Galatia, to preach the Gospel, for the first time, in a new place, it is not probable that he would make mention of the de- cree, or rather letter, of the church of Jerusalem, which presupposed Christianity to be known, and which re- lated to certain doubts that had arisen in some esta- blished Christian communities. The second reason which Mr. Locke assigns for the omission of the decree, viz. " that St. Paul's sole object in the epistle was to acquit himself of the imputation that had been charged upon him of actually preaching circumcision," does not appear to me to be strictly true. It was not the sole object. The epistle is written in general opposition to the Judaizing inclinations which he found to prevail among his converts. The avowal of his own doctrine, and of his steadfast adherence to that doctrine, formed a necessary part of the design of his letter, but was not the whole of it. he might not have comprehended this point with such clearness and certainty, as to stand out upon it against the fear of bringing upon himself the censure and complaint of his brethren in the church of Jerusalem, who still adhered to their ancient prejudices. But Peter, it is said, com- pelled the Gentiles iyS^ ttv "Why compellest thou the Gentiles to live as do the Jews 1" How did he do that 1 -The only way in which Peter appears to have compelled the Gentiles to comply with the Jewish institution, was by withdrawing himself from their society. By which he may be understood to have made this declaration: "We do not deny your right to be considered as Chris- tians ; we do not deny your title in the promises of the Gospel, even without compliance with our law : but it you would have us Jews live with you as we do with one another ; that is, if you would in all respects be treated by us as Jews, you must live as such yourselves." This, I think, was the compulsion which St. Peter's conduct imposed upon the Gentiles, and for which St. Paul reproved him. As to the part which the historian ascribes to St. Peter in the debate at Jerusalem, besides that it was a different question which was there agita- ted from that which produced the dispute at An- tioch, there is nothing to hinder us from sup- posing that the dispute at Antioch was prior to the consultation at Jerusalem ; or that Peter, in consequence of this rebuke, might have afterwards maintained firmer sentiments. CHAPTER VI. The Epistle to the Ephesians. No. I. THIS epistle, and the Epistle to the Colossians, appear to have been transmitted to their respect- ive churches by the same messenger : "But that ye also may know my affairs, and how I do, Tychicus, a beloved brother and faithful minister in the Lord, shall make known to you all things ; whom I have sent unto you for the same purpose, that ye might know our affairs, and that he might comfort your hearts," Ephes. chap. vi. 21, 23. This text, if it do not expressly declare, clearly I think intimates, that the letter was sent by Ty- chicus. The words made use of in the Epistle to the Colossians are very similar to these, and af- ford the same implication that Tychicus, in con- junction with Onesimus, was the bearer of the letter to that church; "All my state shall Ty- chicus declare unto you, who is a beloved brother, and a faithful minister, and fellow servant in the Lord ; whom I have sent unto you for the same pur- pose, that ho might know your estate, and comfort your hearts ; with Onesimus, a faithful and be- loved brother, who is one of you. They shall make known unto you all things which are done here," Colos. chap. iv. 79. Both epistles re- present the writer as under imprisonment for the Grospel ; and both treat of the same general sub- ject. The Epistle therefore to the Ephesians, and ;he Epistle to the Colossians, import to he two etters written by the same person, at or nearly at ;he same time, and upon the same subject, and to liave been sent by the same messenger. Now, every thing in the sentiments, order, and diction EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. 199 of the two writings, correspond with what might be expected from this circumstance of identity or cognation in their original. The leading doctrine of t>oth epistles is the union of Jews and Gentiles under the Christian dispensation ; and that doc- trine in both is established by the same arguments or, more properly speaking, illustrated by the same similitudes: * "one head," "one body,' "one new man," "one temple," are in both epistles the figures under which the society of believers in Cnrist, and their common relation to him as such, is represented, t The ancient, and, as had been thought, the indelible distinction between Jew and Gentile, in both epistles, is declared to be " now abolished by his cross." Besides this con- sent in the general tenor of the two epistles, and in the run also and warmth of thought with which they are composed, we may naturally expect in letters produced under the circumstances in which these appear to have been written, a closer resem- blance of style and diction, than between other letters of the same person but of distant dates, or between letters adapted to different occasions. In particular, we may look for many of the same expressions, and sometimes for whole sentences being alike ; since such expressions and sentences would be repeated in the second letter (whichever that was) as yet fresh in the author's mind from the writing of the first. This repetition occurs in the following examples : t Ephes. en. i. 7. "In whom we have re- demption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins." Colos. ch. i. 14. " In whom we have redemp- tion through his blood, the forgiveness of sins." II Besides the sameness of the words, it is farther remarkable that the sentence is, in both places, preceded by the same introductory idea. In the Epistle to the Ephesians it is the " beloved" (nx5rn/un/w); in that to the Colossians it is " his dear Son "(u 80 m? *?***<; <*TOU,) " in whom we have redemption." The sentence appears to have been suggested to the mind of the writer by the idea which had accompanied it before. Ephes. ch. i. 10. " All things both which are * St. Paul, I am apt to believe, has been sometimes accused of inconclusive reasoning, by our niisiakiim that for reasoning which was only intended for illus- tration. He is not to be read as a man, whose own persuasion of the truth of what he taught always or solely depended upon the views under which he repre- sents it in his writings. Taking for granted the cer- tainty of his doctrine, as resting upon the revelation that had been imparted to him, he exhibits it frequently to the conception of his readers under images and alle- gories, in which if an analogy may be perceived, or even sometimes a poetic resemblance be found, it is all per- haps that is required. ) Ephes. i. 22, ) ) Colos. i. 18. T Compare > iv. 15, > with > ii. 19. ii. 15, \ \ iii.10,11. Also ( Ephes. ii. 14, 15, ii. 16, H Colos. ii. 14. i. 18 21. ii. 7. t When verbal comparisons are relied upon, it becomes necessary to state the original ; but that the English reader may be interrupted as little as may be, I shall in general do this in the notes. Ephes. ch. i. 7 Ev M s % 3 ^ v T^ a:roXuT ? wII/ 9iTv ruiv apxfTmv. However it must be observed, that in this latter text many copies iiave not J TOV IS, iv aura.. t Colos. ch. i. 20. A *UTOU, I.TI r i*t rug yt>g, TI 1 Ephes. ch. iii. 2. TV euovopixv %* ITO?-TOO 6100 rqg 8 Colos. Ch. i. 25. Tnv oixovo^av TOO Siav, rtfv Stuirxv ftot it; vfitig, || Ephes. ch. v. 19. Y*x/tof x< vftvoig, xm oiS*if IT Colos. ch. iii. 16. * * Ephes. Ch. VI. 22. OK tve.u-!/*. *e<>g vpxgng BUI 0, 4V* -yviaTt TO, TTiat W'JlV. KXl 7T*^y.X.\lirtt TKff X< ft ColOS. Ch. iv. 8. 200 HOIU2 PAULINA. sentences, Of all these varieties the examination of our two epistles will furnish plain examples : and I should rely upon this class of instances more than upon the last; because, although an impostor might transcribe into a forgery entire sentences and phrases, yet the dislocation of words, the par- tial recollection of phrases and sentences, -the in- termixture of new terms and new ideas with terms and ideas before used, which will appear in the examples that follow, and which are the natural properties of writings produced under the circum- stances in which these epistles are represented to have been composed would not, I think, have occurred to the invention of a forger ; nor, if they had occurred, would they have been so easily ex- ecuted. This studied variation was a refinement in forgery which I believe did not exist ; or if we can suppose it to have been practised in the in- stances adduced below, why, it may be asked, was not the same art exercised upon those which we have collected in the preceding class 1 Ephes. chap. i. 19 ; ch. ii. 5. " Towards us who believe according -to the working of his mighty power, which he wrought in Christ when he raised him from the dead (and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion. and every name that is named, not only in this world, but in that which is to come. And hath put all things under his feet : and gave him to be the head over all things, to the church, which is his body, the fulness of all things, that filleth all in all ;) and you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins (wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, ac- cording to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit mat now worketh in the children of disobe- dience ; among whom also we all had our conver- sation, in times past, in the lusts of our flesh, ful- filling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us,) even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ." * Colos. ch. ii. 12, 13. " Through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead : and you, being dead in your sins and the uncircumcision of the flesh, hath he quickened together with him."t Out of the long quotation from the Ephesians, take away the parentheses, and you have left a sentence almost in terms the same as the short quotation from the Colossians. The resemblance is more visible in the original than in our transla- tion ; for what is rendered in one place, " the working," and in another the " operation," is the same Greek term tv^-yttx. : in one place it is, TO U? 5To-TuovTs x*Tw T^V tvf^etxv ', in the other, Sty. T >,S 9ri) i, \^Ktav f OCCUr in CX- actly the same order: x a5r i is also found in both, but in a different connexion; .IS tt^v^g answers to trw&iU Tix.6ioT!iTos : tx\>j9)jT8 iv tvt a-u>ft!XTt tO iv (Tw/uec xstStof x'et< ty-K^nrt iv ftix tKirtStz yet is this similitude found in the midst of sen- tences otherwise very different. Ephes. ch. iv. 16 " From whom the whole body fitly joined together, and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the ef- fectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body." Colos. ch. ii. 19. " From which all the body, by joints and bands, having nourishment minis- tered and knit together, increaseth with the in- crease of God."ll In these quotations are read *l **v TO ns : u$si T))I *ug)jo-w to sroJI/ u^)o-iy ; and yet the sentences are considerably diversified in other parts. Ephes. ch. iv. 32. " And be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you."1T * Vide Locke in loc. f Ephes. ch. iv. 24. ' 1 ColOS. Ch.iii. 12 15. 61 TOUTOIJ TijV Vd-'lTyUO J (V TKIJ Ephes. Clfc iv. 16. || Colos. ch. ii. 19. E oo JT . ITEph. Ch. iv. ^2. TivirSi Si ? EPISTLE^TO THE EfHESIANS. Colos. ch. iii. 13. " Forbearing one another an forgiving OTIC another; if any man have a- quarre against any, even as Christ ^forgave you, so also do ye."* Here we have " forgiving one another, even as God, 'for Christ's sake\;v ' x^r*) hath forgiven you," in the. first quotation, substantially repeated in the second. But in the'seeoiid, the sentence is broken by the interposition of a new clause", ^'if any man have a quarrel -against any;'' and the latter part is a little va I of :: (Jod in Christ/' it is " Christ hath forgiven you." Ephes. ch. iv. 2 -Jl. " That \e'put oft' cori- cernintf. the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts. and be renewed in the spirit of y< ur mind; nnd that ye put on the new man, which, after Qod; is created in righteousness a :id true ln-!i',ess."t Colos. ch. iii. <), 10. " Seeing that ye have piit^ off the old man wilh his deeds, and have put bn the new man, which is renewed in knowledge^ af- ter the image of him that created lrim. : In these quotations, " pu'ting off the old man, and putting on the new," appears in both. Tne idea is further explained by calling it a r. in the orie, ''renewed in the spirit ot your mind;" in the other, " renewed in knowledge.'' In both, the new man is said to lie formed according to the same model ; in the one he is, "afti rliod in righteousness and true holiness;" in the other, " he is renewed after the image of him thai him." In a word, it is the same person writing upon a kindred subject, with the terms and ideas which he had before employed still floating in his memory.! Ephes. ch. v. f> 8. " Because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon, the cKUdren of disobedience: be not ye therefore partakers with them; for ye were sometimes darkness, hut now are ye light in the Lord : walk as children -of Colos. ch. iii. 68. " For which thing's sake the wrath of God cometh on^the children of din- obedience ; in the which ye also walked some time, when ye lived in them. -But now ye also putofTarithese."ir These verses afford a specimen of that partial * Colos. ch. iii. 13. Avi^OjUSvot ceXX>)Xtov, xxi' %X.Q o- XeTTOS %*f TXTO U|UJV ir^- voo; U|Uu;r, x*i sv iOl/ XT1IT36VT* V I Colos. ch. iii. 9, 10. Ajr4Jiw/ii -ro In these comparisons, we often perceive the reason why the writer, though expressing the same idea, uses a different term ; namely, because the term before dsed is employed in thf Mtitenee under a different form : thus, in the quotatinns under o\ir ex e - the new man is xaetvog *v5fx'7i-o; in the E(>l)esians, and TCV \ = ->v \\\ the Colossians; but then it is because TOV xa.vov is used in the next word, vxMteu/Rv. |j Ephes. Ch. v. 68. ^a TMUTX yy,^ efzsrxi >) Ofy* TS * O-XOTO,-, Ku:u IT Colos. ch. iii. 6 8. Tesembkvnce which is only to be met with when no imitation is designed, when no studied recol- lection is employed, iul wheji the mind, exercised upon the same subject, is left to the spontaneous return of 'such terms and phrases, as, having teen used before, may happen" to present themselves nirain. The sentiment of both passages is through- out alike: half of that sentiment, the denunciation of God's wrath, is expressed in identical words; the other half, viz. the admonition to quit their former conversation, in words- entirely different. Kphes. ch. v. 15, HJ. u See then that ye walk -pectly ; not as fools, but as wise, redeem- ing the timer"* , Colos. ch. iv. 5. "Walk in wisdom towards them that are' .without; redeeming the lime."t This is another example o'fthlal mixture, which we remarked of sameness and variety in the lan-i guage of one' writer. " Redeeming the time" ^oftivo t TOV x*^ov,) in n literal repetition. ; not as Ibois, but as wise," (irrgYrrxTsiT- ,u at ito-o^cj, sex>^ a, ? C-B ;o) answers exactly in and nearly jij terms, to "walk in wisdom,' n (V eak."t Colos. ch. iv. 3, 4. 4' Withal praying also for us that God wpulci opeh unto us a door of utter- ance to speak the mystery of 'Christ, for which I am also in bonds, that 1 may make it manifest as I rjught to speak. " In these quotations, the phrase, as 1 ought to speak" (,>!. >i x*x^r*,) the words ^'-utterance" 'xox?,) "a mystery" '(<""o- T i' 0l ) "open" (*vo.^ij and tv . avo.g,,;) a*fe the same. " To make known ;he mystery of the GospeF' (yvooio-^i TO /Koo-TijpiovJ answers to "make it manili st" (.'Cv,V7rte Ou 5Tf50-gU)to SV 2C HOR^E PAULINA. unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own hus- bands in every tiling. Husbands, loveyour wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word ; that he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing ; but that it should be holy and c without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife, loveth himself; for no man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourishcth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church ; for we are members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones. For this cause shall a man leave his fa- ther and his mother and be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. This is a great mystery ; but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless, let every one of you in particular, so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband. Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honour thy father and thy mother (which is the first commandment with promise,) that it may be well with thee, and that thou may- est live long on the earth. And ye fathers, pro- voke not your children to wrath, but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Servants, be obedient to them that arc your mas- ters according 1 to the Jlesh, with fear and trem- bling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ ; not -with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart ; with good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men ; knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall he re- ceive of the Lord, whetfier he be bond or free. And, ye masters, do the same things unto them; forbearing threatening-: knowing that your mas- ter also is in heaven, neither is there respect of persons with him,*" t Colos. ch. iii. 18. " Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them. Children, obey your parents in all things, for this is well pleasing unto the Lord. Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged. Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh : not with eye- service as men-pleasers, but hi singleness of heart, fearing God ; and whatever ye do, do it heartily * Ephes. ch. v. 22. A yvvtttxis, T0 's ^''s avSfxo-tv vir6Tx; TO Kvftia. t Colos. ch. iii. 18. Ai yui/*xjf,u5roTo-o-wtOV. Colos. Tx TEXV*, usroxoviTS rot; yaviva-t HUT* yrxvTtf TOUTO yxf ttrrfv iua(i(rrsv ro> Kuj io>. Ephes. K* i o irxTifig, w yrx^eyt^tn T TIXV* o>wv. ColOS. O. yrxrtfig,^ ifsS.^jTS *T TJXV vpuv. Ephes. O. Jovx.0., U 5T,eouTe TO. xvficig XT SOU, tV XTTKOT^Tl Ttig Xf $IX$ VfttUV, (O{ T\stxv, |A.t t Colos. ch. iii. 9. Mii ^suSsa-de ss xx>i\oof, (TXftiVOl TO* TTXKXtOV vSp<07TOl<, (TUV TKIJ JTfU^lViV * Ephes. ch. iv.-24, 25. ioTrov, TOV V.XTX t T*ig a.KvSt'xg Sta, EPISTLE TO THE EPHESIANS. Ways for all things unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; submitting yourselves one to another, in the fear of God. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own hus- bands, as unto the Lord."* Colos. ch. iii. 17. "Whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit, in the Lord."T In both these passages, submission follows giv- ing of thanks, without any similitude in the ideas which should account for the transition. It is not necessary to pursue the comparison be- tween the two epistles farther. The argument which results from it stands thus : No two other epistles contain a circumstance which indicates that they were written at the same, or nearly at the same time. No two other epistles exhibit so many marks of correspondency and resemblance. If the original which we ascribe to these two epis- tles be the true one, that is, if they were l>oth really written by St. Paul, and both' sent to their respective destination by the same messenger, the similitude is, in all points, what should be expect- ed to take place. If they were forgeries, then the mention of Tychicus in both epistles, mid in a manner which shows that he either carried or ac- companied both epistles, was inserted for the pur- pose of accounting for their similitude: or else the structure of the epistles was designedly adapt* d to the circumstance : or lastly, the conformity between the contents of the forgeries, and what is thus di- rectly intimated concerning their date, was only a happy accident. Not one of these three supposi- tions will gain credit with a reader who peruses the epistles with attention, and who reviews tin- several examples we have pointed out, and the ob- servations with which they were accompanied. No. II. There is such a thing as a peculiar word or phrase cleaving, as it were, to the memory of a writer or speaker, and presenting itself to his utter- ance at every turn. When we observe this, we call it a cant word, or a. cant phrase. It is a natu- ral effect of habit : and would appear more fre- quently than it does, had not the rules of good writing taught the ear to be offended with the iter- ation of the same sound, and oftentimes caused us to reject, on that account, the word which offer- ed itself first to our recollection. With a writer who, like St. Paul, either knew not these rules, or disregarded them, such words will not be avoided. The truth is, an example of this kind runs through several of his epistles, and in the epistle before us abounds ; and that is in the word riches, (^OUTO?) used metaphorically as an argumentative of the idea to which it happens to be subjoined. Thus, "the riches of his glory," " his riches in glory," " riches of the glory of his inheritance," " riches of the glorv of this mystery," Rom. ch. ix. 23. Ephes. ch. iii. "16. Ephes. ch. i. 18. Colos. ch. i. 27: " riches of his grace," twice in the Ephesians, ch. * Ephes. Ch. V. 20, 21, 22. Eu%*pa-TOWTi ? JTXVTOTJ U5Ttp TTXVTCOV, 6V OVO,ttTI TOU KvpJSU t-UjJV I(];A.SIJ IV ou) 09U. A yvfceixtf, TOIJ iJtoij cevJpariv uTroraj-irfo-Ss, euj TW Kupioo. t Colos. Ch. iii. 17. K* -rxv O,TI xv jro>|T, tv Xoyco, H tv ipyu>) jri>T iv 6VO|U06T Kupiou IVJITOU, eu;*P' e denominated going off at a word. It is turn- ing aside from the subject upon the occurrence of some particular word, forsaking the train of thought then in hand, and entering upon a parenthetic sentence in which that word is the prevailing term. I shall lay before the reader some examples of this, collected from the other epistles, and then propose two examples of it which are found in the Kpistle to the Kphesians, 2 Cor. ch. ii. 14, at the word savour : " Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and mak- eth manifest the savour of his knowledge by us in every place, (for we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that j*>rish ; to the one we are the savour of death unto death, and to the other the savour of life unto life ; and who is sufficient for these things'?) For we are not as many which corrupt the word of God. hut as of sincerity, but as of God; in the sight of God, speak we in Christ." Again, 2 Cor. ch. iii. 1, at the word epistle: " Need we, as some others, epistles of commendation to you, or of com- mendation from you? (ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read of all men ; foras- much as ye are manifestly declared to be the epis- tle of Christ, ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God ; not in tables of stone, but in the fleshly tables of the heart.") The position of the words in the origi- nal, shows more strongly than in the translation, that it was the occurrence of the word i7rends the proof that the epistle was written to the Epliesians, is not read in all the manuscripts now extant. I ad-j mil, however, that the external rvideiuv prepon- derates with a mani test excess oh the side of the received reading. The objection therefore prin- cipally arises from the contents of the epistle itself, which, in many respects, militate with the suppo- sition that it was written' to tin church of Kphe- sus. According to the bistorv, St. Paul had pass- ed two whole years at Ephesus, Acts. chap. xix. 10. And in this point, viz. of St. Paul having preachedlpra considerable length of time at. L'phe- sus, the history is confirmed by the two Kpistles to the Corinthians, and by the two Kpistles to Timothy: "1 will tarry at Ephestta until Pente- cost," 1 Cor. ch. xvi. ver. 8. "We would not have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia," 2 Cor. ch. i. 8. " As 1 besought thee to abide still at Ephc&us, when I went into Macedonia," 1 Tim. chap. i. '.I. "And in how many things he ministered to me at JJphesusthon knowest well," 2 Tim. ch. i. 18. I adduce these testimonies, because, had it been a competition of credit between the history and the epistle, I should have thought myself bound to have prefer- red the epistle. Now, every epistle which St. Paid wrote to churches which he himself had founded, or which he had visited, abounds with references, and appeals to what had passed during the time that he was present amongst them ; whereas there is not a text in the Epistle to the Ephesians, from which we can collect that he had ever been at Ephesus at all. The two Epistles to the Corinthians, the Epistle to the Calatians, the Epistle to the Philippians, and the two Epistles to the Thessalonians, are of this class ; and they arc full of allusions to the apostle's history, his re- ception, and his conduct whilst amongst them ; the total want of which, in the epistle before us, is very difficult to account for, if it was in truth written to the church of Ephesus, in which city- he had resided for so long a time. This is the first and strongest objection. But farther, the Epistle to the Colossians was addressed to a church, in which St. Paul -had never been. This we infer from the first verse of the second chapter: " For I would that ye knew what great conflict I have for you and for them at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh." There could pe no propriety in- thus joining the Colos- sians and Laodiceans with those " who had not seen his face in the flesh," if they did not also be- long to the same description. * Now, his address to the Colossians, whom he had not visited, is precisely the same as his address to the Christians, to whom he wrote in the epistle which we are now considering: " We give thanks to God and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you, since ice heard of your faith in Christ Je- sus, and of the love which ye have to all the saints," Col. ch. i. 3. Thus, he speaks to the Eph< in the epistle before us, as follows: "Wherefore I also, after J heard of your faith in the Lord Je- sus, a lid love unto all the saints, cease not to give thanks for you in my prayers," chap. i. 15. The terms of this address are observable. The words " having heard of your faith and love," are the very words, we see, which he uses towards strangers; and it is not probable that he should employ the s.nue in accosting a church in which he had long exercised liis ministry, and whose "faith and love'' *Dr. Gardner contends auainst thr> validity of this conclusion; but, [ think, without success. LAKU.NI;R, vol. xiv. p. 4TJ, edit. ,1757. EPISTLE TO THE EPHES1ANS. 205 he must have personally known. * The Epistle to the Romans was written before St. Paul had been at Rome ; and his address to them runs in the same strain with that just now quoted; "I thank my God, through Jesus Christ, tor you all, that your faith is spoken of- throughout tin- whole world:" Rom. ch. i. 8. Let us now see wh;it was the form in which Our apostle was accustomed to introduce his epistles, when lie wrote to those with whom he was already acquainted. To the Co- rinthians it was this: "I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is given you by Christ Jesus," 1 Cor. eh. i. 4: To the Philippians: "I thank my God uion every remembrance of you," Phil. ch. i. 3. To the Thessalonians : "We . The '' epistle. fnnn Lao- dicea was an epistle sent by St. Paul to that church, and by them transmitted to Colosse. The two churches were mutually to communicate the epistles they had received. This is the way in which the direction is explained by the greater part of commentators, and is the most probable sense that can be given to it. It is also probable that the epistle alluded to was an epistle which had been received by the church of Laodicea lately. It appears then, with a considerable de- gree of evidence, that there existed an epistle of St. Paul's nearly of the same date with the Epis- tle to the Colossians, and an epistle directed to a church (for such the church of Laodicea was) in which St. Paul had never been. What has been observed concerning the epistle before us, shows that it answers perfectly to that character. Nor does the mistake seem very difficult to account for. Whoever inspects the map of Asia Minor will see, that a person proceeding from Rome to Laodicea, would probably land at Ephe- sus, as the nearest frequented sea-port in that direction. Might not Tychicus then, in passing through Ephesus, communicate to the Christians * Mr. Locke endeavours to avoid this difficulty, by explaining" their faith, of which St. Paul had heard," to mean the steadfastness of their persuasion that they were called into the kingdom of (Jod, without subjection to the Mosaic institution. But this interpretation seems to me extremely knnl ; for, in tli.j manner .in which faith is here joined with love, in the expression " your faith and love," it could not be meant to denote any particular tenet which distiii-nnshed one set of Christians from others; forasmuch as the expression descri bes the general virtues of the Christian profession. f^ide LOCKE in lor of that, place, the letter with which he was charged 1 And might not copies of that letter be multiplied and preserved at Ephesus 1 Might not some of the copies- drop the words of designation fv T >f A*O.CE<*,* which it was of no consequence to an.Ephesian to retain! Might not copies of the letter come out into the Christian church at large from Ephesus ; and might not this give oc- casion to a belief that the letter was written to that church I And, lastly, might not this belief pro- duce the error winch we suppose to have crept into the inscription^ No. V. As our epistle purports to have been written during St. Paul's imprisonment at Rome, which lies beyond the period to which the Acts of the Apostles brings up his history ; and as we have seen and acknowledged that the epistle contains no reference to any transaction at Ephesus, during the apostle's residence in that city, we cannot ex- pect that it should supply many marks of agree- ment with the narrative. One coincidence how- ever occurs, and a coincidence of that minute and less obvious kind, which, as hath been repeatedly observed, is of all others the most to be relied upon. Chap. vi. 19, 20, we read, " praying for me, known am an am- in a chain. In the twenty-eighth chapter of the Acts we are informed, that Paul, after his arrival at Rome, "was suffered to dwell by himself with a soldier that kept him. Dr. Lardner has shown that this mode of custody was in use amongst the Romans, and that whenever it was adopted, the prisoner was bound to the soldier by a single chain : in reference to which St.' Paul, in the twentieth verse of this chapter, tells the Jews whom he had assembled, " For this cause there- fore. have 1 called for you to see you, and to speak with you, Because that for the hope of Israel I am bound with this chain " r*v <*X.U. It is in exact conformity therefore with the truth of St. Paul's. situation at the time, that he declares of himself in the epistle, jrgjo-Ssua. tv x.uV Starpuv TouTtov. When the prisoner was confined between two soldiers, as in the case of Peter, Acts, chap. xii. 6, two chains were employed ; and it is said upon his miracu- lous deliverance, that the "chains" (*\uo-ij, in the plural) "fell from his hands." AKT/O S , the noun, and $KTH*I the verb, being general terms, were applicable to this in common with any other species of personal coercion; but tc\u,S %a f .Toy, joint contributors to the gift which I have received."* Nothing more is said in this place. In the latter part of the second chapter, and at the distance of half the epistle from the last quotation, the subject appears again : " Yet I supposed it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus, my brother and com- panion in labour, and fellow-soldier, but your messenger, and he that "ministered to my wants : for he longed after you all, and was full of heavi- ness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick : for indeed he was sick nigh unto death ; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sor- row. I sent him therefore the more carefully, that when ye see him again ye may rejoice, and that I may be the less sorrowful. Receive him therefore in the Lord with all gladness ; and hold such in reputation : because for the work of Christ he was nigh unto death, not regarding his life to supply your lack of service toward me," chap, ii. 25 30. The matter is here dropped, and no farther mention made of it till it is taken up near the conclusion of the epistle as follows : " But I rejoice in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flourished again, wherein ye were also careful, but ye lacked opportunity. Not that I speak in respect of want ; for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound ; every where and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengthened me. Notwith- standing, ye have well done that ye did communi- cate with my affliction. Now, ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of the Gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church com- municated with me, as concerning giving and re- ceiving, but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity. Not because I desire a gift : but I desire fruit that may abound te your account. But I have all, and abound : I am full, having received of Epaphro- ditus the things which were sent from you," chap. iv. 10 18. To the Philippian reader, who knew that contributions were wont to be made in that church for the apostle's subsistence and re- lief, that the supply which they were accustomed to send to him had been delayed by the want of opportunity, that Epaphroditus had undertaken the charge of conveying their liberality to the hands of the apostle, that he had acquitted him- self of this commission at the peril of his life, by hastening to Rome under the oppression of a grievous sickness ; to a reader who knew all this beforehand, every line in the above quotations would be plain and clear. But how is it with a stranger ? The knowledge of these several par- ticulars is necessary to the perception and ex- planation of the references ; yet that knowledge must be gathered from a comparison of passages lying at a great distance from one another. Texts must be interpreted by texts long subsequent te * Pearce, I believe, was the first commentator, who gave this sense to the expression ; and I believe also that his exposition is now generally assented to. He interprets in the same sense the phrase in the fifth verse, which our translation renders " your fellowship in the Gospel ;" but which in the original is not*.oiv!TI3l, OTI IV X1 TOW Orl j;ttX6ov 3?0 MaxfJonxf, QvSiftt* pot IXxXl)0-9( IXOV)|0-iV, !l; XOyOV 0"'<*S X3t< X>Ty;o, fl ftr\ fn'i /uavoi* OT< xs iv i}|i xai ccrgj- xxi $t; ng tfV X('U*V /* I" The reader will please to direct his attention to the corresponding particulars on and OT *<& t hich connect the words ,v f xn rou iuyyixoo, or. ,>|X5ov5roMaxiJvi5, With the Words . Qt,o v ^ t and denote, as I interpret the passage, two distinct lonations, or rather donations at two distinct pe- riods, one at Thessalonica, *$ *x< $i f , the ptner after his departure from Macedonia, e n K.5ov x-9 HOV(*J.* I would render the passage, so as to mark these different periods, thus : " Now, ye Philippians, know also, that in the beginning of he Gospel, when I was departed from Macedonia, no church communicated-with me, as concerning giving and receiving, but ye only. And that also n Thessalonica ye sent once and again unto my necessity." Now with this exposition of the pas- sage compare 2 Cor. chap, xi, 8. 9 : "I robbed other churches, taking wages of them to do you service. And when! was present with you and wanted, I was chargeable to no man; for that which was lacking to me, the brethren which came from Macedonia supplied." It appears from St. Paul's history, as related in he Acts of the Apostles, that upon leaving Ma- cedonia he passed, after a very short stay at Athens, into Achaia. It appears, secondly, from the quo- ation out of the Epistle to the Corinthians, that n Achaia he accepted no pecuniary assistance rom the converts of that country ; but that he Irew a supply for his wants from the Macedonian Christians. Agreeably whereunto it appears, in he third place, from the text which is the subject >f the present number, that the brethren in Phi- ippi, a city of Macedonia, had followed hiirr with heir munificence, on t&j,! x-o M*X^OV* ; , when ie was departed from Macedonia, that is, when ie was come into Achaia. The passage under consideration affords another nrcumstance of agreement deserving of our notice. * Luke, Ch. ii. 15. Kx tyevtro, a; es^xSov **' aoncv ; TOI/ Hfsvov oi a^ysxoj, "as the angels were gone away," i. e. after their departure. o< Trci/nsvig nxrsv *(,'.<; iAXi)\cuj. Matt. Ch. Xii. 43. OTI/ $< ra stxxixprtv Trvtvftx giXfft ***? xvipiuTrcu, "when the unclean spirit is one," i. e. after his departure, Supxtrai. John, ch. xiii. 0. Or f>|A.Ji ^louJ*^) " when he was gone," i. e. after is departure, xsy* i>i? Se xTr^^tv xy-y.Kss xx\v T M Kopv^'w, " and when the angel jvhich spake unto him was departed," i. e. after his dc- >arture, $v OixsTwv, &C. S08 HOHJ2 PAULINAS. The gift alluded to in the Epistle to the Philip"- plans is stated to have been made "in thp begin- ning of the gosnel." This phrase is most natu- rally explained to signify the lir.st preaching of the Gospel in these parts, vix. on that side of the -flSgean sea. The succours referred to in the Epistle to the Corinthians, as received from Ma- cedonia, are stated to have been received by him upon his first visit to the peninsula of (iivnv The dates therefore assigned to the donation in the two epistles agree; yet is the date in one as- eertained very incidentally, namely, by the consi- derations which fix the date of the epistle itself; and- in the other, .by an expression ("the begin- ning of the Gospel") much too general to have been used if the text had been -penned with any view to the correspondency we are remarking. Farther, the phrase, "in the bcginnyng of the Gospel," raises an idea in the reader's mind fhat the Gqspel had been preached there more than once. The writer would hardly have called the visit to which he refers, the "beginning of the Gospel," if he had not also visited them in some other stage of it. The fact corresponds with this idea. If we .consult the sixteenth and twentieth chapters of the Acts, we shall find, that St. Paul before his imprisonment at Rome, during which this epistle purports to have been written, had been twice in Macedonia, and each time at Philippi. No. IV. That Timothy had been long with St. Paul at Philippi, is a fact which seems to be implied in this epistle twice. First, he joins in the saluta- tion with which the epistle opens: "Paul and Timotheus, the servants of Jesus Christ, to all the saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi." Se- condly, and more directly, the point is inferred from what is said concerning him. chap. ii. 19 : " But I trust in the Lord Jesus to send Timotheus shortly unto you, that I also may be of good com- fort when I know your state ; for 1 have no man like minded, who will naturally care for your state ; for all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's; but ye know the proof of him, that as a son with the father, he hath served with me in the Gospel." Had Timothy's presence with St. Paul at Philippi, when he preached the Gospel there, been expressly remarked in the Acts of the Apostles, this quotation might be thought to con- tain a contrived adaptation to the history ; although, even in that case, the -averment, or rather, the allu- sion in the epistle, is too oblique to afford much room, for such suspicion. But the truth is, that in the history of St. Paul's transactions at Philippi, which occupies the greatest part of the ' sixteenth chapter of the Acts, no mention is made of Timo- thy at all. What appears concerning Timothy in the history, so far as relates to the present subject, is this: " When Paul came to.Derbe and Lystra, behold a certain disciple was there named Timo- theus, whom Paul would have to go forth with him." The narrative then proceeds with the ac- count of St. Paul's progress through various pro- vinces of the Lesser Asia, till it brings him down to Troas. At Troas he was warned in a vision to pass over into Macedonia. In olx-dienee to which he crossed the vEgean sea to Samothracia, the next day to Neapolis. and from thence to Phi- lippi. His preaching, miracles, and persecutions at Philippi, follow next; after which Paul and his company, when they had passed through Auiphi- aj.()oua : canu-(ssaonea ) anrom Thessaloniea to llerea. From I Viva the brethren sent away Paul ; " but Sihs and Timutlicii there still/ 3 The itinerary. ,!' \v ii'ieli the al>u\. abstract, is undoubtedly suilieient i<. support an in- ference that Timothy was along with t. Paul a t Philippi. We find them setting out together upon this progress -from Derbe, in Lye&onia; we l.iidthcm together near the conclusion of it, at Bcrea in Ma- cedonia. It is highly probable, therefore, that they came together to Philippi, through which their route between these two places lay. If this be thought probable, it is sufficient". For what I wish to be ..observed is, that in comparing, upon this subject, thp epistle with the history, we do not find a reci- tal in one place of what is related in another; but that we iind, what is much more to he relied-upon, an oblique allusion to an implied fact. No. V. Our epistle purports to have been written near the conclusion of St. Paul's imprisonment at Rome, and after a residence in that city of consi- derable duration. ' These circumstances are made out by diilerent intimations, and the intimations "upon the subject preserve among themselves a just consistency, and a consistency certainly unmedita- ted. First, the apostle had already been a prisoner at Rome so long, as that the reputation of his bonds, and of his constancy under them, had contributed to advance the success of the Gospel : " But 1 would ye should understand, brethren, that the things which happened unto me have fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the Gospel ; so that my bonds in Christ are manifest in all the palace, and in all other places ; and many of the brethren in the Lord waxing confident by my bonds, are much more bold to speak the word without fear." Se- condly, the account given of Epaphroditus imports, that St. Paul, when he wrote the epistle, had been in Rome a considerable time: " He longed after you all, and was full of heaviness, because that ye had heard that he had been sick." Epaphroditus was with St. Paul at Rome. He had been sick. The Philippians had heard of his sickness, and he again had received an account how much they had been affected by the intelligence. The passing and repassing of these advices must necessarily have occupied ^ large portion of time, and must have all taken place during St. Paul's residence at Rome. Thirdly, after a residence at Rome thus proved to have been of considerable duration, he now regards the decision ef his fate as nigh at hand. He contemplates either alternative, that of his deliverance, ch. ii. 23. "Him therefore (Ti- mothy) I hope to send presently, so som as I shall see how it will go with me ; but I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly:" that of his condemnation, ver. 17. "Yea, and if I be offered* upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy and re.joice with you all." This con- sistency is material, if the consideration of it be confined to the epistle. It is farther material, as it agrees with respect to the duration of St. Paul's first imprisonment at Rome, with the account de- livered in the Acts, which, having brought the apostle to. Rome, closes the history by tellin, 5utles, though written at di tie rent times, from different places, and todill'erent churches, \\viv both written under circumstances which would naturally recall to the author's mind the precarious condition of his lite, and the perils which constantly awaited him. When the Epistle to the Philippians was written, the author was a prisoner at Home, expecting his trial. When the Second Epistle to the Corin- thians was written, he had lately escaped a dan n< r in which he had given himself over for lost. The epistle opens with a recollection of this subject. and the impression accompanied the writer's thoughts throughout. I know that nothing is easier than to transplant into a forged epistle a sentiment or expres>ion which is found in a true one ; or, supposing both epistles to be forged by the same hand, to insert the same sentiment or expression in both. But the difficulty is to introduce it in just and close connexion with a train of thought going before, and with a train of thought apparently gen- 'rated by the circumstances under winch the epistle is written. In two epistles, purporting to be writ- ten on different occasions, and in different periods of the author's history, this propriety would not easily be managed. No. VII. Chap. i. 29, 30 ; ii. 1, 2. " For unto you is given, in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to sutler for his sake ; having the same conflict which ye saw in me, and now hear to be in me. If there be, therefore, any consolation in < 'hrist. if any comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any bowels and mercies ; fulfil ye my joy, that ye be like minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind." With this compare Acts, xvi. 22: "And the multitude (at Philippi) rose up against them (Paul and Silas:) and the magistrates rent off their 2D clothes, and commanded to beat them ; and when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into prison, charging the jailor to keep them safely ; who, having received such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet fast in the stocks.'"' The passage in the epistle is very remarkable. I know not an example in any writing of a justet pathos, or which more truly represents the work- ings of a warm and atlectionate mind, than what is exhibited in the quotation before us.* The apostle reminds his Philippians of their being joined with himself in the endurance of persecu- tion for the sake of Christ. He conjures them by the ties of their common profession and their com- mon sufferings, " to fulfil his joy ;" to complete, by the unity of their faith, and by their mutual love, that joy with which the instances he had received of their zeal and attachment had inspired his breast. Now if this was the real effusion of St. Paul's mind, of which it bears the strongest internal character, then we ha\e in the words "the same conflict which ye saw in me," an authentic confirmation of so much of the apostle's history in the Acts, as relates to his transactions at Philippi; and, through that, of the intelligence and general fidelity of the historian. CHAPTER VIII. The Epistle to the Colossians. No. I. THERE is a circumstance of conformity between St. Paul's history and his letters, especially those which were written during his first imprisonment at Rome, and more especially the epistles to the Colossians and Ephesians, which being too close to be accounted for from accident, yet too indirect and latent to be imputed to design, cannot easily Ived into any other original than truth. Which circumstance is this, that St. Paul in these epistles attributes his imprisonment not to his pi-iMchinil of ( hristianity, but to his asserting the right of the Gentiles to be admitted into it with- out conforming themselves to the Jewish law. This was the doctrine to which he considered himself as a martyr. Thus, in the epistle before us, chap. i. 24 : (I Paul) " who now rejoice in my sufferings for you" "/or you," i. e. for those whom he had never seen ; for a few verses after- wards he adds, " I would that ye knew what great conflict I have for you and for them in Lac exported, a person of some eminence amongst the Christians of Jerusalem. It so hap- pens that we hear of her in the history. " When Peter was delivered from prison, he came to the house of Mary, the mother of John, whose sur- name was Mark, where many wen- gathered to- gether praying," Acts, xii. 1*2. There is some- what of coincidence in this ; somewhat bespeaking real transactions amongst real persons. No. III. The following coincidence, though it bear the appearance of great nicety and refinement, ought not. perhaps, to l>e deemed imaginary. In the salu- tations with which this, like most of St. Paul's epistles, concludes, "we have Aristarchus and Marcus, and Jesus, which is called Justus, who are of the circumcision," iv. 10, 11. Then follow also, " Epaphras, Luke the beloved physician, and Demas." Now, as this description, " who are of the circumcision," is added after the lirst three names, it is inferred, not without great appearance of probability, that the rest, amongst whom is Luke, were not of the circumcision. Now, can we discover any expression in the Acts of the Apostles, which ascertains whether the author of the book was a Jew or not 1 If we can discover that he was not a Jew, we fix a circumstance in his character, which coincides with what is here, indirectly indeed, but not very uncertainly, in- timated concerning Luke : and we so far confirm both the testimony of the primitive church, that the Acts of the Apostles was written by St. Luke, and the general reality of the persons and circum- stances brought together in this epistle. The text in the Acts, which has been construed to show that the writer was not a Jew, is the nine- teenth verse of the first chapter, where, in de- scribing the field which had been purchased with the reward of Judas's iniqiu'ty, it is said, " That it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem ; insomuch as that field is called in their proper tongue, Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood." These words are by most commentators taken to be the words and observation of the his- torian, and not a part of St. Peter's speech, in the midst of which they are found. If this be admitted, then it is argued that the expression, "in their proper tongue," would not have been used by a Jew, but is suitable to the pen of a Gentile writing concerning Jews.* The reader will judge of the probability of this conclusion, and we urge the coincidence no farther than that probability ex- tends. The coincidence, if it be one, is so remote from all possibility of design, that nothing need be added to satisfy the reader upon that part of the argument. No. IV. Chap. iv. 9. " With Onesimus, a faithful and beloved brother, who is one of you" ' ( )1 'serve how it may be made out that Onesi- mus was a Colossian. Turn to the Epistle to Philemon, and you will find that Onesimus was the servant or slave of Philemon. The question therefore will be, to what city Philemon belonged. In the epistle addressed to him this is not declared. It appears only that he was of the same place, whatever that place was, with an eminent Chris- tian named Archippus. " Paul, a prisoner of Je- sus Christ, and Timothy our brother, unto Phile- mon our dearly beloved and fellow-labourer; and to our beloved Apphia, and Archippus our fel- low-soldier, and to the church in thy house." .Now turn back to the Epistle to the Colossians, and you will find Archippus saluted by name amongst the < 'hristians of that church. "Say to Archippus, Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil it," iv. 17. The necessary result is, that Onesimus also was of the same city, agreeably to what is said of him, "he is one of you." And this result is the effect either of truth which produces con- sistency without the writer's thought or care, or of a contexture of forgeries confirming and fall- ing in with one another by a species of fortuity of which I know no example. The supposition of design, I think, is excluded, not only because the purpose to which the design must have been directed, viz. the verification of the passage in our epistle, in which it is said concerning Onesimus, " he is one of you," is a purpose, which would be lost upon ninety nine readers out of a hundred; but because the means made use of are too cir- cuitous to have been the subject of affectation and contrivance. Would a forger, who had this pur- pose in view, have left his readers to hunt it out, by going forward and backward from one epistle to another, in order to connect Onesimus with Philemon, Philemon with Archippus, and Ar- chippus with Colosse 1 all which he must do be- fore he arrives at his discovery, that it was truly said of Onesimus, " he is one of you." CHAPTER IX. The First Epistle to the Thessalonians. No. I. IT is known to every reader of Scripture, that the First Epistle to the Thessalonians speaks of the coming of Christ in terms which indicate an expectation of his speedy appearance : " For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the * Vide Benson's Dissertation, vol. i. p. 318, of bis works, ed. 1756. 212 HOR.E PAULINA. archangel, and with the trump of God ; and the dead in Christ shall rise first : then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds But ye, brethren, arc not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief," chap. iv. 15, 16, 17; ch. v. 4. Whatever other construction these texts may bear, the idea they leave upon the mind of an ordinary reader, is that of the author of the epis- tle looking tor the day of judgment to take place in his own time, or near to it. Now the use which I make of this circumstance, is to deduce from it a proof that the epistle itself was not the production of a subsequent age. Would an impostor have given this expectation to St. Paul, after experience had proved it to be erroneous 1 or would he have put into the apostle's mouth, or which is the same thing, into writings purporting to come from his hand, expressions, if not necessarily conveying, at least easily interpreted to convey, an opinion which was then known to be founded in mistake 1 I state this as an argument to show that the epis- tle was contemporary with St. Paul, which is lit- tle less than to show that it actually proceeded from his pen. For I question whether any an- cient forgeries were executed in the lite- time of the person whose name they bear ; nor was the primitive situation of the church likely to give birth to such an attempt. No. II. Our epistle concludes with a direction that it should be publicly read in the church to which it was addressed : "1 charge you by the Lord, that this epistle be read unto all the holy brethren." The existence of this clause in the body of the epistle is an evidence of its authenticity ; because to produce a letter purporting to have been publicly read in the church of Thessalonica, when no such letter in truth had been read or heard of in that church, would be to produce an imposture destruc- tive of itself. At least, it seems unlikely that the author of an imposture would voluntarily, and even -time, or it was not. If it was, no publication could be more authentic, no species of notoriety more un- questionable, no method of preserving the integrity of the copy more secure. If it was not, the clause we produce would remain a standing condemna- tion of the forgery, and one would suppose, an invincible impediment to its success. If we connect this article with the preceding, we shall perceive that they combine into one strong proof of the genuineness of the epistle. The preceding article carries up the date of the epistle to the time of St. Paul ; the present article fixes the publication of it to the church of Thes- salonica. Either therefore the church of Thessa- lonica was imposed upon by a false epistle, which in St. Paul's life-time they received and read pub- licly as his, carrying on a communication with him all the while, and the epistle referring to the continuance of that communication ; or other Christian churches, in the same life-time of the apostle, received an epistle purporting to have been publicly read in the church of Thessalonica, which nevertheless had not been heard of in that church; or, lastly, the conclusion remains, that the epistle now in our hands is genuine. No. III. Between our epistle and the history the accord- ancy in many points is circumstantial and com- plete. The history relates, that after Paul and Silas had been beaten with many stripes at Phi- lippi, shut up in the inner prison, and their leet made fast in the stocks, as soon as they were dis- charged from their confinement they departed from thence, and, when they had passed through Am- phipolis and Apollonia, came to Thessalonica, where Paul opened and alleged that Jesus was the Christ, Acts, xvi. 23, &c. The epistle writ- ten in the name of Paul and Sylvanus (Silas,) and of Timotheus, who also appears to have been along with them at Philippi, (vide Phil. No. iv.) speaks to the church of Thessalonica thus : " Even after that we had suffered before, and were shame- fully entreated, as ye know, at Philippi, we were bold in our God to speak unto you the Gospel of God with much contention,'' ii. 2. The history relates, that after they had been some time at Thessalonica, " the Jews who be- lieved not, set all the city in an uproar, and as- saulted the house of Jason where Paul and Silas were, and sought to bring them out to the people," Acts, xvii. 5. The epistle declares, " when we were with you, we told you before that we should suffer tribulation ; even as it came to pass, and ye know" iu. 4. The history brings Paul and Silas and Timo- thy together at Corinth, soon after the preaching of the Gospel at Thessalonica: "And when Silas and Timotheus were come from Macedonia, (to Corinth,) Paul was pressed in spirit," Acts, xviii. 5. The epistje is written in the name of these three persons, who consequently must have been together at the time, and speaks throughout of their ministry at Thessalonica as a recent trans- action: "We, brethren, being taken from you for a short time, in presence, not in heart, endea- voured the more abundantly to see your face, with great desire," ii. 17. The harmony is indubitable ; but the points of history in which it consists, are so expressly set forth in the narrative, and so directly referred to in the epistle, that it becomes necessary for us to show that the facts in one writing were not copied from the other. Now, amidst some minuter dis- crepancies, which will be noticed below, there is one circumstance which mixes itself with all the allusions in the epistle, but does not api>ear in the history any where ; and that is of a visit which St. Paul had intended to pay to the Thessalonians during the time of his residing at Corinth: " Wherefore we would have come unto you (even I Paul) once and again; but Satan liindered us," ii. 18. "Night and day praying exceedingly that we might see your face, and might perfect that which is lacking in your faith. Now God himself and our Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, direct our way unto you," iii. 10, 11. Concerning a de- sign which was not executed, although the person himself, who was conscious of his own purpose, should make mention in his letters, nothing is more probable than that his historian should l>e silent, if not ignorant. The author of the epistle could not, however, have learnt tin's circumstance from the history, for it is not there to be met with ; nor, if the historian had drawn his materials from the epistle, is it likely that he would have passed over a circumstance, which is amongst the moat FIRST EPISTLE TO THE THESSALONIANS. 213 obvious and prominent of the facts to be collected from that source of information. No. IV. Chap. iii. 1 7. " Wherefore when we could no longer forbear, we thought it good to be left at Athens alone, and sent Timotheus, our brother and minister of God, to establish you, and to com- fort you concerning your faith ; but now when Timotheus came from you unto us, and brought us good tidings of your faith and charity, we were comforted over you in all our affliction and distress by your faith." The history relates, that when Paul came out of Macedonia to Athens, Silas and Timothy staid behind at Berea : " The brethren sent away Paul to go as it were to the sea ; but Silas and Timo- theus abode thrre still; and they that conducted Paul brought him to Athens," Acts, ch. xvii. 14, 15. The history farther relates, that after Paul had tarried some time at Athens, and had proceeded from thence to Corinth, whilst he was exercising his ministry in that city, Silas and Timothy came to him from Macedonia, Acts, ch. xviii. 5. But to reconcile the history with the clause in the epistle, which makes St. Paul say, " I thought it good to be left at Athens alone, and to send Timothy unto you," it is necessary to sup- pose that Timothy had come up with St. Paul at Athens; a circumstance which the history does not mention. I remark, therefore, that although the history does not expressly notice this arrival, yet it contains intimations which render it ex- tremely probable that the fact took place. First, as soon as Paul had reached Athens, he sent a message back to Silas and Timothy " for to come to him with all speed," Acts, ch. xvii. 15. Se- condly, his stay at Athens was on purpose that .they might join him there: "Now whilst Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred in him," Acts, ch. xvii. 16. Thirdly, his departure from Athens does not appear to have been in any sort hastened or abrupt. It is said, " After these things," viz. his disputation with the Jews, his conferences with the philosophers, his discourse at Areopagus, and the gaining of some converts, "he departed from Athens and came to Corinth." It is not hinted that he quitted Athens before the time that he had intended to leave it ; it is not sug- gested that he was driven from Whence, as he was from many cities, by tumults or persecutions, or because his life was no longer safe. Observe then the particulars which the history does notice that Paul had ordered Timothy to follow him with- out delay, that he waited at Athens on purpose that Timothy might come up with him, that he staid there as long as his own choice led him to continue. Laying these circumstances which the history does disclose together, it is highly probable that Timothy came to the apostle at Athens, a fact which the epistle, we have seen, virtually as- serts when it makes Paul send Timothy back from Athens to Thessalonica. The sending 1 back of Timothy into Macedonia accounts also for his not coming to Corinth till after Paul had been fixed in that city for some considerable time. Paul had found out Aquila and Priscilla, alnxle with them and wrought, being of the same craft ; and reasoned in the synagogue every Sabbath day, and persuaded the Jews and the Greeks, Acts, ch. xviii. 1 5. All this passed at Corinth before Si- las and Timotheus were come from Macedonia, Acts, ch. xviii. 5. If this was the first time of their coming up with him after their separation at Berea, there is nothing to account for a delay so contrary to what appears from the history itself to have been St. Paul's plan and expectation. This is a conformity of a peculiar species. The epistle discloses a fact which is not preserved in the his- tory ; but which makes what is said in the history more significant, probable, and consistent. The history bears marks of an omission ; the epistle by reference furnishes a circumstance which supplies that omission. No. V. Chap. ii. 14. " For ye, brethren, became fol- lowers of the churches of God which in Judea arc in Christ Jesus; for ye also have suffered like things of your own countrymen, even as they have of the Jews.'' To a reader of the Acts of the Apostles, it might seem, at first sight, that the persecutions which the preachers and converts of Christianity underwent, were suffered at the hands of their old adversaries the Jews. But if we attend carefully to the accounts there delivered, we shall observe, that, though the opposition made to the Gospel usually originated from the enmity of the Jews, yet in almost all places the Jews went about to accomplish their purpose, by stirring up the Gen- tile inhabitants against their converted country- men. Out of Judea they had not power to do much mischief in any other way. This was the case at Thessalonica in particular : " The Jews which Mieved not, moved with envy, set all the city in an uproar," Acts, ch. xvii. ver. 5. It was the same a short time afterwards at Berea> " When the Jews of Thessalonica had knowledge that the word of God was preached of Paul at Berea, they came thither also, and stirred up the people," Acts, ch. xvii. 13. And before this our apostle had met with a like species of persecution, in his progress through the Lesser Asia : in every city " the unbe- lieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil-affected against the brethren," Acts, ch. xiv. 2. The epistle therefore represents the case accurately as the history states it. It was the Jews always who set on foot the persecutions against the apostles and their followers. He speaks truly therefore of them, when he says in this epis- tle, " they both killed the Lord Jesus and their own prophets, and have persecuted us forbidding us to speak unto the Gentiles," ii. 15. 16. But out of Judea it was at the hands of the Gentiles, it was " of their own countrymen," that the inju- ries they underwent were immediately sustained : 11 Ye have suffered like things t>f your own coun- trymen, even as they have of the Jews." No. VI. The apparent discrepancies between our epistle and the history, though of magnitude sufficient to repel the imputation of confederacy or transcrip- tion (in which view they form a part of our argu- ment,) are neither numerous, nor very difficult to reconcile. One of these may be observed in the ninth and tenth verses of the second chapter : "For ye remember, brethren, our labour and travail ; for labouring night and day, because we would not be chargeable unto any of you, we preached unto you the Gospel of God. Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily, and justly, and unblameably we behaved ourselves among 214 HOR^E PAULINA. you that believe." A person who reads this pas- sage is naturally led by it to suppose, that the Writer had dwelt at Thessalonica for some con- siderable time : yet of St. Paul's ministry in that city, the history gives no other account than the following : that he came to Thessalonica, where was a synagogue of the Jews : that, as his man- lier was, he went in unto them, and three Sabbath. days reasoned with them out of the scriptures : that some of them believed, and consorted with Paul and Silas." The history then proceeds to tell us, that the Jews which believed not, set the city in an uproar, and assaulted the house of Jason, where Paul and his companions lodged ; that the consequence of this outrage was, that " the bre- thren immediately sent away Paul and Silas by night unto Berea," Acts, ch. xvii. 110. From the mention of his preaching three Sabbath days in the Jewish synagogue, and from the want of any further specification of his ministry, it has usually been taken for granted that Paul did not continue at Thessalonica more than three weeks. This, however, is inferred without necessity, ft appears to have been St. Paul's practice, in al- most every place that he came to, upon his first arrival to repair to the synagogue. He thought himself bound to propose the Gospel to the Jews first, agreeably to what he declared at Antioch in Pisidia : "it was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to you," Acts, ch. xiii. 46. If the Jews rejected his .ministry, he quitted the synagogue, and betook himself to a Gentile audience. At Corinth, upon his first coming thither, he reasoned in the synagogue every Sabbath ; " but when the Jews opposed themselves, and blasphemed, he departed thence, expressly telling them, " from henceforth I will go unto the Gentiles ; and he remained in that city a year and six months," Acts, ch. xviii. 6 11. At Ephe- sus, in like manner, for the space of three months he went into the synagogue ; but ' ' when divers were hardened and believed not, but spake evil of that way, he departed from them and separated the disciples, disputing daily in the school of one Tyrannus ; and this continued by the space of two years," Acts, ch. xix. 9, 10. Upon inspecting the history, I see nothing in it which negatives the supposition, that St. Paul pursued the same plan at Thessalonica which he adopted in other places ; and that though he resorted to the syna- gogue only three Sabbath days, yet he remained in the city, and in the exercise of his ministry amongst the Gentile citizens, much longer ; and until the success of his preaching had provoked the Jews to excite the tumult and insurrection by which he was driven away. Another seeming discrepancy is found in the ninth verse of the first chapter of the epistle ; " For they themselves show of us what manner of entering in we had unto you, and how ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God." This text contains an assertion, that, by means of St. Paul's ministry at Thessalonica, many idolatrous Gentiles had been brought over to Christianity. Yet the history, in describing the effects of that ministry, only says, that "some of the Jews believed, and of the devout Greeks a great multitude, and of the chief women not a few," ch. xvii. 4. The devout Greeks were those who already worshipped the one true God ; and therefore could not be said, by embracing Chris- tianity, " to be turned to God from idols.' 7 This is the difficulty. The answer may be assisted by the following observations : The Alexandrian and Cambridge manuscripts read (for ' E/.MVCOV jroxw rrxuSoj- in which reading they are also confirmed by the Vulgate Latin. And this reading is, in rny opinion, strongly supported by the considerations, first, that o o-tSo/*i/o alone, i. e. without Ex-Mi-sf, is used in this sense in the same chapter Paul being come to Athens, Su^ty-nt < secondly, that o-iSo^ivoi and 'EX.MVIS no where come together. The expression is redundant. The o* oth parts of it so much alike, and yet the words which convey it show so little of imitation or even of resemblance, that the agree- ment cannot well be explained without supposing the speech and the letter to have really proceeded from the same person. No. III. Our reader remembers the passage in the First Epistle to the Thessalonians, in which St. Paul spoke of the coming of Christ: " This we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which re alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep : for the Lord himself shall descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ shall rise first ; then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, and so shall we be ever with the Lord. But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief," 1 Thess. iv. 15 11, and ch. v. 4. It should seem that the Thessalonians, or some however amongst them, had from this passage conceived an opinion (ana that not very unnaturally) that the coming of Christ was to take place instantly, on iviixv his dicitur de re present!, ut Rom. viii. 38. 1 Cor. iii. 22. Gal. i. 4. Heb. ix. 9. 218 HOR^E PAULINJE. had it under these circumstances come to be con- sidered, whether the text before us related to a forged epistle pr to some misconstruction of a true one, many conjectures and many probabilities might have been admitted in the inquiry, which can have little weight when an epistle is produced, containing the very sort 6f passage we were seek- ing, that is, a passage liable to the misinterpreta- tion which the apostle protests against. 2. That the clause which introduces the pas- sage in the second epistle bears a particular affinity to what is found in the passage cited from the first epistle. The clause is this : " We beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto him.' 1 Now, in the first epistle, the description of the coming of Christ is accompanied with the mention of this very circumstance of his saints being collected round him. " The Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and With the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first ; then we which are alive and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air," 1 Thess. chap. iv. 16, 17. This I suppose to be the " gathering together unto him" intended in the second epistle : and that the author, when he used these words, retained in his thoughts what he had written on the subject before. 3. The second epistle is written in the joint name of Paul, Silvanus, and Timotheus, and it cautions the Thessalonians against being misled " by letter as from us" (o, s Si />*.) Do not these words, $i n/tiav, appropriate the reference to some writing which bore the name of these three teach- ers 7 Now this circumstance, which is a very close one, belongs to the epistle at present in our hands ; for the epistle which we call the First Epistle to the Thessalonians contains these names in its superscription. 4. The words in the original, as far as they are material to be stated, are these: n s TO w T% sa . s )i/x vftxg *7TO TOU vtos,ft>iTS 3-poinrSxt,ft>]re Sia a-vev- ftxros, MTI St Xoyou, MTI Si *-0"roM|Xiv >i wipx TOO Xpio-Tou. Under the weight of the preceding observations, may not the words />)Tt $IX XO^OU, AUJTS St 5TJJ, OJ Si tfftWV, be COH- strued to signify quasi nos quid tale aut dixeri- mus aut scripserimus* intimating that their words had been mistaken, and that they had in truth said or written no such thing ? CHAPTER XL The First Epistle to Timothy. FROM the third verse of the first chapter, " as I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus when I * Should a contrary interpretation be preferred, I do not think that it implies the conclusion that a false epistle had then been published in the apostle's name. It will completely satisfy the allusion in the text to allow, that some one or other at Thessalonica had pretended to have been told by St. Paul and his companions, or to have seen a letter from them, in which they had said, that the day of Christ was at hand. In like manner as, Acts, xv. 1,24, it is recorded that some had pretended to have received instructions from the church at Jerusa- lem, which had been received, " to whom they gave no such commandment." And thus Dr. Benson interpreted the passage MIT s Sposio-Ss**, f^rt Sm, x-vivpzTOs, wrt Six xoyou, ft n re Si s5T(TToA.t)f, o> Si w'av, " nor be dismayed by any revelation, or discourse, or epistlo, which any one shall pretend to have heard or received from us." went into Macedonia," it is evident that this epis- tle was written soon after St. Paul had gone to Macedonia from Ephesus. Dr. Benson fixes its date to the time of St. Paul's journey recorded in the beginning of the twentieth clw pter of the Acts : " And after the uproar (excited bv Demetrius at Ephesus) was ceased, Paul called unto him the disciples, and embraced them, and departed lor to go into Macedonia." And in this opinion Dr. Benson is followed by Michaelis, as he was pre- ceded by the greater part of the commentators who have considered the question. There is, IIOWC.MT, one objection to the hypothesis, which these learn- ed men appear to me to have overlooked ; and it is no other than this, that the superscription of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians seems to prove, that at the time St. Paul is supposed by them to have written this epistle to Timothy, Timothy in truth was with St. Paul in Macedonia. Paul, as it is related in the Acts, left Ephesus " for to go into Macedonia." When he had got into Mace- donia, he wrote his Second Epistle to the Corin- thians. Concerning this point there exists little variety of opinion. It is plainly indicated by the contents of the epistle. It is also strongly implied that the epistle was written soon after the apostle's arrival in Macedonia ; for he begins his letter by a train of reflection, referring to his persecutions in Asia as to recent transactions, as to dangers from which he had lately been delivered. But in the salutation with which the epistle opens, Timothy was joined with St. Paul, and consequently could not at that time be "left behind at Ephesus." And as to the only solution of the difficulty which can be thought of, viz. that Timothy, though he was left behind at Ephesus upon St. Paul's de- parture from Asia, yet might follow him so soon after, as to come up with the apostle in Macedo- nia, before he wrote his Epistle to the Corinthians ; that supposition is inconsistent with the terms and tenor of the epistle throughout. For the writer speaks uniformly of his intention to return to Timothy at Ephesus, "and not of his expecting Timothy to come to him in Macedonia : " These things write I unto thee, hoping' to come unto thee shortly ; but if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself," ch. iii. 14, 15. " Till I come, give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine," ch. iv. 13. Since, therefore, the leaving of Timothy behind at Ephesus, when Paul went into Macedonia, suits not with any journey into Macedonia, re- corded in the Acts, 1 concur with Bishop Pearson, in placing the date of this epistle, and the journey referred to in it, at a period subsequent to St. Paul's first imprisonment at Rome, and conse- quently subsequent to the sera up to which the Acts of the Apostles brings his history. The only difficulty which attends our opinion is, that St. Paul must, according to us, have come to Ephe- sus after his liberation ;1 t Home, contrary as it should seem, to what he foretold to the Ephesian elders, " that they should see his face no more." And it is to save the infallibility of this prediction, and for no other reason of weight, that an earlier date is assigned to this epistle. The prediction itself, however, when considered in connexion with the circumstances under which it was de- ivered, does not seem to demand so much anxiety. The words in question are found in the twenty- ifth verse of the twentieth chapter of the Acts : '* And now, behold, 1 know that ye all, among FIRST EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 217 Whom 1 have gone preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face no more.'' In the twenty-second and twenty-third verses of the same chapter; i. e. two verses before, the apostle makes this declara- tion : " And now, behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that .shall befall me there: save that the Holy Ghost witness- eth in every city, saying that bonds and afflict ions abide me." This ' witnessing of the Holy Ghost 7 was undoubtedly prophetic and supernatural. But it went no farther than to foretell that bonds and afflictions awaited him. And 1 can very well con- ceive that this might be all which was communi- cated't.) the apostle by extraordinary revelation, and that the rest was the conclusion of his own mind, the dfs]xmdin;i inference which he drew from strong and repeated intimations of approach- in; irith inc. "lint 1 trust ill the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly." And a few preceding these, he not only seems to doubt of his safety, but almost to despair; to contemplate the jxissibility at least of his condemnation and martyrdom: "Yea, and if I be offered 11^.11 the sacrifice and seruce of your faith, 1 joy aiid rejoice with you all." No. I. But can we show that St. Paul visited Ephesus after his liberation at Rome? or rather, can we collect anv hints from his other letters which make it probable that lie did .' If we can, then we have a coincidence. If we cannot, we have only an unauthorised supposition, to which the exigency of the case compels us to resort. Now, for this purpose, let us examine the Epistle to the Philip- pians and the Epistle to Philemon. These two epistles purport to be written whilst St. Paul was ye't a prisoner at Rome. To the Philippians he writes as follows : " I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly." To Philemon,- who was a Colossian, he gives this direction: "lint withal, prepare me also a lodgm-i. for I trust that through your prayers I shall be given unto you." An inspection of the map will show us that Co- losse was a city of the Lesser Asia, lying eastward, and at no great distance from Ephesus. Philippi was on the, other, i.e. the western side of the uEgean sea. If the apostle executed his purpose ; if, in pursuance of the intention expressed in his letter to Philemon, he came to Colosse soon after he was set at liberty at Rome, it is very improba- ble that he would omit to visit Ephesus, which lay so near to it, and where he had spent three years of his ministry. As he was also under a promise to the church of Philippi to see them " shortly ;" if he passed from Colosse to Philippi. or from Philippi to Colosse, he could hardly avoid taking Ephesus hi his way. No. II. Chap. v. 9. " Let not a widow he taken into the number under threescore years old." This accords with the account delivered in the sixth chapter of the Acts. " And in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the Grecians against the Hebrews, because their widows were neglected in the daily minial ration." It appears that, from the first formation of the Christian church, provi- sion was made out of the public funds of the socie- ty for the indigent uidcn.cs who belonged to it. The history, we have seen, distinctly records the existence of such an institution at Jerusalem, a few years after our Lord's ascension ; and is led to the mention of it very incidentally, viz. by a dispute, of which it was the occasion, and which produced important consequences to the Christian community. The epistle, without being suspected of borrowing from the history, refers, briefly in- deed, but decisively, to a similar establishment, subsisting some years afterwards at Ephesus. This agreement indicates that both writings were founded upon real circumstances. But, in this article, the material thing to be no- ticed is the mode of expression : " Let not a widow be taken into the number." No previous account or explanation' is given, to which these words, :% into the number," can refer; but the direction comes concisely and unpreparedly. " Let not a widow be taken into the number." Now this is the way in which a man writes, who is conscious that he is writing to persons already acquainted with the subject of his letter ; and who, he knows, will readily apprehend and apply what he says by virtue of their being so acquainted : but it is not the way in which a man writes upon any other occasion; and least of all, in which a man would draw up a feigned letter, or introduce a supposi- tious fact.* No. III. Chapter iii. 2, 3. " A bishop then must be * It ia not altogether unconnected with our general piirpo-" to D-mark, in the passage before us, the selection and reserve which St. Paul recommends tot ho gover- nors of the church of Ephrsiis in the bestowing relief upon the poor. because it refutes a rulunmy which has hern insinuated, that the liberality of theiirst Christians was an artitice to catch converts; or^one of the tempta- tions, however, by which (he idle, and mendicant were drawn into this society: "l^etnot a widow be taken in- to the number under threescore years old, having been the wife of one man, well reported of for good works; if she. have brought, up children, if slie have lodged strangers, if she have washed the. saints' feet, if she have relieved the aiflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work. But the younger widows refuse," v. 9, 10, 11. And in another place, " If any man or woman that belie^eth have widows, let them relieve them, and let not the church be charged ; that it may relieve them that are widows indeed." And to the same effect, or rather more to our present purpose, the apostle writes in the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians: " Even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat," i e at the public expense. " For we hear that there are some which walk among you disorderly, working not at all, but are busy bodies. Now them that are such we command and exhort by our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread." Could a designing or dissolute poor take advantage of bounty regulated with so much caution; or- could thr- mind which dictated those sober and prudent directions be influenced in his recommendations of public charity by any other than trie propereet motives of beneficence ? 218 HORjE PAULINA. blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach ; not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre; but patient, not a brawler, not covet- ous; one that ruleth well his own house." " A' striker :" That is the article which I single out from the collection as evincing the antiquity at least, if not the genuineness, of the epi>tle; because it is an article which no man would have made the subject of caution who lived in an ad- vanced sera of the church. It agreed with the in- fancy of the society, and with no other state of,it. After the government of the church had acquired the dignified form which it soon and naturally assumed, this injunction could have no place. Would a person who lived under a liierarchy, such as the Christian hierarchy became when it had settled into a regular establishment, have thought it necessary to prescribe concerning the qualifica- tion of a bishop, " that he should be no striker V And this injunction would be equally alien from the imagination of the writer, whether he wrote in his own character, or personated that of an apostle. No. IV. Chap. v. 23. " Drink no longer water, but use a little wine, for thy stomach's sake and thine often infirmities." Imagine an impostor sitting down to forge an epistle in the name of St. Paul. Is it credible that it should come into his head to give such a direc- tion as this ; so remote from every thing of doc- trine or discipline, every thing of public concern to the religion or the church, or to any sect, order, or party in it, and from every purpose with which such an epistle could be written, 1 It seems to me that nothing but reality, that is, the real valetudi- nary situation of a real person, cquld have sug- gested a thought of so domestic a nature. But if the peculiarity of the advice be observable, the place in which it stands is more so. The con- text is this: "Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men's sins : keep thy- self pure. Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine often in- firmities. Some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment; and some men they follow after." The direction to Timothy about his diet stands between two, sentences, as wide from the subject as possible. The train of thought seems to be broken to let it in. Now when does this happen 7 It happens when a man writes as he remembers ; when he puts down an article that occurs the moment it occurs, lest he should after- wards forget it. Of this the passage before us bears strongly the appearance. In actual letters, in the negligence of real correspondence, examples of this kind frequently take place ; seldom, I be- lieve, in .any other production. For the moment a man regards what he writes as a composition, which the author of a forgery would, of all others, be the first to do, notions of order, in the arrange- ment and succession of his thoughts, present themselves to his judgment, and guide his pen. No. V. Chap. i. 15, 16. " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom .1 am chief. Howbeit, for this cause I obtained mer- cy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all lonsr-su fieri nt. Paul here com- memorates, ;uid what was the crime of which he accuses himself, is apparent from the verses im- mediately preceding: "I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry ; icho was be/ore a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious: but I obtained mercy , because I did it ignorantly in unbelief," ch. i. 1-2, 13. The whole quotation plainly refers to St. Paul's original en- j mity to the Christian name, the interaction of i Providence in his conversion, and his subsequent F designation to the ministry of the Gospel ; and by this reference affirms indeed the substance of the apostle's history delivered in the Acts. But what hi the passage strikes my mind most powerfully, is the observation that is raised out of the fact. " For this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all long-suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter be- lieve on him to life everlasting." Il is a just and solemn reflection, springing from the circumstances of the author's conversion, or rather from the im- pression which that great event had left upon his memory. It will be said, perhaps, that an impos- tor acquainted with St. Paul's history, may have put such a sentiment into his mouth ; or, what is the same thing, into a letter drawn up in his name. But where, we may ask, is such an impostor to be found 1 The piety, the truth, the benevi ilence of the thought, ought to protect it from this imputation. For, though we should allow that one of the great masters of the ancient tragedy could have given to his scene a sentiment as \irtuous and as elevated as this is, and at the same time as appropriate, and as well suited to the particular situation of the person who delivers it; yet whoever is conversant in these inquiries will acknowledge, that to do this in a fictitious production is beyond the reach of the understandings which have been employed upon any fabrications that have come down to us under Christian names. CHAPTER XII The Second Epistle to Timothy. No. I. IT was the uniform tradition of the primitive church, .that St.- Paul visited Rome twice, and twice there suffered imprisonment ; and that he was put to death at Rome at the conclusion of his second imprisonment. This opinion concerning St. Paul's two journeys to Rome is confirmed by a great variety of hints and allusions in the. epistle before us, compared with what fell from the apos- tle's pen in other letters purporting to have l>< en written from Rome. That our present epistle was written whilst St. Paul was a prisoner, is dis- tinctly intimated by the eighth verse of the first chapter: " Be not ETieu therefore ashamed of the testimony of OUT Lord, nor of me hrs prisoner." And whilst he was a prisoner at fiome, by the sixteenth and seventeenth verses of the same chapter : " The Lord give meccy unto the house of Onesiphorus; for he oft refreshed me, and was not ashamed of* my chain : but when he was in Rome he sought me out very diligently and found SECOND EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY. 219 me." Since it appears from the former quotation that St. Paul wrote this epistle in confinement, i will hardly admit of doubt that the word chain, in the latter quotation, refers to that confinement ; the chain by which he was then bound, the custo- dy in which he was then kept. And if the word " chain" designate the author's confinement at the time of writing the epistle, the next words deter- mine it to have been written from Rome: "He was not ashamed of my chain ; but when he was in Rome he sought me out very diligently." Now that it was not written during the aj>ostle's first imprisonment at Rome, or during the same im- prisonment in which the epistles to the Kphesians, the Colossians, the Philippians, and Philemon, were written, may be gathered, with considerable evidence, from a comparison of these several epis- tles with the present. I. In the former epistles the an tlior confidently looked forward to his liberation from confinement, and his speedy departure from Home, lie tells the Philippians (ch. ii. 24,) " I trust in the Lord that I also myself shall come shortly." Philemon he bids to prepare for him a lodging: " for 1 trust, ' says he, "that through your prayers 1 shall he given unto you," ver. 22. In the epistle heioiv us He holds a language extremely different : "lam now ready to be offered, and the time of my de- parture is at hand. 1 have lot^hl a goecL fight, I have finished mv course, 1 have kept the faith: henceforth there "is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day," ch. iv. b 8. IL When the former epistles, were written from Rome, Timothy was with St. Paul ; and is joined with him in writing to. the Colossians. the Philippians, and to Philemon. The present epis- tle implies that he was absent. III. In the former epistles,- Demas was with St. Paul at Home : " Luke, the Moved physician, and Demas, greet you.'' In the epistle now before us: "Demas hath forsaken me. ha\ing loved this present world, and is gone to Thessalonica.'' IV. In the former epistles, Mark was with St. Paul, and joins in saluting the Colossians. In the present epistle, Timothy is ordered to bring him with him, " for lie is profitable to me for the ministry," ch. iv. 11. The case of Timothy and of Mark might be very well accounted for, by supposing, the present epistle to have been written before the others; so that Timothy, who is here exhorted " to come shortly unto him," ch. iv. 9, might have arrived, and that Mark, "whom he was to bring with him," ch. iv. 11, might have also reached Rome in sufficient time to have been with St. Paul when the four epistles were written ; but then such a supposition is inconsistent with what is said of Demas, by which the posteriority of this to the other epistles is strongly indicated ; for in the other epis- tles Demas was with St. Paul, in the present he hath "forsaken him, and is gone to Thessalo- niea." The opposition also of sentiment, with respect to the event of the persecution, is hardly reconcileable to the same imprisonment. The two following considerations, which were first suggested upon this question by Ludovicus Capellus, are still more conclusive. 1. In the twentieth verse of the fourth chapter, St. Paul informs Timothy, "that Krastus abode at Corinth," E. S xrrt S ff in viv ( V Kogu'5*. The form of expression implies, that Erastus had staid be- hind at Corinth, when St. Paul left it. But this could not be meant of any journey from Corinth which St. Paul took prior to his first imprison- ment at Rome; for when Paul departed from Co- rinth, as related in the twentieth chapter of the Acts, Timothy was with him: and this was the last time the apostle left Corinth before his coming to Rome ; because he left it to proceed on his way to Jerusalem ; soon after his arrival at which place he was taken into custody, and continued in that custody till he was carried to Caesar's tri- bunal. There could be no need therefore to in- form Timothy that ." Erastus staid behind at Co- rinth" upon this occasion, because if the fact was so, it must have been known to Timothy, who was present, as well as to St. Paul. 2. In, the same verse our epistle also states the following article: " Trophimus have I left at Mi- letum sick.'' When St. Paid passed through Mi- letum on his way to Jerusalem, as related Acts xx, Trophimus was not left Mrind. hut accom- panied him to that city. He was indeed the oc- casion of the uproar at Jerusalem, in consequence of which St. Paul W;LS apprehended; for "they had seen," says the historian, " be-fore with him in the city, Trophimus an Kphesian, whom they supposed 'that Paul had brought into the temple. This was evidently-thc last time of Paul's being at Miletus before his first imprisonment; for, as hath been said, after his apprehension at Jerusa- lem, he remained in custody till he was sent to Rome. In these two articles we have a journey re- ferred to, which must have taken place subse- quent to the conclusion of St. Luke's history, and of course alter St. Paul's lilx-ration from his first imprisonment. The epistle, therefore, which con- tains this reference, since it appears from other parts of it to have been written while St. Paul was a prisoner at Rome, proves that he had returned to that city again, and undergone there a second imprisonment. I do not produce these particulars for the sake of the support which they lend to the testimony of the fathers concerning St. Paul's second im- prisonment, but to remark their consistency and agreement with one another. They are all re- solvable into one sup|>osition : and although the supposition > itself be in some sort only negative, viz. that the epistle was not written during St. Paul's first residence at Rome, but in some future imprisonment in that city ; yet is the consistency not less worthy of observation:, for the epistle touches upon names artd circumstances connect- ed with the date and with the history of the first imprisonment, and mentioned in letters written during that imprisonment, and so touches upon them, as to leave what is said of one consistent with what is said ojf others, and consistent also with what is said of them in different epistles. Had one of these circumstances been so described as to have fixed the date of the epistle to the first imprisonment, it would have involved the rest in contradiction. And when the number and par- ioularity pf the articles which have been brought ogether under this head are considered; and when it is considered also, that the comparisons we have formed amongst them, were in all proba- bility neither provided for, nor thought of, by the writer of the epistle, it will be deemed something very like the effect of truth, that no invincible re- pugnancy is perceived between ttyem. 220 HOR^E PAULINA. No. II. - In the Acts of the Apostles, in the sixteenth chapter, and at the first verse, we are told that Paul "came to Derbe and Lystra, and behold a certain disciple was there named Tirnotheus, 'the son of a certain woman which was a Jewess, and believed; but his father was a Greek." In the epistle before us, in the first chapter and at the fourth verse, St. Paul writes to Timothy thus . " Greatly desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears, that I may be filled with joy, when I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice ,- and I am persuaded that in thee also." Here we have a fair unforced ex- ample of coincidence. In the history, Timothy was the " son of a Jewess that believed :" in the epis- tle, St. Paul applauds " the faith which dwelt in his mother Eunice." In the history it is said of the mother, "that she was a Jewess, and be- lieved:" of the father, "that he was a Greek." Now, when it is said of the mother alone " that she believed," the father being nevertheless men- tioned in the same sentence, we are led to sup- pose of the father that he did not believe, i. e. either that he was dead, or that he remained un- converted. Agreeably hereunto, whilst praise is bestowed in the epistle upon one parent, and upon her sincerity in the faith, no notice is taken of the other. The mention of the grandmother is the addition of a circumstance not found in tlie history ; but it is a circumstance which, as well as the names of the parties, might naturally be ex- pected to be known to the apostle, though over- looked by his historian. No. III. Chap. iii. 15. " And that from a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, w'hich are able to make thee wise unto salvation." This verse discloses a circumstance -which agrees exactly with what is intimated in the quotation from the Acts, adduced: in the last number. In that quotation it is recorded of Timo- thy's mother, " that she was a Jewess." This description is virtually, though, I am satisfied, nn- designedly, recognized in the epistle, when Timo- thy is reminded in it, " that from a child he had known the Holy Scriptures." " The Holy Scrip- tures," undoubtedly meant the Scriptures of the Old Testament. The expression bears that sense in every place in which it occurs. Those of' the New had not yet acquired the name > not to men- tion, that in Timothy's childhood, probably, none of them existed. In what manner then could Timothy have known " from a child," the Jew- ish Scriptures, had he not been born, on one side or on both, of Jewish parentage? Perhaps he was not less likely to be carefully instructed in them, for that his mother alone professed that re- ligion. No. IV. Chap. ii. 22. "Flee also youthful lusts; but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the. Lord out of a pure heart." " Flee also youthful lusts." The suitableness of this precept to the age of the person to whom it is addressed, is gathered from 1 Tim. chap. iv. 12: w Let no man despise thy youth." Nor do P deem the less of this coincidence, because the pro- priety resides in a single epithet : or because this one precept is joined with, and followed by a train of others, not more applicable to Timothy than to any ordinary convert. It is in these transient ami cursory allusions that the argument is best founded. When a writer dwells and rests upon. a point in which some coincidence is discerned, it may be doubted whether he himself had not fa- bricated the conformity, and was endeavouring to display and set it off. But when the reference is contained in a single word, unobserved perhaps by most readers, the writer passing on to other subjects, -as unconscious that he had hit upon a correspondency, or tmsolicitous whether it were remarked or not, we may be pretty well assured that no fraud was exercised, no imposition in- tended. No. V. Chap. iii. 10, 11. " But thou hast fully known my doctrine, manner .of life, purpose, faith, long- suffering, charity, patience, persecutions, afflic- tions, which came unto me at Antioch, at Iconium, at Lystra ; what persecutions I endured ; but out of them all the Lord delivered me." The Antioch here mentioned was- not Antioch the capital of Syria, where Paul and Barnabas resided "a long time;" but Antioch in Pisidia, to which place Paul and Barnabas came in their iirst apostolic progress, and where Paul delivered a memorable discourse, which is preserved in the thirteenth chapter of the Acts. At this Antioch the history relates, that the " Jews stirred up the devout and honourable women, and the chief men of the city, and raised perseciition against Paul and Barnabas, and expelled them out of their coasts. But they shook off the dust of their feet. against them, and came into Iconium .... And it came to pass in Iconium, that they went both together into the synagogue of the Jews, and so spake, that a great multitude both of the Jews and also of the Greeks believed; but the un- believing Jews stirred up the Gentiles, and made their minds evil-affected against the brethren. Long time therefore abode they speaking boldly iri the Lord, which gave testimony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hands. But the multitude of the city was divided ; and part held with the Jews, and part with the apostles. And when there was an assault made both of the Gentiles and also of the Jews, with their rulers, to use them despite/ully and to stone them, they were aware of it. and fled unto Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia, and unto the region, that lieth round about, and there they preached the Gospel .... And there came thither certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium, who persuaded the people, and having stoned Paul, drew him out of tlie city, supposing he had been dead. Howbeit, as the disciples stood round about him, he rose up and came into tlie city : and the next day he departed with Barnabas to 'Derbe : and when they had preached the Gos- pel to that city, and had taught many, they re- turned again to Lystra, and to Iconium, and to Antioch." This account comprises the period to which the allusion in the epistle is to be rcl'errcd. We have so far therefore a conformity between the history and the epistle, that St. Paul is asserted in the history to have suffered persecutions in the three cities, his persecutions ajt which nre appealed to in the epistle; and not only so, but to have suf- fered these persecutions both in immediate sue- EPISTLE TO TITUS. cession, and in the oriler in which the cities are mentioned in the epistle. The conformity also extends to another circumstance. In the apos.tolic history, Lystra and Derbe are commonly men- tioned" together : in the quotation from the epistle Lystra is mentioned, and not Derbe. And the distinction will appear on this occasion to be ac- curate ; for St. Paul is here enumerating his per- secutions: and although he underwent grievous persecutions in each of the three cities through which he passed to Derbe. at Derbe itself lie met with none : " The next day he departed," says the historian, "to Derbe; and when they had preached the Gospel to that city, anil had taught many, they returned again to Lystra." The epis- tle, therefore, in the names of the cities, in the order in which they are enumerated, and in the place at which the enumeration stops, corresponds exaetly with the history. But a second question remains, namely, how these persecutions were "known" to Timothy. or why the apostle should recall these in particu- lar to his remembrance, rather than many other persecutions with which his ministry had -been attended. When some time, probably three years, afterwards, (ride Pearson's Annales Paulinas.) St. Paul made a second journey through the same country, " in order to go again and visit the bre- thren in every city where he had preached the word of the Lord," we read", Acts, chap. xvi. 1, that, " when he came to Derhe and Lystra, be- hold a certain disciple was there named Timo- theus." One or other, therefore, of these cities, was the place of Timothy's alxxle. We read moreover that he was wett Mported of by the bre- thren that were at Lystra and Iconium; so that he must have been well acquainted with these places. Also again, when Paul came to Derbe and Lystra, Timothy was already a disciple : " Behold, a certain disciple was there named Timotheus." He must therefore have been con- verted before. But since it is expressly stated in the epistle, that Timothy was converted by St. Paul himself, that he was " his own son in the faith;" it follows that he must have been con- verted by him upon his former journey into those parts ; which was the very time when- the apostle underwent the persecutions referred to in the epis- tle. Upon the whole, then, persecutions at the several cities named in the epistle are expressly recorded in the Acts : and Timothy's knowledge of this part of St. Paul's history, which knowledge is appealed to in the epistle, is fairly deduced from the place of his abode, and the time of his con- version. It may farther be observed, that it is probable from this account, that St. Paul was Ln the midst of those persecutions when Timothy became known to him. No wonder then that the apostle, though in a letter written long afterwards, should remind his favourite convert of those scenes of affliction and distress under which they first met. Although this coincidence, as to the names of the cities, be more specific and direct than many which we have pointed out, yet I apprehend there is no iust reason for thinking it to be artificial : for had the writer of the epistle sought a coincidence with the history upon this head, and searched the Act* of the Apostles for the purpose, I conceive he would have sent us at once to Philippi and Thcssalonica, where Paul suffered persecution, and where, from what is stated, it may easily be gathered that Timothy accompanied him, rather Than have appealed to persecutions as known to Timothy, in the account of which persecutions Timothy's, presence is not mentioned ; it not be- ing till after one entire chapter, and in the history of a journey three years future to this, that Timo- thy's name occurs in the Acts of the Apostles for the first time. CHAPTER XIII. The Epistle to Titus. No. I. A VERY characteristic circumstance in this epistle, is the quotation from Epimenides, chap. i. 1-J: " One of themselves, even a prophet of their own, said, The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, slow bellies." I call this quotation characteristic, because no writer in the New Testament, except St. Paul, appealed to heathen testimony; and because St. Paul repeatedly did so. In his celebrated speech at Athens, preserved in the seventeenth chapter of the Acts, he tells his audience, that "in God We live, and move, and have our being ; as certain Isoof your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring." TOU yxf XMI J S'.'Sf KT/JtiV. The reader will perceive much similarity of manner in these two [>assages. The Teference in the speech is to. a heathen poet ; it is the same in the epistle. In the speech, the apostle urges his hearers with the authority of a poet of their own-; in the epistle he avails himself of the same ad- vantage. Yet there is a variation, which shows that the hint of inserting a quotation in the epis- tle was not, as it may be expqcted, borrowed from seeing the like practice attributed to St. Paul in the history ; and it is this, that in the epistle the author cited is called Aprophet^ " one of them- selves, even a prophet of their own." Whatever might be the reason for calling Epimenides a pro- phet : whether the names of poet and prophet were occasionally convertible; whether Epime- nides in particular had obtained that title, as Gro- tius seems to have proved; or whether the ap- pellation was given to him, in this instance as having delivered a description, of the Cretan cha- racter, which the future state of morals amtfng them verified : whatever was the reason (and any of these reasons will account for the variation, supposing St. Paul to have'been the author,) one point is plain, namely, if the epistle had been forged, and the author had inserted a quotation in it merely from having seen an example of the same kind in a speech ascribed to St. Paul, he would so far have imitated his original, as to have introduced his quotation in the same manner; that is, he would have given to Epimenides the title which he saw there given to Aratus. The other side of the alternative is, that the history took the hint from the epistle. But that the au- thor of the Acts of the Apostles had not the Epis- tle to Titus before him, at least that he did not use it as one of the documents or materials of his narrative, is rendered nearly certain by the obser- 222 HOR^E PAULINA. vation. that the name of Titus docs not once oc- cur in this book. It is well known, and was remarked by St. Je- rome, that the apophthegm in the fifteenth chap- ter of the Corinthians, " Evil communications corrupt good manners," is^ai iambic of Menan- der's: Here we have another unaffected instance of the same turn and habit 6f composition. Proba- bly there are" some hitherto unnoticed ; and more, which the loss of the original authors renders impossible to be now ascertained. No. II. There exists a visible affinity between the Epistle to Titus and the First Epistle to Timo- thy. Both letters were addressed to persons. left by the writer to preside in their respective churches during his absence. Both letters are principally occupied in describing the qualifications to be sought for, in those whom they should appoint to offices in the church ; and the ingredients of this description are in both letters nearly the same. Timothy and Titus are likewise-cautioned against the same prevailing corruptions, and in particular, against the same misdirection of their cares and studies. This affinity obtains, not only in the subject of the letters, which from the similarity of situation in the persons to whom they were addressed, might be expected to. be somewhat alike, but extends, in a great variety of instances, to the phrases and expressions. The writer ac- costs his two friends with the same salutation, and passes on to the business of his letter by the same transition. "Unto Timothy, my own son in the faith: Grace, mercy, and peace, from God our Father and Jesus Christ our Lord. As I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus, when I went info ^Ma- cedonia," &c. 1 Tim. chap. i. 2, 3. " To Titus, mine own son after the common faith : Grace, mercy, and peace, from God the Father and the Lbrd Jesus Christ our Saviour. For this cause left 1 I thee in Crete" Tit. chap i. 4, 5. If Timothy was not to " give heed to fables and endless genealogies, which minister ques- tions," 1 Tim. chap. i. 4, Titus also was to " avoid foolish 'questions, and genealogies, and; contentions," chap. iii. 9; and was o "rebuke them sharply, not giving heed to Jewish fables," chap. i. 14. If Timothy was to be a pattern, (T^O?,) 1 Tim. ch. iv. 12, so was Titus, chap. ii. 7. If Timothy was to " let no man despise his youth," 1 Tim. ch. iv. 12, Titus also was to let V no man despise him," chap. ii. 15. This verbal consent is also observable in some very peculiar expressions, which Imve no relation to the par- ticular character of Timothy or Titus. The phrase, "4t is a faithful saying" OKTTOJ* xoyo?) made use of to preface some sentence upon which the writer lays a more than ordinary stress, occurs three times in the First Epistle to Timothy, once in the Second, and once in the epistle before us, and hi no other part of St. Paul's writings ; and it is remarkable that these three epistles were probably all written towards the conclusion of his life; and that they are the only epistles which were written after his first imprisonment at Rome The same observation belongs to another sin tm- lanty of expression, and that is in the epithet sound" ( uy ,*,*,) as applied to words or doctrine. It is thus used, twice in the First Epistle to Ti- mothy, twice in the Second, and three times in the Epistle to Titus, besides two cognate expressions, vri* lv o V Tx; TV VHTTU and xo^ou u^'i ; and it is iound, in the same sense, in no other part of the .New Testament. The phrase, "God our Saviour," stands in nearly the same predicament. It is repeated three times in the First Epistle to Timothy, as many in the Epistle to Titus, and in no other book of the New Testament occurs at all, except once in the Epistle of Jude. Similar terms, intermixed indeed with others, are employed in the two epistles, in enumerating the qualifications required in those who should be advanced to stations of authority in the church. " A bishop must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach, not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre ; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous ; one that ruleth well his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity," * 1 Tim. chap. iii. 24. " If any be blameless, the husband of one wife, having faithful children, not accused of riot, or unruly. For a bishop must be blameless, as th steward of God; not self-willed, not soon angry, not given to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre ; but a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men. sober, just, holy, temperate," t Titus, chap, i.- 6 8. The most natural account which can be given of these resemblances, is to suppose that the two epistles were written nearly at the same time, and whilst the same ideas and phrases dwelt in the writer's mind. Let us inquire, therefore, whether the notes of time, extant in the two epistles, in any manner favour this supposition. We have seen that it was necessary to refer the First Epistle to Timothy to a date subsequent to St. Paul's first imprisonment at Rome, because there was no journey into Macedonia prior to that event, which accorded with the circumstance of leaving " Timothy behind at Ephesus." The journey of St.' Paul from Crete, alluded to in the epistle before us, and in which Titus " was left in Crete to set in order the things that were want- ing," must in like manner, be carried to the period which intervened between his first and second imprisonment. For the history, which reaches, we know, to the time of St. Paul's first imprison- ment, contains no account of his going to Crete, except upon his voyage as a prisoner to Rome ; and that thjs could not be the occasion referred to ;n our epistle is evident from hence, that when j-St. Paul wrote this epistle he appears to have seen at liberty : whereas after that voyage, he con- vfg*, v>^aX.ow, j -jivy., f " E( %'OV 'If EPISTLE TO PHILEMON. tinned for two years at least in confinement Again, it is agreed that St.. Paul wrote his first Epistle to Timothy from Macedonia: "As I be- sought thee to abide still at Ephesus, when 1 went (or came) into Macedonia." And that he was in these parts, i. e. in this peninsula, when he wrote the Epistle to Titus, is rendered probable by his directing Titus to come to him to Nicopolis: : 'When I shall send Artemas unto thee, or Tychicus, be diligent (make haste) to come unto me to Nicopolis : for I have determined there to winter." The .most noted city of that name was in Epirus, near to Actium. And I think the form of shaking, as well as the nature of the case, renders it probable that the writer was at Nicopolis, or in the neighbourhood thereof, when he dictated this direction to Titus. Upon the whole, if we may be allowed to supj>ose that St. Paul, after his liberation at Rome, sailed into Asia, taking Crete in his way; that from Asia and from Epliesus, the capital of that country, he proceeded into Macedonia, and crossing the peninsula in his progress, came into the neigh- bourhood of Nicopolis ; we have a route which falls in with every thing. Itexe.-utes the inten- tion expressed by the Aj>ostle of visiting Colosse and Philippi as soon as he should he set at liberty atRome. It allows him to leave " Titus at Crete,'" and " Timothy at Ephosus,as he went into Mace- donia :" and to write to both not long after from tin- peninsula of (i recce, and probably the neighbour- hood of Nicopolis: thus bringing together the dates of these two letters, and thereby accountiiiLT for that affinity l>etween them, both in subject and language, which our remarks have pointed out. I confess that t lie journey which we have thus traced out for St. Paul, is, in ;i ^n -it measure, hy- pothetic: but it .should .be observed, that it is a sprcies of consistency, which seldom- belongs to falsehood, to admit of an hvjxrthesis. which in- cludes a great number of indejxmdent circum- stances without contradiction. CHAPTER XIV. The Epistle to Philemon. No. I. THE singular correspondency between this epistle and that to the Colossians has boon remark- ed already. An assertion in the Epistle to the Colossians, viz. that " Onesimus -,vas one of them," is verified, not by any mention of Colosse, any the most distant intimation concerning the place of Philemon's abode, but singly by stating Onesi- mus to be Philemon's servant, and by joTning in the salutation Philemon with Archippus ; for "this Archippus, when we go back to the Euistle to the Colossians, appears to have heen an inhabitant of that city, and, as it should seem, to have held an office of authority in that church. The case stands thus. Take the Epistle to the Colossians alone, and no circumstance is discoverable which makes out the assertion, that Onesimus was "one of them." Take the Epistle to Philemon alone, and nothing at all appears concerning the place to which Philemon or his servant Onesimus belon;:'rt of'the ep. tie. Yet, in my opinion, the eharacter of St. Paul prevails in it throughout. The warm, affectionate, authoritative teacher is interceding with an absent friend lor a beloved convert. He, ur;;: s bis suit with an earnestness, befitting perhaps not so much the occasion, as the ardour and sensibility of his own mind. Here also, as every where, he shows himself conscious of the weight and dignity of hi* mission; nor does he-suffer Philemon for a mo- ment to forget it: "I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is convenient." He is careful also to recall, though obliquely, to Philemon's memory, the sacred obligation under which he had laid him, by bringing to him tho knowledge of Jesus Christ : " I do not say to thee how thou owest to me even thine own sell' be- sides." Without laying aside, therefore, the apos- tolic character, our author softens the imperative style of his address, by mixing with it every sen- timent and consideration that could move the heart of his correspondent. Aged and in prison, he is content tp supplicate and entreat. Oncsunus was rendered dear to him by his conversion and his services : the child of his affliction, and " minis- tering unto him in the bonds of the Gospel." This ought to recommend him, whatever had been his fault, to Philemon's forgiveness: "Receive him as myself, as my own bowels." Every thing, however, should be voluntary. St. Paul vv<;s de- termined that Philemon's compliance should flow from his own bounty : " Without thy mind would I do nothing, that thy benefit should not be as it were of necessity, but willingly;" trusting never- theless to his gratitude and attachment for the performance of all that he requested, and for more : "Having confidence in thy obedience, I wrote unto thee, knowing that thou wilt also do more than I say." St. Paul's discourse at Miletus ; his speech be- fore Agrippa ; his Epistle to the Romans, as hath been remarked, (No. VIII.) that to the Galatians, chap. iv. 11 20; to the Philippians, chap. i. 2!)- chap. it 2; the Second to the Corinthians, chap. vi. 1 13 ; and indeed some part or other of al- most every epistle, exhibit examples of a similar application to the feelings and a flections of the persons whom he addresses. And it is observable, that these pathetic effusions, drawn for the most part from his own sufferings and situation, usually precede a command, soften a rebuke, or mitigate the harshness of some disagreeable truth. CHAPTER XV. The Subscriptions of the Epistles. Six of these subscriptions are fiilse or improba- ble; that is, they are either absolutely contradicted by the contents" of the epistle, or arc difficult to be reconciled with them. I. The subscription of the First Epistle to the Corinthians states that it was written from Phi- lippi, notwithstanding that, in the sixteenth chap- ter and the eighth verse of the epistle, St. Paul informs the Corinthians that he will "tarry at Ephesus until Pentecost ;" and notwithstanding that he begins the salutations in the epistle by SUBSCRIPTIONS OF THE EPISTLES. 225 telling them " the churches of Asia salute you ; a pretty evident indication that he himself was in Asia at this time. II. The Epistle to the Galatians is by the sub- scription dated from Rome ; yet, in the epistle itself, St. Paul expresses his surprise "that they were so soon removing from him that called them ;" whereas his journey to Rome was ten years pos- terior to the conversion of the Galatians. And what, I think, is more conclusive, the author, though speaking of himself in tiiis more than any other epistle, does not once mention his bonds, or call himself a prisoner ; which he had not foiled to do in every one of the lour epistles written from that city, and durin^ that imprisonment. III. The First Epistle to the Thessalonians was written, the subscription tells us, from Athens ; yet the epistle refers expressly to the coming of Timotheus from Thessalonica, ch. iii. 6, and the history informs us, Acts xviii. 5, that Timothy came out of Macedonia to St. Paul at Corinth. IV. The Second Epistle to the Thessalonians is dated, and without any discoverable reason, from Athens also. If it be truly the second ; if it refer, as it appears to do, ch. ii. '2, to the first, and the first was written from Corinth, the place must be erroneously assigned, for the history does not allow us to suppose that St. Paul, after he had reached Corinth, went back to Athens. V. The First Epistle to Timothy the subscrip- tion asserts to have been sent from Laodicea ; yet, when St. Paul writes, " I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus, ^a^uoftivo} n$ M*iJovi*v (when I set out for Macedonia,") the reader is naturally led to conclude, that he wrote the letter upon his arrival in that country. VI. The Epistle to Titus is dated from Nico- polis in Macexlonia, whilst no city of that name is known to have existed in that province. The use, and the only use, which I make of these observations, is to show how easily errors and contradictions steal in where the writer is not guided by original knowledge. There are only eleven distinct assignments of date to St. Paul's Epistles (for the four written from Rome may be considered as plainly contemporary ;) and of these, six seem to be erroneous. I do not attribute. any authority to these subscriptions. I believe them to have been conjectures founded sometimes upon loose traditions, but more generally upon a con- sideration of some particular text, without suffi- ciently comparing it with other parts of the epistle, with different epistles, or with the history. Suppose then that the subscriptions had come down to us as authentic parts of the epistles, there would haw been more contrarieties and difficulties arising out of these final verses, than from all the rest of the volume. Yet, if the epistles had been forged, the whole must have been made up of the same elements as those of which the subscriptions are composed, viz. tradition, conjecture, and infer- ence : and it would have remained to be accounted for how, whilst so many errors were crowded into the concluding clauses of the letters, so much con- sistency should be preserved in other parts. The same reflection arises from observing the oversights and mistakes which learned men have committed, when arguing upon allusions which relate to time and place, or when endeavouring to digest scattered circumstances into a continued story. It is indeed the same case ; for these sub- scriptions must be regarded as ancient scholia, and 2F as nothing more. Of this liability to error I can present the reader with a notable instance ; and which I bring forward for no other purpose than that to which I apply the erroneous subscriptions. Ludovicus Capellus, in that part of his Historia Apostolica Illustrata, which is entitled De Ordine Epist. Paul., writing upon the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, triumphs unmercifully over the want of sagacity in Baronius, who, it seems, makes St. Paul write his Epistle to Titus from Macedonia upon his second visit into that pro- vince ; whereas it appears from tlie history, that Titus, instead of being at Crete, where the epistle places him, was at that time sent by the apostle from Macedonia to Corinth. " Animadvertere est," says Capellus, " magnam hominis illius <*SxsnJ/jv, qui vult Titum a Paulo in Cretam ab~ ductum, illicque relictum, cum hide Nicopolim navigaret, quern tamen agnoscit a Paulo ex Mace- donia missum esse Corinthum." This probably will be thought a detection of inconsistency in Ba- ronius: But what is the most remarkable is, that in the same chapter in which he thus indulges hia contempt of Baronius's judgment, Capellus himself falls into an error of the same kind, and more gross and palpable than that which he reproves. For he begins the chapter by stating the Second Epis- tle to the Corinthians and the First Epistle to Ti- mothy to be nearly contemporary : to have been both written during the apostle's second visit into Macedonia ; and that a doubt subsisted concerning the immediate priority of their dates : " Posterior ad eosdem Corinthios Epistola, et Prior ad Timo- theum certant de prioritate, et sub judice lis est; utraque autem scnpta est paulo postquam Paulus Epheso discessisset, adeoque dum Macedonian! peragraret, sed utra tempore prsecedat, nonliquet." Now, in the first place, it is highly improbable that the two epistles should have been written either nearly together, or during the same journey through Macedonia; for, in the Epistle to the Corinthians, Timothy appears to have been with St. Paul ; in the epistle addressed to him, to have been left behind at Ephesus, and not only left be- hind, but directed to continue there till St. Paul should return to that city. In the second place it is inconceivable, that a question should be proposed concerning the priority of date of the two epistles ; for, when St. Paul, in his Epistle to Timothy, opens his address to him by saying, " as I besought thee to abide still at Ephesus when I went into Macedonia," no reader can doubt but that he here refers to the last interview which had passed be- tween them ; that he had not seen him since ; whereas if the epistle be posterior to that to the Corinthians, yet written upon the same visit into Macedonia, this could not be true ; for as Timothy was along with St. Paul when he wrote to the Co- rinthians, he must, upon this supposition, have passed over to St. Paul in Macedonia after he had been left by him at Ephesus, and must have re- turned to Ephesus again before the epistle was writ- ten. What misled Ludovicus Capellus was simply this, that he had entirely overlooked Timothy's name in the superscription of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. Which oversight appears not only in the quotation which we have given, but from his telling us, as he does, that Timothy came from Ephesus to St. Paul at Corinth, whereas the superscription proves that Timothy was already with St. Paul when he wrote to the Corinthians from Macedonia. HOIIJE PAULINA. CHAPTER XVI. The Conclusion. IN the outset of this inquiry, the reader was di- rected to consider the Acts of tin? Apostles and the thirteen epistles of St. Paul as certain ancient manuscripts lately discovered in the closet of some celebrated library. We have adhered to this \ lew of the subject. External evidence of every kind has been removed out of sight ; arid our endeavours have been employed to collect the indications of truth and authenticity, which appeared to exist in the writings themselves, and to result from a com- parison of their different parts. It is not however necessary to continue this supposition longer. The testimony which other remains of contempo- rary, or the monuments of adjoining ages allbrd to the reception, notoriety, and public estimation of a book, form, no doubt, the first proof of its genuine- ness. And in no books whatever is this proof more complete, than in those at present under our consideration. The inquiries of learned men, and, above all, of the excellent Lardner, who never overstates a point of evidence, .and whose fidelity in citing his authorities has in no one instance been impeached, have established, concerning these writings, the following propositions : I. That in the age immediately posterior to that in which St. Paul lived, his letters were publicly read and acknowledged. Some of them are quoted or alluded to by almost every Christian writer that followed, by Clement of Rome, by Hernias, by Ignatius, by Polycarp, disciples or contemporaries of the apostles ; by Jus- tin Martyr, by the churches of Gaul, by Irenaeus, by Athenagoras, by Theophilus, by Clement of Alexandria, by Hermias, by Tertullian, who oc- cupied the succeeding age. Now when we find a book quoted or referredto by an ancient author, we are entitled to conclude, that it was read and received in the age and country in which that au- thor lived. And this conclusion does not, in any degree, rest upon the judgment or character of the author making such reference. Proceeding by this rule, we have, concerning the First Epistle to the Corinthians in particular, within forty years after the epiaJtle was written, evidence, not only of its being extant at Corinth, but of its being known and read at Rome. Clement, bishop of that city, writing to the church of Corinth, uses these words : " Take into your hands the epistle of the blessed Paul the apostle. What did he at first write unto you in the beginning of the Gospel 1 Verily he did by the Spirit admonish you concerning him- self, and Cephas, and Apollos, because that even then you did form parties."* This was written at a time when probably some must have been living at Corinth, who remembered St. Paul's ministry there and the receipt of the epistle. The testimony- is still more valuable, as it shows that the epistles were preserved in the churches to which. they were sent, and that they were spread and propa- gated from them to the rest of the Christian com- munity. Agreeably to which natural mode and order of their publication, Tertullian, a century afterwards, for proof of the integrity and genuine- ness of the apostolic writings, bids ' " any one, who is willing to exercise his curiosity profitably-in the business of their salvation, to visit the apostolical * See Lardner, vol. xii. p. 22. churches, in which their very authentic letters arj rc< ited, ips;u authentic^; liter.v eorum recitantur." Then he goes on: "Is Aehaia near you 1 You have Corinth. If you are not far from Macedonia, you have Philippi, you have Thessalonica. If you can go to Asia, you have Kphcsus; but if you are near to Italy, you have Rome."* 1 adduce this passage to show, that the distinct churches or Christian societies, to which St. Paul s epistles were sent, subsisted for some ages afterwards; that his several epistles were all along respectively read in those churches ; that Christians at large received ., them from those churches, and appealed to those churches for their originality and authen- ticity. Arguing in like manner from citations and al- lusions, we have, within the -space of a hundred and fifty years from .the time that the first of St. Paul's epistles was written, proofs of almost all of them being read, in Palestine, Syria, the countries of Asia Minor, in Egypt, in that part of Africa wliich used the Latin tongue, in Greece, Italy, and Gaul.T I do. not mean simply to assert, that with- in the space of a hundred and fifty years. St. Paul's* epistles were read in those countries, for I believe that they were read and circulated from the begin- ning ; but that proofs of their being so read occur within that period. And when it is considered how few of the primitive Christians wrote, and of what was written how much is lost, we are to ac- count it extraordinary, or rather as a sure proof of the extensiveness of the reputation of these writings, and of the general respect in which they were held, that so many testimonies, and of such antiquity, are still extant. " In the remaining works of Irenzeus, Clement of Alexandria, and Tertullian, there are perhaps more and larger quo- tations of the small volume of the New Testament, than of all the works of Cicero, in the writings of all characters for several ages."*- We must add, that all the epistles of Paul come in for their full share of this observation ; and that all the thirteen epistles, except that to Pliilemon, which is not quoted by Irenajus or Clement, and which proba- bly escaped notice merely by its brevity, are .seve- rally cited, and expressly recognised as St. Paul's by each of these Christian writers. The Ebion- itcs, an early though inconsiderable Christian sect, rejected- St. Paul and his epistles ; that is, they rejected these epistles, not because they were not, but because they were St. Paul's; and because, adhering to the obligation of the Jewish law, they chose to dispute his doctrine and authority. Their suffrage as to the genuineness of the epistles does not contradict that of other Christians. Marcion, an heretical writer in the former part of the second century, is said by Tertullian to have rejected three of the epistles which we now receive, viz. the two Epistles to Timothy and the Epistle to Titus. It appears to me not improbable, that Marcion might make some such distinction as 'this, that no apostolic epistle was to be admitted which was not read or attested by the church to which it was sent; for it is remarkable that, together with those epistles to private persons, he rejected also the catholic epistles. Now the catholic epistles and the epistles to private persons agree in the circum- stances of warning this particular species of attest- * Lardner, vol. ii. p. 505. t See Larrtiier's Recapitulation, vol. xii. p. 53. t Ibid, vol. xii. p. 53. $ Lardner, vol. ii. p. 808. THE CONCLUSION. 227 ation. Marcion, it seems, acknowledged the Epistle to Philemon, and is upbraided for his in- consistency in doing so by Tertullian,* who asks " why when he received a letter written to a sin- gle person, he should refuse two to Timothy and one to Titus combed upon the allairs of the church V This passage so far favours our account of Marcion'* objection, as it shows that the objec- tion was supposed by Tertullian to have been founded in something which belonged to the na- ture of a private letter. Nothing of the works of Marcion remains. Pro- bably he was, after all, a rash, arbitrary, licentious critic, (if he deserved indeed the name of critic,; and who offered no reason for his determination. What St. Jerome says of him intimates this. ;uul is besides founded in good sense: Shaking of him and Basilides, " If they assigned any reasons," says he, " why they did'not reckon these epistles," vi/. the First and Second to Timothy, and the Epistle to Titus, -to !>e the apostle's, we would have endeavoured to have answered them, and perhaps might have siitislird the reader: but when they take upon them, by their own authority, to pronounce one epistle, to !* Paul's and another not, they can only be replied to in the same man- ner.'^ Let it be remembered, however, tliut Mar- cion received ten of these epistles. I lis authority, therefore, even if his credit had been better than it is. forms a very small exception to the uniformity of the evidence." < >f 15asiiidcs we know still less than we do of Marcion. The same observation, however, belongs to him, viz. that his objection, as far as appears from this passage of St. Jerome, was confined to the three private epistles. Vet is this the onlv opinion which can IH> said to disturb the consent of the first two centuries oi the I 'hri.stian era: for as to Tatian. who is reported by Jerome alone to have rejected some of St. Paul's epistles, the extra vacant' or rather delirious notions into which he fell, take nwav all weight and credit from his judgment. If, indeed. Jerome's account of this circumstance be correct; for it appears from much older writers than Jerome, that Tatian owned and used many of these epistles.t . II. They, who in those ages disputed about so many other points, agreed in acknowledging the Scriptures now before us. Contending sects appealed to them in their controversies with equal and unreserved submission. When they were urged by one side, however they might he inter- preted or misinterpreted by the other, their autho- rity was not questioned. " Reliqui omnes," savs Irenaeus, shaking of Mareion, " falso scientirc nomine intlati, scnpturas quidem conlitenlur, in- terpretationes vero convertunt." III. When the genuineness of some other writings which were in circulation, and even of a few which are now received into the canon, was contested, these were never called into dispute. Whatever was the objection, or whether in truth there ever was any real objection, to the authen- ticity of the Second Epistle of Peter, the Second and Third of John, the Epistle of James, or that of Jude, or to the lx>ok of the Revelation of St. John; the doubts that, appeared to have Ixvn en- tertained concerning them, exceedingly strengthen the force of the testimony as to those writings about which there was no doubt ; because it shows. * Lardnor, vol. xiv. p. 455. t Ibid- vol. xiv. p. 458. J Ibid. vol. i.p. 313. Iren. advers. User, quoted by Lardncr, vol. xv. p. 425. that the matter was a subject, amongst the early Christians, of examination and discussion ; and that where there was any room to doubt, they did doubt. What Eusebius hath left upon the subject is directly to the purpose of this observation. Euse- bius, it is well known, divided the ecclesiastical writings which were extant in his time into three classes: the " xv*vTtppr,Tx, uneontnulicted," as ho calls them in one chapter; or, " scriptures uni- versally acknowledged," as he calls them in ano- ther : the " controverted, yet well known and ap- proved by many ; : ' and the " spurious." What were the shades of difference in the books of the second, or of those in the third class; or what it uas precisely that he meant by the term spurious, it is not n. -cessary in this place to inquire. It is sullicient for us to find, that the thirteen epistles of St. Paul are placed by him in the first class without ny sort of hesitation or doubt. It is farther also to be collected from the chap- ter in which this distinction is laid down, "that the metluxl made use of by TSusebius, and by the Christians of his time, viz. the close of the third century, in judging concerning the sacred au- thority of any l>ooks, was to inquire after and consider the testimony of those who lived near the a_'e of the Apostles."* I V. That no ancient writiiiLT. which is attested as these epistles are. hath had its authenticity dis- proved, or is in fact questioned. The controver- sies which have tn-en moved concerning sns|M-cted writings, as the epistles, for instance, of Phalaris, or the eighteen epistles of Cicero, begin by show- ing that this attestation is wanting. That being pn>\cd, the question is thrown Imck upon internal marks of spuriousness, or authenticity; and in these the dispute is occupied. In which disputes it is to be observed, that the contested writings are commonly attacked by arguments drawn from some opposition which they betray to "authentic history, to "true epistles." to the "real senti- ments or circumstances of the author whom they )H'rsonate ;''t which authentic history, which true epistles, which real sentiments themselves, are no other than ancient documents, whose early ex- istence and reception can be proved, in the man- ner in which the writings Ix-fore us are traced up to the age of their reputed author, or to ages near to his. A modern who sits down to compose the history of some ancient j>eriod, has no stronger e\ idence to appeal to for the most confident, asser- tion, or the most undisputed fact that he delivers, than writings, whose genuineness is proved by the same medium through which we evince the authenticity of ours. Nor, whilst he can have re- course to such authorities as these, does he appre- hend any uncertainty in his accounts, from the suspicion of spuriousness or imposture in his ma- terials. V. It cannot be shown that any forgeries, pro- pe'rly so called,* that is, writings published under the name of the person who did not coin pose them, made their appearance in the first century of the * Lardner, vol. viii. p. lt)6. t See the tracts written in the controversy between Tunstal ami Middleton upon certain suspected epistles ascribed to Cicero. I I believe, that there is a great deal of truth in Dr. I,ardner's observation, that comparatively fow of those bonks which we call apocryphal worn strictly and origi- nally forgeries. See Lardner, vol. xii. p. 167. HORJE PAULINA. Christian era, in which century those epistles un- doubtedly existed. I shall set down under this proposition the guarded words of Lardner him- self: " There are no quotations of any books of them (spurious and apocryphal books} in the apostolical fathers, by whom 1 mean Barnabas, Clement of Rome, Hernias, Ignatius, and Poly- carp, whose writings reach from the year of our Lord 70 to the year 108. / say this confidently, because I think it has been proved." Lardncr, vol. xii. p. 158. Nor when they did appear were they much used by the primitive Christians. " Irenaeus quotes not any of these books. He mentions some of them, but he never quotes them. The same may be said of Tertullian : he has mentioned a book called ' Acts of Paul and Thecla ;' but it is only to condemn it. Clement of Alexandria and Orioren have mentioned and quoted several such books, but never as authority, and sometimes with express marks of dislike. Eusebius quoted no such books in any of his works. He has mentioned them indeed, but how 1 Not by way of approba- tion, but to shew that they were of little or no value ; and that they never were received by the sounder part of Christians." Now if with this, which is advanced after the most minute and dili- gent examination, we compare what the same cau- tious writer had before said of our received Scrip- tures, " that in the works of three only of the above-mentioned fathers, there are more and larger quotations of the small volume of the New Tes- tament, than of all the works of Cicero in the writers of all characters for several ages;" and if with the marks of obscurity or condemnation, which accompanied the mention of the several apocryphal Christian writings, when they hap- pened to be mentioned at all, we contrast what Dr. Lardner's work completely and in detail makes out concerning the writings which we de- fend, and what, having so made out, he thought himself authorized in his conclusion to assert, that these books were not only received from the beginning, but received with the greatest respect ; have been publicly and solemnly read in the assemblies of Christians throughout the world, in every age from that time to this; early " translated into the languages of divers countries and people ; commentaries writ to explain and il- lustrate them ; quoted by way of proof in all ar- guments of a religious nature ; recommended to the perusal of unbelievers, as containing the au- thentic account of the Christian doctrine ; when we attend, I say, to this representation, we per- ceive in it not only full proof of the early no- toriety of these books, but a clear and sensible line of discrimination, which separates these from the pretensions of any others. The epistles of St. Paul stand particularly free of any doubt or confusion that might arise from this source. Until the conclusion of the fourth century, no intimation appears of any attempt whatever being made to counterfeit these writings ; and then it appears only of a single and obscure instance. Jerome, who flourished in the year 3!>'2, has this expression : " Legunt quidam et ad Lao- dicenses ; sed ab omnibus exploditur ;" there is also an Epistle to the Laodiceans, but it is rejected by every body.* Theodoret, who wrote in the year 423, speaks of this epistle in the same terms.t * Lardner, vol. x. p. 103. t Ibid. vol. xi. p. 88. Beside these, I know not whether any ancient writer mentions it. It was certainly unnoticed during the first three centuries of the church ; and when it came afterwards to be mentioned, it was mentioned only to show, that, though such a writing did exist, it obtained no credit. It is pro- bable that the forgery to which Jerome, alludes, is -the epistle which "we now have under th;it title. H'so, as hath been already observed, it is nothing more than a ' collection of sentences from the genuine epistles; and was perhaps, at first, rath* r the exercise of some idle pen, than any serious at- tempt to impose a forgery upon the public. Of an Epistle to the Corinthians under St. Paul's name, which was brought into Europe in the present century, antiquity is entirely silent. It was unheard of for sixteen centuries; and at this day, though it be extant, and was first ibund in the Armenian language, it is not, by the Chris- tians of that country, received into their Scrip- tures. I hope, alter this, that there is no reader who will think there is any competition of credit, or of external proof, between these and the re- ceived Epistles ; or rather, who will not acknow- ledge the evidence of authenticity to be con- firmed by the want of success which attended im- posture. When we take into our hands the letters which , the suffrage and consent of antiquity hath thus transmitted to us, the first thing that strikes our attention is the air of reality and bu- siness, as well as of seriousness and conviction, which pervades the whole. Let the sceptic read them. If he be not sensible of these qualities in them, the argument can have no weight with him. If he be ; if he perceive in almost every page the language of a mind actuated by real occasions, and operating upon real circumstances, I would wish it to be observed, that the proof which arises from this perception is not to be deemed occult or imaginary, because it is incapa- ble of being drawn out in words, or of being con- veyed to the apprehension of the reader in any other way, than by sending him to the books themselves. And here, in its proper place, comes in the ar- gument which it has been the office of these pases to unfold. St. Paul's epistles are connected with the history by their particularity, and by the nu- merous circumstances which are found in them. When we descend to an examination and com- parison of these circumstances, we not only ob- serve the history and the epistles to be indepen- dent documents unknown to, or at least uncon- sulted by, each other, but we find the substance, and oftentimes very minute articles, of the history, recognized in the epistles, by allusions and re- ferences, which can neither be imputed to design, nor, without a foundation in truth, be accounted for by accident; by hints and expressions, and single words dropping as it were fortuitously from the pen of the writer, or drawn forth, each by some occasion proper to the place in which it occurs, "but widely removed from any view to consistency or agreement. These, we know, are efl'ects which reality naturally produces, but which, without reality at the bottom, can hardly be conceived to exist. When therefore, with a body of external evi- dencej which is relied upon, and which experience proves may safely be relied upon, in appreciating the credit of ancient writings, we combine charac- THE CONCLUSION. 229 ters of genuineness and originality which are not found, and which, in the nature and order of things, cannot be expected to be found in spurious compositions ; whatever difficulties we may meet with in other topics of the Christian evidence, we can have little in yielding our assent to the fol- lowing conclusions : That there was such a per- son as St. Paul ; that he lived in the age which we ascribe to him ; that he went about preaching the religion of which Jesus Christ was the founder ; and that the letters which we now read were ac- tually written by him upon the subject, and in the course, of that his ministry. And if it be true that we are in possession of the very letters which St. Paul wrote, let us con- sider what confirmation they aiford to the Chris- tian history. In my opinion they substantiate the whole transaction. The great object of modern re- search is to come at the epistolary correspondence of the times. Amidst the obscurities, the silence, or the contradictions of history, if a letter can be found, we regard it as the discovery of a land- mark ; as that by which we can correct, adjust, or supply the imperfections and uncertainties of other accounts. One cause of the superior credit which is attributed to letters is this, that the facts which they disclose generally come out incidentally, and therefore without design to mislead the public by false or exaggerated accounts. This reason may be applied to St. Paul's epistles with as much jus- tice as to any letters whatever. Notliing could be farther from the intention of the writer than to record any part of his history. That his history was in fact made public by these letters, and has by the same means been transmitted to future ages, is a secondary and unthouuht-of effect. The sin- cerity therefore of the apostle's declarations cannot reasonably be disputed; at least we are sure that it was not vitiated by any desire of setting himself off to the public at large. But these letters fonn a part of the muniments of Christianity, as much to be valued for their contents, as for their origi- nality. A more inestimable treasure the care of antiquity could not have sent down to us. Ueside the proof they afford of the general reality of St. Paul's history, of the knowledge which the author of the Acts of the Apostles had obtained of that history, and the consequent probability that he was, what he professes himself to have been, a companion of the apostles ; beside the support they lend to these important inferences, they meet spe- cifically some of the principal objections upon which the adversaries of Christianity have thought proper to rely. In particular they show, I. That Christianity was not a story set on foot amidst the confusions which attended and imme- diately preceded the destruction of Jerusalem; when many extravagant reports were circulated, when men's minds were broken by terror and dis- tress, when amidst the tumults that surrounded them inquiry was impracticable. These letters show incontestably that the religion had fixed and established itself before this state of things took place. II. Whereas it hath been insinuated, that our Gospels may have been made up of reports and stories, which were current at the time, we may observe that, with respect to the Epistles, this is impossible. A man cannot write the history of his own life from reports; nor, what is the same thing, be led by reports to refer to passages and transac- tions in which he states himself to have been im- mediately present and active. I do not allow that this insinuation is applied to the historical part of the New Testament with any colour of justice or probability; but I say, that to the Epistles it is not applicable at all. III. These letters prove that the converts to Christianity were not drawn from the barbarous, the mean, or the ignorant set of men which the re- presentations of infidelity would sometimes make them. We learn from letters the character not only ef the writer, but, in some measure, of the persons to whom they are written. To suppose that these letters were addressed to a rude tribe, incapable of thought or reflection, is just as rea- sonable as to suppose Locke's Essay on the Hu- man Understanding to have been written for the instruction of savages. Whatever may be thought of these letters in other respects, either of diction or argument, they are certainly removed as far as possible from the habits and comprehension of a barbarous people. IV. St. Paul's history, I mean so much of it as may be collected from his letters, is so implicated with that of the other apostles, and with the sub- stance indeed of the Christian history itself, that I apprehend it will IK? found impossible to admit St. Paul's story (I do not speak of the miraculous part of it) to l)c true, and yet to reject the rest as fabulous. For instance, can any one believe that there was such a man as Paul, a preacher of Chris- tianity in the age which we assign to him, and not believe that there was also at the same time such a man as Peter and James, and other apos- tles, who had been companions of Christ during his life, and who after his death published anu avowed the same things concerning him which Paul taught! Judea, and especially Jerusalem, was the scene of Christ's ministry. The witnesses of his miracles lived there. St. Paul, by his own account, as well as that of his historian, appears to have frequently visited that city ; to have car- ried on a communication with the church there; to have associated with the rulers and elders of that church, who were some of them apostles ; to have acted, as occasions offered, in correspondence, and sometimes in conjunction with them. Can it, after this, be doubted, but that the religion and the general facts relating to it, which St. Paul ap- [>ear.s by his letters to have delivered to the seve- ral churches which ho established at a distance, were at the same time taught and published at Je- rusalem itself, the place where the business was transacted ; and taught and published by those who had attended the founder of the institution in his miraculous, or pretcndedly miraculous, minis- try? It is observable, for so it appears both in the Epistles and from the Acts of the Apostles, that Jerusalem, and the society of believers in that city, long continued the centre from which the mission- aries of the religion issued, with which all other churches maintained a correspondence and con- nexion, to which they referred their doubts, and to whose relief, in times of public distress, they remitted their charitable assistance. This obser- vation I think material, because it proves that this was not the case of giving our accounts in one country of what is transacted in another, without affording the hearers an opportunity of knowing whether the things related were credited by any, or even published^ in the place where they are re- ported to have passed. 20 230 HOR.E PAULINA. V. St. Paul's letters furnish evidence (and what better evidence 'than a man's own letters can be desired ?) of the soundness and sobriety of his judgment. His caution in distinguishing l>etween the occasional suggestions of inspiration, and the ordinary exercise of his natural understanding, is without example in the lu'story of human enthu- siasm. His morality is every where calm, pure, and rational; adapted to the condition, the activity, and the business of social life, and of its various relations; free from the overscrupulousness and austerities of superstition, and from what was more perhaps to be apprehended, the abstractions of quietism, and the soarings and extravagancies of fanaticism. His judgment concerning a hesi- tating conscience; his opinion of the moral inditle- rency of many actions, yet of the prudence and even the duty of compliance, where non-compli- ance would produce evil effects upon the minds of the persons who observed it, is as correct and just as the most liberal and enlightened moralist could form at this day. The accuracy of modern ethics has found nothing to amend in these determina- tions. What Lord Lyttleton has remarked of the pre- ference ascribed by St. Paul to inward rectitude of principle above every other religious accomplish- ment, is very material to our present purpose. "In his First Epistle to the Corinthians, chap. xiii. 13, St. Paul has these words : Though I speak with the tongue of men and of angels, and have not charity, 1 am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge ; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it pro- Jitcth me nothing. " Is this the language of en- thusiasm 1 Did ever enthusiast prefer that uni- versal benevolence which comprehendeth all moral virtues, and which, as appeareth by the following verses, is meant by charity here ; . did ever enthu- siast, I say, prefer that benevolence" (which we may add is attainable by every man) " to faith and to miracles, to those religious opinions which he had embraced, and to those supernatural graces and gifts which he imagined he had acquired ; nay, even to the merit of martyrdom 1 Is it not the genius of enthusiasm to set moral virtues infinitely below the merit of faith ; and of all moral virtues to value that least which is' most particularly en- forced by St. Paul, a spirit of candour, moderation, and peace 7 Certainly neither the temper nor the opinions of a man subject to fanatic delusions are to be found in this passage." Ltord Lyttleton's Considerations on the Conversion, . " We ourselves glory in you in the churches of God, for your patience and faith in all your perse- cutions and tribulations that ye endure," 2 Thess. chap. i. 4. We may seem to have accumulated texts un- necessarily; but beside that the point which they are brought to prove is of great importance, there is this also to l>e remarked in every one of the passages cited, that the allusion is drawn from the writer by the argument or the occasion ; that the notice which is taken of his sufferings, and of the suffering condition of Christianity, is perfectly in- THE CONCLUSION. 231 cidcntal, and is dictated by no design of stating the tacts themselves. Indeed they are not stated at all; they may rather be said to be assumed. This is a distinction upon which we have relied a good deal in former parts of this treatise ; and. where the writer's information cannot be doubted, it always, in my opinion, adds greatly to the value and credit of the testimony. If any reader require from the apostle more di- rect and explicit assertions of the same thing, he will receive full satisfaction in the following oth hunger and thirst, and are naked, and arc buffeted, and ha\e no certain dwelling-place; and labour, working with our own hands: being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it; being defamed, we entreat: we are made as the filth of the earth, and are the offscouring of all things unto this day," 1 Cor. ch. iv. 9 13. 1 subjoin this passage to the former, because it extends to the other apostles of Christianity much of that which St. Paul de- clared concerning himself. In the following quotations, the reference to the authorls sufferings is accompanied with a specifi- cation of time and place, and with an appeal for the truth of what he declares to the knowledge of the persons whom he addresses : " Even after that we had suffered before, and were shamefully en- treated, as ye know, at Philippi, we were bold in our God to speak unto you the Gospel of God with much contention," 1 Thess. ch. ii. 2. " But thou hast fully known my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, long-suffering, per-, sccutions, afflictions, which came unto me at An- tioch, at Iconium, at Lystra : what persecutions I endured : but out of them all the Lord delivered me," 2 Tim. ch. hi. 10, 11. I apprehend that to this point, as far as the tes^ timony of St. Paul is credited, the evidence from his letters is complete and full. It appears under every form in which it could appear, by occasional allusions and by direct assertions, by general de- clarations, and by specilic examples. VII. St. Paul in these letters asserts, in posi- tive and unequivocal terms, his performance of miracles strictly and properlvso called. " He therefore that ministereth te you the Spirit, and worketh miracles (v^yv*pn a-nftituv x*i Tt e <*To>v,) by the power of the Spirit of God : so that from Jerusalem, and round about unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the Gospel of Christ," Rom. ch. xv. 18, 1!). " Truly the signs of an apostle were wrought among you in all patience, in signs and wonders and mighty deeds," (>v o-if^sjojg x* Ti^aa-* x Svy*- (*:e known that they are ever employed to express any thing else. Secondly, these words not only, denote mira- cles as opposed to natural effects, but they denote usible, and what may be called external, miracles, as distinguished, First, from inspiration. If St. Paul had meant to refer only to secret illuminations of his under- standing, or secret influences upon his- will or affections, he could not, with truth, have repre- sented them as " signs and wonders wrought by him," or " signs and wonders and mighty deeds wrought amongst thorn." Secondly, from visions. These would not, by any means, satisfy the force of the terms, '.-ii.nis, wonders, and mighty deeds;" still less could they be said to be "wrought by him," or "wrought amongst them:" nor are these terms and expres- sions any where applied to visions. When our author alludes to the supernatural communica- tions which he had received, either by vision or otherwise, he uses expressions suited to the nature of the subject, but very different from the words which we have quoted. He calls them revelations, but never signs, wonders, or mighty deeds. " I will come," says he, " to visions and revelations of the Lord ;" and then proceeds to describe a particular instance, and afterwards adds. " lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revela- tions, there was given me a thorn in the flesh." * i. e. ' I will speak of nothing but what Christ hath wrought by me ;" or, as Grotius interprets it, "Christ hath wrought so great things by me, that I will not dare to say what In- hath not wrought." t To these may be added the following indirect allu- sions, which, though ifthcy had stood alone, i. e. with- out plainer texts in the saine writings, they might have been accounted dubious ; yet, when considered in con- junction with. the passages already cited, can hardly re- ceive any other interpretation than that which we give them. " My.speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of men v s wisdom, but in demonstration of the spirit and of power ; that your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God;" 1 Cor. ch. ii. 40. " The Gospel, whereof I was made a minister, accord- ing to the gift of the grace of God given unto me by the effectual working of his power," Ephes. ch. iii. 7. " For he* that wrought effectually in I'eter to the apostleship of the circumcision, the same was mighty IH me towards the Gentiles," Gal. ch. ii. 8. - " For our Gospel came not unto you in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Gkost, ami in mach assurance," 1 Thess. ch. i. 5. t Mark xvi. 20. Inike xxiii. 8. John ii. 11, 23; iii. 2 ; iv. 48, 54 ; xi. 49. Acts ii. 22 ; iv. 3 ; v. 12 ; vi. 8 ; vii. 16; xiv. 3; xv. 12. Heb. ii. 4. 233 HOllJE PAULINA. Upon the whole, the matter admits of no soft ening qualification, or ambiguity whatever. If St Paul did not work actual, sensible public nuradrs, he has knowingly, in these letters, borne his tes- timony to a falsehood. I need not add, that, in two also of the quotations, he has advanced his assertion in the face of those persons amongst whom he declares the miracles to have been wrought. Let it be remembered that the Acts of the Apos- tles described various particular miracles wrought by St. Paul, which in their nature answers to the terms and expressions which we have seen to be used by St. Paul himself. Here then we have a man of liberal attain- ments, and in other points of sound judgment, who had addicted his life to the service of the Gospel. We see him, in the prosecution of his purpose, travelling from country to country enduring every species of hardship, encountering every extremity of danger, assaulted by the populace, punished by the magistrates, scourged, beat, stoned, left for dead ; expecting, wherever he came, a renewal of the same treatment, and the same dangers, yet, when driven from one city, preaching in the next ; spending his whole time in the employment, sa- crificing to it his pleasures, hia ease, his safety ; persisting in this course to old age, unaltered by the experience of perverseness, ingratitude, preju- dice, desertion ; unsubdued by anxiety, want, labour, persecutions ; unwearied by long confine- ment, undismayed by the prospect of death. Such was St. Paul. We have his letters in our hands ; we have also a history purporting to be written by one of his fellow-travellers, and ap|>oar- ing, by a comparison with thrw letters, certainly to have been written by some person well ac- quainted with the transactions of his life. From the letters, as well as from the history, we gather not only the account which we have stated of him, but that he was one out of many who acted and suffered in the same manner ; and that of those who did so, several had been the companions of Christ's ministry, the ocular witnesses, or pre- tending to be such, of his miracles, and of his resurrection. We moreover find this same per- son referring in his letters to his supernatural con- version, the particulars and accompanying circum- stances of which are related in the history, and which accompanying circumstances, if all or any of them be true, render it impossible to have been a delusion. We also find him positively, and in ap- propriated terms, asserting that he himself worked miracles, strictly and properly so called, in sup- port of the mission which he executed ; the his- tory, meanwhile, recording various passages of his ministry, which come up to the extent of this as- sertion. The question is, whether falsehood was ever attested by evidence like this. Falsehoods, we know, have found their way into reports, into tradition, into books ; but is an example to be met with, of a man voluntarily undertaking a life of want and pain, of incessant fatigue, of continual peril ; submitting to the loss of his home and coun- ;ry, to stripes and stoning, to tedious imprison- ment, and the constant expectation of a violent death, for the sake of carrying about a story of what was false, and of what, if false, he must lave known to be so 1 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION IN VISITING THE SICK: CONTAINING, I. RULES FOR VISITING THE SICK. II. THE OFFICE FOR THE VISITATION OF THE SICK. III. THE COMMUNION OF THE SICK. IV. A GREAT VARIETY OF OCCASIONAL PRAYERS FOR THE SICK; COLLECTED FROM THE WRITINGS OF SOME OF THE MOST EMINENT DIVINES OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND I TO WHICH ARE ADDED, THE OFFICES OF PUBLIC AND PRIVATE BAPTISM, WITH ADDITIONS AND ALTERATIONS. PREFACE. THIS collection has been so much esteemed, that it has passed through nine editions. Having now become exceedingly scarce, it was thought proper to reprint it. The rules for Visiting the Sick, in five sections, are extracted chiefly from the works of Bishop Taylor. The Occasional Prayers are taken from the devotional tracts of Bishop Patrick, Mr. Ket- tlewcll, and other pious and judicious divines. But in this Edition, the antiquated style of those writers is corrected and improved ; at the same tune, a spirit of rational piety, and unaffected simpli- city, are carefully preserved. A prayer by Dr. Stonehouse, and four by Mr. Merrick, the celebrated translator of the Psalms, are added to the old collection. The offices of Public and Private Baptism, though no ways relating to the Visitation of the Sick, are retained ; as, in the present form, they will be convenient for the Clergy in the course of their parochial duty. CANON LXVII. MINISTERS TO VISIT THE SICK. WHEN any person is dangerously sick in any parish, the minister or curate, having knowledge there- of, shall resort unto him, or her, (if the disease be not known, or probably suspected to be infectious,"', to instruct and comfort them in their distress, according to the order of Communion, if he be no preacher ; oj, if he be a preacher, then as he shall think most needful and convenient. IT is recommended to the Clergy to write out the prayers, which are to be used by the Sick them- selves, or by the persons whose devotions they wish to assist, and to leave the copies with them. 2G 233 20* THE MANNER OF VISITING THE SICK; ASSISTANCE THAT IS TO BE GIVEN TO SICK AND DYING PERSONS BY THE MINISTRY OF THE CLERGY. SECTION I. IN all the days of our spiritual warfare, from our baptism to our burial, God has appointed hi servants the ministers of the church, to supply th necessities of the .people, by ecclesiastical duties and prudently to guide, and carefully to judg concerning, souls committed to their charge. And, therefore, they who all their lifetime de rive blessings from the Fountain of Grace, by th channels of ecclesiastical ministers, ought then more especially to do it in the time of their sick ness, when their needs are more prevalent, accord ing to that known apostolical injunction: "I any man sick among you, let him send for thi elders of the church, and let them pray ove him," &c. The sum of the duties and offices, respectivel) implied in these words, may be collected from the following rules. SECTION II. Rules for the Manner of Visiting the Sick. 1. LET the minister be sent to, not when the sick is in the agonies of death, as it is usual to do but before his sickness increases too much upon him : for when the soul is confused and disturbed by the violence of the distemper, and death begins to stare the man in the face, there is little reason to hope for any good effect from the spiritual man's visitation. For how can any regular administra- tion take place, when the man is all over in a dis- order 1 how can he be called upon to confess his sins, when his tongue falters, and his memory fails him 1 how can he receive any benefit by the prayers which are offered up for him, when he is not able to give attention to them ? or how can he be comforted upon any sure grounds of reason or religion, when his reason is just expiring, and all his notions of religion together with it 1 or when the man, perhaps, had never any real sentiments of religion before 1 It is, therefore, a matter of sad consideration, that the generality of the world look upon ,the minister, in the time of their sickness, as'the sure forerunner of death; and think his office so much relates to another world, that he is not to be treated with, as long as there is any hope of living in this. Whereas it is highly requisite the minister be sent for, wherr the sick person is able to be conversed with and instructed; and can understand, or be taught to understand, the case of his soul, and the 234 rules of his conscience, and all the several bearings of religion, with respect to God, his neighbour and himself. For to prepare a soul for its change is a work of great difficulty ; and the intercourses of the minister with the sick have so much variety in them, that they are not to be transacted at once. Sometimes there is need of special reme- dies against impatience, and the fear of death ; not only to animate, but to make the person desirous and willing to die. Sometimes it is requisite to awaken the conscience by " the terrors of the Lord ;" to open by degrees all the labyrinths of sin (those innumerable windings and turnings which insensibly lead men into destruction,) which the habitual sensualist can never be able to disco- ver, unless directed by the particular grace of God, and the assistance of a faithful and ju- dicious guide. Sometimes there is need of the balm of comfort, to pour in " oil and wine" (with the good Samaritan) into the bleeding wound, by representing the tender mercies of God, and the love of his Son Jesus Christ, to mankind: and at other times it will be necessary to "reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with all long suffering and doctrine :" so, that a clergyman's duty, in the vi- sitation of the sick, is not over at once : but at one time he must pray ; at another, he must assist, advise, and direct ; at another, he must open to him the nature of repentance, and exhort him to a confession of his sins, both to God and man, in all those cases which require it : and, at another time, he must give him absolution, and the sacra- ment of the body and blood of our Lord. And, indeed, he that ought to watch all the periods of his life, in the days of his health, lest ie should be surprised and overcome, had need, when he is sick, be assisted and called upon, and reminded of the several parts of his duty in every nstant of his temptation. The want of this makes the visitations of the clorr himself should be supplied by the charitable care of his guide, who is in such a case to speak more to God for him than to talk to him : " prayer of the righteous," when it is " fervent," hath a promise to "prevail much in behalf of the sick" person : but exhortations must prevail by their own proper weight, and not by the paesion of the speaker; and, therefore, should be offered when the sick is able to receive them. And even in this assistance of prayer, if the sick man joins with the minister, the prayers should l>e short, fervent, and ejaculatory, apt rather to comply with his weak condition, than wearisome to his spirits, in tedious and long offices. But in case it api>e;irs he hath sufficient strength to go along with the minister. he is then more at liberty to offer up long petitions for him. After the minister hath made this preparatory entrance to this work of much time and deli- beration, he may descend to the particulars of his duty, in the following method. SECTION III. Of instructing the sick Man in the nature of Repentance, and Confession of his Sins. THE first duty to be rightly stated to the sick man, is that of repentance ; in which the minister cannot be more serviceable to him than by laying before him a regular scheme of it, and exhorting him at the same time to a free and ingenuous de- claration of the state of his soul. For unless t hey know the manner of his life and the several kinds and degrees of those sins which require his peni- tential sorrow or restitution, either they can do nothing at all, or nothing of advantage and certain- ty. Wherefore the minister may move him to this in the following manner : Arguments and Exhortations to more the sick Man to Repentance, and Confession of his Sins. 1. That repentance is a duty indispensably ne- cessary to salvation. That to this end, all the preachings and endeavours of the prophets and apostles are directed. That our Saviour " came down from heaven," on purpose " to call sinners to repentance."* That as it is a necessary duty at all times, so more especially in the time of sick- ness, when we are commanded in a particular manner to " set our house in order." That it is a work of great difficulty, consisting in general of a " change of mind," and a " change of life." Upon which account it is called in Scripture, " a state of regeneration, or new birth ;" a " conversion from sin to God;" a " being renewed in the spirit of our minds;" a " putting off the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lasts of the flesh," and a " putting on the new man, which is created in righteousness and true holiness." That so great a change as this, is not to be effected at * Matt. ix. 13. once, but requires the utmost self-denial and reso- lution to put it in execution, consisting in general of the following particulars: 1. A sorrowful sense of our sins: 2. An humble confession of them : 3. An unfeigned abhorrence and forsaking of them, and turning to the Lord our God with all our hearts: 4. A patient continuance in well- doing to the end of our lives. These are the constituent and essential parts of a true repentance; which may severally be dis- played from the following motives of reason and Scfipture ; as opportunity shall serve, and the sick man's condition permit. The first .part of a true repentance is a sorrow- ful sense of our sins, which naturally produceth this good effect, as we may learn from St. Paul, (2 Cor. vii. 10,) where he teils us. that " godly sor- row worketh repentance." Without it, to be sure, there can be no such thing ; for how can a man repent of that wlu'ch he is not sorry for 1 ? or, how can any one sincerely ask pardon and for- giveness for what he is not concerned or troubled about 1 A sorrowful sense, then, of our sins, is the first part of a true re|)entance, the necessity whereof may be seen from thejnievpus and abominable nature of sin ; as, 1. That it made so wide a se- paration U-twixt God and man, that nothing but the blood of his only begotten Son could suffice to atone for its intolerable guilt : 2. That it carries along with it the/ basest ingratitude, as being done against our heavenly Father, " in wjiom we live, and move, and have our being :" 3. That the con- sequence of it is nothingness than eternal ruin, in that "the wrath of God is revealed against all impenitent sinners;" and "the wages of sin is death," not only temporal but eternal From these and the like considerations, the penitent may further learn, that to be sorry for our sins is a great and important duty. That it does not consist in a little trivial concern, a super- ficial sigh, or tear, or calling ourselves sinners, &c. but in a real, ingenuous, pungent, and afflicting sorrow : for, can that which cast our parents out of Paradise at first, that brought down the Son of God afterwards from heaven, and put him at last to such a cruel and shameful death, be now thought to be done away by a single tear or a groan 1 Can so base a piece of ingratitude, as re- helling against the Lora of glory, who gives us all we have, be supposed to be pardoned by a slender submission ? Or can that which deserves the tor- ment of hell, be sufficiently atoned for by a little indignation and superficial remorse 1 True repentance, therefore, is ever accompanied with a deep and afflicting sorrow ; a sorrow that will make us so irreconcilable to sin, as that we shall choose rather to die than to live in it. For so the bitterest accents of grief are all ascribed to a true repentance in Scripture ; such as a " weep- ing sorely," or " bitterly;" a " weeping day and night;" a "repenting in dust and ashes;" a "putting on sackcloth;" "fasting and prayer," &c. Thus holy David : " I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly, I go mourning all the day long, and that by reason of mine- iniquities, which are gone over my head, and, as a heavy burden, are too heavy for me to bear:" Ps. xxxviii. 4, 6. Thus Ephraim could say : " After that I was instructed, I smote upon my thigh : I was ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I did bear the re- proach of my youth:" Jer. xxxi. 19. 236 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION. And this is the proper satisfaction for sin which God expects, and hath promised to accept; as, Ps. Ii. 17: " The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit : a broken and contrite heart. O God, thou wilt not despise." ^ ' 2. The next thing requisite in a true repent- ance, is confession of sins, which naturally fol- lows the other ; for if a man be so deeply afflicted with sorrow for his sins, he will be glad to be rid of them as soon as he can ; and the way for this, is humbly to confess them to God, who hath pro- mised to forgive us if we do. " I said, I will con- fess my sins unto the Lord," saith the Psalmist; "and so thou forgavest the wickedness of my sin," Ps. xxxii. 6. So, Prov. xxviii. 13, and 1 John i. 9: "If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." So the re- turning prodigal went to his father with an hum- ble confession of his baseness, and was received into favour again. Luke xv. 18, 19. And because the number of our sins are like the hairs of our head, or the sand of the sea, and almost as various too in their kinds as their num- bers ; confession must needs be a very extensive duty, and require the strictest care and examina- tion of ourselves : for " who can tell how oft he ofiendethT' saith David; " O, cleanse thou me from my secret faults!" The penitent, therefore, should be reminded, that his confession be as minute and particular as it can ; since the more particular the confession is, to be sure, the more sincere and safe the re- pentance. 3. A third thing requisite in a true repentance, is an unfeigned abhorrence and forsaking of sin, and turning to the Lord our God with all our hearts. For so we find them expressly joined together by St. Paul, when he charges those whom by vision he was sent to convert, to change* their mind, and " turn to God, and do Works meet for repentance :" Acts xxvi. 20. And a little before, he says, he was sent " to open their eyes, and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive for- giveness of sin :" ver. 18. And we shall always find, when we are commanded to cease from evil, it is in order to do good. The penitent, therefore, must be reminded, not only to confess and be sorry for his sins, but like- wise to forsake them. For it is he only " who con- fesseth and forsaketh his sins, that shall have mercy :" Prov. xxviii. 13. And this forsaking must not be only for the present, during his sickness, or for a week, a month, or a year ; but for his whole life, be it never so protracted: which is the 4. Last thing requisite in a true repentance, viz. " a patient continuance hi well-doing to the end of our lives." For as the holy Jesus assures us, that " he that endureth unto the end shall be saved ;" so does the Spirit of God profess, that " if any man draw back, his soul shall have no pleasure in him:" Heb. x. 38. Hence we are said to " be partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast to the end," Heb. iii. 14, but not else; for it is to "him only that overcometh, and keepeth his works to the end," that our Saviour hath promised a reward : /UITVOHV. Rev. ii. 26. Hence our religion is said to be a continual warfare, and we must be constantly M pressing forward toward the mark of our high calling," with the apostle, lest we fail of the prize. And this it is which makes a death-bed re- pentance so justly reckoned to be very full of hazard ; such as none who defer it till then, can depend upon with any real security. For let a man be never so seemingly penitent in the day of his visitation, yet none but God can tell whether it be sincere or not ; since nothing is more com- mon than for those who expressed the greatest signs of a lasting repentance upon a sick bed, to forget all their vows and promises of amendment, as soon as God had removed the judgment, and restored them to their former health. " It hap- pened to them according to the true proverb," as St. Peter says, " The dog is turned to his own vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire," 2 Pet. ii. 22. The sick penitent, therefore, should be often reminded of this: that nothing will be looked upon as true repentance, but what would ter- minate in a holy life : that, therefore, he ought to take great heed, that his repentance be not only the effect of his present danger, but that it be last- ing and sincere, "bringing forth works meet for repentance," should it please God mercifully to prove him by a longer life. But here it is much to be feared, that after all his endeavours to bring men to a sight of them- selves, and to repent them truly of their sins, the spiritual man will meet with but very little en- couragement : for if we look round the world, we shall find the generality of men to be of a rude indifference, and a seared conscience, and mightily ignorant of their condition with respect to another world, being abused by evil customs and princi- ples, apt to excuse themselves, and to be content with a certain general and indefinite confession ; so that if you provoke them never so much to acknowledge their faults, you shall hardly ever extort any thing farther from them than this, viz. "That they are sinners, as every man hath his infirmity, and they as well as any ; but, God be thanked, they have done no injury to any man, but are in charity with all the world." And, per- haps they will tell you, "they are no swearers, no adulterers, no rebels, &c. but that, God forgive them, they must needs acknowledge themselves to be sinners in the main," &c. And if you can open their breasts so far, it will be looked upon as sufficient; to go any farther, will be to do the office of an accuser, not of a friend. But, which is yet worse, there arc a great many persons who have been so used to an habitual course of sin, that the crime is made natural and necessary to them, and they have no remorse of conscience for it, but think themselves in a state of security very often when they stand upon the brink of damnation. This happens in the cases of drunkenness and lewd practices, and luxury, and idleness, and inisspeiKlinir of the sabbath, and in lying and vain jesting, and slandering of others; and particularly in such evils as the laws do not aunish, nor public customs shame, but which ire countenanced by potent sinners, or wicked fashions, or good-nature and mistaken civilities. In these and the like cases, the spiritual man must endeavour to awaken their consciences by such means as follow : IN VISITING THE SICK. 237 Arguments and general Heads of Discourse, by way of Consideration, to awaken a stupid Conscience, and the careless Sinner. 1 . And here let the minister endeavour to affect his conscience, by representing to him, That Christianity is a holy and strict religion : that the promises of heaven are so great, that it is not reasonable to think a small matter and a little duty will procure it for us : that religious persons are always the most scrupulous; and that lo feel nothing, is not a sign of life, but of death: that we live in an age in which that which is called and esteemed a holy life, in the days of the apos- tles and primitive Christianity would have been esteemed indifferent, sometimes scandalous, and always cold: that when we ha\e "done our best, all our righteousness is but as filthy rags;" and we can never do too much to make our " calling and election sure:" that every good man ought to be suspicious of himself, fearing the worst, that he may provide for the l>est: that even St. Paul, and several other remarkable saints, had at some times great apprehensionsof failing of the "mighty prize of their high calling:" that we are com- manded to '' work out our salvation with Irar and trembling;" inasmuch as we shall lie called to an account, not only for our sinful words and deeds. but even for our very thoughts: that if we keep all the commandments of ( Jod, and ' yet offend in one point, (i.e. wilfully and habitually,) we are guilty of all," James ii. 10: that no man can tell how oft he offendelh. the best of lives lieing full of innumerable blemishes in the sight of God, how- ever they may apjwar before men; that no man ought to judge of the ^late <>f his soul by the cha- racter he has in thr world ; ti-r a ':n\it many |x>r- sons go to hell, who have lived in a fair reputation here; and a great many, on the other hand. go to heaven, who have Itccii loaded with infamy and reproach: that the work of religion is a work of great difficulty, trial, and temptation: that "many are called, but few are chosen ;" that " strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth to life, and few there be that find it:" and lastly, that. "if the righteous themselves shall scarcely be saved, ' there will lx> no place for t he unrighteousand sinner to apjiear in, but of horror and amazement. By these and such-Iike motives to consideration, the spiritual man is to awaken the careless sinner, and to bring him to repentance and confession of his sins ; and if either of himself, or by this means, the sick man is brought to a right sense of his condition : then, 2. Let the minister proceed to assist him in un- derstanding the number of his sins, i. e. the seve- ral kinds of them, and the various ways of preva- ricating with the Divine commandments. Let him make him sensible how every sin is aggravated, more or less, according to the different circum- stances of it; as by the greatness or smallness of the temptation, the scandal it gives to others, the dishonour it does to religion, the injury it brings along with it to those whom it more immediately concerns; the degrees of Ixildness and impudence, the choice in acting it, the continuance in it, the expense, desires, and habit of it, &c. 3. Let the sick man, in the scrutiny of his con- science and confession of his sins, be carefully re- minded to consider those sins which arc no w'here condemned but in the court of conscience : for t here are certain secret places of darkness, artificial Minds of the devil, which he uses to hide our sins from us, and to incorporate them into our affections, by the general practice of others, and the mistaken notions of the world: as, 1. Many sins before men are accounted honourable; such as lighting a duel, returning evil for evil, blow for blow, &c. 2. Some things are not forbidden by the law of man, as lying in ordinary discourse, jeering, scoff- ing, intemperate eating, ingratitude, circumvent- ing another in contracts, outwitting and overreach- ing in bargains, extorting and taking advantage of the necessities or ignorance of other people, im- portunate entreaties and temptations of persons to many instances of sin, as intemperance, pride, and ambition, &c.; all which, therefore, do strange- ly blind the understanding and captivate the affec- tions of sinful men, and lead them into a thousand snares of the devil which they are not aware of. 3. Some Bothers do not reckon that they sin against God, if the laws have seized upon the person : and many who are imprisoned for debt, think them- selves disengaged from payment ; and when they }iay the penalty, think they owe nothing for the scandal and disobedience. 4. Some sins are thought not considerable, but go under the titles of sins of infirmity, or inseparable accidents of mortality; such as idle thoughts, foolish talking, loose revi-llings. impatience, anger, and all the events of evil company. 5. Lastly ; many things are thought to he no sins : such as mispending of their time, whole days or months of useless or im- pertinent employment, long gaming, winning men's money in great portions, censuring men's actions, curiosity, equivocating in the prices of buy- ing and selling, rudeness in speech or behaviour, speaking uncharitable truths, and the like. These are some of those artificial veils and co- verings, under the dark shadow of which the ene- my of mankind makes very many to lie liid from themselves, blinding them with false notions of honour, and the" mistaken opinions and practices of the world, with public permission and impunity, or (it may be) a temporal penalty ; or else with prejudice, or ignorance and infirmity, and direct error in judgment. Now, in all these cases, the ministers are to be inquisitive, and strictly careful, that such kind of fallacies prevail not over the sick ; but that those tilings, which passed without observation before, may now 1x5 brought forth, and pass under the severity of a strict and impartial censure, religious sorrow, and condemnation. 4. To this may be added a general display of the neglect and omission of our duty ; for in them lies the bigger half of our failings > and yet, in many instances, they are undiscerned ; because our consciences have not been made tender and perceptible of them. But whoever will cast up his accounts, even with a superficial eye, will quickly find that he hath left undone, for the generality, as many things which he ought to have done, as he hath committed those he ought not to have done: such as the neglect of public or private prayer, of reading the Scriptures, and instructing his family, or those that are under him, in the principles of religion: the not discountenancing sin to the utmost of his power, especially in the personages of great -men: .the "not redeeming the time," and "growing in grace," and doing all the good he can in his generation : the frequent omissions of the great d^ty of charity, in visiting the sick, relieving the needy, and comforting the nlllicl ed : the want of obedience, duty, and respect to THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION parents: the doing the work of God negligently, or not discharging himself with that .fidelity, care, and exactness, which is incumbent upon him, in the station wherein the providence of God hath placed him, &c. 5. With respect to those sins which are. com- mitted against man, let the minister represent to the sick man that he can have no assurance of his pardon, unless he is willing to make all suitable amends arid satisfaction to hjs offended and in- jured brethren; as for instance, if he hath lived in enmity with any, that he should labour to be reconciled to them ; if he is in debt, that he should do his utmost to discharge it ; or if he hath injured any one in his substance or credit, that he should endeavour to make restitution in kind for the one, and all possibly satisfaction for the other, by hum- bling himself to the offended person, and beseech- ing him to forgive him. 6. If the sick person be of evil report, the minis- ter should take care, some way or other,' to make him sensible of it, so as to show an effectual sor- row and repentance. This will he best done by prudent hints, and insinuations, of recalling those things to his mind whereof he is accused by the voice of fame, or to which the temptations, perhaps, of his calling, more immediately subject him. Or if he will not understand, when he is secretly prompted, he must be asked in plain terms con- cerning these matters. He must be told of the evil things which are spoken of him in public, and And it concerns the minister to follow this ad- vice, without partiality, or fear, or interest, or re- spect of persons, in much simplicity and prudence, having no other consideration before him, but the conscientious discharge of his duty, and the salva- tion of the person under his care. 7. The sick person is likewise to be instructed concerning his faith, whether he has a reasonable notion of the articles of the Christian religion, as they are excellently summed up in the Apostle's Creed. 8. With respect to his temporal concerns, the sick is to be advised to set every thing in order, and (if he hath not already) to make his will as soon as he can. For if he recovers, this cannot be detri- mental ; but, if he dies, it will he of great comfort and satisfaction to him. And here it must be re- membered that he distribute every thing according to the exact rules of justice, and with snch a due care, as to prevent all law-suits and contentions for the future : and, if he be able, he is to be ad- monished to do something likewise out of charity, and for the sake of his poor brethren. 9. In all the course of his visitation, the minis- ter should frequently be exhorting the sick man to patience and a blessed resignation to the will .of God ; and not to look upon his sickness as barely the effect of second causes, but as inflicted on him by Divine Providence for several wise and good ends : As, for the trial of his faith ; the exercise of patience ; the punishment of his sins ; the amend- ment of his life ; or for the example of others, who, seeing his good behaviour in such a day of cala- mity, may glorify their Father which is in heaven : or else, that it is for the increase of his future wel- fare, in order to raise him the higher in glory hereafter, by how much the lower he hath l>een depressed here. 10. When the spiritual man hath thus dis- charged his duty, and the sick hath made himself capable of it, by a religious and holy conformity to all the forcnientioned particulars respecting his condition and circumstances, he may then give him the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. And it is the minister's ollice to invite sick and d\ine so great and permanent as their pleasure and satisfaction are in the things of the world. Now to such as have made religion tin- ureat business of their lives, who have endeavoured to cure those distracted thoughts they complain of, and to inflame their souls with divine lo\e, it mav be oliered, that the di lie rent degrees of ftffectioB with which men serve God, .do very often depend upon the difference of their tempers and constitu- tions ; since some are naturally so dull and heavy, as to be little atlirted with any thing ; whilst others are of such a tender make, as to be affected almost with every thinu. so as to be soon exalted with joy. or depressed with sorrow: that sickness, lossrs.aii.l all afflictions, and even religion itself, in its long and continual exercise of self-denial and thought- fulness, do naturally produce such a tenderness of spirit, that the best of men have never been able at all times to keep their affections at an equal height: that the zeal and warmth with which some are affected, is not always an argument of their goodness : that a sensible pleasure in religious exercises, wherein the passions are ailivtcd, is not so acceptable to God as a reasonable service : that distraction of thought in the service of God is owing, for the most part, to bodily weakness ; and therefore, if we do not give way to it, but do all we can to suppress those wandering thoughts, we may l)e assured we shall never be blamed for being subject to that which, by reason of the weakness of our nature, we cannot help : that the first mo- tions of our mind, as it is impossible to hinder them, are reckoned by all divines not to be sinful, provided we do not encourage them. 2. Some are extremely dejected, because, upon strict examination of themselves, they find, as they think, all their religion to be owing to their fears; and fear being a slavish and sordid passion, they are apt to conclude, that all those services which are not the result of a more noble principle, will be rejected by God, since as he is all love, and goodness, and perfection, he will not be pleased, they think, with any sacrifice, but what is offered by love. And to this sad purpose, some have intcrpeted Rev. xjd. 8, to belong to them, where the fearful are joined together with the most abominable, who shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone. To cure the depraved and unhappy notions of such as these, it may be argued : that it is plain from Scripture, that the first beginnings of, or movements towards, an holy life, are usually owing to the passion of fear : that to this, both our Saviour and his apostles do all along address themselves in their earnest entreaties of mankind to turn from the ways of sin to God. "Fear him," saith our Saviour, "who is able to destroy both soul and Ix.dy in hell." Matth. x. 28; so chap. vi. 15; Mark xvi. 1G. And to this purpose the apostle says, " Work, out your salvation with fear and trembling," Phil. ii. 12, and" 2 Cor. v. 11, " Know- ing the terrors of the Lord," saith he, "we per- suade men." And in most of the Scripture proofs, we shall find the chief argument of religion to be urged from a fear of punishment for the neglect thereof: so that to be dejected, and render our Uves comfortless on this account, were the most unrea- sonable extravagance; since this were to suppose, that God hath implanted tin- passion of fear in us in vain ; or, what is worse, only to vex and torment us ; and that our Saviour and liis apostles, persuad- iiiLT us to be religious from the terrorsof the Lord, had deceived and misled US. And as for that text, Rev. xxi. 8 " The fear- ful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and mur- derers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idol- aters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone," &c. it is plain, that bv the fearful in this place is meant, either such as refuse to embrace the Christian re- ligion, or who, having embraced it, are afraid to continue steadfast to the end, on account of the cross; and therefore cannot be supposed to have any reference to those who are " working out their salvation with fear and trembling," according to the direction of the Gospel. Not but that we are to intermix with this fear an^entire love and affec- tion to God, to the utmost of our powers. 3. Some very pious but unhappy persons, are grievously tormented with wicked and blasphem- ous thoughts, so as to fall under the greatest ago- nies of mind ; and often to be so near distraction, as to choose death rather than life. For the relief and comfort of these, the minister should suggest to them, that such horrid and fright- ful thoughts are either occasioned through melan- choly prevailing over their spirits, and disordering the frame of their minds ; or else from the malice of the devil, and the spirits of darkness, who do all they can to shake our faith, and to embitter the Christian life. If to the former we ascribe such horrid thoughts, they may be comforted upon assurance, that they will not be imputed to them as their sin, any more than a fever or any bodily distemper will, which they did not willingly procure, and which they have tried all means to remove. If to the latter, they may be encouraged rather to rejoice ;- as nothing is a greater sign of their being high in the favour of God, than when they are under the most violent temptations of the devil. " My brethren, count it all joy," saith St. James, " when ye fall into divers temptations ;" chap. i. 2. To that effect, they may be taught to consider, that the way to heaven is j ustly saidto be 240 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION by the gates of hell: that the "same afflictions are St. Peter to sift him as wheat;" Luke xxii. 31 that our Saviour himself was tempted by him, and the best of men have always been most obnoxious to his malice ; and that to live in carnal security, without any molestations from him, is the most dangerous state : that the being so much concerned and afflicted at such evil thoughts, is a certain ar- gument of a good disposition, since the wicked and profane are rather pleased than tormented with them. Arguments of this kind are the most proper to be oflered to such unhappy persons : but in case their faith and hope be totally overcome by the devil, and they fall into direct despair, it will be necessary then to endeavour the cure of so great an evil and temptation, by the addition of the fol- lowing exercise : An Exercise against Despair. Let the minister suggest to them, that God is not willing that any should perish, but desirous that all should come to his glory : that for this end we were created : that he is so far from being " ex- treme to mark what is done amiss," that he will not refuse the returning "prodigal, nor reject the worst of criminals, upon their sincere repentance : that the thief upon the cross is a demonstrable proof of this, and a standing example .to prevent the greatest sinner from despair : that if God is so merciful and condescending to the vilest transgress- ors, much rather may we hope to be pardoned for our weakness and infirmities : for he " knoweth where- of we are made, he remembereth that we are but dust:" nay, he hath assured us, that he " will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax :" that all sins shall be forgiven the sons of men, except one, which is the sm against the Holy Ghost ; " the sin Unto death," as Saint John calls it. But that no man commits a sin against the Holy Ghost, if he be afraid he hath, or desires that he may not ; for such penitential passions are against the very nature and definition of that sin : that al- though forgiveness of sins is consigned to us in baptism, and baptism is but ortce ; yet, forgiveness of sins being the special grace of the Gospel, it is secured to us for our life, and ebbs and flows ac- cording as we discompose or renew the perform- ance of our baptismal vow ; therefore it is certain, that no man ought to despair of pardon, but he who hath voluntarily renounced his baptism, or wil- lingly estranged himself from that covenant : that if it were not so, then all preaching and prayers were in vain, and all the conditions of the Gospel invalid, and there could be no such thing as repent- ance, nor indeed scarce a possibility of any one's being saved, if all were to be concluded in a state of damnation, who had committed sin after bap- tism. To have any fears, therefore, on this account, were the most extravagant madness : for Christ "died for sinners," and "God hath comprehended all under sin, that" through him -." he might have mercy upon all /' Rom. xi. 32. And it was con- cerning baptized Christians, that Saint John said, " If any man sin we have have an Advocate with the Father, and He is the propitiation for our sins ;" and concerning lapsed Christians, Saint Paul gave instruction, that " if any man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spirit u;il restore such a man in the spirit of meekness, considering lest ye also be tempted." The Corinthian Christian committed incest, and was pardoned: and Simon Magus, after he was baptized, oflered to commit the sin we call simony, and yet Peter bade him pray for pardon; and Saint James lells us, that "if the sick man send for the elders of the church, and they pray over him, and he confess his sins, they shall be forgiven him ;" chap. v. 14. That oven in the .case of very great sins, and great judgments inflicted upon sinners, wise and good men have .declared their sense to be, that God vindicated his justice in that temporal pu- nishment ; and so it was supposed to have been done in the case of Ananias, &c. : that nothing can be more absurd than to think that so groat and good a God, who is so desirous of saving all, as appears by his word, by his sending his Son, by his oaths and promises, by his very nature and daily overtures of mercy, should condemn any, without the greatest provocations of his majesty, and perseverance in them. Upon the strength of these arguments, the des- pairing person may be .further taught to argue thus with himself: I consider that the ground of my trouble is my sin; and were it not for that, 1 should have no reason to be troubled ; but since the " whole world lieth in wickedness," and since there cannot be a greater demonstration of a man's abhorrence of sin, than to be so deeply afiectcd with sorrow for it; I therefore will erect my hoad with a holy hope, and think that God will also be merciful to me a sinner, as he is to the rest of mankind. I know that the mercies of God are infinite ; that he sent his Son into the world on purpose to redeem such as myself; and that he hath repeatedly pro- mised " to give to them that ask, and to be found of them that seek him ;" and therefore I will not dis- trust his goodness, nor look upon the great God of heaven and earth to be worse than his word. Indeed, if from myself I were to derive my title to lieaven, then my sins were a just argument of despair : but now that they bring me to Christ, that they drive me to an appeal to God's mercy, ;hey cannot infer a just cause of despair. I am sure it is a stranger thing, that the Son of God should come down from heaven, and take upon Slim our nature, and live and die in the most ig- nominious state of it, than that a sinful man, washed by the blood of Christ, and his own tears and humiliation, should be admitted to pardon, and Bade " partaker of the kingdom of heaven :" and it were stranger yet, that he should do so much or man, and that a man that desires, that lalxmrs after it to the utmost of his power, that sends up strong cries and prayers, and is still within the covenant of grace, should inevitably miss that end for which our Saviour did and suffered so much. It is certain, that of all the attributes that be- ong to God, there is none more essential to his nature, and which he takes more delight in, than lis mercy ; and it is as certain also, there must be proper objects for this boundless and immense at- tribute of God ; and the most proper, if not only, objects of mercy in the creation, are the children of men ; and of men, surely those who are most Trieved and wearied with the burthen of their sins^ I, therefore, who am as pitiful an object of mercy as any, will cheerfully hope, that God IN VISITING THE SICK. 241 will both forgive me here, and give me the bless- ing of eternal life hereafter: for 1 know that eternal life is purely the gift of God, and there- fore have less reason still to despair. For if my sins were fewer, and my unworthiness of such a glory were less, yet still I could not receive it but as a free gift and donation of God, and so I may now ; and it is not expectation beyond the hopes of possibility, to look and wait for such a gift at the hands of the God of mercy. The best of men deserve it not ; and I, who am the worst, nray have it given me. 1 know that I have sinned grievously and frequently against my heavenly Father : but I have repented^ I have begged par- don, I have confessed and forsaken my sins, and have done all that is possible for me to make atonement. I cannot undo what is done ; and I perish, if there be no such thing as a remedy, or remission of sins. But then I know my religion must perish together with -my hope, and the word of God itself must fail us well as 1. But I cannot, I dare not entertain such a thought. I lirmly believe that most encouraging article of faith, the remission of sins ; and since I do that which all good men call repentance, I will also humbly hope for a remission of mine, and a joyful resur- rection. I know that the devil is continually lying in wait to seduce and destroy the souls of men ; wherefore I -will fortify my spirits, and redouble my guard, and call upon God to enable me to re- sist all the fiery darts of this malicious adver- sary. Or perhaps this exceeding dejection, or malady of mind, may arise from the distemper and weak- ness of my body ; or at most, I hope, it is only a disease of judgment, not an intolerable condition, I am fallen into : and since I have heard of a great many others who have been in the same condition with myself, and yet recovered, I will also take, courage to hope that God will relieve me in his good time, and not leave my soul for ever in this hell of depraved i'ancy and wicked imagin- ation. In fine, I will raise up my dejected spirits, and cast all my care upon God, and depend upon him for the event, which I am sure will be just ; and I cannot but think, from the same reason, full of mercy. However, now I will use all the spiritual arts of reason and religion, to make me more and more desirous of loving God: that if I miscarry, charity also shall fail, and somi-thiuji that loves God shall perish, and be damned: which if it be impossible (as I am sure it is,) then I may have just reason to hope I shall do well. These considerations may be of service to " bind up the broken hearted," and to strengthen the " bruised reed," of a good man's spirit, in so great and terrible a dejection. But as cases of this nature are very rare, so the arguments here made use of are rarely to be insisted upon ; and never, but to well-disposed persons, or reformed penitents, or to such as in the general course of their life. have lived pretty strictly, and conformably to the rules of religion. For if the man be a vicious person, and hath gone on in a continual course o sin, to the time of his sickness', these considera- tions are not proper. Let him inquire, in the words of the first disciples after Pentecost, "Men and brethren, what shall we do to be saved 1 And if we can but entertain so much hope, as t enable him to do as much of his duty as he can for the present, it is all that can be provided for 2H lim. And the minister must be infinitely careful, that he does not attempt to comfort vicious per- sons with the comfort of God's elect, lest he pros- itute holy things, and encourage viqe, and render us discourses deceitful ; and the man unhappily find them to be so when he descends into the re- nons of darkness. But because very few are tempted with too great fears of miscarrying r but the generality even of the most profligate sort, are rather inclined to unwarrantable assurances of their future salvation, it will highly concern the ministers to prevent in time so great and reigning an imposition of the devil. Wherefore, to the former considerations to awaken the careless sinner and a stupid conscience, the following may be added, upon . occasiort, to check the overweening thoughts of the presump- tuous. SECTION V. Considerations against Presumption. AND here, let the bold and arrogant 'sinner far- ther know, that a man cannot think too meanly of himself, but may very easily run into the con- trary extreme : that the growths in grace are long, difficult, uncertain, often interrupted, consisting of great variety, and almost innumerable parts and distinctions, which a careless person can never discover ; that the more a man presumes, the greater reason he hath to fear ; because the confidence of such men is generally like that of children and young people, who have no other reason, but that they understand not the dangers and follies-of their self-conceits : that " the heart of man is deceitful above all things, and des{x>ratrly wicked ;" deceiving, itself, and deceiving others, in innumerable instances ; and being often " in the gall of bitterness," when the man appears with the fairest outside to the world : that it is certain, all " have sinned and come short of fhe glory of God ;" but not so certain, that any one's repent- ance is real, and effective to, salvation : that virtue and vice are oftentimes so near neighbours, that we pass into each other's borders without observa- tion, and think we do justice, when we are cruel ; or call ourselves liberal, when we aie loose and foolish in our expenses, &c. That the self-accusing publican Was justified, rather than the self-confident Pharisee : that if Adam in Paradise, David in his house, Solomon in the temple, Peter in the family of Christ, Judas among the twelve apostles, and Nicholas among the deacons, and if the angels in heaven itself, did fall so atrociously, then we have all the reason in the world " not to be high minded, but to fear ;" and when we are most confident of ourselves, " to take heed lest we fall ;" there being nothing so likely to occasion it, as pride and a great opinion of ourselves, which ruined the angels, which God resists, which all men despise, and which betray us into carelessness, and a wretched, undiscerning, and unwary spirit. These are the main parts of ecclesiastical duties and offices in the visitation of the sick ; which being severally performed, as occasion requires, it remains only that the minister pray over the sick, and remind him to do all the 'good actions he is THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION capable of; to call upon God Cor par Jon ; to put his whole trust in him ; to be patient .and resigned ; and even to renounce every ill thought or word, or indecent action, which the violence of his sickness may have caused in him ; to beg of God to give him his Holy Spirit to guide him in his agony, and to send his holy angels to guard him in his passage. Whatsoever is besides this, concerns the stand- ers-by, that they do all in their respective offices diligently and temperately ; that they join in prayer with the minister, with much charity and devotion ; that they make no outcries or exclama- tions on the departure of the soul, nor any posi- tive judgment concerning the dying man, by his dying quietly or violently, with^ great fears or a cheerful confidence, with sense "or without, like a lamb or like a lion, with convulsions and terrible agonies, or like the silent and well-spent flame of an expiring taper. For these may happen seve- rally, according to the constitution of the persons, and the nature of the distemper thatbefalls them ; or else according as God pleases to dispense the grace, or the punishment, for reasons only known to himself. Let us lay our hand upon our mouth, and adore the mysteries of the divine wisdom and providence, and pray to God to give tlie dying man rest and pardon ; and to ourselves grace to live well, and the blessings of a holy and nappy death. . THE ORDER VISITATION OF THE SICK. When any Person is sick, notice shall be given thereof to the Minister of the parish, who coming into the sick Person's house, shall say, PEACE be to this house, and to all that dwell in it. When he cometh into the'sick man's presence, he shall say, kneeling down; REMEMBER not, Lord, our iniquities, nor the ini- quities of our forefathers. Spare us, good Lord, spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious ^lood, and be not angry with us for ever. Answ. Spare us, good Lord. Then the Minister shall say, Let us pray. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have nlercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us. OUR Father, which art in heaven ; Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our tres- passes, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead .us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. Amen. Minister. O Lord, save thy servant, Answer. Which putteth his trust in thee. Min. Send him help from thy holy place; Ans. And evermore mightily defend him. Min. Let the enemy have no advantage of him; Answ. Nor the wicked approach to hurt him. Min. Be unto him, O Lord, a strong tower, Answ. Fromthe face of his enemy. Min. O Lord, hear our prayers: Answ. And let our cry come unto thee. Minister. O LORD, look down from heaven ; behold, visit, and relieve this thy servant. Look upon him with the eyes of thy mercy ; give him comfort and sure Confidence in thee ; defend him from the danger of the enemy, and keep him in perpetual peace and safety, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. HEAR us, Almighty and Most Merciful God and Saviour; extend thy accustomed goodness to this thy servant, who is grieved with sickness. Sanctify, we beseech thee, this thy fatherly cor- rection to him; that the sense of his weakness may add strength to his faith, and seriousness to his repentance : that, if it shall be thy good plea- sure to restore him to his former health, he may lead the residue of his life in thy fear, and to thy glory : or else give him grace so to take thy visita- tion, that, after this painful life is endedj he may dwell with thee in life everlasting ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the Minister exhort the sick Person after . this form, or other like. DEARLY beloved, know this, that Almighty God is the Lord of life and death, and of all things to them pertaining; as youth, strength, health, age, weakness, and sickness. Wherefore, whatsoever your sickness is, know you certainly, that it is God's visitation. And for what cause soever 4his sickness is sent unto you ; whether it be to try your patience ; for the example of others; and that your faith may be found in the day of the Lord, laudable, glorious, and honourable, to the increase of glory, and endless felicity ; or else it be sent unto you, to correct and amend in you what- soever doth offend the eyes of your heavenly Fa- ther : know you certainly, that if you truly re- pent of your sins, and bear your sickness patiently, trusting in God's mercy for his dear Son Jesus Christ's sake, and render unto him humble thanks for his fatherly visitation, submitting yourself wholly unto his will, it shall turn to your profit, and help you forward in the right way that lead- eth unto everlasting life. HJ= If the Person visited be very sick, then the Curate may end his exhortation in this place, or else pro- ceed. TAKE, therefore, in good part, the chastisement of the Lord; for (as St. Paul saith, in the twelfth chapter to the Hebrews,) " whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth ; and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons ; for, what son is ho whom the father chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh, which corrected us, and we gave them reverence ; shall we not much ra- ther be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live *? For they verily, for a few days, chastened us after their own' pleasure ; but He for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness." Tin so words (good brother) are written in holy Scriptures for our comfort and instruction, that we should patiently and with thanksgiving bear our Heavenly Father's correction, whensoever, by IN VISITING THE SICK. 243 any manner of adversity, it shall please his gra- cious goodness to visit us. And there should be no greater comfort to Christian persons, than to be made like unto Christ, by suffering patiently adversities^ troubles, and sicknesses. For He himself went not up to joy, but first he suffered pain : He entered not into his glory before he was crucified. So, truly, our way to eternal joy, is to suffer here with Christ; and our door to enter into eternal life, is gladly to die with Christ, that we may rise again from death, and dwell with him in everlasting life. Now therefore, taking your sickness, which is thus profitable, for you, patiently ; I exhort you, in the name of God, to remember the profession which you made unto God in your baptism. And forasmuch as, nftrr this life, there is an account to be given unto the righteous Judge, by whom all must be judged with- out respect of persons ; I require you to examine yourself and your estate, both towards God and man ; so that, accusing and condemning your- self, and your own faults, you may find mercy at your Heavenly Father's hand for Christ's sake, and not be accused and condemned in that fearful judgment. Therefore I shall rehearse to you the Articles of our Faith, that you may knowwhe'ther you believe as a Christian man should, or no. Here the Minister shall rehearse the Articles of the Faith, saying thus: DOST thou believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth 1 And in Jesus Christ his only begotten Son, our Lord ; and that he was conceived by the Holy Ghost ; born of the Virgin Mary ; that he suf- fered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; that he went down into hell v and also did rise again the third day ; that he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, and from thence shajl come again, at the end of the world, to judge the quick and the dead 7 And dost thou believe in the Holy Ghost ; the holy Catholic church ; the communion of saints ; the remission of sins ; the resurrection of the flesh ; and everlasting life after death ? The sick person shall answer, All this T steadfastly believe. Then shall the Minister examine whether he repent him truly of his sins, and be in charity with all the world ; exhorting him to forgive, from the bottom of his heart, all persons that have offended him, and, if he hath offended any other, to ask them forgiveness : ;nnl where he hath done injury or wrong to any man, that he make amends to the utmost of his power. And, if he hath not before disposed of his goods, let him then be admonished to make his will, and to declare his debts, what he oweth, and what is owing unto him ; for the better discharge of his conscience, and the quietness of his executors. But men should often be put in remem- brance to take order fof settling of their temporal es- tates, whilst they are in health. These words, before rehearsed, may be said before the Minister begins his prayer, as he shall see cause. The Minister should not omit earnestly to move such sick Persons as are of ability, to be liberal to the poor. Here shall the sick Person be moved to make a special confession of his sins, if he feel his conscience trou- bled with any weighty matter. After which confes- sion, the Priest shall absolve him (if he humbly and heartily desire it) after this sort : OUR Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to his church to absolve all sinners, who truly re- pent and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive thee thine offences ! And by his authority com- mitted to me, I absolve thee from all thy sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. And then the Priest shall say the collect following. Let us pray. MOST merciful God, who,- according to the multitude of thy mercies, dost so put away the sins of those who truly repent, that thou remem- berest them no more ; open thine eye of mercy upon this thy servant, who most earnestly de- sireth pardon and forgiveness. Renew in him, most loving Father, whatsoever hath been de- cayed by the fraud and malice of the devil, or by his own carnal will and frailness ; preserve and continue this sick member in the unity of the church; consider his contrition, accept his tears, assuage his pain, as shall seem to thee most. ex- pedient for him. And, forasmuch as he. putteth his full trust only in thy mercy, impute not unto him his former sins, but strengthen him with thy lilt-rised Spirit- and when thou art pleased to take him hence, take him unto thy favour, through the merits of thy most dearly beloved Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the Minister say this Psalm. In te, Domine, speravi. Psalm Ixxi. Iv thee, O Lord, have I put my trust; let m* never be put to confusion : but rid me, and de- liver me in thy righteousness ; incline thine ear unto me, and save me. Be thou a strong hold, whereunto I may alway resort : thou hast promised to help me, for thou art my house of defence, and my castle. Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the ungodly ; out of the hand of the unrighteous and cruel man. For thou, O Lord, art the thing that I long for; thou art my hope, even from my youth. Through thee have I been holden up ever since I was born ; thou art he that took me out of my mother's womb ; my praise shall always be of thee. 1 am become as it were a monster to many ; but my sure trust is in thee. let my mouth be filled with thy praise ; that I may sing of thy glory and honour all the day long. Cast me not away in the time of age : forsake me not when my strength faileth me. For mine enemies speak against me ; and they that lay wait for my soul, take their counsel to- gether ; saying, God hath forsaken him ; perse- cute him, and take him, for there is none to de- liver him. Go not far from me, O God; my God, haste thee to help me. Let them be confounded and perish, that are against my soul : let them be covered with shame and dishonour, that seek to do me evil. As for me, I will . patiently abide always ; and will praise thee more and more. My mouth shall daily speak of thy righteous- ness and salvation ; for I know no end thereof. 1 will go forth .in the strength of the Lord God ; and will make mention of thy righteousness only. Thou, O God, hast taught me from my youth up until now: therefore will I tell of thy wondrous works. 244 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION Forsake me not, O God, in mine old age, when lam gray-headed, until I have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy^ power to all them that are yet for to come. Thy righteousness, O God, is very high, and great things are they that thou hast done j O God, who is like unto thee 1 Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost ; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. Adding this : O SAVIOUR of the world, who by thy cross arid precious blood hast redeemed us, save us, and help us, we humbly beseech thee, O Lord. Then shall the Minister say : THE Almighty Lord, who is a most strong tower to all them that put their trust in him ; to whom all things in heaven, in earth, and under the earth, do bow and obey ; be now and evermore thy defence, and make thee know and feel, that there is no other name under heaven given to man, in whom, and through whom, thou mayest receive health and salvation, but only the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. And after that shall say : UNTO God's gracious mercy and protection we commit thee. The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his coun- tenance upon thee, and give thee peace, both now and evermore. Amen. THE . COMMUNION OF THE SICK. FORASM0CH as all mortal men be subject to many sud- den perils, diseases, and sicknesses, and ever uncertain what time they shall depart out of this 4ife ; therefore to the intent they may be always in readiness to die whensoever it shall please Almighty God to call them, the Curates shall diligently, from time to time (but es- pecially in time of pestilence, or other infectious sick- ness;) exhort their parishioners to the often receiving the Holy Communion of the body aiid blood of our Sa- viour Christ, when it shall be publicly administered in the church; that, so doing, they may, in case of sudden visitation, have the less cause to be disquieted for lack of the same. But if the sick person be not able to come to the church, and yet is desirous to receive the Com- munion in his'house ; then he must give timely notice to the Curate, signifying also how many there are to communicate with him (which shall be three, or two at the least,) and having a convenient place in the sick man's house, with all things necessary, so prepared, that the Curate may reverently minister, he shall there cele- brate the Holy Communion, beginning with'the Collect, Epistle, and Gospel here following. The Collect. ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, maker of man- kind, who dost correct those whom thou dost love, and chastisest every one whom thou dost receive ; we beseech thee to have mercy upon this thy ser- vant visited with thine hand, and to grant that he may take his sickness patiently, and recover his bodily health, (if it be thy gracious will ;) and whenever his soul shall depart from the body, it maybe without spot presented unto thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. The Epistle, Heb. xii, 5. MY son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him : for whom the Lord lovcth, lit- chnstcneth; and scoiirgeth every son whom he receiveth. The Gospel, St. John v. 24. VERILY, verily, I say unto you, he thatheareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemna- tion, ; but is passed from death unto life. After which, the Priest shall proceed according to the form prescribed for the Holy Coinmunion, beginning at these words : [Ye that do truly.] At the time of the distribution of the Holy Sacra- ment, the Priest shall first receive the Communion him- self, and afterward minister unto them that are ap- pointed to communicate with the sick, and last of all to the sick person. But if a man, either by reason of extremity of sick- ness, or for want of warning in due time to the Curate, or for lack of company to receive with him, or by any other.just impediment, do not receive the Sacrament of Christ's body and blood, the Curate shall instruct him, that if he do truly repent him of his sins, and steadfast- ly believe Jesus Christ hath suffered death upon the cross for him, and shed his Mood for his redemption, earnest- ly remembering the benefits he hath thereby, and giving him hearty thanks therefor, he doth eat and drink th body and blood of our Saviour Christ profitably to his souUs health,, although he do not receive the sacrament with his mouth. When the sick person- is visited, and receiveth the Holy Communion all at one time, then the Priest, for more expedition, shall cut off the form of the visitation, at the Psalm [In thee, O Lord, have I put my trust,] and go straight to the Communion. In the time of the plague, sweat, or other such-like contagious times of sickness or diseases, when none of the parish or neighbours an be gotten to communicate with the sick in their houses, for fear of the infection ; upon special request of the deceased, the Minister only may communicate with him. At the time of the celebration of the Communion, the communicants bein conveniently placed for re- ceiving of the Holy Sacrament, the Priest shall say this exhortation : DEARLY beloved in the Lord, ye that mind to come to the Holy Communion of the body and blood of our Saviour Christ, must consider how St. Paul exhorteth all persons diligently to try and examine themselves; before they presume to eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. For as the benefit is great, if with a true penitent heart and lively faith we receive that Holy Sacrament, (for then we .spiritually eat the flesh of Christ, and drink .his blood; then' we dwell in Christ, and Christ in us ; we are one with Christ, and Christ with us;) so is the danger great, if we receive the same unworthily : for then we are guilty of the body and blood of Christ our Saviour; we eat and drink our own damnation, not considering the Lord's body ; we kindle God's wrath against us; we provoke him to plague us. with divers dis- eases, and sundry kinds of death. Judge therefore yourselves, brethren, that ye be not judged of the J_.ord ; repent ye truly for your sins past ; have a 'lively and steadfast faith in Christ our Saviour; amend your lives, and be in perfect charity with all men ; so shall ye be meet partakers of these holy mysteries. And above all things, ye must give most humble and hearty thanks to God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, for the re- demption of the world by the death and passion of our Saviour Christ, both God and man, who did humble himself even to the death upon the IN VISITING THE SICK. 245 cross, for us miserable sinners, who lay in dark- ness and the shadow of death, that he might make us the children of God, and exalt us to everlasting life. And to the end that we should always re- member the exceeding great love of our Master and only Saviour Jesus Christ, thus dying for us, and the innumerable benefits which by his pre- cious blood-shedding he hath obtained to us, he hath instituted and ordained holy mysteries, as pledges of his love, and for a continual remem- brance of his death, to our great and endless com- fbrt. To Him, therefore, with the Father, and the Holy Ghost, let us give (as we are most bounden) continual thanks ; submitting ourselves wholly to his holy will and pleasure, and studying to serve him in true holiness and righteousness all the days of our life. Amen. Then shall the Priest say to thorn that come to receive the Holy Communion, YE that do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins, and are in love and" charity with your neighbours, and intend to lead a new life, follow- ing the commandments of God, and walking from henceforth in his holy ways; draw near with faith, and take this Holy Sacrament to your com- fort; and make your humble confession to Al- mighty God, meekly kneeling upon your knees. Then shall thisaoneral confession be made, in the name of all those that arc minded to receive the Holy Com- munion, by one of the Ministers, both he and all the people kneeling humbly upon their knees, and saying, ALMIGHTY God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, maker of all things, judge of all men, we acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness which we from time to time most grievously have committed, by thought, word, and deed, against thy Dhine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings ; the remembrance of them is grievous to us, the burden of them is intolerable, j lave mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father: for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is past ; and grant we may ever hereafter serve and please thee in newness of life, to the honour and glory of thy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the Priest (or the Bishop being present) stand up, and, turning himself to the people, pro- nounce this absolution : ALMIGHTY God our heavenly Father, who of his great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto him ; have mercy upon you, par- don and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the Priest say, Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all that truly turn to him : Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. Matt. xi. 28. So God loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John iii. 16. Hear also what St. Paul saith : This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, That Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. 1 Tim. i. 15. Hear also what St. John saith : It' any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father-, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the propitiation for our sins. 1 John ii. 1, 2." After which, the. Priest shall proceed, saying, Lift up your hearts. Answ. We lift them up unto the Lord. Priest. Let us give thanks unto our Lord God. Answ, It is meet and right so to do. Then shall the Priest say, IT is very meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we should at all tunes, and in all places, give thanks unto thee, O Lord, Holy Father,* Al- mighty, Everlasting God. Here shall follow the proper preface, according to the time, if there be any specially appointed ; or else im- mediately shall follow,. THEREFORE with angels and archangels, and with the company of heaven, we laud and magni- fy thy glorious name, evermore praising thee, and saying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts ! heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be to thee, O Lord most high. Amen. Proper Prefaces. On Christmas-day, and seven days after. BECAUSE thou dids^ give Jesus Christ, thine only Son, to be born as at this time for us, who by the operation of the Holy Ghost was made very man of the substance of the Virgin Mary his mo- ther, and that without spot of sin, to make us clean from all sin : therefore with angels, &c. On Easter-day, and seven days after. BUT chiefly are we bound to praise thee for the glorious resurrection of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord ; for He is the very paschal lamb which was offered for us, and hath" taken away the sins of the world; who by his death hath destroyed death, and by his rising to life again, hath restored us to everlasting life : therefore, &e. On Ascension-day, and seven days after. THROUGH thy most dearly beloved Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who after his most glorious re- surrection, manifestly appeared to all his apostles, and in their sight ascended up into heaven to pre- pare a place for us ; that where he is thither we might also ascend, and reign with him in glory : therefore, &c. On Whitsunday, and six days after. THROUGH Jesus Christ our Lord, according to whose most true promise the Holy Ghost came down as at this time from heaven, with a sudden great sound, as it had been a mighty wind, in the likeness of .fiery tongues, lighting upon the apos- tles, to teach them, and to lead them to all truth, giving them both the gift of divers languages, and also boldness, with fervent zeal, -constantly to preach the Gospel unto all nations, whereby we have been brought out of darkness and error into the clear light and true knowledge of thee, and of thy Son Jesus Christ : therefore, &c. On the feast of Trinity only. WHO art one God, one Lord ; not one only Per- * These words [Holy Father] must be omitted on Tri- lity Sunday. THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION son, but three Persons in one substance. For that which we believe of the glory of the Father, the same we believe of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, without any difference or inequality : therefore, &c. After each of which prefaces, shall immediately be sung or said : THEREFORE with angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and mag- nify thy glorious name, evermore praising thee, and saying ; Holy, holy, holy, Lord God ot hosts ! heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be to thee, O Lord most high. Amen. Then shall the Priest, kneeling down at the Lord's table, say, in the name of all them that shall receive the Communion, this prayer following : WE do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteous- ness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are riot worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy :. grant us, therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that our sinful bodies may be made clean by his body, and our souls washed through his most precious blood, and that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen. When the Priest, standing before the table, hath so or- dered the bread and wine, that he may with the more readiness and decency break the bread before the peo- ple, and take the cup into his hands, he shall say the prayer of Consecration, as folio weth_: ALMIGHTY God, our heavenly Father, who of thy tender mercy didst give thine only Son JesUs Christ to suffer death upon the cross for our re- demption, who made there (by his one oblation of himself once offered) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world, and did institute, and in his holy Gos- pel command us, to continue a perpetual memory of that his precious death, until his coming again ; hear us, O merciful Father, we most humbly be- seech thee, and grant that we, receiving these thy creatures of bread and wine, according to thy.Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's holy institution, in re- membrance of his death and passion, may be par- takers of his most blessed body and blood ; who, in the same night that he was betrayed,* took bread, and when he had given thanks,t he brake it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, Take, eat ;t this is my body, which is given for you : do this in re- membrance of me. Likewise after supper, he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of this; for thisll is my blood of the New Testament which is shed for you, and for many, for the remission of sins : do this, as oft as ye shall drink it, in remem- brance of me. Amen. Then shall the Minister first receive the Communion in both kinds himself, and then proceed to deliver the same to the Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, in like manner (if any be present,) and after that to the peo- ple also in order, into their hands, all meekly kneel- * Here the priest is to take the paten into his hands. f And here to break the bread. j And here to lay his hands upon all the bread. $ Here he is to take the cup into his hand. II And here to lay his hand upon every vessel (be it chalice or flagon) in which there is any wine to be con- secrated. ing. And when he delivereth the bread to any one, he shall .say : THE body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life! Take and eat this in remem- brance that Christ died for thee ; and feed on him in thy heart by faith with thanksgiving. And the Minister that delivereth the cup to any one, shall say : THE blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life ! Drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful. If the consecrated bread or wine be all spent before all have communicated, the Priest is to consecrate more, according to the form before prescribed: beginning at [Our Saviour Christ in the same night, &c. j for the bless- ing of the bread, and [Likewise after supper, &c.J for the blessing of the cup. When all have communicated, the Minister shall re- turn to the Lord's table, and reverently place upon it what remaineth of the consecrated elements, covering the same with a fair linen ctoth. Then shall the Priest say the Lord's Prayer, the peo- ple repeating after him every petition. OUR Father which art in heaven ; Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth^ as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into 'temptation ; but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen. After this shall be said as followeth: O LORD and heavenly Father, we thy humble servants entirely desire thy fatherly goodness mer- cifully to accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving; most humbly beseeching thee to grant, that by the merits and death of thy Son Je- sus Christ, and through faith in his blood, we and all thy whole church may obtain remission of our sins, and all other benefits of his passion. And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our- selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice unto thee ; humbly be- seeching thee, that all we who are partakers of this holy communion, may be fulfilled with thy grace and heavenly benediction. And although we be unworthy, through our manifold sins, to offer unto thee any sacrifice ; yet we beseech thee to accept this our bounden duty and service ; not weighing our merits, but pardoning our offences, through Jesus Christ our Lord ; by whom, and with whom, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, all honour and glory be unto thee, O Father Almighty, world without end. Amen. Or this : ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, we most hear- tily thank thee, for that thou dost vouchsafe to feed us, who have duly received these holy mysteries, with the spiritual food of the most precious body and blood of thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ ; and dost assure us thereby: of thy favour and good- ness towards us ; and that we are very members incorporate in the mystical body of thy Son, which is the blessed company of all faithful people ; and are also heirs through hope of thy everlasting kingdom, by the merits of the most precious death and passion of thy dear Son. And we most hum- bly beseech thee, O heavenly Father, so to assist us with thy grace, that we may continue in that holy fellowship, and do all such good works as IN VISITING THE SICK. 247 thou hast, prepared for us to walk in, through Je- sus Christ our Lord ; to whom, with thee and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory, world with- out end. Amen. Then shall be said or sung : GLORY be to God on high, and in earth peace, good will towards men. We praise thee, we hlr:-s thee, we worship thee, we glorify thee, we give thanks to thee, for thy great glory, O Lord God, heavenly King, God tile father Almighty. O Lord, the only-begotten Son Jesus Christ : O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, that takest away the sins of the world, have merry upon us: thou "that takest away the sins of the world, receive our prayer: thou that sittest at the right hand of God the Father, have mercy upon us: For thou only art holy, thou only art the Lord; thou only, O Christ, with the Holy Ghost, art most high in the glorjr of God the Father. Amen. Then the Priest or Bishop (if he be present,) shall let them ik part with this blessing: THE peace of God, which passeth all under- standing keep your hearts and minds in the know- ledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord ; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost", be among you, and remain with you always. Amen. PROPER COLLECTS TIIAT MAY BE USED WITH A\Y OF THE PRAYERS FOR THE SICK. LET thy merciful ears, O Lord, be open to the prayers of thy humble servants ; and, that we may obtain our petitions, make us to ask such things as shall please thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. IN the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O .Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased ] Yet, O Lord God, most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our heart ; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayers ; bu^ spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, ( ) holv and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge Eternal, suffer us not at the last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee. Amen. * O MERCIFUL God, the Father of our Lord Je- sus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life, we beseech thee to raise us from the death of sin to the life of righteousness, that, at the general resurrection in the last day, we may be found ac- ceptable in thy sight, and may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body ana soul, in thy eternal glory ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. GRANT, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that we, who for our evil deeds do worthily deserve to be punished, by the comfort of thy grace may mer- cifully be relieved, through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. O MOST mighty God, and mejciful Father, who hast compassion upon all men, and hatest nothing that thou hast made, who wouldest not the death of a sinner, but that he should rather turn from his sin, and be saved ; mercifully forgive us our trespasses: relieve and comfort us, who axe grieved and wearied with the burden of our sins. Thy property is always to have mercy; to thee only it appcrtaineth to forgive sins: Spare us, therefore, good Lord, spare us whom thou hast redeemed. Enter not into judgment with thy ser- vants, who are vile earth, and miserable sinners ; but so turn thine anger from us, who meekly acknowledge our vileness, and truly repent us of our faults, and so make haste to help us in this world, that we may ever live with thee in the world to come ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. O GOD, the Creator and Preserver of all man- kind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men, that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health among all nations. More especially we pray for the good estate of the Catholic church, that it may . be so guided and governed by thy good Spirit, that all, who profess and call them- selves Christians, may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. Fi- nally, we commend to thy fatherly goodness all those -who are any ways afflicted in mind, body, or estate ; (especially him for whom our prayers are desired ;) that it may please thee to comfort and relieve them according to their several ne- c* ssities, giving them patience under their suffer- ings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions, and this we beg for Jesus Christ his sake. ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, who art always more ready to hear than we to pray, and art wont to give more than either we desire or deserve ; pour down upon us the abundance of thy mercy, forgiving us those things whereof our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things which we are not worthy to ask, but through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Lord. O GOD, merciful Father, that despisest not the sighing of a contrite heart, nor the desire of such as be sorrowful; mercifully assist our prayers that we make before thee in all our troubles and adversities whensoever they oppress us ; and gra- ciously Hear us, that those evils which the craft and subtlety of the devil or man worketh against us be brought to nought, and by the providence of thy goodness they may be dispersed; that we thy servants, being hurt by no persecutions, (or afflictions,) may evermore give thanks unto thee in thy holy church; through Jesus Christ our Lord. WE beseech thee, O Fatner, mercifully to look upon our infirmities, and for the glory of thy name turn from us all those evils that we most right- eously have deserved ; and grant that in all our troubles we may put our whole trust and con- fidence in thy mercy, and evermore serve thee in holiness and pureness of living, to thy honour and glory ; through ou*- only mediator and advocate, Jesus Christ our Lord. ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, who of thy tender love to mankind hast sent thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ, to take upon him our flesh, and to suffer death upon the cross, that all man- kind should follow the example of his great hu- mility ; mercifully grant, that we may both follow 248 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION the example of his patience, and also be made partakers of his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lenl. ALMIGHTY God, the fountain of all wisdom, who knowest our necessities before we ask, and our ignorance in asking, we beseech thee to have" compassion upon our infirmities ; and those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask, vouchsafe to give us for the worthiness of thy Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. PRAYERS FOR THE SICK. A general Prayer for the Acceptance of our , Devotions for the Sick. [From Bishop Andrews. ] O LORD, it is a great presumption that one sin- ner should dare to commend another to thy Di- vine Majesty. And who would not fear to un- dertake it 1 But thy commandment it is, " That we should pray for the sick members of thy churchj and mourn with them that mourn :" and thou hast promised that our prayers thus made, thou wilt receive. And now behold, O Lord, we that are no way meet, but unworthy, utterly un- worthy, to ask for aught for ourselves, charity and compassion so binding us, are enforced to be- come suitors to thee for others, even for this thy servant, now afflicted by thee. Of thee we hope ; of thee we desire; to thee we pray, in the most meek and humble manner, and even from the bot- tom of our hearts. O Lord, that which thou mightest justly deny to our unworthiness, deny not, we beseech thee, to thine own gracious good- ness. O Lord, forgive us our sins ; O Lord for- give us our sins, our great and grievolis sins, oft and many times committed, long and many years continued ; so that we may be meet to pray for others, and our prayers be made unto thee in an acceptable time. Graciously look upon our afflictions. Pitifully behold the sorrows of our hearts. Mercifully forgive the sins of thy people. Favourably with mercy hear our prayers. Both now and ever vouchsafe to hear us, O Christ. Graciously hear us, O Christ ; graciously hear us, Lord Christ. Amen. Particular Prayers for the Sick. [Prom Bishop Patrick.] O MOST gracious God, who by thy Son Jesus Christ hast united us all in one body, that we should love one another, and if one member suf- fers, all the members should suffer with it ; we humbfy implore thy tender mercies towards this thy servant, of whose afflicted condition we desire to have a compassionate sense and feeling. Look graciously upon him, O Lord, and visit t him with thy salvation. Vouchsafe him such ' consolations from above, as we should desire for ourselves, were we in his extremity. Give "him a true penitent heart for all the offences that he hath at any time committed, together with a lively faith in thy Son Jesus, who came into the world to save sinners. Give him the comfort of a holy hope, that thou acceptest his repentance, and faithful devotion to thee. Support him by this hope under all his pain, and enable him patiently to submit to thy fatherly correction. Send hvn help now in time of need, both for his soul and lor his body. Bless the means for /( is recovery ; and, if it be thy good pleasure, restore him speedily to his former health, ancj inspire him with a se- rious resolution to serve thee more zealously all his days. Or if thou hast otherwise resolved in thy wise counsels, deliver him frorn the fear of death, assist him in h^is last agony, give him an easy and cheer- ful passage out of this life, and send thy holy an- gels to conduct him into rest and peace with our Lord Jesus, for the same Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. [From Bishop Taylor.] L ALMIGHTY Gpd, Father of mercies, the God of peace and comfort, of rest and pardon, we thy servants, in duty to thee; and charity to our bro- ther, humbly beg mercy of thee for him, to de- scend upon his body and his soul. We come to thee in the name of Jesus, praying thee to pardon the sins of this thy servant, and to bury them in the grave of Him that died for us, that they may never rise up in judgment against him, nor bring him in the day of trial, to shame and confusion of face. Amen. II. GIVE thy servant, O Lord, patience in his sor- rows, comfort in his sickness, ar\d restore him to health, if it seem good to thee. And, however thou shalt determine concerning him, yet make his repentance perfect, and his, faith strong, and his hope steadfast, and his passage safe; that when thou shalt call his soul from the body, it may enter into the rest of the sons of God, and the bosom of blessedness, and be with the holy Jesus. Amen. III. O LORD, thou knowest all the necessities, and all the infirmities of thy servant : fortify^ his soul with spiritual joys, and perfect resignation; and take from him all inordinate tiffections to this world ; and enlarge his heart with desires of be- ing with thee, in thy heavenly kingdom. . IV. LORD, let not any pain or passion discompose the order of his thoughts, or his duty; and lay no more upon thy servant than thou wilt make him able to bear ; and together with the temptation, do thou provide a way to escape; even by the mercies of a longer and more lu>ly life, or by the mercies of a' blessed death ; even as it pleaseth thee, O Lord; so let it be. Amen. V. LORD, let the tenderness of his conscience and the Spirit of God call to mind his sins, that they may be confessed and repented of: and let thy power- ful grace remove from his soul every root of bit- terness ; and in the union of the holy Jesus, and in the love of God, ,and in the communion of all the saints, let his squl be presented to thee blame- less, and entirely pardoned, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. IN VISITING THE SICK. 349 A larger Form of Prayer for the &ick. [From Bishop Patrick.] O LORD, the Father of our spirits, who giyest us life, and breath, and all things, and hast, not thought a crown of everlasting hie too much to promise us, we believe that thou wilt not deny us what is needful and fit for us, both for our souls and our bodies, in our passage through this world, to that of honour, glory, and immortality. In this confidence, we more particularly recommend this thy sick servant to thy infinite and most compas- sionate mercy. Settle in his soul a steadfast faith, that thou dost not willingly grieve the children of men, but intendest good to him by this thy fatherly correction. And now since all other pleasures and enjoyments fail him, represent thyself more ef- fectually unto him, as the only support and stay of his hope, and rock of salvation. Whereinsoever he hath neglected thee, or committed any offence against thee, make him deeply sensible of it, and heartily sorrowful for all his transgressions. And as he earnestly desires pardon and forgiveness of thee, so work in him a serious, resolution to live more circumspectly and righteously for the time to come. Assist him graciously, O Lord, that he may give a proof of his sincere intentions here- after to submit himself in all things to thy will, by his patient submission to thy fatherly correc- tion. O, that he may so quietly, so meekly, so humbly, and cheerfully resign his will unto'thre, to sufler what thou intlictest, that he may be the more disposed to do readily whatsoever thoucom- mandest. For which end, make him thoroughly apprehensive of thy sovereign {>owcr and authority over all creatures. Possess him with a great re- verence of thy wisdom and justice, with an entire confidence in thy goodness and luvc. with a thank- ful remembrance of all thy past mercies to him. that so he may the better endure what thou la vest upon him at present, and may ever follow thv di- rections, and submit to thy orders, and detiffut to do thy will, O God. Bless tlie remedies which are used for restoring him to his former health, that he may live to per- form his duty with greater care ; or if thou hast otherwise appointed, accept graciously of his pur- poses of amendment, and dispose him to return back his spirit willingly unto thee who gavest it ; and with great humility and deep sense of his own undeservings, to expect thy mercy declared in Christ Jesus. Fix his mind steadfastly upon him, who hath led the way through the grave unto heaven, that he may not be affrighted with the ap- proaches of death, but looking beyond it to that high and holy place, where the Lord Jesus is, may rejoice in hope of eternal glory. And grant that every one of us, in our best state of health, may consider perpetually how frail and weak we are; that so we may not abuse ourselves by an intemperate use of any sensual pleasures, nor load our minds with the cares of this life, nor spend our days in a vain pursuit of the honour and glory of this world ; but may pass all the time of our sojourning here, in fear; and may live so righteously and soberly in this present world, as becomes those who expect shortly to give an account to thee, who will judge all men according to their works. Hear us, O Lord we most humbly beseech thee, through Christ Je- sus, our merciful and compassionate Redeemer. Amen. 21 ASSIST us mercifully, O Lord, in these our supplications and prayers, and dispose the way of thy servants towards the attainment of everlasting salvation ; that among all the changes a'nd chances of this mortal life, they may ever be defended by thy most gracious and ready help ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (From Doctor Hammond.) O LORD, bless, keep, and defend this thy ser- vant with thy heavenly grace and benediction, that he may continue thine for ever, and daily in- crease in thy Holy Spirit more and more, until he. comes to thy everlasting kingdom. Let thy mighty hand and out-stretched arm, O Lord, be ever his defence; thy mercv and loving-kindness in Jesus Christ thy dear Son, his salvation ; thy true and holy word, his instruction ; thy grace and Holy Spirit, his comfort and con- solation, both now and at the hour of death. Now the God of. peace, that brought again from the dead o\ur Lord Jesus, that great Shep- herd of the sheep, through the blood of the ever- lasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. * Amen. PROPER PSALMS FOR THE SICK. O LORD, rebuke me not in thine indigna- tion: neither chasten me in thy displeasure. Psalm vi. 1. 2. Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak : O Lord, heal me, for my bones are' vexed. Psalm vi. 2. -3. My soul also is sore troubled : but Lord, how long wilt thou punish me? -Psalm vi. 3. 4. Thine arrows stick fast in me: and thy hand presseth me sore. Psalm xxxviii. 2. 5. There is no health in my flesh, because of thy displeasure : neither is there any rest in my bones, by reason of my sin. Psalm xxxviii. 3. 6. For my wickednesses are gone over my head, and are like a sore burden too heavy for me to bear. Psalm xxxviii. 4. 7. I am feeble and sore smitten : I have roared for the very disquietness of my heart. Psalm xxxviii. 8. 8. My heart panteth, my strength hath failed me, and the sight of mine eyes is gone from me. Psalm xxxviii. 10. " 9. Therefore is my spirit vexed within me; my heart within me is desolate. Psalm cxliii. 4. 10. Turn thee, O Lord, and deliver my soul: O save me for thy mercies' sake. Psalm vi. 4. 11. Hide not thy face from me in the time of my trouble : incline thine ears unto me when I call ; O hear me, and that right soon. Psalm cii. 2. 12. For my days are consumed away like smoke : my heart is smitten down and withered like grass. Psalm cii. 3, 4. 13. And that because of thine indignation and wrath : for thou hast lifted me up, and cast me down. Psalm cii. 10. 14. But I said, O my God, take me not away * Heb. xiii. 20, 21. 250 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION in the midst of my age; forsake me not when my strength faileth me. Psalm cii. 2i. 15. Wherefore in thee, O Lord, have I put my trust : let me never be put to confusion. Psalni Ixxi. 1. II. PSALM LI. HAVE mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness : according to the multitude of thy mer- cies, do away mine offences. 2. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity : and cleanse me from my sin. 3. For I acknowledge my faults : and my sin is ever before me. 4. Against thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justi- fied in thy saying, and^lear when thou art judged. 5. Behold, I was shapen in wickedness, and in sin hath my mother conceived me. 6. But, lo, thou requirest truth in the inward parts : and thou shalt make me to understand wis- dom secretly. 7. Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean : thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 8. Thou shalt make me hear of joy and glad lich thou hast broken ma^ rejoice. ^ that the bones which 9. Turn thy face from my sins; and put out all my misdeeds. 10,. Make me a clean heart, O God : and renew a righit spirit within me. 11. Cast me not away from thy presence: and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. 12. O, give me the comfort of thy help again ; and establish me with thy free Spirit. 13. Then shall I teach thy ways unto the wicked : and sinners shall be converted unto thee. IIL HEAR my prayer, O Lord, and consider my desire : hearken unto me for thy truth and right- eousness' sake. Psalm cxliii. 1. 2. And enter not into judgment wifh thy ,ser- vant : for in thy sight shall no man living be jus- tified. Psalm cxliii. 2. 3. The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit : a broken and contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. Psalm li. 17. 4. Lord thou knowest all my desire : and my groaning is not hid from thee. Psalm xxxviii. 9. 5. I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul gaspeth unto thee, as a thirsty land. Psalm cxliii. 6. 6. Hear me, O Lord, and that soon, for my spirit waxctli faint : hide not thy face from me, lest I be like unto them that go down into the pit. Psalm cxliii. 7. 7. Haste thee to help me, O Lord God of my salvation. Psalm xxxviij. 22. 8. For thou art a place to hide me in : thou shalt preserve me from trouble : thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Psalm xxxii. 8. 9. Into thine hands I commend my spirit: for thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. Psalm xxxi. 5. Glory be to the Father, &c. As it was in the beginning, &c. A Declaration of Forgiveness. ' [From Bishop Cosine.] I DO most humbly desire all, and every one whom I have offended, that they would vouchsafe to forgive me : and 1 do freely and heartily forgive all the world, whereinsoever" any hath offended me, or done- me any manner of injury whatsoever, even as I desire to be forgiven of God, and to be absolv- ed from my sins, 4br the merits of my blessed Redeemer. OCCASIONAL PRAYERS FOR THE ' SICK, A Prayer for a Person in the Beginning of his Sickness. [From Bishop Taylor.] O ALMIGHTY God, merciful and gracious, who in thy justice did send sorrow arid tears, sickness and death, into the world, as a punish- ment for man's sins, and hast comprehended all under sin, and this sad covenant of sufferings, not to destroy us, but that thou mightest have mercy upon all, making thy justice to minister to mercy, short afflictions to an eternal weight of glory ; as thou hast been pleased to turn the sins of this thy servant into sickness, so turn, we be- seech thee, his sickness to the advantage of holi- ness and religion, of mercy and pardon, of iaith and hope,, of grace and glory. Thou hast now called him to suffer. Lord, relieve his sorrow and support his spirit, direct his thoughts and sanctify his sickness, that the^punishmeht of his sin may be to hint a school of .virtue. Make him behave as a son under discipline, humbly and obediently, evenly and patiently, that he may be brought by this jneans nearer to thee ; ' that if he shall recover his former health, he may return to the world with greater strength of spirit, to run a new race of stricter holiness, and more severe re- ligion ; or if he shall pass hence through the gates of death, he may rejoice in the hope of being admit- ted into that heavenly society, in which all thy saints and servants shall be comprehended to eternal ages. Grant this, for Jesus Christ's sake, our blessed Lord and Saviour. Amen. A Prayer for Thankfulness in Sickness. O GOD, wonderful bothin thy mercies and judg- ments, grant that the sense of thy servant's pre- sent afflictions may not cause him to forget thy former mercies, which thou hast bestowed upon him: O, therefore, let the remembrance of those many and great blessings that he hath so long en- joyed at thy hand, be now the proper motives and incentives to ,the virtues of patience and humility, causing him cheerfully to resign himself to thy blessed will under all the dispensations of thy pro- vidence, though ever so hard; and patiently to wait for the return of thy loving-kindness in Jesus, which is better than life. Amen. A Prayer for a Blessing on the Means used for a sick Person's Recovery. ['From Mr. Kettlewell.] O GRACIOUS Lord, by whose word man lives and not by any human means alone; direct, we IN VISITING THE SICK. 251 pray thee, the counsels of those who prescribe to this thy servant, and prosper the medicines which are used to procure him ease and strength, but let not his conlidence in them lessen any thing of li dependence on thee, but make him sensible that every good gift is from thee, and that it is thou that givest us help in time of need. To whom, therefore, but to thee, should we flee in the day of our visitation? since it is thy blessing only that maketh the means we use ellectual ; and, however vain the use of them is without thee, jf thou bid- dest them, the things or accidents which we do not think of, or regard, shall recover us. O, there- fore, as their part, who administer to him-, is the care, so let thine, O God, be the blessing, and his the comfort: and as he irgards them as thy instru- ments, so let ki m own thee for the Author of his mercies, and to thee give thanks, and pay his vows and services ; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer for a sick Person, when there appears some Hope of Jlecorery. [From Bishop Patrick.] WK than!; thee. O leather, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast heard our praxrrs lor thine afflicted servant, and given him some respite and hopes of recovery from this great illness. be thy goodness, that he hat'h not made his l>cd in the dust, but is likely to continue still. amongst us, in the land of the living. Blessed be thy goodness for so great (and lately unexpected) mercy to him. And, O thou Preserver of man ! who hast begun to revive and quicken him again ; go on to perfect his cure, and forsake not the work of thy own hands. Repair all the decays in his outward man, that his mind may also recover its former strength, to praise and bless thy goodness to him. And visit him, in the meantime, with thy hea- venly consolation from above. Fill him with com- fortable thoughts of thy love, and of the tender compassionate care which our Lord Jesus tikes of all his afflicted servants.. Endue him still with more patient submission to thy will, and enable him both quietly to wait upon thee, till thou hast finished his recovery, and also to continue stead- fastly resolved to serve thee more faithfully with his restored strength, through Jesus Christ our blessed Saviour and Redeemer. Amen. Another, in Behalf of the sick Person, when he finds any Abatement of his Distemper. ACCEPT, O Lord, of the unfeigned thanks of thy servant for abating the fury of his present distem- per, and giving him some hopes of raising him, up again to praise thee in the great congregation. It is a great mercy, O Lord, and owing to thy goodness only, that 'h is senses are preserved en- tire, and that he hath some respite, after so much uneasiness and pain, through the violence of his illness. O perfect, if it be thy blessed will, what thou hast begun in him, and say to the distemper, " It. is enough." Teach him hence, to look up to thee continually, as the rock of his salvation, whence only he is to expect comfort and support: and give him grace always to make such a right use of thy favours, that he may daily find himself surrounded by the light of thy countenance, and enjoy the blessings of thy heavenly benediction in all his ways, whe- ther in adversity or prosperity, in sickness or in health. Even so, blessed Lord, continue to assist, strengthen, comfort, and bless him, both now and for evermore, through Jesus Christ our Lord. A Prayer for one who is dangerously HI. O ALMIGHTY God, "gracious, and- merciful, and leng-sufiering, whose compassions fail not; look down, we beseech thee, upon the low and dis- tressed state of thy servant, now lying in the ex- tremity of sickness. The harder his illness presses upon him, the louder does it call upon thee for help. O be merciful therefore unto him, accord- ing to the necessity of his case ? and according t6 the multitude of thy tender mercies in Jesus Christ. Rebuke the distemper, that it prevail not over him to death; but turn its malevolent aspect into a joy- ous expectation of life. In as great danger as he is, yet if thou wilt, O Lord, we know thou canst make him whole ; if thou speakest the word, it shall be done. In submission, therefore, to thy most wise and good disposal of all things, we beg this mercy at thy hands, that thou wouldest let " this" bitter ' ; cup pass away" from thy servant, and cause "away for" him " to escape" out of this dangerous condition. O spare him a little, and his " soul shall live." Amen. A Prayer for a sick Person when Sickness con- tinues long upon him. [From Bishop Patrick.] LOOK down, O Lord, we humbly beseech thec, with an eye of compassion on thy poor distressed ser\ant, who hath lain so long under this severe affliction ; and by how much the outward man is decayed and brought low by the tediousness of the distemper's continuing on him, by so much the more do thou be pleased to support him -in the in- ner man by the gracious assistance of thy Holy Spirit. Give him unfeigned repentance for all the errors pf his past life, and steadfast faith in thy Son Jesus Christ ; a comfortable assurance of the truth of all his precious promises, a lively hope of that immortal Miss in which lie reigns for ever- more, and a strong sense of thy fat! h love to him, and care over him, which may make him heartily love thee, and entirely confide in thee, and absolutely resign both soul and body to thy wise disposal. We know there is nothing too hard for thee ; but that if thou wilt, thou canst bring him up even from the gates of death, and grant him a longer continuance among us. May it be thy good plea- sure, O 1 most gracious God, still to continue him here ; spare him, O Lord, and deliver him also speedily from this misery, under which he hath so long groaned. Bless all the means that are used for his recovery, and for the support of his spirits, and give him refreshment during this tedious sick- ness. Release him from his pain, or grant him some ease, or else increase and strengthen his pa- tience. Help him, in remembrance of thy past loving-kindness, to trust in thy goodness and sub- mit to thy wisdom, and bear with an equal mind what thou thinkest fit to lay upon him ; so that approving himself to thee in these and all other virtues, while thou triest him by so ore an afflic- tion, he may say at the last, with the holy Psalm- ist, " It was good for me that I was in trouble." Unto thy infinite mercies we recommend him, and to the compassionate kindness of our Lord Je- sus Christ, who we hope will hear all the prayers of his friends for him, every where, and send his THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION -Holy Spirit to be his comforter, and his good an gels to be hit guardians, and direct those who are to advise and prescribe Hi6 means of his restora- tion, and bring him to praise thee again in the assemblies- of thy saints Upon earth; or (if thou hast otherwise disposed- in" thy wise counsels) to praise thee in the great assembly of saints and angels in heaven ; through Jesus Christ our Lord and only Saviour, to whom with thee and the Holy Spirit, be all praise, love and obedience, world without end. '-Amen. Prayer for the Grace of Patience, and a suitable Behaviour in a sick Person to Friends and Attendants. HELP thy servant, O them, merciful Redeemer and lover of souls, to undergb this load of afflic- tion, which thou hast laid upon him, with pa- tience. " Lead him" gently by the hand to " the waters of comfort," and let "thy rod" and "thy staff support" him, now thai He is obliged to " walk in the valley and shadow of death." Let him consider thee, O blessed Jesus, in all thy weary pilgrimage and sufferings here upon earth, before thou enteredst into" glory, " that he be not weary and faint in his m'fhd." If relief does not come from thee. so soon as he expects or desires, enable him still to hold out with long-suffering, and to wait with patience for it. And whatsoever thou doestwith mm, O Lord, let him be " dumb, and not open -his mouth" to mur- mur or repine, because it is " thy doing." Make him acquiesce and rest satisfied, even in the bit- terest dispensations of thy providence-; and let no pains or sufferings ever drive him from thee, con- sidering that no " temptation hath befallen him" but " what is common to men." And, together with this patience towards thee, give him patience, O merciful Lord, towards all those who kindly and charitably minister unto him, and attend about him. Keep him from being humoursome, and show- ing crossness to their good counsels, or from being causelessly^ .ngry, and exceptions against their kind endeavours. If any evil accidents or indis* cretions happen, let him not presently be outrage- ous -to aggravate them, or break out into any re- proachful or unseemly behaviour against them; but let him be pleased with the least expression of their kindness, and interpret every thing favour- ably; and on all occasions let him make it his study to oblige those, who are obliging to him in this time of necessity, receiving with thankfulness their good offices, and praying God to reward them. for his Son Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. A Prayer for spiritual Improvement by Sickness. [From Dr. Inet.J O MERCIFUL Father, whoscourgest those whom thou lovest, and chastisest those whom thou wilt receive ; let thy loving correction purify thy ser- vant, and make him great in thy favour by his present humiliation. O let him learn " thy sta- tutes" in this school of affliction :" let 'him ""sivk thee early" in it; and when his " heart is over- whelmed, lead him to the rock of salvation." Let thy "rod" awaken him from his former security in sin, and let him sensibly find that thou " chastisest him for his profit, that he may be par- taker of thy holiness." Teach him, by this proof of thy fatherly cor- rection, to be more dutiful for the time to come ; to repent of his former offences, and to " redeem the time past,' 1 by a double diligence for the future, if-theu shall in mercy raise him up au.iin. Let the remainder of his life be thine, and let nothing separate him from thy love and service, but let it be his whole care-anil study to provide oil lor his lamp, and prepare for eternity; that so -"all the davs of his appointed time he may wait till his change come," and be ready whensoever his Lord shall call him. 'Amen. For a sick Person who is about to make his Will. O LORD, who puttest into our hearts good desires, and hast inclined thy servant to " set his house in order," as well in relation to his tempo- ral, as h is spiritual, concerns, grant that he may do ifwith exact justice, according to the rules of our own religion, and the dictates of right reason. He unfeignedly thanks thee for thy great mercies, in having so liberally provided for him, that he may be rather helpful than chargeable to any, and die a benefactor and not in debt. We charitably hope, that what he is now about to dispose of, was all procured by fair and righteous dealings, that he may comfortably feel, that "it is more blessed to give than to re- ceive." Let him'be ready, with good Zaccheus, to make restitution in the best manner he is able, and to say with Samuel : " Behold here 1 am : witness against me before the Lord ; whose ox have I taken, or whose ass have I taken, or whom have I defrauded 1 whom have I oppressed, or of whose hand have I re- ceived any bribe to blind mine eyes therewith'? and I will restore it." Lord, give him strength to order all things in as due and regular a manner as if he were well. Let his memory be perfect, and his judgment sound, and his heart so rightly disposed, that he may do nothing amiss, or through partiality, but that justice and integrity may be seen through the whole conduct of his will. [If rich, add this.] Let the light of his charity likewise shine glo- riously before men, that out of the abundance thou past been pleased to bless him with, he may plentifully give to the poor and distressed, though no ottferv/ise related to him but as they are mem- bers of Jesus Christ, and brethren and sisters of the samejjoinmunion. Let hirh t O let him, now O Lord, and at all times, if U'iou shouldest graciously continue him here any longer, make to " himself such friends of the unrighteous marnmon, that when these fail, they may receive him into everlasting habita- tions." AmSn. A Prayer for a sick Penitent. [From Mr. Kettle well.] nrt thou, O God, in all the pains and sorrows which punish our sins and try our patience, and We have none to accuse and com- plain of for the same but ourselves. This is the acknowledgment which tijy servant makes, whom thou hast now afflicted, fie receives it as the chastisement of a sinner, and is willing to bear chastisement for his sins, that he may thereby be reclaimed from them. Correct him, O Lord, that thou mayest not condemn him; and let him be IN VISITING THE SICK. 253 judged by thee for his sins, and judge himsefffor them here, that he may have nothing but mercy without judgment to receive at thine hands here- after. But judge him, O God, with mercy, and not in thine anger. Judge him not according as his sins have deserved, but according as his weakness can bear, and according as thy compassions are wont to mitigate thy judgments: and let hig afflictions work in him a true repentance, " not to be repent- ed of," and prove a happy means, in the hand of thy mercy, to reclaim him perfectly from all the errors into which he hath fallen; "and to confer that rest and peace upon his soul, which is denied to his body; for our dear Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ's sake. THOU smitest him, O gracious God, that thou mayest cure him ; and punishest his sin, that thou mayest thereby amend and reclaim the sinner ; and he is weary of his sins, which have brought upon him all these sorrows, and which, as he seems now deeply sensible, will bring infinitely worse, unless he prevent the same by his timely and sin- cere repentance. Help him, therefore, to search them out ; and when he sees them, let him not stop at any one, but steadfastly resolve to renounce and amend all : Let thy love make him hate every evil way> and render his purposes against them strong and reso- lute, and his care in fulfilling the same, vigilant and patient ; and grant that the rrni;iiuclt>r of his days may be one continual amendment of his for- mer errors, and dedication of himself to thy st-rvinv He desires life, only that he may serve thee ; Lord, continue and confirm him in this purpose. Lord cure his folly by his misery ; and teach Aim by the loss of his ease, to purchase the bles- sing of true repentance, and the comfortable hopes of thy merciful acceptance thereof; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer for a sick Person who intends to re- ceive the blessed Sacrament. O THOU infinite and eternal Spirit, from whom every good motion of our hearts' proceedeth ! who both quickenest the dead, and after thou hast given life, givest the increase : increase, we beseech thee, the good seeds of thy grace, which thou hast sown in the heart of thy servant, by inclining him to receive the sacrament of the body and blood of our Lord, in which thou art more immediately present, to illuminate the faithful, and to comfort and refresh all that are " weary and heavy-laden with their sins." O, cause thy face thus comfortably to shine upon thy distressed servant, who now intends to draw near to thee in this sacrament, as thou hast commanded him. Help him, in the mean time, O Lord, to fit and prepare himself for this holy communion : fill his soul with reverence and godly fear ; with earnest desires and longings after divine life ; with serious repentance for all his past offences, and hearty re- solutions of living for ever after unto Jesus, who died for him. O^ let him meditate upon his bleeding Saviour with a "broken and a contrite heart," which thou hast promised " not to despise :" forgive him all that is past, and give him grace for the future, to " live more soberly, righteously, and piously, in this present world,'^ if it shall be thy good pleasure to continue him in it. .A Prayer for a sick Person that wants Sleep. . [Prom Bishop Patrick.]- ADORKD be thy love, thy wonderful love, O most gracious God, who hast so many ways ex- pressed thy bounty towards us. Thy mercies in Christ Jesus surpass all our thoughts ;. we are not able to number all the other blessings thou hast bestowed upon us. How much do we owe thee for the quiet sleep of but one night ! We see, in this thy poor afflicted servant how much we ought to thank thee for this single blessing, that our eyes, when we would close them, are not held waking. Pardon, good Lord, our ingratitude for this and all the rest of thy undeserved mercies: and be pleased graciously also to visit him, who still lan- guishes on his sick-bed, looking up to thee from whom cometh our help. Renew his wasted spirits with comfortable sleep ; compose him to a sweet and undisturbed rest ; refresh him thereby so sen- sibly, that he may be restored to such a degree of strength, as may make him able, in some measure, affectionately to acknowledge thy goodness, when thou hast dealt so bountifully with him: or if thou ilt-la vest to bestow that blessing on him, in the multitude of his thoughts within him, let thy comforts dr light his soul. If he still continues without any rest, grant that his mind may rest and repose itself in the bosom of thy dearest love, and may feel the most sensible consolations from heaven, not only quieting, but greatly rejoicing his heart. Preserve the use of hts understanding, and let the enemy have no advantage of him; but nuik> him able to say, "I will wait patiently for the Lord, till he incline his ear unto me, and hear my cry. O, hear his prayer, O Lord, and give ear unto his cry : O, spare him, that he may re- cover strength be fore, he go hence;"* for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. A Prayer to be said when the sick Person grows light-headed. [From Bishop Patrick.] O LORD, look down from heaven, in pity and compassion, upon this thine afflicted servant, who is not able now to look up to thee : the more sorrow- ful his condition grows, the fitter object he is of thine infinite mercies ; who ateceptest, we humbly hope, of the submission he made of himself, in the be- ginning of his sickness, to thine almighty wisdom and goodness. And therefore, since it is thy pleasure to suffer his distemper to proceed to this dangerous extremity, do thou n6 tess graciously love him, and delight in him, than if he could still give up himself to thy blessed will. And hear, O most merciful Father, our prayers in his behalf, when he can no longer commend himself to thy mercies. Pardon, good Lord, par- don all his sins; impute not to him any of his former follies ; lay not to his charge his not im- proving, or misusing, his reason and understand- ing, which we earnestly, but humbly, entreat thee to restore to him, together with such a measure of thy divine grace, as may quicken- and assist him to employ his thoughts to the best, purposes, especially in meditating on thy mercies, in study- ing thy praise, and. in exhorting all others to tove thee, to trust in thee, and sincerely obey thee. * Psalm xl. 1. and xxxix. 12, 13. 22 254 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION And while he remains thus deprived of his reason, be pleased to quiet and compose his spirits, or to prevent all furious motions there, or quickly to abate such violent passions, if any arise : for which end, be pleased to remove all frightful ima- ginations far from him, and suffer not the evil one to approach him r preserve him frpm doing any harm, cither to himself or to any others. " For- sake him not, O Lord our God, be not far from him. Make haste to help him, O Lord pur sal- vation."* " So will we give thanks unto thee for ever." " We will be still praising thee. and showing forth thy loving kindness to those who succeed us. " That they may set their hope in th9e our God, and not forget thy works, but keep thy command- ments." Amen. A Prayer for a Person, when Danger is appre- i hended by excessive Sleep. [From "Mr. Kettlewell.] O MERCIFUL God, let not this deep sleep, which is fallen on thy servant, prove the sleep of death ; make it the sleep of a recovering person, to relieve and revive him; and awake him out of it in thy due time, to offer thee praise, and to labour still among us in doing thee honour and service. But if, thou art pleased to take him to thyself, Lord, remember and accept of all his former prayers and repentance, faith and patience. Look not upon his sins, but to pardon them ; nor on his weaknesses, but to pity them: and when he awakes in the next world, let him find himself surrounded with light and bliss, instead of gloominess and sorrow, and awake to eternal life Lord, hear us for this thy weak servant in dis- tress. Hear our prayers for him, who seams not able now to offer up any ppayers to thee for him- self. And accept T>oth him and us to th e blessed enjoyment of thy love through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for a Person lying insensible on a Sick-bed. O THOU Preserver of men, who knowest the frailty of our constitutions ; how soon .our senses may fail us, and our understanding depart from us; to what r.-^idents, distempers, and decays, our weak nature is subject; even euch as may make the most acute and judicious quickly be- come as fools; and the ablest and strongest,. weak and insensible : O look down, we beseech thee, upon thy servant, who now lies in such a weak and insensible condition. The less able lie is to assist himself, the more need hath he of our prayers, and of thy tender mercy to him. O thou great Creator of the world who broughtest light out of darkness, and madest all things out of nothing, and canst restore our dead bodies again after they are mouldered into dust, be pleased to repel the clouds of darkness which now have taken away the light of our bro- ther's understanding, and rendered him a com- panion for the dead. Ctuicken /mji again, O Lord, and restore him to his former senses, that his soul may bless and praise thy holy name. Hear our petitions, O Lord, and receive ou Psalm xxxviii. 21, 22. jrayers for our brother, that this image of death nay not be converted into death itself, but that he nay live to proclaim thy power and to celebrate hy praises longer upon earth. ,But if it be thy will to remove him hence in this nscnsible condition, O pardon, we beseech thee, all h is offences, and accept of the preparation and repentance that he was able to make before the distemper prevailed upon him in so deadly a man- ner. Receive him, O Lord, into the arms of thy mercy, and accept him, for thy well-beloved Son's sake ; that so this short night may quickly be turned into everlasting day ; and, after these dark shadows are removed, he may find himself in a leaven of happiness, where, "in thy light he may see light" for ever. A men. A Prayer for One who hath been a notoriously wicked Later. O LORD God, of infinite goodness and compas- sion, whose mercies are over all thy works ; who makest the sun to shine, and the rain to descend, upon the "unjust" as well as the "just," and art cmd even to the most unthankful ; we humbly jeseech thee, to look down in mercy upon this thy unworthy servant, who hath so long " trampled upon the riches of thy goodness, not knowing that It should lead to repentance." Let'thy rod, therefore, awaken him now to a sense of his condition, whom thy goodness hath hot reclaimed, and let him still find mercy at thy lands, notwithstanding his continual abuse of it. Thou hast promised, O Lord, that, "when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness which he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." O make good this thy promise to thy servant here, who stands in so much need of it. " Hide thy face from his sins, and blot out all his iniquities :" though they be " red as scarlet," yet do tliou make them "white as snow," by re- pentance, which we beg of thee to give him, and to accept, though late, through thine infinite mer- cies. Simon Magus, though in the " gall of bitterness, and the bond of iniquity," was exhorted to repent, and to pray for pardon :- and therefore we nope the gate of life is still open for our brother, though he hath so long shut himself out of it, by going on in a course that leadeth to the " chambers of death." Blessed Lord, let thy terrors at length awaken him out of this lethargical condition, before he is overtaken by thy judgments. Afflict him here, that thou mayest spare him hereafter. Soften liis heart, that he may bewail his ill-spent life, like Mary Magdalen, with tears of contrition. O quicken him to a sense of his duty, and of his danger, before it be too late : and when thou hast brought him to his right mind, receive him, we beseech thee, as the compassionate father did his prodigal son, or the shepherd his lost sheep. Thou, O Lord, who didst pardon the thief upon the cross, hear our prayers for our brother, in these his great, and, for any thing we know, his last agonies. And as the fore-mentioned instances are lively significations of thine unbounded goodness, and were written for our comfort and instruction, that none should despair of pardon ; so with the great- est confidence we now recommend this our dis- tressed brother to thy divine protection, beseeching IN VISITING THE SICK; 255 thee to forgive all that is past, and to receive him at last into thine " everlasting habitation." Amen. A Prayer for One iciw is hardened and impenitent. ' LORD God Almighty, who art the " Father of our spirits," and who " turnest the hearts of men as thou pleasest ; who hast mercy on whom thou wilt have mercy, and whom thou wilt thou hard- enest; let thy merciful ears be open, we pray thee, to the supplication* which we now ofler to thy Divine Majesty, in the behalf of this thy servant, who appears insensible of hi* sin and lolly, and on whom all means to lead him to repentance have hitherto seemed vain and iuelleetual. Take from him, we humbly entreat thee, all ignorance and hardness of heart: remove from hi m all pre- judice against, and contempt of, thy sacred word and ministry : let him no longer " make a mock of sin," but be sensible that the wisdom he has hitherto gloried in, is the greatest and most dan- gerous folly. Open thou h is eyes, that lie may " see the wonderful things of thy law." Show thy mercy upon him, and grant himthy salvation. Convince him of the vanity and madness, as well as danger, of his past ways. His understanding, we fear, is now darkened, and hi* heart hardened through the deceiti'nlness of sin : O, do thou enlighten Ids dark mind, and let him at last see the l-eauties of holiness, which have so long been hidden from his eyes. Take from him this "stony heart, and give him a heart of llesh." Awaken" ///.> slumlienng and inatten- tive soul, that it may delight in things agreeable to its nature, and be employed in things that make for its everlasting peace. O give him un- derstanding, and he shall yet live. Thou that canst revive souls which are dead in sin and tres- passes, and make e\en such as Hi: in the grave of corruption to tocome glorious saints and even mar- tyrs lor religion, hear our prayers for our brother, who seems to be on the brink of destruction ; and pity poor sinners that have not pity oh themselves it is the unhappiness of being long accustomed to sin, that we are not soon made sensible of our errors, nor easily made to know them. It is the pride of our nature to be unwilling to acknowledge our faults, and to confess our sins: but let th\ grace, O God, teach' us to deny this ungodly lust Do thou humble in us all high and vain imagina tions ; suppress all proud thoughts and haughty opinions of ourselves. (Jive us all (and particu larly thy servant, for whom we are now inter ceding} a sense of our own vileness ; give us uri- feigneu repentance for all the errors of our life past ; that, being cast down, thou mayest raise us up, and become merciful to us, miserable sinners. Let us all find, by blessed experience, that " W frow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lor( esus Christ;" and that " his commandments" are not " grievous 7 ' to us, hut rather the delight ant desire of our souls ; that so at last we may be presented to hint " holy and unbkmeable, and un reprovable in his sight?' Amen. A Prayer for a sick Woman that is with Child O GOD, the help of all that put their trust in thee, the support ofthe weak, and the relief of th< needy ; look with pity upon this woman thy ser vant, who at best acknowledged herself but weak and helpless creature, but -much more so now in her present condition, when thou hast dded weakness to weakness, and made her to ravail with much sickness, together with the bur- en of child-bearing. O Lord, be thou graciously pleased to proppr- ion thy strength to her weakness, and as pains ind sorrow take hold upon her, inspire her with resh vigour and courage to rely s upon thee, her nly support in tune of need, and the rock of her alvation. Let her not be disquieted with the fear of any il, since none can happen unto her without thy permission; but give her grace patiently to resign icrself to thy blessed will in all things, wno knowest what is best for her, and wilt lay no more upon her, we trust, than 'thou wilt enable icr to bear. Bring strength, O Lord, out of weakness, and health out of sickness ;, and make her, in thy good imc, a joyful mother of a hopeful child, which nay do good in its generation, and be an instru- ment of thy glory here, and a blessed inhabitant of thy heavenly kingdom hereafter. Amen. Woman in the Time of her Travail. [From Bishop Patrick.] O MOST Mighty Lord, who hast given us innu- merable pledges of thy love, and encouraged uStq trust in thee tor ever, and to expert with quiet and patient minds the issue of thy wise and good pro- idcnee ; we most humbly commend thy servant, n this her extremity, to thy care and blessing; i.eseeehing thee to give her a gracious deliverance, and to ease her of the burden wherewith she la- bours. We ourselves are monuments of that mercy which we beg of thee. Thou didst preserve our weak and imperfect frame, before we were born. Thou hast succoured and 'supported us ever since, many times beyond our hopes, and always beyond our deservings. We comiriit our- selves, and every thing belonging unto us, most heartily unto thy hands : remembering that thou hast the'same power and goodness still, by which we came into the light of the living. We cannot desire to be better provided for, than as thy inlinite wisdom judgcth most convenient for us; unto that we refer ourselves, beseeching thee, if it be thy good pleasure, that her deliverance may be as speed v as her cries unto thee; or her patience as irreat and long as her pains. Thou who ripenest the fruits of the'earth, and then givest us the ga- thering of them to our comfort, blast not, we be- seech thee, the fruit ofthe womb ; but bring it to maturity, and deliver it safe into thy servant's hand as a new pledge of thy goodness to her, to be an instrument ot thy glory, and a future com- fort and blessing to thy servant, who travails m so much pain with it now. Or if thou hast other- wise detefmined, Lord, give her grace to submit to thy holy will, and to rest satisfied in thy wise appointments, and never to distrust thy goodness and care over her. Hear us, O father of mercies, and pardon hers and all our offences, and pity our infirmities : make us more thankful for what we have received, and more fit for the blessing which we now request ; and prepare us ibr all thy future mercies, either in this life, or in the next, through thy infinite love and compassion declared to us, in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen. 256 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION A Prayer for a Woman who cannot be delivered without Difficulty and Hazard. O LORD God of all comfort and consolation, who art the refuge of the distressed, and the help of all that depend upon thee; we thy unworthy servants do now ofler up our supplications at the throne of -thy majesty, in the behalf of tliis thy servant, who is in great pain and misery. Thou bast been pleased to bring the child to the birth } but there is not strength to bring forth. On this account, thy servant is in tiolent agonies, crying out in her pangs, and pouring out her soul to thee in prayer. O grant that "it may be, in an accepta- ble time." ."/Thou art our salvation; thou shall preserve us from trouble ; thou shalt compass us about .with songs of deliverance." O let thy servant feel these blessed effects of thy goodness ; and as thou hast brought to the birtih, enable her, we beseech thee, to bring forth, that she may rejoice in the work- manship of thy hands, and tell of all thy wondrous works. .Consider the low estate of thine handmaid, and deliver her soul from death, her eyes from tears, and her feet from falling. " Gracious art thou, O Loro7 and righteous ; thou preservest the simple, and helpest those that are in misery." Help thy servant therefore now, we humbly entreat thee, who stands in so much need of it. Accept her tears, and assuage her pain, as shall seem most expedient for her. And forasmuch as she putteth her whole trust in thee, give her strength and pa- tience proportionable to all her pains and agonies. Support her spirits under them, and, if thou pleas- est, carry her safely through the same, and "make her to hear of joy and gladness, that the , bones which thou hast broken may rejoice." " Restore unto her, O Lord, the joy of thy sal- vation, and uphold her with thy free Spirit ; then shall she, teach transgressors thy way, and sinners shall be converted unto thee. Deliver her" from this great affliction, " O God, thou God of her salvation, and her tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness." * Thy mercies and power are still the same, and will be the same for ever. O let them now be shown in this thy servant's delivery, as they have been formerly On the like occasion ; that so, by having fresh instances of thy- loving kindness, she may still praise thee more and more. O perfect her repentance, and pardon her sins. Give her patience whilst she lives, and peace when she dies, and after death, the happiness of a blessed eternity, which thou hast promised and prepared for all that love and fear thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for Grace and Assistance for a Wo- man after Delivery, but still in Danger. [From Mr. Kettlewell.J O FATHER of mercies, what thanks, can we worthily give unto thee- for thine unspeakable goodness to this thy servant and her helpless in- fant, and for the, wondrous tilings which thou hast done for her ! The pangs of death com- passed her, and she found trouble and sorrow The mouth of the pit was -opened, and ready to * This is td be omitted, if it be the first child. shut itself upon her: but thou hast graciously assuaged her pains, and turned her sorrows into joy. Lord, we will ever adore and magnify thy merry, which has dealt so lovingly with her, and praise thy truth and faithfulness, which have not sullercd her hopes to fail. We will never forget how mindful thWKast been of the low estate of thy handmaid; for she has been supported by thy power, O blessed God, in her greatest weakness. She has tasted thy goodness in the midst of all her pangs and sorrows. Perfect, O Lord, that deliverance to her which thou hast mast graciously begun, and let her not be lost, after the wonders which thou hast already done for her. Continue her patience, and her humble de- pendence on thee, under the pains and accidents to which she is still exposed. Support her spirits, and raise her up again in thy due time. Thy mercy and power are still the same, and will be the same for ever. O let them still be shown for her recovery, as they have been already for her delivery ; let them be shown upon her, that she may praise thee more and more. But if, in thy paternal providence, whereunto we pray she may willingly commit herself, thou hast determined otherwise concerning her, thy blessed will be done. Dispose her either to life or death, as thou pleasest, only in both to thy mercy : and whether living or dying, let her still please thee, and be thou her portion. O perfect her re- pentance, and give her patience whilst she lives, and peace when she dies, and after that, the hap- piness of a blessed eternity, which thou hast pre- pared for all that truly fear thee ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. If the Child be living, this may be added: PRESERVE likewise her tender infant, O Father of mercies, and let its own weakness, and our cries, commend it to thy care. Keep it also afterwards in health and safety, and as it increases in years and stature, let it in- crease in wisdom, and in thy fear. We beg not for it wealth or greatness, but wisdom to know and to serve thee. For, O Lord, we do not desire life, either for ourselves or it, but that we may live to thee, and grow daily hi love and thankful- ness for all thy mercies, and in faith and patience, and all holy obedience, which may fit us for the happiness which thou hast promised; through Jesus Christ oilr only Saviour and Redeemer. Amen. Prayers for a Sick Child. [Visitation Office.] O ALMIGHTY God and merciful , Father, to whom "alone belong the issues of life and death; look down from heaven, we humbly beseech thee, with the eyes of mercy upon this child, now lying upon the bedof sickness : visit him, O Lord, with thy salvation ; deliver him in thy good appointed time from his bodily pain, and save his soul for thy mercy's sake ; that if it shall be thy good plea- sure to- prolong his days ^ here on earth, he may live to thee, and be an instrument of thy glory, by serving thee faithfully, and doing good in his generation ; or else receive him into those hea- vt'iilv habitations, where the souls of them that sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and IN VISITING THE SICK. 257 felicity. Grant this, fur thy mercy's sake; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. [From Mr. Kettlewell.] LORD, pity the troubles and weakness of this infant, and pity our sorrows, who are afflicted with it. and for it. Ease it of its pains, and strengthen it when it lies struggling for life. Raise it up again, if it shall please thce, to grow in years and stature, in wisdom and virtue; and thereby to comfort us, and glorify thee. We believe, O Almighty Father, that thou knowest best what is fit, both for it and us, and wilt do what is n't for both, and therefore we Intu- it to thee, to dispose of it as thou pleasest. But whether it be to lite or death, let it be thine in both, and either preserve it to l>e thy true and faithful servant here on earth, or take it to the blessedness of thy children in the kingdom of heaven; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer for a Person who, from a state of Health, is suddenly seized with the Symptom* of Death. O MOST gracious Father, Lord of heaven and earth, Judge of the living and of the dead, behold thy servants turning to thee tor pity and mcrcv. in behalf of onrsehes mid this thy servant, ll w;ts luit lately that we beheld him in as promising a state of health and life, as any one of us seems to be in at present, and therefore our concern is so much the greater to behold so sudden a change. and so unlocked for an instance of our mortality. We know, O Lord, thou canst bring back from the brink of the grave, and as suddenly raise thy servant again as thou hast cast him down, and therefore we think it not too late to implore thy mercy upon him for his recovery ; at least we beg of thee to spare him a little, that he may recover his strength, and have time to make his peace with thee, " before he go hence, and be no more seen." But if it be thy will to remove him at this time into another world, O let the miracles of thy compassion, and thy wonderful mercy, supply to him the want of the usual measures of time, that he may fit himself for eternity. And let the great- ness of his calamity be a means to procure his pardon for those defects and degrees of unreadi- ness which this sudden stroke hath caused. And teach us all, we beseech thee, from this unexpected fate of our brother, to be continually upon our guard, and to watch and pray, since \\e know not the hour when the " Master of the house cometh," whether " in the evening, or at midnight, or in the morning." Lord, thou hast now called thy servant before he was aware of it ; O, give him such a great and effectual repentance in this exigence, that in a short time it may be sufficient to do the work of many days. Thou regardest, O Lord, the sin- cerity of our hearts more than the measures of time, in our conversion ; accept therefore, we be- seech thee, the few minutes of thy servant's un- feigned tears and humiliation for his sins, as if they were hours and days of a longer preparation : and let it be thy pleasure to rescue him from alj the evils he deserves, and all the evils he fears, that in the songs of eternity which angels and saints shall sing to the glory of thy name, this also may be reckoned amongst thine invaluable mer- 2K cies, that thou hast redeemed his soul from death, and made him partaker of eternal life ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for a sick Person, when there appeareth small hope of Recovery. [Visitation Office.] O FATHER of 'mercies and God of all comfort, our only help in time of need ; we . fly unto thee for succour in behalf of this thy servant, here lying under thy hand in great weakness of body. Look graciously upon him, O Lord, and, the more the outward man decay cth, strengthen him, we be- seech tliee. so much the more continually with thy grace and Holy Spirit in the inner man. Give him unfeigned repentance for ail the errors of his life past, and steadfast faith in thy Son Je- sus, that his sins may be forgiven, and his pardon sealed in heaven, before he go hence, and be no more seen. We know, O Lord, that there is no work impossible with thee, and that, if thou wilt, thou canst even yet raise him up, and grant him a longer continuance among us. Yet forasmuch as in all appearance the time of In's dissolution draw- eth near, so fit and prepare hin^ we beseech thee, against the hour of death, that after his departure hence in peace, and in thy favour, his soul may be received into thine everlasting kingdom; through the mediation of Jesus Clmst thy Sonj our Saviour. Amen. A general Prayer for Preparation and Readi- ness to die. LORD, "what is our life, but a vapour which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away 7" Even at the longest, how short and transitory! and when we think ourselves most secure, yet we know not what a day may bring forth ; nor how soon thou mayest come, before wo are aware, to call us to our last account. duickly shall we be as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Gluickly shall we be snatched away hence, and our place here shall know us no more. Our bodies shall soon lie down in the grave, and our souls be summoned to appear before the tribunal of Christ, to receive our everlasting doom ; and yet, O Lord, how do the generality of man- kind live in this world, as if they were never to leave it ! How unmindful are we all of our depar- ture ! how improvident of our time ! how careless of our souls, and negligent in our preparations for eternity ! so that thou mightest justly cut us off in the midst of our sins, and our unpreparedness to appear before thee. But, O God of all comfort and mercy, remember not our sins against thee, but remember thy own love to us in Jesus Christ, and thy tender mercies which have been ever of old. O, remember how short our time is, and " so teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." In the days of our health and prosperity, let us, from the example of our brother's weakness, re- member oUr own approaching fate; and let /////?, from the sudden change of health to sickness, con- sider how few and evil all his days have been, and that there is no satisfaction in any thing, but in knowing thee, O God. Lord, what have we to do in this world, but to devote ourselves wholly to thy service, and to make ready for the world to 22* 253 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION come 1 O, that we may all of us be mindful o: this " one thing necessary,''' that we may finish our " work," before we finish our course. duicken thy servant, O Lord, into a powerfu and serious consideration of these things, now thou hast brought him into more intimate acquaintance with them. Instruct and assist liirn in this grea work of preparation to die. Show him how to do it, and help him with good success to perform it ; that when the time of his dissolution draweth near, he may have nothing else to do, but to re- sign himself willingly and cheerfully into thy hands, as into the hands of a merciful Creator, there to remain with thee for ever in that blessed place where sin and sickness and death shall be no more. Amen. A commendatory Prayer for a sick Person at the point of Departure. [Visitation Office.] O ALMIGHTY God, with whom do live the spi- rits of just men made perfect ; we humbly com- mend the soul of this thy servant our dear brother into thy hands, as into the hands of a faithful Creator, and most merciful Saviour; humbly be- seeching thee, that it may be acceptable in thy sight. And teach us, who survive, by this and other daily instances of mortality, to see how frail and uncertain our own condition is, and so to number our days, that we may seriously apply our hearts to that holy and heavenly wisdom, which may bring us to life everlasting ; through Jesus Christ thy Son, our Lord. Amen. . A Litany for a sick Person at the time of Departure. [From Bishop Andrews.] O God, the Father of heaven, Have mercy upon him : Keep and defend him. O God the Son, Redeemer of the world, Have mercy upon him : Save and deliver him. O God the Holy Ghost, proceeding from the Father and the Son r Have mercy upon him : Strengthen and comfort him. O, holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity, Have mercy upon him. Remember not, Lord, his offences; call not to mind the offences of his forefathers; but spare him, good Lord, spare thy servant, whom thou hast redeemed with thy precious blood, and be not angry with him for ever. From thy wrath and indignation ; from the fear of death; from the guilt and burden of his sins, and from the dreadful sentence of the last judg- ment; Good Lord deliver him. From the sting of conscience : from impatience, distrust, or despair; and from the extremity of sickness or agony, which may any ways withdraw his mind from thee ; Good Lord deliver him. From the powers of darkness ; from the illu- sions and assaults of our ghostly enemy ; and from the bitter pangs of eternal death ; Good Lord deliver him. From all danger and distress j from all terrors and torments ; from all pains and punishments, both of the body and of the soul; Good Lord deliver him. By thy manifold and great mercies ; by the ma- nifold and great mercies of Jesus Christ thy Son ; by his agony and bloody sweat; by his strong crying and tears ; by his bitter cross and passion ; by his resurrection and ascension; by his inter- cession and mediation ; and by the graces and comforts of the Holy Ghost ; Good Lord deliver him. In this time of extremity ; in his last and great- est need ; in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment ; Good Lord deliver him. We sinners do beseech thee to hear us, O Lord God ; that it may please thee to be his defender and keeper; to remember him with the favour thou bearest unto thy people, and to visit him with thy salvation : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee to save and deliver his soul from the power of the enemy, to receive it to thy mercy, and to give him a quiet and joyful de- parture : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee to be merciful, and to forgive all the sins and offences, which at any time of his life he hath committed against thee : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee not to lay to his charge, what in the lust of the flesh, or in the lust of the eye, or in the pride of life, he hath committed against thee : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee not to lay to his charge, what, in the fierceness of his wrath, or in vain and idle words, he hath committed against thee : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee to make him partaker of all thy mercies, and promises, in Christ Jesus. We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee to grant his body rest and peace, and a part in the blessed resurrection of life and glory : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. That it may please thee to vouchsafe his soul the enjoyment of everlasting happiness, with all the blessed saints in thy heavenly kingdom : We beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord. Son of God, we beseech thee to hear us. O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world; Grant him thy peace. O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world ; Have mercy upon him. O Saviour of the world, &c. ) M fou m Unto thy gracious, &c. $ Form of recommending the Soul to God, in her Departure from the Body. [From Bishop Cosins.] INTO thy merciful hands, O Lord, we commend the soul of this thy servant, now departing from the body. Receive -him, we humbly beseech thee, into the arms of thy mercy, into the glorious so- ciety of thy saints in heaven. Amen. GOD the Father, who hath created thee ; God the Son, who hath redeemed thee ; God the Holy IN VISITING THE SICK. 259 Ghost, who hath infused his grace into thee ; be now and evermore thy defence, assist thee in this thy last trial, and bring thee to everlasting life. Amen, [Prom Bishop Taylor.] I. O HOLY and most gracious Jesus, we humbly recommend the soul of thy servant into thy hands, thy most merciful hands : let thy blessed angels stand in ministry about thy servant, and protect him in his departure. Amen. II. LORD, receive the soul of this thy servant : enter not into judgment with him; spare him whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious blood, and deliver him from all evil and mischief, from the crafts and assaults of the devil, from the fear of death, and from everlasting condemnation. Amen. III. LORD, impute not unto him. the follies of his youth, nor any of the errors of his life; but strengthen him in his agony, and carry him safely through the last distress. Let not his faith waver, nor his hope fail, nor his charity be diminished; let him die in peace, and rest in nope, and rise in glory. Amen. O SAVIOUR of the world, who by thy cross and precious blood hast redeemed us ; save and help this thy departing servant, we humbly beseech thee, O Lord. Amen. UNTO thy gracious mercy and protection we commit him. O Lord, bless him, and keep him. Make thy face to shine upon him, and be gracious unto him. Lift up thy countenance upon him, and give him peace, both now and evermore. Amen. A consolatory Form of Devotion that may be used with the Friends or Relations of the Deceased. "SORROW not, brethren, for them which are asleep, even as others, who have no hope. " For if we believe that Jesus died, and rose again ; even so them also which sleep in Jesus, will God bring with him." 1 Thess. iv. 13, 14. " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth good unto him." 1 Sam. Hi. 18. " The righteous is taken away from the evil to come." Isaiah Ivii. 1. " Though the righteous be prevented with death, yet shall he be in rest. " The honourable age is not that which stand- eth in length of days, nor that which is measured by number of years. " But wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is old age." Wisd. iv. 7, 8, 9. " Precious in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his saints." Psalm cxvi. 15. " Yea, blessed are the dead, which die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours." Rev. xiv. 13. Let us pray. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have mercy upon, us. Lord, have mercy upon us. OUR Father which art in heaven : hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation ; but deliver us from evil. Amen. " Lord, thou hast been our refuge from one generation to another. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made, thou art God from everlasting, and world without end. Thou turnest man to destruction ; again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday, seeing that is past as a watch in the night. As soon as thou catterest them, they are even as a sleep, and fade away suddenly like the grass. In the morning it is green, and groweth up; but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered. For we consume away in thy displeasure, and are afraid of thy wratliful indignatipn. Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee, and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. For when thou art angry, all our days are gone ; we bring our years to an end, as it were a t.ilr that is told. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Turn thee again at last, and be gracious to thy servants. Comfort them again, now after the time that thou hast afflicted them, and for the present oc- casion, wherein they suffer adversity. O satisfy them with thy mercy, and that soon ; so shall they rejoice, and be glad all the days of their life." MOST just art thou, O God, in all thy dealings with us, " our punishment is less than our ini- quities deserve; and therefore we desire to sub- mit with all humility and patience to this dispen- sation of thy divine providence. Be pleased so to sanctify it to this family, that thy grace and mercy may more abundantly flow upon thy servants. Thy property it is to bring good out of evil ; O turn that evil, which is now befallen this house, to the benefit of every one of us, that so we may be able to say, from happy experience, that "the house of mourning is better than the house of feasting," while the death of our brother, through thy blessing, shall conduce and minister to our spiritual advantage. Let the sight of his change make us the more mindful of our own, and the sense of our loss make us cleave more steadfastly to thee, O God. Let the remembrance of his virtues make us fol- low his example, and the hope we have of his being blessed, cause us to " press," with the more earnestness, " towards the mark, for the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus." Thou knowest, O Lord, the weakness and frailty of our nature, and therefore we beseech thee to give thy servants, who are more nearly concerned in this visitation, a constant supply of thy good Spirit, to enable them to bear it with humility, patience, resignation, and submission to thy divine will, as becometh the Gospel of Je- sus Christ. O that no repining thoughts may arise in their hearts to discompose their duty to- wards thee, or towards their neighbour : but help THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION. them rather to think wherein they have offended thee, and carefully to amend it: to place their affections more steadfastly on those immoveable things which are above, and freely resign all their thoughts and desires unto thee ; saying, with holy Job, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." And let the death of thy servant strike us all with such a lively sense of our mortality, as may cause us so thoroughly to die to sin, and live to grace, that when we die, we may rest in him, as our hope is this onr^brother doth. We evidently see "that death is the end of all men j" grant us therefore grace to lay it to heart, to despise the world, " to abhor that which is evil, and cleave to that which is good ; to delight in thy word, to study thy will, to observe thy law, and to take all possible care to promote thy honour, and our own salvation ; that when " we go the way of all earth, we may be comforted by tKy pre- sence," and admitted into thy heavenly kingdom. Amen. ASSIST us mercifully, O Lord, in these our supplications and prayers and dispose the way of thy servants towards the attainment of ever- lasting salvation ; that, among all the changes and chances of this mortal life, they may ever be defended by thy most gracious and ready help ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. The Lord bless us and keep us, the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upoii us, and give us peace, now and for evermore. Amen. OCCASIONAL PRAYERS AND DEVOTIONS FOR THE SICK AND UNFORTUNATE IN EXTRAORDINARY CASES. A Prayer for a Person whose Illness is chiefly brought on him by some calamitous Disaster or loss, as of Estate, Relations, or Friends, tf*c. [From Bishop Patrick.] O MOST gracious and glorious God, supreme Judge and Governor of the world, " in whom we live, and move, and have our v being," and from whom all the blessings we enjoy, and "every good and perfect gift cometh," grant us, we hum- bly beseech thee, such a measure of thy grace, that whenever thou art pleased to remove any of thy blessings from us, we may bear it with a per- fect resignation to thy divine will ; and with all patience, humility, and contentedness of spirit, consider how unworthy we are of the least of thy mercies. More particularly, O Lord, we beseech thee to give this peaceableness, and contentedness of mind, to this thy servant, whom thou hast so sen- sibly afflicted, by taking so near and dear a bless- ing from him. O give him such a portion of thy blessed Spirit, and such a lively sense of his duty, that he may have power to surmount all the dif- ficulties he labours under, and freely to resign all his thoughts and desires unto thee, submitting himself entirely to thy good providence, and re- solving, by thy gracious assistance, to rest con- tented with whatsoever thou in thy wisdom ap- pointest for him. Thou knowest, O Lord, the weakness and frailty of our nature, and therefore be pleased to comfort him in this lied of sickness establish him with the light of thy countenance : and grant that no repining thoughts may increase h in illness, or discompose his duty towards thee, or his neighbour : but enable him to think wherein he -hath oflended thee, and carefully to amend his ejrors ; to set his affections on things above, and not on things below, and to lay up for himself treasures in heaven, even the treasures of a good life, which no disasters or calamities shall evt-r be able to take from him. Grant this, O heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for a Person who by any calamitous Disaster hath broken any of his Bones, or is very much bruised and hurt in his Body. [From Mr. Jenks.] O LORD, the only disposer of all events, thou hast taught us that "affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground :" but that the disasters which befall us are by thy appointment. Thou art just in all thou bringest upon us: and though thy "judg- ments are far above out of our sight," yet we know " that they are right, and that it is in very faithfulness thau causest us to be afflicted." " Why then should a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins V Let these considerations prevail with thy servant to submit to thy dispen- sations. Make him resolve to bear the effects of thy displeasure, and to consider it as the just de- sert of his sins. O Lord, give him patience and strength, and grace, proportionable to this great trial ; and enable him so to conduct himself under it, that, after the affliction is removed, he muy find cause to say, " it was good for him to be afflicted." Thou that hast torn and smitten, thou art able to heal and. to comfort. Be pleased to remember him in this his low estate. Cause him to " search and try his ways, and turn to thee, and bring forth fruits meet for repentance." We know, O Lord, thou canst raise him up from the deepest affliction : O, let it be thy gra- cious will to glorify thy power and mercy in his recovery ; or, nowever thou shalt think fit to dis- pose of this " vile body," grant him, O God, a mind entirely resigned to thy will, and satisfied with thy dispensations. O, make this calamity the messenger of thy love to his soul, and the happy means of his conversion ; through Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer for a Person that is afflicted with grievous Pains of his Body. [From Mr. Jenks.] O LORD, thou art a merciful God, and dost not willingly afflict the children of men ; but when necessity requires, thou chastisest us for our profit, that we' may be partakers of thy holiness. Re- move, we beseech thee, this affliction from thy servant, or enable him to bear what thou art pleased-to lay upon him. Lord, all his desire is before thee, arid his groaning is not hid from thee. Regard his affliction, when thou hearest his cry. Enter not into judgment with him, nor deal with him according to his sins, but according to thy mercy in Jesus Christ. O gracious Father, sanctify to him what thou hast laid upon him, that his present affliction may work out for him an eternal weight of glory. Support him under IN VISITING THE SICK. 261 his pains, till it shall please thee to grant him ease and comfort. And, however thou shalt deal with him, let him not repine at thy correction, nor sin in charging thee foolishly. Make him sensible, that thou doest nothing but what is wise and just ; nothing but what thy servant shall one day have cause to bless and praise thee for doing. And let this consideration teach him to glority thee in the time of h is visitation, by an humble submission to thy will, and a sincere reformation under thy providential dispensations; that thou mayest visit him in mercy and love, show him the joy of thy salvation ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for One who is troubled with acute Pains of tlie Gout, Stone, Colic, or any other bodily Distemper. [From Mr. Spinkes.] O BLESSED God, just and holy, who dost not willingly afflict the children of men ; withhold not, we beseech thee, thy assistance from this thy ser- vant in the extremity of his pain. His sorrows are increased, and his soul is full of trouble. He has none to flee unto, for the ease and initiation of his agonies, but to thee, O Lord. He freely owns that his sufferings are infinitely less than he has deserved ; yet since they jrierce deep, and are become almost too heavy for him to bear, we pre- sume to call upon thee for aid ; and to entreat thee, not to punish him according to his deserts. For if thou shouldest IK- extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord, who may abide ill" Spare him therefore for thy mercy's sake; and correct him "not in thine anger, lest t hmi bring him to nothing.'' Endue him with that patience which may enable him cheerfully to submit to thy chastisement; and grant him an unfeigned rejvntance for all Jits sins. Comfort his soul, which melteth away for very heaviness, and let thy loving mercy come unto him. Sanctify this thy fatherly correction to him, that it may be for thy glory, and his ad- vantage. And when thy gracious ends in afflict- ing him, shall be accomplished, which we know are not for " thy pleasure," but for his profit, give him, we beseech thee, a fresh occasion to rr juice in thy saving health ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for a Person in the Small-Pox, or any such-like raging infectious Disease. O GRACIOUS and merciful Father, the only giver of health, look down, we beseech thee, with an eye of compassion, upon thy miserable and disconsolate servant, from whom thou hast taken this great and valuable blessing ; and instead of it, has fill 3d every part of his body with a sore Teach him, O Lord, and teach us all from hence, to consider how soon the beauty of life is blasted like a flower, and our " strength dried up like a potsherd," that we may not put our trust in any of these transitory things, but in thee only, the hying God, who art able to save and to destroy, to kill and to make alive. Our brother, whom we now behold a spectacle of misery, was lately, like one of us, in perfect health. But now "thou makest his beauty to consume away, as it were a moth fretting a gar- ment. Thine arrows stick fast in him, and thy hand prcsseth him sore; so that there is no sound- ness in his flesh, because of thine anger ; neither is there any rest in his bones by reason of his sin. " O reject him not utterly, but take thy plague away from him. Return, O Lord, and that speedily ; for his spirit faileth. O leave him not in his distress ; for though the world may forsake him, his sure trust is in thee. To thee, O Lord, does he cry; to thee doth he stretch forth his hands ; his soul thirsteth after thee as a barren and dry land. Lord, all his desire is before thee, and his groaning is not hid from thee. Comfort him therefore again now after the time that thou hast afflicted him, and for the days wherein he hath suffered adversity." Put a stop, O Lord, we beseech thee, to this raging infection, and say to the destroying angel, " It is enough." Protect us under the shadow of thy wings, that we may not " be afraid of any ter- ror by night ; nor for the arrow that flieth by day ; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness ; nor for the sickness that destroyeth in the noon- day ;" but that, with ease in our minds, and health in our bodies, we may serve thee cheerfully all the days of our life ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for a Person in a Consumption, or any lingering' Disease. [From Mr. Jenks.] O MERCIFUL God, thou hast long kept thy ser- vant under thy chastening hand ; thou hast made him acquainted with grief; and hi* sickness is even become his familiar companion : yet, O bless- ed Lord, grant that he may not be impatient un- der thy chastisement, who art pleased to wait so long lor the return of a sinner: but let him re- inemUer that thou hast kind intentions, even in thy bitterest dispensations; that thou "chastenest him whom thou lovest, and scourgest every son whom thou receivest." Teach him, O gracious Father, to see love in thy rod, and justice in all thy dealings ; that he may humble himself under thy mighty hand ; that he may think it good for him to nave been afflicted, and patiently wait for thy loving kindness. Yet, that his faith may not fail, nor his patience be overcome, give him ease and relaxation from his pain, and a happy conclusion of this long vi- sitation. In the mean time, grant that he may neither despise thy chastening, nor faint under thy rebukes ; but employ the time which thou lendest, and improve the affliction which thou cpntinuest, as a gracious opportunity for his spi- ritual advantage ; that under the decays of the body, the inner man may be renewed day by day ; and that whatever appertains to his everlasting salvation may be promoted and perfected through the riches of thy grace, and the multitude of thy mercies in Jesus Christ. Amen.^ A Prayer for a Person who is lame in his Sick- ness. [From Mr. Lewis.] O ALMIGHTY God, who " art eyes to the blind and feet to the lame," have pity, we entreat thee, on thy servant : help him in his distress, and bless, we pray thee, the means made use of for his cure. Make him sensible of thy design in visiting him with this affliction ; cause him to remember, how THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION in his strength and health, he followed his own devices, and the desire of his own heart ; and let him see, that thou hast lifted up thy hand against him, for this? very purpose, that he may learn to walk more humbly with thee, and turn his feet to thy testimonies. Deliver him from the painful confinement under which he labours, and grant him again the happiness of enjoying the comforts of life, and of worshiping thee in thy sanctuary, with the " voice of joy and praise." But, O Lord, not our will, but thine be done. Thou knowest better what is good for us, than we ourselves ; and it is in wisdom that thou afflictest us. Give thy servant patience, that he may bear his pains with- out murmuring, and wait at the time of his deli- verance from them without uneasiness ; satisfy him of thy care over him, and thy tender regard to him ; and in thy good time restore him to his for- mer strength and vigour, that he may give thanks to thee in the great congregation ; through Jesus Christ our Saviour. Amen. A Prayer for One that is Bed-ridden. [From Mr. Lewis.] O LORD our God, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort, have compassion, we en- treat thee, on the helpless condition of thy servant: support his spirits which are ready to droop under affliction : refresh his mind which is apt to be un- easy and melancholy at the thought of perpetual confinement. Give sleep to his eyes, and rest to his weary thoughts. Cause him to meditate on thee in the night watches ; to " commune with his own heart ;" and, in his solitude, "to search and try his ways," that he may see wherein he hath erred, and may turn unto thee with all his soul and with all his strength. Let this affliction be the means of preparing him for the enjoyment of thy pre- sence, in which is fulness of joy ; and let him be the more patient under it for that reason. Make him thankful that thou hast by this expedient preserved him from the company of those whose evil communication might have corrupted his heart, and hast taken him out of a world, by the snares and temptations of which he might have been prevailed upon to forsake thee, and turn from the way of thy commandments. Grant, O Lord, that he may not render himself unworthy of thy favour, by murmuring and repining ; but that he may use the leisure and opportunity now given him, to make his peace with thee, and be fitted for the enjoyment of an inheritance among the saints in light; through thy mercy in Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Redeemer. Amen. A Prayer for a Person troubled in Mind, or in Conscience. ("Visitation Office.] O BLESSED Lord, the Father of Mercies, and the God of all comforts, we beseech thee, look down in pity and compassion upon this thine afflicted servant. Thou writest bitter things against him, and makest him to possess his for- mer iniquities : thy wrath lieth hard upon him, and his soul is full of trouble. But, O merciful God, who hast given us thy holy word for our learning, that we through patience, and comfort of the Scriptures, might have hope ; give him a right understanding of himself, and of thy threat- cnings and promises; that he may neither cast away his confidence in thee, nor place it any where but in thee. Give him strength against all temptations, and heal all his infirmities. Break not the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. Shut not up thy tender mercies in displeasure, but make him hear of joy and gladness, that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. De- liver him from the fear of the enemy ; lift up the light of thy countenance upon him, and give him peace, through the mediation of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Another for the same, or for One under deep Me- lancholy and Dejection of Spirit. [From Mr. Jenks.] O MOST gracious Lord, thou knowest our frame, and art full of compassion to thy servants under their trouble and oppression ; look down upon us, we humbly beseech thee, with thy wonted pity, and remember the work of thy hands, our discon- solate brother. Thy wrath lies hard upon him; and all thy waves are gone over him ; thy terrors oppress his mind, and disturb his reason. O thou that speakest the winds and waves into obedience and calmness, settle and quiet his discomposed thoughts; speak peace and satisfaction to his troubled mind, and give him comfort and sure confidence in the sense of thy pardon and love. Lord, help hfe unbelief, and increase his faith. Though he walk in the valley and shadow of death, let "thy rod and thy staff support and pro- tect him." In the multitude of the thoughts and sorrows that he hath in his heart, let thy comfort refresh his soul. Let in a beam of thy heavenly light, to dispel the clouds and darkness in which his mind is involved. O direct to the means most proper for his help, and so bless and prosper them, that they may effectually promote his re- covery out of this deplorable state. Incline his ears to wholesome counsels, and dispose his heart to receive due impressions. O gracious Father, pity his frailty, forgive his sin, and rebuke his distemper, that his disquieted soul may return to its rest. O, raise him up, and show thy mercy upon him, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our bless- ed Saviour and Redeemer. Amen. For the same. [From Bishop Patrick.] PRESERVE this thy servant, O gracious Father, from dishonouring thee and his religion, by dis- trusting thy power, or thy goodness. Remove all troublesome imaginations from him, and give him a clear understanding of thee, and of himself, that no causeless fears and jealousies may overwhelm him, nor his heart sink^within him from any sadness and dejection of spirit. Compose, we beseech thee, his disturbed thoughts ; quiet his disordered mind, and appease all the tu- mults of his soul, by a. sweet sense of thy tender mercies, and of the love of thy Son Jesus Christ to mankind. Keep him from forming any rash conclusions concerning thy providence ; and give him so much light and judgment amid all the darkness and confusion of his thoughts, that he may not think himself forsaken by thee ; but may firmly believe, that if he does the best he can, thou requirest no more. And enable him, O Lord, to look forwards to that region of light and glory, IN VISITING THE SICK. 2G3 whither our Saviour is gone before, to prepare a place for all thy faithful servants. Strengthen his weak and feeble endeavours Support his fainting spirit, and cause it humbly to hope in thee. Confirm and establish every good thought, desire, and purpose, which thou hast wrought in him. Make him to grow in wisdom, faith, love, and willing obedience. Con- duct him hereafter so easily and steadily, peace- ably and quietly, so cheerfully and securely, in thy ways, that he may glorify thee whilst lie lives, and when he leaves this troublesome world, may resign his soul into thy merciful hands, with a pious confidence and a hope of a joyful resurrec- tion ; through the merits of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for One under Fears and Doubts con- cerning his spiritual Condition, or under per- plexing Thoughts and Scruples about his Duty. [From Mr. Kettlewell.J O LORD our God, we offer up our humble sup- plication to thee in behalf of this thy servant, whose soul is disquieted within him by his fears and anxiety respecting the safety of his condition. Remove from him, we entreat thee, all frightful apprehensions, all perplexing doubts and scruples about his duty. Make him satisfied and settled in a right understanding of all thy precepts, and careful in the observance of them ; and dispel, by the light of thy countenance, all that darkness which obscures his soul, that he may not be un- necessarily dejected, and distrustful of himself, or dishonourably jealous of thee. Deliver him from all those offences which make him so much a stranger to pace and comfort ; and cause him to place his chief satisfaction and delight in obeying thy commandments, and in meditating on thy mercy ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. A Prayer for One who is disturbed with wicked and blasphemous Thoughts. [From Mr. Lewis.] O LORD GOD, the Father of our spirits, to whom all hearts are open, and all desires known ; we humbly entreat thee to succour and relieve this thy servant, who labours under the burden of wicked thoughts. Let thy power and goodness be shown in nealinw his disordered mind. Cleanse the thoughts of his heart by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit. Suffer them not to be defiled by any profane or blasphemous suggestions, but heal the soul of thy servant, by enabling him to stifle and suppress all such thoughts as tend to rob him of his peace, or deprive him of the comforts of re- ligion. Enable him to be of an equal and steady temper, to be mild and gentle in his behaviour, and to keep his hopes and fears within due bounds. Make him sensible of the wise and kind reasons of these afflictions ; that, if they are duly improved, they may be powerful preserva- tives of his soul against the prevailing sins of a licentious age ; may lessen his inclinations to the enjoyments of this life, and deaden his appetite to sensual pleasure, and the perishing goods of this world; that these afflictions may dispose him to compassionate the sufferings of others, and make him more thoroughly feel his own infirmities, and the want of divine assistance. Open his eyes, that he may see and know the wise and gracious dispensations of thy providence ; and, by humbling himself under them, may at length be lifted up and made a partaker of that peace and joy which thou bestowest on all thy faithful servants. Grant this, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our only Media- tor and Redeemer. A Prayer for One who is afflicted with a profane Mistrust of Dicine Truths, and blaspheinous Thoughts. [From Mr. Kettlewell.] O MOST gracious God, in whose hand is the soul of every living creature ; protect this thy servant, we humbly and earnestly entreat thee, against all doubts and mistrusts of thy truth, against all irreligious thoughts and suggestions. Never suffer them, O Lord, to weaken his faith, or to hinder him from performing his duty. Preserve him not only from me sin, but if it seem good to thine infinite wisdom, from the tempta- tion and the sorrow, which may attend them. But, if it be thy blessed will to continue these terrifying thoughts for his trial and humiliation, Lord, make him sensible that they will not be imputed to him as sin, if, as. soon as he perceives them, he rejects them with horror and indigna- tion. During this trial, let him learn to depend upon thee, that, as often as these profane thoughts arise in his mind, he may find grace to overcome them, and without the least indulgence or delay to cast them out ; and that he may learn to show patience under them, as under every other affliction and trial of thy appointment, trusting to thy grace to assist him, and to thy goodness to deliver him; through Jesus Christ our Saviour. Amen. A Prayer for One under the dread of God's Wrath and everlasting Damnation. [From Mr. Lewis.] O ALMIGHTY God, the aid of all that need, and the helper of all that flee to thee for succour, ac- cept, we beseech thee, our humble supplications for this thy servant, labouring under the dismal apprehensions of thy wrath. O Lord, enter not into judgment with him ; make him sensible that, though the wages of sin are death, the gift of God is eternal life ; that thou tiatest the death of a sinner, and art not willing that any should perish ; that thou always punish- est less than we deserve, and in the midst of judg- ment rememberest mercy. Revive his soul with a sense of thy love, and the hopes of obtaining thy pardon, and the joy of thy salvation ; that he may be raised from this dejection, and show with gladness what thou hast done for his soul. All this we humbly beg for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. A Prayer for a Lunatic. [From Mr. Jenks.] O LORD, the only wise God, from whom we lave received all the faculties of our souls : thou art holy and righteous in all thy dispensations, hough the reason of them is frequently unknown to us. Dispel, we humbly beseech thee, if it be agreeable to thine infinite wisdom, the clouds in which the soul of thy servant is now involved ; that he may regain his understanding, and the right use of his faculties. Heal his disordered mind : settle and quiet his passions ; pacify and :ompose his imagination. 264 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION O prosper the means which are used for his re- covery. Make him tractable in the use of reme- dies, and willing to comply with the advice of his friends. But if no means can effect his cure, let him possess his soul in peace and composure, and in every interval of reason address his prayer to thee ; that, when his earthly tabernacle shall be dissolved, he may rejoice in his former inability to pursue the pleasures of the world, and be pre- sented unto thee pure and undefiled, through Je- sus Christ our Lord. Amen. A Prayer for natural Fools, or Madmen. [From Mr. Kettlewell.] O ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father, pity, we entreat thee, this thy unhappy creature, who knovVs not his own wants, nor how to ask for thy mercies. Compassionate, O Lord, his infirmities, and supply /it* necessities. Let thy wisdom pre- vent those evils which he cannot foresee, or wants understanding to remove ; but especially keep him from doing any thing that may be hurtful cither to himself or others. Let his mind, on all occasions, be quiet and peaceable ; and as far as his faculties extend ex- ercised in piety and devout meditations. O near our cry when we call upon thee : hear us for him who is not able to pray for himself; grant him thy fatherly care at present, and thy peace at the last ; through the mediation of thy Son, our Sa- viour Jesus Christ. Amen. PROPER PSALMS FOR A SICK PER- SON AT SEA. I. 1. SAVE me, O God, for the waters are come in, even unto my soul. 2. I am come into deep waters, so that the floods run over me. Psalm Ixix. 1, 2. 3. The floods are risen, O Lord, the floods have lift up their voice ; the floods lift up their waves. 4. The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly : but yet the Lord, who dwellejh in hea- ven, is mightier. Psalm xciii. 4, 5. 5. He maketh the storm to cease, so that the waves thereof are still. 6. Wherefore unto thee, O Lord, do I cry in my trouble : deliver me ' out of my distress. Psalm cvii. 28. 7. Thou shalt show us wonderful things in thy righteousness, O God of our salvation : thou that art the hope of all the ends of the earth, and of them that remain in the broad sea. Psalm Ixv. 5. 8. Through thee have I been holden up ever since I was born ; thou art he that took me out of my mother's womb ; my praise shall always be of thee. Psalm Ixxi. 5, 6. 9. I will cry unto thee, Thou art my father, my God, and the rock of my salvation. Psalm Ixxxix. 26. 10. Withdraw not thou thy mercy from me, O Lord; let thy loving-kindness and truth always preserve me. 11. For innumerable troubles arc come about me : my sins have taken such hold upon me, that I am not able to look up; yea, they are more in number than the hairs of my head, and my heart hath failed me. 12. O Lord, let it be thy pleasure to deliver me, make haste. O Lord, to help me. Psalm xl. 11, 12, 13. II. 1. OUT of the deep have 1 called unto thee, O Lord ; Lord, hear my voice. 2. O let thine ears consider well the voice of my complaint. Psalm cxxx. 1, 2. 3. For I am helpless and poor, and my heart is wounded within me. Psalm cix. 21. 4. My hedrt is disquieted within me, and the fear of death is fallen upon me. 5. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and an horrible dread hath overwhelmed me. Psalm Iv. 4, 5. 6. I go hence like the-shadow that departeth, and am driven away like a grasshopper. Psalm cix. 22. 7. O God, thou knowest my foolishness, and my sins are not hidden from thee. Psalm Ixix. 5. 8. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit ; in a place of darkness, and in the deep. 9. Thine indignation lieth hard upon me, and thou hast vexed me with all thy storms. Psalm Ixxxviii. 5, 6. 10. Thou breakest me with a tempest, and my roarings are poured out like waters. Job iii. 24 ix. 17. 11. O reject me not utterly, and be not exceed- ing wroth against thy servant. Lament, v. 22. 12. For my soul is full of trouble, and my life draweth nigh unto hell Psalm Ixxxviii. 2. 13. I am brought into so great trouble and mi- sery, that I go mourning all the day long. 14. For my loins are filled with a sore disease, and there is no whole part in my body. Psalm xxxviii. 6, 7. 15. My wounds stink and are corrupt, through my foolishness. Psalm xxxviii. 5. 16. Behold, O Lord, I am in distress; my bowels are troubled, my heart is turned within me, for I have grievously transgressed. Lament, i. 20. 17. O remember not the sins and offences of my youth ; but according to thy mercy think thou upon me, O Lord, for thy goodness. Psalm xxv. 6. 18. Cast me not away in the time of age ; for- sake me not. when my strength faileth me. Psalm Ixxi. 8. 19. Take thy plague away from me : I am even consumed by the means of thy heavy hand. 20. When thou with rebukes dost chasten man for sin, thou makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment : every man therefore is but vanity. 21. Hear my prayer, O Lord, and with thine ears consider my calling ; hold not thy peace at my tears. 22. For I am a stranger with thee, and a so- journer, as all my fathers were. 23. O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength, before I go hence, and be no more seen. Psalm xxxix. 11 13. A Prayer for a sick Seaman. O MOST groat and glorious Lord, the " salvation of all that dwell on the earth, and of them that re- main in the broad sea ;" under whose powerful pro- tection we are alike secure in every place, and without whose providence over us we ran no where be in safety ; look down, we beseech thee, upon us, thy unworthy servants, who are called to " behold thy wonders in the deep," and to perform our several duties in the great waters. IN VISITING THE SICK. " Thou art our refuge and strength, a very pre- sent help in trouble ; and therefore we tiv unto thee for succour in all our necessities. Extend thy accustomed goodness to our distressed brother, whom thou hast been pleased to visit with the rod of affliction. " The waves of death encompass him about, and the sorrows of hell take hold upon him." O leave him not to himself, nor let him be given over " to a spirit of slumber" and darkness; but "open his eyes, that he may see 1 the wondrous things of thy law," and the necessity of a sj>ot'dy and sincere repentance ; so that from" the sickness of bis body, he may derive health and salvation to his soul, which is the great end. of all thy righte- ous judgments, and of all our affliction's. Let him seriously consider and reflect within himself, from tins visitation, " what a dreadful thing it is to fall into the hand? of the living God;" and let him hence learn, if it shall please thee to raise him up again, to preserve a more awful sense of thy divine majesty upon his spirit, " and to live more soberly, righteously, and piously, in this pre- sent world." We know, O Lord, that " many are the .ene- mies of peace," and that "the whole world lieth in wickedness:" but let him not "follow a multi- tude to do evil," nor :> Almig and all my powers of duced>and are supported by tKe^, and makest alive; thou woundelt, Wll' inakest whole." I own and reverence thine hand in my present affliction. I acknowledge that thou art righteous in all that befalls me; for I have sinned ; and thou chastehest me less than my iniquities deserve. In punishment thou showest mercy, contihuest to me many comforts,- proldngest my opportunities of re- flection and amendment, and Divest hope of that pardon which I so much want, and at this time earnestly entreat. 1 dt-sire in this poor condition of my health, to search and try my ways, and turn onto thee, O Lor^, by deep humility j sincere repentance, and faith in the great Redeemer: and may the fruit of this and every affliction be to take afray sin, and make my heart better. O God, if it be thy merciful will, direct me to, and prosper, some means for the removal of my disorder, that I may yet be capable of glorifying thee in my station, and, by farther endeavours for thy service upon earth, be fitter for immortality. Support me, gracious Lord, that my soul may not be quite cast doWn, and too- much djsquieted within me. Assist me to cherish penitent?, believ- ing, serious thoughts and affections. Grant me such resignation to thy will, such patience and meekness towards men, as rriy Divine Master re- quiretK) and as he himself manifested while ho was a sufferer on earth. Forgive all the harsh- ness and sinfulness , of my temper, and keep it from increasing upon me. May I learn from what I now fed to pity all who are sick, in pain, or 3 266 THE CLERGYMAN'S COMPANION, &c. otherwise afflicted, and do all in my power to as- sist and relieve them. If by this affliction thou intendest to bring me down to the grave, prepare me,' by thy grace, for my removal hence, and entrance on the unseen eternal state: and may all the sufferings of the present life work out for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I am thankful for any degree of ease and com- fort which I have this day enjoyed. Grant me, this night, such refreshing re,st, that I may be better able to discharge the duties and bear the burden of another day, if thou art pleased to in- dulge me with it. If my eyes are kept waking, may my meditations be comfortable and useful to i me. Pity my weakness, merciful and heavenly Fa- ther, and hear my imperfect petitions, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who was once a man of sorrow, and is still touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; to whom, as our merciful High Priest and powerful Intercessor, be glory for evermore. Amen. A Prayer to be used on the Death of a Friend. [By Mr. Merrjck.] O ALMIGHTY GOD, who dost not .willingly grieve the cliildren of men, but in thy .visitations rememberest mercy, teach me by thy grace to bear the loss of that dear person Whom thou hast taken from me with patience and fesigrtation, and to make a right use of the affliction which thy fa- therly hand hath laid upon me. ' Thou^hast given, and thou hast taken away : blessed be thy holy name. Make me thankful, Q Lord, for the com- forts and blessings which I-stiH enjoy ; and sancti- fy to my soul all the sufferings, which in the course of this mortal life thou -shalt appoint for me. Let the death of friends and relations help to keep me always mindful of my own mortality. And grant, that by thy grace I may -here apply my heart to wisdom, and may hereafter by thy mercy be received into that everlasting kingdom, where all tears shall be wiped from all faces, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Hear me, O merciful Father, for the sake of thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer to be used by a Person troubled in Mind. ALMIGHTY GOD, who beholdest with compas- sion and mercy the weaknesses and frailties of us thy sinful creatures ; look.down on me, I beseech thee, and deliver me, if it be thy blessed will, from the distress of mind under which I labour. Strengthen my judgment, and inform my under- standing, that I may rightly know my duty ; and grant that I may act on all occasions, and in every circumstance of life, in the manner most acceptable to thee. Pardon my secret sins and infirmities, and preserve me from all wilful neglects and of- fences. If thou seest it consistent with thy glory, and with the everlasting welfare of my soul, fill me with that fervency of affection towards thee, and with that measure of spiritual comfort arid assurance, which may preserve my-mind in a frame of cheerfulness and composure. But if trouble and bitterness of mind be more expedient for me, continue to me both this and all other afflictions which thou seest most conducive to my future happiness, and grant that I may bear them with patience and resignation. Let thine Holy Spirit direct and support me under every trial, and en- able me so to walk in thy faith and fear, that I may at last be received into thy heavenly king- dom, through the merits and mediation of thy Son Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord and Saviour. Amen. A Prayer to be used by an Old Person. O GRACIOUS Lord, my maker and my preserver, I give thee thanks for the long continuance which thou hast granted me in this world, in order that I may be the better prepared for another. Enable me by thy grace to make a right use of the tune afforded me, and give me a true and deep repent- ance of the sins which I have committed. Sup- port me by thy help under the infirmities of age, keep me from covetousness, and fretfulness, and from all unreasonable fears, and cares. Give me that degree of ease and health which thou seest most convenient for me ; wean my affections and desires from the things of this .life, and keep me continually prepared for death; tlirough Jesus Christ. Amen. A Prayer for a Person condemned to die. [From Dr. Inet.J O MOST just and holy Lord God, who bringest to light the hidden things of darkness, and by thy just and wise providence dost bring sin to shame and punishment ; disappointing the hopes of wick- ed men; visiting their sins upon them in this pre- sent life, that thou mayest deter others from the evil of their ways, and save their souls in the day of judgment; O Lord, in mercy look down upon this thy servant, who now is before thee to confess thy justice in making him asad example- to others. He with sorrow and shame confessed! it would be just with thee, should death eternal be the wages of his sins, and everlasting sorrow the recompense of his iniquity. He ^ias, we confess, O Lord, despised thy mercy, and abused thy goodness, and has therefore no reason to expect any other than to be made an everlasting sacrifice to thy justice. When thou hast, by the ministry of thy word, and the interposition of thy providence, called him to repentance, he has slighted thine admoni- tions. O, how just therefore would it be now in thee to .disregard his cry, in this day of trouble, when distress and anguish are come upon him I He confesseth that he hath hardened his heart, notwithstanding all thy importunities to him to repent and live ; that he has still gone on from one wickedness to another, eagerly repeating the works of darkness, and even hating to be re- formed ; that he has notoriously broken his bap- tismal vows, and given encouragement to others to blaspheme our holy faith, and that on these accounts he has nothing to expect but that thou shouldst deal with him according to his t^ns, and reward him according to the multitude of his offences. But thou^O God, hast been pleased to declare, that with thee is mercy and plenteous redemption ; that thou desirest not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should repent and live. Thou hast so loved the world, that thou gavest thy only- begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. O, let not him whom we are now commending to thy mejrcy, for ever perish and be lost. Have com- passion upon a miserable sinner, who owns he de- serves eternally to die j and let him find mercy in MINISTRATION OF PUBLIC BAPTISM OF INFANTS. 267 his distress. Pardon, we earnestly entreat thee, his wilful and his heedless follies, his errors, and his crying and notorious sins ; particularly that for which lie is now to die. O Lord, thou God of mercy, who art abundant in goodness, have pity on the work of thine own hands. Bury his sins in his grave, and, however they may rise up in this world to disgrace him, let them never rise up in the next to condemn him : and whatever he suffers here, let him hereafter be in the number of those whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sin is covered. However men, in the exe- cution of justice, and to deter others from being guilty of the like wickedness, may kill his body; let neither his body nor his soul be destroyed in hell, but be delivered from eternal condemnation, for the sake of Jesus Christ, who died to save sin- ners. Amen. A Prayer of Preparation for Death. O ALMIGHTY GOD, Maker and Judge of all men, have mercy upon me, thy weak and sinful creature ; and if by thy most wise and righteous appointment the hour of death be approaching to- wards me, -enable me to meet it with a mind fully prepared for it, and to pass through this great and awful trial in the manner most profitable for me. O let me not leave any thing undone which may help to make my departure safe and happy, or to qualify me for the highest degree of thy favour that I am capable of attaining. Pardon the sins which I have committed against thee by thought, word, and deed, and all my neglects of duty. Par- don the sins which I have committed against my neighbour ; and if others have wronged or offended me, incline my heart freely and tully to forgive them. Cleanse my soul from all its corruptions, and transform it into the likeness of thy Son Je- sus Christ ; that I may behold thy face in glory, and be made partaker of thy heavenly kingdom. And, O merciful Father, give me that supply of spiritual comfort, which thou seest needful tor me in my present condition : and grant that, when my change comes, I may die with a quiet con- science, with a well-grounded assurance of thy favour, and a joyful hope of a blessed resurrec- tion; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. THE MINISTRATION OF PUBLIC BAPTISM OF INFANTS, TO BE USED IN CHURCHES. THE people are to be admonished, that it is most con- venient that baptism should not be administered but upon Sundays and other holy-days, \V|M-II tin- most num- ber of persons come together ; as well for that the con- gregation there present, may testify tho receiving of them that be newly baptised into the number of Christ's church; as also because, in the baptism of infan.s, every man present be put in remembrance .of his own profession made to God in his baptism. For which cause also it is expedient that baptism be ministered in the vulgar tongue. Nevertheless (if necessity BO re- quire) children may be baptised on any other day. And note, That there shall be for every male child to be baptised, two godfathers and one godmother ; and for every female, one godfather and two godmothers. When there are children to be baptised, the parent shall give knowledge thereof over night, or in the morning, before the beginning of morning prayer, to the Curate. And then the godfathers and godmothers, and the people with the children, must be ready at the font, either immediately after the last lesson at morning payer, or else immediately after the last lesson at even- ing prayer, as the Curate by his discretion shall appoint. And the Priest coming to the font (which is then to be filled with pure water,) and standing there, shall say, Q. HATH this child been already baptized, or no 1 If they answer JW>, then shall the Priest proceed s follows: DEARLY beloved, forasmuch as all men are con- ceived and bom in sin, and that our Saviour Christ saitli. none can enter into, the kingdom of God v except he. be regenerated and born anew of water and of the Holy Ghost-, I beseech you to call upon God the Father, through our Lord Je- sus Christ, that of hia bounteous mercy he will grant this child that thing which by nature he cannot have, that he may Be baptised with water ami the Holy Ghost, and received into Christ'3 holy church, and be made a lively member of the same. Then shall the Priest say, Let us ray. ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, who of thy great mercy didst save Noah and his family in the ark from perishing by water, and also didst safely lead the children of Israel thy people through the Red Sea, figuring thereby thy holy baptism ; and by the baptism of thy well-beloved Son Jesus Christ .in the river Jordan, didst sanctify water to the mystical washing away of sin ; we beseech thee for thine infinite mercies, that thou wilt mer- cifully look upon this child ; wash him and sanc- tify him with the Holy Ghost, that he, being de- livered from thy wrath, may be received into the MINISTRATION OP PUBLIC BAPTISM OF INFANTS. ark of Christ's church ; and being steadfast in faith, joyful through hope, and rooted in charity, may so pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally he may come to the land of everlasting life, there "to reign with thec world without end, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. ALMIGHTY and immortal God, the aid of all that need, the helper of all that flee to thec for succour, the life of them that believe, and the re j surrection of the dead ; we call upon thee for t his infant, that he, coming to thy holy baptism, may receive remission of his sins by spiritual regenera- tion. Receive him, O Lord, as thou hast promised by thy well-beloved Son, saying r Ask, and ye shall have ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock and' it shall be opened unto you. So give now unto us that ask; let us that seek, -find; open the gate unto us that knock; that this infant may enjoy the everlasting benediction of thy heavenly wash- ing, and may come to the eternal kingdom wliich thou hast promised by Christ our Lord. Amen. Then shall the Priest stand up, and shall say, Hear the words of the Gospel written by St. Mark, in the tenth chapter, at the thirteenth verse : '" THEY brought young children to Christ, that he should touch them ; and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suf- fer the little children to come unto me, .and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever ^shall not re- ceive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. And he took them up in his arms, put his hands Upon them, and blessed them." After the Gospel is read, the Minister shall make this brief exhortation upon the words of the Gospel. BELOVED, ye hear in this Gospel the words of our Saviour Christ, that he commanded the chil- dren to be brought unto him ;. how he blamed those that would have kept them from him ; how he exhorted all men to follow their innocency. Ye perceive how by his outward gesture and deed he declared his good will towards them ; for he em- braced them m his arms, he laid his hands upon them, and blessed them. Doubt ye not, therefore, but earnestly believe, that he will likewise favour- ably receive this present infant ; that he will em- brace him with the arms of his mercy ; that he will give unto him the blessing of eternal life, and make him partaker of his everlasting kingdom. Wherefore we being thus persuaded of the good will of our heavenly Father towards this infant, declared by his Son Jesus Christ, and nothing doubting hut that he favourably alloweth this cha- ritable work of ours, in cringing this infant to his holy baptism, let us faithfully and devoutly give thanks unto him, and say, ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, heavenlyFa- ther, we give thec humble thanks that thou hast vouchsafed to call us to the knowledge of thy grace and faith in thee : increase this knowledge, and confirm this faith in us evermore. Give thy Holy Spirit to this infant, that he may be born again, and be made an heir of everlasting" salvation ; through our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, now and for ever. Amen. Then shall the Priest speak unto the godfathers and godmothers in this wise: DEARLY beloved, ye have brought this child here to be baptized ; ye have prayi'd'that our Lord Jesus Christ would vouchsafe to receive him, to release him of his sins, to sanctify him with the Holy Ghost, to give him the kingdom of heaven, and everlasting life. You have heard also, that oar Lord Jesus Christ hath promised also in his Gospel, to grant all these things that ye have, prayed for'; 1 ' which promise he fer his part will rrtost sv\rely keep and perform. Wherefore after this promise made by Christ, this infant must also faithfully, for /n',9 }>ar,t, promise by you that are his sureties, (until -Ac come of age to take it upon himself,) that he will renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly believe God's holy word, and obediently keep his commandments. I demand therefore, DOST thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous desires of the same, and the carnal d*sjfes of the flesh, so that thou wilt not follow nor be led by them 7 Answ. I renounce them all. Minister. DOST thou believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth 1 And in Jesus Christ his only-begotten Son, our Lord 1 And that he was conceived by the Holy Ghost ; born of the Virgin Mary ; that he suiler- ed under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried ; that he went down into hell, and also did rise again the third day ; that he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at me right hand of God the Father Almighty; and from thence shall come again, at the end of the World, to judge the quick and the deadl , And dost thou believe in the Holy Ghost ; the holy Catholic church ; the communion of saints ; the remission of sins ; the resurrection of the flesh ; and everlasting life after death 1 Answ. All this I steadfastjy believe. Minister. WILT thou then be baptized in this faith 1 Answ. This is my desire. Minister. WILT thou then obediently keep God's holy will and commandments, and walk in the same all the days of thy life 1 Answ. I Will. Then the Priest shall say, O MERCIFUL God, grant that the old Adam in this Child may be so buried, that the new man inav be raised up in him. Amen. Grant that all carnal affections may die in him, and that all things belonging to the Spirit may live and grow in hyn. Amen. Grant that he may have power and strength to have, victory, and to triumph against the devil, the work], and" the flesh. Amen. Grant 'that whosoever is here dedicated to thee by our office .and ministry, may also be endued with heavenly virtues, and everlastingly rewarded, through thy mercy, O blessed Lord God, who dost live and govern all things, world without end. Amen. MINISTRATION OP PRIVATE BAPTISM OF CHILDREN. ALMIGHTY and everlasting God, whose most dearly beloved Son Jesus Christ, for the forgive- ness of our sins, did shed out of his most precious side both water and blood, and gave command- ment to his disciples, that they should go and teach all nations, and baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; regard, we beseech thee, the supplication of thy congregation; sanctity this water to the mystical washing away of sin'; and grant that, thi* child now to be baptized therein, nuty receive the fulness of thy grace, and ever remain in the num- ber of thy faithful and elect children ; through Je- sus Christ our Lord-. Amen. Then the Priest shall take the Child into his hands, and shall say to the godfathers and godmothers, Name this child. And then naming it after them (if they shall certify him that the child may well endure it,) he shall dip it in thti water discreetly and warily, saying, N., I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. But if they certify that the Child is weak, it shall suf- fice to pour water upon it, saying the aforesaid words, N., I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Then shall the Priest say, WE receive this child into the congregation of Christ's flock,* and do sign Aim- with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter he shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under- his banner^ against sin, the world, and the devil, and to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his life's end . Amen. Then shall the Priest say, SKIING now, dearly beloved brethren, that this child is regenerate and grafted into the body of Christ's church, let us give thanks unto Almighty God for these benefits, and with one accord make our prayers unto him, that this child may lead the rest of his life according to tlu's beginning. Then shall be said, all kneeling, OCR Father which art in heaven ; Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our tres- passes, as we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation ; but deliver us from evil. Amen. Then shall the Priest say, WE yield thee hearty thanks, most merciful Father, that it hath pleased thee to regenerate this infant with thy Holy Spirit, to receive him for thine own child by adoption, and to incorpo- rate him into thy holy church. And we humbly beseech thee to grant, that he, being dead unto sin, and living unto righteousness, and teing bu- ried with Christ in his death, may crucify the old man, and utterly abolish the whole body of sin : and that as he is made partaker of the death of thy Son, he may also be partaker of his resurrec- tion ; so that finally, with the residue of thy holy * Here the Priest shall make a cross upon the Child's forehead. church, he may be an inheritor of thine everlast- ing kingdom, through Christ our Lord. Amen. Theti,all standing up, the Priest shall say to the god- fathers and godmothers this exhortation following: FORASMUCH as this child hath promised by you /i w sureties to renounce the devil and all his works, to believe in God, and to serve him ; ye must remember that it is your parts and duties to see that thi# infant be taught, so soon as he shall be able to learn, what a solemn vow, promise, and profession, he hath here made by you. And that he may know these things the better, ye shall call upon him to hear sermons 5 and chiefly ye shall provide that he may learn the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments, in the vul- gar tongue, and all other things which a Christian ought to know and believe to his soul's health; and that this child may be virtuously brought up to lead a godly and Christian life; remembering always, that baptism doth represent unto us our profession ; which is, to follbw the example of our Saviour Christ, and to be made like unto him; that as he died, and rose again, for us ; so should we, who are baptised, die from sin, and rise again unto righteousness, continually mortifying all our evil and corrupt affections, and daily proceeding in all virtue and godliness of living. Then shall he add, and say, Ye are to take care that this child be brought to the bishop, to be confirmed by him, so soon as he can. say the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments in the vulgar tongue, and be further instructed in the Church Catechism set forth for that purpose. It is certain, by God's word, that children which are baptised, dying before they commit actual sin, are un- doubtedly saved. To take away all scruple concerning the use of the sign of the cross in baptism ; the true explication there- of, and the just reason* for the retaining of it, may be seen in the XXXth Canon, first published in the year MDCIV. THE MINISTRATION OF PRIVATE BAPTISM OF CHILDREN IN HOUSES. THE Curate of the parish shall often admonish the peo- ple, that they defer not the baptism of their children longer than the first or second Sunday next after their birth, or other holy-day falling between, unless upon a great and reasonable cause, to be approved by the Cu- And also they shall warn them, that, without like great cause and necessity, they procure not their chil- dren to be baptised at home in their houses. But when need shall compel them so to do, then baptism shall be administered on this fashion : First; let the Minister of the parish (or, in his ab- sence, any other lawful Minister that can be procured,) with them that are present, call upon God, and say the Lord's Prayer, and so many of the collects appointed to be said before in the form of Public Baptism, as the time and present exigence will suffer. And then, the Child being named by some one that is present, the Minister shall pour water upon it, saying these words; 270 MINISTRATION OF PRIVATE BAPTISM OF CHILDREN. N., I baptize thoe in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Then all kneeling down, the Minister shall give thanfes unto God, saying ; "VS^E yield thee hearty thanks, most merciful Father, that it hath pleased thee to regenerate this infant with thy Holy Spirit, to receive him for thine own child by adoption, and to incorporate him into thy holy church. And we humbly be- seech thee to grant that as he is now made par- taker of the death of thy Son, so he may be also of his resurrection ; and that finally, with the resi- due of thy saints, he may inherit thine everlasting kingdom, through the same, thy Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. And let them not doubt but that the Child, so bap- tized, is lawfully and sufficiently baptized, and ought not to be baptized again. Yet, nevertheless, if the Child, which is after this sort baptized, do afterwards live, it ia expedient that it be brought into the church, to the in- tent thai, if the Minister of the same parish did himself baptize that Child, the congregation may be certified of the true form of baptism by him privately before used. A VIEW OF THE EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY, IN THREE PARTS. TO THE HONOURABLE AND RIGHT REVEREND JAMES YORK, D.D. LORD BISHOP OF ELY. Mv LORD, When, five years ago, an important station in the University of Cambridge awaited yflar Lordship's disposal, you were pleased to offer it to me. The circumstances under which this offer was made, demand a public acknowledgment. I had never seen your Lordship ; I possessed no connexion which could possibly recommend me to your favour ; I was "known to you, only by my endeavours, in common with many others, to discharge my duty as a tutor in the University ; and by some very imperfect, but certainly well-intended, and, as you thought, useful publications since. In an age by no means wanting in examples of honourable patronage, although this deserves not to be mentioned in respect of the object of your Lordship's choice, it is inferior to none in the purity and disinterestedness of the motives which suggested it. How the following work may be received, I pretend not to foretell. My first prayer concerning it is, that it may do good to any: my second hope, that it may assist, what it hath always been my earn- est wish to promote, the religious part of an academical education. If in this latter view it might seem, in any degree, to excuse your Lordship's judgment of its author, I shall be gratified by the reflection, that, to a kindness flowing from public principles, I have made the best public return in my power. In the mean time, and in every event, I rejoice in the opportunity here afforded me of testify, ing the sense I entertain of your Lordship's conduct^ and of a notice which I regard as the most flattering distinction of my life. I am, MY LORD, with sentiments of gratitude and respect, your Lordship's faithful and most obliged servant, WILLIAM PALE Y. PREPARATORY CONSIDERATIONS. I DEEM it unnecessary to prove that mankind stood in need of a revelation, because I have met with no serious person who thinks that, even under the Christian revelation, we have too much light, or any degree of assurance which is superfluous. I desire, moreover, that, in judging of Christianity, it may be remembered, that the question lies be- tween this religion and none : for, if the Christian religion be not credible, no one, with whom we have to do, will support the pretensions of any other. Suppose, then, the world we live in to have had n Creator; suppose it to appear, from the predomi- nant aim and tendency of the provisions and con- trivances observable in the universe, that the Deity, when he formed it, consulted for the happiness of his sensitive creation; suppose the disposition which dictated this counsel to continue ; suppose a a part of the creation to have received faculties from their Maker, by which they are capable of rendering a moral obedience to his will, and of vo- luntarily pursuing any end for which he has de- signed them ; suppose the Creator to intend for these, his rational and accountable agents, a second state of existence, in which their situation will be regulated by their behaviour in the first state, by which supposition (and by no other) the objection to the divine government in not putting a differ- ence between the good and the bad, and the incon- sistency of this confusion with the care and bene- volence discoverable in the works of the Deity, is done away ; suppose it to be of the utmost import- ance to the subjects of this dispensation to know what is intended for them j that is, suppose the 271 272 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. knowledge of it to be highly conducive to tbje hap- piness of the species, a purpose which so many provisions of nature are calculated to promote : Suppose, nevertheless, .almost the whole race, either by the imperfection of their faculties, the misfortune of their situation, or by the loss of soi in- prior revelation, to want this knowledge, and not. to be likely, without the aid of a new revelation, to attain it : Under these circumstances, is it impro- bable that a revelation should be made 1 is it incredi- ble that God should interpose for .such a purposed Suppose him to design for mankind a future state ; is it unlikely that he should acquaint him with if? Now in what way can a revelation be made, but by miracles ? In none which we are able to con- ceive. Consequently, in whatever degree it is probable, or not very improbable, that a revelation should be communicated to .mankind at all ; in the same degree is it probable, or. not -very impro- bable, that miracles should be wrought. There- fore, when miracles are related to have been wrought in the promulgating of a revelation mani- festly wanted, and, if true, of inestimable value, the improbability which arises'from the miraculous nature of the things related, is not greater ' than the original improbability that such a revelation should.be imparted by God. I wish it, however, to be correctly understood, in what manner, and to what extent, this argu- ment is alleged. We do not assume the attributes of the Deity,'e rejected at first sight, and to be reject- ed by whatever strength or complication of evi- dence they be attested. This is the prejudication we would resist. For to this length does a modern objection to miracles go, viz. that no human testimony can in any case render them credible. I think the reflection above stated, that, if there be a revelation, there must be miracles, and that Under the circumstance's in which the human species are placed, a. revelation is not improbable, or not improbable in any irreat degree^ te be a fair answer to the whole objection. But since it is an objection which stands in the* very threshold of our argument, and if admitted, is a bar to every proof, and to all future reasoning upon the subject, it may be necessary, before we proceed further, to examine, the principle upon which it professes to be founded ; which principle is concisely this, That it is contrary to experience that a miracle should be. true, but not contrary to experience that testimony should be false. Now there- appears a small ambiguity in the term " experience," and in the phrases, " contrary to experience," or " contradicting experience," which it may be necessary to remove in the first place. Strictly speaking, the narrative of a fact is then only contrary to experience, when the fact Is related "to have existed at a time and place, at which time -and place we being present, did not perceive itfo exist: as if k should lie asserted, that in a particular room, and at a particular hour of a certain day, a- man was raised from the dead, in which room, and at the time specified, we being present and looking on, perceived no such event to have taken place. Here t}ie assertion is con- trary to experience properly so called: and this is a contrariety which no evidence can surmount. It matters nothing, whether the fact be of a miracu- lous nature or not. But although this be the ex- perience, and the contrariety, which Archbishop Tillotson alleged in the quotation with which Mr. Hume opens his Essay, it is certainly not that experience, nor that contrariety, whicli Mr. Hume himself intended to object. And, short of this, I know no intelligible signification which can be affixed to the term " contrary to experience," but one, viz. that of not having ourselves expe- rienced any thing similar to the thing related, or such things not being generally experienced by others. I say "not generally:" for to state con- cerning the fact in question, that no such thing was ever experienced, or that universal experience is against it, is to assume the subject of the con- troversy. Now the improbability which arises from the want (for this properly is a want, not a contradic- tion) of experience, is only equal to the probability there is, that, if the thing were true, we should experience things similar to it, or that such things would be generally experienced. Suppose it then to be true that miracles were wrought on the first promulgation of Christianity, when nothing but miracles could decide its authority, is it certain that such miracles would be repeated so often, and in so many places, as to become objects of general experience'? Is it a probability approaching to certainty 1 is it a probability of any great strength or force'? is it such as no evidence can encounter 1 And yet this probability is the exact converse, and therefore the exact measure, of the improbability which arises from the want of experience, and which Mr. Hume represents as invincible by hu- man' testimony. It is not like alleging a new law of nature, or a new experiment in natural philosophy ; because, when these arc related, it is expected that, under the same circumstances, the same e fleet will fol- low universally ; and in proportion as this expect- ation is justly entertained, the Avant of a corre- spojidirrg experience negatives the history. But to expect concerning a miracle, that it should suc- ceed upon a repetition, \3 to expect that which would make it cease to be a miracle, which is con- trary to its nature as such, and would totally de- stroy the- use and purpose for which it was wrought. ' The force of experience as an objection to mi- EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 273 raclcs, is founded in the presumption, either that tion, we ought to have some other to rest in ; and ** ' ' l ' none, even by our adversaries, can be admitted, which is not inconsistent with the principles that regulate human affairs and human conduct at present, or which makes men then to have been a that the course of nature is invariable, or that, if it be ever varied, variations will be frequent and general. Has the necessity of this alternative been demonstrated 1 Permit us to call the course of nature the agency of an intelligent Being ; and is there any good reason for judging this state of the case to be probable 1 Ought we not rather to expect that such a Being, on occasions of peculiar importance, may interrupt the order which he had appointed; yet, that such occasions should return seldom; that these interruptions consequently should be confined to the experience of a few; that the want of it, therefore, in many, should be matter neither of surprise nor objection. But as a continuation of the argument from ex- perience, it is said that, when we advance accounts of miracles, we assign effects without causes, or we attribute effects to causes inadequate to the purpose, or to causes, of the operation of which we have no experience. Of what causes, we may ask. and of what ellects does the objection sjwak ? If it be answered that, when we ascribe the cure of the palsy to a touch, of blindness to the anoint- ing of the eyes with clay, or the raising of the dead to a word, we lay ourselves open to this im- putation ; we reply, that we ascribe no such rfleets to such causes. Wl perceive no virtue or energy in these things more than in other things of the same kind. They are merely signs to connect the miracle with its end. The ettect we ascribe simply to the volition of the Deity ; of whose ex- istence and power, not to say of whose presence and agency, we have previous and proof. We have, therefore, all we seek for in the works of rational agents, a sufficient power and an adequate motive. In a word, once believe that there is a God, and miracles are not incredible. Mr. Hume states the case of miracles to be a contest of opposite improbabilities, that is to say, a question whether it be more improbable that the miracle should be true, or the testimony false: and this 1 think a fair account of the controversy. But herein I remark a want of argumentative justice, that, in describing the improbability of miracles, he suppresses all those circumstances of extenua- tion, which result from our knowledge of the exist- ence, power, and disposition of the Deity; his concern in the creation, the end answered by the miracle, the importance of that end, and its sub- serviency to the plan pursued in the work of nature. As Mr. Hume has represented the ques- tion, miracles are alike incredible to him who is previously assured of the constant agency of a Divine Being, and to him who believes that no such Being exists in the universe. They are equally incredible, whether related to have been wrought upon occasions the most deserving, and for purposes the most beneficial, or for no assign- able end whatever, or for an end confessedly tri- fling or pernicious. This surely cannot be a cor- rect statement. In adjusting also the other side of the balance, the strength and weight of testi- mony, this author has provided an answer to every possible accumulation of historical proof by telling us, that we are not obliged to explain how the story of the evidence arose. Now I think that we are obliged : not, perhaps, to show by positive accounts how it did, but by a probable hypothesis how it might so happen. The existence of the testimony is a phenomenon ; the truth of the fact solves the phenomenon. If we reject this solu- 2 M different kind of beings from what they are now. But the short consideration which, independ- ently of every other, coin inces me that there is no solid foundation in Mr. Hume's conclusion, is the following. When a theorem is proposed to a mathematician, the first thing he does with it is to try it upon a simple case, and if it produce a false result, he is sure that there must be some mistake in the demonstration. Now, to proceed in this way with what may be called Mr. Hume's theorem. If twelve men, whose probity and good sense I had long known, should seriously and circumstantially relate to me an account of a mi- racle wrought before their eyes, and in which it was impossible that they should be deceived ; if the governor of the country, hearing a rumour of this account, should call these men into his pre- sence, and offer them a short proposal, either to confess the imposture, or submit to be tied up to a gibbet ; if they should refuse with one voice to acknowledge that there existed any falsehood or imposture in the case ; if this threat were commu- nicated to them separately, yet with no different effect ; if it was at last executed ; if I myself saw them, one after another, consenting to be racked, burnt, or strangled, rather than give up the truth of their account ; still, if Mr. Hume's rule be my guide, I am not to believe them. Now I under- take to say that there exists not a sceptic in the world who would not believe them, or who would defend such incredulity. Instances of spurious miracles supported by strong and apparent testimony, undoubtedly de- mand examination ; Mr. Hume has endeavoured to fortify his argument by some examples of this kind. I hope in a proper place to show that none of them reach the strength or circumstances of the Christian evidence. In .these however, consists the weight of his objection : in the principle itself, 1 am persuaded, there is none. PART I. OF THE DIRECT HISTORICAL EVIDENCE OP CHRIS- TIANITY, AND WHEREIN IT 13 DISTINGUISHED FROM THE EVIDENCE ALLEGED FOR OTHER MI- RACLES. THE two propositions which I shall endeavour to establish are these : I. That there is satisfactory evidence that many, professing to be original witnesses of the Christian Miracles, passed their lives in labours, fferings, voluntarily undergone in dangers, and su attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. II. That there is not satisfactory evidence, that persons professing to be original witnesses of other miracles, in their nature as certain as these are, have ever acted in the same manner, in at- testation of the accounts which they delivered, and 274 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. properly in consequence of their belief of those accounts. The first of these propositions, as it forms the argument, will stand at the head of the following nine chapters. CHAPTER I. There is satisfactory evidence that many, pro- Jessing to be original witnesses of the Chris- tian miracles , passed their lives in labours, dan- gers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they de- livered, and solely in consequence of their be- lief of those accounts ; and that they also sub- mitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. To support this proposition, two points are ne- cessary to be made out : first, that the Founder of the institution, his associates and immediate fol- lowers, acted the part which the proposition im- putes to them : secondly, that they did so in attest- ation of the miraculous history recorded in our Scriptures, and solely in consequence of their be- lief of the truth of this history. Before we produce any particular testimony to the activity and sufferings which compose the sub- ject of our first assertion, it will be proper to con- sider the degree of probability which the assertion derives from the nature of the case, that is, by in- ferences from those parts of the case which, in point of fact, are on all hands acknowledged. First, then, the Christian religion exists, and therefore by some means or other was established. Now it either owes the principle of its establish- ment, i. e. its first publication, to the activity of the Person who was the founder of the institution, and of those who were joined with him in the under- taking, or we are driven upon the strange supposi- tion, that, although they might lie by, others would take it up; although they were quiet and silent, other persons busied themselves in the success and propagation of their story. This is perfectly incredible. To me it appears little less than cer- tain, that, if the first announcing of the religion by the Founder had not been followed up by the zeal and industry of his immediate disciples, the attempt must have expired in its birth. Then as to the kind and degree of exertion which was em- ployed, and the mode of life to which these persons submitted, we reasonably suppose it to be like that which we observe in all others who volunta- rily become missionaries of a new faith. Fre- quent, earnest, and laborious preaching, constant- ly conversing with religious persons upon religion, a sequestration from tne common pleasures, en- gagements, and varieties of life, and an addic- tion to one serious object, compose the habits of such men. I do not say that this mode of life is without enjoyment, but I say that the enjoyment springs from sincerity. With a consciousness at tne bottom, of hollowness and falsehood, the fatigue and restraint would become insupportable. I am apt to believe that very few hypocrites engage in these undertakings ; or, however, persist in them long. Ordinarily speaking, nothing can overcome the indolence of mankind, the love which is natural to most tempers of cheerful society and cheerful scenes, or the desire, which is common to all, of personal ease and freedom, but conviction. Secondly, it is also highly probable, from the nature of the case, that the propagation of the new religion was attended with difficulty and dan- ger. As addressed to the Jews, it was a system adverse not only to their habitual opinions, but to those opinions, upon which their hopes, their par- tialities, their pride, their consolation, was founded. This people, with or without reason, had worked themselves into a persuasion, that some signal and greatly advantageous change was to be effected in the condition of their country, by the agency of a long-promised messenger from heaven. * The ru- lers of the Jews, their leading sect, their priesthood, had been the authors of tnis persuasion to the common people. So that it was not merely the conjecture of theoretical divines, or the secret ex- pectation of a few recluse devotees, but it was be- come the popular hope and passion, and like all popular opinions, undoubting, and impatient of contradiction. They clung to this hope under every misfortune of their country, and with more tenacity as their dangers or calamities increased. To find, therefore, that expectations so gratifying were to be worse than disappointed ; that they were to end in the diffusion of a mild unambitious religion, which, instead of victories and triumphs, instead of exalting their nation and institution above the rest of the world, was to advance those whom they despised to an equality with them- selves, in tnose very points of comparison in which they most valued their own distinction, could be no very pleasing discovery to a Jewish mind ; nor could the messengers of such intelligence expect to be well received or easily credited. The doc- trine was equally harsh and novel. The extend- ing of the kingdom of God to those who did not conform to the law of Moses, was a notion that had never before entered into the thoughts of a Jew. The character of the new institution was, in other respects also, ungrateful to Jewish habits and principles. Their own religion was in a high degree technical. Even the enlightened Jew placed a great deal of stress upon the ceremonies of his law, saw in them a great deal of virtue and effi- cacy ; the gross and vulgar had scarcely any thing else ; and the hypocritical and ostentatious mag- nified them above measure, as being the instru- ments of their own reputation and influence. The Christian scheme, without formally repeal- ing the Levitical code, lowered its estimation ex- tremely. In -the place of strictness and zeal in performing the observances which that code pre- scribed, or which tradition had added to it, the new sect preached up faith, well-regulated affec- tions, inward purity, and moral rectitude of dis- position, as the true ground, on the part of the worshipper, of merit and acceptance with God. This, however rational it may appear, or recom- mending to us at present, did not by any means facilitate the plan then. On the contrary, to dis- parage those qualities which the highest charac- ters in the country valued themselves most upon * " Percrebuerat oriente toto vetus et constans opinio, esse in fatis, uteo tempore Judsea profecti Yerum poti- rentur." Sueton Vespasian, cap. 4 8. " Pluribus persuasio inerat, antiquis sacerdotum li- tevis contineri, eo ipso tempore fore, ut valesceret oriena, profectique Judtea rerum potirentur." Tacit. Histor. lib. v. cap. 913. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 275 was a sure way of making powerful enemies. As if the frustration of the national hope was not enough, the long-esteemed merit of ritual zeal and punctuality was to be decried, and that by Jews preaching to Jews. The ruling party at Jerusalem had just before crucified the Founder of the religion. That is a fact which will not be disputed. They, therefore, who stood forth to preach the religion, must ne- cessarily reproach these rulers with an execution. which they could not but represent as an unjust and cruel murder. This would not render their office more easy, or their situation more safe. With regard to the interference of the Roman government which was then established in Judea, I should not expect, that, despising as it did the religion of the country, it would, if left to itself, animadvert, either with much vigilance or much severity, upon the schisms and controversies which arose within it. Yet there was that in Christianity which might easily afford a handle of accusation with a jealous government. The Christians avowed an unqualified obedience to a new master. They avowed -also that he was the person who had been foretold to the Jews under the suspected title of King. The spiritual nature of this kingdom, the consistency of this obedience with civil subjection, were distinctions too refined to be entertained by a Roman president, who viewed the business at a great distance, or through the medium of very hostile representations. Our histories accordingly inform us, that this was the turn which the enemies of Jesus gave to his cha- racter and pretensions in their remonstrances with Pontius Pilate. And Justin Martyr, about a hun- dred years afterwards, complains that the same mistake prevailed in his time : " Ye, having heard that we are waiting fora kingdom, suppose, with- out distinguishing, that we mean a human king- dom, when in truth we speak of that^ which is with God."* And it was undoubtedly a natural source of calumny and misconstruction. The preachers of Christianity had, therefore, to contend with prejudice backed by power. They had to come forward to a disappointed people, to a priesthood possessing a considerable share of municipal authority, and actuated by strong mo- tives of opposition and resentment; and they had to do this under a foreign government, to whose favour they made no pretensions, and which was constantly surrounded by their enemies. The well-known, because the experienced fate of re- formers, whenever the reformation subverts some reigning opinion, and does not proceed upon a change that has already taken place in the sen- timents of a country, will not allow, much less lead us to suppose, that the first propagators of Christianity at Jerusalem and in Judea, under the difficulties and the enemies they had to contend with, and entirely destitute as they were of force, authority, or protection, could execute their mis- sion with personal ease and safety. Let us next inquire, what might reasonably be expected by the preachers of Christianity when they turned themselves to the heathen public. Now the first thing that strikes us is, that the re- ligion they carried with them was exclusive. It denied without reserve the truth of every article of heathen mythology, the existence of every ob- Ap. Ima. p. 16. Ed. Thirl. ject of their worship. It accepted no compromise ; it admitted no comprehension. It must prevail, if it prevailed at all, by the overthrow of every statue, altar, and temple, in the world. It will not easily be credited, that a design, so bold as this \vas, could in any age be attempted to be car- ried into execution with impunity. For it ought to be considered, that this was not setting forth, or magnifying the character and worship of some new competitor for a place in the Pantheon, whose pretensions might be dis- cussed or asserted without questioning the reality of any others ; it was pronouncing all other gods to be false, and all other worship vain. From the facility with which the polytheism of ancient na- tions admitted new objects of worship into the number of their acknowledged divinities, or the patience with which they might entertain propo- sals of this kind, we can argue nothing as to their toleration of a system, or of the publishers and active propagators of a system, which swept away the ve^y foundation of the existing establishment. The one was nothing more than what it would be, in popish countries, to add a saint to the calen- dar; the other was to abolish and tread under foot the calendar itself. Secondly, it ought also to be considered, that this was not the case of philosophers propounding in their books, or in their schools, doubts concern- ing the truth of the popular creed, or even avow- ing their disbelief of it. These philosophers did not go about from place to place to collect prose- lytes from amongst the common people ; to form in the heart of the country societies professing their tenets ; to provide for the order, instruction, and permaiiency of these societies ; nor did they enjoin their followers to withdraw themselves from the public worship of the temples, or refuse a com- pliance with rites instituted bj the laws.* These things arfc what the Christians did, and what the philosophers did not ; and in these consisted the activity and danger of the enterprise. Thirdly, it ought also to be considered, that this danger proceeded not merely from solemn acts and public resolutions of the state, but from sudden bursts of violence at particular places, from the license of the populace, the rashness of some magistrates, and negligence of others ; from the influence and instigation of interested adver- saries, and, in general, from the variety and warmth of opinion which an errand so novel and extraor- dinary could not fail of exciting. I can conceive that the teachers of Christianity might both fear and suffer much from these causes, without any general persecution being denounced against them by imperial authority. Some length of time, I should suppose, might pass, before the vast ma- chine of the Roman empire would be put in mo- tion, or its attention be obtained to religious con- troversy : but during that time, a great deal of ill usage might be endured, by a set of friendless, unprotected travellers, telling men, wherever they came, that the religion of their ancestors, the re- ligion in which they had been brought up, the re- * The bestftf tho ancient philosophers, Plato, Cicero, and Epictetus, allowed, or rather enjoined, men to wor- ship the gods of the country, and in the established form. See passages to this purpose, collected from their works by Dr. Clarke, Nat. and Rev. Rel. p. 180. ed. 5. Except Socrates, they all thought it wiser to comply with the laws than to contend. 276 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. of the state, and of the magistrate, the rites which they frequented, the pomp which they admired, was throughout a system of folly and delusion. Nor do I think that the teachers of Christianity would find protection in that general disbelief oi' the popular theology, which is supposed to have prevailed amongst the intelligent part of the hea- then public. It is by no means true that unbe- lievers are usually tolerant. They are not dis- posed (and why should they ?) to endanger the present state of things, by suffering a religion of which they believe nothing, to be disturbed by another of which they believe as little. They are ready themselves to conform to any thing; and are, oftentimes, amongst the foremost to procure conformity from others, by any method which they think likely to be efficacious. When was ever a change of religion patronized by infidels 1 How little, notwithstanding the reigning scepticism, and the magnified liberality of that age, the true prin- ciples of toleration were understood by the wisest men amongst them, may be gathered from two eminent and uncontested examples. The younger Pliny, polished as he was by all the literature of that soft and elegant period, could gravely pro- nounce this monstrous judgment: " Those who persisted in declaring themselves Christians, I ordered to be led away to punishment, (i. e. to execution,) for I DID NOT DOUBT, whatever it was that they confessed, that contumacy and inflexi- ble obstinacy ought to be punished." His master, Trajan, a mild and accomplished prince, went, nevertheless, no further in his sentiments of mo- deration and equity, than, what appears in the following rescript : "The Christians are not to be sought for ; but if any are brought before you, and convicted, they are to be punished." And this direction he gives, after it had been reported to him by his own president, that, by the most strict examination nothing could be discovered in the principles of these persons, but " a bad and excessive superstition," accompanied, it seems, with an oath or mutual federation, "to allow themselves in no crime or immoral conduct what- ever." The truth is, the ancient heathens con- sidered religion entirely as an affair of state, as much under the tuition of the magistrate, as any other part of the police. The religion of that age was not merely allied to the state ; it was incor- porated into it. Many of its offices were adminis- tered by the magistrate. Its titles of pontiffs, augurs, and flamens, were borne by senators, consuls, and generals. Without discussing, there- fore, the truth of the theology, they resented every affront put upon the established worship, as a direct opposition to the authority of government. Add to which, that the religious systems of those times, however ill supported by evidence, had been long established. The ancient religion of a country has always many votaries, and some- times not the fewer, because its origin is hidden in remoteness and obscurity. Men have a natu- ral veneration for antiquity, especially in matters of religion. What Tacitus -says of the Jewish, was more applicable to the heathen establishment : " Hi ritus, quoquo modo inducti, antiquitate de- fenduntur." It was also a splendid and sumptuous worship. It had its priesthood, its endowments, its temples. Statuary, painting, architecture, and music, contributed their effect to its ornament and magnificence. It abounded in festival shows and solemnities, to which the common people arc greatly addicted, and which were of a nature to en- gage them much more than any thing of that sort among us. These things would retain great num- bers on its side by the fascination of spectacle and pomp, as well as interest mam in its preservation by the advantage which they drew from it. " It was moreover interwoven," as Mr. Gibbon right- ly represents it, " with ev^ry circumstance of bu- siness or pleasure, of public or private life, with all the offices and amusements of society." On the due celebration also of its rites, the people were taught to believe, and did believe, that the pros- perity of their country in a great measure de- pended. I am willing to accept the account of the matter which is given by Mr. Gibbon : "The various modes of worship which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered, by the people as equally true, by the philosopher as equally false, and by the magistrate as equally useful :" and I would ask from which of these three classes of men were the Christian missionaries to look for protection or impunity 1 Could they expect it from the people, " whose acknowledged confidence in the public religion" they subverted from its foundation'? From the philosopher, who, " considering all reli- gions as equally false," would of course rank theirs among the number, with the addition of regarding them as busy and troublesome zealots 1 Or from the magistrate, who, satisfied with the "utility" of the subsisting religion, would not be likely to countenance a spirit of proselytism and innova- tion ; a system which declared war against every other, and which, if it prevailed, must end in a total rupture of public opinion ; an upstart reli- gion, in a word, which was not content with its own authority, but must disgrace all the settled religions of the world 1 It was not to be imagined that he would endure with patience, that the reli- gion of the emperor and of the state should be ca- lumniated and borne down by a company of superstitious and despicable Jews. Lastly, the nature of the case affords a strong proof, that the original teachers of Christianity, in consequence of their new profession, entered upon a new and singular course of life. We may be allowed to presume, that the institution which they preached to others, they conformed to in their own persons ; because this is no more than what every teacher of a new religion both does, and must do, in order to obtain either, proselytes or hearers. The change which this would produce was very considerable. It is a change which we do not easily .estimate, because, ourselves and all about us being habituated to the institutions from our infancy, it is what we neither experience nor observe. After men became Christians, much of their time was spent in prayer and devotion, in religious meetings, in celebrating the eucharist, in conferences, in exhortations, in preaching, in an affectionate intercourse with one another, and correspondence with other societies. Perhaps their mode of life, in its form and habit, was not very unlike the Unitas Fratrum, or the modern Metho- dists. Think then what it was to become such at Corinth, at Ephesus, at Antioch, or even at Jerusalem. How new ! how alien from all their former habits and ideas, and from those of every body about them ! What a revolution there must have been of opinions and prejudices to bring the matter to this ! EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 277 We know what the precepts of the religio are ; how pure, how benevolent, how disinterest a conduct they enjoin ; and that this purity an benevolence are extended to the very though and affections. We are not, perhaps, at libert to take for granted that the lives of the preacher of Christianity were as perfect as their lessons but we are entitled to contend, that the observabl part of their behaviour must have agreed in great measure with the duties which they taugh There was, therefore, (which is all that we assert a course of life pursued by them, different fron that which they before led. And this is of grea importance. Men are brought to any thing almos sooner than to change their habit or life, fspcci ly when the change is either iixonvenient, made against the force of natural inclination, with the loss of accustomed indulgences. " It the most difficult of all things to convert men from vicious habits to virtuous ones, as every one ma judge from what he feels in himself, as well a from what he sees in others."* It is almost lik making men over again. Left then to myself, and without any more in formation than a knowledge of the existence ol the religion, of the general story upon which it is founded, and that no act of power, force, and au thority, was concerned in its first success, I shoul conclude, from the very nature and exigency o the case, that the Author of the religion, during his life, and his immediate djscinles after his death, exerted themselves in spreading and pub- lishing the institution throughout the country in which it began, and into which it was first car ried : that, in the prosecution of this purpose, the) underwent the labours and troubles which we ob- serve the propagators of new sects to undergo that the attempt must necessarily have also been in a high degree dangerous; that, from the sub- ject of the mission, compared with the fixed opi- nions and prejudices of those to whom the mis- sionaries were to address themselves, they coulc hardly fail of encountering strong and frequenl opposition; that, by the hand of government, as well as from the sudden fury and unbridled license of the people, they would oftentimes experience injurious and cruel treatment ; that, at any rate, they must have always had so much to fear for their personal safety, as to have passed their lives in a state of constant peril and anxiety ; and last- ly, that their mode of life and conduct, visibly at least, corresponded with the institution which they delivered, and, so far, was both new. and re- quired continual self-denial. CHAPTER II. There is -satisfactory evidence that many profess- ing to be original witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in at- testation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. AFTER thus considering what was likely to happen, we are next to inquire how the transac- * Hartley's Essays on Man, p. 190. tion is represented in the several accounts that have come down to us. And this inquiry is pro- perly preceded by the other, for as much as the reception of these accounts may depend in part on the credibility of what they contain. The obscure and distant view of Christianity, which some of the heathen writers of that age had gained, and which a few passages in their re- maining works incidentally discover to us, offers itself to our notice in the first place ; because, so far as this evidence goes, it is the concession of adversaries ; the source from which it is drawn is unsuspected. Under this head, a quotation from Tacitus, well known to every scholar, must be inserted, as deserving particular attention. The reader will bear in mind that this passage was written about seventy years after Christ's death, and that it relates to transactions which took place about thirty years after that event. Speaking of the fire which happened at Rome in the time of Nero, and of the suspicions which were enter- tained that the emperor himself was concerned in causing it, the historian proceeds in his narrative and observations thus : " But neither these exertions, nor his largesses to the people, nor his offerings to the gods, did away the infamous imputation under which Nero lay, of having ordered the city to be set on fire. To put an end, therefore, to this report, he laid the guilt, and inflicted the most cruel punishments, upon a set of people, who were holden in abhor- rence for their crimes, and called by the vulgar, Christians. The founder of that name was hrist, who suffered death in the reign of Tibe- rius, under his procurator Pontius Pilate. This pernicious superstition, thus checked for a while, >roke out again ; and spread not only over Judea, where the evil originated, but through Rome also, whither every thing bad upon the earth finds its way, and is practised. Some who confessed their sect, were first seized, and afterwards, by their in- formation, a vast multitude were apprehended, vho were convicted, not so much of the crime of >urning Rome, as of hatred to mankind. Their sufferings at their execution were aggravated by nsult and mockery ; for, some were disguised in he skins of wild beasts, and worried to death by dogs ; some were crucified ; and others were wrapt in pitched shirts,* and set on fire when the lay closed, that they might serve as lights to illu- minate the night. Nero lent his own gardens for hese executions, and exhibited at the same time a mock Circensian entertainment ; being a spec- tator of the whole, in the dress of a cnarioteer, ometimes mingling with the crowd on foot, and ometimes viewing the spectacle from his car. This conduct made the sufferers pitied; and hough they were criminals, and deserving the severest punishments, yet they were considered as acrificed, not so much out of a regard to the pub- ic good, as to gratify the cruelty of one man. Our concern with this passage at present is nly so far as it affords a presumption in support f the proposition which we maintain, concerning le activity and sufferings of the first teachers of Christianity. Now considered in this view, it roves three things: 1st, that the Founder of the * This is rather a paraphrase, but is justified by what e Scholiast upon Juvenal says ; " Nero maleficos ho- ines tseda et papyro et cera supervestiebat, et sic ad nem admoveri jubebat." Lard. Jewish and Heath est. vol. i. p. 359. 278 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. institution was put to death ; 2dly, that in the same country in which ho was put to death, the religion, after a short check, broke out again and spread; 3dly, that it so spread, as that, within thirty-four years from the author's death, a very great number of Christians (ingens eorum multi- tudo) were found at Rome. From which fact, the two following inferences may be fairly drawn : first, that if, in the space of thirty-four years from its commencement, the religion had spread through- out Judea, had extended itself to Rome, and there had numbered a great multitude of converts, the original teachers and missionaries of the institu- tion could not have been idle ; secondly, that when the Author of the undertaking was put to death as a malefactor for his attempt, the endeavours of his followers to establish his religion in the same country, amongst the same people, and in the same age, could not but be attended with danger. Suetonius, a writer contemporary with Tacitus, describing the transactions of the same reign, uses these words: "Affecti suppliciis Christiani, ge- nus hominum superstitionis novae et maleficae.*" " The Christians, a set of men of a new and mischievous (or magical) superstition, were pu- nished." Since it is not mentioned here that the burning of the city was the pretence of the punishment of the Christians, or that they were the Christians of Rome who alone suffered, it is probable that Suetonius refers to some more general persecution than the short and occasional one which Tacitus describes. Juvenal, a writer of the same age with the two former, and intending, it should seem, to comme- morate the cruelties exercised under Nero's go- vernment, has the following lines :t " Pone Tigellinum, tseda lucebis in ilia, dua stantes ardent, qui fixo gutture fumant, Et latum media sulcum deducitj arena. " Describe Tigellinus (a creature of Nero,) and you shall suffer the same punishment with those who stand burning in their own flame and smoke, their head being held up by a stake fixed to their chin, till they make a long stream of blood and melted sulphur on the ground." If this passage were considered by itself, the subject of allusion might be doubtful ; but when connected with the testimony of Suetonius, as to the actual punishment of the Christians by Nero, and with the account given by Tacitus of the species of punishment which they were made to undergo, I think it sufficiently probable, that these were the executions to which the poet refers. These things, as has already been observed, took place within thirty-one years after Christ's death, that is, according to the course of nature, in the life-time, probably, of some of the apostles, and certainly in the life-time of those who were converted by the apostles^ or who were convert- ed in their time. If then the Founder ,of the religion was put to death in the execution of his design ; if the first race of converts to the re- ligion, many of them, suffered the greatest ex- tremities for their profession ; it is hardly credible, that those who came between the two, who were companions of the Author of the institution dur- ing his life, and the teachers and propagators of the institution after his death, could go about their undertaking with ease and safety. * Suet. Nero. cap. 16. J Forsan " deducis." t Sat. i. ver. 155. The testimony of the younger Pliny belongs to a later period ; for although he was contemporary with Tacitus and Suetonius, yet his account does not, like theirs, go back to the transactions of Nero's reign, but is confined to the aflairs of his own time. His celebrated letter to Trajan was written about seventy years after Christ's death; and the information to be drawn from it, so far as it is connected with our argument, relates princi- pally to two points ; first, to the number of Chris- tians in Bithynia and Pontus, which was so con- siderable as to induce the governor of these pro- vinces to speak of them in the following terms ; " Multi, omnis ffitatis, utriusque sexus etiam ; neque enim civitates tantum, sed vicos etiam et agros, superstitionis istius contagio pervagata est." " There are many of every age and of both sexes ; nor has the contagion of this superstition seized cities only, but smaller towns also, and the open country." Great exertions must have been used by the preachers of Christianity to produce this state of things within this time. Secondly, to a point which has been already noticed, and which I think of importance to be observed, namely, the sufferings to which Christians were exposed, with- out any public persecution being denounced against them by sovereign authority. For, from Pliny's doubt how he was to act, his silence concerning any subsisting law on the subject, his requesting the emperor's rescript, and the emperor, agreeably to his request propounding a rule for his direction, without reference to any prior rule, it may be in- ferred, that there was, at that time, no public edict in force against the Christians. Yet from this same epistle of Pliny it appears, " that accusations, trials, and examinations, were and had been, going on against them in the provinces over which he presided; that schedules were delivered by anonymous informers, containing the names of persons who were suspected of holding or of fa- vouring the religion ; that, in consequence of these informations, many had been apprehended, of whom some boldly avowed their profession, and died in the cause ; others denied that they were Christians ; others, acknowledging that they had once been Christians, declared that they had long ceased to be such." All which demonstrates, that the profession of Christianity was at that time (in that country at least) attended with fear and dan- ger : and yet this took place without any edict from the Roman sovereign, commanding or au- thorising the persecution of Christians. This observation is further confirmed by a rescript of Adrian to Minucius Fundanus, the proconsul of Asia :* from which rescript it appears that the custom of the people of Asia was to proceed against the Christians with tumult and uproar. This disorderly practice, I say, is recognised in the edict, because the emperor enjoins, that, for the future, if the Christians were guilty, they should be legally brought to trial, and not be pur- sued by importunity and clamour. Martial wrote a few years before the younger Pliny : and, as his manner was, made the suffer- ings of the Christians the subject of his ridicule.t * Lard. Heath. Test. vol. ii. p. 110. f In matiitinii nuper spectatus arena Mucius, imposilit qui sua membra focis, Si patiens fortisque tibi durusque videtur, Abderitante pectora plebis habes ; Nam cum dicatur, tunica prsesente molesta, Ure J manum : plus est dicere, Non.facio. J Forsan " thure manum." EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 279 Nothing, however, could show the notoriety of the fact with more certainty than this does. Martial's testimony, as well indeed as Pliny's, goes also to another point, viz. that the deaths of these men were martyrdoms in the strictest sense, tkat is to Bay, were so voluntary, that it was in then* power, at the time of pronouncing the sentence, to have averted the execution by consenting to join in heathen sacrifices. The constancy, and by consequence the suffer- ings of the Christians of this period, is also refer- red to by Epictetus, who imputes their intrepidity to madness, or to a kind of fashion or habit, and about fifty years afterwards, by Marcus Aurelius, who ascribes it to obstinacy. " Is it pos>il>le (Epictetus asks) that a man may arrive at this temper, and become indifferent to those things from madness or from habit, as the Galileans ? '* " Let this preparation of the mind (to die) arise from its own judgment, and not from obstinacy like the Christians."*. CHAPTER III. There is satisfactory evidence that many,' pro- fessing to be original witnesses of the Chris- tian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily under- gone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. OF the primitive condition of Christianity, distant only and general view can be acquired from heathen writers. It is in our own books that the detail and interior of the transaction must be sought for. And this is nothing different from what might be expected. Who would write a history of Christianity, but a Christian 1 Who was likely to record the travels, sufferings, labours, or successes of the apostles, but one of their own number, or of their followers ? Now these books come up in their accounts to the full extent of the proposition which we maintain. We have four histories of Jesus Christ. We have a history taking up the narrative frotn his death and carrying on an account of the propagation of the religion, and of some of the most eminent persons engaged in it, for a space of nearly thirty years. We have, what some may think still more original, a collection of letters, written by certain principal agents in the business, upon the business, and in the midst of their concern and connexion with it. And we have these writings severally attesting the point which we contend for, viz. the sufferings of the witnesses of the history, and attesting it in every variety of form in which it can be conceived to appear : directly and indirectly expressly and incidentally, by assertion, recital, and allusion, by narratives of facts, and by argu- ments and discourses built upon these facts, either referring to them, or necessarily presupposing them. I remark this variety, because, in examining ancient records, or indeed any species of testimo- ny, it is, in my opinion, of the greatest importance to attend to the information or grounds of argu- * Epict, 1. iv. c. 7. f Marc. Aur. Med. 1. xi. c. 3. ment which are casually and undesignedly dis- closed ; forasmuch as this species of proof is, of all others, the leas* liable to be corrupted by fraud or misrepresentation. I may be allowed therefore, in the inquiry which is now before us, to suggest some conclu- sion of this sort, as preparatory to more direct testimony. 1. Our books relate, that Jesus Christ, the founder of the religion, was % in consequence of liis undertaking, put to death, as a malefactor, at Jerusalem. This point at least will be granted, because it is no more than what Tacitus has re- corded. They^hen proceed to tell us, that the religion was, notwithstanding, set forth at this same city of Jerusalem, propagated thence through- out Judea, and afterwards preached in other parts of the Roman empire. These points also are fully confirmed by Tacitus, who informs us, that the religion, after a short check, broke out again in the country where it took its rise ; that it not only spread throughout Judea, but had reached Rome, and tliat it had there great multitudes of converts ; and all this within thirty years alter its commencement. Now these facts afford a strong inference in behalf of the proposition which we maintain. What could the disciples of Christ ex- pect for themselves when they saw their Master put to death 1 Could they hope to escape the dangers in which he had peiislud > If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you, was the warning of common sense. With this ex- ample before their eyes, they could not be without a full sense of the peril of their future enterprise. 2. Secondly, all the histories agree in represent- ing Christ as foretelling the persecution of his fol- lowers : " Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall kill you, and ye shall be hated of all na- tions for my name's sake."* " When affliction or persecution ariseth for the word's sake, immediately they are offended. "t " They shall lay hands on you, and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues, and into prisons, being brought before kings and rulers for my name's sake: and ye shall be betrayed both by parents and brethren, and kinsfolks and friends, and some of you shall they cause to be put to death."* " The time cometh, that he that killeth voir, will think that he doeth God service. And these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor me. But these things have I told you, that when the time shall come, ye may remember that I told you of them. " I am not entitled to argue from these passages, that Christ actually did foretell these events, and that they did accordingly come to pass ; because that would be at once to assume the truth of the religion : but I am entitled to contend, that one side or other of the following disjunction is true ; either that the Evangelists have delivered what Christ really spoke, and that the event corresponded with the prediction ; or that they put the prediction into Christ's mouth, because, at the time of writing the history, the event had turned out so to be : for, the only two remaining suppositions appear in the highest degree incredible; which are, either * Mat. xxiv. 9. t Mark iv. 17. See also chap. x. 30. t Luke xxi. 1210. See also chap. xi. 49. John xvi. 4 See also chap. xv. 20 ; xvi. 33, EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. that Christ filled the minds of his followers with fears and apprehensions, without any reason or authority for what he said, and contrary to the truth of the case ; or that, although Christ had never foretold any such thing, and the event would have contradicted him if he had, yet historians who lived in the age when the event was known, falsely, as well as officiously, ascribed these words to him. 3. Thirdly, these books abound with exhorta- tions to patience, and with topics of comfort under distress. " Who shall separate us from the love of Christ 1 Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or fa- mine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword 1 Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us."* " We are troubled on every side, yet not dis- tressed ; we are perplexed, but not in despair ; per- secuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed ; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Je- sus might be made manifest in our body ; know- ing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise us up also by Jesus, and shall present us with you. For which cause we faint not; but, though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light afflic- tion, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."t " Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction, and of patience. Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord ; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy."t " Call to remembrance the former days, in which, after ye were illuminated, ye endured a great fight of afflictions, partly whilst ye were made a gazing-stock both by reproaches and afflic- tions, and partly whilst ye became companions of thejn that were so used ; for ye had compassion of me in my bonds, and took joyfully the spoiling of your goods, knowing in yourselves, that ye have in heaven a better and an enduring substance. Cast not away, therefore, your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward ; for ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise."! "So that we ourselves glory in you in the churches of God, for your patience and faith in all your persecutions and tribulations that ye endure. Which is a manifest token of the righteous judg- ment of God, that ye may be counted worthy of the kingdom for which ye also suffer."ll We rejoice in hope of the glory of God ; and rot only so, but we glory in tribulations also ; knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope."1T " Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you ; but rejoice, in- asmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings. Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God, commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithfulCreator/" 1 " 1 What could all these texts mean, if there was * Rom. viii. 3537. t 2 Cor. iv. 810. 14. 16, 17. y James v. 10, 11. Heb. x. 3236. t Thess. i. 4, 5. IT Rom. v. 3, 4. 1 Pet. iv. 12, 13. 19. nothing in the circumstances of the times which required patience, which called for the exercise of constancy and resolution 1 Or will it be pre- tended that these exhortations (which, let it be observed, come not from one author, but from many) were put in, merely to induce a belief in after-ages, that the Christians were exposed to dangers which they were not exposed to, or under- went sufferings which they did not undergo 1 If these books belong to the age to which they lay claim, and in which ago, whether genuine or spu- rious, they certainly did appear, this supposition cannot be maintained for a moment; because I think it impossible to believe, that passages, which must be deemed not only unintelligible, but false, by the persons into whose hands the books upon their publication were to come, should nevertheless be inserted, for the purpose of producing an effect upon remote generations. In forgeries which do not appear till many ages after that to which they pretend to belong, it is possible that some con- trivance of that sort may take place; but in no others can it be attempted. CHAPTER IV. There is satisfactory evidence that many, pro- fessing to be original witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers^ and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in at- testation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. THE account of the treatment of the religion, and of the exertions of its first preachers, as stated in our Scriptures (not in a professed history of per- secutions, or in the connected manner in which 1 am about to recite it, but dispersedly and occasion- ally, in the course of a mixed general history, which circumstance alone negatives the supposi- tion of any fraudulent design,) is the following : " That the Founder of Christianity, from the com- mencement of his ministry to the tune of his vio- lent death, employed himself wholly in publishing the institution in Judea and Galilee ; that, in order to assist him in this purpose, he made choice out of the number of his followers, of twelve persons, who might accompany him as he travelled from place to place ; that, except a short absence upon a journey in which he sent them, two by two, to announce his mission, and one of a few days, when they went before him to Jerusalem, these persons were steadily and constantly attending upon him ; that they were with him at Jerusalem when he was apprehended and put to death ; and that they were commissioned by him, when his own minis- try was concluded, to publish his Gospel, and col- lect disciples to it from all countries of the world." The account then proceeds to state, " that a few days after his departure, these persons, with some of his relations, and some who had regularly fre- quented their society, assembled at Jerusalem; thatjConsideringthe office of preaching the religion as now devolved upon them, and one of their num- ber having deserted the cause, and, repenting of his perfidy, having destroyed himself, they proceed- ed to elect another into his place, and that they EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 881 were careful to make t heir election out of thcMium- ber of those who had accompanied their Master from the first to the last, in order, as they alleged, that he might be a witness, together with them- selves, of the principal facts which they were nbout to produce and relate concerning him ;* that they began their work at Jerusalem by publicly asserting that this Jesus, whom the rulers and in- habitants of that place had so lately crivified, was, in truth, the person in whom all their prophecies and long expectations terminated ; that he had been sent amongst them by God ; and that he was appointed by God the future judge of the human species ; that all who were solicitous to secure to themselves happiness after death, ought to receive him as such, and to make profession of their be- lief, by being bapti/ed in his name."t The his- tory goes on to relate, " that considerable numbers accepted this pro|x>sul, and that tliev who did so. formed amongst themselves a strict "union and so- ciety ;t that the attention of the Jewish govern- ment being soon drawn upon them, two of the principal persons of the twelve, and who also h;ul lived most intimately and constantly with the Founder of the religion, were seized as they were discoursing to the people in the temple; that, after being kept all night in prison, they were brought the next day before an assembly composed of tin- chief j>ersons of the Jewish magistracy and priest- hood ; that this assembly, after some consultation. found nothing, at that time, In-tter to be done to- wards suppressing the growth of the sect, than to threaten their prisoners with punishment if they persisted; that these men, after expressing, in de- cent but firm language, the obligation under which they considered themselves to be, to declare what they knew, ' to speak the things which they had seen and heard,' returned from the council, and reported what had passed to their companions; that this report, whilst it apprized them of the danger of their situation and undertaking, had no other effect upon their conduct than to produce in them a general resolution to persevere, and an earnest prayer to God to furnish them with assist- ance, and to inspire them with fortitude, propor- tioned to the increasing exigency of the service."! A very short time after this, we read " that all the twelve apostles were seized and cast into prison ;ll that being brought a second time before the Jew- ish Sanhedrim, they were upbraided with their disobedience te the injunction which had been laid upon them, and Ix-aten for their contumacy ; that, being charged once more to desist, they were suf- fered to depart ; that however they neither quitted Jerusalem, nor ceased from preaching, both daily in the temple, and from house to house ;1[ and that the twelve considered themselves as so entirely and exclusively devoted to this office, that they now transferred what may be called the temporal affairs of the society to other hands."** * Acts i. 21, 22. t Acts xi. J Acts iv. 32. ^ Acts iv. || Actsv. 18. IT Acts v. 42 -' ** I do not know that it has ever been insinuated, that the Christian mission, in the hands of the apostles, was a scheme for making a fortune, or for getting money. But it may m-vorthctess he fit to remark upon this pas- sage of their history, how perfectly free they appear to have been from any pecuniary or interested views what- ever. The most tempting opportunity which occurred, of making a gain of their converts, was by the custody and management of the public funds, when some of the richer members, intending to contribute their fortunes to tiie common support of the society, sold their posses- every house, and haling 'men and women, initteil them to prison."t This persecution [ Hitherto the preachers of the new religion srem to have had the common people on their side; which is assigned as the reason why the Jewish rulers did not, at this time, think it prudent to proceed to greater extremities. It was not long, however, before the enemies of the institution found means to represent it to the people as tend- ing to subvert their law, degrade their lawgiver, and dishonour their temple.* And these insinua- tions were dispersed with so much success, as to induce the people to join with their superiors in the stoning of a very active member of the new community. The death of this man was the signal of a general persecution, thje activity of which may bo judged of from one anecdote of the time : " As for Saul, he made havoc of the church, entering into committed them to prison, raged at Jerusalem with so much fury" as to drive most of the new converts out of the place, except the twelve apostles.* The converts, thus "scat- tered abroad," preached the religion wherever they came ; and their preaching was, in effect, the preaching of -the twelve; for it was so far carried on in concert and correspondence with them, that when they heard of the success of their eniissarie.s in a particular country, they sent two of their number to the place, to complete and confirm the mission. An event now took place, of great importance in the future history of the religion. The perse- cution which had begun at Jerusalem, followed the Christians to other cities, in which the autho- rity of the Jewish Sanhedrim over those of their own nation was allowed to be exercised. A young man, who had signalized himself by his hostility to the profession, and had procured a commission from the council at Jerusalem to seize any converted Jews whom he might find at Da- mascus, suddenly became a proselyte to the reli- gion which he was going about to extirpate. The -new convert not only shared, on this extraordina- ry change, the fate of his companions, but brought upon himself a double measure of enmity from the party which he had left. The Jews at Da- mascus, on his return to that city, watched the gates night and day, with so much diligence, that he escaped from their hands only by being let down in'a basket by the wall. Nor did he^find himself in greater safety at Jerusalem, whither he immediately repaired. Attempts were there also soon set on foot to destroy him ; from the danger sions, and laid down the prices at the apostles' feet. Yet, so insensible, or undesirous, were they of the ad- vantage which that confidence afforded, that we find they very soon disposed of the trust, by putting it into the hands, not of nominees of their own, but of stew- ards formally elected for the purpose by the society at large. We may add also, that this excess of generosity, which cast private property into the public stock, was so far from being required by the apostles, or imposed as a law of Christianity, that Peter reminds Ananias that he had been guilty, in his behaviour, of an officious and voluntary prevarication; " for whilst," gays be, "thy estate remained unsold, was it not thine own ? and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power?" * Acts vi. 12. t Acts vi.ii. 3. | Acts viii. 1. " And they were all scattered abroad :" but the term " all" is not, I think, to be taken strictly as denoting more than the generality ; in like manner as in Acts ix. 35 " And all that dwelt at Lydda aud Sa- ron saw him, and turned to the Lord." Acts ix. ># 282 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. of which he was preserved by being sent away to Cilicia, his native country. For some reason, not mentioned, perhaps not known, but probably connected with the civil his- tory of the Jews, or with some ^ danger* which engrossed the public attention, an intermission about this time took place in the sufferings of the Christians. This happened, at the most, only seven or eight, perhaps only three or four, years after Christ's death. Within which period, and notwithstanding that the late persecution occupied part of it, churches, or societies of believers, had been formed in all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria ; for we read that the churches in these countries " had now rest, and were edified, and walking in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost, were multiplied."t The original preachers of the religion did not remit their la- bours or activity during this season of quietness; for we find one, and he a very principal person among them, passing throughout all quarters. We find also those who had been before expelled from Jerusalem by the persecution which raged there, travelling as far as Phoenice, Cyprus, and Anti- och ;t and, lastly, we find Jerusalem again in the centre of the mission, the place whither the preachers returned from their several excursions, where they reported the conduct and effects of their ministry, where questions of public concern were canvassed and settled, whence directions were sought, and teachers sent forth. The time of this tranquillity did not, however, Agrippa, w acceded to the government of Judea, "stretched " continue long. Herod Agrippa, who had lately forth his hand to vex certain of the church." He began his cruelty by beheading one of the twelve original apostles, a kinsman and constant com- panion of the Founder of the religion. Perceiving that this execution gratified the Jews, he pro- ceeded to seize, in order to put to death, another of the number, and him, like the former, associ- ated with Christ during his life, and eminently active in the service since his death. This man was however delivered from prison, as the account states, 1 1 miraculously, and made his escape from Jerusalem. These things are related, not in the general terms under which, in giving the outlines of the history, we have here mentioned them, but with the utmost particularity of names, persons, places, and circumstances; and, what is deserving of notice, without the smallest discoverable propensi- ty in the historian to magnify the fortitude, or ex- aggerate the sufferings of his party. When they fled for their lives, he tells us. When the churches had rest, he remarks it. When the peo- ple took their part, he does not leave it without notice. When the apostles were carried a second time before the Sanhedrim, he is careful to ob- serve that they were brought without violence. When milder counsels were suggested, he gives us the author of the advice, and the speech which contained it. When, in consequence of this ad- vice, the rulers contented themselves with threat- * Dr. Lardner (in which he is followed also by Dr. Benson) ascribes this cessation of the persecution of the Christians to the attempt of Caligula to set up his own statue in the temple of Jerusalem, .and to the conster- nation thereby excited in the minds of. the Jewish peo- ple: which consternation fora season suspended every other contest. tActsix.31- {Acts xi. 19. SActsxii.l, || Acts xii. 3 17. ening the apostles, and commanding them to be beaten with strii)cs without urging at that time the persecution further, the historian candidly and distinctly records their forbearance. When, there- fore, in other instances, he states heavier persecu- tions,, or actual martyrdoms, it is reasonable to be- lieve that he states them because they were true, and not from any wish to aggravate, in his ac- count, the sufferings which Christians sustained, or to extol, more than it deserved, their patience under them. Our history now pursues a narrower path. Leaving the rest of the apostles, and the original associates of Christ, engaged in the propagation of the new faith (and who there is not the least reason to believe abated in their diligence or courage,) the narrative proceeds with the separate memoirs of that eminent teacher, whose extraor- dinary and sudden conversion to the religion, and corresponding change of conduct, had before been circumstantially described; This person, in con- junction with another, who appeared among the earlier members of the society at Jerusalem, and amongst the immediate adherents* of the twelve apostles, set out from Antioch upon the express business of carrying the new religion through the various provinces of the Lesser Asia.t During this expedition, we find that, in almost every place to which they came, their persons were insulted, and their lives endangered. After being expelled from Antioch in Pisidia, they repaired to Ico- nium.t At Iconium, an attempt was made to stone them ; at Lystra, whither they fled from Iconium, one of them actually was stoned, and drawn out of the city for dead. These two men, though not themselves original apostles, were acting in connexion and conjunction with the original apostles; for after the completion of their journey, being sent on a particular commission to Jerusalem, they there related to the apostlesll and elders the events and success of their ministry, and were, in return, recommended by them to the churches, "as men who had hazarded their lives in the cause." The treatment which they had experienced in the first progress, did not deter them from pre- paring for a second. Upon' a dispute, however, arising between them, but not connected with the common subject of their labours, they acted as wise and sincere men would act ; they did not re- tire in disgust from the service in which they were engaged, but, each devoting his endeavours to the advancement of the religion, they parted from one another, and set forwards upon separate routes. The history goes along with one of them ; and the second enterprise to him was attended with the same dangers and persecutions as both had met with in the first. The apostle's travels hi- therto had been confined to Asia. He now crosses, for the first time, the JEgean sea, and carries witli him, amongst others, the person whose accounts supply the information we are stating.^ The first place in Greece at which he appears to have stopped, was Philippi in Macedonia. Here him- self and one of his companions were cruelly whipped, cast into prison, and kept there under the most rigorous custody, being thrust, whilst yet smarting with their wounds, into the inner * Acts iv. 36. J Act&xiii. 51. || Acts xv. 1226. T Acts xiii. 2. Acts xiv. 19. IT Actsxvi. 11. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 283 dungeon, and their fee^ made fast in the stocks.* Notwithstanding this unequivocal specimen of the usage which they had to look for in that coun- try, they went forward in the execution of their errand. After passing through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica ; in which city, the house in which they lodged was assailed by a party of their enemies, in order to bring them out to the populace. And when, fortunately for their preservation, they were not found at home, the master of the house was dragged before the magistrate for admitting them within his doors.t Their reception at the next city was something better : but neither had they continued long before their turbulent adversaries, the Jews, exdted against them such commotions amongst the in- habitants, as obliged the apostle to make his es- cape by a private journey to Athens.* The ex- tremity of the progress was Corinth. His, abode in this city, for some time, seems to have been without molest ation. At length, however, the Jews found means to stir up an insurrection against him, and to bring him before the tribunaj of the Roman president.! It was" to the contempt which that magistrate entertained for the Jews and their controversies, of which he accounted Christianity to be one, that qur apostle owril his deliverance. I! This indefatigable teacher, after leaving Corinth, returned by Ephcsus into .Syria ; and again visited Jerusalem, and the society of Christians in that city, which, as hath been repeatedly observed, still continued the centre of the mission.lT It suited not, however, with the activity of his zeal to re- main long at Jerusalem. We find him going thence to Antioch, and, after some stay there, traversing once more the northern provinces of Asia Minor.** This progress ended at Ephesus ; in which city, the apostle continued in the daily exercise of his ministry two years, and until his success, at length, excited the apprehensions of those who were interested in the support of the national worship. Their clamour produced a tu- mult, in which he had nearly lost his life.tt Un- dismayed, however, by the dangers to which he saw himself exposed, he was driven from Ephesus only to renew his labours in Greece. After pass- ing over Macedonia, he thence proceeded to his former station at Corinth.** When he had formed his design of returning by a direct course from Corinth into Syria, he was compelled by a conspi- racy of the Jews, who were prepared to intercept him on his way, to trace back his steps through Macedonia to Philippi, and thence to take shipping into Asia. Along the coast of Asia, he pursued his voyage with all the expedition he could com- mand, in order to reach Jerusalem against the feast of Pentecost. His reception at Jerusalem was of a piece with the usage he had experienced from the Jews in other places. He had beent>nly a few days in that city, when the populace, insti- gated by some of his old opponents in Asia, who attended this feast, seized him in the temple, forced him out of it, and were ready immediately to have destroyed him, had not the sudden pre- sence of the Roman guard rescued him out of their * Acts xvi. 23, 24. 33. J Actsxvii. 13. I) Actsxviii. 15. ** Acts xviii.23. H Acts xx. 1,2. t Actsxvii. 15. Acts xviii. 12. IT Acts xviii. -2^. ft Actsxix. 1.9,10. Acts xx. 16. hands.* The officer, however, who had thus seasonably interposed, acted from his care of the public peace, with the preservation of which he was charged, and not from any favour to the apos- tle, or indeed any disposition to exercise either justice or humanity towards him : for he had no sooner^ secured his person in the fortress, than he was proceeding to. examine him by torture.t From this time to the conclusion of the history, the apostle remains in public custody of the Ro- man government. After escaping assassination by a fortunate discovery of the plot, and delivering himself from the influence of his enemies by an appeal to the audience of the emperor,* he was sent, but not until he had suffered two years' im- prisonment, to Rorae, He reached Italy, after a ledious voyage, and after encountering in his pas- sage the penis of a desperate shipwreck.il But although still a prisoner, and his fate still depend- ing, neither the various and long continued suffer- ings which he had undergone, nor the danger of his present situation, deterred him from persisting in preaching the religion ; for the historian closes the account by telling us, that, for two years, he received all that came unto him in his own hired house, where he was permitted to dwell with a soldier that guarded him, " preaching the kingdom of God, and teaching those things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, with all confidence." Now the liistorian from whom we have drawn this account, in the part of his narrative which re- lates to Saint Paul, is supported by the strongest corroborating testimony tqat a history can receive. We are in possession of letters written by Saint Paul himself upon the subject of his ministry, and either written uuring the period which the history comprises, or if written afterwards, reciting and referring to the transactions of that period. These letters, without borrowing from the nistory, or the history from them, unintentionally confirm the account which the history delivers, in a great va- riety 6f particulars. What belongs to our present purpose is the description exhibited of the apos- tle's sufferings : and the representation, given in the history, of the dangers and distresses which he underwent, not only agrees, in general, with the language which he himself uses whenever he speaks of his life or ministry, but is also, in many instances, attested by a specific correspondency of time, place, and order of events. If the historian put down in his narrative, that at Philippi, the apostle " was beaten with many stripes, cast into prison, and there treated with rigour and indigni- ty ;"lf we find him, in a letter to a neighbouring church,** reminding his converts, that, " after he had suffered before, and was shamefully entreated at Philippi, he was bold, nevertheless, to 'speak unto them (to whose city he next came) the Gos- pel of God." If the history relate,tt that, at Thes- salonica, the house in which the apostle was lodged, when he first came to that place, was as- saulted by the populace, and the master of it drag- ged before the magistrate for 'admitting such a guest within his doors ; the apostle, in his letter to the -Christians of Thessalonica, calls to their re- membrance " how they had received the Gospel in much affliction."** If the history deliver an ac- * Actsxxi. 27 33. J Acts xxv. 9. 11. || Acts xxvii. ** I Thess. ii. 2. t Acts xxii. 24. Acts xxiv. 27. IT Acts xvi. 23, 24. ft Acts xvii. 5. 1 Thess. i. 6. , EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. count of an insurrection at Ephesus, which had nearly cost the apostle his life ; we have the apos- tle himself, in a letter written a short time after his departure from that city, describing his despair, and returning thanks for his deliverance.* - If the history inform us, that the apostle was expelled from Antioeh in Pisidia, attempted to ]io stoned at Iconium, and actually stoned at Lystra ; there \s preserved a letter from him to a favourite convert, whom, as the same history tells us, he first met with in these parts ; in which letter he appeals to that disciple's knowledge " of the persecutions which befell him at Antioeh, at Iconium, at Lys- tra. "t If the history make the apostle, in his speech to the Ephesian elders, remind them, as one proof of the disinterestedness of his views, that, to their knowledge, he had supplied his own and the necessities of his companions' by personal la- bour ;t we find the same apostle, in a letter writ- ten during his residence at Ephesus, asserting of himself, " that even to that hour he laboured, working with his own hands." These coincidences, together with many rela- tive to other parts of the apostle's history, and all drawn from independent sources, not only confirm the truth of the account, in the particular points as to which they are observed, but add much to the credit of the narrative in all its parts : and sup- port the author's profession of being a contempo- rary of the person whose history he writes, and, throughout a material portion of his narrative, a companion. What the epistles of the apostles declare of the suffering state of Christianity, the writings which remain of their companions and immediate follow- ers, expressly confirm. Clement, who is honourably mentioned by Saint Paul in his Epistle to the PhilippiansJI hath left us his attestation to this point, in the following words : " Let us take (says he) the examples of our own age. Through zeal and envy, the most faithful and righteous pillars of the church have been persecuted e.ven to the most grievous deaths. Let us set before our eyes the holy apostles. Peter, . by unjust envy, underwent, not one or two, but many sufferings ; till at last, being martyred, he went to the place of glory that was due unto him. For the same cause did Paul, in like manner, re- ceive the reward of his patience. Seven times he was in bonds ; he was whipt, was stoned ; he, preached both in the East and in the West, leav- ing behind him the glorious report of his faith ; and so having taught the whole world righteous- ness, and for that end travelled even unto the ut- most bounds of the West, he at last suffered mar- tyrdom by the command of the governors, and de- parted out of the world, and went unto his holy place, being become a most eminent pattern of patience unto all ages. To these holy apostles were joined a very great number of others, who, having through envy undergone, in like manner, many pains and torments,, have left a glorious ex- ample to us. For this, not only men, but women have been persecuted ; and, having suffered very grievous and cruel punishments, have" finished the course of their faith with firmness.' 'IT Hermas, saluted by Saint Paul in his Epistle to * Actsxlx. 2 Cor. 810. t Acts xiii. 50 ; xiv. 5. 19. 2 Tim. iii. 10, 11. Acts xx. 34. 1 Cor. iv. 11, 12. Philipp. iv. 3. Clem, ad Cor. c. v, vi. Abp. Wake's Trans. the Romans, in a piece very little connected with historical recitals, thus speaks : " Such as have be- I lieved and suffered death for the name of Christ, I and have endured with a ready mind, and h:tv- given up their lives with all their hearts."* Polycarp, the disciple of John (though all that remains of his works be a very short epistle.) has not left this subject unnoticed. " I exhort (says he) all of you, that ye obey the word of righteous- ness, and exercise all patience, which ye have seen set forth before your eyes, not only in the blessed Ignatius, and Lorimus, and Rufus, but in others among yourselves, and in Paul himself and the rest of the apostles ; being confident in this, that all these have not run in vain, but in faith and righteousness ; and are gone to the place that was due" to them from the Lord, with whom also they suffered. For they loved not this present world, but Him who died, and was raised again by God for us."t Ignatius, the contemporary of Polycarp, recog- nises the same topic, briefly indeed, but positively and precisely. " For this cause, (i. e. having felt and handled Christ's body after his resurrection, and being convinced, as Ignatius expresses it, both by his flesh and spirit,) they (i. e. Peter, and those who were present witn Peter at Christ's appear- ance) despised death, and were found to be above it."i Would the reader know what a persecution in these days was, I would refer' hini to a circular letter, written by the church of Smyrna soon after the death of Polycarp, who, it will be remembered, had lived with Saint John ; and which letter is en- titled a relation of that bishop's martyrdom. " The sufferings (say they) of all the other martyrs were blessed and generous, which they underwent ac- cording to. the will of God. For so it becomes us, who are more religious than others, to ascribe the power and ordering of all things unto him. And indeed who can choose but admire the greatness of their minds, and that admirable patience and I6ve of their Master, which then appeared in them 1 Who, when they were so flaycd-with whipping, that the frame and 1 structure of their bodies were laid open to their very inward veins and arteries, nevertheless endured "it. In like manner, those who were condemned to the beasts, and kept a long time in prison, underwent many cruel tor- ments, being forced to lie upon sharp spikes laid under their bodies, and tormented with divers other sorts of punishments ; that so, if it were pos- sible, the tyrant by the length of their sufferings, might have brought them to deny Christ.'" CHAPTER V. There is satisfactory evidence that many,prnfc$- sing to be original -witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lires in labours, dan- gers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in attestation of the accounts which they de- lircrcd, and solely in consequence of their be- lief of those accounts ; and that they also sub- mitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. * Shepherd of Hermas, c. xxvrii. t Pol. ad PhiL c. ix. t 19 Ep. Smyr. c. iii. Rel. Mor. Pol. c. ii. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. ON the history, of which the last chapter con- tains an abstract, there are a few observations which it may be proper to make, by way of apply- ing its testimony to the particular propositions lor which we contend. I. Although our Scripture history leaves the general account of the apostles in an early part of the narrative, and proceeds, with the separate ac- count of one particular apostle, yet the informa- tion which it delivers so far extends to the rest, as it shows the nature of the service. When we see one apostle suffering persecution in the discharge of his commission, we shall not believe, without evidence, that the same office could, at the same time, be attended with ease and safety to others. And this fair and reasonable inference is confirm- ed by the direct attestation of the letters, to which we have so often referred. The writer of these letters not only alludes, in numerous passages, to his own sufferings, but speaks of the rest of the apostles as enduring like sufferings with himself. " I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were, appointed to death ; for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men ; even unto this present hour, we both hunger and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling-place; and labour, working with our own hands: being revil- ed, we bless; being persecuted, we stiller it : being defamed, we entreat : we are made a? the filth of the world, and as the oflscouring of all things linto this day." * Add to which, that in the short ac- count that is given of the other apostles in the for- mer part of the history, and within the short pe- riod which that account comprises, we find, first, two of them seized, imprisoned, brought before (he Sanhedrim, and threatened with further punish- ment ;t then, the whole numl>er imprisoned and beaten ; t soon afterwards, one of their adherents stoned to death, and so hot a persecution raised against the sect, as to drive most of them out of the ] dace; a short time only succeeding, before one of the twelve was beheaded, and another sen- tenced to the same fate; and all this passing in the single city of Jerusalem, and within ten years after the Founder's death, and the commencement of the institution. II. We take no credit at present for the mi- raculous part of the narrative, nor do we insist upon the correctness of single passages of it. If the whole story IK; not a novel, a romance ; the whole action a dream ; if Peter and James, and Paul, and the rest of the apostles mentioned in the account, be not all imaginary persons; if their letters be not all forgeries, and, what is more, forgeries of names and characters which never existed ; then is there evidence in our hands suf- ficient to support the only fact we contend for (and which. 1 repeat again, is in itself highly probable,) that the original followers of Jesus Christ exerted great endeavours to propagate his religion, and underwent great labours, dangers, and sufferings, in consequence of their undertaking. III. The general reality of the apostolic history is strongly confirmed by the consideration, that it, in truth, does no more than assign adequate causes for effects which certainly were produced, and describe consequences naturally resulting from situations which certainly existed. The ef- 1 Cor. iv. 9, et seq. f Acts iv. 3. 21. I Acts v. 18. 40. fects were certainly these, of which this history sets forth the cause, and origin, and progress. It is acknowledged on all hands, because it is recorded by other testimony than that of the Christians themselves, that the religion began to prevail" at that time, and in that country. It is very dif- ficult to conceive how it could begin, or prevail at all, without the exertions of the Founder and his followers, in propagating the new persuasion. The history now in our hands describes these _ex> ertions, the persons employed, the means and en- deavours made use of, and the labours undertaken in the prosecution of this purpose. Again, the treatment which the history represents the first propagators of the religion to have experienced, was no other than what naturally resulted from the situation in which they were confessedly placed. It is admitted that the religion was adverse, in a great degree to the reigning opinions, and to the hopes and wishes of the nation to which it was first introduced ; and that it over- threw, so far as it was received, the established theology and worship of every other country. We cannot feel much reluctance in- believing that, when the messengers of such a system went about not only publishing their opinions, but col- lecting proselytes, and forming regular societies of proselytes, they should meet with opposition in their attempts, or that thisx>pposition should some- times proceed to fatal extremities. Our history details examples of this opi>osition, and of the suf- ferings and dangers which the emissaries of the religion underwent, perfectly agreeable to what miglit reasonably be expected, from the nature of their undertaking, compared with the character of the age and country in which it was carried on. IV. The records before us supply evidence of what formed another member of our general propo- sition, and what, as hath already been observed, is highly probable, and almost a necessary conse- quence of their new profession, viz. that, togctlu r with activity and courage in propagating the re- ligion, the primitive followers of Jesus assumed, upon their conversion, a new and peculiar course of private life. Immediately after their Master was withdrawn from them, we,hear of their " con- tinuing with one accord in prayer and supplica- tion ;" * of- their " continuing daily with one ac- cord in the temple ;"t of "many being gathered together praying." t We know what strict in- junctions were laid upon the converts by their teachers. Wherever- they came, the first word of their preaching was, "Repent!" We know that these injunctions obliged them to refrain from many species of licentiousness, which were not, at that time, reputed criminal. We know the rules of purity, and the maxims of benevolence, which Christians read in their books ; concerning which rules, it is enough to observe, that, if they were, [ will not say completely obeyed, but in any de- gree regarded, they would produce a system of conduct, and what is more difficult to preserve, a disposition of mind, and a regulation of affections, different from any tiding to which they had hither- o been accustomed, and different from what they would see in others. The change and distinction of manners, which resulted from their new cha- racter, is perpetually referred to in the letters of ;heir teachers. " And you hath he quickened who were dead in trespasses and sins, wherein in * Acts i. 14. * Acts ii. 46. t Acts xii. 12. 286 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. times past yc walked, according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the chil- dren of disobedience; among whom also we had our conversation in times past, in the lust of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others."*" For the time past of our life may suffice us to have wrought the will of the gentiles, when we walked in lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revellings, banquetings, and abomi- nable idolatries; wherein they think'it strange that ye run not with them to the same excess of rwtf.' r t Saint Paul, in his first letter to the Co- rinthians, after enumerating, as his manner was, a catalogue of vicious characters, adds, "Such were some of you ; but ye are washed, but ye are sanc- tified." t In like manner, and alluding to the same change of practices and sentiments, he asks the Roman Christians, " what fruit they had in those things, whereof they are now ashamed 7" The phrases which the same writer employs to describe the moral condition of Christians, com- pared with their condition before they became Christians, such as " newness of life, "being "freed from sin," being "dead to sin ;" "the destruction of the body of sin, that, for the future, they should not serve sin;" "children of light and of the day," as opposed to " children of darkness and of the night;" " not sleeping as others;" imply, at least, a new system of obligation, and, probably, a new series of conduct, commencing with their conversion. The testimony which Pliny bears to the be- haviour of the new sect in his time, and which testimony comes not more than fifty years after that of St. Paul, is very applicable to the subject under consideration. The character which this writer gives of the Christians of that age, and which was drawn from a pretty accurate inquiry, because he considered their mpral principles as the point in which the magistrate was interested, is as follows : He tells the emperor, " that some of those who had relinquished the society, or who, to save themselves, pretended that they had re- linquished it, affirmed that they were wont to meet together, on a stated day, before it was light, and sang among themselves alternately a hymn to Christ as a god ; and to bind themselves by an oath, not to the commission pf any Wickedness^ but that they would not be guilty of theft, or rob- bery, or adultery ; that they would never falsify their word, or deny a pledge committed to them, when called upon to return it." This proves that a morality, more pure and strict than was ordinary, prevailed at that time in Christian societies. And to me it appears, that we are authorized to carry this testimony back to the age of the apostles ; be- cause it is not probable that the immediate hearers and disciples of Christ were more relaxed than their successors in Pliny's time, or the missiona- ries of the religion, than those whom they taught. CHAPTER VI. There is satisfactory evidence that many, pro- fessing to be original witnesses of the Chris- * Eph. ii. 13. See also Tit. iii. 3. 1 1 Pet. iv. 3, 4. \ 1 Cor. vi. 11. Rom. vi. 21. tian miracles, passed their lives in labour ft, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily under- gone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of tlieir belief of those accounts; and that they also sub- mitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. WHEN we consider, first, the prevalency of the religion at this hour ; secondly, the only credible account which can be given of its origin, viz. the activity of the Founder and his associates ; thirdly, the opposition which that activity must naturally have excited ; fourthly, the fate of the Founder of the religion, attested by heathen writers as well as our own ; fifthly, the testimony of the same writers to the sufferings of Christians, either con- temporary with, or immediately succeeding, the original settlers of the institution ; sixthly, predic- tions of the sufferings of his followers ascribed to the Founder of the religion, which ascription alone proves, either that such predictions wore de- livered and fulfilled, or that the writers of Christ's life were induced by the event to attribute such predictions to him ; seventhly, letters now in our possession, written by some of the principal agents in the transaction, referring expressly to extreme labours, dangers, and sufferings sustained by themselves and their companions ; lastly, a history purporting to be written by a fellow-traveller of one of the new teachers, and, by its unsophistica- ted correspondency with letters of that person still extant, proving itself to be written by some one well acquainted with the subject of the narrative, which history contains accounts of travels, perse- cutions, and martyrdoms, answering to what the former reasons lead us to expect : when we lay together these considerations, which taken sepa- rately, are, I think, correctly, such as I have stated them in the preceding chapters, there cannot much doubt remain upon our minds, but that a number of persons at that time appeared in the world, publicly advancing an extaordinary story, and for the sake of propagating the belief of that story, voluntarily incurring great personal dangers, tra- versing seas and kingdoms, exerting great indus- try, and sustaining great extremities of ill usage and persecution. It is also proved, that the same persons, in consequence of their persuasion, or pretended persuasion, of the truth of what they as- serted, entered upon a course of life in many res- pects new and singular. From the clear and acknowledged parts of the case, I think it to be likewise in the highest de- gree probable, that the story, for which these per- sons voluntarily exposed themselves to the fatigues and hardships which they endured, was a mira- culous story ; I mean, that they pretended to mi- raculous evidence of some kind or other. They had nothing else to stand upon. The designation of the person, that is to say, that Jesus of Naza- reth, rather than any other person, was the Mes- siah, and as such the subject of their ministry, could only be founded upon supernatural tokens attributed to him. Here were no victories, no conquest, no revolutions, no surprising elevation of fortune, no achievements of valour, of strength, or of policy, to appeal to ; no discoveries in any arts or science, no great efforts of genius or learn- ing to produce. A Galilean peasant was announced: to the world as a divine lawgiver. A young man of mean condition, of a private and simple life, and EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 287 who had wrought no deliverance for the Jewish nation, was declared to be their Messiah. This, without ascribing to him at the same time some proofs of his mission, (and what other but super- natural proofs could there be 7) was too absurd a claim to be either imagined, or attempted, or cre- dited. In whatever degree, or in whatever part, the religion was argumentative, when it came to the question, " Is the carpenter's son of Naza- reth the person whom we are to receive and obey T there was nothing but the miracles at- tributed to him, by which his pretension^ could be maintained for a moment. Every .controversy and every question must presuppose these; for, how- ever such controversies, when they did arise, might, and naturally would, be discussed upon their own grounds of argumentation, without citing the miraculous evidence which had been asserted to attend the Founder of the religion, (which would have been to enter upon another, and a more general question,) yet we are to bear in mind, that without previously supposing the existence or the pretence of such evidence, there could have been no place for the discussion of the argument at all. Thus, for example, whether the prophecies, which the Jews interpreted to belong to the Messiah, were, or were not applicable to the history of Jesus of Nazareth, was a natural subject of debate in those times ; and the debate would proceed, without recurring at every turn to his miracles, because it set out with supjxjsing these; inasmuch as without miraculous marks and tokens. (real or pretended.) or without some such great change effected by his means in the public condi- tion of the country, as might have satisfied the then received interpretation of these propln do not see how the question could ever h;i\c !>< <-<\ entertained. Apollos, we read, " mightily con- vinced the Jews, showing by the Scriptures that Jesus was Christ;"* but unless Jesus had ex- hibited some distinction of his person, some proof of supernatural power, the argument from the old Scriptures could have had no place. It had no- thing to attach upon. A young man calling him- self the Son of God, gathering a crowd about lu'm, and delivering to them lectures of morality, could not have excited so much as a doubt among the Jews, whether he was the object in whom a long series of ancient prophecies terminated, from the completion of which they had formed such mag- nificent expectations, and expectations of a nature so opposite to what appeared; I mean, no such doubt could exist when they had the whole case before them, when they saw him put to death for his officiousness, and when by his death the evi- dence concerning him was closed. Again the effect of the Messiah's coming, supposing Jesus to have been he, upon Jews, upon Gentiles, upon their relation to each other, upon their acceptance with God, upon their duties and their expectations; his nature, authority, office, and agency; were likely to become subjects of much consideration with the early votaries of the religion, and to oc- cupy their attention and writings. I should not however expect, that in these disquisitions, whe- ther preserved in the form of letters, speeches, or set treatises, frequent or very direct mention of his miracles would occur. Still miraculous evi- dence lay at the bottom of the argument. In the primary question, miraculous pretensions, and * Acts xviii. 28. miraculous pretensions alone, were what they had to rely upon. That the original story was miraculous, is very fairly also interred from the miraculous powers which were laid claim to by the Christians of suc- ceeding ages. If the accounts of these miracles be true, it was a Continuation of the same powers ; if they be false, it was an imitation, 1 will not say of what had been wrought, but of what had been reported to have been wroXight, by those who pre- ceded them. That imitation should follow reality, fiction should be grafted upon truth; that, if mira- cles were performed at first, miracles should be pretended afterwards; agrees so well with the ordinary course of human affairs, that we can have no great difficulty in believing it. The con- trary supposition is very, improbable, namely, that miracles should be pretended to, by the followers of the apostles and first emissaries of the religion, when none were pretended, to, either in their own persons or that of their Master, by these apostles and emissaries themselves. CHAPTER VII. There is satisfactory evidence that many, pro- fessing to be original witnesses of the Chris- tian mira'-les, jxi.^cd (heir lites in labour*^ dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily under- gone in attestation of the accounts which they red, and solelyin consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and tliat they a I no submitted, from the same motives^o new rules of conduct. IT being then once proved, that the first pro- pagators of the Christian institution did exert ac- ti\ it v. and subject themselves to great dangers and sufferings, in consequence and for the sake of an extraordinary, und, i think, we may say, of a mi- raculous story of some kind or other ; the next great question is, Whether the account, which our Scriptures contain, be that story ; that which these men delivered, and for which they acted and suf- fered as they did 1 This question is, in effect, no other than whether the story which Chris- tians have now, be the story which Christians had then ? And of this the following proofs may be deduced from general considerations, and from considerations prior to any inquiry into the par- ticular reasons and testimonies by which the au- thority of our histories is supported. In the first place, there exists no trace or vestige of any other story. It is not, like the death of Cyrus the Great, a competition between opposite accounts,, or between the credit of different his- torians. There is not a document, or scrap of account, either contemporary with the commence- ment of Christianity, or extant within many ages after that commencement, which assigns a history substantially different from ours. The remote, brief, and incidental notices of the affair, which are found in heathen writers, so far as they do go, go along with us. They bear testimony to these facts: that the institution originated from Jesus; that the Founder was put to death, as a malefac- tor, at Jerusalem, by the authority of the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate ; that the religion never- theless spread in that city, and throughout Judea ; and that it was propagated thence to distant coun- 288 EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. tries; that the converts were numerous; that they suffered great hardships and injuries for their pro- fession ; and that all this took place in the age of the world which our books have assigned. They go on further, to describe the manners of Chris- tians in terms perfectly conformable to the ac- counts extant in our books : that they were wont to assemble on a certain day; that they sang hymns to Christ as to a god ; that they bound themselves by an oath not to commit any crime, but to abstain from theft and adultery, to adhere strictly to their promises, and not to deny money deposited in their hands ;* that they worshipped him who was crucified in Palestine; that this their first lawgiver had taught them that they were ah 1 brethren ; that they had a great contempt for the things of this world, and looked upon them as common ; that they flew to one another's relief; that they cherished strong hopes of im- mortality ; that they despised death, and surren- dered themselves to sufferings.t This is the ac- count of writers who viewed the subject at a great distance ; who were uninformed and uninterested about it. It bears the characters of such an account upon the face of it, because it describes effects, namely, the appearance in the world of a new re- ligion, and the conversion of great multitudes to it, without descending, in the smallest degree^ to the detail of the transaction upon which it was founded, the interior of the institution, the evi- dence or arguments offered by those who drew over others to it. Yet still here is no contradic- tion of our story ; no other or different story set up against it : but so far a confirmation of it, as that, in the general points on which the heathen account touches, it -agrees with that which we find in our own books. The same may be observed of the very few Jewish writers, of that and the adjoining period, which have come down to us. Whatever they omit, or whatever difficulties we may find in ex- plaining the omission, they advance no other his- tory of the transaction than that which we acknow- ledge. Josephus, who wrote his Antiquities, or History of the Jews, about sixty years after the commencement of Christianity, in a passage ge- nerally admitted as genuine, makes mention of John under the name of John the' Baptist; that he was a preacher of virtue ; that he baptfzed his proselytes \ that he was well received by the peo- ple ; that he was imprisoned and put to death by Herod ; and that Herod lived in a criminal co- habitation with Herodias, his brother's wife.* In * See Pliny's Letter. Bonnet, in his lively way of expressing himself, says, " Comparing Pliny's Letter with the account of the Acts, it seems to me that I had not taken up another author, but that. I was still read- ing the historian of that extraordrriary society." This is strong : but there is undoubtedly an affinity, and all the affinity that could be expected. | '.' It is incredible what expedition they use when any of their friends are known to be in trouble. In a word, they spare nothing upon such an occasion'; for these miserable men have no deubt they shall be im- mortal and live for ever : therefore. they contemn death, and many surrender themselves to sufferings. More- over, their first lawgiver has taught them that they are all brethren, when once they have turned and renounced the gods of the Greeks, and worship this Master of theirs who was crucified, and engage to live according to his laws. They have also a sovereign contempt for all the things of this world, and look upon them as common." Lucian de Morte Peregrini, t. i. p. 5(55. ed. Grsev. J Antiq. 1. xviii. cap. v. sect. 1, 2. another passage allowed by innny, although not without considerable question being moved about it, we hear of " James, the brother of him who was called Jesus, and of his being put to death."* In a third passage, extant in every copy thiit re- mains of Josephus's History, but the authenticity of which has nevertheless been long disputed, we have an explicit testimony to the substance of 'our history in these words : " At that time lived Je- sus, a wise man, if he may be called a man, for he performed many wonderful works. He w;is ;i teacher of such men as received the truth with pleasure. He drew over to him many Jews and Gentiles. This was the Christ; and when Pilate, at the instigation of the chief men among us, had condemned him to the cross, they who before had conceived an affection for him, did not cease to adhere to him ; for, on the third day, he appeared to them alive again, the divine prophets Inning foretold these and many wonderful things con- cerning him. And the sect of the Christians, so called from him, subsists to this time."t Whatever become of the controversy concerning the genuine- ness of this passage ; whether Josephus go the whole length of our history, which, if the passage be sincere, he does; or whether he proceed only a very little way with us, which, if the passage be rejected, we confess to be the case ; still what we asserted is true, that he gives no other or different history of the subject from ours, no other or dif- ferent account of the origin of the institution. And I think also tliat it may with great reason be contended, either that the passage is genuine, or that the silence of Josephus was designed. For, although we should lay aside the authority of our own books entirely, yet when Tacitus, who wrote not twenty, perhaps not ten, years after Jo- sephus, in his account of a period in which Jose- phus was nearly thirty years of age, tells us, that a vast multitude of Christians were condemned at Rome ; that they derived their denomination from Christ, who, in the reign of Tiberius, was put to death, as a criminal, by the procurator, Pontius Pilate; that the superstition had spread not only over Judea, the source of the evil, but had reached Rome also : when Suetonius, an historian eon- temporary with Tacitus, relates that, in the time of Claudius,- the Jews were making disturbances at Rome, Christas being their leader ; and that, during the reign of Nero, the Christians were punished; under both which emperors, Josephus lived : when Pliny, who wrote his celebrated epistle not more than thirty years after the pub- lication of Josephus's history, found the Christians in such numbers in the province of Bithynia, as to draw from him a complaint, that the contagion had seized cities, towns, and villages, and had so seized them as to produce a general desertion of the public rites ; and when, as has already been observed, there is no reason for imagining that the Christians were more numerous in Bithynia than in many other parts of the Roman empire ; it cannot, I should suppose, after this, be believed, that the religion, and the transaction upon which it was founded, were too obscure to engagethe attention of Josephus, or to obtain a place in his history. Perhaps he did riot know how to repre- sent the business, and disposed of his difficulties by passing it over in silence. Eusebius wrote the * Antiq 1. xx. cap. ix. sect. I. t Antiq. 1. xviii. cap. iii. sect. 3. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. life of Constantino, yet omits entirely the most remarkable circumstance in that life, the death of his son Crispus : undoubtedly for the reason here given. The reserve of Josephus upon the subject of Christianity appears also in his passing over the banishment of the Jews by Claudius, which Suetonius, we have seen, has recorded with an express reference to Christ. This is at least as remarkable as his silence about the infants of Bethlehem.* Be, however, the fact, or the cause of the omission in Josephus,t what it ; may, no other or different history on the subject has been given by him, or is pretended to have been given. But "further; the whole series of Christian writers, from the first age of the institution down to the present, in their discussions, apologies, arguments, and controversies, proceed upon the general story which our Scriptures contain, and upon no other. The main facts, the principal agents, are alike in all. This argument will ap- pear to be of great force, when it is known that we are able to trace back the series of writers to a contact with the historical books of the New Tes- tament, and to the age of the first emissaries of the religion, and to deduce it, by an unbroken continuation, from that end of the train to the present. The remaining letters of the apostles, (and what more original than their letters can ue have?) though written without the remotest de- sign of transmitting the history of Christ, or of Christianity, to future ages, or even of making it known to their eontamporanw, incidentally ilis close to us the following circumstances: I'lirist s descent and family ; his innocence; the meekness and gentleness of his character ; (a recognition which goes to the whole Gospel history;) his ex- alted nature ; his circumcision ; his transfigura- tion ; his life of opposition and suffering ; his pa- tience and resignation ; the appointment of the eucharist, and the manner of it ; his agony; his confession before Pontius Pilate ; his stripes, cru- cifixion, and burial; his resurrection; his ap- pearance after it, first to Peter, then to the rest of the apostles ; his ascension into heaven ; and his designation to he the future judge of man- kind ; the stated residence of the apostles at Je- rusalem; the working of miracles by the first preachers of the Gospel, who were also the hear- ers of Christ ;^ the successful propagation of the * Michaelis has computed, and, as it should seem, fairly enough, that probably not more than twenty children perished by Ihis cruel precaution. Alichaclis's Introduction to the New Testament, translated by Marsh, vol. i. c. ii. sect. 11. f There is no notice taken of Christianity in the Mishna, a collection of Jewish traditions compiled about the year 1>-Q ; although it contains a Tract "De cultu pengrino," of strange or idolatrous worship; yet it cannot be disputed but that Christianity was p -r- fectly well known in the world at this time.' There is extremely little notice of the subject in the Jerusalem Talmud, compiled about the year 300. and not much more in the Babylonish Talmud, of the year 500 ; al- though both these works are of a religious nature, and although, \\li-ti th' first \va.s compiled. Christianity was on the point of becoming the religion of the state, and, when the latter was published, had been so for 200 years. I Heb. ii. 3. " How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation, which, at the first, began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by then that heard him, God also bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost?" I allege this epistle without hesi- 2 O religion ; the persecution of its followers ; the mi- raculous conversion of Paul ; miracles wrought by himself and alleged in his controversies with his adversaries, and in letters to the persons amongst whom they were wrought ; finally, that MIRACL.ES were the signs of an apostle* In an epistle, bearing the name of Barnabas, the companion of Paul, probably genuine, cer- tainly belonging to that age, we have the suf- ferings of Christ, his choice of apostles and their number, his passion, the scarlet robe, the vinegar and gall, the mocking and piercing, the casting lots tor his coat,t his resurrection on the eighth (i. e. the first day of the wejek,t) and the com- memorative distinction of that day, his manifesto* tion after his resurrection, a,nd lastly, his ascen- sion. We have also his miracles generally but positively referred to in the following words : "Finally, teaching the people of Israel, and do- ing many wonders and signe among them, he preached to them, and showed the exceeding great love which he bare towards them."! In an epistle of Clement, a hearer of St. Paul, although written fora purpose remotely connected with the Christian history, we have the resurrrec- tion of Christ, and the subsequent mission of the apostles, recorded in these satisfactory terms: " The apostles have preached to us from our Lord Jesus Christ from God: For, having re- ceived their command, and being thoroughly assured by the resurrection of tmr Lord Jesus Christ, they went abroad, publishing that the kingdom of God was at hand. "II We find no- ticed also, the humility, yet the power of Christ.lT his descent from Abraham, his crucifixion. We have Peter and Paul represented as faithful and righteous pillars of the church; the numerous sufferings of Peter ; the bonds, stripes, and stoning of Paul, and more particularly his extensive ana unwearied travels. In an epistle of Polycarp, a disciple of St. John, though only a brief hortatory letter, we have the humility, patience, sufferings, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, together with the apostolic character* of St. Paul, distinctly recognised.** Of this same father we are also assured by Irenseus, that he (Irenseus,) had heard him relate, "what he had received from eye-witnesses concerning the Lord, both concerning his miracles and his doctrine."tt In the remaining works of Ignatius, the con- temporary of Polycarp, larger than those of Poly- carp (yet, like those of Polycarp, treating of sub- jects in nowise leading to any recital of the Christian history.) the occasional allusions aro proportionably more numerous." The descent of tation ; for, whatever doubts may have hf>en raised about its author, there can be none concerning the age in which it was written. No epistle in the collection carries about it more indubitable marks of antiquity than this does. It sp?aks, for instance, throughout, of the temple as then standing, and of the worship of the temple as then subsisting. Heb. viii 4: " For. if he were on earth, he should not be a priest, seeing there are priests that offer according to the law." Again, Heb xiii. 10: "We have an altar whereof they have no right to eat which serve the tabernacle." * " Truly the signs of an apostle were wrought among you in all patience, in signs, and wonders, and mighty J Cor. xii. 12. t Ep Rar c. vii. J Ibid.c. vl. Ibid.c. v. || Ep Clem. Rom. c. xlii. IT Ep. Clem. Rom. c. xvi. ** Pol. Ep. ad Phil. c. v. viii. ii. iii. tt Ir. ad Flor. ap. Euseb. 1. v. c. 20. (25) 290 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. Christ from David, his mother Mary, his miracu- lous conception, the star at his birth, his baptism by John, the reason assigned for it, his appeal to the prophets, the ointment poured -on his head, his sufferings under Pontius Pilate and Herod the tetrarch, his resurrection, the Lord's day called and kept in commemoration of it, and the eucharist, in both its parts. are unequivocally referred to. Upon the resurrection, this writer is even circumstantial. He mentions the apostles' eating and drinking with Christ after he had risen, their feeling and their handling him ; from which last circumstance Ignatius raises this just reflection; "They believed, being convinced both by his flesh and spirit ; for this cause, they despised death, and. were found to be above it."* Gluadratus, of the same age with Ignatius, has left us the following noble testimony : " The works of our Saviour were always conspicuous, for they were real ; both those that were healed, and those that were raised from the dead ; who were seen not only when they were healed or raised, but for a long time afterwards : not only whilst he dwelled on this earth, but also after his departure, and for a good while after it, insomuch that some of them have reached to our times."t Justin Martyr came little more than thirty years after Gluadratus. From Justin's works, which are still extant, might be collected a tole- rably complete account of Christ's life, in all points agreeing with that which is delivered in our Scriptures ; taken indeed, in a great measure, from those Scriptures, but still proving that this ac- count, and no other, was the account known and extant in that age. The miracles in particular, which form the part of Christ's history most ma- terial to be traced, stand fully and distinctly re- cognised in the following passage : " He healed those who had been blind, and deaf, and lame from their" birth ; causing, by his word, one to leap, another to hear, and a third to see : and by raising the dead, and making them to live, he in- duced, by his works, the men of that age to know It is unnecessary to carry these citations lower, because the history, after this time, occurs in an- cient Christian writings as familiarly as it is wont to do in modern sermqns; occurs always the same in substance, and always that which our evangelists represent. This is not only true of those writings of Chris- tians, which are genuine, and of acknowledged authority ; but it is, in a great measure, true of all their ancient writings which remain : although some of these may have been erroneously ascribed to authors to whom they did not belong, or may contain false accounts, or may appear to be unde- serving of credit, or never indeed to have obtained any. Whatever fables they have mixed with the narrative, they preserve the material parts, the leading facts, as we have them ; and, so far as they do this, although they be evidence of nothing else, they are evidence that these points werefaed, were received and acknowledged by all Christians in the ages in which the books were written. At least, it may be asserted, that, in the places where we were most likely to meet with such things, if such things had existed, no relicks aopear of any story substantially different from the present, * Ad Smyr. c. iii. f Ap. Euscb. H. E. lib. 4. o. 2. J Just. Dial, cum Tryph. p. 238. ed. Thirl. as the cause, or as the pretence of the institu- tion. Now that the original story, the story delivered by the first preachers of the institution, should have died away so entirely as to have left no re- cdrd or memorial of its existence, although so many records and memorials of the time and transaction remain ; and that another story should have step- ped into its place, and gained exclusive possession of the belief of all who professed themselves dis- ciples of the institution, is beyond any example of the corruption of even oral tradition, and still less consistent with the experience of written his- tory : and this improbability, which is very great, is rendered still greater by the reflection, that no such change as the oblivion of one story, and the substitution of another, took place in any future period of the Christian era. Christianity hath travelled through dark and turbulent ages; never- theless it came out of the cloud and the storm, such, in substance, as it entered in. Many ad- ditions were made to the primitive history, and these entitled to different degrees of credit ; many doctrinal errors also were from time to time grafted into the public creed ; but still the original story remained, and remained the same. In all its princi- pal parts, it has been fixed from the beginning. Thirdly : The religious rites and usages that prevailed amongst the early disciples of Chris- tianity, were such as belonged to, and sprung out of, the narrative' now in our hands; which ac- cordancy shows, that it was the narrative upon which these persons acted, and which they had received from their teachers. GUI' account makes the Founder of the religion direct that his disci- ples should be baptised: we know, that the first Christians were baptised. Our account makes him direct that they should hold religious assem- blies : we find, that they did hold religious assem- blies. Our accounts make the apostles assemble upon a stated day of the week : we find, and that from information perfectly independent of our ac- counts, that the Christians of the first century did observe stated days of assembling. Our histories record the institution of the rite which we call the Lord's Supper, and a command to repeat it in perpetual succession : we find, amongst the early Christians, the celebration of this rite universal. And indeed, we find concurring in all the above- mentioned observances, Christian societies of many different nations and languages, removed from one another by a great distance of place and dissimili- tude of situation. It is also extremely material to remark, that there is no room for insinuating that our books were fabricated with a studious accom- modation to the usages which obtained at the time they were written; that the authors of the books found the usages established, and framed the story to account for their original. The Scripture ac- counts, especially of the Lord's Supper, are too short and cursory, not to say too obscure, and, in this view, deficient, to allow a place for any such suspicion.* Amongst the proofs of the truth of our proposi- tion, viz. that the story, which we have now, is, in substance, the story which the Christians had * The reader who is conversant in these researches, by comparing the short Scripture accounts of the Chris- tian rites above-mentioned, with the minute and cir- cXimstantial directions' contained in the pretended apos- tolical constitutions, will see the force of this observa- tion : the difference between truth aud forgery. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 291 then, or, in other words, that the accounts in our Gospels are, as to their principal parts at least, the accounts which the apostles and original teachers of the religion delivered, one arises from observing, that it appears by the Gospels themselves, that the story was public at the time ; that the Christian community was already in possession of the sub- stance and principal parts of the narrative. The Gospels were not the original cause of the Chris- tian history being believed, but were themselves among the consequences of that belief. This is expressly affirmed by Saint Luke, in his brief, but, as I think, very important and instructive preface: "Forasmuch (says the evangelist) as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are moat surely bclicrcd amongst us, even as they delivered them unto us, which, from the beginning, -were eye- icitncxses and ministers of the word ; it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understand- ing of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most pxcellent Theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty of those things wherein thou hast been instructed." This ^short introduction testifies, that the substance oif the history, which the evangelist was about to write, was already believed by Christians ; that it was believed upon the declarations of eye-witnesses and ministers of the word; that it formed the ac- count of their religion in which Christians were instructed; that the office which the historian proposed to himself, was to trace each particular to its origin, and to fix the certainty of many things which the reader had before he:ird of. In Saint John's Gospel, the same point appears hence, that there are some principal facts, to which the historian refers, but which he does not relate. A remarkable instance of this kind is the a-scension, which is not mentioned by Saint John in its place, at the conclusion of his history ; but which is plainly referred to in the following' words of the sixth chapter :* " What and" if ye shall sec the Son of man ascend up where he was before T And still more positively in the words which Christ, according to our evangelist, spoke to Mary after his resurrection, " Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended to my father : but go unto my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father, unto my God and your God."t This can only be accounted for by the supposition that Saint John wrote un- der a sense of the notoriety of Christ's ascen- sion, amongst those by whom his book was likely to be read. The same account must also be given of Saint Matthew's omission of the same import- ant fact. The thing was very well known, and it did not occur to the historian that it was neces- sary to add any particulars concerning it. It agrees also with this solution, and with no other, that neither Matthew, nor John, disposes of the person of our Lord in any manner whatever. Other intimations in Saint John's Gospel of the then general notoriety of the story are the follow- ing : His manner of introducing his narrative (ch. i. ver. 15:) " John bare witness of him, and cned, saying," evidently presupposes that his readers knew who John was. His rapid parenthetical reference to John's imprisonment, " for John was not yet cast into prison,"* could only come from a * Also John iii. 13; and xvi. 28. t John iii. 24. t John xx. 17. writer whose mind was in the habit of consider- ing John's imprisonment as perfectly notorious. The description of Andrew by the addition " Si- mon Peter's brother,"* takes it for granted, that Simon Peter was well known. His name had not been mentioned before. The evangelist's noticing* the prevailing misconstruction of a dis- course, which Christ held with the beloved dis- ciple, proves that the characters and the discourse were already public. And the observation which these instances afford, is of equal validity for the purpose of the present argument, whoever were the authors of the histories. These four circumstances ; first, the recognition of the account in its principal parts, by a series of succeeding writers; secondly, the total absence of any account ef the origin of the religion substan- tially different from ours ; thirdly, the early and extensive prevalence of rites and institutions, which result from our account; fourthly, our ac- count bearing, in its construction, proof that it is an account of facts, which were known and be- lieved at the time ; are sufficient, I conceive, to support an assurance, that the story which we have now, is, in general, the story which Chris- tians had at the beginning. I say in general ; by which term I mean, that it is the same in its texture, and in its principal facts. For instance, I make no doubt, lor the reasons above stated, but that the resurrection of the Founder of the reli- gion was always a part of the Christian story. Nor can a doubt of this remain upon the mind of any one who reflects that the resurrection is, in some form or other, asserted, referred to, or as- sumed, in every Christian writing, of every de- scription, which hath come down to us. And if our evidence stepped here, we should have a strong case to offer : for we should have to allege, that in the reign of Tiberius Csesar, a cer- tain number of persons set about an attempt of establishing a new religion in the world: in the prosecution of which purpose, they voluntarily encountered great dangers, undertook great la- bours, sustained great sufferings, a\\for a miracu- lous story which they published wherever they came ; aud that the resurrection of a dead man, whom during his life they had followed and ac- companied, was a constant part of this story. I cies, similar to it. CHAPTER VIII. There is satisfactory evidence that many profess- ing to be original witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lires in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in at- testation of the accdunts which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. THAT the story which we have now is, in the main, the. story which the apostles published, is, I think, nearly certain, from the considerations which have been proposed. But whether, when we come to the particulars, and the detail of the John i 40. t Ibid, xxi 24. 292 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. narrative, the historical books of the New Tes- tament be deserving of credit as histories, so that a fact ought to be accounted true, because it is found in them; or whether they are entitled to be considered as representing the accounts which, true or false, the apostles published ; whether their authority, in either of these views, can be trusted to, is- a point which necessarily depends upon what we know of the books, and of their authors. Now, in treating of this part of our argument, the first and most material observation upon the subject is, that such was the situation of the au- thors to whom the four Gospels are ascribed, that, if any one of the four be genuine, it is sufficient for our purpose. The received author of the first, was an original apostle and emissary of the re- ligion. The received author of the second, was an inhabitant of Jerusalem at the time, to whose house the apostles were wont to resort, and him- self an attendant upon one of the most eminent of that number. The received author of the third, was a stated companion and fellow-traveller of the most active of all the teachers of the religion, and in the course of his travels frequently in the society of the original apostles. The received au- thor of the fourth, as well as of the first, was one of these apostles. No stronger evidence of the truth of a history can arise from the situation of the historian, than what is here offered. The authors of all the histories lived at the time and upon the spot. The authors of two of the histories were present at many of the scenes which they de- scribe ; eye-witnesses of the facts, ear-witnesses of the discourses ; writing from personal know- ledge and recollection; and, what strengthens their testimony, writing upon a subject in which their minds were deeply engaged, and in which, as they must have been very frequently repeating the accounts to others, the passages of the history would be kept continually alive in their memory. Whoever reads the Gospels (and they ought to be read for this particular purpose,) will find in them not merely a general affirmation of miraculous powers, but detailed circumstantial accounts of miracles, with specifications of time, place, and persons ; and these accounts many and various. In the Gospels, therefore, which beaj the names of Matthew and John, these narratives, if they really proceeded from these men, must either be true/as far as the fidelity of human recollection is usually to be depended upon, that is, must be true in substance, and in their principal parts (which is sufficient for the purpose of proving a super- natural agency,) or they must lie wilful and medi- tated falsehoods. Yet the writers who fabricated and uttered these falsehoods, if they be such, are of the number of those who, unless the whole contexture of the Christian story be a dream, sa- crificed their ease and safety in the cause, and for a purpose the most inconsistent that is possible with dishonest intentions. They were villains for no end but- to teach honesty, and martyrs without the least prospect of honour or advan- C The 'Gospels which bear the name of Mark and Luke, although not the narratives of eye- wit- nesses, are, if genuine, removed from that only by one degree. They are the narratives of -con- temporary writers; or writers themselves mixing with the business ; one of the two probably living in the place which was the principal scene of ac- tion ; both living in habits of society and corres- pondence with those who had been present at the t ni usact ions which they relate. The latter of them accordingly tells us, (and with apparent sincerity, because he tells it without protending to porsunul knowledge, and without claiming for his work greater authority than belonged to it.) that the things which were believed amongst Christians, came from those who from the beginning were eye-witnesses and ministers of the word ; that he had traced accounts up to their source ; and that he was prepared to instruct his reader in the certainty of the things which he related.* Very few histories lie so close to their facts ; very few historians are so nearly connected with the sub- ject of their narrative, or possess such means of authentic information, as these. The situation of the writers applies to the truth of the facts which they record. But at present we use their testimony to a point somewhat short of this, namely, that the facts recorded in the Gos- pels, whether true or false, are the facts, and the sort of facts, which the original preachers of the religion alleged. Strictly speaking, I am con- cerned only to show, that what the Gospels con- tain is the same as what the apostles preached. Now, how stands the proof of this point 1 A set of men went about the world, publishing a story composed of miraculous accounts, (for miraculous from the very nature and exigency of the case they must have been,) and, upon the strength of these accounts, called upon mankind to quit the religions in which they had been educated, and to take up, thenceforth, a new system of opinions, and new rules of action. What is more in attes- tation of these accounts, that is, in support of an institution of which these accounts were the foun- dation, is that the same men voluntarily exposed themselves to harassing and perpetual labours, dangers, and sufferings. We want to know what these accounts were. We have the particulars, i. e. many particulars, from two of their own num- ber. We have them from an attendant of one of the number, and who, there is reason to believe, was an inhabitant of Jerusalem at the time. We have them from a fourth writer, who accompanied the most laborious missionary of the institution in his travels ; who, in the course of these travels, was frequently brought into the society of the rest ; and who^ let it be observed, begins 'his nar- rative by telling us that he is about to relate the things which had been delivered by those who were ministers of the word, and eye-witnesses of the facts. I do not know what information can be more satisfactory than this. We may, perhaps, perceive the force and value of it more sensibly, if we reflect how requiring we should have been if we had wanted it. Supposing it to be sufficiently proved, that the religion now professed among us, owed its original to the preaching and ministry of a number of men, who, about eighteen cen- turies ago, set forth in the world a new system of religious opinions, founded upon certain extraor- dinary things which they related of a wonderful person who had appeared in Judea; suppose it to * Why should not the candid and modest preface of this historian be believed, as well as that which Dion Caseins prefixes to his Life of Corprnodus ? "These things and the following I write not from the report of others. IK it from my own knowledge and observation." I see no reason to doubt but that both passages describe truly enough the situation of the authors. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 293 be also sufficiently proved, that, in the course and prosecution of their ministry, these men had sub- jected themselves to extreme hardships, fatigue, and peril ; but suppose the accounts which they published had not been committed to writing till some ages after their times, or at least that no histories, but what had been composed some ages afterwards, had reached our hands; we should have said, and with reason, that we were willing to believe these men under the circumstances in which they delivered their testimony, but that we did not. at this day, know with sufficient, evidence what their testimony was. Had we received the particulars of it from any of their own number, from any of those who lived and conversed with them, from any of their hearers, or even from any of their contemporaries, we should have had some- thing to rely upon. Now, if our books be genuine, we have all these. We have the very species of information which, as it appears to me, our imagi- nation would have carved out for us, if it had been wanting. But I have said, that if any one of the four Gospels l>e genuine, we'Tiave not only direct his- torical testimony to the point we contend for, but testimony which, so far as that point is concerned, cannot reasonably be rejected. If the first Gospel was really written by Matthew, we have the narra- tive of oneof the number, from which to judge what were the miracles, and the kind of miracles, which the apostles attributed to Jesus. Although, for argument's sake, and only for argument's sake, we should allow that this Gospel had been erro- neously ascril>ed to Matthew ; yet, if the Gospel of Saint John be genuine, the observation holds with no less strength. Again, although the Gos- pels both of Matthew and John could be supposed to be spurious, yet, if the Gospel of Saint Luke were truly the composition of that person, or of any person, be his name what it might, who was actually in the situation in which the author of that Gospel professes himself to have been, or if the Gospel which bears the name of Mark really proceeded from him ; we still, even upon the low- est supposition, possess the accounts of one writer at least, who was not only contemporary with the apostles, but associated with them in their minis- try ; which authority seems sufficient, when the question is simply what it was which these apos- tles advanced. I think it material to have this well noticed. The New Testament contains a great number of distinct writings, the genuineness of any one of which is almost sufficient to prove the truth of the religion : it contains, however, four distinct histo- ries, the genuineness of any one of which is per- fectly sufficient. If, therefore, we must be con- sidered as encountering the risk of error in as- signing the authors of our books, we are entitled to the advantage of so many separate probabilities. And although it should appear that some of the evangplists had seen and used each other's works ; this discovery, whilst it subtracts indeed from their characters as testimonies strictly independ- ent, diminishes, I conceive, little, either their se- parate authority (by which I mean the authority of any one that is genuine,) or their mutual con- firmation. For, let the most disadvantageous supposition possible be made concerning them; let it be allowed, what I should have no great dif- ficulty in admitting, that Mark compiled his his- tory almost entirely from those of Matthew and Luke ; and let it also for a moment be supposed that these histories were not, in fact, written by Matthew and Luke; yet, if it be true that Mark, a contemporary of the apostles, living in habits of society with the apostles, a fellow-traveller and fellow- labourer with some of them; if, I say, it be true that this person made the compilation, it fol- lows, that the writings from which he made it existed in the time of the apostles, and not only so, but that they were then in such esteem and credit, that a companion of the apostles formed a history out of them. Let the Gospel of Mark be called an epitome of that of Matthew; if a person in the situation in which Mark is described to have been, actually made the epitome, it aflbrds the strongest possible attestation to the character of the original. Again, parallelisms in sentences, in words, and in the order of words, have been traced out between the Gospel of Matthew and that of Luke ; which concurrence cannot easily be explained otherwise than by supposing, either that Luke had consulted Matthew's history, or, what appears to me in no- wise incredible, that minutes ot some of Christ's discourses, as well as brief memoirs of some pas- sages of his life, had been committed to writing at the time ; and that such written accounts had by both authors been occasionally admitted into their histories. Either supposition is perfectly consist- ent with the acknowledged formation of St. Luke's narrative, who professes not to write as an eye- witness, but to nave investigated the original of every account which he delivers : in other words, to have collected them from such documents ana testimonies, as he, who had the best opportunities of making inquiries, judged to be authentic. Therefore, allowing that this writer also, in some instances, borrowed from the Gospel which we call Matthew's, and once more allowing, for the sake of stating the argument, that that Gospel was not the production of the author to whom we ascribe it; yet still we have, in Saint Luke's Gos- pol, a history given by a writer immediately con- nected with the transaction, with the witnesses of it, with the persons engaged in it, and composed from materials which that person, thus situated, deemed to be safe sources of intelligence; in other words, whatever supposition be made concerning any or all the other Gospels, if Saint Luke's Gos- pel be genuine, we have in it a credible evidence of the point which we maintain. The Gospel according to Saint John appears to be, and is on all hands allowed to be, an independ- ent testimony, strictly and properly so called. Not- withstanding, therefore, any connexion, or sup- posed connexion, between some of the Gospels, I again repeat what I before said, that if any one of the four be genuine, we have, in that one strong reason, from the character and situation of the writer, to believe that we possess the accounts which the original emissaries of the religion de- livered. Secondly: In treating of the written evidences of Christianity, next to their separate, we are to consider their aggregate authority. Now, there is in the evangelic history a cumulation of testi- mony which belongs hardly to any other history, but which our habitual mode of reading the Scrip- tures sometimes causes us to overlook. When a passage, in any wise relating to the history of Christ, is read to us out of the epistle of Clemens Romanus, the epistles of Ignatius, of Polycarp, or (25*) 294 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. from any other writing of that age, we are imme- diately sensible of the confirmation which it affords to the Scripture account. Here is a new witness. Now, if we had been accustomed to read the Gos- pel of Matthew alone, and had known that of Luke only as the generality of Christians know the writings of the apostolical fathers, that is, had known that such a writing was extant and ac- knowledged ; when we came, for the first time, to look into what it contained, and found many of the facts which Matthew recorded, recorded also there, many other facts of a similar nature added, and throughout the whole work the same general series of transactions stated, and the same general character of the person who was the subject of the history preserved, I apprehend that we should feel our minds strongly impressed by this discovery of fresh evidence. We should feel a renewal of the same sentiment in first reading the Gospel of Saint John. That of Saint Mark perhaps would strike us as an abridgment of the history with which we were already acquainted ; but we should naturally reflect, that if that history was abridged by such a- person as Mark, or by any person of so early an age, it afforded one of the highest possible attest- ations to the value of the Work. This successive disclosure of proof would leave us assured, that there must have been at least some reality in a story which not one, but many, had taken in hand to commit to writing. The very existence of four separate histories would satisfy us that the subject had a foundation ; and when, amidst the variety which the different information of the different writers had supplied to their accounts, or which their different choice and judgment in selecting their materials had produced, we observed many facts to stand the same in all ; of these facts, at least, we should conclude, that they were fixed in their credit and publicity. If, after this, we should come to the knowledge of a distinct history, and that also of the same age with the rest, taking up the subject where the others had left it, and carry- ing on a narrative of the effects produced in the world by the extraordinary causes of which we had already been informed, and which effects sub- sist at this day, we should think the reality of the original story in no little decree established by this supplement. If subsequent inquiries should bring to our knowledge, one after another, letters writ- ten by some of the principal agents in the business, upon the business, and during the time of their activity and concern in it, assuming all along and recognising the original story, agitating the ques- tions that arose out of it, pressing the obligations which resulted from it, giving advice and direc- tions to those who acted upon it ; I conceive that we should find, in every one of these, a still fur- ther support to the conclusion we had formed. At present, the weight of this successive confirmation is, in a great measure, unperceived by us. The evidence does not appear to us what it is ; for, being from our infancy accustomed to regard the New Testament as one book, we see in it only one testi- mony. The whole occurs to us as a single evidence; and its different parts, not as distinct attestations, but as different portions only of the same. Yet in this conception of the subject, we are certainly mistaken ; for the very discrepancies among the several documents which form our volume, prove, if all other proof were wanting, that in their origi- nal composition they were separate, and most of them independent productions. If we dispose our ideas in a different order, the matter stands thus: Whilst the transaction was recent, and the original witnesses were at hand to relate it ; and whilst the apostles were busied in preaching and travelling, in collecting disciples, in forming and regulating societies of converts, in. supporting themselves against opposition; whilst they exercised their ministry under the harassing of frequent persecution, and in a state of almost continual alarm, it is not probable that, in this en- gaged, anxious, and unsettled condition of life, they would think immediately of writing histories for the information of the public or of jxjstcrity.* But it is very probable, that emergencies might draw from some of them occasional letters upon the subject of their mission, to converts, or to so- cieties of converts, with which they were connect- ed ; or that they might address written discourses and exhortations to the disciples of the institution at large, which would be received and read with a respect proportioned to the character of the writer. Accounts in the mean time would get abroad of the extraordinary things that had been passing, written with different, degrees of information and correctness. The extension of the Christian so- ciety, which could no longer be instructed by a personal intercourse with the apostles, and the possible circulation of imperfect or erroneous nar- ratives, would soon teach some amongst them the expediency of sending forth authentic memoirs of the life and doctrine of their Master. When ac- counts appeared authorized by the name, and cre- dit, and situation of the writers, recommended or recognised by the apostles and first preachers of the religion, or found to coincide with what the apostles and first preachers of the religion had taught, other accounts would fall into disuse and neglect ; whilst these maintaining their reputation (as, if genuine and well founded, they would do) under the test of time, inquiry, and contradiction, might be expected to make their way into the hands of Christians of all countries of the world. This seems the natural progress of the business ; and with this the records in our possession, and the evidence concerning them, correspond. We have remaining, in the first place, many letters of the kind above described, which have been pre- served with a care and fidelity answering to the respect with which we may suppose -that such let- ters would be received. But as these letters were not written to prove the truth of the Christian re- ligion, in the sense in which we regard that ques- tions nor to convey information of tacts, of which those to whom the letters were written had been previously informed ; we are not to look in them for any thing more than incidental allusions to the Christian history. We are able, however, to gather from these documents, various particular attestations which have been already enumerated; and this is a species of written evidence, as far as it goes, in the highest degree satisfactory, and in point of lime perhaps the first. But for our more circumstantial information, we have in the next place five direct histories, bearing the names of persons acquainted, by their situation, with the truth of what they relate, and three of them pur- porting, in the very body of the narrative, to be * This thought occurred to Eusebius: "Nor were the apostles of Christ greatly concerned about the writing of books, being engaged in a more excellent ministry, which is above all human power." Eccles. Hist. 1. iii. c. 24 The same consideration accounts also for the pau- city of Christian writings in the first century of its era. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 295 written by such persons ; of which books we know, that some were in the hands of those who were contemporaries of the apostles, and that, in the age immediately posterior to that, they were in the hands, we may say, of every one, and received by Christians with so much respect and deference, as to be constantly quoted and referred to by them, without any doubt of the truth of their accounts. They were treated as such histories, proceeding from such authorities, might expect to be treated. In the preface to one of our histories, we have in- timations left us of the existence of some ancient accounts which are now lost. There is nothing in this circumstance that can surprise us. It was to be expected, from the magnitude and novelty of the occasion, that such accounts would swarm. When better accounts came forth, these died away. Our present histories superseded others. They soon acquired a character and established a reputation which does not appear to have belonged to any other : that, at least, can be proved concerning them, whichcannot be proved concerning any other. But to return to the point which led to these reflections. By considering our records in either of the two views in which we have represented them, we shall perceive that we possess a collec- tion of proofs, and not a naked or solitary testi- mony ; and that the written evidence is of such a kind, and comes to us in such a state, as the na- tural order and progress of things, in the infancy of the institution, might be expected tp produce. Thirdly : The genuineness of the historical books of the New Testament is undoubtedly a point of importance, because the strength of their evidence is augmented by our knowledge of the situation of their authors, their relation to the sub- ject, and the part which they sustained in the transaction; and the testimonies which we are able to produce, compose a firm ground of per- suasion, that the Gospels were written by the persons whose names they bear. Nevertheless, 1 must be allowed to state, that to the argument which I am endeavouring to maintain, this point is not essential ; I mean, so essential as that the fete of the argument depends upon it. The ques- tion l>efore us is, whether the Gospels exhibit the story which the apostles and first emissaries of the religion published, and for which they acted and surlered in the manner in which, for some mira- culous story or other, they did act and suffer. Now let us suppose that we possessed no other information concerning these books than that they were written by early disciples of Christianity -, that they were known and read during the time, or near the time, of the original apostles of the re- ligion ; that by Christians whom the apostles in- structed, by societies of Christians which the apostles founded, these books were received, (by which term " received," I mean that they were believed to contain authentic accounts of the trans- actions upon which the religion rested, and ac- counts which were accordingly used, repeated, and relied upon,) this reception would be a valid proof that these books, whoever were the authors of them, must have accorded with what the apostles taught. A reception by the first race of Chris- tians, is evidence that they agreed with what the first teachers of the religion delivered. In parti- cular, if they had not agreed with what the apos- tles themselves preached, how could they have gained credit in churches and societies which the apostles established 1 Now the fact of their early existence, and not only of their existence but their reputation, is made out by some ancient testimonies which do not happen to specify the names of the writers : add to which, what hath been already hinted, that two out of the four Gospels contain averments in the body of the history, which, though they do not disclose the names, fix the time and situation of the authors, viz. that one was written by an eye- witness of the sufferings of Christ, the other by a contemporary of the apostles. In the Gospel of Saint John, (xix. 35,) after describing the cruci- fixion, with the particular circumstance of piercing Christ's side with a spear, the historian adds, as for himself, "and he that saw it bare record, and his record is true, and he knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe." Again, (xxi. 24,) after relating a conversation which passed between Peter and " the disciple," as it is there expressed, " whom Jesus loved," it is added, "this is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things." This testimony, let it be remarked, is not the less worthy of regard, be- cause it is. in one view, imperfect. The name is not mentioned; which, if a fraudulent purpose had been intended, would have been done. The third of our present Gospels purports to have been written by the person who wrote the Acts of the Afiostles ; in which latter history, or rather, latter part of the same history, the author, by using, in various places, the first person plural, declares himself to have been a cdntemporary of all, and a companion of one, of the original preachers of the religion. CHAPTER IX. There is satisfactory evidence that many, pro- fessing to be original witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undergone in at- testation of the accounts which they delivered, and solely in consequence qf their belief of those accounts ; and that they also submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct. THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE SCRIPTURES. NOT forgetting, therefore, what credit is due to the evangelical history, supposing even any v,ne of the four Gospels to be genuine ; what credit is due to the Gospels, even supposing nothing to be known concerning them but that they were writ- ten by early disciples of the religion, and received with deference by early Christian churches : more especially not forgetting what credit is due to the New Testament in its capacity of cumulative evi- dence; we now proceed to state the proper and distinct proofs, which show not only the general value of these records, but their specific authority, and the high probability there is that they actual- ly came- from the persons whose names they bear. There are, however, a few preliminary reflec- tions, by which we may draw up with more regu- larity to the propositions upon which the close and particular discussion of the subject depends. Of which nature are the following : I. We are able to produce a great number of ancient manuscripts, found in many different countries, and in countries widely distant from each other, all of them anterior to the art of print- 296 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. ing, some certainly seven or eight hundred years old, and some which have been preserved probably above a thousand years.* We have also many ancient versions of these books, and some of them into languages which are not at present, nor for many ages nave been, spoken in any part of the world. The existence of these manuscripts and versions proves that the Scriptures were not the production of any modern contrivance. It does away also the uncertainty which hangs over such publications as the works, real or pretended, of Ossian and Rowley, in which the editors are challenged to produce their manuscripts, and to show where they obtained their copies. The number of manuscripts, far exceeding those of any other book, and their wide dispersion, afford an ar- gument, in some measure to the senses, that the Scriptures anciently, in like manner as at this day, were more read and sought after than any other books, and that also in many different coun- tries. The greatest part of spurious Christian writings are utterly lost, the rest preserved by some single manuscript. There is vfleight also in Dr. Bentley's observation, that the New Testa- ment has suffered less injury by the errors of transcribers, than the works of any profane author of the same size and antiquity ; that is, there ne- ver was any writing, in the preservation and pu- rity of which the world was so interested or so careful. II. An argument of great weight with those who are judges of the proofs upon which it is founded, and capable, through their testimony, of being addressed to every understanding, is that which arises from the style and language of the New Testament. It is just such a language as might be expected from the apostles, from persons of their age and in their situation, and from no other persons. It is the style neither of classic authors, nor of the ancient Christian Fathers, but Greek coming from men of Hebrew origin ; abounding, that is, with Hebraic and Syriac idioms, such as would naturally be found in the writings of men who used a language spoken in- deed where they lived, but not the common dia- lect of the country. This happy peculiarity is a strong proof of the genuineness of these writings : for who should forge them 1 The Christian fa- thers were for the most part totally ignorant of Hebrew, and therefore were not likely to insert Hebraisms and Syriasms into their writings. The few who had a knowledge of the Hebrew, as Jus- tin Martyr, Origen, and Epiphanius, wrote in a language which bears no resemblance to that of the New Testament. The Nazarenes, who un- derstood Hebrew, used chiefly, perhaps almost entirely, the Gospel of St. Matthew, and therefore cannot be suspected of forging the rest of the sa- cred writings. The argument, at any rate, proves the antiquity of these books ; that they belonged to the age of the apostles ; that they could be composed indeed in no other .t lit. Why should we question the genuineness of these books 7 Is it for that they contain accounts of supernatural events 1 I apprehend that this, at the bottom, is the real, though secret, cause of our *The Alexandrian manuscript, now in the British Museum, was written probably in the fourth or fifth century. t See this argument stated more at large in Michaetis's Introduction (Marsh's translation,) vol. i. c. ii. sect. 10, from which these observations are taken. hesitation about them : for, had the writings in- scribed with the names of Matthew and John, re- lated nothing but ordinary history, there would have been no more doubt whether these writings were theirs, than there i.s concerning the acknow- ledged works of Josephus or Hiilo ; that is, there would have been no doubt at all. Now it ought to be considered that this reason, however it may apply to the credit which is given to a writer's judgment or veracity, affects the question of genuineness very indirectly. The works of Bede exhibit many wonderful relations : but who, for that reason, doubts that they were written by Bede 1 The same of a multitude of other authors. To which may be added, that we ask no more for our books than what we allow to other books in some sort similar to ours : we do not deny the ge- nuineness of the Koran ; we admit that the history of Apollonius Tyanaeus, purporting to be written by Philostratus, was really written by Philostratus. IV. If it had been an easy thing in the early times of the institution to have forged Christian writings, and to have obtained currency and re- ception to the forgeries, we should have had many appearing in the name of Christ himself. No writings would have been received with so much avidity and respect as these : consequently none afforded so great temptation to forgery. Yet have we heard but of one attempt of this sort, deserving of the smallest notice, that in a piece of a very few lines, and so far from succeeding, I mean, from obtaining acceptance and reputation, or an accept- ance and reputation in any wise similar to that which can be proved to have attended the books of the New Testament, that it is not so much as mentioned by any writer of the first three centu- ries. The learned reader need not be informed that I mean the epistle, of Christ to Abgarus, king of Edessa, found at present in the work of Euse- bius,* as a piece acknowledged by him, though not without considerable doubt whether the whole passage be not an interpolation, as it is most cer- tain, that, after the publication of Eusebius's work, this epistle was universally rejected. t V. If the ascription of the Gospels to their res- pective authors had been arbitrary or conjectural, they would have been ascribed to more eminent men. This observation holds concerning the first three Gospels, the reputed authors of which were enabled, by their situation, to obtain true in- telligence, and were likely to deliver an honest ac- count of what they knew, but were persons not distinguished in the history by extraordinary marks of notice or commendation. Of the apos- tles, I hardly know any one of whom less is said than of Matthew, or of whom the little that is said, is less calculated to magnify his character. Of Mark, nothing is said in the Gospels ; and what is said of any person of that name in the * Hist. Eccl. lib. i.e. 15. t Augustin. A D. 895, (De Consens. Evang. c. 34.) had heanl t'h at the Pagans ^retertded to be possessed of an epistle from Christ to Peter and Paul ; but he had never scru it, and appears to doubt of the existence of any such piece, either genuine or spurious. No other an- cient writer mentions it. He also, and he alone, notices, and that in order to condemn it, an epistle ascribed to Christ by the Manichees, A. D. 270, and a short hymn attributed to him by the priscillianists, A. D. 378. [cont. Faust. Man. lib. xxviii. c. 4.J The lateness of the wri- ter who notices these things, the manner in which he notices them, and, above all^the silence of every prece- ding writer, render them unworthy of consideration. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 297 Acts, and in the Epistles, in no part bestows praise or eminence upon him. The name of Luke is mentioned only in Saint Paul's Epistles, '" and that very transiently. The judgment, there fore, which assigned these writings to these au thors proceeded, it may be presumed; upon proper knowledge and evidence, and not upon a voluntary choice of names. VI. Christian writers and Christian churches appear to have soon 'arrived at a very genera] agreement upon the subject, and that without the interposition of any public authority. When the diversity of opinion, which prevailed, and prevails among Christians in other points is considered, their concurrence in the canon of Scripture is re- markable, and of great weight, especially as it seems to have been the result of private and tree inquiry. We have no knowledge of any interfe rence of authority, in the question, before the council of Laodicea in the year 363. Probably the decree of this council rather declared than re- gulated the public judgment, or, more properly speaking, the judgment of some neighbouring churches ; the council itself consisting of no more than thirty or forty bishops of Lydia and the ad- joining countries, t Nor does its authority seem to have extended further ; for we find numerous Christian writers, after this time, discussing the question, " What books were entitled to be re- ceived as Scripture," with great freedom, upon proper grounds of evidence, and without any re- ference to the decision at Laodicea. These considerations are not to be neglected : but of an argument concerning the genuineness df ancient writings, the substance, undoubtedly, and strength, is ancient testimony. This testimony it is necessary to exhibit some- what in detail ; for when Christian advocates mo rely tell us, that we have the same reason for believing the Gospels to be written by the evan- gelists whose name they bear, as we have for be- lieving the Commentaries to be Caesar's, the ^Eneid Virgil's, or the Orations Cicero's, they content themselves with an imperfect representa- tion. They state nothing more than what is true, but they do not state the truth correctly. In the number, variety, and early date of our testimonies, we far exceed all other ancient books. For one, which the most celebrated work of the most cele- brated Greek or Roman writer can allege, we pro- duce many. But then it is more requisite in our books, than in theirs, to separate and distinguish them from spurious competitors. The result, I am convinced, will be satisfactory to every fair in- quirer : but this circumstance renders an inquiry j necessary. In a work, however, like the present, there is a j difficulty in finding a place for evidence of this kind. To pursue the details of proofs throughout, would be to transcribe a great part of Dr. Lard- ner's eleven octavo volumes : to leave the argu- ment without proofs, is to leave it without effect ; for the persuasion produced by this species of evidence depends upon a view and induction of the particulars which compose, it. The method which I propose to myself is, first * Col. iv. 14. 2 Tim. iv. 11. Philem. 24. t Lardner, Cred. vol. viii.p. 291. et seq. to place before the reader, in one view, the propo- sitions which comprise the several heads oi our testimony, and afterwards to repeat the same pro- positions in so many distinct sections, with the necessary authorities subjoined to each.* The following, then, are the allegations upon the subject, which are capable of being established by proof: I. That the historical books of the New Tes- tament, .meaning thereby the four Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, are quoted, or alluded to, by a series of Christian writers, beginning with those who were contemporary with the apostles, or who immediately followed them, and proceed- ing in close and regular succession from their time to the present. II. That when they are quoted, or alluded to, they are quoted or alluded to with pec u ha r respect, as books sui generis ; as possessing an authority which belonged to no other books, and as conclu- sive in all questions and controversies amongst Christians. III. That they were, in very early times, col- lected into a distinct volume. IV. That they were distinguished by appropri- ate names and titles of respect. V. That they were publicly rea^ and expound- ed in the religious assemblies of the early Chris- tians. VI. That commentaries were written upon them, harmonies formed out of them, different copies carefully collated, and versions of them nude into ditierent languages. VII. That they were received by Christians of different setts, by many heretics as well as catholics, and usually appealed to byixrth sides in the controversies which arose in those days. VIII. That the four Gospels, the 'Acts of the Apostles, thirteen Epistles of Saint Paul, the first Spistle of John, and the first of Peter, were re- ceived, without doubt, by those who doubted con- :erning the other books which are included in our )resent canon. IX. That the Gospels were attacked by the early adversaries of Christianity, as books contain- ng the accounts upon which the religion was "bunded. X. That formal catalogues of authentic Scrip- ures were published ; in all which our present sacred histories were included. XI. That these propositions cannot'be affirm- ! of any other books claiming to be books of Scripture ; by which are meant those books which are commonly called apocryphal books of the New Testament SECTION I. The historical books of the New Testament, meaning thereby the four -Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, are quoted, or alluded, to, by a ~ series of Christian writers, beginning with those who were contemporary with the apostles, or who immediately followed them, and pro- ceeding in close and regular succession from their time to the present. * The reader, when he has the propositions before him, will observe that the argument, if he should omit the sections, proceeds counectedly from this point. 298 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. THE medium of proof stated in this proposition is, of all others, the most unquestionable, the least liable to any practices of fraud, and is not dimi- nished by the lapse, of ages. Bishop Burnet, in the History of his Own Times, inserts various ex- tracts from Lord Clarendon's History. One such insertion is a proof, that Lord Clarendon's Histo- ry was extant at the time when Bishop Burnet wrote, that it had been read by BisHop Burnet, that it was received by Bishop Burnet as a work of Lord Clarendon, and also regarded by him as an authentic account of the transactions which it relates ; and it will be a proof of these points a thousand years hence, or as long as the books exist. Gluintillian having quoted as Cicero's,* that well-known trait of dissembled vanity : * Si quid est in me ingenii, Judices, quod sentio quam sit exiguum ;" the quotation would be strong evidence, were there any doubt, that the oration which opens with this address, actually came from Cicero's pen. These instances, however simple, may serve to point out to a reader, who is little accustomed to such re- searches, the nature ancl vajue of the argument. The testimonies which we have to bring for- ward under this proposition are the following : I. There is extant an epistle ascribed to Barna- bas, t the companion of Paul. It is quoted as the epistle of Barnabas, by Clement of Alexandria, A. D. cxciv ; by Origen, A. D. ccxxx. It is mentioned by Eusebius, A. D. cccxv, and by Jerome, A. D. cccxcn, as an ancient work in their time, bearing the~hame of Barnabas, and as well known and read amongst Christians, though not accounted a part of Scrjpture. It purports to have been written,, soon after the destruction of Jerusalem, during the calamities which followed that disaster ; and it bears the character of the age to which it professes to belong. In this epistle appears the following remarka- ble passage : " Let us, therefore, beware lest it come upon us, as it is written ; There are many called, few chosen." From the expression, "as it is written," we infer with certainty, that at the time when the author of this epistle lived, there was a book extant, well known to Christians, and of authority amongst themj containing these words : " Many are called, few chosen." Such- a book is our present Gospel of Saint Matthew,, in which this text is twice found, t and is found in no other book now known. There is a further observation to be made upon the terms of the qlio- tation. The writer of the epistle was a Jew. The phrase "is written," was the very form in which the Jews quoted their Scriptures. It is not probable, therefore, that he would have used this phrase, and without qualification, of any books but what had acquired a kind of Scriptural authority. If the passage remarked in this an- cient writing had been found in one -of St. Paul's Epistles, it would have been esteemed by every one a high testimony to Saint 'Matthew's Gospel. It ought, therefore, to ^be remembered, that the writing in which it is found was probably by very few years posterior to those of Saint Paul. * Quint, lib. xi. c. i. f ^ardner, Cred edit. 1755, vol. i. p. 23, et seq. The reader will observe from the references, that the mate- rials of these sections are almost entirely extracted from Dr. Lardner's work ; my office consisted in arrange- ment and selection. J Matt. xx. 16;xxii. 14. Beside this passage, there are also -in the epistle before us several others, in which the sen- timent is the same with what we meet with in Saint Matthew's. Gospel, and two or three in which we recognise the same words. In particu- lar, the author- of the epistle repeats the precept " Give to every one 1 that asketh thee ;" * and saith that Christ chose as his apostles, who were to preach the Gospel, men who were great sinners, that he might show that he came # not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." t II. We are in possession of an epistle written by Clement, bishop of Rome,t whom ancient writers, without any doubt or scruple, assert to have been the Clement whom Saint Paul mentions, Phil. iv. 3 ; " with Clement also, and other my fellow-labourers, whose -names are in the book of life." ^ This epistle is spoken of by the ancients as an epistle acknowledged by all ; and, as Irenaus well represents. its value, "written by Clement, who had seen the blessed apostles^ and conversed with them ; who had the preaching of the apostles still sounding in his ears, and their traditions be- fore his eyes." It is addressed to the church of Corinth; and what alone may seem almost deci- sive of its authenticity, Dionysius, bishbp of Co- rinth, about the year 170, i. e. about eighty or ninety years after' the epistle was written, bears witness, " that it had been wont to be read in that church from ancient times." This epistle affords, amongst others, the follow- ing valuable passages :" Especially remembering the words of the Lord Jesus which he spake, Leaching gentleness and long-suffering : for thus tie said : ' Be ye merciful, that ye may obtain mercy ; forgive, that it may be forgiven unto you ; as you do, so shall it be done unto you ; as you ^ive, so shall it be given unto you ; as ye judge, so shall ye be judged; as ye show kindness, so shall kindness be shown unto you ; with what measure ye' mete, with the same shall it be measured to you. 5 By this command, and by these rules, let us establish ourselves, that we may always walk obediently to his holy words." Again; "Remember the words of the Lord Je- sus, for he said, ' Wo to that man by whom offences come ; it were better for him that he had not been jorn, than that he should offend one of my elect ; t were better for him that a mill-stone should be ied about his neck, and that he should be drowned n the sea, than that he should offend one of my ittle ones.' "II In both these passages, we perceive the high respect paid to the words of Christ as recorded by ;he evangelists; "Remember the words of the Lord Jesus } by this command, and by these rules, "et us establish ourselves, that we may always walk * Matt. v. 42. t Matt. ix. 13. t Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 62, et seq. 9 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," Matt. v. 7. ".Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven; jive, and it shall be given unto you," Luke vi. 37, 38. ' Judge not that ye be not judged ; for with what judg- ment ye judge, ye shall -be judged ; and with what mea- Mire ye mete, it shall be measured to you again," Matt, vii. 1. 2. |l Matt, xviii. G. " But whoso shall offend one of these itle ones which believe in me, it were better for him hat a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the sea." The latter part of the pas- sage in Clement agrees more exactly with Luke xvii. 2 : ' It were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged about hit? neck, and he cast into the sea, than that be should offend one of these little ones." EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 290 obediently to his holy words." We perceive also in Clement a total unconsciousness of doubt, whe- ther these were the real words of Christ, which are read as such in the Gospels. This observation indeed belongs to the whole series of testimony, and especially to the most ancient part of it. Whenever any thing now read in the Gospels is met wkh in an early Christian writing, it is al- ways observed to stand there as acknowledged truth, i. e. to be introduced without hesitation, doubt, or apology. It is to lie observed also, that, as this epistle was written in the name of the church of Rome, and addressed to the church of Corinth, it ought to be taken as exhibiting UK? judgment not only of Clement, who drew up the letter, but of these churches themselves, at least as to the authority of. the books referred to. It may be said" th;it. as Clement has not used words of quotation, it is not certain that he relers to any book whatever. The words of ('hrist. which he has put down, he might himself have heard from the apostles, or might have iverhed through the ordinary medium of oral tradition. This has been said : but that no such inference can be drawn from the absence of words of quota- tion, is proved by the three following considera- tions: First, that Clement, in the very same manner, namely, without any mark of reference. uses a passage now found in the epistle to the Ro- mans;* which passage, from the peculiarity of the words which comjjose it, and from their order, il is manifest that he must have taken from the book. The same remark may be reputed of some very singular sentiments in the Kpistle to the Hebrews. Secondly, that there are many sentences- of Saint Paul's First Kpistle to the Corinthians standing in Clement's epistle without any sign of quotation, which yet certainly are quotations; because it ap- pears that Clement had Saint Paul's epistle Sefofe him, inasmuch as in one place he mentions it in terms too express to leave us in any doubt: " Take into your hands the epistle of the blessed apostle Paul." Thirdly, that this method jof adopting words of Scripture without reference or acknowledgment, was, as will appear in the sequel, a method in general use amongst the most ancient Christian writers. These analogies not only re- pel the objection, but cast the presumption on the other side, and afford a considerable degree of posi- tive proof, that the words in question have been borrowed from the places of Scripture in which we now find them. , But take it if you will the other way, that Cle- ment had heard these words from the apostles or first teachers of Christianity ; with respect to the precise point of our argument, viz. that the Scrip- tures contain what the apostles taught, this suppo- sition may serve almost as well. III. Near the conclusion of the Epistle to the Romans, Saint Paul, amongst others, sends the following salutation : " Salute Asyncritus, Phle- gon, Her mas, Patrobas, Hermes, and the brethren which are with them." Of Hermas, who appears in this catalogue of Roman Christians as contemporary with Saint Paul, a book bearing the name, and it is most pro- bable rightly, is still remaining. It is called the Shepherd,! or Pastor of Hermas. Its antiquity is incontestable, from the quotations of it in Irenajus, * Romans i. 29. t Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 111. A. D. 178; Clement of Alexandria, A. D. 194: Tcrtullian, A. D. '200; Origen, A. D. 230. The notes of time extant in the epistle itself, agree with this title, and with the testimonies concern- ing it, for it purports to have been written during the life-tiine of Clement. In this piece are tacit allusions to Saint Mat- thew's, Saint Luke's, and Saint John's Gospels ; that is to. say, there are applications of thoughts and expressions found in these Gospels, without citing the place or writer from which they were taken. In this form appear in Hennas, the con- fessing and denying of Christ;* the parable of the seed sown ;t the comparison of Christ's disciples to little children; tle saying, " he that puttcth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adul- tery ;t the singular expression "having received all power from his Father," in probable allusion to Matt, xxviii. 18 ; arid Christ being the " gate," or only way of coming." to God," in plain allusion to John xiv. (i , x. 7. i). There is also a probable al- lusion to Acts v. 3-3. This piece is the representation of a vision, and has by many been accounted a weak and fanciful performance. I therefore observe, that the charac- ter of the. writing has little to do with the purpose for which we adduce it It is the age, in which it was composed, that gives the value to its testimony. IV. Ignatius, as it is testified by ancient Chris- tian writers, became bishop of Antioch about thirty-seven years after Christ's ascension ; and, therefore, from his time, and place, and station, it is probable that he had knowrrand conversed with many of the apostles. Epistles of Ignatius are re- ferred to by Polycarp, his contemporary. Pas- sages found in the epistles now extant under his name, are quoted by Irenasus, A. D. 178 ; by Ori- gen, A. D. 230 : and the occasion of writing the epistles is given at large by Eusebius and Jerome. What are called the smaller epistles of Ignatius, ape generally deemed to IK; those which were read by IIVIKBUS, Origen, and Eusebius. In these epistles are various undoubted allusions to the Gospels of Saint Matthew and Saint John ; yet so far of the same form with those in the pre- ceding articles, that, like them, they are not ac- companied with marks of quotation. Of these allusions thfe following are clear speci- mens: C !! Christ was baptized of John , that all righteousness might be fulfilled by him" " Be ye as wise as serpents in all things, and harmless a$ a dove." " Yet the Spirit is not deceived, being from God : for it knows whence it comes, and whither it goes. 1 ' " He (Christ) is the door of the Fa- ther, by which enter in Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and the apostles and the church. 7 * Jfetf.ll John.V * Matt. x. 32, 33, or, Luke xji- 8, 9. t Matt. xiii. 3, or, Luke viii 5. 1 Luke xvi. 18. ' Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 147. || Chap, iii. 15. " For thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness." Chap. x. 16. " Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." IT Chap. iii. 8. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and Ihou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it comet k and wkitkcr it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." Chap. x. 9. "I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved." 300 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. As to the manner of quotation, this is observ- able ; Ignatius, in one place, speaks of Saint Paul in terms of high respect, and quotes his Epistle to the Ephesians by name ; yet, in several other places, he borrows words and sentiments from the same epistle without mentioning it; which shows, that this was his general manner of using and ap- plying writings then extant, and then of high au- thority. V. Polycarp* had been taught by the apostles; had conversed with many who had seen Christ; was also, by the apostles, appointed bishop of Smyrna. This testimony concerning Polycarp is given by Irenseus, who in his youth had seen him : " I can tell the place," saith Irenseus, " in which the blessed Polycarp sat and taught, and his going out and coming in, and the manner of his life and the form of his person, and the discourses he. made to the people, and how he related his conversation with John, and others who had seen .the Lord, and how he had related their sayings, and what he had heard concerning the Lord, both concern- ing his miracles and his doctrine, as he had re- ceived them from the eye-witnesses of the word of life : all which Polycarp related agreeable to the Scripture's." Of Folycarp, whose proximity to the age and country and persons of the- apostles is thus attested, we have one undoubted epistle remaining. And this, though a short letter, contains nearly forty clear allusions to books of the New Testament ; which is strong evidence of the respect which Christians of that age bore for these hooka. Amongst those, although the writings of Saint Paul are more frequently used by Polycarp than tiny other parts of Scripture, there are copious al- lusions to the Gospel of Saint Matthew, some to passages found in the Gospels both of Matthew and Luke, and some which more nearly resemble the words in Luke. I select the following T as fixing the authority of the Lord's prayer, and the use of it amongst the primitive Christians : " If therefore we pray the Lord> that he w&l forgive us, we ought also to forgive." "With supplication beseeching the. all- seeing God not to lead us into temptation* And the following, for the sake of repeating an observation already made, that words of our Lord found in our Goepels, were at this early day quoted as spoken by -him; and 'not only o,~ but quoted with so little question or consciousness of doubt about their being really his words, as not even to mention, much less to canvass, the authority from which they were taken : " But remembering what the Lord said, teach- ing, Judge nut, that ye be not judged ; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven; be ye merciful, that ye may obtain mercy ; with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. "t Supposing Polycarp to have had these words from the books in which we now find them, it is manifest that these books were consiilored bv him. antl, as he thought, considered by his readers, as authentic accounts of Christ's discourses; and that that point was incontestable. The following is a decisive, though .what we call a tacit, reference to Saint Peter's speech in the Acts of the Apostles: "whom God hath raised, having loosed the pains of death."* VI. Papias,t a hearer of John, and companion of Polycarp, as Irenaeus attests, and of that age, as nil ntrree.'in a passage quoted by Eusebius, from a work now lost, expressly ascribes the respective Gospels to Matthew and Mark; and in a manner which proves that these Gospels must have pub- licly borne the names of these authors 'at that time, and probably long before ; for Papiae does not say that one Gospel was written by Matthew, and another by Mark ; but, assuming this as per- fectly well known, he tells us from what materials Mark collected his account, viz. from Peter's preaching, and in what language Matthew wrote, viz. in Hebrew. Whether Papias was well in- formed in this statement, or not : to the point for which I produce this testimony, namely, that these bogks bore these names at this time, his authority is complete. The writers hitherto alleged, had all lived and conversed with some of the apostles. The works of theirs which remain, are in general very short pieces, yet rendered extremely valuable by their antiquity; and none, short as they are, but what contain some important testimony to our histori- cal Scriptures.* VII. Not long after these, that is, not much more than twenty 'years after the last, follows Justin Martyr. His remaining works are much larger than any that have yet been noticed. Al- though the nature of his two principal writings, one of which was addressed to heathens, and the other was a conference with a Jew, did not lend trim to such/frequent appeals to Christian books, as would have appeared in a discourse intended for Christian readers; we nevertheless reckon up n them between twenty and thirty quotations of the Gospels and Acts of the Apostles, certain, distinct, and copious: if each verse be counted separately, a much greater number ; if each ex- pression, a very great one.ll We meet with quotations of three of the Gos- pels within the compass of half a page : " And in other words he says, Depart from me into outer larkness, which the Father hath prepared for Satan and his angels," (which is from Matthew xxv. 41.) " And again he said in other words, I give unto you power to tread upon serpents, and scorpions, and venomous beasts, and upon all the >ower of the enemy." (This from Luke \. 10.) And before he' was crucified, he said, The Son of Man myst suffer many things, and be rejected of the Scribes and Pharisees, and be crucified, * Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 192. f Matt. vii. 1, 2. v. 7. Luke vi. 37, 38. * Acts ii. 24. t Lardner, Cred. vol i. p. 230. J That the quotations are more thinly strown in hese, than in the writings of l lie next ami of succeeding ages, is in a good measure accounted for by the observa- tion, that the Scriptures of the Nw TVstanifiit had not ?/eC, nor by their recency hardly could have, herein- a general part of Christian education; read as the Old Testament was by J.nvs and Christians from their childhood, and thereby intimately mixing, as tint had ongdone, with-all their religious ideas, and with Jheir aiiguago upon religious subjects. In process of time, nnd as soon perhaps as could b exp-rte'l this came to be the case. And then'we perceive the effect, in a pro- port ion ably greater frequency, as well as copiousness of illusion. TT Lardner, 6red. vol. i. p. 258. " He cites our present canon, and particularly our four Gospels, continually, I dare say, above two hun- dred times." Jones's New and fall 'Method. Append, vol. i. p. 589 ed. 172>. IT Mich. Introd. c.ii, sect. vi. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 301 and rise again the third day." (This from Mark viii. 31.) In another place, Justin quotes a passage in the history of Christ's birth, as delivered by Mat- thew and John, and fortifies his quotation by this remarkable testimony: "As they have taught, who have written the history of all things con- cerning our Saviour Jesus, Christ : and we be- lieve them." Quotations are also found from the Gospel of Saint John. What, moreover, seems extremely material to be observed is, that in all Justin's works, from which might be extracted almost a complete life of Christ, there are but two instances, in which he refers to any thing as said or done by Qhrist, which is not related concerning him in our pre- sent Gospels : which shows, that these Gospels, and these, we may say, alone, were the authori- ties from which the 'Christians of that day drew the information upon which they depended. One of these instances is of a saying of Christ, not met with in any book now extant.* The other, of a circumstance in Christ's baptism, namely, a fiery or luminous appearance upon the water, which, according to Lpiphanius, is noticed in the Gospel of the Hebrews: and which might be true: but which, whether true or false, is men- tioned by Justin, with a plain mark of diminution when compared with what he quotes as resting upon Scripture authority. The render will ad- vert to this distinction: "And then, when Je- sus came to the river Jordan, where John was baptizing, as Jesus descended into the water, a fire also was kindled in Jordan ; and when he came up out of the water, the apostles of this our Christ have icritlen, that the Holy Ghost lighted Upon him as a dove." All the references in Justin are made without mentioning the author; which proves that thes books were perfectly notorious, and that there were no other accounts of Christ then extant, or, at .'east, no others so received and credited as to make it necessary to distinguish these from the rest But although Justin mentions not the author's name, he calls the books, " Memoirs composed by the Apostles ;' : " Memoirs composed by the Apostles and their Companions ;" which descrip- tions, the latter especially, exactly suit with the titles which the Gospels and Acts of the Apostles now bear. VIII. Hegesippust came about thirty years after Justin. His testimony is remarkable only for this particular ; that he relates of himself, that, * " Wherefore also our Lord Jesus Christ has said, in whatsoever I shall find you, in the same I will also judge you." Possibly Justin designed not to quote any text, but to represent the sense of many of our Lord's sayings. Fabricus has observed, that this saying has been quoted by many writers, and that Justin is the only one who ascribes it to our Lord, and that perhaps by a slip of his memory. Words resembling these are read repeatedly in Eze- kiel: "I will judge them according to their ways-" (chap. vii. 3 ; xxxiii 20.) It is remarkable that Justin had just before expressly quoted Ezekiel. Mr. Jones upon this circumstance founded a conjecture, that Jus tin wrote only" the Lord hath said," intending to quote the words of God, or rather the sense of those words in Ezekiel ; and that some transcriber, imagining these to be the words of Christ, inserted in his copy the addition " Jesus Christ." Vol. i. p, 539. t Lardner. Cred. vol. i. p. 314. travelling from Palestine to -Rome, he visited, on his journey, many bishops ; and that, " in every succession, and in every city, the same doctrine is taught, which the Law and the Prophets, and the Lord teacheth." This is an important attestation, from good authority, and of high antiquity. It is generally understood, that by the word " Lord," Hegesippus intended som6 writing or writings, containing the teaching of Christ, in which sense alone the .term combines with the other terms ; 'Law and Prophets," which denote writings; and together with them admit of the verb " teach- eth" in the present tense. Then that these writings were some or all of the books of the New Testament, is rendered probable from hence, that in the fragments of his works, which are preserved in Eusebius, and in a writer of the ninth century, enough, though it be little, is left to show, that Hegesippus expressed divers things in the style of the Gospels, and of the Acts of the Apostles; that he referred to the history in the second chapter of Matthew, and recited a text of that Gospel as spoken by our Lord. IX. At this time, viz. about the year 170, the churches of Lyons and Vienne, in France, sent a relation of the sufferings of their martyrs to the churches of Asia and Phrygia. * The epistle is preserved entire by Eusebius. And what carries in some measure the testimony of these churches to a higher age; is, that they had now for their bishop, Pothinus, who was ninety years old, and whose early life consequently must have imme- diately joined on with the times of the apostles. In this epistle are exact references to the Gosj>els of Luke and John, and to the -Acts of the Apos- tles; the form of reference the same as in all the preceding articles. That from Saint John is in these words : " Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by the Lord, .that whosoever killeth you, will think that he doeth God service." t X. The evidence now opens upon us full and clear. Irenseust succeeded Pothinus as bishop of Lyons. In his youth he had been a disciple of Polycarp, who was a disciple of John* In the time in which he lived, he was distant not much more than a century from the publication of the Gospels; in his instruction, only by one step sepa- rated from the persons of the apostles. He as- serts of himself and his contemporaries, that they were able to reckon up, in all the principal churches, the succession of bishops from the first. I remark these particulars concerning IrenaBus with more formality than usual ; because the tes- timony which this writer affords to the historical books of the New Testament, to their authority, and to the titles which they bear, is express, posi- tive, and exclusive. One principal passage, in which this testimony is contained, opens with a precise assertion of the point which we have laid down as the foundation of our argument, viz. that the story which the Go'spels exhibit, is the story which the apostles told. " We have not received," saith Irenseus, " the knowledge of the way of our salvation by any others than those by whom the Gospel has been brought to us. Which Gospel they first preached, and afterwards, by the will of God, committed to writing, that it might be for time to come the foundation and pillar of our faith. * Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 332. t John xvi. 2. { Lardner, vol. i. p. 314. Adv. Hffires. 1. iii. c. 3. 26 303 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY, For after that our Lord rose from the dead, and they (the apostles) were endowed from above with the power of -the Holy Ghost coming down upon them, they received a perfect knowledge of all things. They then went forth to all the ends of the earth, declaring to men the blessing of hea- venly peace, having all of them, and every one. alike the Gospel of God. Matthew, then among the Jews, wrote a Gospel in their own language, while Peter and Paul were preaching the Gospel at Rome, and founding a church .there : and alter their exit, Mark also, the disciple and interpreter of Peter, delivered to us in writing the things that had been preached by Peter ; and Luke, the com- panion of Paul, put down in a book the Gospel preached by him (Paul.) Afterwards John, the disciple of the Lord, who also leaned upon his breast, he likewise published a Gospel while he dwelt at Ephesus in Asia." If any modern divine should write a book upor\ the genuineness, of the Gospels, he could not assert it more expressly, or state their orioinal more distinctly, than Ireuaeus hath done within little more than a hundred years after they were published. The correspondency, in the days of Irenaeus of the oral and written tradition, and the deduction of the oral tradition through various channels from the age of the apostles, which was then late- ly passed, and. by consequence, thp, probability that the books tr,uly delivered, what the apostles taught, is inferred also with strict regularity from another passage of his works. " The tradition of the apostles," this father saith, "hath spread it- self over the whole universe ; and all they, who search after the sources of truth, will find this tradition to be held sacred in every church. We might enumerate all those who have been appoint- ed bishops to these churches by the apostles, and all their successors up to our Jays. It is by this un- interrupted succession that we have received the tradition which actually exists in the church, as also the doctrines of truth, as it was preached by the apostles."* The reader will observe upon this, that the same Irenseus, who is now stating the strength and uniformity of the tradition, we have before seen recognizing, in the fullest man- ner, the authority of the written records ; from which we are entitled to conclude, that they were then conformable to each other. I have said, th^at the testimony of Irenseus in favour of our Gospels is exclusive of all others.^ _ I allude to a remarkable passage in his works; in which for some reasons sufficiently fanciful, he endeavours to show, that there could be neither more nor fewer Gospels than four. With his argument we have no concern. - The position itself, proves that four, and only four, Gospels were at that time publicly read and acknowledged. That these were our Gospels, and in the state in which we now have them, is shown, from many other places of this writer beside that which we have already alleged. He mentions how Matthew begins his Gospel, how Mark begins and ends his, ancl their supposed reasons for so doing. He enu- merates at length the several passages of Christ's history in Lukje, which are not found in any of the other evangelists. He states the particular design with which St. John composed his Gospel, and accounts for the doctrinal declarations which precede the narrative. * Iren. in Haer. 1. iii. c. 3 To the book of the Acts of the Apostles, its author, and credit, the testimony of Irenaeua is no less explicit. Referring to the account of Saint Paul's conversion and vocation, in the ninth chap- ter of that book, " Nor can they," says he, mean- ing, the parties with whom he argues, " show that he is not to be credited, who has related to us the truth with the greatest exactness." In another place, he has actually collected the several texts, in which the writer of the history is represented as accompanying St. Paul ; which leads him to deliver a summary of almost the whole of the last twelve chapters of the book. In an author thus abounding with references and allusions to the Scriptures, there is not one to any apocryphal Christian writing whatever. This is a broad line of distinction between our sacred books, and the pretensions of all others. The force of the testimony of the period which we have considered, is greatly strengthened by the observation, that it is the testimony, and the concurring testimony, of writers who lived in coun- tries remote from one another. Clement flourish- ed at Rome, Ignatius at Antioch, Polycarp at Smyrna^ Justin Martyr in Syria, and Irentcus in France. XI. Omitting Athenagoras and Theophilus, who lived about this time ; * in the remaining works of the former of whom are clear references to Mark and Luke ; and in the works of the lat- ter, who was bishop of Antioch, the sixth in suc- cession from the apostles, evident allusions to Matthew and John, and" probable allusions to Luke, (which, considering the nature of the com- positions, that they were addressed to heathen readers, is as much as could be expected ;) observ- ing also, that the works of two learned Christian writers of the same age, Miltiades, and Pantamust are now lost; of which Miltiades, Eusebius records, that his writings " were monuments of zeal for the Divine Oracles ;" and which Pan- taenus, as Jerome testifies, was a man of prudence and learning, both in the Divine Scriptures and secular literature, and had left many commenta- ries upon* the Holy Scriptures then extant ; passing by these without further remark, we come to one of the most voluminous of ancient Christian writers, Clement of Alexandria, t Clement followed Ire- naeus at the distance of onhy sixteen years, and therefore may be said to maintain the series of tes- timony in an uninterrupted continuation. In .certain of Clement's works now lost, but of which various parts are recited by Eusebius, there is given a distinct account of the order in which the four Gospels were written. The Gospels which contain the genealogies, were (he says) written first; Mark's next, at the instance of Peter's followers ; and John's the last : and this account he tells us that he had received from pres- byters of more ancient time.s. This testimony proves the following points ; that these Gospels were the histories of Christ then publicly received, and relied upon ; and that the dates, occasions, and circumstances of their publication, were at that time subjects of attention and inquiry amongst Christians. In the works of Clement which re- main, the four Gospels are repeatedly quoted by the ,hors, and the Acts of the Ap names of their auti Lpos- * Lardner, vol. i. p. 400. 422. t Lardner, vol. i. p. 413. 450. j Lardner, vol. ii. p. 469. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 303 ties is expressly ascribed to Luke. In one place, after mentioning a particular circumstance, he adds these remarkable words : " We have not this pas- sage in the four Gospels delivered to us } but in that according to the Egyptians ;" which puts a marked distinction between the fohr Gospels and all other histories, or pretended histories, of Christ. In another part of his works, the perfect confi- dence, with' which he received the Gospels, is sig- nified by him in these words : " That this is true, appears from hence, that it is written in the Gos- pel according to St. Luke;'' and a-jain, "I need not use many words, but only to allege the evan- gelic voice of the Lord. :) His quotations are nu- merous. The sayings of Christ, of which he alleges many, are all taken from our Gospels ; the single exception to this observation appearing to be a loose * quotation of a passage in Saint Mat- thew's Gospel. XII. In the age in which they lived, t Tertul- lian joins on with Clement. The number of the Gospels then received, the names of the evangelists, and their proper descriptions, are exhibited by this writer in one short sentence : " Among the apostles, John and Matthew teach us the laith ; among apostolical men, Luke and Mark refresh it." The next passage to be taken from Tertullian, affords as complete an attestation to the authenti- city of our books as can be well imagined. After enumerating the churches which had been found- ed by Paul, at Corinth, in Galatia, at Philippi, Thessalonica, and Ephesus ; the church of Rome established by Peter and Paul, and other churches derived from John ; he proceeds thus : " I say then, that with them, but not with them only which are apostolical, but with all who ha\e fel- lowship with them in the same faith, is that Gos- pel of Luke received from its first publication, which we so /.ealouslv maintain ;'' and present Iv afterwards adds ; " The same authority of the apostolical churches will support the other Gospels, which we have from them and according U> them. I mean John's and Matthew's; although that likewise which Mark published may be said to be Peter's, whose interpreter Mark was." In another place Tertullian affirms, that the three other Gospels were in the hands of the churches from the beginning, as well as Luke's. This noble testimony fixes the universality with which the Gospels were received, and their antiquity ; that they were in the hands of all, and had been so from the first. And this evidence' appears not more than one hundred and fifty years after the publication of the books. The reader must be given to understand, that when Tertullian speaks of maintaining or defending (tuendi) the Gospel of Saint Luke, he only means maintaining or defending the integrity of the copies of Luke re- ceived by Christian churches, in opposition to cer- tain curtailed copies used by Marcion, against whom he writes. This author frequently cites the Acts of the Apostles under that title, once calls it Luke's > " Ask great things, and the small shall be added unto you." Cleirient rather chose to expound the words of Matthew (chap. vi. 33,) than literally to cite them; and this is most undeniably proved by another place in the same Clement, where he both produces the text and these words as an exposition : " Seek ye first the king- dom of heaven and its righteousness, for these are the great things; but the small things, and things relating to this life, shall be added unto you." Jones's New and Full Method, vol. i. p. 553. Lardner, vol. ii. p. 561. Commentary, and observes how Saint Paul's epistles confirm it. After .this general evidence, it is unnecessary to add particular quotations. These, however, are so numerous and ample, as to have led Dr. Lardner to observe, "that there are more, and larger quotations of the small volume of the.New Testament in this one Christian author, than there are of all the workg of Cicero in writers of ah 1 characters for several ages." * Tertullian quotes no Christian writing as of equal authority with the Scriptures, and no spu- rious books at all ; a broad line of distinction, we may once more observe, between our sacred books and all others. We may again likewise remark the wide ex* tent through which the reputation of the Gospels, and of the Acts of the Apostles, had spread,- and the perfect consent, in this point, of distant and independent societies. It is now only about one hundred and filly years since Christ was crucified ; and within this jM-riod, to say nothing of the apos- tolical fathers who have been noticed already, we have Justin Martyr at Neapolis, Theophilus at Antioch, .Irehaeus in France, Clement at Alexan- dria, Tertullian at Carthage, quoting the same books of historical 'Scriptures, and, I may say, quoting these alone. X 1 1 1. An interval of only thirty years, and that occupied by no small number of Christian writers t whose works only remain in fragments and quo*- tations, and in, every one of which is some re ten nee or other to the Gospels, (and in one of them, Hippolytus, as presened in Theodoret, is an abstract of the whole Gospel history,) brings U8 to a name of great celebrity in Christian antiquity, Origen t of Alexandria,- who in the quantity of his writings, exceeded the most laborious of the Lin t k and Latin authors. Nothing can be more peremptory upon the subject now under consider- ation, and, from a writer of his learning and in- formation, more satisfactory, than the declaration of Origen. preserved, in an extract from his works, by Eusebius; " That the four Gospels alone are received without dispute by the whole church of God under heaven :" to Which declaration is im- mediately subjoined a brief history of the respect- ive authors, to whom they were then, as they are now, ascribed. The language holden concerning the Gospels, throughout the works of Origen which remain, entirely corresponds with the tes- timony here cited. His attestatioa to .the Acts of the Apostles is no less positive : " And Luke also once -more sounds the trumpet, relating the acts of the apostles." The universality with which the Scriptures were then read, is well signified by this writer, in a passage in which he has occasion to observe against .Celsus," That it is not in any private books, or such as are read by a few only, and those studious persons t but in books read by every body, that it is written, The invisible things of Ged, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by things that are made." It is to no purpose to single out quotations of Scripture from such a writer as this. We might as well make a selection of the quotations of Scripture in Dr. Clarke's Sermons. They are so * Lardner, vol. ii. p. G47. t Miniiciiis Felix, Apollonius, Cains, Asterius, Ur- banus, Alexander bishop of Jerusalem, Jiippolytus, Ammonius, Julius Africanus. } Lardner, vol. iii. p. 234. 304 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. thickly sown in the works of Origen, that Dr Mill says. " If we had all his works remaining we should have before us almost the whole text oj the Bible."* Origen notices, in order to censure, certain apocryphal Gospels. He also uses four writings of this sort ; .that is, throughout his large works he once or twice, at the most, quotes each of the four; but always^ with some mark, either of direct reprobation or of caution to his readers, manifest- ly esteeming them of little or no authority. XIV. Gregory, bishop of Neocaesarea, and Dionysius of Alexandria, were scholars of Origen. Their testimony, therefore, though full and parti- cular, may be reckoned a repetition only of his. The series, however, of evidence, is continued by Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, who flourished with- in, twenty years after Origen. i' The church," says this father, " is watered, like Paradise, by four rivers, that is, by four Gospels." The Acts of the Apostles is also frequently quoted by Cy- prian under that name, and under the name of the " Divine Scriptures." In his various writings are euch constant and copious citations of Scripture, as to place this part of the testimony beyond con- troversy. Nor is there, in the works of this emi- nent African bishop, one quotation of a spurious or apocryphal Christian writing. XV. Passing over a crowdt of writers following Cyprian at different distances, but all within forty years of his time] and who all, in the imperfect remains of their works, either cite the historical Scriptures of the New Testament, or speak .of them in terms of profound respect I single out Victorin, bishop of Pettaw in Germany, merely on account of the remoteness of his situation from that of Origen and Cyprian, who were Africans ; by which circumstance his testimony, taken in conjunction with theirs, proves that the Scripture histories, and the same histories, were known and received from one side of the Christian world to the other. This bishop* lived about the year 290 : and in a commentary upon this text of the Reve- lation, " The first was like a lion, the second was like a calf, the third like a man, and the fourth like a flying eagle," he makes out that by the four creatures are intended the four Gospels ; and to show the propriety of the symbols, he -recites the subject with which each evangelist opens his his- tory. The explication is fanciful, but the testi- mony positive. He also expressly cites the Acts of the Apostles. XVI. Arnobius and Lactantius, about the year 300, composed formal arguments upon the credibility of the Christian religion. As these arguments were addressed to Gentiles, the au- thors abstain from quoting Christian books by name ; one of them giving this very reason for his reserve ; but when they come to state, for the in- formation of their readers, the outlines of Christ's history, it is apparent that they draw their ac- counts from our Gospels, and from no other sources^ for these statements exhibit a summary of almost every thing which is related of Christ's actions and miracles by the four evangelists. Ar- nobius vindicates, without mentioning their names, *Mi1l, Proleg. cap. vi. p. 66. t Novatus, Rome, A. D. 251 ; Dionysius, Rome, A. D. 259; Commodian, A. D. 270; Anatolius, Laodicea, A. D. 270; Theognostus, A. D. 282 ; Methodius, Lycia, A. D. 290; Phileas, Egypt, A. D. 296. I Lardner, vol. v. p. 214. Ib. vol. vii. p. 43. 201. the credit of these historians ; observing, that they weir eye-witneaf^l of the facts which they relate, and that their ignorance of the arts of composition was rather a confirmation of their testimony, than an objection to it. Lactantius also argues in de- fence of the religion, from the consistency, simpli- city, disinterestedness, and sufferings of the Christian historians, meaning by that term our evangelists. XVIL We close the series of testimonies with that of Eusebius,* bishop of Csesarea, who flou- rished in the year 315, contemporary with, or posterior only by fifteen years to, the two authors last cited. This voluminous writer, and most di- ligent collector of the writings of others, beside a variety of large works, composed a history of the affairs of Christianity from Us origin to his own time. His testimony to the Scriptures is the tes- timony of a man much conversant in the works of Christian authors, written during the first three centuries of Us era, and. who had read many which are now lost. In a passage of his Evange- lical Demonstration, Eusebius remarks, with great nicety, the delicacy of two of the evangelists in their manner of noticing any circumstance which regarded themselves ; and of Mark, as writing un- der 'Peter's direction, in the circumstances which regarded him. The illustration of this remark leads him to bring together long quotations from each ef the evangelists ; and the whole passage is a proof, that Eusebius, and the Christians of those days, not only read the Gospels, but studied them with attention and exactness. In a passage of his Ecclesiastical History, he treats, in form, and at large, of the occasions of writing the four Gospels, and of the. order in which they were written. The title of the chapter is, " Of the Order of the Gospels ;" and it begins thus : " Let us observe the writings of this apostle John, which are not contradicted by any; and, first of all, must be mentioned, as acknowledged by all, the Gospel according to him, well known to all the churches under heaven ; and that it has been justly placed by the ancients the fourth in order, and after the other three, may be made evident in this man- ner." Eusebius then proceeds to show that John wrote the last of the four, and that his Gospel was intended to supply the omissions of the others; especially in the part of our Lord's ministry, which took place before the imprisonment of John the Baptist. He observes, " that the apostles of Christ were not studious of the ornaments of com- position, nor indeed forward to write at all, being wholly occupied with their ministry." This learned author makes no use at all of Christian writings, forged with the names of Christ's apostles, or their companions. We close this branch of our evidence here, be- cause, after Eusebius, there is no room for any question upon the subject ; the works of Christian writers being as full of texts of Scripture, and of references to Scripture, as the discourses of modern divines. Future testimonies to the books of Scrip- ture could only prove that they never lost their character or authority. SECTION II. When the Scriptures are quoted, or alluded to, they are quoted with peculiar respect, as books * Lardner, vol. viii. p. 33. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 805 sui generis ; as possessing an authority irh^-fi belonged to no other books, and as conclusive, in all questions and~ controversies amongst Christians. ~ , BESIDE the general strain of reference and quo- tation, which uniformly and strongly indicates this distinction, the following may be regarded as specific testimonies : I. Theophilus,* bishop of Antioch, the sixth in succession from the apostles, and who -flourished little more than a century alter the books of the New Testament were written, having occasion to quote one of our Gospels, writes thus: ' These things the Ht>ly Scriptures teach us, ;ind all who were moved by the Holy Spirit, among whom John says, In tly l>eginning was the Word, and the Word was with God. J) Again : " Concerning the righteousness which the. law teaches, the like things are to IHJ found in the Prophets and the GiitijjL'l*. U-caiiM- that aJl.heing inspired, spoke by one and the same Spirit qf God. : 't No words can testify more strongly than these do, the hinli and peculiar respect in which these books were holden. II. A writer against Artemon.J who mav be supposed to come about one hundred and liity- eight years alter the publication of the Scripture, in a passage quoted by Kuscbius. uses these ex- pressions : ' Possibly what they (our adversaries) say. might ha\e been credited, if first of alt the Divine Scriptures did not contradict them ; and then the writings of certain brethren more ancient than the times of Victor." The bnKhn tioned by name, are Justin. Miltiades, Tatian. Clement, IrenunK Alelito, with a general appeal to many more not named. This passage proves, first, that there was at that time a collection called Jtiriur. X-T//J/U/V.V ; secondly, that these Scrip- tures were esteemed of higher authority than the writings of the most early and celebrated Chris- tians. III. In a piece ascribed to Hippolytue, who lived near the same time, the author prole - giving his correspondent instruction in the things about which he inquires, " to draw out of the sa- ered fountain, and to set before film from the Sa- cred Scriptures, what may afford him satisfaction." He then quotes immediately Paul's epistles to Timothy, and afterwards many books of the .New Testament, This preface to the quotations car- ries in it a marked distinction between the Scrip- tures and other books. IV. " Our assertions and discourses," saith Origen,ll " are unworthy of credit ; we must re- ceive the Scriptures as wVlicsses." After treat- ing of the duty of prayer, he, proceeds with his argument thus: "What we ha\e said, may be proved from the Divine Scriptures." In his books au;i i ust Celsus, we find this passage : ' That our jeligion teaches us to seek after wisdom, shall be shown, both out of the ancient Jewish Scriptures, "which we also use, and out of those written since Jesus, which are believed in the churches te/B divine." These expressions afibrd abundant evi dence of the peculiar and exclusive authority which the Scriptures possessed. V. Cyprian, bishop of Carthage,5T whose age * Lardner, Cred. part ii. vol. i. p. 429. f Ib. vol. i. p. 448. I Ib. vol. iii. p. 40. $ Ib. vol. iii. p. 112. fib. vol. iii. p. 2d7 239. V Ib. vol. iv. p. 840. lies close to that ofOrigen, earnestly exhorts Chris- tian teachers, in all doubtful cases, " to go back to thv fountain; and if the truth has in any case ijeen shakeji, to recur to the Gospels and apostolic writings.'' The precepts of the Gospel," says he in another place, "are nothing less than authori- tative divine lessons, the foundations of our hope, the supports of our faith, the guides of our way, the safeguards of our course to heaven." VIj Novatus,* a. Roman, contemporary with Cyprian, appeals to the Scriptures, as the authori- ty by which all errors were to be repelled, and lisputes decided. ' That Christ is not only man, but God also, is proved by- the sacred authority of the Divine Writings/' r ' The Divine Scripture easily detects and confutes the frauds of,hereties." It is not by the fault of the heavenly Scrip- tures, which never deceive." Stronger assertions than these could not be used. VII. At the-distance of twenty years from the writer last cited, Antplius,t a learned Alexan- drian, and bishop of Laodicea, speaking of the rule fdr keeping Easter, a question at that day agitated with- much earnestness, says of those whom he opposed, " They can by no means prove their point by the authority of the Divine Scrip- ture." VIII. The Arians, who sprung up alx>ut fifty ifter this, argued strenuously against the use of the words consubstantial and essence, and like phrases; ,"beca use they were not in Scrip- ture. 't And in the same strain one of their ad- vocates opens a conference with Augustine, after the following manner: "If you say what is rea- sonable, I must submit. If you allege any thing frojn the Divine Scriptures, \yjiicli are common to both, I must hear. But unscnptural expressions (quft extra Scripturam sunt) deserve no regard." Athanasius, the great antagonist of Ananism, afler having enumerated the books of the Old and .New TestauH -ut. adds, " These are the fountain of salvation, that he who thirsts may be satisfied with the oracles contained in them. In these alone the doctrine of salvation is proclaimed. Let no rnan add to them or take any thing fronj them." IX. Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem,!! who wrote about twenty ye. 631. Jt Ib. p. 632. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 307 VII. From many writers also of the third cen tury, and especially from Cyprian, 1 who lived in the middle of it, it is collected that the Christian Scriptures were divided into two codes, or volumes one called the ""Gospels or Scriptures of the Lord,' the other, the " Apostles, or Epistles of the Apos- tles."* VIII. Eusebius, as we have already seen, takes some pains to show, that the Gospel of Saint John had been justly placed by the ancients " the fourth in order, and after the other three.t Ti- the terms of his proposition : and the very introduc- tion of such an argument proves incontesfably, that the four Gospels had been collected into a volume, to the exclusion of every other ; that their order in the volume hod been adjusted with much consideration; and that this had l>een done by those who were called ancients in the time of Eu- sebius. In the Diocletian persecution, in the year 303, the Scriptures were sought out and burnt: $ many sullered death rather than deliver them up; and those who betrayed' them to the persecutors, were accounted as la^>se and apostate. On the other hand, Constantine, after his conversion, gave directions for multiplying copies of the Di- vine Oracles, and for magnificently adorning them at the expense of the imperial treasury. vVhat the Christians of that age so richly embellished in their prosperity, and, which is ;uore, so tena- ciously preserved under persecution, was the very volume of the New Testament which we now read. SECTION IV. Our present Sacred Writings -were soon distin- guished by appropriate names and titles of respect. POLYCARP. " I trust that ye are well exercised in the Holy Script urcs ; as in these Scriptures it is said, Be ye angry and fin not, and let not the sun go down on your wrath." I! This passage is extremely important ; l>ecausp it proves that, in the time of Polycarp, who had lived with the apostles, there were Christian writings distin- guished by the name of " Holy Scriptures," or Sa- cred Writings. Moreover, the text quoted by Polycarp is a text found in the collection 'at this day. What also the same Polycarp hath else- where quoted in the same manner, may be con- sidered as proved to belong to the collection ; and this comprehends Saint Matthew's, and, probably, Saint Luke's Gospel, the Acts of the Apostles, ten epistles of Paul, the First Epistle of Peter, and the First of John.TT In another place, Poly- carp has these words: "Whoever perverts the Oracles of the Lord to his own lusts, and says there is neither resurrection nor judgment, he is the first-born of Satan." * * It does not appear what else Polycarp could mean by the " Oracles of the Lord," but those same " Holy Scriptures," or Sacred Writings, of which he had spoken before. II. Justin Martyr, whose apology was written* about thirty years after Polycarp ? s epistle, ex-. * Lardner, vol. iv. p. 846. f Ib. vol. viii. p. 90. t Ib. vol. vii. p. 214, fee. Ib. p. 432. U Ib. vol. i. p. 203. TT Ib. vol. i. p. 223. ** Ib. p. 222. pressly cites some of our present histories under the title of GOSPEL, and that not as a name by him first ascribed to them, but as the name by which they were generally known in hjis time. His words are these: "For the apostles in the memoirs composed by them ; which are called Gospels, have thus, delivered it, that Jesus com- manded them to take bread, and give thanks." * There exists" no doubt, but that, by the memoirs above mentioned, Justin meant our present histo- rical Scriptures ; for throughout his works, he quotes these, and no others. III. Dionysius, bishop of Corinth, who came thirty years after Justin, in a passage preserved in Eusebius,, (for his works are lost,) speaks of" the Scriptures of the Lord."t IV. And at the same time, or very nearly so, by Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons .in France,* they are called " Divine Scriptures/' " Divine Ora- cles," '" Scriptures of the Lord," " Evangelic and Apostolic Writings." The quotations .of Irenxus prove decidedly, that our present Gos- pels, and these alone, together with the Acts of the Apdtles, were the historical books compre- hended by him under these appellations. - V. Saint Matthew.'s Gospel is quoted by The- ophilus, bishop of Ajitioch, contemporary with Irenaeus, under the title of the " Evangelic Voice ;" II and the copious works of Clement of Alexandria, published within fifteen years of the same time, ascribed to the books of the New Tes- tament the various titles of " Sacred Books," " Divine Scriptures," " Divinely inspired Scrip- tures/,'" Scriptures of the Lord,"" the true vlical Canon." IT . VL Tertulliarr, who. joins on with Clement, beside adopting most of the names and epithets above noticed, calls the Gospels "our Dige*tia," in allusion, as it should seem, to some collection of Roman laws then extant.** VII. By Origen; who came thirty years after Tertullian, the same, and other no less .strong titk-s, are applied to the Christian Scriptures : ano^ in addition thereunto, tins writer frequently speaks of the " Old an'd New Testament,"" the Ancient and New Scriptures," " the Ancient and New" Oracles." ft VIII. In Cyprian, who was not twenty years ater, they are " Books of the Spirit," " Divine. Fountains, " " Fountains of the Divine Ful- ess." ,The expressions we have thus quoted, are evidences of high and peculiar respect. They all occur within two centuries from the publi- cation of the books. Some of them commence with the companions of the apostles ; and they ncrease in number and variety, through a series of writers touching one upon another, and de- duced from the first age of the religion. SECTION V; Our Scriptures were publicly read and expound- ed in the religious assemblies of the early Christians.. * Lardner, Cred. vol. i. p. 271. - t !*> P- 298- t The reader will observe the remoteness of these wo writers in country and situation. & Lardner, vol. i. p. 343, &.C. || Ib. p. 427. IT Ib. vol. ii. p. 515. * * Ib. p. 630. 1 1 Ib. vol. iii. p. 230. {J Ib. vol. iv. p. 844. 308 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. JUSTIN MARTYR, who wrote in the year 140 which was seventy or eighty years after some and less, probably, after others of" the Gosffcb were published, giving, in hisiirst apology, an ac- count, to the entperor, of the Christian wprship. has this remarkable passage : " The Memoirs^ ~of the 4postle$, or the Writ- ings of the Prophets, are read according as the time allows rand, when tiro reader has ended, the president makes a discourse, exhorting to the imi- tation of so excellent things," * A few short observations will show the value of this testimony. 1. The " Memoirs of- the Apostles'," Justin in another place expressly tells us, are what are call- ed " Gospels :'? and that they were the Gospels which we now tlsy him in the assemblies of the church, are utill extant. IV. Cyprian, whose age was not twenty years lower than that of Origen, gives his peopje an ac- - ture being read every where, thte miracles then iu recorded are well known to all people." * It'does not appear that any books, other than our present Scriptures, were thus publicly rend, except that the epistle of Clement was rend in the. church of Corinth, to which it had been addressed, and in some others; and that the Shepherd of Hennas was read in many churches. Nor does it'subtract much from the value of the argument, .that these two writings partly come within it, because we allow them to be the genuine writ- ings of apostolical men. There is not the least evidence, that any other Gospel, than the four which we receive, was- ever admitted to this dis- tinction. SECTION VI. Commentaries were anciently written upon the Scriptures ; harmonies formed out of them ; different copies carefully collated ; and versions made of them into different languages. No greater proof can be given of the esteem in which these books were holden by the ancient Christians, or of the sense then entertained of then- value and importance, than the industry bestowed upon them. And it ought to be observed, that the value and importance .of these books consisted entirely in their genuineness and truth. There was nothing in them, as works of taste, or as com- positions, which could have induced any one to have written a note upon them. Moreover it shows .that they were even then considered as ancient books. Men do not write comments upon publications of their own times : therefore the' testimonies cited under this head, afford an evidence which carries up the evangelic writings much beyond the age of the testimonies them- selves, and to that of their reputed authors. I. Tatian, a follower of Justin Martyr, and who flourished about the year 170, composed a harmony, or collation of the Gospels, which, he called Diatessaron, Of the four.t The title, as well as the work, is remarkable ; because it shows that then, as now, there were four, and only lour, Gospels in general use with Christians. And this was little more than a hundred years after the publication of some of them. II. Pantsenus, of the Alexandrian school, a man of great reputation and learning, who came twen- ty years after Tatian, wrote many commentaries npon the Holy Scriptures, which, as Jerome testi- fies f were extant in his time.t III. Clement of Alexandria wrote short ex r plications of many books of the Old. and New Testament.! IV. Tertullian appeals, from the authority of a !ater version, then in use, to the authentic Greek. II V. An anonymous author, quoted by Eusebius, * Lardner, Cred. vol. x. p. 276, et sea. t Ib. vol. i. p. 307. 1 Ib. p. 455. Ib. vol. ii. p. 462. ft Ib. p. 638. EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 309 and who appears to have written about the' year 21'2, appeals to the ancient- copies of the Scrip- tures, in refutation of some corrupt readings al- leged by the followers of Artemon.* VI. The same Eusebius. mentioning by name several writers of the church wlio lived at this time, and concerning whom he says, " There stall remain divers monuments of the laudable industry of those ancient and ecclesiastical men" (i. e. of Christian writers who were considered as ancient in the year 30rigen,who wrote com- mentaries, or homilies, upon most of the books included in the New Testament, and upon no other hooks hut these. In particular, he wrote upon Saint John's Gospel, very largely upon Saint Matthew's, and commentaries, or homilies, upon the Acts of the Apostl. VIII. In addition to these, the third century likewise contains Dionysius of Alexandria, a very learnod man, who compared, with great accuracy, the accounts in the four Gospels of the tiiue of Christ's resur- rection, adding a reflection which showed his opinion of their authority: " Let us not think that the evangelists disagree, or contradict each other, although there be some small difference ; but let us honestly and faithfully endeavour to reconcile what we read. ''If Victorin, bishop of Pettaw, in Germany, who wrote comments upon Saint Matthew's Gos- pel.** Lucian, a presbyter of Antioch'; and Hesy- chius, an Egyptian bishop, who put forth editions of the New Testament. IX. The fourth-century supplies a catalogued of fourteen writers, who expended their labours upon the books of the New Testament, and whose works or names are come down to our times ; amongst which number it may be sufficient, for the purpose of showing the sentiments and studies * Lardner, Cred. vol. iii. p. 46, t Ib. vol. ii. p. 551. 1 Ib. vol. iii. p. 170. Ib. vol. iii. p. 122. II Ib. vol. iii. p. 352. 19 2. 202. 246. tT Ib. vol. iv. p. 1H6. tt Eusebius, A. D. Juvencus, Spain, 315 330 ** Ib. p. 195. Gregory, Nyssen, - 371 Didimusof Alex, - 370 Theodore, Thrace, Hilary, Poictiers, :m 354 Ambrose of Milan, 374 Diodore of Tarsus, 378 Fortunatu.s, Apollinarius of Lao- 340 Gaudent of Brescia, 387 TfteodoreofCilicia 394 dicea, 362 Jerome *i f K> Damasus, Rome, 366 Chrysostom, - - 398 of learned Christians of that age, to notice the followin Eusebius wrote e bius, in the very beginning of the century, _____ xpressly upon the discrepancies observable in the Gospels, and likewise a treatise, in which he pointed out what things are related by four, what by three, what by two, and what by one evangelist.* This author- also testifies what is certainly a material piece of evidence, " that the writings of the apostles had obtained such on es- teem. as to be translated into every language both of Greeks an*3 Barbarians, and to be diligently studied by all nations."t This testimony wa's given al>out the year 300; bow long 'before that date these translations were made, does not appear. Dama.sus. bishop of Rome, corresponded with Saint Jerome upon the exposition of difficult texts of Scripture; and, in a letter still remaining, de.Mivs Jerome to give him a clear explanation of the word Hosanna, found in the New Testament ; " he (Damasusj having met with very different interpretations of it i$ the Greek and Latin com- mentaries of Catholic writers "which he had read."* This last clause shews the number and variety of commentaries then extant. Gregory of Nyssen, at one time, appeals to the most exact conies -of Saint Mark's Gospel; at another time, compares together, and proposes to reconcile, the several accounts of the resurrection given by the four^ETangelists ; wjiich limitation pn>\es. that there were no other histories of Christ deemed authentic beside these, or included in the same character with these. This writer observes, acutely enough, that the disposition of the clothes in the sepulchre, the napkin that was about our Saviour's head, not lying with the linen clothes., but wrapped together in a place by itself, did not IN -speak the terror and hurry of thieves, and there- fore refutes the story o_the body being stolen. Ambrose, bishop of Milan, remarked various readings in the Latin copies of the New Testa- ment, and appeals to the original Greek ; And Jerome, towards the conclusion of this century, put forth an .edition of . the New Testa- ment in Latin, corrected, at least aato the Goapels, by Greek copies, <( and those (he says) ancient." Lastly, Cnrysostom> it is well known, deliver- ed and published a great many homilies, or ser- mons, upon the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. It is^needless to bring down this article lower : but it is of importance to add, that there is nd ex,- ample of Christian writers of the firs ; t three centu- ries composing comments upon any other books than those which are found in the JJJew Testa- ment, except the single one of Clement of Alex- andria/commenting upon a book called the Reve- lation of Peter. Of the ancient' versions of the New Testament, one of the most- valuable is the Syriac. Syriac was the language of Palestine when Christianity was there first established. And although the books of Scripture were written in Greek, for the purpose of a more extended circulation than within the precincts of Judea, yet it is probable that they would soon be translated into the vulgar language of the country where the religion first prevailed. Accordingly, a Syriac translation is now extant, gll along, so far as it appears, used by the inhabi- tants of Syria, bearing many internal marks of * Lardner, Cred. vol. viii. p. 46. 3 Ib. vol. ix. p. 108. t Ib. P- 201. Ib. p. 163 310 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. high antiquity, supported in its pretensions by the uniform traditions of the past, and .confirmed -by the discovery of many very ancient manuscript.-, in the libraries of Europe. It is about -200 years since a bishop of Antioch -sent a. copy of this translation into Europe, to be printed ; and this seems to be the first time that the translation be- came generally knoyvn to these.parts of the world The bishop of Antioch's Testament was founc to contain all our books, except the second epistle of Peter, the second and third of John, and the Revelation; which books, however, have since been discovered in that language in some ancient manuscripts of Europe. But in this collection, no other book, beside what is in ours", appears ever to have had a place. And, which is very worthy of observation, the text, though preserved in a re- mote country, and without communication with ours, differs from ours very little, and in nothing that is important.* SECTION VII. Our Scriptures were received by ancient Chris- tiana of different sects and persuasions, by many Heretics as well as Catholics, and were usually appealed to by both sides 'in the con- troversies which arose in those days. THE three most ancient topics of controversy amongst Christians, were, the authority of the Jewish constitution^ the origin of evil, and the nature of Christ. Upon the first of thes.e we find, in very early times, one class of heretics rejecting the Old Testament entirely ; another contending for the obligation of its law, in all its" parts, throughout its whole extent, and over every one who sought acceptance with .God. Upon the two latter subjects, a natural, perhaps, and venial, but a fruitless, eager, and impatient curiosity, prompt- ed by the philosophy and by the scholastic habits of the age, which carried men much into bold hy- potheses and conjectural solutions, raised, amongst some who professed Christianity, very wild and unfounded opinions. I think there is no reason to believe that the number of these bore any consi- derable proportion to the body of the Christian church ; and amidst the disputes which such opinions necessarily occasioned, it is a great satis- faction to perceive, what, in a vast plurality of in- stances, we do perceive, all sides recurring to the same Scriptures. 1 1. Basilides lived near the age of the apostles, about the year 120, or, perhaps, sooner.t He re- jected the Jewish institution, not as spurious, but as proceeding from a bfeing inferior to the true God ; and in other respects advanced a scheme of theology widely different frpm the general doctrine of the Christian church, and which, as it gained over some disciples, was warmly opposed by Christian writers of the second and4hird century. In these writings, there* is positive evidence that Basilides received the Gospel of Mntthew ; and there is no sufficient proof that he rejected any of^ the other three : on the contrary, it appears that he wrote a commentary upon the Gospel, so co- pious as to l)e divided into twenty-four books.* II. The Valentinians appeared about the same time.t Their heresy consisted in certain notions concerning angelic natures, which can hardly be rendered intelligible to a jnodern reader. They seem, however, to have acquired as much import- ance as any of the separatists of that early age. Of this sect, IrensDus, who wrote, A. D. 172, ex- pressly records that they endeavoured to fetch ar- guments for their opinions from the evangelic and apostolic writings, t Heracleon, one of the most celebrated of the sect, and who lived probably so early as the year 125, wrote commentaries upon Luke and John.l Some observations. also of his upon Matthew are preserved by Origen.ll Nor is there any reason to doubt that he received the whole New Testament. III.. The Carpocratians were also an early he- resy, little, if at all, later than the two praoedu>a.1T Some of their opinions resembled what we at this day mean by Socinianism. With respect to the Scriptures, they are specifically charged, by Irc- nams and by Epiphanius, with endeavouring to pervert a passage in Matthew, which amounts to a positive proof that they received that Gospel.** Negatively, they are not accused, by their adver- saries, of rejecting any part of the New Testa- ment. IV. The Sethians, A. D. 150 ;tt theMonta- nists, A. D. 156 ; the Marcosians, A. D. lfi(); Hermogenes, A. D. 180 ;llll Praxias, A. D. 19(3 jITIT Artemon, A. D. 200;*** Theodotus, A. D. 200; all included under the denomination of heretics, and all engaged in controversies with Catholic Christians, received the Scriptures of the New Testament-. V. Tatian, who lived in the year 179, went nto many extravagant opinions, was the founder of a sect called Encratites, and was deeply in- volved in disputes with the Christians of that age ; yet Tatian so received the four Gospels, as to compose a harmony from them. VI. From a writer, quoted by Eusebius, of about the year 300, it is apparent that they who at ;hat time contended for the mere humanity of Christ, argued from the Scriptures; for they are accused by this writer, of making alterations in heir copies, in order to favour their opinions.ttt VII. Origen's sentiments excited great contro- versies, the bishops of Rome and Alexandria, and many others, condemning, the bishqps of the Sast espousing them ; yet there is not the smallest question, but that both the advocates and adversa- ries of these opinions acknowledged the same au- ;hority of Scripture. In his time, which the reader vill remember was about one hundred and fifty years after the Scriptures were published, many dissensions subsisted amongst Christians, with which they were reproached by Celsus ; yet Ori- *en, who has recorded this accusation without contradicting it, nevertheless testifies, that the four Gospels were received without dispute, by the whole church of God under heaven, it* * Jones on the Canon, vol. i. c. 14. tThe materials of the former part of this section are taken from Dr. Lardner's History of the Heretics of the two first Centuries, published since his death, with ad- ditions, by the Rev. Mr. Hogg, of Exeter, a nil inserted into the ninth volume of his works, of the edition of 1778. i Lardner, vol. ix. ed. 1788, p. 271. * Lardner, vol. ix. ed. 178?, p. 305, 306. tlb. p. 350, 351. J Ib. vol. i. p. 383. Ib. vol. ix. ed. 1788, p. 352. || Ib. p. 353. irili. 301). ** Ib. 318. ft Ib. 455. it Ib. 482. Ib. 348. ||]| Ib. 473. 1TTT Ib. 433. ***Ib. 466. tit Ib. vol. iii. p. 46. HI Ib. vol. iv. p. 642. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 311 VIII. Paul of Samosata, about thirty years after Origen, so distinguished himself in the coritrover sy concerning the nature of (Christ; as to be the subject of two councils or synods, assembled al Antioch upon his opinions. 3Tet he is not charged by his adversaries with rejecting any book of the New Testament. On the contrary,, Epiphanius who wrote a history of heretics ;i 'hundred years afterward, says, that Paul ejideav ourcd to support his dot-trine by texts of .Scripture. And Vincen- tius Lirinensis, A. D. 431, speaking of Paul and other heretics of the. same age, has these words " Here, perhaps, some one may ask, whether he- retics also urge the testimony of Scripture. They urge it indeed, explicitly and- vehemently; for you may see them Hying through every book of the sacred law."* IX. A controversy at the same time existed with the Noetians or Sabellians, who seem to have gone into the opposite extreme from that of Paul of Samosata and his followers. Yet, accord- ing to the express te-tiuionv of Epiphaniugj.Sa- bellius received all the Scriptures. And with both sects Catholic writers constantly allege the Scriptures, and reply to the arguments which their opponents drew from particular texts. We ha\e here, therefore, a proof, that parties, who were the most opposite and irreconcilable to one another, acknowledged the authority of .Scrip- ture with equal deference. X. And as a general testimony to the same point, may be prodocetf what' was said by one of the bishops of the council of Carthage, which was holden a little before this time, " 1 am of opinion that the blasphemous ami wicked heretics, who perrcrl the sacred and adorable words of the .Scriptures, should be execrated. t Undoubtedly what they perverted they received. XI. The Millennium,^ Novatiani.m. the baptism of heretics, the keeping ,,l Master, enua-red also the attention and divided the opinions of Chris- tians, at and before that time (and. by the way. it may be observed, that such disputes! though on some accounts to be blamed, showed How much men were in earnest upon the subject); yet evcrv one appealed tor the grounds of his opinion to Scripture authority. Dionysius of Alexandria, who nourished A. I). 'J17. describing a conference or public disputation with the Millennarians of Egypt, confesses of them, though their adversarv. " that they embrace whatever could be made out by good arguments from the Holy Scriptures.''* Novatus, A. D. 231, distinguished^ by soine.rigid sentiments concerning' the reception of those \ho had lapsed, and the founder of a numerous sect, in his few remaining works quotes the Gospel with the same respect as other Christians did; and concerning his followers, the testimony of Socrates, who wrote about the year 440, is posi- tive, viz. "That in the disputes between the Ca- tholics and them, each side endeavoured to sup- port itself by the authority of the divine Scrip- tures."! XII. The Donatists, who sprung up in the year 328, used the same Scriptures as we do. ^Produce (saith Augustine) some proof from the Scriptures, whose authority is common to us both."ll XIII. It is perfectly notorious that, in the Arian * Lardner, vol. xi. p. 158. \ Ib. vol. xi. p. 839. ' J Ib. vol. iv. p. 666. Ib. vol. v. p. 105 U Ib. vol. vii. p. 243. controversy, which arose soon after the year 300, both sides appealed to the same Scriptures, and with equal professions of deference and regard. The Arians, in their council of^ Antioch, A. D. 311, pronounce, that, " if any one, contrary to the sound doctrine of the Scriptures, say, that the Son is a creature, as one of the creatures, let him be an anathema."* They and the Athanasians mu- tually accuse each other of using unscriptural phrases ; which was a mutual acknowledgment of the conclusive authority of Scripture. XIV. The Priscillianists, A. D. 378,t the Pe- lagians, A. D. 405,$ received the^ame Scriptures as w6 do. XV. The testimony of Chrysostom, who lived near the year 400, is so positive in affirmation of the proposition which we maintain, that it may form a proper conclusion of the argument. "The general reception of the Gospels is a proof that their history is true and * consistent ; for, since ths writings of the Gospels, many heresies have arisen, holding' opinions contrary to what is contained in them, who yet received the Gospels either entire or in part. I am not moved by what may seem a deduction from Chrysostom's testimony, the words, " entire or in part ;" for, if all the parts, which were ever questioned in our Gospels, were !li\en up. it would not afiect the miraculous ori- gin of the religion in the smallest degree : e. g. ('erinthus is said by Epiphanius to have re- ceived the Gospel of Matthew, but not entire. What the omixsions were, does not appear. TJie common opinion, that he rejected the first two chapters, seems to have; beeii a mistakf.il It 18 agreed, however, by all who have given any ac- count of Cerinthus, that he taught that the HoJy Ghost (whether he meant by that name a person or a power) descended upon Jem at his baptism; that Jesus from this time performed many mira- cles, and that he appeared after his death. He must have retained therefore the essential parts of the history. ( )f all the ancient heretics, the most extraordi- nary was Marcion.lT One of 'his tenets was the rejection of the Old Testament, as proceeding from an inferior and imperfect deity: and in .pur- suance of this hypothesis he erased from the New, and that, as it should seem, without entering into any critical reasons, every passage which recog- nised the Jewish Scriptures. He spared not a text which contradicted his opinion. It is reason- able to believe that Marcion treated books as he treated texts ; yet this rash and wild controversial- ist published a recension, or fchastised edition, of Saint Luke's Gospel, containing the leading facts, and all which is necessary to authenticate the re- ligion. This example affords proof, that there were always some points, and those the main points, which neither wildness nor rashness, nei- ther the fury of opposition nor the intemperance of controversy, would venture to call in question. There is no reason to believe that Marcion, though full of resentment against the Catholic Christians, ever charged them with forging their books. " The Gospel of Saint Matthew, the Epistle to- the He- brews, with those of Saint Peter and Saint James, as wiell as the Old Testament in general/(he said,) * Lardner, Creel, vol. vii. p. 277. t Ib. vol. ix. p. 325. t Ib. vol. xi. p. 52. Ib. vol. x. p. 316. j| Ib. vol. ix. ed. 1788, p. 329. IT Ib. sect. ii. c. x. Also Michael, vol. i. c. i. sect, xviii. 312 EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANI were writing3 not for Christians but for Jews."* i of John; " He has also left one f pintle, of a very This declaration shows the ground upon which > lew lines; jrnint also a second and a third, for all Marcion proceeded in bis mutilation of the Serif tures, viz. his dislike of the passages or the books. Marcion flourished about the year 130. Dr. Lardner, in hii general Review, sums up this head of evfdence in the -following words: " Noetus, Paul of Samosata, Sabellius, Marcetlus, Photinus, thelNovatians, Donatists, Manicheans,t Priscillianists, beside -Artemon, the Audians, the Arians, and divers others, all received mosfror all the same books of the New Testament which the Ca- do not allow them to be genuine." Now let it lie noted, that Origen, who thus discriminates, and thus confesses his own doubts, and the doubts which subsisted jn his time, expressly witnesses concerning the four Gospels, " that they alone are received without dispute by the whole church of God under heaven. "* III. Dionysius of Alexandria, in the year 247, doubts concerning the book of Revelation, whe- ther it was written by Saint John; states the tholics received; and agreed in a like respect for [ grounds pf his doubt, represents the diversity of them as written by apostles, or their disciples and opinion concerning it, iri his own time, and before lu's time.T >Yet the'same Dionysius uses and col- lates the four Gospels in a manner which shows that he entertained not the smallest suspicion of their authority, and in a manner also which shows that they, and they alone, were received as au- thentic histories of Christ.* IV. But this section may be said to have been framed on, purpose to introduce to the reader two remarkable passages extant in Eusebius's Eccle- siastical History, The first passage opens with these words : " Let us observe the writings of the apostle John which a-re uncontradictcd ; and iirst of all must be mentioned, as acknowledged of all, the Gospel according to him, well known to all the' churches under heaven." The author then proceeds to relate the occasions of writing the Gospel's, and the reasons for placing Saint John's the last^ manifestly speaking of all the four as parallel in their authority, and in the certainty of their original The second passage is taken from a chapter, the title of .which ib, "Of the Scriptures universally acknowledged, and of those that are not .such." Eusebius begins his enume- ration "in the following manner: "In the first place, are to be ranked the sacred four Gospels ; then the book of the Acts of the Apostles ; after that are to be reckoned the Epistles of Paul. In the next place, that called the First Epistle of John, and the Epistle of Peter, are to be esteemed authentic. After, this is to be placed, if it be thought fit, the Revelation of John, about which we shall observe (he different opinions at proper time by some of the Romans, this epistle is -not treasons. v Of the controverted, but yet well known companions."? . SECTION VIII. The four Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, thir- teen Epistles of Saint Paul, the First Epis- tle of John, and the First of Peter, were re- ceived without doubt by those who doubted concerning the other books which are included in our present canon. I STATE this proposition, because, if '.made out, it shows that the authenticity of their books was a subjjeet amongst the early Christians of consider- ation and inquiry; and that, where there was cause of doubt, they did doubt ; a circumstance which strengthens very much their testimony to such books as were received by them with full acquiescence. I. Jerome, in his account of Caius, who was probably a presbyter of Rome, and who flourished near the year 200, records of him, that, reckoning up only thirteen epistles of Paul, he says the four- teenth, which is inscribed to the Hebrews, is not his : and then Jerome adds, " With the Romans to this day it is not looked upon as Paul's."' This agrees in the main with the account given by Eu- sebius of the same ancient author and his work ; except that Eusebius delivers his own remark in more guarded terms': -" And indeed t6 this very thought to be the apostle's." . II. Origen, about twenty years after Caius, quoting the Epistle to /the Hebrews, observes that some might dispute the authority of that epistle-; and therefore proceeds to quote to the same point, as undoubted books pf Scripture, the Gospel of Saint Matthew, the 'Acts of the Apostles, and" Paul's First Epistle to the Thessalonians.il 'And in another place, this author speaks of the Epistle to the Hebrews thus : " The account come down to us is various; some saying that Clement, -who was bishop of. Rome, wrote this epistle ; others, that it was Luke, the same who wrote the Gospel and the Acts." Speaking also^ in the same pa/a- graph, of Peter, " Peter -(says he) has left '-one epistle, acknowledged ; let it be granted likewise that he wrote a second, for it is doubted of." And * I have transcribed this sentence from Michaelis (p. 38,) who has not, however, referred to the authority upon which he attributes these words to Marcion. t This must be with an exception, however, of Faust- us, who lived -so late as the year 384. t Lardrter, vol. xii. p. 12. Dr. Lardner's future in- quiries supplied him with many other instances. Ib. vol. iii. p. 240. || Ib. p. '24(3. or approved by the most, are, that called the !'. pis- tie of James, ano! that of Jude, and tlie Second of Peter, and the Second and Third of John, whe- ther they are written by the evangelist, or another of the same-name,"!! He then proceeds to reckon up -five" others, not in our canon, which he caljs in one place spurious, in anothev-controrcrtcd, mean- ing, as appears, to ine, nearly the same thing by these two words. IT -' It is manifest from this passage, that the four Gospels, and the Acts'of the .Apostles (tbe parts of Scripture with which our concern principally lies), were acknpwledged without dispute, even by those who raised .objections, or entertained doubts, about some. other parts of the s:une collec- tion. But the passage proves something more than tliis. The author was extremely conversant * Lardruer, voJ. iii. p. 234. j Ib. vol.iv. p. (i?0. J Ih. 6(51. . --Ib. vol. viii. p. IK). || Ib. p. 39. TT That E,usebfiis could not intend, by the word n-n- dered "spurious," what we at present moan by it, is evident from a clause in this vorythaptiT, \vhrn-. speak- ing of the Gospels of Peter, ami Thomas, and Matthias, and some others, he says, "Thy are not so much ns to be reckoned among the spurious, but are to be rejected as altogether absurd and impious:" Vol. viii. p. 9& EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 313 in the writings of Christians, which had been published from the commencement of the institu- tion to his own time : .and it was from these writ- ings that he drew his knowledge of the character and reception of the books in question. That Eusebius recurred to this medium of information, and that he had examined with attention this species of proof, is shown, lirst, by a passage in the very chapter we are quoting, in which, speak- ing of the books which he calls spurious, ' None (says he) of the ecclesiastical writers, in the suc- cession of the apostles, have vouchsafed to make any mention of them in their writings;'' and. secondly, by another passage of the same work. wherein shaking of the First Epistle of Peter, " This (says he) the presbyters of ancient times have quoted in their writings as undoubtedly genuine;"* and then, speaking of some other writings !>earing the. name of Peter, "We know (he says) that they ha\e not been delivered dowa to us in the number of Catholic writings, foras- much as no eeclesi laical writer of the ancients. or of our times, has made use of testimonies out of them." " But in the progress of this history," the author proceeds, ' we shall make it our busi- ness to show, together with the successions from the apostles?, what ecclesiastical writers, in e\er\ age. have used such writing as ; h< contradicted, and whatthev have .said with re if.- ml to the Scriptures received in the .New Testament. and *eknov>Udged by all, and with regard to those which are not sneh/'t After this it is reasonable to l>elieve, that when Eusebius states the four liospcl-;, and the the Apostles, as uiicontradictcd. nncontes;. acknowledged by all : and when lie places them in op[M)sition. notonlv to those which were spuri- ous, in our sense of that term, but to those which were controverted, and even to those which were well known and approved l>\ many, yet doubted of by some ; he represents not only tfce s his own age, but the result of the evidence which the writings of prior ages, from the a post.'. to his own, had furnished to his inquiries. The opinion of Eusebius and his contemj>or.iries ap- pears to have been (bunded uj>on the testimony of. writers whom they then called ancient: and we may observe, that such of the works of these writ ers as have come down to our times, entirely confirm the judgment, and support the distinction which Eusebius proposes. The books which he calls "books universally acknowledged," are in fact used and quoted in the remaining works of Christian writers, during the two hundred and fifty years between the apostle*' time and that of Eusebius, much more frequently than, and in a different manner from, those, the authority of which, he tells us, was disputed. SECTION IX. Our historical Scriptures were attacked by the early adversaries of Christianity, 'as contain- ing the accounts upon which the religion was founded. NEAR the middle of the second century, Celsus, a heathen philosopher, wrote a professed treatise * Lardner, voL viii. p. 99. 2R t Ib. p. 111. against Christianity. To this treatise, Origen, who came about fifty years after him, published an answer, in which he frequently recites his adversary's words and ^arguments. The work of Celsus is lost; but that' of Origen remains. Origen appears to have given us the words of Celsus, where. Jie professes to give them very faith- fully ; and, amongst other reasons for thinking so, this is one, that the objection, as stated by him. from Celsus, is sometimes stronger than his own answer. I think it also probaWe, that Origen, in his answer, has retailed a large portion of the work .of ( VIsus : - That it may not be suspected vs) that we pass by any chapters, because we ha ve^ no answers at hand, J hdve thought it best, according to my ability, to confute every tiling proposed by him. not so much observing the natural order of things^ as the order which he has taken himself."* Celsus wrote about one hundred years after the Gospels were published ; and therefore any notices of these books from him are extremely important for their antiquity. They aro, however, rendered more so by the character of the author ; for, the reception, credit, and notoriety, of these, books must have been well established amongst Chris- tians, to have made them subjects of animad\er- sion ,-nH opposition by strangers and by enemies. It exinc.sthe truth of what ( 'lirysostom, two cen- turies afterward, observed, that "the d'os^ls, when written, were not hidden in a corner, or buried in obscurity, hut they were made known to all the world, Ix'fore enemies as well as others, even as thpy are now."t 1. Celsus, or the Jew whom he personates, i se words: "I could say many things concerning the affairs of Jesus, and those, too, different from those written by the disciples of Jesus; but I purposely -omit them."* Upon this passage, it has been rightly observed, that it is not easy to Iwlieve, that if Celsus could have contra- dicted the disciples upon good evidence 'in any material point, he would ,have omitted to do so, and that the assertion is, what Origen calls it, a mere oratorical flourish. It is sufficient, however, to prove, that, yn. the time of Celsus, there were books well known, and allowed to be written by the disciples of Jesus, which books contained a" history of him. Uy the term dt.viplca, Celsus does not mean the followers of Jesus in general ; lor them he ealls Christians, or believers, or the like; ; but those who had been taught by Jesus himself, i. e. his apostles and companions. 2. In another passage, Celsus accuses tho Christians of altering the Gospel. The accusa- tion refers to some variations in the readings of particular passages ; for Celsus goes on to object, that when they are pressed hard, and one reading has been confuted, they disown- that, and fly to another. We cannot perceive from Origen. that ( VIsns specified any particular instances, and without such specification" the charge is of no, value. But the true Conclusion to be drawn from it is, that there Were in the hands of the Christians, histories, which were even then of some standihg : for various readings and corruptions do uot take place in recent productions. * Orig. cont; Cels. I. i. sect. xli. t In Matt. Horn. 1. 7. ( r,anlii.-r, Jewish ami Heathen Test. vol. ii. p. 274. Ib. p. 37 J. 311 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. The former quotation, the reader will remem- ber, proves that these books were composed by the disciples of Jesus strictly so called ; the pre- sent quotation shows, that, though objections were taken by Ihe adversaries of the Wigion to the integrity of these books, none were made to their genuineness. 3. In a third passage, tne Jew, whom Celsus introduces, shuts up an argument in this man- ner : " These things then we have alleged to you out of your own writings, not needing any other weapons."* It is manifest that this boast pro- ceeds upon the supposition that the books, over which the writer aftects to triumph, possessed an authority by which Christians confessed them- selves to be bound. 4. That the books to which Celsus refers were no other than our present Gospels, is made out by his allusions to various passages still found in these Gospels. Celsus takes notice of the genea- logies, which fixes two of these Gospels ; of the precepts, Resist not him that injures you,' and, If a man strike thee on the one cheek, offer to him the other also ;t of the woes denounced by Christ ; of his predictions; of his saying, that it. is impos- sible to serve two masters ;i of the purple robe, the crown of thorns, and the reed in his hand ; of the blood that flowed from the body of Jesus upon the cross, which circumstance is recorded by John alone ; and (what is instar omnium for the pur- pose for which we produce' it) of the difference in the accounts given of the resurrection by the evan- gelists, some mentioning two angels at the sepul- chre, others only one. II It is extremely material to remark, that Celsus not only perpetually referred to the accounts of Christ contained in the four Gospels,1T but that he referred to no other accounts ; that he founded none of his objections to Christianity upon any thing delivered in spurious Gospels. II. What Celsus was in the second century, Porphyry became in the third. His work, which was a large and formal treatise against the Chris- tian religion, is not extant! We must be content therefore to gather his objections from Christian writers, who nave noticed in order to answer them ; and enough remains of this species of information, to prove completely, that Porphyry's animadver- sions were directed against the contents of our present Gospels, and of the Acts of the Ajiostles ; Porphyry considering that to overthrow them was to overthrow the religion. Thus he objects to the repetition of a generation in Saint Matthew's ge- neaology ; to Matthew's call ; to the quotation of a text from Isaiah, which is found in a psalm as- cribed to Asaph ; to the calling of the lake of Ti- berias a sea ; to the expression in Saint Matthew, " the abomination of desolation ;" to the variation in Matthew and Mark upon the text, " The voice of one crying in the wilderness," Matthew citing it from Isaias, Mark from the Prophets ; to John's application of the term "Word;" to Christ's change of intention about going up to tho feast of tabernacles,' (John vii. 8 ;) to the judgment de- nounced by Saint Peter upon Ananias and Sap- phira, wliich he calls an imprecation of death.** * Lardner, Jewish and Heathen Test. vol. ii. p. 276. t Ibid. 1 Ib. p. 277. Ib. p. 280, 281. lib. p. 283. IT The particulars, of which the above are only a few, are well collected by Mr. Bryant, p. 140. +* Jewish and Heathen Test. vol. iii. p. 166, &c; The instances hero alleoyd, serve, in some measure, to show the nature of Porphyry's ob- jections, and prove that Porphyry had read the Gospels \\itli that sort of attention which a writer would employ who regarded them as the deposi- taries of the religion wnich he attacked. JVside these specifications, there exists, m the writings of ancient Christians, general evidence, that the places of Scripture ujwn wjiich Porphyry had re- marked were very numerous. In some of the above-cited examples, Porphyry, speaking of Saint Matthew, calls him your evan- gelist ; he also uses the term evangelists in the plural number. What was said of Celsus, is true likewise of Porphyry, that it does not appear that he considered any history of Christ, except these, as having authority with Christians. III. A third great writer against the Christian religion was the emperor Julian, whose work was composed about a century after that of Porphyry. In various long extracts, transcribed from this work 'by Cyril and Jerome, it appears,* that Julian noticed by name Matthew and Luke, in the dif- ference between their genealogies of Christ; that he objected to Matthew's application of the pro- phecy, " Out of Egypt have I called my son," (ii. 15,) and to that of '' A virgin shall conceive ;" (i. -23;) that he recited sayings of Christ, and vari- ous passages of his history, in the very words of the evangelists; in particular, that Jesus healed lame and blind people, and exorcised demoniacs in the villages of Bethsaida and Bethany ; that he alleged, that none of Christ's disciples ascribed to him the creation of the world, except John ; that neither Paul, nor Matthew, nor Luke, nor Mark, have dared to call Jesus, God ; that John wrote later than the other evangelists, and at a time when a great number of men in the cities of Greece and Italy were converted ; that he alludes to the conversion of Cornelius and of Sergius Paulus, to Peter's vision, to the circular letter sent by the apostles and elders at Jerusalem, which are all recorded in the Acts of the Apos- tles : by which quoting of the four Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, and by quoting no other, Julian shows that these were the historical books, and the only historical books received by Chris- tians as of authority, and as the authentic me- moirs of Jesus Christ, of his apostles, and of the doctrines taught by them. But Julian's testimony does something more than represent the judgment of the Christian church in his time. It discovers also his own. He himself expressly states the early date of these records; he calls them by the names which they now bear. He all along sup- poses, he no where attempts to question, their ge- nuineness. The argument in favour of the books of the New Testament, drawn from the notice taken of their contents by the early writers against the re- ligion, is very considerable. It proves that the accounts, which Christians had then, were the ac- counts which we have now ; that our present Scriptures were theirs. It proves, moreover, that neither Celsus in the second, Porphyry in the third, nor Julian in the fourth century, suspected the authenticity of these books, or even insinuated that Christians were mistaken in the authors to whom they ascribed them. Not one of them ex- pressed an opinion upon this subject different from that which was holden by Christians. And when * Jewish and Heathen Test. vol. iv. p. 77, &c. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 315 we consider how much it would have availed them to have cast a doubt upon this point, if they could; and how ready they showed themselves to be, to take every tdvantoge in their power; and that they were'all men of learning and inquiry ; their concession, or rather their suffrage, upon the sub- ject, is extremely valuable. In the case of Porphyry, it is made still stronger, by the consideration that he did in fact support himself by this species of objection, when he saw any room for it, or when his acuteness could sup- ply any pretence for alleging it. The prophecy of Daniel he attacked UJXHI this very ground of spuriousness, insisting that it was written after the time of Antiochus Epiphanes. and maintains his charge of forgery by some lar-letehed indeed, but very "subtle criticisms. Concerning the writ- ings of the New Testament, no trace of this sus- picion is any where to be found in him.* SECTION X. Formal catalogues of authentic Scriptures were published, in all which our present sacred his- tories were included. THIS species of evidence comes later than the rest ; as it was not natural that catalogues of any particular class of books should be put forth until Christian writings became numerous: or until some writings showed themselves, claiming titles which did not belong to them, and there! >\ ren- dering it necessary to separate books of authority from others. But, when it does appear, it is ex- tremely satisfactory; the catalogues, though nu- merous, and made in countries at a wide distance from one another, ditlering very little, differing in nothing which is material, and all containing the four Gospels. To this last article there is no ex- ception. I. In the writings of Origen which remain, and in some extracts preserved by Eusebius, from works of his which are now lost, there are enu- merations of the books of Scripture, in which tin- four Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles are distinctly and honourably specified, ana in which no books appear beside what are now received.t The reader, by this time, will easily recollect that the date of Origen's works is A. D. 230. II. Athanasius, about a century afterward, de- livered a catalogue of the books of the New Tes- tament inform, containing our Scriptures and no others; of which he says, "In these alone the doctrine of religion is taught ; let no man add to them or take any thing from them."* III. About twenty years after Athanasius, Cyril, bishop of Jerusalem, set forth a catalogue of the books of Scripture, publicly read at that time in the church of Jerusalem, exactly the same as ours, except that the " Revelation" is'omitted. IV. And fifteen years after Cyril, the council of Laodicea, delivered an authoritative catalogue of canonical Scripture, like Cyril's, the same as ours, with the omission of the "Revelation." V. Catalogues now became frequent. Within * Mkhaelis's Introduction to the New Testament, vol. i. p. 43 Marsh's Translation, t Lardner, Cred. vol. iii. p. 234, &c.; vol. viii. p. 196. | Ib. vol. viii. p. 223. . ib. p. 270. thirty years after the last date, that is, from the year 363 to near the conclusion of the fourth cen- tury, we have catalogues by Epiphanius,* by Gregory Nazianzen,t by Philaster, bishop of Bres- cia in Italy ,t by Amphrjochius, bishop of Iconium, all, as they are sometimes called, clean catalogues (that is, they admit no books into the number be- side what we now receive), and all, for every pur- pose of historic evidence, the same as ours.i VI. Within the same period, Jerome, the most learned Christian writer of his age, delivered a catalogue of the books of the New Testament, recognising every book now received, with the intimation of a doubt concerning the Epistle to the tit-brews alone, nd taking not the least notice of any book which is pot now received. II VII. Contemporary with Jerome, who lived in Palestine, was Saint Augustine, in Africa, who published likewise a catalogue, without joining to the Scriptures, as books of authority, any other ecclesiastical writing whatever, and without omit- tincr one which we at this day acknowledge.^ ' VIII. And with these concurs another contem- porary writer, Rufen, presbyter of Aquileia, whose catalogue, like theirs, is perfect and unmixed, and concludes with these remarkable words : " These are the volumes which the fathers have included in the canon, and out of which they would have us prove the doctrine of our faith."** SECTION XI. These propositions cannot be predicated of any of those books which are commonly called the Apocryphal Books of the New Testament. I DO not know that the objection taken from the apocryphal writings is at present much relied upon by scholars. But there are many, who, hearing that various Gospels existed in ancient times under the names of the apostles, may have taken up a notion, that the selection of our present ( ios|x-ls from the rest, was rather an arbitrary or accidental choice, than founded in any clear and certain cause of preference. To these it may be very useful to know the truth of the case. I ob- serve, therefore, I. That, beside our Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, no Christian history, claiming to be written by an apostle or apostolical man, is quoted within three hundred years after the birth of Christ, by any writer now extant, or known ; or, if quoted, is not quoted without marks of censure and rejection. I have not advanced this assertion without in- quiry ; and I doubt not, but that the passages cited by Mr. Jones and Dr. Lardner, under the several titles which the apocryphal books bear; or a reference to the places where they are mentioned as collected in a very accurate table, published in the year 1773, by the Rev." J. Atkinson, will make out the truth of the proposition to the satis- * Lardner, Cred. 'vol. viii. p. 368. tlb.vol. ix.p. 132. Jib. p. 373. Epiphanius omits the Acts of the Apostles. This must h.ive been an accidental mistake* either in him or in some copyist of his work; for he elsewhere expressly refers to this book, and ascribes it to Luke. II Lardner, Cred. vol. x. p. 77 IT Ib. p. 213. ** Ib. p. 187. 316 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. faction of every fair and competent judgment. I there be any book which may seem to form an ex ception to the observation,, it is a Hebrew Gospel which was circulated under the various tit Irs o the Gospel according to the Hebrews, the Gospe of the Nazarenes, of the Ebioiiites, sometime: called of the Twelve, by some ascribed to Sain Matthew. This Gospel is once, and only once cited by Clemens Alexandrinus, who lived, tlu reader will remember, in the latter part of the se cond century, and which same Clement quote: one or other of -.our four Gospels in almost even page of his work. It is twice mentioned by On gen, A. D. 230 ; and both times with marks ol diminution and discredit. And this is the grouu< upon which the exception stands. ' But what is still more material to observe is, that th'is Gospd in the main, agreed with our present Gospel of Saint Matthew.* . Now if, with this account of the apocrypha 'Gospelsfwe compare -what we have read concern ing the canonical Scriptures in the preceding sec- tions; or even recollect that general but well- founded assertion of Dr. Lardner, " That in the remaining works of Irenaeus, Clement of Alexan- dria, and Tertullian, who all lived in the first two centuries, there-are more and larger quotations of the small volume of the New Testament, than of all the works of Cicero, "by writers of all charac- ters, for several ages ;"t and if to this we add, that, notwithstanding the loss of many works of the primitive times of Christianity, we have, with- in the above-mentioned period, the remains of Christian writers, who lived in Palestine,.Syria, Asia Minor, Egypt, the part of Africa that used the Latin, tongue, in Crete, Greece, Italy, .and Gaul, in all which remains, references are found to our evangelists ; I apprehend, that we shall per- ceive a clear and broad Jine of division, between those writings, and all others .pretending to simi- lar authority. II. But beside certain histories which assumed the names of apostles, and which were forgeries properly so called, there were some other Christian writings, in the whole or in part of an historical nature,, which, though not forgeries^ are denomi- nated apocryphal, as being of uncertain or of no authority. Of this second class of writings, I have found only two which are noticed by any author of the first three centuries, without express -terms of condemnation ; and these are, the one, a book en- titled the Freachipg of Peter, quoted repeatedly by Clemens Alexandrinus, A. D. 196; the other, a book entitled the Revelation of Peter, upon which the above-mentioned Clemens Alexandri- nus is said, by Eusebius, to have written notes ; and which is twice cited in a work still extant, ascribed to the same author. - I conceive, therefore, that the proposition we have before advanced, even after it had been sub- jected to every^ exception, of every kind, that can be alleged, separates, by a wide interval, our his- torical Scriptures from all other writings which profess to give an account jbf the same subject. We may be permitted however to add, * In applying to this Gospel, what Jerome in the lat- ter end of the fourth century has mentioned of a Hobrew Gospel, I think it probable that \vc sometimes confound it with a Hebrew copy- of Saint Matthew's Gospel, whether an original or version, which was then extant. 1 Lardner, Cred. vol. xii. p. 53. 1. That there is no evidence that any spurious or apocryphal books whatever existed in the first century of the Christian era, in which century all our historical hooks are proved to have l>een ex- tant. "There arc no quotations of any such books, in the apostolical lathers, by whom! moan Barnabas, Clement of Rome, Hennas, Ignatius, and Polycarp, whose writings reach from about the year -of our Lord 70,. to the year 108 (and some of whom 'have quoted each and every one of our historical Scriptures); 1 s.iy this," adds Dr. Lardner, "-because 1 think it has been proved."* . 2. These apocryphal writings were not read in the clrurches of Christians ; 3. Were not admitted into -their volume; 4. Do not appear in their catalogues j" t>. Were not noticed by their adversaries; 6. Were not, alleged by different parties as of authority in their controversies ; 7. Were not the subjects, amongst them, of commentaries, versions, collations, expositions. Finally ; beside -the silence of three centuries, or evidence, within that time, of their rejection, they were, with a consent nearly universal, reprobated by Christian writers of.succeeding ages. Although if be made out by these.-observations, that the books in question never obtained any de- gree of credit and notoriety which can place them in competition, with our Scriptures ; yet it appears, from the writings of the fourth century, that many such existed in that century, and in'the century preceding it. It may be difficult at this distance of^ time to account for their origin. Perhaps the most probable explication is, that they were in general composed with a design of making a profit by .the sale. Whatever treated of the subject, would find purchasers. It was an advantage taken of the pious, curiosity of unlearned Christians. With a view to the same purpose, they were many of them adapted to the particular opinions of particular sects, which would naturally promote their circulation amongst the favourers of those opinions. After- air, they were probably much more obscure than we imagine. Except the Gos- pel according to the Hebrews, there is- none of which we hear more than the Gospel of the Egyptians^ yet there is good reason to believe that Clement, a presbyter of Alexandria in Egypt, A. D. 184, and a man of .almost universal reading, iad never seen it.t A Gospel according to Peter, was another of the most ancient books of this kind ; yet Serapion, bishop of Antioch, A. D. 200, had not read it, when he heard of such a book being in the hands of the Christians of llhossus in Cih- cia ; and speaks of obtaining a sight of this Gospel rom some sectaries who used it.t Even of the Gospel of the Hebrews, which confessedly stands at the head of the catalogue, Jerome, at the end of the fourth century, was glad to procure a copy jy the favour of the Nazarenes of Berea. No- hing of this sort ever happened, or could have lappened concerning our Gospels. One thing is observable of all the apocryphal Christian writings, viz. that they proceed upon he same fundamental history of Christ and his i]>ostles, as that which is disclosed in our Scrip- ures. The mission of Christ, his power of work- n'g miracles, his communication of that power to he apostles, Ins passion, death, and resurrection, * Lardner, Cred. vpl. xii. p. 158. t Jones, vol. i. p. 2 13. { Lardner, Cred. vol. ii. p. 557. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 317 arc assumed or asserted by every one of them. The names under which some of them came forth, are the names of men of eminence in our histories. What these books give, are not contradictions. but unauthorized additions. The principal facts are supposed, the principal agents the same ; which shows, that these points were too much iixed to be altered or disputed. If there be any book of this description, which appears to have imposed upon some considerable number of learned Christians, it is the Sibylline oracles; but, when we reflect upon the circum- stances which facilitated that imposture, we shah" cease to wonder either at the attempt or its success. It was at that time universally understood, that such a prophetic, writing existed. Its contents were kept secret. This situation aflbrdcd to some, one a hint, as well as an opportunity, to give out a writing under this name, favourable to the al- ready established persuasion of ( 'hristi.ins, and which writ inn. by the aid and recommendation of these circumstances, would in some decree, it is probable, lie received. ( )f the ancient forgery we know but little: what is now produced, eodid not, in my opinion, have imposed upon any one. It is nothing else than the Gospel history, woven into vejse; perhaps was at iirst rather a fiction than a forgery; an exercise of ingenuity, more than an attempt to deceive. CHAPTER X. Recapitulation. THE reader will now be pleased to recollect, that the two points which form the subject of our present discussion, are first, that the Founder of Christianity, his associates, and. immediate follow- ers, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and suf- ferings; secondly, that they did so, in attestation of the miraculous history recorded in our Scrip- tures, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of that history. The argument, by which these two propositions have been maintained by us. stands thus: No historical fact, I apprehend, is more certain, than that the original propagators of Christianity voluntarily subjected themselves to lives of fatigue. danger, and suffering, in the prosecution of their undertaking. The nature of the undertaking; the character of the persons employed in it ; the opposition of their tenets to the fixed opinions and expectations of the country in which they first ad- vanced them; their undissembled condemnation of the religion of all other countries ; their total want of power, authority, or force ; render it in the highest degree probable that this must have been the case. The probability is increased, by what we know of the fate of the Founder of the institution, who was put to death for his attempt; and by what we also know of the cruel treatment of the converts to the institution, within thirty years after its commencement ; both which points are attested by heathen writers, and, l>eing once admitted, leave it very incredible that the primi- tive emissaries of the religion, who exercised their ministry, first, amongst the people who had de- stroyed their Master, and, afterward, amongst those who persecuted their converts, should them- selves escape with impunity, or pursue their pur- pose in ease and safety. This probability, thus sustained by foreign testimony, is advanced, I think, to historical certainty, by the evidence of our own books ; by the accounts of a writer who was the companion of tlite persons whose suffer- ings he relates : by the letters of the 'persons them- selves; by predictions of persecutions ascribed to the Founder of the religion, which predictions would not have been inserted in tliis history, much less have been studiously dwelt upon, if they had not accorded with the event, and which, even if falsely ascribed to him, could only have been so ascribed, because the event suggested them; lastly, by incessant exhortations to forti- tude and patience, and by an earnestness, repeti- tion, and urgency, upon the subject, which were unlikely to have appeared, if there had not been, at the tin*, some extraordinary call for the exer- cise of these virtues. It is made out also, I think, with sufficient evi- dence, that both the teachers and converts of the religion, in consequence of their new profession, took up a new course of life and behaviour. The next great question is, what they did this FOR. That it was/I say, connected with the consideration, that they are corroborative of each other's testimony, and that they are farther corroborated by another 'contemporary history, taking up the story where they had left it, and, in a narrative built upon that story, accounting for the rise and production of changes in the world, the effects of which subsist at this day ; connected, moreover, with the cofllirmation which they re- ceive from letters written by the apostles them- selves, which both assume the same general story, and, as often as occasions lead them to do so, al- lude to particula r parts of it ; and connected also with the reflection, tfyat if the apostles delivered any different story, it is lost, (the present and no other being referred to by a series of Christian writers, down from their age to our own ; being likewise recognised in a variety of institutions, which prevailed early and universally amongst the disciples of the religion ;) and that so great a change, as the oblivion of one story and the sub- stitution of another, under such circumstances, could not have taken place ; this evidence would be deemed, I apprehend, sufficient to prove con- cerning these books, that, whoever were the au- thors of them, they exhibit the story which the apostles told, and for which, consequently, they acted, and they suffered. If it be so, the religion must be true. These men could not be deceivers. By only not bearing testimony, they might have avoided all these suf- ferings, and have lived quietly. Would men in such circumstances pretend to have seen what they never saw ; assert facts which they had no knowledge of; go about lying to teach virtue; ai>d, though not only convinced of Christ's being an impostor, but having seen the success of his imposture in -his crucifixion, yet persist, in carry- ing it on ; and so persist, as to bring upon them- selves, for nothing, and with a full Knowledge of the consequence, enmity and hatred, danger and death 1 OF THE DIRECT HISTORICAL EVIDENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. PROPOSITION II. CHAPTER I. Our first proposition was, " That there is satisfac- tory evidence that many, pretending to be origi- nal witnesses of the Christian miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, voluntarily undertaken and undergone, in at- testation oftlie accounts which Uia/ delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts; and ihat they ct/.^o submitted, from the same motives, to new rules of conduct." Our second proposition, and which how remains to be treated of, is, " That there is not sat ^fac- tory evidence, that persons pretending to be original witnesses of any other similar mira- cles, have acted in the same manner, in attest- ation of the ' accounts 'which they delivered, and solely in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts." < I ENTER upon this part of my argument, by declaring how far my belief in miraculous accounts goes. If the reformers in the time of Wickli/Je, or of Luther ; or those of England, in the time of Henry the Eighth, or of queen Mary ; or the founders of our religious sects since, such as were Mr. Whitfield and Mr. Wesley in our own times; had undergone the life of toil and exertion, of danger and sufferings, which we know that many of them did undergo, for a miraculous story ; that is to say, if they had founded their public ministry upon the allegation of miracles wrought within their own knowledge, and upon narratives which could not be resolved into delusion or mistake ; and if it had appeared, that their conduct really had its origin in these accounts, I should have believed them. Or, to borrow an instance which will be familiar to every one of my readers, if the late Mr. Howard had undertaken his labours and journeys in attestation, and in consequence of a clear and sensible miracle, I should have believed him also. Or, to represent the same thing under a third supposition ; if Socrates had professed to perform public miracles at Athens ; if the friends of Socrates, Phaedo, Cebes, Crito, and Simmias, together with Plato, and many of his followers, relying upon the attestations which these mira- cles afforded to his pretensions, had, at the hazard of their lives, and the certain expense of their ease and tranquillity, gone about Greece, after his death, to publish and propagate his doctrines: and if these things had come to our knowledge, in the same way as that in which the life of Socrates is now transmitted to us, through the hands of his companions and disciples, that is, by writings received without doubt as theirs, from the age in which they were published to the pre- sent,! should have believed tin's likewise. And my belief would, in each case, be much strength- ened, if the subject of the mission were of import- ance to the conduct and happiness of human life : if it testified any thing which it behoved mankind to know from such authority; if the nature of what it delivered, required the sort of proof which it alleged; if the occasion was adequate to the interposition, the end worthy of the means. In the last case, my faith would be much confirmed, it the effects of the transaction remained ; more especially, if a change had been wrought, at the time, in the opinion and conduct of such numbers, as to lay the foundation of an institution, and of a system of doctrines, which had since overspread the greatest part of the. civilized world. I should have believed, I say, the testimony in these cases ; yet none of them do more than come up to the apostolic history. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 319 If anyone choose to call assent to its evidence -credulity, it is at least incumbent upon him to produce examples in which the same evidence hath turned out to oe fallacious. -And this con- tains the precise question which we are now to agitate. In stating the comparison between our evidence, and what, our adversaries may brirlg into com{>c- tition with ours, we will divide the distinctions which we wish to propose into two kinds, those which n-late to the proof, and those which relate to tlie miracles. Under the former head we may lay out the case. "l. Such ace. units of supernatural events as are founil only in histories by some agi s posterior to the transaction, and of vvliich it is evident that the historian could know little more than his reader. Ours is contemporary history. This dillerence alone removes out of our way, the miraculous his- tory of Pythagoras, who lived live hundred years before the Christian era, written by Porphyry and Jamblicus, who li\ed three hundred years alter tiiat era; the prodigies of Livy ; s history; the fables of the heroic ages; the whole of the Greek and Roman, as well, as of the Gothic mythology; a great part of the legendary history of Popish saints, the very best attested of which is extracted from the certiiicates that are exhibited during the process of their eanoni/ation, a c< re- mouy which seldom takt s place till a century after their deaths. It applies also with considerable force to the miracles of Apollonius Tyaneus, which are contained in a solitary history of his life, published by IMiibstratus, alwve a hundred \.-aix utter his death; and iii which, whether Philostratus had any prior account to guide him, depends upon his single unsupported assertion. Also to some of the miracles of the third century, es|'cially to one extraordinary instance, the ac- count of ( .in-gory, bishop of Neocesarea, called Thauinaturgus. delivered in the writings of Gre- gory of Nyssen, who lived one hundred and thirty years after the subject of his panegyric. The value of this circumstance is shown to have been accurately exemplified in the history of Igna- tius Loyola, founder of the order of Jesuits,* His life, written by a companion of his, and by one of the order, was published about lifteen years after his death. In which life, the author, so- far from ascribing any miracles to Ignatius, industriously states the reasons why he was not invested with any such power. The life was republished fifteen years afterward, with the addition of many cir- cumstances which were the fruit, the author says, of farther inquiry, and of diligent examination ; but still with a total silence about miracles. When Ignatius had been dead nearly sixty years, the Jesuits, conceiving a wish to have the founder of their order placed in the Roman calendar, began, as it should seem, for the first time- to attribute to him a catalogue of miracles, which could not then be distinctly disproved ; and which tht re was, in those who governed the church, a strong disposi- tion to admit upon the slenderest proofs. II. We may lay out of the case, accounts pub- lished in one country, of what passed in a distant country, without any proof that such accounts weie known or received at home. In the case of Christianity, Judea, which was the scene of the transaction, was the centre of the mission. The * Douglas's Criterion of Miracles, p. 74. story was published in the place in which it was acted. The church of Christ was first planted at Jerusalem itself. With that church, others cor- sponded. From thence the primitive teachers of the institution went .forth; thither they assem- bled. The church of Jerusalem, and the several hurches of Judea, subsisted from the beginning, and for many ages;* received also the same books and the same accounts, as other churches did. This distinction disposes, amongst others, of the above-mentio/ied miracles of Apollonius Tya- neus, most of which are. related to have been jHTformed in India; no evidence reniaining that either the miracles ascribed t> him, or the history of those miracles, were ever heard of in India. Those of Francis Xa\ier, the Indian missionary, with many others of the Romish breviary^ are lia- ble to the.same objection, viz. that the accounts of them were published at a vast distance from the supposed scene of the wonders.! III. We lay out of the casq tvansicnt rumours. Upon the lirst publication of an extraordinary ac- count, or even of an article of ordinary intelligence, no one, who is not personally acquainted with the transaction, can knoto whether it be true or false, because any man may publish any story. It is in the future' confirmation, qr contradiction, of the account ; in its permanency, or its disappearance; its dying away into silence, or its increasing in notoriety: its'ln-ing fpllowbd^ up. by subsequent accounts, and being repeated ID diflerent and in- dependent accounts ; that.solid truth is distinguish- ?d from fugitive lies. This distinction is altogether on the side of Christianity. The story did net drop. On the contrary, it was succeeded by a train of action and events dependent upon -it. The accounts, which we have in our hands, were composed after the first reports must have sub- sided. They were followed by a train of w rit ings upon the subject. The historical testimonies of the transaction were many and various, and con- nected with letters, discourses, controversies, apo- I.>L r ies, successively produced by the same transac- tion. IV. We may layout of the caserwhat I call naked history. It has been said, that if the pro- digies of the Jewish history had l>een found only in fragments of Manetho, or Berosus, we should have paid no regard to them : and I am willing to admit this. If we knew nothing of the fact, but from the fragment ; if we possessed no proof that these accounts had been credited and acted upon, from times, probably, as ancient as the accounts themselves ; if we had no visible eflects connected with the history, no subsequent or collateral testi- mony to confirm it ; under these circumstances, I think that it would be undeserving of credit. But this certainly is not our case 1 . In appreciating the evidence of Christianity, the books are to be combined with the institution ; will* the preva- lency of the religion at this day ; .with the time and place of its origin; which are acknowledged points ; with the circumstances of its ri^e and pro- gress, as collected from external history ; with the fact of our present books being received by the votaries of the institution from- the beginning; with that of other books coming after these, filled * The succession of many eminent bishops of Jerusa- lem in the first three centuries, is distinctly preserved; as Alexander, A.D. 212, who succeeded Narcissus, tUen llti years old. t Douglas's Crit. p. 84. 320 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. with accounts of effects and consequences result- ing from the transaction, or referring to the trans- action, or built upon it; lastly, .with the consider- ation of the number and variety of the books themselves, the different writers from which" they proceed, the different views with' which they were written, so disagreeing as to repel the Suspicion of- confederacy, so; agreeing as to show that they were founded in a common original, i..in a* story sub- stantially the'same. Whether this'prooflje satis- factory or not, it is properly a cumulation of evi- dence, by no means a naked or solitary record. V. A rfrark of historical truth, although only in a certain way, and to a certain degree, is par- ticularity, in .names, dates,, places, circumstances, and in the order of events preceding or following the transaction : of which kind, for instance, is the particularity in the- description of Saint Paul's voyage and shipwreck, in the 27th chapter of the Acts, which no man, I think, can read without being convinced that the writer was there ; and also in the account of the cure and examination of the blind man, in the ninth chapter of Saint John's Gospel, which T>ears every mark pf per- sonal knowledge on the part'of the historian.* I do. not deny that fiction has often the particularity of truth; but then it is of studied and elaborate fiction, or of a formal attempt to deceive, that we observe this. /-Since, however, experience ' proves that particularity is not confined to truth, I have stated that it is a proof of truth only to a certain extent, i f e. it reduced the question to this, -whe- ther we can depend or not upon the probity of the relater? which is a considerable advance in our present argument ; for an express attempt to de- ceive, in which case alone particularity can ap- pear without truth, is charged upon the evange- lists by few. If the historian acknowledge himself to have received his intelligence from others, the particularity of the narrative shows, prima facie, the accuracy of his inquiries, and the fulness of his information. This remark belongs to Saint Luke's history. Of the particularity which we allege, many examples may be found in all the Gospels. And it is very difficult to conceive, that such numerous particularities, as are almost every where to be met with in the Scriptures; should be raised out of nothing, or bespun out of the imagi- nation without any fact to go upon.f It is to be remarked, however, that this particu- larity is only to be looked for in direct history. It is not natural in references or, allusions, which yet, in other respects, often afford, as far as they go, the most unsuspicious-evidence. VI. We lay out of the case such stories of su- pernatural events, as require, on the part of the hearer, nothing mere than an otiose assent ; stories upon which nothing depends, in which no inte-. * Both these chapters ought to be read for the sake of this very observation. \ . .t " Tljere is always spme truth where there are con-- siderable particularities related; antl they always scrm to bear some proportion to one another. Th'.is "there is a great want of the particulars of time, place, and per- sons, in Manetho's account of the Egyptian Dynasties, Ctesias's of the Assyrian Kings, and those which tin- technical chronologers have given of the ancient king- doms -of Greece : and agreeably thereto, the accounts have much fiction and falsehood, with some truth: whereas, Thucydides's History of the Pelopoimeaiao War, and Caesar's of the War in Gaul, in both which the particulars of time, place, and persons, are mention- ed, are universally esteemed true to a great degree of exactness." Hartley, vol. ii. p. 109. rest is involved, nothing is to be done or changed in consequence of believing them. Such stories are credited, if the careless assent that Ls given to them deserve that name, more by the indolence of the hearer, than by his judgment: or, though not much credited, are passed from one to another without inquiry or resistance. To this case, and to this case alone, belongs what is called the love of the marvellous. I have never known it carry men farther. 'Men do' not suffer persecution from the love of the marvellous. Of the indifferent na- ture we are speaking of, are most vulgar errors and popular superstitions : most, for instance, of the current reports of apparitions. Nothing de- pends upon their being true or false. But not, surely,, of this kind were the alleged miracles of Christ and his apostles. They decided, if true, the most important question upon which the hu- man mind can fix its anxiety. They claimed to regulate the opinions of mankind, upon subjects in which they are not only deeply concerned, but usually refractory and obstinate. Men could not be utterly careless in such a case as this. If a Jew took up the story, he found his darling par- tiality to his own nation and law wounded ; ii' a Gentile, he found his idolatry and polytheism re- probated and condemned. Whoever entertained the account, whether Jew or Gentile, could not avoid the following reflection: " If these things be true, I must give up the opinions and princi- ples in which I have been brought up, the religion in which my fathers lived and died." It is not conceivable that a man should do this upon any idle report or frivolous account, or indeed, without being fully satisfied and convinced of the truth and credibility of the narrative to which he trust- ed. But it did not stop at opinions. They who believed Christianity, acted upon it. Many made it the express business of their lives to publish the intelligence. It, was required of those who ad- mitted that intelligence, to change forthwith their conduct and their principles, to take up a differ- ent course of life, to part with their, habits and gratifications, and begin a new set of rules, and system of behaviour. The apostles, at least, were interested not to .sacrifice their ease, their fortunes, and their lives, for an idle tale; multitudes besides them were induced, by the same tale, to encoun- ter opposition, danger, and sufferings. If it be said, that the mere promise of a future state would do all this; I answer, that .the mere promise of a future state, without any evidence to give credit or assurance to it, would do nothing. A "few wandering fishermen talking of a resurrec- tion of the dead, could produce no effect. If it be farther, said,- that men easily 1 elieve what they anxiously desire; I again answer that, in my opinion, the very contrary of this is nearer to the truth. Anxiety of desire, earnestness' of expecta- tion, the'vastncss of an event, rather cause men to disbelieve, to doubt, to dread a fallacy, to dis- trust, and to examine. When our Lord's resur- rection was first reported to- the apostles, they did not believe, we are' told, for joy. This was natu- ral, and is agreeable to experience. VII. We have laid out of the case those ac- counts which require no more than a- simple as- sent ^ and we now also lay out of the case those which come merely, in affirmance of opinions already formed. This last circumstance is of tho utmost importance to notice well. It has loner been observed, that Popish miracles happen in EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. Popish countries ; that they make no converts : which proves that stories are accepted, when they fall in with principles already fixed, with the pub- lic sentiments, or with the sentiments of a party already engaged on the side the miracle supports, which would not be attempted to be produced in the face of enemies, in opposition to reigning tenets or favourite prejudices, or when, if they be believed, the beliet must draw men away from their preconceived and habitual opinions, from their modes of life and rules of action. In the former case, men may not only receive a miracu- lous account, but may both act and suffer on the side and in the cause, which the miracle supports, yet not act or suffer for the miracle, but in pur- suance of a prior persuasion. The miracle, like any other argument which only confirms what was before believed, is admitted with little ex- amination. In the moral as in the natural world, it is change which requires a cause. Men are easily fortified in their old opinions, driven from them with great difficulty. Now how does this apply to the Christian history? The miracles, there recorded, were wrought in the midst of ene- mies, under a government, a priesthood, and n magistracy, decidedly and vehemently adverse to them, and to the pretensions which they support- ed. They were Protestant miracles in a 1'opish country; they were Popish miracles in the midst of Protestants. They produced a change; they established a society upon the spot, adhering to the belief of them ; they made converts; and those who were converted gave up to the testimony their most fixed opinions and most favourite pre- judices. They who acted and suffered in the cause, acted and suffered for the miracles : for there was no anterior persuasion to induce them. no prior reverence, prejudice, or partiality, to take hold of. Jesus had not one follower when he set up his claim. His miracles gave birth to his sect. No part of this description belongs to the ordinary evidence of Heathen or Popish miracles. Even most of the miracles alleged to have been perform- ed by Christians, in the second and third century of its era, want this confirmation. It constitutes indeed a line of partition between the origin and the progress of Christianity. Frauds and falla- cies might mix themselves with the progress, which could not possibly take place in the com- mencement of the religion ; at least, according to any laws of human conduct that we are acquaint ed with. What should suggest to the first propa- gators of Christianity, especially to fishermen, tax-gatherers, and husbandmen, such a thought as that of changing the religion of the world ; what could bear them through the difficulties in which the attempt engaged them ; what could procure any degree of success to the attempt ; are questions which apply, with great force, to the setting out of the institution, with less, to every future stage of it. To hear some men talk, one would suppose the setting up of a religion by miracles to be a thing of every day's experience ; whereas the whole cur- ' rent of history is against it. Hath any founder of a new sect amongst Christians pretended to miraculous powers, and succeeded by his preten- sions 1 " Were these powers claimed or exercised by the founders of the sects of the Waldenses and Albigenses 1 Did WicklifTe in England pre- tend to it 1 Did Huss or Jerome in Bohemia 1 Did Luther in Germany, Zuinglius in Switzer- land, Calvin in France, or any of the reformers, advance this plea 1"* The French prophets, in the beginning of the present century, t ventured to allege miraculous evidence, and immediately ruined their cause by their temerity. " Concern- ing the religion of ancient Rome, of Turkey, of Siam, of China, a single miracle cannot be named, that was ever offered as a test of any of those religions before their establishment." t We may add to what has been observed of the distinction which we are considering, that, where miracles are alleged merely in affirmance of a prior opinion, they who believe the doctrine may sometimes propagate a belief of the miracles which they do not themselves entertain. This is the case of what ar6 called pious frauds ; but it is a case, I apprehend, which takes place solely in support of a persuasion already established. At least it does not hold of the apostolical history. If the apostles did not believe the miracles, they did not believe the religion ; and, without this belief, where was the pit fy, what place was there for any thing which could bear the name or colour of piety, in publishing and attesting miracles in its behalf? If it be said that any promote the belief of revelation, and of any accounts which favour that belief, because they think them, whether well or ill founded, of public and political utility ; I answer, that if a character exist, which can with less justice than another be ascribed to the foun- ders of the Christian religion ;it is that of politicians, or of men capable of entertaining political views. The truth is, that there is no assignable character which will account for the conduct of the apostles, supposing their story to be false. If bad men, what could have induced them to take such pains to promote virtue 1 If good men, they would not have gone about the country with a string of lies in their mouths, IN APPRECIATING the credit of any miraculous story, these are distinctions which relate to the evidence. There are other distinctions, of great moment in the question, which relate to the mira- cles themselves. Of which latter kind the fol- lowing ought carefully to be refined. I. It is not necessary to admit ^as a miracle, what can be resolved into a false perception. Of this nature was the demon of Socrates ; the visions of Saint Anthony, and of many others; the vision which Lord Herbert of Cherbury describes him- self to have seen ; Colonel Gardner's vision, as re- lated in his life, written by Dr. Doddridge. All these may be accounted for by a momentary insanity ; for the characteristic symptom of human madness is the rising up in the mind of images not distinguishable by the patient from impres- sions upon the senses. The cases, however, in which the possibility of this delusion exists, are divided from the cases in which it does not exist, by many, and those not obscure marks. They are, for the most part, cases of visions or voices. The object is hardly ever touched. The vision submits not to be handled. One- sense does not confirm another. They are likewise almost al- ways cases of a solitary witness. It is in the highest degree improbable, and I know not, indeed, whether it hath ever been the fact, that the same derangement of the mental organs should seize * Campbell on Miracles, p. 120. ed. 1766. t The eighteenth. J Adams on Mir. p. ?3. Batty on Lunacy. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. different persons at the same time ; a derangement, I mean, so much the same, as to represent to their imagination the same objects. Lastly, these are always cases of momentary miracles; by which term I mean to denote miracles, of which th.e whole existence is of short duration, in con- tradistinction to miracles which are attended with permanent effects. The appearance of a spectre, the hearing of a supernatural sound, is a moment- ary miracle. The sensible proof is gone, when the apparition or sound is over. But if a person born blind be restored to sight, a notorious cripple to the use of his limbs, or a dead man to life, here is a permanent effect produced by supernatural means. The change indeed was instantaneous, but the proof continues. The subject of the mira- cle remains. The man cured or restored is there : his former condition was known, and his present condition may be examined. This can by no possibility be resolved into false perception : and of this kind are by far the greater part of the mi- racles recorded in the New Testament. When Lazarus was raised from the dead, he did not merely move, and speak, and die again ; or come out of the grave, and vanish away. He returned to his home and family, and there continued ; for we find him, some time afterward in the same town, sitting at table with Jesus and his sisters ; visited by great multitudes of the Jews, as a sub- ject of curiosity ; giving by his presence so much uneasiness to the Jewish rulers as to beget in them a design of destroying him. * No delusion can account for this. The French prophets in England, some time since, gave out that one of their teachers would come to life again ; but their enthusiasm never made them believe that they actually saw him alive. The blind man, whose restoration to sight at Jerusalem is recorded in the ninth chapter o7 St. John's Gospel, did not quit the place or conceal himself from inquiry. On the contrary, he was forthcoming, to answer the call, to satisfy the scrutiny, and to sustain the brow-beating of Christ's angry and powerful enemies. AVhen the cripple at the gate of the temple was suddenly cured by Peter, t he did not immediately relapse into his former lameness, or disappear out of the city ; but boldly and honestly produced himself along with the apostles, when they were brought the next day before the Jewish council, t Here, though the miracle was sudden, the proof was permanent. The lameness had been notorious, the cure continued. This there- fore, could not be the effect of any momentary de- lirium, either in the subject or in the witnesses of the transaction. It is the same with the greatest number of the Scripture miracles. There are other cases of a mixed nature, in which, although the principal miracle be momentary, some circum- stance combined with it is permanent. Of this kind is the history of St. Paul's conversion. The sudden, light and sound, the vision and the voice, upon the road to Damascus, were moment- ary : but Paul's blindness for three days in conse- quence of what had happened ; the communica- tion made to Ananias in another place, and by a vision independent of the former ; Ananias finding out Paul in consequence of intelligence so receiv- ed, and finding him in the condition described, and Paul's recovery of his sight upon Ananias 's # John xii. 1, 2, 9, 10. 1 Ib. iv. 14. t Acts iii. 2. Ib. ix. laying his hands upon him; are circumstances, which take the transaction, and the principal miracle as included in it, entirely out of the case of momentary miracles, or of such as may be ac- counted for by false perceptions. Exactly the same thing may be observed of Peter's vision pre- paratory to the call of Cornelius, and of its con- nexion with what was imparted in a distant place to Cornelius himself, and with the message dis- patched by Cornelius to Peter. The vision might be a dream ; the message could not. Either com- munication, taken separately, might be a delusion ; the concurrence of the two was impossible to hap- pen without a supernatural cause. Beside the risk of delusion which attaches upon momentary miracles, there is also much more room for imposture. The account cannot be examined at the moment ; and, when that is also a moment of hurry and confusion, it may not be difficult for men of influence to gain credit to any story which they may wish to have believed. This is precisely the case of one of the best attested of the miracles of Old Rome, the appearance of Cas- tor and Pollux in the battle fought by Posthumius with the Latins at the lake Rcgillus. There is no doubt but that Posthumius after the battle, spread the report of such an appearance. No person could deny it whilst it was said to last. No person, perhaps, had any inclination to dispute it afterward ; or, if they had, could say with posi- tiveness, what was or what was not seen, by some or other of the army, in the dismay and amidst the tumult of a battle. In assigning false perceptions as the origin to which some miraculous accounts may be referred, I have npt mentioned claims to inspiration, illu- minations, secret notices or directions, internal sensations, or consciousnesses of being acted upon by spiritual influences, good or bad ; because these, appealing to no external proof, however convincing they may be to the persons themselves, form no part of what can be accounted miraculous evidence. Their own credibility stands upon their alliance with other miracles. The discus- sion, therefore, of all such pretensions may be omitted. II. It is not necessary to bring into the compa- rison what may be called tentative miracles ; that is, where, out of a great number of trials, some succeeded ; and in the accounts of which, although the narrative of the- successful cases be alone pre- served, and that of the unsuccessful cases sunk, yet enough is stated to show that the cases pro- duced are only a few out of many in which the same means have been employed. This observa- tion bears, with considerable force, upon the ancient oracles and auguries, in which a single coincidence of the event with the prediction is talked of and magnified, whilst failures are for- gotten, or suppressed, or accounted for. It is also applicable to the cures wrought by relics, and at the tombs of saints. The boasted efficacy of the king's touch, upon which Mr. Hume lays some stress, falls under the same description. Nothing is alleged concerning it, which is not alleged of various nostrums, namely, out of many thousands who have used them, certified proofs of a few who have recovered after them. No solution of this sort is applicable to the miracles of the Gospel. There is nothing in the narrative, which can induce, or even allow us to believe, that Christ attempted cures in many instances, and succeeded EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 323 in a few ; or that he ever made the attempt in vain. He did not profess to heal every where all that were sick; on the contrary, he told the Jews, evidently meaning to represent his own case, that, " although many widows were in Israel in the days of Klias, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, when great famine was throughout all the land, yet unto none of them was Elias sent, save unto Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman that was a widow:" and that " many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eli- seus the prophet, and none of them was cleansed saving Naaman the Syrian.''* By which exam- ples he gave them to understand, that it was not the nature of a divine interposition, or necessary to its purpose, to be general ; still less to answer every challenge that might be made, which would teach men to put their faith upon these experi- ments. Christ never pronounced the word, but the effect followed.t It was not a thousand sick that received his benediction, and a few that were benefited ; a single paralytic is let down in his bed at Jesus's feet, in the midst of a surrounding multitude ; Jesus bid him walk, and he did so.t A man with a withered hand is in the synagogue ; Jesus bid him stretch forth his hand, in the pre- sence of the assembly, and it was " restored whole like the other." There was nothing tentative in these cures ; nothing that can ( be explained by the power of accident. We may observe also, that many of the cures which Christ wrought, such as that of a person blind from his birth, also many miracles beside cures, as raising the dead, walking upon the sea, feeding a great multitude with a few loaves and fishes, are of a nature which does not in any wise admit of the supposition of a fortunate experi- ment. III. We may dismiss from the question all ac- counts in which, allowing the phenomenon to%e real, the fact to be true, it still remains doubtful whether a miracle were wrought. This is the case with the ancient history of what is called the thundering legion, of the extraordinary circum- stances which obstructed the rebuilding of the temple at Jerusalem by Julian, the circling of the flames and fragrant smell at the martyrdom of Polycarp, the sudden shower that extinguished the fire into which the Scriptures were thrown in the Diocletian persecution ; Constantine's dream ; his inscribing in consequence of it the cross upon his standard and the shields of his soldiers ; his victory, and the escape of the standard-bearer ; perhaps also the imagined appearance of the cross in the heavens, though this last circumstance is very deficient in historical evidence. It is also the case with the modern annual exhibition of the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Na- I ?> ' ex * Luke iv. 25. t One, and only one, instance may be produced in which the disciples of Christ do seem to have attempted a cure, and not to have been able to perform it. The story is very ingenuously related by three of the evan- gelists.fl The patient was afterward healed by Christ himself; and the whole transaction seems to have been intended, as it was well suited, to display the superiori- ty of Christ above all who performed miracles in his name, a distinction which, during his presence in the world, it might be necessary to inculcate by some such proof as this. | Mark ii. 3. Matt. xii. 10. I Matt. xvii. 14. Mark ix. 14. Luke ix. 33. ^ ;es. It is a doubt likewise, which ought to be excluded by very special circumstances, from these narratives which relate to the supernatural cure of hypochondriacal and nervous complaints, and of all diseases which are much atiected by the imagination. The miracles of the second and third century are, usually, healing the sick, and casting out evil spirits, miracles in which there is room for some error and deception. We hear nothing of causing the blind to see, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear, the lepers to be cleansed.* There are also instances in Christian writers of j reputed miracles, which were natural operations, i though not known to be such at the time ; as that j of articulate speech after the loss of a great part of the tongue. IV. To the same head of objection nearly, may also be referred accounts, in which the variation of a small circumstance may have transformed some extraordinary apj)earance, or some critical coincidence of events, into a miracle ; stories, in a word, which may be resolved into exaggeration. The miraclee-of the Gospel can by no possibility be explained away in this manner. Total fiction will account for any thing ; but no stretch of ex- aggeration that has any parallel in other histories, no force of fancy upon real circumstances, could produce the narratives which we now have. The feeding of the five thousand with a few loaves and fishes surpasses all bounds of exaggeration. The raising of Lazarus, of the widow's son at Nain, as well as many of the cures which Christ wrought, come not within the compass of misrepresentation. I mean, that it is impossible to assign any position of circumstances however i*eculiar, any accidental effects however extraordinary, any natural singu- larity, which could supply an origin or foundation to these accounts. Having thus enumerated several exceptions, which may justly be taken to relations of miracles, it is necessary when we read the Scriptures, to bear in our minds this general remark ; that, al- though there be miracles recorded in the New Testament, which fall within some or other of the exceptions here assigned, yet that they are united with others, to which none of the same ex- ceptions extend, and that their credibility stands upon this union. Thus the visions and revela- tions which Saint Paul asserts to have been im- parted to him, may not, in their separate evidence, be distinguishable from the visions and revelations which many others have alleged. But here is the difference. Saint Paul's pretensions were at- tested by external miracles wrought by himself, and by miracles wrought in the cause to which these visions relate; or, to speak more properly, the same historical authority which informs us of one, informs us of the other. This is not ordina- rily true of the visions of enthusiasts, or even of the accounts in which they are contained. Again, some of Christ's own miracles were momentary ; as the transfiguration, the appearance and voice from Heaven at his baptism, a voice from the clouds on one occasion afterward, (John xii. 28,) and some others. It is not denied, that the dis- tinction which we have proposed concerning mi- racles of this species, applies, in diminution of the force of the evidence, as much to these instances as to others. But this is the case, not with all the Jortin's Remarks, vol. ii. p. 51. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. miracles ascribed to Christ, nor with the greatest part, nor with many. Whatever force therefore there may be in the objection, we have numerous miracles which are free from it ; and even these to which it is applicable, are little affected by it in their credit, because there are few who, admitting the rest, will reject them. If there be miracles of the New Testament, which come within any of the other heads into which we have distributed the objections, the same remark must be repeated. And this is one way, in which the unexampled number and variety of the miracles ascribed to Christ strengthens the credibility of Chris- tianity. For it precludes any solution, or con- jecture about a solution, which imagination, or even-i which experience, might suggest concern- ing some particular miracles, if considered in- dependently of others. The miracles of Christ were of various kinds,* and performed in -great varieties of situation, form, and manner; at Jeru- salem, the metropolis of the Jewish nation and religion ; in different parts of Judea and Galilee ; in cities >and villages; in synagogues, in private houses ; in the street, in highways ; with pre- paration, as in the case of Lazarus ; by accident, as in the case of the widow's son of Nain ; when attended by multitudes, and when alone with the patient ; in the midst of his disciples, and in the presence of his enemies ; with the common people around him, and before Scribes and Pharisees, and rulers of the synagogues. 1 apprehend that, when we remove from the comparison, the cases which are fairly disposed of by the observations that have been stated, many cases will not remain. To those which do remain, we apply this final distinction ; " that there is not satisfactory evidence, that persons, pretending to be original witnesses of the miracles, passed their lives in labours, dangers, and sufferings, volunta- rily undertaken and undergone in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and properly in consequence of their belief of the truth of those accounts." CHAPTER II. BUT they, with whom we argue, have undoubt- edly a right to select their own examples. The instances with which Mr. Hume has chosen to confront the miracles of the New Testament, and which, therefore, we are entitled to regard as the strongest which the history of the world could supply to the inquiries of a very acute and learned adversary, are the three following t I. The cure of a blind and of a lame man of Alexandria, by the emperor Vespasian, as related by Tacitus ; II. The restoration of the limb of an attendant in a Spanish church, as told by cardinal de Retz ; and, ' * Not only healing every species of disease, bin turn- ing water into wine (John ii); feeding multitudes with a few loaves and fishes (Matt. xiv. 15: Mark vi. 35; Luke ix. 12; John vi. 5); walking on the sea (Matt. xiv. 25); calming a storm (Matt. viii. 25 ; Luke viii. _M); a celestial voice at his baptism, and miraculous appear- ance (M;itt. iii. 16; afterward John xii. 28 ); his trans- figuration (Matt. xvii. 18; Mark ix. 2; Luke ix. 28; 9 Peter i. 16, 17); raising the dead in three distinct in- stances (Matt. ix. 18; Mark v. 22; Luke viii. 41; Luke vii. 14 ; John xi.) III. The cures said to be performed at the tomb of the abbe Paris, in the early part of the present century. I. The narrative of Tacitus is delivered in thesr terms : " One of the common people of Alexandria, known to be diseased in his ryes, liyl.be admoni- tion of the god Serapis, whom that su[?rstitious nation worship above all other gods, prostrated himself before the emperor, earnestly imploring from him a remedy for his blindness, ;md entreat- ing that he would deign to anoint with his spittle his cheeks and the balls of his eyes. Another, diseased in his hand, requested, by the admonition of the same god, that he might be touched by the foot of the emperor. Vespasian at first derided and despised their application; afterward, when they continued to urge their petitions, he some- times appeared to dread the imputation of vanity; at other times, by the earnest supplication of the patients, and the persuasion of his flatterers, to be induced to hope for success. At length he com- manded an inquiry to be made by the physicians, whether such a blindness and debility were vin- cible by human aid. The report of the physicians contained various points ; that in the one the power of vision was not destroyed, but would re- turn if the obstacles were removed ; that in the other, the diseased joints might be restored if a healing power were applied ; that it was, perhaps, agreeable to the gods to do this ; that the emperor was elected by divine assistance; lastly, that the credit of the success would be the emperor's, the ridicule of the disappointment would fall upon the patients. Vespasian, believing that every thing was in the power of his fortune, and that nothing was any longer incredible, whilst the multitude, which stood by, eagerly expected the event, with a countenance expressive of joy, executed what he was desired to do. Immediately the hand was ret tored to its use, and light returned to the blind man. They who were present relate both these cures, even at this time, when there is nothing to be gained by lying."* Now, though Tacitus wrote this account twen- ty-seven years after the miracle is said to have been performed, and wrote at Rome of what pass- ed at Alexandria, and wrote also from report : and although it does not appear that he had examined the story, or that he believed it (but rather the contrary,) yet I think his testimony sufficient to prove that such a transaction took place : by which I mean, that the two men in question did apply to Vespasian ; that Vespasian did touch the diseased in the manner related ; and that a cure was re- ported to have followed the operation. But the affair labours under a strong and just suspicion, that the whole of it was a concerted imposture brought about by collusion between the patients, the physician, and the emperor. This solution is probable, because there was every thing to suggest, and every thing to facilitate, such a scheme. The miracle was calculated to confer honour upon the emperor, and upon the god Serapis. It was achieved in the midst of the emperor's flatterers and followers ; in a city, and amongst a populace, beforehand devoted to his interest, and to the wor- ship of the god ; where it would have been treason and blasphemy together, to have contradicted the fame of the cure, or even to have questioned it. And what is very observable in the account is, that * Tacit. Hist. lib. iv. ' EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 325 the report of the physicians is just such a report as would have been made of a case, in which no external marks of the disease existed, and which, consequently, was capable of being easily coun- terfeited, viz. that in the first of the patients the organs of vision were not destroyed, that the weakness of the second was in his joints. The strongest circumstance in Tacitus's narration is, that the first patient was " notus tabe oculorum," remarked or notorious for the disease in his eyes. But this was a circumstance which might have found its way into the story in its progress from a distant country, and during an interval of thirty years ; or it mii>ht be true that the malady of the eyes was notorious, yet that the nature and degree of the disease had never been ascertained ; a case by no means uncommon. The emperor's reserve was easily affected ; or it is |M>ssi!>le he might not be in the secret. There does not seem to be much weight in the observation of Tacitus, that they who were present, continued even then to relate the story when there was nothing to 1 gained by the lie. It only proves that those who had told the story for many years jHTsisted in it. The state of mind of the witnesses and spectators at the time, is the point to be attended to. Still less is there of pertinency in Mr. Hume's eulogium on the cautious and penetrating genius of tin 1 histo rian; for it does not appear that the historian be- lieved it. The terms in which he speaks of Serapis, the deity to whose interposition the mi- racle was attributed, scarcely sutler us to supj>ose that Tacitus thought the miracle to be_real : " by the admonition of the god Serapis. whom that superstitious nation (dedita superstitionibus gens) worship above all other gods." To have brought this supped miracle within the limits of compa- rison with the miracles of ( 'hrist, it ought to have appeared, that a person of a low and private star tion, in the midst of enemies, with the whole power of the country opposing him, with every one around him prejudiced or interested against his claims and character, pretended to perform these cures, and required the spectators, upon the strength of what they saw, to give up their firm- est hopes and opinions, and follow him through a life of trial and clanger; that many were so moved as to obey his call, at the exjM'iise both of every notion in which they had been brought up, and of their ease, safety, and reputation; and that by these beginnings, a change was produced in the world, the effects of which remain to this day : a case, both in its circumstances and consequences, very unlike any thing we find in Tacitus's rela- tion. II. The story taken from the Memoirs of Car- dinal de Retz, which is the second example al- leged by Mr. Hume, is this : " In the church of Saragossa in Spain, the canons showed me a man whose business it was to light the lamps ; telling me that he had been several years at the gate with one leg only. I saw him with two."* It is stated by Mr. Hume, that the cardinal, who relates this story, did not believe it : and it no where appears, that he either examined the limb, or asked the patient, or indeed any one, a single question at>out the matter. An artificial leg, wrought with art, would be sufficient, in a place where no such contrivance had ever before been heard of, to give origin and currency to the report. * Liv. iv. A. D. 1654. The ecclesiastics of the place would, it is probable, favour the story, inasmuch as it advanced the honour of their image and church. And if they patronised it, no other person at Saragossa, in the middle of the last century, would care to dispute it. The story likewise coincided, not less with the wishes and -preconceptions of the people, than with the interests of their ecclesiastical rulers : so that there was prejudice -backed by authority, and both operating upon extreme ignorance, to account for the success of the imposture. If, as I have sune chapter of each of the first three Gospels, and referred to in several difierrnt passages of each, and, in none of all these places, does there appear the smallest in- timation that the things spoken of had come to pass. 1 do admit, that it would have been tin- part of an impostor, who wished his readers to be- lieve that his book was written before the event, when in truth it was written after it, to have sup- pressed any su< h intimation carefully. But this was not the character of the authors of the Gos- pel. Cunning was no quality of theirs. Of all writers in the world, they thought the least of providing against objections. Moreover, there is no clause in any one of them, that makes a pro- fession of their having written prior to the Je\s ish wars, which a fraudulent purpose would have led them to pretend. They have done neither one thing nor the other: they have neither inserted any words which might signify to the reader that their accounts were written before the destruction of Jerusalem, which a sophist would have done ; nor have they dropped a hint of the completion of the prophecies recorded by them, which an undc.- signing writer, writing after the event, could hardly, on some or other of the many occasions that presented themselves, have missed of doing. 4. The admonitions! which Christ is repre- sented to have given to his followers to save them- selves by flight, are not easily accounted for, on the supposition of the prophecy being fabricated * Lardner, vol. xiii. t Le Clerc,Diss. III. de Quat. Evang. num. vii. p. 541. tActsxi 28. f" When ye shall see Jerusalem compassed with ar- mips, then know that the desolation thereof is nigh ; then let them which are in Judea flee to the mountains ; then let thorn which are in the midst of it depart out, and let not them that are in the countries enter there- into.' Luke xxi. 20, 21. "When ye shall see Jerusalem compassed with ar- mies, then let them which bo in Judea flee unto the mountains ; let him which is on the house-top not corns down to take any thing out of his house ; neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes." 2T after the event. Either the Christians, when the siege approached, did make their escape from Je- rusalem, or they did not : if they did, they must have had the prophecy amongst them : if they did not know of any such prediction at the time of the siege, if they did not take notice of any such warning, it was an improbable fiction, in a writer publishing his work near to that time (which, on any even the lowest and most disadvantageous supposition, was the case with the Gospels now in our hands,) and addressing his work to Jews and to Jewish converts (which Alatthew certainly did,) to state that the followers of Christ had received admonition of which they made no use when the occasion arrived, and of which exjierience then re- cent proved, that those, who were most concerned to know and regard them, were ignorant or ne- gligent. Even if the prophecies came to the hands of the evangelists through no better vehicle than tradition, it must have been by a tradition which subsisted prior to the event. And to suppose that, without any authority whatever, without so much as even any tradition to guide them, they had forged these passages, is to impute to them a de- gree of fraud and imposture, from every appear- ance of which their compositions are as far re- mo\ed as possible. 5. I think that, if the prophecies had been com- posed alter the event, there would have been more specification. The names or descriptions of the enemy, the general, the emperor, would have been found in them. The designation of the time would have been more determinate. And I am fortified in this opinion by observing, that the counterfeited prophecies of the Sibylline oracles, of the twelve patriarchs, and I am inclined to be- lieve, most others of the kind, are, mere trans- scripts of the history, moulded into a prophetic form. It is objected, that the prophecy of the destruc- tion of Jerusalem is mixed, or connected, with expressions which relate to the final judgment of the world ; and so connected, as to lead an ordina- ry reader to expect, that these two events would not be far distant from each other. To which I answer, that the objection does not concern our present argument. If our Saviour actually fore- told the destruction of Jerusalem, it is sufficient; even although we should allow, that the narration of the prophecy had combined what had been said by him on kindred subjects, without accurately preserving the order, or always noticing the transi- tion of the discourse. CHAPTER II. The Morality of the Gospel. IN stating the morality of the Gospel as an ar- gument of its truth, I am willing to admit two points ; first, that the teaching of morality was not the primary design of the mission ; secondly, that morality, neither in the GospeT, nor in any other book, can be a subject, properly speaking, of discovery. If I were to describe in a very few words the scope of Christianity, as a rcvelatian* I should and inestimably beneficial effects may accrue mission of Christ, and especially from hia * Great and from the death, which do not belong to Christianity da a revela. 330 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. say, that it Was to influence the conduct of human life, by establishing the proof of a future state of reward and punishment, " to bring life and im- mortality to light." The direct object, therefore, of the design is, to supply motives, and not rules ; sanctions, and not precepts. And these were what mankind stood most in need of. The mem- bers of civilized society can, in all ordinary cases, judge tolerably well how they ought to act : but without a future state, or, which is the same thing, without credited evidence of that state, they want a motive to their duty ; they want at least strength of motive, sufficient to bear up against the force of passion, and the temptation of present advantage. Their rules want authority. The most important service that can be rendered to human life, and that consequently, which, one might expect beforehand, would be the great end and office of a revelation from God, is to convey to the world authorised assurances of the reality of a future existence. And although in doing this, or by the ministry of the same person by whom this is done, moral precepts or examples, or illustrations of moral precepts, may be occasion- ally given, and be highly valuable, yet still they do not form the original purpose of the mission. Secondly ; morality, neither in the Gospel, nor in, any other book, can be a subject of discovery, properly so called. By which proposition, I mean that there cannot, in morality, be any thing simi- lar to what are called discoveries in natural philo- sophy, iu the arts of life, and in some sciences ; as the system of the Universe, the circulation of the blood, the polarity of the magnet, the laws of gravitation, alphabetical writing, decimal arithme- tic, and some other things of the same sort ; facts, or proofs, or contrivances, before totally unknown and unthought of. Whoever, therefore, expects, in reading the New Testament, to be struck with discoveries in morals in the manner in which his mind was affected when he first came to the knowledge of the discoveries above-mentioned ; or rather in the manner in which the world was af- fected by them, when they were first published ; expects what, as I apprehend, the nature of the subject renders it impossible that he should meet with. And the foundation of my opinion is this, that the qualities of actions depend entirely upon their effects, which effects must all along have been the subject of human experience. When it is once settled, no matter upon what principle, that to do good is virtue, the rest is cal- culation. But since the calculation cannot be in- stituted concerning each particular action, we es- tablish intermediate rules ; by which proceeding, the business of morality is much facilitated, for then it is concerning our rules alone that we need inquire, whether in their tendency they be bene- tion ; that is, they might have existed, and they might have been accomplished, though we had never, in this life, been made acquainted with them. These effects may be very extensive : they may be interesting even to other orders of intelligent beings. I think it is a general opinion, and one to which I have long come, that the beneficial effects of Christ's death extend to the whole human species. It was the redemption of the world. " He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the whole world ;" 1 John ii. 2. Probably the future happiness, perhaps the future exist- ence of the species, and more gracious terms of accept- ance extended to all, might depend upon it, or be pro- cured by it. Now these effects, whatever they be, do not belong to Christianity as a revelation ; because they exist with respect to those to whom it is not revealed. ficial ; concerning our actions, we have only to ask, whether they be agreeable to the rules. We refer actions to rules, and rules to public happiness. Now in the formation of these rules there is no place for discovery, properly so called, but there is ample room for the exercise of wisdom, judg- ment, and prudence. As I wish to deliver argument rather than panegyric, I shall treat of the morality of the Gos- pel, in subjection to these observations. And after all, I think it such a morality, as considering from whom it came, is most extraordinary ; and such as, without allowing some degree of reality to the character and pretensions of the religion, it is difficult to account for : or, to place the argu- ment a little lower in the scale, it is such a mo- rality as completely repels the supposition of its being the tradition of a barbarous age or of a bar- barous people, of the religion being founded in folly, or of its being the production of craft ; and it repels also, in a great degree, the supposition of its having been the effusion of an enthusiastic mind. The division, under which the subject may be most conveniently treated, is that of the things taught, and the manner of teaching. Under the first head, I should willingly, if the limits and nature of my work admitted of it, transcribe into this chapter the whole of what has been said upon the morality of the Gospel, by the author of The Internal Evidence of Christianity ; because it perfectly . agrees with my own opinion, and because it is impossible to say the same things so well. This acute observer of human nature, and, as I believe, sincere convert to Chris- tianity, appears to me to have made out satisfac- torily the two following positions, viz. I. That the Gospel omits some qualities, which have usually engaged the praises and admira- tion of mankind, but which, in reality, and in their general effects, have been prejudicial to human happiness. II. That the Gospel has brought forward some virtues, which possess the highest intrinsic value, but which have commonly been overlooked and contemned. The first of these propositions he exemplifies in the instances of friendship, patriotism, active courage ; in the sense in which these qualities are usually understood, and in the conduct which they often produce. The second, in the instances of passive courage or endurance of sufferings, patience under affronts and injuries, humility, irresistance,. placability. The truth is, there are two opposite descrip- tions of character, under which mankind may fenerally be classed. The one possesses vigour, rmness, resolution ; is daring and active, quick in its sensibilities, jealous of its fame, eager in its attachments, inflexible in its purpose, violent in its resentments. The other, meek, yielding, complying, forgiving ; not prompt to act, but willing to suffer; silent and gentle under rudeness and insult, suing for reconciliation where others would demand satis- faction, giving way to the pushes of impudence, conceding and indulgent to the prejudices, the wrongheadedness, the intractability, of those with whom it has to deal. The former of these characters is, and ever hath been, the favourite of the world. It is the character of great men. There is a dignity in it which universally commands respect. EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 331 The latter is poor-spirited, tame, and abject. Yet so it hath happened, that, with the Founder of Christianity, this latter is the subject of his commendation, his precepts, his example; and that the former is so, in no part of its composition. This and nothing else, is the character designed in the following remarkable passages : " Resist not evil ; but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also : and if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also : and whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain : love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and j>ersecute you." This certainly is not common-place morality. It is very original. It shows at least (and it is ti>r this purpose we produce it) that no two things can be more diflc-rent than the Heroic and the Christian character. Now the author, to whom I refer, has not only marked this difference more strongly than any preceding writer, but has proved, in contradiction to first impressions, to popular opinion, to the en- comiums of orators and poets, and even to tin- suf- frages of historians and moralists, th;it the latter character (Mi-sesM's the most of true worth, both as being most difficult either to be acquired or sus- tained, and as contributing most to the happiness and tranquillity of social life. The state of his argument is as follows : I. If this disposition were universal, the rase is clear; the world would be a society of friends Whereas, if the other disposition were universal, it would produce a scene of universal contention. The world could not hold a generation of such men. II. If, what is the fact, the disposition be partial ; if a few be actuated by it, amongst a multitude who are not ; in whatever degree it does prevail. in the same proportion it prevents, allays, and ter- minates, quarrels, the great disturbers of human happiness, and the great sources of human misery, so far as man's happiness and misery depend upon man. Without this disposition, enmities must not only be frequent, but, once begun, must be eternal: for, each retaliation being a fresh injury, and, consequently, requiring a fresh satis- faction, no period can be assigned to the recipro- cation of affronts, and to the progress of hatred, but that which closes the lives, or at least the in- tercourse, of the parties. I would only add to these observations, that although the former of the two characters above described may be occasionally useful ; although, perhaps, a great general, or a great statesman, may be formed by it, and these may be instru- ments of important benefits to mankind, yet is this nothing more than what is true of many qualities, which are acknowledged to be vicious. Envy is a quality of this sort; I know not a stronger stimulus to exertion; many a scholar, many an artist, many a soldier, has been produced by it ; nevertheless, since in its general effects it is noxious, it is properly condemned, certainly is not praised, by sober moralists. It was a portion of the same character as that we are defending, or rather of his love of the same character, which our Saviour displayed, in his re- peated correction of the ambition of his disciples ; his frequent admonitions, that greatness with them was to consist in humility j nis censure of that love of distinction, and greediness of superi- ority, which the chief persons amongst his coun- trymen were wont, on all occasions, great and little, to betray. " They (the Scribes and Phari- sees) love the uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets, and to be called of men, Rabbi, Rabbi. But be not ye called Rabbi, for one is your Master, even Christ, and all ye are brethren ; and call no man your father upon the earth, for one is your Father, which is in heaven ; neither be ye called masters, for one is your Master, even Christ ; but he that is greatest among you, shall be your servant : and whosoever shall exalt him- self, shall be abased ; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted." * I make no farther remark upon these passages, (because they are, in truth, only a repetition of the doctrine, different expressions of the principle, which we have already stated,) except that some of the passages, especially our Lord's advice to the guests at an entertainment,t seem to extend the rule to what we call manners; which was both regular in point of consistem-y. and not so much beneath the dignity of our Lord's mission as may at first sight be sup- posed, lor bad urmners are bad morals. It is sufficiently apparent, that the precepts we have cited, or rather the disposition which these precepts inculcate, relate to personal conduct from personal motives ; to cases in which men act from impulse, for themselves, and from themselves. Wnen it comes to be considered, what is neces- sary to be done for the sake of the public, and out of a regard to the general welfare (which consi- deration, for the most part, ought exclusively to govern the duties of men in public stations,) it comes to a case to which the rules do not belong. This distinction is plain ; and if it were less so, the consequence would not be much felt: for it is very seldom that, in the intercourse of private life, men act with public views. The personal mo- tives, from which they do act the rule regulates. The preference of the patient to the heroic cha- racter, which we have here noticed, and which the reader will find explained at large in the work to which we have referred him, is a peculiarity in the Christian institution, which I propose as an argument of wisdom very much beyond the situa- tion and natural character of the person who de- livered it. II. A second argument, drawn from the mo- rality of the New Testament, is the stress which is laid by our Saviour upon the regulation of the thoughts. And I place this consideration next to the other, because they are connected. The other related to the malicious passions ; this, to the voluptuous. Together, they comprehend the whole character. " Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, mur- ders, adulteries, fornications," &c. "These are the things which defile a man."t " Wo unto you, Scribes and. Pharisees, hypo- crites ! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of ex- tortion and excess. Ye are like unto whited se- pulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness; even so ye also outwardly appear * Matt, xxiii. 6. See also Mark xii. 39. Luke xx. 46 ; xiv. 7. t Luke xiv. 7. J Matt. xv. 19. 333 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. righteous unto men, but within ye are full of hy- pocrisy and iniquity."* And more particularly that strong expression,t " Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." There can be no doubt, with any reflecting mind, but that the propensities of our nature must be subject to regulation ; but the question is where the chock ought to be placed, upon the thought, or only upon the action 1 In this question, our Saviour, in the texts here quoted, has pronounced a decisive judgment. He makes the control of thought essential. Internal purity with him is every thing. Now I contend that this is the only discipline which can succeed; in other words, that a moral system, which prohibits actions, but leaves the thoughts at liberty, will be ineffectual, and is therefore unwise. 1 know not how to go about the proof of a point, which depends upon experience, and upon a knowledge of the human constitution, better than by citing the judgment of persons, who appear to have given great attention to the subject, and to be well qualified to form a true opinion about it. Boerhaave, speaking of this very declaration of our Saviour, " Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart," and understanding it, as we do, to contain an injunc- tion to lay the check upon the thoughts, was wont to say, that " our Saviour knew mankind better than Socrates." Haller, who has recorded this saying of Boerhaave, adds to it the following re- marks of his own :t " It did not escape the obser- vation of our Saviour, that the rejection of any evil thoughts was the best defence against vice : for when a debauched person fills his imagination with impure pictures, the licentious ideas which he recalls, fail not to stimulate his desires with a degree of violence which he cannot resist. This will be followed by gratification, unless some ex- ternal obstacle should prevent him from the com- mission of a sin, which he had internally resolved on." " Every moment of time," says our author, " that is spent in meditations upon sin, increases the power of the dangerous object which has pos- sessed our imagination." I suppose these reflec- tions will be generally assented to. III. Thirdly, Had a teacher of morality been asked concerning a general principle of conduct, and for a short rule of life ; and had he instructed the person who consulted him, " constantly to refer his actions to what he believed to be the will of his Creator, and constantly to have in view not his own interest and gratification alone, but the happiness and comfort of those about him," he would have been thought, I doubt not, in any age of the world, and in any, even the most improved, state of morals, to have delivered a judicious an- swer ; 'because, by the first direction, he suggest- ed the only motive which acts steadily and uni- formly, in sight and out of sight, in familiar occurrences and under pressing temptations ; and in the second, he corrected, what, of all tendencies in the human character, stands most in need of correction, selfishness, or a contempt of other men's conveniency and satisfaction. In estimating the value of a moral rule, we are to have regard not only to the particular duty, but the general spirit ; * Matt, xxiii. 25, 27. T Matt. v. 23. \ Letters to his Daughter. not only to what it directs us to do, but to the character which a compliance with its direction is likely to form in us. So, in the present instance, the rule here recited will never fail to make him who obeys it considerate, not only of the rights, butof the feelings of other men, bodily and mental, in great matters and in small ; of the ease, the ac- commodation, the self-complacency, of all with whom he has any concern, especially of all who are in his power, or dependant upon his vviil. Now what, in the most applauded philosopher of the most enlightened age of the world, would have been deemed worthy of his wisdom, and of his character, to say, our Saviour hath said, and upon just such an occasion as that which we have feigned. " Then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, Master, which is the great commandment in the law '{ Jesus said unto him, Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind; this is the first and ^reat commandment; and the second is like unto it, Thou shaltlove thy neighbour as thyself; on these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."* The second precept occurs in Saint Matthew (xix. 16) on another occasion similar to this ; and both of them, on a third similar occasion, in Luke (x. 27.) In these two latter instances, the ques- tion proposed was, " What shall I do to inherit eternal life V .Upon all these occasions, I consider the words of our Saviour as expressing precisely the same. thing as what I have put into the mouth of the moral philosopher. Nor do I think that it de- tracts much from the merit of the answer, that these precepts are extant in the Mosaic code ; for his laying his finger, if I may so say, upon these precepts ; his drawing them out *>om the rest of that voluminous institution ; his stating of them, not simply amongst the number, but as the greatest and the sum of all the others ; in a word, his pro- posing of them to his hearers for their rule and principle, was our Saviour's own. And what our Saviour had said upon the sub- ject, appears to me to have JLced the sentiment amongst his followers. St. Paul has it expressly, "If there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in this saying, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself;' 't and again, "For all the law is fulfilled in one word,^veri in this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself"? Saint John, in like manner, " This command- ment have we from him, that he who loveth God, love his brother also." Saint Peter, not very differently : " Seeing that ye have purified your souls in obeying the truth, through the Spirit, unto unfeigned love of the brethren, see that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently."!! And it is so well known, as to require no cita- tions to verify it, that this love, or charity, or, in other words, regard to the welfare of others, runs in various forms through all the preceptive parts of the apostolic writings. It is the theme of all their exhortations, that with which their morality * Matt. xxii. 3540. | Gal. v. 14. || 1 Peter i. 22. t Rom. xni. 9. 1 John iv. 21. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 333 begins and ends, from which all their details and enumerations set out, and into which they return. And that this temper, for some time at least, descended in its purity to succeeding Christians, is attested by one of the earliest and best of thfe remaining writings of the apostolical fathers, the epistle of the. Roman Clement. The meekness of the Christian character reigns throughout the whole of that excellent piece. The occasion called for it. It was to compose the dissensions of the church of Corinth. And the venerable hearer of the apostles does not fall short, in the display of this principle, of the finest passages of their writings. He calls to the remembrance of the Corinthian church its former character, in which "ye were all of you/' he tells them, "humble- minded, not boasfing of any thing, desiring rather to be subject than to govern, to give than to re- ceive, being content with the portion God had dis- pensed to you, and hearkening diligently to his word; ye wen- enlarged in your bowels. ha\ing his suflerings alvvavs In- fore your eyes. Ye con- tended day and night for the whole brotherhood, that with compassion and a good conscience the number of his elect might be saved. Ye were sincere, and without oflence, towards each other. Ye bewailed every one his neighbours' sins, esteeming their detects your own/'* His praver for them was for the " return of peace, long-suf- fering, and patience."t And his advice to those, who might have been the occasion of difference in the society, is conceived in the true spirit, and with a perfect knowledge, of the Christian charac- ter: " Who is there among you that is generous ! who that is com; : who that has any charity 1 Let him say, If this sedition, this con- tention, and these schisms, be upon my account, I am ready to depart, to go away whithersoever ye please, and do whatsoever ye shall command me : only let the flock of Christ l>e in peace with the elders who are set over it. He that shall do this, shall get to himself a very great honour in the Lord ; and there is no place but what will be ready to receive him : for the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof. These things they, who have their conversation towards God, not to be repented of, both have done, and will always be ready to do."t This sacred principle, this earnest recommenda- tion of forbearance, lenity, and forgiveness, mixes with all the writings of that age. There are more quotations in the apostolical fathers, of texts which relate to these points, than of any other. Christ's sayings had struck them. " Not rendering," said Polycarp, the disciple of John, " evil for evil, or railing for railing, or striking for striking, or cursing for cursing."! Again, speaking of some, whose behaviour had given great offence, " Be ye j moderate," says he, "on this occasion, and look j not upon such as enemies, but call them back as j suffering and erring members, that ye save your whole tody."|| " Be ye mild at their anger," saith Ignatius, the companion of Polycarp, " humble at their boast- ings, to their blasphemies return your prayers, to their error your firmness in the faith ; when they are cruel, be ye gentle ; not endeavouring to imi- tate their ways, let us be their brethren in all *EP- Clem. Rom, c. 2 ; Abp. Wake's Translation. JIb.c.53. lib c 54 $ Pol. Ep. Ad. Phil. c. 2. | ib. c. 11.' kindness and moderation: but let us be followers of the Lord ; for who was ever more unjustly used, more destitute, more despised V IV. A fourth quality, by which the morality of the Gospel is distinguished, is the exclusion of re- gard to fame and reputation. " Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them, otherwise ye have no re- ward of your Father which is in heaven."* " When thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut the door, pray to thy Father which is in secret ; and thy Father which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly."t And the rule, by parity of reason, is extended to all other virtues. I do not think, that either in these, or in any other passage of the New Testament, the pursuit of fame is stated as a vice; it is only said that an action, to be virtuous, must be independent of it. I would also observe, that it is not publicity, but ostentation which is prohibited ; not the mode, but the motive, of the action, which is regulated. A good man will prefer that mode, as well as those objects of his beneficence, by which he can pro- duce the greatest effect ; and the view of this pur- [>ose may dictate sometimes publication, and some- times concealment. Either the one or the other may be the mode of the action, according as the end to be promoted by it appears to require. But from the motire, the reputation of the deed, and the fruits and advantage of that reputation to our- selves, must lie shut out, or, in whatever propor- tion they are not so, the action in that proportion fails of being virtuous. This exclusion of regard to human opinion, is a difference, not so much in the duties to which the teachers of virtue would persuade mankind, as in the manner and topics of persuasion. And in this view the difference is great. When we set about to give advice, our lectures are full of the advantages of character, of the regard that is due to appearances and to opinion ; of what the world, especially of what the good or great, will think and say ; of the value of public esteem, and of the qualities by which men acquire it. Widely different from this was our Saviour's instruction ; and the difference was founded upon the best rea- sons. For, however the care of reputation, the authority of public opinion, or even of the opinion of good men, the satisfaction of being well received and well thought of, the benefit of being known and distinguished, are topics to which we are fain to have recourse in pur exhortations; the true virtue is that which discards these considerations absolutely, and which retires from them all to the single internal purpose of pleasing God. This at least was the virtue which our Saviour taught. And in teaching this, he not only confined the views of his followers to the proper measure and principle of human duty, but acted in consistency with his office as a monitor from heaven. NEXT to what our Saviour taught, may be con- sidered the manner of his teaching : which was extremely peculiar, yet, I think, precisely adapted toJthe peculiarity of his character and situation. His lessons did hot consist of disquisitions ; of any thing like moral essays, or like sermons, or like * Matt. vi. tMatt.vi. 6. 334 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. set treatises upon the several points which he mentioned. When he delivered a precept, it was seldom that he added any proof or argument : still more seldom, that he accompanied it with, what all precepts require, limitations and distinctions. His instructions were conceived in short, empha- tic, sententious rules, in occasional reflections, or in round maxims. I do not think that this was a natural, or would have been a proper method for a philosopher or a moralist ; or that it is a method which can be successfully imitated by us. But I contend that it was suitable to the character which Christ assumed, and to the situation in which, as a teacher, he was placed. He produced himself as a messenger from God. He put the truth of what he taught upon authority.* In the choice, there- fore, of his mode of teaching, the purpose by him to be consulted was impression : because convic- tion, which forms the principal end of our dis- courses, was to arise in the minds of his followers from a different source, from their respect to his person and authority. Now, for the purpose of impression singly and exclusively (I repeat again, that we are not here to consider the convincing of the understanding), I know nothing which would have so great force as strong ponderous maxims, frequently urged, and frequently brought back to the thoughts of the hearers. I know no- thing that could in this view be said better, than " Do unto others as ye would that others should do unto you :" " The first and great command- ment is, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God ; and the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." It must also be remem- bered, that our Lord's ministry, upon the suppo- sition either of one year or three, compared with his work, was of short duration ; that, within this time, he had many places to visit, various audi- ences to address ; that his person was generally besieged by crowds of followers: that he was sometimes driven away from the place where he was teaching by persecution, and at other times, thought fit to withdraw himself from the commo- tions of the populace. Under these circumstances, nothing appears to have been so practicable, or likely to be so efficacious, as leaving, wherever he came, concise lessons of duty. These circum- stances at least show the necessity he was under, of comprising what he delivered within a small compass. In particular, his sermon upon the mount ought always to be considered- with a view to these observations. The question is not, whe- ther a fuller, a more accurate, a more systematic, or a more argumentative, discourse upon morals might not have been pronounced; but whether more could have been said in the same room, bet- ter adapted to the exigencies of the hearers, or better calculated for the purpose of impression 1 Seen in this light, it has always appeared to me to be admirable. Dr. Lardner thought that this discourse was made up of what Christ had said at different times, and on different occasions, several of which occasions are noticed in St. Luke's nar- rative. I can perceive no reason for this opinion. I believe that our Lord delivered this discourse at one time and place, in the manner related by Saint Matthew, and that he repeated the same rules and maxims at different times, as opportunity or * " /say unto you, Swear not at all ; /say unto you, Resist not evil ; /say unto you, Love your enemies." Matt. v. 34. 39. 44. occasion suggested ; that they were often in his mouth, and were repeated to different audiences, and in various conversations. It is incidental to this mode of moral instruc- tion, which proceeds not by proof but upon au- thority, not by disquisition but by precept, that the rules will be conceived in absolute terms, leaving the application, and the distinctions that attend it, to the reason of the hearer. It is like- wise to be expected that they will be delivered in terms by so much the more forcible and energe- tic, as they have to encounter natural or general propensities. It is farther also to be remarked, that many of those strong instances, which a pj tear in our Lord's sermon, such as, " If any man will smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also :" " If any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also:" "Whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain :" though they appear in the form of specific precepts, are intended as de- scriptive of disposition and character. A specific compliance with the precepts would be of little value, but the disposition which they inculcate is of the highest. He who should content himself with waiting for the occasion, and with literally observing the rule when the occasion offered, would do nothing or worse than nothing : but he who considers the character and disposition which is hereby inculcated, and places that disposition before Mm as the model to which he should bring his own, takes, perhaps, the best possible method of improving the benevolence, and of calming and rectifying the vices, of his temper. If it be said that this disposition is unattainable, I answer, so is all perfection : ought therefore a moralist to recommend imperfections 1 One ex- cellency, however, of our Saviour's rules, is, that they are either never mistaken, or never so mis- taken as to do harm. I could feign a hundred cases, in which the literal application of the rule, " of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us," might mislead us : but I never yet met with the man who was actually misled by it. Notwithstanding that our Lord bade his followers "not to resist evil," and " to forgive the enemy who should trespass against them, not till seven times, but till seventy times seven," the Christian world has hitherto suffered little by too much pla- cability or forbearance. I would repeat once more, what has already been twice remarked, that these rules were designed to regulate personal conduct from personal motives, and for this purpose alone. I think that these observations will assist us greatly in placing our Saviour's conduct, as a moral teacher, in a proper point of view ; especi- ally when it is considered, that to deliver moral disquisitions was no part of his design, to teach morality at all was only a subordinate part of it ; his great business being to supply, what was much more wanting than lessons of morality, stronger moral sanctions, and clearer assurances of a future judgment.* * Some appear to require a religious system, or, in the books which profess to deliver that system, minute directions, for every case and occurrence that may arise. This, say they, is necessary to render a revela- tion perfect, especially one which has for its object the regulation of human conduct. Now, how prolix, and yet how incomplete and unavailing, such an attempt must have been, is proved by one notable example: " The Indoo and Mussulman religion are institutes EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 835 The parables of the New Testament are, many of them, such as would have done honour to any book in the world ; I do not mean in style and diction, but in the choice of the subjects, in the structure of the narratives, in the aptness, propri- ety, and force of the circumstances woven into them ; and in some, as that of the good Sama- ritan, the prodigal son, the Pharisee and the pub- lican, in a union of pathos and simplicity, which, in the best productions of human genius, is the fruit only of a much exercised and well cultivated judgment. The Lord's Prayer, for a succession of solemn thoughts, for fixing the attention upon a few great points, for suitableness to every condition, for suf- ficiency, for conciseness without obscurity, foj- the weight and real importance of its petitions, is without an equal or a rival. From whence did these come 1 Whence had this man his wisdom 1 Was our Saviour, in fact, a well-instructed philosopher, whilst he is repre- sented to us as an illiterate peasant 1 Or shall we say that some e;irly Christians of taste and educa- tion composed these pieces and ascribed them to Christ 1 Beside all other incredibilities in tins account. I answer, with Dr. Jortin, that they could not do it. No specimens of composition, which the Christians of the first century have left us, authorize us to believe that they were eijual to the task. And how little qualified the Jews, the countrymen and companions of Christ, were to assist him in the undertaking, may be judged ol from the traditions and writings of theirs which were the nearest to that age. The whole collec- tion of the Talmud is one continued proof, into what follies they fell whenever they left their Bible; and how little capable they were of fur- nishing out such lessons as Christ delivered. BUT there is still another view, in which our Lord's discourses deserve to be considered ; am that is, in their ncgutire character, not in whal they did, but in what they did not, contain Under this head, the following reflections appear to me to possess some weight. I. They exhibit no particular description o the invisible world. The future happiness of the good, and the misery of the bad, which is all we want to be assured of, is directly and positively affirmed, and is represented by metaphors ant comparisons, which were plainly intended as metaphors and comparisons, and as nothing more As to the rest, a solemn reserve is maintained The question concerning the woman who had l>eei married to seven brothers, " Whose shall she be on the resurrection 1" was of a nature calculated tc have drawn from Christ a more circumstantia account of the state of the human species in thei future existence. He cut short, however, the in quiry, by an answer, which at once rebuket intruding curiosity, and was agreeable to the bes apprehensions we are able to form upon the sub of civil law, regulating the minutest questions both o property, and of all questions which come under th coznizance of the magistrate. And to what lengt details of this kind are neccs>arily carried, when onct begun, may be understood from an anecdote of th Mussulman code, which we have received from th most respectable authority, that not less than seventy five thousand traditional precepts have been promu gated." Hamilton's Translation of Hedaya, or Guide. jet, viz. " That they who are accounted worthy f that resurrection, shall be as the angels of God heaven." I lay a stress upon this reserve, be- ause it repels the suspicion of enthusiasm : for nthusiasm is wont to expatiate upon the condi- ton of the departed, above all other subjects; nd with a wild particularity. It is moreover a opic which is always listened to with greediness, 'he teacher, therefore, whose principal purpose is draw upon himself attention, is sure to be full of t. The Koran of Mahomet is half made up of it. II. Our Lord enjoined no austerities. He not nly enjoined none as absolute duties, but he ecommended none as carrying men to a higher egree of divine favour. Place Christianity, in tiis respect, by the side of all institutions which lave been founded in the fanaticism, either of heir author, or of his first followers; or rather x>mpare, in this respect, Christianity as it came rom Christ, with the same religion after it fell nto other hands ; with, the extravagant merit y soon ascribed to celibacy, solitude, voluntary x>verty ; with the rigours of an ascetic, and the rows of a monastic life ; the hair shirt, the watch- ngs, the midnight prayers, the obmutescence, he gloom and mortification of religious orders, and of those who aspired to religious perfection. III. Our Saviour uttered no impassioned devo- ion. There was no heat in his piety, or in the anguage in which he expressed it ; no vehement jr rapturous ejaculations, no violent urgency, in lis prayers. The Lord's Prayer is a model of aim devotion. His words in the garden are un- affected expressions, of a deep indeed, but sober, piety. He never appears to have been worked ip inloany thing like that elation, or that emotion of spirits which is occasionally observed in most of those, to whom the name of enthusiast can in any degree be applied. 1 feel a respect for Me- thodists, because I believe that there is to be found onjrst them much sincere piety, and availing, though not always well-informed, Christianity: yet I never attended a meeting of theirs, but I came away with the reflection, how different what 1 heard was from what I read ! I do not mean in doctrine, with which at present 1 have no con- cern, but in manner ; how different from the calmness, the sobriety, the good sense, and I may add, the strength and authority of our Lord's dis- urses! IV. It is very usual with the human mind, to substitute forwardness and fervency in a particu- lar cause, for the merit of general and regular morality ; and it is natural, and politic also, in the leader of a sect or party, to encourage such a dis- position in his followers. Christ did not overlook this turn of thought ; yet, though avowedly placing himself at tne head of a new institution, ne notices it only to condemn it. " Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say unto me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ? and in^thy name have cast out devils 1 and in thy name done many wonderful works 1 And then will I profess unto you I never knew you : depart from me, ye that work iniquity."* So far was the author of Chris- tianity from courting the attachment of his follow- ers by any sacrifice of principle, or by a conde- * Matt. vii. 21, 22. 336 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. scension to the errors which even zeal in his service might have inspired ! This was a proof both of sincerity and judgment. V. Nor, fifthly, did he fall in with any of the depraved fashions of his country, or with the na- tural bias of his own education. Bred up a Jew, under a religion extremely technical, in an age and amongst a people more tenacious of the cere- monies than of any other part of that religion, he delivered an institution, containing less of ritual, and that more simple than is to be found in any religion which ever prevailed amongst mankind. We have known, I do allow, examples of an enthusiasm, which has swept away all external ordinances before it. But this spirit certainly did not dictate our Saviour's conduct, either in his treatment of the religion of his country, or in the formation of his own institution. In both, he displayed the soundness and moderation of his judgment. He censured an overstrained scrupu- lousness, or perhaps an affectation of scrupulous- ness, about the sabbath : but how did he censure it 1 not by contemning or decrying the institution itself, but by declaring that " the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath ;" that is to say, that the sabbath was to be subordinate to its purpose, and that that purpose was the real good of those who were the subjects of the law. The same concerning the nicety of some of the Pharisees, in paying tithes of the most trifling articles, accompanied with a neglect of justice, fidelity, and mercy. He finds fault with them for misplacing their anxiety. He does not speak disrespectfully of the law of tithes, nor of their observance of it ; but he assigns to each class of duties its proper station in the scale of moral importance. All this might be expected perhaps from a well-instructed, cool, and judicious philoso- pher, but was not to be looked for from an illi- terate Jew; certainly not from an impetuous enthusiast. VI. Nothing could be more quibbling, than were the comments and expositions of the Jewish doctors at that time ; nothing so puerile as their distinctions. Their evasion of the fifth com- mandment, their exposition of the law of oaths, are specimens of the bad taste in morals which then prevailed. Whereas, in a numerous collec- tion of our Saviour's apophthegms, many of them referring to sundry precepts of the Jewish law, there is not to be found one example of sophistry, or of false subtilty, or of any thing approaching thereunto. VII. The national temper of the Jews was intolerant, narrow-minded, and excluding. In Jesus, on the contrary, whether we regard his lessons or his example, we see not only benevo- lence, but benevolence the most enlarged and comprehensive. In the parable of the good Sa- maritan, the very point of the story is, that the person relieved by him, was the national and reli- gipus enemy of his benefactor. Our Lord de- clared the equity of the divine administration, when he told the Jews (what, probably, they were surprised to hear), " That many should come from the east and west, and should sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven ; but that the children of the kingdom should be cast into outer darkness."* His reproof of the hasty zeal of his disciples, who would needs call down fire from heaven to revenge an affront put upon their Master, shows the lenity of his character, and of his religion ; and his opinion of the manner in which the most unreasonable op- ponents ought to be treated, or at least of the manner in which they ought not to be treated. The terms in which his rebuke was conveyed, deserve to be noticed: "Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of."* VIII. Lastly, amongst the negative qualities of our religion, as it came out of the hands of its Founder and his apostles, we may reckon its com- plete abstraction from all views either of ecclesi- astical or civil policy; or, to meet a language much in fashion with some men, from the politics either of priests or statesmen. Christ's declara- tion, that " his kingdom was not of this world," recorded by St. John ; his evasion of the question, whether it was lawful or not to give tribute unto Caesar, mentioned by the three other evangelists ; his reply to an application that was made to him, to interpose his authority in a question of proper- ty ; " Man, who made me a ruler or a judge over you V ascribed to him by St. Luke ; his declin- ing to exercise the office of a criminal judge in the case of the woman taken in adultery, as re- lated by John, are all intelligible significations of our Saviour's sentiments upon this head. And with respect to politics, in the usual sense of that word, or discussions concerning different forms of government, Christianity declines every question upon the subject. Whilst politicians are disput- ing about monarchies, aristocracies, and republics, the gospel is alike applicable, useful, and friendly, to them all; inasmuch as, 1st, it tends to make men virtuous, and as it is easier to govern good men than bad men under any constitution ; as, 2dly, it states obedience to government in ordi- nary cases, to be not merely a submission to force, but a duty of conscience ; as, 3dly, it induces dispositions favourable to public tranquillity, a Christian's chief care being to pass quietly through this world to a better ; as, 4thly, it prays for com- munities, and for the governors of communities, of whatever description or denomination they be, with a solicitude and fervency proportioned to the influence which they possess upon human happi- ness. All which, in my opinion, is just as it should be. Had there been more to be found in Scripture of a political nature, or convertible to political purposes, the worst use would have been made of it, on whichever side it seemed to lie. When, therefore, we consider Christ as a moral teacher{remembering that this was only a second- ary part of his office ; and that morality, by the nature of the subject, does not admit of discovery, properly so called) ; when we consider either what he taught, or what he did not teach, either the substance or the manner of his instruction ; his preference of solid to popular virtues, of a character which is commonly despised to a cha- racter which is universally extolled ; his placing, in our licentious vices, the check in the right place, viz. upon the thoughts ; his collecting of human duty into two well-devised rules, his re- petition of these rules, the stress he laid upon them, especially in comparison with positive du- ties, and his fixing thereby the "sentiments of his *Matt. viii, 11. * Luke ix. 55. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 837 followers ; his exclusion of all regard to reputation in our devotion and alms, and, by parity of rea- son, in our other virtues; when we consider that his instructions were delivered in a form cal- culated for impression, the precise purpose in his situation to be consulted; and that they were illustrated by parables, the choice and structure of which would have been admired in any compo- sition whatever ; when we observe him free from the usual symptoms of enthusiasm, heat and vehe- mence in devotion, austerity in institutions, and a wild particularity in the description of a future state ; free also from the depravities of his age and country; without superstition amongst the most superstitious of men, yet not decrying positive distinctions or external observances, but soberly calling them to the principle of their establishment, and to their place in the scale of human duties; without sophistry or trifling, amidst teachers re- markable for nothing so much as frivolous sub- tilties and quibbling expositions ; candid and liberal in his judgment of the rest of mankind, although belonging to a people who affected a separate claim to divine favour, and, in conse- quence of that opinion, prone to.uncharitableness, partiality, and restriction ; when we find, in his religion, no scheme of building up a hierarchy, or of ministering to the views of human govern- ments; in a word, when we compare Christiani- ty, as it came from its Author, either with other religions, or with itself in other hands, the most reluctant understanding will be induced to ac- knowledge the probity, I think also the good sense, of those to whom it owes its origin ; and that some regard is due to the testimony of such men, when they declare their knowledge that the religion proceeded from God ; and when they appeal, for the truth of their assertion, to mira- cles, which they wrought, or which they saw. Perhaps the qualities which we observe in the religion, may be thought to prove something more. They would have been extraordinary, had the re- ligion come from any person; from the person from whom it did come, they are exceedingly so. AVhat was Jesus in external appearances A Jewish peasant, the son of a carpenter, living with his father and mother in a remote province of Pa- lestine, until the time that he produced himself in his public character. He had no master to instruct or prompt him ; he had read no books, but the works of Moses and the prophets; he had visited no polished cities ; he had received no lessons from Socrates or Plato, nothing to form in him a taste or judgment different from that of the rest of his countrymen, and of persons of the same rank of life with himself. Supposing it to be true, which it is not, that all his points of morality might be picked out of Greek and Roman writings, they were writings which he had never seen. Sup- posing them to be no more than what some or other nad taught in various times and places, he could not collect them together. Who were his coadjutors in the undertaking, the persons into whose hands the religion came after his death 1 A few fishermen upon the lake of Tiberias, persons just as uneducated, and, for the purpose of framing rules of morality, as un- promising^ as himself. Suppose the mission to be real, all this is accounted for; the unsuitableness of the authors to the production, of the characters to the undertaking, no longer surprises us : but without reality, it is very difficult to explain, how such a system should proceed from such persons. Christ was not like any other carpenter ; the apos- tles were not like any other fishermen. But the subject is not exhausted by these ob- servations. That portion of it which is most redu- cible to points of argument, has been stated, and, I trust, truly. There are, however, some topics, of a more diffuse nature, which yet deserve to be proposed to the reader's attention. The character of Christ is a part of the mo- rality of the gospel : one strong observation upon which is, that, neither as represented by his fol- lowers, nor as attacked by his enemies, is he charged with any personal vice. This remark is as old as Qrigen : " Though innumerable lies and calumnies had been forged against the venerable Jesus, none had dared to charge him with an in- temperance."* Not a reflection u[>on his moral character, not an imputation or suspicion of any offence against purity and eh-.istity, appears for live hundred years after his birth. This fault- lessness is more peculiar than we are apt to ima- gine. Some stain pollutes the morals or the mo- rality of almost every other teacher, and of every other lawgiver.t Zeno the stoic, and Diogenes the cynic, fell into the foulest impurities ; of which also Socrates, himself was more' than suspected. Solon forbade unnatural crimes to slaves. Ly- curgus tolerated theft as a part of education. Pla^ to recommended a community of women. Aris- totle maintained the general right of making war upon barbarians. The elder Cato was remarkable for the ill usage of his slaves ; the younger gave up the person of his wife. One loose principle is found in almost all the pagan moralists ; is dis- tinctly, however, perceived in the writings of Pla- to, Xenophon, Cicero, Seneca, Epictetus ; and that is, the allowing, and even the recommending to their disciples, a compliance with the religion, and with the religious rites, of every country into into which they came. In speaking of the found- ers of new institutions, we cannot forget Mahomet. His licentious transgressions of his own licentious rules ; his abuse of the character which he as- sumed, and of the power which he had acquired, for the purposes of personal and privileged indul- gence ; his avowed claim of a special permission from heaven of unlimited sensuality, is known to every reader, as it is confessed by every writer, of the Moslem story. *P Secondly, In the histories which are left us of Jesus Christ, although very short, and although dealing in narrative, and not in observation or panegyric, we perceive, beside the absence of eve- ry appearance of vice, traces of devotion, humility, benignity, mildness, patience, prudence. I speak of traces of those qualities, because the qualities themselves are to be collected from incidents ; in- asmuch as the terms are never used of Christ in the Gospels, nor is any formaf character of him drawn in any part of the New Testament. Thus we see the deroutness of his mind, in his frequent retirement to solitary prayer ;t in his habitual giving of thanks ; in his reference of the beauties and operations of nature to the bounty * Or. Ep. Gels. 1. 3. num. 36. ed. Bened. t See many instances collected by Grotius, de Veritate Christiana; Religionis, in the notes to his second book, p. 116. Pocock's edition. Matt. xiv. 23. Luke ix. 38. Matt. xxvi. 36. Matt, xi.25. Markviii.(5. John vi. 23. Luke xxii. 17 338 EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. of Providence ;* in his earnest addresses to his Father, more particularly that short but solemn one before the raising of Lazarus from the dead ;t and in the deep piety of his behaviour in the gar- den, on the last evening of his lite :t his humility, in his constant reproof of contentions for superi- ority : the benignity and allectionateness of his temper, in his kindness to children; II in the tears which he shed over his falling country, IT and upon the death of his friend ;** in his noticing of the widow's mite ;+t in his parables of the good Samaritan, of the ungrateful servant, and of the Pharisee and publican, of which parables no one but a man of humanity could have been the au- thor: the mildness and lenity of his character is discovered, in his rebuke of the forward zeal of his disciples at the Samaritan village ;tt in his expostulation with Pilate ; in his prayer for his enemies at the moment of his suffering,!! II which, though it has been since very properly and fre- quently imitated, was then, I apprehend, new. His prudence is discerned, where prudence is most wanted, in his conduct on trying occasions, and in answers to artful questions. Of these, the following are examples: His withdrawing, in various instances, from the first symptoms of tu- mult,1Fir and with the express care, as appears from St. Matthew,*** of carrying on his ministry in quietness ; his declining of every species of in- terference with the civil affairs of the country, which disposition is manifested by his behaviour in the case of the woman caught in adultery ,ttt and in his repulse of the application which was made to him, to interpose his decision about a dis- puted inheritance :t$t his judicious, yet, as it should seem, unprepared answers, will be confessed in the case of the Roman tribute ; in the diffi- culty concerning the interfering relations of a fu- ture state, as proposed to him in the instance of a woman who had married seven brethren ;ll II II and, more especially, in his reply to those who de- manded from him an explanation of the authority by which he acted, which reply consisted, in pro- pounding a question to them, situated between the very difficulties into which they were insidi- ously endeavouring to draw /um.1I"Hir Our Saviour's lessons, besides what has already been remarked in them, touch, and that often- times by very affecting representations, upon some of the most interesting topics of human duty, and of human meditation: upon the principles, by which the decisions of the last day will be regu- lated:**** upon the superior, or rather the su- preme, importance of religion :tttt upon peni- tence, by the most pressing calls, and the most encouraging invitations ;tttt upon self-denial, watchfulness,!! II II II placability ,1T1T1Tir confidence in God,***** the value of spiritual, that is, of mental worship,ttttt the necessity of moral obedience, fJohnxi. 41. Markix. 33. IT Luke xix. 41. ft Mark xii. 42. John xix. H. Matt. vi. 2628. J Matt. xxvi. 3647. || Mark x. 16. I* John xi. 35. tt Luke ix. 55. HHLukexxiii. 34. HIT Matt. xiv. 22. Luke v. 15, 16. John v. 13 ; vi. 15. ***Chap. xii 19. ttt John viii. 1. Jft Luke xii.14. 8S5 Matt. xxii. 19. || || || Matt. xxii. 28. ITirir Matt. xxi. 23, &c. **** Matt. xxv. 31,&c. irk viii.35. Matt.vi. 3133. Luke xii.4, 5.1621. uke xv. Matt. v. 29. [ark xiii. 37. Matt. xxiv. 42. xxv. 13. Luke xvii. 4. Matt, xviii. 33, &c. ***** Matt. vi. 2530. ftttt John iv. 23, 24. and the directing of that obedience to the spirit and principle of the law, instead of seeking for evasions in a technical construction of its terms.* If we extend our argument toother parts of the New Testament, we- may offer, as amongst the best and shortest rules of life, or, which is the same thing, descriptions of virtue, that have ever been delivered, the following passages : "Pure religion, and undefined, before God and the Father, is this; to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself un- spotted from the world." t " Now the end of the commandment is, charity, out of a pure heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned. "t " For the grace of God that bringeth salvation, hath appeared to all men, teaching us, that deny- ing ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world." Enumerations of virtues and vices, and those sufficiently accurate, and unquestionably just, are given by Saint Paul to his converts in three seve- ral Epistles. II The relative duties of husbands and wives, of parents and children, of masters and servants, of Christian teachers%nd their flocks, of governors and their subjects, are set forth by the same wri- ter, IT not indeed with the copiousness, the detail, or the distinctness, of a moralist, who should, in these days, sit down to write chapters upon the subject, but with the leading rules and principles in each ; and, above all, with truth, and with au- thority. Lastly, the whole volume of the New Testa- ment is replete with piety; with, what were almost unknown to heathen moralists, devotional virtues, the most profound veneration of the Deity, an habitual sense of his bounty and protection, a firm confidence in the final result of his counsels and dispensations, a disposition to resort, upon all occasions, to his mercy, for the supply of human wants, for assistance in danger, for relief from pain, for the pardon of sin. CHAPTER III. The Candour of the Writers of the New Testament. I MAKE this candour to consist, in their putting down many passages, and noticing many circum- stances, which no writer whatever was" likely to have forged ; and which no writer would have chosen to appear in his book, who had been care- ful to present the story in the most unexception- able form, or who had thought himself at liberty to carve and mould the particulars of that story, according to his choice, or according to his judg- ment of the effect. A strong and well-known example of the fair- ness of the evangelists, offers itself in their Ac- count of Christ's resurrection, namely, in their unanimously stating, that after he was risen, he appeared to his disciples alone. I do not mean *Matt. v. 21. f James i. 27. 11 Tim. i. 5. Tit. ii. 11, 12. H Gal. v. 19. Col. iii. 12. 1 Cor. xiii. 1T Eph. v. 33 ; vi. 1. 5. 2 Cor. vi. 6, 7. Rom. xiii. EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 339 that they have used the exclusive word alone ; but that all the instances which they have record- ed of his appearance, are instances of appearance to his disciples ; that their reasonings upon it, and allusions to it, are confined to this supposition ; and that, by one of them, Peter is made to say. " Him God raised up the third day, and showed him openly, not to all the people, but to witnesses chosen before of God, even to us, who did eat and drink with him after he rose from the dead/' * The most common understanding must have perceived, that the history of the resurrection would have come with more advantage, if they had related that Jesus ap[>cared, after he was risen, to his foes as well as his friends, to the Scribes and Pharisees, the Jewish council, and the Roman governor ; or even if they had asserted the public apj>ea ranee of Christ in general uquali- fied terms, without noticing, as they have done, the presence of his disciples on each occasion, and noticing it in such a manner as to lead their read- ers to suppose that none but disciples were pre- sent. They could have represented it in one way as well as the other. And if their point had been, to have the religion believed, whether true or false; if they had fabricated the story ab initio ; or if they had been disposed either to have deliver- ed their testimony as witnesses, or to have worked up their materials and information as historians, in such a manlier as t;> render their narrative as specious and unobjectionable as they could ; in a word, if they had thought of any thing but of the truth of the ease, as they understood and believed it ; they would, in their account of Christ's several appearances after his resurrection, at least have omitted this restriction. At this distance of time, the account as we have it, is perhaps more credi- ble than it would have leen the other way ; be- cause this manifestation of the historians' candour, is of more advantage to their testimony, than the difference in the circumstances of the account would have been to the nature of the evidence. But this is an effect which the evangelists would not foresee : and I think that it was by no means the case at the time when the books were com- posed. Mr. Gibbon has argued for the genuineness of the Koran, from the confessions which it contains to the apparent disadvantage of the Mahometan cause, t The same defence vindicates the genu- ineness of our Gospels, and without prejudice to the cause at all. There are some other instances in which the evangelists honestly relate what, they must have perceived, would make against them. Of this kind is John the Baptist's message, pre- served by Saint Matthew, (xi. 2,) and Saint Luke (vii. 18) : " Now when John had heard in the prison the works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples, and said unto him, Art thou he that should come, or look we for another V To con- fess, still more to state, that John the Baptist had his doubts concerning the character of Jesus, could not but afford a handle to cavil and objec- tion. But truth, like honesty, neglects apj>ear- ances. The same observation, perhaps, holds concerning the apostacy of Judas. * * Acts x. 40, 41. t Vol. ir. c. 50. note 96. J I had once placed amongst these example's of fair concession, the remarkable words of Saint Matthew, in his account of Christ's appearance upon the Galilean John vi. 66. " From that time, many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him." Was it the part of a writer, who dealt in Suppression and disguise, to put down this anec- dote'? Or this, which Matthew has preserved? (xii. 58:) " He did not many mighty works there, be- cause of their unbelief." Again, in the same evangelist: (v. 17, 18:) " Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets ; I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil : for, verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one" jot, or one tittle, shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled." At the time the Gospels were written, the apparent ten- dency of Christ's mission was tp~ diminish the authority of the Mosaic code, andit was so con- sidered by the Jews themselves. It is very improba- ble, therefore, that without the constraint of truth, Matthew should have ascribed a saying to Christ, which, primo intuitu, militated with the judg- ment of the age in which hia Gospel was writ- ten. Marcion thought this text so objectionable that he altered the words, so as to invert the sense. IT Once more: (Acts xxv. 18, 19:) "They brought none accusation against him, of such as I supposed, but nad certain questions jiL'ainst him of their own superstition, and of one Jesus which was dead, whom Paul affirmed to be alive." Nothing could be more in the character of a Roman governor than these words. But that is not precisely the point I am concerned with. A mere panegyrist, or a dishonest narrator, would not have represented his cause, or have made a great magistrate represent it, in this manner ; t. e. in terms not a little disparaging, and bespeaking, on his part, much unconcern and indifference about the matter. The same observation may be will be no judge of such matters." Lastly, where do we discern a stronger mark of candour, or less disposition to extol and magni- fy, than in the conclusion of the same history 1 in which the evangelist, after relating that Paul, on his first arrival at Rome, preached to the Jewg from morning until evening, adds, " And some believed the things which were spoken, and some believed not." The following, I think, are passages which were very unlikely to have presented themselves to the mind of a forger or a fabulist. mountain : " And when they saw him, they worshipped him ; but some doubted." J I have since, however, been convinced by what is observed concerning this pas- sage, in Dr. Townshend's discourse upon the resur- rection, that the transaction, as related by Saint Mat- thew, was really this : "Christ appeared first at a dis- tance; the greater part of the company, the moment they saw him, worshipped, but some, as yet, t. e. upon the first distant view of his person, doubted ; where- upon < 'lirist came up \\ to them, and spake to them," &c. : that the doubt, therefore, was a doubt only at first, for a moment, and upon his being seen at a distance, and was aft ,