THOUGHTS RELIGION, OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. Mercier and Co. Northumbtrland-court, Strand. THOUGHTS ON RELIGION, AND OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS ; RECENTLY TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH , fo .'J- 1670 B1LAISE FASCAX* MEMOIRS OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS, BY THE TRANSLATOR. SECOND EDITION. Hontion : PRINTED FOR SAMUEL BAGSTER, No. SI, STRAND. 1806. 19 ' /r CONTENTS. PACK LIFE OF PASCAL, by the Translator - - 7 r CHAP. I. On Jthe Indifference of Atheists ...... 81 II. The Characters of True Religion 95 III. The True Religion proved, by the Contra- rieties which are discoverable in Man> and by Original Sin --------. 109 IV. It is not incredible that God should unite Himself to us--.-- .......121 V. The proper Submission and Use of Reason 123 VI. Faith without reasoning .---..---- 125 VII. That there is moie Advantage in believing than in disbelieving the Christian Reli- gion --- - 127 VIII. Description of a Man who has wearied himself with searching after God by Rea- soning alone, and who is now beginning to read the Scriptures 134 IX. The Unrighteousness and Depravity of Man --------- 141 X. The Jews . - 145 XI. Moses 156 XII. Figures - 159 XIII. That the Law was figurative ------- 1/61 XIV. Jesus Christ - - - 171 XV, The Evidences of Jesus Christ from the Prophecies ----..-.*--.-.- 178 B3 6 CONTENTS. PAGE CHAP.XVI. Various Proofs of Jesus Christ 190 XVII. Against Mahomet - - 194- XVIII. The Design of God in concealing himself from some, and revealing himself to others 197 XIX. That True Christians and True Jews have but one and the same Religion - - - - 205 XX. That God cannot be savingly known but through Jesus Christ .---.. 209 XXI. The surprising Contrarieties in the Nature of Man, with regard to Truth, Happi- ness, and various other Things ----- 215 XXII. The General Knowledge of Man - - - - 225 XXIII. The Greatness of Man --. 230 XXIV. The Vanity of Man - 234 XXV. The Weakness of Man 239 XXVI. The Misery of Man 248 XXVII. Thoughts on Miracles -- 262 XXVIII. Christian Reflections 277 XXIX. Moral Reflections 309 XXX. Thoughts on Death : extracted from a Let- ter written by M. Pascal on the Death of his Father ---331 XXXI. Miscellaneous Thoughts - - 347 A Prayer, imploring of God the right Use of Sickness --....-.-..... 339 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF BLAISE PASCAL. 1 O record the principal events in the lives of those whose talents have distinguished them in. society, has always been considered as an useful undertaking. We naturally wish to be ac- quainted with those who delight or instruct us, and to whose labours we feel ourselves indebted. Biographical memoirs, if faithfully compiled, gratify this wish, anfl bring us, as it were, into some degree of intimacy with those who are the subjects of them. By following men of superior abilities into private life, and tracing their pro- B4 8 LIFE OF PASCAL. gress from infancy to manhood, we seem to bring them down more to our own level ; and to obtain double instruction from them, while we contem- plate the difficulties with which they have strug- gled, the infirmities with which they have been afflicted, and the mistakes into which they may have occasionally fallen. \ But we are still more interested when we be- hold a genius of the first order, displaying early marks of extraordinary powers, growing up with peculiar advantages to quick maturity, devoted to the most useful and solid purposes, struggling with a long and painful disease, and cut off by death while yet in his bloom. Examples of this kind loudly proclaim to us the uncertain tenure, and comparative vanity of human life ; while, on the other hand, they teach us, that they who make but a short and painful passage through this world, may yet confer permanent benefits on mankind, and obtain a place in the esteem of posterity, more lasting and more honourable than monuments of stone. ; Such are the reflections which will naturally suggest themselves on reviewing the life of BLAISE PASCAL, who was born at Clermont in the Pro- vince of Auvergne, now in % the Department of the Puy de Domme, on the nineteenth of June 1623. He was descended from one of the best families in that province. One of his ancestors LIFE OF PASCAL. 9 had received a patent of nobility from Louis XI. about the year 1478, and from that period some of the principal offices in Auvergne were held by persons of the family. His grandfather was treasurer of France at Riom, and married a daughter of the seneschal of Auvergne, whose name was likewise Pascal. Stephen Pascal, a son of the treasurer, and the father of our author, was born in 1588. He held the office of President in the Court of Aids in Auvergne. He married Antoinette Begon, by whom he had four children : a son, born in 1619? who died in his infancy; Blaise, the au- thor of the following work : and two daughters, Gilberte, born in 1620, who was married to M. Perier j and Jacqueline, born in 1625, who took the veil in the Convent of Port-Royal in the Fields. As soon as Blaise Pascal was able to speak, he discovered marks of extraordinary capacity, which he evinced not only by the general perti- nency and smartness of his replies, but particu- larly by the questions which he asked concern- ing the nature of things, and his reasonings upon them, which were much superior to what is common at his age, } His mother having died in 1626, his father, who was an excellent scholar and an able mathematician, and who lived in habits of intimacy with several persons of the - 10 LIFE OF PASCAL. / greatest learning and science at that time in France, determined to take upon himself the whole charge of his son's education. Blaise, being an only son, became, every day after the death of his mother, more and more endeared to his tutor ; and the proofs which he gave of superior understanding, cherished, in no small degree, the warmth of the father's affection. But as the duties of a public station greatly interfered with this design, and interrupted his attention to the other concerns of his family, Stephen Pascal resigned his office in favor of his brother in 1631, and removed immediately to Paris, where he had fewer acquaintances, and where of course he was less liable to be inter- rupted, in what had now become his favourite and principal employ, by unnecessary visits, and for- mal invitations. In Paris, likewise, the most useful books in every branch of learning were al- ways to be readily obtained, and he was deter- mined his son should have every assistance that these could afford him. His principal maxim, in the conduct of his son's studies, was always to let him feel himself superior to his task : and so rigid was his obser- vance of this rule, that he would not allow him to commence the Latin language, till he was twelve years of age. But in this interval he taught him his own language grammatically, LIFE OF PASCAL. 11 and took care frequently to explain to him the general principles of grammar from thence. He likewise encouraged that spirit of inquiry which had manifested itself so early, by constantly di- recting his attention to some of the more striking phaenomena of nature, or the productions of art, and discoursing with him on those subjects which naturally interest the curiosity and ardour of youth. In what cases such a mode of conducting in- struction is to be preferred, it is not necessary here to inquire. It is sufficient to observe, that as it cannot always be adopted, it is most likely it would not in all cases be eligible. The capa- city of the mind, like that of the hand, most ( commonly requires to be opened by exertion, \ that it may grasp its object with firmness. But J in the instance before us, though the restriction could riot hasten, it does not appear to have essentially retarded the maturity of this won- derful genius, which was rather stimulated than shackled, by the limits within which it was confined. Before young Pascal had attained his twelfth year, two circumstances occurred, which de- serve to be recorded, as they discovered the turn, and evinced the superiority of his mind. Having remarked one day at table the sound produced by a person accidentally striking an 12 LIFE OF PASCAL. earthen-ware plate with a knife, and that the vibrations were immediately stopped by putting his hand on the plate, he became anxious to investigate the cause of this phenomenon, and employed himself in making a number of expe- riments on sound, the result of which he com- mitted to writing, so as to form a little treatise on the subject, which was found very correct and ingenious. The other occurrence was his first acquisition, or, as it might not improperly be termed, his in- vention of Geometry. His father, though very fond of the mathema- tics himself, had studiously kept from him every means of becoming acquainted with them. This he did, partly in conformity to the maxim he had hitherto followed, of keeping his son supe- rior to his task ; and partly frbm an apprehen- sion that a science so engaging, and at the same time so abstracted, and which was on that ac- count peculiarly suited to the turn of his son's mind, would probably absorb too much of his attention, and stop the progress of his other studies, if he were once initiated into it. He therefore as much as possible avoided convers- ing on subjects of this nature in his presence, and locked up from him all books which treat- ed upon them. This however did not prevent his son from frequently expressing a desire to LIFE OF PASCAL. 13 learn Geometry ; and his father always promised to teach it him, as soon as he had learned Latin and Greek. One day, he asked his father /hat Geometry was. His father replied, " It is a science which teaches the method of making exact figures, and of finding out the proportions they bear to each other." With this answer he for- bade him to talk or think any more upon the subject. But the activity of a penetrating and inrinisitive mind is not to be so easily restrained. The de- finition of Geometry which his father had given him, served only to increase his earnestness to understand the subject of it, and his mind was continually bent on pursuing it. From that period therefore he began, at the hours allowed him for recreation, to get alone into a room, and draw figures on the floor with charcoal ; try- ing, for example, to draw a perfect circle, a perfect square, a triangle with equal si^?s and equal angles, and so on to other figures the re- lations between whose lines are less obvious, Of these he began to study the proportions; bit so great had been his father's vigilance, that he did not even,know the technical names of tht most simple figures he drew ; but called a circle, un rond , a line, une barre ,- and other figures by names that were only in vulgar use. As from respect to his father's authority, he 14 LIf E OF PASCAL. had so far regarded his prohibition as to pursue this study only in private, and, at his hours of recreation, he went on for some time undisco- vered. But one day, while he was employed in this manner, his father accidentally entered the room, unobserved by Pascal, who was wholly intent on the subject of his investigation. His father stood for some time unperceived, and ob- served with the greatest astonishment that his son was surrounded with geometrical figures, and was then actually employed in finding out the proportion of the angles formed by a triangle, one side of which is produced ; which is the subject of the 32d proposition in the first book of Euclid. His father at length asked him what he was doing. The son, surprised and con- fused to find his father was there, told him he wanted to find out this and that, mentioning the different parts contained in that theorem. His father then asked how he came to inquire about that. He replied he had found out such a thing, naming some more simple problem; and thus, in reply to different questions, he showed that he had gone on in his own investi- gations, totally unassisted, from the most simple definitions in Geometry to Euclid's thirty-se- cond proposition. It has been said, in order to lessen the im- pression of this account, that how diligent so-* LIFE OF PASCAL. 15 ever Pascal's father might have been to keep his son from becoming acquainted with Geo- metry, as he was a mathematician himself, and was in habits of intimacy with mathematicians, and fond of discoursing on those subjects, it is impossible but that Pascal must have received some ideas from what he had occasionally over- heard, which guided him in his mathematical pursuits. And it is further contended that Pas- cal's drawing the figure which has been men- tioned, must have been merely accidental, and implied no knowledge whatever of the previous steps by which a geometrician would proceed to it. But the circumstances recorded by his sister, stripped f all the colouring of parti- ality, leave no room for doubt on the subject. And indeed why should a man be presumed incapable of such discoveries because his name was Pascal, any more than if it were Euclid, Archimedes, or Newton. His subsequent pro- gress perfectly accorded with this extraordinary elicitation of his talents. His father was so overcome at witnessing this display of his son's powers, that he went imme- diately to his intimate friend Le Pailleur, to inform him of what he had seen -, but when he entered the house, he was unable to speak, and sitting down, burst into tears. Le Pailleur was alarmed, and begged to know what it was 16 LIFE OF PASCAL. that distressed him. Pascal replied h6 did not shed tears from sorrow, but from joy. You know, said he, what pains I have taken to keep my son from any knowledge of Geometry, lest it should hinder his other studies, and what do you think he has done ? He then related what he had just witnessed. Le Pailleur immediately persuaded him no longer to think of confining a mind capable of such efforts, but, on the con- trary, to put the best books on th subject into his hands. Pascal accordingly gave his son Euclid's Ele- ments to peruse at his hours of recreation. He read them, and understood them without any assistance. His progress was so rapid that he was soon admitted to the meetings of a society .of which his father, Roberval, and some other celebrated mathematicians, were members, and from which originated the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris. At these meetings mathematical propositions were produced; both those of the members of the society, and such as were sent them by their correspondents in foreign countries. The solu- tions were also examined and discussed. Young Pascal frequently took a part in these discus- sions, and evinced, by the acuteness and accu- racy of his observations, so much superiority in the science, that his seniors were not ashamed LIFE OF PASCAL. 17 to ask his opinion, and avail themselves of his remarks. In the mathematics Pascal found that which from his earliest years he had delighted in, namely, demonstration. And therefore, though he was now learning Latin under his father's direction, and was only allowed to pursue Geo- metry as his amusement, it was easy to per- ceive that the principal exertions of his mind were always in that pursuit. At the age of six- teen he composed a Treatise on Conic Sections, which was considered as a masterpiece in its kind. In composing this treatise it was said he had his father's assistance. This might be con- jectured, but there is no proof of it. His fa- ther might have corrected the language, but it does not seem probable he composed any part of the substance of the work. For he spoke of it as his son's composition entirely, whereas it was evident that, although a great part of it was original, several things were extracted from a book on the same subject by Desargues. It is most likely Pascal .composed this treatise chiefly for his own use, as a sum of what he had learned and discovered on the subject ; and it appears, from this circumstance, that he had advanced beyond his father in his knowledge of conic sections, and also that his father had not carefully perused the work of Desargues, for he c IS LIFE OF PASCAL. could not otherwise have been guilty of a mis- representation so easy to be detected. His friends recommended the treatise to be published, but the author would not consent to it, and evinced his good sense as much by this refusal, as he had before shown his acuteness by the compo- sition itself. As his father persisted in his resolution to be his tutor entirely, he did not send him to any college, but instructed him at home in Logic, and the principles of Natural Philosophy, as far as they were then understood. But the pleasure of his father in the progress he made in all he applied to, began to be interrupted when he had reached his eighteenth year, by some symptoms of ill health, which were thought to be the effect of intense application, and which never afterward entirely quitted him; so that he sometimes used to say, that from the time he was eighteen he had never passed a day with- out pain. Private education has undoubtedly in some instances great advantages. But it is too apt to be rendered abortive by excessive indulgence where application is disliked ; and to leave a mind, which is too intent upon study, without that wholesome variety of intercourse, which at once enlivens the fancy, counteracts the bad influ- ence of intense application on the health, and LIFE OF PASCAL. 19 often opens the way to those connections in after life, by which its cares are sweetened and its sorrows lessened, and the sum of usefulness and happiness is increased. The good or bad effect, however, of either one system of edu- cation or the other, does not depend so much on itself, as on the disposition of the student. In point of health, at least, it appears probable that Pascal sustained some disadvantage, by not enjoying a more free and lively intercourse with young men of his own standing j and that, though naturally endowed with wit and anima- tion, he contracted a degree of narrowness and austerity in his notions and habits, which he never afterward shook off. He who associates only with the young will never be wise, but the rigidity of age should not continually cramp the sinews of youth. It appears that Stephen Pascal had laid out a considerable part of his property in the pur- chase of shares in the Hotel de Ville ; the in- terest of which the government, about the year 1638, formed a resolution to diminish, as part of a plan for curtailing the expenditure of the state. Against this arbitrary and iniquitous measure loud murmurs were raised by the pro- prietors of the shares, in which a particular friend of Pascal bore an ostensible part. The resistance of the injured generally draws down C 2 20 LIFE OF PASCAL. greater injury upon them ; to which the indis- cretions of temper often afford too plausible a pretext. The complainant therefore incurred the displeasure of the court, and Pascal, for siding with his friend, was threatened with the Bastille, and an order issued for his apprehen- sion. But having notice of this in time, he withdrew from the malice of his enemies, by re- tiring privately to Auvergne, from whence the Cardinal de Richlieu afterward recalled him. His recalWas owing, in great measure, to the kind interference of the Duchesse d'Aiguillon, who took an opportunity of introducing his daughter Jacqueline to perform a part in a tragi-comedy, written by Scudery, which Rich- lieu had taken a fancy to have acted before him by girls. It was contrived, that, after the per- formance was over, Jacqueline should recite, in an address to the Cardinal, some lines that were applicable to her father's situation, and supplicating his recal. Richlieu had been in- formed of the name and connections of this little performer; he understood the hint, and taking her in his arms, told her she should ob- tain her request, and desired her to write im- mediately to her father, and tell him to return. The Dutchess, encouraged by the success of her attempt, and the favorable humour of the Cardinal, presented Blaise to him, and speak- LIFE OF PASCAL, 21 ing in respectful terms of the father, said, See, here is his son, who is already a great mathema- tician, though he is not above fifteen years old. Richlieu received him with an obliging conde- scension, and desired that the father, with the whole of his family, might be introduced to him. This interview accordingly took place, in which Richlieu promised to do something in favor of the father, and in 1641 he was made Intendant of Rouen. This office he filled till the year 1648. During Pascal's residence with his father at Rouen, and while he was only in his nineteenth year, he invented his famous arithmetical ma- chine, by which all numerical calculations, however complex, can be made, by the media* nical operation of its different parts, without any arithmetical skill in the person who uses it. He obtained a patent for this invention in 1649. In the patent it is stated that he had then made fifty of these machines. One was sent as a pre- sent to the Queen Regent, with a well-written complimentary letter. The construction of this machine was afterwards simplified by Leibnitz; and it promised to be of very great advantage, by preventing those errors in calculation which, the monotony of numbers is so apt to produce, even with the most correct arithmeticians. But, after all, it was found too bulky and expensive C 3 22 LIFE OF PASCAL. for general use, and very liable to be out of re- pair from the complexity of its structure. So that mathematicians in general have preferred logarithmic tables, which nearly supply the place of such a machine, by changing the most complicated operations of arithmetic into sim- ple additions, or subtractions, in which a very little attention is sufficient to avoid mistake. The invention, however, was no less ingenious in it- self, and was highly creditable to Pascal. But it cost him two years of intense application, and very much tried his tottering health : for he not only had to arrange the construction of the machine in his own mind, but, what was far more difficult, and attended with continual vex- ation, to make the workmen he employed un- derstand him, and to see that the parts of which . it was composed were properly made and fitted together. But Pascal, though unhealthy, was still Pas- cal; ever active, ever inquiring, and satisfied only with that for which an adequate reason could be assigned.) Having heard of the expe- riments instituted: by Torricelli, to find out the cause of the rise of water in fountains and pumps, and of the mercury in the barometer, he was induced to repeat them, and to make others to satisfy himself on the subject. It is unnecessary to enter into a particular account , LIFE OF PASCAL. 23 6f them. The facts are now generally under- stood, and tlie controversy to which they gave occasion, concerning nature's abhorrence of a vacuum, has long subsided. The experiments of Pascal were well conducted, and satisfactory in the result, and undoubtedly contributed to establish the proper explication of the pheno- mena. But perhaps while the jealousy of his contemporaries might have undervalued their im- portance, it may nevertheless have been over- rated by his admirers. An account of them is contained in a tract published in 1647, entitled Experiments relating to a Vacuum, and in two others, on the Equilibrium of Liquids, and on the Weight of the Air, which were not pub- lished till after his death. It was during the progress of these experiments that our author was introduced to Descartes ; and it appears that an experiment made with the barometer, by Pascal and Mi\ Perier, on the Puy de Domme, was undertaken at the suggestion of that celebrated philosopher. About the end of the year 1647, Pascal was attacked by a paralytic affection in both his legs, which lasted for three months. Several particular circumstances occurred at the same period, which made it necessary for him to look over some books which were written on matters of religion ; " And it pleased God," c4 24 LIFE OF PASCAL. says his sister Madame Perier, in her account of his life, so to enlighten his mind by the perusal of them, that he plainly perceived Christianity requires us to live only for God, and to devote ourselves to no other object but HIM ; and this appeared to him so evident, so essential, and so superlatively profitable, that he determined to close at once his former re- searches, renouncing from that time all other knowledge, to apply himself wholly to the knowledge of that, which Jesus Christ calls THE ONE THING NEEDFUL." After this period, Religion was evidently his constant study, and his principal employment. But Horace hag truly observed, Naluram ex- peltas furcd licet, usque recur ret. For notwith- standing all the sincerity and strength of this resolution, his passion for the mathematics now and then revived. In 1654, he invented his arithmetical triangle, for the solution of pro- blems respecting the combinations of stakes in unfinished games of hazard, and long after that, as we shall presently have occasion to notice, he wrote his demonstrations of the problems relating to the cycloid, beside several pieces on other subjects in the higher branches of the mathematics, for which his genius was probably most fitted. Many of these produc- tions are lost, and others were not published till LIFE OF PASCAL, 25 after his death. But these are sufficient to evince, that had he continued to devote his mind to this pursuit, and his life and health had been prolonged, he would have left very few names, among mathematicians, of equal celebrity with his own, Pascal's father had not omitted the important subject of religion, in the course of instruction he had given his son. On the contrary he had endeavoured to impress it on his mind from his earliest infancy, by inculcating such maxims concerning religion as he thought most im- portant, and often repeating them that they might make the deeper impression./ One remark in particular he often took occasion to make, namely, that whatever is an object of faith, is not an object of mere reason, much less can it be subject to reason. ] This maxim was fixed with such strength of conviction in the mind of Pascal, that he never appeared in the least shaken by the objections, or the ridicule of the free-thinkers of his time : and it is remark- ed by Bayle, that few persons ever distinguish- ed more clearly than Pascal, between the laws of reason, and those of faith. It must not, however, be forgotten, that Pasoal was a Ca- tholic ; and the reader will perceive, by some passages in this volume, that he was not quite 26 LIFE OF PASCAL. free from the superstitious credulity of the Romish Church. After the period we have just now been speak- ing of, Madame Perier informs us, that the son, in return, became the instructor of the father, who not only heard, with attention and delight, the exhortations of his child, but was sensibly influenced by them; living afterward more exactly and religiously than before, and continuing to do so till his death. While Pascal continued at Rouen, he went to hear the lectures of a man who set up for a teacher of philosophy, and who introduced into his discourses some new opinions, which excited the attention of the curious. From the principles he laid down, he drew conclusions which Pascal discovered to be erroneous, and contrary to the decisions of the Church. One of his deductions was, that the body of Jesus Christ was not formed out of the blood of the Virgin Mary, but from some distinct matter, expressly created for that purpose only. Pascal and several of his friends, therefore, united to denounce this teacher to Mr. Bellay, who then performed the episcopal duties of the diocese of Rouen, by commission from the Archbishop. Mr. Bellay sent for him, and interrogated him on. the subject. But by producing a confession LIFE OF PASCAL. 27 of faith, equivocally expressed as to the point of which he was accused, and signing it before Mr. Bellay, he satisfied the fetter, who dis- missed him, seeming not very well pleased at having been troubled with the interference of two or three young laymen about matters of faith. But when they had read the confession of faith which Mr. Bellay had accepted, they immediately discovered its deficiency, and ap- plied to the Archbishop himself, who treated the affair more seriously, and wrote to his de- puty, directing him to oblige the man explicitly to retract the opinion he had delivered, which, Madame Perier says, he afterward did in the Archbishop's Council, and that with apparent sincerity, as he never manifested any degree of rancour against his accusers. Some readers of this anecdote may possibly smile at what they will call the persecuting spirit of Popery ; but perhaps the zeal of many young converts in Protestant Churches would be found equally light in the balance of the sanctuary. When Pascal had recovered from the com- plaint in his legs, he returned with his father, and his sister Jacqueline, to Paris, where he had the misfortune to lose his father by death, in 1651. His sister Jacqueline took the veil in the Convent of Port Royal in the Fields, in 1653 ; in doing which, she followed both her 1 28 LIFE OF PASCAL. own inclination, and her brother's persuasion. She proved a great ornament to this Convent, of which she was afterward made Under- Prior ess, and died very happily on the 4th of October 1661, aged 36 years. When his sister Jacqueline had entered the Convent, Pascal was left almost alone ; his eldest sister being at Clermont with her husband Mr. Perier, who was Counsellor in the Court of Aids for that province. Perier was a man of considerable ability, strongly attached to Pascal, and assisted him, as has already been intimated, in his experiments on the pressure of air. Pascal now gave himself up so entirely to study, that his health became materially impaired, and great fears were entertained respecting his life. His Physicians found it necessary, therefore, absolutely to forbid his engaging in any thing which required mental application, and to enjoin that he should take exercise, especially in the open air, and that he should go a little into society. With this advice he complied, and is said at length so far to have divested himself of his fondness for retirement, as even to have entertained some intentions of marriage : But a singular occur- rence changed all his projects, and made him again resolve to devote himself entirely for tfre future to religious pursuits. LIFE OF PASCAL: 29 One day, in the month of October 1654, as he was taking his customary ride in a coach and four, and was going over the bridge of Neuilli, the two fore-horses took fright on a part of the bridge where there were no side rails, and plunged into the river. Happily, by the suddenness of the jerk in their descent, the traces were broke between them and the hind- horses, so that the carriage remained behind, lodged on the very edge of the precipice. But although the life of Pascal was thus preserved, the surprise and shock were so great, that he fainted away, and was with difficulty reco- vered. The impression remained so strong upon his mind, that he was long afterward harassed in his sleep with the idea of falling- down a precipice. His health again declined ; and he considered this event as a warning to him to break off every idea of human alliances ; and renewed his resolution to renounce all plea- sure, and all superfluity, and to live for God alone. In this determination he was confirm- ed by the conversation of his sister Jacqueline, for whom he had the tenderest affection, and whom he himself had before persuaded to adopt a life of seclusion from the world. By living for God alone, Pascal undoubtedly meant to live entirely employed in the study of religion, and in the practices of devotion, self denial, and charity: Duties common te> 30 LIFE OF PASCAL. every Christian, in proportion to his oppor- tunities and ability. It is not, however, in the power of every one to pursue these duties, like Pascal, in a state of sequestration from the law- ful and ordinary engagements of civil society. To live to God, is to live in obedience to the will of God. Our relative duties to society are a part of his will concerning us : and the de- votee, who thinks himself at liberty to neglect his business, his family, his neighbour, his king, or his country, under the pretence of living to God, is egregiously mistaken, although far less to be censured than one who suffers earthly considerations and projects to engross the whole of his care, and, under the pretext of duty to mortals like himself, disregards the calls of the Gospel of Salvation, and turns his back on the only source of true wisdom, hap- piness, and blessing. But as Pascal, though not rich, was inde- pendent in his circumstances, and as his pecu- liar talents, his former habits, and the state of his health, all called for retirement, he did well to embrace it. From this time, therefore, he associated only with a few friends of the same religious opinions with himself, and lived, for the most part, in privacy. His regular mode of living gave him some occasional inter- vals of tolerable health, in which he composed the works we have now to notice, and by which LIFE OF PASCAL. 31 he will probably continue to be known to the latest posterity. The first of these was the Provincial Letters, as they have been called, or Letters from a Provincial to one of his Friends, and to the Reverend Fathers the Jesuits. A work which was almost universally read and admired for many years after it was published, and which combined at once the finest wit, the most nervous reasoning, and the most elegant lan- guage of any production that had at that pe- riod ever been published in French. It is a melancholy tfuth, that there are but few examples of nations, calling themselves Christian, whose history is not disgraced by what have been termed religious dissensions. This fact superficial historians and infidel so- phists have endeavoured to turn to the dis- advantage of Christianity. But on a nearer inspection it will be found, that the contro- versies which have been agitated, even on points of the greatest difficulty and import- ance, owe the fury and rancour by which they have been disgraced, not to the genius of our holy religion, but solely to the jarring interests, or personal animosity, of one or both of the parties. When men thirst for dominion, and, above all, when they thirst for revenge, every opposition fires and enrages them, and any 32 LIFE OF PASCAL. thing will serve for a pretext to depreciate, or even to destroy their opponents. Without this explication, it would be truly astonishing to survey the malignity and violence with which some, apparently frivolous, disputes have been carried on; and with which some indivi- duals, feeble and harmless in themselves, have been persecuted and oppressed for trifling er- rors, or, more commonly, for their adherence to truth. The variances at that time subsisting in France, between the Jesuits and Jansenists, are a striking proof of *this observation. As the latter opposed the tenets of the former, the Jesuits felt them to be an hindrance to that monopoly of fame and power to which they themselves aspired, and they were therefore bent upon their destruction. But they cloaked their views under the abhorrence they pretended to feel for the opinions of the Jansenists, and un- der the dispute they maintained with them concerning the action of divine grace on the human mind, and the consistency of predes- tination with the freedom of the will. Problems not solvable by human penetration ; and which, under different titles, have been, in all ages, the torture and the stumbling-block of that vain and fruitless curiosity, by which those who are more intent on prying into that which LIFE OF PASCAL. 33 is secret, than on regarding that which is re- vealed, have involved themselves in inextricable difficulty and error. It would extend this narrative to too great a length, to enter into a minute account of all the particulars in this celebrated dispute. We can only observe, that in general there obtained nearly the same differences, with respect to doctrine, between the Jesuits and Jansenists, as between Arminians and Calvinists in Pro- testant Churches. The Jansenists holding the necessity of the immediate influence of what they termed efficacious /race to the perform- ance of every holy action, while the Jesuits maintained the existence of a general power given to all the faithful, which they called sufficient grace, the actual exercise of which de- pended only on the free-will of the agent. The Jansenists therefore considered efficacious grace as irresistible where it was communicated, but contended it was not always communicated, but was, on the contrary, on particular occa- sions withheld, even from believers themselves ; as in Peter 's denial of Christ. The Jesuits held, that what they called sufficient grace, might be resisted by the agent, so that some- thing else was necessary in order to the accom" plishment of its end. But it is evident, that the Jesuits themselves were divided, even on D 34 LIFE OF PASCAL. these very points, and explained very differently the terms they agreed to employ. In one thing, however, they were perfectly united; and that was in a determination to ruin the Jansenists, who had exposed the dangerous principles both in doctrine and practice, by which the Jesuits had insinuated themselves into power. For after all the pains that have been taken to exculpate the Jesuits, and to set them in a favourable light, it is most clear that their lust of dominion was unbounded, and that, in order to obtain it, they had introduced the most corrupt tenets in* respect to morals, which had at that time ever been published to the world. Tenets under which the greatest con- trarieties of doctrine, and the grossest incon- sistencies of conduct, might find shelter and defence. Pascal himself was a Jansenist ; and the per- sons with whom he now chiefly associated, were the Jansenists of the Monastery of Port- Royal ; who constituted a. Society in which was educated the celebrated Racine, and which has been well known in the literary world by some excellent grammars, and several other works that were published by the Society con- jointly. Arnauld*, whose father had pleaded so forcibly against the first establishment of the Jesuits in France, Nicole, Le Maitre, Saci, and LIFE OF PASCAL. 35 Pasquier, were among them. They were call- ed Jansenists in consequence of their adhe- rence to the Augustimis, a posthumous work of Cornelius Jansen, better known by the name of Jansenius, Bishop of Ypres, which they con- sidered as containing the pure doctrine of the Scripture and the Fathers, on the questions al- luded to. This book the Jesuits laid hold of, and selected five propositions as the substance of its contents, of which they procured the con- demnation, first by the Faculty of Theology at Paris, and afterwards at Rome, by Pope Inno- cent the Tenth. But the Pope, in his sentence on these five propositions, omitted to mention in what part of Jansen's book they were to be found. The fact was, that they were not extracted in the words of Jansen, although they contained nearly his sense. Arnauld therefore published a let- ter in 1655, in which he affirmed, that he could not find the five condemned propositions in Jansen's book ; and then, proceeding to dis- cuss the question respecting efficacious grace, he added, that the fall of St. Peter afforded an example of a just man, who had been, in that instance, left without the assistance of that grace, without which we can do nothing. The former of these assertions was considered as derogating from the infallibility of the holy See, after the sentence which had been pro- D 2 36 LIFE OF PASCAL. nounced , and the latter was said to savour of heresy. Great disturbances arose in the Sor- bonne, of which Arnauld was a member, and his enemies resolved on his expulsion. He com- posed a written defence, solid and well argued, but tedious and dry. It served him in no stead. His adversaries were in power, and they com- pelled the mendicant Doctors, and subordinate Monks, to attend and vote against him at the hearing ; and by these means the two asser- tions were condemned by a plurality of voices, and Arnauld was excluded for ever from the fa- culty of Theology, by a decree of the 30th of January, I6o6. It was during the agitation of this affair re- specting Arnauld, that Pascal, under the ficti- tious name of Louis de Montalte, published the first of the Letters of a Provincial to one of his friends ; in which he ridicules the assem- blies that were held on that occasion, with a poignancy of wit and eloquence of which the French Language had at that time furnished no example. In this letter, and the five follow- ing, the Provincial writes an account to his friend of the visits he has made to various per- sons, both among the Jansenists and the Je- suits, in order to find out the nature of the dispute, and the meaning of the terms that are employed. The absurdity of several of these, LIFE OF PASCAL. 57 the injustice of the proposed censure, the con- formity of Arnauld's sentiments with Scripture and the Fathers, and, above all, the duplicity of the Jesuitical party, or rather parties who united in their enmity against him, are ad- mirably exposed. In the next six letters, he lays open the false morality of the Jesuits, by the recital of an interview with one of their casuists, who teaches him the maxims and opi- nions of their most approved writers, in their own words, which he is represented as hearing with astonishment and surprise. The remarks he is represented to make in the course of the conversation, and his additional observations to his friend, contain a complete developement of their iniquity, with the keenest satire, in lan- guage at once elegant, correct, and intelligible to every capacity. In the last eight letters, six addressed to the Jesuits themselves as a body, and two to the Father Ann at, he replies to the objections which were made to the satirical turn of the former, defends himself from the imputations of unfairness, and of heresy, and treats the sub- ject not only with seriousness, but with the most irresistible force of argument. Voltaire has justly observed, that the finest comedies of Moliere have not more point than the for- mer of the Provincial Letters, nor the best D 3 38 LIFE OF PASCAL. discourses of Bossuet more sublimity than the latter. This courageous and successful exposure of the Jesuits, who were then in the height of their power, rendered them not only odious, but ridiculous. They had always been hated by their enemies, but now they became de- spised and suspected by their friends ; and a foundation was laid for that general contempt and detestation into which they afterward fell, and which a production merely serious, would not have brought about. Ridiculum acri fortius ac melius plerumque secat res. The author of their disgrace, however, con- tinued unknown, and this added to their morti- fication. They could neither cite him before the Pope, nor expel him from the Sorbonne. They wrote, they preached, they raved, they tried to laugh, to threaten, to scorn, but it was all in vain. They had scarcely a man of eminent talents among them at the time when they needed one most. Their declamations scarcely any body heard ; their answers no- body read, while the Provincials were perused with avidity by readers of every class. " This masterpiece of pleasantry and eloquence," says D'Alembert, " diverted and moved the in- dignation of all Europe at their expense. In vain they replied, that the greatest part of the LIFE OF PASCAL. 39 Theologists and Monks had taught, as well as them, the scandalous doctrine they were re- proached with : their answers, ill written, and full of gall, were not read, while every body knew the Provincial Letters by heart. This work is so much the more admirable, as Pascal, in composing it, appears to have theologised two things, which seemed not made for the theology of that time, language and pleasantry. The (French) Language was very far from being formed, as we may judge by the greater part of the works published at that time, and of which it is impossible to endure the reading. In the Provincial Letters there is not a single word that is grown obsolete; and that book, though written above a hundred years ago, seems as if it had been written but yesterday. Another attempt, no less difficult, was to make people of wit and good folks laugh at the questions of sufficient grace and next power, and the decisions of the casuists ; subjects very little favourable to pleasantry, or, which is worse still, susceptible only of pleasantries that are cold and uniform, and capable, at most, of amusing only Priests and Monks. It was ne- cessary, for avoiding this rock, to have a de- licacy of taste so much the greater, as Pascal lived very retired, and far removed from the commerce of the world. He could never have D 4 40 LIFE OF PASCAL. distinguished, but by the superiority and de- licacy of his understanding, the kind of plea- santry which could alone be relished by good judges in this dry and insipid matter. He succeeded in it beyond all expression : several of his bon-mots have even become proverbial in our language; and the Provincial Letters will be ever regarded as a model of taste and style." Account of the Destruction of the Jesuits in France. The encomiums Voltaire has bestowed on this production, coincide with those of his friend D'Alembert. Both of them, however, blame Pascal for not equally ridiculing the doctrines of the Jansenists, whom Voltaire falsely represents as being competitors with the Jesuits for political interest and power. But Voltaire cared nothing for any religious opinions : they were all to him alike unimport- ant, and subjects only for mirth. Jesuitism and Jansenism, Popery and Protestantism, things sacred and things profane, were all taxed to make sport for this prince of buffoons. Voltaire also complains that Pascal has un- justly ascribed to the whole Society of Jesuits, the extravagant and wicked maxims of a few individuals ; and that he has attributed to the Society a design, which Voltaire affirms, no LIFE OF PASCAL. 41 Society ever had, or ever can have ; namely, that of corrupting mankind. But in reply to this, it must be observed, that the extracts Pas- cal has made from the Jesuits, in the Provin- cial Letters, are taken from a great number of their best and most approved writers 5 and particularly from the twenty-four whom they agreed to call, by way of eminence, the four and twenty elders ; and that none of their books were printed without the authority of the supe- riors of their order. To corrupt mankind was not indeed the ultimate object of the Jesuits, but it was the way they adopted, and the only way they could consistently have adopted, to attain their ultimate object ; which was to ac- quire an universal empire of influence over the whole inhabited world : a design that could only be carried into execution by accommodat- ing their principles to all descriptions of men. For a Society, calling themselves religious, to corrupt mankind, it is not necessary they should endeavour to convert men from virtue to vice j it is quite sufficient if they tolerate the vices to which they find them already addicted. And this the Jesuits did purposely did ; and to do it more effectually, they did it under the garb of outward austerity, and sanctimonious strictness ; oppressing the little, and, at the same time, flattering the great : and appropriating to them- 42 LIFE OF PASCAL. themselves,, as far as ever it was in their power, the then important office of confessorship to the rulers of the nations. But although the Provincial Letters obtained a triumph over the Jesuits, in the general opinion of the world, they still had sufficient influence with the Court of Rome, and the civil power in France, to protect themselves from any thing further ; and they had, after- ward, an opportunity of wreaking their ven- geance on the unfortunate Jansenists of Port- Royal, at the nomination of that savage wolf, the Jesuit Le Tellier, to the office of Confessor to Louis XIV. " This violent and inflexible man,'* who at last closed a long life of bigotry, am- bition, and cruelty, by signing the order for the revocation of the Edict of Nantz, the source of so many miseries to the Protestants of France, and ultimately to the nation at large, and who, while his decrepid hand was scratching his name on that fatal pa- per, had the insolence and blasphemy to sing the Nunc dimittis with an air of infernal tri- umph ; " This violent and inflexible man," observes M. D'Alembert, " hated by his very brethren, whom he governed with a rod of iron, made the Jansenists drink, c to the very dregs/ according to his own expression, ' of LIFE OF PASCAL. 43 the cup of the Society's indignation.' Scarce was he in place, but they foresaw the evils of which he would be the cause : and Fontenelle, the philosopher, said, on learning his nomina- tion, The Jansenists have sinned." " The first exploit of this ferocious and fiery Jesuit, was the destruction of Port-Royal, where not one stone was left upon another, and from whence they dug up the very corpses that were interred there. This violence, exe- cuted with the last degree of barbarity, against a house, respectable for the celebrated persons who had inhabited it, and against poor nuns, more worthy of compassion than hatred, excit- ed clamours throughout the whole kingdom; and the Jesuits themselves confessed, on seeing the spectacle of their destruction, that the stones of Port-Royal were falling on their own heads to crush them." Account of the Destruction of the Jesuits in France. So indeed it proved, and Europe has since not only witnessed their expulsion from France, but the final extinction of their order. An event in which all other parties, both infidel and Christian, found occasion to rejoice. The Philosophers triumphed, because the Jesuits (for justice ought to be done to the little good they had among them) had been greatly in th e 3 44 LIFE OF PASCAL. way of their favourite project of distracting, or, as they called it, enlightening mankind, by the abolition of Christianity. The reformed Churches triumphed, for many of them fondly imagined, that when the Jesuits were destroyed, Jesuitism would expire. But alas ! they were mistaken. Its cursed leaven has never ceased to be at work. For Jesuitism, which is only the concealed scheme of a self-created Society, for obtaining universal dominion, had not its root merely in the fanaticism of Loyola, or the duplicity of Escobar; in the artifice of one man, or the influence of another, but in the universal corruption and degeneracy of all men. And hence, in our own days, un- der the more plausible names of Illuminism and Philosophy, it has again revived, and has not only disordered France, but con- vulsed the world : producing vices more gigantic, and barbarities more atrocious, than its fiercest opponents ever ascribed to it before. But it is time to return to Pascal. His con- troversy with the Jesuits was not confined to the Provincial Letters. The general interest they excited was sufficient to make the Jesuits strain every nerve to defend themselves ; while the degree of secular power and political in- fluence this society retained, made it necessary, LIFE OF PASCAL. 45 on the other hand, that their replies should be noticed, and that the equivocations by which they endeavoured to exculpate themselves, should be sifted to the bottom. This was done in some masterly papers which were addressed to the Curates of Paris and Rouen, and which were called Factums. In the composition of these, Pascal is said to have taken a principal part. The Practical Morals of the Jesuits, published afterward by Arnauld, gave the fi- nishing stroke to this important contest, and stamped on the society that indelible, but well merited odium, which prepared from afar its destruction. This dispute occupied Pascal upwards of two years, and greatly interrupted him in the pro- secution of a design he had long entertained, to compose a defence of the Christian Religion against the objections of Infidels; and which his declining health rendered him afterward unable to execute. The work, again presented to the public in this volume, contains the greater part of what he had written with a view to that performance : and though it consists only of detached thoughts which he had left on loose papers, it has justly obtained a high esteem in the religious world, and is the pro- duction by which Pascal is now most generally known. 46 LIFE OF PASCAL. His Sister, Madame Perier, informs us, that he first commenced the actual composition of his intended work, from the impression made on his mind by a miracle which she says was performed on her daughter, who was thought to have been suddenly cured of a Fistula La- chrymalis, (a disease in a passage which con- veys the tears from the inner angle of the eye to the nose,) by having it touched with a thorn preserved in the Convent of Port-Royal, and which was believed to be one of the identical thorns with which our Saviour was crowned before his crucifixion. Madame Perier has given a formal account of the state of her daughter's complaint, in order to magnify the miracle, but which in fact only shows the mildness of the disease, and that it was then under circumstances in which a natural and rapid amendment was very likely to happen. It is very probable, therefore, that the young lady might grow better from the period this thorn was applied, but there appears no reason whatever for considering the event as miracu- lous. A miracle is an extraordinary and super- natural exertion of Omnipotence, producing effects beyond the powers, or contrary to the laws, of the established order of things in the world ; and it is derogatory to the wisdom of God to admit the performance of such an act, LIFE OF PASCAL. 47 for any local, or trivial purpose. We have, therefore., no instance in Scripture of any mi- racle being performed, but such as was to an- swer a public and important end, by openly evincing the Divine Superintenclance in the world, and confirm ing the authority of divine revelation. No such purpose was, or could be answered by a miracle in the instance in ques- tion. The relief of an individual, or of a body of people, may be brought about at a time, or in a manner, totally unexpected; so as to prove both the providential favour and protection of God, and the ignorance and short-sightedness of men, without that depar- ture from the established laws and operations of nature, to which alone the term MIRACLE should be appropriated. The amendment of Miss Perier, at this time, was however parti- cularly fortunate, in three respects. First, for the poor girl herself, who thus narrowly escaped the barbarous and absurd treatment used by the Surgeons of that time in her com- plaint, and which was just going to be prac- tised on her; Secondly, for the public, as it gave occasion to Pascal to commit so many excellent ideas to writing ; and, Thirdly, it was above all fortunate for the Convent of Port- Royal, to which this supposed miracle gave a degree of credit and celebrity among 48 LIFE OF PASCAL. the vulgar, which probably saved it, for that time, from the destruction the Jesuits had me- ditated. Indeed the Jesuits were under the ne- cessity of trying to work miracles too, in order to show themselves equal to the Jansenits ; they accordingly affirmed they had cured a poor girl of a swelled leg. But unluckily, as Voltaire has observed, this poor girl had not Pascal for her uncle. This miracle, therefore, gained but little credit, and the Jesuits were obliged to submit to the mortification of seeing themselves outmiracled by the Jansenists ; at least in the opinion of the mob, who are in- dispensable workmen in the vengeance of a faction. But Pascal's bodily infirmities now increased ; and, as his strength declined, he became more reserved in his intercourse with others, and feeling increasing impressions of the vanity of life, and the obligation of Christians to bene- volence, he carried his self-denial to an un- usual degree of austerity, which will be viewed with different sentiments by different persons. If, however, in some particulars, he carried his privations too far, it was from no other motive, but his believing it to be right ; and he himself was the only sufferer from it. He made him- self poor, that he might administer comfort to others, and the relief of the distressed seems LIFE OF PASCAL. 4g to have been his principal occupation for the last four years of his life : A period, with re- gard to himself, of little else but sorrow and pain. The first augmentation of his maladies arose from a violent pain in his teeth, which often deprived him of sleep. During one of his watchful nights, a train of ideas arose in his mind respecting the properties of the Cycloid., and, urging upon him, revived for a short pe- riod, his mathematical talents in all their vi- gour. He became insensibly so engaged in the meditation, that at length he arrived at the demonstration of some problems relative to this curve, his solutions of which are universally allowed to be among the greatest efforts of hu- man understanding. Though Pascal was for the time enchanted with the beauty of these demonstrations, he intended to bury them in oblivion ; but acci- dentally mentioning them shortly after in con- versation with his friend the Duke of Roannez, the Duke entreated him to commit them to writing ; thinking the solution of problems so difficult, by a person of such high charactf r for piety and theological acumen as Pascal was now well known to possess, would tend to vindicate the honour of religion, by clearly demonstrating to the world at large the folly 50 LIFE OF PASCAL. of those infidel philosophers, who had been stupid and insolent enough, to assert, that Christianity destroys the vigour of the intel- lect, and unfits men for the advancement of Science. In order to set the merit of his friend in the most conspicuous light, the Duke proposed that the attention of the learned should be again drawn to the Cycloid, (the investigation of which had been for some time suspended,) by making the problems Pascal had solved the subject of a prize question, to which the ma- thematicians of Europe should be invited to send answers within a limited time. Pascal at length acceded to the proposal ; for he felt an honest consciousness that he had not closed the volume of nature to open that of faith, either from any abatement in the strength of his mind, or from any cynical or superstitious con- tempt of those phenomena in the order of things, which are themselves the result of divine arrange- ment. Two prizes were accordingly proposed for the solution of two problems. Forty pistoles for the first, and twenty for the second. The enunciation, of these problems was written by Pascal, under the a.ssumed name of Amos Det- tonville^ whimsical anagram of Louis dc Montalte, the name under which he had pub- LIFE OF PASCAL. 51 lished the Provincial Letters. The decision Was vested in a committee, among whom was the celebrated Carcavi, to whom the answers were to be addressed, and in whose hands the premiums were deposited. The questions were in part answered by Sluze, a Canon of the Cathedral of Liege, by Huy~ gens, and by Sir Christopher Wren; but nei- ther of these geometricians pretended to the prize, which was contested only by two per- sons, Lallouere, a Jesuit of Toulouse ; and Wallis, the English mathematician. Neither of them however resolved the problems com- pletely, within the time that was allotted. Lal- louere committed an error in his calculations, and the method of Wallis was found incor- rect, and leading to false consequences. The persons therefore who were appointed to de- cide on the papers presented, did not think themselves entitled to adjudge the prizes to either. It has been insinuated by Voltaire, that the prizes were withheld from sinister motives. That it was refused to Lallouere, because he was a Jesuit ; and to Wallis, because he was an heretic. But this insinuation is as worthy of Voltaire, as the imputation it implies was unworthy of Pascal. The most celebrated Geometricians in Paris were the judges in the E 2 5 LIFE OF PASCAL. case, and it is not to be supposed they would have tarnished their characters by such a dis- honourable fraud. It is true, that both Lallouere and Wallis complained; because they both considered themselves as entitled to the prize, ancl thought they had answered the questions sufficiently, notwithstanding their mistakes. It is not to be denied that their performances had great merit ; but being in some respects erroneous, it must be clear that the prizes could not be properly awarded them ; especially as the demonstrations of Pascal were free from those errors, and were now ready to be pub- lished ; which they accordingly were in the be- ginning of the year 1659. With this publication on the Cycloid, a final termination was put to the mathematical labours of Pascal. The few intervals of ease he en- joyed during the three remaining years of his life, were employed in collecting materials for the work he had projected on the evidences of Christianity ; the greater part of which, how- ever, the unabated powers of a most accurate and retentive memory prevented him from com- mitting to writing. It is probable, his own sufferings were augmented by his sympathy for the monastics of Port-Royal, who continued to be persecuted by the Jesuits with the most unrelenting hatred. With deep regret he saw LIFE OF PASCAL. 53 them compelled, or rather, saw them at last consent, to sign a formulary in which the five propositions of Jan sen were condemned, in order to preserve their establishment from the destruction which menaced it. Even the nuns were forced to put their names to this paper. Pascal contended they ought, at whatever risk, to refuse to sign it. " You are trying," said he, " to save Port-Royal, but you will " not save it, and you are in the mean time " betraying the truth." The fulfilment of this prediction has already been noticed ; and may serve, among many other examples, to show the folly of making concessions at the expense of truth, under the pretence of keeping amity and concord. Improper concessions strengthen our enemies, and at the same time weaken our friends ; for who will care to fight in defence of a city, when its inhabitants throw down the wall ? The uneasiness Pascal felt on this oc- casion was felt equally by his sister Jacqueline, who fell ill in consequence of the distress in which she so largely participated, and died in a very pious frame of mind, as has already been observed, on the 4th of October, I66i. Pascal loved her tenderly, and, in spite of the total indifference to all worldly objects to which he had endeavoured to reduce hirr self, he said, with a deep sigh, when he heard 54 LIFE OF PASCAL. the account of her departure, " God grant us " grace to die like her." Pascal's entire and undisguised disapproba- tion of the temporising conduct adopted by his friends in the Port-Royal, produced at length some coolness betwixt them. Of this, for it was not attempted to be concealed, the Jesuits took advantage, and circulated a report, after his death, that he had retracted his former opinions. This lie gained the more credit, on account of M. Beurier, the ecclesiastic who visited Pascal in his last illness, having men- tioned, in a letter to the Archbishop of Paris, who was an avowed disciple of Molina, that Pascal had told him he separated from the monastics of Port- Royal, " on account of the " formulary." But Beurier afterward cleared up the misrepresentation to which this ex- pression had given some currency, and ac- knowledged that Pascal died as complete a Jansenist as he had ever been during his life. His difference with his friends arose, not on account of their hesitation to sign the for- mulary, as the Jesuists falsely represented; but from his total disapprobation of the formulary itself, and of their conduct in receiving it at all. What may be called the last illness of this truly great man, began in June 1662, by a LIFE OF PASCAL. 55 violent, and almost continual pain in his bowels. His Physicians did not consider the attack as dangerous, on account of the total absence of fever. But he was himself of a dif- ferent opinion, and said, from the first, he was sure they were mistaken, and that he should certainly die of the disease. He was frequently confessed, and was extremely desirous that the sacrament should be administered to him. This however was put off from time to time, at the express desire of his physicians, who constantly assured him that he soon would be well enough to receive it in public. Nevertheless his suf- ferings daily increased ; violent pains in the head also came on, which 'sometimes deprived him of his recollection. His resignation to the will of God was uniform and constant ; so that he was never known to utter the least complaint, or to discover any mark of impatience. On the seventeenth of August his pains be- came so violent, that he desired his sister to call a consultation of Physicians : but he ex- pressed his wish for this with some degree of scruple, and said he thought it was showing too much anxiety about life. His sister how- ever did not give him time to recal the request, and the Physicians accordingly met. They agreed in opinion that the symptoms were not dangerous, and directed the treatment they E4 56 LIFE OF PASCAL. thought proper. But he was himself so strongly persuaded that his end was approaching, that he desired an ecclesiastic might stop with him through the night. His sister also, perceiving him materially to alter for the worse, deter- mined he should be gratified by the reception of the sacrament, and ordered every prepara- tion to be made that it might be administered to him the next morning. At midnight he was attacked with a violent convulsion fit, which left him, when it went off, so completely ex^ hausted, that his friends supposed he was dead. But he recovered his senses after a while, and Mr. Beurier the Curate coming in with the Sa^ crament, and saying, " Here is what you have wished for so long," aroused him, so that he be* came perfectly collected, and raised himself up in the bed, though with some difficulty, that he might receive it. The Curate asked him the customary questions respecting the principal articles of faith, to each of which he answered distinctly, " Yes, Sir, I believe it with all my heart." He then received both the Sacrament and Extreme Unction with great devotion, and was so much affected as to burst into tears. When the benediction was pronounced, he re- plied, " May God never forsake me." These were the last words he was heard to speak, except uttering a short thanksgiving, after which LIFE OF PASCAL. 57 he was again seized with convulsions, which never afterward quitted him ; nor had he any further interval of sensibility; but after con- tinuing in this state for twenty-four hours, he breathed his last at one o'clock in the morning, on the 19th of August, 1662, aged thirty-nine years and three months. His body was opened after his death. The liver and stomach were found greatly diseased, and his intestines were in a state of mortifica- tion. He was buried in the Parish Church of Saint Etienne du Mont, and on the stone, which was laid over his grave, was inscribed the following Epitaph, written by Aimonius Proust de Cham- bourg, Professor of Law in the University of Orleans. Nobilissimi Scutarii Blasii Pascalis Tumulus. D. O. M. PLASIUS PASCALIS SCUTARIUS NOBI- LIS HICJACET. Pietas si non moritur, sternum vivet Vir conjugii nescius, Religwne sanctus 9 Viriute clarus, Doctrind Celebris, Ingenio acutus> OF PASCAL. Sanguine et animo pariter illustris $ Doctus, non Doctor^ JEquitatis amator y Veritatis defensor^ Virginum ultor, Christiana Moralis Corruptorum acerrimus hostis* Hunc Rhetores amant facundum, Hunc Scriptores ndrunt clegantem, Hunc Mathematid stupentprofundum, Hunc Philosophi qitcerunt Sapientcm^ Hunc Doctores laudant Theologum, Hunc Pii veneranlur austerum. Hunc omnes mirantur, omnibus ignotum^ Omnibus licet not urn. Quid plura, Viator, quern perdidimus PASCALEM, Is LUDOVICUS erat MONTALTIUS. Heu ! \ Satis dixiy urgent lachrymte, Sileo. Ei qui benl precaberis, beiib tibi eveniat, Et vivo et mortuo. Vixit. An. 39. m. 2. Obiit an. rep. Sal. 1662. 14 Kal. Sept. LIFE OF PASCAL, Y ! <1>EY ! IIEN00S OEON I Cecidit Pascalis. Heu ! Heu ! qualis Indus ! Posuit A. P. D. C. moerens Aurelian. Canonista The Stone on which this Epitaph was in- scribed being laid flat over the grave, which was in one of the aisles of the Church, the epitaph after a time became effaced. M. Perier therefore, Pascal's brother-in-law, had the fol- lowing inscription engraved on a slab, and af- fixed to an adjoining pillar in the aisle. Pro columna superiorly Sub tumulo marmoreo, Jacet BLASIUS PASCAL, Claromontanus, Stephani Pascal in Supremd apud Arvernos Subsidiorum Curia Prtfsidis flius, post aliquot annos in se- veriori secessu et divinae legis meditatione transac- tos, feliciter et religiosZ in pace Christi vita func- lus anno 1662, 4 LIFE OF PASCAL. tion that has a tendency to extinguish that, verty of spirit and contempt of the world the gospel requires. Choose the artifice are poor and honest, without curiously h after that sort of excellency which is useful nor necessary. O that my whole were penetrated with those sentiments o po- verty which my understanding dictates. firmly persuaded that poverty is a mean of promoting our salvation." But Pascal did not assume the of poverty in order to accumulate rich were his restraints imposed on himself i to afford him a pretext for withholding from others. " I love poverty/' said he, cc \ cause Jesus Christ loved it; and I love pro- perty, because it affords me the means of re- lieving the distressed. " His income however was small, and his ill-health sometimes occa- sioned it to be barely equal to his expenses. At such times he has borrowed of others, to prevent the poor from being disappointed. And when his friends blamed him for this, he used to reply, that he had always observed, if a man was ever so poor, he still left some property behind him when he died. It is to be recol- lected, however, that Pascal was a single man, and that his income, though small, was inde- pendent. He scorned the thought of defrauding LIFE OF PASCAL. 65 any man ; and though, by his will, a great part of his property was bequeathed to the neces- sitous, he paid a proper regard to the just ex- pectations of his sister and her children. " His charity toward the poor had always been remarkable/' says Madame Perier, " but it was so much increased toward the close of his life, that I could not please him so much by any thing as by talking to him about them. In the last four years, he exhorted me earnestly to devote myself to their service, and to em- ploy my children in it likewise. When I re- plied, that I thought it would lead me from proper attention to my family, he would say, I only naade that objection from want of inclina- tion ; that there were different degrees of this virtue, and that it might be so practised as not to injure our domestic concerns ; that the practice of it was the general duty of all Chris- tians, and that no particular mark was wanted to make us know whether we were called to it or not, since it is that by which Jesus Christ has declared he will judge the world. He used also to remark, that visiting the poor was of the greatest utility, by giving us continual oppor- tunities of seeing the distresses they endure; and that when we witnessed how often, even under the pressure of disease, they were in want of the most necessary things, we must be verv F 66 LIFE OF PASCAL. hard-hearted not to be willing to deprive our- selves of what is useless and superfluous, in or- der to relieve them. " This sort of conversation used sometimes to lead us to consider of adopting some general plan for the supply of the necessitous of every description. But this he did hot approve; and would say that we are not called to this duty in a general, but in a particular manner ; and that, in his opinion, the manner of serving the poor, which was most acceptable to God, was to serve them individually, as we could ; each one ac- cording to his own ability, and according to their peculiar circumstances, without forming great schemes, which he thought had too much in them of that parade which he always con- demned. Not that he objected to the estab- lishment of general hospitals. On the contrary, he had a great regard for them, as he evidenced by his will. But he said such great enterprises were fit only for certain persons of talents and fortune, whom God raised up for that purpose, and led on to it, as it were, visibly. But that this was not the general duty of every one, like the constant assistance of the poor indivi dually. 71 One particular instance of his benevolence deserves to be inserted in this place. About three months before his death, as he was return- LIFE OF PASCAL. 6? ing from mass, a beautiful girl, about fifteen years of age, came to him to beg alms, plead- ing, that her father was dead, that her mother and herself had just come up, in want, from the country to Paris ; that her mother had that morning been taken ill, arid was carried to the Hotel-Dieu. He was strongly impressed with the danger of prostitution to which the poverty and beauty of the poor girl exposed her, and he therefore immediately bade her follow him, and conducted her to a neighbouring seminary, where he gave charge of her to a respectable ecclesiastic, giving him at the same time some money, and desiring that he would see her placed where she might have such instruction as would fit her for a place of decent servitude. He afterwards sent a woman to purchase suit- able clothing for her ; but gave her a strict charge not to mention his name to the eccle- siastic, and to take no notice of the affair to any one : nor did she, till after his death. Hts notions respecting the common manifes- tations of affection and endearment between re- latives, appear to have been carried to an ex- treme. He sometimes even censured Madame Perier for her kind attentions to himself: And she says she used to complain of this to her sis- ter Jacqueline, thinking it was a mark of want of regard for her. But her sister assured her she ()8 LIFE OF PASCAL. was mistaken in ascribing it to such a cause ; and she adds, that he afterward fully proved this on an occasion, when she stood in need of his assistance, which he gave her with such earnest- ness, and such evident marks of tender affection, that it was impossible for her to doubt it any longer. His prevailing idea was, that the heart is only for God, and that to devote it in any degree to creatures, is to deprive him of that right of which he is most jealous. Hence he often blamed his sister for her fond caresses of her children, and endeavoured himself con- stantly to cultivate a manifest indifference to- ward his nearest friends and relations, which it may be more safe to applaud in him, than to recommend to the imitation of others. He was remarkably, and more justly, scru- pulous with regard to common conversation, in which levity and jesting were particularly disgusting to his mind, and the least indelicate allusion highly offended him. He often ex- pressed thankfulness to God, that his bad state of health, and the consequent necessity of liv- ing comparatively retired, had so much con- tributed to preserve him from the temptations of youth ; and from those vain amusements and pleasures to which health and intercourse with the world would have continually exposed him, and which are so inimical to that commu- LIFE OF PASCAL. 69 nion with God, which ought to be the grand object of a Christian's pursuit. Pascal has been accused of vanity ; and it appears that he himself thought this his princi- pal snare. In order to check the emotions of a passion to which he felt himself subject, he wore round his body a cincture of iron, set with sharp points, which he used to strike with his elbow or hand when he was conscious of those feelings of pride which he so strongly con- demned. Whatever may be thought of this, and of other austerities which he practised on himself, when those just views of human depravity, and of the vanity of life are considered, which a man possessed of Pascal's penetration and piety must naturally entertain in a state of declining health, and under the prejudices of a Roman Catholic education, they will at least claim our indul- gence, if not our commendation. Perhaps even, many who feel disposed to ridicule or to blame them would do well to consider, whether if the sentiments which the gospel inspires and incul- cates on these important points were more pre- dominant in their minds, it would not at least abate their own thirst for worldly grandeur, and damp their ardour for sensual gratifica- tions. A contrite papist, whom superstitious prejudice has wounded with an aculeated gir- 70 LIFE OF PASCAL. die, or encumbered with a ponderous fetter, though laughed at and derided by the world, may be more acceptable in the sight of the Dis- cerner of hearts, than the wild reformer who treats him with disdain, and makes his own li- berty the cloak for his folly. It must also be observed, that Pascal did not imagine his religion was to consist merely in outward observances ; nor did he ascribe to his own virtue or merit, the changes he had experienced in his disposition. Far from it. On a paper found after his death was the fol- lowing memorandum. " I preserve my fide- lity toward all men. I do not render evil to those who injure me ; but I wish them a condi- tion like my own, in which one receives nei- ther good nor evil from the greater part of mankind. I endeavour to be always upright, sincere, and faithful to all with whom I have to do. I feel a tenderness of heart for those to whom God has more closely united me; and whether I am alone, or in the sight of others, in all my actions I have an eye to God who is to judge them, and to whom I have devoted them. Such are my present feelings; and every day of my life I bless my Redeemer who has produced them in me, and who of a man full of weakness, misery, concupiscence, pride and am- bition, has made a man exempt from the domi- LIFE OF PASCAL. 71 nion of these evils by the power of his grace, to which alone it is due, having nothing in my- self but misery and horror." With all these sentiments it cannot appear snprising that Pascal should be exact in the observance both of public and private devotion. That part of The Sacred Office which is called Les Petites Heures, and which chiefly consists of the sections of the 11 9th Psalm, was his con- stant manual. As he was a Catholic, he must be expected to have written and act- ed like a Catholic. He paid great respect to the relics preserved by the Romish Church; and his reason for so doing may be collected from the observation in page 339 of this vo- lume. Another discriminating feature in his charac- ter must not be forgotten : namely his loyalty to the King. Pascal was no anarchist. He had too much sense to pluck the jewels out of a monarch's crown, and scatter them among a mob ; nor would he ever have helped to de- throne his lawful Sovereign, in order to set up a traitor. During some insurrections which occurred while he resided in Paris, he took a distinguished part in opposition to the faction with which they originated ; and said, that sooner than join with persons who promoted re- bellion, he would go but as a common assassin, F4 ^2 LIFE OF PASCAL. or a robber on the highway. He saw through the cobweb pretexts under which the disaffected and the disappointed cloak their endeavours to overturn an established order of things ; and tho- roughly understood all the pick-lock machi- nery with which they go to work. A remark found on one of his papers, and which is in- serted in the last paragragh of page 242, dis- closes one of the grand secrets of the revolution manufactory. But while Pascal was irreconcileable to re- bels against his King, he indulged no resent- ment against injuries to himself. And though Voltaire has accused him of malignity in his attack on the Jesuits, none who understand that attack can think his censures too severe, or the occasion too trivial on which they were published. The Provincial Letters were a de- fence of Christianity against its pretended friends ; and the work he intended to have com- posed, if his life had been spared, would have been a defence of it against its open, but perhaps less dangerous enemies. Of this work he once gave an outline in con- versation with his friends, who requested he would tell them his plan. He detailed it without any preparation in an extempore discourse, which lasted between two and three hours, charming them with the connected series of argument it 3 LIFE OF PASCAL. 73 contained, and the eloquence and animation with which it was delivered. That he did not live to complete his design, has been often esteemed a matter of regret, and indeed in some respects it may justly so be con- sidered. But in our regret on this head, we can only lament our own disappointment. The cause he meant to defend, remains on a firm and immoveable rock, against which the gates of hell shall never prevail. A small part only of his materials for this work was committed to writing; and that on loose papers, the contents of which, after his death, were arranged and copied by his execu- tors, who published them, with some other de- tached pieces that he had left, under the title of The Thoughts of Mr. Pascal on Religion., and various other Subjects. This publication met with general acceptance among the religious world ; and has received, as it deserved, the highest encomiums. Per- haps no human composition, however, is en- titled to unqualified praise. We are not there- fore to expect that The Thoughts of Pascal will be found in every particular correct and unex- ceptionable. But as they were not finished by himself for the press, and as some of them were probably never intended for publication, they are scarcely fair objects for the rigour of criti- 74 LIFE OF PASCAL. cism, especially as far as relates to composition and style. Nevertheless, notwithstanding ail their defects, the general excellence, beauty, and originality with which they abound, will always make them interesting to a sober and judicious reader. It was for this very reason that Voltaire thought he should hardly do enough to undermine the influence of Christianity in the world, if he suffered so popular a book as The Thoughts of Pascal to be circulated only in their original state. He therefore undertook to corrupt them in a way, which exhibits one of the most singular specimens of literary artifice that has ever been imposed upon the world. The artifice alluded to was that of publishing an edition of the Thoughts of Pascal, with Notes by Voltaire himself. In this edition he differently arranged, or rather disarranged the Thoughts themselves, so as to destroy much of their beauty and force. Some new passages were inserted, taken from manuscripts of Pascal to which he had access; and in the introduc- tion of which he has taken care to blend some abominable things of his own invention, for the purpose of making Pascal appear as great an hypocrite as himself. Added to this, he has also introduced into the body of the work, and under the running title of " Pascal's Thoughts/' LIFE OF PASCAL. 75 a discourse intended to bring the immortality of the soul into question. The Phraseology of many of Pascal's Thoughts is also changed ; and the notes are added here and there, in or- der to make some passages appear laughable, others weak, and others absurd. Nothing can be more clear than that Voltaire's design in this publication was of the most abandoned kind ; and that it was sent abroad on purpose to disse- minate his own pernicious and abominable senti- ments, with the greater success, among the read- ers of Pascal, who would not have been so likely to see them in any other way ; and in order at the same time to weaken the energy of Pascal's observations, by exhibiting them in an uncon- nected and mutilated form. He has also attacked them in other of his writings. Where he has expressed himself most seriously on the subject, he says, " It is my opinion, that Mr. Pascal's design, in general, was to exhibit mankind in an odious li^ht. o He strenuously endeavours to represent us all as wicked and unhappy. He writes against human nature in pretty near the same manner as he wrote against the Jesuits. I shall take the part of human nature against this sublime ! misanthropist. Had he prosecuted the work, the plan of which appears in his Thoughts, he would have written a work full of eloquent 76 LIFE OF PASCAL. , false reasonings, and falsities admirably well deduced.'* He then adds, " I am even of opi- nion, that all the books which have been lately written to prove the Christian Religion, will be so many stumbling-blocks, instead of edifying their readers. Do these authors pretend to know more of these things than Christ and his Apostles ? This is like surrounding an oak with reeds in order to support it. We may root up these reeds without prejudicing the oak." This passage discovers the cloven foot of its author, whose only object in rooting up the reeds was to prejudice the oak. A work in de- fence of Christianity, consisting of sententious observations, at once forcible in argument, and popular in style, like the Thoughts of Pascal, was perhaps more directly calculated to serve as an antidote to the writings of Voltaire, than any that could have been published expressly against them. For Voltaire's perpetual endea- vour was to assail Christianity, not with any regular system of argument, for of that he was incapable, but by short jokes, and low ridicule, which might make it an object first of sport, and afterward of contempt. The step therefore which he took to discredit the Thoughts of Pacal, is equally a mark of his own malice against the truth, and of the merit of a work, the good effect LIFE OF PASCAL. 77 of which he thought it necessary to counteract by such insidious means. It is scarcely worth while to detain the rea- der any longer by making quotations from Vol- taire's notes, of the obervations in which., those few which are just are obvious, and those that are unjust are useless. To repeat them would only be to give them greater currency. They have been more than sufficiently answer- ed by the Abbe Gauchat, and several other writers. The Thoughts of Pascal have been already translated into most, if not all the European languages. Among the rest they were trans- lated into English, first by Mr. Walker, and af- ward by Dr. Kennett. Both these translations are now out of print, and the work being still much inquired after, it has been thought neces- sary to republish it. But neither Mr. Walker's nor Dr. Kennett's Translation is presented to the public in this vo- lume. For the former, though very literal, is de- fective and obscure ; and the latter, though more polished, is too diffuse, and not sufficiently close to the original. Indeed it may with truth be ob- served, that tnere is not a single page of Dr. Kennett's Translation, in which the genuine language and style of Pascal can be found. The style of Pascal is close and aphoristic, but 78 LIFE OF PASCAL. yet animated and striking : Dr. Kennett's translation is turgid, pompous, and full of bom- bast. To give only one specimen At the close of Section XXI. Pascal says, " What a Chimsera then is man ! What a novelty ! What a Chaos ! What a subject of contradiction ! A judge of every thing, and yet a feeble worm of the earth ! The depositary of truth ; and yet a mere heap of uncertainty ! The glory and the outcast of the universe ! If he boasts, I humble him. If he humbles himself, 1 boast of him; and always contradict him, till he is brought to comprehend that he is an incomprehensible monster.'* This passage Dr. Kennett amplifies into the following paragraph. " What a chi- masra then is man ! What a surprising novelty ! What a confused Chaos ! What a subject of contradiction ! A professed Judge of all things, and yet a feeble worm of the earth ! The great depositary and guardian of truth, and yet a mere huddle of uncertainty. The glory and the scandal of the universe ! If he is too aspiring and lofty, zue can lower and humble him ; if too mean and little, we can raise and swell him. To conclude, we can bait him with repugnancies and contradictions, till at last he apprehends him- self to be a monster even beyond apprehension" Circumlocutions equally absurd in themselves, and equally distant from the original, may be found in almost every page. 1IFE OF PASCAL. 79 A new translation has therefore been thought necessary, and is now submitted to the judg- ment of the public. To communicate the sen- timents of Pascal in his own style, has been the principal object for which it was undertaken : How far this object has been attained, it does not become the translator to determine : Fie can only say, that those who are able are wel- come to do better, for envy of this kind he has none. March I, 1803. THOUGHTS ON RELIGION, AttD OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS. I. ON THE INDIFFERENCE OF ATHEISTS. XT were to be wished, that the enemies of Religion would at least learn what it is, before they oppose it. Did Religion make its boast of having a clear and perfect view of GOD, and of beholding him without covering or veil, it might be justly objected, that we see nothing in this world that makes him known with that kind of evidence. But since Religion, on the contrary, declares men to be in a state of dark- ness, and of estrangement from GOD; since it affirms him to have withdrawn himself from their discovery, and to have chosen, in his word, the G 82 INDIFFERENCE the appellation of a God that hideth himself; and lastly, since it is equally employed in establish-* ing these two maxims, that GOD has left, in his Church, certain characters of himself, by which lie will make himself known to those who sin- cerely seek him; and yet that he has, at the same time, so far shaded and obscured these character?, as to render them imperceptible to those who do not seek him with their whole heart, what advantage is it to men who profess themselves negligent in the search of Truth, to complain so frequently, that nothing reveals and displays it to them ? For this very obscurity un- der which, they labour, and which they object against the Church, does itself evince one of the two grand paints which the Church maintains, without affecting the other, and is so far from overthrowing its doctrines, that it manifestly con- firms and supports them. In order to give any weight to their objec- tions, they ought to urge, that they have ex- erted their utmost endeavours, and have used all the means of information which the Church recommends, without obtaining satisfaction. If they could say this, they would indeed attack Religion in one of its pretensions : but I hope to show, in the following papers, that no rea- sonable person can speak after this manner; and I dare assert, that none ever did. We know very well, how men act under this indifference OF ATHEISTS. 83 of temper: they suppose themselves to have made mighty efforts toward the instruction of their minds, when they have spent some hours in reading the Scriptures, and have asked some questions of a clergyman concerning the Articles of Faith. When this is done, they declare to all the world, that they have consulted books and men without success. But I cannot refrain from telling such men, (what I have often told them*) that their negligence is insufferable. It is not a foreign or a petty interest which is in dispute: ourselves, and our all are at stake. The immortality of the soul is a thing which so deeply, so infinitely concerns us, that we must y have utterly lost all feeling, to be cold and in- different about it. All our actions and thoughts must take so very different a course, according as eternal blessings may, or may not be ex- pected, that it is impossible for us to proceed with judgment and discretion, except we keep this point, which ought ever to be our ultimate object, continually in view. Thus our highest interest, and our principal duty, is to get light into a subject on which our whole conduct depends. And, therefore, in the number of wavering and unsatisfied men, I make the greatest difference imaginable between those who do their utmost to obtain instruction, and 84 INDIFFERENCE those who live without ever thinking or troubling; themselves about it. I cannot but feel compassion for those whe sincerely grieve at being in this doubtful state of mind; who look upon it as the greatest of mis- fortunes, and who spare no pains to be delivered from it, by making these researches their chief and most serious employ. But as for those who pass away their life without reflecting on its iinal issue, and who, merely because they do not find in themselves sufficient evidence to convince them, neglect to seek it elsewhere, and to ex- amine to the bottom, whether the opinions pro- posed be such as men are wont to entertain through credulous simplicity, or such as, though obscure in themselves^ are yet built on solid and immoveable foundations, I consider them in a very different light. This carelessness about an affair in which themselves, their eternity, their all, is concerned, rather provokes my resentment than engages my pity. Nay, it strikes me with wonder and astonishment; it is a monster to my apprehension. I speak not this from the pious zeal of a rapturous devotion: on the contrary, I affirm, that the love of ourselves, the interest of mankind, and the most simple glimmerings of reason, do naturally inspire us with these senti- ments; and that to know this, we need only see What persons of the meanest capacities under- stand, OF ATHEISTS. 85 It requires no great superiority of mind to discover, that nothing in this world is productive of true and solid satisfaction; that all our plea- sures are merely vanity, that our troubles are innumerable, and that, after all, death, which threatens us every moment, must, in a few years, perhaps in a few days, put us into an eternal state of Happiness, or Misery, or Annihilation. Between us and Heaven, or Hell, or Annihila- tion, there is nothing interposed but life, the most brittle thing in all the world; now as the happiness of heaven is certainly not designed for those who doubt whether their souls be im- mortal, such persons have nothing to expect but the miserable chance of annihilation, or hell. Nothing can be more true, and nothing more terrible than this. Let us brave it as we will, in this must end the most splendid life that is spent upon earth. It is in vain for men to turn aside their thoughts from this eternity which awaits them, as if they were able to destroy it by neglecting to think of it: it subsists in spite of them, it is hastening on, and death, which is to draw the curtain from it, will, in a short time, infallibly reduce them to the dreadful necessity of being for ever annihilated, or for ever miserable. We have here a doubt of the most awful con- sequence, and to be the subject of it is indispu- G 3 86 INDIFFERENCE tably a most serious misfortune : but, at the same time, it is an indispensable duty not to remain under it, without inquiring diligently to be deli- vered from it, He, then, who doubts, and yet seeks not to be resolved, is equally unhappy and unjust: but if withal he is easy and contented, if he freely avows his indifference, and, above all, if he takes a pride in professing it, and makes this most de- plorable condition the subject of his vanity and pleasure, I have not words to fix a name on so extravagant a creature. Whence can a man derive such sentiments? What pleasure can there be in expecting nothing but misery without resource ? What cause is there for vanity in finding one's self in impene- trable darkness ? Or what consolation in despair- ing for ever of a comforter ? To be at ease in such ignorance, is a thing so monstrous, that they who live in it ought to. be aroused to a sense of its stupidity and extra- vagance, by having their inward reflections laid open before them, that they may be confounded at the prospect of their own folly. For thus it is that men reason, who thus obstinately remain ignorant of what they are, without seeking for information : " I know not who has sent me into the world ; nor what the world is, nor what I am myself. I am shockingly ignorant of all things. I know OF ATHEISTS. 8? not what my body is, what my senses are, or what my soul is. This very part of me which thinks what I speak, which reflects upon itself, and upon every thing around me, is yet as igno- rant of itself as it is of every thing else. I behold these frightful spaces of the universe with which I am encompassed, and feel myself confined to one little corner of the vast extent, without un- derstanding why I am placed in this part of it rather than in any other; or why the short period of time that is allotted me to live, was assigned to me at this particular point, rather than any other, of the whole eternity which was before me, or of that which is to come after me, I see nothing but infinities on all sides, which swallow me up like an atom, or like a shadow, which endures but a single instant, and is never to re^ turn. All that I know is, that I must shortly die; but what I am most ignorant of is this very death, from which I cannot escape, " As I know not whence I came, so I know not whither J am going; only this I know, that at my departure out of the world, I must either be for ever annihilated, or fall into the hands of an incensed GOD, without being able to decide which of these two conditions will be my ever^ lasting portion. " Such is my state, so full of weakness, ob- scurity, and wretchedness. And from all this G 4 88 INDIFFERENCE I conclude, that I ought to pass all the days of my life, without ever considering what is hereafter to befal me; and that I have nothing to do, but to follow my inclinations without reflection or disquiet, doing all that, which, if what is said of a miserable eternity be true, will infallibly plunge me into it. It is possible I might find some light to clear up rny doubts; but I will not take the trouble to stir one foot in search of it; and despising all those who do take pains in this inquiry, I am resolved to go, On, without fear or foresight, and try the grand event; I will pass as easily as I can out of life, and die utterly uncertain about the eternal state of my future existence." It is an honor to Religion that it has such unreasonable men for its professed enemies; and their opposition is of so little importance to it, that, on the contrary, it serves to confirm the principal truths which it teaches. For the grand object of Christianity is to establish these two principles, the depravity of human nature, and redemption by Jesus Christ. Now these op- posers, if they are of no use in demonstrating the truth of redemption, by the sanctity of their lives, are yet highly serviceable in showing the corruption of nature by their unnatural senti- ments. OF ATHEISTS. 89 Nothing is so important to any man as his, own state; nothing so serious to him as eternity. If, therefore, we find persons indifferent to the loss of their being, and to the danger of everlast- ing misery, their temper is highly unnatural. They are quite different men in all other things ; they fear the smallest inconveniencies ; they see them as they approach, and feel them when they arrive; and the same man who passes days and nights in rage and despair for the loss of a place, or for some imaginary affront to his ho- nor, is the very same mortal who knows that he must soon lose every thing by death, and yet remains without disquiet, concern, or emotion. This strange insensibility with respect to things the most awful in their consequences, in a heart so acutely sensible to the meanest trifles, is a prodigy, an unintelligible enchantment, a super natural infatuation. A man confined in a dungeon, who does not know but the order for his execution is given, who has but a single hour to inform himself con- cerning it, and that one hour sufficient, in case it have passed, to obtain its revocation, would act contrary to nature, should he make use of this hour not to procure the necessary information, but to play and divert himself; yet such is the condition of the persons we are describing; only with this difference, that the evils with which 90 INDIFFERENCE they are threatened, are infinitely greater than the mere loss of life, and the transient punish- ment which the prisoner would have to fear. Yet they run thoughtlessly upon the precipice, casting a veil over their eyes, to keep themselves from discerning it, and making mock of those who warn them of their danger. Thus not only the zeal of those who do seek GOD, demonstrates the truth of Religion, but likewise the blindness of those who do not seek him, and who pass their days in this horrible neglect. There must have been a strange revo- lution in the nature of man, to be able to live in such a state, much more to applaud and value himself upon it. For supposing it to be abso- lutely certain, that there is nothing but an- nihilation to fear after death, would not this rather be a cause for dejection, than for pride? And is it not the highest pitch of extravagance, if we have no certainty of this, to glory because we are in doubt? And yet, after all, it is too evident that man has so far declined from his original nature, that there is in his heart a secret delight in all this. Nay this brutal ease between the fear either of hell or of annihilation, carries somewhat so tempting in it, that not only do those who un- OF ATHEISTS. 91 happily are sceptically inclined, make a boast of it, but even those who are not, think it some- thing brave to pretend to be so. For experience shows us, that most of those who pretend to in- fidelity are of this latter kind, mere counterfeits and hypocrites in atheism. They are persons who have heard it said, that the genteel manners of the world consist in thus acting the bravo. This is what they term throwing off the yoke, and which the greater number of them profess to do, merely in imitation of others. But if they have the least portion of common sense, it will not be difficult to make them per- ceive, how miserably they deceive themselves, by seeking in this way for applause and esteem. For this is not the method to gain credit, even with worldly men, who are able to judge rightly on things, and who know that the only method of succeeding, is to appear honest, faithful, pru- dent, and capable of advancing the interest of our friends ; for men naturally love nothing but that which some way contributes to their benefit. But what benefit can we derive from hearing a man confess that he has shaken off the yoke of Religion ; that he does not believe there is a God who watches over his actions ; that he considers himself as absolute master of his own conduct, and accountable for it only to himself? Does he think we shall be induced from hence to repose 92 INDIFFERENCE a greater degree of confidence in him; and to look to him for comfort, advice, or assistance, in the difficulties of life ? Can he imagine we are greatly delighted when he tells us, that he doubts whether our souls be any thing better than a little wind or smoke; especially if he tells it us with an air of assurance and satisfaction? Is such a thing to be spoken of with pleasantry? or should it not rather be uttered with sadness, as the most melancholy reflection that can be mentioned. If they would but think seriously on the sub- ject, they must perceive this conduct to be so very ill chosen, so contrary to good manners, and so remote even from that gentility to which they pretend, that nothing can more effectually ex- pose them to the contempt and aversion of man- kind, or mark them out as persons defective in understanding and judgment. And, indeed, should we require of them an account of their sentiments, and of the reasons for which they call Religion in question, what they have to offer would appear so weak and contemptible, that it would rather confirm us in our belief. This is what a person once told them with great pro- priety, If you continue (said he) to talk at this rate, you will infallibly make me a Christian. And he was in the right: for who OF ATHEISTS. 93 would not tremble to find himself entangled in the same opinions, with associates so truly con- temptible ? Those therefore who only counterfeit these principles, are extremely unhappy in putting a constraint on their natural disposition, in order to render themselves the most impertinent of all mankind. If they are heartily and sincerely concerned at their want of information, let them not dissemble it. A confession of this can never be shameful ; for there is really no shame, but in being shameless. Nothing betrays so much weakness of understanding, as not to perceive the misery of man without God. Nothing is a surer token of extreme baseness of spirit, than not to wish for the reality of eternal pro- mises. No man is so truly a coward, as he that acts the brave against heaven. Let them there- fore leave these impieties to those who are born with a judgment so unhappy, as to be capable of entertaining them in earnest. If they cannot be Christian Men, let them be Men of Honor : and let them at least acknowledge, that there are but two sorts of persons who deserve to be ac- counted reasonable ; either those who serve God with all their heart, because they know him ; or those who seek him with all their heart, because \ as yet they know him not. 94 INDIFFERENCE To those persons then who sincerely inquire after God, and who, being sensible of their mi- sery, truly desire to be rescued from it, it is just to contribute our labour and service, to assist them in finding out that light of which they feel the want. B|ut as for those who live without either know- ing God, or endeavouring to know him, they look on themselves as so little deserving their own care, that they cannot but be unworthy the care of others : and it requires all the charity of the religion they despise, not to despise them to such a degree, as to abandon them to their own folly. But since the same religion obliges us to consider them, while they remain in this life, as still capable of God's enlightening Grace; and to believe it possible, that, in a very short time^ they may be filled with a greater degree of faith than ourselves ; and that we, on the other hand* may fall into their blindness ; we ought to do for them, what we desire should be done to us in their case ; to entreat them that they would take pity on themselves, and, at least, advance a step or two, and try if they can discover the light. To this end let them employ, in the pe- rusal of this work, a few of those hours which they spend so unprofitably in other pursuits. It is possible they may gain somewhat by the reading; at least, they cannot be great losers. OF ATHEISTS. 95 But if any shall apply themselves to it, with perfect sincerity, and with an unfeigned desire of knowing the truth, I hope they will meet with satisfaction, and be convinced by those proofs of our divine Religion, which they will here find collected together. II. THE CHARACTERS OF TRUE RELIGION. 1 RUE Religion will always distinguish itself by obliging men to love God. This is what natural justice requires, and yet what no Reli- gion but the Christian has ever enjoined. It ought likewise to know the concupiscence of man, and his utter insufficiency for the attain- ment of virtue by his own strength. It should likewise point out the proper remedies for this defect; of which prayer is the chief. Our Re- ligion has done all this, and no other has ever taught us to beg of God the power to love and obey him. To establish the truth of a religion, it is ne- cessary that it should be acquainted with hu- 96 CHARACTERS OF man nature. For our true nature and true hap- piness, true virtue and true religion, are things, the knowledge of which is inseparable. It should also be able to discern the greatness and the meanness of man; together with the reason of both. What religion, the Christian only excepted, has ever made all these known ? Other religions, as those of the heathens, are more popular, for they consist only in external appearance; but then they are not adapted to men of talents and understanding. A religion purely intellectual, might be fitter for men of genius, but would by no means be suited to the common ranks of mankind. Christianity alone is proportioned to all ; for it consists both of that which is internal, and of that which is external. It raises the most ignorant to inward and spiri- tual acts, and brings down the most intelligent to outward performances, and is never complete but when it joins one of these effects to the other. For it is both necessary that the common people should understand the spirit of the letter, and that the learned should submit their spirit to the letter, by the performance of outward ac- tions. That we are in ourselves hateful, reason alone will convince us ; and yet there is no Religion but the Christian which teaches us to hate our : TRUE RELIGION. 97 selves; wherefore no other Religion can be en- tertained by those who know themselves to be worthy of nothing but hatred. No Religion, except the Christian, has un- derstood that man is the most excellent of visible creatures, and, at the same time, the most mi- serable. Some, perceiving the reality of his excellence, have censured, as mean and ungrate- ful, the low opinion which men naturally enter- tain of themselves. Others, well knowing the unhappy effects of his baseness and misery, have treated with the greatest ridicule those senti- ments of grandeur, which are no less natural to men. Our Religion alone has taught that man is born in sin: no sect of philosophers ever said this; therefore none of them ever declared the truth. God being concealed from us, every Religion which does not teach that he is so, is false ; and every Religion which does not show the reason why he is so, must be barren and unedifying: our Religion has done both. That Religion which consists in believing, that man has fallen from a state of glory and com- munication with God, to a state of sorrow, humiliation, and estrangement from God; but that he should be at length restored by a Mes- H 98 CHARACTERS OF siah who was to come, has always been in the world. All things have passed away but this, for which all other things exist, has remained. For God, having designed to form to himself a holy people, whom he would separate from all other nations, deliver from their enemies, and settle in a place of rest, was pleased expressly to promise, not only that he would do this, but that he would come himself into the world for that purpose ; and foretold, by his prophets, the very time and mariner of his coming. In the mean while, to confirm the hope of his elect through all ages, he gave them continual types and figures, and never left them without as- surances both of his power and his inclination to save them. For immediately after the crea- tion of man, Adam was the witness of these, being made depositary of the promise concern- ing a Saviour to be born of the seed of the woman; and though men, so near the time of their first creation, could not have forgotten their creation, and their fall, or the promise which God had given them of a Re- deemer; yet since they suffered themselves to be carried away into all sorts of corruptions and disorders, God was pleased to raise up holy men, as Enoch, JLamech, and others, who pa- tiently waited for that Messiah who was pro- mised from the commencement of the world. After this, when the wickedness of men was TRUE RELIGION. 99 arrived at its highest pitch, God sent Noah, whom he saved, when all the rest of the world was drowned, by a miracle which testified at once the power of God to save the world, and his determination to do so, by raising up to the woman the seed which he had promised. This miraculous interposition, was sufficient to esta- blish the hopes of mankind, and the memory of it was still fresh in their minds ; when God renewed his promises to Abraham, who dwelt in the midst of idolaters, and revealed to him the mystery of the Messiah that was to come. In the days of Isaac and Jacob, iniquity had spread itself over the whole earth; yet these holy pa- triarchs lived in faith, and the latter of them, as he blest his children when he was dying, cried out, with a degree of transport which interrupted his discourse, I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord. The Egyptians were polluted with idolatry and magic; and the people of God were led away by their example; yet Moses, with other excel- lent persons, saw him who was invisible, and adored him, looking forward to those eternal blessings wliich he was preparing for them. The Greeks and Romans afterwards spread the worship of fictitious deities : The Poets invented different systems of Theology : Philosophers were divided into a thousand different sects; yet there were always in Judea, men chosen to prophesy 100 CHARACTERS OF of the coming of the Messiah, who was unknown to every other nation. At length, in the fulness of time, he came; and ever since his appearance, notwithstanding all the schisms and heresies which have arisen, all the kingdoms which have been destroyed, and the numerous changes which have taken place in all things, this same church, that wor- ships him who has ever been adored, still subsists without interruption. And what is astonishing, unparalleled, and altogether divine this Reli- gion which has always endured, has been always opposed. A thousand times has it been, appa- rently, on the very brink of total destruction ; and as often as it has been so, so often has it been rescued by some extraordinary interposition of Almighty Power. And it is still further asto- nishing, that it should always have been able to stand, without, in any degree, yielding to the will of its oppressors. States must infallibly perish, if they did not often permit their laws to give way to necessity : but religion has never done this, and yet has stood its ground. But either such accommoda- tions, or miracles, are indispensable. It is no wonder that governments should preserve them- selves, by yielding to circumstances; and yet it is in some degree improper, to call this preserv- ing themselves, and hence we see that they have TRUE RELIGION. 101 all, at length, been utterly destroyed, nor has any one of them lasted so long as fifteen hundred years. But that this religion should have always continued unchanged and inflexible, this is truly divine. Truth would be too much obscured, if it were destitute of visible appearances ; of which this is a very wonderful one, that it should have been always perpetuated in a Church, or visible as- sembly. Its lustre, on the other hand, would be too great, if this church were altogether undivided in opinion: But in order to find out which opinion is true, we have only to examine what has always been held by it : for it is certain that what is true, has never ceased to have a place in it ; while nothing that is false, has been always maintained. Thus has faith in the Messiah been perpetu- ally maintained. The tradition concerning him was handed down regularly from Adam to Noah and Moses. After these, the prophets predicted his coming ; at the same time foretelling other things, which were from time to time fulfilled in the eyes of the world ; and which demonstrated the truth of their mission, and consequently of their promises concerning Him. They unani- mously declared, that the law given to them was but preparatory to that of the Messiah; that, till H3 102 CHARACTERS OF he came it should subsist, but that the latter should endure for ever; and that by this means, either the law of Moses, or that of the Messiah, of which it was a promise, should always con- tinue upon earth ; and in fact, it has always con- tinued. Jesus Christ came under all the circum- stances they had predicted. He wrought mira- cles, as did also his Apostles, who converted the gentile world: and the prophecies being thereby fulfilled, the Messiah is for ever demonstrated. I see many contrary religions, all of which must be false but one. Each of them claims credit upon its own authority, and deals out its threatenings against all who disbelieve it. I do not therefore take them at their word. For they can all do alike in this respect, just as every man can call himself a prophet. But, in Christianity, I see the accomplishment of prophecies, and an infinite number of miracles, attested beyond all reasonable doubt, and these I find in no other religion. The only religion which is contrary to our na- ture, in its present state ; which opposes our plea- sures, and which at first sight appears contrary to common sense, is that which has subsisted from the beginning. The whole arrangement of things ought to turn on the establishment and grandeur of reli- TRUE RELIGION. 103 gion: Men should feel within them sentiments agreeable to what it teaches; and in a word, it ought to be so much the object and centre, to which all things tend; that whosoever under- stands the principles of it, may be enabled to give an account, both of human nature in parti- cular, and of the whole state and order of the world in general. It is upon this very foundation that profane men take occasion to blaspheme the Christian Religion because they misunderstand it. They imagine, that it consits purely in the adoration of the Divinity, as a great, powerful, and eternal Being. This is properly Deism; and stands, almost, as far removed from Christianity as Atheism, which is directly opposite to it. Yet hence they infer the falsehood of this religion; because, say they, if it were true, God would have manifested himself to mankind by such in- disputable proofs, that it would have been im- possible for any man to mistake them. But let them conclude what they will against Deism ; they will be able to draw no such con- clusion against Christianity ; which acknowledges that, since the fall, God does not manifest him- self to mankind with all the evidence that he could do. Christianity peculiarly consists in the mystery of a Redeemer ; who by uniting in him- self the divine and human natures, has delivered H 4 104 CHARACTERS OF men from the corruption of sin, to reconcile them to God in his divine person. It therefore instructs men in these two im- portant truths, that there is a God whom they are capable of knowing and enjoying ; and that there is that corruption in their nature, which renders them unworthy of this bless- ing. It is of equal importance, to know both the one and the other of these points. It is equally dangerous for man, to know God with- out the knowledge of his own misery ; and to know his own misery without the knowledge of a Redeemer, who can deliver him from it. For one ^without the other, begets either the pride of Philosophers, who knew God, but not their own misery; or, the despair of Atheists, who know their own misery, but know nothing of a Redeemer. And thus as it is equally necessary to man to possess a knowledge of each of these principles ; so is it to be ascribed alone to the mercy of God, that he has "been pleased to teach them to us. And this is the office of Christianity, and that in which its peculiar essence consists. Let men examine the economy of the world on this principle ; and they will see, whether all things do not tend to establish these two funda- mental truths of our religion. If any one knows not himself to be full of TRUE RELIGION. 105 pride, ambition, concupiscence, weakness, mi- sery, and unrighteousness, he is blind. And if, knowing this, he has no desire for deliverance, what can be thought of so irrational a man? How then can we do otherwise than esteem a religion which so well understands the defects of mankind? Or do otherwise than wish that reli- gion may be true, which provides such suitable remedies against them ? It is impossible to take a view of all the proofs of Christianity together, without feeling their force ; which is such, as no reasonable man can resist. Consider its establishment. That a Religion so opposite to nature, should have established itself by means so gentle, on the one hand, as to use no force or constraint; and so powerful on the other, that no torments could deter its martyrs from confessing it : and not only was this effected without the assistance of any earthly prince, but in spite of all the princes who conspired to oppose it. Consider the holiness, the dignity, and the humility, of a truly Christian soul. The heathen philosophers, sometimes, raised themselves above the rest of mankind,* by a more regular mode of life, and by doctrines, in some degree, conformable to those of Christianity : but they never consi- 106 CHARACTERS OF dered, what Christians call humility, as a virtue 5 they even thought it incompatible with the vir- tues they professed. Nothing but Christianity knew how to unite, what till then had appeared so inconsistent ; or to teach men, that so far from humility being incompatible with other virtues, without it,all other virtues are nothing more than vices and defects. Consider the infinite wonders displayed in the holy scriptures; the grandeur, and more than human sublimity of the things they contain, and the admirable simplicity of their style ; in which there is nothing forced or affected, and which bears a stamp of truth that nothing can disprove. Consider Jesus Christ himself. Whatever opinion we entertain of him, it is impossible to deny that he had a most elevated and superior mind, which he evinced at a very early age, be- fore the Doctors of the Law ; yet, instead of cul- tivating his talents by study and the society of the learned, he passed thirty years of his life in manual labour, and in entire obscurity; and during the three years of his public ministry, he took into his company, and chose for his apostles, men without science, without study, without re- pute : while his enemies were men who passed for the most learned and wise of their time. A TRUE RELIGION. 10? strange mode of proceeding for a man who in- tended to establish a new religion. Consider, also, the persons who were chosen by Jesus Christ as his Apostles: men without learning or study, who found themselves at once made able to confute the most skilful Philoso- phers ; and strong enough to withstand -all the mo- narchs and tyrants ; who set themselves in oppo- sition to the Christian Religion which they preached. Consider that miraculous succession of pro- phets ; who followed one another for two thousand years, and who all foretold, in different ways, even the minutest circumstances relating to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ ; the mission of his Apostles ; the promulgation of the Gospel ; the conversion of the Gentiles ; and many other things concerning the establishment of Christianity \ and the abolition of Judaism. Consider the wonderful accomplishment of those prophecies which apply so exactly to the person of Jesus Christ, that it is impossible not to recog- nize him without being wilfully blind. Consider the state of the Jewish nation both before and since the coming of Jesus Christ; its flourishing state before his coming, and its most miserable condition since their rejection of him; |br to this day they continue without any cha- 108 CHARACTERS OF TRUE RELIGION. racter of their religion ; without a temple, with- out sacrifices, dispersed all over the earth, the scorn and derision of every nation. Consider the perpetuity of Christianity ; which has always subsisted from the beginning of the world, either among the saints under the Old Testament, who lived in expectation of Christ Jesus to come; or among those who have re- ceived him, and believed on him, since he ac- tually did come. No other religion has this mark of perpetuity, which is the principal cha- racter of the true. Lastly, consider the holiness of this religion; its doctrines, which explain even the greatest contrarieties in man ; and all the other uncom- mon, supernatural, and divine things, which beam forth from every part of it : and let any one judge, after all this, if it be possible to doubt, that Christianity is the only true Religion, and if there ever was any other that could bear a comparison with it. 109 sift t ffou III. THE TRUE RELIGION PROVED BY THE CON- TRARIETIES WHICH ARE DISCOVERABLE IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. JL HE greatness and the misery of man are both so conspicuous, that the true religion must necessarily teach, that he contains in himself some noble principle of Greatness, and, at the same time, some profound source of Misery. For true religion will search our nature to the bottom, so as perfectly to understand all that is great, and all that is miserable in it, together with the reason both of one and the other. It must also account for those astonishing contrarieties which we find within us. If there be but one principle, or efficient cause of all things, and but one end of all things; true religion must teach us to make him alone the object of Our worship and love. But since we find ourselves unable to worship him whom we know not, and to love any thing but ourselves ; the same religion, which enjoins these duties, must also acquaint us with this inability, and teach us how it is to be overcome. 1 10 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES Again, in order to render man happy, it ought to teach us that there is a God, whom we are under obligation to love ; that our true felicity consists in being devoted to him, and our only misery, in being separated from him. It ought to show us that we are full of darkness, which prevents us from knowing and loving him; arid that thus our duty obliging us to love God, and our concupiscence turning us from him, we are full of unrighteousness. It ought to discover to us the cause of our opposition to God, and our own happiness; the remedies against it, and the means of obtaining them. Let men consider all the religions in the world, with regard to these points, and see whether any one, ex- cept Christianity, can give satisfaction concern- ing them. Shall it be the doctrine of those philosophers, who set before us no other good than what we may find in ourselves? Is this the sovereign good? Have these men discovered the remedy of our evils ? Is the proper cure, for man's pre- sumption, to equal him with God ? And those who have levelled us with the beasts, and offer us earthly gratifications, as our only felicity, have they revealed the remedy for our lusts ? f Lift up c your eyes to God/ say some; 'behold Him who ' has stamped you with his image, and has made * you for his worship. You may make your- ' selves like him; Wisdom, if you follow her di- IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. Ill * rections, will equal you to him.' While others cry out, ' Cast down your eyes to the ground, e base worms as you are, and look at the beasts, ' your companions.' What then is to be the fate of man ! must he be equal to God, or to the beasts ? How fright- ful a disparity is this ? What then are we to be ? What religion shall instruct us at once to correct our pride and our concupiscence ? What religion shall disclose to us our happiness, and our duty; the infirmities which lead us from them, the cure for those infirmities, and the means of obtain- ing it ? Let us hear the answer of the wisdom of God, as it speaks to us in the Christian religion. It is in vain, O Men ! to seek from yourselves the remedy for your miseries. All your know- ledge can reach no further than this that you can neither find happiness nor truth in your- selves. Philosophers have promised them to you, but they promised what they could not perform. They knew neither your real con- dition, nor your real good. How could they point out the remedy for your diseases, who did not even know what they were ? Your great- est evils are pride, which alienates you from God; and concupiscence, which attaches you to earth; and all they did was to cherish either one or the other. If they likened you to God, it was only to gratify your pride, by making you think that your nature resembled the divine: RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES and as for those who saw the extragavance of such pretensions, they only led you to a contrary precipice ; by tempting you to believe that your nature was like that of the beasts, that you might be led to place all your happiness in the sensual delights of irrational creatures ! This was not the way to convince you of your transgressions. Do not therefore expect truth or consolation from men : I am HE that has formed you, and alone can teach you what you are. You are not now in the state in which I created you. I made man holy, innocent, and perfect: I filled him with light and understanding: I made known to him my wonders and my glory. The eye of man then saw the majesty of God. He was not in this darkness which blinds him, or under this mortality, and these miseries, which distress him. But he could not enjoy that glory long without falling into presumption: he wanted to make himself the centre of his happiness, independent of my aid. He withdrew himself from my do- minion, and as he pretended to an equality with me, from a desire to find his happiness in him- self, I abandoned him to himself; and causing the creatures that were his subjects, to revolt against him, I made them his enemies. Man is therefore now become like unto the beasts, and removed so far from me, that he scarcely retains any feeble glimmer of the Author of his being, so much has all his knowledge been either lost IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 1 13 or confused. His senses now, being not the ser- vants, but often the masters of his reason, have led him away in the pursuit of pleasure: all the creatures with which he is surrounded, either tempt or afflict him, and exercise a kind of so- vereignty over him; either subduing him by their strength, or seducing him by their charms, which is the most imperious and fatal dominion of the two. Such is the present state and condition of men! Still a feeble instinct remains of the felicity of their primitive nature; while they are plunged in the miseries of their own blind- ness and lust, which is now their second nature. From the principles which I have here laid open, we may discern the cause of all those contrarieties, which have astonished and divided mankind. Observe all those emotions of greatness and glory, which the sense of so many miseries is not able to extinguish ; and consider, whether they can proceed from a less powerful cause than ori- ginal nature. Know then, proud mortal ! what a paradox thou art to thyself. Let thy weak reason be I 114 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES humbled; let thy frail nature be silent. Know that man infinitely surpasseth man, and learn from thy master thy real condition, to which thou art thyself a stranger. For, in a word, had man never fallen into corruption, he would have continued stedfast in the enjoyment of truth and happiness; and had he never been any other than corrupt, he would have possessed no idea either of truth or happiness. But so great is our misery, (greater than if there had never been any thing noble in our condition,) that we retain an idea of happi- ness, though we are unable to attain it ; we feel some faint notion of truth, while we possess no- thing but falsehood; incapable both of absolute ignorance, and of certain knowledge. So manifest is it, that we have once been in a state of perfec- tion, from which we are now unhappily fallen. What then does this avidity on the one hand, and this impotence on the other, teach us, but that man was originally possessed of a real bliss, of which nothing now remains but the footsteps and empty traces, which he vainly endeavours to fill up with that which surrounds him; seeking in things absent, the relief which he does not obtain from such as are present, and which neither the present nor the absent IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 115 can bestow upon him 3 because this infinite gulph is only to be filled by an infinite and immutable object? It is nevertheless astonishing that, of all mysteries, that which seems to be furthest from our apprehension, I mean the transmission of original sin, should yet be that, without which we must remain utter strangers to ourselves. For undoubtedly nothing appears more offensive to our Reason, than to hear that the transgression of the first man attaches guilt on those, who being so vastly distant from its fountain, seem incapable of being involved in it. This com- munication is looked upon by us, not only as im- possible, but even as very unjust. For what can be more repugnant to our miserable rules of justice, than eternally to condemn an infant who is incapable of exercising his will, for an offence in which he appears to have had so little a part, that it was committed six thousand years before he was in existence? Certainly nothing seems to us more harsh than such a doctrine. And, yet, without admitting this incomprehensible mys- tery, we are utterly incomprehensible to our- selves. The knot of our present condition, has all its turns interwoven in this abyss : insomuch* that man is more incomprehensible without this mystery, than the mystery itself is incomprehen- sible to man. I 2 116 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES Original Sin is foolishness to men. We allow it to be so. We ought not therefore to reproach reason for not having this knowledge ; because it is not pretended that reason can fathom it. But this foolishness is wiser than all the wisdom of men; (the foolishness of God is wiser than man, 1 Cor. i. 25) : For, without this, what could we say of man ? His whole state depends on this imperceptible point. Yet how should he be made acquainted with this by his reason, when it is a thing above his reason ; and when reason, instead of discovering it to him at first, disin- clines him to believe it when it is presented be- fore him? These two opposite states, of innocence and corruption, being once laid open before us, it is impossible we should not recognise them. Let us trace our own emotions, and observe ourselves; and let us see, whether we do not discover the lively characters of these different natures. How surprising it is, that so many contra- dictions should be found in one and the same subject! This two-fold nature of man is so visible, that some have imagined him to have two souls : one single subject appearing to them, incapable of such great and sudden transitions, from unmea- surable presumption to the most dreadful abject- ness of spirit. IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 11? Thus, the several contrarieties which would seem most calculated to alienate men from the knowledge of any religion, are those very things which would rather conduct them to the true. As to myself, I confess, that as soon as ever the Christian religion has revealed to me this one principle, that human nature is depraved, and fallen from God, this opens my eyes to see every where the proofs of that fact. For nature is now in that state, that every thing, both in us and out of us, bespeaks our loss of God. Without this divine information, what could men have done, but either become vain from the remaining sense of their former grandeur, or dejected by the consciousness of their present infirmity ? For, not discerning the whole truth, it was impossible for them to arrive at perfect virtue: some looking upon nature as uncor- rupt, and others, as irrecoverable, they could not but fall into vanity or sloth, the two great sources of every vice. They could only, either give them* selves up to vice, through meanness of spirit, or escape from it, through pride. For those who knew the excellency of man, were unacquainted with his corruption ; so that while they escaped, perhaps, from indolence, they were lost in con- ceit : and those who were sensible of the infirmity of nature, were strangers to its dignity ; so that while they were delivered from vanity, they plunged themselves into despair. I 3 118 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES Hence arose the various sects of the Stoics and Epicureans, the Dogmatists, Academics, &c. The Christian religion alone has been able thoroughly to cure these opposite vices 5 not driving out one by means of the other, according to the wisdom of this world; but expelling them, both, by the simplicity of the gospel, For while it exalts the righteous, even to a participation of the divinity, it makes them understand, that, in this superior state, they have still within them the fountain of all corruption, which renders them, their whole life long, subject to error, to misery, to death, and to sin ; and it assures the most impious, that they still may partake of the grace of their Redeemer. Thus awing those whom it justifies, and comforting those whom it condemns, it so wisely tempers hope with fear, by this two-fold capability both of sin and of grace, which is common to all mankind, that it abases us infinitely more than unassisted reason could do, and yet without driving us to despair; while it exalts us infinitely more than the pride of our nature can do, and yet without rendering us vain; thereby demonstrating, that being alone exempt from error and vice, it belongs only to itself to instruct men, and at the same to reform them. We have no idea either of the glorious state of Adam, or of the nature of his transgression, or IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN, 119 of the mode in which it is transmitted to us. These are things which took place in a state* of nature very different to ours : they transcend our present capacity, and the knowledge of them would be of no use to deliver us from our miseries. All that is of importance, for us to know, is this, that through Adam we are miser- able, depraved, and at a distance from God; but that we are redeemed by Jesus Christ; and of this we have astonishing proofs in this world. Christianity is most surprising. It obliges man to acknowledge that he is vile, and even abomi- nable, ,and yet enjoins him to aspire after a re- semblance of God. Were not things thus set against one another, this exaltation would render him extravagantly vain, or such a debasement would render him horribly abject: For misery leads to despair, and a sense of dignity inclines to presumption. The Incarnation discovers to man the greatness of his misery, by the greatness of the remedy that was needed for his relief. In the Christian religion we find neither a state of abasement that renders us incapable of good, nor a state of holiness that exempts us from evil. 14 120 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES No doctrine can be more suited to man, than this, whicli makes him acquainted with his two- fold capacity of receiving and falling from grace, on account of the two-fold danger to which he is always exposed, either of despair on the one hand, or of pride on the other. Philosophers never inspired men with senti- ments proportioned to both these conditions. They either inculcated notions of unqualified dignity, which is not the true condition of man ; or else of unqualified meanness, which is as little so as the former. We ought to feel a sense of our meanness, not as a character of our original nature, but the effect of repentance j not such as should lead us to continue in that meanness, but such as should make us aspire to greatness. We ought also to have a sense of our dignity, but of that which proceeds from grace, and not from merit, and which begins by humiliation, No man is so happy as a real Christian; none so rational, so virtuous, so amiable. How little vanity does he feel when he believes him- self united to God ! How far is he from abject- ness when he ranks himself with the worms of the earth ! Who then can refuse to believe or adore this heavenly light? For is it not clearer than the day, that we see and feel within ourselves inde- lible characters of excellence? And is it not IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. equally true, that we experience every hour the effects of our present deplorable condition? What else, therefore, does this chaos y this monstrous confusion in our nature proclaim, but the truth of this double state, and that with a voice so powerful, that it cannot be gainsaid. IV. IT IS NOT INCREDIBLE, THAT GOD SHOULD UNITE HIMSELF TO US. -1 HAT which renders men so reluctant to believe themselves capable of being united to God, is nothing else than a consciousness of their own degradation : yet, if this be sincere, let them pursue it as far as I have done ; and let them confess, that our baseness is in reality such, as makes us unable, of ourselves, to dis- cover whether his mercy can render us capable of an union with him or not. For I would gladly be informed, whence this creature, that acknowledges itself so weak, has obtained a right to limit the mercy of God, and to set such bounds to it as his fancy may suggest. Man knows so little of the divine essence, that he does not even know what he himself is ; and yet, all confused as he is at the prospect of his own condition, he takes upon him to say, that GOD'S UNION WITH MAN CREDIBLE. God cannot render him capable of communica* tion with himself. But I would ask, whether God requires any thing of him except that he should know him, and love him ; and why it is he believes God cannot make himself to be both known and loved by him, seeing he is naturally capable both of knowledge and love. For no man can know otherwise than that he exists, and that there is something he loves. If, then, he sees any thing in his present state of dark- ness ; and finds something on earth which en- gages his affection ; why, if God should be pleased to impart some rays of his essence, should he be incapable of knowing and loving his divine Benefactor, according as he shall be pleased to reveal himself to him? There is, therefore, without doubt, an intolerable pre- sumption in such reasonings as these, though founded on an apparent humility. But our hu- mility can neither be rational, nor sincere, un- less it makes us confess, that not knowing of ourselves what we are, we cannot learn it of any but God. 123 V. THE PROPER SUBMISSION AND USE OF REASON. JL HE furthest stretch of reason is, to know that there is an infinite number of things which utterly surpass it ; and it must be very feeble indeed, if it reach not so far as to know this. It is fit we should know, how to doubt where we ought ; to be .confident where we ought ; and to submit where we ought. He who is deficient in these respects, does not yet under- stand the powers of reason. Yet there are men who err against each of these principles : either, considering every thing as demonstra- tive, because they are unacquainted with the nature of demonstration ; or, doubting of every thing, because they know not where they ought to submit ; or, submitting to every thing, because they know not where they ought to judge. If we bring down all things to reason, our religion will have nothing in it mysterious or supernatural. If we violate the principles of reason, our religion will be absurd and ridicu- lous, 124 SUBMISSION AND USE OF REASON. Reason, says St. Austin) would never submit > if it did not judge that, on some occasions, sub- mission is its duty. It is but just therefore, that it should submit where it sees it ought to submit ; and that it should not submit, where it judges upon good grounds it ought not to do it ; but great care must be taken that we do not deceive ourselves. Piety is different from superstition. To carry our piety to superstition is to destroy it. Here- tical men reproach us with superstitious sub- mission; and we should be guilty of the charge, if we required men to submit in things, which are not the proper matters for submission. Nothing is so agreeable to reason, as dis- claiming of reason in matters of faith : and no- thing is so repugnant to reason, as the disuse of reason in things that are not matters of faith : the extremes are equally dangerous, whether we wholly exclude reason, or admit nothing but reason. Faith says many things, concerning which the senses are silent \ but nothing, which the senses deny : it is always above them, but never contrary to them, VI. FAITH WITHOUT REASONING. JLF I had but seen a miracle, say some men, 1 should be converted ? They would not talk in this manner, if they knew what conversion really meant. They imagine, there is nothing in it but merely to acknowledge there is a God; and that to worship him, consists only in utter- ing certain verbal addresses, but little different from those which the heathens made to their idols. True conversion consists in deep abase- ment of ourselves, before that sovereign Being whom we have so often provoked, and who every moment might justly destroy us ; in ac- knowledging that we can do nothing without his aid, and that we have merited nothing of him but his displeasure. It consists in know- ing that there is such an invincible opposition between God and ourselves, that without a Mediator, there could not be any communion between us. Think it not strange, that illiterate persons should believe without reasoning. God gives them the love of his righteousness, and an hatred of themselves. He inclines their hearts to believe. No man ever believes with a true 126 FAITH % and saving faith, unless God inclines his heart : and no man, when God does incline his heart, can refrain from believing. This David well % knew when he prayed, ^Incline my heart, O God, unto thy testimonies. Ps. cxix. 36. If some men believe without having examined the proofs of religion, it is because there is pro- duced in them a disposition truly holy; and because what they hear affirmed of our religion is perfectly agreeable to that disposition. They are sensible, that Gocl is their Maker ; they are resolved to love none but him, and to hate none but themselves ; they feel that they are without strength, that they are incapable of going to God, and that, unless he is pleased to come to them, they cannot have any communion with him 5 and they hear our religion declare, that we are to love God alone, and hate only our- selves ; and that, whereas we are altogether cor- rupt, and incapable of coming to God, God be- came man, that he might unite himself to us. There needs no more than this to convince men who possess such a disposition of heart, and such knowledge of their duty and of their own inca- pacity to perform it. Those whom we see become Christians, with- out the knowledge of prophecies, or other such evidences, form as sound a judgment of their religion, as those who have that knowledge. They judge of it by the heart, as others judge WITHOUT REASONING. 127 by the understanding. God himself inclines them to believe, and by this means they are most effectually persuaded. I confess, that a Christian who believes with- out- argumentative proof, is not always quali- fied to convince an infidel, who has a great deal to say for himself. But those who are acquainted with the proofs of religion, can easily demonstrate, that such a believer does truly receive his faith from the inspiration of God, though he may not be able to prove it himself. VII. THAT THERE IS MORE ADVANTAGE IN BE- LIEVING, THAN IN DISBELIEVING THE CHRIS- TIAN RELIGION. U NITY, added to infinity, does not increase it, any more than a foot-measure increases an in- finite space. What is finite, vanishes before that which is infinite, and becomes nothing. Thus does our understanding before God ; and our righteousness before his righteousness. There is not so great a disproportion between unity and infinity, as there is between man's righteousness and the righteousness of God. 128 MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN We know that there is an infinite; but we are ignorant of its nature. For instance, we know that numbers cannot be finite : there must, therefore, be an infinity in number. But we know not what it is. It can neither be equal nor unequal, because adding unity to it, cannot change its nature in the least. So we may certainly know there is a God, without com- prehending what he is; and you ought by no means to conclude there is no God, because you cannot perfectly comprehend his nature. t/ To convince you of his existence, I shall _not avail myself of faith, by which we most certainly know it ; nor of some other proofs of which we are in possession, because you will not receive them. I shall argue with you only upon your own principles; and I take upon me to show, from the manner in which you reason every day concerning things of the smallest importance, how you ought to reason respecting this; and which side you ought to take, in the decision of this important question> concerning the existence of God. You say then, th^t we are incapable of knowing whether there is a God. Now it is certain, that either there is a God, or there is not ; there can be no medium. Which part then shall we choose ? Reason, you will say, is not able to determine. There is an, infinite chaos between us. We play, DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 129 as it were, for Cross or Pik y at an infinite dis- tance. For which will you wager ? By reason you can assure yourself neither of one nor the other. By reason you can disprove neither one nor the other. Do not then accuse those of duplicity, who have already made their choice* For you can- not know that they are wrong, and have made a bad one. No, you will say, but 1 blame them not for making this choice, but for making any : he that takes Cross, and he that takes Pile, are both in the wrong; the right had been not to wager at all. Nay, but there is a necessity to wager ; the thing is placed beyond your will ; you are actually embarked in it, and by not laying that God is, you in effect lay that he is not. Which side then will you take ? Let us balance the gain and the loss of taking the affirmative. If you gain, you gain every thing ; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, therefore, that he IS, without delay. Well I must lay but perhaps I shall stake too much ? Let us see Supposing the chance to be equal, and that you had two lives to gain, and but one to lose, you might safely lay then. And in case there were ten to win, you would certainly be imprudent not to hazard one life for ten, at a game where the chances were even. But here is an infinite number of lives of infinite happiness, to be won K ISO MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN \on an equal risk ; and the stake you venture is Iso petty a thing, and of so short a duration, that it is ridiculous to hesitate on the occasion. It avails nothing to say it is uncertain that you shall win, and that your risk is certain ; and that the infinite distance between the certainty of what you venture, and the uncertainty of what you may win, makes the finite good which you expose, equal to the infinite, which is un- certain: for this is not true. Every gamester stakes what is certain, against what is uncertain ; and yet, by venturing a finite certainty for a finite uncertainty, he does not act contrary to reason. There is not an infinite distance be- tween the certainty of what we venture, and the uncertainty of the prize to be gained. There is, indeed, an infinite distance between the cer- tainty of winning, and the certainty of losing. But the uncertainty of winning is proportioned to the certainty of what we venture, according to the proportion of the chances of winning or losing: hence, if there be as many chances on one side as on the other, the game is even ; and then the certainty of what we venture is equal to the uncertainty of the prize ; so far are they from being infinitely distant; so that the argument is of infinite force, if what we stake be finite, where the chances of winning and losing are equal, and that which may be won DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 131 is infinite. We have here a demonstration, and if men are capable of comprehending any truth whatever, they cannot but feel the force of this. I own and confess it ; but are there not some means of seeing a little clearer into this matter? Certainly, through the medium of scripture, and of the other proofs of religion^ which are numberless. Men, you will say, who have the hope of salvation are so far happy ; but the fear of hell is a counterpoise to their happiness. But which, I beseech you, has most cause to be afraid of hell; he that is ignorant whether there is a hell or not, and is certain of damna- tion if there be ; or he who is certainly persuaded there is a hell, but possesses the hope of deliver- ance from it. If a man who had but eight days to live, should not think it wisest to consider that as somewhat more than a mere matter of chance> he must have utterly lost his understanding. And were we not enslaved by our passions, eight days and a hundred years would, in this calculation, appear the same thing; What harm then are you likely to sustain by taking this part. You will be faithful, honest, humble, grateful, beneficent* upright, and sin- cere. It is true, you will not live in poisoned pleasure, in earthly glory, in sensual delights: 132 MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN but will you not have others more desirable ? I tell you, you will gain, even in this life : and that at every step you take in this path, you will discover so much certainty of advan- tage, and so much nullity in what you hazard, that at length you will find you have betted for a sure and infinite profit, and have in effect risked nothing to obtain it. You say, you are so made as to be incapable of believing : at least then be persuaded of your incapacity, since although reason invites you to it, still you cannot believe. Labour then to be convinced, not by augmenting the proofs of a Deity, but by diminishing the power of your passions. You would arrive at faith, but you know not the way : you would be cured of your infidelity, and you ask what are its remedies: learn them from those who were once in your condition, but are at present without any doubt. They know the path which you would find : they have recovered from the disease of which you wish to be healed. Pur- sue the method with which they began : imitate their external actions, if you cannot, as yet, participate their inward dispositions : quit those vain amusements which have hitherto entirely employed you. I should soon have quitted these pleasures, say you, if I had but had faith. And I say, on DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 13$ the other hand, you would soon have had faith, if you had quitted your pleasures. It is your part to begin. I would give you faith if I could ; I am unable to do this, and, con- sequently, to put the truth of what you say to the test : but you may easily abandon your pleasures ; and put the truth of what I say to the test. We must not forget our own nature ; we are body as well as spirit ; and hence it comes to pass, that the instrument by which conviction is produced, is not demonstration only. How few things are there demonstrated ? Demon- strations act only on the mind ; but custom produces our strongest convictions: it engages the senses, and they incline the understanding, without even giving it time for thought. Who has ever demonstrated the certainty of to-mor- / row's light, or of our own death ! And yet what is more universally believed ? Custom, therefore, persuades us of it. Custom makes so many men Pagans and Turks; and so many artisans, soldiers, &c. It is true that we ought not to begin with custom in our inquiries after truth; but we must have recourse to it, when once we have discovered where truth is, in order to refresh and invigorate our belief, which every passing hour inclines us to forget ; for a regular train of arguments cannot always K3 ' 134 HUMAN REASON be present to our minds. We want something n; ore easy, a habit of believing, which, without violence, or art, or argument, compels our assent, and so inclines all our powers toward it, that we naturally fall into it. It will not be sufficient that we are willing to believe any thing upon the force of conviction, when our senses are soliciting us to believe directly the contrary. The two parts of ourselves must al- ways proceed in concert ; the understanding by those arguments which it is sufficient once in our lives to have understood ; the senses by habit, and by not suffering them to take a contrary bias. - - - "* - ~~ VIII. DESCRIPTION OF A MAN WHO HAS WEARIED HIMSELF WITH SEARCHING AFTER GOD BY REASONING ALONE, AND WHO IS NOW BE- GINNING TO READ THE SCRIPTURES. VV HEN I consider the blindness and misery of man, and those amazing contrarieties which discover themselves in his nature; when I ob- serve the whole creation to be silent, and man left in darkness, abandoned to himself, and, as YIELDING TO REVELATION. 135 it were, wandering in this corner of the uni- verse, neither knowing who placed him there, nor what he came to do, nor what will become of .him when he dies, I am struck with the same horror, as a man who has been carried in his sleep into some desolate and frightful island, and who awakes without knowing where he is, or how he can make his escape. And, upon this view, I am astonished that so miser- able a state is not productive of despair. I see other persons near me, of the same nature with myself: I ask them if they are any better in- formed than I am, they tell me they are not; I then observe, that these miserable wanderers, having looked round, and espied certain objects that please them, have given themselves up to them, and are careless about every thing else. For my own part, I could not continue, nor be at rest in the society of persons like myself, miserable like me, impotent like me. I see they will be able to give me no assistance at my death: I shall die alone ; and, therefore, I must act as if I were alone. Now if I were alone, I should not build houses, I should not perplex myself with the tumult of affairs; I would court the esteem of no one; but would devote myself entirely to the discovery of truth* Hence reflecting how probable it seems, that there is something besides what I now see; I inquire, whether that God of whom all the K 4 136 HUMAN REASON world speaks, has left any marks of himself. I look round on all sides, and see nothing but obscurity. Nature exhibits nothing but matter of doubt and disquiet. If I could no-where discern any mark of divinity, I would resolve not to believe at all: If I could in every thing- see the stamp of a Creator, I would rest in settled belief. But while I see too much to deny, and too little to make me certain, my condition renders me an object of pity; and I have a lnn> dred times wished, that if there be a God who is the supporter of nature, she would show him without ambiguity; and that if the characters she exhibits are fallacious, she would conceal them altogether. Let her either say all or no- thing, that I may know which part I should take. Whereas, in my present situation, igno- rant of what I am, and of what I ought to do, I know neither my condition nor my duty. My heart is wholly bent on knowing where the chief good is, in order that I may pursue it, nor should I think any thing too dear to pb- tain it. I observe a multitude of religions in all countries and times. But they are such as can neither please me with their morals, nor satisfy me with their proofs ; so that I would at once f eject the religion of Mahomet, of the Chimse, of ancient Rome, or of Egypt, for this single reason, that as no one of them can produce YIELDING TO REVELATION. 137 more marks of truth than another, and neither of them contains any thing decisive, reason cannot incline me to one of them more than to either of the rest. But while I am reflecting on this strange and unaccountable variety in the manners and creeds of different periods, I find in one little corner of 'the world, a peculiar people, separated from all the other nations of the earth, whose registers exceed, by many ages, the most ancient histories that we possess. I discover this great and nu- merous people who worship but one God, and are governed by a law which they affirm them- selves to have received from his hand. They maintain that, they are the only persons in the world to whom God has made a revelation of his mysteries ; that all men are corrupt, and under the divine displeasure; that they are all aban- doned to their own senses and imaginations, from whence proceed their endless wanderings, and continual changes in their customs and re- ligion, while their nation, alone, has continued unalterable in both. But, that God will not for ever leave the rest of the nations in this darkness ; that there shall come a Saviour for them all ; that they are established in the world to announce his arrival ; that they were formed on purpose to be the heralds of this glorious event, and to call upon all nations to unite with them in the ex- pectation of this Redeemer. 138 HUMAN REASON On meeting with this people, I am surprised, and they seem to me deserving the closest at- tention, on account of the many wonderful and singular things discoverable in them. They are a people composed entirely of brethren: And whereas all others have been constituted by an assemblage of an almost infi- nite number of families, these, though so pro- digiously fruitful, have all descended from one man ; and thus being as it were one flesh, and members one of another, they compose a formi- dable power from one single family. This is un- paralleled. They are the most ancient people that man- kind have any knowledge of; a circumstance which, in my opinion, entitles them to very par- ticular veneration, especially in regard to our present inquiry; because, if God has, in all ages, vouchsafed to reveal himself to mankind, these are the persons to whom we must have recourse in order to know that revelation. Nor are they considerable only ia point of antiquity, they are no less singular in their duration, having always subsisted from their origin to this day. For while the several people of Greece, Italy, Sparta, Athens, Borne, and others which sprung up long after them, have been many ages extinct, these have always subsisted ; and, in spite of the contrivances ooiq YIELDING TO REVELATION. 139 of many great and powerful princes, who have an hundred times attempted their destruction, (as history testifies, and as it is natural to infer, from the ordinary revolutions of things, during so long a course of years,) they have always been preserved, and extending from the earliest to the latest times, their annals comprise a period equal in length to all the rest of our histo- ries together. The law by which this people is governed, js in all respects the most ancient and most perfect in the world, and the only one which has always been preserved without interruption in a state. This Philo, the Jew, has demon- strated in several places, and Josephus, most ad- mirably, in his discourse against Appion, where he shows it to be so high in respect of antiquity, that the very name of a law was not known in the most ancient nations for more than a thou- sand years after ; insomuch, that Homer, though he has spoken of so many different nations, has not once used the word. And we may easily judge of the perfection of this law, from merely reading it, by which we shall discern it to have provided for every thing with so much wisdom, justice, and equity, that the most ancient legisla- tors of Greece and Rome have borrowed their principal institutions from thence, as is evident from the laws of the twelve tables, and by other proofs which Josephus has produced. 140 HUMAN REASON Yet this law is,, at the same time, severe ami rigorous beyond all others, obliging the people, in order to retain them in their duty, to a thou- sand peculiar and painful observances, under penalty of death ; so that it is a most astonishing thing that it should have been preserved for so many ages amongst a rebellious and impatient people, as we know the Jews to have been; while all other states have changed their laws from time to time, though such, on the contrary, as were easily observed. This same people are also to be admired for their sincerity : They preserve, with fidelity and affection, the very boo.k in which Moses declares them to have been always ungrateful towards God, and that he foresaw they would be still more so after his death ; in which he therefore calls heaven and earth to witness against them, as to the sufficiency of the warning which he had given them ; and, finally, declares that God being incensed against them, should scatter them through all the nations of the earth ; and that as they had provoked him to jealousy by serving gods which were jw gods., he also should provoke them, by calling a people which were not. his people. Nevertheless this book which condemns them in so many ways, they preserve at the expence*bf their lives. Such sincerity as this is without example in the world, and does not spring from the nature of man. YIELDING TO REVELATION. 141 To conclude : I find no reason to suspect the authority of the book which contains all these particulars : For there is a very great difference between a book composed by an individual, and dispersed amongst a people, and a book which the people themselves have compiled. In this case the antiquity of the book, and of the people, is undoubtedly the same. These writings, moreover, were composed by authors contemporary to the facts which they record. All histories compiled by persons of a period different from that of the actions they describe, are suspicious; as the books of the Sybils, of Hermes Trismegistus, and many others, which gained credit in the world, and have since been detected as forgeries. But this is not the case with contemporary authors. T v THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS AND DEPRAVITY OF MAN. IVl AN is evidently made for thinking : This is the whole of his dignity, and the whole of his merit. To think as he ought, is the whole of his 142 THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS AND duty ; and the true order of thinking, is to begin with himself, his author, and his end. And yet what is it that is thought of in the world? Not one ef these objects; but how to take pleasure, how to grow rich, how to gain reputation, how to make ourselves kings ; without ever reflecting what it is to be a king, or even to be a man. Human thought is a thing wonderful in its na- ture. It must have prodigious defects to become contemptible, and yet it has such, that nothing can be more ridiculous. How great is it by its nature ! how despicable by its defects ! If there be a God, it is our duty to love Him, and not creatures. The reasoning of the wicked described in the book of Wisdom, (Chap, ii.) is founded on the persuasion, that there is no God. And this being taken for granted, now say they, we will have our fill of the creatures : But if they had known that there really is a God, they would have con- cluded directly the contrary. And this is the conclusion of the wise There is a God; let us not, therefore, seek happiness in creatures. Every thing which incites us to confine our- selves to creatures is evil, because it either hinders us from serving God, if we already know him, or from seeking him, if we know him not. We are full of concupiscence; there- DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 143 fore we are full of evil ; and if so, we ought to detest ourselves, and all that attaches us to any thing else but to God alone. : When we endeavour to think of God, how many things do we feel diverting us from him, and tempting us to think of somewhat else? All this is evil, and evil that we bring with us into the world. It is not true that we deserve that others should love us; nor is it just that we should so eagerly covet it. If we were born thoroughly reasonable, and with any proper knowledge of ourselves, we should not entertain such a desire. And yet this attends us from our birth. We are therefore unrighteous from our birth; for every man's object is himself. This is contrary to order. Our object should be the general good ; and this bias towards ourselves, is the first spring of all disorder, in war, in government, and in domestic affairs. If the members of all communities, both na- tural and civil, should each seek the good of their respective bodies ; so every community ought to aim at the welfare of the general body, of which it is only a part. Whosoever does not detest in his own heart, that self-love, that instinct which prompts him to set himself above every thing else, is most 144 THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS OF MAN. wretchedly blind ; for nothing is more opposite to justice and truth. For we do not deserve such a preference, and it is unjust and impossible to obtain it, because all seek the very same thing. It is therefore a manifest injustice, in which we are born, which we cannot shake off, and yet ought to get rid of. Nevertheless, no religion but the Christian has informed us that this is a sin, or that we are born under its power, or that we are bound to strive against it ; nor has any one thought of a method for its cure. There is an internal war in man, between his reason and his passions. He might enjoy some sort of repose, if he had reason without passions, or passions without reason. But, since he is actuated by both, he lives in continual disquiet, and can never be at peace with the one, without being at war with the other. Hence he is always divided, and always at variance with himself. If it be an unnatural degree of blindness to live utterly unconcerned about what we are, it is a far more terrible thing to live wickedly, when we believe there is a God ; and yet the greater part of mankind are under one or other of these in- fatuations. 145 X. THE JEWS. having determined to make it appear that he was able to form a people, spiritually holy, and to fill them with eternal glory, repre- sented in the oeconomy of nature, what he in- tended to accomplish in that of grace, that men might conclude he could produce that which is invisible, from their observation of that which is visible. He therefore saved his people from the deluge, in the person of Noah : he caused them to spring from Abraham: he redeemed them from their enemies, and brought them into the rest which he had promised them. The design of God was not to save them from the deluge, and to produce a whole nation from Abraham, merely for the sake of conduct- ing them into a land of plenty. But as nature is an image of grace, so these visible miracles were symbols of the invisible, which he intended to perform. Another reason for which he formed the Jewish people was, that as he intended to abridge his servants of carnal and perishable enjoyments, he 146 THE JEWS. determined to evince, by such a series of mira- cles, that it was not for want of power to bestow them. This people were immersed in these earthly conceits that God loved their father Abraham, his person, and all who descended from him: that, for this reason, he had multiplied them and distinguished them from all other people, not even suffering them to mix with other nations ; had delivered them out of Egypt, with all those wonderful signs which he performed in their favour; had fed them with manna in the wilder- ness ; had brought them into a fruitful and happy country ; had given them kings, and a magnifi- cent temple, for the offering up of beasts and the purification of themselves by their blood and that he would at length send them the Messiah, who was to render them masters of the whole world. The Jews were accustomed to great and splendid miracles ; and, hence, looking on those performed at the Red-Sea, and in the land of Canaan, as only an abridgment of the mighty things their Messiah was to effect, they expected from him actions still more illustrious, of which all that Moses had done was only a pattern. When they were now grown old in these car- nal errors, Jesus Christ actually came at the f HE JEWS. 147 time foretold, but not with that outward splen- dour they expected : and hence they did not believe it was him. After his death St. Paul was sent to instruct men, that all these things hap- pened in figure; that the kingdom of God was not in the flesh, but in the spirit ; that the ene- mies of men were not the Babylonians, but their own passions; that God delighted not in a temple made with hands, but in a pure and humble mind; that bodily circumcision was unprofitable, and that of the heart indispens- able, &c. God not having thought fit to disclose these things to so unworthy a people, and nevertheless having designed to foretel them, in order that they might be believed, predicted clearly the time of their accomplishment, and sometimes declared them plainly, but generally under figures, to fix the attention of those who loved figurative representations ; and yet so that those who loved the things figured, might be able to discern them. Hence the people were divided at the time of the Messiah: those who were spiritual received him : and those who were car- nal, and rejected him, remain to this day as witnesses for him. The carnal Jews understood neither the great- ness, nor the humiliation of the Messiah, which were foretold by the prophets. They mistook 148 THE JEWS. his true greatness, when they were assured, that he should be David's Lord, although he was his Son; that he was before Abraham, and had seen him. They did not conceive he was so great, as to have existed from all eternity. And they no less mistook him in his humiliation and death. " The Messiah (say they) abideth for ever, and this Man declares that he shall die." Therefore they neither believed him to be mortal, nor eternal : they looked to the Messiah for no- thing but worldly aggrandizement. They were so fond of the figures, and so lite- rally expected them, that they mistook the sub- stance, when it came at the time> and in the manner that had been foretold. Men indisposed to believing, are wont to shelter themselves under the unbelief of the Jews. If all this, say they, was so clear, why did not the Jews believe in him? Whereas, their rejection of him is a ground for our faith. If they had believed, we should be less disposed to believe. We should then have a more co- lourable pretext for incredulity and distrust. This is wonderful indeed, to see the Jews at once such ardent lovers of the things which were prophesied, and yet such violent haters of the accomplishment of those very prophecies ; and that this hatred itself should have been also foretold. THE JEWS 149 To give sufficient credibility to the Messiah, it was necessary that certain prophecies should precede his appearance, and should remain in the custody of unsuspected persons, of diligence, fidelity, and extraordinary zeal, and such as were known to the rest of mankind. That things might succeed accordingly, God made choice of this carnal people, to whom he intrusted the predictions concerning the Messiah, which described him as a deliverer, and a dis- penser of carnal blessings, which they loved- Hence they had an extraordinary zeal for their prophets, and held out to all the world those books which foretold the Messiah; assuring all nations that he would certainly come, in the very manner expressed by their records, which they kept open to the view of the whole world. But being deceived by his coming in such a mean and ignominious condition, they became his greatest opposers. So that here is a people, who, of all mankind, can be least suspected of favouring us, nevertheless supporting our cause ; and, by the zeal which they show for their law and their prophets, preserving, with the most in- corruptible exactness, our evidences, and their own condemnation. Those who have rejected and crucified Jesus Christ, who was an offence to them, are the same people who preserved those writings which testify concerning him, and which affirm that he shall LS 150 THE JEWS. be despised and rejected by them. Thus their refusal of him has borne express testimony to him; and he has been equally demonstrated by the righteous Jews who received him, and by the wicked .Jews who rejected him; both having been exactly foretold. For this reason the prophecies have a double sense, one spiritual, to which this people were strongly averse, concealed under a literal one, which they liked. If the spiritual sense had been disclosed to them, as they were unable to em- brace it, and could not have borne it, they would have had very little zeal to preserve their writings and ceremonial institutions : and if they had relished these spiritual promises, and pre- served them uncorrupted till the time of the Messiah, their evidence would have been de- prived of its force, as being the testimony of his friends. We see, therefore, the necessity for veiling the spiritual sense : but yet, on the other hand, if its obscurity had been too deep for discovery, it could not have been an evidence of the Messiah. What, therefore, was done? The spiritual sense was disguised under the literal, in most places ; but in some, was expressly and clearly delivered. Moreover, the time and state of the world were so exactly foretold, that the sun itself is not clearer. And there are some passages in which the spiritual meaning is so clearly explained, that no blindness short of THE JEWS. 151 that which the flesh brings upon a mind that is entirely enslaved by it, can with-hold us from discerning it. Such then was the conduct of God. In an infinite number of places the spiritual sense is covered over with another 5 yet in some, though rarely, it is openly revealed: but in such a manner, that the passages in which it is con- cealed admit of both interpretations, while those in which it is explained can admit only of the spiritual. This method could not therefore lead men into error; nor could any, but a people whose heart was so entirely carnal, have misunderstood it. For when good things were promised them in abundance, what could hinder them from in- terpreting these promises of real blessings, but their concupiscence, which made them explain them of earthly advantages? Whereas those whose only treasure was in God, would have re- ferred them entirely to God. For there are two principles which divide the wills of men, concu- piscence and charity. It is not, indeed, impos- sible that concupiscence should co-exist with faith, or charity with temporal possessions: but concupiscence avails itself of God, to enjoy the world ; the latter makes use of the world, but enjoys God. L 4 152 THE JEWS. Again, the end which we pursue is that which gives names to things. Whatever hinders us in the prosecution of that, we consider as an enemy. Thus the creatures, which are good in them^ selves, are the enemies of good men, when they lead them from God; and God himself is ac- counted an enemy by those whom he thwarts in their lusts. Hence the appellation of enemy being applied according to the end men have in view- ; good men understood it of their passions, and carnal men of the Babylonians ; so that these terms were only obscure to the wicked. And this was the meaning of Isaiah when he said, Seal the law among my disciples. Isa. viii. 16, And, that Christ should be a a stone of stumbling, 'and a rock of offence, (v. 14.) but blessed are those who shall not be offended in him. Matt. xi. 6. Hosea also says the same thing: Who is wise, and he shall understand tJtese things; prudent, and he shall know them ? For the ways of the Lord arc right, and the just shall walk, in them; but transgressors shall fall therein. Hos. xiv. 9. Yet the Old Testament was so framed, that while it enlightened some, and blinded others, it demonstrated in the latter the truth which it re- vealed to the former. For the visible blessings which they received from God, were so great and THE JEWS. 153 divine, that they evidently testified his 'power to give them those which were invisible, and also a Messiah, The time of our Lord's first coming is expressly foretold ; but that of his second is not. Because the first was to be private, whereas the second will be glorious, and so manifest, that his enemies themselves will acknowledge him. But though his first appearance was to be obscure, and dis- cernible only by those who searched the scrip- tures, God had so ordered things, that all this contributed to characterize him. The Jews proved him by receiving him ; for they were depositaries of the prophecies, and they proved him also by rejecting him, because in this they accomplished the prophecies. The Jews had both miracles and prophecies which they saw fulfilled; the peculiar doctrine of their law was the love and adoration of only one God; and this was perpetual: it had, there- fore, every mark of the true religion ; and so it really was. But we are to distinguish between the doctrine of the Jews, and the doctrine of the Jaw of the Jews. For the doctrine of the Jews was not true, although it had miracles and pro- phecies, and perpetuity on its side; because it was deficient in the main principle, of loving and adoring God only. The Jewish religion must therefore be con- 154 THE JEWS. sidered very differently in the tradition of their saints, and in the tradition of the people. Its morality and happiness are both ridiculous, ac- cording to the tradition of the people ; but they are incomparable in that of their saints. Its foundation is wonderful ; it is the most ancient and most authentic book in the world: And whereas Mahomet, that his writings might con- tinue, has forbidden them to be read ; Moses that his might continue, has commanded every body to read them. The religion of the Jews is altogether divine in its authority, its duration, its perpetuity, its morality, its conduct, its doctrine, its effects. It was formed as a representation of the reality of the Messiah ; and the reality of the Messiah was made evident by the Jewish religion, which represented him. Under the Jewish ceconomy truth appeared only in figure : in heaven it is without veil : in the church it is veiled, but discerned by its cor- respondence to the figure. As the figure was first built upon the truth, so the truth is now distinguishable by the figure. He that forms his judgment of the Jewish re- ligion, by its exterior, will judge wrongly. It is to be seen in the sacred writings, and in the tra- ditions of the prophets, who sufficiently proved THE JEWS. 155 that they did not understand the law accord- ing to the letter. Our religion, in like manner, is divine in the Gospel, m the Apostles, and in its traditions ; but it is utterly disfigured in those who treat it injudiciously. The Jews were of two classes; some were merely Pagan in their affections, while others were really Christian. The Messiah, according to the carnal Jews, was to be a mighty temporal prince. Accord- ing to carnal Christians, he is come to dispense with our loving God, and to give us Sacraments which shall do every thing without us. This is no more the religion of Christians, than that was the religion of the Jews. The true Jews and true Christians agree in acknowledging a Messiah, who shall make them love God, and by that love shall make them triumph over their enemies. The veil which is upon the scriptures, in respect to the carnal Jews, is there, likewise, in respect to wicked Christians, and all those who do not hate themselves. But how well are we disposed to understand them, and to become ac- quainted with Jesus Christ, when we are once made properly to abhor ourselves ! Carnal Jews fill the middle place between 156 MOSES. Christians and Pagans. The Pagans knew not God, and loved nothing but the world. The Jews knew the true God, and still loved nothing but the world. Christians know the true God, and love not the world: Jews and Pagans love the same world: Christians and Jews know the same God. The Jews are a people visibly framed to be the standing witnesses of the MessiaJi. They preserve the scriptures ; they love them, and yet do not understand them. And all this has been foretold; for it is said, that the statutes of God should be delivered to them, but as a book that is sealed. So long as there were prophets to support the law, the people were negligent; but when the prophets ceased, the zeal of the people supplied their place ; which is a providence too remark- able to be overlooked. XL MOSES. W HEN the creation of the world became a distant event, God provided a contemporary historian, and appointed a whole nation for the MOSES. 157 keepers of his history, in order that it might be the most authentic in the world, and that all mankind might hence be informed of a fact, which it was so necessary for them to know, and yet was impossible to be known in any .other way. Moses was a very able man. This is indis- putable. Had he, therefore, written with a de- sign to deceive, he would have done it in such a manner as not to be convicted of the deceit. He has, however, done just the reverse > for if what he delivered had been fabulous, there was not a single Jew but could have detected the im- posture. Why, for instance, does he make the lives of the first men so long, and their generations so few ? In a multitude of generations he might have sheltered himself from discovery ; but in so few this was impracticable. For it is not the number of years, but the multitude of genera- tions, which renders things obscure. Truth is enfeebled only by the changes among men. Yet he places the two greatest events that were ever conceived, the creation and the deluge, so close together, that they touch, as it were, from the few generations which he reckons between them. Insomuch, that at the time of his registering these things, the memory of them could not but be still fresh in the minds of all the few ink nation. 158 MOSES. Larnech had seen Adam; Shem had seen La* mec/iy Abraham, Shem; Jacob, Abraham; and Moses those who had seen Jacob. Therefore the creation and the deluge are indubitably true. This will be acknowledged as conclusive by certain persons, who will readily understand it. The longevity of the Patriarchs, instead of contributing to the decay of past facts, served, on the contrary, to their preservation. For the reason why we are not often sufficiently in- structed in the history of our ancestors is, be- cause we have seldom lived with them, or because they died before we attained the age of reason. But when men lived to so great an age, children lived long with their parents, and had much op- portunity of conversing with them; now what could have been the subject of their conversa- tion, but the history of their progenitors ; since this comprised all history whatever, and men were not then acquainted with the arts and sciences, which now take up so large a share in our discourse ? And it is evident that the keep- ing exact genealogies was the peculiar care of those earlier times. FIGURES, 159 .XII. FIGURES. J. HERE are some figures clear and demon- strative, and there are others which appear less natural, and prove nothing but to those who have been previously convinced. The latter resemble those of some men who build pro- phecies on the Revelations, which they expound according to their own fancy. But there is this difference between them, that they have no infallible predictions to support those which they introduce. So that they are guilty of the highest injustice, when they pretend theirs to be as well grounded as some of ours; be- cause they have not any others which are incontestable as we have. The case there- fore is by no means parallel. We are not to level and confound things which agree in one respect, when they are so vastly different in another. Jesus Christ, prefigured by Joseph, the beloved of his Father, and by him sent to visit his bre- thren, is the innocent person whom his brethren sold for twenty pieces of silver, and who, by this 160 FIGURES means, became their Lord, their satiour, the saviour of strangers, and of the whole world; which had not happened but for their plot of destroying him, making him an outcast, and selling him for a slave. Joseph was an innocent man in prison between two criminals, Jesus on the cross between two thieves : Joseph foretels deliverance to one of his companions, and death to the other, from the same tokens; Jesus Christ saves one and leaves the other, after the same crimes: Joseph could only foretel^ Jesus Christ performed what he foretold: Joseph requests the person who should be delivered, to be mindful of him in his glory; the man saved by Jesus Christ, entreats he will remember him when he comes into his king- dom. Grace is the figure of glory ; for it is not the ultimate object. It was prefigured by the law, and it prefigures glory; but so that it is itself the way to arrive at glory. The Synagogue was not destroyed, because it was the figure of the church : and because it was only the figure, it fell into servitude. The figure subsisted till the arrival of the substance, that the church might always be visible, either in the representation or the reality. 101 XIII, THAT THE LAW WAS FIGURATIVE. lO establish at once the authority of both Testaments, we have only to observe, whether that which is prophesied in the one, be accom- plished in the other. In order to examine the prophecies, we must first of all understand them. For, supposing them to have but one sense, the Messiah can- not be come ; but, supposing them to have two senses, he. certainly is come, in the person of Jesus Christ. All the question, therefore, is, whether they have a double meaning ? Whether they are figures or realities ; that is to say, whether we ought to seek something more in them than immediately presents itself, or whether we ought to confine ourselves to that construction which oilers itself at first view ? If the law 7 and the sacrifices were the sub- stance, they would necessarily be acceptable to God, and not be displeasing to him. If they were only figurative, they would be both pleas- ing and displeasing to him, in different respects. M 162 THE LAW FIGURATIVE. Now, throughout the scripture, they both please and displease him; therefore they were only figurative. To see clearly that the old Dispensation was merely figurative, and that the prophets when they spake of temporal blessings had others in view, we have only to consider, first, that it would be unworthy of God to call men to the enjoyment of nothing but temporal happiness ; and secondly, that while the words of the pro- phets clearly convey a promise of temporal blessings, they yet affirm that their expressions are obscure, that their meaning is not that which appears obvious at first, and that it would only be understood by the issue of events. They therefore knew they were speak- ing of other sacrifices, another deliverer, &c. It must also be remarked, that their expres- sions would contradict and invalidate each other, if by the words law, and sacrifice, only the law and the sacrifices instituted by Moses are to be understood. Nay, there would be a manifest and gross contradiction in their writ- ings, and sometimes even in the same chapter. From whence it follows, that they must have had something further in prospect. It is said, that the law shall be changed ; that the sacrifice shall be changed; that they shall be without kings, without princes, and without sacrifices .; that a new covenant shall THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 163 be established ; that the law shall be renewed; that the commandments they had received were not good ; that their sacrifices were abominable, and that God had not required them. It is also said, on the other hand, that the law shall abide for ever; that the covenant shall be eternal, the sacrifices perpetual ; that the sceptre should never depart from them, till the everlasting King was come. Do these expres- sions prove the law to be the substance? No. Do they demonstrate it to be the figure ? No. But that it must be either the substance or the figure. Now the former, by excluding the sub- stance, prove it can only be the figure. All these passages taken together cannot be applied to the substance ; but they may be all applied to the figure: therefore, they were spoken of the figure, and not of the sub- stance. To know whether the law and the sacrifices are real or figurative, we must take notice whether the prophets, in speaking of these things, had their views and their thoughts so entirely fixed on them, as to look no further than the old covenant; or whether they did not discern somewhat else, of which all this was representation ; for in a picture we discover MS 1(J4 THE LAW FIGURATIVE. the thing represented. Now in order to this,, we uct'd only examine what they say. When they say the covenant shall be ever- lasting, do they mean the same which they affirm shall be changed ? And so of the sacri- fices, &c. The prophets have expressly said, that Israel shall always be beloved of God, and that the law shall endure for ever. But they have like- wise said, that their meaning was hidden, and would not be understood. ; prr We have a double meaning in a writing in cypher. Suppose we intercept an important letter, in which we are told there is one obvious meaning, and that nevertheless the sense is so obscured, that we shall even see the letter with- out seeing it, and understand it without under- standing it ; what are we to judge, but that the cypher has a two-fold meaning? which is more- over apparent from the evident contradictions we meet with in the literal construction of it. How ought we then to esteem those who de- cypher this writing to us, and make us ac- quainted with its hidden meaning, especially when they go upon principles perfectly natural and clear. This is what Jesus Christ and hi* apostles have done : they have opened the seal , . THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 165 they have rent the veil, and laid open the spi- ritual sense. They have taught us, that our enemies are our passions, that our Redeemer is to be a spiritual Redeemer ; that he is to have a first and a second coming, the one in humility to abase the proud, the other in glory to exalt the humble ; that Jesus Christ is God, as well as Jesus Christ made it his whole business to teach men, that they were lovers of themselves; that they were enslaved, blind, distempered, miserable, and sinful ; that it was needful he should deliver them, enlighten them, bless them, and heal them : That this was to be effected by hating themselves, and following him ; by poverty, and the death of the cross. The letter killeth. It was necessary that Christ should suffer. In a God who has humbled him- self; in circumcision of the heart; a true fast, a true sacrifice, a true temple, a two-fold law, a two-fold table of the law, a two-fold captivity we behold the cypher he has presented to us. He has now taught us that all these things were but figures ; and what it is to be truly free, to be a true Israelite ; wherein consists true cir- cumcision, the true bread of heaven, &e. By these promises everv one may detect which lies nearest his heart, spiritual or temporal bless- M3 166 THE LAW FIGURATIVE. ings ; God or creatures : but with this differ- ence, that they who look in the promises only for creatures, find them attended with numeious contradictions, with a prohibition to love them, and with a command to worship God alone, and to love nothing but Him : whereas they who seek God in them, find Him without any contra- diction, and with a pleasing command to love none but Him only. The sources of the contrarieties in scriptures, are a God humbled to the death of the cross ; a Messiah triumphing over death by dying him- self; the two natures in Jesus Christ ; his two- fold coming ; and the two states of the nature of man. As we cannot justly describe a man's charac- ter without accounting for all his contrarieties, and as it is not enough to pursue a train of agreeable qualities, without explaining those which appear to be opposite; so, in order to understand the sense of an author, all the con- trary passages must be reconciled. In order, therefore, to understand scripture, we must have a sense in which all the opposite passages agree. It is not sufficient to have one in which many consonant passages unite, but we must have one in which the most dissonant shall agree. THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 167 Every author either has a meaning in which all the different passages will agree, or he has no meaning at all. The latter cannot be said of the scriptures, nor of the prophets : they unquestionably had too much good sense. We must therefore look out for a meaning by which all the discordant parts may be reconciled. Their true sense, therefore, cannot be that of the Jews. But in Jesus Christ all the contradic- tions are harmonized. The Jews could not make the abrogation of the royalty and principality, foretold by Hosea, accord with the prophecy of Jacob. If we take the law, the sacrifices, and the kingdom, for the things ultimately designed, we shall not be able to reconcile all the passages of the same author, nor of the same book, nor, often, of the same chapter: and this sufficiently discovers the intention of the author. The Jews were not permitted to offer sacri- fice, or so much as to eat the tenths, out of Jerusalem, which was the place that the Lord had chosen. Hosea foretold, that the Jews should be with- out a king, without a prince, without sacrifice, and without idols. Which is at this time accom- plished ; for no sacrifice can be legally offered out of Jerusalem. Whenever the word of God, which is true, M 4 168 THE LAW FIGURATIVE. would be false if taken literally, it is true spiri- tually. Sit thou on my right hand : literally this is false, yet spiritually it is true. In such ex- pressions God speaks after the manner of men : and this only implies, that the same intentions as men ha.ve in making others sit at their right hand, God will also have with respect to the Messiah. It is therefore a mark of the divine intention, but not of the manner in which it is to be carried into effect. So when it is said to the Israelites, God has received the odour of your incense, and will give you in recompense a fertile and plentiful land ; the meaning is, that the same intention which a man delighted with your incense, would have in rewarding you with a fruitful land, God will express towards you ; because you have had the same intention with respect to him, that a man would express toward another, by offering him incense. The sole aim of the scripture is Charity. All that does not directly tend to that single point is the figure of it. For as there is but one end in view, whatever does not lead to it, in express terms, is figurative. God in compassion to our weakness, which makes us seek for variety, has so diversified this one precept of charity, that he leads by this very variety to the one thing -needful for us. For THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 169 one thing only is needful, and we love variety. Now God provides for both these facts, by a variety which always leads to the one thing needful. The Rabbins take the breasts of the spouse for figure ; as they do every thing which does not express the only end they have in view, namely, temporal blessings. Some of them see clearly enough, that the only enemy of man is concupiscence, which turns him away from God ; and that God alone, and not a fruitful land, is his real good. Those who fancy the good of man to consist in gratifying the flesh, and his evil in what draws him oft* from the pleasures of sense, let them wallow and die in their pleasures. But as for those who seek God with their whole heart, whom nothing can grieve but being deprived of the light of his countenance, whose only desire is to enjoy him, and whose only enemies are those which withhold them from him; whose affliction it is to see themselves surrounded, and overruled by such enemies, let them be com- forted : for them there is a deliverer, for them there is a God ! The Messiah was promised to deliver men from their enemies ; and he came to deliver them from their sins, and not from their external foes. When David predicts that the Messiah shall 170 THE LAW FIGURATIVE. deliver his people from their enemies, a carnal expositor may apply this to the Egyptians : and then I could not show him that the pro- phecy has been fulfilled. But it may be well applied to men's iniquities, since the Egyptians are not men's real enemies, but their iniquities are. So that the word enemy is ambiguous. But as he also declares, together with Isaiah, and others, that the Messiah shall deliver his people from their sins, the ambiguity is taken off, and the double meaning of enemies is re- duced to the single interpretation of iniquities. For if he had sins in view, he might well denote them by the term enemies : but if he had only temporal enemies in view, it was impossible he should distinguish them by the appellation of sins. Now Moses, David, and Isaiah, all employ the same terms. Who then can say that these terms have not the same sense ; and that the intention of David, who evidently means sins when he speaks of men's enemies, is not the same as that of Moses when he is speaking of their enemies. Daniel, in his ninth chapter, prays that the people may be delivered from the captivity of their enemies; but he thought of their trans- gressions : and to make it clear, he relates the coming of Gabriel to him, to assure him he was heard: and that he had only to wait seventy JESUS CHRIST. 171 weeks, after which the people should obtain de- liverance from their iniquity, that transgression should be brought to an end, and the Redeemer, the Holy of Holies, should bring in, not legal, but everlasting righteousness. When we are once let into this mystery, it is impossible not to discern it. Let us read the Old Testament with this view : let us see whether the sacrifices were real sacrifices, whether Abra- ham $ lineage was the true cause of the friend- ship of God to him ? Whether the promised land was the true place of rest ? Neither of these can be affirmed ; therefore they were only sym- bolical. In a word, let us examine all the legal ceremonies, and all the precepts which are riot of Charity, and we shall find they are nothing but representations. XIV. JESUS CHRIST. JL HE infinite distance between body and spirit, is a figure of the infinitely more infinite distance between our spirit and charity, which is absolutely supernatural. All the splendor of outward grandeur has no 172 JESUS CHRIST. lustre in the eyes of those who are engaged in mental researches. The greatness of men of talents is invisible to the rich, to kings, and conquerors,, and to all these earthly great ones. The greatness of that wisdom which cometh from God, is invisible to the worldly, and to men of talents. Here are three orders of quite different kinds. Great geniuses have their empire, their splen- dor, their greatness, their victories, and do not stand in need of carnal greatness, which has no relation to that which they seek. They are to be seen with the mind, and not with the eye ; but that is enough for them. Saints likewise have their empire > their splendor, their greatness, and their victories ; and have no need either of carnal or mental greatness, which are not of their order, and neither increase nor diminish the greatness to which they aspire. They are seen of God and of angels, and not with the eye of the body, nor by curious minds ; and God is sufficient for them. Archimedes would have been held in the same estimation, without any splendor of birth. He fought no battles; but he has left to all the world his admirable inventions. O ! how great and illustrious does he appear to the eyes of the mind? JESUS CHRIST. 173 Jesus Christ., without riches, without any ex- ternal display of science, stands in his own or- der, that of holiness. He neither published ii> ventions, nor reigned over kingdoms ; but he was humble, patient, pure before God, terrible to devils, and altogether without sin. O ! with what illustrious pomp, with what transcendent magnificence did he come, to such as see with the eyes of the heart, and are the discerners of true wisdom ! It would have been useless for Archimedes to have acted the prince, in his book of geometry, although he really was one. It would have been useless for our Lord Jesus Christ to have come as an earthly king, in order that he might shine in his kingdom of holiness. But how consistently did he come with the character of his own order ! It is ridiculous to be scandalized at the mean condition of Jesus Christ, as if that meanness stood in the same order with the greatness which he came to display. Let us contemplate this greatness in his life, in his sufferings, in his obscurity, in his death, in the choice of his attendants, in their forsaking him, in his secret resurrection, and in all the other parts of his history ; and we shall see it to be so great, as to leave no ground for being offended at his meanness, for there w r as no meanness in him. But there are some who can admire no greats 174 JESUS CHRIST. ness but that of this world; as if there was none in understanding ; and others admire only that of the understanding, as if there was not a greatness infinitely more sublime in heavenly wisdom. The whole system of bodies, the firmament, the stars, the earth, and the kingdoms of it, are inferior in value to the meanest of spirits ; because a spirit is capable of knowing all this, and itself also, which body is not. And the whole system of bodies and spirits together, is unequal to the least motion of charity ; for it is of an order infinitely more exalted. "7^ From all bodies together, we could not ex- tract a single thought ; it is impossible, for thought is quite of a different order. Again, all bodies and spirits together are unable to pro- duce one movement of real chanty. This is likewise impossible, for charity is of another or- der, entirely supernatural. Jesus Christ lived in so much obscurity, (as the world terms obscurity) that historians who record only things of importance, have scarcely taken any notice of him. Yet what man ever possessed so much glory as Jesus Christ ? The whole Jewish nation pre- dicted him before his coming : the Gentile JESUS CHRIST. 175 world adore him since his coming. Both Jews arid Gentiles regard him as their centre. And yet who ever enjoyed so little of so much glory? Of thirty-three years, he spent thirty in privacy. During the other three he passed for an impostor, the priests and rulers of his nation rejected him, his friends and his kins- men despised him ; and, at last, he died an ignominious death, betrayed by one of his at- tendants, denied by another, and deserted by all. What share then had he in this glory ? No man had ever so much, and yet no man was ever in a meaner condition. All his glory was therefore for our sakes, to render him evident to us ; but was not intended to aggrandize him- self. Jesus Christ speaks of the sublimest subjects in a manner as simple as if he had never con- sidered them, but nevertheless his expressions are so exact, as to show that he had thoroughly weighed them. Such accuracy with such sim- plicity, is admirable. Who made the Evangelists acquainted with the qualities of a soul truly heroic, that they should paint it so perfectly as they have done in Jesus Christ ? Why do they describe him as weak in his agony ? Did they not know how i;6 JESUS CHRIST. to describe a courageous death ? Yes, certainly : for St. Luke describes that of St. Stephen more forcibly in this respect, than he has done that of our Lord. They therefore represent him, as capable of fear before his death actually arrived ; but as dauntless afterward when it came. When he is described as afflicted, his affliction is from himself; but when troubled by men, he is un- moved. The Church has been obliged to prove that Christ was Man, against those who have denied it, as well as to prove that he was God ; for appearances were as much against the one as against the other. Jesus Christ is a God to whom we approach without pride, and before whom we are humbled without despair. The conversion of the heathen was reserved for the grace of the Messiah. The Jews either did not attempt it, or their attempts were un- successful. All that the prophets and Solomon had said on the subject was unavailing. Their wise men, as Plato and Socrates, could not per- suade them to worship the true God alone. The gospel says nothing of the early life of the Virgin Mary, but what relates to the birth JESUS CHRIST. 177 of Jesus Christ, that every thing might bear reference to him. Both Testaments refer to Jesus Christ ; the former as its hope ; the latter as its example ; and both as their centre. The prophets had the gift of foretelling ; but never were foretold themselves : the saints, which followed, were foretold ; but had not the power of foretelling : Jesus Christ both prophesied, and was prophesied of. Jesus Christ, for all mankind ; Moses, for a single nation. The Jews were blessed in Abraham : I will bless them that bless thee : Gen. xii. %. But all nations are blessed in Abraham's seed: A light to lighten the Gentiles, &c. Luke ii. 32. He has not done so to any nation, says David, speaking of the law: Ps. cxlvii. 20. He has done so to all nations, may we say, speaking of Jesus Christ. Thus it is the prerogative of Jesus Christ to be an universal blessing. The church offers sa- crifice only for believers; Jesus Christ offered that of the cross for all. Let us then stretch out our arms to our deli- verer; who, having been promised four thou- N 178 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST sand years, came at length to suffer and to die for us, at the time, and under all the circum- stances that were foretold ; and waiting by his grace to die in peace, in the hope of being eternally united to him, let us in the mean- while live with comfort ; both among the good things which it may please him to give us, and among the evil things which he may send us for our good, and which, by his own example, he has taught us to endure. XV. THE EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST FROM THE PROPHECIES. JL HE most striking evidences of Jesus Christ are the prophecies ; and therefore God has or- dered them with peculiar care. For the full accomplishment of them is a miracle which extends from the beginning of the church to the end. Sixteen hundred years together, God raised up a succession of prophets ; and in the four hundred years following, he dispersed their prophecies along with the Jews, who carried them into all parts of the world. Such was the preparation for the birth of Jesus Christ ! As FROM THE PROPHECIES. 179 3iis gospel was to be believed by all nations, it was necessary, not only that there should be prophecies to gain it this belief, but likewise that they should be diffused through all the world, that all the world might receive him. If only one single man had left a book of predictions concerning Jesus Christ, as to the time and manner of his coming, and he had come agreeably to those predictions, it would have infinite weight. But here is much more. Here is a succession of men, for four thousand years, who regularly, and without variation, succeed one another to foretel the same event. A whole people are his harbingers ; and they subsist four thousand years, to testify, in a body, the assurances they have respecting him, from which no threats or persecutions could oblige them to depart. This is in every view remarkable. The exact time was pointed out in the pre- dictions by the state of the Jews, by that of the heathen world, by that of the temples, and by the number of years. The prophets having given various signs which were all to concur at the coming of the Messiah, it was necessary they should all meet at the same period. Thus it was necessary that the fourth monarchy should be established at the expiration of Daniel's seventy weeks ; that N 2 180 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST the sceptre should then be taken from Judah, and then that the Messiah should appear. And at that juncture Jesus Christ appeared, and de- clared himself to be the Messiah. It is foretold, that under the fourth mo- narchy, before the destruction of the second Temple, before the dominion of the Jews was taken away, and in the seventieth of Daniel's weeks, the heathens should be instructed, and brought to the knowledge of the God who was adored by the Jews; that those who loved him should be delivered from their enemies, and be filled with his fear and love. And it happened that in the time of the fourth monarchy, before the destruction of the second temple, &c. the Pagans in multitudes adored the true God, and led an angelic life ; women consecrated to religion their virginity, and their lives ; men voluntarily renounced all the pleasures of sense. That which Plato was unable to persuade a few of the wisest and best informed men of his time to do, a Secret Power, by means of a few words, now effected in thousands of uneducated men. "What can all this mean? It is that which was foretold many ages before. / will pour out my spirit upon all flesh. Joel ii. 28. All nations lay in infidelity and lust. All the world now becomes burning with charity ; princes renounce their grandeur -, even young FROM THE PROPHECIES. 181 women suffer martyrdom ; children forsake the houses of their parents to go and live in de- serts. Whence springs this courage ? The Mes- siah is come ; behold the effects and the tokens of his coming. For two thousand years together the God of the Jews remained unknown to an infinite multitude of Pagan nations. Yet, at the pre- cise time foretold, the Pagans throng to adore this only true God ; the idol temples are de- stroyed ; Kings submit themselves to the cross. What is the cause of all this ? It is the Spirit of God poured out upon the earth. It was foretold that the Messiah should come to establish a new covenant with his people, w r hich would make them forget their departure 4>ut of Egypt. Jer. xxiii. 7- That he would write his law, not on tables of stone, but on their hearts, Jer. xxxi, 33. and put his fear, which was till then displayed in external cere- monies, into their hearts likewise. Jer. xxxii. 40. That the Jews should reject our Lord, and should themselves be rejected of God, the choice vine bringeth forth only wild grapes. Isa. v. C 2 7- That the chosen people should prove disloyal, ungrateful, and incredulous. A rebellious and gainsaying people. Isa. Ixv. 2. That God should strike them with blindness, N 3 182 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST and that, like blind men, they should stumble at noon-day. Deut. xxviii. 28, 29. That the church should be small in its be- ginning, and should afterwards increase. Eze- kiel xvii. 22 24. It was foretold that idolatry should then be overthrown ; that this Messiah should cause the idols to fall, and bring men to the worship of the true God. Isa. ii. 18. That the idol temples should be cast down, and that in all places of the world men should offer to God pure sacrifices, and not those of beasts. Mai. i. 11. That he should teach men the perfect way. That he should reign over Jews and Gentiles. No person has ever appeared before, or since, who has taught any thing corresponding to these predictions. After so many persons who predicted his coining, Jesus Christ came and said, I am he, and this is the time I was to come. He came to teach men, that they have no other enemies but themselves ; that their passions have sepa- rated them from God ; that he came to de- liver them from these enemies, to give them his grace, in order to form out of all nations one holy church, into which he would bring both Jews and Gentiles ; and that he would destroy the idolatry of the one, and the super- stition of the other. FROM THE PROPHECIES. 183 What the prophets have foretold should come to pass, my Apostles, said he, will shortly ac- complish. The Jews are on the point of being rejected ; Jerusalem shall soon be destroyed ; the Gentiles will soon be brought to the know- ledge of the true God, and my Apostles shall be their instructors, after you have slain the son, who is the heir of the vineyard. And afterward his Apostles said plainly to the Jews, the curse is now going to be executed upon you. And they declared to the Gentiles, that they were to be brought to the true know- ledge of God. To this all men are averse, through the natu- ral influence of their concupiscence. Hence this king of Jews and Gentiles was oppressed by both, who conspired to take away his life. All that is great in the world, the learned, the wise, and the mighty, unite to oppose this rising religion. Some write against it, others condemn it, and others put to death its pro- fessors. But in spite of all these different op- positions, we see Jesus Christ in a very little time reigning over them all ; destroying the Jewish worship in Jerusalem, which was the centre of it, and from which his church was first taken, and idol worship in Rome, which was the centre of it, and where his principal church was af- terward established. Persons of no education, or power, for such N 4 184 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST were the Apostles and primitive Christians, withstood all the powers of the earth; over- came Kings, together with the learned and the wise, and subverted idolatry, though so firmly established in the world. And all this was brought to pass by the sole influence of that word which had foretold it. The Jews, by putting to death Jesus Christ, that they might not acknowledge him to be the Messiah, gave him the final mark of actually being the Messiah. And by persisting to mis- judge him, they became irrefragable witnesses of him : for by their slaying him, and conti- nuing to disown him, the prophecies were ful- filled. Who can do otherwise than recognise Jesus Christ by the number of particular circum- stances which were predicted of him ? For it was declared, That he should have a forerunner. Mai. iii. 1. That he should be born an infant. Isa. ix. 6. That he should be born in the city of Bethk- hem ; that he should spring from the tribe of Judah, and the family of David ; and that he should principally appear at Jerusalem. Mic. v. 2. That he should blind the eyes of the wise and learned, and preach the Gospel to the poor and FROM THE PROPHECIES. 185 despised ; that he should open the eyes of the blind, restore health to the diseased, and give light to those who languished in darkness. Isa. v. 15 xxxv. 5 ix. 2. That he should teach the perfect way, and be the instructor of the Gentiles. Isa. xlii. 6. That he should be a sacrifice for the sins of the world. Isa. liii. That he should be the chief and precious corner stone. Isa. xxviii. 26. That he should, at the same time, be a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence. Isa. viii. xiv. That the Jews should fall upon this rock. Isa. viii. 15. That this stone should be rejected by the builders; that God would make it the head of the corner, Ps. cxviii. 22. that it should grow into a great mountain, and fill the whole earth. Dan. ii. 35. That thus He should be disowned, betrayed, sold, buffeted, derided, and afflicted by a thou- sand different methods; that they should give him gall to drink, should pierce his hands and his feet, should spit in his face, should kill him, and cast lots upon his vesture. Zach. xi. 12. Ps. Ixix. 21. Ps. xxii. 16, 18. That he should rise again the third day from the dead. Ps. xvi. 10, Hos. vi. 3. 186 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST That he should ascend into Heaven, and bit at the right hand of God. Ps. ex. 1. That kings should, set themselves in arms against him. Ps. ii. 2. That sitting at the right hand of the Father, he should triumph over all his enemies, Ps. ex. 1,2. That the kings of the earth, and all the people, should worship him. Isa. lx.1 0. That the Jews should subsist as a distinct people. Jer. xxxi. 36. That they should wander about without princes, without sacrifices, without an altar, without prophets, looking for deliverance, and not finding it. Hos. iii. 4, &c. The Messiah was himself to produce a nu- merous people, elect, sacred, and peculiar; to guide, support, and lead them into a place of rest and of holiness ; to make them holy unto God ; to make them the temple of God ; to re- concile them to God ; to save them from his wrath ; to rescue them from the tyranny of sin, which reigns so visibly over men ; to give laws to this people ; to engrave these laws in their hearts ; to offer himself to God for them ; to be made a sacrifice for them ; to be at once the spotless sacrifice, and the priest ; he was to otFer himself, his body, and his blood, and also FROM THE PROPHECIES. 187 to offer bread and wine to God. Jesus Christ has done all this. It was foretold, that he should come as a deliverer, who should bruise Satan's head, who should save his people from their sins ; from all their sins. That there should be a new cove- nant, which should be eternal, and another priesthood, after the order of Melchisedec, which should be everlasting. That Jesus Christ should be powerful, mighty, and glorious, and yet so mean as not to be acknowledged; that he should not be taken for what he really was ; that he should be rejected and slain ; that the people who had denied him should be no more his people ; that those who had been idolaters should receive him, and trust in him ; that he should quit Zion to reign in the very centre of idolatrous worship ; that notwithstanding all this, the Jews should ever continue ; that he should arise out of Judah, when the sceptre was de- parted from them. Let any man consider, that from the begin- ning of the world, either the expectation or the worship of the Messiah continued without interruption ; that he was promised to the first man, immediately after his fall ; that after him others declared that God had revealed to them, that a Redeemer should be born, who would save his people ; that Abraham afterwards was 188 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST raised up to say that this Redeemer should proceed from a son which he was to have ; that Jacob declared, that out of his twelve children Judah was the one from whom he should de- scend ; that Moses and the Prophets came after this, and predicted the time and manner of his coming ; that they said their law was only a preparation for that of the Messiah ; that until his was promulgated, theirs should subsist; that thus either theirs or his should always remain in the world ; that it has actually so remained ; and that at length Jesus Christ came under all the circumstances which were foretold. Surely this must appear astonishing. But, it may be said, if all this was so clearly foretold to the Jews, how came they not to believe on him ? Or how is it they are not ex- terminated for having resisted so clear a reve- lation ? I reply, that both were predicted, that they would not believe it, clear as it was, and also that they should not be exterminated. And nothing could be more glorious to the Messiah ; for it was not sufficient for this to be foretold ; but the prophecies were also pre- ^erved without the shadow of suspicion. The prophets have interwoven particular pro- phecies with those which relate to the Messiah ; that the prophecies concerning Him might not be without proof, and that the particular pro- phecies might not be unedifying. FROM THE PROPHECIES. 189 We have no king but Ctesar, said the Jews. John xix. 15. Therefore Jesus Christ was the Messiah^ since they had no king hut a stranger, and chose to have no other. Daniel's seventy weeks are rendered disput- able, as to the time of their beginning, by the phraseology of the prophecy; and, as to their expiration, by the differences among chrono- logists. And yet all this variety amounts to no more than two hundred years. The same prophecies which represent Jesus Christ as in poverty, represent him as the master of the world. Those prophecies which express the time of our Lord's coming, only speak of him as the ruler of the Gentiles, and as a sufferer; not, as in the clouds, nor as a judge ; and those which represent him in glory, arid judging the nations, specify no particular period. When the scriptures speak of the Messiah as great arid glorious, it is evident they refer to his judging the world, and not to his redeem- ing it. 190 XVI. VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST. XF we are not to give credit to the Apostles, we must suppose them either to be deceived or deceivers. But neither could have easily been the case. As to the first, it was impossible they should be mistaken in taking a man to be NT- risen from the dead; and as to the other, the supposition of their being impostors is extremely absurd. Let us only examine it at length. Let us imagine these twelve men meeting together after the death of Jesus Christ, arid combining to fabricate a report of his resurrection. By this they must set all powers against them. The heart of man has a strange inclination to inconstancy and change, to be drawn aside by promises and rewards. Now should only one of them be influenced by all these allurements, or even by imprisonment, tortures, or death itself, they had all been undone. Pursue this suppo- sition. While Jesus Christ continued with them, he might have encouraged them : but afterward, if he did not really appear to them, who was it that made them proceed ? VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST. 19 i The style of the gospel is admirable in an infinite number of views ; and in this amongst others, that it contains no invectives, on the part of the historians, against Judas, or Pilate, nor against any of the enemies, or the murder- ers of Jesus Christ. Had this modesty of the evangelical his- torians been affected, (along with many other characters of the same excellent temper,) and had they affected it only in order to be taken notice of; if they had not ventured to remark it themselves, they would not have failed to procure friends who should notice it to their advantage. But as they acted without any affectation, and from motives altogether dis- interested, they never made any person observe it. Indeed, I do not know that it has been remarked to this day, which shows the simpli- city of their whole conduct in the affair. Jesus Christ performed miracles, and his Apostles after him, and many were also wrought by the primitive Christians ; because as the prophecies were not yet fully accomplished, and were to be accomplished by them, nothing but miracles would have been a sufficient evi- dence of their commission. It was foretold, that the Messiah should convert the Gentile nations. But how was this prophecy to be fulfilled, if the Gentiles were not converted; 192 VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST. and how were they to be converted to the Messiah, without beholding this final effect of the prophecies that proved him ? Till, there- fore, he had died, and was risen again, and the Gentiles were converted, all was not fulfilled. So that miracles were necessary through the whole of this period. But there is now no necessity for any more to establish the truth of the Christian Religion, for the prophecies which are accomplished remain a perpetual miracle. The present condition of the Jews is also a striking evidence of our Religion. It is asto- nishing to see this people subsisting during so long a course of years, and yet to see them al- ways miserable ; it being necessary as an evi- dence of Jesus Christ, both that they should subsist, to be his witnesses, and should be mi- serable, as his cmcifiers. And though to sub- sist, and to be miserable, are in some respects contradictory, yet the Jews do subsist, notwith- standing their misery. But were they not almost in the same con- dition in the time of the captivity ? No : The sceptre was not interrupted by their captivity in Babylon ; because their return was promised and foretold. For lest they should imagine the sceptre to be departed from Judah, when Nabu- chodonosor carried away the people, they were beforehand assured, that they should only re- VARIOUS PROOFS JESUS CHRIST. 193 main there for a short period, and should cer- tainly be brought back. They were always consoled by the prophets, and their kings were continued. But the second destruction is with- out any promise of restoration ; without pro phets, without kings, without comfort, without hope ; the sceptre is now departed from them for ever. It was scarcely to be considered as being in a state of captivity, to be in it with an assur- ance of deliverance in seventy years. But they are, now, without any such hope. God had promised them, that though they should be scattered to the very extremities of the earth, yet if they were faithful to his law, he would gather them again. They are now faithful to it, and yet remain under oppression. It follows, therefore, that the Messiah is come, and that the law, which contained these pro- mises, has been annulled by the establishment of another. If the Jews had all been converted by Jesus Christ, we should hare none but suspected wit- nesses ; and had they been entirely destroyed, we should have no witnesses at alL The Jews rejected Christ, but not all of them ; so now saints receive him, and not those who are carnal. And this is so far from di- O 194 VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST.- minishing his glory, that it gives the last touch which perfects it. The argument which the Jews employ, and the only one we find insisted on in their writings, in the Talmud, and by the Rabbins, is, that Jesus Christ did not subdue the nations by force of arms. Jesus Christ, say they, was killed, he was overcome; he did not conquer the Gentiles by his power ; he has not given us their spoils -, he has not enriched us. And is this all they have to say ? It is in this, he ap- pears so amiable to me : I would not have such a Messiah as they figure to themselves. How delightful it is to behold, with the eye of faith, Darius, Cyrus, Alexander, the Romans, Pompey, and Herod, all conspiring, without knowing it, to promote the glory of the gospel. XVIL AGAINST MAHOMET. 1 HE Mahometan religion has for its founda- tion the Alcoran, and Mahomet. But this pro- MAHOMET. 195 phet, who was to be the last expectation of mankind,- has he ever been foretold ? Or, what token has he to show, more than any other man who may please to call himself a prophet ? What miracles does he himself tell us that he wrought ? What mysteries did he teach, even according to his own account? What morality? What felicity ? Mahomet is altogether without authority : his reasons, therefore, ought to be very cogent, as they are^to rest entirely on their own forcev Suppose two persons should both talk of things apparently mean ; but that the dis- courses of one should have a two-fold sense, understood by his own followers, while those of the other had but one meaning only : If a person who was not in the secret, should hear them speak in this manner, he would be in- clined to pass the same judgment on both. But if afterwards, in the remaining part of their conversation, the one should speak of angelical things, and the other should talk of nothing but what was base and vulgar, and even nonsensical, he must conclude, that the one spake mysteriously, and not the other j the one having shown that he is incapable of ab- surdity, and capable of being mysterious ; and the other, that he is incapable of being mys- terious, but is capable of being absurd, o Q- 196 MAHOMET. It is not because there is something obscure in Mahomet's doctrine, that may pass for a mysterious meaning, that I would have it de- cided on ; but by those things which are plain, as his Paradise, and the like. In these he is ridiculous. But it is not so with the scriptures. They have their obscurities ; but then in other parts they are admirably clear, and their pro- phecies have been evidently accomplished. The case, therefore, is totally different, We are not to compare and confound things which resemble each other only in obscurity, and not in having plain and evident passages, which when they are divine, are such as oblige us to reverence the obscurities themselves. The Alcoran says, St. Matthew was a good man. Therefore Mahomet was a false prophet, either in calling wicked men good, or in dis- believing what these good men declared of Jesus Christ. Any man can do what Mahomet did ; for he wrought no miracle, his coming was never fore- told. But what Jesus Christ has done, no other can do. Mahomet established his religion by killing- others Jesus Christ by making his followers lay down their own lives ; Mahomet, by for- bidding his law. to be read Jesus Christ by GOD'S DESIGN. 197 commanding us to read. In a word, the two were so opposite, that if Mahomet took the way, in human probability, to succeed; Jesus Christ took the way, humanly speaking, to be dis- appointed. And hence, instead of concluding, that because Mahomet succeeded, Jesus Christ might in like manner have succeeded ; we ought to infer, that since Mahomet has succeeded, Christianity must have inevitably perished, if it had not been supported by a power altogether divine. XVIII. THE DESIGN OF GOD IN CONCEALING HIMSELF FROM SOME, AND REVEALING HIMSELF TO OTHERS. JLT was the purpose of God, to redeem man- kind, and to open the way of salvation to those who should seek it. But men have rendered themselves so unworthy of it, that he justly denies to some, on account of their obduracy, that unmerited mercy which he grants to others. If he thought fit to surmount the obstinacy of the most hardened, he could easily effect it, by revealing himself so manifestly to 03 198 GOD'S DESIGN IN them, as to make it impossible for them to doubt the reality of his existence. And thus lie will appear, at the last day, in awful thunder, and such a wreck of nature, that the most blind shall be forced to behold him. But this \vas - not the way in which he chose to appear at his milder coming. Because, there being so many among mankind, who were rendering themselves unworthy of his com- passion, he determined to leave them destitute of a blessing which they did not desire. It was not, therefore, consistent that he should appear in a manner manifestly divine, and capable of con^ vincing all men irresistibly : nor, on the other hand, w r ould it have been right to have been so perfectly concealed, as not to be discoverable by those who sought him sincerely. His de- sign was to render himself perfectly knowable to the latter; and thus intending to reveal himself to those, who sought him with their whole heart, and to conceal himself from those, who shunned him with their whole heart, he so tempered the knowledge of himself, as to, give marks that were visible to those who sought him, and obscure to those who sought him not. There is light enough for those whose sincere desire is to see j and darkness enough for those who are of a contrary disposition. There is brightness enough to illuminate PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 199 1iie elect*; and enough of obscurity to humble them. There is obscurity enough to blind the re- probate; and brightness enough to condemn them, and to leave them without excuse. If the world subsisted, merely to inform men of the being of God ; his divinity would shine through it, on every side, in an undeniable manner, But as it subsists only by Jesus Christ, and for Jesus Christ, and to inform men of their corruption and redemption, every thing beams forth with evidence of these important facts. For all that we can behold neither de- notes the total exclusion, nor the manifest pre- sence of God, but the presence of a God who hideth himself. Every thing bears this cha- racter. If nothing of God had ever appeared, this continual privation would have been equivocal ; and might have been equally explained by the non-existence of a Deity, and by the unwor- thiness of mankind to know any thing of Him. But as he in some instances appears, though not continually, this takes away the ambiguity. If he has appeared once, he exists for ever. So that we can come to no other conclusion than this, that there is a God, and that men are un- worthy to know Him. o 4 200 COD'S DESIGN IN The divine intention is more to produce a perfection of the will, than of the understand- ing ; but a perfect clearness would only be of use to the understanding, and would be hurtful to the will. If there were no darkness, men would not feel their depravity ; and were there no light, they would have no hope of a remedy. So that it is not only just, but advantageous to us, that God should conceal himself in part, and dis- cover himself in part ; since it is, equally, dan- gerous for men to know God without knowing their own misery,-^and to know their own misery, without any knowledge of God. Every thing informs man of his own con- dition ; but this ought to be rightly understood. For God does not either completely reveal himself, nor remain altogether concealed. But it is most certainly true, that he conceals him- self from those who tempt him, and reveals himself to those who seek him. For though men are altogether unworthy of God, yet at the same time they are capable of enjoying Him. They are unworthy 'of communion with him by their corruption; but are capablv> of it by their original nature. There is no object on earth, which does not proclaim either the misery of man, or the mercy of God; either the impotence of man, witiiout PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 201 God, or the power of man, with the assistance of God. The whole universe teaches man, either that he is depraved, or that he is redeemed. Every thing informs him either of his greatness, or his misery. The dereliction of God, we may remark in the Pagans : his protection appears in the Jews. All things work together for good to the elect ; even the obscurities of scripture, which they revere on account of that divine clearness which they understand. And all things work together for evil to the reprobate, not except- ing the divine clearness of scripture, which they blaspheme, on account of the obscurities which they do not comprehend. If Jesus Christ had only come for the pur- pose of sanctification, the whole of scripture, and every thing else, would have been directed to this end ; and it would have been very easy to convince unbelievers. But since he came, as Isaiah speaks, both for a sanctuary and a rock of offence, (Isa. viii. 14.) it is impossible for us to conquer their perverseness. But this makes nothing against us, because we affirm that all the divine conduct conveys no con- viction to obstinate minds, and such as do not sincerely seek the truth. GOD'S DESIGN IN Jesus Christ is come, that those who sec not, may sec ; and that those who see, may be made blind. He is come to heal the sick, and let the healthy die : to call sinners to repentance and justification, and to leave those in their sins, who think themselves righteous ; to Jill the hungry with good things, and to send the rich empty away* What do the prophets affirm of Jesus Christ ? That he shall appear, evidently, to be God ? No But that he is a God veiled to the eye of sense ; that he shall be unknown ; that men will not think it is him - y that he shall be a stone of stumbling against which many shall fall ; &c. It was to make the Messiah known to the good, and unknown to the wicked, that God caused him to be so foretold. For had the manner of his appearance been clearly de- scribed, there would not have been any ob- scurity, even to wicked men, And if the time had been obscurely predicted, even good men would have felt themselves in darkness. For the integrity of their heart could not have taught them, for example, that a o signified six hundred years. The time, therefore, was clearly declared; and the manner only in figure. By this means the wicked, apprehending that the blessings promised were temporal, were PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 203 deceived, notwithstanding the clear predictions of the time ; while the righteous were not deceived -, for the sense in which the promised blessings are understood, depends on the heart, which calls that good which it loves ; but the interpretation of the promised time does not depend on the heart. And thus the clear pre- diction of the time, and the obscure prediction of the blessings, could mislead none but the wicked. What must the Messiah have been, seeing that in him the sceptre was eternally to con- tinue with Judah ; and that, at his coming, the sceptre was to be taken from Judah f That seeing, they should not see; and understanding, they should not understand. Isa. vi. 9. Nothing could have been more complete. Instead of complaining that God is concealed, we ought to give him thanks that he has so clearly revealed himself; and to give him thanks also, that he still hides himself from the wise and the proud, who are unworthy to know so holy a God. The genealogy of Jesus Christ in the Old Testament, is intermixed with so many things of little consequence, that we can scarcely distinguish it, Had Moses kept no other re- e>()4 GOD'S DESIGN IN gister but that of the ancestors of Jesus Christ, it would have been too conspicuous ; but even now, by careful inspection, we may trace it in Thamar, Ruth, &c. The most apparent defects are of force with persons of discernment. For instance : the two genealogies of St. Matthew and St. Luke ; it being manifest that they could not have been drawn out in concert. Let not men, therefore, reproach us with want of light : for we ourselves profess to want it. But let them own the truth of religion in its very obscurity, in the imperfection of the light which surrounds us, and that indifference which is in men about knowing it. Were there but one religion, God would be too conspicuous : and so likewise, if there were martyrs in no other religion than our own. Jesus Christ, to leave the impious in their blindness, never told them that he was not of Nazareth, or that he was not the son of Joseph. As Jesus Christ remained unknown amongst men, so truth remains amongst other opinions, undistinguished by their external appearance, the Eucharist amidst common bread. PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. If the mercy of God be so great as savingly to instruct us, even while he hides himself from us, what light may we not expect, when he shall please to unveil his perfections ? We can understand nothing of the works of God, if we do not take it as a principle, that he blinds some while he illuminates others. XIX. THAT TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS, HAVE BUT ONE AND THE SAME RELIGION. X HE Jewish Religion SEEMS essentially to consist in the paternity of Abraham, the rite of circumcision, the sacrifices, the ceremonies, the ark, the temple at Jerusalem, and, in short, in the law and the covenant of Moses. I affirm, however, that it consisted in neither of these, but in the love of God alone ; and that God rejected every thing without this. That God bore no manner of regard to the carnal Israel who descended from Abraham. That the Jews were to be punished by God like strangers, if they provoked his displeasure. 206 TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. And it shall be, that if thou do at all forget the* Lord thy God, and walk after other gods ; I tes- tify against you this day, that ye shall surely perish ; as t/ie nations which the Lord destroyeth before your face, so shall ye perish. Deut. viiL 19, 20. That strangers, if they loved God, should be accepted by him as the Jews. That the true Jews would ascribe all their merit to God, and not to Abraham. Doubt- less thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not : thou, O Lord, art our Father, our Redeemer. Isa. Ixiii. 16. Moses himself assured them that God was no accepter of persons. God, says he, regardeth not persons, nor taketh rewards. Deut. x. 17- I affirm, that the circumcision enjoined was that of the heart. Circumcise, therefore, the foreskin of your heart, and be no more stiff-necked. For the Lord your God is a great God, a mighty, and a terrible, who regardeth not persons, &c. Deut. x. 16, 17- Jer. iv. 4. That God promised to bestow on them this grace. And the Lord thy God will circumcise thy heart, and the heart of thy seed, to love the Lord thy God with all thy heart. Deut. xxx. 6. That the uncircumcised in heart shall be judged of God. / will punish them which are circumcised with the uncircumcised ; for all these TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. 207 nations are uncircumcised, and all the house of Israel are uncircumcised in heart. Jer. ix. 25, 26. I add, that circumcision was a figure, insti- tuted to distinguish the Jews from ,all other nations. Gen. xvii. 10. And this was the rea- son that it was not performed in the wilderness, because there was then no danger of their mix- ing with strangers ; and since Jesus Christ has come, it is no longer necessary. That the love of God is every where enforced : / call lieaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live ; that ilwu mayest love the Lord thy God, and that thou mayest obey his voice, and that thou mayest cleave unto him ; for he is thy life. Deut. xxx. 19, 20. It is said, that the Jews, for want of this love of God, should be rejected on account of their crimes, and the Gentiles admitted in their stead. / will hide my face from them, I will see what their end shall be ; for they are a very froward generation, children in whom is no faith. They have moved me to jealousy with that which is not God, they have provoked me to anger with their vanities, and I will move them to jealousy with those which are not a people, I will provoke them to anger with a foolish nation, Deut. xxxii. 20,21. 208 TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. That temporal blessings are fallacious, and that the only true good is to be united to God. Ps. Ixxiii. 27- That their festivals and sacrifices were dis- pleasing to God. Isa. Ixvi. 3. Jer. vi. 20. Not only those of the wicked Jews; but He even took no pleasure in those of the good, as appears from the fiftieth Psalm, where, before the wicked are peculiarly addressed in those words, To the wicked God saith, 8{c. v. 16, it is declared that God has no regard to the sacrifices or the blood of beasts. That the offerings of the Gentiles should be accepted by God, and that he should withdraw his approbation from the offerings of the Jews, Mai. i. 11. Hos. vi. 6. That God would make a new covenant by the Messiah, and that the old covenant should be annulled. Jer. xxxi. 31. That the old things should be forgotten. Isa. xliii. 18. That the ark should no more come to mind. Jer. iii. 16. That the temple should be rejected. Jer. vii. 14. That the sacrifices should be abolished, and purer sacrifices established. Mai. i. 10. That the Aaronical order of priesthood should be set aside, and the order of Melchisedec intro- duced by the Messiah, and that this priesthood should be everlasting. Ps. ex. 4. TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. 209 That Jerusalem should be cast off, and a new name given to the people, which should be more excellent than that of Jews, and of eternal dura- tion. Isa. vi. 11, 12 Ivi. 3, 5. That the Jews should be without prophets, without kings, without sacrifices, and without an altar; and should nevertheless subsist as a dis- tinct people. Hos. iii. 4. Jer. xxxi. 37. XX. THAT GOD CANNOT BE SAVINGLY KNOWN BUT THROUGH JESUS CHRIST. JVlOST of those who undertake to demonstrate the divine Being to ungodly persons, commonly begin with the works of nature, and they very rarely succeed. I do not mean to dispute the validity of these proofs, which are consecrated by the holy scripture : they are conformable to reason; but very often they are not suited and proportioned to that disposition of mind which prevails in those for whom they are intended. For we must observe, that such discourses are not addressed to men who have a lively faith in P 210 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. their hearts, and who immediately discern that every thing which exists is no more than the work of that God whom they adore. To these all nature proclaims its author, and the heavens declare the glory of God. But as for those in whom this light is extinct, and in whom we endeavour to revive it, who are destitute of faith and charity, and who behold nothing but dark- ness and obscurity in nature, it does not seem the proper way to convert them, to point out to them, as proofs on this important subject, nothing more than the course of the moon, or the planets, or common arguments, against which they have constantly hardened themselves. The obduracy of their minds renders them deaf to this voice of nature, which has sounded continually in their ears ; and experience shows, that so far from convincing them by this method, nothing is so likely to discourage them, and to make them despair of ever finding the truth, as to undertake to persuade them by this mode of reasoning, and to tell them that they must clearly see the truth of it. It is not in this manner the scripture speaks, which knows so much better than we do the things which are of God. It informs us, indeed, that the beauty of the creatures makes known Him who is their author ; but it does not tel us that it does this to all persons in the world. On the contrary, it declares, that whenever they SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. 21 1 do it, it is not by themselves, but by that light which God sheds abroad into the hearts of those to whom he discovers himself by their means. That which may be known of God, is manifest in them; for God hath showed it to them. Rom. i. 19. It teaches us, in general, that God is an invisible God. Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself. Isa. xlv. 15. And that since the corruption of human nature, he has left men in a state of blindness, from which they can only be deli- vered by Jesus Christ, without whom we are cut off from all communion with God. No man knoweth the Father save the Son, and he to whom- soever the Son will reveal him. Matt. xi. 27. The Scripture also points this out to us, when it tells us, in so many places, that those who seek God find him; for we do not speak thus of a thing which is evident and clear ; men do not search after that it discovers itself, and compels observation. The metaphysical proofs of a God are so very intricate, and abstracted from the common rea- sonings of men, that they strike them with but- little force ; and when they do affect some, it is only for the moment in which they discern the demonstration; but the very next hour they suspect they are deceived : Quod curiositate cog- noverant superbia amiserunt. Moreover, arguments of this kind can only 212 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. lead us to a speculative knowledge of God ; and to know him only thus, is, in fact, not to know him at all. The Deity of Christians is not merely a God who is the author of geometrical truths, and of the order of the elements : that is the divinity of the Pagans. Nor is he merely a God who over- rules by his providence the lives and fortunes of men, in order to give those who worship him a happy series of years : this was the portion of the Jews. But the -God of Abraham and of Jacob, the God of the Christians, is a God of love and consolation ; a God who fills the soul and the heart which he possesses ; gives it an inward feeling of its own misery, and of his in- finite mercy ; unites himself to the soul, reple- nishing it with humility and joy, with confidence and love; and renders it incapable of fixing on any thing but himself, as its ultimate object. The God of the Christians is a God who makes the soul perceive that he is its only good; that its only rest is in him ; that it can have no joy but in his love ; and at the same time he causes it to abhor those obstacles, which hinder and withhold it from loving him with all its strength. Self-love and concupiscence, which do this, are insupportable to it. God makes it feel that there is this self-love deeply rooted within it, and that He alone can remove it. This it is to know God a$ a Christian. But to SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. know him in this manner, we must, at the same time, know our own misery and un worthiness, and the need we have of a mediator, in order to draw nigh to God, and unite ourselves to him. We must never separate these truths, because either by itself is not only unprofitable but hurtful. The knowledge of God, without the knowledge of our own misery, produces pride. The knowledge of our own misery, with- out the knowledge of Jesus Christ, produces despair. But the knowledge of Jesus Christ exempts us both from pride and despair; because in him we see God, our own misery, and the only way of recovery from it. We may know God without knowing our own miseries, or our own miseries without knowing God ; or we may know both, without knowing the means of deliverance from the miseries which oppress us. But we cannot know Jesus Christ without at the same time knowing God, our own miseries, and the remedy for them : because Jesus Christ is not only God, but he is God the healer of our miseries. Thus all who seek God without Jesus Christ, find no light which can afford tl^em satisfaction, or be really profitable to them. For either they do not go far enough to know that there is a God ; or if they do, it is of no use to them, because they frame to themselves a way of corn.* municating without a mediator, with that God P3 014 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. whom they have discovered without a mediator: so that they either fall into atheism, or deism, two things which the Christian religion almost, equally abhors. We ought, therefore, wholly to direct our in- quiries to the knowledge of Jesus Christ, since it is by him alone that we can hope to know God, in a manner that shall be really advan- tageous ta us. He is the true God to us men; that is, to miserable and sinful creatures: he is the centre of all, and the object of all. He who knows not him, knows nothing either in the order of the world, or in himself. For not only do we know nothing of God, but by Jesus Christ ; but we know nothing of ourselves also, but by Jesus Christ alone. Without Jesus Christ man must remain in vice and in misery : with Jesus Christ man is released from vice, and from misery also. In him is all our happiness, our virtue, our life, our light, our hope -, and out of him there is nothing but vice, misery, darkness, despair ; nothing but confusion appears in the nature of God, or in the nature of man. CONTRARIETIES IN MA,N, XXI. THE SURPRISING CONTRARIETIES IN THE NA- TURE OF MAN, WITH REGARD TO TRUTH f HAPPINESS, AND VARIOUS OTHER THINGS. IN OTHING is more astonishing in the nature of man, than the contrarieties which are observ- able in him, with regard to every subject. He is made for the knowledge of truth , he ardently desires, and pursues it \ and yet, when he en- deavours to lay hold on it, he so dazzles and confounds himself, that he makes it doubtful whether he has actually attained it. This gave rise to the two sects, of Pyrrhonians, and Pog- n^atists; of which one endeavoured utterly to deprive men of all knowledge of truth ; while the other endeavoured infallibly to assure him pf it : but each with reasons so improbable, that they only increase our confusion and perplexity, as long as we continue without any other light than that which we find in ourselves. The principal arguments of the Pyrrhonians, or Sceptics, are as follow. That we have no r- certainty of the truth of any principles P4 216 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. (if we except faith and revelation) than, that we naturally feel them within ourselves. But this natural perception of them is no convincing evidence of their truth ; because, since without faith we have no assurance whether man was created by a good God, or by some evil Daemon; whether he has existed from eternity, or been the offspring of chance. It may be doubted whether these principles which have been given us are true, or false, or uncertain; this depending on the nature of our origin. Further, that no person can tell, except by faith, whether he is asleep or awake ; because in our sleep we as strongly fancy ourselves to be awake as when we really are so : we imagine that we see space, figure, and motion : we perceive the time pass away; we calculate it; in short, we act as if we were awake. Therefore, as by our own confes- sion, one half of our life is spent in sleep, during which, whatever we may suppose, we have no notion of truth, all our ideas being mere illu- sions, who can tell but the other half of our life, in which w T e think ourselves awake, is not also a sleep, a little different from the former, from which we awake when we think ourselves asleep, as we sometimes dream that w r e dream, heaping one reverie upon another. I leave the declamations of the same sect against the impressions of custom, education, CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. 2 17 manners, countries, and other such things which govern the greatest part of mankind, who form their opinions on no other foundation. The only fort of the Dogmatists is this, that, if we speak honestly and sincerely, no man can doubt of natural principles. We have a know- ledge of truth, say they, not only by reasoning, but by intuition, and by a clear and vivid intel- ligence ; and it is in this way that we attain our knowledge of first principles. It is therefore in vain for reason, which has no share in producing them, to attempt to attack them. The Sceptics, who make this their object, are labouring totally in vain. We know when we are awake, how- ever unable we may be to demonstrate it by reasoning. This inability shows nothing more than the feebleness of our rational powers, but not the uncertainty of all our knowledge, as they pretend.. For the knowledge of first prin- ciples, as, for instance, that there are such things as space, time, motion, number, matter, is as certain as any with which our reasonings furnish us. Nay, it is upon this knowledge by percep- tion and intuition that reason must rest, and found all its procedures. I perceive that there are three dimensions in space, and that number is infinite; and my reason afterward demon- strates, that there are no two square numbers assignable, one of which is exactly double the other. We perceive principles, and we con- 218 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. elude propositions : and both with equal cer- tainty, though by different ways. And it is as ridiculous for reason to demand of perception and intelligence, a demonstration of these first principles, before it consents to them, as it would be for the intellect to demand of reason, a clear intuition of the propositions it demonstrates. This inability, therefore, can only serve to humble reason, which wants to be the judge of every thing; but not at all to diminish our cer- tainty, as if nothing but reason were capable of instructing us. Would to God, that, on the contrary, we had no occasion for it at all, and that we knew every thing by instinct and intui- tion. But nature has denied us this favour, and allows us but little knowledge of this sort ; all the rest we must acquire by reasoning. Here then is open war among men. We must all enlist on one side or the other; for he that thinks to stand neuter is most effectually a Pyrrhonian : this neutrality is the very essence cf Pyrrhonism ; he who is not against them, must be in a superlative manner for them. What shall a man do in this situation? Shall he doubt of every thing ? Shall he doubt whether he is awake, whether another pinches him or burns him ? Shall he doubt whether he doubts ? Shall he doubt whether he exists ? It seems impossible to come to this; and therefore I take it for granted, that there never was a complete and \ CONTRARIETIES IN MAN- 219 absolute Sceptic. Nature sustains the weakness of reason, and keeps it from this degree of ex- travagance : but shall a man say, oil the con- trary, that he is in sure possession of truth ; he who, if you press him ever so little, can produce no title to belief, and is obliged to quit his hold? ^ Who shall unravel this perplexity? Nature confutes the Pyrrhonians ; Reason, the Dogma- tists. What will then become of thee, O man, who art seeking the knowledge of thine own condition, by thy natural reason? Thou canst neither avoid both these sects, nor continue in either ! Such is man, with regard to truth. Let us now consider him with respect to felicity, which he seeks with so much earnestness through the whole of his actions: for all men desire to be happy ; this is a rule without exception. How different soever may be the means they employ, all have the same end in view. That which makes one man go to the wars, and that which makes another stay away, is the same desire, attended in each with different views. The will never stirs the least step but toward this object. It is the motive of all the actions of all men, not excepting even those who hang and destroy themselves. And yet, after so many ages, no person with- out faith has ever arrived at this point, toward CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. which all are continually tending. Every body is discontented; princes, subjects, nobles, beg- gars, the old, the young, the strong, the weak, the learned, the ignorant, the healthy, the sick, of all countries, of all times, of all ages, and of all conditions. So long, so constant, and uniform a proof, ought fully to convince us of our own inability to arrive at happiness by our own endeavours. But example does not teach us ; it is never so perfectly parallel as to be without some trifling difference, which leads us to expect that we shall not be deceived on the next occasion, as we were on the last. Thus the present never satisfying us, hope urges us on from misfortune to misfortune, till at last it leads us to death^ the sum of misery without end. It is truly astonishing, that there should not be any one thing in nature which has not at some time been looked to, to fill the place of the last end and happiness of man ; stars, ele- ments, plants, animals, insects, diseases, wars, vices, crimes. Man being fallen from his na- tural state, there is nothing so extravagant as to be incapable of attracting him. Ever since he lost his real good, every thing cheats him with the appearance of it ; not excepting even the destruction of himself, contrary as it is both to reason and nature together. Some have sought for happiness in authority, CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. others in curiosities and the sciences, and others in pleasure. These three passions have pro- duced three sects; and those whom we call philosophers, have really done nothing else but follow one of the three. Such amongst them as approached nearest to the truth, considered, that the universal good which all men desire, and in which each should have a portion, could not consist in any peculiar thing which can be in the possession of one person alone, and which, if it were divided, would more grieve him who might possess it, for want of the part he has not, than it could gratify him by the enjoyment of the part which he has. They saw that the true good must be something which all may possess at once, without diminution or envy; and which no man can be deprived of against his will. They understood this; but they were unable to find it; and instead of solid and substantial good, they at last em- braced the empty shadow of a chimerical virtue. Our instinct makes us feel that we ought to seek our happiness within ourselves. Our pas- sions hurry us abroad, even when no objects present themselves to excite them ; and external objects are themselves our tempters, and attract us even when we are not thinking about them. Therefore, though philosophers should weary themselves with crying, Enter into ijourselves, 222 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. your real felicity is within you, people give them no credit j and those who do, are the more un- satisfied and ridiculous on that account: for what is there more vain and ridiculous, than that which the Stoicks call happiness, or more false than the reasonings from which they de- duce it? They conclude, that what has been done once, may always be done , and that, because the de- sire of glory sometimes makes those who possess it, perform actions which are praiseworthy, others may also do the same. But those are feverish exertions, which health cannot imitate. The internal contest between reason and the passions, has occasioned those who were desirous of peace to become divided into sects. Some were for renouncing their passions, and becom- ing gods ; and others for renouncing their rea- son, and becoming beasts. But neither of them could do either the one or the other. Reason still remains to censure the baseness and injus- tice of the passions, and to disturb the repose of those who gave themselves up to them : and the passions still remain alive, even in those who pretend to renounce them. This then is the account of what man can accomplish by himself and his own efforts, both with regard to truth and to happiness. We have an idea of truth, not to be effaced by the Sceptic ; we have an incapacity of argument, CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. not to be rectified by the Dogmatist. We wish for truth, and find nothing in ourselves but un- certainty. We seek after happiness, and find nothing but misery. We are incapable of ceas- ing to wish both for happiness and truth, and yet are incapable of procuring either certainty or felicity. This desire is left in us, partly as a punishment, ,and partly as an indication from whence we are fallen. If man was not made for God, how is it that be can only be happy in God ? And how is he so opposite to God ? Man cannot tell where he is to place himself. He is unquestionably out of his way, and feels within himself the remains of a happy state, from whence he is fallen, and which he is un- able to recover. He is ever seeking after it with earnestness, but without success, encom- passed with impenetrable darkness. Hence arose the disputes of the philosophers : some taking iipon them to elevate man, by dis- playing his greatness, and others to depress him, by representing his misery. And what seems more strange, is, that each party em- ployed the argument of the other, to strengthen its own opinion. For the misery of man may be inferred from his greatness, and his great- ness may be inferred from his misery. Thus 224 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. one sect more clearly demonstrated his misery* by deducing it from his greatness ; and another more forcibly demonstrated his greatness, be- cause they inferred it from his misery. What- ever one party adduced in proof of his great- ness, served as an argument for the other to demonstrate his misery; because the greater the height from whence we .have fallen, the greater is the calamity of having fallen, and vice versa. So that each became uppermost by turns, revolving in an endless circle of dispute; for it is certain, that the greater the degree of light men enjoy, the more will they discern in man, both of misery and of great- ness. In a word, man knows himself to be miserable ; he is therefore miserable, because he knows it : but he is likewise eminently .great, because he is conscious of his misery. What a chimaera then is man! What a novelty ! What a chaos ! What a subject of contradiction ! A judge of every thing, and yet a feeble worm of the earth ; the depository of truth, and yet a mere heap of uncertainty ; the glory and the outcast of the universe. If he boasts, I humble him ; if he humbles him- self, I boast of him ; and always contradict him, till he is brought to comprehend that he is an incomprehensible monster. XXII. THE GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MANl JL HE first thing which offers itself to man, when he reflects on himself, is his body : that is to say 3 a certain portion of matter which is appropriated to him. But in order to under- stand what this is, he must compare it with all that is "above him, or below him, in order to determine its just bounds. Let him not therefore content himself with the sight of those objects which immediately surround him. Letjiim contemplate all nature, in its noble and perfect majesty. Let him consider that glorious luxuriancy, which is set as an eternal lamp to enlighten the universe. Let him consider that this earth is only a point, compared with the vast circuit which that luminary describes. And let him remark with astonishment, that this vast circuit itself is but a point, compared with that of the stars which revolve in the firmament. But if his sight be limited here, let his imagination go further still. It will sooner be weary with conceiving, than nature with supplying his conceptions, Q 226 GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. All that we see of the universe, is no more than an imperceptible trait in the ample bosom of nature. No idea can reach the extent of her space. Let us swell our conceptions as much as we will, we bring forth nothing but atoms, in comparison with the reality of things. This is an infinite sphere, the centre of which is every where, and the circumference no where. In a word, it is one of the greatest sensible cha- racters of the omnipotence of God, that our imagination is lost in the thought. When man returns again to himself, let him consider what he is, compared with the whole that exists. Let him look on himself as wandering in this bye-corner of nature ; and from what he sees of this little dungeon, in which he is lodged, that is to say, this world, let him learn to estimate the earth, its king- doms, its cities, and himself, at their proper value. What is one man in this infinity of being ? Who can perceive him ? But to show him another prodigy no less astonishing, let him look into what appears to him the minutest of objects. Let a mite, for instance, show him in its little diminutive body, parts incompar rably more minute; legs with joints, veins in those legs, blood in. those veins, humours in that blood, drops in those humours, vapours in those drops. Let him divide these vapours GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. till his powers and his conceptions are ex- hausted, and let the last particle which he has imagined, be the subject of our discourse. He will probably suppose, that this is the ulti- mate minutia in nature: but even in this I will show him a new abyss. I will delineate to him not only the visible universe, but all that he is able to conceive in the immensity of nature, in the circumference of that imper- ceptible atom. Here let him behold an infinity of worlds, each with its firmament, lis planets, its earth, in the same proportion as in the visible world, and on this earth other animals, and at length mites again^ in which he shall also find what he found in the first, and others again in them, without end or cessation. Let him lose himself in these wonders, as sur- prising by their minuteness, as the former by their extent. And who will not be surprised -to consider, that his body, which was just now imperceptible in the universe, which universe itself w^as imperceptible in the bosom of uni- versal being, should now become a colossus, a world, or rather an universe, compared with that ultimate minuteness, to which we can never arrive. He that shall reflect on himself thus, will, no doubt, be affrighted to find himself, as it were suspended, as to the portion of matter al- lotted him, between the two abysses of infinity 228 GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. and nothing, from which he is equally re- moved. He will tremble at the sight of these wonders ; and I think that his curiosity chang- ing into admiration, he will be more inclined to contemplate them in silence, than to in- vestigate them with presumption. For, after all, what is man in nature ? A nothing before infinity, an universe before no- thing ; a medium between the two. He is in- finitely distant from both extremes, and his being is no less distant from that nothing from which he was taken, than from that infinity in which he is swallowed up. His understanding holds the same rank in the order of intelligent beings, as his body in the material system ; and all that it can do is only to discern some appearances of the middle of things, under perpetual despair of compre- hending either their beginning or their end. All things have arisen from nothing, and are tending to infinity. Who can follow such an astonishing progress ? None but the author of these wonders is abie to comprehend them. This middle state betwixt two extremes, is common to all our faculties. Our senses can bear nothing extreme : too loud a sound makes us deaf; too strong a light makes us blind ; too great a distance, or too great nearness, alike prevent us fiorn seeing; too much prolixity, or GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. 29 too much brevity, render a discourse obscure; too much pleasure incommodes us; too much uniformity of sound disgusts us. We are not capable of feeling either the most intense heat, or the most extreme cold. Any qualities in ex- cess are inimical to us, and not perceivable ; we do not fed, we only suffer them. Child- hood and old age alike incapacitate the mind; too much or too little food disturbs it in its actions ; too much or too little instruction ren- ders it stupid. Things in extreme are to us as if they were not, and we are as nothing with respect to them : either we escape them, or they escape us. This is our real condition. This confines all our attainments within certain limits, which we never pass ; incapable both of knowing every thing, and of being ignorant of every thing. We are placed on a wide medium, always un- certain, and floating between ignorance and knowledge ; and if we endeavour to go further* the object we have in view grows unsteady, escapes our hold, hides itself from us, and va- nishes in an eternal flight, which nothing can restrain. This is our natural condition, and yet that which is the most opposite to our inclination. We burn with a desire to search into every thing, and to build a tower which shall reacix to infinity ; but soon the whole edifice crumbles Q 3 230 GREATNESS OF MAN. to pieces, and the earth opens, and swallows it up. XXIII. THE GREATNESS OF MAN. X CAN easily conceive a man without hands, and without feet ; and I could conceive him too without an head, if I did not learn from experience, that it is by means of this he thinks. Thought, therefore, constitutes the essence of man, without which we can have no conception of him. What is that in us which is sensible of plea- sure ? Is it the hand ? Is it the arm ? Is it the flesh? Is it the blood? We shall find that it must be something immaterial. Man is so great, that his greatness appears in his knowing himself to be miserable. A tree is not conscious of misery. It is true, that to know oneself to be miserable, is really to be miserable ; but there is still something great in a consciousness of misery. Thus all his miseries GREATNESS OF MAN. prove his greatness. They are the miseries of a noble lord ; the miseries of a king that has been dethroned. Who thinks himself unhappy in not being a king, except a deposed king ? Was Paidus JEmilius unhappy in not being consul any longer ? On the contrary, every body perceived he was happy in having gone through that office, because it was not a condition in which he was always to remain. But Perseus was so extremely miserable in not being longer a king, because he ought always to have continued so, that it was thought strange he could bear even to live. Who thinks himself unhappy in hav- ing but one mouth ? Who would not reckon himself unfortunate in having but one eye ? No man, perhaps, ever thought of lamenting that he had not three eyes ; but any man would be inconsolable for the loss of one. We have so great an idea of the human soul, that we cannot bear to be despised by it, or to be without its esteem. All the happiness of mankind consists in this esteem. If, on the one hand, the felse glory which men pursue is a strong proof of their misery, and their meanness, it is, on the other hand, an equal proof of their excellence. For what- ever earthly possessions men have, whatever health and accommodations they enjoy, they Q 4 232 GREAtNESS OF MAN, are still dissatisfied, if other men do not esteem them. They set so high a value on the reason of man, that whatever worldly advantages they possess, they think themselves unhappy, if they do not stand to advantage in the judgment of others. This is the best situation a man can hold. Nothing can prevent him from desiring it ; and this is the most indelible character of the heart of man ; insomuch that those who think most contemptuously of mankind, and level them with the beasts, would even be ad- mired for so doing, and thus contradict them- selves by their own desires. Nature, which is stronger than all their reason, convincing them more forcibly of the greatness of man, than reason can do of his meanness. Man is but a reed, and the wqakest in nature ; but then he is a thinking reed. There is no occasion that the whole universe should arm itself to destroy him; a vapour, a drop of water is sufficient to kill him. Bat should the whole universe conspire to crush him, he would still be more noble than that which destroys him 5 because he knows that he dies ; while the uni- verse would be insensible of its victory over him. Thus the whole of our dignity consists in. thought: It is by this we are to elevate our- ? selves, and not by mere space and duration. GREATNESS OF MAN. Let us then labour to think well: this is the principle of morality. It is dangerous to show man how much he resembles the beasts, without showing him his greatness. It is dangerous to show him his excellence, without showing him his meanness, And the greatest danger of all is, to leave him ignorant of both. But it is highly beneficial to him to have a knowledge of both. Let man then set a just value on himself. Let him love himself, because he has in him a nature capable of good ; but let him not on that account love the weaknesses of that nature. Let him despise himself, because his capacity is unfilled ; but let him not on that account despise his natural capacity. Let him hate himself; let him love himself. He possesses a capacity for the knowledge of the truth, and for happiness, bat he is not in possession of any truth that is permanent or satisfactory. I would therefore lead him to desire to find it, to be ready and disengaged from his passions, that he may follow it wherever he may meet with it. And knowing how much his know- ledge is obscured by his passions, I would have him hate in himself that concupiscence, which so biasses his judgment, that it may neither blind him in making his choice, nor divert him from it after it is made. 234 XXIV. THE VANITY OF MAN. VvE are not satisfied with the life we have in ourselves, and in our own being; we wish to live an imaginary life in the idea of others ; and hence we strive to make some appearance. We labour, incessantly, to embellish and retain this fictitious being, while we neglect the real one. And if we possess either tranquillity, or generosity, or fidelity, we are anxious to make it known, that we may attach these .virtues to this being of the imagination. We would even deprive ourselves of them, for the sake of being thought to possess them, and willingly turn cowards, to have the reputation of being valiant. A strong mark this of the nullity of our proper being, that we cannot be satisfied in it, without -. the others and very often renounce it for the other ; for) he that would not die to preserve his honor, becomes infamous on that account. The charm of glory is so great, that join it to whatever you will, even to death itself, it appears lovely. VANITY OF MAN. PRIDE is a counterpoise to all our miseries ; because it either conceals them, or, if it exposes them, it glories in the discovery. Pride has so natural a possession of us, amidst all our miseries and errors, that men lose even life with joy, if they know it will be talked of. Vanity has so rooted itself in the heart of man, that a scullion, a hodman, a porter, will vaunt of himself, and wants to have his admirers. And philosophers themselves want the same. Those who write against glory, would have the glory of having written well against it ; and those who read their compositions, would have the glory of having read them. And I who am writing this perhaps feel the same wish ; and perhaps those who read what I write, will feel it likewise. Notwithstanding a sight of all the miseries which touch us, and seize us, as it were, by the throat, we have still an insuperable instinct which lifts us up. We are so presumptuous that we desire to be known to all the world, and even to those who shall come after us, when we are no more ; and we are so vain, that the esteem of five or six persons who are round about us, is enough to amuse and content us. The most important thing in life is the 236 VANITY OF MAN. choice of a profession ; and yet this is left to mere chance. Custom makes masons, soldiers, upholsterers, &c. He is an excellent uphol- sterer, says one: and, oh! what fools are the soldiers, says another ! Others, on the contrary, cry out, there is nothing so great as the wars j and all men are poor creatures but soldiers. By merely hearing in our infancy some arts commended, and others despised, we deter- mine our choice ; for we naturally love excel- lence, and hate imprudence. These words affect as, and we only err in applying them. So great is the power of custom, that there are whole countries which consist of mecha- nics ; and others of soldiers. Nature can never be thus uniform. It is custom, therefore, which does this, and carries nature along with it. Yet, sometimes again, nature will prevail ; and keep men under its instinct, in spite of all custom, either good or bad. Curiosity is nothing but vanity. For the most part, we desire to know things merely that we may talk of them. A man would not undertake a voyage by sea, for the bare plea- sure of gratifying his sight, if he was never to speak of it, and had no hope of conversing about it afterward. We do not much care about bein^ esteemed VANITY OF MAN. 237 in towns which we only pass through, but when \ve are going to stay in them any time, we are solicitous for it. Mow much time will this take ? A time proportioned to our vain and transitory stay? A little thing comforts us, because a little thing afflicts us. We are never satisfied with the present. We * anticipate the future as too slow, and, as it were, to hasten it on ; or we recall the time past, as too swift, in order to stop its flight. Yv r e are so imprudent, that we ramble through these times with which we have nothing to do, and utterly forget that which alone is our own ; and so vain, that we dream of those which are not, and let the only one which subsists, pass away without reflection. This is because the present, generally, gives us some uneasiness ; we hide it from our sight, because it distresses us ; and if it happen to be agree- able, we are distressed to see it so quickly pass away. We endeavour to retain it by means of the future, and think about disposing of things which are not in our power, for a time to which we have no assurance, whatever, that we shall ever arrive. Let a man examine his own thoughts, and he will always find them employed about the time 238 VANITY OF MAN, past, or to come. We scarcely bestow a thought upon the present ; or, if we do, it is only that we may borrow light from it to dispose of the future. The present is never in our view ; the past and the present are our means, but the future alone is our object. Thus we never live, but we hope to live ; and being thus ever prepaung to be happy, it is most certain we never shall be so, if we do not aspire to some other felicity, than can ever be enjoyed in this life. Our imagination so magnifies the time pre- sent, by reflecting perpetually on it, and so weakens the idea of eternity, by scarcely ever thinking about it, that we make a nothing of eternity, and an eternity of nothing. And the root of all this is so predominant in us, that all our reason is too weak to surmount it. Cromwell was going to desolate all Chris- tendom; the royal family would have been ruined, and his own have been established in power, but for a little particle of gravel which fell down into his ureter. Rome itself began to tremble under him ; but this petty grain* which had been nothing any where else, coming into this part, occasioned his death, the fall of his family, and the restoration of the king. XXV. THE WEAKNESS OF MAN. A HERE is nothing which astonishes me so much as to see, that all the world are not asto- nished at their own weakness. Men act seri- ously, and every one follows his own course of life, not because it is really good to follow it, or that it is the fashion, but as if each man knew exactly what is reason and justice. We find ourselves deceived every moment > and by a pleasant kind of humility we think the fault is in ourselves, and not in the art which we always boast of understanding. It is fit there should be many such persons in the world, to show that man is capable of the most extravagant opinions, since he is capable of believing that the weakness he feels is not natural and inevitable, but that on the con- trary he is naturally wise. The weakness of human reason appears much more in those who are ignorant of it, than in p^ those who are acquainted with it. 240 WEAKNESS OF MAN. While we are too young, we judge amiss, and when we are too old, we do the same. Jf we think too little of a thing, or too much, we turn giddy* and are unable to discover the truth. If a man views his own work, just after he has finished it, he is quite prepossessed in its favour : but if he waits too long, he scarcely enters into the subject of it. There is but one precise point from which we can take a just view of a picture ; the rest are too near, or too distant ; too high, or too low. Perspective assigns this point in the art of painting ; but who is able to determine it in Truth and in Morals ? That mistress of mistake, which we call fancy or opinion, is so much the greater cheat, be- cause she does not cheat constantly. She would be an infallible rule of truth, if she were an infallible rule of falsehood. But as she most commonly deceives us, she gives us no mark by which we can go, but stamps truth and falsehood with the same impression. This proud princess, the enemy of reason, who is so well pleased to controul and rule over her, in order to show how much she can govern every thing, has established in man a second WEAKNESS OF MAN, 241 nature, She has her happy and her unhappy, herick and her healthy, her rich and her poor, her fools and her wise ; and nothing is so vexatious as to see that she fills her votaries with more complete and entire satisfaction than reason can do. The imaginary wise always feeling quite a different degree of pleasure to any which the truly wise can reasonably enjoy. They look on other people with authority; they dispute with assurance and confidence, while the others feel modest and diffident. And their gaiety of countenance often gives them an advantage in the opinion of their hearers ; so much favour do the imaginary wise find with judges of their own description. Opinion cannot, indeed, make fools wise ; but it makes them contented, and so maintains the contest with reason, which can only render its friends miserable. The one covers them with glory, the other with shame. What dispenses reputation, what procures respect and veneration to persons, to books, to the great, but opinion? How insufficient. are all riches in the world without its concurrence ? Opinion disposes of every thing. It deno- minates beauty, justice, and happiness, which are all the world can afford. I should be very glad to see an Italian book, of wliich I know only the title, which is itself worth a multitude of books. f)dla Qpinione Regina del Mundo ; R 242 WEAKNESS OF MAN. Of Opinion^ the Queen of the World. I sub- scribe to this without knowing it, if there" be no evil cloaked under this title. There is scarcely any thing, just or unjust, which does not change its nature, on changing its climate. Three degrees of elevation in the pole overturn all jurisprudence. The meridian determines a truth, and a few years a right to possession. Fundamental laws vary. Right has its dates. Fine justice this, which is bounded by a river or a mountain ! Truth on one side of the Pyrenees, is falsehood on the other. The art of overturning states is to discredit established customs, by looking into their origin, and pointing out that it was defective in authority and justice. We ought, say you, to go back to the primitive and fundamental laws of the state, which unjust customs have abolishedo This is the sure way to overset every thing. Nothing is right in such a ba- lance : yet the multitude lend an ear to such discourses; they shake off the yoke as soon as ever they begin to feel it; and the great take advantage of it, to ruin both them, and these curious examiners into established cus- toms. But by a contrary fault, men think they may do with justice, whatever is not with- out example. WEAKNESS OF MAN. 43 1 Set the greatest philosopher in the world upon a plank, only a little broader than the space he usually takes up in walking, if there be a precipice underneath, although his reason, may convince him he is safe, his imagination will get the better of him. Some could not even bear the thought, without sweating and turning pale. I will not enumerate all the effects such a situation might produce. Every one knows the sight of a cat, or of a rat, or treading upon a coal, will entirely unhinge the reason of. some people. Would you not say that yon magistrate, whose venerable age commands the respect of the whole nation, governs himself by wisdom, pure and sublime ; that he judges of things by their real nature, without being moved by those trifling circumstances, which only influence the imagination of the weak ? Behold him enter the court where he is to administer justice ; see him prepare with exemplary gravity for a hear- ing Let a counsel come in, to whom nature has given an untunable voice, or a comical face, if his barber has but half shaved him, or if some accident has well splashed him, I dare lay a wager the magistrate loses his gravity. The soul of the greatest man living is not so independent, but it is liable to be disturbed by the least bustling about him. You need not let off a cannon to break the train of his R 2. 244 WEAKNESS OF MAN. thought : the noise of a weather-cock, or of a pully, will do it. Do not be surprised if you hear him argue a little incoherently at present ; he has a fly buzzing at his ears, and that is enough to make him deaf to good counsel. If you would have him informed of the truth, you must drive away this animal, which holds his reason in check, and discomposes that won- derful intellect, which governs cities and king- doms. The w r ill is one of the principal instruments of belief; not that it produces belief, but be- cause things appear either true or false, accord- ing to the light in which we view them. The will, which likes one point of view better than >/ another, turns off the mind from considering those qualities which it dislikes, and thus the understanding, keeping pace with the will, it stops to look on the appearance that pleases it, and judging by what it sees, it insensibly regu- lates its belief by the inclination of the will. Diseases are another source of error. They impair our judgment and our senses. And if violent ones produce a sensible alteration in them, I have no doubt but lesser ones have a proportional effect. Self-interest is also a wonderful instrument for agreeably putting out our eyes. Affection or dislike will overturn justice, How well doe? WEAKNESS OF MAN. a counsellor, retained with a large fee, find the justice of the cause he is defending improve! Yet I have known men, who, through a con- trary fantasticalness of mind, have, in order to avoid falling into this self-love, been guilty of the highest injustice in the other extreme. The sure way to lose a cause the most just in itself, was to get it recommended, to them, by some of their nearest relations. Imagination often magnifies the most trifling- objects, by giving them such a chimerical value, that our minds are completely filled by them ; and by an insolent temerity, it diminishes the greatest, to make them come within our mea- sure. Truth and justice are two points so very fine, that our instruments are too dull to touch them with exactness. If they reach them, they either slip over the point, or get all on one side it, more near to the wrong than the right. It is not , merely old impressions that are capable of misleading us. The charms of novelty have the same power : and hence arise all the disputes amongst men, who charge each other either with following the false impressions R 3 246 WEAKNESS OF MAN. they have received from their childhood, or with rashly running after new ones. Who keeps the just medium ? Let him come forward and prove it. There is no principle, how natural soever it may be, even from our infancy, but may be made to pass for a false impression, either from education or of the senses. Because, says one, you have thought from your infancy that a vessel was empty when you saw nothing in it, you have believed the possibility of a vacuum. This is only a strong illusion of your senses, strengthened by custom, which science will correct. While others say, on the other hand, because they have told you in the schools that there is no such thing as a vacuum, they have vitiated your common sense, which easily admitted it before they made this evil impression, which you must therefore correct, by returning to the dictates of nature. Which then has deceived us, our senses or our education ? The whole employment of men is to get pro- perty ; and yet the title by which they hold it, has nothing for its origin, but the fancy of the legislature. But after all they have no power to keep possession of it in security ; a thousand accidents may deprive them of it. It is the same with knowledge - y a fit of sickness may deprive us of it. WEAKNESS OF MAN. Man, therefore, is nothing but the subject of indelible errors, without grace. Nothing shows him the truth, every thing misleads him. The two criterions of truth, reason, and the > senses, beside being often unfaithful, impose mutually upon each other. Our senses mis- lead our reason by false appearances ; and reason plays them the same trick in return, and revenges itself upon them. The passions of the mind discompose ther senses, and leave bad impressions upon them. They lie, and impose on each other. What are our natural principles, but prin- ciples we are used to ? In children, those they have received from the customs of their parents, in the same way that animals learn to run after one another. A different custom produces different natural / principles. This is proved by experience. And if there are some principles of nature indelible by custom, there are likewise some impressions of custom, indelible by nature. This depends on disposition. Parents are fearful lest the natural affection of their children should be effaced ; what a na- ture then is this, which is liable to be effaced ? Custom is a second nature, which eradicate the first. Why then is not custom calledT*a R 4 248 MISERY OF MAN. tural? I much fear that this nature itself is only an original custom, as custom is a secon- dary nature. XXVL THE MISERY OF MAN. JNOTHING is more capable of making us enter into the knowledge of human misery, than a consideration of the real cause of that perpetual agitation, in which men pass away all their lives. The soul is sent into the body, to sojourn there a few days. She knows that this is only the passage to a voyage for eternity, and that she has only the short period that life endures to prepare herself for it. The necessities of na- ture take up the greatest part of this time ; and but very little is left to be at her own disposal. And yet this little which remains, so greatly incommodes her, and so strangely perplexes her, that she only studies how to lose it. It is an intolerable burden to her, to be obliged MISERY OF MAN. 249 to live with herself, and think of herself. So that her whole care is to forget herself, and to let this short and precious period pass away without reflection, by amusing herself with things that may prevent her from thinking of it. This is the source of all the tumultuous oc- cupations of men, and of all that is called di- version, or pastime ; in which their only aim in effect is, to make the time pass away without feeling it, or rather without feeling themselves ; and, by wasting this small portion of life, to avoid that bitterness and inward disgust, which would necessarily accompany an atten- tion to ourselves for that period. The soul finds nothing in herself that contents her. She sees nothing but what it distresses her to think of. And this obliges her to look round about her, to seek how she may lose the recollection of her real condition, by applying herself to external objects. Her pleasure consists in this forgetfulness : and nothing is wanting to make her miserable, but obliging her to see herself, and to live with herself. Men are charged from their infancy with the care of their honor, of their property, and with the property and honor of their relations and friends. We burden them with the study of languages, of the sciences, of exercises, and of the arts. We load them with business, and 2 30 MISERY OF MAN. persuade them they can never be truly happy, except they do so and so, by their industry and care ; that their fortune, their honor, and even the fortune and honor of their friends, may be safe; and that the failure of either of these things, will render them miserable. Thus we give them offices and employments, and harass them from morning to night. A strange me- thod, say you, of making them happy ! What more could be done to render them miserable ? Would you know what more might be done ? Nothing else but to release them from these cares. For then they would see themselves, and think of themselves, and that they would find insupportable. Hence, if they gain any relaxation after all their toils, they toil again to throw away their time in some sort of diversion, which may occupy them wholly, and hide them from themselves. For this reason, when I have set myself to consider the various agitations of human life, the toil and the danger to which men expose themselves at court, in the camp, in the pur- suit of their ambitious pretensions, which give birth to so much quarrelling and passion, and to so many desperate and fatal adventures, I have often said that all the misfortunes of men, arise from their not knowing how to be at rest in their closets. A person who has property enough to support him, if he did but know how MISERY OF MAN. 51 to dwell with himself, would never go elsewhere for the sake of a voyage by sea, or the siege of a city ; and if Men had no other aim, but simply to live, they would find no occasion for such hazardous employments. I speak only of those who look at themselves, without any view of religion. For it is indeed one of the miracles of the Christian religion, that it reconciles man to himself, by reconcil- ing him to God ; that it makes him able to bear the sight of himself; and renders solitude and silence more agreeable to some persons, than all the bustle and commerce of mankind. But it is not by confining man to himself that it produces these wonderful effects ; it is only by leading him to God, and by supporting him under the sense of his miseries, with the hope of another life, in which he will be freed from them for ever. But as for those who are actuated only by the emotions they feel in themselves, and in their own nature, it is impossible they should continue in that leisure, which gives them an opportunity of considering and viewing them- selves, without immediately falling into chagrin and distress. Man who loves nothing but him- self, hates nothing so much as to be alone with himself. He seeks nothing but for himself, and yet flies from nothing so much as himself ; because when he sees himself, he does not find MISERY OF MAN. himself such as he could wish ; he only disco* vers a heap of inevitable miseries, and a void as to all real and solid good, which he is inca- pable to fill. Let a man choose what condition he will, arid let him accumulate together all the goods and all the gratifications which appear capable of making any man content, yet if, notwithstand- ing all this, he is without employment and di- version, and has time to reflect on what he is, this languishing felicity will soon come to an end. He will of necessity fall into tormenting apprehensions of what is to come, and if he does not get something external to employ him, he unavoidably becomes miserable. But is not regal dignity of itself sufficiently great to render him who possesses it happy, by the mere view of what he is ? Is it necessary that a king should be diverted from this, like the common ranks of mankind? 1 see clearly that you will make some men happy, by diverting them from the prospect of their dp- mestic distresses, and making them apply all their care to become excellent dancers. But shall we say this of a king ? Will he be more happy by employing himself in these trifling amusements, than in contemplating his own grandeur ? What object more satisfactory can you present to his mind ? Is it not doing injus- tice to his joy, to employ his mind with the MISERY OF MAN. care of adjusting his steps by the cadence of a song, or of ordering a ball with propriety, in- stead of leaving him to enjoy repose in the con- templation of the glory and splendour which surround him ? Let us make the experiment : let us leave a king all alone, without any sen- sual gratification, without any care upon his mind, without company, to think at leisure upon himself; and we shall soon find that a king who has a sight of himself, is a man full of miseries, who feels them as much as any other. Therefore, this is always carefully avoid- ed, and there are always a great number of people kept about the persons of kings, whose business it is, to make diversions succeed after business, and to watch all their hours of leisure, to supply them with pleasures and sports, that no time may be left vacant ; that is to say, they are surrounded by people, who take a wonder- ful deal of care that the king shall not be alone* and in a situation to think on himself, well knowing, that if he does this, all king as he is, he must be miserable. The principal thing which supports men un- der great employments, otherwise so full of trouble, is, that they are incessantly called off from thinking of themselves* Consider it well. What else is it for a man to be a Saperintendant, a Chancellor, a Prime- Minister, but to have a number of people flock- MISERY OF MAN. ing to him from all quarters, so as not to leave him a single hour in the day, to think on him- self? And when such men fall into disgrace, and are banished to their country seats, though they want neither fortune nor domestics, to mi- nister to their wants, they do not fail to be un- happy ; because no one now hinders them from thinking on themselves. Whence comes it to pass, that so many men are delighted with gaming, or hunting, or other diversions, which employ their whole souls ? Not because there is in fact any happiness in what may be acquired by the sport, or that they imagine there is any real blessedness to be found in the money which they may win, or in the hare which they chase : they would not even accept this if you were to offer it them. It is not those gentle and easy habits which leave us at leisure to think on our own wretched condi- tion, that they want ; but the hurry, which di- verts us from thinking. Hence it is, that men are so much in love with the noise and tumult of the world ; that a prison is a punishment so horrible, and that there are so few persons who can bear to be shut up in solitude. This then is all that men have been able to invent, to render themselves happy. And those MISERY OF MAN. who amuse themselves with merely pointing out the vanity and meanness of the diversions which men follow, are indeed well acquainted with one part of their miseries ; for a considerable part it is, to be able to take pleasure in things so base and contemptible. But they do not un- derstand the principle which renders these mi- serable things even necessary to men, so long as they are uncured of that inward and natural unhappiness, of not being able to bear the sight of themselves. If a man were to buy a hare in the market, it would not protect him from this, but the chase of it may. And therefore when we tell men, that what they seek with so much ardour is unable to satisfy them, that there is nothing more mean, and more vain, if they an- swered as they would do if they thought on the subject, there would not be any difference be- tween us ; they would ingenuously declare, that they propose nothing in these pursuits but a violent and impetuous scene of action, which may keep them from the view of themselves, and that, therefore, they make choice of some pleasing objects, which may charm them, and take up all their thoughts. But they do not answer thus, because they are ignorant of themselves. A gentleman sincerely believes that there is somewhat great and noble in hunting ; he will tell you, it is a royal sport. And it is the same with any other thing about 2,56 . MISERY OF MAN. which the great number of men are taken up* They imagine that there must be somewhat real and solid in the objects themselves. When some persuade themselves that if they could but obtain such an office, they should afterwards repose themselves with pleasure ; they are in- sensible of the insatiable nature of desire. They think they are seeking sincerely after rest, while in fact they are seeking after nothing but dis- quiet. Men have one secret instinct, which prompts them to seek abroad for employment or recre- ation, and which proceeds from a sense of their continual unhappiness. And they have another secret instinct, a remain of the grandeur of their original nature, which makes them con- scious, that happiness in effect consists only in repose. And from these two opposite instincts, they form a confused design, which is hidden even from themselves in the recesses of the soul, which engages them to seek after repose by means of agitation, and constantly to ima- gine, that the satisfaction they have not will infallibly ensue, if by surmounting certain dif- ficulties, which they now can discern, they may but open by that means the door to tranquillity. Thus our life runs away. We seek rest, by encountering some impediments, and when we have removed them, rest itself becomes insup- portable. For either we are ruminating on the MISERY OF MAN. 257 miseries we feel, or on those which we fear. And even when we see ourselves on ail sides under shelter, disquietude, though deprived of its authority, will yet infallibly shoot forth from the heart, where it is naturally rooted, and fill the mind with its poison. Therefore, when Cineas said to Pyrrhus, who proposed to enjoy himself with his friends, after he should have conquered a good part of the world, that he would do better to take his hap- piness in advance, by beginning at once to en- joy ease, without going in quest of it through so much fatigue: he gave him advice, which was indeed full of difficulty, and which was scarcely more rational than the project of that ambitious young prince. Each of them sup- posed that a man could be satisfied with him- self, and his present possessions, without filling up the void in his heart, by imaginary expectar tions ; which is false. Pyrrhus could never have been happy, either before or after the conquest of the world ; and perhaps that easy life which his minister recommended to him, was still less capable of giving him satisfaction, than the tu- mult of all the battles and voyages which he had planned in his mind. We ought therefore to acknowledge, that man is really so miserable, that he would dis- quiet himself without any external cause of dis- quiet, by the mere state alone of his natural s MISERY OF MAN. conditidn ; and yet he is at the same tiniS st trifling and vain, that while he is full of a thou- sand essential reasons for sorrow, the least trifle in the world is sufficient to divert him. Inso- ihuch, that if we seriously consider it, he seems more to be pitied for being able to amuse him- self with things so frivolous and mean, than for being distressed at his own real miseries. His diversions ate infinitely less rational than his un- easinesses. Whence is it that this man, who has lately lost his only son, and who was this morning en- tirely taken up with law-suits and litigations, now seems to think nothing more of them ? Do not be surprised ; he is wholly taken up with looking which way the stag will pass, which his dogs have been in chase of these six hours. He cares about nothing else now, notwith- standing all his afflictions. If you can but make him enter into some diversion, you make him happy for that time ; but with a false arid imaginary happiness, not arising from the pos- session of any real and solid good, but from a levity of spirit, which makes him lose the me- mory of his real calamities, to attach himself to fnean and ridiculous objects, unworthy of his attention, and still more unworthy of his love. It is the joy of a sick man, of a man in a J>hrenzy, not arising from the health, but from MISERY OF MAN. the disorder of his mind. It is the laugh of folly and delusion. It is wonderful to observe what trifling things please men in their games and diversions. It is true, that by keeping their minds employed, they preserve them from re- flecting on their real evils ; but then such things keep them employed, only because the mind forms in them an imaginary object of delight, to which it attaches itself. What do you take to be the object of those men, whom you see playing at tennis with such application of mind, and such exertion of body ? The pleasure of boasting to-morrow among their friends, that they have played better than any body else. This is the real source of their earn- estness. And thus others again toil in their clo- sets, for the sake of showing the learned that they have resolved a question in algebra, hi- therto reputed inexplicable. And many others, foolishly enough, in my opinion, expose them- selves to the greatest of dangers, to vaunt of some town they have taken ; nor are there want- ing those who kill themselves in taking notice of all this ; not that they may grow wiser, but merely to show that they know the vanity of it : and these last are the most foolish of all, be- cause they are so knowingly ; whereas we may suppose of the rest, that they would not act as they do, but for want of knowing better. 260 MISERY OF MAN. One man passes away his life without uneasi- ness, by gaming every day for a trifling stake, that would be rendered unhappy, if you were to give him every morning the sum which he might win in the day, upon condition that he should refrain from play. It will be said, perhaps, that it is the amusement of the play which he seeks, and not the gain. Yet if you make him play for nothing, he will feel no eagerness about it, and becomes dull. It is not, therefore, the mere amusement which he seeks ; a languishing amusement without any interest would fatigue him : he must be allowed to heat and rouse him- self, by imagining that he should be happy in gaining that, which he would not accept, if it were given him on condition of not playing; and that he shall create an object of passion, which shall excite his desire, his anger, his fear, and his hope. So that these diversions which constitute the . happiness of men, are not only contemptible, but false and deceitful : that is to say, their ob- ject is merely a phantom and delusion, which would be incapable of occupying the mind of man, if he had not lost the taste and perception of real good, and were he not filled with base- ness, vanity, levity, pride, and an infinite num- ber of other vices ; and they only relieve us un- der oar miseries, by creating a misery more real, and more injurious. For such is whatever MISERY OF MAN. 261 hinders us from thinking principally about our- selves, and which makes us insensibly lose our time. Without this, we should, indeed, feel dis- satisfaction, but this dissatisfaction would lead us to seek some more solid means of escaping from it. But diversions deceive us, amuse us, and lead us on heedlessly to our graves. Mankind having no remedy against death, ig- norance, and misery, have fancied the way to be happy was to think nothing about them. This is all they have been able to invent to con- sole themselves under their calamities. But a most miserable consolation it is, because it tends not to the cure of the evil, but only to the con- cealment of it for a very short time ; and be- cause by concealing it, it hinders us from hav- ing recourse to such means as would really cure it. Thus, by a strange subversion of the nature of man, he finds that disquiet, which is to him the most sensible evil, is in one respect his greatest good, because it may contribute, more than any thing else, to make him seek after real restoration ; while his diversions, which he looks upon as his principal good, are indeed his greatest evil, because they are of all things those which most effectually keep him back from seeking the remedy of his miseries. And both the one and the other are admirable proofs, both of the misery and corruption of man, and S3 269 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. at the same time of his dignity. For he only grows weary of every object, and engages in such a multitude of pursuits, because he still retains the idea of his lost happiness ; and not finding it within himself, he vainly seeks it in external things, without ever obtaining satis- faction, because it is neither to be found in ourselves, nor in creatures, but in God alone t XXVII. THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. VvE are to judge of doctrine by miracles, and of miracles by doctrine. The doctrine shows the nature of the miracles, and the mi- racles show the nature of the doctrine. All this is true, and contains no contradiction. Some miracles are certain evidences of the truth, others are not. There must be a mark by which we may distinguish them, or they "would be useless. But they are not useless ; they are fundamentally necessary. The rule, therefore, which is given us, must r tte such as shall not destroy the evidence which THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES, 263 real miracles afford of the truth ; which it is the principal end of miracles to establish. Were there no miracles ever joined to fals- hood, they would be in themselves demonstra- tive. If there were no rule by which we might distinguish them, they would be useless, and would afford us no reason for our faith. Moses has given us one rule, which is wheu the miracle is intended to lead men to idolatry ; Deut. xiii. 1, 2, 3. And Jesus Christ }i$f given us another ; There is no man (says he) which shall do a miracle in my name, that can lightly speak evil of me : Mark ix. 39. Whence it follows, that whoever speaks openly against Jesus Christ, cannot perform miracles in his name ; therefore if he does perform any, they are not performed in the name of Jesus Christ, and he is therefore to be rejected. We see then the grounds for the disbelief of miracles, to which we are not to add any other. That in the Old Testament is, when they turn us from God ; and that in the New, when they turn us fcpjn Jesus Christ. So that immediately on the sight of a miracle, we must either submit to it, or have some strong reasons for the contrary. We ought to examine whether the person who performs it, denies God, or Jesus Christ and the church. Every religion is false, which, as to if? s 4 264 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. does not worship one God, as the author of all things ; and which, as to its morality, does not love one God alone, as the object of all things. Every religion which does not now acknow- ledge Jesus Christ, is notoriously false, and miracles would be insufficient to demonstrate it. The Jews had a doctrine from God, as we have from Jesus Christ ; and that was confirmed by miracles, and prohibitions against crediting any workers of miracles who should teach them a contra: y doctrine ; they were also command- ed to have recourse to the chief priests, and to adhere strictly to them. So that whatsoever reasons we have now to refuse our belief to the workers of miracles, it may seem they had like- wise, with regard to Jesus Christ and his Apos- tles. Nevertheless it is most certain, that they were highly culpable for refusing to credit him on account of his miracles, for Jesus Cunst declares, that if they had not seen his miracles, they would not have been guilty. If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin. John xv. 24. It follows, therefore, that he judged that his miracles were infallible proofs of his doctrine, and that the Jews were under obligation to be- THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 265 lieve in him. And, indeed, his miracles were what rendered the Jews criminal in their unbe- lief: for the arguments they might have drawn from the scripture during the life of Jesus Christ, would not have been fully demonstrative. We find in them, for instance, that Moses had said, a prophet should come, &c. but this was not sufficient to prove that Jesus Christ was that prophet, which was the whole question in dis- pute. Such passages were sufficient to show, that he might be the Messiah, and this, together with his miracles, ought to have convinced them that he really was so. The prophecies alone were not sufficient as proofs of Jesus Christ during his life : so that they would not' have been culpable for not believing in him before his death, if his miracles had not been decisive. Therefore miracles are sufficient, when we see that the doctrine is not inconsistent, and they ought, in that case, to be credited. Jesus Christ has proved that he was the Messiah, in verifying his doctrine and mission by miracles, rather than by resting them wholly on scripture and the prophecies. It was by miracles that Nicodemus was per- suaded liis doctrine was from God. We know that thou art a teacher come from God ; for no man can do these miracles that thou dost, except God be with him ; John iii. 2. He did riot judge 266 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. of the miracles by the doctrine ; but of the 4$*> trine by the miracles. Therefore although a doctrine may be sus- picious, as that of Jesus Christ perhaps was to Nieoderaus, because it seemed to destroy the traditions of the Pharisees, yet if there are plain and undeniable miracles on the same side, th authority of the miracle must overbalance any difficulty that arises in the doctrine : the reaspn of which is this immoveable principle, that cannot lead into error. There seems to be a reciprocal duty God and man. Come now and let us reasan together* says trod by Isaiah. Isa. i. 18. And in another place, l^hat cpuld I have done more to my vineyard, that I have n$t done in it f Isa. v. 4. It is a duty men owe (p God, thajt tne 7 should embrace the religion he sends tjiem ; and God owes to men, that he should not lead them into error. But now they would be led into error, if any workers of miracles should publish a false doctrine, which did not appear visibly false to the eye of common sense, and if a much greater worker of miracles had not previously cautioned them not to believe s.uch persons. Thus if there were a division i$ $he church, and the Arians for example, who assert they have the authority of scripture no less thao THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 26? the Catholics, had performed miracles, and the Catholics had not, men would be led into error. For as a man who pretends to tell us the mysteries of God, is not worthy to be credited on his own private authority, so a man who, in proof of his communication with God, shall raise the dead, foretel future events, remove mountains, heal diseases, deserves to be believed, and it is impious not to give him credit, provided he be not convicted of falshood by some other person, who performs still greater miracles. But is not 'God said to tempt us 1 And may he not therefore tempt us by miracles which seem to lead into error ? I answer, to tempt and to lead into iror, are very different things, God tempts ; but he never leads into error. To tempt is only to pre- sent the occasion ; which imposes no necessity on our belief: to lead into error, is to put a man under a necessity of embracing, and re- garding a falshood. This is what God cannot do, and yet what lie would do, if, in a question which is obscure, he permitted a miracle to be wrought on the erroneous side. From this we must conclude, that it is im- possible for a man concealing a wicked doctrine, and representing it as good, by pretending to conformity with God and the church, to work a miracle, in order insensibly to insinuate false 268 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. and erroneous opinions. This cannot happen ; and still less can it happen, that God, who knows all hearts, should work miracles in favour of such a deceiver. There is a great difference between a man who is not for Jesus Christ, and declares it; and one who is not for Jesus Christ, but makes a pretence of being for him. The former may possibly work miracles, but not the latter ; because it is plain of the one, that he is acting in opposition to the truth, but it is not so of the other ; and thus the nature of miracles is more clear. Miracles, therefore, are a test of things which admit of doubt, between Pagans and Jews, Jews and Christians, Catholics and Heretics, the ca- lumniator and the person calumniated, and be- tween the three crosses. This has been seen in all the contests of truth against error ; in those of Abel against Cain, of Moses against Pharaoh's magicians, of Elijah against the false prophets ; of Jesus Christ against the Pharisees, of St. Paul against Bar- Jesus, of the Apostles against the Exorcists, of Christians against Infidels, of Catholics against Heretics : and this is what shall be also seen in the contention of Elias and Enoch against An- tichrist. In miracles truth will always pre- vail. In short, in every dispute concerning the true God, or the truth of religion, there has never THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 269 been a miracle performed on the side of error, without greater on the side of truth. By this rule it is evident, that the Jews were under obligation to believe in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ was suspected by them ; but his miracles were infinitely more clear than the suspicions against him. They ought therefore to have believed him. In the days of Jesus Christ some believed on him ; others disbelieved him on account of those prophecies, which specified Bethlehem as the birth-place of the Messiah ; whereas they sup- posed Jesus Christ to have been born in Naza- reth. But they ought to have inquired more diligently, whether he was born in Bethlehem : for his miracles being convincing, this pretended contradiction of the doctrine concerning him to the scriptures, and the obscurity of his appear- ance, did not at all excuse them, though it blinded them. Jesus Christ cured him that was born blind, and performed many other miracles on the sab- bath-day, by which he blinded the Pharisees, who pretended to judge of his miracles by his doctrine. The same rule which obliges us to believe Jesus Christ, obliges us to disbelieve Anti- christ. Jesus Christ spake neither against God nor 276 THOlttHf S ON MIRACLES. against Moses. Antichrist and the fals<* pro- phets, which are foretold in both Testaments, will speak openly against God, and against Jesus Christ. God will never permit a secret enemy to perform miracles openly. Moses prophesied of JeSus Christ, arid com- manded the people to regard him. Jesus Christ has prophesied of Antichrist, and forbidden us to regard him. The miracles of Jesiis Christ were hot fore- told by Antichrist, but the miracles of Anti- christ are foretold by Jesus Christ. So that if Jesus Christ had not been the Messiah, he would have led men into error ; but they cannot be led into it, with any reason, by the miracles of An- tichrist. Therefore the miracles of Antichrist do not in any degree prejudice the miracles of Jesus Christ. When Jesus Christ foretold the miracles of Antichrist, he had no apprehen- sion that he should impair the authority of his own. There is no reason whatever for believing in Antichrist, which there is not also for believing in Jesus Christ ; but there are many for believ- ing in Jesus Christ, which there are not for be- Jieving in Antichrist. Miracles were employed in the foundation of the church, and will be useful in preserving it to the coming of Antichrist, and to the end. Wherefore God, to preserve this evidence to THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. his church, has either confounded false miracles, or foretold them; and has, by one means or the other, raised himself above that which is supernatural with respect to us, and has raised us above it likewise. It will be the same in time to come ; either God will not suffer the existence of false miracles, or he will produce greater. For miracles have so much force and in- fluence, that it was absolutely necessary that God, seeing it is so clear that he exists, should warn us not to credit them, when they were performed in opposition to himself; for else they might have been able to mislead us. So that the several passages in the 13th chap- ter of Deuteronomy, which prohibit all belief in, or attention to those who work miracles, in order to pervert men from the worship of the true God ; and that in St. Mark, chap. xiii. 22. There shall arise false Christs and false prophets, and shall show signs and wonders to seduce, if it were possible, even the elect, and others of the like import, are so far from lessening the authority of miracles, that nothing can more clearly evi- dence their force. The reason of men's disbelieving true mi- racles, is want of charity : Ye believe not, said Jesus Christ to the Jews, because ye are not of i-fiy sheep ; John x. 26. The reason of their be- lieving false miracles, is the same want of cha- 272 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. rity. Because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved, for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they may be- lieve a lie; 2 Thess. ii. 10, 11. When I have considered whence it is that men give such credit to the pretended remedies of so many impostors, so as often to put even their lives into their hands, it has appeared to me to be no other than this, that there are such things in the world as real remedies ; for it would be impossible, that there should be so many false ones, and that they should obtain so great a de- gree of credit, if there were none that are true. For if there never had been any such things, and were all distempers incurable, it is impossible that men should ever have imagined they could produce any, and still more so, that such num- bers should have given credit to those who pre- tended to possess them. For if a man should give out, that he had a medicine which \vould preserve men from dying, nobody would believe him, there being no example of any such thing having ever existed. But as there certainly is a great number of remedies, the efficacy of which has been proved by the knowledge even of the wisest of men, credit is given to them on that ground : and as the thing cannot be denied in general, on account of particular real effects, the multitude who are unable to distinguish THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. which of these particular effects are real, gives credit to them all. So the reason why some ascribe so many false effects to the moon, is, that she has some real influences, as the ebbing and flowing of the sea. And it appears equally evident to me, that there could never have been so many pretended miracles, false revelations, witchcrafts, &c. but from there having been others which were real ; nor so many false religions, but because there was one which was the true. For had there never been any thing of this sort, it is next to impossible that any could have imagined it, and still more so that others should have believed them. But because there were very remarkable things which were true, and were therefore be- lieved by the greatest among men, this impres- sion was the cause which made the greater part of mankind so capable of giving credit to those which were spurious. And therefore, instead of concluding that there are 110 true miracles, because there are false ones, we ought, on the contrary, to infer, that there are true miracles because there are so many false ones ; and that the only reason why there are false ones, is be- cause there are others which are true ; and that in like manner the only reason why there are false religions, is because there is a true religion. For the mind of man having been once led tg T 274 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. these things by what is true, becomes afterward susceptible of admitting what is counterfeit. We are commanded to hear the church, but not to believe miracles ; because the latter is natural, and not the former. The one required a precept, which the other did not. There are so very few to whom God makes himself known by these extraordinary interpo- sitions, that it is our duty to profit well by those opportunities he has afforded us. For he only departs from the secrets of nature under which he is veiled, that he may excite in us faith to serve him with more ardour, when we know him with more certainty. If God were continually to give fresh revela- tions of himself to men, there would be no virtue in believing him ; and if he l>ad never given any, faith could scarcely have had any existence. But he is for the most part conceal- ed, and only discloses himself occasionally to those whom he would engage in his service. This wonderful obscurity in- which God is hid, impe- netrable to human sight, is a powerful motive to solitude, and retirement from the view of the world. Before the incarnation, God remained hidden under the veil of nature which conceals him from us, and when the time was come for THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. his appearance, he was still more hidden by clothing himself with humanity. Fie was much more easily known while he was invisible, than when he made himself visible. And at length, when he designed to accomplish the promise which he made to his Apostles, to continue with his church till his second coming, he chose the most strange and obscure concealment of all, namely, that under the elements of the Eucha- rist. It is this sacrament which St. John calls in the Revelation the hidden manna; Rev. ii. 17. And I think that Isaiah sa\y him thus, when he said in the spirit of prophesy, Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself; Isa. xlv. 15. This is the greatest concealment he can assume. The veil of nature which conceals God, has been pene- trated by many Infidels, who, as Si. Paul tes- tifies, have seen the invisible God, through vi- sible nature; Rom. i. 20. Many heretical Chris- tians have known him through his humanity, and have worshipped Jesus Christ as God and man. But as for us, we ought to esteem our- selves happy, that it has pleased God to en- lighten us to discern him under the elements of bread and wine. To these considerations we may add the mystery of God's Spirit, who is concealed in the scriptures. For w r hereas there are two per- fect senses of them, a literal and a mystical ; the Jews resting in the former, never so much as T 2 276 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. think there is another, nor apply themselves ta search after it ; so wicked persons, beholding the operations of nature, ascribe them to na- ture, without thinking of any other author. And as the Jews, seeing a perfect human nature in Jesus Christ, did not seek for another : He was despised, and we esteemed him not y says Isaiah, in their name; Isa. liii. 3. So also Heretics, see- ing the perfect appearance of bread in the Eu- charist, look for no other substance. Every thing contains some mystery. All things are the veils of their Creator. Christians ought to see him in every thing. Temporal affliction* hide those eternal blessings to which they lead : temporal enjoyments cover those eternal evils which they procure. Let us beg of God to make us know him and serve him in all things ; and let us render him infinite thanks, that being hidden in every thing from so many others, he should in so many things, and in so many ways, have disclosed himself to us. 277 XXVIII. CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 1 HE ungodly, who abandon themselves blindly to their passions, without either knowing God, or giving themselves the trouble to seek him, verify in themselves this one principle of the faith which they oppose, that human nature is in a state of corruption. And the Jews, who obstinately withstand the Christian religion, ve- rify in like manner this, other principle of the same faith, which they oppose, namely, that Jesus Christ is the true Messiah, and that he came to redeem mankind, and to rescue them from the misery and corruption into which they were fallen. And this they do as well by the state in which we see them at present, and which was foretold in the prophecies, as by the pro- phecies themselves, which are still in their hands, and which they inviolably preserve, as containing tke marks by which the Messiah is to be known. Thus the evidences of the de- pravity of men, and of redemption by Jesus Christ, which are the two principal truths which Christianity establishes, may be deduced from the wicked, who live in indifference about reli- T3 278 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. gion, and from the Jews, who are its irrecon- cilable enemies. The dignity of man, in his innocence, con- sisted in ruling and making use of the crea- tures ; but, under his present corruption, it consists in retiring from them, and in submit- ting himself to them. - ' - . Many err the more dangerously, because they take a truth as the foundation of their error. This mistake lies, not in the believing a falshood, but in regarding one truth to the exclusion of another. There are a great number of truths both in faith and in morals, which seem repugnant, and contrary, all of which subsist together in wonderful order. The ground of all heresy is the rejection of some of these truths ; and the source of all the objections made by heretics against us, is their ignorance of some of these truths. And it usually happens, that not being able to conceive the connection of two seemingly opposite truths, and supposing that the admis- sion of one necessarily includes a rejection of the other, they embrace the one, and exclude the other. The Nestorians maintained there were two CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 279 persons in Jesus Christ, because there are two natures ; and the Eutychians, on the contrary, that there was but one nature, because he was but one person. The Catholics are orthodox in joining together both truths, the two na- tures, and one person. The shortest way to prevent heresies is to teach all truths without reserve ; and the surest method of confuting heresies, is to expose them without reserve. Grace and nature will be always in the world. There will always be Pelagians, and there will always be Catholics; because the first birth produces the one, and the second birth the other. The church, together with Jesus Christ, to whom she is inseparably united, merits the con- version of all those who are not in the true re- ligion. And those who are converted, after- ward assist the mother which has delivered them. The body can no more live without the head, than the head without the body. He that se- parates from the one, or the other, is no more of the body, nor does he belong any longer to Jesus Christ. All virtues, martyrdom, austeri- T 4 280 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. ties, and all good works, are of no avail out of the church, and out of communion with the head of the church. This will be one of the confusions of the damned, to see themselves condemned by their own reason, by which they have taken upon them to condemn the Christian religion, The lives of men in general, and the lives of saints, have this in common, that all of them aspire after happiness ; they only differ with re- gard to the object in which they place it : and each of them account those their enemies who prevent them from attaining it. We ought to judge what is good and what is evil by the will of God, which can never be un- just, or erroneous, and not by our own will, which is always full of wickedness and error. Jesus Christ in his Gospel has given this mark of those who have faith, that they shall speak a new language : and indeed a renovation of thoughts and desires causes that of conversa- tion. These new things which cannot be dis- pleasing to God, as the old man cannot possibly please him, are very different from the novel- ties of this world, because worldly things, how new soever they may be, grow old by conti- CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 281 nuance ; whereas this new disposition, the longer it continues, the more new it becomes. Our outward man perishcth, says St. Paul, yet the in- ward man is renewed day by day $ 2 Cor. iv. 16. and it will only be completely new in eternity, when we shall sing without ceasing, the new song, of which David speaks in his psalms, namely, the song inspired by the new spirit of cha- rity. When St. Peter and the Apostles consulted about the abolition of circumcision, where the point in debate was the acting contrary to the law of God, they did not refer to the prophets, but only considered the reception of the Holy Ghost by persons nncircumcised. They judged it more certain, that God should approve of those whom he had filled with his Spirit, than that he should require an observance of the ce- remonial law. They knew the only end of the law was the reception of the Holy Spirit, and that therefore as these men had received it with- out circumcision, that ordinance had ceased to be necessary. Two laws are more adequate to the regula- tion of the whole Christian community, than all political institutions together; namely, the love of God, and that of our neighbour. CSS CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. Religion is proportioned to minds of every de- scription. The generality of men look only at its outward condition and establishment. And our religion is such, that its very establishment is a sufficient evidence of its truth. Others trace it up to the Apostles; the more learned go back to the beginning of the world. The angels see it better and higher still, for they see it in God himself. Those to whom God has given an inward sense of religion in their hearts are truly happy, and thoroughly convinced. But as for those who have not this, we have no way of procuring it for them, but by reasoning ; waiting till God shall imprint it himself on their hearts ; with- out which, their faith is not profitable to salva- tion. God, to reserve to himself the right of in- structing us, and to render the difficulties of our own being unintelligible to us, has laid the knot so high, or, to speak more properly, so low, that we are unable to reach it. So that it is not by the struggles of our reason, but by a simple submission of it, that we are made ca- pable of truly knowing ourselves. Ungodly persons, who profess to be guided by reason, ought to have their reason wonder- fully strong. What then have they to say? CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 283 c Do we not see, that beasts live and die like c men, and Turks like Christians ? The Turks 6 have their ceremonies, their prophets, their < doctors, their saints, their religious orders, * as well as we ? &c/ But does this contra- dict scripture ? Does not the scripture avow all this ? If you care but little about the know- ledge of truth, this may be enough to set you at rest; but if you desire with your whole heart to know it, you must go more into detail. This sort of levity might be well enough about a vain question of philosophy ; but not where your all is at stake. And yet, after making some trivial reflection of this nature, men go on again to amuse themselves, just as before. It is an awful thing to feel all that we pos- sess continually wasting away, and at the same time to set our heart upon it, without inquiring after something more solid and durable. Our life ought to be very different on these two suppositions : one, that we may abide here for ever : the other, that it is certain we cannot remain here long, and uncertain whether we shall remain even an hour. The latter supposi- tion is our case. Let us imagine a number of men in chains, all condemned to die, and some of them slaughtered every day in sight of the rest, who see their own fate in that of their companions, 284 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. and yet wait their own turn, looking carelessly at one another, without concern, and without hope : this is a picture of the condition of men. The variety of parties in the world, ought to make you more earnest in seeking the truth. For, if you die without worshipping the true God, you are ruined. " But, say you, if he " had designed that I should worship him, he " would have left me some tokens of his will." Why, he has really left them, but you are care- less about them : therefore, at least, inquire : it is well worth your while. Atheists ought surely to offer nothing but what is perfectly clear. But a man must have lost his senses to affirm it is perfectly clear that the soul is mortal. I freely allow it is Unneces- sary to look deeply into the system of Coperni- cus ; but it concerns us more than our life to know whether the soul is mortal or immor- tal. The prophecies, nay even miracles, and the other proofs of our religion, are not such as can be called geometrically demonstrative. But I only want you now to admit, that it is not acting contrary to reason to believe them. They possess both clearness and obscurity, to illumi- CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS, 285 Hate some, and to confuse others. But the clear- ness is such as surpasses, or at least equals, the clearest things that can be brought against them ; insomuch that it is not reason that can deter- mine men not to regard them : on the contrary, it can only be concupiscence and depravity of heart. So that there is sufficient evidence to condemn those who refuse to believe, if there be not sufficient to overcome them. And hence it will appear, that in those who are guided by the gospel, it is grace and not reason that makes them follow it ; and in those who slight it, it is concupiscence and not reason that makes them reject it. Who can do otherwise than admire and em- brace a religion which thoroughly knows those truths, which, the more we know, the more we shall be obliged to acknowledge ? A person who discovers the evidences of Christianity, is like an heir who finds the title deeds of his estate. Would he say at once they are false, and neglect to examine them ? There are two descriptions of persons who possess the knowledge of God ; those whose hearts are humbled, and who love self-contempt and abasement, whatever degree of understand- ing they may be endued with, be it little or 286 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. much ; and those who have sufficient under- standing to discover the truth, through all the opposition they can experience. The wise men among the Pagans who affirm- ed there was only one God, were persecuted ; the Jews were haled on that account, and Chris-' tians have been still more so. I see no greater difficulty in believing the re- surrection of the dead, or the conception of the virgin, than the creation of the world. Is it less easy to re-produce an human body than it was to produce it at first ? If we were unac- quainted with the natural mode of generation, would it appear more strange to see a child from a woman only, than from a man and a woman ? There is a great difference between quiet, and security of conscience. The former should only be derived from a sincere search after truth ; but nothing can give the latter, but truth itself. There are two articles of fkith equally cer- tain : one, that man, either in his state of cre- ation, or in that of grace, is raised above all nature, made like unto God, and a partaker of the divine nature ; the other, that in his state CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 8? of corruption and sin, he is fallen from this greatness, and become like to the beasts. These two propositions are firm and certain : the holy scripture bears a positive testimony to both. For, in some places we read, My delights ivere zi-if/i the sons of men. Prov. viii. 31. / will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh. Joel ii. 28. / have said ye are gods, &c. Ps. Ixxxii. 6. and in others, All flesh is grass. Isa. xl. 6. Man is like unto the beasts that perish. Ps. xlix. 12. / said in my heart, concerning the estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they might see that tliemselves are beasts. Eccies. iii. 18. The instances we have of the heroic deaths of the Lacedemonians and others, do but little affect us % ; for what indeed do they all signify to us ? But the examples of the death of the martyrs touch us, for they are members of us : we have a common interest with them; and their fortitude may give birth to ours. There . is nothing like this in the examples of the Pa- gans : we have no connection with them. Thus we are not enriched by the riches of a stranger, as we are by the riches of a father, or an hus- band. We never disengage ourselves from any thing without some degree of pain. We do not feel 288 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. our chain, says St. Austin, while we willingly follow him who pulls it ; but when we begin to resist, and to draw back, we become suilerers ; the chain is put upon the stretch, and endures the utmost violence. Such a chain is our body, which death alone can break. Our Lord has said, that from the coming of John the Baptist, that is to say, from his coming in the heart of every believer, the kingdom of heaven suffer eth violence, and the violent take it by force. Matt. xi. 12. Before we are touched from on high, we have nothing but the weight of our own concupis- cence, which bears us down to the earth. But when God is pleased to draw us up toward him- self, these two contrary efforts produce that vio- lence, which God alone is able to overcome. But we can do all things, as St. Leo observes, with him, without whom we can do nothing. We must therefore resolve to endure this warfare all our life long, for there is no such thing as, peace. Jesus Christ came not to send peace on earth, but a sword. Matt. x. 34. Nevertheless we must acknowledge, that, as the scripture says, The wisdom of men is foolishness with God. 1 Cor. iii. 19. So we may say that this war, hard as it appears to many, is peace with God, and this is the peace which Jesus Christ has brought. But it will not be perfect till the destruction of the body. And this it is that makes us wish for death 5 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. bearing, however, with life, for the love of him, who suffered both life and death for us, and who, as St. Paul expresses it, is able to do for us exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or think. Ephes. iii. 20. We should endeavour not to be distressed about any thing, but to take every event for the best. I apprehend this to be a duty, and the neglect of it to be a sin. For in truth, the reason why sin is sin, is merely because it is contrary to the will of God. If, therefore, the essence of sin consists in having a will contradictory to the known will of God, it seems clear to me, that when he discovers his will to us by events, we sin if we do not con- form ourselves to it. When truth is deserted and persecuted, this seems to be the time that the service which we yield to God in defending it, is peculiarly acceptable. He wills that we should judge of grace by a comparison with nature. And thus he allows us to believe, that as a prince, de- throned by his own subjects, retains the most tender affection for those who continue faithful to him in the public revolt ; so it appears, that God will regard those with peculiar goodness, who maintain the purity of religion, when it is attacked. But there is this difference between U 290 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. the kings of the earth, and the King of kings ; that princes do not make their subjects loyal, but find them so; whereas God never finds men otherwise than disloyal without his grace, and that he himself makes them faithful when they are so. So that while kings are wont to own their obligation to those who continue in their duty and allegiance ; those, on the con- trary, who persevere in the service of God, are under infinite obligations to him on that very account. No austerities of the body, nor exercises of mind, but only the good emotions of the heart, have any merit, or are able to support the pains of the body and the mind. For in short, two things are essential to sanctification, pains, and pleasures. St. Paul informs us, that it is through much tribulation, and afflictions with- out number, we must enter into the kingdom of God. Acts xiv. 22. Now this ought to com- fort those who feel these afflictions, because being forewarned that the path to the heaven they seek, is full of them, they ought to rejoice at finding so many marks of their being in the true way. But these pains are not without their pleasures, by which alone they can be surmounted. For as those who forsake God to return to the world, only do it because they find more enjoyment, in the pleasures of the world, than in those of union to God; and CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. because this victorious charm draws them aside, making them repent of their first choice, and rendering them, as Tertullian speaks, the De- vi Fs penitents ; so men would never abandon the pleasures of the world, to embrace the cross of Jesus Christ, did they not feel more real delight in contempt, poverty, nakedness, and in the scorn of men, than in all the pleasures of sin. And therefore, as Tertullian also ob- serves, We are not to suppose the Christian life is a life of sadness. We never quit one plea- sure, but for the sake of a greater. Pray witli* out ceasing, says St. Paul, in every thing give thanks, rejoice evermore _; 1 Thess. v. 16 18. It is the joy of finding God, which is the spring of our sorrow for having offended him, and of the whole change of our life. He that has found a treasure hid in a field, ac- cording to the parable of our Lord, is so trans- ported as to go and sell all that he has, and buy that field-, Matt. xiii. 44. Worldly men have their sorrows, but they have not that joy, which Jesus Christ said the world can neither give nor take away. The blessed in heaven possess this joy without any mixture of sorrow. And Christians have this joy, mingled with sorrow, for having followed other pleasures, and for fear of losing it by these other plea- sures, which are tempting them without ceasing. We should therefore unremittingly endeavour U 2 292 CHRISTIAN KEFLECTIONS. to preserve this fear, which both preserves and moderates our joy ; and when we find our- selves carried too far toward the one, we ought to incline ourselves toward the other, that we may keep ourselves upright. Remember your comforts in the day of affliction, and your afflic- tions in the days of rejoicing, says the scrip- ture, Eccles. vii. 14. till the promise which our Lord has given'us of making his joy perfect in us, be fulfilled. Let us not, therefore, suffer ourselves to be beaten down by affliction, nor imagine that piety consists only in bitterness without consolation. True piety, which only receives its completion in heaven, is neverthe- less so replete with consolations, that they fill its beginning, its progress, and its crown. It is a light so resplendent, that it brightens every thing which belongs to it. If some grief be intermixed with it, especially at its commence- ment, this proceeds from ourselves, and not from virtue; for it is not the effect of that piety which has been begun in us, but of that impiety which still remains. Root out impiety, and your joy will be ^Unalloyed. Let us not therefore ascribe this sadness to devotion, but to ourselves, and let us only expect relief in our own sanctification. What is past ought to give us no uneasiness, except that of regret for our faults. And what is CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 293 to come ought still less to affect us, because it is nothing with regard to us now, and perhaps we shall never live to see it. The present is the only time which is properly ours ; and we ought to use this in conformity to the will of God. To this our thoughts should be principally directed. Yet the world is generally so rest- less, that men scarcely ever think of the pre- sent time, and the instant they are now actually living, but of those in which they are to live. So that we are always in a disposition to live in future, but never to live now. Our Lord has not chosen, that our foresight should ex- tend beyond the day that is present. These are the limits which he requires us to observe, both for the sake of our salvation, and for our own repose. We sometimes correct ourselves more effec- tually by the sight of what is evil, than by th~ example of what is good. And it is highly useful to accustom ourselves to derive instruc- tion from evil, because it is so common, whereas that which is good, is more uncommon. In the thirteenth chapter of St. Mark, Jesus Christ discourses at large to his Apostles, con- cerning his second coming. And as whatever happens to the Church happens likewise to , every Christian in particular, it is certain, that U 3 294 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. this whole chapter describes as well the state of every regenerated person, and the destruction of the old man in him, as the state of the whole universe, which shall be destroyed to give place to the new heavens and new earth, of which the scripture speaks. The prediction which it contains of the destruction of the rejected temple, which is the figure of the de- struction of the man of sin in every one of us, and of which it is said, that not one stone shall be kft upon another ; teaches us, that there shall not be left a single affection of the old man. And those dreadful civil and domestic wars, are so lively a representation of the in- ward trouble which they feel, who devote themselves to God, that nothing could have been more accurately described. The Holy Spirit resides invisibly in the re- mains of those who are departed in the grace of God, till he shall appear visibly in them at the resurrection. And it is hence that the reliques of the saints are so worthy of veneration : for God never forsakes those that are truly his, not even in the grave, where their bodies, although dead to the eyes of men, are yet living in the sight of God; because sin has no longer any existence in them, whereas it always resides in them during this life, at least as to its root, though not always as to its fruits. And this CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 295 root of bitterness, which is inseparable from them, during life, makes it unlawful to honor them when living, as they are then more worthy of hatred. Hence death is necessary entirely to mortify that unhappy root, and this is what renders it desirable. The elect will be unconscious of their virtues, and the reprobate of their crimes. Both will say, Lord, when sazv we thee an hundred ? &c. Matt. xxv. 37, 44. Jesus Christ refused the testimony of evil spirits, and of men uncalled, and chose that of God, and of John the Baptist. While I have been writing down a thought, it has sometimes escaped me ; but this reminds me of my weakness, which I am continually forgetting, and that instructs me as much as the thought could do which I have forgotten ; for all my study is to know my own nothing- ness. The defects of Montaigne are gross. He abounds in lewd and indecent expressions. These can do no good. His thoughts on self- murder, and on death, are horrible. He in- culcates an indifference about salvation, with- out either fear or repentance. His work not U4 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS, being composed to lead men to piety, his plan did not oblige him to that ; but we are always obliged not to lead them away from it. What- ever may be said to excuse his licentious opi- nions on many subjects, it is impossible to find any sort of excuse for his Pagan sentiments con- cerning death. For a man must have utterly abandoned all goodness, if he does not at least desire to die like a Christian : and yet to die in carelessness and unconcern, is the wish that runs through all his performance. That which deceives us in comparing what passed formerly in the church, with what we see it now, is, that in common we look on St. Athanasius, St. Theresa, and the other holy saints, as being crowned with glory. Now that time has cleared up things, it does really appear so. But at the time when that great saint was persecuted, he was a mere man who bore the name of Athanasius ; and St. Theresa, in her day, was like the other religious sisters of her order. Elias was a man of like passions as we are, says St. James, James v. 17- to wean Christians from that false idea which makes us reject the examples of the saints, as dispropor- tioned to our own condition. They were saints, we cry, and not men like us. In conversing with those who have an aversion CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 297 to religion, We should begin by showing them, that it is by no means contrary to reason ; in the next place, that it is worthy of veneration, to inspire them with respect for it ; and after this, we should describe it as lovely, to make them wish it may be true ; and then we may de- monstrate to them, by irrefragable proofs, that it is true ; we may show them its antiquity and holiness, its majesty and sublimity ; and finally show them it is amiable, in that it holds out to us the true good. A single expression of David or Moses, as for instance, this God will circumcise your hearts, is sufficient to enable us to judge of their spirit. Supposing all their other discourses to be ambi- guous, and to leave a doubt whether they were Philosophers, or Christians, one word of this kind is enough to determine all the rest. Here the ambiguity must vanish, however obscure it might appear before. If we should err in supposing the Christian religion to be true, we can be no great losers by the mistake. But how dreadful must it be to err in supposing it false ! The easiest circumstances of life, in the opi- nion of the world, are the most difficult, accord- ing to the judgment 4Df God; and, on the othci ogs CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. hand, nothing is so difficult, in the opinion of the world, as a life of religion, whereas no- thing is so easy as such a life, in the judgment of God. Nothing is more ,easy, according to the doctrine of the world, than to be high in office, and enjoy ample revenues; but nothing is more difficult, than to live in these accord- ing to the will of God, and without taking de- light and satisfaction in them. The Old Testament contained the types of fu- ture happiness; and the New, contains the means of attaining it. The figures were those of plea- sure, the means are those of repentance. And yet the Paschal Lamb was eaten with bitter herbs, to teach us, that there is no arriving at joy, but by sorrow. The word Galilee happening to be uttered as it were by chance, by the Jewish rabble, when they accused Jesus Christ before Pilate, occa- sioned Pilate to send him to Herod, which ful- filled the mystery of his being judged both by the Jews and the Gentiles. Thus a mere acci- dent, in appearance, occasioned the completion of the prophecy. A man told me one day, that he was full of joy and satisfaction, as he came from confes- sion ; another told me, that he was full of fear. CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 399 I thought that these two men put together would make one good one ; and that each of them was defective, in not possessing the feel- ings of the other. There is a pleasure in being in a vessel tossed by a tempest, while we are certain there is no danger of its sinking. The persecutions of the church are of this description. As the two great sources of all our sins are pride and sloth, God has been pleased to make known two of his attributes for their cure, his mercy, and his justice. The property of his justice is to abase our pride; and that of his mercy, is to overcome our indolence, and ex- cite us to good works ; according to this pas- sage : The goodness of God leadeth us to repent- ance. Rom. ii. 4. And this respecting the Ninevites : Let us repent, and see if he will not have mercy on us. Jonah iii. 9. Thus the mercy of God is so far from encouraging re- missness, that, on the contrary, nothing is more opposite to it. And instead of saying, If our God were not a merciful God, we should use our utmost endeavours to fulfil his commands ; we ought, on the contrary, to say, because God is a God of mercy, we ought to labour with all our strength to fulfil what he has commanded. 1 300 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. The history of the church ought in propriety to be called, the history of truth. All that is in the world, is either the hist of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, or, the pride of life : the lust of feeling, the lust of knowing, and the lust of ruling. Miserable is that ac- cursed land, which these three rivers of fire burn up, rather than water 1 Happy those who being upon these rivers are not overwhelmed, or carried away, but remain immoveable ; and who, not standing erect, but sitting on a sure and humble seat, whence they will not rise till the light appear, after having rested there in peace, shall stretch forth their hands to him who will raise them up, and cause them to stand upright and firm within the gates of the holy Jerusalem, where they shall no longer fear the assaults of pride ! And who w r eep in the mean time ; not to see all these perishable things pass away, but at the remembrance of their dear country* the heavenly Jerusalem ; after which they sigh incessantly, because of the continu- ance of their exile. A miracle, say some, would confirm my be- lief. So men talk about what they do not see. But those regions, which afar off seem to be the bounds of our sight, cease to bound it when we have reached them. We discover a scene be- CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 301 yond them. Nothing can stop the versatility of our minds. There is no rule, we say, with- out an exception ; and no truth so universal as not to have some part, in which it appears to disadvantage ; and if principles be not absolutely universal, we have sufficient pretence to apply the exception to the present case, and to say, this is not always a mark of truth ; therefore in some cases it is not so : We then have nothing more to do than to persuade ourselves, that this is one of those cases, and we must be very stu- pid indeed if we can find no pretext for that opinion. Charity is not a figurative precept. To say that Jesus Christ, who came to take away the figure, in order to establish the truth, came only to introduce the figure of charity, and to remove the substance which existed before, is abominable. The heart has its arguments with which rea- son is not acquainted. We feel this in a thou- sand instances. It is the heart which feels God, and not reason. This is perfect faith, God known to the heart. How many stars have our telescopes enabled us to discover, which had no existence with the philosopers of former times ! They attacked 302 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. scripture on account of its so often mentioning the immense number of the stars. There are but a thousand and twenty-two of them in all, said they : we know it. The knowledge of external things will never console us for our ignorance of morality in the time of affliction : but the knowledge of morality will always console us under the ignorance of external things. Man is so framed, that by often telling him he is a fool, he believes it ; and by often tell- ing himself so, he persuades himself of it. For every person holds an inward conversation with himself, which it highly concerns him well to regulate, because, even in this sense, evil con- versations corrupt good manners. We ought to keep silence, as much as possible, and to converse with ourselves only about God, and thus we shall be most effectually convinced of our own folly. What is the difference between a soldier and a Carthusian, as to obedience ? For they are equally under subjection, equally dependent, and engaged in labours equally painful. But the soldier all along hopes to be his own master, and yet never becomes so, for captains and even princes are always slavish and dependent. But CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 303 yet he is always hoping for independence, and always endeavouring to attain it j whereas the Carthusian makes a vow that he never will be independent. They do not differ with respect to perpetual servitude, which is the portion of both ; but in the hope which one cherishes, and which the other does not. Our own will, though it should obtain all it can wish, would never be contented. But we are contented from the very instant that we re- nounce it. We never can be contented with it, nor otherwise than contented without it. The true and only virtue consists in hating ourselves (because we are hateful by our con- cupiscence) and in seeking a being who is truly amiable, that we may love him. But as we cannot love that which is absolutely out of us, we must love some being who can dwell in us, and is nevertheless distinct from us. Now there is no such object, but the Universal Being. The kingdom of God is within us. Luke xvii. 21. The universal good is within us, and yet is dis- tinct from us. It is wrong for persons to attach themselves to us, though they do it voluntarily, and with plea- sure. We deceive those, in whom we give rise to such a desire. For we are not the true end of any others, nor have we wherewith to satisfy 304 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS, them. Are we not on the borders of death, so that the object of their attachment must die r As it would be criminal in us to make them credit a falshood, although we might recom- mend it with eloquence, and they might em- brace it with pleasure ; so are we blameable, if we labour to make others love us> and to make them attach themselves to us. We ought to warn persons, whom we find ready to credit an untruth, that they may not believe it, whatever advantage we may be likely to reap by their mistake; and we ought also to warn others against attaching themselves to us ; because their whole life ought to be spent in seeking God, or in studying to please him. v,. To put our trust in forms and ceremonies, is superstition ; but not to comply with them is pride. All sects and religions in the world, had na- tural reason for their guide. Christians alone have been obliged not to take their rules of act- ing from themselves, but to inform themselves of those rules, which Jesus Christ delivered to the primitive Christians, in order that they might be transmitted to us. There are certain persons who are weary of this restraint. They want to have the liberty of following their own imaginations, like the rest of the world. It is CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. in vain that we cry to them, as the prophets did formerly to the Jews, Enter into the church, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein. They answer like the Jews, We will not walk therein ; but we will certainly do according to the thoughts of our own heart, like the nations round about us. Jer. vi. 16. Ezek. xx. 32, &c. There are three ways of believing ; through reason, through custom, and through inspira- tion. Christianity, which is the only rational religion, admits none as its children, v/ho do not believe through inspiration. Not that it ex- cludes reason or custom : on the contrary, we ought to open our minds to conviction by argu- ments ; and to confirm ourselves in the belief of them, by habitual custom. But Christianity re- quires us, with humiliation of mind, to seek that inspiration, which alone can produce this true and salutary end Lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect, 1 Cor. i. 17- We never do evil so cheerfully and effectu- ally, as when we do it upon a false principle of conscience. The Jew^s, who were called to subdue nations and princes, were themselves tke slaves of Sift; x 306. CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. --and Christians, whose calling it is to serve and be subject, are the true children of liberty. Is it courage in a dying man, in all his weak- ness and agony, to dare an omnipotent and eternal God? I would readily give credit to histories, the witnesses of which seal them with their own blood. Holy fear proceeds from faith ; false fear arises from doubt : -the former leads to hope, because it arises from faith ; we hope in that God whom we believe : the latter leads to. despair ; for we iear a God in whom we have no faith. Persons of the one character dread to lose God ; and those of the other, to find him. Solomon and Job best knew, and best spake, of human misery; one, the most happy, the other the most unfortunate of men : one knew, by ex- perience, the vanity of pleasure ; as the other did, the reality of affliction. '! The Pagans spake ill of Israel ; and so did the prophet EzekieH but so far from this giv- ing the Israelites a right to reply, you speak of us as the heathens do, he lays his greatest CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS 307 stress on the heathens having talked of them as he did. God does not expect us to submit our faith to him without reason, or to subdue us to him- self by tyranny. But he does not intend to give us a reason for every thing. And to re- concile these contrarieties, he is pleased clearly to show us those divine characters of himself, which may convince us of what he is, and to .establish his authority by miracles and evidences that we shall be unable to resist, in order that we might, afterward, believe without hesitation whatever he teaches us, when we find no other reason to reject it, but because we are un- able to know of ourselves, whether it be true or not. There are but three descriptions of men ; those who serve God having found him ; those who, not having yet found him, are employed in seeking after him ; and lastly, those who live without either having found him, or seeking after him. The first are rational and happy ; the third are irrational and foolish ; the second are unhappy, but yet are rational. Men often mistake their imagination for their heart ; and suppose themselves to be really con- 308 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. verted as soon as ever they think about conver- sion. Reason proceeds slowly upon so many views, and such different maxims, which it ought al- ways to keep in view that it either becomes stupid or goes astray continually, for want of perceiving them all at once. The case is quite otherwise with Sense j which acts instantane- ously, and is always ready to act. We ought, therefore, when our reason has made us ac- quainted with the truth, to endeavour to im- print our faith on the sentiments of our heart, for without this it will always be wavering and uncertain. The essential nature of God makes it necessa- ry, that his justice should be infinite as well as his mercy. Yet his justice and severity toward the reprobate is, still, less amazing than his mercy toward the elect. 309 XXIX. MORAL REFLECTIONS. X HE sciences have two extremities, which touch each other. The first is pure natural ig- norance, in which every man is born. The other is the perfection attained by great souls, who having gone through every thing that man can know, feel that they know nothing-, and find themselves in the same ignorance from which they set out. But it is a wise ignorance that knows itself. Those who are between these ex- tremities, who have got out of their natural ig- norance, but have not been able to arrive at the other, have a tincture of science which fills them with vanity, and makes them vaunt of their attainments. These are the men who trouble the world, and judge the most falsely of every thing. The common people, and the learned, usually compose the train of the world: the others despise them, and are despised by them. The common people pay respect to persons of high birth : the half-learned despise them ; alleging, that birth is not a superiority of parts, X3 310 MORAI, REFLECTIONS. but of chance : the learned respect them ; not from the motives of the vulgar, but for much higher reasons : certain zealots, who have but little knowledge, despise them in spite of those considerations, on account of which the learn- ed respect them ; for they judge of them by a new light, with which piety has inspired them : but real Christians honor them from a light which is superior to that. Thus, one opinion succeeds to another, both for and against ; ac- cording to the different degrees of knowledge which we possess. God having made heaven and earth, which are unconscious of the felicity of existence, has been also pleased to create beings who might be capable of knowing him, and who should com- pose one body, consisting of members capable of thinking. All men are members of this bo- dy ; and in order to be happy, it is necessary they should conform their own private w r ills to that universal will which governs the whole body. But yet it often happens that a man thinks himself to be a whole, and seeing no other person on whom he is dependent, he thinks he -depends only upon himself, and therefore wants to make himself the centre and the body. But he soon finds, in such a state, that he is like a member separated from the body, and which not having in itself a principle of life. MORAL REFLECTIONS. 3 { I can only wander and confound itself in the un- certainty of its existence. At length, how- ever, when he begins to know himself," and i, as it were, come to himself again, he finds that he is not the whole body, that he is only a member of the universal body; that to be a member, is neither to have life, being, or mo- tion, but for the body, and through the spirit which animates the body. That a member, se- parated from the body to which it belongs, has from that time nothing more than a perishing and dying existence ; that therefore he ought only to love himself for the sake of the body, or rather he ought only to love the body, because in loving it he loves himself, since he has no be- ing but in it, by it, and for it. Therefore, in order to regulate our love of ourselves, we must remember this body, com- posed of thinking beings ; and, that we are members of a whole ; and then we shall see, in what way each member ought to love him- self. The body loves the hand : and the hand, if it had a will, ought to love itself in the same proportion that the body loves it. All love be- yond this would be unjust. If the feet and the hands had a private will of their own, they could never be in their pro- per order without submitting it to that of the body ; without this, they must get into disorder x 4 MORAL REFLECTIONS. and misery. But in seeking only the good of the body, they procure their own good, The members 6f our bodies are not conscious of the happiness which arises from their union to each other, of the admirable wisdom with which they are formed and connected, of the care which nature has taken to influence them with the spirits to make them grow and subsist. If they were capable of knowing this, and were to avail themselves of that knowledge for the purpose of keeping to themselves the nourish- ment they receive, without suffering it to pass on to the rest ; they would not only be unjust, but miserable also, and would hate themselves, rather than love themselves ; their felicity, as well as their duty, consisting in submitting to the conduct of that universal spirit to which they all .belong, and which loves them better than they love themselves. He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit. 1 Cor. vi. 17- A Christian loves himself, be- cause he is a member of Jesus Christ ; and he loves Jesus Christ, because He is the head of that body of which he himself is a member. There is one whole, in which both are included. Concupiscence and violence are the sources of all actions, merely human. The former pro- duces those which are voluntary ; and the latter, those which are involuntary. MORAL REFLECTIONS. 313 Whence is it that a lame man does not offend us, and that a deficient mind does offend us r It is, because the lame man acknowledges that we walk straight ; whereas the crippled in mind maintain, that it is we who go lame. But for this, we should feel more compassion for them, than resentment. Epictetus proposes a similar question : why we are not angry when a man tells us, that we have the head-ach, and yet fall into a passion when he tells us we reason ill, or make a wrong choice ? The reason is, that we can be very certain that we have not the head-ach, or are not lame; but we cannot be so certain that we make a right choice. For having no assurance that we do so, but because it appears so to us, with all the light we have when another, with all his light, sees the contrary ; this confounds us, and keeps us in suspense ; especially if a thou- sand other persons laugh at our choice ; for then we must prefer our own light to that of so ma- ny others, which is a perplexing and difficult matter. But men never contradict each other thus, about the lameness of any one. The common people have some sound no- tions; for instance, that of preferring diversion and the chase to the study of poetry. The half- learned laugh at this, and triumph in showing from thence the folly of the world. But for a 314 MORAL REFLECTIONS. reason which they do not perceive, we are right in distinguishing men on account of exter- nal things, as birth and fortune ; the vulgar triumph in showing how unreasonable they think this to be. But, on the contrary, it is highly reasonable and proper. It is a great advantage to persons of quality, that a man at eighteen or twenty, shall be as much known and respected, as another can be, by merit alone, at fifty. So that they gain thirty years in advance without any trouble. There are certain persons, who, to show how unjust we are not to esteem them, never fail to urge how much they are respected by some people of quality. I would reply to them, show us the merit by which you have obtained the esteem of these persons, and we will esteem you in like manner. If a man places himself at a window, to see those who pass by, and I happen to go that way, can I say he placed himself there to see me? No ; for he did not think of me in particular. But he who loves a person on account of her beauty, does he love her ? No j for the small- pox, by destroying her beauty, without taking away her life, will put an end to bis love. And if I am loved for my understanding, or me- MORAL REFLECTIONS. 315 mory, is it / that am loved ? No ; for I may lose these qualities without ceasing to exist. What then is this /, if it neither exists in the body, nor in the soul ? And how are we to love the body, or the soul, except for its qualities, which yet are not what make up this /, because they are perishable ? For could we love the substance of a soul abstractedly, whatever qua- lities might be in it ? That is impossible, and would be unjust. We therefore never love any person, but only the qualities of the per- son. Or if we do love any person, we must al- low it is the assemblage of qualities that makes up the person. The things we are most anxious about, are most commonly trifling. As, for instance, to conceal the smallness of our property. This is a mere nothing, which our imagination swells to a mountain. Another turn of the ima- gination would make us discover it without pain. There are some vices which cleave to us only by the intervention of others ; and which, like branches, are taken away on removing the trunk. When ill-nature has reason on its side, it be- eomes proud, and sets forth reason in all its 316 MORAL REFLECTIONS. lustre. And when austerity, or a rigorous life, has proved unsuccessful with regard to the true good, and we are obliged to return and follow nature, it grows prouder by that return* It is not happiness to be capable of being pleased with diversion; because all this is ex- ternal and foreign, and consequently depend- ent, and liable to be disturbed by a thousand accidents, which give rise to inevitable afflic- tions. There are some persons who would never have an author speak of things of which others have spoken ; and if he does, they accuse him of telling them nothing that is new. But if the subject he treats of be not new, the method of treating it may be new. When two men play at tennis, they both play with the same ball, but one directs it best. I should as rea- dily accuse him, of using old words ; as if the same ideas did not form another system of dis- course, by a different disposition of them ; just as the same words express quite different ideas by a different arrangement. The world is full of good maxims ; we only want the application of them. For example, we do not question that a man ought to ex- pose his life to defend the public good j and MORAL REFLECTIONS. 317 many do this ; but few do it in the cause of re- ligion. The height of wisdom is accounted folly, as much as an extreme want of it. Nothing is thought well of but mediocrity. The majority have decided this ; and they bite at every one who goes out of the line, on which side soever it be. I will not oppose them ; I consent to be classed among them ; and if I refuse to be at the lowest end, it is not because it is low, but be- cause it is the end, and I should equally refuse to be at the top. To get out of the medium, is to get beyond humanity ; the true greatness of man consists in knowing how to preserve it; and, so far from becoming great by departing from it, he can only be great by not departing from it. A man does not pass in the world as having any knowledge of poetry, unless he puts out the sign of a poet ; or for being skilful in the mathematics, unless he holds out that of a ma- thematician. But persons of true sense hang out no sign at all : and make very little differ- ence between the trade of a poet and that of an embroiderer. They are neither called poets nor geometricians, but they form a judgment of them all. You cannot guess at their talent. They talk of any thing which the company 318 MORAL REFLECTIONS. were speaking of when they came in. But you do not discover in them one talent more than another, except when there is a necessity for using it, and then you will perceive it ; for their character is as much marked by pur not saying they are good speakers, when there is no occa- sion for oratory, as by our saying they are so, when such an occasion presents itself. It is therefore a false kind of commendation to say of a man, at his first entrance into company, that he is well skilled in poetry : and it is a bad token when people only appeal to him, when the de- bate is about some particular verses. Man is full of wants. He only loves those who can satisfy them. Such an one is a good mathematician, they cry : but I have nothing to do with mathematics. Such an one is a master of the art of war : but I do not want to go to war. What we want, therefore, is a man of probity, who can accommodate himself to all our necessities. When we are in health, we cannot think what we should do, if we were sick. Yet, when we are so, we take medicines cheerfully : the dis- ease gives us resolution to do it. We, then, no longer desire those walks and diversions which we enjoyed when we were well, but which are incompatible with the necessities of the com- MORAL REFLECTIONS. 319 plaint. Nature gives us new passions and de- sires agreeable to the present condition. It is not nature, therefore, which gives us the bitters that trouble us, but ourselves, by joining to the condition in which we are, the passions of that condition in which we are not. Discourses of humility are matter of pride to the ostentatious, and of humility to the humble. And those, of scepticism and doubt, are matter of affirmation to the positive. Few people speak humbly of humility, or chastely of chas- tity, or doubtingly of doubt. We -are full of duplicity, falshood, and contradiction. We conceal and disguise ourselves from ourselves. Noble actions, when concealed, are the more worthy of esteem. When I meet with any of these in history, they please me much. But yet they were not altogether concealed, because they are known ; and this little manifestation of them, diminishes their merit ; for the best part of them is, that they were intended to be kept secret. A jester is a mean character. Self is hateful ; and, therefore, those who do not set it aside, but content themselves with merely concealing if, are always hateful. By 320 MORAL REFLECTIONS. no moans, say you ; for while we act as we do, obligingly to all the world, they have no reason to hate us. That would be true, if they hated nothing. in this self, but the displeasure it occa- sions them. But if I hate it, because it is un- just, and makes itself the centre of every thing, I shall always hate it. In a word, self has these two qualities ; it is unjust in its own nature, be- cause it wants to be the centre of every thing : and it is troublesome to others, because it wishes to enslave them ; for self is the enemy, and would be the tyrant of all others. You take away the inconvenience of it, but not the injus- tice; and, therefore, you cannot render it amiable to those who hate its injustice. You can only make it agreeable to those who are unjust, and whose interest it does not oppose ; thus you will still be unjust, and will please none but those who are also unjust. I do not admire a man who possesses one virtue in its utmost perfection, if he does not, at the same time, possess the opposite virtue in an equal degree. Such an one was Epaminondas ; he had the greatest valour, joined to the greatest benignity :* otherwise it is not to rise, but to fall. A man never shows true greatness in being at one end of the line ; but, in touching both extre- mities at once, arid filling up all that lies be- tween. But, perhaps, even this is nothing more MORAL REFLECTIONS. 321 than a sudden transition of the soul from one extreme to the other, so that, in fact, it is never, in itself, any thing more than a point ; like a firebrand turned round and round with velocity. Yet this, at least, shows the agility of the soul, if not its greatness. If our condition were really happy, we should have no occasion to divert ourselves from think- ing -of it. I formerly spent a considerable time in the study of the abstract sciences; but the small number of persons with whom I could converse on them, disgusted me with them. When I began to study man, I saw that these abstract sciences are by no means adapted to him, and that I had strayed further from my proper con- dition, by entering into them, than others had, by remaining ignorant of them, I therefore ea- sily forgave their neglect. I thought I should at least find more companions in the study of man, because this is his proper employ. But I have been again disappointed. There are still fewer of those who study man, than of those who study geometry. When all moves equally, nothing seems to move, as in a vessel under sail. When all run into disorder, none appears to do so. He that Y MORAL REFLECTIONS. stops, sees, as from a fixed point, how the rest are driving on. Philosophers suppose themselves very clever, in having comprehended all their moral system under certain propositions. But why divide it into four rather than six? "Why make out four kinds of virtue rather than ten ? Why make it consist in abstain and sustain, (abstine et sustine] rather than in any thing else ? But, say you, here it is all summed up in a word. Yes, but that is of no use, except you explain it ; and as soon as you begin to explain it, and to open this precept, which comprehends all the rest, they come out from it in just the same confu- sion you was endeavouring to avoid. And thus, if they be all included in one, they are hid- den, and useless ; and if we develop them, they appear again in their natural confusion. Na r ture has constituted them all distinct ; and al- though we may comprehend one in another, they yet subsist independent of each other. So that all these divisions, and terms, have hardly any other use than that of assisting the memory, and of serving as a kind of index to the articles they include. If we could reprove -another with success, and convince him that he is in the wrong, we must observe in what point of view he looks on MORAL REFLECTIONS. 323 the affair ; because, in that way it generally is as he imagines, and to acknowledge that he is so far in the right. He will be pleased with this, because it intimates, not that he was mistaken, but, only, that he had not considered the thing on all sides. For we do not feel it any dis- grace not to see every thing ; but we do not like to acknowledge that we have been deceiv* ed ; and perhaps the reason of this may be, that the understanding is not deceived in that point of view in which it actually considers the sub- ject, just as the simple perceptions of the senses are always true. A man's virtue is not to be measured by his great attempts, but by his common actions. The great and the little have the same acci- dents, the same troubles, the same passions. But the former are at the top of the wheel, and the latter near its centre, and therefore are less agitated by the same degree of motion. We are, for the most part, more easily per- suaded by reasons of our own finding out a than by those which have been discovered by others. Though men may have no interest in what they say, we are not always from thence to Y 2 324 MORAL REFLECTIONS. conclude that they speak the truth ; for there are some, who lie merely for the sake of ly- ing. The example of Alexander's continence has not made so many converts to chastity, as that of his drunkennesss has to intemperance. Men feel no shame in not being quite as virtuous as he, and think themselves very excusable in not being more vicious than he was. We think we have not quite reached the vices of the com- mon people, when we see ourselves guilty of those of such great men ; not considering that by these they level themselves with the most vulgar. We join ourselves to them at the same end at which they are joined to the vulgar. How lofty soever their condition may be, they are still connected in some way with the rest of mankind. They do not hang in the air, and fbrm a totally separate society. If they are greater than us, it is because their head is higher ; their feet are as low as ours. They all touch the same surface, and tread the same ground ; and here they are as low as ourselves, or as children, or, even, as beasts, It is the contest that pleases us, and not the victory. We like to see beasts fight ; but not to see the conqueror tearing to pieces the ani- mal he has vanquished. The only thing we MORAL REFLECTIONS. 5 wish, is to behold the issue of the combat ; and as soon as that is decided, we grow cloyed. So it is in our diversions ; and, in our inquiries af- ter truth. We like to see controversies, and the contest of opinions, but are very indifferent about the truth when it is ascertained. In order that we may notice it with pleasure, it must make its appearance in a dispute. And thus with our passions ; we have a pleasure in see- ing two contrary passions clash, but if either of them prevail, it changes into brutality. We never seek after things themselves, but after the pursuit of things. Thus, in a play, quiet scenes are good for nothing ; nor extreme dis- tress, without hope ; nor love, as a mere animal passion. We do not teach men to be honest, though we teach them every thing else ; and yet they pique themselves on nothing so much as that. Thus, they chiefly value themselves, on knowing the only thing they never learned. What a senseless project it was in Montaigne to give such a picture of himself ; and that, not by chance, and against his general maxims, for all men fail in something, but on his professed principles, and as his first and principal design ! For to say foolish things by accident, or through weakness, is a common misfortune ; but to say Y 3 326 MORAL REFLECTIONS. them with design, and especially such things as those, is insupportable. Men of disorderly lives tell those who live regularly, that the latter deviate from nature 5 and, that themselves are the only persons who follow her : as men who are sailing in a ship fancy those who stand on the shore to be re- ceding. Each of them say the very same ; we must stand at some fixed point, to judge of the fact. The port itself decides with respect to the vessel ; but where shall we find such a point in morality ? To pity the unfortunate is not concupiscence ; on the contrary, we are happy in bearing such a testimony in favour of humanity, and of ac- quiring reputation for pity and tenderness, with- out its costing us any thing. But then it is no great matter. Would any man have thought, that he who enjoyed the friendship of the kings of England and Poland, and the queen of Sweden, should, at length, have wanted a retreat and asylum in " the world ? , Things have different qualities, and the soul has different inclinations. Nothing that presents itself to the mind, is absolutely simple, nor does MORAL REFLECTIONS. 327 the soul look at anything with perfect simplicity. Hence, we sometimes weep and sometimes laugh, at the very same thing. We are so unhappy, that we cannot take pleasure in any thing, but on condition of being displeased if it do not succeed, which a thou- sand accidentsmay occasion ; and do, every hour. He that has found out the secret of delighting himself in good, without being disturbed by the opposite evil, has hit the true point. There are different classes of men ; the va* liant, the dressy, the witty, and the pious; each of which ought to reign in their own circle; though not in any other. Sometimes they meet together, and we see the soldier and the beau foolishly fighting each other, to know which shall be the master, while the empire of each is totally different. They do not understand one another, and both of them are aiming at univer- sal dominion. But nothing can otftain such a dominion, not even force ; for this has no power in the republic of learning ; it has no will but over external actions. Ferox gens nullam esse vitam nisi in armis putat. They like death better than peace; while others would choose death rather than war. Any opinion gains preference to life, Y 4 MORAL REFLECTIONS. though the love of it appears so strong, and s<3> natural. How difficult it is to propose any matter to the judgment of another, without corrupting his judgment by the manner of proposing it ? To say I think it clear, or I think it obscure, leads his imagination to form that opinion, or provokes it to form the contrary. It is better to say nothing about the matter. For then the other will judge of the thing as it is, that is, as it is at that time, and as other circumstances, of which we are not the authors, shall make it appear ^ except, indeed, this silence should have a similar effect, either according to the turn and construction which the person shall be in the humour to give it ; or, according to what he may gather from our look, and tone of voice. So easy is it to turn an opinion from its natural course ; or, rather, so few opinions are there which are judicious and solid. The Platonists, and even Epietetus and his followers, believe that God alone is worthy to be loved and admired, and yet they, themselves, desire to be loved and admired. They were ignorant of their natural depravity. If, indeed, they feel really disposed to love and adore Him, and find in this their principal joy, let them call themselves good> and welcome ; but if they MORAL REFLECTIONS. S29 feel an aversion to this ; if they have no incli- nation but to establish themselves in the good opinion of men ; and if their whole perfection consists in being able, without restraint, to make others happy in loving them ; I say that such perfection is to be abhorred. What ! they know God, and are not desirous that men should love Him ! They want men to trust only in them ! They want to be the sole objects of that hap- piness, which it is in the power of men to choose, Montaigne was right in saying, custom ought to be regarded as soon as it becomes custom, and we see it established, without stopping to in- quire whether it be reasonable or not. This, however, is to be understood only of that which is not contrary to natural or divine law. It is very true that people only follow it because they think it just, or else they would not regard it at all ; for men will only be kept in subjection to reason, or justice. Without this, custom would be thought tyranny; whereas, in fact, the domi- nion of reason and justice is no more tyrannical than that of inclination. But it is highly proper to obey laws and cus- toms, because they are laws, and the people un- derstand that so doing constitutes them just. For this reason they never abandon them ; whereas, if we make their justice to depend on any other 330 MORAL REFLECTIONS. thing, it is easy to render it disputable ; and thus we make them ready to revolt, How well have men done to distinguish one another rather by the exterior than by internal endowments ! Here is another person and I disputing the way. Which shall give place to the other ? The weakest of the two. But I am as stout as he. We must fight about it. But he has four footmen, and I have but one. That is evident : we have only to count them. I therefore must yield, and I am a fool if I contest it. This keeps us at peace, which is the greatest of blessings. The nature of our bodies deadens our afflic- tions and our quarrels : For we change and be- come other persons. Neither the aggriever, nor the party aggrieved, continue the same. It is like affronting a nation, and seeing them again two generations afterward. They are still the French, but not the same. The soul must undoubtedly be either mortal, .or immortal. This ought to make an entire dif- ference in a system of morality. And yet the philosophers framed their moral systems, alto- gether independent of it. What astonishing blindness ! THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 331 The last act is always tragical, how pleasant soever the play may have been throughout, We throw dust to dust, and the curtain drops for ever. XXX. THOUGHTS ON DEATH: EXTRACTED FROM A LETTER WRITTEN BY M. PASCAL ON THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER. W HEN we are under affliction for the death of a person who was dear to us, or for any other misfortune which befals us, we ought not to seek for consolation in ourselves, or in other men, or in any part of the creation, but we ought to seek it in God alone. And the reason of this is, that no created being is the first cause of those accidents which we call afflictions. But the providence of God being the true and only cause, the sovereign, and the disposer of them, we ought, undoubtedly, to repair immediately to their source, and look up to their author to find solid consolation. If we observe this rule, if we look on this death which we are lamenting, not as an effect of chance, or ^s a fatal necessity of nature, or as the sport 332 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. of those elements and particles of which man is composed, (for God has not left his elect to the caprices of chance,) but as the indispensable, inevitable, just and holy result of a decree of God's providence now executed in the fulness of time ' y and that whatever has now happen^ ed, was from everlasting pre-determined and present with God ; if, I say, by a transport of grace, we regard this occurrence, not in itself, and abstracted from God, but out of itself, and in the will of God, in the justice of his decree, and in the order of his providence, which is the real cause that has produced it, without which it would not have happened, by which alone it has happened, and in the very manner in which it has happened; we shall adore in humble silence the unfathomable depth of His judgments; we shall reverence the holiness of His decrees ; we shall bless the guidance of His providence ; and, uniting our will to the will of God himself, we shall choose with Him, in Him, and for Him, the very same events which He has chosen in us, and for us, from all eternity. There is no consolation, but in truth alone. It is evident that Seneca and Socrates have no- thing which can convince, or console us, on these occasions. Both were in the error which has blinded all mankind from the beginning. They looked on death as natural to man ; and THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 333 all the discourses which they have founded on this false principle, are so vain and so desti- tute of solidity, that they only serve by their tiselessness to demonstrate how weak men are in general, since the noblest productions of the wisest among them are so childish and con- temptible. It is not so with Jesus Christ ; it is not so with the canonical books of scripture. There the truth is revealed : and consolation is as in- fallibly joined to the truth, as it is infallibly separated from error. Let us, therefore, view death, in that truth which the Holy Spirit has taught us. And we have the admirable ad- vantage of knowing that death is, in truth and reality, the punishment of sin, imposed on man, to expiate his guilt, and necessary to man to cleanse him from sin: that it is this alone which can deliver the soul from the concupiscence of the body, from which saints are never entirely free, while they live in this world. We know that life, and the life of Christians, is a con- tinual sacrifice, which can only be completed by death. We know that Jesus Christ came into the world and offered himself as a sacrifice and a real propitiation ; that his birth, his life, his death, his resurrection, his ascension, his sitting for ever at the right hand of the Father, and his presence in the eucharist, are but one and the same sacrifice : and we know that what 334 THOUGHTS ON DEATH, was accomplished in Jesus Christ, must be ac- complished also in each of his members. Let us then consider life as a sacrifice ; and let the accidents of life make no other impres- sion on the minds of Christians, but in propor- tion as they interrupt or accomplish this sacri- fice. Let us count nothing evil but what turns a sacrifice to God into a sacrifice to the devil j and let us call every thing a good, which ren- ders that which was a sacrifice to the devil in Adam, a sacrifice to God ; and let us examine the nature of death by this rule. In order to this, it is necessary to recur to the person of Jesus Christ : for as God only regards men through their mediator, Jesus Christ, so ought they neither to regard others, nor them- selves, but through his mediation. If we do not look through this medium, we shall find nothing in ourselves, but real miseries, or abominable pleasures : but if we consider all things in Jesas Christ, we shall find all is conso- lation, satisfaction, and edification. Let us then view death in Jesus Christ ; not, without Jesus Christ. Without Jesus Christ, it is dreadful, it is detestable, it is the terror of na- ture. In Jesus Christ, it is altogether different ; it is amiable, holy, and the joy of the believer. Every thing, even death itself, is rendered sweet in Jesus Christ ; and it was for this he suffered ; THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 333 he died to sanctify death and suffering to us. And as he was God and man, he was all that was great and all that was abject, that he might sanctify all things in himself, except sin, arid might be an example to us in every possible -condition. To know what death is, and what death in Jesus Christ is, we must examine what place it holds in respect to his continual, and uninter- rupted sacrifice ; and in order to this we may observe, that in sacrifices the principal part is the death of the victim. The oblation and s an ctifi cation, which precede, are the prepara- tions for it, but death is the completion ; in which, by surrendering its life, the creature pays to God the utmost homage of which it is capa r ble ; thus annihilating itself, before the eyes of his majesty, and adoring his supreme existence, who alone essentially exists. There is, indeed, another thing subsequent to the death of the victim, without which its death would be use- less ; namely, God's acceptance of the sacrifice, which is signified by the scripture expression, and the Lord swelled a sweet savour. Gen. vii i. 2 1 . This, indeed, crowns the oblation ; but it is ra- ther an action of God towards the creature, than of the creature towards God ; so that the last act of the creature is its death. Each of these circumstances were fulfilled in Jesus Christ, when he came into the world. 336 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. Through the Eternal Spirit, he offered himself; Heb. ix. 14. When he comet h into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering thou wouldst not, but a body hast thou prepared me. Then, said I, Lo I come, in the volume of the book it is written of me, to do thy will, O Gods yea, thy law is within my heart ; Heb. x. 5. Ps. xl. 7, 8. Here is his oblation ; his sanctifi cation immedi- ately follows it. His sacrifice continued through his life, and was completed by his death. It was needful for him to suffer these things, and to enter into his glory ; Luke xxiv. 26. Though he were a son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered ; and In the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears unto him that was able to save him from death, he was heard in that he feared; and God raised him from the dead, and clothed .him with that glory, (which was formerly prefigured by the fire which fell from heaven on the sacrifices,) to burn and consume his body, and to restore it to a life of glory. This is what Jesus Christ has obtained, and the purpose which was answered by his resurrection. Thus this sacrifice being perfected by the death of Jesus Christ, and consummated by the resur- rection of his body, in which the image of the body of sin was swallowed up in glory, Jesus Christ had performed every thing on his part ; and nothing remained but that the sacrifice THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 337 should be accepted of God, and that, as in- cense, it should ascend, and carry up its odour to the throne of the Divine Majesty. And thus Jesus Christ was, in this state of immolation, of- fered, raised up, and received at the throne of God itself, at his ascension ; in which he rose partly by his own power, and partly by the power of the Holy Spirit, which every where encompassed him. He was carried up, as the odour of the sacrifices, which was the figure of Jesus Christ, was carried up by the air which supported it ; and which represented the Holy Spirit. And in the Acts of the Apostles, it is expressly related, that he was received into hea- ven, to give us an assurance, that this holy sa- crifice, thus accomplished on the earth, has been accepted and received into the bosom of God. Such is the state of things with regard to our glorious Lord. Let us now consider them in ourselves. When we enter into the church, which is the world of believers, and more espe- cially of the elect, into which Jesus Christ en- tered from the moment of his incarnation, by a privilege peculiar to himself as the only Son of God, we are offered and sanctified. The sacri- fice continues through life, and is completed at death, in which the soul, entirely leaving all those vices, and that earthly love, the contagion of which had infected it during life, finishes the Z 338 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. immolation of itself, and is received into the bosom of God. Let us not therefore grieve for the death of believers, like Pagans without hope. We have not lost them when they die. We lost them, as it were, as soon as they were admitted into the church by baptism. From that moment they were God's ; their life was devoted to God ; their actions had no regard to the world ; but, for God. By death they are entirely separated from sin ; and at this moment God receives them, and their sacrifice has its accomplish- ment and its crown. They have performed that which they vowed ; they have finished the work which God gave them to do; they have fulfilled that which was the only end of their creation. The will of God respecting them is accomplish- ed, and their will is absorbed in the divine. Let not us, therefore, separate what God has joined; and let us suppress, or at least moderate, by our understanding of the truth, the sentiments of corrupt and mistaken nature, which exhibits no- thing but false representations, whose illusions pollute the holiness of those sentiments which the truth of the gospel ought to inspire. Let us not then look at death as Pagans, but as Christians ; that is to say, with hope, as St. Paul enjoins ; because this is the special privi- lege of Christians. .Let us not -think a corpse to be a mere infectious carcase, as the fallacy of THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 339 nature represents it ; but as the eternal and in- violable temple of the Holy Ghost, which, by faith, we know it to be. For we know that the bodies of the saints are inhabited by the Holy Spirit until the resurrec- tion, which shall be performed by the power of the same Spirit, who resides in them for that purpose. This is the idea of the fathers. And for this reason we pay honour to the relics of the dead. And it was on the same principle, that the eucharist was formerly put into the mouths of the deceased ; because, knowing them to be the temples of the Holy Ghost, they thought them still worthy to be, also, united to this holy sacrament. But the church has since altered this custom ; not because she does not "believe the bodies of good men to be sacred, but because the eucharist being the bread of life, and of the living, ought not to be given to the dead, Let us hot consider the faithful, who are de- parted in the grace of God, as having ceased to live ; although nature suggests it ; but as begin- ning to live, which is the testimony of truth. Let us not consider their souls as perished and annihilated, but as quickened and united to the sovereign of life. And thus, by a regard to these truths, let us correct those erroneous sen- timents which are so rooted in our minds, and Z 2 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. those emotions of fear, which are so natural to man. God created man with a two-fold love ; love for his Creator, and love for himself; but with this restriction, that his love of his Creator should be infinite, that is, without any other end than God only ; and that the love of himseLf should be finite, and always bearing a reference to God. Man, in this estate, not only loved himself without sin, but could not, without sinning, have ceased to love himself. Afterward, by the entrance of sin, man lost the former of these affections, and love of him- self remaining the only passion in that great soul, which was capable of an infinite love, this self-love diffused itself, and flowed into the void which the love of God had quitted. And thus he loved himself alone, and all things with respect to himself, so that his self-love became infinite. This is the origin of self-love ! It was natural to Adam : and, during his innocence, it was just; but it became criminal and immoderate, in con- sequence of his sin. This is the source of this love, and the cause both of its imperfection and its excess. We may say the same of bur desire for do- minion, our love of ease, and other things. 3 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 341 And it may also be easily applied to our dread of death. This was not only natural but just, in Adam, while innocent ; because his life be- ing then acceptable to God, ought to have been agreeable to man ; and death must have been an object of horror, because it would have been the termination of a life which was conformable to the will of God. But when man sinned, his life became corrupt ; his body and soul became at enmity against one another, and both of them against God. Though this fatal change infected so holy a life, the love of life continued still ; and the fear of death remaining the same, that which was just in Adam, is unjust in us. Thus arose the fear of death ; and the cause of its present defectiveness. Let us then clear up the darkness of nature, by the light of faith. The fear of death is na- tural ; and it was so in the state of innocence, because death could not have entered into para- dise, without destroying a life which was alto- gether holy. It was therefore just to hate it, while it could not take place without separating a holy soul from a holy body : but it is just to love it, now it releases a holy soul from an un- holy body. It was just to flee from it when it must have broken the peace between soul and body ; but not now it terminates an irreconcil- Z 3 342 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. able dissension between them. In a word, when it must have punished a guiltless body, by tak> ing away its liberty of honouring God ,' when it must have separated the soul from a body perfectly subject to, and compliant with its vo- litions ; when it must have put an end to all the happiness of which man is capable, it was just to abhor it. But now, when it ends a life stain- ed with impurity, when it takes away from the body the liberty of sinning, when it delivers the soul from' a powerful rebel, which was continu- ally opposing all the means of its salvation, it would be highly unjust to entertain the same sentiments respecting it. Let us not then abandon that love of life, which nature instils into us ; because we have received it from God. But let it be a love for such a life only, as God gave it us for ; and not for one contrary to that. But while we allow of that love which Adam had for his life of innocence, and which even our Lord Jesus Christ felt for His, let us resolve to hate a life which is contrary to that which Jesus Christ loved ; and to be afraid of such a, death only, as Jesus Christ himself dreaded, a death which happens to a body that is accept-* able to God ; but let us not fear a death, which, as it punishes a sinful, and cleanses an impure body, will inspire us with quite opposite THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 343 sentiments, if we possess any faith, or hope, or charity. It is one of the grand principles of Christia- nity, that wb^to^x.]iappened to Jesus Christ, is likewise to take place in thiTsouI ^^ ^oTEody^f every Christian : that as Jesus Christ suffered in this mortal life, was raised to a new life, and ascended into heaven, where he sat down at the right hand of God the Father ; so the body and soul are to suffer, to die, to be raised again, and to ascend into heaven. Ail these particulars are accomplished in the soul during this life ; but not in the body. The soul suffers and dies to sin, in repentance and baptism. The soul is raised to a new life in the sacraments. And at length the soul quits this earth, and soars toward heaven, by leading a heavenly life: which made St. Paul say, Our conversation is in heaven. Philip, iii. 20. None of these things take place in the body during this life, but they will all be accomplish- ed in it afterward. For, at our death, the body dies as to this mortal life : at the judgment it shall rise to a new life : after the judgment, it shall ascend into heaven, and remain there to all eternity. Thus the very same things happen to the body and to the soul, though at different periods : and the changes of the body do not take place till those of the soul are completed ; that is, after Z4 344 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. death. Insomuch that death is both the con- summation of bliss to the soul, and the begin- ning of bliss to the body. Such is the admirable conduct of divine wis- dom in the salvation of souls ! And St. Austin informs us, on this subject, that God has dis- posed things in this manner, because if the death and resurrection of the human body were to be completed by baptism, men would yield themselves obedient to the gospel only from the love of life. Whereas the glory of faith shines with much greater brightness, by our passing to immortality, through the shades of death. It is not right that we should remain without pain and without feeling, in the afflictions and misfortunes which befal us ; like angels, who have not the sentiments of our nature : nor yet is it right that we should indulge grief without consolation like heathens, who have no senti- ment of grace. But we ought both to mourn and to be comforted like Christians ; the consola- tions of grace should rise superior to the feelings of nature : so that grace may not only dwell, but be victorious in us : that by our thus hal- lowing the name of our father, his will may be- come ours, his grace may reign and rule over nature ; that our afflictions may be like a sacri- fice, which his grace will complete and consume to the glory of God : and that these particular THOUGHTS ON DEATH. S45 sacrifices may be the forerunners of that un'ver- sai sacrifice, in which all nature shall be con- summated by the power of Jesus Christ. Thus shall we derive advantage from our own imperfections, when they furnish the matter for this whole-burnt-offering. It is the object of real Christians to profit by their own imperfec- tions, for all things work together for good to the elect. Rom. viii. 28. And if we look at these things closely, and consider them as they really are, we shall find in them great helps to our edification. For as it is certain, that the death of the body is only the image of that of the soul, and as we build on this principle, that we have reason to hope for the salvation of those whose death we lament, if we are not able to stop the course of our sad- ness and grief, we ought to draw this benefit from it, that since the death of the body is so terrible as to produce in us such emotions, the death of the soul would make us far more incon- solable. God has sent the first to those for whom we mourn ; but we hope that he has rescued them from the second. Let us contemplate the great- ness of our happiness, in the greatness of our misery ; and let the excess of our grief be the measure of our joy. One of the most solid and useful charities we can perform toward the dead, is to do that which 346 THOUGHTS ON DEATH. they would desire of us, were they still in the world ; and to put ourselves, for their sakes, into that condition which they now wish us to be in. By this means we shall make them, in some sort, revive in ourselves, while their counsels and instructions are still living and acting in us. And, as the authors of heresies are pu- nished in another life, for the sinful practices in which they have engaged their followers, in whom theip poison is still kept alive, so the dead are recompensed not only for their own virtues, but for those to which they have given rise by their counsels, and their example. Man is, most certainly, too weak to judge justly of the course of future events. Let us \^ hope then in God, and not weary ourselves with rash and indiscreet apprehensions. Let us commit ourselves to Him for the conduct of our lives : and let not grief have the dominion over us. St. Austin observes, that there is in every man, a Serpent, an Eve, and an Adam. Our senses and natural affections are the serpent; our concupiscence is the Eve ; and the Adam is our reason. Nature tempts us continually; concupiscence is for ever craving; but sin is not complete, ynless reason assent to it. MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 34? Let us then leave this serpent and this Eve, if we cannot entirely expel them ; but let us pray that God by his grace will so fortify our Adam, that he may become victorious, and that Jesus Christ may be the conqueror over him, and may reign in us to all eternity. XXXI. MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS, A HE more discernment a man possesses, the more originals he will discover among mankind. People in common do not see this difference be- tween men. A man may have good sense, and yet not be able to apply it alike to all subjects : for there are those who judge correctly in a certain order of things, and yet are quite confounded in others. Some draw consequences well from a few prin- ciples; others draw consequences as correctly from things in which there are many principles. Some, for instance, thoroughly understand the effects of water, in which there are but few principles, but the consequences of them are so MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. fine as not to be reached without great penetra- tion. Yet these persons would perhaps be no- extraordinary geometricians : because geometry includes a great number of principles ; and the nature of a man's mind may be such, as to pe- netrate with ease to the bottom of a few princi- ples, and yet not to dive into things where the principles are very numerous. There are therefore two sorts of intellects ; the one, capable of penetrating quickly and deeply into the consequences of principles; and this is the genius for accuracy : the other is able to comprehend a great number of principles with- out confounding them ; and this is the genius for geometry. One is strength and exactness of mind, the other is extensiveness of mind. And one of these may exist without the other : for the mind may be strong, and yet contract- ed : or it may have a great reach, with but little strength. There is a wide difference between a genius for geometry, and a genius for business. In the former the principles are palpable, but so far from ordinary use, that a man finds it difficult to turn his head that way, for want of practice ; but if he does attend to them, though it be ever . so little, he sees them in all their evidence, and must have a very distorted judgment if he draws wrong inferences from principles which are too gross to be mistaken. MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS, But in business, the principles are in common use, and are obvious to all the world. There is no need here to turn the head, or to do ourselves any violence. The only thing wanting is a clear sight. But then it must be clear, because the principles are so unconnected and so numerous, that it is hardly possible but some of them should escape us. Now the omission of any one prin- ciple will lead us into error. So that the dis- cernment must be very exact, to comprehend all the principles, and the mind must likewise be just, not to reason falsely from the principles when they are known. All geometricians would, therefore, be men of business, if they were clear-sighted ; for they do not reason falsely on the principles which they know. And men of business would be geo- metricians, if they could once turn their minds to the unaccustomed principles of geometry. The reason then, why some very able persons are not geometricians, is, because they cannot turn their minds to the principles of geometry : but the reason that geometricians are not men of business, is, because they do not see that which lies before them. For being accustomed to the clear and obvious principles of geometry, and to reason only after having clearly discerned and arranged their principles, they lose them- selves in matters of business, the principles of which will not submit to any such arrangement 350 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. They are not to be discerned without difficulty ; the mind rather feels, than sees them ; and it requires infinite labour, to make those persons see them, who do not discover them of them- selves. They are things so nice and so nume- rous, that a man must have his understanding very subtle and clear, in order to apprehend them ; for they must be perceived, in general, without the possibility of demonstrating them methodically, as may be done in geometry; because there are no such determinate principles, and it would be endless to undertake to produce them. We must see the thing at once, and at a glance, without the progress of reasoning ; at least, to a certain degree. Thus it rarely happens thai geometricians are men of business, or that men of business are geometricians; be- cause geometricians will treat matters of busi- ness geometrically, and they make themselves ridiculous by beginning first with definitions, and afterward with principles, which is not the way to proceed in this kind of reasoning. Not but the mind does the very same thing, but then it does it silently, naturally, and without art ; in a way that none of us can explain, and very few even perceive. Men of business, on the other hand, having been thus accustomed to judge of things at once, are so amazed when we offer them propositions which they comprehend nothing of, and which MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 351 they cannot enter into, except by means of de- finitions, and dry principles, that, not having been accustomed to take things thus in detail, they soon become disheartened, and disgusted. But persons of false judgment are never either men of business, or geometricians. Those, therefore, who are geometricians, and nothing more, judge correctly, but only if we explain every thing to them by definitions and principles ; for otherwise they are both erroneous and insupportable ; for they only proceed rightly upon principles which are thoroughly elucidated. And those w r ho have a genius only for business, have not patience to descend into the first prin- ciples of speculative and abstract things, which they have seen nothing of in the world and in common life. It is more supportable to die without thinking of death, than to think of death, even when thero is no danger of it. It often happens, that in order to prove; cer- tain things, we make use of examples, which those very things might have been taken to prove. But nevertheless this is not without its use : for as we always think the difficulty lies in the thing to be proved, the examples we adduce are more clear to us. So when we would illustrate a general rule, we instance a particular case > 252 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. and if we would explain a particular case,, we begin with the general rule. We always find somewhat obscure" in that which we are desirous to prove, and somewhat clear in that which we make use of to prove it. For when we pro- pose a thing in order to prove it, our imagi- nation is always possessed with the notion that it is obscure ; and that, on the contrary, that wh'ch we bring forward in proof of it, is clear, and thus we more easily understand it. We fancy that all men conceive and feel alike, concerning objects which are presented to them : but we imagine this without any foundation, for we have no proof of it. I know very well that men employ the same words on the same occa- sions ; and that when two men, for instance, look on the snow, both of them express their perception of this object by the same term, each of them saying it is white ; and from this confor- mity of speech, we strongly conjecture there is a conformity of idea ; but this is not absolutely demonstrative, although the chance lies on the side of the affirmative. All our reasoning is reducible to submission to sentiment. Now fancy is like sentiment, and yet contrary to it : like it, because it does not reason ; and contrary to it, because it is false. So that it is very difficult to distinguish between MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 353 these two opposites. One man says, that my sen- timent is fancy, and that his fancy is senti- ment ; and I say the same of his. We stand in need of a rule ; reason presents itself 5 but as this is pliable either way, it leaves us, at last, without one. Those who judge of a work by rule, are, with respect to others, like a man who has a watch, compared with those who have not one. One says, we have been here these two hours ; the other says, it is but three quarters of an hour. I look at my watch ; I say to one, you are tired ; and to the other, you pass your time pleasantly, for we have been here just an hour and an half; and I laugh at those who reply that my time passes on heavily, and that I judge of it by my own humour, for they do not know that I judge of it by my watch. There are men in the world who are good speakers, and yet bad writers. The place, the company, &c. warms them, and draws more out of their minds, than would be discovered in them without the glow this produces. That which is good in Montaigne, cannot be easily collected. That which is exceptionable, I now mean exclusive of his morals, might have been corrected in a moment, if he had but been, A A 554 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. aware that he had made up too many stories, and talked too much of himself. It is a great evil to follow the exception instead of the rule. We ought to be strict, and to op- pose exceptions. But as there will always be some exceptions to every rule, we ought to judge ri- gorously, but yet justly. In one sense it is true to affirm, that all the world is mistaken. For though the opinions of people may be sound in themselves, yet they are not so in their heads ; because they fancy the truth to be where it is not ; there is indeed truth in their opinions, but not where they suppose it to be. Those who have a genius for invention are but few ; those who have none are more numerous, and consequently make the stronger party. And we commonly find, that the latter refuse to the inventors the glory which they merit, -and seek after by their inventions. And if they resolutely maintain their claim, and treat those with con- tempt who invent nothing, all they get by it is, to be called by ridiculous names, and to be treated as visionaries. A man ought, therefore, to be very cautious of priding himself on this ad- vantage, considerable as it is, and ought rather to rest satisfied with the esteem of the few, who know how to value it. MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 355 The understanding naturally believes, and the will naturally loves ; so that if they be not di- rected to true objects, they will necessarily fix upon false ones. Many things which are true, are contradict- ed ; and many which are false, pass without contradiction. Contradiction is therefore no mark of falshood, nor is the absence of it a mark of truth. Caesar was too old, in my opinion, to go about to amuse himself with conquering the world. Such an undertaking was fit for Alexander, who was a young man, and not easy to be re- strained. But Caesar ought to have been more considerate. All the world sees that men labour for what is uncertain, in voyages, in war, &c. But all the world does not see that connection of things which demonstrates, that they ought to do so. Montaigne saw that men are disgusted with those who are stupid, and that custom governs every thing ; but he did not see the reason of either. Those who see effects and not their causes, are, in comparison with those who see the causes, like those who have eyes only, in comparison with those who are possessed of un- derstanding likewise. For effects are, as it were, A A 2 356 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. sensible, but causes are discernible only by the understanding. And though it is by the under- standing that the effects are discerned, yet the understanding which discerns them only, is, to that which distinguishes the causes, as the bodily senses are, compared to the mind. The sense we have of the falseness of present pleasures, and our ignorance of the vanity of pleasures which are absent, are the causes of our inconstancy. If we were to dream the same thing every night, it would perhaps affect as much, as the objects we see every day. And if an artisan were sure of dreaming, every night for twelve hours together, that he was a king ; I think he would be almost as happy as a king who should dream, every night for twelve hours together, that he was an artisan. Should we every night dream, that we are pursued by our enemies, and frightened by these troublesome phantoms ; or, that we passed all our days in a succession of labour, as going a voyage, or the like ; we should suffer almost as much, as if the things were real ; and should be as much afraid of going to sleep, as w r e are now of awaking, when we have to fear entering on such misfortunes in reality. And, indeed, the misfortune would be nearly as great as the reality could be. But because our MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 35? dreams are ever varying, and diversified. what they present us with, affects us much less than what we see when we are awake, on account of its continuance, which yet is not so constant and uniform, but that it changes also, though less abruptly, except on some few occasions, as when we travel ; and on these we are accustomed to say, " Surely I am in a dream :" for life is a dream, a little less inconstant. Kings and princes play sometimes. They are not always on their thrones : they grow weary of them. Greatness must be sometimes laid aside, in order to be enjoyed, My humour depends but little on the weather. My fogs and fine days are within myself. The good or ill success of my affairs even does not much move me. I sometimes set myself against ill fortune, and the glory of overcoming it makes nie master it with pleasure ; whereas at other times I act with indifference, and even disgust, at prosperity. It is a pleasant thing to consider that there are men in the world, who having renounced all the laws of God and of nature, yet make laws for themselves, which they exactly obey : as fbr instance, thieves, &c. A A3 358 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. Those great efforts of mind which the soul sometimes readies, are things, which it cannot keep up to ; it leaps, as it were, to them, and comes down again as suddenly. Man is neither angel nor beast ; and the mis- chief is, that he who would be thought an angel, acts the beast. Provided we know the ruling passion in any man, we make ourselves sure of being able to please him. And yet all men have fancies, which are contrary to their own good, even in the idea which they themselves form of good : and this inconsistency disconcerts those who wish to gain their affection. A horse does not strive to be admired by his companion. We do, indeed, see some sort of emulation between them in a race, but this is of no further consequence \ for when they are in the stable, the most clumsy and ill-propor- tioned will not, on that account, give up his oats to the other. It is not so among men. Their virtue will not satisfy them of itself; they are not content with it, if it does not give them some advantage over others. As we corrupt our understanding we deprave our sentiment. Both the understanding and the 3 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 359 sentiment are formed by conversation : so that good or bad company may make or spoil them, It is therefore of the greatest importance to choose well in this respect, that we may rectify them, and not corrupt them : but we cannot make this choice, unless they are already corrected, and not corrupted. So that here is a circle, and happy are they who get out of it. We naturally suppose ourselyes much more capable of diving to the centre of things, than ' of embracing their circumference. The visible extent of the world plainly surpasses us. But yet as we surpass little things, we think our- selves capable of comprehending them. And yet it requires as much capacity to descend to non-entity, as to extend to the whole. It must be infinite to do either. And it appears to me, that a man who could penetrate into the first elements of things, might also arrive at the knowledge of infinity. Each depends on the other; each conducts to the other. These ex- tremes touch, and the further they are asunder, the more they unite, for they meet in God, and in God alone. If a man did but begin with the study of him- self, he would soon find how incapable he is of proceeding further. For how is it possible, that a part should comprehend the whole ? But per- A A 4 360 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. haps be will, at 1'east, aspire to the knowledge of those parts to which he bears some proportion. But, then, the parts of the world are so closely re- lated and connected to one another, that I be- lieve it impossible, thoroughly, to understand one without another, or even, without under- standing the whole. Man, for example, has some relation to every thing which he has a knowledge of. He has need of place, to contain him ; of time, to make out his duration ; of elements, to compose his frame ; of motion, to preserve his life ; of heat and food, for nourishment ; of air, for respira- tion. He sees the light ; he feels surrounding bodies ; in short, he holds an alliance with the whole world. In order, therefore, to a knowledge of man, we must know whence it comes to pass, that he should need air for his subsistence : and to understand the air> we must know by what means it has such an influence on the life of man. Flame cannot subsist without air : therefore to understand the one we must understand the other. All things then being causes or effects, de- pendents or assistants, mediately or imme- diately, and all being connected with each other by a natural, but imperceptible tie, which unites the most distant and the most diverse ; MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 361 I hold it impossible, either to know the parts without knowing the whole, or to know the whole, without an accurate acquaintance with the parts. And what seems to complete our inability for the knowledge of things, is, that they are in their own nature simple -, whereas, we are com- posed of two opposite natures, spirit and body. For it is impossible that that part of us which reasons, should be any other than spiritual. And if it be pretended we consist of nothing but body, that would exclude us much more from the knowledge of things ; for there is no- thing so inconceivable as that matter should be capable of knowing itself. It is this composition, of body and spirit, which made almost all the philosophers con- found the idea of things ; ascribing to body the properties which belong only to spirit, and to spirit the properties which are peculiar to body. Thus they positively affirm, that bodies have a tendency downwards ; that they aspire to their centre ; that they flee from their own de- struction ; that they abhor a vacuum ; that they have their inclinations, sympathies, and antipa- thies : which are all things belonging purely to spirit. And when they talk of spirit, they con- sider it as being in some place, and ascribe to it the power of locomotion, which are things pe* culiar to body. MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS, Instead of receiving into our minds the ge- nuine ideas of things, we colour the simple ob- jects which we contemplate, with the qualities of our own compounded being. Who would not imagine, when we affect to compose every thing of spirit and body, that we really comprehended their union ? And yet this, of all things, is what we comprehend the least. Man is to himself the most prodigious object in nature : for he cannot conceive what body is, and still less does he know what spirit is, and least of all, how a body can be united to a spirit, This is the very summit of all his difficulties : and, yet, this is his own being. Modus quo corporibus adhtcret $pmtus y com- prehendi ab hominibus non potest : do whatsoever thou pleasest. Give me, or take away from me, conform my will to thine ; and grant that, with an humble and perfect submission, and in a holy confidence, I may dispose myself to receive the orders of thine everlasting providence, and may equally adore whatsoever proceeds from thee. XIV. ENABLE me with constant uniformity of mind to receive all sorts of events, foras- much as we know not what we ought to asky and I cannot wish for one event rather than another without presumption ; and without making myself a judge of, and responsible for/ those consequences which thy wisdom has been pleased to conceal from me. O Lord, I know, that I know this one thing only, that it is good to follow thee, and that it is wicked to offend thee. Beyond this, I know not what is best, or worst, upon the whole. I know not which is good for me, whether health or sickness, riches or poverty ; or any thing else in this. THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 333 world. For this knowledge surpasses the wis- dom both of men and of angels ; and lies hidden in the secrets of thy providence, which I adore, and will not dare to pry into. XV. GRANT, O Lord, that being what I am, I may conform myself to thy will ; and that being sick as I now am, I may glorify thee in my sufferings. Without these, I could not attain to thy glory ; which thou thyself, O my Saviour, didst not please to attain but by suffer- ings. It was by the marks of thy sufferings, that thou wast made known again to thy disciples : and it is by the sufferings they endure, that thou also knowest who are thy disciples. Own me then as thy disciple, in the afflictions which I endure, in my body and in my mind, for the sins I have committed. And as nothing is accept- able to God, unless presented by thee ; unite my will to thine; and, my sufferings to those which thou hast endured. Unite me to thyself, fill me with thyself, and with thy Holy Spirit. Enter into my heart, and into my soul ; there to sustain my afflictions, and to continue to endure, in n\Qj what remains of thy passion; which thou Uilfillest in thy members, till the perfect con- summation of thy mystical body. So that, be- ing filled by thee, it may be no longer I v, ho Jive or suffer, but thou, O my Saviour, who Jivest and sufferest in me : -that having thus 584 PRAYER IN SICKNESS. been a ^rnall partaker of thy sufferings, thou mayest fill me completely with that glory, which thou hast acquired by them : .ja.nd in which thou livest, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, for ever and ever. Amen. THE END, Printed by C. Mercier and Co. Northumb'erland-court, Strand, London. 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. R E C rD "'rD' JUN9 '64 -3 LD 21A-40m-ll,'63 (E1602slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley YB 234 1 o