BIOSQ • •• • • * • • • :• ••• • DIAL OF LIFE, EXPLAINED. Z^^-7t TO WHICH IS ADDED, A TRANSLATION OF ST. PAULINUS'S EPISTLE TO CELANTIA, ON THE RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE *. AND AN ELEMENTARY VIEW OF GENERAL CHRONOLOGY j WITH A R AND LUNAR THE AUTH&H.QF** THE CHRISTIAN'S SURVEY/' S^c. LONDON : PRINl'ED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1812. THE DAYS OF OUR AGE ARE SEVENTY YEARS. Ptfalm, xc. 10. HOW OLD ART THOU? GcD. xlvii. 8. WALK CIRCUMSPECTLY^ REDEEMING THE TIME. Eph. V. 15, 16. ^js^^f^'Wlt^Y = U! M «. aiai Bcath. Jculp* Putlifhed Ijy "V\5Iliaiii MiHer. AlTjemarle Street, i^ril I.l8l2 . MiYKtt*. ^m^4'/-^ ^'^m^x^ Ak THE BIOSCOPE. Go Dial ! measure of our years, Measure of earthly hopes and fears ; And, in Thy friendly purpose bold. Thy plain and artless tale unfold. In Thee no subtlety we see ; Clear is the truth that speaks in Thee ; Truth, such as may at once impart Conviction to the guileless heart. To each. Thy various office lend : Rememb'rer, Monitor, and Friend. Let past experience serve, to guide The present moments as they glide ; And point them to thsit future goal, Where Heaven may take the passing soul. VI Though plain and simple be Thy guise, Let none Thy simpleness despise ; But bid them know, if us'd aright, That simpleness is match'd with might. For Thine the pow'r, to redeem Time vanish'd as the vanished dream ; Thine is the blessed power, to close In endless bliss a hfe of woes ; And Thine the pow'r, when life's deceit Too far hath urged her fatal cheat. To snatch from ruin on the brink, And teach a thoughtless world to THINK. ERRATA. Page 20, line 6, for ingenious, read ingenuous. 57, 3 from bottom, dele in. 66, 8, for as an end, read by its end. 278, 4, — from, read in. 286, (Table) — 4001, 4000. . 1095^ 1079. PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. " HoTF Old art thou?*' was a question addressed by a great king to an ancient patriarch ; and it drew forth that memorable judgment upon a long life, which is known to every one who is acquainted with his Bible. Although this question would be esteemed a very uncourtly one, in modern times, for one person to ask another, it is nevertheless one of the most momentous, for every indi- vidual to address frequently and seriously to himself; because, unless we frequently ask ourselves this question, so as to live under a continual sense of the fact which must sup- ply the answer, it will be hardly possible for us always to maintain that correspondence between our minds and our years, which the . B 2 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. laws of our moral being require, and sup- pose; which depends altogether, upon the degree of attention we habitually pay, to our progress in time. If we fairly consult our experience of human nature, either in ourselves or others, we shall presently perceive, that although the progress of life is rendered, by God's ordinance, most regular and uniform, yet the concern which the mind takes in that progress, is most irregular and contradic- tory. For, the propensity to inquire " Hozc old am J?*' which we all discover, with so much alacrity, in the outset of life, com- monly slackens as life advances; and when it is declining towards its end, we would willingly abstain from the inquiry alto- gether: just as if the circumstance which gave life its importance, stood somewhere in the middle of its course; which being passed, our interest in the progress of life passed also. Whereas, it is most certain, that the circumstance which alone gives real importance to life, stands always at the end of its career; so that, until wc shall PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 3 have reached that circumstance, the ques- tion ^^ How old am IT^ ought to engage our concern more and more every year, and not cease to engage it, until years and bodily existence have passed away together. In the first ascent of life, we are apt to ask ourselves, " How old am IV* with so much overweening eagerness, that we sel- dom take time for making a sound reflec- tion upon the answer. In the descent of life, we do not care to ask ourselves the question at all, and consequently, we have no answer to reflect upon. In the ascent, we press forward upon time, and prema- turely assume the consequence and fruits of years. In the descent, we hang back- ward from the current of the stream, and persuade ourselves that we still retain the privileges, if not the ornaments, of youth. In both cases, the gradual and orderly pro- cess of nature is violently opposed by the irregularity of our minds ; our thoughts become dissociated from our years ; and hence arise, so frequently, those two un- 4 PRELIMINAKY CHAPTER. seemly characters in human life, presump* tuous youth, and trifling old age. But the difference is great between the two ; for, presumptuous youth may, by the indulgence of time and the intervention of reflection, correct its failing, and terminate in a venerable old age ; whereas trifling and worldly old age has very little prospect of a change from the counsels of reflection, and still less from the indulgence of time. Nothing can be more prejudicial to our mental interest, or more derogatory to our moral dignity, than the discordance which is thus produced between our minds and our years. This it was, that called forth that severe, yet not ill-founded, sarcasm of the poet : — " All mankind mistake their time of day. Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green. Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent, Folly sings six^ while Nature points to tzoelve.*' This, surely, is one strong motive, for en- deavouring always to preserve a just pro- PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 5 portion, and balance, between the tenour of our thoughts, and the number of our years. But another, and a far more weighty, argument for that practice, arises from a due consideration of the average quantity of human hfe. ' The average measure of human life, is set at SEVENTY YEARS. In evidence of this important fact, we have the testimony of Moses, in the ancient church of God; of Solon, and Hippocrates, in the ancient heathen world ; and it is confirmed to us, by the universal experience and suffrage of all the succeeding generations of mankind. Now, it is natural for us to inquire two things : first. Who fixed that average ? secondly, Wliy that average was fixed ? To the first question, the answer is ob- vious and immediate : it was fixed by Him, who gave the life. Again, if we ask. Why He fixed that average; Why, out of all the possible pro- portions of time, exceeding that measure, He should have determined the average allowance of human life exactly to seventy O PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. years, the answer is equally obvious : be- cause He deemed it sufficient. But, sufficient is a relative quality, relative to some end or purpose to which it suffices. What, then, was the end or purpose, for which the Giver of life deemed seventy years of life, more or less, to be a sufficient measure for man ? To answer this question, we must ascend to the contemplation of those purposes of God in creation, which are rendered cog- nizable by our capacities. The design of God, in producing this created universe by His power. His wisdom, and His goodness, constitutes what we denominate the will of God. In this visible part of that great work, the will of the Creator is accomplished by tzm different kinds oi agents, formed by Him for their several and distinct uses : the one, necessary agents; the oiher, moral agents. Necessary agents perform the will of their Creator, necessarily, by an exercise of His own power operating in them; and con- tinuing uniform and equal, as they were at first put into action by Him. It is thus PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 7 that planets revolve in their orbits ; light is transmitted from the sun ; winds impel the clouds ; rains descend to the earth ; dews rise into the air ; seeds unfold their plants ; birds, bees, and all animals, fulfil their func- tions, and display their various admirable instincts. In these, and every other action, where the agent is not a moral agent, the action is determined necessarily j by the attri- butes of the Creator himself; and, conse- quently, the action in all those agencies is perfect, being the act of the Creator ; and is as perfect at the first, as it is at any sub- sequent period. The planets moved as ex- actly, the rains fell as truly, the seeds pro- duced as completely, the birds, bees, and all animals, exercised their instincts as excel- lently, on the first day of their creation, as in this late period of the world : no previous trial, no exercising, or apprenticing, was requisite, to make them execute, with certainty and precision, the purposes for which their Creator had brought them into being. 8 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. But, with respect to moral agents, the case was far otherwise; the nature of the agency for which they were designed, was essentially different. Moral agents were formed to accomplish the will or purpose of their Creator, not by any exercise of His power acting in them in the way of impulse, but by a free, spontaneous, and affectionate co-- operation in His designs. The Creator in- tended, that His moral agents should give effect to His wise and gracious purposes, by the concurring action of their own wills, acting in harmony and concert with His. For that end, they were gifted by Him with a separate moral will, or principle of free-^ agency, capable of determining their own actions; they were made acquainted with the rule o/'His supreme will, by which He designed that their own wills should be regulated and determined ; they were fur- nished with powers of understanding and reflection^ with sentiments of hope and fear, to influence the determination ; and in that exalted and blessed alliance, he had pre- PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. Q pared, for these agents, the greatest perfec- tion of happiness, to which it was possible their natures could attain. But here was a lamentable difference be- tween the fitness of the two agents for ac- complishing the purposes for which they were respectively formed. The necessary agents, acting only by the perfect attributes of the Creator, necessarily and always accom- plished his purposes, at first as well as at last ; because there was in them a secure and perfect operation; that of His own will. But the moral agents, who were required to act immediately from themselves, by con- forming their wills to the rule prescribed by His will ; but who, at the same time, were free in power to depart from that rule, by inclining in other directions, contained within themselves a principle of insecuriti/f which was not in the former: as every man must recognise in his own nature. Though rightly directed at their first formation, and endowed with a capacity to preserve that right tendency, they did not possess in them-^ selves a determined and uniform inclination 10 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. to the rule of the supreme will ; of which they were destined to be, not necessary and mechanical, but moral and self-determining agents. The consequence was, that their agency failed. Not casually, or of necessity, hut by a criminal and unfaithful desertion of the powers by which it might have been fulfilled. Their wills became adverse to the SUPREME WILL, wMch ALONE mUSt gOVCm. That failure introduced disorder into the creation ; a disorder, offensive to the Crea- tor, because counteractive of His purpose; and the agent, thenceforth, became ob- noxious to all the possible effects of his infinite and tremendous power. But His infinite goodness, foreknowing the evil, had, from the first, provided a remedy against it, that He might " display His mercy upon all'' That practical evi- dence, of the innate insecurity of these moral agents, having so far demonstrated their imperfection, and humbled their pretensions, " that no individual could exalt himself;'' God contrived a dispensation, of the most stu- pendous and comprehensive benignity, (that PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 11 of THEIR REDEMPTION, through His Soil our Lord Jesus Christ,) for reinstating them in their original condition, and re- storing to them all the privileges which they had forfeited by their failure. He gave them a more distinct, enlarged, and impressive rule, for determining their wills ; (first, in His Law, and afterwards more particularly in His Gospel;) He admi- nistered to them an increase of powers, peculiarly adapted to the nature oi free-zdlls, (by means of the co-operating succours of His Holy Spirit,) for enabling them to reduce their wills into a conformity with His sovereign will ; He condescended to reveal to them the common interest which they shared with Him, their Creator, in fulfilling His ultimate scheme in the creation ; He urged them above all things, to acquire, and establish in themselves, an habitual dis- position of conforming with His supreme and eternal laws, as being indispensably necessary for rendering sure and complete the agency which will be required from them in that ultimate scheme; (which will 12 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. consist, in the final application, and employ- ment , of the several moral agents, after their wills shall have once acquired a settled, and sufficiently fixed, bias torcards the will of their Creator;) and He assigned them an average measure of life, limited to seventy years, more or less, as a measure of time amply sufficient for acquiring that disposition of con^ formity. If the will, instructed by the reason, guided by the judgment, and admonished by the conscience, acquired no such habi- tual disposition, in any degree, within the allotted time, it was well known to the om- niscient Creator, that the moral agent would never answer the gracious purposes for which He had finally intended him; and that his remaining any longer here, was wholly unnecessary, he having wasted and exhausted the powers assigned him for pro- secuting his moral perfection. If, on the other hand, the disposition was, in a certain degree, known to the Creator, well established and confirmed, his end was answered ; it was needless that he should be left any PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 13 longer here, since God himself would finish and complete what remained to be done, in another stage of existence. The SEVENTY YEARS of life, are therefore assigned to man, as an allowance of time, sufficient for establishing in his will, an habit of conforming itself to the manifested WILL OF THE Creator ; which habit being once acquired, he will be able hereafter to fulfil, and execute, a 'perfect agency, when that great stage, or period of the creation shall be arrived, for which he is here upon trial, and in training. The perfection for which he is designed, can only be acquired by degrees, and by a continuance in the same course of action for a definite term of time. Exercise and practice are indispensably ne- cessary, for creating habit ; and habit, is iall that the Creator looks for from His moral agents, in this their period of imperfection and preparation. By a fundamental law of this part of His universe, a continuance, for a certain time, in any one course or direc- tion, produces a. facility, or fixed tendency, which fixed tendency is called habit; either 14 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. towards the rule of action, or in opposition to it. And, by the same law, habits once contracted, may be subdued and overruled, by contrary habits resolutely superinduced upon them. If a conforming habit is once established, in a sufficient degree, the agent is removed ; and is " made perfect,^ by some unknown act of divine confirmation, subse- quent to his removal. As, therefore, such moral agents as man indispensably require a preliminary interval of exercise, before they can become sure agents for God to introduce, and employ, in a state of perfect existence and society ; we plainly discern theseyb?/r things. First, that the first state of such an agent, under a government of wisdom, must be a state of probation or of training. Secondly, that he must be placed apart from perfected agents, so long as he is under discipline ; that his imperfections may not communi- cate their evils to the perfect parts of the creation. Thirdly, that such a separated state, must of necessity abound with a great intermixture of good and evil, and with a PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 15 very general appearance of confusion, result- ing from the various and conflicting con- duct, of the various moral agents who are under trial. And, lastly, that such a state of trial can only be an elementary, or inci- pient state, conducing to another, which is the principal and final one for which they were originally designed. Now, if we add to these considerations, that of the mo- men tousyizc^, that WE, OURSELVES, are now living in such an elementary or incipient state, conducing to a principal and perfect state ; that an average measure of seventy YEARS, more or less, is allotted to us, to qualify ourselves for that state ; and that our final participation in it, or exclusion from it, depends, really and absolutely, upon the use we shall have made of that preliminary allotynent of time; it will need no great saga- city to discern the importance, above all things, of applying that measure, precarious at the best, to the end for which it was allotted. We cannot, therefore, exercise ourselves with too much activity and diligence, in 16 PltELIMINARY CHAPTER. contemplating that average measure of time^ and in considering its parts and nature. Such a practice will keep us always in- structed in their true value; it will prevent us, on the one hand, from under-rating the parts with respect to the whole measure ; and from over-rating that whole measure^ with respect to the infinite measure of existence which is to succeed. For, since SEVENTY YEARS, though amply sufficient for the end designed, supplies nothing for intentional and deliberate waste, we must economize, and wisely husband, the particles of time which compose them. We must discreetly watch over those smaller parts of life ; not as being of importance in themselves, but because they constitute the whole of the term assigned us, for fixing the quality of the life which shall follow. Again, since those seventy years con- duct us immediately into another stage of existence, which has no change or termi- nation, we must be careful not to attach to the former, an opinion of importance, which belongs only to the latter. For, " the oldest PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 1? " men," says the experience of the late Archdeacon Paley, ** when they look back " on their past life, see it in a very narrow " compass. It appears no more than a " small interval cut out of eternal duration, " both before a?id after it : when compared " with that duration, as nothing^'." We are not however to imagine, that seventh/ years is a quantity of time, neces- sarily requisite for a moral agent to acquire a secure tendency towards his perfection, supposing the incHnation of his will to be originally, and always, right and sure; for then a shorter period might have sufficed: but it is a measure, largely and liberally allotted by God, with allowance for much delay and aberration, provided the tendency of the agent be, at length, decidedly and steadily determiaed, tozcards the rule of his perfection. This being the case, it becomes our highest, and most manifest interest, to tnow> and to observe well, our actual station ♦ Sermon xxxi. p. 463. iC 18 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. within the average measure of life ; to con- sider the true relation which our actual station bears to the averaged end; to im- press our minds with a conviction of the uncertainty of our ever reaching that end; and, to ascertain the degree of habit, which we have already acquired, of conforming our wills to the governing will : which is the sole end for which we are placed in this part of the universe, and indeed the only reason why we were created at all. Awakened to such a contemplation as this, the mind at once views time, under all its relations ; by the united action of its reflection, its memory, and \i^ forethought. By these, it dwells upon the consideration of time present, time past, and time future. It sees them in all their bearings ; it compares the past, and applies the rule of the com- parison to the future; and it at length becomes practically sensible of the extreme value of those fleeting particles, which we constantly denominate now, and which pass away continually, like the sands in the hour-glass, until all are exhausted. PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. Ij) These are, doubtless, great and awful truths ; and the mind, once brought to re- cognise them, cannot fail to draw all the inferences, the principal of which have been here sketched out. But it is a fact not to be disputed, humiliating as the acknowledg- ment of it may be; (the author, for one, has often experienced it in himself;) that the noblest practical truths, and the most powerful demonstrations in morals and reli- gion, however laboriously and triumphantly established, lie too commonly neglected, and miapplied, upon the page which gave them light: the inertness of our common nature, like the indolence of a relaxed or exhausted stomach, requiring to be roused, from time to time, by some pungency of novelty ; and refusing to take the benefit of the most nutritious aliment, unless excited by some- thing new and artificial in the vehicle or savour. Thus it is, that parable and alle- gory have, in all ages, been found capable of stirring the mind, even when the powers of eloquence and demonstration have failed of all their eflfects. 20 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. It IS not, that we stand in need of any instruction, to teach us the value of time, and the importance of balancing our minds and our years. Of that, we have an ample store; both in the waitings of wise and ingenious heathens, and in those of en- lightened and faithful Christians. The two little tracts, by two heathen philosophers; that upon Old Jge, by Cicero, and that on the Shortness of Life, by Seneca ; abound with truths, both of statement and argument, upon that subject, which are sufficient to make most Christians blush. And the num- berless treatises of our own Christian philo- sophers, hold out to us, at every page, truths of authority and power, sufficient to startle every Christian, upon the same momentous article : the correspondence, which ought invariably to be maintained between our THOUGHTS and our years, in our progress through Ife. But, although we are in no want of in- struction for that end, we are plainly in want of something, to excite and encourage us to use that instruction ; something, which may PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 21 constantly remind us of the perpetual lapse of time, and of the important change which that perpetual lapse is perpetually produ- cing in the circumstances of our present being ; something, which, instead of leaving us to the mercy of our own reflection, whose indolence and infidelity are but too well demonstrated, may seize upon, and fix our attention^ by some powerful and sensible impression. To supply an auxiliary of this nature ; simple in its construction ; convenient in its form ; intelligible in its design ; easy in its use ; clear in its indications ; sure and im- mediate in its effect ; by means of which, the due correspondence between our minds and our years may, at any moment, be ascertained, confirmed, or restored ; and by that means, any failure in the exercise of our agency be presently redressed; the scheme of The Bioscope was first ima- gined ; and it is now offered, after an expe- riment of some years, to the closets and the studies of the serious and the wise. It pre- tends not to add any thing new to the store 22 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. of moral instruction, which has been so richly poured out upon us by the labours of those, whom God has raised up, indifferent ages, for hghts to guide our course ; it only pretends to contiibute a means, and to furnish an occasion, for applying that instruction; and, as a general regulator, to render it easy for the mind, to keep always an even and measured pace with the years of life, so that it may always find itself at its natural post in time, whenever its agency shall be called for ; in order that, " when its " Lord Cometh, He may find it watching. ^^ For, blessed are those servants, whom His " Lord when He cometh shall find so doing : " and if He shall come in the second watch, " or come in the third watch, and find them *' so, blessed are those servants!" How far these pretensions may be justi- fied, must appear from the follow! ngDescr^p- tion of the Dial, and explanation of its Use* DESCRIPTION OF THE BIOSCOPE- The bioscope is a dial, or scale, consisting of seven-eighths of a circle, and divided into seventy degrees^ answering to the average number of the years of human life ; v^hich average number, as we have seen, has in all ages been set at seventy years. The seven decimal divisions of the scale, which represent the seven decimal divisions of life, are characterized by certain qua' lities, which will be found to belong, pro- perly, to some part, or other, of each of 24 DESCRIPTION OF those seven divisions or periods, in their order and progress, viz. 1. Childhood. 2. Youth. 3. Manhood, 4. Vigour. 5. Maturity. 6. Decline. 7. Decay. Of the years to which human Hfe may- attain, over and above the average measure, no account is taken ; for the following reasons : 1. Because it is designed to take a rule, which shall be of the most general appli- cation. 2. Because no average can be formed of that excess: " Omnium cEtatum certus est " terminits, senectutis autem nullus certus est " terminus,'^ — " Every age," says Cicero, " has its certain end, except old age ; " which has no certain end." It is, there- THE BIOSCOPE- ^5 fore, necessary to abide by the general average. 3. Because, as the Psalmist pronounces, they " are but labour and sorrozc ;" being very few in number, passing soon away, and most commonly yielding an evident proof of the smallness of their profit. 4. Because, as Bishop Taylor observes, " very old age is but a longer sickness;^' or, as Seneca speaks, " an incurable sick- " ness — senectus insanabilis morbus est:'* a multiplication of the infirmities incident to a decaying frame, and therefore rather to be placed to the account of death than of life; being, more commonly, a. preliminary of the dissolution which constitutes the lat- ter, than a true prolongation of the powers which are essential to the former. 5. But, lastly and chiefly, because the moral effect of the instrument will be most efficaciously shown, by the sensible demon- stration, that we have outlived the average measure of our lives; and by finding, on looking upon the bioscope, that we have i6 DESCRIPTION OF outlasted its functions, and have no longer any concern in its indications. The space, between the two extremities of the scale, is marked by eternity; that stupendous state, which preceded the origin of our being, and which will immediately follow the termination of its present tem.- porary condition. And the dial begins and ends upon the verge of eternity, because human life begins from eternity past, and ends in eternity to come. From that point, a celestial effulgence appears to be emitted; and because the lightsomeness and glee of infancy displays so lively and affecting an evidence of the divine brightness from which it springs; and because we are humbly to hope, and to believe, that the gloom of age will finally merge and settle in the same divine bright- ness ; the rays of that effulgence are repre- sented as diffusing their lustre, equally over the beginning and end of life ; thereby con- trasting the clouds, and storms, which more or less attend the middle stages of every human life. THE BIOSCOPE. £7 Lastly, a moveable index is affixed, which may be directed to any degree marked upon the scale. To the dial, thus disposed, the name of BIOSCOPE has been assigned, as a term simply and clearly expressive of its design ; being formed from two Greek words, bios, /3ioj, signifying life; and scopeo, crKOTrEco, to observe, or survey. For, as the name of ho- roscope — u^oa-HOTTog'^, was anciently given to a scale, formed to show the number, and the progress, of the hours of the day ; there seemed a strict propriety in calling, by the name of bioscope, a scale, designed to exhibit the general measure, and progress, of the human life. ♦ Note. Hardouini in Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. c. 64, et Steph. Iwex. Graec. torn. iv. col. 789. THE USE or THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 1. By the use of the Bioscope is meant, not its mechanical use, which is too plain to need any explanation, but the moral, and practical use, which a regular and continued attention to its simple mechanism is abund- antly able to afford. And in order to exem- plify that use, and to render it familiarly apparent, I shall lay before the reader some of the reflections, which a continued ob- servation of its indications has already sug^- gested; leaving it to him to extend and multiply them hereafter, by the exercise of his own meditation. These reflections I so THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. shall endeavour to detail, as they have occa- sionally risen in the mind ; observing, at the same time, as much order in the ar- rangement, as the nature of the subject will permit. 2. And first : If I mistake not, the aspect of the dial alone, presented for the first time to a mind capable of any serious reflection, must awaken some new and un- expected sensations. That unfinished circle, representing to our view the utmost ave- raged measure of time in which we can have any personal concern in the affairs of this earth ; sending the memory back to the beginning of life, and the imagination for- ward to its termination ; exhibiting a dis- icernible end, and that end in immediate contact with eternity; that aspect, alone, must of necessity work a strong effect upon any ingenuousand contemplative spirit, even before we proceed to consider the parti^ cular uses to which it may be applied. For, Should not the dial strike us as we gaze ? Portentous as the written wall which struck, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 31 . O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale ? Like that the dial speaks, and points to thee : *^ O MAN, thy kingdom is departing from thee !'' Its silent language such; nor need*st thou call Thy Magi, to decipher what it means. 3. But if, from this general survey, we proceed to direct the index to that par- ticular degree upon the scale, which answers to the actual year of our own age, a new, and a livelier interest, will be immediately awakened; for, in beholding our present station on the dial, we instantly, and in the same view, discern all the past and future of our earthly being. And although that per^ ception, to be of any moral effect, must be an act of the mind itself, yet we shall be sensible, that the mental vision will be very powerfully assisted towards that act, by the visible figure presented to the sight. 4. And here we may observe, by the way, that in pointing the index, no preva- rication can possibly avail us; no temp- tation can prompt us to that monstrous and despicable folly, the concealing or falsifying our true age. For, who would dare to 32 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. direct the hand to 3. false point? False with respect to his own intimate knowledge, and false also with respect to the corresponding scale, in the knowledge of God? Ihere is, therefore, no escape from the authority of truth; and whether we point the hand or not, the eye, both of body and mind, must instantly discern the point at which it ought to stand. 5, From our respective stations upon the dial, it will behove us to make all those salutary and momentous observations, all those pregnant and various reflections, which good sense, fidelity of reason, and an en- lightened knowledge of the prospects of our BLESSED RELIGION, wiU abundantly suggest. 6. Like a traveller, who has gained some high and commanding stage upon bis jour- ney, from whence he is able to take a distinct review of all the country he has traversed, each of us will be able, at the conclusion of each year of our lives, to look back, from our new station on jtbe dial of life, over the whole road we THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. S3 have already journeyed ; and to revive in our recollections, by means of the chain of points which we discern in the distance, a thousand instructive impressions, which might otherwise have escaped the most active efforts of the memory. Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, That in a few short moments we retrace, (As in a map the voyager his course,) The winding of our way through many years. 7. From the division of the scale which we have just completed, we shall naturally direct a curious eye forward, over the un- known and unexplored track, which lies immediately before us ; and in which we must advance, without the smallest pause or delay. But here, How dim our eye ! The present moment terminates our sight. Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the next ! In this prospective view, all that we can D 34 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. distinguish, is the extreme average distance to which we can advance; every interme- diate object being totally concealed from our view. 8. But, though we are always able to discern, very distinctly, the great limit- mark which closes the common-road of life ; yet, our own individual progress may be interrupted, and arrested, at any one of the intermediate points ; and if that should be our case, we shall then be brought, by a sudden and immediate traverse, to that same great boundary of the scale, namely, ETERNITY. For, By Fate's inviolable oath is sworn, Deep silence where et^ernity begins. 9. Thus the Bioscope divides itself into two parts ; answering to the time past, and the time future, of life ; which parts are always varying their proportions, because they are always divided by the moveable and advajicincr index : whilst the moveable index o itself represents that constantly fleeting im- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 35 pression which we call now, in which alone consists the mode of time that can properly be called present. 10. Of these three times of earthly exist- ence, it is absolutely requisite that we should form a true and just estimate. 11." Life," observed Seneca, " is divided " into three times; that which is, that which " was, and that which will be. Of these, " the shortest is present time; it is indeed " so short, that it has appeared to some " persons to have no existence at all. For " it is in continual passage; it almost " ceases to be before we are well aware " that it is ; so that we at all times rather " perceive it to be gone, than we at any time " discern it to go." Hence we may reason- ably affirm, that " present time is no other *' than the perpetual passage of future time " into past.'' 12. Short, however, and fleeting as that particle of time is which we call now, and which alone constitutes present time, it is the only mode of time of which we can mak^e any real and positive use. All our 86 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. enduring happiness, all the future objects of our hope, every prospect of final con- solation and repose, depend absolutely, for their ultimate realization, upon the use we shall have made of these fleeting par- ticles ; the sum total of which, must com- pose the record of our lives. 13. Upon which account, the same wise heathen, jealous of his property in them, was led to make this impressive remark. '* I am always astonished, when I see " people asking others to give them up *^ their time ; and when I see those who are ^' asked, so complaisant as to bestow it. ^' Both parties consider only the object for " which the time is asked ; neither of them " pays any regard to the time itself: just as <* if nothing had been asked, and as if no- " thing had been granted. They are thus " deceived concerning the most precious " article of life, merely because it is incor- " poreal, and imperceptible to sense; and ^^ upon that account they imagine it to be " a very cheap commodity, or rather, an ^* article totally destitute of value. Whereas, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 37 " if any one could bring before his view '^ the whole measure of his remaining years^ '^ with as much certainty as he can that " of the years which are already past, how " would that man tremble, who should " see but a few of them remaining ? How " prudent, how sparing of them, would he ^^ then become? It is an easy matter, to *^ economise and manage any thing of " which the quantity is known and deter- '^ mined, be that quantity ever so small; ** but with what care and circumspection " ought that to be husbanded, which, we '^ know not how soon, may suddenly fail us " altogether? 14. ^^ No one can give you back your " time. Life will still travel on, towards ^^ the point to which it first began to go. "It will glide forward, silently and imper- " ceptibly, without giving you any warning " of its velocity. Whilst you are busied, it " speeds away; until death at length ar- " rives, to which, whether you will or not, ^* vou must needs submit." 38 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 15. These reflections of the Roman mo- ralist, on the infinite value of present time, are thus corroborated by our own great moralist. " Life is continually ravaged " by invaders ; one steals an hour, and " another a day. One conceals the rob- ^^ bery by hurrying us into business, an- " other by lulling us with amusement. " The depredation is continued through a *^ thousand vicissitudes of tumult and tran- " quillity ; till, having lost all, we can lose " no more. 16. " Time ought, above all other kinds " of property, to be free from invasion ; " and yet there is no man who does not " claim the power of wasting that time ^^ which is the right of others. An Italian " philosopher expressed in his motto, that " 'time was his estate:' an estate, in- " deed, which will produce nothing without " cultivation; but which will abundantly " repay the labours of industry, and satisfy " the most extensive desires, if no part *' of it be suffered to lie waste by ne- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 30 ^' gligence, to be over-run with noxious " plants, or laid out for show rather than " for use.'' All sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, He looks on time as nothing, • O Time ! than gold more sacred ; more a load Than lead to fools, and fools reputed wise ! What moment granted man without account ? What years are squandered, Wisdom's debt unpaid ? 17. All these important truths are brought into sensible demonstration, upon the dial of THE BIOSCOPE ; and are easily reducible from thence, into the common practice of life. For, let any one but persist, for some length of time, in a familiar and daily intercourse with this dial, having the index always pointed to the number of the actual year of his life ; and it will be morally impossible, that his mind should not contract some habits of reflection upon the nature and value of time ; most salutary for the future disposal of his life, and for regulating the correspondence between his thoughts and his years. 40 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 18. And, first, by the habitual use of the Bioscope, we shall be rescued from that almost universal, and pernicious, deception, which seduces us to regard life as one con- tinued NOW, or present moment indefinitely extended. This is the grand illusion, by which our minds first become disunited from our years. 19. Under this illusion, which reflec- tion seldom comes forward to dissipate, and which the objects and incidents of the world conspire so artfully to cherish, we glide through the greater part of life, without being at all sensible of its advance ; and without being prompted to remark, the change, which is continually taking place, in our relative position between the two opposite extremes of life. 20. Our feelings, our tastes, our incli- nations, our passions, continuing nearly at par during the greater part of that period of time, we are apt to suppose ourselves in every respect the same individuals ; and so THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 41 perhaps we are, in every respect except in that of time. But that, unfortunately, is a respect which alters and determines the whole. For, since life signifies nothing else than a limited quantity of time, if we are very different individuals in respect of time, in every succeeding stage of our progress, we are very different individuals in that which constitutes our present temporal ex- istence. And unless the mind is vigilant to remark that progress, it will remain stationary, while the years proceed. And the inevitable consequence must be, first, disunion, and afterwards, a continually in- creasing distance and disparity, between the two. It is, therefore, of the last import- ance, that we should constantly keep in our view that governing circumstance of our present being, under all its stages and modifications ; and never suffer it to elude our attention. 21. This, THE BIOSCOPE wiU constrain us to do, in the most imperative manner ; and, by that means, will dispel the illusion 42 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. which has been pointed out. The long and uniform now, (suggested by the continuity of sensible impressions, or, more properly, arising out of our inattention to the suc- cession of those impressions,) which life appears to be, will become analyzed, and divided into its constituent parts ; by an habitual attention to the scale, by its fre- quent inspection, and by its annual rectificor- tion. And, as the subdivision of an unity into its fractional parts, is a sort of multi- plication ; so, by reducing the general now of life into its component and successive particles of time, we shall multiply mea- sures of time to our thought and appre- hension ; and, by that means, render our- selves experimentally richer in the most valuable species of property, which our present being is capable of acquiring. For, time well employed, is secured; time wasted, is lost» £2. Again we shall learn from it, both how to estimate, and how to economise, the rapid current of time ; and how to avail ourselves THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 43 of the whole of each succeeding year, as it is passing over us. That waning index, as it measures life, It life resembles too. Life speeds away From point t6 point, tho' seeming to stand still. The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth. Too subtle is the movement to be seen, Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. Reason should judge in all ; in Reason's eye, That sedentary index travels hard. But such our gravitation to the wrong. So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, ^Tis later with the wise than he's aware ; And all mankind mistake their time of day. E*en age itself. — So gentle life'^ descent, We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. 23, As each succeeding year, by causing the index to advance, continually changes the relative divisions of the scale; that is to say, the measures of time past, and time to come; an intimacy contracted with the instrument will render us habitually mind- ful, that a year is actually passing over us, which we must soon mark ; and, from ob- serving the latter division of the dial to be 44 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. constantly and gradually decreasing, it will be impossible that a temper of caution and circumspection should not by degrees be formed, and at length finally established, in us. £4. That sensible demonstration, of the con- tinual decrease of the forward division of the dial, must of itself impress us with a perfect conviction, that our personal interest in the range of life decreases exactly in the same proportion. And whoever has once received in his mind the impression of that great truth, will regulate by it the ardour of his affections, and the sallies of his imagi- nation, with respect to all objects, whose importance is wholly confined within the limits of this temporal life. For who, that has once felt the full force of that ocular demonstration, will suffer himself to cherish disproportioned affections for the objects of this failing life, when he sees, that the index of his years has told out the greater number; and that it is now drawing his atten- tion towards that terminating point, where it THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAIN must necessarily close its functions r^Who, that has persevered for any length of time in habits of familiarity with this dial, and whose index is veering towards its end, can adhere to the perishing objects of life with the same eager tenacity that he did at an earlier period; which probably was then reprehensible, although it might be called natural ; but which is now become positively reproachful, and ought therefore to be re-^ garded as unnatural ? A soul immortal, spending all her fires — Thrown into tumult, raptur*d or alarm'd. At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather^ or to drown a fly f 25. But as much as it is necessary to watch over, and to estimate correctly, the several parts of temporal life, in relation to its whole average measure, so much also it is necessary to estimate, with equal correctness, that whole average measure, in relation to the ETERNITY of duration which is to succeed ; in order that, while we are taking care not 46 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. to undervalue the parts, we may not be drawn into the equally pernicious error, of setting too high a value upon the whole, 26. " Man," says an eminent and admired writer, " is a creature designed for two dif- " ferent states of being, or rather two dif- " ferent lives. His first is short and tran- " sient, his second permanent and lasting. " The question we are all concerned in " is this, in which of these two lives is it " our chief interest to make ourselves " happy ? — Every man, upon the first hear- " ing of this question, knows very well " which side of it he ought to close with. " But, however right we are in theory, it is " plain that in practice we adhere to the *^ wrong side of the question : we make " provisions for this life, as though it were " never to have an end, and for the other " life, as though it were never to have a *'* beginning. 27. " Should a spirit of superior rank, ** who is a stranger to human nature, acci- '* dentally light upon the earth, and take ^' a survey of its inhabitants, what would THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 47 ^^ his notions of us be? Would not he " think, that we are a species of beings " made for quite different ends and pur- " poses than what we really are ? Must not " he imagine, that we were placed in this " world to get riches and honour ? Would " not he think, that it was our duty to toil " after wealth, and station, and title ? Nay, " would not he believe, we were forbidden " poverty by threats of eternal punishment, " and enjoined to pursue our pleasures " under pain of damnation? He would cer- " tainly imagine, that we were influenced " by a scheme of duties quite opposite to " those which are indeed prescribed to us. " And truly, according to such an imagina- " tion, he must conclude, that we are a " species of the most obedient creatures in " the universe; that we are constant to our " duty; and that we keep a steady eye on " the end for which we were sent hither. 28. '^ But how great would be his asto- " nishment, when he learned, that we were " beings not designed to exist in this world " above threescore and ten years; and 48 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED* '' that the greatest part of this busy species/ " fall short even of that age ? How would " he be lost in horror and admiration, when " he should know, that this set of creatures, " who lay out all their endeavours for this " life, which scarce deserves the name of ^^ existence — When, I say, he should know, " that this set of creatures are to exist to " all eternity in another life, for which they " make no preparation? Nothing can be " a greater disgrace to reason, than that " men, who are persuaded of these two dif- " ferent states of being, should be perpe- " tually employed in providing for a life " o( threescore and ten years ; and neglecting " to make provision for that, which, after " many myriads of years, will still be new, " and still beginning^ J* £9i To discipline the mind, and to arm it against the illusion of this error, it will be advisable to exercise it, frequently, in con- templating large measures of time; mea- sures, in which the utmost extent of human * Spectator, No. 575. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 49 life shall be presently absorbed and lost. " Conferto nostram longissimam atatem cum *^ iETERNiTATE, et SIC brevissima reperietur. — " Compare our longest life with eter- '^ NiTY," says Cicero, " and you will per- '* ceive, how extremely short it is.'* — ^' PrO" *^ pone profundi temporis vastitatem, et UNi- " VERS AM complect ere. Deinde hoc quod '^ atatem vocamus humanam compara cum ** IMMENSO; videbis quam exignam sit quod ** optamus, quod extendimus, — Represent to " yourself the whole compass of time/' says Seneca, " and endeavour to contemplate it " in its ENTIRENESS. Then, compare with ** it that which we call human life, and you " will be sensible how short that is, which " so much engages our concern/' 30. It will be of the utmost benefit, to accustom the mind to retrace the revolu- tions of ages ; and the durations of empires, states, and dynasties; to contemplate the measures of the different dispensations of religion, in their order and succession ; and, above all, to pursue the sublime and mag- nificent prospects which are laid open to , E 60 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. our expectations, and which are now rapidly advancing towards our experience, in the fields of PROPHECY. It will be salutary, t6 exercise it in those chronological compu- tations, which are subjoined to this work ; to look down the years of this present century, whose chronological characters are there assigned ; and to reflect, that there is not one of those who now read this book, who will not have been called to account for his agency, long before the indications of that table shall be exhausted. 31. It will be of the greatest service also to remark, how many lives of mea we unconcernedly turn over, in a very fevr pages, in many parts of history ; lives which, in their time, were as much animated with interest, crowded with incident, and tardy in their progress, as ours may now seem to be. To make ourselves dwell upon some one life, of which a connected record sub- sists, and on the particulars of which we may be disposed to enter with minute con- cern; to identify ourselves with the indi- vidual ; to live his life over again with THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 51 him ; to follow him, step by step, through all his passages and vicissitudes, to the closing scene of death; and then, to con- template him, in his state of separation from life. Perhaps few such opportunities for this latter practice are afforded, as that, \vhich is to be found in the long epistolary life, of the much admired, and highly esti- mable, Madame de Sevigne. 32. From such moral warnings, which may be abundantly collected from the stores of chronology and biography, we shall ac- quire at length a clear discernment, that the value of human life cannot consist in any number of years ; however much that number may surpass the average measure of life: the greatest attainable number serv- ing only to demonstrate, with stronger evi- dence, how low and trivial in value human life is, if it be estimated only by a rule of time. Its value, therefore, cannot consist in time itself 33. Now, that value consists, not in time itself but in the productiveness of time to an end. So that, unless we take that end into 52 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. the account, along with time; and unless we suppose the time of human life to be actually productive of that end, no real value can pos- sibly attach upon any measure of human life; since its utmost attainable length in years will be alwaj^s in direct opposition to the natural tendency of man's desires, and to the nature of his noblest endowments. Life has no value as an end, but means ; An end, deplorable; a means, divine. 34. What then is the criterion, by which we are to judge of the value of human life r I answer, the end which it yields. And where is that end to be found ? At the end and termination of its course. From whence it will follow, that the true value of human life consists in the result which it shall be found to yield, zvhen it shall be completed. 35. And this is so obviously true, even upon the most general principles, as to have been solemnly taught and inculcated even by the heathen philosophers. " Fita *' nee bonum nee malum est, boni qc mali locus << est. — Life/' says Seneca, '^ is neither a THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 53 '^ good nor an evil in itself, it is only the " place where the qualities of good and evil " are acquired." — " Nihil ad rem refert, quo " loco desinas ; tantum bonam clausulam *^ impone. — It is of no consequence/' says he, " in what part of that place you stop, *' only secure to yourself a good conclusion^* Wherefore Aristotle's rule may be well applied here: " The end ought to be " more an object of our regard, than that '^ which is only instrumental to the end.'* Which axiom is but the echo of that more ancient dictate of wisdom; ^^ Better is ^' the end of a thing, than the beginning « thereof*;* 36. When Solon, the Athenian legis- lator, visited the court of Croesus, king of Lydia, who was then in the meridian of his splendour and prosperity ; the king caused all the royal treasuries to be laid open to his inspection. After Solon had been made to observe all their contents, Croesus de- manded of him, who was the happiest man ♦ Ecclesiastes, vii. 8. 54 TJIP 3I0SC0PK EXPLAINED, that he ever yet had known ? Anticipating, with delight, the gratification of hearing Solon bear testimony to his own pre-emi^ nent felicity. Solon, unmoved by the Ly*- dian treasures, or by the manifest emotion of the king, replied, " that the happiest " man he had ever known was one Tellus, ^' an Athenian." Crcesus, disappointed and astonished at the reply, inquired of Solon, " Why he esteemed Tellus to be the hap- " piest man?" — " Because," said Solon, " he had virtuous children, and lived to see '^ their children flourish; and while he was " in the enjoyment of that felicity, he died " an honourable deaths Crcesus then in^ quired, who Solon regarded as the next happiest man? not doubting but that the next place would be assigned to himself. " The brothers, Cleobis and Bito," replied Solon ; " because their circumstances were ^' easy; they enjoyed great bodily health " and vigour, so as to gain the prizes ^^ in the games; and while they were " in the act of manifesting an illustrious ^' example of filial duty, they were sud- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 55 " denly removed by a blessed death : in '^ which the Deity evidently showed, how *^ much more excellent death is than life." Croesus, enraged at this discourse, ex- claimed : " O Athenian ! dost thou then " set my happiness so low, as to bear coni- *' parison with that of common men ?'* 37. To which Solon replied : " O king ! *' thou demandest my opinion concerning " human life; and how can I make thee *' any other answer, who am so well aware, *^ that the Deity often interrupts the greatest *^ happiness of mortals ? In the course of a '^ long life, we must of necessity witness ^^ and suffer many things contrary to our '^ wishes. I set the longest life of man at " SEVENTY years; which seventy years " contain twenty-five thousand five hun- '^ dred and fifty days. Now, of these " twenty-five thousand five hundred and " fifty days, making together seventy '^ YEARS, thou wilt not find one that will " produce exactly the same result as an- " other. Thou must therefore acknowledge, ^^ that man is liable to a thousand varieties 56 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. *^ and casualties. Thou art now, indeed, '* most powerful and rich ; and king over a *' numerous people. Yet, with respect to " that which thou demandedst of me, I can ^' give no answer, until I shall have known " that thou hast ended thy life in happiness. " For he who has great riches, is not hap- " pier than he who has only sufficient^ " unless the same prosperity attends him to " the end of his career. If, to all thy present '^ prosperity, thou shalt add an happy death, '' then art thou indeed he after whom thou " inquirest; the man who may truly be " pronounced happy. Until, however, a " man shall have reached his end, suspend " thy judgment; call him fortunate, but do " not yet venture to pronounce him happy. " He who unites the most numerous means *' of happiness ; who retains them to the ^^ end ; and who then departs from life tran^ '* quilly, is alone entitled, in my estimation, " to be pronounced happy. It is therefore ^' necessary that we should wait the end " of things, and observe their final issues." How the truth of Solon's argument was THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 57 proved to Croesus, I shall not relate here, since it is known to every reader of ancient history. 38. If, upon this narrow ground of heathen argument, the proposition is undeniably true, that a life must be ended before we can pro- nounce positively of its value ; how power- ful and how awful does that proposition become, when it is placed upon Christian ground, with all the secrets of eternity laid open, in evidence of its truth ? What Chris- tian is there who needs to be taught, that the real value of his life cannot be taken until his death? And that, not merely with reference to the retrospect of what he has experienced, but with reference also to the prospect, of that which he shall thereafter experience throughout eternal ages ? The truth of the proposition, therefore, requires no enforcement; neither that other which is so intimately connected with it ; that the value of life does not, in any degree, consist in quantity of years. It is in the productivcr ness of the time we live, (whatever be its quantity,) to an end of value, which alone 58 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. sets a value upon the time we live. That end of value is assurance of eternal happiness; and every measure of life, which can produce that assurance, is equally valuable. 39. And here is a proper place for no- ticing an effort which has been lately made, under the title of " the Macrobiotic Arty or Art of prolonging Life,' to attach a value upon the time, or quantity of life, considered in itself. 40. " The bills of mortality," we are told, " convey some of the most important in- " structions ; by means of ascertaining the ^^ LAW, which governs the waste of human " lifey Most interesting, indeed, would the discovery of that great law be to the human race. But what are those " important in- " structions," which the teacher would deduce from the supposed discovery of that mysterious law ?— ^" The value of An-^ " nuities, dependent on the continuance of " any lives, or any survivorship between '^ them." Doubtless, this is an object, of a certain relative importance to some par- ticular temporal circumstances of social THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 59 life; but when we view it in comparisoa with that sense of absolute importancey which the allegation of " tlie law which governs the *' waste of human life" naturally and imme- diately awakens in the mind, how little and how ludicrous does its assumed solemnity appear ! 41. No stronger ground could be laid for the most provident and extensive measures of final and eternal security, than a well considered view of the great " law which ^^ governs the waste of human life;" and yet it happens, that this sovereign law is contemplated in such a manner, as to fix Qnd entomb the mind within the narrowest limits of that extensive " waste" A new average is sought for the length of human life ; setting at naught the common agree- ment of mankind in all ages, and holding out a vain and pernicious encouragement to earthly views, by fallaciously extending that average from seventy, to upwards of EIGHTY years; a vast importance is at- tached, to that small extension of the latter part of life beyoqd its ancient average; 60 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. and thence has arisen a presumptuous and spurious art, professing to " prolong life " beyond its averaged term. 42. And what is held forth to us, as the attractive object and end of that art ? It is this : " That if any person, possessed of a *' plain but sound understanding, and whose '^ health is not materially injured, will care- " fully peruse its pages, and will apply the " facts therein contained to his own par- " ticular life, occasionally calling in the " assistance of an enlightened medical " friend, when any important alteration " takes place in his constitution or bodily " functions, he can hardly fail — (to do " what ?)— -to add from ten to twenty ^ or " even thirty years, to his comfortable ex- *' istence." 43. And in order to inspire an ambition for penetrating so far into those wintry regions of our nature, a portrait is presented of two aged objects, who are in the actual possession of all the privileges attainable in that northern pole of life ; who have doubled their common average of years; and who THE BIOSCOPH EXPLAINED. 6l have therefore lived into generations, which can entertain for them no other sentiment than those which we ourselves entertain, at the sight of Stone-henge, or the mammouth. 44. How humiliating to human nature are the pretensions of such an art! How severe a censure does it seem to imply, both on the promises and encouragements of the Gospel, and on the ethical philo- ;8ophy of the best and wisest of the hea- thens ! The preservation of health, is doubt- less a reasonable and becoming object of our care ; because we can neither discharge our duties well, nor feel the fair gratifi- cations of life, without the comfort of health. In taking care of our health, there- fore, we take care to maintain our bodily powers in the best condition, for dischar- ging the duties of our stations; and for relishing the various satisfactions we are bountifully permitted to enjoy, as a conse- quence of that discharge. And this is the only legitimate, and worthy motive, for striv- ing to preserve health. A prolongation of life, is a very probable, and a very ordinary 62 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED- consequence of health so preserved ; though it is very far from being a certain, and a necessary consequence; because, " the law ' which really governs the waste of human ^ life," is beyond the reach of all human scrutiny : as the numerous apparent casual ties, by which we daily see it abridged in the full triumph of health and youth, most clearly and irresistibly demonstrate. 45. But, to propose " the prolongation of " lifcy for ten, twenty, or even thirty years " beyond the average of seventy years,'' as, in itself, the proper object of an art ; to lay it down as an axiom, that the attain- ment of a very long life is, in itself, a good; and an end worthy to govern the thoughts and desires of a reasonable man ; (when all that we can enumerate of life, whether long or short, must necessarily be past and ex- pired, before it is enumerated ;) is the most melancholy speculation that has yet shown itself to the world; and an affront to all those high prerogatives, which are awaiting us at the exit from life. The importance thus given to an object, which has been THE BIOSCOPE EXl»LAlNED. 63 always rated at so very different a value by the wisest and the best of men, in all ages, and under every degree of illumination, forms an epocha in the history of the human mind ; and seems to mark a tropical point, from whence its energies may begin to retrograde from that forward tendency which it has hitherto maintained since the origin of man, and to recoil back into the gulf and vortex of this transient and perishable world. 46. What should we think of a youth — and if there is either sense or virtue in the art, it ought to be applied when the springs of life are soundest — What should we think of a youthy who should, in the smallest degree, care to govern his view of life by (that which is the avowed object of the Macro^ hiotic art) the prospect of adding " ten, " twenty, or even thirty years, of comfortable " existence, to the end of his seventieth year f Let such a one not court a dangerous duty, upon the fields or waves of glory; let him not labour for his country's weal at the helm of power j for, alas ! we too well know> 64 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. that by so doing he will only provoke the operation of " the laxv, that governs the waste « of human life!" Neither let him animate his soul, by anticipating the glories of eter- nity ; for, if he does, they will infallibly extinguish in it all esteem for those years, of artificial superannuation. 47. Let then the spurious union be broken, between care for health, and atixietyfor life. Let the former be regarded as an object of manly and rational concern, for the better performance of our several engagements in life ; but let the latter be discarded, as an object of pursuit low and unworthy; of- fensive to the best sentiments of man, even in an heathen state; and irreconcileable with every thought and hope, which should form the temper of a Christian mind. Let us bless God, that when He was pleased to pass sentence of mortality upon man, and to doom him to the task of labouring for his daily bread, He did not impose upon him the additional task, of labouring for a little more old age. That when decline «nd decay became the general destiny of THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 65 man, the divine mercy permitted him to look forward, with serenity and comfort, tq the term of his dissolution, as a deliverance from increasing afflictions and infirmities; instead of obliging him to prolong his en- durance of those afflictions to the utmost, by rules of Macrobiotic art. Absurd longevity ! More, more, it cries, More life, more wealth, more trash of every kind. And wherefore mad for more, when relish fails ? Think you the soul, when this life's rattles cease, Has nothing of more manly to succeed ? Contract the taste immortal; learn e*en now, To relish what alone subsists hereafter. Of AGE, the glory is to wish to die. That wish is praise, and promise ; it applauds Past life, and promises our future bUss. " Quid autem interest^ qnam cito exeas, dum " utiqiie exeundum est 9 Non w^ diu vivamus " curandum est, sed ut satis. Nam ut diu ^^ vivas, fato opus est ; ut satis, animo, Longa " est vita, ut plena est. Impletur autem cum " animus sibi bonum suum reddidit, — What " does it matter," says Seneca, '^ how ^^ soon you reach your end, since you F 66 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " must inevitably arrive at it? We ought " not to be anxious to live a long while, but " to live long enough. To live long depends *^ upon fate, to live long enough depends on " ourselves. That life is long which is full : *' and it is full, whenever the mind has " repayed it for the measure of its time." 48. But, if life is only to be valued as an end; and if that end is, the productiveness of time to yield the fruit of eternal felicity ; we cannot but be forcibly struck by the con- sideration, thus strongly brought before our view, of the sovereign and absolute influ- ence of our time, short as it is, upon the future quality of our existence, though eter- nal in its duration. The timely and strong apprehension of this great truth, concerns us more deeply than any other science we can possibly attain to, between the day of our birth, and the day of our dissolution. Let us therefore strive to bring this im- portant fact, as strongly as possible, home to our perception. 49. Man's being, considered in its entire- ness, is, 1st, animal and temporal; £dly, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 6? spiritual and eternal. What air is to his animal life, time is to his temporal life. Take from him air, and his animal life ceases: take from him time, and his temporal life ceases. So far the parallel is kept. But mark where it is lost. If air be corrupted, it can only prejudice the animal life; its poison cannot extend to the spiritual or the eternal. But if time be corrupted, the poison extends itself even to the spiritual, and survives for ever in the eternal. On the other hand ; if pestilential air be cor- rected and purified, the benefit, however great, can only reach the animal life ; but if corrupted time be restored, and well purified, the virtue is not confined to the temporal life only, but extends its vivifying power to the spiritual and to the eternal. But air must be purified, before animal life is extinct ; and so also must time, while temporal life yet subsists; and it only sub- sists, so long as we continue in this our pre- sent life. If time closes in corruption, there exists not, in the universe, any remaining means, by which our eternity can be re- 68 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. covered from the infection, and from all the disastrous consequences. And it is on ac- count of the certainty of that terrific truth, that God, in His justice and mercy, has not only contrived the most effectual, and most summary, method for enabling us to restore to salubrity whatever time we may have depraved, by means of the dispensation of His Gospel; but He also has given to that Gospel such extraordinary publicity, such unconquerable evidence, and such easy and universal access, for eighteen hun- dred years past, that nothing but our own criminal inactivity, or stupid unconcern, can cause us to be ultimately deprived of all its benefit. 50. From what has been already said it will now be apparent, that The Bioscope is calculated to fix the mind, in the con- templation of time present, time past, and time future ; and consequently, to administer the three-fold important office, of Moni- tor, Remembrancer, and Comforter, according as it is applied to each of those three several times, determinable by the THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 69 advancing index; which index thus gives language, and expression, to the dial. We take no note of time But from its loss ; to give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke ; I hear the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of our departed years. Where are they ? — With the years beyond the flood ! 51. As a Monitor, it will make us reflect upon the importance of every portion of the year we are living, and thereby give us the best chance, of not having hereafter ta lament its misapplication. Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer; Next day the fatal, precedent will plead, Thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life. Procrastination is the thief of time ; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene ! If not so frequent, would not this be strange ? That His sofrequenty this is stranger still I 52. As a Remembrancer, it will keep us constantly supplied with all the fruits of 70 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. wisdom, which can be gathered from our own past experience, 'Tis greatly wise, to talk with our past years, And ask them, what report they bore to heav*n ; And how* they might have borne more welcome news ? Their answers form, what men experience call. 5S, As a Comforter, it will enable us to ap- ply both those rules of wisdom to the future scene ; in which man always hopes to find that happiness, which his mind and his affections in vain pursue, through all the fleeting moments of present time. All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee Their future fate; their future fate foretaste; This aet would waste the bitterness of death. — To-day, is yesterday returned ; returned Full-power*d to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn^ And reinstate us on a rock of peace. Let it not share its predecessor's fate ! 54. But besides the three great characters of time, the Bioscope also marks out to us, the character, order, and progression of the periods which constitute the whole of life ; THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 71 and points out to our attention, the small number, the short continuance, and the speedy succession of them all. For, child^ HOOD and youth have yet to reach man- hood, and manhood has not attained to VIGOUR, nor vigour to maturity ; and ma- turity attained speedily passes into decline ; and decline must as speedily terminate in decay. Each measure is small ; each sends on our view to its successor; and we see, that the stages are but few in number, and short in duration, through which we are brought to the end. 55, To use the Bioscope in all these three respects, it is evident that we must exercise, with constancy and resolution, those three great faculties by which our nature is dis- tinguished ; viz. the reflection, the me- mory, and the forethought. It is the union of these three faculties in man, that establishes the identity of his moral person, throughout time, and throughout eternity. He remembers himself in the past, he feels himself in the present, and he anticipates 72 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. future periods, in which he knows that he shall still experience the same present sense, which he now experiences. The connexion between these three faculties, qualifies him for being a moral agent; and lays the ground of that responsibility, under which, as a moral agent, he holds the tenure of his present life. 56. Let us apply these observations to the different ages of man ; and, in order to simplify and abridge that application, let us consider the years of man as divided only into three general periods: youth, middle life, and age. 57. As a Monitor, youth will be admo- nished by the Bioscope, to consider well the quality of the years which it is living, which quality is inscribed over against those years upon the scale. Whatever be the stage of youth, that consideration will ef- fectually check presumption and self-suffi- ciency. Small is the capacity of man, in its largest extent, when compared with the parts, and plans, of this vast universe ; and THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 73 small the portion of those parts, and plans, which it can ever comprehend. What then must be the capacity of childhood, and of YOUTH, when they have not attained even to the small capacity of manhood ? 58. An early sense and consciousness of this great truth, will lay the securest ground for a future general knowledge of truth, so far as we can acquire it; by putting the mind in a posture of defence against all illusion, either from within or from without* For, a sense of our natural incapacity will reconcile us to a sense of ignorance, con- cerning every thing which is too large for our capacity to embrace. 59. " Ignorancey' says an able and inge- nious naturalist, ^^ often differs from what ^* is called knowledge, only by a less degree " of error. It ought to be inculcated upon ^' all men, that, next to the positive knovv- *^ ledge of things which may be known, the " most important science is, to know how ^' to remain ignorant. ^ / don't know,' ought ^^ to be a frequent answer of all teachers *^ to their pupils, to accustom them to 74 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " make the same answer, without feeling " ashamed*.*' 60. I know not a more wise or excellent rule, for the early tuition of the mind, than is contained in the foregoing observation. It was the sense of this great truth, under the darkness of heathenism, that made the sagacious philosophy of Cicero withhold assent on many points; to which he would readily have yielded it, had he, like us, had a sufficient voucher for their truth. Widely different was that noble temper of mind from the vain and spurious philosophy which has disgraced the Christian ages, in which universal doubt, or scepticism, has been propounded, as the proper carriage of the mind, against the united vouchers of heaven and earth. ♦ " Dignorance ne differe souvent que par moins d'erreur, ^. de ce qu'on appelle savoir. II faudroit inculquer a tous les '* hommes, qu'apres le savoir r4el dans les choses qui en sont '* susceptibles, savoir ignorer est la connoissance la plus im- '* portante. * Je ne sais pas,* devroit ^tre une r^ponse tres- ** frequente des instituteurs a leurs Aleves, pour les accou- *^* turner a la faire eux-raemes sans rougir." — De Luc. Lettres sur la Terra Tom. L p. 228. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 75 61. Let youth then, whether in or out of childhood, remark upon the Bioscope the character of its years, and the smallness of the progress it has made in hfe ; and let it infer, how small that capacity must be, which will still be small, even when it shall have journeyed to the opposite extremity of the scale. 62. To my very young readers, if any such I should find, I offer the following Fable ; leaving it to their good sense to deduce, from what has been already said, the moral which it is plainly designed to convey. THE COCKLK-SHELL AND THE SEA. A Cockle-shell, whose slender cup Had by a wave been lifted up, And gently lodged, secure and sound, A little way upon the ground ; Yet not so far, but every day She drank the falling of the spray; Grew vain at length to think, that she Contained a portion of the sea. " And why not more ? (at length she cried ;) ^ And why not reaves ; and why not tide ? 76 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, *' Perhaps, tho* men account me small, " I might, on proof, contain it all. " *Tis worth the trial ; how should I " Be sure I can*t unless I try ? " Fired by the grandeur of the thought. To quit her safe retreat she sought. And, victim of her ideot pride, Plunged downward in the swelling tide, But now no favVing wave was there : Ambition fled, arose despair, When a rude billow that received The wanton fool, now undeceiv'd. Recoiling for a moment, bore The buoyant trifle from the shore, And murmur'd : " Ideot ! learn too late " The misery of presumption's fate. " Of holding seas no longer think, " The waste-spray thou no more shalt drink : ** Know, vain pretender, to thy cost, " Thy small capacity is lost / " Then, flowing with impetuous shock Against the angle of a rock. The shell, at one tremendous stroke, Into an hundred atoms broke. 63. But let not youth relinquish its cautionary modesty, because it finds itself approaching to the dawn of manhood. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 77 When the sense of a near approach to manly years shall be disposed to elate it, and prompt it to identify its age with that of others who have been long in possession of those years ; the face of the Bioscope will admonish it, to reflect upon the character of the years it has Uved, and to be modest in the comparison. 64. For, let a youth who has attained to his twentieth, or a young man to his five and twentieth year, the characters of which years are but childhood, youth, and the beginning of manhood> compare his age with that of a person who has doubled those years, and who has added to these characters, those others of manhood, vi- gour, and MATURITY of life; and, if he is not supremely arrogant, what will reason suggest to him from the comparison ? Will he pay himself so ill a compliment as to suppose, that when he shall have added to his own years, those three important stages^ his mind will have acquired no additional improvement, no accession of experience;, beyond what he has already gained in those 78 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. three incipient periods ? Certainly, he will not form so injurious a judgment of his own future acquirements. And if he will not, let him now pay, to his senior in years, the same tribute of justice and respect, which he is willing to pay to himself, when he contemplates himself as advanced to the same period in time. This will bring his mind and his years into unison; and will accustom him to preserve a just balance between them, as he proceeds in life. It is not every man who is formed by nature to guide a state, or lead an army, in that early spring of life ; and therefore, to esti- mate our youthful years by the extraor- dinary exceptions of nature in that respect, would mark the highest climax of arro- gance. 65. In youth, modesty, and a just appre- ciation of our capacity, has always been regarded, by the wisest men, as the best earnest of future excellence. It preserves the order of life; it restrains youth from that precocious forwardness, which divides the mind from the years as effectually, as, in THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 79 a later period, the backwardness of age. By early keeping our place in years through modesty, we shall maintain an even pace with them in all their future progress, and shall, at length, reach our latest period, in gravity and order. 66. But there is one most weighty reason for early tutoring the mind to restrain, rather than encourage, those promptings of self-admiration, which are always at the foundation of presumption. And that is, that if they should acquire a full ascend- ancy in us, they will most probably urge us on to infidelity; which is no other than the pride of the human mind, finally settled into self -authority. The smallest tincture of whose baneful influence is suffi- cient, at once, to cloud over and darken every bright prospect of religion. Of the wretched consequences of this moral ma- lady, I shall add nothing here; but shall reserve the exposure of it to its proper place, namely, its effect on age, or the de- cline and DECAY of life. In youth, the first and best' quality to establish, infidelity 80 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEJO^ of reason, in subordination to the Author of reason : which naturally involves humility of mind. This will be found the surest guide to truth, to virtue, and to mental peace. Such are some of the benefits, which youth will be able to receive from the counsels of THE BIOSCOPE, Considered in its capa- city of Monitor, 67. As a Remembrancer, it will contri- bute many important and valuable uses to the season of youth. If the mind is rightly taught, and the understanding upright, the exercise of the memory upon the indications and incidents of the past years, though few, will both quicken the affections of the heart, and excite the sensibility of the conscience* " A man that is young in years, may be " old in hours," says Lord Bacon, ^^ if he *^ have lost no time." Although the space of time over which youth can exercise re- membrance, is but small in extent; yet, as time always appears more considerable in youth than in the following ages of life, the practice of recalling, and dwelling upon, a review of the years that are past, beiog THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 81 began and confirmed at that early age, will prepare the mind for the most successful application of the practice, in the more advanced and more active ages. By habi- tuating the memory, thus early, to recall time, and the parts of time, while the smaller measures appear to embrace very considerable portions, the mind will con- tract an habit of vigilance and circumspec- tion; and days and months, no less than years, will find their places in the memory, in which they would otherwise be absorbed into the greater measures of time. 68. Let youth exercise its remembrance, in retracing the affectionate impressions of infant life ; in recalling scenes of domestic enjoyment; of parental tenderness, fra- ternal love, and friendly intercourse. Let it cherish those first impressions, and love them because they were the first. Let it recall them, year by year, upon the dial. If the heart be sound, those earliest im- pressions will ever awaken the tenderest recollections. Affections, excited in the dawn of life, by those with whom Provi* i 82 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. dence first associated us, ought to keep a chief place in the heart, as long as life subsists; and, if we desert not nature, they will afford us the most pleasing and salu- tary memorials unto the end of our journey. Nothing keeps the heart of man so safe, as keeping it tender; and nothing keeps it so tender, as cherishing affection for valuable objects, from whom we are, or shortly may be, separated. There is no ground to fear, that such tenderness will impair manliness ; with- out it, manliness becomes harsh and hateful, if not barbarous and brutal. If we would know, whether tenderness of attachment and recollection, is becoming to man, let us con- sult the history of the Old Testament; if we would know, whether it is a fitting ingre- dient in an hero^ let Homer, the poet of heroes, instruct us. 69. Cherish, in youth, the moments of any wise and aged friend whose intimacy you are privileged to enjoy, with the most diligent and provident care; and be soli- citous, to gather all the fruits of his expe- rience while the opportunity lasts, which THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 83 the inspection of the dial will warn you, must presently be taken from you. " Ego " Q. Maximum adolescens ita dilexi senem, ^^ ut aequalem ; erat enim in illo viro comi- " tate condita gravitas : nee senectus mores " rautaverat. Cujus sermone ita turn ciipide " fruebary quasi jam divinarem id, quod evenit, " illo extinctOy fore unde discerem nemiuem.'' " When I was a young man," says Cato, " I loved the aged Q. Ma^jimus, as if hjs " had been my equal in years ; for he com- ^' bined gravity with cheerfulness; and age *^ had produced no alteration in his man- - ners. Whose conversation I then eagerly ^' delighted in, as if I had foreseen that, which " actually came to pass; that when he teas " deady there remained no one from whom I " could derive the same instruction,^' 70. But, if the space of the Bioscope over which youth can cast a retrospective eye is but small, its view will the sooner be carried back to the observation of its creation, or commencement. And what apprehension can so well dispose it for that sacred precept: '^ Remember thy Creator in the days of 84 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ^^ thy youth; before the evil days come, and " the years advance, in which thou shalt " say, I have no pleasure in them!" The mind practised, at that opening season of life, to this holy remembrance, will receive, and retain a sense of the divine presence through all its succeeding progress ; and will derive the constant consolation and support, which the sense of that divine presence will at all times impart. Thus disciplined, it will not be " cast off by God in the time of " old age ; nor forsaken by Him when its *' strength faileth." 71. And here we may suitably subjoin ** TWO RULES," prescribed by the pious Nelson ; ^^ whereby," says he, " we may be " enabled to perform the ordinary actions *' of life which occur every day, after the " best and most perfect manner. The first '' is, to keep a lively sense of God's omni-^ ^^ presence upon the mind. The second is, ^^ frequently to call to mind the certainty of *' death J and the uncertainty of that time which *' zpe have to continue in this world"^.'' * The Practice of True Devotion. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 85 72. There is one illusion, against whicl^ it is necessary to be guarded, at this age, in contemplating the Bioscope; namely, that of imagining, that all the years beyond the index are years through which we are to pass. For, as the index will have made but little progress at that early period of life, and as a very wide range will appear open before us ; if we are not awakened to a con- viction of the truth, we shall survey all the sequel of the dial as a property in time, which is only waiting for our gradual pos- session. To rescue ourselves from this mis- chievous illusion, let youth, first, tell itself the common truth, concerning the uncer- tainty of human life. But, as common truths are apt to be blunted, and to lose their efficacy, by frequent repetition, let us seek a new course ; by transferring the Bioscope from our own life to that of some other person, in whose life we can feel an interest almost equal with our own. 73. Think, therefoje, upon some early friend, the companion of your childish years ; 86 tHE BIOSCOPE: EXPLAINED. some brother, some sister; cut off in the infancy of life, and bequeathing for ever, to your instruction, a palpable demonstration of that common truth. Observe, where the Bioscope of that departed friend reached its end ; and let that point serve, for ever, to warn and to convince you, that you hold no property whatever in any particle of the scale, which lies beyond your index. Again, fix your attention upon the age of some parent, some guardian of your tender years ; the security of whose kindness and protection, appear to you necessary for the relish of your life. Contemplate his, or her, age upon the dial; connect it with your own ; and follow the progress of both, according to the dis- tance which inevitably separates them. This will lead on your own index ; and when the day arrives that the more advanced one shall reach its term, your own will be pro- portionably advanced; and you will have acquired, from the comparison, a sensible demonstration of the transitoriness of life. 74. Then is the time, that the Bios- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 8? cope will unfold its exalted quality of a Comforter. God gave us friends to bless the present scene ; Resumes them, to prepare vsfor the next. The power of this truth, which will then be intimately felt, will urge on your pro- spect, from the end of the dial, into the bright region which appears beyond it: for, though we have lived together under a dis- parity of years, we shall one day meet in an equality of existence. " Omnes eadem con- *^ ditio devinxit; cui nasci contigit, mori *^ restat : intervallis distinguimur^ exitu cequa- *^ mur, — The same condition of existence," says Seneca, " is annexed to all; whoever *^ has once been born, must of necessity " die. We are divided, indeed, from " each other, by intervals of time, during " our journey, but we shall all come equally ^' together in the end'' And to that truth of nature, what does the truth oi grace, or of the Gospel, subjoin for our consolation? This divine assurance, that *^ we shall then " be for ever, together, with the Lord^/' As • 1 Thess. iy. 17. 8B THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAlNEU* the eyes of Elisha followed the ascending prophet into heaven, your minds will fol- low your departed friend into that region of brightness; and you will cherish the thought, and the persuasion, that you have already begun to acquire, in his person, an interest and a property in eternity. 75. And here let me observe, that there is no season of Hfe in which the bright comforts of religion, afforded in the prospect of a life in heaven, are so sensibly and purely felt, as in that of a guileless and reli- gious childhood. That this should be so, will not surprise us, when we reflect, that Christ himself has pointed out that age as the best representation of the inhabitants of heaven. That it is so in fact, all those can testify, whom God has blest with the commerce of young minds, grounded in religion, and practised to religious obedience. The spring of youth, is more congenial to the tempera- ture of celestial joy, than either the summer, the autumn, or the winter of years. And, if a relish for that joy be imbibed in that age, it will tincture, with the lustre and serenity THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 89^ of spring, all the succeeding seasons of life. A chastened exaltation of mind, will be the natural and certain consequence of such a temper ; than which nothing can so well fit us, for duly combining our services to God and man, while we remain here, under our discipline of trial. 76. We next come to consider, the mid- dle AGES of life ; which consideration opens to us a delicate task. For, what ages are we to comprehend under that denomination ? *^ Is not a man middle-aged at fifty-five ?" is a very common question with the world. To give a full answer to that question, it would first be necessary, to agree upon the meaning of the terms: till that point is^ determined, my answer is, " look at the dial^ Unless a century was the average extent of human Wkyjifty-five could not, by any mode of computation, be rendered the middle age of life. By middle, I apprehend we must understand, equi-distant between extremities; and by middle-aged, equi-distant between the two extremities of the years of life. These middle ages, therefore, must comprise parts 90 thLE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. of all the three middle decimals of life, iii their growth and succession ; to the middle decimal of which alone, the denomination of middle-age, in property belongs. 77. Now, "He that is youngest," says Bishop Taylor, " hath not long to live ; he " that is THIRTY, FORTY, or FIFTY ycats " old, hath spent most of his life, and his " dream is almost done ; and in a very few " months he must be cast into his eternal " portion." If this is truly the case; and it is wiser to believe those who think, than those who think not ; these middle ages will do well to apply themselves, with attention, to the contemplation of time. 78. These three middle decimals, com- prise a large proportion of life, consisting of its most efficient periods ; and it is in these three periods, that experimental wis- dom is chiefly gained, if ever it be gained at all. In these years, the mind first begins to acquire a just apprehension of the mea- sure of life; and to reduce it from that illu- sive and visionary length, with which it appears to the imagiuatioa of youth. Our THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 91 ideas of length, and distance, are relative and comparative. When we can take a distinct view of the beginning of any measure, we see, and apprehend its proportions. 79. If life consist* of seventy years, we may say, that it consists of three times twenty-three years. He who is living in the first of those three divisions, is utterly insensible of the period at which it com- menced ; and hence, that first period appears to him to have had no beginning: it is like an emanation from eternity. Hence the difference also, between the length of that same term of years, in the apprehension of the parent, and in that of the child. But, when the second measure of twenty-three years has been entered, and somewhat pro- ceeded in ; when we can take a reflective view of the point from which our manhood com- menced, and can look back, beyond it, into youth, the progress of time then begins to rectify itself in our judgment; and the second twenty-three years seem to proceed with a rapidity, of which we had no idea during xYi^Jirst, But when the second divi- 92 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. sion is concluded, and the extended com- pass is turned upon us for the last time; when forty-six years are numbered, and the remaining twenty-three conclude the mea-^ sure ; as in the following scale : :.i....,....i.........'i.-..^.i.....:..i.„......i then, our improved experience gains a per- fect sentiment of the true measure, and velocity, of life ; that it is but " as a span long:" and, if truth and nature have our ear, that last measure will imperatively call tipon us, to adapt our minds to the declen- sion and conclusion of our course. 80. If truth and nature are not attended to ; if we fly from their warnings, and strive to remove ourselves from them, by attempt- ing to reascend the stream of time; or, if we waver in uncertainty, without taking a resolute course ; the consequence is obvious : that which we are reluctant to approach, will violently take hold upon us ; and where THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 93 we might have arrived in serenity, we shall be brought in sorrow. Let us, then, take a caution from that severe satire of the poet: At thirty, man suspeqts himself a fool ; Knows it at/or/j/, and reforms his plan : At fifty, chides his infamous delay : Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves; and re-resolves ; then dies the same. 81. These middle ages, in their degreesi and order, will be greatly assisted, by a patient and steady observation of the Bios- cope. The visible progress of the index, through all those periods, will add the strongest enforcement to the conviction, arising from an improving experience of the rapid flux of time. 82. As a Monitor, therefore, the Bioscope will point out to middle life, the critical stage at which it is arrived. For, although half of life, more or less, may possibly remain, yej; half of it, is certainly/ exhausted ; and 94 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. the second half will appear to pass, with a continually increasing rapidity ; owing to the continual rectification of our judgment , with respect to the true velocity of time. And, as we shall find ourselves declining in vigour in the last half, whereas we were constantly increasing in it in the first half, we shall be led to a provident consideration of the present period ; in order to recover, and redress, whatever in the past may point itself out to our reflection as requiring it. The power of habit, which acquires such compound strength from the progress of time, will begin to alarm us, and to awaken in us a wise anxiety ; and we shall naturally reflect, that, if we are under the influence of any habits which ought to be broken and subdued, this is the latest season to which the effort ought in prudence to be pro- tracted. The vigour we now possess, will still render easy the subjugation of habits, the dominion of which will be irresistibly confirmed, if we permit them to acquire an established inveteracy, and if we postpone THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 95 our combat with them, until our strength de- cays, and our resolution becomes too feeble to encounter them. 83. But, the admonitions for middle life must of necessity involve the remembrance of the past, by appealing to the substance of its experience ; by vehich, the authority of those admonitions are chiefly to be established. The experience of life, and of human nature, with which we find ourselves gradually stored in these periods, will go a great way towards enabling us to form a general notion, of that portion of life which we have yet to live. " Ex prateritis possmii futura deprehendi.'^ " Thefuturey" says Pliny, " may, in a great " measure, be collected from the past." And so also Shakspeare : There is an history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of times deceased. The which observM, a man may propliesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings, lie inlreasured. 84. Here then, as a Remembrancer, the JBioscope will have a very active office to 96 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. fulfil ; and various will be the subjects, upon which it will exert its activity. Among those which will naturally engage the mind, will be a review of our contemporaries in life : they who began the journey with us, and who long kept pace with us in it. Of these we shall inquire, which still con- tinue their course in the common track ; or which, by a side and cross path, have already reached the termination ? whose Bioscopes have stopped in the middle of their courses, and thus have demonstrated tons, the vanity of all anticipations of life. When in this vale of years I backward look, And miss such numbers; numbers too of such. Firmer in health, and greener in their years, And stricter on their guard, and fitter far To play life's subtle game; I scarce believe I still survive I 85. From the smaller circle, of our own particular friends, we shall, in these luiddle years of life, extend our view and our con- pern to the great circle of the world ; and to THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 97 the principal actors engaged upon its con- spicuous theatre. Where the prime actors of the last year's scene ? Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plunae. How many sleep, who kept the world awake, With lustre, and with noise ! Has death proclaim'^ A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 'Tis brandish'd still; nor shall the present year Be more tenacious of its human leaf, Or spread of feeble life a thinner/fl//. 86. How penetrating must the truth of these lines be to us, who, for more than twenty years, beheld England " awake, with lustre and with noise/' at the names of Pitt and Fox ; and who yet have seen the pos- sessors of those great names disappear, and vanish from the view, at terms of life far short of the extreme ages comprehended in the dial : the former at the age of 47 ; and the latter at the age of 55 years. 87. Nor is it in men alone that this fra- gility, this mortality is seen. Empires die ! Where now The Roman ? Greek ? They stalk an empty name, 11 98 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ^^ Where now" the ancient and splendid realm of France? The German empire, with all its prescriptive honours, of Rome, of CiESAR, and of Augustus ? We knew them both, and were intimate with both; yet " where are they nowV » ■ ■ They stalk, an empty name ! We have lived to see them erased from the earth ; and, in our own few years, have wit- nessed a revolution in human affairs, more entire than was ever accomplished, but in the progression of centuries. 88. Let any man, who (at the age, per- haps, of twenty,) saw the throne of Lewis the Fourteenth in appearance still firm and secure, retaining all its ancient honours, and possessed by a prince of his royal blood, the second only in descent from him- self; who, ten years after, saw that throne subverted, those honours extinguished, that possessor weltering in his blood, and that royal line of sovereigns for ever concluded : who, in the course of ten more years, beheld an imperial dignity spring out of THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 99 that scene of waste and ruin, and invest, with all its eminence, an unknown native of a Mediterranean island, who presently ex- tinguished the last vestige of imperial Rome, and made himself the conqueror and arbi- trator of almost the whole of Europe : let such an one count back those few fateful years upon the dial of his Bioscope, and medi- tate upon the experience which they impart ; let him next look forward, upon the years which are now about to open before him; and, (if he has wisdom,) caution, and not temerity; doubt, and not security ; religious awe, and not worldly confidence; must be the sentiments which they will excite. 88. With empires, pass also the fashions or prevailing aspects of the world. He who is now advanced ia middle age, found the world, at his entrance into manhood, not more distinguished by the crowns and scep- tres that have vanished, than by opinions and systems, which exercised the most insolent and overbearing dominion among the nations of Christendom. The religion of Christ- endom, was the great object of their assail- 100 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. merit; and, favoured by the corruption of courts, and the depravity of individuals, they established an empire of fashion, which had nearly brow-beaten religion, and driven piety from the world, into the recesses of closets. By the slow and cal- culated advances of sophistry; or by the daring and desperate assaults of jest and falsehood; they united, with unintermitting ardor, to blow up, or beat down, the sanc- tuary of the Gospel. The schools of Hume, of Voltaire, of Helvetius, of Frederick, and many others, seemed firm in power ; and their arrogant pretensions were exalted among the most conspicuous eminences of Europe. " Where are they now?" Fallen from that height of false glory, and usurped distinction, on which they stood ; they must now be searched for, among the ruins of Europe. The same mysterious scourge, which the present dispensation of Provi- dence has called forth to chastise and afflict Christendom, has fallen with indiscrimi- nating vengeance, upon the honours of infi- delity and scepticism. THE BIOSCOPE EX>PI>AINJR©.>^ ^^ 89. Having received such extraordinary demonstration, that " the world, and the ^^ fashion of the world, passeth away;" he will discern wisdom, and not severity, in the admonitory precept founded upon that truth ; " Love not the world." And, look- ing from those passing objects, " which are " now seen," to those prospective ones, " which are not yet seen;" he will loosen his attachments to " things which are merely " temporal," and gladly fix them upon " those which are eternal." 90. Let the Bioscope be then resorted to, in its quality of Comforter, to enable us so to use those approaching years, as to be capable of defying the utmost evil with which they can teem ; and of mastering all the power of disaster, which seems to form the peculiar and distinguishing character of the times in which we are cast. And this it will do; First: by showing us, that there is a limits which that evil and that disaster cannot possibly overpass ; and wher^ we may be emancipated, for ever, from its -\0^^ TH© BlOIJCOPfi EXPLAINED. influence and dominion. Secondly ; by showing us, that we have still, in proba- bility, a residue of life, which may be ren- dered sufficient for taking effectual mea- sures, to assure that emancipation, and to attain to that ultimate receptacle of security and peace. Let us keep our view con- stantly advanced to the goal of our journey ; and, holding continually that forward ten- dency, let us make the end, and not the intermediate stages, the prime object of our concern. There, whatever may be the poli- tical distractions of this earth, for a short and limited period, the Christian's prospect will be crowded with objects to animate the best and noblest ambition of those middle ages ; namely, " glory, and honour j " and immortality ;^^ when " God shall, at " length, have taken unto Him his great " power, and shall reign; and shall have ** destroyed them which destroy the earth ! '* 91. We come now at last to the aged ; to that period, which Cicero calls, " of old " «ge, either arrived, or certainly approach- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 103 <^ ing — aut jam urgentis, aut certe adven- <^ tantis senectutis." And here we have a task, still more delicate to fulfil than the former. For, who are the aged, and the old ? At what period do those qualities of time commence, and attach their characters upon individuals ? 92. " Do you call a man old at sixty?*' says the world: and such is the general system of connivance and mutual decep- tion, that the usual answer to that question is — No/ But here, again, we have need to fix and determine the signification of terms. By agedy and old, I apprehend w^e must understand, the having outlived far the greater part of the average number of our years, and, of course, having but a small portion of that number remaining. Aged, and old, being relative notions, and relative to a fixed and general measure of time in life ; between fifty and sixty, and between sixty and seventy, out of seventy years, certainly establish, in diiFerent propor- tions, the relations of age^ or oldness. 104 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. As the poet is adventurous enough to say; If truth, in spite of manners, must be told, Why tv\\\y, fifty-five is something old *. 93. That this statement may not appear so contrary to the common opinion of man- kind, as it is to the partial feeling of the World ; let us inquire, what was the opinion of the wisest heathen nations, before age became so much an object of jealousy and irritation. 94. According to the Greeks and Latins, a man was called Tr^Eo-^sulyig — senior, that is, elder or aged, as soon as he had completed his forty-ninth year, and had entered upon his fiftieth ; and he was called ys^cov^ — senex, that is, old, from the age of fifty-six to the end of his life. If now, keeping in our mind the definition which has just been given of agedness, and oldness, we carry our eye to the Bioscope, we shall receive imme- ♦ Elegy to an Old Beauty .—Parnel. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 105 diate demonstration of the truth and just- ness of that ancient enumeration. He who has entered into his last decimal but one, is, in all certainty, aged; and he who has entered his last decimal, is, in all meaning, old, though others may be older. 95. It has been observed, that we are never sensible of our advancement in age, until some accidental circumstance occurs 16 awaken in us a sense of that truth. Seneca thus relates an incident, which led him to remark, that he was already an aged man. " Quocunque me verto, argumenta senec- " tutis meae video. Veneram in suburba- ^^ num, et querebar de impensis aedificii " delabentis. Ait villicus, non esse negli- ^^ gentiae suae vitium, omnia se facere, sed " villam veterem esse. Haec villa inter man us " meas crevit; quid mihi futurum est, si " tarn putrida sunt aetatis meae saxa ?— " Wherever I turn, I see the proofs of my ^^ own agedness. I went to my house out ^' of town, and complained of the expense " which I was to incur for repairs. The 106 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " Steward said, that it was not owing to any " negligence in him ; that he had taken " every care of the building, but that the *^ house was old. Now, this house grew up ** under my own hands ! What, then, must " be my own case, if materials, of my own ^* age, are thus perishable?'' 96. From these stages, a long retrospect is opened to us ; and the prospect narrows in proportion. We perceive sensibly our advance, and approximation to the com- mon boundary of life ; and we are as sen- sibly convinced, that no time should be "wasted, or lost, for bringing our minds into B. conformity with our years, in order to our final arrival at that boundary. Here, then, the Bioscope speaks eloquently to us in its capacity of Monitor. 97. We read upon the dial the characters of the ages which we have past, and of those at which we are arrived ; and, however ?iiuch we may desire to deny those charac- ters, by appealing to the texture of our thoughts, yet, the conspicuous fact vindicates THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 107 its reality, by appealing to the number of our years. And it is years, not thoughts, which make up the measure of human life. 98. " However age may discourage us by " its appearance, from considering it in '^ prospect,'' says a great writer, " we shall " all by degrees certainly be old, if we live " long enough ; and therefore we ought to " inquire, what provision can be made " against that time of distress ? what hap-^ " piness can be stored against the winter of " life? and how we may pass our latter ** years with serenity and cheerfulness ? If ^* it has been found by the experience of " mankind, that not even the best seasons ** of life are able to supply sufficient grati- ^* fications, without anticipating uncertain ^'felicities, it cannot surely be supposed, " that old age, worn with labours, harrassed " with anxieties, and tortured with diseases, '^ should have any gladness of its own, or *^ feel any satisfaction from the contempla-? *^ tion of the present. All the comfort that *' can now be expected, must be recalled 108 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. '' from the past, or borrowed from the future, ^^ The past is very soon exhausted ; all the '^ events or actions of which the memory " can afford pleasure, are quickly recol- " lected; and the future lies beyond the ** grave, where it can be reached only by " virtue and devotion. Piety is the only ^^ proper and adequate relief of decaying " man. He that grows old without reli- ^^ gious hopes, as he declines into imbe- " cility, and feels pains and sorrows inces- " santly crowding upon him, falls into a " gulf of bottomless misery ; in which every " recollection must plunge him deeper, and " where he finds only new gradations of " anguish, and precipices of horror." 99. The aged, and the old, will therefore, if they are wise, be admonished by the Bioscope, to make their minds dwell, with resolution, on the demonstrated shortness of their remaining course ; and on the region, to which the end of that course must in- evitably bring them. And here we may yemark, that common s^nse alone, and the THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED^ 109 common inclination and practice of man- kind, would seem to incite us to this exercise. 100. All men look so far forward into time, as to provide for the interest of gene- rations which they shall never witness on the earth. " They labour in things," says Cicero, " in which they know they shall " have no personal concern. Nor is there *^ a farmer, however old, that hesitates, if ^' he is asked, for whose sake he sows or " plants? to reply — ' For the sake of the ^^ immortal gods ; who require, that I should " not merely receive these things from my *' forefathers, but transmit them also to *' posterity.^'' JNow, if it is natural to man, to look forward into times which he shall never witness, for the sake of persons whom he shall never see; it would seem much more natural^ to look forward to an eternity into which we are entering, for the sake of ourselves, who shall be sensible of existence throughout that eternity. 101. Upon the same principle, it would seem natural, that we should engage our 110 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED; thoughts in considering that eternal country^ into which we are so soon to enter. For the termination of the scale, is full as much the beginning of a life, as it is the end of a life: the end of one, being, ipso facto y the beginning of another. Just as the door* way of an anti-chamber, is not more the fo'mt oi egress from thence, than it is that of ingress to the state-room. Now, what person is there, who, if he has in prospect to embark for Persia or Peru, will not be filled with an ardent curiosity concerning his voyage ; and very inquisitive, after the nature and genius of the country, and the kind of entertainment he shall meet with in it? And shall we, when we see that the period of our departure is approaching, a little more or less near, be less curious, and less inquisitive, respecting the country which immediately borders upon the concluding goal of life ; to which we shall arrive ere long ; from which we shall not return ; but shall remain, under circumstances wholly and essentially new ? Especially, when we have it in our power, to gain so much THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. Ill delightful information respecting that coun- try; and to secure so safe a journey to it^ and so favourable a reception in it ? Surely, in this repect, the Bioscope is a consum- mate Comforter ; since it brings us to so near a prospect of that country, and conducts our view even to the very frontier. 102. And here I shall take occasion to remark ; that there is not a more common, or more delusive error, and which, how- ever soothing it may be to the imagination, is most treacherous to the reason ; than that of looking forward to old age, as a station, in which we are to halt, and take our rest, at the close of the journey of life. 103. For, first; we may never attain to old age; and then, how mischievous must be the illusion, of living always with a view to a period, at which we never shall arrive? ^^ You hear many," says Seneca, " who say, I will retire at my fiftieth year; " or, my sixtieth year will set me free from " all toil of business. But, what pledge ^^ have you received of so long a life ? Are " you not ashamed, to treasure up in your 112 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED* " imagination any reserve of future years? " Non pudet te reliquias vittc reservare?"-^^ *' The laws of probability," said Mr. Gib- bon, at the age of fifty-two, " so true in " general, so fallacious in particular, still *^ allow me about fifteen years. I shall " soon enter the period which, as the most *^ agreeable of his long life, w as selected by " the judgment and experience of the sage " Fontenelle." But the sage Fontenelle said so, upon the retrospect, and not on the prospect. Mr. Gibbon died within five years. 104. But, suppose that we shall attain to old age ; still, we shall find it no stationary post, or place of halting. Life has, in all ages, been well compared to a journey. Now, to look to old age as a station, and to console ourselves, as we travel on in life, with the prospect of that imaginary station ; is, as if a man were journeying from Bath to London, and looked forward for his repose, between Kensington and Hyde- Park Corner. The three or four last miles of that jouraey, will well answer to the last THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 113 years of the journey of life. The traveller will certainly only look for his repose, when he shall be arrived at his home in the Capital. The interval from Kensington to the Turn- pike, will, indeed, probably awaken in him a lively sense of his approach to his home ; and the more so, as he will then be wearied and harrassed by his journey ; and, in his contemplation of the proximity of his en- joyment, his mind will experience an anti-- cipation of repose. But it is beyond the Turnpike, and in the Capital only, that he will look for its reality. 105. And so in the journey of life. The last years of life neither promise, nor admi- nister, any period of retreat in themselves; for life proceeds as fast (nay, sensibly faster,) in old age, as in any other part of its course: it can then only be, in the near prospect of retreat, not in the possession of it. Old age may, doubtless, look for some repose of mind, from its period in the jour- Etey ; because its anxieties will have greatly subsided, and its concern about future con- tingencies, and accidents of the road, will 114 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. be extremely diminished ; but it must still travel on as fast as ever, and its retreat will only be acquired, when the goal is passed, and the final home attained. 106. And this objection lies, in a great degree, against the scheme of human life exhibited in the andrometer of the highly valuable Sir William Jones ; which, as his noble biographer defines it to be, is *^ a scale of human attainments and enjoy-^ *^ ments,'' This scale points out certain years at the end of life, as forming a period of " the perfection of earthly happiness;" and, therefore, naturally directs the mind to that period, as one, in prospect of which it is to guide its course. But, however ingenious that scheme may be, and however " striking *^ a specimen it may afford of the extent of '^ its distinguished author's views, in the ** acquisition of intellectual attainments ; '' (to use the words of his biographer ;) it requires but a superficial inspection tx> dis- cern, how entirely visionary, and decep- tions, it is. That it is visionary, is manifest; because there is nothing in the character tHE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 115 assigned to any one year, which is founded upon the laws of nature. And that it is in the utmost degree deceptions, was demon- strated in the excellent author himself, who imagined it at the age of thirty y and who did not live to reach the forti/'eighth division of the scale : which was many degrees short of those, in which he had placed " the per^ *' fection of earthly happiness.'' And there- fore, as his biographer aptly remarks : " We are not to consider, that the pre- '^ paration for eternity, which stands at " the end of the scale, was to be deferred " until the seventieth year; it is rather ^' to be considered as the object to which he " was perpetually to look, during the whole " of his life, and which was exclusively to " engross his latter years *." 107. But it will perhaps be said ; " True ! " but at that end is death ; and the pro- " spect of death is so repellant to human " nature, that the mind naturally recoils from * See THE ANDROMETBR, at the end of this Tract Il6 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ^^ the view ; and would rather seek an obli* " vion in the visions of fancy, than be har- " rowed up by the presence of that hostile " spectre." If this is the language of human nature, I am at a loss to know, under what dispensation we are to find it. By human nature, I understand the best condition of that nature. Was it then in the heathen world, that this language was held ? It is very con- trary to the language of Socrates, or of Cicero. 108. When Socrates stood before his iniquitous judges, and had just received con- demnation to death, he thus evinced the effect which their judgment, and the pro- spect of immediate dissolution, wrought upon his mind. " Death," said he to them, " must necessarily be one of two things. " Either it is the entire end of all sen- " sation ; or it is the transportation of the " soul from one place into another. Now, " if it is only the extinction of all sen- " sation, like a sleep in which we experi- " ence no dreams; how astonishingly gainful << is death! But if, on the other hand, that THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 11? " which we are taught be true ; that death " is our removal from hence into another ^' place ; and if it be also trpe, that we ^^ shall there be consigned to the judgment " of righteous and equitable judges; how " far more gainful must it then be ! And if *^ I shall there hold intercourse with Or- " pheus, with Musaeus, with Hesiod, with " Homer ; I would willingly, for such feli- " city, suffer death many times over! To '' me, the prospect of such a society is '^ beyond measure delightful; since they, *^ who shall arrive at that place, will die no '^ more, but will remain for ever, immortal, " and in the enjoyment of happiness, infi- " nitely surpassing every thing that is ex- " perienced here*." 109. The sentiments of Cicero, on the same article, are delivered by him in the person of Cato; whom he thus makes to wind up, and conclude, his beautiful treatise upon Old Age. " I depart from life," says be, " as from an inriy not as from an hojne ; * Plato's Apology, &^, 118 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ^' for nature gave it to us, only as a place ^^ of temporary abode, and not as one of " permanent habitation. O glorious day! ^^ when I shall reach that divine concourse " and society of spirits ; and when I shall " depart from this scene of pollution and ^' distraction ! For I shall then, not only go ^' to those persons of whom I have already " spoken, but to my own son, than whom ^' no better man was ever born, nor any " one more illustrious for his piety. To ^^ whose body I performed the last offices ; " whereas, it was rather he that should " have performed them to mine. But his '^ soul, not taking leave of me, but looking " back for me, departed to those regions, '' to which he knew I myself must so soon *' follow him. And this loss I seemed to '' you to bear with composure ; but it was " not that I bore it with composure, but *' that I consoled myself with the thought, ^' that the distance and separation between *^ us would not be long. And with these *' reflections, old age is not only light to " me, but even pleasing. For if I am in THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 119 " error in believing, that the souls of men *^ are immortal, I willingly err; nor shall " any one, while I live, rob me of that " error, which is my delight! — Quad si in '' hoc errOy quod animos liominum immortales " esse credam, libenter erro : nee mihi hunc u errorem, quo delector, dum vivo, extorqueri '' vohr 110. Is it, then, in the Christian world, that death is discovered to be -an object so odious to human nature ? Surely wot ; for we know, that since the secrets of " Life and Im- " mortality have been brought to light " by the Gospel," and all doubts dissi- pated respecting those great points, the " sting of death'^ is drawn ; and it is become to us nothing more than the portal, by which "we pass into life." 111. Since, then, those who are most fit to guide our reasons, either in the hea- then or Christian world, have not recoiled from the prospect of death, nor viewed it as an hostile spectre, but rather as a guide and a deliverer; shall we, who profess to unite in ourselves all lights, both Christian 120 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. and heathen, cherish the miserable senti- ment, which dares not meditate its aatural approach ? No! the thought of death indulge. Give it its wholesome empire ; let it reign, That kind chastiser of the soul in joy ! And why not think of death ? Ere man has measured half his wearied stage, His luxuries have left him no reserve ; No maiden relishes, unbroached delights. Oa cold-serv*d repetitions he subsists, And in the tasteless present, chews the past. — Age should walk thoughtful, on the solemn shore Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon ; And put good works on board, and wait the wind, That shortly blows us into worlds unknown. If unconsidered too, a dreadful scene ! 112. It is a great mistake, to suppose that we are not yet entered within the dominion of death, because his last act of power has not yet been exercised upon us : '* in the midst of life we are in death." Must I then forward only look for death ? Backward I turn my eye, and find him there. Man is a self'Siirvivor every hour. Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 121 Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. My youtii, my noontide his, my yesterday ! The bold invader shares the present hour ; Each moment on the former shuts tlie grave. While man is growing, life is in decrease; Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste that instant they take fire. Shall we then fear, lest that should come to pass. Which comes to pass each moment of our lives? 113. That the contemplation of the close of life, which is inseparable from death, is far from being grievous in itself , but is only rendered so by its opposition to the custom- ar}'^ habits of the mind, and to the con- ceptions which the mind has chosen to entertain and nourish ; is brought to demon- stration, by a comparison with those, who have viewed it, not merely with composure and willingness, but with even rapture and delight. 114. Mr. Gibbon, when he had com- pleted those celebrated pages^ the applause for which was to constitute the chief reward and happiness of his mind; and when, at the age o^ fifty-two years, he had conceived the fallacious expectation of an " autumnal 122 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " period of felicity ;" declared his own ex- perience of life, in the following warning sentence : " I must reluctantly observe, that " two causes, the abbreviation of time, and " the failure of hope, will always tinge, with " a browner shade, the evening of life '^." 115. If this sentence is delivered as a general proposition, applicable to all man- kind; and meaning to assert, that the abbre- yiation of time, and the failure of hope, are correlative, the latter necessarily following from the former; we are so happy as to know, with full assurance, that it is positively false. Millions of Christians have borne testimony, in the evening of their lives, to its utter falsehood. When St. Paul gx- claimed—- " The time of my departure is at ^^ hand. I have finished my course ; hence- " forth there is laid up for me a crown of ^* glory, which the Lord, the righteous judge, " will give me in that day. And not to me *^ only, but to all those also who love (the ^' prospect of) His reappearing!" When he thus exclaimed, was there any symptom ♦ Memoirs of Ids Life, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 123 that the strength of his hope was diminished by the abbreviation of his time ? Or did any ^' shade seem to tinge the evening of his " life?*' And endless are the examples which the experience of individual Christians can supply, of hope increasing with the abbre- viation of time ; and of the serene efful- gence, which that hope sheds, not only over the evening, but over the very twilight of life. Mr. Gibbon's proposition, therefore, if taken universally, is most experimentally false. 116. But, if it be taken with limitation, as in fact it ought to be taken ; if it merely expresses Mr. Gibbon's own experience; and declares the inward condition of his own mind ; then we must receive it, not only as true, but as one of the most salutary dis^ closures, one of the most valuable truths in experimental ethics, that could have been imparted to the world. Mr. Gibbon thus distinctly declared, as the result of his life, drawn up, deliberately, only a very short period before his decease, that the course into which he had put his mind, and the 1£4 THE iJIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. view which he had practised himself to take of philosophy and of religion, caused his hope to fail, in proportion as his term of life diminished; and that the consequence of that failure of hope, was a tinge of gloom, more and more deeply investing the evening of his life. 117. Melancholy, nay frightful, as this declaration is, it speaks more than volumes to prove the divinity of the Gospel ; and the impotence and absurdity of all human con- ceits, set up in opposition to it. It proves to demonstration, the truth of what has just been advanced ; that the prospect of the end of life, is not necessarily, and in itself, grievous; but that it becomes so only when it is in opposition to the habits, an^ esta- blished impressions of the mind. Where the mind accustoms itself to view the pro- gress and end of our nature, as it is illus- trated by revealed truth ; the close of life, that is, death, is a requisite circumstance in it, conducive to an end we seek. Where we seek not that end, because we have habi- tually excluded, or turned away from, the THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 125 lisht of revelation; the mind, unwilling to advance, seeks either to return, or remain stationary. But death is an unsurmountable impediment to such an expedient ; and every step, therefore, that we are forcibly carried towards it, must naturally "tinge with a " browner shade, the evening of life." 118. We meet with nothing, in the death of that distinguished censor of the church and Gospel, which should tempt us, even if we could gain tenfold the measure of his fame, to seek the succour of his philoso- phical phantom, in exchange for the sub- stantial consolations of the Christian faith. The chief incidents of the awful period, which, at the age of ffti/six, interrupted all his plans of " autumnal felicity ;'' are thus recorded. " Twenty-four hours before " his death, Mr. Gibbon happened to fall " into a conversation, not uncommon with " him, on the probable duration of his life. " He said, he thought himself a good life, " for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years, " On Monday, January 13, he underwent " an operation, and seemed much relieved. 126 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " He talked, as usual, of passing his time at " houses which he had often frequented, *' with great pleasure; and said, I intend " to go on Thursday (Jan. 16,) to Devon- " shire house." — " On the l6th," says his noble biographer, " I reached his lodging " about midnight, and learned, that my " friend had expired, a quarter before one *^ o'clock, that day. His tmlet de chambre " observed, that Mr. Gibbon did not, at any " time, show the least sign of alarm, or ^^ apprehension of death. And it does not ^^ appear, that he ever thought himself in " danger J" He died in the year 1793, aged 57. 1 19. Addison, two years before his death, entered upon his admirable work, in Evi* DENCE of the Christian Religion. " In *' the beginning of the year 1719," says hid great biographer, " the end of his useful life " was now approaching. Addison had for *^ some time been oppressed by shortness of ^* breath, which was now aggravated by a " dropsy ; and finding his danger pressing, " he prepared to die conformably to his THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 12? '' own precepts and professions. The Earl " of Warwick was a young man of very " irregular life, and perhaps of loose opi- " nions. Addison, for whom he did not " want respect, had very diligently endea- " voured to reclaim him ; but his argu- " ments and expostulations had no eifect, " One experiment, however, remained to " be tried ; when he found his life near its '^ end, he directed the young lord to be " called ; and when he desired, with great " tenderness, to hear his last injunctions, ^' told him, ' I have sent for you, that you " may see how a Christian can diey^ He died June 17, 1719, aged 47. 120. Whatever was the effect of this example upon the Earl of Warwick, it remained to animate the faith, the piety, and the virtue of the Christian world. Gellert, distinguished in Saxony by the sanctity of his life and writings, demon- strated in himself the efficacy of that bright example. " On the day of his dissolution, " convinced that he felt the immediate " approach of death, he earnestly inquired 128 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLA1N£0. '" of his friends, how long he might still " have to struggle with it ? Upon receiving " for answer, perhaps an hour ; 'God be " praised!' he exclaimed, raising his hands " with a joyous countenance ; ' only one " hour!' Then, with a countenance still " more serene, he turned on his side ; " silently addressed himself in prayer to " God ; and, in the midst of that prayer, " sunk into the sleep of death ; on the 13th " of December, 1769, aged 54. This so " peaceful end," adds his biographer, " re- *' calls and confirms what Addison said on " his death-bed : See how a Christian can " die! And thus was accomplished the " ardent desire which Gellert expressed in " a letter, in which he spoke of the death " of Addison : ' Great God ! what would " be my happiness, if my end could be like '' his!'" 121. " There is nothing in history," said Addison, seven years before his death, '^ which is so improving to the reader, as " those accounts which we meet with, oithe " deathi. of eminent persons, and of their THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 129 " behaviour in that dreadful season. I may ^^ also add, that there are no parts in history, " which affect and please the reader in so " sensible a manner. The reason I take to *^ be this; because there is no other single ^' circumstance in the story of any single '^ person, which can possibly be the case of *^ evety one who reads zY*." 122. The sound sense and truth, of this remark, being manifest; let us bring home to our own cases the examples, here ad- duced, of the concluding lives, of one of the greatest antagonists, and of one of the greatest vindicators, of the Christian faith ; and let us reflect, which of the two we would rather resemble, on the day which shall terminate our lives. Whether of him who prepared for his declining years a dimi- nution of hope, and an augmenting gloom of prospect ; or of him, who prepared his mind to depart in the strongest confidence of hope, and in the brightest serenity of joy ? Of him, who on the day of his death, was employed in the sad and fallacious ♦ Spectator, No, 289. See this whole paper. K 130 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. computation, of ten, or twelve, or txoentif more years of earthly life ; or of him, who inet the day of his death, as the day of his immediate advancement to the presence of God, in eternity ? Of him, whose mind enter- tained no anticipations of his impending removal to another state of being ; or of him, whose mind was already on the wing for its departure, with the most hvely anti- cipations of the bUss which was waiting to receive him ? Of him, finally, who sought to lead a soul to heaven, by the demonstrative evidence of its already dawning glory ; or of him, who had no better consolation to offer to his greatest friend, under the seve- rest of domestic calamities, than a frigid and unhopeful — " if there be a future state^" The chamber, where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. Fly, ye profane ! If not, draw near with awe ; Receive the blessing, and adore the chance That threw in this Bethesda your disease. If unrestorM by this, despair your cure ; • Gibbon's Miscel. Works, i. 279. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 131 For here resistless demonstration dwells : A death-bed*s the detector of the heart. — You see the man, you see his hold on Heav'n, If sound his virtue, as Philander's sound, Heaven waits not the last moment ; owns her friends On this side death, and points them out to men : A lecture, silent, but of sovereign power. Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, Virtue alone has majesty in death. Through Nature's wreck, through vanquished agonies. What gleams of joy ! What more than human peace ! Where the frail mortal ? the poor abject worm ? No, not in death, the mortal to be found. His conduct is a legacy for all / His comforters he comforts ; great in ruin. With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. " How our hearts burnt within us" at the scene ! Whence this brave bound, o'er limits fix'd to man ? His God sustains him in his final hour ! . His final hour brings glory to his God ! — Christians, adore ! and infidels, believe ! As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, Detains the sun, illustrious from its height ; While rising vapours, and descending shades, With damps and darkness drown the spacious vale: Undampt by doubt, undarkenM by despair, Philander thus augustly rears his head. At that black hour which general horror sheds 132 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. On the low level of th* inglorious throng. Sweet peace, and heavenly hope, and humble joy, Divinely beam on his exalted soul; Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies ! 323. It is a vast error to suppose, that vice, in its common and popular sense, is the ofili/ moral evil which can disqualify us for the promises of religion. Vice is, indeed,, a mortal evil, and an insuperable disqualifi' calion, so long as it continues, and is not cast off, and thoroughly purged out; but the mind and heart of man, oppressed by its burthen, may conceive such inward ap- prehensions of its misery and hatefulness, as, by a strong and resolute effort to cast it off, to loathe it, and to invest itself thence- forth in a garb of purity and virtue. The mind, receiving into itself such an inward principle of renovation, may become, as it were, entirely regenerated ; and hold a serene and steady hope of admission to those high privileges, through the mercy of God, and the peculiar means by which He has been pleased to administer that mercy. 124. But there is a more desperate evil, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 133 which is, mental vice; a corrupt, inbred pride of fnind, and principle oi self-exaltation. If this principle is suffered to establish its full dominion, to grow with life, and to become inveterate, neither the experience Bor the imagination of man can conceive a process for correcting it. This is a prin- ciple of essential hostility to the supremacy of God, as vice is a principle of open rebel- lion against His authority. But he who has long rebelled^ may become heart-smitten and humbled, and prostrate himself in peni- tence ; and then, his evil is instantly re- moved. But he, who is " exalted above " measure ;" who establishes in himself a sen- timent of self-authority ; who contemplates, with a self-devotion, his own imagined supe- riority of judgment; making his self i\ie ultimate object of his appeal ; becomes incapable of humiliation, and closes the door of his reason, and his heart, against all illumination through the channels of divine truth. And there is no prospect of his evi being corrected, before he is called away, to THE GREAT TRIBUNAL, tO aCCOUUt for the 154 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. exercise of his intellectual agency ; and to show, how far his time of trial has been em- ployed, in reducing his intellectual faculties into a state of submissive allegiance to the Master, whom alone he w^as made to serve by them. If then it be found, that no sufficient progress has been made, in a course of subjugating the will, and conforming the mind, to the sole and entire government of God ; the agent must, necessarily, stand as defective, as if he had engaged in any other course of delinquency. The mental vice, so cherished and confirmed, will leave him as unprepared, and as inadequate to the per- fect agency then demanded of him, as if he had lived in the indulgence of any other species of forbidden gratification. 125. And it is upon this distinction, so easily apprehended by the reason, between rebellion in act, that is vice, and rebellion in principle, that is, injidelitij and scepticism, that OUR Lord, who alone could declare the counsels of Heaven, pronounced ; that the former, " the publicans and harlots, should ^^ go into the kingdom of Heaven, before THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 135 '' the latter:' Not, indeed, while they con- tinued such ; but that there was a far greater facihty, for the abj ectness and temerity of vice to purge itself, and to fit itself for Heaven, than for the arrogance, and disloyalty, of infidelity, to do the same thing. 126. This is that evil spirit, which has so variously laboured, throughout the last cen- tury, and in our own days, to rob us of the consoling prospects of futurity, confirmed to us by the revelation of the Gospel. " If it " is an error," said Cicero, " no one shall « rob me of it while I live !" What would he then have said of that modern host, usurping to themselves his proper desig- nation of philosopher, who have laboured, with a malignity beyond all example, to rob mankind of a truth, which, even as a possible error, appeared to Cicero of a value inappreciable ? What he would have thought, we may gather from the testimony of a spirit congenial with his own ; a true philosopher; who was able to carry into the twilight of the Academy, the bright and piercing illumination of the Gospel, 136 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 127. " Perhaps/! said this excellent writer forty years ago, " our modern sceptics are *^ ignorant, that, without the belief of a " God, and the hope of immortality, the *' miseries of human life would often be " insupportable. But can I suppose them ^^ in a state of total stupidity, uiter strangers " to the human heart, and to human affairs ? " Surely they would not thank me for such " a supposition. Yet this I must suppose, ^^ or I must believe them to be most per- ^^ fidious and cruel men. 128. ^^ Caressed by those who call them- " selves the great, engrossed by the for- ^' malities and fopperies of life, intoxicated " with vanity, pampered with adulation, " dissipated in the tumult of business, or " amidst the vicissitudes of folly, they per- " haps have little need, and little relish, for " the consolations of HELiGAOTSi, But let them '^ know, that, in the solitary scenes of life, ^' there is many an honest and tender heart, ^^ pining with incurable anguish, pierced " with the sharpest sting of disappoint- '^ ment, bereft of friends, chilled with THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 137 ^^ poverty, racked with disease, scourged by '^ the oppressor; whom nothing but trust in " Providence) and the hope of x future PvE- " TRiBUTioN, could preserve from the ago- " nies of despair. And do they, with sacri- " legious hands, attempt to violate this last " refuge of the miserable ; and to rob them " of the only comfort that had survived " the ravages of misfortune, maUce, and " tyranny ! Did it ever happen, that the " influence of their execrable tenets dis- " turbed the tranquillity of virtuous retire-^ " ment, deepened the gloom of human dis- '^ tress, or aggravated the horrors of the ^^ grave ? Is it possible, that this may have *^ happened in many instances ? Is it pro- " bable, that this hath happened, or may " happen, in owe 5««g/e instance ? Ye traitors ^^ to human kind, how can ye answer for ^^ it to your own hearts ! — But I remonstrate ^^ in vain. Could I enforce the present '^ topic by an appeal to your vanityy I " might perhaps make some impression ; " but to plead with you on the principles ^' of benevolence or generosity, is to address 138 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " you in a language ye do not, or will not, '^ understand. 129. " But let not the lovers of truth be ^^ discouraged. — The fashion of sceptical " systems soon passeth away. Those un- " natural productions, the vile effusions of *^ a hard heart, that mistakes its own rest- " lessness for the activity of genius, and its" " own captiousness for the sagacity of '^ understanding, may, like other monsters, " please a while by their singularity ; but " the charm is soon over : and the succee3- ^' ing age will be astonished to hear, that " their forefathers were deluded, or amused, " with such fooleries. The measure o/'scep- " TicisM seems indeed to be full*." 130. Thus this excellent, and almost prophetical, writer. The lovers of truth therefore, need not to be any longer dis- couraged ; for " God 25 true, and every man " a liar'' who dares to deny His truth. And, under the security of that truth, we are graciously supplied with a reason, ♦ Bcattie on Truth. P. iii. c. 3. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 139 ^triumphant reason, why, if we please, we need not survey death with any sentiment, either of terror or of aversion. In the first place, the act of death itself is nothing for a Chris- tian to sustain ; since he shall " 7iever taste *' of death, but will instantly pass from death « unto lifer Why start at death ? Where is he ? Death arrivM Is gone ; not come or gone, he^s never here. Ere hope, sensation fails; black-boding man Receives, not suffers, death's tremendous blow. The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave. The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm, These are the bugbears of a winter's eve : The terrors of the living, not the dead. — Man makes a death, which Nature never made ; Then on the point of his own fancy falls, And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 131. But the triumphant reason, which I have alleged, for not surveying death with any sentiment either of aversion or terror, is this: There are but two enjoyments of this present life, which a wise man would desire to carry with him out of it ; viz. the favour and friendship of God: and the com- 140 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEIT. meixe of dear and virtuoKs friends ; and we have God's express assurance, that he shall take both these with him. Every thing else, which only makes lip the circumstances of life, he would not v/ish to take with him; because he is thoroughly assured, that all the good, of opulence, of honour, of know- ledge, or of pleasure, will be supplied in an incomparably better manner, in an incom- parably better place. And he will easily give credit to God's assurance, upon the samples of those advantages which he wit- nesses here, that " these latter are not *^ worthy to be compared with those which ^^ shall be revealed hereafter ; and that the *^ things which God has prepared for them *^ who love Him/' (that is, who strive to please Him; by endeavouring to bring their wills^ into a true conformity with pus mani- fested WILL, in respect of everything which He designs us to know, and to do;) " are ^^ really, as He has caused it to be pro- ^^ claimed, such as neither eye hath seen, nor * See Preliminary Cliaptcr, p. IS. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 141 " the imagination of man ever yet conceived.'' The prospect of an inheritance in all these; together with the friendship of God, and the company of pious friends, advanced, with our- selves, to a state oi fdl perfection ; ought not only to divest death of all its terrors, but even to transform it, in our imaginations, into ^' an angel of lights 132. It was thus, that the sublime and pious mind of Milton contemplated it, in a very early period of his life ; and so de- picted it, in his Latin verses written upon occasion of the death of Nicholas Felton, Bishop of Ely, in the year 1626; a trans- lation of which verses is here presented to the English reader. ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF ELY. While yet my sad and pallid cheek Was moist from many a tear, That tender love, and anguish meek, llad shed o'er Winton's^ bier; ^ Lancelot Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, who died 1626. 142 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAlNEDV Fame, active messenger of grief, Thro' Britain's land had told, That thou, (in every virtue chief!) Ely ! in death wast cold. My swelling breast, surcharged with woe,. Scarce found a vent for breath : At length, when faultering words could flow^ I called a Curse on Death / But lo ! in accents heavenly sweet, From some supernal sphere, These solemn sounds, descending, greet My wonder-smitten ear, " O ! check thy grief, thy tears restrain,. " Unhallowed and unjust! ** Nor dare, with murmur, to complain, " In Infidel mistrust. " Death is not what the poets sung^ ^* The child of gloomy night ; " From Erebus, or Chaos, sprung: " Alien, impure, from light. " Death is a Seraph, sent in love " From Heaven's high bliss by God, " For souls to fill His courts above, " Freed from their earthly cWd. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 145 '< Thither, disburthen'd of their clay, " In upward course they soar; " To regions of unending day, " Where night is seen no more. " There, in their Father's presence dwelU " While impious sprites are driv'n •* To Tartarus, and lowest Hell, " Outcast from God and Heav'n. " With joy, with ecstasy, I heard " Her life-inspiring call : " Eager I hasted, nor deferred " To quit your nether ball. •' Borne by her winged ministers, " In flight sublime T soarM ; « Dreadless I traversM Scorpio's stars, " Nor fear'd Orion's sword. " Like him I mov'd, that seer divine, " Who, chariotted in fire, " Mounted above each starry sign, " To heaven's eternal Sire. « I passM the glories of the sun, " The planets' orbs ; and last, (" My lower journey bravely done,) « The galaxy I passM. 144 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " At length I reacb'd the court of Heaven, " The Eteniars chrystal dome ; " Of glorious course, more glorious haven, " And man's celestial home. " But how, to earth-clad man, relate " The joys these scenes bestow ? " Enough: — I share this blest estate, " And all its raptures know /'* 133. Let US not then be told any more, that the abbreviation of time necessarily diminishes hope, by darkening the human prospect ; unless, indeed, it be' said as an avowal of individual error and perverted reason ; and then let us cherish that avowal as a beacon y to warn us from a gulf of desolation, in which time, and hope, and light, sink and perish together. 134. The circumstance of death, which is naturally and necessarily to be supposed in the termination of the dial, ought not, therefore, to be vie\yed as au object of dismay or disgust, which the mind cannot accustom itself to face, or beyond which it cannot look ; since the wisest heathens, and THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAlJOSn^/ 145 the best Christians, have been able to contem- plate it as an object of their highest regard* 135. A backwardness in age, to reflect upon its station in years, or to contemplate the term which it sees to be near at hand, is, in effect, a repining and murmuring against the order established by Providence ; the impiety of which was long ago pointed out, and reprobated, by the natural piety and true philosophy of Cicero. " I follow " Nature" said he, " that perfect guide, as " God; and as such I submit to her. For " it is not likely that, when all the other " ages of life are so well ordered and *' drawn out, she should fail, like a bad " poet, in the last Act. Something must of " necessity be last ; and, like the fruits of " trees, and seeds of the earth, wither and " fall from fulness of maturity. To that " law, a wise man will patiently submit; " for, to revolt against nature, what is it, " but to war against the gods, with the " impiety of the giants? — Quid enim est '^ aliud, gigantum rnodo bellare cum diis, nisi " natures repngnare V* 146 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINElfT. 156. If the mind keeps pace with the years, declension and decay will be objects of its expectation ; and it will naturally grow into such an accordance with those circumstances of its being, as to render the thought of thena devoid of all oifence. 137. " Our infancy y^ said the aged and experienced Bishop Hall, ^^ is full of folly ; " youth, of disorder and toil ; age, of in- " firmity. Each time hath his burden, and " that which may justly work our weari- " ness. Yet infancy longeth after youth ; '* and youth, after more age : and he that " is very old, as he is a child for simplicity, " so he would be for years. I account old " AGE the best of the three ; partly, for that " it hath past through the folly and dis- *' order of the others ; partly, for that the " inconveniences of this are but bodily, *' with a bettered estate of the mind ; and *' partly, for that it is nearest to dissolution, " There is nothing more miserable, than an '* old man, who would be young again ''^'." • Bishop Hairs Works, Vol. I. p. 48. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 147 138. But if these are, indeed, attractive and glorious objects, which the Bioscope offers to our prospect as a comforter in jige ; it is indispensably necessary, that, WarnM by the languor of life's evening ray, Age should pay the utmost deference to its admonition, as a Monitor, by striving to live, the small time that remains, in a state of constant qualification for obtaining them : which state of qualification, as we have already seen, must consist, in ttte conformity oi our wills vf'iih. the supreme will mani- fested in the Gospel. That admonition is founded, upon the sensible demonstration, that the proportion of time which now remains is small; and upon the self-evident truth, that there is no way in which we can pass that time, which will answer so well, or afford us so large a return of enjoy- ment, as in using every particle of it with the most scrupulous economy : *^ walk- '* ing circumspectly ; not as fools, but as " wise; for the purpose of redeeming the " time:" 148 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 139. What has been said of age, within the average measure of seventy years, holds with still stronger force, should that age be extended beyond the average ; or, in the proper sense of the term, become super^ ammated: that is to say, live into years over and above the common calculation. In that state, of proper super-annuatmiy when it is obliged every day to exclaim with the poet : I scarce can meet a monument, but holds Ml/ younger ! every year ought to be a matter of sur- prise, rather than of exultation. For we can never count it, till it is gone; and, therefore, we have it not in possession, but have lost it, as soon as we are able to enu- merate it. And the prospect of another year, is always more and more improbable. 140. In what manner we ought to regard that term of excess, we may learn from the example of a wise and aged heathen. " The " great and learned Varro," as we are in- formed by Pliny, " was a singular instance THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 149 ^' of the vigour and powers of life ; retain- " ing all his mental and bodily facul- /* ties unimpaired, until the advanced age " of eighty-eight." Yet, when he wrote his celebrated treatise Upon Agriculture at the age of eighty, how did he account the privilege which he then possessed ? " Had " I leisure," said he, in his prefatory ad- dress, " I should send you this work in a " more commodious form ; which, however, '' I will still endeavour to do, as well as I '^ am able : but I am sensible, that I must " now make haste; for if, as they say, man " is but a bubble^ how much more so, an '^ Old Man! For my eightieth year now " admonishes me, that I must gather up " my bundles, before I depart out of life. *' Otium si essem consecuturus, Fundania, com- " modius tibi hoc scriberem ; qua nunc, ut " potero, exponam, cogitans esse properandum* *^ Quod, ut dicitur, si est homo bulla, eo " magis SEN EX. Annus enim octogesimus " admonet me, ut sarcinas colligam antequam *^ proficiscar e vitdJ' 141. Surely this is a period, when we 150 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ought, in reason, not merely to contemplate, but to live in the constant anticipation of, that ETERNITY, which we behold so near us. A good man and an angel ! these between How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate ? Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year. If this be true oi every stage of life; as it is applied by the poet ; how lively is its truth, when applied to every year, and every day, after the average measure of life is con- sumed ? When Lord Russel rose on the morning of his execution, it is related of him, that he wound up his watch ; and then said : ^' I have now done with Time; I must " henceforth think solely of JE^ermVj//" And such should be the reasoning of all, who see their Bioscope concluded, and its func- tions ended : in the same manner they should dispose their minds for that near moment, when their altered being shall suddenly and presently convince them, that Time was ; Eternity now reigns alone \ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 151 142. It is in old age, however, and espe- cially in extreme old age, that the office of Remembrancer exercises its severest dut3\ Its power is mitigated, in proportion as the prospective measure of life offers space, and probable opportunity, for the redemption of time, by a wise and provident employment of that which may remain. But neither time, nor any thing else, can be redeemed by man out of nothing. Here then, when time touches at its end, the scene may become dreary and dark indeed, and even desperate; if the care of time has been neglected, until that late crisis. '^ The ab-^ " breviation of time, might then so extin- " guish hope, as to induce a quality of the " blackest tinge over the evening and twi^ " light of life ; and leave only a fearful look- " ing for judgment," w^ere it not that there is a Redeemer, still available even in that dreadful crisis : who may yet be resorted to, even when a man shall be assailed with the dreadful conviction, that he himself can no longer make any redemption of time. Jhat Redeemer, as He is omnipotent, so 152 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEDi is he mercifully disposed to receive and succour us, even in the extremest cases that can be imagined ; provided he be duly ad- dressed, and as duly used, as soon as that conviction has taken entire possession of the mind. 143. It is indeed, when " we have no- ^' thing to pay,^ that that all-gracious Re- deemer may be prevailed upon, to obtain for us " the free remittance of the whole.*^ When the graduated scale marks out to our view the terrible truth, of the ex- hausture of our stock of time; it may compel us also to remember, that we have still that divine resource left us for redeem- ing our wasted time, and, therefore, to reject despair. And is not this an office of Com- forter ? If the mind once conceives a sharp, and penetrating conviction, of the pressing necessity of such a redeeming power ; together with an ardent and impatient anxiety to obtain its succour, and with hu- miliation and self-abasement to bend to all its conditions ; whatever be its station on this side eternity, that mind may yet draw breath, THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 153 and calm its terrors. Infinite justice having already accepted an atonement which comprehends all cases, infinite mercy melts at the miserable and insolvent condition of the humbled applicant. ^^ Man's iiecessityy* observes the pious Lord Chancellor Bacon, " is God's opportunity J* Whether, there- fore, the labourer enter the vineyard at the noon, or the evening, of his day, still he may hope to obtain the commiseration and kind- ness of his Lord ; provided that he seeks pardon and reconciliation with a perfect and penitent allegiance, the moment he is thoroughly convinced of his guilt, his misery, and his insolvency. 144. It is excellently observed by a great Christian moralist, that under every possible moral circumstance of man, whether in youth or in age, there exists always a direct and immediate traverse of communication, by which every man, conscious of his delin-, quencies, and oppressed by the remem-t brance of them, may at once return to his God. What Archdeacon Paley says of the sinner, we may say of extreme age under 154 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. such a calamity. " The sinner," says he, '^ may return and fly to God, even because *^ the world is against him." And so old age, if it then first receive a thorough conviction of its dangers, may fly to God, even because time is against it. " The '* thing wanted," says the same excellent divine, " as the quickening principle, the seed " and germ of religion in the heart, is com- " punction, convincement of sin, of danger, " of the necessity of flying to a Redeemer, " and to his religion, in good earnest"^,'^ If that genuine seed be once lodged and quickened in the heart, God's omnipotence may give it growth and perfection, by the special operations of His mercy and His providence. 145. Dr. Johnson relates the account of a person, whose life had been notoriously corrupt; and who, being thrown from his horse in a fall which caused his instant death, yet uttered in the moment of his fall the ejaculation, " O God!" with so * Paley. Sennon xii. THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 155 extraordinary and penetrating an earnest- ness, as to give occasion to the following lines : Between the stirrup and the ground, I mercy askM, I mercy found ! This representation does not, in the smallest degree, exaggerate the conduct of the divine clemency ; as the repentant thief upon the cross, triumphantly and eternally demon- strates. 146. At the same time we must, above all things, guard against all delusion in applying that gracious attribute to our own particular case ; since God " is not *^ mocked;" and He will, assuredly, only exer- cise it in our favour, where the heart is sin- cere, and such as is here described. There cannot be a more certain expedient for depriving ourselves, irretrievably, of all share in that clemency, than by a systematic, con* tumacious, and calculated postponement of our application for it, until we think that we can do without it no longer. " Then 156 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. " shall they call upon me, saith the Lord, " but I will not hear; they shall seek me " early, but they shall not find me; and *^ that, because they hated knowledge, and *^ received not the fear of the Lord ; but *' abhorred my counsel, and despised my '^ instruction. Then shall it be too late to *^ knock, when the door shall be shut ; and *^ too late to cry for mercy j when it is the '* timeofjWzce. O terrible voice of most just *' judgment, which shall be said unto them; " Go, ye cursed, into the fire everlasting, " which is prepared for the devil and his " angels ! Therefore, take we heed betime, '^ while the day of salvation lasteth; for *^ the night cometh, when none can work : " but let us, while we have the light, *^ believe in the light, and walk as children *' of the light ; thai we be not cast into *^ utter darkness, where shall be weeping '^ and gnashing of teeth. Let us not abuse " the goodness of God, who calleth us " mercifully to amendment; and, of His ^^ endless pity, promiseth us forgiveness of THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 157 *' that which is past, if with a perfect and " true heart we return unto Him^!** 147. We have now travelled, in a general manner, through all the ages of the dial ; and have even carried our view into that age, which may possibly exceed them all. From the sum of the reflections which have been called forth in our progress, it must now be apparent, that the Bioscope, duly and habitually observed, is excellently cal- culated to keep our minds in a state of continual accord, with the successive stages and circumstances of our journey ; with our actual and current year ; with the character of our age; and with its constantly varying relation to the opposite extremes of life. The result of which accord will necessarily be, an orderly and harmonious correspond- ence, between our mind and our time. Youth will not look forward with precipitation, nor age with reluctance. We shall live with our year, think with our year, and move on with our year. We shall always • See the admirable exhortation, in the Commination Service of our Church. 158 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. be found at our true place, in time; neither forestalling stations which are to come, nor hanging back upon those which are gone. Our proper place will be the most congenial to the temper of our minds; which will become so harmoniously adapted to each succeeding year, that no irksomeness, regret, or distress, will accompany the conscious- ness of our approximation to the end; and thus, the due proportion and bala?ice will be established, and invariably preserved, be- tween our THOUGHTS and our years : which was the object we first intended. 148. And that great object being gained, we shall be able to direct it to the use for which alone it was pursued ; namely, the best exercise of the preparatory course of discipline under which we are now subsist- ing, in order to the assumption of a perfect agency, in the perfected universe, when- ever the time arrives, that our sovereign Master shall call upon us for that service. 149. A followed attention to the Bios- cope, will moreover contribute to advance us very far in that momentous article of know- THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, 159 ledge, which the best and wisest of men have ever regarded as one of the most important : the know^ledge of our- selves. For, by always knowing what we are with respect to timej we shall know what we are with respect of every thing that depends upon time; the principal of which are, the duties and services for which an allotment of time is made to us. And seeing that the general average of that allotment is seventy years; seeing that it may be much less, but cannot be much more ; and that its utmost possible extent is as nothing in comparison with durations which the mind is able to contemplate, and forecast ; we shall acquire, both an inte- rested and fixed desire, to preserve our mental being in a state of constant equality with the point of time at which we stand; and also, a luminous certainty, whether we really do so or not. Thus we shall be enabled, to give to our moral agency all the security which it can acquire in this present state; and calmly to expect that ultimate advancement, in which it will re- 160 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ceive its full perfection, from the hand of God himself. Which is the final pur- pose, for which we are made members of this stupendous universe. 150. Now, in order to derive all these vast acquirements from the use of the Bioscope, very httle is required to be done ; and certainly, no great science was ever attained, with so little labour, or pre- paratory instruction. All that is requisite, is an inclination to adopt it ; and that incli- nation alone, will ensure proficiency. A regular, habitual, and continued inspection and meditation of the dial, as it has been explained ; in periods of privacy and serious retirement, when the mind is relieved from the importunities of the world and of life^ and disposed to feel its own powers in the exercise of wisdom ; will open to us all its mysteries. Our floating reflections will lodge, and establish themselves, upon the scale; and it is no rash prediction to af- firm, that whoever has persevered for a time in the practice of that inspection, and has experienced the aid of its memorial, will THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 161 contract a friendship for the instrument which will not be broken. 151. For which reason, it is offered as a constant companion for the study, or the closet. Where, if it be admitted, let it be frequently, if not daily, inspected; espe- cially at one or other of those early and late periods of the day, at which, it is sup- posed, every wise and good man directs his thoughts, and aspirations, to the Author of his Beingy his Time, and his Salvation. Whatever may be the momentary effect, received from an hasty and superficial view of the scale, it is only the permanent im- pression, that can produce the vast and blessed consequences which are ascribed to its operation. That permanent impres- sion, can only be formed by habit; by which the first impressions will be repeated and enforced, until they finally become in- durated, and indelible. 152. And as the mind ought to apply itself, even daily, to inspect the dial ; so it ought, with particular attention and serious- ness, to meet the day upon which it is p) M 162 THE BIOSCOPE £XPLAlNEt>. be annually rectified : when we are to remove the INDEX, from the point at. which it will have rested for one entire year; and to ad- vance it to the next degree, in evidence that another year is gone, and is absorbed into the general gulf with all the ages that are past. Bishop Taylor, in his rules for the im* provement of time, prescribes the following one : " Let him that is most busied, set apart " some solemn time every year, in which, " for the time, quitting all worldly business, '^ he may attend wholly upon God; that f' he may make up his accounts, renew his " vows, make amends for his carelessness, *' and retire back again from whence levity, " and the vanities of the world, or the " opportunity of temptations, or the dis- " traction of secular affairs, have carried '^ him." And what time can point itself out so fit for this wise and necessary exer- cise, as the day which is the new-year's DAY of each individual's life ; namely, the anniversary of his, or her, birth? As this exercise is only designed for the retirement of the closet, it need not interfere with, or THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. l6S impair, any part of that cheerfulness, which gratitude to Heaven, and the liveliness of affection, may call forth in celebration of the day. The mind never experiences so high a relish in cheerfulness, as when it has answered, and complied with, the claims of seriousness ; nor is any joy, that the soul can aspire to taste, comparable to that, .which receives its savour from religious wisdom. 153. Lastly, when the dial is once set, let the face of it remain continually upon the mind. By that means, we shall possess a clear and intelligible idea, what our age is. To note age by the number of the year alone; without reference to the two terms of life ; is only deceiving the understanding. When we say, that we are ffty, or sixty ; if we receive any other idea than mere number, we shall find, that it is most commonly a comparison of our age, wilh the ages of others who are either younger or older than ourselves. Now it is of no consequence to compare our age with that of others, but only 164 I^HE BlOSCOPfi EXPLAINED. bf ourselves; and we can only compare our age with the age of ourselves, by comparing it with the ages which we have already lived, and with the extreme average of time, to which it is possible we may ad- vance. And that comparison will be brought, at once, before the mind, by recollecting tke face of the dial, as we last parted from it : in which recollection, all the necessary rela- tions, and combinations, will immediately reveal themselves. 154. And now, to conclude : If any one should ask : — " has the author himself ^' acquired all that wisdom, all that excel- " lence of practical prudence, which he is " so ready to propose for the acquirement " of others?" I thus shortly reply: That he is far, very far, from pretensions so pre- sumptuous, and so preposterous; on the contrary, that he feels himself far in arrear of that point, to which he is desirous, that he himself, and all others, should attain. But, an hungry man who has found a feast, may as well share it with those who are as THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. l65 needy as himself, while he is feeding, as when he is full. And he who has fallen npon the elements of an useful art, will do hetter to invite companions to hi§ studies, than wait for the proficiency of ^ master, to which it is possible he never may attain. SIR WILLIAM JONES'S ANDROMETER. (See Page H4 J illililllll -' SO Sd 30 35 Ideas received through the Senses. -Spe.king and Pronunciation. -Lett rs, and Spelling. -Ideas retained in the Memory. -Reading and Repeating. •Grammar of his own Language. -Memory exercised. •Moral and Religious Lessons. -Natural History and Experiment*. -Dancing, Music, Drawing, ExerciseB. -History of his own Country. -Latin. - Greek. - French and Italian. - 1 ranilations. •Compositions in Ver^ and PrOK. -Rheturic and DeciamaUpn. -History and Law. -Logic and Mathematics, -t^hetorical Exercises. -Philosophy and Politics. Compositions in his own Language. -Declamations continued. ■Ancient Orators studied. •Travel and Conversation. -Speeches at the Bar, or in Parliament. State Affairs. -Historical Studies continued. Law and Eloquence* -Public Life. -Private and Social Virtues. ■Habits of Eloquence improved. -Philosophy resumed at leisure. -Orations published. Exertions in State and Parliament. 167 -Civil Knowledge mature. -Eloquence perfect. National Kights defended. rhe Learned protected. -The Virtuous assisted. -Compositions published. -Science improved. -Parliamentary Affairs. -Laws enacted, and supported. • Fine Arts patronized. Government of his Family, Education of his Children^ -Vigilance as a Magistrate. -Firmness as a Patriot, -Virtue as a Citizen. •Historical Works. Oratorical Works. -Philosophical Work?, -Political Works. Mathematical Works. Contipaation of former Pursuits. -Fruits of his Labour enjoyed. -A glorious Retirement. -An amiable Family. ii-Universal Respect. Consciousness of a Virtaons Life. i Perfection of Earthly Hapjtinesf, ^Preparation for ETERMITY, RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. THB EPISTLE or PAULINUS, BISHOP OF NOLA, CELANTIA. INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS, As it was desirable, that the foregoing reflections should be accompanied by some rule of practical instruction, exhibiting that manifested will, to which it is our great concern to endeavour to conform our own wills, during our present allot- ment of life*, I have not hesitated to make choice of the following excellent summary of that Will ; which, as far as I have been able to discover, has never before appeared in an English translation. It is, the Epistle of Paulinus, Bishop of Nola in Italy, about the year 400, to Celantia, a Roman Jady of fashion, rank, and opulence; in reply to various letters, in which she had earnestly solicited f See Preliminary Chapter, p. 13, no, INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. him, to draw out for her some short and distinct Rule of Christian Life, which she might have always at hand, to govern her conversation with the world. In this valuable breviary of Christian excellence, the reader will behold what primitive Christianity was; before superstition, priestcraft, and a reviving passion for sensual worship, had begun to obscure and deface the Christian church. And he cannot but be struck, by remarking, how nearly that form of Christianity resembles the public profession of our own established church; and, indeed, of most of the chief Protestant communions. The same may also be found, in a very eminent degree, within the church of Rome. Not indeed in its public doctrine and demeanor, but in the retirements of its closets, and the recesses of its ftncient cloisters; as the admirable manual, De Jmitatione Christi — Of the Imitation of Christ; (ascribed, vulgarly and erroneously, to Thomas d Kcmpis;) and various other exquisite works of Christian piety, sufficiently demonstrate. INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 17S The a^e of Paulinus, was still the age, which, (to use the words of the Abb6 du Fresnoy,) " was " the most brilliant of Christianity; in which ** Christians were only distinguished, by the live- " liness of their faith, and by tlie exemplary sim- " plicity of their manners. It was not philosophy, " Xvhich inspired their virtues. The generality of * the first Christians were nothing less than phi- " losophers ; they were persdns of the world, who " were touched by divine grace, and who sur- " rendered themselves wholly to the maxims of " the Gospel. Ignorant of, or contemning, the ** doctrines of Plato and Pythagoras, which oiily '* flattered the genius and the imagination, they " gave up their hearts to the rules, which were " prescribed by the Apostles, or their suc- " CESSORS.— Ce sont \h les tems les plus brillans " du Christianisme ; les fiddles ne se distinguant " que par une foi vive, et par une admirable sim- " plicite de mceurs. — Ce n'est point la philosophic " qui leUT inspire cette droiture de sentiment. 174 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. ** Les premiers Chretiens n*etoient rien moins que ** philosophes ; c'^toient des gens du monde que " la grace toucboit, et qui s'abbandonoient aux " seules raaximes de TEvangile. Ignorant ou m6- ^ prisant la doctrine de Platon, et de Pythagore, " qui ne flattoit que I'esprit et Timagination ; les " premiers Chretiens se livroient interieurement " aux regies, que leur pr6scrivoient les ap6tres> " ou leurs successeurs." Pontius Paulinus, of Roman origin, and of a patrician and consular family established near Burdigala, (Bourdeaux,) in Gaul, was born A. D. 353. He received his education from the Roman poet Ausonius, under whom he made an extra- ordinary progress in poetry and rhetoric. Many aflfectionate letters of the teacher to his pupil still survive. When Ausonius was called by the Em- peror Valentinian to direct the education of his son Gratian, Paulinus quitted Burdigala, and pro- ceeded to Rome ; where he so highly distinguished himself by his pleadings at the bar^ that, ia the INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 175 year 375, he was raised to the consular dignity ; havin as I " also am of Christ!'' But, above all, we have the example of our Lord himself iti the Gospel, who proclaims : *^ Come unto ^* ME, all ye that labour and/ are heavy " laden, and I will refresh you, q Take my " yoke upon you, and learn offji^y for I "am meek, and lowly in bea>^/' If it is hazardous to imitate those^ of wboqi you entertain any doubt, it is ahv^ays safe to imitate, and follow the steps pf, HjM? whp said: *Vl aoi ihe way>> jaad Uve trijtbi and " the life." H e can never err, who follow^} THE TRUTH. Wherefore jfae apQstle J phn says : *^ He who says he i$ Christ's, ought *fc^o io walk^ eyep a^ H^ wfJfeed/' Afl4 t200 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. Peter : " Christ suffered for us, leaving ** us AN EXAMPLE, that we should foW " low His steps. Who, when He was *^ reviled, reviled not again ; when He suf- '^ fered, He threatened not; but committed " Himself to Him who judgeth righteously. " Who His ownself bare our sins, in His " own body on the tree; that we, being '^ dead to sin, should live unto righte- ^* ousness." Cease, then, from all extenuation of your faults; let all shameful expedients for soften^ ing the guilt of sin, be abandoned. It will be of no aVail to defend ourselves by the example of the multitude, whose trans^ gressions>we are prone to enumerate, for a consolation to our own consciences; and • complain, that we see none who can set us a fit example to follow ; for, we are always referred to the example of Him, whose example all agree is to be followed. Let it therefore be ypur chief care, to make your- self intimately acquainted with the divine LAW; in which you may behold, as pre- sent, to j^oUrvjiew, the examples of holy RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 201 men; and may learn from its admonition, what must be do?ie, and what must be avoided. It is of the greatest succour towards a religious life, to replenish the mind with the WORDS OF Scripture; and continually to meditate in our heart, what we desire to accomplish in our actions. It was God's command, by Moses, to a rude nation as yet unpractised to obedience, that they should wear \ip6h " their garm^htiSj^^asYa,. signal whereby to remember the pretfepts, of God, borders of a purple colour; iti order that, whenever their eyes accidentally fell upon those colours, they might awaken in their minds a remembrance of the divine commandments. The abuse of which me- morials, was a subject of our Lord's severe reprehension of the Pharisees ; wbo began to use them, not for the end of remember- ing the precepts of God, but for purposes of hypocrisy and ostentation, that they might be esteemed, by the people, eminent for extraordinary sanctity. But you, who seek to observe, not the letter, but the t02 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LITE. spirit, of the law, must cherish a spiritual remembrance of the divine commandments ; and not so much endeavour to remember them often, as to have them always in your thoughts. Let THE Holy Scriptures, therefore, be always in your hands, and continually revolved in your mind. And think it not suf- ficient, to remember God's commandments in your thoughts, and to forget them in your works ; but learn therefore to remember them, that you may do what you have learned should be done. *^ For, not the hearers of " the law are justified before God, but the *^ rfoer^ of it shall be justified." The field of God's law is of wide, nay of infinite, extent; flourishing, with all the various testimonies of truth, as with a rich profusion of heavenly flowers; and nourish- ing and refreshing the souls of those who read it, with an inexpressible delight. To know all Which, and inwardly to revolve them, is of the most powerful eflicacy for preserving righteopsness. But chiefly select, and engrave upon your RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFB. 203 heart, as the most compendious summary of that law, that precept in the Gospel; which the mouth of the Lord has declared, to comprehend all righteousness : " What- " SOEVER YE WOULD THAT MEN SHOULD " DO UNTO YOU, DO YE ALSO UNTO " THEM." To demonstrate the authority and power of which precept, he adds; " y^r THi^ is the law, and the prophets'^.*' • Mr. Gibbon, whose profouitd ignorance 6r tfe natai^ and foundations of the Christian Religicm rendered bira utterly Incompetent, notwithstanding the extent of his acquirements in the Belles Lettres, to treat of so exalted a subject, has pre- sumed to animadvert upon this maxim in the Gospel ; and to cite a passage from a Greek writer, in which the same sublime doctrine is taught. The motives for which animadversion were ; 1st. a vain conceit, that he had made a detection im- portant to liis cause : and, 2dly, to leave it for inference, that since that maxim was in the Greek schools before the age of the Gospel, it was not of evangelical, but of 7ieai/j en, ori- ginal. Had Mr. Gibbon not cherished a voluntary ignoranc^ upon all such sacred subjects, he must have known, with every Christian, and every inspector of the Gospel, (that which Paiilinus here pointed out to him ;) that our blessed Lord did not inculcate that precept as " a new commandment" of Hi* religion, but as the ancient prescriptive rule, of the fro- PHETS and of the law. He raugt have known, that it was ^04 EUJ.E OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. Although the kinds and parts of righteous- ness are infinite, in variety and number, so that it Would not only be impossible to enumerate them all, but even to conceive them in thought; yet, all of them are in- cluded in that one short sentence : which sentence will either acquit, or condemn, the inward cotiscience of every man, by the secret judgment of his own mind. Therefore, in every Jab tion, word, and thought, let this rule be produced ; which, being always present as a mirror ready to your hands, may at all times clearly reveal to you the true quality of your will ; so that it may either accuse you, if you are doing wrong, or may encourage you, if you are doing right. For, as often as you cherish such a disposition of mind towards others, as yoii wush others to maintain towards you, you the great foundation-stone of Hebrew morals, a thousand years before philosophy dawned in Greece ; that it was taught and enforced in Judea, when Greece was only a theatre of fable ; and, therefore, that it was but an oblique, and foreign import into Greece, whereas it was the direct,- aiid na^ve^ inheritance of THE Gospel. , .; '^. ..-''^wv f \Z:^sMy'^^b^':\ RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE* 205 are in the path of righteousness ; but when- ever you feel yourselves so disposed towards others, as you would not wish any one to be disposed to you, you have departed from that path. And now, behold all the labour and dif- ficulty of the DIVINE law! Behold, what it is that renders that law so severe! We murmur against God, and complain that we are oppressed by the difficulty, nay the impossibility, of keeping His command- ments; nor are we satisfied with merely not obeying those commandments, unless we also pronounce Him who commanded them, to be unjust : alleging, that the Author of all justice has enjoined things, not only difficult and hard, but even impos- sible to be done. " Whatsoever 1/e would/^ says He, " that men should do unto you, do " i/e also unto them^ It is His gracious will, that we should all be united in love, by ii mutual interchange of kind services; and that all mankind should be linked together by reciprocal benefits; in order that, each iadividual yielding to others that which he 206 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFB. wishes should be bestowed upon himself, universal justice, which is the sole end of that precept, might become the common lot and blessing of all men, O ! the stu- pendous mercy, and ineffable benignity of God ; who promises us a reward, if we will only mutually love one another ! That is, if we will reciprocally bestow upon each other, that of which we all stand in the utmost need. And we, with arro- gant and ungrateful hearts, resist His will, whose very command is, in itself, so mani- fest a blessing ! Never do you injure the reputation of another ; nor seek to draw praise upon your- self, from the disparagement of others. Learn rather to regulate your own life, than to give judgment upon that of others ; and remember always that maxim of the Scripture, which says : " He that keepeth " his mouth keepeth his life; but he that *' openeth wide his lips, shall have destruc- ^ tion." Few there are, who wholly abstain from this vice; you will rarely meet with any, who desire to keep their owa lives RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE, 207 SO entirely free from reproach, as not readily to reprehend the lives of others ; and th^ propensity to this evil has taken such pos* session of the minds of men, that they who have kept themselves free from all other vices, fall yet into this one, as if it were the last resource and snare of the devil. But do you so conquer this evil, as not only not to be guilty of slander yourself, but not to believe any one who is so; and be careful not to contribute your assent to the authority of slanderers, lest by so doing you add nourishment to their vice." Re- " frain from backbiting, says the Scrip- " ture; the mouth that slandereth slayeth " the soul." And again ; " A whisperer de- " fileth his own soul, and is hated where- " soever he dwelleth. — ^Curse the whisperer "and double-tongued: whoso hearkeneth " unto him, shall never find rest, and never " dwell quietly." And the pious David, enumerating the various qualities of inno- cence and righteousness, is not silent with respect to this virtue, saying : " Who taketh " not up a reproach against his neighbour/' ^08 ECLE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. Nay, he not only resists, but attacks, the slanderer; for he says: " Whoso privily " slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut " off." This is, indeed, one of the first vices which ought to be conquered, and totally extinguished, in all who aspire to a life of true holiness. There is nothing which so much disquiets the mind, or which renders it so trifling and inconstant, as readily to believe every thing that is said ; and to receive, with a rash assent, the words of every tale-bearer. From hence arise such frequent dissensions, and unfounded hatreds. This it is, that makes enemies of the dearest friends ; who, though long united, yet suffer themselves to be at last dissociated, through their credulity, by the influence of an evil tongue. But, on the other hand, great is the tran- quillity, and great the dignity of that mind, which does not hastily lend an ear to the prejudice of another; and blessed is he, who so arms himself against this vice, that no one may dare to entertain him with RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 209 scandal. If, indeed, we would only be reso- lute in the practice of refusing all credit to scandal, men would at length be afraid to disseminate slander, lest they should draw more contempt upon themselves, than upon those whom they seek to injure. But this evil is therefore so common, and prevails so generally among mankind, because almost all men afford it a willing entertainment. Fly from the fawning of flatterers, and from the fatal blandishments of deceit, as from the pest of your soul. There is nothing which so easily corrupts the minds of men, or which pierces the heart with so soft and seductive a wound. Whence the wise man says : " The words of flatterers " are wounds ; they strike into the inmost " parts." And God himself says by the prophet: " O my people, they that lead " thee cause thee to err, and destroy the " way of thy paths." This is a vice which very generally pre- vails, and in a remarkable manner at the present time ; and, what is most lamentable, it usurps the character of benevolence and 210 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. humility ; so that he who will not flatter, is regarded as either proud or envious. And truly it is a most subtile and ingenious artifice, to praise another, in order to our own applause ; and, by deceiving, to gain the mind of him whom we deceive : for this vice is chiefly engaged, in vending counter- feit praises for a real profit. But how great must be the levity of that mind, how ex- treme its vanity, which, rejecting the testi- mony of its own conscience, pursues the opinion, the feigned and pretended opinion, of another person ? and which, caught away by every blast of fictitious praise, delights in being gulled ; and thankfully accepts delusion, for a beneficial service ! But you, if you desire to be truly praise- worthy, seek not praise from men ; but govern your conscience with a view to Him, " who both will bring to light the hidden " things of darkness, and will make manifest " the secrets of the heart: and then shall *' every man have praise from God.'' Let your mind therefore be watchful, and dili- gent, and perpetually armed against the RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 211 approaches of sin. Let your speech, on all occasions, be moderate, and sparing ; such as indicates a duty to converse^ rather than a desire to talk. Let a decent reserve adorn your wisdom; and, (what has ever been esteemed the principal ornament of your sex,) let modesty be pre-emijient above all your virtues. Consider, beforehand, what you are to speak ; and, while you are yet silent, be provident to utter nothing of which you may afterwards have occasion to repent. Let your thoughts apportion your words ; and let the balance of your mind regulate the office of your tongue. Whence the Scripture saith: " Weigh thy '^ words in a balance, and make a door and " bar for thy mouth." Let no injurious word ever proceed from your lips; since you are commanded, as the perfection of your duty, " to bless even those who curse '^ you." — " Be pitiful, be courteous," says the apostle, " not rendering evil for evil, " or railing for railing ; but contrariwise, " blessing." Let a lie, or an oath, be absolutely 212 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. unknown to your tongue ; and let there be ever in you such a love for truth, that you may regard whatever you have spoken, as if it had been sworn. Concerning which thing, our Saviour thus commanded His disciples : " I say unto you, swear not at " all." And a little after : " let your dis- " course be, it is, or it is not ; for whatever " is more than this, cometh of evil." In every action, and in every word, be vigilant to preserve a quiet and a placid spirit : let God be always present to your thoughts : let your mind be humble and gentle ; and severe only against vice. Never suffer it to be elated with pride, or warped by avarice, or hurried by anger, for, no- thing ought to be more tranquil, nothing purer, nothing fairer than that mind, which aspires to become the habitation of God ; who delights, not in temples bright with gold, nor in altars rich with gems, but in a soul decorated with virtues. On which account, the hearts of holy persons are called the temple of God; as the apostle affirms : " If any one shall defile the RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE, 213 " temple of God, him will God destroy; *^ for the temple of God is holy, which " temple are ye." Nothing which you can acquire, is more valuable or more lovely than humility. This is indeed the chief preserver, aqd, as it were, the proper guardian, of a}l the other virtues; nor is there any thing that renders us so pleasing both to men and to God, as to be high by the excellency of our lives, and low by the exercise of our humility. On which account the Scrip- ture says: " The greater thou art, the " more humble thyself; and thou shalt find " favour before the Lord." And God says by the prophet : " To this man will I look ; " even to him that is humble, and of a quiet " spirit, and trembleth at my word." But, follow true humility ; not that which makes an outward ostentation, by an af- fected carriage of the body, or tone of the speech, but that which displays itself in the sincerity of the heart. For it is one thing to possess a virtue, and an- other thing to possess the counterfeit of 214 nuLE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. a virtue; it is one thing to follow the shadow of truth, and another to follow its substance. There is no pride so hideous, as that which conceals itself under a form of humility ; and all vices acquire a pe- culiar hatefulness, when they attempt to invest themselves with the characters of virtues. Never consider yourself as superior to another, on account of the nobility of your birth ; nor regard those as beneath you, who are of an obscure or more humble origin. Our religion takes no account of the ranks or conditions of men ; it con^ siders only their souls ; it judges both the servant and the lord by their respective deeds. The only distinction of rank in honour with God, is an independance from sin. That nobility is highly valued by God, which is conferred by virtue. What was ever more noble in the sight of God, than Peter? who, nevertheless, was a poor man, and a fisherman. What, among women, was ever so illustrious, as the blessed Mary? who was only a RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 215 carpenter's wife. Yet, to that poor fisherman Christ committed the keys of the kingdom of Heaven ; and that carpenter's wife was found worthy to be made the mother of Him, by whom those keys were committed. For, "God hath chosen the base things of ^^ THIS world, and things which are despised^ '^ to confound the things which are mighty T But, besides ; it would, upon another ground, be wholly unavailing to take any merit to ourselves for nobility of birth, since all who are redeemed by the blood of Christ, are of equal honour in the sight of God ; neither can it any longer signify, in what rank any man was born, since we are all equally born again in Christ. For, though we should forget, that we are all originally born of one and the same first parent ; yet we ought at least to remember, that we are all regenerated by one. Take care, if you have undertaken the exercises of fasting or abstinence, not to imagine that you are therefore become holy; for that practice is but the instrument, not the completion, of holiness. But chiefly, ^216 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. and above all things, take care, that a con*- tempt for things which are allowed, beget not in you a presumptuous security in regard to things which are positively for- bidden* Whatever we pretend to offer to God, over and above the measure of His commandment, must, not hinder but, ad- vance the righteousness which He has commanded. What can it avail us to lower the body by abstinence, if at the same time we suffer the soul to be sw^ollen with pride ? What praise shall we deserve for the pale- ness of fasting, if at the same time we become livid through envy? What virtue is there in renouncing wine, if we suffer ourselves to be intoxicated, by anger or by hatred ? Abstinence is then only excellent, the chastisement of the body is then only great and admirable, when the soul is made to fast from vice^. They who, considerately and wisely, practise abstinence, afflict the • " Tunc, inquam, praeclara est abstinentia, tunc pulchra " atque magnifica castigatio corporis, cum est animus ^*c/«»mj^ *' a vitiis" RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 217 body for this only purpose, that they may vanquish the pride of their souls : that they may descend, as it were, from the height of their native arrogance, to fulfil the will of God, which is best accomplished in hu- mility* They therefore call off their thoughts from the various delicacies of food, that they may engage all their affections in an appetite for virtue. And the body will be the less sensible of the irksomeness of fast- ing, in proportion as the soul is the more hungry after righteousness. St. Paul, when ^^ he chastised his body and kept it under, " lest, when he had preached to others, " he himself should be rejected,'* did not do so, as some have ignorantly imagined, with a view to chastity alone ; for absti- nence contributes, not to that virtue only, but, likewise, to every other virtue. Nor was his chief glory to refrain only from lust; but he laboured, generally, to give perfection to his soul, by the restraints of his body. For, as much as he alienated his mind from voluptuous indulgence, so much the more was he able to engage it in the 218 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. pursuit of virtues : lest the teacher of per- fection should betray any imperfection in himself; lest he, who was the " imitator of " Christ/' should do any thing contrary to the command or will of Christ, or should teach less by his example, than by his words ; and " lest, after he had preached '' to others, he himself should be rejected," and should hear the words, which were spoken of the Pharisees, addressed to him- self: ^^ They speak, but do not!'' But it is, moreover, both the precept and the example of the same apostle, to have regard, not only to conscience, but also to repute. The teacher of the Gentiles did not esteem this a superfluous, or fruitless con- sideration; for he would have those, who are not in the faith, convinced by the works of those who are ; that the efficacy of the religion, might demonstrate the religion itself. And we are therefore commanded *' to shine as luminaries in the world, in the " midst of a perverse and crooked genera- " tion," that the unbelieving minds of those who lie in error, may discern, by the light RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 219 of our works, the darkness of their own ignorance. Wherefore St. Paul says to the Romans : " Provide things honest, (not ^^ only, in the sight of God, but also) of all " men. Give none offence, neither to the *' Jews, nor to the Gentiles, nor to the " church of God. Even as I please all " men in all things, not seeking my own '^ profit, but the profit of many." Happy is the man, who regulates his life 60 religiously and wisely that nothing of evil can even be feigned against him : whilst the greatness of his deserts, counter- acting the malice of his slanderers, no one will dare to invent, what he knows will receive credit from no one. But, if this be too difficult to accomplish, at least let us employ so much diligence in life, as not to furnish evil minds with any just ground for scandal ; nor suffer any spark to escape from us, by which the flame of evil report may be kindled against us. Other- wise, we shall in vain be angry with calum- niators, if we ourselves supply them with matter for their calumny. If, however, not- 220 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. withstanding our utmost diligence and care, to " provide things honest," and to prefer the fear of God in our actions to every other consideration, they should still assail us; let our conscience be our consolation ; which is then most safe and secure, when it has given no just cause for any one to think ill of us. Behold, a woe is denounced by the prophet against all those, " who call good evil, and light darkness ; " and sweet bitter;" and to us may then be applied that word of our Saviour : " Blessed are ye, when men speak evil " of yon falsely 1^^ Let it therefore be our great concern, that no one may be able to speak evil of us, otherwise than falsely. So regulate the care of your family, that you may always reserve some leisure time for your own mind. Select, therefore, some convenient chamber, a little removed from the noise of the household, into which, as into a port, you may withdraw yourself from the tempest of cares ; and where, in the quiet of retreat, you may calm your sea of thoughts, which shall have been thrown RXTLE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 221 into agitation in the world. There, employ yourself in such earnest reading of the Holy Scriptures, in such frequent recur- rences of prayer, and in such steady and continued contemplations of future things, as to compensate abundantly, by that lei- sure, all the activity and anxiety of your other time. Nor do I say this, in order that you should wholly withdraw yourself from the company of those to whom you belong ; but, on the contrary, that you may there learn, and meditate, how you ought to behave yourself when you are amongst them. Govern and foster your family in such a manner, that you may appear to be rather the mother, than the mistress, of your servants ; from whom exact respect by kindness, rather than by fear. But, especially, let the apostle's precept be observed in a virtuous and Chris- tian household : let the chief authority be maintained in the person of the husband; and let the whole house learn from you, the honour which is due to him. Show that he is the master by your subjection, and 222 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. render him great by your humility; for you yourself will be honoured, in the same proportion that you honour him. For, " the *' man," says the apostle, " is the head of " the woman ;" nor can the body receive greater honour, than is derived from the dignity of the head. Wherefore it is said elsewhere, " let women be in subjection to ^* their own husbands, that if any obey not *' the word, they may, without the word, " be won by the conversation of their wives. ^^ If, therefore, honour was to be rendered to Gentile husbands, how much should it be rendered to Christian ? And in order to show the ornaments with which wives ought to be adorned, it is added ; " let it not con- " sist in outward plaiting of the hair, or " wearing of gold, or elegance of apparel ; ^^ but in the secret character of the heart, ^^ in that which is not corruptible, even the ^^ ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, *^ which in the sight of God is of great ^' price. For after this manner, in ancient ^^ time, the holy women also who trusted in ^' God adorned themselves, being in sul> RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 225 *^ jection to their own husbands ; even as " Sara obeyed Abraham, calling him LiOrd. " Whose daughters ye are." But, in pre- scribing this rule, he did not mean to en- join them to dress themselves slovenly, or meanly, or raggedly, but he designed to interdict all immoderate attention to de- coration, or too great refinement in dress. As the " chosen vessel" Paul says : " Let " women adorn themselves in decent ap- " parel, with modesty, and propriety ; not " with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or " costly array ; but, as becometh women " professing godliness, with good works." Remember also, how the apostle hath declared the mutual bond of the hus- band and the wife : " The wife," says he, " hath not power of her own body, but the " husband ; and likewise also the husband " hath not power of his own body, but the " wife : — and they two shall be one flesh." And not one flesh only, but also one spirit : for he adds, '^ this is a great mystery." This is, indeed, the high road of purity ; and great 224 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. is the reward : " Come unto me ! says the " Lord ; take my yoke upon you and learn " of ME, and ye shall find rest unto your ^^ souls. For MY yoke is easy, and my " burden is light." But to all who shall have their place assigned to them upon his " left hand," HE says : " Depart from me, ye that work *' iniquity, into everlasting fire ; where shall " be weeping and gnashing of teeth!" There will all those bewail, who shall have so entirely implicated themselves, in the corrupt cares and pleasures of this present life, as to have lived wholly regard- less of that life which is to come : whom THE SUDDEN COMING OF THE LORD shall surprise, sunk in the sleep of ignorance, or of false security. Wherefore He warns us in His Gospel: *^ Take heed to yourselves, '^ lest at any time your hearts be over- ^' charged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, *^ and cares of this life, and so that day '' come upon you unprepared ; for it shall *' come as a snare upon all them that RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. ^25 '^ dwell on the face of the whole earth.-— ^^ Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye ^^ know not when the time is." Blessed are they who so expect, and so look forward to, that day, as to prepare themselves daily for its arrival. Who, instead of flattering themselves with the contempla- tion of their ^Jos^ merits, "renew themselves^* according to the words of the apostle, " day '^ by DAY." For " the righteousness of the " righteous man shall not deliver him, from '* the day in which he shall transgress ; *^ neither shall the wicked man fall by his " wickedness, from the day in which he " shall turn from his wickedness." The Stfzw^himselfoughtnotto entertain security, so long as he is engaged in the trials and conflicts of this life ; neither ought the Sinner to admit despair, who, in one day^ may enter into the way of righteousness. Throughout the remaining sequel of your life, labour to perfect righteousness with all your power ; and become not slack or remiss, from a confidence in your past obedience ; but, like the apostle, " forgetting those 9 9,0,6 RULE OF CHKISTIAN LIFE. " things which are behind, and reaching ^' forth unto those things which are before, " press forward to the mark, for the prize '^ of the high calling of God, in Christ " Jesus." -And knowing that " the Lord ^' trieth the hearts,'' let it be your main con- cern to preserve your heart pure from sin ; according as it is written : " Keep thy ^^ HEART with ALL DILIGENCE.^ Do you, therefore, so order all the remain- ing time of your life, that you may, at the last, be able to say, with the prophet : " I ^^ have walked in my house with a perfect " heart : — I will go to the altar of my God, " unto God, who is my exceeding great *^ joy!" For it will not be sufficient, to have begun well; since righteousness will consist, IN HAVING CONCLUDED WELL. THE END OF THE EPISTLE OP PAULINUS TO CELANTIA, AN ELEMflNTABYYIEW m GENERAL CHRONOLOGY. ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY* Time, is the duration of the earth and hewoenl^ bodies; the revolutions of which, measure, and mark out, its pauts. The great natural measurers^ and indexes, of TIME, are the sun and the moon. Hence, the duration of time is described in the Scriptures, by the duration of those two indexes of time : " as " long as THE SUN and the moon endureth ; ** throughout all generations!' For those orbs will one day cease their functions, like every subor- dinate system of this visible world ; and the ces- sation of their functions, will be the end o/'time. "Which great crisis is thus announced in the sacred VOLUME. " Thou didst lay of old the foundation " of the earth, and the heavens are the work " of thy hands : they shall perish, but Thou shalt " endure ; they shall all grow old like a garment, " and like a garment thou shalt change them, " and they shall he changed; but Thou art the " same, and Thy years shall never end." This is that impending period, when, (as it is proclaimed 230 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. in THE PROPHETIC VISION,) " there shall he time " NO longer!'* The knowledge of the parts of time, or of the earth*s duration /rom its creation nntil now, is called Chronology; which may be divided into Computative^ and Historical, Computative Chronology, is the science of com* puting the parts and periods of time. Historical Chronology, is the science of assign- ing the parts and periods of time to the events of history. 1. COMPUTATIVE CHRONOLOGY. SOLAR time. §. Of the Day y and its Farts. The first, and smallest, revolution of time, de* pending upon the sun, is a day ; which measure comprises all the time during which the sun seems to make one complete revolution round the earth. This revolution is computed, either from noon to noon, or from midnight to midnight. This measure of time, which is called the natural day, is divided into twenty -four equal parts or ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 231 tiouRs. Each hour is divided into sixty parts, or MINUTES ; and each minute into sixty parts, or SECONDS. The divisions of the day, into its periods of light and darkness, which constitute the artificial day, and the night, are subject to variation in their measures, according to the progress of the sun through the seasons ; the light predominating in one part of the year, and the darkness in the other part. But the measure of the natural day, comprehending both the light and darkness, is always uniform and invariable. The natural day, is computed by astronomers, from noon to noon. By the ancient Romans, it was computed from midnight to midnight, and was denominated by them the civil day. The artificial day, which they called the natural day, was com- puted from sun-rise to sun-set, and from sun-set to jsun-rise. The Italians reckon to twenty-four hours of the day, which practice seems to have been derived from the civil day of the ancient Romans; but most other nations reckon, like us, to twice ^a?e/i?e hours : viz. from midnight to noon, and from noon to midnight. tSQ, ELEMENTARY CHltOKOLOGY. §* 0/the Year, and its Parts. The next, and largest, revolution of time, de« pending on the sun, is the year ; or one entire revolution of the earth round the sun ; which is accomplished in 365 days and a quarter of a day. But it is evident, that the excess of a quarter of a day in every year, would, in the course of time, itiake up a measure of time so considerable, as to embarrass the computation of years, if it was not regularly carried to account ; and, by that means, reduced into the computation. This is effected, by taking no account of those quarters for three years, and then carrying them all to the fourth year, by adding one whole day to that year : by which means, the quarters, or fractional parts, of four years, are combined into one day, and the account begins anew. This additional day is now placed after the 28th of February, and becomes the 29th of that month; and the year in which this addition takes place, is called a leap-year. It will follow, that the first three years will consist of 365 days each, and the fourth, or Leap-year, ELEl^ENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 233 of 366 days. Now, three times 365 added to 366y are equal to four times 36*5 J. This method of regulating the year, was first introduced by Julius Caesar, 4>6 years before ChUist; from whence it is called the Julian year. But as the true fractional excess of each year is not exactly a quarter of a day, or six hours, but only^ve hours 48 min. 57 sec; the Julian computation gains a day every 130 years; which, in the process of ages, occasions a sensible dif- ference from true solar time. To remedy this defect. Pope Gregory XIII., in 1582, instituted a new computation ; which consisted, in keeping the Julian reckoning, of a Leap-year evei-y fourth year, except at every hundredth year not divisible by 4; which was always to be a common year of 365 days, although it should happen to be the fourth year from a Leap-year. This happened in the year 1800; so that there were eight consecu- tive years, and only one Leap-year. By this means, the Julian reckoning is restrained from the excesses to which it was liable. The Julian reckoning was used in this country until the year 1752 ; when the Old Style, or rec- koning, was set aside, and the NeWyor Gregorian^ Stt/lCf was established by act of Parliament. £34 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY^ As it is the sun that appears to move, and as our common language is adapted to that appear- ance, we must follow the common usage, and call the earth's yearly revolution, a revolution of the sun. This great revolution of the sun, or the solar TEAR, is divided into txoelve parts^ or months^ measured by the sun's progress through the great circle in the heavens called the Zodiac, which circle is divided into twelve parts, called tJie twelve Signs of the Zodiac, The solar year divides itself also into four quar- ters, or seasons, by the sun's equinoctial and solsti- tial stations. The spring season begins from the vernal equinox, which takes place on the 20th of March ; the summer season, from the summer solstice, on the 21st of June; the autumn season, from the autumnal equinox, on the 23d of Sep- tember; and the winter season from the winter solstice, on the 2 1st of December. At the two equinoxes, the days and nights are of equal length; viz. twelve hours each : the sun rising and setting at six o'clock. From the vernal to the autumnal equinox, the days are longer than the nights; and from the autumnal to the vernal equinox, the nights are longer than the days. At the summer solstice, the day is the longest; at the winter solstice, the day is the shortest. ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 235 The years which are passed are numbered by CENTURIES, or hundreds, and are reckoned from some fixed 'period, which is called an epocha ; and the reckoning of years from the particular epocha, is called the era of that epocha. The SOLAR days, months, seasons, and years, con- stitute the rule of time by which the common business of life is computed ; so that it is necessary, to reduce all other measures of time to that rule. LUNAR TIME, THE MOON. The second great index of time, is the moon. But, as the revolutions of this luminary do not naturally correspond with any revolutions depend- ing upon the sun, some rule of equation, or arti- ficial adjustment, is therefore requisite, in order to reconcile their motions with each other. ^^ The revolution of the moon round the earth is completed in 29 days, 12 hours, 4>^ minutes, and 3 seconds ; (and, by a round number, in 30 days) This revolution is called a lunation, ^36 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. or lunar month. Twelve of these lunar months, constituting one lunar year, are therefore com- pleted, 10 days, 15 hours, 11 minutes, and 27 seconds, before the twelve solar months are com- pleted. Hence it follows; 1st, that the lunar year comprehends only 354 days ; and, 2dly, that it is constantly departing from the measure of the solar year, about eleven days every year. § Equation of Solar and Lunar Time, As it is of great importance to the uses of man- kind to know, when each lunation begins ; that is to say, to know on what days of the solar year the new-moons will fall; the following method has been adopted, for reconciling the two measures. When the solar and lunar year begin together ^ that is, when it is new-moon upon the^r^^ day of January, the moon (as has been said) will have completed her twelfth month, 10 days, 15 hours, 11 minutes, 27 seconds, before the sun will have completed his twelfth month ; and, consequently, the moon will be advanced those 10 ti. 15 A. ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 237 11 m. 27 *. into her 13th lunation, or second year, when the sun is only beginning his second year. It will follow, that at the end of the second year the moon will have completed her year, twice 10 days, 15 hours, 11 minutes, 27 seconds, before the sun has completed his: and so on, for each succeeding year. . ' ' But it is found, that after every nineteen years, the moon and the sun meet again, on the 1st of January, and begin their years again in coinci- dence. And thus, after a cycle, or recurrence, of 19 years, called the Lunar Cycle, all the new moons fall again upon the same days of the solar months, that they did 19 years before. Now, as the d ifFerence between the solar and lunar year is in the proportion of 10 days, 15 hours, 11 minutes, 27 seconds, for each of those 19 years; or, speaking by a round number, 11 days; by always adding eleven days to the lunar year, for the difference between solar and lunar measure, the two sums will be keptatj^^r; and the appearances of the moon will be always fixed to the standard of solar time. The eleven days, thus successively added to the \vmx years throughout the 19 years of the cycle, 238 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. are reduced into lunar months, in the following manner: ^ihrn ^.j^:- i^ Years of tke Lunar Cycle. 1 ...... 2 ...... 3 4 .. 5 .6 7 *..... 8 11 ...... 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 _f ••?• 1 Eleven days added. Dayi. 11 iu*tf? *^* • • • H 22 22 3S —or, 1 month, and 3 44 1 m. 14 55 1 m. 25 66 2 m. .... V ^ 77 2 m. 17 88 2 m 28 99 3 m. .. 9 110 3 m. 20 121 4m. ...... % 132 4 m. 12 143 4m. ...... 23 154 5 m. 4 165 5 m. 15 176 5 m, . 26 187 6m, ...,*.. „ 7 198 em. ..Vwv 18 210, or, 0. 7 m. or, 0. After the last or Ipth year of the cycle, twelve days are added instead o( eleven, viz. 18 + 12 = 30, which completes the lunar month ; and the next cycle finds the sun and moon in conjunction on the first day of the year, as they had been nineteen years before. It is evident^that the numbers in the last column ELEMENTARY CHUONOLOGY. 239 show the fractional parts, or dai/s, of the lunation, or lunar month, with which each year of the cycle ends; and, consequently, they show the age of the moon at the beginning of the years against which they are severally set. By deducting that number, therefore, from 30, the remainder gives the day of the month for the new moon in Januaryy for each year of the cycle. This series of nwnbers, proceeding always by elevenSy and showing the age of the moon at the beginning of each year, is called the epact; from a Greek word, signifying addition. The seven lunar months, or 210 days, which arc added to the general account to make it equal to 19 solar years, are the difference between 19 solar and 19 lunar years. For 19 solar years, contain 6939 days ; 19 lunar years, contain 6729 days; add seven lunar months, or 210 days, and the sum makes 6939 days ; N.B. omitting fractions. From the correspondence of the epacts with the years of the lunar cycle, it is easy to compute the new-moons, and consequently the full-moons, for every month of the year, L^Cycle.*! ^- -• ^' ^- ^' ^- ''• «• 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 13. I9. Epacts. 0. IX. 22. 3. 1*. 25. 6. IT. 28. 9. 20. 1. 12. 23. 4. 15. 26. 7- 1». €40 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. To find the new moon for any month, we must, 1st, know the present year of the cycle; 2dly, the epact corresponding to that year ; 3dly, deduct the number of the epact from 30, for January, and the remainder will be the day of the new moon in that month. For February, deduct the epad| from 28; for March, from 30. For the other ten months, add to the epact, 2 for April, 3 for May, 4 for June; and so on; and deduct from 30 ; and the remainder gives the day for the moon's change, or new moon, in each of those ten months. But, if the epact and the number added exceed 30, then deduct from 60, (or 2 months^ instead of from 30 ; and the remainder will equally be the day pf the new moon. Since the new moons fall, after every nineteen 7/ears, upon the same days of the month, a table of the new moons for one cycle of nineteen years will show the new moons for the succeeding cycles, with sufficient accuracy for every purpose of com- ;non life ; though not for the exactness of astro* pomical calculations. And, since the full moons are always 14 days and 18 hours before, and after, ^he new moons ; by finding the new moon for any pionth, we find also ih^ full moon, by counting 14 days either forward or backward. This methoc} ELEMENTAKY CHROKOLOGY. 241 Kiay sometimes err in one day, or thirty-six hours ; but that difference is immaterial for common life, and in most instances it will be found exact even to a day. It is upon this principle, that Table IV. has l»een arranged ; in which we may observe, the beautiful order uniformly kept by that splendid luminary, " the faithful witness in HeaveNv^'* HEBDOMADAL* TIME, §. Of Weeks. We have now seen the operations of the strlr and MOON", as natural indexes of time ; and have found the means of adjusting the indications of the latter, to the days depending upon the former, so as to know, with sufficient accuracy, upon what day of the solar year the new and full moons shall fall. But there remains another rule of time, of the utmost benefit and importance; which it is also necessary for us to adjust to the days of the solar year. This is, the seven constantly recurring days of THE WEEK ; by which the measures of months * From the Greek, tirra, hepta — stvcn. 342 ELEMENTARY CH^IONOLOGY. are subdivided into smaller portions, and more convenient measures, of time. This division of time bus no relation, either to the sun, or the moon, or any natural index whatso- ever; but is the positive institution, and perpetual evidence of the intervention, of the Author of TIM E. Some eminent astronomers, of the French school, attempted, for obvious reasons, to get rid of the institutional origin of the week, by repre- senting it as an invention of man, to mark the fourth parts, or quarters, of the lunar month. But they must have been able to see, what every common reflection at once discerns, that the rule of weeks would be at variance with the lunar motion, before thre6 of them could pass ; and that the variance would be continually augmenting. There is, indeed, an essential and perpetual dis- cordance, between the ratio of weeks, and of the lunar motions ; so that a lunar year will contain only 48 of those quarters, while it embraces 50 weeks and four days. Let us, then, humbly recog- nise and adore the Almighty power, who so graci- ously superadded to His natural dividers of time, that inestimable, unchanging moral divider. His seventh pay ; by which alone the flux of time is reduced into si|ch small and commodious mca- ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 24^ sures, and a perpetually recurrent day of civil and religious rest, to be distinguished from all other days, interposed, after every six days of labour are concluded. That seventh day of distinction was, by God's ordinance, the last day of the seven, from the creation of the world, (which great event it was designed to commemorate,) until the time of our Lord upon the earth. But from His time, the ^rst day of the seven has been made the day of DISTINCTION ; in commemoration of His resur- rection from the dead upon that day, who was " Lord also of the Sabbath/' Upon THIS day is founded the cycle, or revolu* tion of 28 years; called the solar cycle, with reference to the ancient name of Sunday, or dies SoLis ; which revolution being completed, the dominical or Sunday-letters (hereafter mentioned) return into their former places ; the days of the months return to the same days of the week ; the sun's place to the same signs and degrees of the ecliptic, on the same months and days; and the leap years begin the same course with respect to the days of the week on which the days of the months fall. The present year, 1812, is the^r*^ year of a solar cycle- ^44 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. OF THE CALENDAR. Days, weeks, months, and years, being the measures of time by which our life is regulated, let us next consider, how they are reduced into order, for the religious and civil purposes of life. This is effected, by means of the Calendar. The Calendar, is a register of the year, in which the days, weeks, and months, and all stated times, are marked. It is divided into twelve parts for the twelve months, and each month into its proper number of days, regularly numbered. But here we must observe, that although the year and months of our Calendar are measured by solar time, yet they differ somewhat in their periods from the true solar year; inasmuch as the year of our Calendar does not begin exactly at any one of four great solar points, of the solstices or equinoxes, but is made to begin eleven days after the winter solstice, which takes place upon the 21st of December. The same difference con- tinues, throughout the year, between the divisions of the twelve Calendar months, and the periods of the sun's entering and passing through the twelve ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 245 8igns; but this difference does not prevent our common year from being altogether a solar year. The weeks are marked by the first seven letters of the alphabet, called the Sunday letters, which are continually repeated throughout the year. Against the first day of the first month, (or January 1st,) the first letter of the alphabet (A) is placed. Had the year consisted of an exact number of weeks, so as to end with the last day of a week, the year would always have begun with A, and the same letters would always have repre- sented the same days of the week ; so that Aj standing always for Sunday, the following six letters, in their natural order, would have repre- sented always the same days. But as the common year has one day more, consisting of 52 weeks and one day, (and in Leap-year two days,) the letter which represents Sunday changes every year. But when it is once known which letter represents Sunday for any one given year, the six following letters, in their order, equally represent the six fol- lowing days of the week for that year; and there- fore, by observing the Sunday letter for each year, the Calendar becomes a perpetual almanack for weeks and days : for which purpose, the Sunday letters, for every year of the present century, wiU ^46 ELEMENTARy CHRONOLOGY. be found set against each year, in Table I> In Leap-year, it is to be observed, that, owing to the insertion of an additional day after the 28th of February, the order of the letters are there dis- placed one day ; and consequently they give occa- sion for two Sunday; letters for every Leap-year, the Jirst of which shows Sunday for January and February, and the second for all ihe remaining ten months of that year. The i^a^e^ times, which we are concerned to observe, are, the days of religious and civil observance. Of these, some* are J^jrec?; and they are accordingly inserted in the Calendar, over against the day of the month to which they are severally assigned* Other stated times are moveable; depending upon, one principal day, which varies its place in the Calendar every year, because that place is to be determined by the day of the full moon of the month of March of each yean That principal day, is Easter-day; upon which depend all the days of religious. observance, that have not a fixed place assigned to them in the Calendar. Easter-day, is always the first Sunday after the full moon which happens upon, or next after, the 21st day of March j and if the full moon happens ^ ELEMENTAHY CHBONOLOGY. 247 tipon a Sunday, Easter-day is the Sunday fol- lowing. Easter-day cannot fall earlier than the 22d of March, nor later than the 25th of April ; which two days are therefore called, the Easter limits. As the fixing the great festival of Easter, which governs the whole series of moveable days of observance, depends upon finding the full moon upon, or next after, the 21st of March ; it became necessary to establish some common and universal rule, which should serve for the whole Christian church, for determining that moon, and the great festival which was to be regulated by it. This gave rise to the invention of the Epact, already mentioned ; by means of which, Easter-day has been determined since the year 1582, when the Epact was first publicly employed for that purpose by Pope Gregory XIII. This ecclesiastical epact, however, as it has al- ready been intimated, though of sufficiently general accuracy for the purposes to which it is applied, is nevertheless defective in minute exactness ; for which reason, astronomers have calculated exactly the annual differences of the solar and lunar revolu- tions, and have reduced those differences into Tables of astronomical epacts; for which, see M. de la 248 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. Lande's Astronomic, Tom. L p. 102, (Tables), and Tom. II. p. 2^9, &c. AVhen Easter-day is known for any year, all the other moveable days of observance are known by the following rules. Advent Sunday is always the nearest Sunday to the Feast of St. Andrew, whether before or after; which feast is always fixed to the 30th of No- vember* Septuagesima -v ^iline ^ Sexagesima I ^ \ ^^g^* ) ^^j^^ 1,^^^^^ Qumquagesiraa / Sunday, is / seven > Eastcr-day. Quadragesima \ i six i ^* Palm ^ ^one ^ Maundy Thursday, is three days \ ^^^^^^ Easter-day. Good triday, is two days J Rogation Sunday >^ ^ five weeks ^ Whit-Sunday 1 / seven weeks i ^* Trinity Sunday ^ eight weeks ^ The number of Sundays, after Trinity, and after Advent, are 'determined, by the distance of Eastet' day from the Feast of St, Andrew, and by the distance of the Feast of St, Andret» from Easter-day following. All these days are shown in Table IL, where, by finding Easter-day for the year, in the first column, all the other moveable days fur that year are found also. latEMiiNTARY CHRONOLOGY. 249 The Sundays between Ash-Wednesday and Easter-day, are called Sundays in Lent ; and the Sundays between Easter-day and Whit-Sunday are called Sundays after Easter, Besides these days of religious observance, cer- tain periods are fixed for the business of our coutts of judicature ; which are called the Law Terms. Easter Term begins 17 days after Easter, and ends the Monday following Ascension-day. Trinity Term begins 12 days after Whitsuntide, and continues ip days. Michaelmas Term begins the gth or 10th of October, and ends the 28th or 29th of November. Hilary Term begins 23d or 24th January, and e«ds 12th or 13th February, TABLE I. Showing the Years of the present Century ; with the Golden Number, or Year qf the Lunar Cycle; the Epact; Sunday Letter; and Easter Day; of each Year. 5 » O .Hi s H ^ »3 S 25 i a. n s en s s a. O c» 5 'Z ft S6 M Pi o «» 2 © rt << JO O £ O > s f5 > e o- • *■ rt »^ G 5" ? *< JO ^ 9e .- J1 1812 8 17 ED Mar. 29 1831 8 17 B A. 3 1813 9 28 C Apr. 18 1832 9 28 A G — 22 1814 10 9 B — 10 1833 10 9 F — 7 1815 11 20 A M. 26 1834 1835 11 12 20 1 E D M. 30 A. 19 1816 12 1 G F A. 14 1817 13 12 E — 6 1836 13 12 C B — 3 1818 14 23 D M. 22 1837 14 23 A M. 26 1819 15 4 C A. 11 1838 15 4 G A. 15 1820 16 15 B A ~ 2 1839 1840 16 17 15 26 F E D M. 31 A. 19 1821 17 26 G -~ 22 1822 18 7 F — 7 1841 18 7 C — 11 1823 19 13 E M. 30 184 ii 19 18 B M. 27 1824 1 D C A. 18 1843 1 A A. 16 182.5 2 11 B — 3 1844 1845 2 3 11 22 G F E — 7 M. 23 1826 3 22 A M. 26 1827 4 3 G A. 15 1846 4 3 D A. 12 1828 5 14 F E — 6 1847 6 14 C — 4 1829 6 25 D — 19 1848 6 25 B A — 23 1830 7 6 C — 11 1849 1850 7 8 6 17 G F — 8 M. 31 K si C o a. 3 or. 3 > H M » O e« S ® o a. 3 c W s 3 C re o 3 o > o n >> C 5" rt' ? ^ c C" r* o «< ?5 n -» Sd p 1851 9 28 E A. 20 1876 15 4 BA A. 16 1852 10 9 DC — 11 1877 16 15 G — 1 1853 11 20 B M. 27 1878 17 '26 F — 21 1854 1^2 1 A A. 16 1879 18 7 E — 13 1855 13 12 G — 8 1880 19 18 DC M. 28 1856 14 23 FE M. 23 1881 1 B A. 17 1857 15 4 D A. 12 1882 2 11 A — 9 1851^ 16 15 C — 4 1883 3 22 G M. 25 1859 17 26 B — 24 1884 4 3 F E A. 13 1860 18 7 AG — 8 1885 5 14 D — 5 1861 19 18 F M. 31 1886 6 25 C — 25 1862 i E A. 20 1887 7 6 B — 10 1863 2 11 D — 5 1888 8 17 AG — 1 1864 3 22 CB M. 27 1889 9 28 F — 21 1865 4 3 A A. 16 1890 10 9 E — 6 1866 5 14 G — 1 1891 11 20 D M. 29 1867 6 25 F — 21 1892 12 1 CB A. 17 1868 7 6 ED — 12 1893 13 12 A — 2 1869 8 17 C M. 28 1894 14 23 G M. 25 1870 9 28 B A. 17 1895 15 4 F A. 14 1871 10 9 A — 9 1896 16 15 ED — 5 187 V 11 20 GF M.31 1897 17 26 C — 18 1873 1'2 1 E A. 13 1898 18 7 B — 10 1874 13 12 D __ 5 1899 19 U:- A — 2 1875 14 23 C M. 28 1900 1 '29 G — 15 THE CALENDAR. THE CALENDAR. 9.56 JANUARY, XXXI Days. 1 A Cal. Circumcision, 2 B 4 Non. 3 C 3 Non. 4 D Pr Non. 5 E Non. 1 6 F 8 Id. Epiphany, 7 G 7 Id. 8 A 6 Id. 9 B 5 Id. 10 C 4 Id. 11 D 3 Id. I'i E Pr. Id. 13 F Id. 14 G 19 Cal. Feb. 15 A 18 Cal. 16 B 17 Cal. 17 C 16 Cal. 18 D 15 Cal. 19 E 14 Cal. Sun enters Aquarius. ^20 F 13 Cal. 21 G 12 Cal. 22 A 11 Cal. 23 1^ 10 Cal. 24 9 Cal. 25 D 8 Cal. Conversion of St. Paul 26 E 7 Cal. 27 F 6 Cal. 28 G 5 Cal. 29 A 4 Cal. 30 B 3 Cal. King Charles, M. 31 C Pr. Cal. g56 THE CALENDAR. FEBRUARY, XXVIII Days. In Leap Year xxix Days. 1 2 D E Cal. 4 Non. ^ Punjk, qf the V. M. 3 F 3 Non. X Candlemas-day, 4 G Pr. Non, 5 A Non. 6 B 8 Id. 7 C 7 Id. 8 D 6 Id. 9 E 5 Id. 10 F 4 Id. 11 G 3 Id. 12 A Pi. Id. 13 B Id. 14 C 16 Cal. Mar. Valentine, Bp. 15 D 15 Cal. 16 E 14 Cal. 17 F 13 Cal. 18 G 12 Cal. Sun enters Pisces, 19 A 11 Cal. 20 B 10 Cal. 21 C 9 Cal. 22 D 8 Cal. 23 E 7 Cal. 24 F 6 Cal. St, Matthias. 25 G 5 Cal. 26 A 4 Cal. 27 B 3 Cal. 28 C Pr. Cal. 29 THE CALENDAR. 257 MARCH, XXXI Days. 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 24 25 26 27 30 31 D K F G A B C D E F G A B C D E F G A B C D E F G A B C D E F Cal. 6 Non. 5 Non. 4 Non. 3 Non. Pr. Non. Non. 8 Id. 7 Id. 6 Id. 5 Id. 4 Id. 3 Id. Pr. Id. Id. 17 Cal. Apr. 16 Cal. 15 Cal. 14 Cal. 13 Cal. 12 Cal. 11 Cal. 10 Cal. 9 Cal. 8 Cal. 7 Cal. 6 Cal. 5 Cal. 4 Cal. 3 Cal. Pr. Cal. St. David. St. I^atnck. V. Equinox. Sun tntexn Aries, i Annunc, of the V, M. X Lady-day, £5S THE CALENDAR. APRIL XXX Days. \ ' 1 G ! Cal. 2 A 4 Non. 3 B 3 Non. i 4 C Pr. Non. ' 5 D Non. 6 E 8 Id. 7 F 7 Id. 8 G 6 Id. 9 A 5 Id. 10 B 4 Id. 11 C 3 Id. 12 D Pr. Id. i 13 E Id. 1 14 F 18 Cal. Ma. 15 G 17 Cal. 16 A 16 Cal. 17 B 15 Cal. 1» C 14 Cal. 19 D 13 Cal. 20 E 12 Cal. Sun enters Taurus, 21 F 11 Cal. 22 G 10 Cal. 23 A 9 Cal. St. George. 24 B 8 Cal. 25 C 7 Cal. St. Marky the JEvang. 26 D 6 Cal. 27 E 5 Cal. 28 F 4 Cal. 29 30 G 3 Cal. A Pr. Cal. - •■:-.■ - ■: ::. ■ THE CALENDAR, 259 MAY, XXXI Days. 1 B Cal. 2 C 6 Non. S D 5 Noil. 4 E 4 Non. 5 F 3 Non. 6 G Pr. Non. 7 A Non. 8 B 8 Id. 9 C 7 Id. 10 D 6 Id. 11 E 5 Id. 12 F 4 Id. 13 G 3 Id. 14 A Pr. Id. 15 B Id. 16 C 17 Cal. Jun. 17 D 16 Cal. 18 E 15CaIi. 19 F 14 Cal. SO G 13 Cal. , 21 A 12 Cal. 22 B 11 Cal. 23 C lOG^aL 24 D 9 Cal. 25 E 8 Cal. 26 F 7 Cal. 27 G 6 Cal. 28 A 5 Cat 29 B 4 Cal. 30 C 3 Cal. J^X -D -Pr^IIaL St, Phil, and St, Jam, Q. Charlotte b. Sun enters Getnini, K. Charles II. Rest. 260 THE CALENDAR. JUNE, XXX Days. 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 E Cal. F 4 Non. G 3 Non. A Pr. Non. B Non. C 8 Id. D 7 Id. E 6 Id. F 5 Id. G 4 Id. A 3 Id. B Pr. Id. C Id. D 18 Cal. Jul. E 17 Cal. F 16 Cal. G 15 Cal. A 14 Cal. B 13 Cal. C 12 Cal. D 11 Cal. E 10 Cal. F 9 Cal. G 8 Cal. A 7 Cal. B 6 Cal. C 5 Cal. D 4 Cal. E 3 Gal. F Pr. Cal. K. George III. b. St. Barnabas f A, and M. S. Solstice. Sun enter^ ^ Cancer. Nativ. of St. John J Bapt. St. Peter, Ap. and M. THE CALENDAR. a6l JULY, XXXI Days. 1 G Cal. ^z A 6 Non. 3 B 5 Non. 4 C 4 Non. 5 D 3 Non. 6 E Pr. Non. 7 F Non. 8 G 8 Id. 9 A 7 Id. 10 B 6 Id. 11 C 5 Id. 12 D 4 Id. 13 E 3 Id. 14 F Pr. Id. 15 G Id. Switliin, fo. 16 A 17 Cal. Aug. 17 B 16 Cal. 18 C 15 Cal. 19 D 14 Cal. 20 E 13 Cal. 21 F 12 Cal. 22 G 11 Cal. Sun enters hto. 23 A 10 Cal. 24 B 9 Cal. 25 C 8Cal. St, James, A. and M. 26 D 7 Cal. 27 E 6 Cal. 28 F 5 Cal. 29 G 4 Cal. SO A 3 Cal. 31 B Pr. Cal. ^262 THE CALENDAR. AUGUST, XXXI Days. 1 C Cal. Lammas Day, 2 D 4 Non, 3 H 3 Non. i 4 F Pr. Non. I 5 G Non. i 6 A 8 Id. 1 7 B 7 Id. 1 8 C 6 Id. ! 9 D 5 Id. 10 E 4 Id. 11 F 3 Id. 12 G Pr. Id. George, P^ Reg. b. 13 A Id. i 14 B 19 Cal. Sept. 15 C 18 Cal. ! 16 D 17 Cal. 1 17 E 16 Cal. i 18 F 15 Cal. 19 G 14 Cal. 1 20 A 13 Cal. ; 21 B 12 Cal. ■ ^ .'.'■ ' 22 C 11 Cal* Sun enters Virgo, 23 D 10 Cal. 24 E 9 Cal. i St, Bw'tholomew, 25 F 8 Cal. ; ^ ' '- 26 G 7 Cal. 1 27 A 6Cal.« ] .•iit. > 'f! '\ - • 28 B 5 Cal. 1 Juiif- ,^ ] :. ; 29 c ^Cal. -- — ..»-__,.- — 1 30 D 3 Cal. 31 E Pi. CaU THE CALENDAR. 263 SEPTEMBER, • 1 XXX Days. 1 F Cal. 2 G 4Non. 3 A 3Non. 4 B Pr. Non. 5 C Non. 6 D 8 Id. 7 E 7 Id. 8 F 6 Id. t 9 G 5 Id. 10 A 4 Id. i 1^ B 3 Id. 12 C Pr. Id. 13 D Id. 14 E 18 Cal. Oct. 15 F 17 Cal. 16 G 16 Cal. 17 A 15 Cal. 18 B 14 Cal. 19 C 13 Cal. 20 D 12 Cal. 21 E 11 Cal. St. Matthew. 22 F 10 Cal. 23 G 9 Cal. A. Equinox. Sun 24 A 8 Cal. enters Lihrcu 25 B 7 Cal. 26 C 6 Cal. 27 D 5 Cal. 28 E 4C«il. 29 F 3 Cal. St. Michael. 30 G Pr. Cal. 264 THE CALENDAR. OCTOBER, XXXI Days. 1 A Cal. 2 B 6Non. 3 C 5Non. 4 D 4Non. 5 E 3Non. 6 F Pr. Non. 7 G Non. 8 A 8 Id. 9 B 7 Id. 10 C 6 Id. 11 D 5 Id. 12 E 4 Id. 13 F 3 Id. 14 G Pr. Id. 15 A Id. 16 B 17 Cal. Nov. 17 C 16 Cal. 18 D 15 Cal. St. Luke, the Evang. 19 E 14 Cal. 20 F X3 C^l. 21 G 12 Cal. 22 A 11 CaU 23 B 10 Cal, Sun enters Scorpio, 24 C 9 Cai; 25 D 8 Cal. 26 E 7 Cal. 27 F 6 Cal. 28 G 5 Cal. St, Simon and St. Jude. 29 A 4Cai: 30 B 3 Cal. 31 C Pr. Cal. THE CALENDAR, 265 NOVEMBER, XXX Days, 1 D Cal. All Saints' Day, 2 E 4 Non. 3 F 3Non. 4 G Pr. Non. 5 6 A B Non. 8 Id. Papists' Conspiracy. 7 C 7 Id. 8 D 6 Id. 9 E 5 Id. 10 F 4 Id. 11 G 3 Id. 12 A Pr. Id. 13 B Id. 14 C 18 Cal. Dec. 15 D 17 Cal. 16 E 16 Cal. 17 F 15 Cal. 18 G 14 Cal. 19 A 13 Cal. 20 B 12 Cal. 21 C 11 Cal. 22 D 10 Cal. Sun enters Sagittarius, 23 E 9 Cal. 24 F 8 Cal. 25 G 7 Cal. 26 A 6 Cal. 27 B 5 Cal. 28 C 4 Cal. 29 D 3 Cal. 30 E Pr. Cal. St. Andrew, ^66 THE CALENDAR. DECEMBER, ] &XXI Days. 1 F Cal. 2 G 2 Non. 3 A 3 Non. 4 B Pr, Non. 5 C Non. i 6' D 8 Id. 7 E 7 Id. 8 F 6 Id. 9 G 5 Id. 10 A 4 Id. 11 B 3 Id. 12 C Pr.Id. 13 D Id. 14 E 19 Cal. Jan. 15 F 18 Cal. 16 G 17 Cal. 17 A 16 Cal. 18 B 15CaI. 19 C 14 Cal. 20 D 13 Cal. C St, Thomasy the Apost, I W. Solstice. t Sun enters Capricorn. 21 E 12 Cal. 22 F 11 Cal. 23 G 10 Cal. 24 A 9 Cal. 25 B 8 Cal. Christmas-day. 26 c 7 Cal. St. Stephen^ first M. 27 D 6 Cal. St. John, Ap. and Ev. 28 E 5 Cal. Innocents-day. 29 F 4 Cal. 30 G 3 Cal. 31 A Pr. Cal. TABLE II . Showing all the Moveable Days of the Year, depending upon Easter-day. > i a. It 5 II *< o * 3 00 1 t ^1 rt- W < 5 lar. 22 D 1 Jan. 18 Feb. 4 Ap. 26 Vp. 30 May 10 27 Nov. 29 23 E 1 19 5 27 May 1 11 ■17 30 24 F 1 20 6 28 2 12 27 Dec. 1 25 G 2 21 7 29 3 13 27 2 26 A ^ 22 8 30 4 14 27 3 27 B 2 23 9 May 1 . ;.5, ' 15 26 Nov. 27 28 C 2 24 10 2 ■ !€ ! 16 26 28 29 D 2 25 11 3 H -f- • 17 26 29 30 £ 2 26 12 4 $ ^ 18 26 30 31 P 2 27 13 5 9 19 26 Dec. 1 pril 1 Q 3 28 14 6 10 ■ 20 26 2 2 A 3 29 15 t 7 11 21 26 3 3 B 3 30 16 8 12 • 22 25 Nov. 27 4 C 3 31 17 9 13 : 23 25 28 5 D 3 Feb. 1 18 10 14 24 25 29 6 Si 3 2 19 11 15 J25 25 30 7 F 3 3 20 12 16 : 26 25 Dec. 1 8 G 4 4 21 13 17 27 25 2 9 A 4 5 22 11 18 : .28 25 3 10 B 4 6 23 15 19 29 24 Nov. 27 11 C 4 7 24 16 20 30 24 28 12 D 4 8 25 17 21 31 24 29 lo K 4 9 26 18 22 Jane l 24 30 14 1^ 4 10 27 19 23 2 24 Dec. 1 15 G 5 11 28 I 20 S4 3 24 2 16 A 5 t: Mar. 1 21 25 4 24 3 17 B 5 13 2 22 26 5 23 Nev. 27 18 C. .-5._. -.14 - - .-..-A _ 23 27 6 23 28 19 D 5 15 4 24 28 - ^ 23 29 20 E 5 16 5 25 29 8 23 30 21 F 5 17 6 26 30 9 23 Dec. 1 22 Cf 6 18 7 27 31 10 23 2 23 A 6 19 8 28 June 1 11 23 3 £4 B 6 20 9 29 2 12 22 Nov. 27 25 C 6 21 10 30 3 13 22 28 TABLE III. Showing the Sun's Rising and Setting, every Tenth Day. Jan. 1 Rises. Sets. July 1 Rises. Sets. H. M. 8. 5, M. H. 5.4. H. M. 3.45. M. H. 45.9. 10 7.58. 58. 5. 10 3.52. 52.9. 20 7. 47. 47.5. 20 4. 2. 2.8. Feb. 1 7.29. 29.5. Aug. 1 4. 19. 19. 8. 10 7.13. 13.5. 10 4.34. 34. 8. 20 5.54. 54. 6. 20 4.52. 52. 8. March i 6.35. 35.6. Sept. 1 5. 14. 14. 7. 10 6.17. 17. 6. 10 5.32. 32.7. 20 6. 0. 0.6. \^. Equin. 23 6. 0. 0.6. A. Equi April 1 5. 33. 33.7. Oct. 1 6. 13. 13.6. 10 5.16. 16.7. 10 6.30. 30. 6. 20 4. 57. 57.8. 20 6.50. 50.6. May 1 4. 37. ,37.8. Nov. 1 7.12. 12.5. 10 4.22. 22. 8. 10 7.28. 28. 5. 20 4. 7. 7.8. 20 7.43. 43.5. June 1 3.53. 53. 9. Dec. 1 7.57. 57.5. 10 3.46. 46.9. 10 8. 4. 4.4. 21 3.43. 43.9. S. Solst. 21 8. 8. 8.4. W. Solst N. B. The first columns show the minutes (m.) qfter the hour (h.) of sun-rise 5 the second, the m. bqfore the H. of sun-set. Table iv. A LUNAR TABLE* The following Table shows the Neu^Moons, upon a mean calculation, for every month of the year in the recurrent cycle of nineteen years. It is digested from the ecclesiastical Table of Epacts, compared with the two last lunar cycles in the Nautical Almanack, and with the years of the present cycle, of which the present year, 1812, is the 8th year. In order to use it, find the number of the current year in the lunar cycled corresponding to which number, in the same line, are the days of the New- Moons for each of the twelv6 months of the year. To find the Full-Moon of any month, reckon 14 days, backward or forward, from the day of the New-Moon, The Epact of each year is sub- joined, which shows the Moon's age at the beginning of that year. 5S > > {= w » o o K *^ ?> I- 1 2 3 Cm g 1. 30. 19. 8. 27. 1 28. 1 30. 19. 8. > 28. 1 27. Cm C a 26. C-l 25. > 1 24. 1 cr 23. O o o rt 22. 11. 1. 30. 19. 8. 27. 16. 5. 24. IS. 2.: 21. 10. 29. 18.; © < B 21. 10. 29. 18. ^' 26. 15. 4. 23. 12. 1. 20. 9. 28. C n o n> 5 7» 20. 9. 28. 17. 17. 6. 17. 6. 16. 5. 15. 4. 14. 13. 2. 12. 1. 3. 4 25. 27. 25. 24. 23. 22. 21. 10. 29. 18. 7. 26. 15. 4. 23. 12. 1. 20. 20. 9. • 28. 17. 6. 25. 14. 3. 22. 11. 1. 30. 19. 5 6 7 16. 5. 24. 13. 2. 21. 10. 29. 18. 7. 26. 15. 4. 23. 14. to. 14. 13. 12. 11. 6. 8. 22. 11. 1. 19. 5. 24. 13. 2. 21. 3. 22. 2. 21. 10. 29. 18. 1. 1. 30. 19. 8. 27. 16. 25. 20. 14 8 9 10 11 11. 1. 30. 19. 9. 28. 17. 3. 22. 11. 8. 10. 29. 8. 27. 7. 6. 25. 5. 24. 1. 30. 12 27. 26. 19. 13 14 16. 5. 24. 13. 2. 21. 18. 7. 26. 15. 4. 23. 16. 5. 24. 15. 4. 23. 12. 1. 20. 14. 3. 22. 13. 2. 21. 8. 27. 15 16 17. 16. 13. 11. 1. 30. 19. 10. 29. 18. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 17 18 19 2. 21. 28. 17. 27, 16. 26. 15. 25. 14. 24. 13. 12. 10. 12. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 271 2. KISTORICAL CHRONOLOGY. OF EPOCITAS, AUTD ERAS. Historical CHRoiNOLOGY, is the science of assigning dates of time to the events oi history, A DATE, is a relative mark of time, reckoned from some fixed period. IhQ period, from which marks of time referable to events are reckoned, is called an epoch a. The general reckoning of time from the epocha, is called the eUa of the epocha. The date, is the particular year of the era. Heiice it is manifest, that an epocha and an era differ from each other in Chronology, as a point in Geometry differs from ''• a line l^hich is drawn from it. It is therefore surprising, that Hume, Gibbon, and many other eminent authors, should have occasionally confounded the terms epocha and era, by using the latter to signify the former; although the perversion of language is not less, than if they had used the word line to signify a jiom?f; a confusion, less excusable in 272 ELEMENTARY CHBONOtOGY. professed historians, than in any other class of writers. Without some Jixed point of time to reckon from, no distinct notion of time could be attached to any past event; which must be noted, by its relation to that fixed point. The real use of Historical Chronology, is to afford a ready apprehension of the distance of PAST EVENTs/rOW PRESENT TIME. In order to which end, nations that have reached a state of civilization, have commonly fixed upon some event in their domestic transactions, from which to reckon the progress of time; making that event the period, or epocha, of their era, or reckoning of years. This has usually been the earliest period, to which they could refer with any authority, or security. Of these epoch as, the" principal among the ancient heathen nations, were the three great epochas, 5 the Olympiads • 776 "^ * the Building o/Rome- • 753 > y^""'' ^^^^'^ i Christ. . Nabonassar 747 J The first of these, was adopted by the Greeks; ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY, 273 the second, by the Romans; the third, by the Babylonians. All time prior to those epochas, (which fall in the middle or end of the eighth century before Christ,) was pronounced by Varro, the great reformer of heathen chronology, to be eiihev fabulous, or wholly obscure ; which two cha- racters of time he divided, by the intervening tra- ditional event, of the Flood : an arrangement, in which his penetration and sagacity are as con- spicuous above those of all other heathen writers, as his ingenuousness, and the fidelity of his reason, are pre-eminent above those of matiy who have been denominated Christians. But the most important, and the inost entirely useful, EPOCHA which has yet been found for reckoning time, is that great event, from which the whole Christian world now agree in computing time; namely, the birth, or first COMING of our blessed Lord an4 Saviour Jesus Christ: an epocha, which furnishes a twofold era, retrograde and direct : retrograde, to the crea- tion of the world; and direct, to the end of the world, or to His second coming. This singular and luminous era, forms one continued line of time, from the beginning, to the end, of out" T 274 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. race; receiving and uniting all other era«, Sacred and Profane, and furnishing to the mind the readiest apprehension possible, of the distance o/'past events from PRESENT time:- which is the perfection of HistoricaV Chronology. It is astonishing, that this great epocha did not suggest itself to the Christian church, for forming an era, until about the year of our Lord 526 ; when DiONYSius THE LiTTLE, a Scythian monk, had the distinguished merit of first proposing it. It is still more astonishing, that having been once pro- posed, it was not generally adopted until the begin- ning of the ninth century, when it was established, under Charlemagne, in the Western Empire. There is, however, a slight difference of 4 years, between the true epocha of our Lord's birth, and that assumed in the vulgar era ; the true epocha having been found, upon examination, to he four years earlier than the common reckoning supposes it to be. So that the true date for the present year, 1812 of the vulgar Christian era, would be 18X6. The computation by Olympiads was continued in Greece until the year 312 ; when it was superseded, j by authority of the Council of Nice, by com-j putations of 15 years, constantly recurring, called] the Cycle of the Indiction : being the term of aii | ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 275 imperial tribute, established by Constantino the Great, and collected every 15 years. This method of computation commenced January 1, A.D. 313. OF CYCLES, AND PERIODS. It is important, now, to take a view of two cele- brated compound periods of computation, which have been applied to history ; namely, the Vict(h rian, or Dionysian Cycle, of 532 years; and the Julian Period, of 7980 years. A cycle, or period, is a certain space of time, or a revolution of a certain number of years, which being ended it begins anew. The Victorian or Dionysian Cycle, employed by Victorius Aquitanus, and Dionysius Exiguus, or the Little, in the fifth and sixth centuries, is produced, by multiplying into each other the solar cycle of 28 years*, and the lunar cycle of 19 years t; the heads of which cycles ♦ P. ^43, 5. t P. 23r. 276 ELExMENTARY CHKONOLOGY, coincide, and begin together; only once in 53^ years. But as this compound cycle must recommence every 532 years, Joseph Scaliger, in order to obtain a period which should be sufficiently capacious to comprehend all historical time, imagined a method of giving extension to the Dionysian Cycle, by mul- tiplying it again by 15; being the quantity of the Cycle of Indiction already mentioned p. 274; so as to involve that cycle in the former, and to suppose a cycle of 15 years to have been always limning on, with the two cycles of 28 and 19 years. By this means he obtained a period of 79^0 years, comprehending Jifteen Dionysian cycles; which he denominated the JuliaK PERIOD, because he employed the Julian reckon- ing of years. Having obtained that period, his next object was to apply it to ihtuses of history. In order to which end, " ut in iisum deducatur," as he himself says, he had, first of all, to fix the year of the birth OF Christ in that period ; that is to say, to find the corresponding years of the solar and lunar cycle, and of the supposed cycle of Indiction, when that birth took place. This he found in the year 4713 of his period ; when the number of the first cycle ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 277 was 9, and of the second 1 ; which thus became the/ historical epocha for determining the dates of all events. He had next, to compute back the year of the CREATWS of THE WORLD; whlch he supposed to have taken place 3949 years before Christ; which year fell in the year 7^4 of that great period. So that the period has an imaginary commencement y 764 years before the beginning of time. Great as is the capacity and convenience of this period, for computing time and giving chrono- logical characters to events, it is nevertheless plainly wanting in that which can alone give solid satisfaction to the reason, viz. 2i foundation in PACT. To use a period commencing before time, for the purpose of measuring the parts of time^ is undeniably perplexing, if not revolting, to the sober judgment ; especially, since we are able to find one actually commencing with time, that is, with the original motion of the earth and heavenly bodies ; and, in every respect, fruitful of the same, real advantages. It is most reasonable to assume, that the crea- tion commenced with the commencement of a, solar and a lunar cycle, or, in other words, with the beginning of a cycle of 532 years. For we know, with full certainty, that the first day of the creation 278 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. was the first day of a week; because it was the- first of a series of seven days, the last of which was the first Sabbath. We have likewise the best moral evidence, from the order established in the celestial machinery for originating and dividing time, joined to a well considered interpretation of the text of the sacred historian, to assume, that on that first day of the first week the two great INDEXES OF TIME, the SUN and the moon, were in conjunction, and did not unfold their relative distiiv guishing characters until the eve of the fourth day ; according to the common course of nature after a conjunction. Consequently, the first day of the crea- tion would be the first day of a taeek, of a solar, and of a lunar year ; that is, it was the first day of a cycle, of 532 years : a series of which cycles have continually succeeded to each other, from that first cycle to the present time. The only question there- fore is, which of the Dionysian cycles before Christ, are we to assume, for the first cycle of the world ? Now we know, that all the principal compu- tations for the epocha of the Creation, fall about the beginning of the fourth millenary, or four thou- sandth YEAR, before Christ. The common computation assumes the year 4004 ; the extreme ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 9!7^ computations, are the years 3942, and 4397- The mean computation, of Frank, is the year 41S1; Since, then, we have good ground for assuming, that the Creation began with a Dionysian cycle; and since the year 4181, before Christ, was ac- tually the beginning of such a cycle, we have good ground for assuming that year for the year of the Creation ; for, if we ascend another cycle, of 532 years, we shall go too high, and if we descend 532 years, we shall go too low. As, therefore, we know, that (according to the vul- gar Christian era) Christ was born in the 457th year of a Dionysian cycle, whose number for the solar cycle was 9, and for the lunar cycle 1, we easily find, that the year 4181 before Christ was the beginning of the eighth Dionysian cycle, reckoned backward ; or, that Christ was born in the 457th year of the eighth Dionysian cycle, from the Creation. We are, now, in the twelfth cycle from the same original point, and in the 141st year of that cycle; which began A. D. 1671, and will end A. D. 2203 ; having still 391 years to run. But, since no one who has well weighed and con- sidered the sacred prophecies, and the answering events of the world, will entertain a prospect of another such cycle to follow the present one ; nor, 280 ELExMENTAUY CHKOls'OLOGY. indeed, will conceive a belief, that this present cyclo will reach a natural termination; we may reasonably and contentedly close our view of time, with this PRESENT TWELFTH CYCLE; and thereby obtain a period, sufficiently productive to answer all the purposes of the Julian period ; with the addi- tional advantage, of having an epochu ifi time for its commencement. We have, therefore, only to take 12 Dionysian cycles, instead of 15 with Scaliger ; and to multiply 532 by 12, instead of by 15 ; which will give us a period of 6384 years; consti- tuting a TEMPORAL period, or period of uni^ versal time, beginning with the first movement of the celestial bodies, and first day of the week, in the year 4181 years before Christ; and extend- ing forward, three hundred and ninety-one years beyond the present time. This period, comprehending the solar and lunar cycles, and an artificial duodecimal (instead of Scaliger's quindecimal) cycle, multiplied into each other, contains in itself all the important cha- racters of time that can be supplied by the Julian period; substituting only the number 12, for 15. Thus, as the characters of each year of the Julian period are found, by dividing by 28 for the solar cycle, by 19 for the lunar cycle, and by 15 for the KLEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 281 artificial cycle ; so also here, by dividing any year of this temporal period by 28, by 19, and by 12, the distinguishing character of each year will equally be found. The cycle of Indiction itself is of no concern . to history until after the year A. D. 312, when it first commenced. By deducting 312 from ; any subsequent year of the Christian era, and < dividing the sum by 15, Ive can at all times find [ the year of the Indiction, if required, without ] having recourse to the Julian period ; the remainder, '. being the year of the Indiction, and the quotient, ; j the number of cycles. ■ The following scheme will show the progress of this great temporal period, through all its twelve I cycles, and also its correspondence with the years ? before and after Christ ; conveying a distinct notion • of the ENTiRENEss OF TIME, SO far as we are able ? to contemplate it, with any accuracy of measure, .; or any manifest relation to the ratio^ and indexes of , time: which, as we have already seen, signifies [ : nothing else, but the duration of the EARTjf ; and HEAVENLY BODIES. SCHEME OF THE TEMPORAL PERIOD, COMPRISING TWELVE DIONYSIAN CYCLES OF 532 YEARS. >io.Gfthe CYCLL Years of the Cycle. Yrs before CHRIST. 1. 1. 532 41di 3649 THE CKLAllON. 2. 106* 3117 S, 15p6 2585 4. £128 2053 The FLOOD. 5. 2m 1.521 6. 3192 9^9 7. 3724 457 8. (4181) 4256 A. D. 1 75 CHRIST BORN, in the457lh year of the 8th l^ionvMan Cvcle. 9. 4788 607 10. 5320 1139 11. 5852 1671 12. (5993) (6000) 6384 1812 18J9 2C03 The PRESENT YEAR, 141st of the 12th Dionysian Cycle.—Remain 391 years. ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 283 The Tables which now follow, contain : First; a General Chronological View of His- tory, ancient and modern, to the present time, divided into its twelve primary periods: for an explanation of which, the reader is referred to ** A Christian's Survey," &c. ; in which work, the grounds of those twelve divisions are distinctly exposed. Secondly ; a more jotfr^icM/ar chronological view of the contents of each of those twelve divisions of History; in which, some of the leading events of each are inserted, so as to form a connected chain of incidents down to our own time. The chronology of Sir Isaac Newton is generally followed, in the early events of heathen history; which, considered as a system^ is, without com- parison, the most sagacious, best considered, and best supported, of any that have yet been given to the world. As the heathen computations fail, upon Varro's acknowledgment, before the first Olympiad, the tra^ ditional events of those first ages, which he calls Obscure^ and Fabulous, can only be reconciled to history, by the aid of the Sacred Chronology. In contemplating the remote events of ancient 284 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. history, it is requisite always to keep in our mind this truth, that minute exactness in point of historical dates is unattainable; and to remember, according to the wise caution expressed by Sir William Jones^ " that whoever, in those early ages, expects a 'V certain epocha, unqualified with about or nearly ^ ** will be greatly disappointed." N. B. It is necessary to observe here, (what has been omitted to be noticed in its proper place,) that the Roman Calendar is annexed to our Civil Calendar in the foregoing pages, for the purpose of showing their correspondence. A General Chronological View of the primary Periods of History, Ancient and Modern, to the present Time : Followed by a more particular View of the same Periods. GENERAL VIEW ANCIENT HISTORY. ThK CUEATION. 1st Period, Tim Flood. 2f(,re Christ. ^99 ANCIENT HISTORY. 1st PERIOD. 588 570 566 564 562 560 554 551 548 544 I. The Babylonian Empire. Nebuchadnezzar, called Labynites I. by Herodotus. Aniasis, King of Egypt. — Servius Tullius, 6th King of Rome, reigns 44 years. Pisistratus, Tyrant of Athens. Phalaris, Tyrant of Sicily. Croesus, King of Lydia. — Solon, Legislator of Athens. Cyrus, King of Persia and Media. Anacharsis, the Scythian Traveller, returns home from Greece. Confucius, the Chinese Philosopher, born. Cyrus conquers Lydia, and all Asia Minor. Pherecydes the Syrian, Preceptor of Pythagoras. Labynites II. last King of Babylon. Cyrus conquers the Babylonians, and puts an end to, The Chald^ean, or Babylonian Empire. II. The Persian Empire. ^>00 Years before Christ. 536 521 458 445 332 312 170 166 7th PERIOD. ANCIENT HISTORY. 63 40 18 1. Return of the Jews from the Captivity. Zerubbabel, and Joshua, the High Priest, conduct the Jews to Palestine : — they begin to restore the Temple. Haggai and Zechariah prophesy. Ezra. Nehemiah: — Malachi, the last prophet, foretells the appearing of the Messiah in the New Temple. Alexander, King of Macedon, enters Syria : — receives the submission of the Jews. — Dies, 324. Seleucus Nicanor renders himself master of Babylon, and King of Syria : — Beginning of the Era of the Seleucides, The Hebrew Scriptures translated into Greek. Jerusalem pillaged, and the nation persecuted, by Antiochus Epiphanes, who defiles the Temple. Judas Maccabeus, and his family : Their exploits, in resistancie of Antiochus. The Jews form alliances with the Romans and Lace- demonians. Jerusalem is taken by Pompey. — Julius Cirsar is greatly esteemed by the Jews ; who incline to regard him as the predicted Founder of the Fourth Empire. Herod is made King of Judah by the Romans. Herod rebuilds or embellishes the Temple of Jerusalem. John, the Baptist, born, the prophetic Elias, or imme- diate forerunner of the Messiah : — Judea taxed. The Birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Modern History commences.) SOI 536 524 522 509 497 480 442 4.'31 424 387 378 350 346 336 2d PERIOD. ANCIENT HISTORY. II. The Persian Empire. Cyrus, King or Emperor of Persia. — Pythagoras — Anacreon-* Cambyses. — He conquers Egypt. — Pindar — ^llschylus. Darius, son of Hystaspes. Ilarmodius and Aristogiton. End of Kingly Government in Home. — Consular Government. First Dictator appointed. — 49O Battle of Marathon. — Miltiades. Xerxes passes the Hellespont : Wars of the Greeks and Persians. — Leonidas — Aristides— Simonides — Democritus. Herodotus, the most ancient surviving Heathen Historian. The Pelopounesian War : it lasts 28 years. — Pericles. Darius Nothus, or Ochus, King of Persia. — Alcibiades. Socrates — Euripides — Sophocles — Hippocrates — ^Thucydides. Artaxerxes MnemoH, King of Persia. — Cyrus the Younger. Plato — Xenophon — Aristophanes — Critias — ^schines — Phaedo — Crito — Ctesias. The Gauls, under Brenuus, besiege Rome. — Camillus, Dictator. Beginning of the intestine Wars in Greece. Eparaiuondas. Philip, King of Macedon. — Demosthenes— Aristotle. Philip is admitted into the Amphyctionic Council : His ascendancy in Greece. — Menander — Philemon. Philip is killed by Pausanias : Is succeeded by his son, Alexander. Darius Codomanus, the last King of Persia, succeeds to Artax. Ochus, sun of Mnemon. 264 218 149 111 70 60 50 54 46 43 III. The BIacedonian Empire. 3d PERIOD. PROFANE Alexander, the Great, conquers Persia, and subverts its empire. Spreads the arms and language of Greece in Asia. Dies at Babylon. Ptolemy I. son of Lagus, King of Egypt. Zeno — Euclid — Berosus — Manetho — Epicurus — Lycophron. 1st Punic War; lasts 23 years. — A poll. Rhodius — ^Theocritus. 2d Punic War; 17yrs. Hannibal. — Archimedes — Ennius — Plautus. 3d Punic War ; 3 years. Carthage destroyed by Scipio.~170. Terence. .1 ugurthan War. — Metellus — Marius. Tereiitius Varro, the most learned of the Romans, reforms the Heathen Chronology. The first Triumvirate ; Julius Cjcsar, Pompey, and Crassus. — Cato. Cicero — Sallust — Virgil — ^TibuUus — Diodorus Sic. — Lucretius. Julius Cjesar conquers Gaul — ^invades Britain : 49. His Civil War with Pompey. He reforms the Calendar : the Julian era begins. — Horace — Livy — He is murdered, March 15. — Octavius succeeds to his power. 2d Triumvirate — Propertius — Maniliu? — Ovid — Hyginus. A most splendid comet appeared, in the month of SEPTEMBER, under the seven conspicuous stars of the Great Bear; to which a temple was raised in Rome. — (Pliny.) The Battle of ACTIUM : Octavius, now Augustus, sole EMrEROR oJ the Greek and Roman World. He taxes the whole empire. IV. The Roman Emiire. (Modern History commences.) 302 Years after CHRIST. MODERN HISTORY. 1st PERIOD. RELIGIOUS. 1. 30 33 64 70 93 96 107 130 164 166 178 196 202 235 250 257 272 284 302 323 325 380 390 Birth, or First Advent, of our Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ enters upon His public ministry : is Baptized. Ap- points his Twelve Apostles. The fourth Passover celebrated by Christ : — He institutes the com- memorative rite of his Last Supper. — His Crucifixion, Resurrec- tion, and Ascension. — ^The descent of the H. Spirit. — St. Stephen — St. Paul Converted, Apostolic Fathers ; Clement, Barnabas, Hennas. First Persecution, under Nero. St. Peter and St. Paul suffer mar- tyrdom. Jerusalem destroyed, according to the prediction of our Lord. Second Persecution, under Domitian. — St. John, the Evangelist, exiled to Patmos. St. John is shown the Vision, of the Seven Imperial Heads, suc- ceeded finally by an Imperial Carcase, of great, but transient., power. Third Persecution, imder Trajan. — St. Ignatius, Mart. Aquila, a Christian convert from Judaism, translates the Old Testa- ment into Greek. — As does Theodotion, in I76. Fourth Persecution, under Marcus Aurelius. St. Polycarp — 167. St. Justin — suffer martyrdom. Ireneeus, Bishop of Lyons. — Heresy of Montanus. Controversy, for fixing the day of Easter to Sunday. Fifth Persecution, under Severus. — Clemens Alex. — Tertnllian. Sixth Persecution, under Maximin. — ^Julius Africanus. Seventh Persecution, under Decius. — Origen — Cyprian. Eighth Persecution, under Valerian. — Heresy of SabelUus. Ninth Persecution, under Aurelian. — Heresy of Manes. Commencement of the Era of Dioclesian, or of tJie Martyrs, — ^Ar- nobius. Many distinguished Romans are converted about this time. Origin of the Monastic life : a devotional retirement from perse- cution, and the distractions of the Empire. St. Anthony, St. Hilarion, &c. Religious riles multiplied : — Altars used. — Pagan mysteries imitated. Tenth Persecution, under Dioclesian. — Heresy of Arius. — St. Atha- nasius. — Lactantius. Christianity established in the Empire, by Constantinc the Great. — Eusebius. First General Council of Nice : Confirms the primitive Faith, and condemns the errors and innovations of Arius. About this time a mystical reverence began to be paid to the Elements of the Eucharist.— Incense used. — Ecclesiastical orders and ranks are multiplied. — St. Basil — St. Martin. Saints, Ambrose — Gregory — Augustine — Chrysostom — PauUnus — Jerom, The Extinction of Paganism. 303 11. 14 27 37 41 54 68 69 79 81 96 MODERN HISTORY. 1st PERIOD. IV. The Roman Empire. Augustus Cxsar, Emperor. — ^2. Farthians defeated by Caius Caesar, Augustus associates Tiberius in the Empire. Augustus dies at Nola, Aug. 19, set. 76. — Strabo— Phaedrus. Tiberius, Emperor, Val.Max.-Paterculus-Columella, Pontius Pilate made Governor of Judca. — Ceisus. Caius Caligula, Emperor. Claudius, Emperor. Philo Judaeus — Seneca. Nero, Emperor. Epictetus-Per9ius~Q.Curtiu8~Pliiiy. Galba> Emperor. Otho, Vitellius, Vespasian, Emps. Titus, Emperor. Domitian, Emperor. N6rva, Emp. Trajan, Emperor. Lucan. Josephus — Silius Ital. Tacitus— Quintillian. Juvenal—Martial.— Statius. Plutarch— Suetonius— Florns. Adrian, Emperor. Arrian— Aristides. Antoninus, Emperor. Appian — ^Aulus Gellius. Marcus Aurelius, L. Verus, Emps. Lucian — Maxim. Tyr. Commodns, Emperor. Julius Pollux — DiogenesLaertius. Pertinax, Emperor, Athenaeus — Solinus. Sept. Severus, Emperor. Plotinus — Oppian. Caracalla, Geta, Emperors. Heliogabulus, Emperor. Alex. Severus, Emperor. Gordian III., Emperor. Decius, Emperor. Dioclesian, Emperor. Ulpian — i£lian. Dion Cassius — Ilerodian. Ceusorinas. Justin. Longinus — Porphyry — Stobae CONSTANTINE the Great, Emp,— lamblicus— Jul. Capitolinus— Vo- piscus — Servius — Eutropius. The seat of Empire removed from Rome to Constantinople. Julian, Emperor, vainly attempts to rebuild the Temple of Jeru- salem, in defiance of the Prophecy of Christ. Valentinian and Valens, Emperor ; divide the Empire into West and East. Theodosius the Grfat, sole Emperor, reigns 16 years. 390. He prohibits the Pagan Religion. The Empire divided between his sons. HoNORius, Emp. of the West, 395. Arcadius, Emp. or of Rome. Final Establish, of the Greek, or Second Head o/" Roman Emp. 304 Years after Christ. 398 408 417 496 590 595 596 607 613 622 635 643 679 726 748 753 796 800 2d PERIOD. MODERN HISTORY. RELIGIOUS. Extinction of Paganism. St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo. St. Jerom, translates and expounds the Scriptures at Bethlehem ; wliere he died, 420, aet 80. St. John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople. 1st Siege of Koine by the Goths. — 409, 2d Siege. — 410, 3d Siege and Sack of Rome by the Goths, who respect the Christian Religion. — Franks and Germans converted. Heresy of Pelagins. — 429. Heresy of Nestoriui.— Orosius — Sulpitiuf Severus, Christian Historians. Leo I. or the Great, Bishop of Rome. — Cyril, Patriarch of Alex- andria. — St. Patrick converts the Irish. Heresy of Eutyches : condemned in the Council of Constantin. Conversion of Clovis, King of the Franks. St. Benedict founds the great Monastic Order of the Western Church. The Christian Era first proposed by Dionysius Exiguns, or the Little. Heresy of the Monothelites. — Female Convents multiply. — Heresy, and Superstition, corrupt the Faith, and cause great disturbances in the Church. — Jornandes — Procopius, Historians. Gregory, the Great, or I. Bishop of Rome. — Isidorus, of Seville. — Greg, of Tours. John, Bishop of Constantinople, assumes the title of Universal Bishop ; for which he is excommunicated by the Bp. of Rome. Augustine, a Monk, preaches the Gospel in England ; — King Ethel- bert converted : — Contest of the Greek and Latin Churches. Boniface III. Bishop of Rome, obtains the title of Univei'sal Bishop from the Emperor Phocas — Dedicates the Pantheon to All Saints. Chosroes, K. of Persia, conq. Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and Asia Minor. Mahomet. — Beginning of the Mahometan Era of the Hegira. The Saracens penetrate into Egypt; ravage Palestine, and take Jerusalem. Omar, Caliph of the Saracens, rebuilds the Temple of Jerusalem for a Mosque; in which he is murdered. Christianity spreads in Holland and Friesland. In this century divine worship is paid to the Virgin Mary, and Martyrs. — Idolatrous rites adapted to Christian Worship, Contest between the Greek Emperor and the Bishop of Rome, or Pope, concerning adt)ration to Image?. The Christian Era begins to be used by writers of Hist. — ^V. Bede. Pepin, King of France, gives the Exarchate of Ravenna to the Bishop of Rome, Stephen II. Ceremony of kissing the foot of the Roman Bishop introduced. — Churches raised to Saints. — Masses for the dead. Leo III. — renounces his allegiance to the Greek Emperor. — Alcuin. — Leo anoints Charlemagne Emp. of the Romans, on Christmas-day. The Rise of PoNTincAL Power. S05 2d PERIOD. MODERN HISTORY. SECULAR, First Head of Eoman Em PI HE. IIONORius, Emp. — Stilico. The Vandals, and other north ern nations, enter Gaul. Rome taken by the Goth^, under Alaric. PJiavamond, 1st King of the Franks. The Vandals under Genseric. The Saxons invade Britain. Attila, the Hun, spreads his armies in the West. Pr. Arthur opposes the Saxon?. AUGUSTULUS, LA5T EmP. Odoacer, King of the Heruli; takes possession of Koine and Ravenna: — First Bar- barian King of Italy. ExTiNcnoN of the First Head of Roman Empiue. Clovis, establishes the Frencli Monarchy in Gaul. The Lombards wrest a great part of Italy from the Greek EmperorSj and found a ne^ kingdom. — Alboin, King ol the Lombards. Pope Gregory the Hreat saves Rome from the Lombards. The seventh century is distin gnished throughout by tlie contests of the Greek Em- perors wilh the Persians and Saracens in the East, and with the Lombards in the West The Saracens overturn tlie kiugd.ofthe Goths in Spain. Prosperity of -"pain under the Saracens, or Moors. Chjnles Marlel defeats the Saracens in France. Childeric III. last King of France of the fii st race. Pepin, declared King by the States of France. Charlemagne, King of France. Battle of Koncevalle. Charlemagne founds the 3d or Frankish Head of Ro MAN Empire. 450 457 474 50Q. 518 527 529 537 Second, or Greek Head of Roman Empire. Arcadius, Emp. I'heodoslus' II. Emperor. The Huns ravage Thrac \ The Theodosian Code pub- lished. The Huns attack tbe East. Em- pire, and occupy Hungary. IMarcianus, Emperor. Leo, the Thracian, Emperor. Leo II. Zeno, Emperors. The Persian War. Ju'stin I. Emp. — Boeihins. .FUSTINIAN, Emp. — Belisarins. ?Ie publishes his Codex and Digest. Recovers Rome from the Goths. Puts an end to the Roman Consulship. Justin II. Emperor. Exarchs of Ravenna first created, as Governors of Italy for the Gr. Emperors. Maurice, Emperor. Chosroes II. King of Persia. Phocas, Em. He is put to d. by Heraclius, Emperor. Constantinople delivered firom the Persians. RLse of the Saracen, or Arab, power in the East. The Saracens burn the cele- brated Library of Alexan- dria. The Saracens, having laid waste a great pait of the Eastern Einpire,attdck Con- stantinople, and spre::hrist. 1519 1529 1535 1547 1549 1553 1558 1572 1582 1590 JW)5 1610 1645 1619 1660 1663 1688 1752 1769 17B9 5th PERIOD. MODERN HISTORY. RELIGIOUS The Revival of Letters, and Reformation. Lnther-Melancthon-Bucer--Znin£tlins--aicolampadins--Calvin, &c. The name oi Protestant, first used in the Diet of Spires. — 1530. Con- fession of Angsburg. — 1531. League of Smalkalde. Order of Jesuits founded, b}^ St. Ignatius Loyala. The llefornialion established in England, under King Edward VI. The Council of Trent: efforts of the Churqh of liome to consolidate its remaining power. — Polyd. Virgil — Copernicus — ^.Jnl. Scaliger. Temporai*y revival of Popery in England, under Queen Mary. Final overthrow of Popery in England, under Queen Elizabeth. Puritans, or Calvinistic Protestants, first appear in England. Massacre of Fr. Protestants ; St. Barthol. — lieresy of F. & L. Socinus. Pope Gregory Xlff. corrects the CALENDAR. — Joseph Scaliger — Tycho Brahe — ^Torquatus Tasso. F. Bacon, Ld. Vernlam — Father Paul Sarpi— Thuanus, or de Thou— Casaubon, &c. Conspiracy of the Popish party in England, Nov. 5 — Guido Fawkes. The Synod of JDort, against Arminius. — Joseph Mede — Buxtorf. Galileo— Grot ins — Des Cartes— Gassendi — Bochart — Br. Walton — Marsham, &c. The Peace of Westphalia, or Munster, between the Protestant and Roman Catholic States; confirming the privileges of the former. The Church and State of England subverted. — Milton — Selden. The Church and Stateof England restored. — Religion, Learning, and Science, flourish eminently in Brit. — ^The Royal Society founded. Robert Boyle — Isaac Barrow — Bishop Pearson, &c. The R. Academy of Inscriptions: — 1666. The R. Acad, of Sciences : established at Paris. — l6ai. W. Penn, founds Pennsylvan'a. Bishop Burnet — Locke — Archbishop Tillotson—Prideaux — Bossuet— Fenelon — Bishop Sherlock — Bishop Bull — Hyde — Ray— Putfen- dorf— Ilerbelot— Bayle, &c. Sir Isaac Newton — Leibnitz — ^^Vallis — Halley — Flamsteatf — Cassini. A spirit of sophistry, metaphysical scepticism, and active infidelity, distinguishes the beginning and progress of this century, and pre- pares liie way for the calamities wliich have so awfully characte- rised its conclusion. — The names of Addison, I'lurier, Leland, Johnson, BeaUie, &c. are consecrated by iheir opposition to the impieties of Ilobbes, Ilnme, Voltaire, Gibbon, &;c. The Calendar is corrected in England, and the Old, or Julian Style, changed for fhe Gregorian. Pope Clement XIV., Ganganelli, suppresses tlie Order of the Jesuits. The moral and intellectual disorder of this century at length pro- duces H GiNiRAL Revolution IN CiinisiFNcoM. The Gallican Church subverted. — Monastic orders suppressed. — Civil and religious licentiousness, propagated in Europe. — Anc. Crowns and States extinguished. — New Crowns and Kingdoms erected. Pope Fius VII. consecrates Napoleon Buonaparte Ejnperor of Iranve, at Paris; with whom he enters into a Concordate, for^ regulating the Church of France. The City and Principality of Rome is annexed by Napoleon to the FRENCH EMPIliE. The Extinction of tiie Papal Sovereignty. NAPOLEON, having imprisoned Pope IMus VII., convokes a Ge- neral CouncU ofJhe Prelates Df his Empire, but is jdisappointed ot his purpose. Sll 5th PERIOD. MODERN HISTORY. Continuation of the Fourth, or Germanic Head of Ro- MAN Empire. Extinction of the Second, or Greek Head of Roman Empire. Soliman IT. takes the Isle of Rhodes from the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem ; who receive the Island of Malta from the Emperor, Charles V. The Turks take the Island of Cyprus, Henry VIII. Kg. of England. i522 -Sir Tho. More. — Wolsey. Charles V. Emp.— 1513. Fran- cis I. King of France. Edward VI King of England. ■Mary I. Queen of England. Elizabeth, O. of E.-^Spencer, "^ 1571 Ferdinand 1. Emp. Sidney, Maxirail. II. E. Shakspeare, ^ The defeat of the Invincihle Armada', of Philip II. King of Spain.- Sir Francis Drake. — 1600. East India Company incorporated. Henry IV. King of France. — First of the House of Bourbon. — Sally. Henry IV. embraces the Romish Faith. — Mayenne-Conde -Coligny. The Edict of Nantes, in favour of the Protestants of France. Tames I. King of England and Scotland. — Buckingham — Raleigh. Lewis XI 11. King of France. — Richelieu. Beginning of the 30 Yrs. War, concluded by the Peace of Westphalia. Charles I. King of England and Scotland.— Beheaded l649.— Straf- ford — Archbishop Laud — Falkland — Hampden. Lewis XIV. Kg. of Fr. — Mazarin — Turenne. — Edict of Nantes rev. (Cromwell.) — Estab. of the Naval pre-em. of Eng. by the victories of Leopold I. E. [Blake-Monk-Deane-Penn-Lawson-^ver the Dutch. Charles II. Kg. of Eng. and Scot, restored. — Clarendon — Ormoud — Sir W. Temple. James II. King of Eng. and Scot. — abdicates the Crown, l688. William III. (P.of Orange) and Mary II. K. and Q. of E.— Ld.Somers. Peter the Great, Czar of Moscovy. — Charles XII. King of Sweden. Anne, Queen of Great Britain. — Union of England and Scotland. The Peace of Utrecht. — Marlborough — Addison. George I. Elector of Hanover, Arch-Treasurer of THE Roman Em- George II. King of Great Britain, [pire, ascends the British throne. The I'eace of Aix laChnpelle. — Frederic III. King of Prussia. George III. King of Great Britain, &c. begins his long, glorious. The Peace of I'aris. — 1774. Lewis XVI. [and exemplary reign. The Peace of Versailles, between Great Britain, France, Spain, Holland, and the United .States of America. The Revolution of FRANCF.-Beginning of the miseries of the kingd. Lewis XVI. King of France, his Queen, and Sister, beheaded. — End War with the new State of France. [of the ancient Sovereignty. Union of Great Britain and Ireland. — Rt. Hon. William Pitt. The experimental Peace of Amiens. — Height of the Naval and Asiatic Empire of Great Britain. — Admiral Lord Nelson.. Failure of that Peace, and renewal of the War. — Malt.i annexed to the dominions of Great Britain. — 1806. Rt. Hon. C.J. Fox. FRANas II. the last Emp.— Fall and Extinction (f the 4th, or Germanic Head q/' Roman Empire, and title <>/" Augustus. THE FRENCH EMP.— NAPOLLON, Emp. and K. of Italy ySfC. A most splendid Comet appeared, in the ra. of Sept., under the seven conspicuous stars of the Great Bear; singularly answering, in timp and configuration, to that seen 43 yrs. bef. the B. of Christ. H.R.H.Ge0RGE,Pr.Reg., assumes the full Sovereignty of this Realm. FINIS. Printed by J. Moyes, GreviJIe Street, London. THE PROPHECY OF EZEKIEL CONCERNING GOGUE, THE LAST TYRANT OF THE CHURCH, HIS INVASION OF ROS^ HIS DISCOMFITURE, AND FINAL FALL; EXAMINED, AND IN PAJa*dbLittS«8jVTED. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREKT, '' BEHOLD, IT IS COME AND IT IS DONE, SMTH TlIK LORD GOD : THIS IS THE DAY WHEREOF 1 IIAVK SPOKEN ! " Ezek, xxxix. 8* CONTENTS. Tage Preface. vi Defence of " The Christian's Survey." xvi Preliminary Illustration. The Subject introduced. 2 Sect, I. Title, or Address, of the Prophecy ascer- tained. 14 II. Ros, Mosc, and Tobl — Russia, Moscow, and Tobolbki, or Siberia, 18 III. *«tt^J, Cloud, not Prince. ft4t IV. ^ Magogue and Gomer, V. S the Franks and Gauls. 35, 46 VI. GoGu E, elected Ruler of the Franks. 51 Vlt. The Geography of the Prophecy. 69 VIII. Prophetic signification of Jerusalem and Israel. 72 The Prophecy of Ezekiel. 81 Notes and Illustrations. Chap, xxxviii. 91 Chap, xxxix. 133 The Conclusion. 159 lERRATA. Page 9, line 19, for designed read designated. .- 10, 12, — loosened loosed. 45, . 9, — But, &c. V. But, &c. 63^ 6, — beheld beheld. 1> RE FACE. K)f the Sacred Prophecies, part relate to the separate concerns of particular nations, and part to the common interests of the whole human race. The latter, "which comprise the most momentous of the Prophecies, respect that great result and ET^D of this created world, the intervention and visible revelation of the Son of God, as its Master, and manifested Governor. These latter Prophecies subdivide themselves into two distinct classes ; viz. those which foretold the^r^f appearance of Christ upon the earth ; and those which foretell His second and final appearing. All of these, besides the general design of opening and instructing the prospects of the generations of men in their order and succession, had always anoth<3r, and an especial purpose ; that of prepar- b VI PREFACE. ing the particular generations, which should be contemporary with those two several events, for their final and actual occurrence. Those prophecies which were ordained to pre- pare the generation that witnessed our Lord^sjirsi manifestation, fully answered their appointed end, " For several years before th« birth of Christ, " (observes Dean Prideaux*,) not only Simeon " and Anna the prophetess, but the whole Jewish " nation, were in earnest expectation of 11 is coni- ** ing, and of the redemption of Israel by Him. " And this not only the history of the Gospel in " many places tells us, but Josephus, the Jewish " historian, doth also attest the same : for he tells " us, that the expectation which the Jews, for some " years before the destruction of Jerusalem, had " of the arising of a Great King from among them, <' who should have the empire of the whole worhd, " was the true cause which then excited them ta * Coiinexwn of theOldancl New Testament, L. ix. P, «, c. 9, '^^ that war against the Romans, in which that city, " and the temple in it, were utterly destroyed : " and Suetonius saith the sanae thing» The Pro* " phecks of Daniel and oUier Prophets of the ■V Old Testament having not only spoken of " the righteousness, glory, and bliss of the " kingdom of the Messiah, but determined Hi« " appearance to the very time when it happened, " gave just reason for this expectation; and foi^ *' EIGHTY YEARS before Christ's birth, the whol« " house of Israel were big thereof: for so long " Anna the Prophetess, being actuated by it, had " attended at the Temple in fasting and prayer to " wait His appearance. And, thei-efore, for so ** long a time these Prophecies, and the received ** interpretations of them, being much talked of ** through all Judea with a view to the speedy " completion of them, especially after Ponipey " had subjected that country to the Roman yoke, " the same expectations of their being speedily ** accompliijhed, became diffused to all the Jewi vm PREFACE. ^ of the dispersion, wherever they were all the '^ world over ; and great numbers of them being ^* settled at Rome, and in the cities of Greece '^ and the lesser Asia, as well as in other parts " of the world, they there frequently spoke among " their heathen neighbours of these Prophecies, " and the expectations they then had of their speedy " completion. — And from hence most of those " Prophecies among the heathens, which in the ^^ times above mentioned predicted the coming of " a Great King out of Judea, who should in " great power and glory reign over the whole " world, seem chiefly to have had their original: " for this notion the Jews then had of the Messiah, " and it still continues among them *." And we know that the most pious members of the Hebrew nation, at the very time when our Lord was born iuto the world, were anxiously ^Hooking for redemp-* * See Observations, in Ilhistralion of Virgirs Fourth Eclogue^ .cU. vii. PREFACE. IX ** tion in Jerusalem/* and " waiting for the consolation " of Israel" through the accomplishment of the Prophecies which had foretold his appearance. " j1 long time,*' however, was to elapse between that first apfpearing of our Lord, to found His Church, and His second and final appearing, to bring it to its conclusion upon Earth ; and conse- quently, between the generation that witnessed the fulfilment of the Jirst class of those Prophecies, and the generation which should witness the accomplishment of ih^ second class: — between those persons " xchose eyes then saw that salvation"^; " and those who should ultimately " look up, and see their -' redemption drawing nigh f.-' This " long time'' of interral was emphatically declared by our Lord Himself, in a parable admi- rably calculated to convey to mankind a clear and familiar notion of the general Scheme and Nature of His NEW dispensation!. But what was^ * Luke, ii. 30. t lb. xxi. 28. t Matt. XXV. 19. X PREFACE^ signified 01' implied to us by "« long tmef^*OVy how were we to understand the characters of /ow^ or short, with reference to the dvration of this present dispensation ? To satisfy this most natural and reasonable inquiry, we are supplied with the only rule for judgment which the case can receive ; yet it is a rule pregnant with the most weighty instruction : viz. the entire measure ofon^E dispensation of God in the affair of Religion, By this rule our reason is, not only authorized, but directed to form a probable, that is the best J judgment, of what is long, or short, with respect to the measure of God's dispensations of Religion to man. The dispensation of the Law, which immediately preceded this under which we now subsist, continued about 1 500 years, from first to last ; at the conclusion of which measure of time it was pronounced by the Holy Spiuit to be antiquated, and ending through age *. Since that * Ev TOO Xsysiv xaivrjv, mimakaioiKi t«v 'ss-^ajrrjV to 3'6 TrakcuafAmf nai yn^A^-Koy, iyfvg ci<})av{«r^tf, — ** In pronouncing the latter (dis- PREFACE, XI period, the dispensation of the Gospel has sub- sisted above 1800 years. If, therefore, we had no other indication whereby to form a probable judg- ment of the present age of the Christian dispensation, we ought, upon every principle of sound reason and moral evidence, (such as we are enjoined by our Lord always to use,) to entertain a very strong suspicion, that the Christian dispensation must now have lasted nearly the whole compass of time for which it was originally decreed. This, I say, would, be the just and unavoidable hypothesis of reason, if we exercised the same vigilance and fidelity of reason in matters of revelation, that we use in the affairs of common life. For we are positively put in possession of the rule of time, observed by Almighty God upon a former parallel occasion ; and, as we have no authority whatever for assuming -or supposing that this rule will be " pensation) New, he declared the former to be Old ; now, " that which is old and aged, is on the eve of disappearing,* Ilcb. viii. 13. Xll yREFACE^. materially departed from in the occasion which is now before us, the induction which reason is bound to draw is this ; that it is probable a general pro- portion holds between the two occasions* ', and consequently, as the latter has already reached, and .somewhat exceeded, the rule or measure of the former, that an increased probability thence arises, that it has advanced exceedingly near to its ter- mination. $%iV*W!e are not left to the method of general Inference alone, on this momentous question. The prophecies, which were provided to warn and prepare the generation that should be coetaneous with the conclusion of the Christian dispensation, abound with indications so minute and particular, and so plainly connected in all their course and order, as to show to all Christians of the present day, who apply their attention to the subject with * This argument I purpose to consider more at large ou .» future occa«iou. PREFACE. XIH a concern and earnestness proportioned to the mag- nitude of its importance, that events have occurred, and are now under actual occurrence^ which dis- tinctly testify, that the period of time, in which we are now living, is that of the closing and winding up of this present dispensation. If the Hebrew people were moved by an unceasing and increas- ing persuasion of the commencement of the Messiah's kingdom, for eighty years before He first appeared ;. Christians, for more than two centuries past, have been moved by a persuasion equally constant, and as continually increasing, that the period of that Messiah's concealment of His Divine Person from His Church, was drawing towards its end ; and that a revolution of the universe, no less than that to be produced by His second coming, was impending over the world. But we, of this present generation, have attained a period, when all who proportionately address their minds to the occasion; are compelled^ XiV PREFACE. to receive a complete and settled conviction, that this stupendous fact is certified and confirmed, by all the demonstration that can be supplied from the experimental occurrence of the circumstances divinely foretold to attest it. The visitations which have befallen most of the principal agencies whose operations fill up the annals of the Christian world, from the time of the general establishment of the Gospel upon the pagan ruins of Rome, have mark- ed out a period of consummation and fulfilment too manifest to be either overlooked or misunder- stood. And the peculiar character of the circum- stances producing and accompanying those visita- tions, displays so exact and entire a correspond- ence with ihe prophetical notices imparted ; that it needs only to survey them with alacrity of reason and reverence of faith, to yield ourselves unre- servedly to their authority. To draw the attention and concern of the present generation to this momentous truth, in a clear yet compendious manner, was the intention of the PREFACE. XV Manual, entitled, " A Christian's Survey of all " the Primary Events and Periods of the <* World, from the Commencement o/' History to <^ the Conclusion of Prophecy ;" which little Work was designed to serve, as Institutes of the Fulfilment of Prophecy, chiefly with a view to the present age. But, since that Work has been printed, New Events, of the most amazing cha- racter, have burst upon the world; tending to throw a new and marvellous light upon the object therein investigated, and, at the same time, corro- borating all the conclusions which were there deduced. These New Events constitute the Subject of this present Tract ; which comes in supplement of that former Work, and in enlarge-^ ment of its awful evidences. To that Work I therefore refer the reader, for all the elementsi and principles upon which this present discourse proceeds. But, in referring the reader to that Work, I find myself placed under a necessity to say a few words XVI PTJEFACE. in its defence, against the recent attacks of a very zealous writer ; who, in treating upon the same lofty subject, has deemed it requisite to prepare his readers for his own discourse, by making a preli- minary assault upon mine. The writer to whom I allude, is the author of " A Dissertation on the Seals and Trumpets of the Apocalypse ;* which Work he has deemed it necessary to shield with a Freface, consisting principally of Strictures upon The Chris- tian's Survey, This measure, therefore, imposes upon me a real obligation to examine and reply to his several remarks ; for, although it was my wish rather to sustain my arguments by their own strength, than by pointing out the weakness of those brought against them, yxi-t these digested Strictures impose it as a duty on me, to depart so far from my general design as to give a summary answer to the objections which they contain. The author of " The Dissertation* states, that after he had composed his Work, he " met with ** ' Th$ Christians Survey / in which certain posi^ PREFACE. ITVU ^' tions are maintained, which strike at the root of ^^ some of the first principles in the study of Pro- ** phecy of which no well instructed Protestant " ought to be ignorant ;" and also, " at much of " the reasoning contained in his pages. And, that " he therefore deems it the more necessary to say " something in refutation of the erroneous positions " which I have maintained/' That my argument; strikes at the root of some of the positions whick he assumes for first principles in the study of Pro- phecy, I most willingly admit ; because it was my earnest design to strike deeply at their root, and, as far as I was able, to resist the further operation of principles 'which he regards as fundamental and infallible, but which I am well convinced are entirely visionary; and perniciously deceptions, inasmuch as they tend to avert the mind from the perception of truths the most powerful and imme- diately momentous. Let us see what the prin- ciples are, at which my argument strikes. The author of " The Dissertation'' takes for Xviii PREFACE* granted, (1st,) That the " four beasts" seen by Daniel in the 7th chapter of his Prophecies, " sig- ** nify the Babylonian, Medo-Persian, Grecian, aiwi ^ Roman Monarchies : (2dly,) That the * little " HORN ' of his fourth beast is a symbol of the ^ Papal power: Likewise, (3dly,) That the Babylon " of the Apocalypse is the Church of Rome." And he thinks, " that it is not reasonable to expect that ** every one who takes up his pen on the subject *> of Prophecy, should return back to prove a-new " these Jirst principles, which few persons call in ** question, and which have already been cstab- " lished in the writings of the ablest Commcn* " tators." By thus arbitrarily blending and mixing his positions, ho has made for himself a ground, which, if he might be permitted to retain it, would certainly supply him with all the strength he seeks to find in it. But I must beg leave, in limine, to dissolve this unwarranted and unequal union of assumed first principles ; and to show, that he is I>REFACE* XIX totaDy unjustified in attempting thus to ascribe the same degree of strength to opinions, which rest upon foundations essentially dissimilar. I shall confine myself to the two first ; the third being of secondary moment, and depending upon the fate of the second. His first principle, that the four beasts in Daniel's Vision denote those four great monarchies which he has named, is a truth that I unreservedly concede to him ; because it has been the uniform, unvarying conviction of the Jewish and Christian Churches in all ages ; and is, as Mede has justly expressed it, " tanium non ariicuhi Fidei : — all but an article of Faith/' But, when he would claim the same concession for his second principle ; viz. that the " small horii!^ in that vision denotes the Papal power, he must not expect to find the same compliance ; for that is a notion but oi yesterday, compared with the anti- quity and authority of ihe former. That symbol (of a small or young horn) was always understood and believed, by the Primitive Church, to typify a XX PHEPACE. last, great, tyrannical power, or potentatCy who should suddenly and unexpectedly appear in the last age of the decay of Imperial Rome ; who should, for the first time, extinguish its imperial honours ; whose victorious arms should spread themselves with oppression over the churches of Christy who should arrogate to himself the highest dignities of the earth ; and who should be the occasion of the last vexations and afflictions which the nations professing the Christian Faith should experience, before their final and proximate deli- verance by the power of the Son of God. This short-lived tyrannical power, the Primitive Church •lenominated, by common agreement, Jniichrisf. The Christians of the first ages, who discerned no means for determining specifically this mysterious object of the Prophecies, abstained generally from attempting it. But when, in the progress of the succeeding ages, the dominion and tyranny of the Church of Rome were become established, soraf Christians ventured, from time to time, to throw PREFACE. XXI out the surmise, that the Papal power might possibly be that last predicted tyranny. And when the great work of the Reformation had emancipated a large proportion of the Christian World from sub- jection to the power of the Pope, the opinion which had already been occasionally thrown out by some bold individuals, became generally adopt- ed by the reformed churches, who were hen able to manifest publicly their sentiments, and to reveal their long and just resentments without restraint; and thus, the character of the power foredrawn in Daniel's Prophecy by the symbol of a new and small horn, which was finally to surmount the Roman Empire in its latest age, became affixed, by general acclamation, upon the Papacy, as " tan- turn non articulns Jidei — all hut an article of faith" of the Protestant communions. When this notion was first propounded, and for a long time after, there appeared some plausibility in the conjecture, and even something like a pro- bability of its being correct ; for the Papal tyranny c XXll PREFACE. was, at the time, the last tyranny which had exten- sively afflicted Christendom. But when the Papal fell before a new, and a later tyranny, more mi- nutely answering to the character foredrawn and expected, then the Papal was no longer the last (which condition was essential ) ; and the assumed identity, of the Papacy and the symbol, was imme- diately contradicted. In fact, the whole question, whether or not the Papal power is designed by that symbol? may bo put upon this one short issue, whether the Papal power has been the last power that has established a very general domination, and that has exercised a very extensive tyranny, over Christian nations, ^* making war on, 'prevailing over, *'• and wearing out'' those nations subjected to its control? If the Papal power has been the last, then we raay still assume that it was indicated by the syna- bol ; but if it was not the last, but has been succeeded by a later, then are we sure that it was notdesignc^d by the symbol, but 'that the symbol had respect to a later tyranny. Hence the authority for this PREFACE. XXm writer's second principV^, which is not only di<>pii- table but refutable, must not be suffered to b« confounded with the authority for hh first , which is indisputable and demonstrable: and, therefore, though I freely grant that it is not reasonable to expect that his first principle should be proved again, I must insist, that it is not only reasonable, but indispensably necessary, that he should prove his second principle, with new and augmented evidence, before he can be justified in attempting to render it the basis of any System of Interpreta- tion : and this, I am persuaded, he never 6;|»; — signifies properly, persevering cruelty and oppression in general. The word is understood by the ancient Christian writers to signify vexatio, afflictio. When Herod first perse- cuted the infant church, it is said that he vexed the church. The vexation was the persecution, inde- pendently of the hostility in the mind of Herod to the Christian faith. A persevering cruelty and oppression is a true persecution ; the Christian world, subjected to such a persevering oppression, is truly persecuted. In that sense we find th« XXXVIll PREFACE^. word used in our version of the Scriptures*; and we have only to inquire, whether the Christian* churches of every denomination liave been sub- jected by France, for many years past, to a perse^ vcring cruelty and oppression, such as is without a parallel in history, in order to determine, whether the French domination (which the author acknow- ledges to be " a rod of iron,'*) has or has not been distinguishably a persecuting power over those churches; although not avowedly on account of their religious persuasions, which the author arbi- trarily makes essential to the persecution foreshown, in the Prophecy. The Prophecy, however, says nothing of persecution, only that this power " shall " make war with the saints and prevail against them, *^ and wear them, out ; and shall think to change. " times and laws" " But," says the author of * The Dissertation,' " none are molested or persecuted by *^ the French power as saints, or because of their ** religious persuasion." Neither does the Prophecy * See Psalm x. 2, and passim. PREFACE. KXXIX say that they should be persecuted as saints, (or for being Christians); butt)n1y, that the saints (i. c. Christians*) should be assailed by war, and overcome, and worn cut, by the last power, who would attempt to introduce a total change in established customs and institutions. And who will deny that this predict^ ed character is marvellously descriptive of the new Empire of France, and of no other power ? Thus, then, I am unable to discover any force whatever in any one of these three special objections which are advanced so confidently by this writer, in proof that t/ie French power cannot be the potvcr designed by the symbol of " the small horn'* Subsequently, however, to the date of his Stric- tures, the author has been constrained to add a Postscript, in which he says : " Since the following ** pages were written, and even since they went to " the press, the state of things on the Continent " has undergone a great change ; and many sen* ^ siblc persons seem now to be of opinion, that the ♦ Eplies. i. 1. PhU. i. 1. Col. ut Xl PHEFACE. " military power of Buonaparte, and of rcvola- <* tionary France, is at an end. If the expecta- " lions of these persons should be realized, it will " prove that I have entirely erred in some of the " conjectures hazarded by me, with respect to the ." probable course of future events^'* This is a very candid declaration; but it compels me, injustice to my own argument, to observe, that if the power of France be now in course of declension, the infe- rences which I have drawn, with respect io the true character of the present times in relation to the prophetic signals, will be the more strongly con- firmed. I do not adventure, like the author of * The Dissertation,' ** to hazard any conjectures *^ with respect to the probable course of future *' events;*' and for the reasons which I have already assigned in '^ The Christians Survey"* " I only pre- tend to distinguish, generally, by aid of the lights which are held forth to us, that the symbols show Us to be approached very near to the end. And I * Part iii. $ect. ^. p. 190. 2d Ed. PREFACE. xli tht?refore cannot but wonder at the boldness, I might say the imprudence, with which this author risks the authqrity of his judgment, when he says ; ' " Notwithstanding present appearances, I do not " hesitate to avow my own opinion, that the power ** o( the last secular head of the Roman Empire,' " which is now identified with the French EmpirCy " is to be broken, not in Europe, but in Palestine,*^ The French Empire, so self-entitled, can in no* respect be legitimately regarded as an head of' Roman Empire ; but only as a part, or member, of that Empire, which (as was expressly foreshown,) has rapidly and suddenly exalted itself above its head, and arrogated to itself, for a short space of time, a supremacy and exorbitancy of power and dignity. As to its being broken ^' in Palestine,'* I must regard that opinion as one of the many fond* visions, which have been generated from a mis- apprehension of the figurative language of the Prophecies. " I now come (says the author of ^ The Disser- Xlii PREFACK, ** tation,*) to the second position of the author of ** * The Christian's Survey,' viz. that there is no " such period revealed in Prophecy as that of 1 260 ** years; that this period is at best hypothetical '* and equivocal in its nature, and always arbitrary ** in its application ; that it is no where mentioned " in. the Scriptures; that it is only conjecturally " ijiferred from a comparison of three figurative *-* and mysterious passages, which in different ages " have been differently expounded/' The author ei ^^ The Dissertation'' is much moved, because I have here affirmed, that a period of 12(jO years is no where mentioned in the Scriptures. 1 must, nevertheless, renew the assertion; and ask him to show me, where it is fnejitioned? He tells me, that mention is made of " a tim€, times, and the dividing " of a time/' or three years and a half; of forty months; and, of 1260 days, I have also said the same: and he is offended that I have confined my- self, for the sake of brevity, to three texts, in which those three several computations are expressed, and PREFACE. Xliii that I have not produced four other texts, in which the same identical numbers are only repeated, with- out any thing added to afford illustration of their meaning. But he does not attempt to show mc any one text in which 12^0 i/ears are mentioned ; and yet, to that point alone my assertion was confined. " But/' says he, " three years and a half contain ^' forty months, and forty months contain 1260 days; *^ and these days are to be interpreted dis years" But how does this affect my assertion ?. By his own show- ing, years are not mentioned^ they are only to be infer- red. This question of inference, I do not take upon myself either to affirm, or to deny ; but his impatient zeal at the suspense of my judgment upon this article, has hurried him into an intemperance ill according with Christian, or indeed any othei: equity. He says, that my remarks "include in *^ them, as a necessary consequence, the monstrous " supposition that a prophetical number, which is " expressly mentioned seven times in those Scrip- Xliv PREFACE. " tures which are given by the Holy Ghost ; and " the second annunciation of which is accompani- " ed with an oath, in the awful name of him that ** LivETH FOR EVER AND EVER, is altogether " hypothetical and equivocal in its nature; or, in <* other words, absolutely unintelligible ; than which " supposition I know not any that can be more *^ affronting to the Scriptures of truth, or more " agreeable to infidels, who deride every attempt to ** expound the Prophecies, especially those of " Daniel and St. John." I shall strive to subdue the feelings which arise naturally at this perversion of my plain and obvir ous meaning, whose humble reverence to the Scriptures of truth is, I hope, as plainly manifest- ed as his own. It needed but little of com- mon candour, or calm reason, to know and to testify, that I can have pronounced the prophetical measure of 1260 days to be hypothetical and equivocal only with relation to the darkness and Wantonness of human invention ; and not absolutely, PREFACE. xIy in itself, or with relation to the Omnisciertt Mind. But, as this writer confounded the prescriptive belief of the ancient churches with the modern surmises of the Protestant churches, in explaining the Vision of Daniel ; so here he fails to discri- minate, between the power of a mystical number in his oxvn mind, and in that oi the Prophetic Spirit* For he thinks, that to pronounce any part of the Scriptures unintelligible (that is, not actually in- telligible) to man, is a judgment bearing equally against divine and human wisdom; and as implying equal defect, in the communication of the one, as in the apprehension of the other. And yet, my own individual experience assures me, that there are a multitude of passages in the Scriptures as yet " absolutely unintelligible" to the author of *^ The Dissertation ;'* without any irreverence or " affront" to the Divine Spirit who dictated them. In the writings, even the latest, of pious but ipcautious men, that mystical period is altogether xlvi PREFACE. tincertain, hypothetical, and equivocal; and I desire the reader to pronounce, whether a stronger evidence in proof of this assertion could be imagined than that which the author of " The Dissertation'^ has himself furnished, in the acknow- ledgment with which he begins his Preface. " I " was," says he, " for some years engaged in a con- " troversy with Mr. Faber, upon the subject of the *' commencement 3.ud end ; of the 1260 years." The two latest writers of note, upon this subject, when they had to establish, for the foundation-stone of a scheme of interpretation, the commencement of this assumed period .of I26O years; which was alsa to determine the time of its end; were engaged in " a controversy" concerning it, and that ^' for many " years;" and the controversy ended with each differing from the other, and abiding by his own separate opinion ; the one adopting the year 533, the other the year 606, for the epocha of the com- mencement of the period. And can any stronger testimony than this be conceived, to prove that this- PREFACE. 3clvii period is, in the writings of fallible men, purely hypothetical and equivocal ? It demonstrates, that it is, as yet, " unintelligible" to mortals in point of fact; and teaches us, that it is not on the uncer- tain solution of mystical numbers, but on the experimental fulfilment of distinct Prophecies, that we ought to build any System for the interpreta- tion of Prophecy. It was with a view to check, in some degree, the wantonness and temerity of similar excursions, that I qualified those conjectures as hypothetical and equivocal : which they really are. And I did so, because I also strongly felt, that " nothing. «* could be more affronting to the Scriptures of " truth, or more agreeable to infidels,'' (and to indifferent or cavilling Christians,) than thus to make the Prophecies of Daniel and St. John depend- for their veracity upon conflicting hypotheses, re-^ specting points not reducible to any fixed criterion*- Our Lord's rule for the vigilance of the last age^ was not, " whm ye have unravelled my^ical num^ Xlviii PREFACE. " hers,** or '^ when ye are agreed respecting those *' nurnbevs ; but, when ye see things come to pass J* It is the actual " coming to pass, of things'' which claim their types in Prophecy, that can alone estab- lish a well-founded and solid conviction in the mind, of what is next to be expected. When seven years of plenty had followed the twofold symbol in the Vision of Pharaoh, then he who had faith was confident, that seven years of famine would ensue. And when the Christian church has experienced the rise and fall of a power, cor- responding minutely to the signals foreshowing the last power ; if it have faith, it should then awaken to the expectation, that the conclusion of the Christian dispensation is nigh at hand. ^* There are some further opinions,'' in which the author of ^^ The Dissertation** ihhiks I have likewise " greatly erred,'* Of these, one of the chief is my persuasion, that the " body of the ^^ Jewish nation are not to be restored to their own ** land." Of this ancient and sacred truth I PREFACE. Xlix avow myself a steady vindicator, against all the Judaizing fictions now so passionately entertained among some Christians in favour of that imagined restoration, the reasons for which persuasion I fhall fully assign, on another occasion ; only obser- ving, in this place, that the present separated state of the Jewish people, far from being an object of the Divine favor, is only the effect of their own continuing rebellion and disobedience. By the Gospel, which designed to make them and all the nations one, the wall of separation that had been raised between them was thrown down, and all difference between Hebrew and Gentile was thence- forth to cease; and that would be the case now, if they were to become obedient to the Gospel. They would then lose the interest of separation, as they have already lost their tribes; and those of Eng- land and Germany, for example, would feel them- selves more closely allied to their brother Christians* of those countries, than to their distant nominal kindred in Africa and Asia. i PREPACE, But our Lord apprized his Apostles, that they "would still be found in this state of separation, when He should finally appear in His glory : " Verily, "*' verily, I say unto you, when the Son of Man shall " sit on the throne of His glory, ye also shall sit upon ^^ twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.-* It was, assuredly, not before the issue of that judg- ment, that the Jews were to be again received mnder David their King, and Messiah their Prince; <^vho should receive them (as one fold under one Shepherd with the nations) into that Jerusalem^ ^nd that land of promise, of which those in Canaan were but the prototypes. And the Jews themselves are witnesses to this; for, though they cherish the belief of a restoration of the obliterated kingdom of Judea, yet they expect first the realization of " the *' hope of the promise made of God unto their *** fathers, viz. the resurrection of the dead ; " in order that all the generations who have suffered ia the several captivities, may be united to participate in the same triumph : thus showing, at the same ^HEFACE, It time, how grossly they misapprehend the figurative diction of the Prophecies. The Jews, therefore, who look for the resurrection of the dead, and the mani- festation of the Messiah, before the accomplishment of the figurative Prophecies concerning /^e?> restora- tion, are so far right, and in concord with the primi- tive apostolic church ; but those Christians who look for a temporal restoration, in Palestine, before those txco great events shall take place, are in all parti- culars wrong. The next opinion is, (according to the author of '' The Dissertation") that I "confound the " period of the millennium with what is properly " called eternity; and that I thus deprive the " c^wrc^ of all those blessed promises, which relate " to her increase and glory, and the vast multitude " of her converts during the millennium." What I have to allege against the prevailing error of the millennium, I shall likewise reserve for the same fu- ture opportunity; but I must her« profess, that this lii PREFACK. yvTiiQv astonishes and confounds my understanding, when he represents the commencement of the blessings of eternity at a period when others look for a previous procrastination, of 1000 years, as the loss of any measure of blessedness. I should have thought, that no Christian could contemplate it otherwise than as an infinite accession of gain; since the blessings of the eternal kingdom are the consummation and full perfection of that felicity, which must always be inferior in every scheme foE a millennium, however it may be imagined great. The author, further, asks '* Why I have overlooked all " those passages which have been quoted from the " fathers, by learned writers on Prophecy, in sup- " port of the ancient scriptural doctrine of the *V millennium ?" The reason is, that I have pre- ferred to consult the writings of the ancient fathers themstlves, rather than unconnected passages quoted from them by any writers, however learned. And this I have done sufficiently to assure myself, PREFACE. llH that whoever speaks of an ancient scriptural doc- trine of the Millennium, is either fascinated by system, or but little acquainted either with the writings of the primitive fathers, or with the opinions that were really held sls scriptural doctrines by the primitive church. Certainly, the notion of a Millennium was never received as a doctrine in the ancient church, although it was entertained by some individuals as early as the second century. And I do not except from this remark the excel- lent Mede himself, who, by an unaccountable pre- possession upon this subject, has laid himself open to an easy refutation by the learned Whitby, in his " Dissertation on the Millennium ;" whose judg- ment may be the less objectionable to our modern Chiliasts, or Millennarians, because, though he exposes half the fallacy of the doctrine, he still adheres to half. Having been compelled by the author of" The Dissertation'* to make this general reply to his A liv PREFACE. strictures on my " Christians Survey ^^ it only now remains for me to return him my thanks for the approbation which he is pleased to express of the conclusion of that work ; and to set the reader free, to pursue the awful subject laid open to his contemplation in the following pages. PRELIMINARY ILLUSTRATION OF THE PROPHECY OF EZEKIEL. PRELIMINARY ILLUSTRATION OF THE PROPHECY OF EZEKIEL. The rapid succession of great events which have taken place, within these few years past, before the face of the Christian world, and the regular progress of those particular events which were ordained to guide the views and expectations of the Christian church in its last generatiofi, have suddenly brought us to the period of that PRIMARY EVENT, which remained next for expectation, at the conclusion of the " Chris^ tians Survey^^ of the periods of time; and with a celerity of occurrence, which must penetrate with amazement and awe even the most sanguine expectants of the fulfil- ment of Prophecies. The " NEXT primary event," affecting the SECLLAR interests of nations, which the 4 PRELIMINATIY light of Prophecy at th-it time revealed to our discernment, and which reason, guided by faith, then directed us to expect concerning THE Great Powlr newly risen out of the body of nations which had composed the fourth and last, or Roman Empike, was — the proximate a nd sudden fa U of t h a t new P o w - ER*, notwithstanding the flourishing and for- midable condition in which He was then seen to subsist. This was propounded, not through any presumptuous pretension to foresee or detect future contingencies, but merely by reasoning justly, and by sound induction, from the facts within our own immediate experience, to the words of Divine Pro- phecy; which assured us, that whenever the Great Pow er, foreshown to be the last tyrant of the church, should have mani- fested his arrival in the world by the marks prophetically affixed to him, the church might be confidently assured, that the dura- tion of his tyranny would be short, and his catastrophe signal and disastrous. Upon re- * " The Cbristinn's Survey." ILLUSTRATION. 6 cognising, therefore, the actual occurrence of events which answered minutely to the signs foreshonn in this parti^'ular, the infe- rence of a proximate overthrow of the new Power was no more than a simple exercise of reason and oi faith. The same exercise continued, gave origin to the first sketch of the present tract, soon after the armies of France commenced their entrance into the territories of Russia; and the rectitude of that inference is now fully proved, by the stupendous scene which it has pleased THE Almighty Ruler OF THE World to reveal, in the sudden reverse, and signal overthrow, of the for- tunes of that NEW power, immediately consequent upon his great and formidable enterprise directed against the Russian Empire. Yet it was upon the ground of this par- ticular inference ; viz. of the speedy downfall of that Power, that an unwise critic, who assumed the office of pronouncing definitive judgment against '^ The Christian's Sur- vey," founded his censurc of the argument 6 PRELIMINARY maintained in that work. The proposition, — that the vigorous and powerful tyranny^ which fie then beheld afflicting the Christian nations^ would SUDDENLY and SHORTLY Y A LI,, and that its fall was the next primary EVENT in SECULAR affairs which Christians were to believe and to expect y^^v/ as to him foolishness, the dreams of *^ a mere vision- ^* arj/," so long as the tyrant himself con- tinued to move in the zenith of his domina- tion. " The Empire which he has erected " (said this rash censor) is described as " great ; and yet, for our comfort, we are '^ taught to consider it as * now expiring.' ^*- Notwithstanding the victories of the " French, this ^ Revealer of Secrels' assures *^ us, (though we are sorry to say no such ^' appearances arise as to give us confidence '^ in the fact), that they are rapidly advan- *' cing to a state of final and complete exhaus- " tion^J' And he concludes the temerity of his judgment, by a strain of most un- seemly and ominous raillery. * " Monthly Review** for March, 18X2. ILLUSTRATION. 7 That " there should come in the last days *' ScoFFEKs," was one of the earliest warn- ings recorded by the Apostles, for guarding and sustaining the faith of the last genera- tion of believers. And it was our Saviour's pointed injunction, to the slow of heart to believe what theProphets have spoken, — "Judge " not accord! ffg to appearance^ (i. e. ac- " cording to common and sensible appear- " ance); but judge a right judgment :^' that is, " You, who are called upon to walk by ^^ faith and not merely by sight, do you " judge according to the rule and nature of " the evidence which is revealed to guidxi " you, however it may seem to be opposed " by common and sensible appearances.^' I exhort all similar adventurers in this awful and sacred argument, to look well upon the scene which the circumstances of the Christian World now actually present to their experience, before they hazard a denial of facts which will shortly extort their acquiescence ; and, in a time thus por- tentous and full of mystery, to lay to lieart the "woe" which our Lord denounced 8 PRELIMINARY against all those expounders of His word, who, having " the key of knowledge '' in their possession, " would neither enter in themselves, " nor suffer those who were willing to enter '' inr I proceed to contemplate the astonishing scene, which the Master of the World has at length begun to reveal, for the consolation and encouragement of His church. This stupendous scene unfolds a new evi- dence, conclusive and complete, of the harmonious correspondence between the prophetical signals j and the actual events which the Christian world is called to witness. We have already seen, in the " Christian's " Survey," that it w^as foreshown by the Holy Spirit, and universally believed by the primitive Christian church, that a new and personal i^ower^ or potentate, — a puissant SOVEREIGN, and MIGHTY CONQUEROR, would suddenly arise out of the fourth and last, or Roman Empire, in its latest age ; which personal power would obtain the most exalted eminence, and most ex- tensive dominion, among the nations of ILI.USTRATION. 9 the Christian church, even in the very age of his origin or infancy: but, nevertheless, that in that same incipient age he would as suddenly fall from his eminence, and be disastrously and disgracefully stripped of his dominion. This power, the belief of whose eventual arrival in the world the pri- mitive Christian church uniformly enter- tained as an article of its faith, was cha- racterized by that church with the general denomination of Antichrist. If we now proceed further, and, with a mind freed from every obstructing prejudice or prepossession, compare/?6re/tf^20W5,cA.xvii. 11—14, with clu xix. 11—21, and both of them with ch, xx. 7—9, and if we compare the two last of these passages with Ezekiel, ch. xxxix. 1, 17— 20, we shall perceive, that the same new and ultimate power is designed in those two Prophecies by the proper appel- lation of, rnr, Gog% or Gogue; and that the nations, over which he should exercise his dominion, are distinguished * The 0, in this word is long, as in <;o ; which can only be rendered in English by subjoining the ninte vowels, ue. 40 PRELIMINAKY by the general proper-name of Mayuy^ Magogy or Magogue. The afflictions which the church should experience from this power, were to constitute its last persecu- tionSf previous to its final and proximate triumph; and, as such, the}^ were represented by St. Augustine 1400 years ago; under both the designations of that power, Gogue, and Antichrist. " The la^t persecution of *^ the churchy* says he, " will be inflicted by " Antichrist." And again : " Satan is to be " loosened to deceive the nations — Gogue " aA/(/ Magogue ; — this will be the last per- ** secution*,'* We have already viewed this power under the ecclesiastical denomination oi Antichrist -^^ let us now contemplate him under the prophetical appellation of Gog, or Gogue. ^ *^ Novissimam persecution^m, quae ab Antichrutp ** futura est, pra^sentia sua ipse extinguet Jesus.** — Dc Civitate Deiy lib. xviii. c. 53. " SolveturSatanas — ad seducendas nationes — Gog *^ et Magog, Hsec erit novissima persecution novissimo ** iinminente judicio, qiiam Sancta Ecclesia patietur." ~/6. lib. XX. c. 11. t " Christian's Survey." ILLUSTRATION. 11 In introducing the names of Gogue and Magogne into the revelation imparted to St. John, the Prophetic Spirit plainly refer- red the church to that other great Prophecy, which had been imparted, many ages before, to the Prophet Ezekiel; wherein a de- scription is circumstantially drawn out, of the transactions, and final fate of that last GREAT TYRANT, *' It was the particular " care of the Holy Spirit (observed well the *' learned Vitringa) to conduct us to a more *' distinct knowledge of those foremen- " tioned characters, by denominating them *^ GoGTJE and Magogue. He alludes, as ^* every one must see, to the celebrated Pro- " phecy of Ezekiel, concerning those enemies <* of the church*.*' "The argument of both " these Prophecies (observed the same com* " mentator upwards of a century ago), is, that " the nations called * Gogue and Magogue * " will, in an unexpected manner, go forth * " Spirltui Sancto ipsi curae est in eorum nos ducere " clariorem notitiam, qoando eos appellat Gogum et *' Magogum. AUadit, ut quisque videt, ad Vaticinium ** Ezechielis quod de his hostibus Ecclesiae extat illus- " tre.'* — In Apoca/yps. p. 870. 12 PRELIMINARY " from their borders with an immense army, " with a design to invade and overwhelm Chris- " tian nations who are dwelling securely in their " own homes and lands, and who are flourish- " ing in peace and wealth. Which great *' enterprise will nevertheless be without *^ success, inasmuch as God will execute " A SIGNAL EXAMPLE of His vcngeance " against them, for the welfare of His " church. For He will destroy this great " and formidable ASSEMBLAGE of nations ^' by tremendous judgments, and will either " cause them to be cast down by tempests " with which He will oppose them from hea^ " ven, or to be consumed by pestilence and " other plagues, or mutually to destroy each *' other. 'This, I say, is the true argument of ^' this Prophecy of John, compared with " that of EzEKiEL*." In this latter asto- * " Utriusque hujusprophetia (St. Johan. et Ezech,) '^ argumentura est, populos qui Gog et Magog appel- " lantur^ inopinato cum ingenti exercitu e claustris " suis esse pr adit uros ; hoc consilio, ut populos Chris- <* tianos, in locis terrisque suis secure degentes et pace *' ac opibusflorenteSy nee opinato invadant et ohruantj ^ fua tamen molitura successum hahitura non essent, ILLUSTRATION. 18 nishing Prophecy we are expressly informed^ ihatGoGUE is the proper-narae assigned to the TYRANT HIMSELF, and that the nations which he should employ as the instruments of his ambition, tyranny, and purposes of destruction, are designated by the collective proper-name of Magogub. " The passage of " £zekiel,(saysVitringa,) represents GoGUE " as the prince of that land, or people, which '* is called Magogue*." It is THIS Prophecy q/'EzEKiEL, which must now engage our attention ; in consi- dering which, we shall begin our examina- tion by investigating the Title with which it *^ quippeDeusin iissiNCVLAREEXEMPLUMederetsuae " severitatis in bonum Ecclesiae. Maguam enim banc *' et formidabilem colll'VIEM gentium suisDeus pro- ** sterneret^*w in the antient names of Ros and Mosc. But how are we to apply the third and last name, Tobl, Tubaly ovThohel; which is associated with the two former names, in this remarkable Title ? The association itself sufficiently points put, and directs, the application. It is not difficult to recognise, in this word, a name Which naturally connects itself with the two former; and which, in conjunction with them, tends, in a very astonishing manner, ^< or THE Ros, or any otlier of the Northern or Scythian « nations." — CoNSTANTiN. PoRPHYR. de Adminlstr, Imper. p. ii. c. 13. * ** MosKWA or Moscozoy the antient capital of the " Russian Empire, and residence of the Czars, ai>d " which is the largest city in Europe, derives its name " from the river Moskwa, wliich runs on the south " side of it.*'— Busciiing's Geographi/, vol. i. p. 452. 22 rRELIMlNAIlY to determine and fix the proper object of the prediction. The river Tobol gives name to the city Tobol/ww, or TobolsA;/*, the me- tropohs of the extensive region of Siberia, lying immediately eastward of the territories of Moscovi/y or Mosc, Tobol and Mosc are mentioned together in a former chapter of the same Proplietf, where they are charac- terized as nations trading in copper; a metal which it is notorious abounds in the soil of Siberia. And thus the three deno- * " ToBOLsA:, in Latin Tobol/mw, the Capital of all " Siberia, and the residence of the Governor-General, " lies in lat. 58<* 12' on the Irtis, not far from the in- " flux of the Tobol into that river. — All ecclesiasticaj *' persons and affairs in Siberia are under the juris- " diction of the Metropolitan ofTocoo/c. — The name " Sibiria, or Siberia, was originally applied, and still " properly belongs only to the south part of the pro- " vince ofToBOLsk ; but, in a more extensive sense, it " now includes all the northern part of Asia which *^ borders on Russia to the West, on the Ice-Sea to the " North, on the Eadern Ocean on the East, and on ** Great Tart ary io the South." — Busching*s Geo- graphy,\o\. i. p. 506, 483. t Ezek. xxvii. 13. ILLUSTRATION, £3 MiNATioNs united in the Prophecy point out, with equal capacity and conciseness, those widely extended regions, which, at the present day, we denominate collectively, THE Russian Empire. Since this interpretation of the name of ToBL first enforced itself,! have fallen upon the following remarkable and apposite obser- vation in a work of the late eminent Profes- sor Michael is, in which he examines the opinions of Bochart upon the subject of the ancient Hebrew Geography. In considering the passage of Ezekiefs Prophecy now under examination, he assumes the three Hebrew names in question as the Greek translators rendered them of old ; and he then points out the propriety, or rather the necessity, of applying the last name to Siberia, if the two former are applied to Russia and Moscovy. " 1 wonder (says he) that those persons *' who see the Moscovites in the name of " Moshochy do not also refer the name of *' Tubal to Siberia; whose principal city " Tofto/s/ii, more modern indeed, but deriv- " ing its name from the primeval river th|. €4 PRELIMINAHT ^' ToBOL, might acquire the sound of ThiU f^ bal: especially since Siberia is, and always '^ was, rich in copper; its inhabitants hav- '^ ing formerly made use of that metal *^ instead of iron, as is demonstrated by the ** copper knives, or blades, which are every '' where found in the antient sepulchres of ^^ the country. Yet I do not write this as " thinking it probable, that the sacred wri- ^^ ters should have spoken of the inhahitants '* of the country lying on the river Tobol> *^ but because it seems to me a great want *^ of consideration, that ToBOLsfci sliould be *^ overlooked hy those who think they discover ^^ Moscoze in the name o/'Meschech*/' III. That learned writer would perhaps have settled his fluctuating opinions upon this, and all the other points connected with ■ * " Mjror tamen, eos qui in Meschech Moscovitas *' vident, non et Thuhal ad Siberiam referre; cujus " urbs primaria Tobohka, recentior illaquidem, sed ab " aeterno flumine Tobol noraen babens, posset gonq " Thuhalem referre : maxinie cum Siberia sit fueritque " aeris dives, cupro olim etiam pro ferro usa, cultros- *' que ex cupro faciens, qui in sepulcris antiquis cum ILLUSTRATION. €5 this important subject, if he had lived to the present eventful time, and had directed his attention to that particular point which must next engage our concern, namely, the Hebrew word immediately preceding the name o/*l\os, which our translators have rendered chief, and the Greek interpreters, a^x^vrx. In examining this word, we shall discover, that the error of mistaking a proper-name for an appellative-noun, is not the only error which calls for observation and correctiort in this place. Another material error^ which the sentence fully discloses by it^ internal evidence, subsists in the word im- mediately preceding; which at present is so interpreted as to make Gogue tliec///^or prince, not of Magogue only, but also of the people of Ros, Mosc, and Tobl. This word, in the original, is «»tt;jJ, AW. ^^ rnortuls conditi passim reperiuntur. Verum id noii " ita scribo, ut verisile existimem, scriptores sacros de ^'^accolis fluviiToBoi- loqui, sg^ (\\xo6magn(e incogitan- *^ tia videtur, ToBOL.s/irtTn ab illis praetermitti, qui in " Meschech MoscMam videre sibi videntur." — Spici" ^egium Geogr. Hebr, Ext, p. 55, •SB .PRELIMINARY But the sentence, when duly and critically 'examined, rejects that interpretation alto- gether; since GoGUE, the individual in ques- tion, is described as ^^o/' the land," that is, (by a construction common to the Hebrew with the Greek tongue,) ^' Sovereign of \\\q ^r land " of Magogue : tliere is his proper do- minion, and there are his subject nations. " Whoever reads Ezekiel, (says Michael is), " can hardly entertain a doubt, thatGoGUE *^ is the name of a sovereign^ and Magogue " that of his people; — the Prophet speaks " of the former^ not as a people, but as an " Emperor*." To the same purpose,is the observation of Vitringa already produced. It is not necessary to the sense, therefore, to suppose, nor is it at all probable, that the same person should be again described, as the sovereign of other countries, (viz.Ros, Mosc, and Tobl,) when he had been already properly distinguished, as the sovereign of *" Ezechieleinlegenti vix dubium videre potest, Gog " re^is nomen esse, Magog populi; — de iih, non ut de *' populo sed Imperatork loquitur." — IhicL p. 33. ILLUSTRATIONS. S? Magogue. But those three names point to the sequel of the Prophecy, which pro- ceeds to declare, that the Invader should be calamitously overthrown in his invasion : — of what country^ Of that, namely, which had been mentioned in the opening of the Prophecy, and which is no where else ex- pressed, but only figuratively described, in the sequel. Now the Prophecy affirms, two several times, that " He shall ascend towards that " land as a cloud to cover it" This com- parison, of a cloud, seems to be thus repeated, in order to lead our minds to the apprehen- sion of the true signification of that parti- cular word in the title, with which we are at present engaged. That equivocal word («»tt^j, Nasi), which is rendered in the Greek by a^x^v, in our translation by chief, and in that of Archbishop Newxome by prince, is derived from the Hebrew i^mi, Nasa; which, as Mr. Parkhurst has justly observed, " is a *' most extensive root ; " signifying, to stir up, to lift up, to exalt, to ascend, &c. : from 28 PRELIMINARY which significations, the derivative noun «*tt^j, Nasi, has acquired the twofold sense of CLOUD and prince. Thus when it is said, three several times, in the Scriptures, " He " maketh the clouds to ascend from the " extremity of the earth^^^ the word employ- ed to signify clouds, is cz3»«tt^:i, or C3»«»tt^J f, Neslim ; the singular of which, «»t:^J, Nasi, is the very word used here, in the Title of the Prophecy, to designate the Invader, whose invasion is immediately afterwards twice illustrated by the ascent of a cloud. But, of the two significations which equally ap- pertain to this equivocal word in the He- brew, viz. cloud, and prince, that which properly belongs to it in this place can only be determined by the general import of the context. And since, as I have shown, it cannot have been employed to denote the dominions of Go GVB, which are previously declared to be ^^the landofMagogue;" since * Psalm cxxxv. 7. Jereru. x, 13. li, 16. t Coinp. Prov. xxv, 14. ILLUSTRATION. 29 that Invader is eminently characterized in the body of the Prophecy, as " a cloud" menacing a land ; and since the word to be determined signifies cloud as well as prince ; no reasonable doubt can remain, that the former oi the two significations, (although so long overlooked,) is that which properly and peculiarly belongs to it in this place. The TRUE TITLE of this wonderful Prophecy will therefore stand at length thus lucidly exposed : " GoGUE, of the land o/'Magggue, the cloud " o/'Ros, INIosc, and Tobl ! " How suitable is this compellation of Aif INVADER, of whom the Prophet presently proceeds to declare, " Thou shalt come up as " A STORM, thou shalt be as a cloud to " cover the land!" And again : " Thou shalt " come against My people as a cloud to " cover the land!" That he should be de- scribed as the cloud of the countries which his ascent menaced, is equally sublime and natural ; and conformable to the conceptions and figures in use among mankind. Thus Cicero, in his oration against Verres, calls him ^* THE TEMPEST, Or STORM, of the fi^ PKELIMINAUY *' Sicilians: — tempestas Siculorum*.'* And, in another oration, he designates Clo- dius, "The STORM of his native country, the " WHIRLWIND and tempest of peace and " tranquillity \r Much in the same manner, Homer makes the consternation of A'ydx describe the onset of Hector as "a cloud,'' spreading darkness on every side; calling him, " THE CLOUD ofzoar,'' 'Tro'KifAOto NE<1>02, tste^; 'sravlct naXvi/lei *£KTi2P +. Which figure is borrowed by Pindar ||. It is likewise familiarly, and very commonly, employed to describe a numerous and armed host. So Plutarch, representing the assem- blage of Northern nations w^hich, in the time of Marius, threatened to overwhelm Gaul and Italy, says, " that they appeared ready to * *' Hiemi sese, fluctibusque committere maluit (Pub. " Rupilius) quam non istam communcm Sictjloiium ** TEMPEST ATEM calamitatemque vitare, ii. 37." t Tu PROCELLA. patriae, turbo et tempestas pacis et otti. — Pro domo sua. c. 53. J II. xvii. 243. — Schol. eTret Travra^oQev hfA,a<; ecKolocff-Bt *ExI«g, KaQaire^ NE002 TToXtfjt.ii, II Nem. X. IG. tLLUSTRATlON. 31 *^ Ircak over those countries like a cloud." — ^(T'^ra^ NE^OS sfjiTTEo-oiEv rri Ta'KaTix xai rn Iraxicc *. And we know, how frequently an entire army is described by its chief. And not foreign to this employment of the figure, is that of Virgil, in his descrip- tion of a firm and calm resistance to the assailment of war : a description which, in a secondary view of the subject, may with the utmost justice be applied to the settled iriagnanimity, with which the actual sove* reign of Ros, Mosc, and Tobl, disposed iiis mind to " sustain the cloud ofrcar/^ \vhich was advancing against his Empire. " Ac velut, effusa si quando grandine nimbi Precipitant, oraniscarapis diffugit arator, Oranis et agricola, ut tuta latet arce viator, Aut amnis ripis, aut alti fornice saxi, i Dum pluit; in terris ut possint, sole reducto, ^ Exercere diem : Sic ohrutus undique telis MneaSy nubem betli,dum detonet ; otimem Sustinet f." ** As when the rattling hail impetuous pours. And thq^ wide field smokes with the rushing show'rs, ^_* " Vit. Marii.'^ vol. ii. p. 820. 8vo. f "Mn.'' x. 803; I c 32 PRELIMINARY To the safe shelving banks the swains repair, Or to some cavernM rock ; and, sheltered there, Wait till the furious tempest breaks away, And then renew the labours of the day. So, plyM by show'rs of javelins from afar, ^NEAS calm sustains the cloud of war,*' It was the ancient misapprehension of the import of this zcord, by which it was taken in the sense of chief or prince^, that gave rise to a traditional belief, not unfre- quent in some parts of Europe, that Gogue ♦ It may be well to consider, more particularly, the ^ causes which have hitherto prevented the proper inter- pretation of this word in the passage before us. Tlie chief and governing cause, has been the want of experi- ence of the fact which could alone determine and fix the interpretation. But other, and secondary, causes have contributed. The plural word a»t^»t2^i, Nesiiniy occurs only four times in the Hebrew Scrip- tures with the sense of clouds, though it occurs several times with that of princes. Its singular t^»tt^j. Nasi, occurs also several times ; but, in every other instance, except this of Ezekiel, with the sense of prince, or chief. From hence it has been hastily inferred, that the singular never denoted a cloud, and that it was used in that sense onli/ in the plural. And, as the word is here used in the singular, it has been invelerately assumed ILLUSTRATION. 33 and Magogue pYes\gn\f\edtheRussiaripozcer ; a belief, inexplicable to those who are ac- quainted only with our common translation of Ezekiel, and who are therefore not aware, that the proper-name of Kos (which was inconiestably an ancient name of the Russian j?eop/e), is an original and essential' member of tim Prophecy, The prevalence of whicli opinion caused Michaelis, in to signify a prince. But this inference was much too rapid; the quantity of the Hebrew hxnguajje contained in the books of tlie Old Testament -, in which many of its words are used only once or twice, many are cer- tainly not introduced at all ; does not supply a crite- rion of all the capacities of that language, sutficiently complete to authorize the conclusion. We must there- fore resort to the general analogy of languages. It has been supposed, that a^fc^'tl/i, Nesiim, signified clouds in the plural only ; as many words in the Latin are represented to be employed only in the plural num- ber, and have, therefore, been classed by Gramma- rians under the head o( Ileterocliles in number. But, even in Latin, this arrangement is known to be erro- neous and unfounded; for the rule is drawn merely Crom a later practice f and not from wny fundamental principle of the speech. And accordingly, we find that many of the words represmted as unused in the 54 PRELIMINARY endeavouring to appropriate the name of llos to the Asiatic Russians exclusively, to conclude his argument with these re- markable words : — " Let those, therefore, '* who interpret the Prophets, cease to " dread any longer the Russian Power, ^^ in the names of Gogue and Magogue. — " Desinant ergo, qui Prophetas interpre- " tantur, ad Gogi et Magogi nomeu singular, were nevertheless so employed by writers earlier than those who are made the standard of the language to us. Of these we may instance the words, Lemures, Manes, delicicc, divUi^e, liber i ; all of which, though presented to us as words having no singular, are nevertheless to be found in the singular number. Thus Apuleius : " Veteri Latina lingua reperis " Lemurem dietitatum.'' He adds, of the same : " Manem Deum nuncupant/* — De Deo Socrat, Plautus more than once employs the word deliciuy where the standard writers use only delicia ; Trucul. V. 1, 29. Rud. ii. 4, 13. Divitia, is quoted in the singular form by Nonius, 7. 64. from Accius, a writer who lived about 200 years ant. Chr, " seternabilem " divitiam partissent.*' And liber is used for a child even by Quintillian, in the singular: " liberi et parentis ** affectus." Declara. ii. pro Caco, c. 8. p: 45. — With- out extending these examples any further, we may be I ILLUSTRATION. 55 ^^ potentiam horrescere Russorum*." But, by discerning that Gogue is here described, not as " the Prifice'^ of Ros, Mosc, and ToRL, but as an ascenditig " cloud" threat- ening to involve and overwhelm those regions, the ground of that chimerical apprehension is fundamentally taken away. IV. W(? are next to consider the regions, or nations, from which the invading host was to proceed. The Prophet informs us, that they should consist of Magogue, in chief, with GoMER and Togarmah associated f; sure that these and other words were used in the sin- gular, before a hiter practice confined them to the plural; And thus, though the plural CD»«»tt^ j, Nesiiniy is used four times where the collective clouds o{ the heavens are spoken of; yet no critical reason can be alleged, why the singular t^>ttrj. Nasi, might not have been used, in a figurative description, where 07ie great Invader is compared to " a cloud ;^^ which figure is confirmed by the parallel and responsive term p]; a cloud, in the two following verses, 9 and 16. But the more common signification was adopted for this mys- terious passage, at first sight, as seeming to convey a meaning more immediately intelligible ; and yet, as it novr appears, it is altogether erroneous and unintelligible. * " Geogr. Heb. Ext/' p. 55; t See notes to Ezek.xxxviii. 5 and 6, 56 PBELIMINAHY let US therefore now inquire, where were the regions of Magogue and Gomer ? We know, from the Hebrew Scriptures, that these are the names of two sons of Japhet ; and it is to ancient Hebrew autho- rity alone that we can resort, to learn where, according to the common repute of the Hebrew people, the nations which descended from those two heads of families, and which long retained the proper-names of those heads, were spread and estabHshed. Josephus is the earliest Hebrew authority, of weight and learning, to which we can address our- selves ; and he distinctly informs us, *^ that " Japhet, the son of Noah, had seven sons; " who, proceeding from their primitive " seats in the mountains of Taurus and *^ Amanus, ascended Asia to the river Ta- " nais (or Don) ; and there entering Europe, " penetrated as far westward as the Straits *' of Gibraltar, occupying the layids which " they successively met with in their progress ; " (all of which were uninhabited); and be^^ " queathed their names to their different f ami- " lies, or nations. That GoM^n founded the *^ Gomari, zchom the Greeks, at that time, ILLUSTRATION. 37 *^ called GALATiE, — t«j NTN l(p' 'ExMjvwy " FAAATAS Kcc\iifjLEViig ; — and that Magogiie *' founded the Magogs, whom the Greeks " then called Scythe, Invdai*.'' It only therefore remains for us to ascertain, which were the nations that the Greeks, in the time of Josephus, called Sct/thcc, and which they then called Galatcc; and to observe, whether the geographical affinities of these nations are such as answer to those which are plainly required by the Prophecy for Magogue and Gomer. Herodotus, the most ancient Greek writer whom we can consult, and at the same time the most inquisitive and correct; and who tells us, that he took particular pains to obtain information upon the point; acquaints us, " that the name Scythcc^ was a nameg/rew *' by the Greeks themselves to an ancient and " widely extended people ofE?irope, who had *' spread themselves from the river Tanais, ^' or Don, w estward, along the banks of " the Ister, or Danube f." — " The Greeks * " Antiq. Ind." lib. i. c. 6. f Lib. ir; 5B freltminahy ^' (observes the acute and accurate Major " Rennel), appear to hhwejirst used the term " ScYTHiA; in its application to tlieir neigh- " bours the Sc7/thia?ts of the Euxine, who *^ were also called Getce, or Gothi; and ** were those who afterwards subdued the '^ Roman Empire: and from which original " stock the present race of people in Europe " seem to be descended." And again : ^^ The Scythians of Herodotus appear to ^^ have extended themselves in length from " Hungary, Transylvania, and Wallachia, oa ^•* the Westward ; to the river Don on the " Eastward*/' This was the informatioa which Herodotus was able to procure in the sixth century before Christ, when the in- terior of Europe was very partially knowii to the Greeks ; and his report, as far as it goes, is in perfect agreement with that of Josephus, concerning the progress ofMagogue and Gomer. In these same regions the Scythse continued many ages after Herodo- tus; and even long after the time of Jose- * " Geogr. of Herod/' p. 47, 48,61, ILLCSTRATION. B^ phus ; for Dio Cassius, who lived 150 years afler Josephus, and above 200 year* after our Saviour, relates, that Pompey, in his return into Europe from Asia, " deter- ^* mined to pass to the Ister, or Danube, *^ through the Scythcc ; and so to entet " Italy *." These were the original Scythae. But Herodotus further reports, that a por- tion of this same people, in an afterage, turned back from the European seats of their fathers, and established themselves in Asia: and from these sprung the Asiatic Scythcc y who in process of time almost en* grossed the naine to themselves. From hence it would appear, that th©^ name of Sa/tha, by wliich name we are to interpret that of Magogue, although it pro- perly denotes a nation of* Europe, yet, if it be taken by itself, is of very vague and vindeterminate import; so undeterminate indeed, as to admit of no accurate or par- ticular specification. Wherefore Michaelis was led to remark; " that the name of * TF^oi nrov lvas more extensively known, we shall find that Diodorus Siculus, who lived about a century before Josephus, traces them much farther into Europe than the Danube; even to the shores of the Baltic, and to the very confines of the Galat^ of the Greeks. In speaking of the amber found upon the shores of that sea, he there places the region expressly denominated, '^ Scythia above^ or ISorth of 4£ PRELIMINARY « Galatia '— i 2Kr0H, h UTTE^ rriv FAAA- TIAN^." In which description we at length find the ScYTHiE, or Magogue, in the imme- diate neighbourhood oi the Galat^e of the Greeks^ or Gomer. And have we need to inquire, who were " the Galat^ of the Greeks'' in the time of Josephus ? It is most astonishing, tiiat any scholar should have put himself in active search for an object which lay so closely at his foot; yet such has been the extraordi- nary proceeding of the same learned Ger- man. Galatia, Faxar/a, is the common and familiar name used by all the earlier Greek historians for, Gaul, the Gallia of the Latins ; and GALATiE, Taxarai, is no other than the common Greek name for the Gauls, or G<^///i of the Latins : as every one knows, who has ever opened the histories of Diodorus, Strabo, Plutarch, Appian, or Dio Cassiusf. * Lib. V. c. 23. f " Graeci Galliam retXanav (GalatUifn), et Gallos '* raXctrag (Galata), ut pluriinum appellant, atque sic *' Polybius, Siciliota Diodorus, Dio Cassius, Josephus, ** Pausanias, alii : poster lores autein cum Latinis ILLUSTRATION. 4S ^^ All the Galatce" (or Gauls), says Stra- bo, " were called Cellcc by the Greeks*;" and the converse is equally true : " the '' CW/d? were called Galatce by the Greeks, *' and Gain by the Latins." To inquire who were the " Galatce oi' the Greeks?" is there- fore all one, as to inquire who were the Gain of the Romans ? We need not to waste time upon this plain subject. Jose- phus, who wrote iQ Greek, used the name ol^ FaXaraij Galatcc, to denote that people ; had he written in Latin, he would have used the name of Galli. A colony of these Galatce, or Galli, indeed, in the third cen- tury before Christ, emigrated from Gau\ and established themselves in Asia minor; wdiere they were ever after called by their " TAXXtfc, et reglonein raxx»vas ever able to unravel the Prophecy for want of ^he fulfilment ; so, the generation which was to receive the benefit of that illustration, would not be left altogether to the dubious, and nearly obliterated, geography of the prophetic age, for the means of acquiring that benefit. In this, and in all the other Prophecies, the generation which is to be the witness of the accomplish men t, is the object of the Prophetical Communication; and the prophets are employed ^^ to minister those " things, not unto themselves *," or their con- temporaries, but to those persons who should eventually be called upon to bear testimony * 1 Peter, i. 10, 12. ILLUSTRATION. 71 • to their truth. The prediction is conveyed through channels which comprehend it not, for the future intelligence of those who shall behold it vindicate its veracity. In determining finally the correspondence which has been pointed out, between the modern names of Russ, Moskua, and ToBOL, and the prophetic names of Ros, Mosc, and Tobl, I shall (after the argu- ments which have been advanced, and the stupendous events which have been attest- ed,) abide by the rule laid down, upon another occasion, by that cautious and scru- pulous etymologist, Michaelis: " In quaes- " tione de nominibus propriis geographicis " instituta, plerumque non etymologias, ut " supra dixi, sed vocem ac sortum sequi de- ^' bemus; nee philologia uti et ingenio, sed " AURiBUS'^. — -In a question concerning " geographical proper-names, we ought for " the most part to follow, not etymologies, " (as I have already said,) but utterance ♦ " Geog, Heb. Extr p. 22. 7*^ PJt^^IMINARY ** and sound ; and not to employ philologi/ " and ingemntyy but our ears ^." VIII. But the Prophecy of Ezekiel, though it was delivered so long ago as whilst the Jewish people were suffering captivity in Bahylon, was directed to the last great event of secular concernment to the future universal church of tub Messiah; and was pointed to regions which, though at that time in ignorance of His name^ were foreordained to be eventually com- prehended in the number of His people. Hence it is, that the prophet employs the familiar, but figurative, denomination of ^ Israel," to express all God's future people ; dnd that, of ^^the mountains of Israel,'^ to *(Ros — Pw?, Hos, Grsec'is), '^ BtissiUf Rusz mcoYis, *' la Russie Gallis, die i?Mss-IandtGermanis. ( Mosc ) — " Moscha, siveMoscuay Mosqua indigenis, '* Moscou exterib, ikfoscflw Germanis : — ibi Moscua ** fluvius. ( ToBL ) — " Tobolium etTobolscHy urbs MoscovtaT'dr" ^' tariae, Siberia Caput. — Ab altera parte fluvius Tobol *' est, unde Urbi noraen." — Bafjdraud, GeograpL ILLtJSTRATI denote the compass, or pale, of Universal Church. In agreement with thig remark, is that of Vitringa, upon the corre- sponding phrases used in St. John's Prophecy of Gogue ; where the some identical objects of that tyrant's violence, which Ezekiel deno- minates " Israel, and the land of Israely* are by St. John called, *^ the camp of the ^' saints/^ and " the beloved city J" — " By " these latter names," says Vitringa, " no " one doubts that we are to understand " THE CHURCH, with relation to the places " and countries wherein it should be eventually " planted. Both denominations arejigura^ " tive, and adapted to lead us to a know- ^' ledge of the state of the Church there " intended. That Church, founded upon " rules of the best ordered discipline, was ** to have God, ever-present, for its Cover- *^ not ; who would pitch his tabernacle '^ within it, and so revive a similitude of " ' the camp of Israel/ as it had appeared in ^^ ancient times*." * " In Apocalyps:^ p. 872. 74 PRELIMINARY St. Augustine has justly remarked, that as " the most ancient prophecies, made to " Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, regarded the " land of Canaan; so the succeeding Pro- ^^ phecies relate, partly, to the people de- " scended from Abraham according to the " flesh, and partly to that ' seed of Abraham,' " in which ail those nations were to be blessed " who were to become joint heirs, by the new " covenant, in the inheritance of eternal " life i nd th^ kingdom of heaven, " Part, therefore, of those Prophecies per- " tain to the ' hondmai , whic gendereth to *^ bondage;* that is, t e earthlj/ Jerusalem, " zohich is in bondage with her children *,* " and part to the free ' citi/ of God, the " true Jerusalem, eternal in the heavens f :' all *' whose children, living according to God, " are * strangers on t e earth ^.* But there " ^are also some of them which are to be " understood to relate to loth of these ; viz. '' to the bondwofnan, literally, and to ihe free- ♦ Galiit. iv. U, 5. t 2 Cor, v. 1. Tkb. xti. 22. J Ibid. xi. 13. ILLtJSTRATlON. 75 " woman, figuratively. Thus the declara- " tions of the prophets are found to be " threefold; some respecting the earthli/ ^^ Jerusalem, some the heavenly , and some " both the one and the other^" Of the^* -s^ of these, are the Prophecies which foretold the Assyrian and Babylonish captivities, the Persian restoration, and the ultimate dispersion of the Jewish nation. Of the * " Sicut oracula ilia divina ad Abraham, Isaac, et " Jacob, fiictasunt; ita caterae ab illo tempore pro- *^ phctiae, partim pertinent ad gentem carnis Abrahae, " partim vero ad illud semen illius, in qu ) benedicun- " tur omnes gentes cohaeredes Christ! perTestamentura " Novum, ad possidendam vitam seternam regnumque " caelorum. Partim ergo ad ancillam, quae in servitu- ** tern g;enerat, id est terrenam Hierusalem, quae servit " cum filiis suis, partim vero ad liberam civitatem " Dei, id est veram Hierusalem aeternara in coelis, " cujus filii omnes secundum Deum viventes peregri- ** nantur in terris. Sed sunt in eis quaedam, quae ad ** utranque pertinere intelliguntur, ad ancillam j970»/?rie, " ad liberam Jigurate. Tripertita itaque reperiun- *' tur eloquia prophetarum : siquidem aliqua sunt ad " terrenam Hierumlem spectsinti?i, aliqua ad c