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THE 
 
 BIOSCOPE, 
 
 OH 
 
 DIAL OF LIFE, 
 
 EXPLAINED. 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A TRANSLATION OP ST. PAULINUS'S EPISTLE TO 
 CBLA.NTIA, ON THE RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE : 
 
 AND 
 AN ELEMENTARY VIEW OP GENERAL CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 BY 
 
 GRANVILLE PENN, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE CHRISTIANAS SURVEY;* S^c, 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOU JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 1814. 
 
THE DAYS OF OUR AGE ARE SEVENTY YEARS. 
 
 Psalm xc, 10. 
 
 HOW OLD ART THOU ? GCB. xlviJ. 8. 
 
 WALK CIRCUMSPECTLY, REDEEMING THE TIME. 
 
 Eph. V. 15, 16. 
 
TV , 
 
 TO 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE. 
 
 Go Dial! measure of our years, 
 Measure of earthly hopes and fears ; 
 And, in Thy friendly purpose bold, 
 Thy plain and artless tale unfold. 
 In Thee no subtlety we see ; 
 Clear is the truth that speaks in Thee j 
 Truth, such as may at once impart 
 Conviction to the guileless heart. 
 To each. Thy various office lend : 
 Rememb'rer, Monitor, and Friend. 
 hetpast experience serve, to guide 
 The present moments as they glide ; 
 And point them to that future goal, 
 Where Heaven may take the passing soul. 
 
 ivj364986 
 
VI 
 
 Though plain and simple be Thy guise, 
 
 Let none Thy simpleness despise ; 
 
 But bid them know, if us'd aright, 
 
 That simpleness is match'd with might. 
 
 For Thine the power, to redeem 
 
 Time vanished as the vanish'd dream ; 
 
 Thine is the blessed pow'r, to close 
 
 In endless bliss a life of woes ; 
 
 And Thine the pow'r, when life's deceit 
 
 Too far hath urged her fatal cheat, 
 
 To snatch from ruin on the brink, 
 
 And teach a thoughtless woeld to 
 
 THINK, 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 How Old art thou?'', was a questioa 
 addressed by a great king to an ancient 
 patriarch ; and it drew forth that memorable 
 judgment upon a long life, which is knowu 
 to every one who is acquainted with his 
 Bible. 
 
 Although this question would be esteem- 
 ed a very uncourtly one, in modern times, 
 for one person to ask another, it is neverthe- 
 less one of the most momentous, for every 
 individual to address frequently and seriously 
 to himself; because, unless we frequently 
 ask ourselves this question, so as to live under 
 a continual sense of the fact which must sup- 
 ply the answer, it will be hardly possible for 
 us always to maintain that correspondence 
 
 B 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTHIR. 
 
 Tjetween our minds and our years, which the 
 laws of our moral being require, and sup- 
 pose ; and which depends altogether, upon 
 the degree of attention we habituaili/ pay, to 
 our progress in time. 
 
 If we fairly consult our experience of 
 human nature, either in ourselves or others, 
 we shall presently perceive; that although 
 the progress of life is rendered, by God's 
 ordinance, most regular and uniform, yet 
 the concern which the mind takes in that 
 progress, is most irregular and contradic- 
 tory. For, the propensity to inquire " How 
 old am IT\ which we all discover with so 
 much alacrity in the outset of life, com- 
 monly slackens as life advances ; and when 
 it is declining towards its end, we would 
 willingly abstain from the inquiry alto- 
 gether: just as if the circumstance which 
 ga,ve to life its importance, stood somewhere 
 ' in 4je middle of its course; which being 
 . passed, our interest in the progress of life 
 passed also. Whereas it is most certain, 
 1^^\. the circumstance "wYnch alone gives real 
 impojtanee to life, stands always a^ the end 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 of its career; so that, until we shall have 
 reached that circumstance^ the question "7/oee^ 
 old am IT' ought to engage our concern 
 more and more every year, and not cease to 
 engage it, until years and bodily existence 
 have passed away together. 
 
 In the first ascent of life, we are apt to 
 ask ourselves ^* How old am I T\ with so 
 much overweening eagerness, that we sel- 
 dom take time for making a sound reflec- 
 tion upon the answer. In the descent of 
 life, we do not care to ask ourselves the 
 question at all, and consequently, we have 
 no answer to reflect upon. In the ascent, 
 we press forward upon time ; and prema- 
 turely assume the consequence and fruits 
 of years. In the descent, we hang backward 
 from the current of the stream ; and would 
 fain persuade ourselves, that we still retain 
 the privileges, if not the ornaments, of youth. 
 In both cases, the gradual and orderly pro- 
 cess of our nature is violently opposed by 
 the irregularity of our minds ; our thoughts 
 become dissociated from our years; and 
 hence arise, so frequently, those two un- 
 B 2 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 seemly characters in human hfe, presumptu- 
 ous youthy and trifling old age. 
 
 But, the difference is great between the 
 two ; for, presumptuous youth may, by the 
 indulgence of time and the intervention of. 
 reflection, correct its failing, and terminate 
 in a venerable old age ; whereas, trifling and 
 worldly old age has very little prospect of a 
 change from the counsels of reflection, and 
 still less from the indulgence of time. 
 
 Nothing can be more prejudicial to our 
 mental interest, or more derogatory to our 
 moral dignity, than the discordance which 
 is thus produced between our minds and our 
 years^ It was this that called forth that 
 severe, yet not ill-founded, sarcasm of the 
 poet : 
 
 All mankind mistake their time of day. 
 Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are 
 
 green. 
 Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent. 
 Folly sings 5ix, while Nature points to twelve. 
 
 This, surely, is one strong motive for en- 
 deavouring always to preserve a just pro* 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 portion, and balance, between the tenor of 
 our thoughts, and the number of our years. 
 
 But another, and a far more weighty, ar- 
 gument for that practice, arises from a due 
 consideration of the average quantity of 
 human life. 
 
 The average measure of human life, is set 
 at SEVENTY YEARS. In evidence of this 
 important fact, we have the testimony of 
 Moses, in the ancient church of God ; of 
 Solon, and Hippocrates, in the ancient 
 heathen world ; and it is confirmed to us, 
 by the universal experience and suffrage of 
 all the succeeding generations of mankind. 
 
 Now, it is natural for us to inquire two 
 things : first. Who fixed that average ? se- 
 condly, Why that average was fixed ? 
 
 To the first question, the answer is ob- 
 vious and immediate : it was fixed by Him, 
 who gave the life. 
 
 Again, if we ask, Why He fixed that 
 average; Why, out of all the possible mea- 
 sures of time. He should have determined 
 the average allowance of human life to 
 
PRELIMINARY Cl^APTER. 
 
 seventy years ^ the answer is equally obviows: 
 because He deemed It sufficient. 
 
 But, sufficient is a relative quality ; relative 
 to some end or purpose to which it suffices. 
 What, then, was the end or purpose, for 
 which the Giver of life deemed sere/i^i/ years 
 of life, more or less, to be a sufficient measure 
 for man? 
 
 To answer this question, we must ascend 
 to the contemplation of those purposes of 
 God in creation, which are rendered cog- 
 nizable to our capacities. The design of 
 God, in producing this created universe by 
 His power, His wisdom, and His goodness, 
 constitutes wha^t we denominate the w^ll of 
 God. In this visible part of that great work, 
 the will of the Creator is accomplished by 
 two different kinds oi agents, formed hy Him 
 for their several and distinct uses : the one, 
 necessary agents ; the other, moral agents. 
 
 Necessary agents perform the will of their 
 CresLtOT J necessarily, by an exercise of His 
 own powder operating in them; and con- 
 tinuing uniform and equal, as they were at 
 
PllELlMIN ARY CIIArTKR*. 
 
 first put into action by Ilim. It is thus 
 that planets revolve in their orbits; light is 
 transmitted from the sun; winds impel the 
 clouds ; rains descend to the earth ; dews 
 rise into the air; seeds unfold their plants; 
 birds, bees, and all animals, fulfil their func- 
 tions, and display their various admirable 
 instincts. In these, and all other cases, 
 where the agent is not a moral agent, the 
 action is determined necessarily by the attri- 
 butes of the Creator himself; and, conse- 
 quently, the action in all those agencies is 
 perfect, being the act of the Creator; and 
 is as perfect at the first, as it is at any sub- 
 sequent period. The planets moved as ex- 
 actly, the rains fell as truly, the seeds pro- 
 duced as completely, the birds, bees, and all 
 animals, exercised their instincts as excel- 
 leotly, on the first day of their creation, as in 
 this late period of the world: no previous trial, 
 no exercising or apprenticing, was requisite 
 to make them execute, e^/^VA certainty andpre" 
 cision, the purposes for which their Creator 
 had brought them into being. 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 But, with respect to moral agents, the 
 case was far otherwise ; the nature of the 
 agency for which they were designed, was 
 essentially different. Moral agents, were 
 formed to accomplish the will or purpose 
 of their Creator, not by any exercise of His 
 pother acting in them in the way of impulse, 
 but by their own free, spontaneous, and affeC" 
 tionate co-operation in His designs. The Crea- 
 tor intended, that His moral agents should 
 give effect to His wise and gracious pur- 
 poses, by the concurring action of their own 
 wills, acting in concert and harmony with 
 His, For that end, they were gifted by Him 
 with a separate moral will, or principle of 
 free-agency, capable of determining their 
 own actions ; they were made acquainted 
 with the rule of His supreme will, by 
 which he designed that their wills should be 
 regulated and determined ; they were fur- 
 nished with powers of understanding and 
 reflection, with sentiments of hope and fear, 
 to influence the determination ; and, in that 
 exalted and blessed alliance, he had pre- 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 pared for these agents, the greatest perfec- 
 tion of happiness to which it was possible 
 their natures could attain. 
 
 But here was a lamentable diiference be- 
 tween the aptitude of the two kinds of 
 agents, for accomplishing the purposes for 
 which thej^ were respectively formed. The 
 necessary agents, acting only by the perfect 
 attributes of their Creator, necessarily and 
 always accomplished His purposes, at first 
 as well as at last, because there was in them 
 a secure and perfect operation ; that of His 
 own will. But the moral agents, who were 
 required to act immediately from themselves, 
 conforming their wills to the rule prescribed 
 by His will; but who, at the same time, 
 were free in power to depart from that rule, 
 by inclining in other directions; contained 
 within themselves a principle of msecurity, 
 which was not in the former : as every man 
 must recognise in his own nature. Though 
 rightly directed at their first formation, and 
 endowed with a capacity to preserve that 
 right tendency, they did not possess in them- 
 selves a determined and uniform inclination 
 B 5 
 
10 PRELIMINARY CHAPTKR. 
 
 to the rule of the supreme will ; of which 
 they were destined to be, not necessary and 
 mechanical f but moral and self-determining 
 agents. The consequence was, that their 
 agency failed. Not casually, or of necessity, 
 but by an unfaithful and criminal desertion 
 of the powers by which it might have been 
 fulfilled. Their zeills therefore became ad- 
 verse to THE SUPREME WILL, wJlich ALONE 
 
 must govern. That failure introduced disor- 
 der into the creation ; a result, necessarily 
 offensive to the Creator, because counter- 
 active of his purpose : and the offending 
 agent became, thenceforth, liable to all the 
 possible effects of His infinite and tremen- 
 dous power. 
 
 But His infinitegooJ;?e5s, foreknowing the 
 evil, had, from the first, provided a remedy 
 against it, that He might *^ display His 
 me;Tj/ 2/pow ALL." That practical evidence 
 of the innate insecurity of these moral agents, 
 having demonstrated their imperfection, and 
 humbled their pretensions, so ^^ that no indi- 
 vidual could boast himself;'*^ God contrived a 
 dispentation of the most stupendous and 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. H 
 
 comprehensive benignity, (that of their 
 REDExMPTioN thiough His Son, our Lord 
 Jesus Christ,) for reinstating them in their 
 original condition, and restoring to them all 
 the privileges which they had forfeited by 
 the failure of their agency. He gave them 
 a more distinct, enlarged, and authoritative 
 rule for determining their wills; (first, in 
 His Law, and afterwards more particularly 
 in His Gospel.) He administered to them 
 an increase of powers, peculiarly adapted to 
 •the nature oifree^wills, (by means of the co- 
 operating succours of His Holy Spirit,) for 
 enabling them to reduce their wills into a 
 conformity with His sovereign will. He con- 
 descended to reveal to them the common in- 
 terest, which they shared with Him, their 
 Creator, in fulfilling His nltinuite scheme in 
 the creation. He urged them above all 
 things, to acquire, and to establish in them- 
 selves, by means, of the new powers which 
 He had supplied, an habitual disposition of 
 conforming to His supreme and eternal 
 laws ; as being indispensably necessary, for 
 i^endering sure and complete the agency wixich 
 
12 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 will be required from them in that ultimate 
 scheme: (which will consist, in the final appli- 
 , cation and employment of the several moral 
 agents, after their wills shall have once acquired 
 a sufficiently fixed and settled bias towards his 
 wilL) And He assigned them an average 
 measure of life, limited to seventy years, 
 more or less; as a measure of time, amply 
 sufficient for acquiring that disposition of con- 
 formity. 
 
 If therefore the will, instructed by the rea- 
 son, guided by the judgment, and admo- 
 nished by the conscience, acquired no such 
 habitual disposition, in any sufficient degree, 
 within the allotted time ; it is well known to 
 the omniscient Creator, that the moral agent 
 would never answer the gracious purposes 
 for which He had finally intended him, and 
 that his remaining any longer here, was 
 wholly unnecessary: he having exhausted 
 and wasted the powers, assigned him for pro- 
 secuting his moral perfection. If, on the 
 other hand, the disposition was, in a cer^ 
 tain degree knozcn to the Creator, established 
 and confirmed, his end was answered ; it 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. IS 
 
 was needless that he should be left any 
 longer here, since God himself would finish 
 and complete what remained to be done, in 
 another stage of existence. 
 
 The SEVENTY YEARS of life, are therefore 
 assigned to man as an allowance of time, 
 sufficient for establishing in his will an habit, 
 of conforming itself to the manifested 
 WILL OF THE Creator; which habit being 
 once acquired, he will be able hereafter to 
 execute, a perfect agency, when that great 
 stage or period of the creation shall be ar- 
 rived, for which he is here upon trial, and 
 in training. The perfection for which he is 
 designed, can only be acquired by degrees; 
 and by a continuance in the same course of 
 action, for a definite term of time. Exercise 
 and practice, are indispensably necessary for 
 creating habit ; and habit is all that the 
 Creator looks for from His moral agents, in 
 this their present period of imperfection and 
 preparation. By a fundamental law of this 
 part of His universe, a continuance for a 
 certain time in any one course or direction, 
 poduces a facility ox fixed tendency; which 
 
14 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 fixed tendency is called habit: either to- 
 wards the rule of action, or in opposition to 
 it. And, by the same law, habits once con- 
 tracted may be overruled and subdued, by 
 contrary habits resolutely superinduced 
 upon them. If a conformvig habit is once 
 established in a sufficient degree, the agent 
 is removed ; and is '^ made perfect^^' by some 
 unknown act of divine confirmation subse- 
 quent to his removal. 
 
 As, therefore, such moral agents as mariy. 
 require indispensably a preliminary state of 
 exercise, before they can become sure agents 
 for God to introduce and employ in a state 
 of perfect existence and society ; we plainly 
 discern these jToi^r things. First, that the 
 first state of such an agent, under a govern- 
 ment ofzoisdom, must be a state of probation 
 and training. Secondly, that he must be 
 placed apart from perfected agents, so long 
 as he is under trial; that his imperfections 
 may not communicate their evils to the per- 
 fect parts of the creation. Thirdly, that such 
 
 * Heb. xii. 23* 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 a separated state must, of necessity, abound 
 with a great intermixture of good and evil; 
 and with a very general appearance of cow- 
 fusinn, resulting from the various and con- 
 flicting conduct of the various moral agents 
 who are under trial. And, lastly, that such 
 a state can only be an introductory and inci- 
 pient state ; conducing to another, which is 
 the principal and Jlnal one for which the 
 agents were originally designed. Now, if 
 we add to these considerations the momen- 
 tous fact, that we ourselves are 7iaz£) living 
 in such an introductory and incipient state, 
 conducing to a principal and perfect state; 
 that an average measure of seventy years, 
 more or less, is allotted to us io qnalifif our» 
 selves for that state ; and that our final par- 
 ticipation in it, or exclusion from it, depends, 
 really and absolutely, upon the use we shall 
 have made of that jjreliminary allotment of 
 time ; it will need no great sagacity to dis- 
 cern the importance, above all other things, 
 of applying that measure, precarious at the 
 best, to THE en D/or which it teas allotted. 
 AVe cannot, therefore, exercise ourselves 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 with too much diligence and activity, in con- 
 templating that average measure of time, 
 and in considering its parts and nature. 
 Such a practice, will tend to keep us always 
 well instructed in their true value: it will 
 prevent us, on the one hand, from under- 
 rating the parts with respect to the whole 
 measure ; and on the other, from over-rating 
 that whole measure, with respect to the infi- 
 nite measure of existence which is to suc- 
 ceed. For, since seventy years, though 
 amply sufficient for the end designed, sup- 
 plies nothing for intentional and deliberate 
 waste, we must economize, and wisely hus- 
 band, the particles of time which compose 
 them. We must discreetly watch over those 
 smaller parts of life ; not as being of import- 
 ance in themselves, but because they con- 
 stitute the whole of the term, assigned us for 
 fixing the quality of the life which shall 
 follow. Again, since those seventy years 
 conduct us immediately into another stage of 
 existence, which has no change or termina- 
 tion ; we must be careful not to attach to 
 the former, an opinion of importance which 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 17 
 
 belongs only to the latter. For, " the oldest 
 *' men," says the experience of the late 
 Archdeacon Paley, " when they look back 
 " on their past life, see it in a very narrow 
 " compass. It appears no more than a 
 ^' small interval cut out of eternal dui^ation, 
 " both before and after it : when compared 
 " with that duration, as nothing*." 
 
 We are not however to imagine, that 
 seventy years is a quantity of time neces- 
 sarily requisite, for a moral agent to acquire 
 a secure tendency towards his perfection, 
 supposing the inclination of his will to be 
 originally, and always, right and sure ; for 
 then a shorter period might have sufficed : 
 but it is a measure, largely and liberally al- 
 lotted by God to the moral agent Mtf/i; with 
 allowance for much delay and aberration, 
 provided the tendency of his will be at 
 length, decidedly and steadily, determined 
 towards the rule of his perfection. 
 
 This being the case, it becomes our 
 highest and most manifest interest, to 
 know and to observe well, our actual station 
 
 * Sermon xxxi. p. 463. 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 within the average measure of life; to con- 
 template the true relation, which our actual 
 station bears to the averaged end; to im- 
 press our minds with a profound conviction, 
 of the uncertainty of our ever reaching that 
 end ; and, to ascertain the degree of habit 
 which we have already acquired, of con- 
 forming our wills to the Governing Will : 
 which is the sole end for which we are placed 
 in this part of the universe, and indeed, the 
 only reason why we were created at all. 
 
 Awakened to such a contemplation as 
 this, the mind at once views time under 
 all its relations ; by the united action of its 
 reflection, its memory, and \is forethought. By 
 these it dwells, upon the consideration of 
 time present, time past, and time future. It 
 sees them in all their bearings ; it compares 
 the present with the past, and applies the 
 rule of the comparison to i\\e future; and it 
 at length becomes practically sensible, of 
 the extreme value of those fleeting particles 
 which we constantly denominate now, and 
 which pass away continually, like the sands 
 in the hour-glass^ until all are exhausted. 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER, 
 
 These are, doubtless, great and awful 
 truths; and the mind, once brought to re- 
 cognise them, cannot fail to draw all the 
 inferences, the principal of which have been 
 here sketched out. But it is a fact not to 
 be disputed, humiliating as the acknowledg- 
 ment of it may be; (the author, for one, 
 has often experienced it in himself;) that 
 ihe noblest practical truths, and the most 
 powerful demonstrations in morals and reli- 
 gion, however laboriously and triumphantly 
 established, lie too commonly neglected, a^nd 
 unapplied^ upon the page which gave them 
 light: the inertness of our common nature, 
 like the indolence of a relaxed or vitiated 
 stomach, requiring to be roused, from time 
 to time, by some pungency of novelty; and 
 refusing to take the benefit of the most 
 nutritious aliment, unless excited by some- 
 thing new and artificial in the vehicle or 
 savour. Thus it is, that parable and alle- 
 gory have, in all ages, been found capable 
 of stirring the mind, even when the powers 
 of eloquence and demonstration have failed 
 of all their effects. 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 
 
 It is not that we stand in need of any 
 instruction, to teach us the value of time, 
 and the importance of balancing our minds 
 and our years; of that, we have an ample 
 store, both in the writings of wise and 
 ingenuous heathens, and in those of faith- 
 ful and enlightened Christians. The two 
 little tracts, by two heathen philosophers ; 
 that upon Old Age, by Cicero, and that on 
 the Shortness of Life, by Seneca ; abound with 
 truths both of statement and argument, 
 upon that subject, which are sufficient to 
 make most Christians blush. And number- 
 less treatises of our own Christian philoso- 
 phers, hold out to us at every page truths 
 of authority and power, sufficient to startle 
 every Christian upon the same momentous 
 article, viz. the correspondence which 
 ought to be iuvariabli/ maintained, betzceen 
 our THOUGHTS and our years, in our pro- 
 gress through Ife, 
 
 But, although we are in no want of in- 
 struction for that end, we are plainly in want 
 of something to excite and encourage us 
 to use that instruction ; something, which may 
 
PRELIMINARY CHAPTER, 
 
 constantly remind us of the perpetual lapse 
 of time, and of the important change which 
 that perpetual lapse is perpetually produ- 
 cing in the circumstances of our present 
 being; somethiiigy which, instead of leaving 
 us to the mercy of our own reflection, whose 
 indolence and infidelity are but too well 
 demonstrated, may seize upon and fix our 
 attention, by some powerful and sensible 
 impression. 
 
 To supply an auxiliary of this nature; 
 simple in its construction ; convenient in its 
 form ; intelligible in its design ; easy in its 
 use ; clear in its indications ; sure and im- 
 mediate in its effect; by means of which^ 
 the due correspondence between our minds 
 and our years may, at any moment, be 
 ascertained, confirmed, or restored ; and, by 
 that means, any failure in the exercise of 
 our agency be presently redressed ; the 
 scheme of The Bioscope was first ima- 
 gined : and it is now offered, after an expe- 
 riment of some years, to the closets and the 
 studies of the serious and the wise. It pre- 
 tends not, to add any thing new to the store 
 
fUeliminahy chapter. 
 
 of moral instruction, which has been so 
 richly poured out upon us by the labours of 
 those, whom God has raised up, in different 
 ages, for lights to guid6 our course ; it only 
 pretends to contribute a means, and to furnish 
 an occasion, for applying that instruction ; 
 and, as a general regulator, to render 
 it easy for the mind to keep always an even 
 and measured pace with the years of life, so 
 that it may always find itself at its natural 
 post in time, whenever its agency shall be 
 called for. In order that, " when its Lords 
 *' Cometh, He may find it watching. For, 
 '^ blessed are those servants, whom their 
 *f Lord when He cometh shall find so doing : 
 " and if He shall come in the second watch, 
 " or come in the third watch, and find them 
 
 " so, BLESSED ARE THOSE SERVANTS!'' 
 
 How far these pretensions may be justi- 
 fied, must appear from the following Descrip- 
 iion of the Dial, and explanation of its Use. 
 
DESCRIPTION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE. 
 
 jLhe bioscope is a dial, or scale, consisting 
 of seven-eighths of a circle, and divided 
 into seventy degrees, answering to the average 
 number of the years of human life ; which 
 average number, as we have seen, has in 
 all ages been set at seventy years. 
 
 The seven decimal divisions of the scale, 
 which represent the seven decimal divisions 
 of life, are characterized by certain qua- 
 litiesy which will be found to belong pro- 
 perly, to some part or other of each of 
 
^4 DESCRIPTION or 
 
 those seven divisions or periods, in their 
 order and progress, viz. 
 
 1. Childhood. 
 
 2. Youth. 
 
 3. Manhood. 
 
 4. Vigour. 
 
 5. Maturity. 
 
 6. Decline. 
 
 7. Decay. 
 
 Of the years to which human life may 
 attain over and above the average measure, 
 no account is taken; for the following 
 reasons : 
 
 1. Because it is designed to take a rule, 
 which shall be of the most general appli- 
 cation. 
 
 2. Because no average can be formed of 
 that excess : " Omnium atatum certus est 
 *' terminus, senectutis autem nullus certus est 
 '* terminus J^ — " Every age," says Cicero, 
 " has its certain end, except old age; 
 ** which has no certain end." It is, there- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE. ^5 
 
 fore, necessary to abide by the general 
 average. 
 
 3. Because, as the Psahnist pronounces, 
 they ^^ are hut labour and sorrow;'* being 
 very few in number, passing soon away, 
 and most commonly yielding an evident 
 proof of the smallness of their profit. 
 
 4. Because, as Bishop Taylor observes, 
 " very old age is but a longer Hckness;" 
 or, as Seneca speaks, " an incurable sick- 
 " ness — senectus insanabilis morbus est:'* a 
 multiplication of the infirmities incident to 
 a decaying frame ; and therefore rather to 
 be placed to the account of death than of 
 lifey being more commonly a preliminary 
 of the dissolution which constitutes the lat- 
 ter, than a true prolongation of the powers 
 which are essential to the former. 
 
 5. But, lastly and chiefly, because the 
 moral effect of the instrument will be most 
 efficaciously shown, by the sensible demon- 
 stration that we have outlived the average 
 measures of our lives ; and by finding, on 
 looking upon the bioscope, that we have 
 
 c 
 
"dU DESCRIPTION OF 
 
 outlasted its functions, and have no longer 
 any concern in its indications. 
 
 The space between the two extremities 
 of the scale, is marked by eternity; that 
 stupendous state, which preceded the origin 
 of our being, and which will immediately 
 follow the termination of its present tem- 
 porary condition. And the dial begins and 
 ends upon the verge of eternity, because 
 human life begins from eternity past, and 
 ends in ^eriiity to come. 
 
 From that point, a celestial effulgence 
 appears to be emitted; and because, the 
 lightsomeness and glee of infancy displays 
 so lively and affecting an evidence of the 
 divine brightness from which it springs; 
 and because, we are humbly to hope and to 
 believe, that the gloom, of age will finally 
 ^ merge and settle in the same divine bright- 
 
 ness; the rays of that effulgence are repre- 
 s^nt^ed a^ diffusing their lustre, equally, over 
 the begifining ^pd end of life : thereby con- 
 trasting the clouds, and storms, which more 
 or less atienjJ the middle stages of every 
 human life. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE. 
 
 Lastly; a moveable index is affixed, 
 which may be directed to any degree 
 marked upon the scale. 
 
 To the dial, thus disposed, the name of 
 BIOSCOPE has been assigned, as a term 
 simply and clearly expressive of its design ; 
 being formed from two Greek words, bios, 
 ^log, signifying life^ and scope o, a-fcoTrea), 
 to observe, or survey. For, a-s the name of 
 HOTioscoPE — uj^oa-KOTTog*, was anciently 
 given to a scale, formed to show the num- 
 ber and progress of the hours of the day ; 
 there seemed a strict propriety in calling, 
 by the name of bioscope, a scale designed 
 to exhibit, the general measure and progress 
 
 o/'tHE human LIFE. 
 
 * Not. Hardouini in Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. c. 64. et Stepli. 
 Lex. Gr»c. torn. iv. col. 789. 
 
 c £ 
 
THE USE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE 
 
 EXPLAINED. 
 
 !• By the use of the Bioscope is meant, not 
 its mechanical use, which is too plain to 
 need any explanation ; but the moral and 
 practical use, which a regular and continued 
 attention to its simple mechanism is able 
 abundantly to afford. And in order to exem- 
 plify that use, and to render it familiarly 
 apparent, I shall lay before the reader some 
 of the reflections, which a continued ob- 
 servation of its indications has already sug- 
 gested; leaving it to him to extend and 
 multiply them hereafter, by the exercise of 
 his own meditation. These reflections I 
 
>0 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 shall endeavour to detail, as they have occa- 
 sionally arisen in the mind ; observing, at 
 the same time, as much order in the ar- 
 rangement, as the nature of the subject will 
 permit. 
 Aspect of Q. And first : It 1 mhtokQ not, the aspect 
 
 lUe Dial. "* 
 
 of the dial alone, presented for the first 
 time to a mind capable of any serious 
 reflection, must awaken some new and wn- 
 expected sensations. That unfinished circle, 
 representing to our view the utmost ave- 
 rage measure of time in which we can have 
 any personal concern in the affairs of this 
 earth; sending the memory back to the 
 beginning of life, and the forethought on- 
 ward to its termination ; exhibiting a dis- 
 cernible end^ and that end in immediate 
 contact with eternity ; that aspect, alone, 
 must of necessity work a strong effect upon 
 any ingenuous and contemplative spirit,even 
 before we proceed to consider the parti- 
 cnlar uses to which it may be applied. 
 For, 
 
 Should not the dial strike us as we gaze? 
 Portentous as the written tcall which struck. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. SI 
 
 O'er miduigbt bowls, the proud Assyrian pale ? 
 Like that the dial speaks, and points to thee: 
 " MAN, ihj/ kingdom is departing from thee ! 
 Its silent language such ; nor need'st thou call 
 Thy Magi, to decipher what it means. 
 
 3. But if, from this general survey, we iH ifl<3«^ 
 proceed to direct the index to that par- 
 ticular degree upon the scale which answefs 
 
 to the actual year of our own age, a new, 
 and a livelier, interest will be immediately 
 awakened ; for, in beholding our present 
 station on the dial, we must instantly, and 
 in the sam<3 view, discern all the past and 
 jfi^to-e of our earthly being. And although 
 that perception, to be of any moral effect, 
 must be an act of the mind itself; ye we shall 
 be sensible, that the mental vision will be 
 very powerfully assisted towards that act, by 
 the visible figure presented to the sight. 
 
 4. And here we may observe, by the 
 way, that in pointing the index no preva- 
 rication can possibly avail us; no temp- 
 tation can prompt us to that monstrous and. 
 despicable folly, the concealing or falsifying 
 our true age. For, who would dare to 
 
S2 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 direct the hand to 2i false point ? false with 
 respect to bis own intimate knowledge, and 
 false, also, with respect to the corresponding 
 scale in the knowledge of God ? There is, 
 therefore, no escape here from the autho- 
 rity of truth; and whether we point the 
 hand or not, the eye, both of body and 
 mind, must instantly discern the point at 
 which it ought to stand. 
 
 5. From our respective stations upon the 
 dial, it will behove us to make all those 
 salutary and momentous observations, all 
 those pregnant and various reflections, which 
 good sense, fidelity of reason, and an en- 
 lightened knowledge of the prospects of 
 our BLESSED RELIGION, will abundantly 
 suggest. 
 Retrospect. 6. Like a traveller who has gained some 
 high and commanding stage upon his jour- 
 ney, from whence he is able to take a 
 distinct review of all the country he has 
 traversed, each of us will be able, at the 
 conclusion of each year of our lives, 
 to look back, from our new station on 
 the dial of life, over the whole road we 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 33 
 
 have already journe3^ed ; and to revive in 
 our recollections, by means of the chain of 
 points which we discern in the distance, 
 a thousand instructive impressions, which 
 might otherwise have escaped the most 
 active efforts of the memory. 
 
 Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, 
 That in a few short moments we retrace, 
 (As in a map the voyager his course,) 
 The winding of our way through many years. 
 
 7. From the division of the scale which prospect. 
 we have just completed, we shall naturally 
 direct a curious eye forward; over the un- 
 known, and unexplored track which lies 
 immediately before us, and in which we 
 must advance without the smalle&t pause 
 •r delay. But here, 
 
 How dim our eye ! 
 
 The present moment terminates our sight, 
 Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the 
 next ! 
 
 In this prospective view, all that we can 
 c 5 
 
34 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 distinguish, is the extreme average distance 
 to which we can advance ; every interme- 
 diate object being totally concealed from 
 our view. 
 
 8. But though we are always able to 
 discern very distinctly, the great limit- 
 mark which closes the common-road of life, 
 yet our own individual progress may be 
 interrupted and arrested, at any one of the 
 intermediate points ; and if that should be 
 our case, we shall then be brought, by a 
 sudden and immediate traverse, to that 
 same great boundary of the scale, namely, 
 
 ETERNITY : for, 
 
 By Fate's inviolable oath, is sworn 
 Deep silence where eternity begins. 
 
 Division of Q. Thus, the BioscoDC divides itself into 
 
 Cn^ Bioscope. ' * 
 
 two parts, answering to the time past, and 
 the time future, of life ; which parts are 
 always varying their proportions, because 
 they are only divided by the moveable and 
 constantly advancing index : whilst ihe move- 
 €^le index itself, represents that constantly 
 
HIE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 35 
 
 fleeting impression which we call nozv, in 
 which alone consists the mode of time that 
 can properly be called present, 
 
 10. Of these three times of earthly exist- Time of ho- 
 
 - . . , man life. 
 
 ence, it is absolutely requisite that we 
 should form a true and just estimate. 
 " Life/* observed Seneca, " is divided into 
 *^ three times ; that which is, that which was, 
 " and that which zcill he. Of these, the 
 ^* shortest is present time; it is indeed so 
 " short, that it has appeared to some per- 
 " sons to have no existence at all. For 
 ^' it is in continual passage ; it almost 
 " ceases to be before we are well aware 
 *' that it is; so that we at all times rather 
 " perceive it to be gone, than we at any time 
 " discern it to go,'* Hence we may reason* 
 ably affirm, that " present time is no other 
 " than the perpetual passage of future time 
 " into past.** 
 
 11. Short, however, and fleeting as that 
 particle of time is which we call now, and 
 which alone constitutes present time, it is 
 the only mode of time of which we caa 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 make any real and positive use. All our 
 enduring happiness, all the future objects 
 of our hope, every prospect of final con- 
 solation and repose, depend absolutely, for 
 their ultimate realization, upon the use 
 we shall have made of these fleeting par- 
 ticles ; the sum total of which, must com- 
 pose the record of our lives* 
 
 12. Upon which account the same wise 
 heathen, jealous of his property in them, 
 was led to make this impressive remark, 
 " I am always astonished^ when I see 
 '^ people asking others to give them up 
 '^ their time ; and when I see those who are 
 " asked, so complaisant as to bestow it. 
 '^ Both parties consider only the objectybr 
 " zohich the time is asked ; neither of them 
 '* pays any regard to the time itself: just as 
 " if nothing had been asked, and as if no- 
 " thing had been granted. They are thus 
 " deceived concerning the most precious 
 " article of life, merely because it is incor- 
 " poreal, and imperceptible to sense ; and 
 " upon that account they imagine it to be 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 " a very cheap commodity, or rather, an 
 " article totally destituteof value. Whereas, 
 ^^ if any one could bring before his view 
 " the whole measure of his remaining years, 
 " with as much certainty as he can that 
 " of the years which are already past, how 
 " would that man tremble, who should 
 " see but a few of them remaining? How 
 " prudent, how sparing of them, would he 
 " then become ? It is an easy matter, to 
 " manage and economise any thing of 
 " which the quantity is known and deter- 
 " mined, be that quantity ever so small; 
 " but with what care and circumspection 
 " ought that to be husbanded, which, we 
 " know not how soon, may suddenly fail us 
 " altogether ? No one can give you back 
 " your time. Life will still travel on, to- 
 " wards the point to which it first began 
 " to go. It will glide forward, silently 
 " and imperceptibly, without giving you 
 " any warning of its velocity. Whilst 
 " you are busied, it speeds away; until 
 " death at length arrives, to which, whe- 
 
tllE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINE'D, 
 
 " ther you will or not, you must needs 
 ^^ submit." 
 
 13. These reflections of the Roman mo- 
 ralist, on the infinite value of present time, 
 are thus corrobbVated by our own great 
 moralist. " Life is continually ravaged 
 " by invaders ; one steals an hour, and 
 " another a day. One conceals the rob- 
 " bery by hurrying us into business, an- 
 ^' other by lulling us with amusement. 
 " The depredation is continued through a 
 " thousand vicissitudes of tumult and tran- 
 " quillity; till, having lost all, we can lose 
 ^' no more. Time ought, above all other 
 " kinds of property, to be free from inva- 
 " sion ; and yet there is no man who does 
 ^' not claim the power of wasting that time 
 " which is the right of others. An Italian 
 " philosopher expressed in his motto, that 
 " ^ TIME was Ms ESTATE :' an estate, in- 
 " deed, which will produce nothing without 
 " cultivation ; but which will abundantly 
 " repay tiie labours of industry, and satisfy 
 " the most extensive desires, if no part 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 39 
 
 '^ of it be suffered to lie waste by ne- 
 
 " gligeiice, to be over-niii with noxious 
 
 " plants, or laid out for show rather than 
 
 " for use." 
 
 All sensual man ! because untouched, unseen, 
 
 He looks on tb?ie as nothing, 
 
 O Time ! than gold more sacred ; more a load 
 Than lead to fools, and fools reputed wise ! 
 What moment granted man without account ? 
 What years are squandered, Wisdom's debt unpaid ? 
 
 14. All these important truths are brouGjht Demonstra- 
 
 *" tjons of the 
 
 into sensible deAionstration, upon the dial Bioscope. 
 of THE BIOSCOPE ; and from thence are 
 easily reducible into the common practice 
 of life. For, let any one but persist, for 
 some length of time, in a familiar and daily 
 intercourse with this dial, having the index 
 always pointed to the number of the actual 
 year of his life ; and it will be morally im- 
 possible, that his mind should not contract 
 some hahiis of reflection upon the nature and 
 value of time, most salutary for the future 
 disposal of his life, and for regulating the 
 correspondence between his thoughts and 
 his years. 
 
40 THE BIOSCOPE £XPLAINEI>. 
 
 15. And, first, hy the habitual use of the 
 Bioscope, we shall be rescued from that 
 almost universal, and pernicious deception ; 
 which seduces us to regard life as one con- 
 tinued NOW, or present moment indefinitely 
 extended. This is the grand illusion, by 
 which our minds first become disunited 
 from our years. 
 
 16. Under this illusion, which reflec- 
 tion seldom comes forward to dissipate, 
 and which the objects and incidents of 
 the world conspire so artfully to cherish, 
 we glide through the greater part of 
 life; without being at all sensible of its 
 advance, and without being prompted to 
 remark the change which is continually 
 taking place, in our relative position 
 between the two opposite extremes of 
 life. 
 
 17. Our feelings, our tastes, our incli- 
 nations, our passions, continuing nearly at 
 par during the greater part of that period 
 of time, we are apt to suppose ourselves in 
 everiji respect the same individuals; and ibo 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 41 
 
 perhaps we are, in every respect except 
 in that of time. But this, unfortunately, is 
 the respect which alters and determines the 
 whole. For, since life signifies nothing else 
 than a limited quantity of time ; if we are 
 very different individuals in respect of time, 
 in every succeeding stage of our progress, 
 we are very different individuals in that 
 which constitutes our present temporal life^ 
 or existence. And, unless the mind is vigi- 
 lant to remark that progress, it will remain 
 stationary while the years proceed ; and 
 the inevitable consequence must be, first, 
 disunion, and afterwards, a continually in- 
 creasing distance and disparity, between the 
 two. It is, therefore, of the last import- 
 ance, that we should constantly keep in 
 our view that governing circumstance of 
 our present being, under all its stages and 
 modifications ; and never suffer it to elude 
 our attention. 
 
 18. This THE BIOSCOPE will constrain 
 us to do, in the most imperative manner; 
 and, by that means, will dispel the illusion 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 which has been pointed out. The long and 
 uniform 7ioWy (suggested by the continuity 
 of sensible impressions, or, more properly, 
 arising out of our inattention to the suc- 
 cession of those impressions,) which life 
 appears to be, will become analyzed, and 
 divided into its constituent parts ; by an 
 habitual attention to the scale, by its fre- 
 quent inspection, and by its annual rectijica- 
 tion. And, as the subdivision of an unit 
 into its fractional parts is a sort of multi- 
 plication ; so, by reducing the general ?iow 
 of life into its component and successive 
 particles of time, we shall multiply mea- 
 sures of time to our thoughts and appre- 
 hension ; and by that means shall render 
 ourselves experimentally richer, in the most 
 valuable species of property which our 
 present being is capable of acquiring. For, 
 time well employed, is secured; time wasted, 
 is lost, 
 
 19. Again we shall learn from it both how 
 to estimate, and how to economise, the rapid 
 current of time ; and how to avail ourselves 
 
THE BIOSCOPK I^XPLAINED. 43 
 
 o^ the whole of each mcceecUng year^ as it is 
 passing over us. 
 
 That waning index, as it measures life, 
 It life resembles too. Life speeds away 
 From point to point, tho' seeming to stand still. 
 The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth. 
 Too subtle is the movement to be seen, 
 Yet soon man^s hour is up, and we are gone. 
 Eeason should judge in all; in Reason's eye. 
 That sedentary index travels hard. 
 But such our gravitation to the wrong, 
 So pr6ne our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
 'Tis later with the wise than he's aware ; 
 Jnd all mankind mistake their time of day, 
 E*en age itself. — So gentle life's descent, 
 We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. 
 
 £0. As each succeeding year, by causing 
 the index to advance, continually changes 
 the relative divisions of the scale; that is 
 to say, the measures oi lime past, and of time 
 to come; an intimacy contracted with the 
 instrument will render us habitually mind- 
 ful, that a year is actually passing over us, 
 which we soon must mark; and, from ob- 
 serving the latter divisien of the dial to be 
 
44 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 constantly and gradually decreasing, it will 
 be impossible that a temper of caution and 
 circumspection should not by degrees be 
 formed, and at length finally established 
 in us. 
 
 £!• The sensible demonstration of the con- 
 tinual decrease of the forward division of 
 the dial, must of itself impress us with a 
 perfect conviction, that our personal interest 
 in the range of life decreases exactlj/ in the 
 same proportion ; and whoever has once 
 received in his mind the impression of that 
 great truth, will regulate by it the ardour of 
 his affections, and the rallies of his imagi- 
 nation, with respect to all objects whose 
 importance is wholly confined within the 
 limits of this temporal life. For who, that 
 has once felt the full force of that ocular 
 demonstration y will suffer himself to cherish 
 disproportioned affections for the objects of 
 this failing life; when he sees that the 
 index of his years has told out the greater 
 number, and that it is now drawing his atten- 
 tion towards that terminating point, where it 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 45 
 
 must necessarily close its functions ? Who, 
 that has persevered for any length of time 
 in habits of familiarity with this dial, and 
 whose index is veering towards its end, can 
 adhere to the perishing objects of life with 
 the same eager tenacity that he did at an 
 earlier period ; which probably was then 
 reprehensible, although it might be called 
 natural, but which is now become positively 
 reproachful, and ought therefore to be re- 
 garded as unnatural ? 
 
 A soul immortal, spending all her fires — 
 Thrown into tumult, raptur'dor alarmed. 
 At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, 
 Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, 
 To waft a feather y or to drown a fly ! 
 
 22. But, as much as it is necessary toj^^^™*^®^^ 
 watch over, and to estimate correctly, the 
 several ^arts of temporal lifty in relation to 
 its whole average measure, so much also it is 
 necessary to estimate, with equal correctness, 
 that whole average measure, in relation to the 
 ETERNITY of duration which is to succeed; 
 in order that, while we are taking care not 
 
46 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAIN T I). 
 
 tQ undervalue the parts, we may not be 
 drawn into the equally pernicious error, 
 of setting too high a value upon tlie whole, 
 
 23. " Man," says an eminent and admired 
 writer, " is a creature designed for two dif- 
 " ferent states of being, or rather two dif- 
 ^^ f event lives, Wis first is short and tran- 
 " sient, his second permanent and lasting. 
 ^^ The question we are ail concerned in 
 ^^ is this, in which of these two lives is it 
 " our chief interest to make ourselves 
 *^ happy ? — Every man, upon the first hear- 
 '^ ing of this question, knows ver}'- well 
 '^ which side of it he ought to close with. 
 " But, however right we are in theory, it is 
 " plain that in practice w^e adhere to the 
 '^ wrong side of the question : we make 
 '^ provisions for this life, as though it were 
 " never to have an end, and for the other 
 '^ life, as though it were never to have a 
 " beginning. 
 
 §4, " Should a spirit of superior rank, 
 ^* who is a stranger to human nature, acci* 
 ^' dentally light upon the earth, and take 
 *^ a survey of its inhabitants, what would 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, 4? 
 
 *' his notions of ns be ? Would not he 
 " think, that we are a species of beings 
 " made for quite different ends and pur- 
 '^ poses than what we really are ? Must not 
 '^ he imagine, that we were placed in this 
 " world to get riches and honour ? Would 
 ^^ not he think, that it was our duty to toil 
 " after wealth, and station, and title r Nay, 
 " would not he believe, we were forbidden 
 " poverty by threats of eternal punishment, 
 ^^ and enjoined to pursue our pleasures 
 ^^ under pain of damnation ? He would cer- 
 " tainly imagine, that we were influenced 
 " by a scheme of duties quite opposite to 
 *^ those which are indeed prescribed to us. 
 " And truly, according to such an iniagina- 
 ^^ tion, he must conclude, that we are a 
 " species of the most obedient creatures in 
 ^^ the universe ; that we are constant to otir 
 *' duty; and that we keep a steady eye on 
 " the end for which we were sent hither. 
 
 25. " But how gr^at would be his asto- 
 " nishment, when he learned^ that wc were 
 " beings not designed to exist in this world 
 '^ above THREESCORE AND TEN YEARS; and 
 
48 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Contempla- 
 tion of Time. 
 
 " that the greatest part of this busy species 
 " fall short even of that age? How would 
 ^^ he be lost in horror and admiration, when 
 " he should know, that this set of creatures, 
 '^ who lay out all their endeavours for this 
 " life, which scarce deserves the name of 
 '^ existence — When, I say, he should know, 
 " that this set of creatures are to exist to 
 " all eternity in another life, for which they 
 " make no preparation ? Nothing can be 
 ^^ a greater disgrace to reason, than that 
 ^^ men, who are persuaded of these two dif- 
 " ferent states of being, should be perpe- 
 " tually employed in providing for a life 
 " oi threescore and teii years ; and neglecting 
 " to make provision for that, which, after 
 ^^ many myriads of years, will still be new, 
 " and still beginning *." 
 
 26. To discipline the mind and to arm it 
 against the illusion of this error, it will be 
 advisable to exercise it, frequently, in con- 
 templating large measures of time ; mea- 
 sures, in which the utmost extent of human 
 
 * Spectator, Ko. 575. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED.. 49 
 
 life shall be presently absorbed and lost. 
 " Conferto nostram longissimam ataiem cum 
 " JETERNiTATE, ct SIC brcvissima reperietur, — 
 ^^ Compare our longest life with eter- 
 " nity/' says Cicero, " and you will per- 
 " ceive, how extremely short it is." — ^' Pro- 
 " pone profundi temporis vastitatem, et UNi- 
 " VERSA M complect ere, Deinde hoc quod 
 " ^tatem vocamus humanam compara cum 
 ^^ I MM EN so; videbis quam exiguam sit quod 
 " optamus, quod extendimus. — Represent to 
 " yourself the whole compass of time," says 
 Seneca, " and endeavour to contemplate it 
 " in its ENTiRENESS. Then, compare with 
 " it that which we call human life, and you 
 " will be sensible how short that is, which 
 " so much engages our concern." 
 
 £7. It will be of the utmost benefit, to Moral of 
 
 Chronology, 
 
 accustom the mind to retrace the revolu- 
 tions OF AGEs,and the durations of empires, 
 states, and dynasties ; to contemplate the 
 measures o^ \he different dispensations of 
 RELIGION, in their order and succession ; 
 ^nd, above all, to pursue the sublime and 
 magnificent prospects which are laid open to 
 
^^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 ^our expectations, and which are now rapidly 
 advancing towards our experience, in the 
 fields of PROPHECY. It will be salutary, to 
 exercise it steadily and attentively, in all 
 those various chronological computations y 
 which are subjoined with that design to this 
 work; to look down the years of this present 
 century^ whose chronological characters are 
 there assigned ; and to reflect, that there is 
 not one of those who now read this book, 
 who will not have been called to account 
 for his agency in life, long before the indi- 
 cations of that table shall be exhausted. 
 
 1^8. It will be of the greatest service also 
 to renaark, how many lives of men we uncon- 
 cernedly turn over, in a very few pages, in 
 many parts of history; lives which, in their 
 time, were as much animated with interest, 
 <jrowded with incident, and apparently tardy 
 in their progress, as ours may now seem to 
 be : to make ourselves dwell upon somt one 
 life, of which a connected record subsists, 
 and on the particulars of which we may be 
 disposed to enter with minute concern ; to 
 identify ourselves with the individual ; to 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, 51 
 
 live his life over again with him; to follow 
 hitn step by step, through all his passages 
 and vicissitudes, to the closing scene of 
 death ; and then, to contemplate him, in his 
 state of separation from life. Perhaps few 
 such pleasing and fruitful opportunities for 
 this latter practice are afforded, as in the 
 long epistolary life of the justly admired, 
 and truly estimable, Madame de Sevigne. 
 
 QQ, From such moral warnin2:s, col- Kcai vaiue 
 
 ° of Life. 
 
 lected tiom the stores of chronology and 
 biography, we shall at length acquire a 
 clear discernment ; that the value of human 
 life cannot possibly consist in ant/ number 
 of years, however that number may exceed 
 the average measure of life : the greatest 
 attainable number serving only to demon- 
 strate, with stronger evidence, how low and 
 trivial in value human life is, if it be esti- 
 mated only by a rule of time. Its value, 
 therefore, cannot consist in time itself 
 
 30. Now, that value consists, not in time 
 
 itself but in the productiveness of time to an 
 
 end. So that, unless we take that end into 
 
 the account along with timCy and unless we 
 
 D 2 
 
5!i5 THK BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEII. 
 
 suppose the time of human life to be actually 
 productive of that end, no real value can pos- 
 sibly attach upon any measure of human 
 life ; since its utmost length in years will 
 be always in direct opposition to the natural 
 tendency of man's desires, and to the nature 
 of his noblest endowments. 
 
 Life has no value as an end, but means ; 
 An end, deplorable; a means, divine. 
 
 31. What then is the criterion, by which 
 we are to judge of the value of human life ? 
 I answer, the end which it yields. And 
 where is that end to be found ? At the end 
 and termination of its course. From whence 
 it will follow, that the true value of human 
 life consists in the result which it shall be 
 found to yield, when it shall be completed. 
 
 32. And this is so obviously true, even 
 upon the most general principles, as to have 
 been solemnly taught and inculcated even 
 by the heathen philosophers. *^ Vita nee 
 '^ bonum nee malum est, boni ac mali locus 
 <i est. — Life," says Seneca, " is neither a 
 " good nor an evil in itself, it is only iht 
 
THE BIOSCOTE EXPLAI>sED. 
 
 *' flace where the qualities of good and evil 
 " are acquired." — " 'Nihil ad rem refert, quo 
 ^' loco desinas ; tantum bonam clausulam 
 " impone, — It is of no consequence," says 
 he, " in what part of that place you stop, 
 " only secure to yourself a good conclusion,^* 
 Wherefore Aristotle's rule may be well 
 applied here ; "The end ought to be more 
 "an object of our regard, than that which 
 " is only instrumental to the end:" which 
 axiom is but the echo of that more ancient 
 dictate of wisdom ; " Better is the end of a 
 '^ thing, than the beginning thereof*." 
 
 33. When Solon, the Athenian legis- 
 lator, visited the court of Croesus, king of 
 Lydia, who was then in the meridian of his 
 splendour and prosperity ; the king caused 
 .all the royal treasuries to be laid open to 
 his inspection. After Solon had been made 
 to observe all their contents, Croesus de- 
 manded of him, who was the happiest man 
 that he ever yet had known ? anticipating, 
 with delight, the gratification of hearing 
 
 * Ecclesiastes, vii. 8. 
 
64 IHE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Solon bear testimony to his own pre-emi- 
 nent felicity. Solon, unmoved by the Ly- 
 dian treasures, or the manifest emotion 
 of the king, replied, '^ that the happiest 
 ^* man he had ever known was one Tellus, 
 ** an Athenian." Croesus, disappointed and 
 astonished at the reply, inquired of Solon, 
 '' Why he esteemed Tellus to be the hap- 
 '' piest man?" — ^* Because,'* said Solon, 
 ** he had virtuous children, and lived to see 
 •^^ their children flourish ; and while he was 
 " in the enjoyment of that felicity, he died 
 '" an honourable death/' Croesus then in- 
 quired, who Solon regarded as the next 
 happiest man ? not doubting but that the 
 next place would be assigned to himself. 
 " The brothers, Cleobis and Bito,'' replied 
 Solon ; " because their circumstances were 
 " easy ; they enjoyed great bodily health 
 '^ and vigour, so as to gain the prizes 
 " in the games; and, while they were 
 " in the act of manifesting an illustrious 
 " example of filial duty, they were sud- 
 " denly removed by a blessed death: in 
 *^ which the Deity evidently showed, how 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 " much more excellent death is than life.^' 
 Croesus, enraged at this discourse, ex- 
 claimed : " O Athenian ! dost thou then 
 *' set my happiness so low, as to bear com- 
 *' parison with that of common men ?" 
 
 34. To which Solon replied : " O king ! 
 '' thou demandest my opinion concerning 
 " human life; and how can I make thee 
 " any other answer, who am so well aware 
 " that the Deity often interrupts the greatest 
 ^' happiness of mortals ? In the course of a 
 " long life, v/e must of necessity witness 
 " and suffer many things contrary to our 
 " wishes. I set the longest life of man at 
 " Seventy years; which seventy years 
 " contain twenty-five thousand five hun-^ 
 " dred and fifty days. Now, of these 
 " twenty-five thousand five hundred and 
 " fifty days, making together seventy 
 " YEARS, thou shalt not find one that will 
 " produce exactly the same result as an- 
 ^' other. Thou must therefore acknowledge, 
 /* that man is liable to a thousand varieties 
 ^' and casualties. Thou art now, indeed, 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 " most powerful and rich ; and king over a 
 " numerous people. Yet, with respect to 
 " that which thou demandest of me, I can 
 '^ give no answer, until I shall have known 
 '^ that thou hast ended thy life in happiness. 
 " For he who has great riches, is not hap- 
 " pier than he who has only sufficient, 
 " unless the same prosperity attends him to 
 " the end of his career. If, to all thy present 
 " prosperity, thou shalt add an happy death, 
 " then art thou indeed he after whom thou 
 '* inquirest ; the man who may truly he 
 ^' pronounced happy. Until, hov/ever, a 
 " man shall have reached his end, suspend 
 ^^ thy judgment; call him fortunate, but do 
 " not yet venture to pronounce him happy : 
 '^ he who unites the most numerous means 
 '^ of happiness, who retains them to the 
 " end, and who then departs from life tran 
 '^ quilly, is alone entitled, in my estimation, 
 '^ to be pronounced happy. It is therefore 
 " necessary that we should wait the end 
 " of things, and observe their final issues.'* 
 How the truth of Solon's argument was 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 proved to Croesus, 1 shall not relate here, 
 since it is known to every reader of ancient 
 history. 
 
 35. If, upon this narrow ground of heathen 
 argument, the proposition is undeniably true, 
 that a life must be ended before we can pro- 
 nounce positively of its value; how power- 
 ful and how awful does that proposition 
 become when it is placed upon Christian 
 ground J with all the secrets of eternity 
 laid open in evidence of its truth ? What 
 Christian needs to be taught, that the real 
 value of his life cannot be taken until 
 kis death ^i^ and that, not merely with re- 
 ference to the retrospect of wliat he has 
 experienced, but with reference also, to the 
 prospect of that which he shall thereafter 
 experience throughout eternal ages ? The 
 truth of this proposition, therefore, requires 
 no enforcement ; nor that of the other, 
 so intimately connected with it ; that the 
 value of life does not, in any degree, consist 
 in quantity of years. It is the productive- 
 ness of the time we live (whatever be its 
 quantity,) to an end of value, which alone 
 D 5 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 sets A VALUE upon the time we live. That end 
 of value, is assurance of eternal happiness ; 
 and every measure of life which can produce 
 that assurance, is equally valuable, 
 
 36. And here is a proper place for no- 
 ticing an effort which has been made, (under 
 the title of *' the Macrobiotic Art, or Art of 
 prolonging Life,') to attach a value upon the 
 time, or quantity of life, considered in itself. 
 
 37. ^' The bills of mortality/' we are told, 
 *^ convey some of the most important in- 
 " structions ; by means of ascertaining the 
 " LAW, which governs the waste of human 
 *' Z//e." Most interesting, indeed, would the 
 discovery of that great law be to the human 
 race. But what are those " important in- 
 " structions," which the teacher would 
 deduce from the supposed discovery of that 
 mysterious law? — " The value oi Annuities y 
 *' dependent on the continuance of any 
 •^ lives, or any survivorship between them.'' 
 Doubtless, this is an object of a certain 
 relative importance to some particular tem- 
 poral circunastances of social life ; but when 
 we view it in comparison with that sense of 
 
THE BIOSCOPE' EXPLAINED. 
 
 absolute importance, which the allegation of 
 " the lazi) which governs the waste of human 
 " life/' naturally and immediately awakens 
 in the mind, how little and how ludicrous 
 does its assumed solemnity appear! 
 
 38. No stronger ground could be laid for 
 the most provident and extensive measures 
 of final and eternal security, than a well 
 considered view of the great ^' law which 
 *^ governs the waste of human life /' and yet 
 it happens, that this sovereign law is here 
 contemplated in such a manner, as to fix 
 and entomb the mind within the narrowest 
 limits that can be found in that extensive 
 " waste.^' A new average is sought for the 
 length of human life, setting at naught the 
 common agreement of mankind in all ages; 
 and holding out a vain and pernicious en- 
 couragement to earthly viezcs, by fallaciously 
 extending that average from seventy, to 
 upwards of eighty years. A vast import- 
 ance is attached to that small extension of 
 the latter part of life beyond its ancient 
 average ; and from thence has arisen a 
 spurious and presumptuous art, professing 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 to ^^ prolong life'* beyond its averaged 
 term. 
 
 39. And what is held forth to us, as the 
 attractive object and end of that art? It is 
 this : " That if any person, possessed of a 
 ^' plain,but sound understanding, and whose 
 '' heahh is not materially injured, will care- 
 ^^ fully peruse its pages, and will apply the 
 " facts therein contained, to his own par- 
 " ticular case, occasionally calling in the 
 " assistance of an enlightened medical 
 ^' friendy when any important alteration 
 " takes place in his constitution or bodily 
 " functions, he can hardly fail — (to do 
 " what ?) — to add from ten to twenty j or 
 " even thirty years, to his comfortable 
 " existence*.'' And in order to inspire an 
 ambition for penetrating so far into those 
 wintry regions of our nature, a^ portrait is 
 presented of two aged objects, who are in the 
 actual possession of all the privileges attain- 
 able in that Northern- Pole of life; who have 
 more than doubled their common average of 
 
 * Code of Longevity, Adv. to tst Ed. p. 3. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 61 
 
 years ; and who have therefore lived into 
 generations which can entertain for them no 
 other sentiment, than that which we our- 
 selves entertain at the sight of Stone-henge, 
 or the Mammouth, 
 
 40. How humiliating to human nature 
 are the pretensions of such an art ! How 
 severe a censure does it seem to imply, both 
 on the promises and encouragements of the 
 Gospel, and on the ethical philosophy of the 
 best and wisest of the heathens ! The pre- 
 servation of health, is doubtless a reasonable 
 and becoming object of our care : because 
 we can neither discharge our duties well, nor 
 feel the fair gratifications of life, without the 
 comfort of health. In taking care of our 
 health, therefore, we take care to maintain 
 our bodily powers in the best condition for 
 discharging the duties of our stations; and 
 for relishing the various satisfactions, which 
 we are bountifully permitted to enjoy as a 
 consequence of that discharge. And this is 
 the only legitimate, and worthy motive, for 
 striving to preserve health.* A prolongation 
 of life, is a very probable, and a very ordinary 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 consequence of health so preserved, though 
 it is very far from being a certain, and a 
 necessary consequence ; because, ^^ the lavir 
 *^ which really governs the waste of human 
 '^ life," is beyond the reach of all human 
 scrutiny: as the numerous apparent casual- 
 ties, by which we daily see it abridged in 
 the full triumph of health and youth, most 
 clearly and irresistibly demonstrate. 
 
 41. But, to propose ^' the prolongation of 
 " life, for ten, twenty, or even tJiirty years 
 " beyond the average of seventy years,'' 
 as, in itself, the proper object oi an art; to 
 lay it down as an axiom, that the attain* 
 ment of a very long life is, in itself, a good ; 
 and an end worthy to govern the thoughts 
 and desires of a reasonable man ; (when all 
 the years that we can enumerate of life, whe- 
 ther long or short, must necessarily be past, 
 before they can be numbered ;) is the most 
 melancholy speculation that has yet shown 
 itself to the world, and an affront to all 
 those high prerogatives which are awaiting 
 us at the exit from life. The importance 
 thus given to an object, which has been 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 always rated at so very different a value by 
 the wisest and the best of men, in all ages, 
 and under every degree of illumination, 
 forms an epocha in the history of the human 
 mind ; and seems to mark a tropical point, 
 from whence its energies may begin to 
 retrograde from that forward tendency which 
 they have hitherto maintained since the 
 origin of man, and to recoil back into the 
 gulf and vortex of this transient and perish- 
 able world. 
 
 42. What should we think of a youth — 
 and if there is either sense or virtue in the 
 art, it ought to be applied when the springs 
 of life are soundest — What should we think 
 oi a youth, who should, m the smallest degree^ 
 care to govern his view of life by (that 
 which is the avowed object of the Macro- 
 biotic art) the prospect of adding " ten, 
 " tzoenty, or even thirty years, of comfortable 
 " existence to the end of his seventieth year *^'^ 
 Let not such a one court a dangerous duty, 
 upon the fields or waves of glory ; let him 
 not labour for his country's weal at the 
 helm of power; for, alas! we too well know. 
 
TfiE BIOSCOPE explained: 
 
 that by so doing he will only provoke the 
 operation, of '^ the law that go'verns the waste 
 " of human life!*' Neither let him animate 
 his soul, by anticipating the glories of eter^ 
 nity ; for, if he does, they will infallibly 
 extinguish in it all esteem for* those yearS) 
 of artificial sufperannuation, 
 
 48. Let then the spurious union be broken> 
 between care for health and anxiety for life\ 
 Let the former be regarded as an object of 
 manly and rational concern, for the better 
 performance of our several engagements in 
 life ; but let the latter be discarded, as van 
 objecr of pursuit low and unworthy ; of- 
 fensive to the best sentiments of man, even 
 in an heathen state; and irreconcileable 
 with every thought and hope, which should 
 form the temper of a Christian mind. Let 
 us bless God, that when he was pleased 
 to pass sentence of mortality upon man, 
 and to doom him to the task of labouring 
 for his daily bread, He did not impose upon 
 him the additional task, of labouring for 
 a little more old age. That when dechne 
 and decay became the general destiny of 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 man, the divine mercy permitted him to 
 look forward, with serenity and comfort, to 
 the term of his dissolution, as a deliverance 
 from increasing afflictions and infirmities ; 
 instead of obliging him to prolong his en- 
 durance of those afflictions to the utmost, 
 by rules of Macrobiotic art. 
 
 Absurd longevity ! More, more, it crieSj 
 IVIore life, more wealth, more trash of every kind^ 
 And wherefore mad for more, when relish fails ? 
 Think you the soul, when this lifie's rattles cease, 
 Has nothing of more manly to succeed ? 
 Contract the taste immortal ; learn e'en now, 
 To relish what alone subsists hereafter. 
 Of AGE, the glory is to wish to die. 
 That wish is praise, and promise; it applauds 
 Past life, and promises our future bliss. 
 
 " Quid autem interest, quam cito exeas, dum 
 " utiqiie exeundum est? Non w^ diu vivamus 
 *'. curandum est, sed ut satis. Nam iit din 
 " vivas, fato opus est ; tit satis, animo, Longa 
 *^ est vita, ut plena est. Impletur autem cum 
 *^ animus sibi bonum mum reddidit, — What 
 ^^ does it matter," sayt Seneca, *^ how 
 " soon you reach your end, since you 
 
66 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED.. 
 
 " must inevitably arrive at it? We ought 
 ** not to be anxious to live a long while, but 
 " to live long enough. To live long depends 
 " upon fate, to live long enough depends on 
 " ourselves. That life is lo7ig which is full: 
 *' and it is full, whenever the mind has 
 " repayed it for the measure of its time." 
 
 T^meln ^^ ^^' ^"^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ Valucd from 
 
 Eternity. ^^^ productiveness of the time we live, to 
 jueld the end oi eternal felicity ; we cannot 
 but be forcibly struck by the consideration, 
 thus strongly brought before our view, of 
 the sovereign and absolute influence of oi^r 
 time, short as it is, upon the future quality 
 of our existence, though eternal in its du- 
 ration. The timely and strong apprehen- 
 sion of this great truth, concerns us more 
 deeply than any other science to which we 
 can possibly attain, between the day of our 
 birth, and the day of our dissolution. Let 
 us therefore strive to bring this important 
 fact, as strongly as possible, home to our 
 perception. 
 
 45. Man's beings considered in its entire* 
 ness, is, 1st, animal and temporal; 2dly, 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 6? 
 
 .spiritual and eternal. What air is to his 
 animal life, time is to his temporal life. Take 
 from him air, and his animal life ceases: 
 take from him time, and his temporal life 
 ceases. So far the parallel is kept. But 
 mark where it is lost. If air be corrupted, 
 it can only prejudice the animal life; its 
 poison cannot extend to the spiritual or the 
 eternal. But if time be corrupted, the 
 poison extends itself even to the spiritual, 
 and survives for ever in the eternal. On 
 the other hand; if pestilential air be cor- 
 rected and purified, the benefit, however 
 great, can only reach the animal life; but 
 if corrupted time be restored, and well 
 purified, the virtue is not confined to the 
 temporal life only, but extends its vivifying 
 power to the spiritual and to the eternal. 
 But air must be purified, before animal 
 life is extinct; and so also must timey wiiile 
 ^emporfl/ life yet subsists ; and it only sub- 
 sists, so long as we continue in this oxxv pre- 
 sent life. \f time closes in corruption, there 
 exists not in the universe any remaining 
 means, by which our eternity can be re- 
 
68 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 covered from the infection, and from all its 
 disastrous consequences. And it is on ac- 
 count of the certainty of that terrific truth, 
 that God, in His justice and mercy, has not 
 only contrived the most effectual, and most 
 summary, method for enabling us to restore 
 to salubrity whatever time we may have 
 depraved, by means of the dispensation of 
 His Gospel; but has also given to that 
 Gospel, such extraordinary publicity, such 
 unconquerable evidence, and such easy 
 and universal access, for eighteen hun- 
 dred years past, that nothing but our own 
 criminal inactivity, or stupid unconcern, can 
 cause us to be ultimately deprived of all its 
 benefit. 
 bS'cJ^V.^* 46. From what has been already said it 
 will now be apparent, that The Bioscope 
 is calculated to fix the mind in the con- 
 templation, of time present y time past, and 
 tixae future ; and consequently, to administer 
 the three-fold important office, of Moni- 
 tor, Remembrancer, and Comforter, 
 according as it is applied to each of those 
 three several times, determinable by the 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 69 
 
 advancing index ; which index thus gives 
 language, and expression, to the dial. 
 
 We take no note of time 
 But from its loss ; to give it then a tongue 
 Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke; 
 I hear the solemn sound. If heard aright, 
 It is the knell of our departed years. 
 Where are they ? — With the years beyond the flood! 
 
 47. As a Monitor, it will make us reflect Monitor. 
 upon the importance of every portion of 
 
 the year we are living ; and thereby give us 
 the best chance, of not having hereafter to 
 lament its misapplication. 
 
 Be wise to-day, Ws madness to defer ; 
 Next day the fatal precedent will plead, 
 Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. 
 Procrastination is the thief of time; 
 Year after year it steals, till all are fled. 
 And to the mercies of a moment leaves 
 The vast concerns of an eternal scene ! 
 If not so frequent, would not this be strange? 
 That ^tis so frequent, this is stranger still / 
 
 48. As a Remembrancer, it will keep us Rcmmbraii. 
 
 cer. 
 
 isonstantly supplied with all the fruits of 
 
70 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 wisdom, which can be gathered from our 
 own past experience. 
 
 Tis greatly wise, to talk with our past years, 
 And ask them, what report they bore to heav'ii ; 
 And how they might have borne more welcome 
 news ? 
 , Their answers form, what men experience call. 
 
 Comforter. 49. As 'd Comfortcr, it will enable us to 
 apply both those rules of wisdom to the fu- 
 ture seene ; in which man always hopes to 
 find that happiness, which his mind and his 
 affections in vain pursue, through all the 
 fleeting moments of present time. 
 
 All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
 Their future fate; their future fate foretaste; 
 ^ This art would waste the bitterness of death. — 
 
 To-day, is yesterday returned ; returned 
 FuU-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn. 
 And reinstate us on a rock of peace. 
 Let it not share its predecessor's fate ! 
 
 50. But besides the three great characters 
 of time, the Bioscope also marks out to us, 
 the character, order, and progression of the 
 different periods which constitute the whole 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED* 7) 
 
 of life ; and points out to our attention, the 
 iiinall number^ the short continuance y and the 
 speedy succession of them all. For, child- 
 hood and YOUTH have yet to reach man- 
 hood, and manhood has not attained to 
 VIGOUR, nor vigour to maturity; and ma- 
 turity attained speedily passes into decline; 
 and decline must as speedily terminate in 
 decay. Each measure is small; each sends 
 on our view to its successor; and we see, 
 that the stages are but few in number, and 
 short in duration, through which we are 
 brought to the end. 
 
 51. To use the Bioscope in all these three 
 respects, it is evident that we must exercise, 
 with resolution and constancy, those three 
 great faculties by which our nature is dis- 
 tinguished ; viz. the reflection, the me- 
 mory, and the forethought. It is the 
 union of those three faculties in man, that 
 establishes the identity of his moral person, 
 throughout timey and throughout eternity* 
 He remembers himself in the pasty he feels 
 himself in the present, and he anticipates 
 
7^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAIxXEIi. 
 
 future periods, in which he knows that he 
 shall still experience the same present sense, 
 which he now experiences. The connexion 
 between those three faculties, qualifies him 
 for being a moral agent; and lays the 
 ground of that respomibility , under which, 
 as a moral agent, he holds the tenure of his 
 present life. 
 The Ages of 52. Let US apply these observations to 
 
 Wan. ~' 1 T /n n i • 
 
 the different oges of man ; and, m order to 
 simplify and abridge that application, let 
 us consider the years of man as divided only 
 into three general periods : youth, middle life, 
 and age, 
 Yontk. 53^ ^s a Monitor, youth will be admo- 
 
 nished by the Bioscope to consider well 
 the quality of the years which it is living ; 
 which quality is inscribed over against 
 those years upon the scale. Whatever be 
 the stage of youth, that consideration 
 must check presumption and self-suffi- 
 ciency. Small is the capacity of man, in 
 its largest extent, when compared with the 
 parts, and plans, of this vast universe ; and 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 73 
 
 small is the portion of those parts, and plans, Youth. 
 which it can ever comprehend. What then 
 must be the capacity of childhood, and of 
 YOUTH, when they have not attained even 
 to the small capacity of manhood? 
 
 54. An early sense and consciousness of 
 this great truth, w ill lay the securest ground 
 for a future general knowledge of truth, so 
 far as we can acquire it; by putting the 
 mind in a posture of defence against all 
 illusion, either from within or from without. 
 For, a sense of our natural incapacity, will 
 reconcile us to a sense of ignorance con- 
 cerning every thing which is too large for 
 our capacity to embrace. 
 
 55. ^^ Ignorance,'^ says an able and inge- 
 nious naturalist, " often differs from what 
 ^^ is called knowledge , only by a less degree 
 " of error. It ought to be inculcated upon 
 ^' all men, that, next to the positive know- 
 " ledge of things which may be known, the 
 " most important science is, to know how 
 ^^ to remain ignorant. ^ I don'* i know/ ought 
 " to be a frequent answer of all teachers 
 " to their pupils, to accustom them to 
 
 E 
 
Is THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Youth. *^ make the same answer, without feeling 
 ^' ashamed*/' I know not a more wise 
 or excellent rule, for the early tuition of 
 the mind, than is contained in the fore- 
 going observation. It was the sense of 
 this great truth, under the darkness of 
 heathenism, that made the sagacious phi- 
 losophy of Cicero withhold assent on many 
 points; to which he would readily have 
 yielded it, had he, like us, had sufficient 
 vouchers for their truth. Widely different 
 was that noble temper of mind, from the 
 spurious and dishonest philosophy w^hich 
 has disgraced the Christian ages ; in which 
 universal doubt, or scepticism, has been pro- 
 pounded as the proper carriage of the mind, 
 against the united vouchers of heaven and 
 earth. 
 
 * " Vignorance ne differe souvent que par moins d'erreur, 
 ** de ce qu'on appelle savoir. II faudroit inculquer a tous les 
 " honimes, qu^apres le savoir r^el dans les choses qui en sont 
 ** susceptibles, savoir ignere'^ est la connoissance la plus im- 
 ** portante. ' Je ne sais pas/ devroit etre une reponse tres- 
 " frequente des instituteurs a leurs eleves, pour les accou- 
 ** turner a la faire eux-niemes sans rougir." — De Luc. Lettres 
 surlaTerrc, Tom. I. p. 228. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 55. Let youth then, whether in or out Vi^utb. 
 of childhood, remark upon the Bioscope the 
 character of its years, and the smallness of 
 the progress it has made in life; and let it ■ 
 infer, how small that capacity must be, 
 which will still be small, even when it shall 
 have journeyed to the opposite extremity 
 of the scale. 
 
 57. To my very young readers, if any 
 such I should find, I offer the following 
 Fable; leaving it to their good sense to 
 deduce, from what has been already said, 
 the moral which it is plainly designed to 
 convey. 
 
 THE COCKLE-SHELL AND THE SEA. 
 
 A Cockle-shell, whose slender cup 
 
 Had by a wave been lifted up, 
 
 And gently lodged, secure and sound, 
 
 A little way upon the ground ; 
 
 Yet not so far, but every day 
 
 She drank the falling of the spray ; 
 
 Grew vain at length to think, that she 
 
 Contained a portion of the sea. 
 
 ** And why not more ? (at length she cried ;) 
 
 " And why not tvave$ ; and why not tide ? 
 
 E 2 
 
) THE BIOSCOPE KXPLAINEB. 
 
 Yomh. <i Perhaps, tho* men account me small, 
 
 " I might, on proof, contain it all. 
 " Tis worth the trial ; how should I 
 *^ Be sure T can't unless I try ?" 
 Fired by the grandeur of the thought, 
 To quit her safe retreat she sought, 
 And, victim of her ideot pride. 
 Plunged downward in the swelling tide. 
 But now, no fav'ring wave was there : 
 Ambition fled, arose despair. 
 When a rude billow that received 
 The wanton fool, now undeceiv'd, 
 Recoiling for a moment, bore 
 The buoyant trifle from the shore, 
 And murmured : " Ideot ! learn too late 
 ** The misery of presumption's fate. 
 " Of holding seas no longer think, 
 *' The waste-spray thou no more shalt dpink : 
 '^ Know, vain pretender, to thy cost, 
 " Thy small capacity is lost I " 
 Then, flowing with impetuous shock 
 Against the angle of a rock. 
 The shell) at one tremendous stroke, 
 • Into an hundred atoms broke. 
 
 58. But let not \outh relinquish its 
 cautionary modesty because it finds itself 
 approaching to the dawn of manhood. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ' 
 
 When the sense of a near approach to Youth. 
 manly years shall be disposed to elate it, and 
 prompt it to identify its age with that of - 
 others who have been long in possession of 
 those years; the face of the Biosirope will 
 admonish it to reRect upon the characte?' o{ 
 the years it has lived, and to be modest in 
 the comparison. 
 
 59, For, let a youth who has attained to 
 his twentieth, or a young man to his five 
 and twentieth year, the characters of which 
 years are but childhood, youth, and the 
 beginning of manhood> compare his age 
 with that of a person who has doubled 
 those years, and who has added to these 
 characters, those others of manhood, vi- 
 gour, and MATURITY of life; and, if he is 
 not supremely arrogant, what will reason 
 suggest to him from the comparison ? Will 
 he pay himself so ill a compliment as to 
 suppose, that when he shall have added to 
 his own years those three important stages, 
 his mind will have acquired no additional 
 improvement, no accession of experience, 
 beyond what he has already gained in those 
 
I THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, 
 
 Youth, three incipient periods ? Certainly, he will 
 not form so injurious a judgment of his 
 own future acquirements. And if he will 
 not, let him now pay, to his senior in years, 
 the same tribute of justice and respect, 
 which he is willing to pay to himself^ when 
 he contemplates himself as advanced to the 
 same period in time. This will bring his 
 mind and his years into unison ; and will 
 accustom him to preserve a just balance 
 between them, as he proceeds in life. It 
 is not every man who is formed by nature 
 to guide a state, or lead an army, in that 
 early spring of life; and therefore, to esti- 
 mate our youthful years by the extraor- 
 dinary exceptions of nature in that respect, 
 would mark the highest climax of arro- 
 gance. 
 
 60. In youth, modesty, and a just appre- 
 ciation of our capacity, has always been 
 regarded, by the wisest men, as the best 
 earnest of future excellence. It preserves 
 the order of life; it restrains youth from 
 that precocious forwardness^ which divides 
 the mind from the years as effectually, as, in 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 a later period, the backzmrdness of age. By Youth, 
 early keeping our place in years through 
 modesty, we shall maintain an even pace 
 with them in all their future progress ; and . 
 shall, at length, reach our latest period, in 
 gravity and order, 
 
 61. But there is one most wei2:htv reason 
 for early tutoring the mind to restrain/ 
 and not encourage, those promptings of 
 self'admiration, which are always at the 
 foundation of presumption ; and that is, 
 » that if they should acquire an entire ascend- 
 ancy in us, they will most probably urge 
 us on to INFIDELITY, which is no other 
 than the pride of the human mind, finally 
 settled into self 'authority : the smallest 
 tincture of whose baneful influence is suffi- 
 cient, at once, to cloud over and darken 
 every bright prospect of religion. Of the 
 wretched consequences of this moral ma- 
 lady, I shall say nothing here; but shall 
 reserve the exposure of it to its proper 
 place, namely, its effect on age, or the de- 
 cline and DECAY of life. In youth, the 
 first and best quality to establish, hjidelity 
 
) THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Youth, of reason, in subordination to the Author of 
 reason; which naturally involves humility of 
 mind. This will be found the surest guide, 
 to truth, to virtue, and to mental peace. 
 Such are some of the benefits, which youth 
 will be able to receive from the counsels 
 of THE BIOSCOPE, Considered in its capacity 
 of Monitor. 
 
 62. As a Remembrancer, it will contri- 
 bute many important and valuable uses to 
 the season of youth. If the mind is rightly 
 taught, and the understanding upright, the 
 exercise of the memory upon the indications 
 and incidents of the past jears, though few, 
 will both quicken the affections of the heart, 
 and excite the sensibility of the conscience. 
 " A man that is young in years, may be 
 " old in hours," says Lord Bacon, ^^ if he 
 " have lost no time." Although the space 
 of time over which youth can exercise re- 
 membrance, is but small in extent; yet, as 
 time always appears more considerable in 
 youth than in the following ages of life, the 
 practice of recalling, and dwelling upon, a 
 review of the years that are past, being 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 begun and confinned at that early age, will Youth. 
 prepare the mind for the most successful 
 application of the practice, in the more 
 advanced and more active ages. By habi- 
 tuating the memory, thus early, to recall 
 time and the parts of time, while the 
 smaller measures appear to embrace very 
 considerable portions, the mind will con- 
 tract an habit of vigilance and circumspect 
 tion ; and days and months, no less than 
 years, will find their places in the memory, 
 in which they would otherwise be absorbed 
 into the greater measures of time. 
 
 63. Let youth exercise its remembrance, 
 in retracing the affectionate impressions of 
 infant life ; in recalling scenes of domestic 
 enjoyment ; of parental tenderness, fra- 
 ternal love, and friendly intercourse. Let: 
 it cherish those first impressions, and love, 
 them because they were the first. Let it 
 recall them, year by year, upon the diaU 
 If the heart be sound, those earliest im- 
 pressions will ever awaken the tenderest^ 
 recollections. Affections, excited in the 
 dawn of life, by those with whom Provi- 
 K 5 
 
52 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Youth. dence first associated us, ought to keep a 
 chief place in the heart, as long as life 
 subsists ; and, if we desert not nature, they 
 will afford us the most pleasing and salu- 
 tary memorials unto the end of our journey. 
 Nothing keeps the heart of man so safe, as 
 keeping it tender; and nothing keeps it so 
 tender, as cherishing affection for valuable 
 objects, from whom we are, or shortly may 
 be, separated. There is no ground to fear, 
 that such tenderness will impair manliness ; 
 without it, manliness becomes harsh and 
 hateful, if not barbarous and brutal. If we 
 would know, whether tenderness of attach- 
 ment and recollection is becoming to man, 
 let us consult the history of the Old Testa- 
 ment; if we would know, whether it is a 
 fitting ingredient in an hero, let Homer, the 
 poet of heroes, instruct us. 
 
 64. Cherish, in youth, the moments of life 
 of any wise and aged friend whose intimacy 
 you are privileged to enjoy, with the most 
 diligent and provident care ; and be soli- 
 citous to gather all the fruits of his expe- 
 rience while the opportunity lasts, which 
 
THE BIOSCOrE EXPLAINED. 
 
 the inspection of the dial will warn you, Youth. 
 
 must presently be taken from you. " Jbgo 
 
 ^* Q. MaximuiiT adolescens ita dilexi senem, 
 
 " ut ajqualem ; erat enim in illo viro comi- 
 
 " tale condita gravitas : nee senectus mores 
 
 *^ mutaverat. Cajus sermone ita turn aipide 
 
 ^^ fruebar^ quasi jam divinarem id, quod evenit, 
 
 " illo extincto, fore unde discerem neminemr 
 
 " When I was a young man/^ says Cato, 
 
 ^^ I loved the aged Q. Maximus, as if he 
 
 " had been my equal in years; for he com- 
 
 ^^ bined gravity with cheerfulness ; and age 
 
 " had produced no alteration in his man- 
 
 " ners. Whose conversation I then eagerly 
 
 " delighted in, as if I had foreseen that, which 
 
 ^' actually came to pass; that zchen he was 
 
 ^^ dead, there remained no one from whom I 
 
 " coidd derive the same instruction,^' 
 
 65. But, if the space of the Bioscope over 
 which youth can cast a retrospective eye is 
 but small, its view will the sooner be carried 
 back to the observation of its creation, or 
 commencement . And what apprehension can 
 so well dispose it for that sacred precept: 
 " Remember thy Crea^tor in the days of 
 
54 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Youth. " thy youth; before the evil days come, and 
 ^' the years advance, in which thou shall 
 " say, I have no pleasure in thein!" The 
 mind practised, at that opening season of 
 life, to this holy remembrance, will receive, 
 and retain a sense of the divine presence 
 through all its succeeding progress ; and will 
 derive the constant consolation and support, 
 which the sense of that divine presence will 
 at all times impart. Thus disciplined, it 
 will not be " cast off by God in the time of 
 '' old age ; nor forsaken by Him when its 
 *' strength faileth ." 
 
 66. And here we may suitably subjoin 
 " TW^o RULES," prescribed by the pious 
 Nelson ; " whereby," says he, " we may be 
 " enabled to perform the ordinary actions 
 '^ of life which occur every day, after the 
 '^ best and most perfect manner. The first 
 " is, to keep a lively sense of God's omnu 
 ** presence upon the mind. The second is, 
 " frequently to call to mind the certainty of 
 '^ death, and the uncertainty of that time zchich 
 '' xce have to continue in this world* J^ 
 
 * 
 
 The Practice of True Devotion* 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 67. There is one illusion, against which Yo«tii, 
 it is especially necessary to be guarded at 
 
 this age in contemplating the Bioscope; 
 namely that of imagining, that all the years 
 beyond the index are years through which 
 w^e are to pass. For, as the index will have 
 made but little progress at that early period 
 of life, and as a very wide range will appear 
 open before us ; if we are not awakened to a 
 conviction of the truth, we shall survey all 
 the sequel of the dial as a property in time, 
 which is only waiting for our gradual pos- 
 session. To rescue ourselves from this mis- 
 chievous illusion., let youth, first, tell- itself 
 the common truth, concerning the unceV'^ 
 tainty of human life^ But, as common truths 
 are apt to be blunted, and to lose their 
 efficacy by frequent repetition, let us seek 
 a new course; by transferring the Bioscope 
 from our own life to that of some other 
 person, in whose life we can feel an interest 
 almost equal with our own. 
 
 68. Think, therefore, upon some early 
 friend, the compauion of your childish years; 
 
) T»E BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Youth, some brother, some sister, cut off in the 
 infancy of life; and bequeathing for ever, to 
 your instruction, a palpable demonstration 
 of that common truth. Observe, where the 
 Bioscope of that departed friend reached 
 its end ; and let that point serve, for ever, to 
 warn and to convince you, that you hold rm 
 property whatever in any particle of the scale, 
 which lies beyond your index. Again, fix 
 your attention upon the age of some parent, 
 some guardian of your tender years; the 
 security of whose kindness and protection, 
 appear to you necessary for the relish of your 
 life. Contemplate his, or her, age upon the 
 dial ; connect it with your own ; and follow 
 the progress of both, according to the dis- 
 tance which inevitably separates them. This 
 will lead on your own index ; and when the 
 day arrives that the more advanced one 
 shall reach its term, your own will be pro- 
 portionably advanced ; and you will have 
 acquired, from the comparison, a sensible 
 demonstration of the trausitoriness of life. 
 69. Then is the time, that the Bios- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 qope will unfold its exalted quality of a Yonth. 
 Comforter. 
 
 God gave us friends to bless the present scene ; 
 
 Resumes them, to prepare vsfor the next. 
 
 The power of this truth, which will then 
 be intimately felt, will urge on your pro- 
 spect from the end of the dial, into the 
 bright region which appears beyond it : for, 
 though we have lived together under a dis- 
 parity of years, we shall one day meet again 
 in an equality of existence. " Omnes eadem 
 '* conditio devinxit; cui nasci contigit, mori 
 *^ res tat : intervallis distinguimur, exitu cequa* 
 " mur, — The same condition of existence," 
 says Seneca, ^^ is annexed to all; whoever 
 " has once been born, must of necessity 
 " die. We are divided, indeed, from 
 ^^ each other, by intervals of time, during 
 ^^ our journey, but we shall all come equally 
 " together in the end^ And to that truth 
 oi naturcy what does the truth oi grace, or of 
 the Gospel, subjoin for our consolation? 
 This divine assurance, that " so we shall 
 ** be for ever, together, with the Lord *." As 
 
 * 1 Thess. iv. 17. 
 
y THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED; 
 
 Youth, the eyes of Elisha followed the ascending^ 
 prophet into heaven, your minds will fol- 
 low your departed friend into that region 
 of brightness; and you will cherish the 
 thought, and the persuasion, that you have 
 already begun to acquire, in his or her 
 person, an interest and a property in 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 70. And here let me observe, that there 
 is no season of life in which the bright 
 comforts of religion, afforded in the prospect 
 of a life in heaven, are so sensibly and 
 purely felt, as in that of a guileless and reli- 
 gious childhood. That this should be so, will 
 not surprise us when we reflect, that Christ 
 himself has pointed out that age as the best 
 i^presentation of the inhabitants of heaven. 
 That it is so in fact, all those can. testify, 
 whom God has blestvvith the commerce of 
 young minds, grounded in religion, and 
 practised to religious obedience. The spring 
 of youth is more congenial to the tempera- 
 ture of celestial joy, than either the summer," 
 the autumn, or the winter of years; and, if 
 a relish for that joy be imbibed in that age, 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 89 
 
 it will tincture, with the lastre and serenity '^**"^^* 
 of spring, all the succeeding seasons of life. 
 A chastened exaltation of mind, will be the 
 natural and certain consequence, of such a 
 temper; than which nothing can so well fit 
 us, for duly combining our services to God 
 and man, while we remain here, under our 
 discipline of trial. 
 
 71. We next come to consider, the mid- MiddicAge. 
 DLE AGES of life; which consideration opens 
 to us a delicate task. For, what ages are we 
 to comprehend under that denomination ? 
 '' Is not a man middle-aged at fifty-five?*^ 
 is a very common question with the world. 
 To give a full answer to that question, it 
 would first be necessar}^ to fix the meaning 
 of terms : till that point is settled, my an- 
 swer is, " look ai the dial.'* Unless a centufy 
 Avere the average extent of human Wkyfifty^ 
 Jive could not, by any mode of computation, 
 be rendered the middle age of life. By middhy 
 I apprehend we must understand, equi-dis- 
 tant between extremities; and by middle-aged, 
 equi-distant between the two extremities of 
 the years of life. These middle ages, there- 
 
90 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Middie-Age. fore, must compiise parts of all the three 
 middle decimals of life, in their growth and 
 succession; to the middle decimal of which 
 alone, the denomination of middle'Cge, in 
 property belongs. 
 
 72. Now, " He that is youngest," says 
 ^ Bishop Taylor, " hath not long to live; he 
 
 " that is THIRTY, FORTY, or FIFTY ycars 
 " old, hath spent most of his life, and his 
 " dream is almost done; and in a very few 
 " months he must be cast into hi s eternal 
 *^ portion." If this is truly the case; and it 
 is wiser to believe those who think, than 
 those who think not; these middle ages will 
 do well to apply themselves, with attention, 
 to the contemplation of time, 
 
 73, These three middle decimals com- 
 prise a large proportion of life, consisting 
 of its most efficient periods; and it is in 
 these three periods that experimental wis- 
 dom is chiefly gained, if ever it be gained 
 at all. In these years, the mind first begins 
 to acquire a just apprehension of the mea- 
 sure of life ; and to reduce it from that illu- 
 sive and visionary length, with which it 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. Ql 
 
 appears to the imagination of youth. Our Middic-Age. 
 ideas of length, and distance, are relative and 
 comparative. When we can take a distinct 
 view of the beginning of any measure, we 
 see and apprehend its proportions. 
 
 74. If life consists of seventy years, we 
 may say, that it consists of three times 
 twenty three years. He who is living in 
 the^Vs^ of those three divisions, is utterly 
 insensible of the period at which it com- 
 menced ; and hence, that first period appears 
 to him to have had no beginning : it is 
 like an emanation from eternity. Hence the 
 difference also, between the length of that 
 same term of years in the apprehension of 
 the parent, and in that of the child. When 
 the second measure of twenty-three years 
 has been entered, and somewhat proceed- 
 ed in ; when we can take a reflective view^ 
 of the point from which our manhood com- 
 menced, and can look back, beyond it, into 
 youth; then the progress of time begins to 
 rectify itself in our judgment, and the 
 second twenty-three years seem to proceed 
 with a rapidity, of which we had no idea 
 
99 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Middle-Age. during the^rst. But when the second divi-- 
 sion is concluded, and the extended com- 
 pass is turned upon us for the last time ; 
 when forty-six years are numbered, and the 
 remaining twenty-three conchide the mea- 
 aure^ as in the following scale ;, 
 
 1^ 
 
 /\ 
 
 ^f...J..,.r,..;.t..t.t....l . '.^il 
 
 then, our improved experience gains a per- 
 fect sentiment) of the true measure and- 
 velocity of life; that it is but " as a span 
 long :'* and, if truth and nature have our 
 ear, that last measure will imperatively call 
 upon us, to adapt our minds to the declen- 
 sion and conclusion of our course. 
 " 15, If truth and nature are not attended 
 to : if we % from their warnings, and strive 
 to remove ourselves from them by attempt- 
 ing to reascend the stream of time ; or if 
 we waver in uncertainty, without taking a 
 resolute course; the consequence is obvious: 
 that which we are reluctant to approach. 
 
THE BIOSCOPB EXPLAINED. 95 
 
 will violently take hold upon us; and where Middie-Age. 
 we might have arrived in serenity, we shall 
 be brought in sorrow. Let us, then, take 
 a caution from that severe satire of the 
 poet ,• 
 At^/uV/?/, man suspects himselfa fool; 
 Knows it ^X forty, and reforms his plan : 
 At Jifty, chides his infamous delay : 
 Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 
 In all the magnanimity of thought 
 Resolves; and re-resolves; then dies the same. 
 
 76. These middle ages, in their degrees 
 and order, will be greatly assisted by a 
 patient and steady observation of the Bios- 
 cppe. The visible progress of the index 
 through all those periods, will add the 
 strongest enforcement to the conviction, 
 arising from an improving experience of 
 ihe rapid flux of time. 
 
 77. As a Monitor, the Bioscope will 
 point out to MIDDLE LIFE, the critical 
 stage at which it is arrived. For, although 
 half of life, more or less, may possibly remain, 
 
 .yet half of it is certainly exhausted ; and 
 
94 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLiUNEO. 
 
 Middle-Age. the secoiid half will appear to pass with 
 a continually increasing rapidity, owing to 
 the continual rectification of our judgment 
 with respect to the true velocity of time. 
 And, as we shall find ourselves declining in 
 vigour in the last half whereas we were 
 constantly increasing in it in the j^Vs^ half 
 we shall be led to a provident consideration 
 of the present period ; in order to recover, 
 and redress, whatever in the past may point 
 itself out to our reflection as requiring it. 
 
 78. The power of habit, which acquires 
 such compound strength from the progress of 
 time, will begin to alarm us, and to awaken 
 in us a wise anxiety; and we shall naturally 
 reflect, that if we are under the influence of 
 any habits which ought to be broken and 
 subdued, this is the latest season to which 
 the eflfort ought, in common prudence, to be 
 protracted. The vigour we now possess^ w^ill 
 still render easy the subjugation of habits ; 
 the dominion of which will be irresistibly 
 confirmed, if we permit them to acquire an 
 established inveteracy, and if we postpone 
 our combat with them until our stren2:th 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 95 
 
 decays, and our resolution becomes too Middie-Age. 
 feeble^ to encounter them. It is a terrific 
 thought, but an incontestable truth; that 
 although the habits of the body perish with 
 the body, the habits of the soul survive in 
 the soul. 
 
 79. A profound sense of this fearful truth, 
 made the good Archbishop Tillotson live, 
 even to old age, in watchful and unceasing 
 warfare against those evil impulses of the 
 mind and heart, which, if not conquered 
 while our powers of resistance are efficient, 
 will grow with age, and ripen in decay. The 
 following secret resolutions, found in his desk 
 after his death, and written at the age of QQy 
 mark out to rniddle age an exercise from 
 which it never should repose, and which 
 must be extended to every form of vice. 
 
 RESOLUTIONS, 
 " Not to be angry with am/ body, upon 
 any occasion ; because all anger is foolishy 
 and a short fit of madness; betrays us to 
 great indecencies; and whereas it is intend- 
 ed to hurt others, the edge of it turns upon 
 
96 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Middie-Age. ouvselves. We always repent of it, and are 
 at least more angry at ourselves, by^being 
 angry at others. 
 
 " Not to be peevish and discontented : 
 this argues littleness of mind. 
 
 ^' To use all gentleness towards all men, 
 in meekness instructing those that oppose 
 themselves. 
 
 " Whenever I see any error or infirmity 
 in myself, instead of intending to mend it, 
 to resolve upon \t presently and effectually , 
 
 ^* To read this every morning before I go 
 to prayer/' 
 
 " June r, 1696.^' 
 
 80. But, the admonitions for middle life 
 must of necessity involve the rememhrance of 
 the past, by appealing to the substance of its 
 experience; by which, the authority of those 
 admonitions arc chiefly to be established, 
 and enforced. The experience of life, and 
 of human nature, with which we find our- 
 selves gradually stored in these periods, 
 will go a great way towards enabling us to 
 form a general notion, of that portion of 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 97 
 
 life which we have yet to live. ^^ Ex prce- MiddicAge. 
 ^* teriiis possimt futura deprekeridi.^' ^^ The 
 ^'future/* says Pliny, " may, in a great 
 ** measure, be collected from the past.'^ 
 And so also Shakspeare : 
 
 There is an history in all men's livei, 
 Figuring the nature of the times deceased. 
 The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, 
 With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
 As yet not come to life,; which in their seeds, 
 And weak beginnings, lie intreasured. 
 
 81. Here then, as a Remembrancer, the 
 Bioscope will have a very active office to 
 fulfil; and various will be the subjects, 
 upon which it will exert its activity. Among 
 those which will naturally engage the mind, 
 will be a review of ou?' contemporaries in life; 
 who began the journey with us, and who 
 long kept pace with us in it. Of these we 
 shall inquire, which still continue their 
 course in the common track ; and which, 
 by a side and cross path, h ive already 
 reached the termination ? whose Bioocupes 
 have stopped in the middle of their courses, 
 
 F 
 
9^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Middle-Age. and have thus demonstrated to us the va- 
 nity, of all anticipations of life. 
 
 When in this vale of years I backward look. 
 And miss such numbers; numbers too of such, 
 Firmer in health, and greener in their years, 
 And stricter on their guard, and fitter far 
 To play life*s subtle game; I scarce believe 
 I still survive ! 
 
 8£. From the smaller circle, of our own 
 particular friends, we shall, in these middle 
 years of life, extend our view and our con- 
 cern to the great circle of the world ; and to 
 the principal actors engaged upon its con- 
 spicuous theatre. 
 
 Where the prime actors of the last year's scene? 
 Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plume. 
 How ^any sleep, who kept the world awake, 
 With lustre, and with noise ! Has death proclaimed 
 A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 
 . 'Tis brandished still ; nor shall the present year 
 Be more tenacious of its human leafy 
 Or spread of feeble life a thmnev fall, 
 
 83. How penetrating must the truth of 
 these lines be to us, who, for more than 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED'. 99 
 
 twenty years, beheld England " awake, with Middi«.Age. 
 " lust?r and with noise,'' at the names of Pitt 
 and Fox ; and who yet have seen the pos- 
 sessors of those great names disappear, and 
 vanish from the view, at terms of life far 
 short of the extreme ages comprehended in i 
 
 the dial : the former at the age of 47, and 
 the latter at the age of 55 years. And 
 scarcely was this page printed in the first 
 edition, when the virtuous name of Perci- 
 VAL was added to these illustrious witnesses, 
 at the premature age of 49- 
 
 84. Nor is it in men alone that this fra- 
 gility, this inortality is seen. 
 
 Empires die ! Where now 
 
 The Roman ? Greek ? They stalk an empty name, 
 
 ** Where now" the ancient and splendid 
 realm of France? The German empire,, 
 with all its prescriptive honours, of Rome, 
 of C^sAR, and of Augustus? V\ e knew 
 them hoth, and were intimate with both; 
 yet " where are they nozo ? " 
 
 ' They stalk, an empty name ! 
 
 F 2 
 
300 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEB. 
 
 Middie-Age. We liave lived to see them erased from the 
 earth; and, within our own few years, have 
 witnessed a revolution in human affairs more 
 entire than was ever accomplished^ except 
 in a progression of centuries. 
 
 85. liCt any man, who (at the age per- 
 haps of twenty,) saw the throne of Lewis 
 the Fourteenth in appearance still iirm and 
 secure, retaining all its ancient honours, 
 and possessed by a prince of his royal 
 blood, the second only in descent from him- 
 self; who, ten years after, saw that throne 
 subverted, those honours extinguished, that 
 possessor weltering in his blood, and that 
 royal line of sovereigns concluded; who, in 
 the course of ten more years, beheld an 
 imperial dignity, new and strange, spring 
 out from that scene of waste and ruin, and 
 invest with all its eminence, an unknown 
 native of a Mediterranean island, who pre- 
 sently extinguished the last vestige of impe- 
 rial Rome, and made himself the conqueror 
 and arbitrator of almost the whole of Eu- 
 rope; let such an one, count back those 
 few fateful years upon the dial of his Bios- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 101 
 
 cope, and meditate upon the experience Mid<iie-.4£c. 
 which they impart : let him then look for- 
 ward, upon the years which are now about 
 to open before him ; and; (if he has wisdom,) 
 caution and not temerity, doubt and not 
 security, religions awe and not worldly con- 
 fidence, must be the sentiments which they 
 will excite. 
 
 86. With empires pass also ihe fashions, 
 or prevailing aspects, of the world. He who 
 is now advanced in middle age, found the 
 world, at his entrance into manhood, not 
 more distinguished by the crowns and scep- 
 tres that have vanished, than by opinions and 
 systems, which exercised the most insolent 
 and overbearing dominion among the nations 
 of Christendom. The religion of Christ- 
 endom, was the great object of their assail- 
 ment; and, favoured by the corruption of 
 courts and the depravity of individuals, 
 they established an empire of fashion, which 
 had nearly brow-beaten religion^ and driven 
 piety from the world into the recesses of 
 closets. By the slow and calculated advan- 
 ces of sophistry; or by the daring and 
 
102 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 MiduieAge. dcsperatc assaults of jest and falsehood; 
 they united, with unintermitting ardor, to 
 blow up, or beat down, the ^.sanctuary of 
 the Gospel. The schools of Hume, of 
 Voltaire, of Helvetius, of Frederick, and 
 many others, seemed firm in power; and 
 / their arrogant pretensions were exalted 
 among the most conspicuous eminences of 
 Europe. " Where are they now?" Fallen 
 from that height of false glory and usurped 
 distinction, on which they stood ; they must 
 now be searched for, among the ruins of 
 Europe. The same mysterious scourge, 
 which the present dispensation of Provi- 
 dence has called forth to chastise and afflict 
 Christendom, has fallen with indiscrimi- 
 nating vengeance, upon the illegitimate 
 honours of hrftdeliti/ and scepticism, 
 
 87. Having received such extraordinary 
 demonstration that " the world, and th« 
 '^ fashion of the world, passelh away ;" he 
 will discern wisdom, and not severity, in 
 the admonitory precept founded upon that 
 truth ; " Love not the world." And, look- 
 ing from those passing objects *' which are 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 10'3 
 
 " now seen," to those prospective ones MiddicAse. 
 *' which are not yet seen;" he will loosen 
 his attaciiments to " things which are merely 
 '^ temporal/' and gladly fix them upon 
 '^ those which are eternal." 
 
 88. Let the Bioscope be then resorted to, 
 in its quality of Comforter; to enable us so 
 to use those approaching years as to he. 
 capable of defying the utmost evil with 
 M^.hich they can teem, and of mastering all 
 the power of disaster, which seems to form 
 the peculiar and distinguishing character 
 of the times in which we are cast. And 
 this it will do ; First : by showing us that 
 there is a limit, which that evil and that 
 disaster cannot possibly overpass, and where 
 we may be emancipated for ever from its 
 influence and dominion: Secondly; by 
 showing us that we have still, in proba- 
 bility, a residue of life, which may be ren- 
 dered sufficient for taking effectual mea- 
 sures to assure that emancipation, and to 
 attain to that ultimate receptacle of security 
 and peace. Let us, then, keep our view 
 constantly advanced to the goal of our jour- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 ney ; and, holding continually that forward 
 tendency, let us make the end, and not the 
 intermediate stages, the principal object of 
 our concern. There, whatever may be the 
 political distractions of this earth for a short 
 and limited period, the Christian's prospect 
 will be crowded with objects worthy to 
 animate the best and noblest ambition of 
 those middle ages ; namely, *' glorj/, and 
 '^ honour, and immortality/' when " God 
 " shall at length have taken unto Himself 
 " liis great power, and shall reign ; and shall 
 ^* have destroyed them which destroy the 
 " earth r' 
 
 89. We come now at last to the aged; 
 to that period which Cicero calls, *' of old 
 " age, either arrived or certainly approach- 
 " ing — diUl jam urgentis, aut certe adven- 
 *' tantis senectutis." And here we have a 
 task, still more delicate to fulfil than the 
 former. For, who are the aged, and the old? 
 At what period do those qualities of time 
 commence, and attach their characters upon 
 individuals ? 
 
 90. " Do you call a man old at sixty V% 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. lOJ 
 
 asks the world : and such is the world's ge«^ The Aged, 
 neral system of collusion and mutual con- 
 nivance, that the common answer to that 
 question is — No! But here, again, we have 
 need to fix and determine the signification 
 of terms. By aged, and old, I apprehend 
 we must understand the having outlived far 
 the greater part of the average number of 
 our years, and, of course, having but a small 
 portion of that number remaining, jiged 
 and oW being relative notions, and relative 
 to a fixed and general measure of time in 
 life; between fifty and sixty, and between 
 sixty and seventy, out of seventy years, 
 certainly establish, in different proportions, 
 the relations o( age, or oldness : as the poet 
 is adventurous enough to say ; 
 
 IF truth, in spite of manners, must be told. 
 Why tvwXy , Jifty-Jive is something old*. 
 
 91. That this statement may not appear 
 so contrary to the common opinion of man- 
 kind, as it is to the partial feeling of the 
 World; let us inquire, what was the opinion 
 
 ♦ Elegy to a]» Old Beauty. — Parnex,. 
 F 5 
 
100 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged, of the vvisest heathen nations, before age 
 became so much an object of irritation and 
 jealousy. According to the Greeks and 
 Latins, a man was called Tr^Ea-^eulfi^ — seniory 
 that is, eMer or aged, as soon as he had 
 completed his forty-ninth year and had 
 entered upon hi<3 fiftieth ; and he was called 
 y£^uv — seriex, that is, old, from the age of 
 fifty-six to the e«d of his Hfe. If now, 
 keeping in our mind the definition which 
 has just been given oi agedness, and oldriess, 
 we carry our eye to the Bioscope, we shall 
 receive immediate demonstration of the 
 truth and justness of that ancient designa- 
 tion. He who has entered into his last 
 decimal but one, is, in all certainty, aged; 
 and he who has entered his last decimal, is, 
 in all meaning, okl, though others may be 
 olde?\ 
 
 92. It has been observed, that we are 
 never sensible of our advancement in age, 
 until some accidental circumstance occurs to 
 awaken in us a sense of that truth. Seneca 
 thus relates an incident, which led him to 
 remark, that he was already an aged man. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 107 
 
 " Quocunque nie verto, argumenta senec The Aged. 
 
 " tutis meae video. Veneram in suburba- 
 
 " num, et querebar de impensis a^dificii 
 
 *^ delabentis. jAit villicus, non esse negli- 
 
 ^' gentiee suae vitium, omnia se facere, sed 
 
 '^ willam <veterem esse, Haec villa inter manus 
 
 " nieas crevit; quid raihi futurum est, jsi 
 
 " tarn putrida sunt eeltatis meaesaxa? — 
 
 *^ Wherever I turn, I see the proofs of my 
 
 " own agedness. I went to my house out 
 
 *' of town, and complained of the expense 
 
 *' vi'hich I was to incur for repairs. The 
 
 " steward said, that it was not owing to any 
 
 " negligence in him; that he had taken 
 
 *' every care of the building, but that the 
 
 ^* house was old* Now, this house grew up 
 
 *' under my own hands! What, then, must 
 
 " be my own case, if materials, of my own 
 
 " age, are thus perishable ?'' 
 
 93. From this stage, a long retrospect 
 extends behind us, and the prospect nar- 
 rows in proportion. We perceive sensibly 
 our advance, and our approximation to the 
 common boundary of life; and we are as 
 luensibly convinced, that no^tim^ should be 
 
^^^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 ^^ -^sed. Yvasted, or neglected, for bringing our minds 
 into a close conformity with our years, in 
 order to our final arrival at that boundary. 
 Here, then, the Bioscope speaks eloquently 
 to us in its capacity of Monitor. 
 
 94. We read upon the dial the characters 
 of the ages which we have past, and of 
 those at which we are arrived. And, hovr- 
 ever we may desire to deny those charac- 
 ters by appealing to the tone and texture of 
 our thoughts^ yet the conspicuous fact vindi- 
 cates its reality, by appealing to the mimber 
 of our years; for it is years, not thoughts, 
 which make up the measure of human 
 life. 
 
 95. " However age may discourage us by 
 i " its appearance, from considering it in 
 
 " prospect,'* &ays a great writer, "we shall 
 " all by degrees certainly be old, if we live 
 " long enough ; and therefore we ought to 
 " inquire, what provision can be made 
 " against that time of distress; what hap- 
 " piness can be stored against the winter of 
 " life? and how we may pass our latter 
 ^' years with serenity and cheerfulness ? If 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 109 
 
 " it has been found by the experience of The Aged, 
 
 ^^ mankind, that not even the best seasons 
 
 " of life are able to supply sufficient grati- 
 
 " fications, without anticipating uncertain 
 
 ^^ felicities; it cannot surdy be supposed, 
 
 " that old age, worn with labours, harrassed 
 
 " with anxieties, or tortured with diseases, 
 
 " should have any gladness oi its own, or 
 
 " feel any satisfaction from the contempla* 
 
 ^^ tion oi the present . All the comfort that 
 
 " can now be expected, must be recalled 
 
 *' from the past, or borrowed from the future, 
 
 " The past is very soon exhausted ; all the 
 
 " events or actions of which the memory 
 
 " can afford pleasure, are quickly recol- 
 
 " lected; and the future lies beyond the 
 
 ^^ grave, where it can be reached only by 
 
 '^ virtue and devotion. Piety is the only 
 
 " proper and adequate relief of decaying 
 
 " man. He that grows old without reli- 
 
 " gious hopes, as he declines into imbe- 
 
 " cility, and feels pains and sorrows inces- 
 
 '^ santly crowding upon him^ falls into a 
 
 " gulf of bottomless misery ; in which every 
 
 ** recollection must plunge him deeper, and 
 
[JO THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. " where he finds only new gradations of 
 " anguish, and precipices of horror." 
 
 96. The aged, and the old, will therefore, 
 if they are wise, be admonished by the 
 Bioscope, to make their minds dwell with 
 resolution, on the demonstrated shortness of 
 their remaining course; and on the region, 
 to which the end of that course must in- 
 evitably bring them. And here we may 
 remark, that common sense alone, and the 
 common inclination and practice of man- 
 kind, would seem to incite us to this exercise. 
 
 97. AH men look so far forward into time, 
 as to provide for the interest of generations 
 which they shall never witness on the earth. 
 " They labour in things," says Cicero, " in 
 " which they know they shall have no per- 
 " sonal concern. Nor is there a farmer, 
 '^ however old, that hesitates, if he is asked 
 '' for wJtose sake he sows or plants ? to reply — 
 " ^ For the sake of the immortal gods ; 
 '^ who require that I should not merely re- 
 '' ceive these things from my forefathers, 
 *' but transmit them also to posterity.'^' 
 Now, if it is natural to man to look for- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. Ill 
 
 ward into times which he shall never wit- Th«Aged. 
 ness, for the sake of persons whom he shall 
 never see; it would seem much more natural 
 to look forward to an eternity into which 
 we are entering, for the sake of ourselves, 
 who shall be sensible of existence through- 
 out that eternity. 
 
 98. Upon the same principle, it would 
 seem natural, that we should engage our 
 thoughts in considering that Eternal country ^ 
 into which we are so soon to enter. For, the 
 termination of the scale is full as much the 
 beginning of a life, as it is the end of a 
 life : the end of one being, ipso facto, the 
 beginning of another. Just as the door- 
 way of an anti-chamber, is not more the 
 point oi egress from thence, than it is that 
 of ingress to the state-room. Now, what 
 person is there who, if he has in prospect to 
 embark for Persia or Peru, will not be 
 filled with an ardent curiosity concerning 
 his voyage; and Very inquisitive after the 
 nature and genius of the country, and the 
 kind of entertainment he shall meet with 
 in it? And shall we, when we see tliat the 
 
112 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEH. 
 
 The Aged, period of OUT departure is approaching, a 
 little more or less near, be less curious and 
 less inquisitive; respecting the country 
 which immediately borders upon the con- 
 cluding goal of life, to which we shall arrive 
 ere long, and from which we shall not return, 
 but shall remain under circumstances wholly 
 and essentially new ? Especially, when we 
 have it in our power to gain so much de- 
 lightful information respecting that country ; 
 and to secure so safe a journey to it, and 
 so favourable a reception in it? Surely, in 
 this respect, the Bioscope is a consummate 
 Comforter ; since it brings us to so near 
 a prospect of that country, and conducts 
 our view even to the very frontier, 
 
 99- And here I shall take occasion to 
 remark ; that there is not a more common, 
 or more delusive error, (and which, how- 
 ever soothing it may be to the imagination, 
 is most treacherous to the reason;) than 
 that of looking forward to old age as a 
 statiouy m which we are to halt and take 
 our rest, in the close of the journey of life. 
 
 100. For first, we may never attain to old 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. H; 
 
 age; and then, how mischievous must be The Aged, 
 the illusion, of hving always with a view 
 to a period at which we never shall arrive? 
 " You hear many/' says Seneca, " who 
 " say, I will retire at my fiftieth year; or, 
 "my sixtieth year shall set me free from 
 " all toil of business. But, what pledge 
 " have you received of so long a life ? Are 
 " you not ashamed, to treasure up in your 
 " imagirtation any reserve of futiJire years?- 
 ** Non pudet TIE. reliquias vita reservare?^* — 
 *^ The laws of probability," said Mr, Gib« 
 bon at the age of fifty-two, " so true in 
 *^ general, so fallacious in particular, still 
 *^ allow me about fifteen years. I shall 
 ," soon enter the period which, as the most 
 " agreeable of his long life, was selected by 
 " the judgment and experience of the sage 
 f* Fontenelle." But the sage Fotenelle said 
 so upon the retrospect, and not on the pro- 
 spect : Mr. Gibbon died within five years. 
 
 101. But, suppose that we shall attain to 
 old age: still, we shall find it no stationary 
 post, or place of halting. Life has, in all 
 ages, been well compared to a journey, 
 Now, to look to old age as a station, and to 
 
114 THE' BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Theiiged. consolc oursclves, as we travel on in life, 
 with the prospect of that imaginary station ; 
 is^ as if a man were journeying iVom Bath 
 to London, and looked forward for his 
 repose between Kensington and Hyde-Park 
 Corner. The three or four last miles of 
 that journey, may well answer to the last 
 years of the journey of life. The traveller 
 will only look for his repose, when he 
 shall be arrived at his home in the Capital. 
 The interval from Kensington to the Turn- 
 f)ike, indeed, will probably awaken in him 
 a lively sense of his approach to his home; 
 and the more so, as he will then be wearied 
 and harrassed by his journey: and; in his 
 contemplation of the proximity of his en- 
 joyment, his mind will experience an anti- 
 dpation of repose. But it is beyond the 
 Turnpike, and in the Capital only, that he 
 mil look for its reality. 
 
 102. And so in the journey of life. The 
 last years of life neither promise, nor admi- 
 nister, any period of retreat in themselves; 
 for life proceeds as fast (nay, sensibly faster) 
 in old age, as in any other part of its 
 course : it can, then, only be in the mar 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAlxNEJ). 1]^> 
 
 prospect of retreat, not in the possession of The Aged, 
 it. Old age may, doubtless, look for some 
 repose of mind from its period in the jour- 
 ney ; because its anxieties will have greatly 
 subsided, and its concern about future con- 
 tingencies, and accidents of the road, will 
 be extremely diminished; but it must still 
 travel on as fast as ever, and its retreat will 
 only be acquired, when the goal is passed, 
 and the final home attained. 
 
 103, And this objection .lies, in a greafe 
 degree, against the scheme of human lifn 
 exhibited in the andromlter of the 
 highly valuable Sir William Jones ; which, 
 as his noble biographer defines it to be, is de- 
 signed for " a scale of human attainments and 
 " enjoyments^ This scale points out certain 
 years at the end of life, as forming a period 
 of ^* the perfection of earthly happiness ;'^ and, 
 therefore, naturally directs the attention to 
 that period, as one in prospect of which it is 
 to guide its course. But however ingenious 
 that scheme may be, and however " striking 
 " a specimen it may afford of the extent of 
 *' its distinguished author's views, in the 
 
 V 
 
no THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEIT. 
 
 The Aged. " acquisition of intellectual attainments;^ 
 (to use the words ot* his biographer;) it 
 requires but a superficial inspection to dis- 
 cern, how entirely visionary and decep- 
 tious it is. That it is visionary, is manifest ; 
 because there is nothing in the character 
 assigned to any one year, which is founded 
 upon the laws of nature. And that it is in 
 the utmost degree deceptious also, was de- 
 monstrated in the excellent author himself; 
 who imagined it at the age oi thirty, and who 
 liid not live to reach the forty-eighth division 
 of the scale: which was many degrees short 
 of those years, in which he had placed '^ the 
 " perfection of earthly happiness,^' And there- 
 fore, as his biographer aptly remarks : " We 
 " are not to consider, that the preparation 
 ^* for ETKKNiTY, which stands at the end 
 ^* of the scale, was to be deferred until 
 " the SEVENTIETH YEAH; it is rather to 
 ^* be considered as the object to which he 
 " was perpetually to look, during the whole 
 " of his lifcj and which was exclusively to 
 *^ engross his latter years*." 
 
 * See THE ANDROMETEB, at the end of this Tracts. 
 
TKE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 117 
 
 104. But it will perhaps be said : " True ! The Aged. 
 " but at that end is death ; and the pro- 
 
 " spect of death is so abhorrent to human 
 " nature, that the mind naturally recoils from 
 ^' the view ; and would rather seek an obli- 
 " vion in the visions of fancy, than be har- 
 " rowed up by the presence of that hostile 
 ^^ spectre." If this is the language of human 
 nature, I am at a loss to know under what 
 dispensation we are to find it. By human 
 nature, I understand the best condition of 
 that nature. Was it then in the heathen 
 zwrld, that this language was held ? It is 
 very contrary to the language of Socrates, 
 or of Cicero. 
 
 105. When Socrates stood before his 
 iniquitous judges, and had just received con- 
 demnation to death ; he thus evinced the 
 effect which their judgment, and the pro- 
 spect of immediate dissolution, wrought 
 upon his mind. " Death," said he to them, 
 ^^ must necessarily be one of two things. 
 
 " Either it is the entire end of all sen^ 
 " sation ; or it is the transportation of the 
 " soul from one place into another. Now, 
 
lis 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged, a jf j^ jg ^j^j^ ^j^^ extinction of all sen- 
 " sation, like a sleep in which we experi- 
 " ence wo dreams; how astonishingly gainful 
 " is death! But if, on the other hand, that 
 " which we are taught be true ; that death 
 " is our removal from hence into another 
 " place; and if it be also true, that we 
 ^^ shall there be consigned to the judgment 
 " of righteous and equitable judges; how 
 " far more gainful must it then be! And if 
 " I shall there hold intercourse with Or- 
 " pheus, with Musaeus, with Hesiod, with 
 ^' Homer; I would willingly, for such fell - 
 " city, suffer death many times over! To 
 " me, the prospect of such a society is 
 ^^ beyond measure delightful ; since they 
 " who shall arrive at that place, will die no 
 ^^ more, but will remain for ever, immortal, 
 " and in the enjoyment of happiness infi- 
 ^' nitely surpassing every thing that is ex- 
 " perienced here* " 
 
 106. The sentiments of Cicero, on the 
 same article, are delivered by him in the 
 
 * Plato's Apology, &c. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE explainer/ lljj 
 
 person of Cato; whom he thus makes to The Aged. 
 
 wind up, and conclude, his beautiful treatise 
 
 upon Old Age, " 1 depart from life," says 
 
 he, " as from an inn, not as from an home; 
 
 '' for nature gave it to us only as a place 
 
 " of temporary abode, and not as one of 
 
 ^' permanent habitation. O glorious day! 
 
 " when I shall reach that divine concourse 
 
 ^^ and society of spirits ; and when I shall 
 
 " depart from this scene of pollution and 
 
 ^' distraction ! For I shall then go not only 
 
 '' to those persons of whom 1 have already 
 
 ^^ spoken, but to my own son, than w^hom 
 
 " no better man was ever born, nor any 
 
 ^•' more illustrious for his piety. To 
 
 ^* whose body I performed the last offices ; 
 
 " whereas, it was rather he that should 
 
 ^^ have performed them to mine. But his 
 
 '^ soul, not taking leave of me but looking 
 
 " back for me, departed to those regions 
 
 " to which he knew -I myself must so soon 
 
 *' follow hifn. And this loss I seemed to 
 
 ^^ you to bear with composure; but it was 
 
 ^^ not that I bore it with composure, but 
 
 " that I consoled myself with the thought;, 
 
1£0 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. ^^ that the distance and separation between 
 " us would not be long. And with these 
 " reflections, old age is not only light to 
 ^^ me, but even pleasing. For if I am in 
 " error in believing, that the souls of men 
 '^ are immortal, I willingly err ; nor shall 
 ^' any one, while I live, roh me of that 
 '* error, which is my delight ! — Quod si in 
 " hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales 
 '^ esse credam, libeiiter erro: nee miki hunc 
 u errorerrif quo delector, dum vivo, extorqueri 
 '' volo." 
 
 107. Is it then in the Christian world, that 
 death is discovered to bean object so odious 
 to human nature ? Surely not ; for we know, 
 that since the secrets of " Life and Im- 
 '^ mortality have been brought to light 
 ^' by the Gospel," and all doubts dissi- 
 pated respecting those great points, the 
 " sting of deatV'* is drawn, and it is become 
 to us nothing more than the portal by which 
 " we pass into life ;" not to the society of 
 Orpheus or Musaeus, of Hesiod or Homer, of 
 the elder or younger Cato only, but *^ to an 
 " innumerable company of angels, to the ge- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 121 
 
 ^^ neral assembly and church of the first-born The Aged. 
 " which are written in heaven^ and ^o God the 
 *^ Judge of all^ and to the spirits of just men 
 '^ made perfect, and ^o Jesus the Mediator of 
 *' the New Covenant." 
 
 108, Since, then, those who are most 
 fit to guide our reasons, both in the heathen 
 and Christian world, have not recoiled 
 from the prospect of death, nor viewed it 
 as an hostile spectre, but rather as a guide 
 and a deliverer^ shall we, who profess to 
 unite in ourselves all lights, both Christian 
 and heathen, cherish the miserable senti- 
 ment which dares not meditate its natural 
 approach ? 
 
 ' No ! the thought of death indulge. 
 
 Give it its wholesome empire ; let it reign, 
 
 That kind chastiser of the soul in joy ! 
 
 And why not think of death ?■ 
 
 Ere man has measured half his wearied stage, 
 
 His luxuries have left him no reserve ; 
 
 No maiden relishes, unbroached delights. 
 
 On cold-serv'd repetitions he subsists. 
 
 And in the tasteless present, chews the past.— 
 
 Age should walk thoughtful, on the solemn shore 
 Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon ; 
 
 G 
 
122 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. And put good works on board, and wait the wind. 
 That shortly blows us into worlds unknown. 
 1{ unconsidered too, a dreadful scene ! 
 
 109. It is a great mistake, to suppose 
 that we are not yet entered within the 
 dominion of death, because his last act of 
 power has not yet been exercised upon us : 
 ^^ in the midst of life we are in death." 
 
 Must I then forward only look for death ? 
 Backward I turn my eye, and find him there, 
 Man is a self-surioiDor every hour. 
 Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. 
 Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. 
 My youth, my noontide his, my yesterday ! 
 The bold invader shares the present hour; 
 Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
 While man is growing, life is in decrease; 
 Our hirth is nothing but our death begun, 
 As tapers waste that instant they take fire. 
 Shall we then fear, lest that should come to pass 
 Which comes to pass each moment of our lives ? 
 
 110. That the contemplation oi \he close 
 of life, which is inseparable from dtathy is 
 far from being grievous in itself; but is only 
 rendered so, by its opposition to thei^ustomary 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 123 
 
 Iiabits of the 7nind, and to the conceptions TiieAged. 
 which the mind has chosen to entertain and 
 nourish ; is brought to demonstration, by a 
 comparison with those who have viewed it, 
 not merely with composure and willingness, 
 but even with rapture and delight. 
 
 111. Mr. Gibbon, when he had com- 
 pleted those celebrated pages, the applause 
 for which was to constitute the chief reward 
 and happiness of his mind ; and when, at 
 the age oiffty^two years, he had conceived 
 the fallacious expectation of an " autumnal 
 " period of felicity;" declared his own ex* 
 perience of lifcy in the following warning 
 sentence : " I must reluctantly observe, that 
 " two causes, the abbreviation of time, and 
 ^' the failure of hope, will always tinge, with 
 ^* a browner shade, the evening of life*." 
 
 ll^J. If this sentence is delivered as a 
 general proposition, applicable to all man- 
 kind ; and meaning to assert, that the abbre- 
 viation of time, and the failure of hope, are 
 correlative, the latter necessarily following 
 
 * Memoirs of his Life, 
 G ^ 
 
VH THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged, from the former; we are so happy as to 
 know, with full assurance, that it \s positiveli/ 
 and experimentally fake. Millions of Christ- 
 ians have borne testimony, in the evening 
 of their lives, to its utter falsehood. When 
 St. Paul exclaimed — " The time of my 
 " departure is at hand. 1 have finished 
 " my course ; henceforth there is laid up 
 '^ for me a crown of glory, which the Lord, 
 " the righteous Judge, will give me in that 
 " day ; and not to me only, but to all those 
 " also who love (the prospect of) His reap- 
 ^^ pearing!"— when he thus exclaimed, was 
 there any symptom that the strength of 
 his hope was diminished by the abbreviation 
 of his time? or did any " shade seem to 
 " tinge the evening of his life ?" And end- 
 less are the examples which the experience 
 of individual Christians can supply ; of hope 
 increasing with the abbreviation of time, 
 and of the serene effulgence which that 
 hope sheds, not only over the evening, but 
 over the very twilight of life. 
 
 The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, 
 And tints tomorrow with prophetic ray. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAIN KD. 1'25 
 
 Mr. Gibbon's proposition, therefore, if TheAg«»d, 
 taken imiversally, is most experimentally^ 
 false. 
 
 113. But if it be taken with limitationr 
 as in fact it ought to be taken; if it merely 
 expresses Mr, Gibbon s ozm experience; ancL 
 declares the inward condition of his ozm 
 mind; then we must receive it, not only as 
 true, but as one of the most salutary dis 
 closures, one of the most valuable truths in 
 experimental ethics, that could have been 
 imparted to the world. JVJr. Gibbon thus 
 distinctly declared, as the result of his life, 
 drawn up deliberately only a very short 
 period before his decease, that the course 
 into which he had put his mind, and the 
 view which he had practised himself to take 
 of philosophy and of religion, caused his 
 hope to fail, in proportion as his term of life 
 diminished; and that the consequence of 
 that failure of hope, was a tinge of gloom, 
 more and more deeply investing the evening of 
 his life. 
 
 114. Melancholy, nay frightful as this 
 declaration is ; it speaks more than volumes 
 
120 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLA1KE1>. 
 
 Th€Aged. to prove the divinity of the Gospel, and the 
 impotence and absurdity of all human con- 
 ceits set up in opposition to it. It proves 
 to demonstration, the truth of what has just 
 been advanced : that the prospect of the 
 end of life is not necessarily, and in itself^ 
 grievous ; but that it becomes so, only when 
 it is in opposition to the habits and esta- 
 blished impressions of the mind. Where 
 the mind accustoms itself to view the pro- 
 gress and end of our nature, as it is illus- 
 trated by revealed truth; the close of life, 
 that is, death, is a requisite circumstance in 
 it, conducive to an end we seek. Where we 
 seek not that end, because we have habi- 
 tually excluded, or turned away from, the 
 light of revelation; the mind, unwilling to 
 advance, seeks either to return, or remain 
 stationary. But death, is an unsurmountable 
 impediment to such an expedient ; and every 
 step, therefore, that we are forcibly carried 
 towards it, must naturally " tinge with a 
 *< browner shade, the evening of life." 
 
 115. We meet with nothing, in the death 
 of that distinguished censor of the church^ 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEJ5. 127 
 
 and Gospel, which should tempt us, even The Aged. 
 if we could gain tenfold the measure of his 
 fame, to seek the succour of his philoso- 
 phical phantom, in exchange for the sub- 
 stantial consolations of the Christian faith. 
 The chief incidents, of the awful period 
 which, at the age oi fftysix, interrupted 
 all his plans of " autumnal felicity, ^^ are 
 thus recorded. " Tzcenty-four hours before 
 " his death, Mr. Gibbon happened to fall 
 '* into a conversation, not uncommon with 
 " him, on the probable duration of his life, 
 *' He said, he thought himself a good /j/e, 
 " for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years. 
 " On Monday, January 13, he underwent 
 " an operation, and seemed much relieved. 
 " He talked, as usual, of passing his time at 
 " houses which he had often frequented, 
 " with great pleasure; and said, [ intend 
 *' to go on Thursday (Jan. 16,) to Devon- 
 '* shire house." — '^ On the l6th," says his 
 noble biographer, ^' I reached his lodging 
 *' about midnight, and learned, that my 
 *^ friend had expired, a quarter before one 
 ^' o'clock,, that day. His valet de diambre 
 
128 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. ^* obseived, that Mr. Gibbon did not, at 
 " any time, show the least sign of alarm, or 
 " apprehension of death. And it does not 
 ^' appear, that he ever thought himself in 
 " danger,^' He died in the year 1793, 
 aged 57. 
 
 116. Addison, two years before his death, 
 entered upon his admirable work, in Evi- 
 dence of the Christian Religion. " In 
 ** the beginning of the year 1719," says his 
 great biographer, " the end of his useful 
 " life was now approaching. Addison had 
 " for some time been oppressed by shortness 
 '^ of breath, which was now aggravated by a 
 *^ dropsy ; and finding his danger pressing, 
 " he prepared to die conformably to his 
 ^ own precepts and professions. The Earl 
 " of Warwick was a young man of very 
 " irregular life, and perhaps of loose opi- 
 " nions. Addison, for whom he did not 
 '*• want respect, had very diligently endea- 
 " voured to reclaim him ; but his argu- 
 " ments and expostulations had no effect. 
 " One experiment, however, remained to 
 *^ be tried ; when he found his life near its 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 129 
 
 " end, he directed the young lord to be The Aged. 
 " called ; and when he desired, with great 
 ^' tenderness, to hear his last injunctions, 
 " told him, ^ I have sent for you, that you 
 " may see how a Christian can die''^ He 
 died June 17, 1719, aged 47. 
 
 117. Whatever w^as the effect of this 
 scene upon the Earl of Warwick, it re- 
 mained to animate the faith, the piety, and 
 the virtue of the Christian world. Gellert, 
 distinguished in Saxony by the sanctity 
 of his life and writings, demonstrated in 
 himself the efficacy of this bright ex* 
 ample. " On the day of his dissolution, 
 " convinced that he felt the immediate 
 *^ approach of death, he earnestly inquired 
 " of his friends, how long he might still 
 " have to struggle with it ? Upon receiving 
 " for answer, perhaps an hour; ' God be 
 " praised !' he exclaimed, raising his hands 
 " with a joyous countenance ; ' only one 
 " hourT Then, with a countenance still 
 " more serene, he turned on his side ; 
 *^ silently addressed himself in prayer to 
 ** God ; and, in the midst of that prayer, 
 G 5 
 
130 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. ^' sunk into the sleep of death ; on the 13tb 
 " of December, 1769, aged 54. This so 
 " peaeeful end," adds his biographer, " re- 
 " calls and confirms what Addison said on 
 *^ his death-bed : See how a Christian can 
 •' die! And thus was accomplished the 
 " ardent desire which Gellert expressed in 
 *^ a letter, in which he spoke of the death 
 ** of Addison: ^ Great God! what would 
 '^ be my happiness, if my end could be like 
 " his!'" 
 
 118. To these glorious records, let us add 
 the blessed testimony imparted in the death 
 of the late Sir William Forbes. ^^ I shall 
 ^^ ever consider it as one of the greatest 
 " blessings of my life," says his Funeral 
 Orator, '^ that I was permitted to witness 
 " this concluding scene ; that I was thought 
 ^' worthy to see the peace in which the 
 *' Christian can die; and that I received 
 *' the last commands which he deigned to 
 " entrust to me ; ' To tell to those that were 
 ^' drawing down to the bed of hb at h, from 
 " his experience, that it had no terrors; that 
 ** in the hour when it was most wanted there 
 
THE BIOSCOPE explained; 131 
 
 '* was mercy with the Most High; and Th«Age(L 
 
 " that SOME CHANGE toolc placCy which fitted 
 
 " THE SOUL to meet its God*.'" ' 
 
 119. Madame de.Sevigne, when she was 
 witnessing the edifying death of the pious 
 M. de St. Aubin, made this wise reflection, 
 " It is an opportunity not to be lost, to see 
 " a man die with a peace and tranquillity 
 ^^ totally Christian, his mind detached from 
 " the world, in charity, and with a desire 
 "to be in heaven, that he may no longer 
 *5 be separated from God ; with an hoh/ awe 
 " of His judgments, yet with a confidence 
 *' founded entirely in the infinite merits of 
 " Jesus Christ: all this is divine. It is 
 " from such persons that we should learn 
 " to die, especially if we have not been so 
 ^ happy as to live like themf." 
 
 * Alison's Sermon, p. 23. 
 
 t ** C*est uHe occasion a ne pas perdre, que de voir mourir 
 ** un horame avec une paix et una tranquillite toute Chr^» 
 ** tienne, un d^tacheiuent, une charit^, un desir d'etre dans 
 " le ciel pour n'^tre plus s6par§ de Dieu, un saint trerable- 
 *' ment de ses jugemens, mais une confiance toute fondle sur 
 ** les m^rites infiuis d« Jesus-Christ: tout cela «st divia. 
 
132 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. 120. " There is nothing in history," said 
 Addison, seven years before his death, 
 " which is so improving to the reader, as 
 *' those accounts which we meet with, oitlie 
 " death of eminent persons, and of their 
 " behaviour in that dreadful season. I may 
 " also add, that there are no parts in history, 
 " which affect and please the reader in so 
 " sensible a manner. The reason I take to 
 ^^ be this ; because there is no other single 
 " circumstance in the story of any single 
 ^^ person, which can possibly be the case of 
 " every one who reads it^T 
 
 1^1. The sound sense and truth of this 
 remark being manifest, let us bring home 
 to our own cases the examples, here ad- 
 duced, of the concluding lives, of one of 
 the greatest antagonists^ and of one of the 
 greatest vindicators, of the Christian faith ; 
 and let us reflect, which of the two we would 
 rather resemble, on the day which shall 
 
 *' C'est avec de telles gens qu'il faut apprendre a mourir : 
 " tout au moins quand on n'a pas kti assez heu reuse pour y 
 " vivrc." Lett. 15. Noy. 1688. 
 
 * Spectator, No. 289. See this whole paper. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 13S 
 
 terminate our lives. Whether of him who TiieAged. 
 prepared for his declining years a dimi- 
 nution of hope, and an augmenting gloom 
 of prospect ; or of him, who prepared his 
 mind to depart in the strongest confidence 
 of hope, and in the brightest serenity of 
 joy ? Of him who, on the day of his death, 
 was employed in the sad and fallacious 
 computation of ten, or twelve, or twenty 
 more years of earthly life; or of him, who 
 met the day of his death as the daj' of his 
 immediate advancement to the presence of 
 God, in eternity^ Of him, whose mind enter- 
 tained no anticipations of his impending 
 removal to another state of being; or of 
 him, whose mind was already on the wing 
 for its departure, with the most lively anti- 
 cipations of the bliss which was waiting to 
 receive him ? Of him, finally, who sought to 
 lead a soul to heaven by the demonstrative 
 evidence of its already dawning glory ; or 
 of him, who had no better consolation 
 to offer to his greatest friend, under the 
 severest of domestic afflictions, than a 
 
134 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged, frigid and unhopeful — " if there be a future 
 " state^:' 
 
 The chamber, where the good man meets his fate^ 
 
 Is privileg'd beyond the common walk 
 
 Of virtuous life, quite in the verge af heaven. 
 
 Fly, ye profane ! If not, draw near with awe j 
 
 Receive the blessing, and adore the chance 
 
 That threw in this Bethesda your disease- 
 
 If unrestor'd by this, despair your cure ; 
 
 For here resistless demonstration dwells : 
 
 A death-bed ^s the detector of the heart. — 
 
 You see the man, you see his hold on Heaven, 
 
 If sound his virtue, as Philander's sound. 
 
 Heaven waits not the last moment; owns her friends 
 
 On this side deaths and points them out to men : 
 
 A lecture, silent, but of sovereign power. 
 
 Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, 
 Virtue alone has majesty in death. 
 Through Nature's wreck, through vanquish'^d agonies, 
 What gleams of joy ! What more than human peace \ 
 Where the frail mortal f the poor abject worm ? 
 No, not in death, the mortal to be found. 
 His conduct is a legacy for all f 
 His comforters he comforts; great in ruin, 
 With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields 
 His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. 
 
 • Gibbon's Miscel. Works, i. 279 > 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 1S5 
 
 " How our hearts burnt witliin us'* at the scene? The Aged. 
 Whence this brave bound, o'er limits fix'd to man? 
 His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
 His final hour brings glory to his God ! — 
 Christians, adore ! and infidels, believe ! 
 
 As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow^ 
 Detains the sun, illustrious from its height; 
 While rising vapours, and descending shades, 
 With damp^ and darkness drown the spacious vale t 
 Undampt by doubt, undarken'^d by despair, 
 Philander thus augustly rears his head, 
 NAt that black hour which general horror sheds 
 On the low level of th' inglorious throng. ^ 
 
 Sweet peace, and heavenly hope, and humble joy. 
 Divinely beam on his exalted soul ; 
 Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies ! 
 
 122. It is a vast error to suppose, that 
 vice, in its common and popular sense, ii^ 
 the onli/ moral evil which can disqualify u& 
 for the promises of religion. Vice is, indeed, 
 a mortal evil, and an insuperable disqualif,- - 
 cation so long as it continues, and is not 
 cast off and thoroughly purged out ; but 
 the mind and heart of man, oppressed by 
 its burthen, may conceive such inward ap- 
 prehensions of its misery and hatefulnes^ 
 
136 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged, as, by a Strong and resolute effort, to cast it 
 off, to loathe it, and to invest itself thence- 
 forth in a garb of purity and virtue. The 
 mind, receiving into itself such an inward 
 principle of renovation, may become, as it 
 were, entirely regenerated; and hold a serene 
 and steady hope of admission to those high 
 privileges through the mercy of God, and 
 the peculiar means by which He has been 
 pleased to administer that mercy. 
 ^ 123. But there is a more desperate evil, 
 
 which is, mental vice; a corrupt, inbred 
 pride ofmindy and principle of self'exaltation. 
 If this principle is suffered to establish 
 its full dominion, to grow with life, and to 
 become inveterate, neither the experience 
 nor the imagination of man can conceive a 
 process for correcting it. This is a prin- 
 ciple of essential hostility to the supremacy 
 of God, as vice is a principle of open rebel- 
 lion against His authority/. But he who 
 has long rebelled may become heart-smitten 
 and humbled, and may prostrate himself in 
 penitence; and then, his evil is instantly- 
 removed. But he who is *^ exalted above 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, IS7 
 
 *^ measure;'*'* who establishes in himself a Th«Aged. 
 sentiment of self-authority ; who contem- 
 plates, with a self-devotion, his own imagined 
 superiority of judgment; making his self 
 the ultimate object of his appeal; becomes 
 incapable of humiliation, and closes the 
 door of his reason and his heart against all 
 illumination through the channels of rf/rZ/ze 
 truth. And there is no prospect of his evil 
 being corrected, before he is called away to 
 THE GREAT TRIBUNAL to account for the > 
 
 exercise of his intellectual agency; and to 
 show, how far his time of trial has been em- 
 ployed in reducing his intellectual faculties 
 into a state of submissive allegiance, to ths 
 Master whom alone he was designed to 
 serve by them. If it be then found that no 
 sufficient progress has been made, in a course 
 of subjugating the willy and conforming the ♦ 
 mind to the sole and entire government of 
 God ; the agent must necessarily stand as 
 defective, as if he had engaged in any other 
 course of unrepented delinquency. The 
 mental vice, so cherished and confirmed, will 
 leave him as unprepared, and as inadequate 
 
158 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Thej^gcd. to the perfect agency then demanded of 
 him; as if he had lived in the unrestrained 
 indulgence of any other species of forbidden 
 gratification. 
 
 124. -And it is upon this distinction, so 
 easily apprehended by the reason, between 
 rebellion in act, that is vice, and rebellion in 
 principle, that is, infidelity and scepticism, 
 that OUR Lord, who alone could declare the 
 counsels of Heaven, pronounced ; that the 
 
 former, " the publicans and harlots, should 
 " go into the kingdom of Heaven before 
 " the latter.'' Not, indeed, rchile they con- 
 tinued such ; but that there was a far greater 
 facility for the abjectness and temerity of 
 vice to purge itself, and to fit itself for 
 Heaven, than for the arrogance and dis- 
 loyalty of infidelity to do the same thing. 
 
 125. This is that evil spirit which has so 
 variously laboured, throughout the last cen- 
 tury and in our own days, to rob us of the 
 consoling prospects of futurity confirmed to 
 us by the revelation of the GosPEh, ^' If it 
 '^ is an error," said Cicero, " no one shall 
 " rob me of it while I liveT What would 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 159 
 
 Cicero then have said of that modern host, The Aged. 
 usurping to themselves his proper desig- 
 nation of philosopher, who have laboured, 
 with a malignity beyond all example, to 
 rob mankind of a truthy which, even as a 
 possible error, appeared to him of a value 
 inappreciable? What he would have thought, 
 we may gather from the testimony of a 
 spirit congenial with his own, a tme philoso- 
 pher; who was able to carry into the twilight 
 of the Academy, the bright and piercing 
 illumination of the Gospel. 
 
 126. *^ Perhaps," said this excellent writer 
 forty years ago," our modern sceptics are igno- 
 '< rani that, without the belief of a God and 
 " the hope of immortality, the miseries of 
 *' human life would often be insupportable. 
 " But can I suppose them in a state of total 
 " stupidity, utter strangers to the human 
 " heart, and to human affairs? Surely 
 " they would not thank me for such a sup- 
 <^ position. Yet this 1 must suppose, or I 
 *^ must believe them to be 7nost perjidious 
 *^ and cruel men. 
 
 127. " Caressed by those who call them 
 
140 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. " sclves the great, engrossed by the for- 
 " malities and fopperies of life, intoxicated 
 " with vanity, pampered with adulation, 
 '^ dissipated in the tumult of business, or 
 *' amidst the vicissitudes of folly, they per- 
 " haps have little need, and little relish, for 
 " the consolations of RELIGION. Butletthem 
 " know, that, in the solitary scenes of life> 
 " there is many an honest and tender heart, 
 " pining with incurable anguish, pierced 
 *' with the sharpest sting of disappoint- 
 " ment, bereft of friends, chilled witb 
 *' poverty, racked with disease, scourged by 
 " the oppressor ; whom nothing but trust ia 
 " Providence, and the hope oj a future re- 
 " TRiBUTioN, could preserve from the ago- 
 " nies of despair, iind do they, with sacri- 
 '^ legions hands, attempt to violate this last 
 " refuge of the miserable; and to rob them 
 ^^ of the only comfort that had survived 
 ^^ the ravages of misfortune, malice, and 
 '^ tyranny ! Did it ever happen, that the 
 " influence of their execrable tenets dis- 
 *^ turbed the tranquillity of virtuous retire- 
 " menl, deepened the gloom of human dis- 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 141 
 
 *^ tress, or aggravated the horrors of the The Aged. 
 
 " grave ? Is it possible, that this may have 
 
 " happened in many instances? Is it pro- 
 
 ^^ bable, that this hath happened, or may 
 
 " happen, in ojie single iffstance? Yctrai- 
 
 ^' Tons TO HUMAN KIND, how can ye 
 
 *^ answer for it to your own hearts! — But 
 
 " I remonstrate in vain. Could I enforce 
 
 " the present topic by an appeal to your 
 
 " vanity y I might perhaps make some im- 
 
 '* pression : but to plead with you on the 
 
 *^ principles of benevolence or generosity y is 
 
 *^ to address you in a language ye do not, 
 
 '^ or will not, understand. 
 
 128. " But let not the lovers of truth be 
 *^ discouraged. — The fashion of sceptical 
 ^^ systems soon passeth azoay. Those unna- 
 " tural productions, the vile effusions of a 
 " hard heart, that mistakes its own rest- 
 *^ lessness for the activity of genius, and its 
 " own captiousness for the sagacity of un- 
 " derstanding, may, like other monsters, 
 " please a while by their singularity ; but 
 " the charm is soon over : and the succeed- 
 ^' ing age will be astonished to hear, that 
 
142 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Aged. ^^ their forefathers Were deluded, Or amused, 
 " with such fooleries. The measure of sgef^ 
 *^ TicisM seems indeed to be full^." 
 
 129. Thus this excellent, and almost pro- 
 phetical, writer. " The lovers of truth, 
 " therefore, need not to be discouraged,'* 
 for "God is true, and every rnan a liar^^ 
 Avho denies His truth; and, under the se- 
 .curity of that truth, we are graciously sup- 
 plied with a reason, a triumphant reason, 
 why, if zee please, we need not survey death 
 with any sentiment, either of terror or of 
 aversion. In the first place, the act of death 
 itself is nothing, for a real Christian to 
 sustain ; since he shall " never taste of 
 " death, hut shall instantly pass from death 
 " unto life:' 
 
 Why start at Death ? Where is he? Death arriv'd 
 Is gone ; not come or gone, he's never here. 
 Ere hope, sensation fails; black-boding man 
 'Receives^ not suffers, death's tremendous blow. 
 The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave, 
 The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm, 
 These are the bugbears of a winter's eve : 
 
 * Beattie on Truth. P.iii. c. 3. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 143 
 
 The terrors of the livings not the dead,-^ The Aged. 
 
 Man makes a death, which Nature never made; 
 Then, on the pomt of his own fancy falls, 
 And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 
 
 130. But the triumphant reason which I 
 have alleged, for not surveying death with 
 any sentiment either of aversion or terror, 
 is this : There are but two enjoyments of 
 this present life, which a zcise man would 
 desire to carry with him out of it; viz. tht 
 favour and friendship of God, and the com- 
 merce of dear and virtuous friends ; and we 
 have God's express assurance, that he shall 
 take both these with him. All other things, 
 which only make up the circumstances of 
 life, he would not wish to take with him ; 
 because he is thoroughly assured, that all 
 that is good in opulence, in honour, in know- 
 ledge, or in pleasure, will be supplied in an 
 incomparably better manner, in an incom- 
 parably better place. And he will easily 
 give credit to God's assurance, upon the 
 samples of those advantages witnessed here 
 below, that " the latter are not worthy to 
 
144 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 TiieAged. '^ be Compared with those which shall be 
 '^ revealed hereafter; and that the things 
 " which God has prepared for them who 
 " love Him/* (that is, who strive to please 
 Him, by endeavouring to bring their wills * 
 into a true conformity with his manifest- 
 ed WILL, in respect of every thing which 
 He designs us to know and to do ;) " are 
 *' really, as He has caused it to be pro- 
 " claimed, such as neither eye hath seen, 
 " nor the imagination of man ever yet con- 
 '* ceived." The prospect of an inheritance 
 in all these; together with the friendship of 
 God, and the company of pious friends ad- 
 vanced, with ourselves, to a state oi full 
 perfection; ought not only to divest death 
 of all its terrors, but even to transform it, 
 in our imaginations, into " an angel of 
 
 '' light:' 
 
 131. It was thus that the sublime and 
 pious mind of Milton contemplated it, in a 
 very early period of his life ; and so depict- 
 ed it, in his Latin verses written upon occa- 
 
 * See Preliminary Chapter, p. 13. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 14:> 
 
 sioii of the death of Nicholas Felton, The Aged. 
 Bishop of Ely, in the year 1626; a trans- 
 lation of which verses is here presented to 
 the English reader. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHpPOF ELY, 
 
 While yet my sad and pallid cheek 
 
 Was moist from many a tear. 
 That tender'd love, and anguish meek^ 
 
 Had shed o*er Wintok's * bier; 
 
 Fame, active messenger of grief, 
 Thro' Britain's land had told, 
 That thou, (in every virtue chief!) 
 Ely ! in death wast cold 
 
 My swelling breast, surcharg'd with woe, 
 
 Scarce found a vent for breath. 
 At length, when faltering words could flow, 
 
 I called a Curse on Death ! 
 
 But lo ! in accents heavenly sweet, 
 
 From some supernal sphere. 
 These solemn sounds, descending, greet 
 
 My wonder-smitten ear. 
 
 * Lancelot Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, who died 1626* 
 H 
 
I4G THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 tthe Aged. ^ O ! clieck thy grief, thy tears restrain, 
 
 " Unhallowed and unjust ! 
 " Nor dare, with murmur, to complain, 
 " In Infidel mistrust. 
 
 " Death is not what the poets sung, 
 *' The child of gloomy night ; 
 
 '* From Erebus, or Chaos, sprung : 
 " Alien, impiice^ from light. 
 
 " Death is a Seraph, sent in love 
 " From Heaven's high bliss by God, 
 
 " For souls to fill His courts above, 
 •* Freed from their earthly clod. 
 
 " Thither, disburthen'd ot ttieir ctay, 
 " In upward course they soar 
 
 " To regions of unending day, 
 ^' Where night is seen no more. 
 
 ^' There, in their Father's presence dwell : 
 " While impious sprites are driv'n 
 
 *< To Tartarus, and lowest Hell, 
 " Outcast from God and Heav'n. 
 
 ** With joy, with ecstasy, I heard 
 *^ Her life-inspiring call : 
 
 " Eager I hasted, nor deferred 
 " To quit your nether ball. 
 
^HE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEH 14( 
 
 " Borne by her winged ministers, The Aj^a* 
 
 ** In flight sublime I soar'd ; 
 " Dreadiess I traversed Scorpio's stars^ 
 
 " Nor fear*d Orion*s sword. 
 
 '^ Like him I mov'd, that seer divine^ 
 
 " Who, chariotted in fire, 
 '* Mounted above each starry sign, 
 
 " To heav'n*s eternal Sire. 
 
 ^ I pass*d the glories of the sun, 
 
 *' The planet's orbs ; and last, 
 (" My lower journey bravely doncj) 
 
 " The galaxy I pass'd. 
 
 *.' At length I reached the court of Heav*n, 
 
 " The Eternal's chrystal dome ; 
 ** Of glorious course, more glorious haven^» 
 
 ** And man's celestial home. 
 
 ** But how, to earth*clad man, relate 
 
 " The joys these scenes bestow? 
 " Enough : — I share this blest estate, 
 
 " And all its raptures know /" 
 
 1 3^. Let us not then be told any more, 
 that the abbreyiation of time necessarily 
 diminishes hope, by darkening the human 
 prospect ; unless, indeed, it be said as an 
 avowal of individual error and perverted 
 H 2 
 
148 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEB. 
 
 The Aged, reason, and then let us cherish that avowal 
 as a beacon to warn us from a gulf of deso- 
 lation, in which time, and hope, and light, 
 sink and perish together. 
 
 133. The circumstance of death, which 
 is naturally and necessarily to be supposed 
 in the termination of the dial, ought not, 
 therefore, to be viewed as an object of 
 dismay, or disgust, which the mind cannot 
 accustom itself to face, or beyond which it 
 cannot look ; since the wisest heathens, and 
 the best Christians, have been able to con- 
 template it as an object of their highest 
 regard. 
 
 134. A backwardness in age to reflect 
 upon its station in years, or to contemplate 
 the term which it sees to be near at hand, 
 is, in effect, a repining and murmuring 
 against the order established by Providence ; 
 the impiety of which was long ago pointed 
 out, and reprobated, by the natural piety 
 and true philosophy of Cicero. " I follow 
 '^ nature" said he, " that perfect guide, as 
 ^' God ; and as such I submit to her. For 
 '^ it is not likely that, when all the other 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. HQ 
 
 " acres of life are so well ordered and The Aged, 
 
 o 
 
 " drawn out, she should fail, like a bad 
 " poet, in the last Act. Something must of 
 " necessity be last ; and, like the fruits of 
 " trees, and seeds of the earth, wither and 
 '^ fall from fulness of maturity. To that 
 " law, a wise man will patiently submit ; 
 ** for, to revolt against nature, what is it, 
 *' but to war against the gods with the 
 " impiety of the giants! — Quid enim est 
 " aliud, gigantnm modo bellarc cum diiSy nisi 
 " fiaturcB repugnare^^* 
 
 13o. If the mind keeps pace with the 
 years, declension and decay will be objects 
 of its expectation; and it will naturally 
 grow into such an accordance with those 
 circumstances of its being, as to render the 
 thought of them devoid of all offence. 
 
 136. '* Our infancy y' said the aged and 
 experienced Bishop Hall, " is full of folly ; 
 ** youthy of disorder and toil; age, of in- 
 '' firmity. Each time hath his burden, and 
 " that which may justly work our weari- 
 ^' ness. Yet infancy longeth after youth;. 
 *' and youth, after more age : aad he that 
 
150 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 The /\ged. ^' is vcrj olcl, Qs he is a child for simplicit}-, 
 *' so he would be for years. I account old 
 " AGE the best of the three ; partly, for that 
 " it hath past through the folly and dis- 
 ^' order of the others ; partly, for that the 
 '^ inconveniences of this are but bodily, 
 " with a bettered estate of the mind; and 
 " partly, for that it is nearest to dissolution, 
 " There is nothing more miserable, than an 
 *' old man, who would be young again *." 
 
 137. But if these are, indeed, attractive 
 and glorious objects which the Bioscope 
 offers to our prospect as a comforter in 
 j4ge, it is indispensably necessary that, 
 
 Warned by the languor of life's evening ray, 
 
 jige should pay the utmost deference to its 
 admonition as a Monitor; by striving to 
 live, the small portion of time that remains, 
 in a state of constant qualification for ob» 
 tainingthem: which state of qualification, as 
 we have already seen, must consist in the con- 
 formity of our zmlls with the supreme will 
 manifested in the Gospel. That admoni- 
 
 ♦ Bishop Hall's Works, Vol. T, p, 48, 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXTLAINE©. ^^i i 
 
 tioii is founded upon the sensible demon- ti»<a-<« 
 stration that the proportion of time which 
 now remains is small; and upon the self- 
 evident truth, that there is no way in which 
 we can pass that time that will answer so 
 well, or aftbrd us so large a return of enjoy* 
 ment, as in using every particle of it 
 with the most scrupulous economy : " walk- 
 " ing henceforth circumspectly, not as fools, 
 *' but as wise; for the purpose oi redeeming 
 « the time:' 
 
 '[SS. What has been said of age, zdthin Kxtrme 
 the average measure of seventy years, ^^'^js^- 
 holds with still stronger force, should that 
 age be extended beyond the average; or, 
 in the proper sense of the term, become 
 superannuated : that is to say, live into^^ear* 
 over and above the common calculation. In 
 that state, of proper super- annuationy when 
 it is obliged every day to exclaim with the 
 poet : 
 
 I scarce can meet a monument, but holds 
 My younger /...... 
 
 every year ought to be a matter of sur- ^ 
 
 prise, rather than of exultation. For we 
 
152 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 ofdTe. ^^^ never count it till it is gone, and there- 
 fore we have it not in possession, but have 
 lost it, as soon as we are able to number 
 it; and the prospect of another year, is 
 always more and more improbable. 
 
 139. In what manner we ought to regard 
 that term of excess, we may learn from the 
 example of a wise and aged heathen. *' The 
 " great and learned Varro," as we are in- 
 formed by Pliny, " was a singular instance 
 '' of the vigour and powers of life; retain- 
 '^ ing all his mental and bodily faculties 
 *^ unimpaired, until the advanced age of 
 " eighty-eight." Yet when be wrote his 
 celebrated treatise Upon Agriculture, at the 
 age of eighty, how did he account the pri- 
 vilege which be then possessed ? '^ Had I 
 *' leisure," said he, in his prefatory address, 
 '* I should send you this work in a more 
 *' commodious form : which, however, I will 
 *^ still endeavour to do, as well as I am 
 " able: but I am seusible, that I must now 
 *^ make haste ; for if, as they saj^, man is 
 
 1^ ^' but a bubble, how much more so an Old 
 
 " Man ! For my eightieth year now adrno-* 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. ^^* 
 
 " nishes me, that I must gather up my ^"IdA^^. 
 
 " bundles before I depart out of life. Otium 
 
 *' si essem consecuturus, Fundania, commO' 
 
 *' dius tihi hoc scriberem ; qute nunc, utjpoterOf 
 
 *' exponam, cogitans esse properandum. Quod' 
 
 *' ut dicitur, si est homo bulla, eo magis 
 
 '* SEN EX. Annus enim octogesimns admonet 
 
 " me, ut sarcinas coUigam antequam proficis^ 
 
 " car e vita,'' 
 
 140. Surelj^ this is a period when we 
 ought in reason, not merely to contemplate, 
 but to live in the constant anticipation of, 
 that ETERNITY which we behold so near us, 
 
 A good man and an angel ! these between 
 How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate ? 
 Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year. 
 
 If this be true of every stage of life, as it is 
 applied by the poet ; how lively, is its truth, 
 when applied to every year, and every day 5^ 
 after the average measure of life is con- 
 sumed ? When Lord Russel rose on the 
 morning of his execution, it is Telated of 
 him ; that he wound up his watch, and then 
 said : *' I have now done with Time, 1 must . 
 H 5 
 
154 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEH. 
 
 Extreme '^ hencefoi'ih think solely oi Eternity !'^ and 
 such should be the reasoning of all who 
 see their Bioscope concluded, and its functions 
 ended. In the same manner they also should 
 dispose their minds for that near moment^ 
 Vfhen their altehed being shall suddenly 
 and presently convince them, that 
 
 Time was; Eternity kow reigns alone ! 
 
 141. It is in old age, however, and espe- 
 cially in extreme old age, that the office of 
 Remembrancer exercises its severest duty. 
 Its power is mitigated, in proportion as the 
 prospective measure of life offers space and 
 probable opportunity for the redemption of 
 time; by a wise and provident employment 
 of that which maj'' remain. But neither 
 time nor anything else, can be redeemed 
 by man out of nothing. Here then, when 
 time touches at its end, the scene may be- 
 come dreary and dark ; and even desperate, 
 if the care of time has been neglected until 
 that extreme crisis. " The abbreviation of 
 *' time might then, indeed, so extinguish 
 ** hope, as to induce a quality of the black- 
 
«{ 
 
 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINE1>. 15 
 
 est tinge over the evening and twilight of q^^^]^^ 
 life," and leave only, " a fearful looking 
 *^ for judgment ;" were it not that there is a 
 REDEEMER,still available even in that dread- 
 ful crisis, who may yet be resorted to, even 
 when a man shall be assailed with the 
 dreadful conviction, that he himself can 
 no longer make any redemption of his wast- 
 ed time. That Redeemer, as He is omni- 
 potent, so is he mercifully disposed to 
 receive and succour us even in the ex- 
 tremest cases that can be imagined; pro- 
 vided HE be dull/ addressed, and as duly 
 used, as soon as that conviction has taken 
 full possession of the mind. 
 
 142. It is, indeed, when " z(^e have no- 
 " thing to pay*' that that all-gracious Re- 
 deemer may be prevailed upon to obtain for 
 us " the remission of the whole,** When the 
 graduated scale marks out to our view, the 
 terrible truth of the exhausture of our stock of 
 time; it may compel us to remember, that 
 we have still that divine resource left us for 
 redeeming our wasted time; and therefore, 
 to reject despair. And would not this be an 
 
"'^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINEP. 
 
 oki^A^e. office of CoMFOHTEii? If the mind once 
 conceives a sliarp and penetrating convic- 
 tion, of the absolute necessity of such a 
 redeefning power; together with an ardent 
 and impatient anxiety to obtain its succour, 
 and to bend with humiliation and self- 
 abasement to all its conditions ; whatever 
 be its station on this side of eternity, that 
 mind may yet draw breath and calm its ' 
 terrors. Irifimte justice, having already ac- 
 cepted AN ATONEMENT extending to all 
 cases ; infinite mercy, melts at the miserable, 
 insolvent condition of the humbled appli- 
 cant. " Mans necessity ^'^ observes the pious 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon, " is God's opporiu- 
 7uty ;^ whether, therefore, he has sought 
 the service of his Lord in the noon, or the 
 evening, of his day, still he may hope to ob- 
 tain His commiseration and kindness; pro- 
 vided he has sought it with a penitent and 
 perfect allegiance, the moment he was 
 thoroughly convinced of his guilt, his misery, 
 and his insolvency. Then may he become 
 so blest as to be able truly to say, in the 
 words given to the humbled Wolsey; "I 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 15" 
 
 '^ know myself now; and I feel within me Sf!^^,"»® 
 
 •^ ' Old Age. 
 
 ^* a peace above all earthly dignities, a still 
 '^ and quiet conscience'' 
 
 143. It is excellently observed by a great 
 Christian moralist; that under every possible 
 moral circumstance of man, whether in youth 
 or in age, there always exists a direct and 
 immediate course, by which every man, 
 conscious of his delinquencies, and oppres- 
 sed by the remembrance of them, may re- 
 turn at once to his God. What Archdea- 
 con Paley says of the sinner, we may say 
 of extreme age under such a calamity. 
 " The sinner," says he, " may return and 
 " fly to God, even because the world is 
 " against him." And so old age, if it then 
 first receive a thorough conviction of its 
 dangers, may fly to God, even because time 
 is against it. " The thing wanted," says 
 the same excellent divine, " as the quicken* 
 <^ ifig principle, the seed and germ of religion 
 *' in the heart, is compunction, convince 
 " ment of sin, of danger, of the necessity of 
 " flying to A EedeemeB; and to his reli- 
 
loH THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 oki a""^ ^^ gi<^"> *^^ good earnest *." If that genuine 
 seed be once lodged and quickened in the 
 heart, God's omnipotence can call it to 
 growth and perfection, by the special ope- 
 ration of His mercy and His providence. 
 
 144. Dr. Johnson relates the account of 
 a person, whose life had been notoriously 
 corrupt; and who, being thrown from his 
 horse in a fall which caused his instant 
 death, yet uttered in the moment of his 
 fall the ejaculation, ^^OGod!" with so 
 extraordinary and penetrating an earnest- 
 ness, as to give occasion to the following 
 lines : 
 
 Between the stirrup and the ground, 
 I mercy ask'd, I mercy found ! 
 
 This representation does not exaggerate the 
 conduct of the divine clemency; as the re- 
 pentant thief upon the cross, triumphantly 
 and eternally demonstrates. 
 
 145. At the same time we must, above 
 all things, guard against every delusion, iu 
 
 * Paley, Sermon xii. 
 
r«E BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. lo{ 
 
 Applying that gracious attribute to our own Extreme 
 particular case; since Goi) ''is not mock- 
 " edj^ and will assuredly only exercise it in 
 our favour, where the heart is thoroughly- 
 sincere. There cannot be a more certain 
 expedient, for depriving ourselves irretriev- 
 ably of all share in that clemency, than by 
 a systematic, contumacious, and calculated 
 postponement of our application for it, until 
 we think that we can do without it no 
 longer. " Then shall they call upon me, 
 " saith the Lord, but I will not hear; they 
 " shall seek me early, but they shall not 
 " find ME ; and that, because they hated 
 " knowledge, and received not the fear of 
 ^' the Lord ; but abhorred my counsel, and 
 " despised my instruction. Then shall it 
 " be too late to knock, when the door shall 
 " be shut; and too late to cry for mercy y 
 " when it is the time of justice. O terrible 
 *^ voice of most just judgment, which shall 
 '* be said unto them ; Go, ye cursed, into 
 '^ the fire everlasting, which is prepared for 
 " the devil and his angels ! Therefore, take 
 ^' WE heed betime, while the day of salva- 
 
160 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Extreme " tion lastcth : for the niffht cometh, when 
 
 OldAge, ' ^ . 
 
 " none can work : but let us, while we 
 " have the light, believe in the light, and 
 " walk as children of the light; that we 
 " be not cast into utter darkness, where 
 ^' shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
 " Let us not abuse the goodness of God, 
 *' who calleth us mercifully to amendment; 
 ^^ and, of His endless pit}^, promiseth us 
 *' forgiveness of that which is past, if with 
 *' a perfect and true heart we return unto 
 " Him*!" 
 Biosil^^r^^* 146. We have now travelled, in a general 
 manner, through all the ages of thjl jhal; 
 and have even carried our view into that 
 age, which may possibly exceed them all. 
 From the sum of the reflections which have 
 been called forth in our progress, k must 
 now be apparent; that the Bioscope, duly 
 and habitually observed, is excellently cal- 
 culated to keep our minds in a state of 
 continual accord, with the successive stages 
 
 * See the admirable exhortation, in the Ccmmination 5«r- 
 vice of our Church. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. l6l 
 
 and circumstances of our journey in time, ^fj;;!^^^^/^* 
 with our actual and current year, with the 
 character of our age, and with its constantly 
 varying relation to the opposite extremes of 
 life. The result of which accord will ne- 
 cessarily be, an orderly and harmonious 
 correspondence between our mind and our 
 time. Youth will not look forward with 
 precipitation, nor age with reluctance. We 
 shall live with our year, think with our year, 
 and move on with our year. We shall always 
 be found at our true place, in time; neither 
 forestalling stations which are to come, nor 
 hanging back upon those which are gone. 
 Our proper place, will be the most congenial 
 to the temper of our minds; which will 
 become so harmoniously adapted to each 
 succeeding year, that no irksomeness, regret, 
 or distress, will accompany the conscious- 
 ness of our approximation to the end. 
 And thus, the due proportion and balance will 
 be established, and invariably preserved, ie- 
 tzoeen our thoughts and our years : which 
 was the object we first intended. And that 
 great object being gained, we shall be able 
 
162 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Resuitof the to cliiect it to the use for which alone it was 
 
 Bioscope. 
 
 pursued; namely, the best exercise of the 
 preparatory course of discipline under which 
 we are now subsisting, in order to the aS' 
 sumption of a perfect agency in the per- 
 fected UNIVERSE, whenever the time ar- 
 rives that our sovereign master shall call 
 upon us for that service. 
 
 147. A followed attention to the Bios- 
 cope, will moreover contribute to advance us 
 very far in that momentous article of know- 
 ledge, which the best and wisest of men 
 have ever regarded as one of the most im- 
 portant: the KNOWLEDGE OF OURSELVES. 
 
 For, by always knowing what we are with 
 respect to time, we shall know what we are 
 with respect of every thing that depends 
 upon time; the principal of which are, the 
 duties and services for which an allot- 
 ment of time is made to us. And, seemg 
 that the general average of that allotment 
 is SEVENTY years; Seeing that it may be 
 much less, but cannot be nuch more; and 
 that its utmost possible extent is as nothing, 
 in comparison with durations which the 
 
THK BIOSCOPE EXPLAINRD. 163 
 
 / 
 
 mind is able lo contemplate and forecast: Resnitonhe 
 
 *- ^ ' Bioscupe. 
 
 we shall acquire, both an interested and 
 fixed desij'e, to preserve our mental being in 
 a state of constant equality with the point 
 of time at which we stand; and also, a lu- 
 minous certainty, whether we really do so 
 or not. Thus, we shall be enabled to give 
 to our moral agency all the security which 
 it can obtain in this present state; and 
 calmly to expect that ultimate advancement ^ 
 in which it will receive \t% full perfection, 
 from the hand of God himself. Which 
 is the final purpose, for which we are made 
 members of this stupendous universe. 
 
 148. Now, in order to derive all these 
 vast acquirements from the use of the 
 Bioscope, very little is required to be 
 done; and certainly, no great science was 
 ever attained with so little labour or prepa- 
 ratory instruction. All that is requisite, is 
 an inclination to adopt it; and that inclina- 
 tion alone, will ensure proficiency. A re- 
 gular, habitual, and continued inspection 
 and meditation of the dial, in periods of pri- 
 vacy and serious retirement ; when the mind 
 
164 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 Bfsuitofthc Is relieved from the importunities of the 
 
 BioBcope- * 
 
 world and of life, and disposed to feel its 
 own powers in the exercise of wisdom ; will 
 open to us all its mysteries. Our floating 
 reflections, will lodge and establish them- 
 selves upon the scale; and it is no rash 
 prediction to afSrm, that whoever has 
 persevered for any time in the practice 
 of that inspection, and has experienced 
 the aid of its memorial, will contract a 
 friendship for the instrument which will 
 jiot be broken. 
 
 149. For which reason, it is offered as a 
 constant companion for the study or the 
 closet; where if it be admitted, let it be 
 frequently if not daily inspected ; especially 
 in one or other of those early and late pe- 
 riods of the day, which, it is to be supposed, 
 every wise and good man directs his thoughts 
 and aspirations to the Author of his Being, 
 of his Time, and of his Salvation. Whatever 
 may be the momentary effect received from 
 an hasty and superficial view of the scale, it 
 is only the permanent impression that can 
 produce the blessed consequences which 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 166 
 
 are ascribed to its operation. That perma- Jesnitofthe 
 
 *■ * Bioscope. 
 
 nent impression, can only be formed by 
 habit; by which the first impressions will 
 be repeated and enforced, initil they finally 
 become indurated, and indelible. 
 
 150. And as the mind ought to apply ourBhtii. 
 itself, even daily to inspect the dial, so it 
 ought, with particular attention and serious- 
 ness, to meet the day upon which it is to 
 
 be annually rectified; when we are to re- 
 move tlie INDEX from the point at which it 
 will have rested for one entire year, and to 
 advance it to the next degree, in evidence 
 that another year is gone, and is absorbed 
 into the general gulf of ages. 
 
 151. Not to reflect upon our Birtluday 
 with sentiments of seriousness, is an evidence 
 of some great deficiency in sense, or in 
 religion. Wise and pious persons cannot 
 let it pass them without suitable reflections. 
 Thus, we find one dating a letter on his se- 
 ventieth birth-day; *^ JVly Birth-day: midtos 
 ^^ etfetices — many and happy, says the world 
 " — :/^r<y and evil, says the Patriarch,'* And 
 the following are the meditations of our 
 
166 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED, 
 
 Our Birth- owH great Christian moralist, upon a simi* 
 
 lar occasion. " The 18th of September is 
 
 " my birth-daj. The return of my birth- 
 
 '^ day, if I remember it, fills me with 
 
 '' thoughts which it seems the general care 
 
 " of humanity to escape. I can now look 
 
 " back upon threescore and four years, in 
 
 '^ which little has been done, and little has 
 
 *' been enjoyed ; a life diversified by mi- 
 
 " sery, spent part in sluggishness of penury, 
 
 *^ and part under the violence of pain, in 
 
 " gloomy discontent or importunate dis- 
 
 " tress. But perhaps I am better than I 
 
 " should have been, if I had been less 
 
 *' afflicted. With this I will try to be con- 
 
 " tent. In proportion as there is less plea* 
 
 " sure in retrospective considerations, the 
 
 " mind is more disposed to wander forward 
 
 *' into futurity; but at sixty-four, what 
 
 *' promises, however liberal, of imaginary 
 
 " good can futurity venture to make ? Yet 
 
 " something will be always promised, and 
 
 " some promises will be always credited. 
 
 " I am hoping and I am praying that I 
 
 *V may live better in th« time to come, 
 
TItE B^IOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 107 
 
 " whether Ions: or short, than I have vet on^ Birth. 
 
 ^ '^ day. 
 
 '^ lived, and in the solace of that hope en- 
 *^ deavour to repose*.'* 
 
 152. Bishop Taylor, in his rules for the 
 improvement of time, prescribes the fol- 
 lowing one: *^ Let him that is most busied, 
 " set apart some solemn time every year^ 
 " in which, for the time, quitting all v*rorldIy 
 " business, he may attend wholly upon Gon ; 
 ^' that he may make up his accounts, renew 
 *' his vows, make amends for his careless- 
 " ness, and retire back again from whence 
 " levity, and the vanities of the world, or 
 " the opportunity of temptations, or the 
 " distraction of secular affairs, have carried 
 ^ him." And what time can point itself 
 out so fit for this wise and necessary exer- 
 cise, as the day which is the new-year's 
 DAY of each individual's life; namel}^ the 
 anniversary of his, or her, birth i As this 
 exercise is only designed for the retirement 
 of the closet, it need not interfere with, or 
 iinpair any part of that cheerfulness, which 
 
 ♦ Dr. JohnsoB to Mrs. Thralc, 21 Sept. 1773. 
 
163 THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAlxNED. 
 
 Oar Birth- gratitudc to Heavcn, and the liveliness of 
 
 day. 
 
 affection, may call forth in celebration of 
 the day. The mind never experiences so 
 high a relish in cheerfulness, as when it has 
 answered and complied with the claims of 
 seriousness; nor is any joy that the soul 
 can aspire to taste comparable to that, 
 which receives its savour from religious 
 wisdom. 
 
 153. The pious Bishop of Man has left 
 us a form of prayer for 'New-Years Day; 
 but, whether it is best adapted to the first 
 day of January or to the fast day of every 
 mari*s own New-Year, can hardly become a 
 question, 
 
 PRAYER, 
 
 " Blessed be God, who has brought me 
 ^' safe to the beginning of another year ! 
 " Blessed be God, that I am of the num- 
 '^^ ber of those who have time and space for 
 " repentance given them ! My God, make 
 " me truly sensible of this mercy, and give 
 " me grace to consider often how short and 
 *^ how uncertain my time is; that there is 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. IGQ 
 
 '^ one !year more oi a short life passed over Jay*".^""^* 
 
 '* my head ; and that I am so much nearer 
 
 " ETERNITY. That I may in good earnest 
 
 " think of another life, and be so prepared 
 
 " for it, as that death may not overtake 
 
 " me unawares. 
 
 " Lord! pardon all my mispent time; 
 '^ and make me more diligent and careful 
 " to redeem it for the time to come ; that 
 " when I come to the end of my days, I may 
 " look back with comfort on the days that 
 " are past. Grant that I may begin this 
 " NeW'Year with new resolutions of serving 
 " thee more faithfully ! and if, through in- 
 " firmity or negligence, I forget these good 
 " purposes, awaken Thou in me a sense of 
 ^' my danger! — Make me wise unto $al- 
 " vation ; that I may consider in this my 
 " day the things that belong unto my peace ; 
 " and that [ may pass this, and all the years 
 " I have yet to live, in the comfortable 
 " hope of a blessed eternity, for the Lord 
 " Jesus' sake. Amen!*'' 
 
 * Bishop Wilson's " Sacra Prtrafj." 
 I 
 
17^ THE BIOSCOPE EXPX^AINED. 
 
 day. "^'*' 154, Lastly, when the dial is once set, 
 let the face of it remain continually upon the 
 fnind. By that means, we shall possess a 
 clear and intelligible idea what our age is* 
 To note age by the number of the year 
 alone f without reference to the tz^o terms of 
 life, is only deceiving the understanding. 
 When we say that we are fftyf or sixty, if 
 we receive any other idea than mere num- 
 ber, we shall find, that it is most commonly 
 a comparison of our age with the ages of 
 others, who are either younger or older than 
 ourselves. Now, it is of no consequence to 
 compare our age with that oi others, but only 
 of ourselves ; and we can only compare our 
 age with the age of ourselves, by comparing 
 it with the ages which we have already 
 lived, and with the extreme average of time 
 to which it is probable we may advance. 
 And that comparison will be brought at 
 once before the mind, by recollecting the 
 face of the dial as we last parted from it; in 
 which recollection, all the necessary rela- 
 tions and combinations will immediately 
 reveal themselves. 
 
THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 171 
 
 155. And now, to conclude: If any one our Birth- 
 should ask: — " Has the author himself 
 ^* acquired all that wisdom, all that excel- 
 *' lence of practical prudence, which he is 
 ^^ so forward to propose for the acquire- 
 " ment of others?" I thus shortly reply: 
 That he is far, very far, from pretensions so 
 presumptuous and so preposterous ; on the 
 contrary, he feels himself far in arrear of 
 that point, to which he is desirous that he 
 himself, and all others, should attain. But, 
 an hungry man who has found a feast, may 
 as well share it with those who are as needy 
 as himself, while he is feeding, as when he 
 is full; and he who has fallen upon the 
 elements of an useful art, will do better to 
 invite companions to his studies, than wait 
 for the proficiency of a master to which it is 
 possible he never may attain. 
 
 THE END OF THE BIOSCOPE EXPLAINED. 
 
 J 2 
 
«IR WILLIAM JONES'S ANDROMETER. 
 
 (See Page 115 J 
 
 S I 6 f 9 , 12 
 
 Ideas received threiigh the Senses. 
 
 Speaking and Pronunciation. 
 -Letters and Spelling. 
 "Ideas retained in the Memory. 
 -Reading and Repeatinsf. 
 -Grammar of his own Language. 
 -Memory exercised. 
 -Moral and Religious Lessons. 
 -Natural History and Experiments. 
 -Dancing, Music, Drawing, Exercises. 
 -History of his own Country. 
 -Latin. 
 -Greek. 
 
 -French and Italian. 
 -Translations. 
 
 -Compositions in Verse and Trose. 
 -Rhetoric and Declamation. 
 -History and Law. 
 
 Logic and Mathematics. 
 -Rhetorical Exercises, 
 
 Philosophy and Politics. 
 -Compositions in his own Language. 
 -Declamations continued. 
 •-Ancient Orators studied. 
 "Travel and Conversation. 
 
 Speeches at the Bar, or in Parliament. 
 -State Affairs, 
 -Historical Studies continued. 
 
 Law and Eloquence. 
 -Public Life. 
 
 -Private and Social Virtues, 
 -Habits of Eloquence improved. 
 -Philosophy resumed at leisure. 
 -Orations published. 
 -Exertions in State and Parliament. 
 
173 
 
 -Civil Knowledge matuift. 
 -Eloquence perfect. 
 -National Rights defended. 
 
 ■The Learned protected. 
 •The Virtuous assisted. 
 
 Compositions published. 
 
 •Science improved. 
 
 Pariianicntaiy Affairs. 
 -Laws enacted, and supported. 
 
 Fine Arts patronized. 
 -Government of his Family. 
 -Education of his Children. 
 -Vigilance as a Magistrate. 
 -Firmness as a Patriot. 
 -Virtue as a Citizen. 
 
 ■Historical Works. 
 
 ■Oratorical Works. 
 -Philosophical Works. 
 
 -Political Works. 
 
 .-Mathematical Works. 
 
 «0 
 
 65 
 
 70 
 
 Continuation of former Pursuits. 
 
 -Fruits of his Labour enjoyed. 
 
 A glorious Retirement. 
 -An amiable Family. 
 
 Universal Respect. 
 
 Consciousness of a Virtuous Life. 
 
 I 
 
 Perfection of Earthly Happiness* 
 
 -Preparation for ETERNITY. 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 THE 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 OF 
 
 PAULINOS, BISHOP OF NOLA, 
 
 TO 
 
 CELANTIA. 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 It seemed desirable, that the foregoing reflections 
 upon the Bioscope should be accompanied by some 
 ruh of practical instruction, exhibiting that mani- 
 fested WILL, to which it is our great concern to 
 endeavour to conform our own wills during our pre- 
 sent allotment of life*, I have therefore made choice 
 of the following summary of that Will ; which, as 
 far as I have been able to discover, has never 
 before appeared in an English translation. It 
 is, the Epistle of Paulinus, Bishop of Nola in 
 Italy, about the year 400, to Celantia, a Roman 
 lady of fashion, rank, and opulence; in reply to 
 various letters, wherein she had earnestly solicited 
 
 * See Preliminary Chapter, p. 13. 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 him to draw out for her some short and distinct 
 Rule of Christian Life, which she might 
 always have at hand, to govern her conversation 
 with the world. In this valuable breviary of 
 Christian excellence, the reader will behold what 
 primitive Christianity was ; before superstition, 
 priestcraft, and a reviving passion for sensual 
 worship, had begun to obscure and deface the 
 Christian church. 
 
 The age of Paulinus was still that age, which, 
 (to use the words of the Abbe du Frcsnoy,) " was 
 " the most brilliant of Christianity; in which 
 ** Christians were only distinguished by the live- 
 " liness of their faith, and by the exemplary sira- 
 " plicity of their manners. It was not philosophy 
 " that inspired their virtues ; the generality of 
 " the first Christians were nothing less than phi- 
 " losophers, they were persons of the world, who 
 ** were touched by divine grace, and who 6ur- 
 " rendered themselves wholly to the maxims of 
 " the Gospel. Ignorant of, or contemning, the 
 
rNTKODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 ** doctrines of Plato and Pythagoras, which only 
 " flattered the genius and the imagination, they 
 " gave up their hearts to the rules which were 
 " prescribed by the Apostles, or by their suc- 
 " CESSORS. — Ce sont la les terns les plus brillans 
 " du Christianisme; les £deles ne se distinguant 
 " que par une foi vive, et par une admirable sim- 
 " plicite de raoeurs. — Ce n'est point la philosophic 
 " qui leur inspire cette droiture de sentiment. 
 " Les premiers Chretiens ri'etoient rien moins que 
 " philosophes; c*etoient deS gens du monde que 
 " la grace touchoit, et qui s'abbandonoient aux 
 " seules maximes de FEvangiie. Ignorant ou me- 
 " prisant la doctrine de Platon, et de Pythagore, 
 " qui ne flattoit que Tesprit et Timagination ; les 
 " premiers Chretiens se livroient interieurement 
 " aux regies, que leur prescrivoient les apotres, 
 *' ou leurs successeurs." 
 
 Pontius Paulinus, of Roman origin, and of a 
 patrician and consular family established near Bur- 
 digala, (BourdeauXj) in Gaul, was born A. D. 353^ 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 lie received his education from the Roman 
 poet Ausonius; under whom he made an extra- 
 ordinary progress in poetry and rhetoric^ Many 
 affectionate letters of the teacher to his pupil still 
 survive. When Ausonius was called by the Em- 
 peror Valentinian to direct the education of his 
 son Gratian, Paulinus quitted Burdigala, and pro- 
 ceeded to Rome ; where he so highly distinguished 
 himself by his pleadings at the bar, that, in the 
 year 375, he was raised to the consular dignity ; 
 having been already invested with the senatorial, 
 and being beloved by all the city. In the follow- 
 ing year, he commenced his travels through the 
 western provinces of the empire; in the course of 
 which he contracted friendships, with St. Martin, 
 St. Ambrose, and other eminent Christians of that 
 age. About fifteen years afterwards, namely, in 
 the year 391, he was baptized by Delphinus, 
 Bishop of Burdigala; and having made large 
 donations to the poor, he went a second time 
 into Spain, and establishing himself at Barcino, 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 (Barcelona,) he there formed the plan of a more 
 rigid and retired course of life ; although fre- 
 quently and urgently pressed, by Ausonius and 
 others, to resume his former relations with the 
 world. Upon Christmas day, A. D. 3p3, he re- 
 ceived ordination to the priesthood, from Eulam- 
 pius, Bishop of Barcino, to which office he was 
 almost compelled by the people; and, from that 
 time, he began to be distinguished as an ecclesiastic. 
 He w«s afterwards consecrated Bishop of Nola; 
 but in what year does not certainly appear. In 
 the year 410, when Nola was taken and ravaged 
 by the Goths, fearful of being exposed to the 
 insults and cruelties of those barbarians in their 
 search for his treasures, he poured forth this 
 ejaculatory prayer : " Let me not be tormented for 
 ** gold and silver; for thou, Lord ! knowest w^ere 
 " all my treasures are ! — Ne excrucier propter 
 " aurum et argentum : ubi omnia mea sutit, lu 
 " scis /" This holy prelate, and converted heathen, 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 died in the year of our Lord 431, and in the 78th 
 of his age. By his wife Therasia, the constant 
 companion no less of his recluse than of his 
 secular life, he had only one child, who died a few 
 days after it was born. 
 
 He was a man of exalted piety; bountiful to 
 the needy ; gentle and courteous to all men ; and 
 of such eminence in learnings as to have been 
 celebrated by the most distinguished writers of his 
 age. He is entitled by Erasmus, in his« intro- 
 duction to this Epistle, the Christian Cicero; a 
 designation which has been also given to Lactan- 
 lius. " If," says St. Jerom to him, in one of his 
 Epistles, " you would undertake to teach the 
 " sacred writings; and, if I may so speak, to let 
 " the Scriptures be delivered through your hands ; 
 *' we should possess something, that the learning of 
 " Greece could not equal." — " If," says the same 
 learned Father)^ on another occasion, " you would 
 " revise, and put a last hand to your work; we 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS, 
 
 " shall have nothing more beautiful, more learned, 
 *' more delightful, or more perfect in the Latin 
 " tongue, than your volumes*." 
 
 So great wsls the name and authority of Pau- 
 linus in the early church, that the church of 
 Rome in the following ages endeavoured to sup- 
 port its growing corruptions, by attaching upon 
 him, as upon others of his great contemporaries, 
 many of the superstitions with which it was then 
 debasing the Christian mind. Hence, the accounts 
 of his life are fraught with many of the most 
 absurd fictions, which a discriminating judgment 
 can easily perceive to belong to an age much 
 posterior to that of Paulinus. Thus, they relate, 
 that he sold himself for a slave into Africa, iii 
 order to purchase the redemption of a captive* 
 Upon which tale, the editors oi Moreri*s Dictionary 
 justly observe : " This fact totally disagrees with 
 " the circumstances of the times, and with the 
 
 * Cavers Historia literaria. Tom. I, 
 
184 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 ^\\i(e of Paulinas ; and is, plainly, altogether 
 ^' fabulous." Mr. Gibbon, with his usual preju- 
 dice, has drawn the character of Paulinus entirely 
 from those spurious sources ; and, evidently, with- 
 out taking the pains to consult any genuine 
 monument of that exemplary prelate. But it was 
 sufficient for Mr Gibbon, that whereas Paulinus 
 was originally an heathen, he afterwards openly 
 embraced, and publicly taught, the Christian faith. 
 He therefore presumes to conclude his account of 
 that holy Father, in these words : " The remains 
 " of his fortune, and of his understanding, were 
 " dedicated to the service of the glorious martyr 
 " St. Foelix*.'* The reader, when he has perused 
 the following Epistle, will be competent to judge 
 of the iniquity and falsehood of that assertion. 
 
 The Epistle, of which a translation is here sub- 
 joined, is to be found among the collection of 
 St. ^^com's Epistles, to whom formerly it was 
 
 * Hist. Bom. Emp. c. Ixiii. 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 erroneously ascribed. The edition from which this 
 translation was made, was printed at Paris, in 
 1602. Upon comparing it with Erasmus's edition, 
 it appeared, that a final passage had been sup- 
 pressed by the French editor. Of that passage 
 the conclusion is here added; yet a part, relating 
 to a growing superstition of that age, and wholly 
 irrelative to the opinions and manners of the pre- 
 sent times, is omitted in the translation. 
 
 Although this document is addressed to a female 
 personage, the instruction which it conveys is 
 common to both sexes; being the sum of the 
 Divine Law, promulgated equally to all. It is, 
 therefore, not a partial but an universal rule. Yet 
 its address to a female, may be made the occasion 
 of the best and most extensive effects. Strabo 
 remarked, " that women have always been regarded 
 " as the great promoters of religious worship; 
 ** that it was they that chiefly persuaded men to 
 ** frequent sacrifices, festivals, and oflices of sup- 
 " plication ; and that it is contrary to the common 
 
186 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIOM S. 
 
 " opinion of mankind io suppose, that men who 
 " seclude themselves from the society of women 
 " can be religiously disposed*/* Let them exult 
 in this heathen testimony ; which regards a truth, 
 founded in the most valuable principles of their 
 nature. If they are prone, in a state of ignorance, 
 to embrace the shadow of religion, they are not 
 less prone, in a state of illumination, to embrace its 
 substance ; and their influence remains the same* 
 That propensity proceeds, from a sense of the sub^ 
 ordination of their sex, joined to a conviction of 
 their dependance upon something more excellent^ 
 and tnore exalted than man. The precedency and 
 glaring imperfections of our sex, send up their 
 minds, in secret and humble supplication, to the 
 throne of supremacy and perfection. Nothing can 
 be conceived more lovely, than the right operation 
 of those two sentiments : the one moves our ten- 
 derness, the other our admiration and awe. On 
 
 * Strabo, 1. iv. p. 206* 
 
INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 the other hand, nothing can bo imagined moro 
 hateful than a female mind which shall have re- 
 nounced those sentiments : the poet has said, " an 
 " undevout astronomer is wac?," with equal truth we 
 may affirm, that such a female mind would be the 
 nearest approximation to ajiend. 
 
 Great, and justly great, is the influence which 
 female virtues possess over the heart of man. 
 Formed, by God's goodness, to be " an help meet 
 *' for^ or suited to, his nature/' it is the province of 
 woman to soften his feelings, and to refine his 
 manners. The same gentle influence which drew 
 heathen men to the altars of paganism, is still 
 mighty to draw Christian men to the sanctuary of 
 the Gospel. And so it was regarded by the apostles 
 themselves; who did not scruple to apply to that 
 influence, for subduing the perversity and obduracy 
 of men. " Ye wives V says St. Peter to the female 
 Christians ; " be in subjection to your husbands ; 
 " that if any obey not the word, they may, with- 
 " out the word, he won hy the conversation of their 
 
188 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 " wives'^.*' How supreme is the power here im- 
 plied ! how stupendous is this arrangement for 
 equalizing the privileges of the sexes, who are 
 declared to be *\cO'hdrs of the grace of Life i /*' 
 Compared with i/iis direction of their influence, 
 ■what is intrigue, and what \s fashion! To them, 
 therefore, and to that influence which is the highest 
 glory of their sex, I more especially present and 
 commit the Epistle to Celantia, . 
 
 *lPet.iu. 1. tib. r. 
 
THE 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 OP 
 
 PAULINUS, BISHOP OF NOLA, 
 
 TO 
 
 CELANTIA. 
 
 It is a well-known sentence of Scripture, 
 that ^' there is a shame that bringeth sin, 
 " and there is a shame which is glory and 
 *' grace." The truth of which sentence, 
 although it is sufficiently manifest to the 
 reason of every one by its own evidence, 
 has nevertheless, on the present occasion, 
 demonstrated itself to my conviction with 
 peculiar force. For, though pressed to write 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 to you, by your letters, with the most 
 importunate sohcitations, I confess that I 
 have a long time hesitated concerning my 
 answer, from a mistrust of my own quali- 
 fications; which sentiment, however, was 
 vigorously opposed by the affectionate 
 urgency of your requests. Thus, the humi- 
 lity of the applicant perpetually conflicted 
 with my own backwardness ; and, while 
 those contrary feelings were thus combating 
 in my mind, the sense of shame had nearly 
 overcome the sense of duty. 
 
 But that sentence of wisdom which I 
 have above recited, supplied me with the 
 strength requisite for conquering so unpro- 
 fitable and injurious a silence. For, when 
 I reflected how excellent and how pious 
 the occasion was for which 1 was called 
 upon to write, I felt that it would be crimi- 
 nal for me any longer to hold my peace ; 
 remembering also that sentence of Scripr 
 ture, " there is a time to keep silence, and 
 " a time to speak." And again ; " with- 
 " hold not a word in the time of safety." 
 And that also of St. Peter : " Be ready 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 191 
 
 " always to give an answer to every one, 
 " who asketh for a reason." 
 
 For you ask, and vehemently insist, that 
 I should draw you out some clear and infal- 
 lible RULE from the sacred writings, by 
 which you may order the whole tenour of 
 your life; that so, knowing the will of 
 God, you may, amidst the honours of the 
 world and the allurements of riches, pre- 
 ferably regard the conduct of your actions ; 
 and that, in your connubial state, you may 
 be able to please, not him only with whom 
 you are united, but Him also who indulged 
 you with the happiness of your union. 
 Which holy and pious desire not to satisfy, 
 what would it be but to have no concern 
 for another's advancement ? I will therefore 
 yield to your entreaties, and will endeavour 
 to excite you, thus prepared to fulfil the 
 will of the Lord, by His own words; for 
 He truly is Lord and Master of all, who 
 not only commands us to please Him, but 
 at the same time plainly teaches us how He 
 is to be pleased. 
 
 Let Him, therefore, inform and teach 
 
192 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 you, who, when the youth in the Gospel 
 inquired of Him, ^^ what he should do to 
 " inherit eternal life?" instantly replied; 
 " KEEP THE commandments:" showiug 
 us, distinctly, that we must execute the will 
 of Him, from whom we would hope to re- 
 ceive a reward. With ^hich view he else- 
 where testifies : " Not every one that saith to 
 " me, Lord! Lord! shall inherit the king- 
 ^* dom of Heaven ; but he who doeth the will 
 " of my Father which is in Heaven," he 
 shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 From whence it is manifest, that we shall 
 be wholly incapable of establishing any 
 claim to the magnitude of that reward if 
 we confess God, unless the works oi faith 
 and of righteousness are joined together. 
 For what is the faith, which would so believe 
 God as to hold at naught His command- 
 ments? Or how can we say, truly dinAfroin 
 the heart, " Lord! Lord!" if, at the same 
 time, we disregard the commands of Him 
 whom we entitle Lord ? 
 
 Hence, He himself declares in the Gospel, 
 ** Why call ye me, Lord! Lord! and do 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE* 193 
 
 ^^ not the things which I say?" And again: 
 ^* This people honour me with their lips, 
 " but their heart is far from me." And 
 again, He says, by the prophet : ^' A son 
 ^^ honoureth his father, and a servant feareth 
 " his master; if therefore I am a Father, 
 " where is My honour^ if I am a Master, 
 " where is My fear V^ From all which it is 
 manifest, that God is neither honoured nor 
 feared by those who do not obey his com- 
 mandments. Wherefore it was said more 
 expressly to David, who had committed 
 sin : " Thou hast despised the command- 
 " ment of the Lord !" And to Eli, the word 
 of the Lord declared : " they that honour 
 " me, I will honour ; but they who despise 
 ^^ me, shall be lightly esteemed." 
 
 And can we remain secure and satisfied 
 in our minds, who, by dishonouring God in 
 all and each of his commandments, provoke 
 Him to anger; and, by an arrogant con- 
 tempt of His authority, offer an affront to 
 so tremendous a Majesty ? For what arro- 
 gance, or what ingratitude, can be so great, 
 as to live in opposition to the will of 
 
 K 
 
194 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LlFr:. 
 
 Him, from whom we have received hfe ; 
 or to despise the commandments of Him 
 who therefore only issues His commands 
 that He may have an occasion to reward? 
 For God is in no want of our obedience, but 
 we are in the greatest Want of His pozeer. 
 His commandments are, on this account, 
 " more desirable thaji gold find precious stones, 
 " and sweeter than honey and the honey-comb ; 
 '^ because, in keeping of them there is great 
 '^ rezcard,'' The infinite goodness of God 
 is therefore the more incensed against us, 
 because we despise it at the hazard of such 
 immeasurable blessings ; and because we 
 hold at naught, not His commandments only 
 but also His promises. 
 
 Wherefore we ought often, nay without 
 intermission, to revolve in our mi^nds that 
 saying of our Lord : " If thou zmlt enttr 
 *' unto life, keep the commandments." 
 This, is the whole substance of the law ; 
 this^ is the whole of what the prophets and 
 the apostles teach ; this, is that w hich the 
 voice and the blood of Christ demand from 
 us ; " Who therefore died for all, that they 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 " who live, should live no longer to them- 
 ^^ selves, but to Him who died for them." 
 To live to Him, signifies nothing else, but 
 to keep the commandments which He has 
 commanded to be kept, in pledge of his 
 love. " Ify^ love me," said He, " keep my 
 '* commandments y^ — ^' he who hath my com- 
 " mandments, and keepeth them, he it is 
 *' who loveth me." And again ; ^^ if any 
 ^^ one loveth me he will keep my saying, 
 ^' and my Father will love him, and we will 
 ^^ come to him, and will make our abode 
 " with him; he who loveth me not ^ keepeth 
 " not my sayings." 
 
 True and affectionate love, is powerful in 
 operation : he who really loves, assumes to 
 himself the entire will of him whom he 
 loves. Nothing is more imperious than 
 true affection : if we truly love Christ, and 
 remember that we are redeemed wholly by 
 His blood, we ought to zcill nothing, and do 
 nothing, so much as that which we know to 
 be the object of His will. 
 
 Now^, there are two kinds of precepts, 
 which comprehend all righteousness: the 
 K 2 
 
196 TIULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 one PROHIBITING, the other commanding. 
 For, as all evil is forbidden, so all good is 
 enjoined; the one, orders us to act, the 
 other, to abstain from acting; by the one, 
 the mind is incited, by the other, it is 
 restrained : to do the one, and not to do 
 the other, is equally criminal. Whence, 
 the prophet says : " Who is he that seeketh 
 " life, or would see good days ? restrain 
 '^ thy tongue from evil, and let thy lips 
 " speak no guile : abstain from evil, and 
 " do good J' And the holy apostle : " Flee 
 " from that which is evil, cleave to that 
 " which is good." 
 
 This twofold law, prohibiting and com- 
 manding, is equally binding upon all. 
 Neither the unmarried, nor the married, 
 nor the widowed, are exempted from the 
 obligation of that law : in every purpose, 
 and in every circumstance of life, it is equal 
 sin to allow that which is forbidden, and to 
 omit that which is commanded. Be not, 
 therefore, seduced by the error of those 
 who choose, according to their own wills, 
 which of God's commandments they will 
 
KULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFK. 
 
 principally keep, and which they will neglect 
 as trifling and unimportant ; and who are 
 not afraid lest, according to the divine de- 
 claration, by neglecting the least of them, 
 they gradually fall into universal disobe- 
 dience. The Stoics indeed, take away all 
 difference between sins, and regard all delin- 
 quencies as equal, neither will they allow 
 of any distinction between guilt and error; 
 we, on the other hand, although we believe 
 that there is great difference in the guilt of 
 sins, because we are so taught by the word 
 of God, yet hold, that the most safe of all 
 precautions is to avoid the smallest, equally 
 with the greatest. For we shall the more 
 easily preserve ourselves from any crime, in 
 proportion as we accustom ourselves to fear 
 it; nor will any one quickly lapse into the 
 greater sins, who has habituated himself to 
 dread even the smallest. 
 
 Yet, I know not how we can call any sin 
 mially which is committed in contempt of 
 God. He is the wisest man, who does not 
 so much consider zohat is the command, as 
 who he is that commands it : who does not 
 
KULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 SO much compute the quantity of the rule, as 
 the flf2/^/fonVj/ of THE Ruler, 
 
 You, therefore, who are desirous to build 
 up a spiritual house, not upon the insecurity 
 of sand but upon the solidity of rock, lay 
 your first foundation in harmlessness, or 
 innocence; upon which foundation, you may 
 afterwards the more easily erect the lofty 
 edifice of righteousness. For he who has 
 done no injury to any one, has already ful- 
 filled the greatest part of righteousness; 
 and happy are they who can say, with holy 
 Job, " Who is he that will plead with me r" 
 that is, who shall call for Thy judgment 
 against me; or say, that I have done him 
 any injury? It is an evidence of the purest 
 conscience to say, confidently, with the 
 prophet: " I have walked in my house with 
 " a perfect heart." Wherefore he says else- 
 where : " No good thing will the Lord 
 " withhold from them that walk innocently." 
 
 Let every Christian therefore banish 
 from his mind, all malice, and hatred, 
 and e?ivi/; which are the chief, if not th£ 
 only seeds of wrong and injury. Let 
 
KULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 him keep innocency, not in hand and 
 tongue only, but likewise in his heart ; and 
 let him fear to be injurious, not only in 
 act, but even in his most secret desire : 
 for, as to the nature of guilt, he is guilty 
 of an injury whose mind is injuriously 
 disposed* 
 
 Many define the word innocent in its 
 simple and absolute sense, as denoting a 
 person who does tio ill; although he abstains 
 from rendering any good. But if this defi* 
 nition be just, yet let your conscience only 
 take joy from your innocence, when you 
 do not desist from renderinof g^oU. It 
 these virtues are indeed to be separated 
 and distinguished, so that it is to be ac- 
 counted one virtue merely to refrain from 
 injury, and another to administer a service ; 
 yet remember, that it is of no avail to a 
 Christian to fulfil owe part of righteousness 
 only, who is commanded equally to fulfil 
 all. 
 
 Neither are we to look to the examples 
 of the greater number; who, observing no 
 discipline of manners, and following no rule 
 / 
 
SOO RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 of life^ are not so much guided by reason as 
 they are urged by impulse. Nor may we 
 imitate those, who, under the name of 
 Christian, live a Gentile life; and who 
 show one thing in their profession, and 
 another in their conduct. As the apostle 
 speaks, " they profess to know God, but in 
 ^* their works they deny Him." A Chris- 
 tian ought to be distinguished from a 
 Gentile, not more by his creed than b}^ his 
 life; and to demonstrate the difference of 
 his religion, by the difference of his works. 
 *^ Be not,*' says the apostle, " unequally 
 ** joiiica with unbelievers; for what fellow- 
 ^^ ship hath righteousness with unrighteous- 
 " ness ? and what communion hath light 
 " with darkness ? What concord hath Christ 
 ^^ with Belial ? Or what part hath he that 
 *' believe th, with an infidel ? And what 
 " agreement hath the temple of God with 
 " infidels ? For ye are the temple of the 
 '' living God." 
 
 Let a positive distinction be therefore 
 made, between us and them. Let error, and 
 truth, be divided by a determined limit. 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. QQ} 
 
 Let those relish earthly things, who do not 
 entertain the heavenly promises. Let those 
 implicate themselves altogether in this short 
 life, who persuade themselves that no punish- 
 ment awaits sinners hereafter. Let those 
 remain under the bondage of vice,, who 
 cherish no hope of any future re\tard for 
 virtue. But we who believe, with a perfect 
 and entire faith, that " everi/ man shall 
 " stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, 
 " to receive the things done in the body, 
 " whether it be good or bad ;" let us, I say, 
 keep ourselves unspotted with vice ; ac- 
 cording to that of the apostle, who says : 
 " Those who are Christ's have crucified 
 ^^ the flesh, together with the vices and 
 *' lusts thereof." Neither let us follow the 
 steps of an erring multitude, who profess 
 ourselves to be. the disciples of the truth. 
 Our Saviour has pointed out to us, in the 
 Gospel, TWO different courses, tw^o distinct 
 roads, which lead to issues directly op- 
 posite. " Wide is the way," says He, ^' that 
 " leads to death, and many there are who 
 " go in thereat." Ami again : '^ Strait and 
 K 5 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 *^ narrow is the way which leads unto life^ 
 " and few there are who find it." Remark, 
 how wide is the distinction and separation 
 between these two ways ! The one leads to 
 DEATH, the other to life. The one, is fre- 
 quented and trodden by the numbers ; the 
 other, is explored only by a few. The one, 
 beaten and smoothed by continual travel, 
 and rendered attractive by the various flowers 
 of pleasure with which it is strewed, easily 
 draws to itself the generality of travellers. 
 But the other, being the unfrequented path 
 of virtue and therefore rude and difficult to 
 the traveller, is chosen only by those, whose 
 minds are not so intently bent upon the 
 amusement of the journey, as upon the 
 excellence of the final habitation. It is the 
 preference given to vice, that renders the 
 path of virtue so deserted and so unpleasing 
 to us ; but if the familiarity which is be- 
 stowed upon vice were transferred to the 
 other road, it would render that path, as the 
 Scripture hath declared it, " a way of plea- 
 *' santness, and a path of peace." 
 
 Let us, then; seriously examine our owa 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 lives ; and let us learn, from the testimony of 
 our own consciences, in which of those two 
 paths we are truly journeying. AVhatever 
 thing we do, and whatever thing we say, 
 appertains either to the wide way, or to the 
 narrow way. If we are moving in the narrow 
 road, and prosecute the narrow path, then we 
 are advancing to life; but, if we are fol- 
 lowing the road which is crowded with a 
 multitude, we have the assurance of God's 
 word that we are proceeding towards 
 DEATH. If, therefore, our hearts are pos- 
 sessed with hatred, or with envy ; if we 
 yield up ourselves to covetousness, or to 
 avarice; if we give to present enjoyments 
 the preference over future; then we are 
 proceeding in the wide road: for in all 
 these things we shall find a concourse of 
 associates, and shall be surrounded by a 
 multitude, of similar dispositions. If we 
 are resolved to gratify anger or lust, or to 
 resent injuries; if we speak evil of those, 
 who speak evil of us ; if we carry an hostile 
 mind towards him, who has been inimical 
 to us; we are still carried along with the 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE, 
 
 numbers. Or, if we practise flattery our- 
 selves, or willing!}^ yield our ear to the 
 words of the flatterer ; if we are withheld 
 by favour from uttering the truth ; or are 
 more afraid to offend the mind of any man, 
 than not to speak the truth from our heart; 
 then are we journeying in company witli 
 the multitude: all will be our associates^ 
 who are departing from the path of truth. 
 
 But if, on the contrary, we keep our- 
 selves free from all vices ; if we maintain a 
 pure and unenslaved mind; and, renouncing 
 all other cupidity, are only covetous to 
 become rich in virtue; then we are travel- 
 ling in the narrow road: for such, alas! 
 is the conversation only of the few. It is a 
 very rare and difficult thing, to find fit com- 
 panions for this journey. For many, who 
 pretend to be journeying in this track, pre- 
 sently decline from it through bye-paths> 
 and return again into the common road of 
 the multitude ; and therefore we ought to be 
 greatly upon our guard, lest those whom 
 '^ve might choose as safe conductors of our 
 way, should prove to be only seducers into 
 
RULE OF CHKISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 error. If, therefore, we discover any such 
 examples as can guide us safely in this 
 course, and which keep the right road of 
 the Gospel, we shall do well to follow 
 them; but if all such examples should fail 
 us, or seem likely to fail us, then that of 
 the apostle is offered to us all. Paul, " the 
 " chosen vessel," as if warning us of the 
 strait road which we ought to follow, says ; 
 *' Be ye imitators of me, as I also am of 
 " Christ!" But, above all, we have the 
 example of our Lord himself in the 
 Gospel; who proclaims, '' Come unto me, 
 " all ye that labour and are heavy laden, 
 ^^ and J will refresh you : take my yoke 
 *' upon you, and learn of me, for I am 
 '' meek, and lowly in heart." If it is 
 hazardous to imitate those of whom you 
 entertain any doubt, it is always safe to 
 imitate and follow the steps of Him, who 
 said, " I am the way, and the truth, and 
 " the life : he can never err, who follows 
 THE TRUTH. Wherefore the apostle John 
 says; "he who says he is Christ's, ought 
 *' so to walk^ even as ITe walked :" and 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 Peter; " Christ suffered for us, leaving 
 '^ us AN EXAMPLE, that we should fol- 
 ^^ low His steps: who, when He was 
 " reviled, reviled not again ; when he suf- 
 '^ fered, He threatened not; but committed 
 " Himself to Him who judgeth righteously. 
 ^' Who His ownself bare our sins, in His 
 " own body on the tree; that we, being 
 " dead to sin, should live unto righte- 
 " ousness." 
 
 Cease, then, from all extenuation of your 
 faults ; let all shameful expedients for soften- 
 ing the guilt of sin, be abandoned. It will 
 be of no avail, to defend ourselves by the 
 example of the multitude; whose trans- 
 gressions we are prone to enumerate for a 
 consolation to our own consciences, and 
 complain, that we see none who can set us 
 a fit example to follow ; for we are always 
 referred to the example of Him, whose 
 example all agree is to be followed. Let 
 it therefore be your chief care, to make your- 
 self intimately acquainted with THE DIVINE 
 LAW ; in which you may behold, as pre- 
 sent to your vievv; the examples of holy 
 
RULE OF CHRISTTAN LIFE. 
 
 men ; and may learn from its admonition, 
 what must be done, and what must be 
 avoided. 
 
 It is of the greatest succour towards a 
 religious life, to replenish the mind with the 
 WORDS OF Scripture; and to meditate 
 continually in our heart, what we desire to 
 accomplish in our actions. It was God's 
 command by Moses to a rude nation, as 
 yet unpractised to obedience, that they 
 should wear upon their garments, as a 
 signal whereby to remember the precepts 
 of God, borders of a purple colour; in 
 order, that whenever their eyes accidentally 
 fell upon that colour, it might awaken in 
 their minds a remembrance of the divine 
 commandments. The abuse of which me- 
 morials, was a subject of our Lord's severe 
 reprehension of the Pharisees; who began 
 to use them, not for the end of remember- 
 ing the precepts of God, but for purposes 
 of hypocrisy and ostentation, that they 
 might be esteemed by the people, eminent 
 for extraordinary sanctity. But you, who 
 seek to observe, not the letter but the 
 
208 EULE OF CIIRrSTIAN LIFE. 
 
 Spirit of the law, must cherish a spiritual 
 remembrance of the divine commandments; 
 and not so much endeavour to remember 
 them often^ as to have them alzcai/s in your 
 thoughts. 
 
 Let THE Holy Scriptures, therefore, 
 be always in your hands, and continually 
 revolved in your mind. And think it not suf- 
 ficient, to remember God's commandments 
 in your thoughts, and to forget them in 
 your works ; but learn therefore to remember 
 them, that you may do what you have learned 
 should be done: '^ for, not the hearers of 
 " the law are justified before God, but the 
 " doers of it shall be justified." 
 
 The field of God's law is of wide, nay of 
 infinite extent ; flourishing, with all the 
 various testimonies of truth, as with a rich 
 profusion of heavenly flowers; and nourish- 
 ing: and refreshing the. souls of those who 
 read it, with an inexpressible delight. To 
 know all of which, and inwardly to revolve 
 them, is of the most powerful eiBcacy for 
 preserving righteousness. 
 
 But chiefly select, and engrave upon your 
 
nULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. ^09 
 
 heart, as the most compendious summary 
 of that law, that precept in the Gospel, 
 which the mouth of the Lord has declared 
 to comprehend all righteousness: "What- 
 
 " SOEVER YE WOULD THAT MExV SHOULD 
 " DO UNTO YOU, DO YE ALSO UNTO 
 
 " THEM." To demonstrate the authority 
 and power of which precept, he adds; 
 <( Jqj. this is the law, and the prophets *." 
 
 * Mr. Gibbon, whose profound ignorance of the nature 
 and foundations of the Christian Religion rendered him utterly 
 incompetent, notwithstanding the extent of his acquirements 
 in the Belles Lettres, to treat of so exalted a subject, has pre- 
 sumed to animadvert upon this maxim in the Gospel ; and to 
 cite a passage from a Greek writer, in which the same sublime 
 doctrine is taught. The motives for which animadversion 
 were; 1st. a vain conceit, that he had made a detection im- 
 portant to his cause : and, 2dly, to leave it for inference, 
 tliat since that maxim was in the Greek schools before the age 
 of the Gospel, it was not of evangelical, but of heathen ori- 
 ginal. Had Mr. Gibbon not cherished a voluntary ignorance 
 upon all such sacred subjects, he must have known, with every 
 Christian, and every inspector of the Gospel, (what Pau- 
 linus here pointed out to him;) that our blessed Lord did 
 not inculcate that precept as *' a new commandment " of His 
 religion, but as the ancient prescriptive rule, of the pro- 
 phets and of THE LA-vv. He must have known, that it was 
 
210 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFF, 
 
 Although the kinds and parts of righteous^ 
 ness are mfinite in variety and number, so 
 that it would be impossible, not only to enu- 
 merate them all, but even to conceive them 
 in thought, yet all of them are included in 
 that one short sentence; which sentence, 
 will acquit or condemn the inward con- 
 science of every man, by the secret judg- 
 ment of his own mind. 
 
 Therefore, in every action, word, and 
 thought, let this rule be produced, which, 
 as a mirror always ready to your hands, may 
 at all times clearly reveal to you the true 
 qualitfj of your will; so that it either 
 may accuse you, if you are doing wrong, 
 or encourage you, if you are doing right. 
 For, as often as you cherish towards 
 others such a disposition of mind as you 
 wish others to maintain towards you, you 
 
 tiie great foundation-stone of Hebrew morals, a thousand years 
 before pliilosophy dawned in Greece ; that it was taught and 
 enforced in Judea, when Greece was only a theatre of fable ; 
 and, therefore, that it was but an oblique and foreign import 
 into Greece, whereas it was the direct and native inheritance 
 of THE Gospel, 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 211 
 
 arc in the path of righteousness ; but when- 
 ever you feel yourselves so disposed towards 
 others, as you would not wish any one to 
 be disposed to you, you have departed from 
 that path. 
 
 And now, behold all the labour and dif- 
 ficulty of the DIVINE law! behold, what it 
 is that renders that law so severe! We 
 murmur against God, and complain that 
 we are oppressed by the difficulty, nay the 
 impossibility of keeping His command- 
 ments ; nor are we satisfied with merely 
 not obeying those commandments, but pro- 
 nounce Him who commanded them, un- 
 just: saying, that the Author of all justice 
 has enjoined things, not only difficult and 
 hard, but even impossible to be done, 
 " Whatsoever ye would^' says He, ^^ that 
 " men should do unto you, do ye also unt9 
 '^ them^ It is His gracious will that we 
 should all be united in love, by a mutual 
 interchange of kind services, and that all 
 mankind should be linked together by re- 
 ciprocal benefits ; in order, that each indi- 
 vidual yielding to others that which he 
 
212 HULE or CimtSTIAN LIFE. 
 
 wishes should be bestowed upon himselfj^ 
 universal justice, (which is the sole end of 
 that precept,) might become the common 
 lot and blessing of all men. O! the stu- 
 pendous merc}^ and ineffable benignity of 
 God, who promises us a reward, if we 
 will only mutually love on€ another ! that 
 is, if we will reciprocally bestow upon 
 each other, that of which we each stand 
 in the utmost need. And we, with arro- 
 gant and ungrateful hearts resist His will, 
 whose very command h, in itself, so mani- 
 fest a blessing ! 
 
 Never injure the reputation of another; 
 nor seek to draw praise upon yourself, 
 from the disparagement of others. Learn 
 rather to regulate your own life, than to 
 give judgment upon that of others; and 
 remember always that maxim of the Scrip- 
 ture, which says : ^' He that keepeth hi^ 
 " mouth keepeth his life; but he that 
 /' openeth wide his lips, shall have destruc- 
 " tion." Few there are, who wholly abstain 
 from this vice; you will rarely meet with 
 any, who desire to keep their own lives 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. £13 
 
 SO entirely free from reproach, as not readily 
 to reprehend the lives of others ; and the 
 propensity to this evil has taken such pos- 
 session of the minds of men, that they who 
 have kept themselves free from all other 
 vices fall yet into this one, as if it were the 
 last snare and resource of the devil. 
 
 But do you so conquer this evil, as not 
 only not to be guilty of slander yourself, 
 but not even to believe any one who is so; 
 and be careful not to contribute your assent 
 to the authority of slanderers, lest by so do- 
 ing you add nourishment to their vice. 
 " Refrain from backbiting, says the Scrip- 
 " ture; the mouth that slandereth slayeth 
 " the soul." And again ; " A whisperer de- 
 ^^ fileth his own soul, and is hated where- 
 " soever he dv;elleth. — Curse the whisperer 
 " and double-tongued : whoso hearkeneth 
 '^ unto him, shall never find rest, and never 
 " dwell quietly." And the pious David, 
 enumerating the various qualities of inno- 
 cence and righteousness, is not silent w^ith 
 respect to this virtue, saying : " Who taketh 
 " not up a reproach against his neighbour." 
 
PaJLE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 Nay, he not only resists, but attacks the 
 slanderer; for he says: " Whoso privily 
 " slandereth his neighbour^ him will 1 cut 
 " off/' 
 
 *^ This is, indeed, one of the first vi^es 
 which ought to be conquered, and totally 
 extinguished, in all who aspire to a life of 
 true holiness. There is nothing that so much 
 disquiets the mind, or renders it so trif- 
 ling and inconstant, as readily to believe 
 every thing that is said ; and to receive, 
 with a rash assent, the w^ords of every 
 tale-bearer. From hence arise such fre- 
 quent dissensions, and unfounded hatreds. 
 This it is, that makes enemies of the dearest 
 friends ; who, though long united, yet suffer 
 themselves to be at last dissociated, through 
 their credulity, by the influence of an evil 
 tongue. 
 
 But, on the other hand, great is the tran- 
 quillity, and great the dignity of that mind, 
 which does not hastily lend an ear to the 
 prejudice of another; and blessed is he, 
 who so arms himself against this vice, that 
 no one shall dare to entertain him with 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE* S15 
 
 scandal. If, indeed, we would but be reso- 
 lute in the practice of refusing all credit to 
 scandal, men would at length be afraid to 
 disseminate slander ; lest they should draw 
 more contempt upon themselves, than upon 
 those whom they seek to injure. But this 
 evil is therefore so common, and prevails so 
 generally among mankind, because almost 
 all men afford it a willing entertainment. 
 
 Fly from the fawning of flatterers, and 
 from the fatal blandishments of deceit, as 
 from the pest of your soul. There is 
 nothing which so easily corrupts the minds 
 ^f men, or which pierces the heart with so 
 soft and seductive a wound. Whence th« 
 wise man says : " The words of flatterers 
 " are wounds ; they strike into the inmost 
 ^^ parts." And God himself says by the 
 prophet : *' O my people, they that lead 
 " thee cause thee to err, and destroy the 
 " way of thy paths." 
 
 This is a vice which very generally pre- 
 vails, and in a remarkable manner at the 
 -present time ; and, what is most lamentable, 
 it usurps the character of benevolence and 
 
216 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 humility; so that he who will not flatter, is 
 regarded as either proud or envious. And 
 truly it is a most subtile and ingenious 
 artifice, to praise another, in order to our 
 own applause; and by deceiving, to gain 
 the mind of him whom we deceive : for this 
 vice is chiefly engaged, in vending counter- 
 feit praises for a real profit. But how great 
 must be the levity of that mind, how ex- 
 treme its vanity, which, rejecting the testi- 
 mony of its own conscience, pursues the 
 opinion, the feigned and pretended opinion, 
 of another person ? and which, caught by 
 every blast of fictitious praise, delights in 
 being gulled, and thankfully accepts delu- 
 sion for a beneficial service ! 
 
 But you, if you desire to be truly praise- 
 worthy, seek not praise from men ; but go- 
 vern your conscience with a view to Him, 
 '* who both will bring to light the hidden 
 " things of darkness, and will make manifest 
 " the secrets of the heart : and then shall 
 ^^ every man have praise from God.'' Let 
 your mind therefore be watchful and dili- 
 gent, and perpetually armed against the 
 
KULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 217 
 
 approaches of sin. Let your speech, on all 
 occasions, be moderate, and sparing; such 
 as indicates a duty to converse^ rather than 
 a desire to talk. Let a decent reserve 
 adorn your wisdom; and, (which has ever 
 been esteemed the principal ornament of 
 your sex,) let modesty be pre-eminent above 
 all your virtues. Consider beforehand what 
 you are to speak ; and while you are yet 
 silent, be provident to utter nothing of 
 which you may afterwards have occasion 
 to repent. Let your thoughts apportion 
 your words; and let the balance of your 
 niind, regulate the office of your tongue. 
 Whence the Scripture saith : " Weigh thy 
 ^' words in a balance, and make a door and 
 '^ bar for thy mouth." Let no injurious 
 word ever proceed from your lips; since 
 you are commanded, as the perfection of 
 your duty, " to bless even those who curse 
 '" you." — " Be pitiful, be courteous," says 
 the apostle, " not rendering evil fqr evil, 
 " or railing for railing; but contrariwise, 
 *^ blessing.** 
 Let a lie, or an oath, be absolutely 
 
 L 
 
218 RULE OP CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 unknown to your tongue; and let there be 
 ever in you such a love for truth, that you 
 may regard whatever you have spoken as if 
 it had been sworn. Concerning which, our 
 Saviour thus commanded His disciples ; 
 " I say unto 3'ou, swear not at all:" and a 
 little after ; " let your discourse be, it is, or 
 *^ it is not ; for whatever is more than this, 
 " Cometh of evil/' 
 
 In every action, and in every word, be 
 watchful to preserve a quiet and a placid 
 spirit : let God be always present to your 1 
 thoughts: let your mind be humble and 
 gentle, and severe only against vice. Never 
 suffer it to be elated by pride, or warped 
 by avarice, or hurried by anger; for no- 
 thing ought to be more tranquil, nothing 
 purer, nothing fairer than that mind w^hich 
 aspires to become the habitation of God, 
 who delights, not in temples bright with 
 gold or altars rich with gems, but in 
 a soul decorated with virtues. On which 
 aqcpunt, the vjiearts of holy persons are 
 called the temple of God: as the apostle 
 aflarms ; ^' If any one shall defile the 
 
nULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 ^* temple of God, him will God destroy; 
 ^' for the temple of God is holy, zvhich 
 *^ temple are ye." 
 
 Nothing that you can acquire is more 
 valuable, or more lovely than humility. 
 This is indeed the chief preserver, and, as 
 it were, the proper guardian of all the 
 ^other virtues; nor is there any thing that 
 renders us so pleasing both to men and to 
 God, as to be high by the excellency of 
 our lives, and low by the exercise of our 
 humility. On which account the Scrip- 
 ture says : " The greater thou art, the 
 " more humble thyself; and thou shalt find 
 " favour before the Lord." And God says 
 by the prophet : " To this man will I look ; 
 ^' even to him that is humble, and of a quiet 
 ^^ spirit, and trembleth at my word." 
 
 But, follow true humility ; not that which 
 makes an outward ostentation, by an af- 
 fected carriage of the body or tone of 
 the speech, but that which displays itself 
 in the sincerity of the heart. For it is 
 one thing to possess a virtue^ and an- 
 other thing to possess tlie counterfeit of 
 L 2- 
 
^•^0 PtULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 a virtue ; it is one thing to follow the , 
 shadow of truth, and another to follow its 
 substance. There is no pride so hideous, 
 as that which conceals itself under a form 
 of humility; and all vices acquire a pe- 
 culiar hatefulnesSy when they attempt to 
 invest themselves with the characters of 
 virtues. 
 
 Never consider yourself superior to an- 
 other, on account of the nobility of your 
 birth; nor regard those as beneath you, 
 who are of an obscurer or more humble 
 origin. Our religion takes no account 
 of the ranks or conditions of men; it con- 
 siders only their souls; it judges both the 
 servant and the lord by their respectiv€ 
 deeds. The only distinction in honour 
 with God, is independance from sin: that 
 nobility is highly valued by God, which 
 is conferred by virtue. 
 
 Who ever was more noble in the sight 
 of God, than Peter? who was nevertheless 
 a poor man, and a fisherman. Who, among 
 women, was ever so illustrious as the 
 blessed Mary ? who was only a carpenter's 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 221 
 
 wife» Yet to that poor fisherman Christ 
 committed the keys of the kingdom of 
 Heaven ; and that carpenter's wife was 
 found worthy to be made the motlier of 
 Him, b}^ whom those keys were committed : 
 for, ^' God hath chosen the base things qf 
 ^' THIS w^oRLD, a72cl things which are despised, 
 " to confound the things zchich are mighty.^* 
 
 But besides, it would upon another 
 ground be wholly unavailing to take any 
 merit to ourselves for nobility of birth, 
 since all who are redeemed by the blood of 
 Christ are of equal honour in the sight of 
 God ; neither can it any longer signify in 
 what rank any man was born, since we are 
 all equally born again, in Christ. If, 
 therefore, we should forget, that we are all 
 originally born of one and the same first 
 parent ; yet ought we at least to remember, 
 that we are all regenerated ^y one. 
 
 Take care, if you have undertaken the 
 exercises of fasting or abstinence, not to 
 imagine that you are therefore become holy ; 
 for that practice is but the instrument, not 
 the completion, of holiness. But chiefly, 
 
222 HULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 and above all things, take care, that an 
 indifference for things which are allowed^ be* 
 get not in you a presumptuous security in re- 
 gard to things which are positively forbid- 
 den. Whatever v,'e pretend to ofFer to 
 God over and above the measure of His 
 commandment, must not hinder, but ad- 
 vance, the righteousness which He has 
 conimanded. What can it avail us to lower 
 the body by abstinence, if at the same time 
 we suffer the soul to be swollen with pride ? 
 What praise shall we deserve for the pale- 
 ness of fasting, if at the same time we 
 become livid through envy ? What virtue 
 is there in renouncing wine, if we suffer 
 ourselves to be intoxicated by anger or 
 hatred? Abstinence is then only excellent^ 
 the chastisement of the body is then only 
 great and admirable^ when the soul is made 
 to fast from vice*. They who considerately 
 and wisely practise abstinence, afflict the 
 
 ♦ " Tunc, inquam, praeclara est abstinentioy tunc pulchra 
 <* atque magnifica castigatio corporis, cum est aiumus je/uwus 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 2£3 
 
 body for this only purpose, that they may 
 vanquish the pride of their souls ; that they 
 may, as it were, descend from the height 
 of their natural arrogance to fulfil the will of 
 God, which is best accomplished in hu- 
 mility. They therefore call off their thoughts 
 from the various delicacies of food, in order 
 to engage all their affections in an appe- 
 tite for virtue; and the body will be less 
 sensible of the irksomeness of fasting, 
 in proportion as the soul becomes more 
 hungry after righteousness. St. Paul, when 
 " he chastised his body and kept it under, 
 *^ lest, when he had preached to others, 
 " he himself should be rejected," did not 
 do so, (as some have ignorantly imagined,) 
 with a view to chastity alone; for absti- 
 nence contributes, not to that virtue only, 
 but, likewise, to every other virtue : nor 
 was his <:hief glory to refrain only from 
 lust; but he laboured, generally, to give 
 perfection to his soul by the restraints of 
 his body. For, as much as he alienated his 
 mind from voluptuous indulgence, so much 
 was he the more able to engage, it in the 
 
-^4 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LITE. 
 
 pursuit of virtues : lest the teacher of per- 
 fectioa should betray any imperfection in 
 himself; lest he, who was the " imitator of 
 ^^ Christ," should do any thing Contrary to 
 the command or will of Christ, or should 
 teach less by his example than by his 
 words ; and " lest, after he had preached 
 ^' to others, he himself should be rejected," 
 and should hear the words spoken, of the 
 Pharisees, addressed to himself: " They 
 " speak, but no not T^ . 
 
 But it is, moreover, both the precept and 
 example of the same apostle, to have re- 
 gard, not only to conscience but also to 
 repute. The teacher of the Gentiles did not 
 esteem this a superfluous, or fruitless con- 
 sideration ; for he would have those, who 
 are not in the faith, convinced by the works 
 of those who are ; that the efficacy of the 
 religion, might demonstrate the rehgion 
 itself. And we are therefore commanded 
 " to shine as luminaries in the world, in the 
 ^^ midst of a perverse and crooked genera- 
 " tion," that the unbelieving minds of those 
 who lie in error, may discern, by the light 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 of our worksy the darkness of their own 
 ignorance. Wherefore St. Paul says to 
 the Romans : ^^ Provide things honest, (not 
 " onJy, in the sight of God, but also) of all 
 " men* Give none offence, neither to the 
 " Jews, nor to the Gentiles, nor to the 
 " church of God. Even as I please all 
 " men in all things, not seeking my own 
 '* profit, but the profit of many." 
 
 Happy is the man, who regulates his life 
 so religiously and wisely that nothing evil 
 can even be feigned of him : whilst the 
 greatness of his deserts counteracting the 
 malice of his slanderers, no man will 
 dare to invent what he knows will re- 
 ceive credit from no one. But if this 
 be too difficult to accomplish, let us at 
 least employ so much diligence in life, 
 as not to furnish evil minds with any just 
 ground fov scandal; nor suffer any spark to 
 escape from us, by which the flame of evil 
 report may be kindled against us. Other- 
 wise we shall in vain be angry with calum- 
 niators, if we ourselves supply them with 
 matter for their calumny. If, how^ever, not- 
 l5 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 withstanding our utmost diligence and 
 care to " provide things honest," and 
 to prefer the fear of God in our actions 
 to every other consideration, they should 
 still assail us; let our conscience then be 
 our consolation ; which is then most safe 
 and secure, when it has given no just cause 
 for any to think ill of us. Behold a woe is 
 denounced by the prophet, against all those 
 ^' who call good evil, and light darkness ; and 
 " sweet bitter ;" and then may that word 
 of our Saviour be applied to us: " Blessed 
 " are ye, when men speak evil of you 
 ^^ fahelyV* Let it therefore be our great 
 concern, thai no one may be able to speak evil 
 ofns otherwise than falsely. 
 
 So regulate the care of your family, as 
 always to reserve some leisure time for 
 your own mind : select, therefore, some 
 convenient chamber, a little removed, from 
 the noise of the household ; into which as 
 into a port you may withdraw yourself 
 from the tempest of cares, and where, in 
 the quiet of retreat, you may calm your sea 
 of thoughts which shall' have been thrown 
 
BULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 into agitation in the world. There employ 
 yourself, in such earnest re^vding of the 
 Holy Scripturesj in such frequent recur- 
 rence to prayer, and in such steady and 
 continued contemplations of future things, 
 as to compensate abundantly by that lei- 
 sure, the activity and anxiety of all your 
 other time. And I say this, not that you 
 should wholly withdraw yourself from the 
 company of those to whom you belong; 
 but, on the contrary, that you may there 
 learn and meditate, how you ought to be- 
 have yourself when you are amongst them. 
 Govern and foster your family in such a 
 manner, that you may appear to be rather 
 the mother, than the mistress of your 
 servants ; from w^hom exact respect, by 
 kindness rather than fear. But let the 
 apostle's precept be especially observed, in 
 a virtuous and Christian household ; let the 
 chief authority be maintained in the person 
 of the husband, and let the whole house 
 learn from you, the honour which is due 
 to him. Show that he is the master; 
 by your subjection, and render him great;. 
 
228 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFB. 
 
 l>y 'your humility ; for you yourself 
 will be honoured, in the same propor- 
 tion that you honour him. For, " the 
 " man," says the apostle, " is the head of 
 ^^ the woman;'* nor can the body receive 
 greater honour, than is derived from the 
 dignity of the head. Wherefore it is said 
 elsewhere, " let women be in subjection to 
 " their own husbands, that if any obey not 
 *^ the w^ord, they may, without the word,- 
 ^' be won by the conversation of their zcivesJ* 
 If therefore honour was to be rendered to 
 Gentile husbands, how much ought it to be 
 rendered to Christian^ 
 
 And, in order to show the ornaments with 
 which wives ought to be adorned, it is 
 added; "let it not consist in outward 
 *' plaiting of the hair, or wearing of gold, 
 '' or elegance of apparel, but in the secret 
 " character of the heart ; in that which is 
 " not corruptible, even the ornament of a 
 *' meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight 
 ** of God is of great price. For after this 
 *y manner, in ancient time, the holy women 
 ** also who trusted in God adorned them- 
 
IIULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 " selves, being in subjection to their own 
 " husbands; even as Sara obeyed Abraham, 
 " calling him Lord; whose daughtersye are."' 
 In prescribing which rule, he did not mean 
 to enjoin them to dress themselves slovenly, 
 or meanly, or raggedly; but he designed to 
 interdict all immoderate attention to de- 
 coration, and too great refinement in dress. 
 As the ^^ chosen vessel" Paul, says: '^ Let 
 " women adorn themselves in decent ap- 
 " parel, with modesty and propriety; not 
 " with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or 
 " costly array, but, as becometh women 
 " professing godliness, with good works." 
 
 Remember likewise, iiow the apostle hath 
 declared the mutual bond of the hus- 
 band and the wife : " The wife," says he, 
 " hath not power of her own body, but the 
 " husband; and likewise also the husband 
 " hath not power of his own body, but the 
 " wife : — and they two shall be one flesh." 
 And not one flesh only, but also one spirit; 
 for he adds, " this is a great mystery." This 
 is, indeed; the high road of purity ; and great 
 
£30 RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 is the reward : " Come unto me ! says the 
 " Lord ; take my yoke upon you and learn 
 " of ME, and ye shall find rest unto your 
 " souls. For MY yoke is easy^ and my 
 '^ burden is light/' 
 
 But to all who shall have their place 
 assigned to them upon his " left hand/' 
 HE says : " Depart from me, ye that work 
 ^' iniquity, into everlasting fire, where shall 
 '^ be weeping and gnashing of teeth!" 
 There will all those bewail, who shall 
 have so entirely implicated themselves in 
 the corrupt cares and pleasures of this 
 present life, as to have lived wholly regard- 
 less of that life which is to come : whom. 
 
 THE SUDDEN COMING OF THE LORD shall 
 
 surprise, sunk in the sleep of ignorance or 
 of false security. Wherefore He warns us 
 in His Gospel : '^ Take heed to yourselves, 
 " lest at any time your hearts be over- 
 ^^ charged with surfeiting, and drunkenness, 
 ^^ and cares of this life, and so that day 
 *' come upon you unprepared; for it shall 
 ^' come as a snare upon all them that 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE, 
 
 '* dwell on the face of the whole earth.— 
 ^' Take ye heed, w^atch and pray : for ye 
 " know not when the time is " 
 
 Blessed are they, who so expect and 
 look forward to that day, as to prepare 
 themselvesdaily for its arrival; who, instead 
 of flattering themselves by the contempla- 
 tion of their p«5^ merits," renew ihemsehes'' 
 according to the words of the apostle, " day 
 " hi/ day." For " the righteousness of the 
 ^^ righteous man shall not deliver him, from 
 " the day in which he shall transgress; 
 " neither shall the wicked man fall by his 
 " wickedness, from the day in which he 
 " shall turn from his wickedness." The 
 Saint himself ought not to entertain security, 
 so long as he is engaged in the trials and 
 conflicts of this life ; neither ought the Sin^ 
 ner to admit despair, who in one day may 
 enter into the way of righteousness. 
 
 Throughout the remaining sequel of your 
 life, labour to perfect righteousness with all 
 your power, and become not slack or remiss 
 through a confidence in your past obedience ; 
 but, like the apostle, " forgetting thos« 
 
RULE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE.. 
 
 " things which are behind, and reaching 
 ^^ forth unto those things which are before, 
 " press forward to the mark, for the prize 
 ^' of the high calling of God, in Christ 
 " Jesus/' And knowing that " the Lord 
 " trieth the hearts^' let it be your main con- 
 cern to preserve your heart pure from sin ;. 
 according as it is written : " Keep thy 
 
 " HEART with ALL DILIGENCE.'' 
 
 Do you, therefore, so order all the remain- 
 ing time of your Hfe, that you may at the 
 last be able to say, with the prophet, " I 
 " have walked in my house with a perfect 
 ^^ heart ; — I will go to the altar of my God, 
 *^ unto God, who is my exceeding great 
 "joy!" For it will not be sufficient, to 
 have hegun well, since righteousness must 
 
 consist, IN HAVING CONCLUDED WELL. 
 
 THE END OF THE EFISTLE OF PAUUNUS TO CELANTIA. 
 
ELEMENTARY VIEW 
 
 OF 
 
 GENERAL CHRONOLOGY. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 Time, is the duration of the earth and heavenly 
 bodies I the revolutions of which, measure, and 
 mark out, its parts*. 
 
 The great natural measurers and indexes of 
 TIME, are the sun and the moox. 
 
 Hence, the duration of time is described in the 
 Scriptures, by the duration of those two indexes 
 of time: " as long as the sun and the moon en- 
 " dureth ; throughout all generations/' For those 
 orbs will one day cease their functions, like every 
 subordinate system of this visible world ; and the 
 cessation of their functions y will be the end of time. 
 Which great crisis is thus announced in the sacred 
 VOLUME. " Thou didst lay of old the foundation 
 " of THE EARTH, and THE HEAVENS are the work 
 " of thy hands : they shall perish^ but Thou shall 
 « endure; they shall all grow old like a garment, ,. 
 " and like a garment thou shalt change them, 
 " and THEY shall be changed; but Thou art the 
 
 * Tempus esse dicunt intervallum muudimotus. — Varro , 
 dc Ung, Lat* lib. r. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY, 
 
 " same, and Thy^ years shall never end/' ThiiJ 
 change is that impending period, when, (as it is pro- 
 claimed in THE PROPHETIC VISION,) " there shall 
 
 " be TIME NO LONGER \" 
 
 The knowledge of the parts of time^ or of the 
 earth^s t>\j km:io^ from its creation until now, is 
 called Ckrouology ; which may be divided into 
 Computative, and Historical. 
 
 Computative Chronology, is the science of com- 
 puting the parts and periods of time. 
 
 Historical Chronology, is the science of assign- 
 ing the parts and periods of time to the events of 
 history. 
 
 * 1. COMPUTATIVE CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 solar time. 
 
 §. Of the Day, arid its Parts. 
 
 The first, and smallest, revolution of time, de- 
 pending upon THE SUN, is a day ; which measure 
 compribes all the time during which the sun seems 
 to make one complete re\{)lution round the earth. 
 This revolution is usually computed, cither from 
 noon to noon, or from midnight to midnight. 
 
i:i:EMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 This measure of time, which we call the natural 
 day, is divided into twenty-four equal parts or 
 nouns. Each hour is divided into ^ix^y parts, or 
 minutes; and each minute into sixty parts, or 
 
 SECONDS. 
 
 The division of the natural day into its periods 
 of light and darkness^ (which constitute the arti- 
 Jlcial day, and the night,) is subject to variation 
 according to the progress of the sun through 
 the seasons ; the light predominating in one part 
 of the year, and the darkness in the other part. 
 But the measure of the natural day, comprehend- 
 ing both the light and darkness, is always uniform 
 and invariable. 
 
 The natural day, is now computed by astrono- 
 mers, from noon to noon. The ancient Jews, and 
 some other ancient nations, computed it from sun- 
 set to sun-set ; hence it is called in Greek Nt/xO>3/5A«pa, 
 Nycthemera, or night and day» Such are the days 
 enumerated in the first chapter of the book of 
 Genesis : " the evening and the morning (that is, 
 " the night and the day) were the^r^^ day, &c.^' 
 By the ancient Romans, it was computed from 
 midnight to midnight, and was denominated by 
 them the civil day ; the artificial day, which they 
 •^called the natural day, was computed from sun- 
 
238 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 rise to sun-set, and the night from sun-set to 
 6un-rise. 
 
 The Italians reckon the hours of the natural 
 day to twenty-four^ which practice seems to have 
 been derived from the civil day of the ancient 
 Romans ; but other nations reckon, like us, twice 
 twelve hours : viz. from midnight to noon, and 
 from noon to midnight. 
 
 §. Of the Ycar^ and its Farts, 
 
 The next, and largest, revolution of time de- 
 pending on THE SUN, is the year ; or one entire 
 revolution of the earth round the sun ; which is 
 accomplished in 365 days and a quarter of a day. 
 
 But it is evident, that this excess of a quarter of 
 a day in every year, would, in the course of time, 
 .make up a measure of time so considerable, as to 
 embarrass the computation of years, if it was not 
 regularly carried to account, and, by that means, 
 reduced into the computation. This is effected, by 
 taking no account of those quarters for three suc- 
 cessive years, and then carrying them all to the 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 fourth year, by adding one whole day to that year : 
 by which naeans, tlie quarters, or fractional parts 
 of four years, are combined into one day, and the 
 account begins anew. This additional day is now 
 placed after the 28th of February, and becomes 
 the 29th of that month ; and the year in which 
 this addition takes place, is called a leap-year. 
 It will follow, that the first three years will consist 
 of 3^5 da3^s each, and the fourth, or Leap-year, 
 of 366 days. Now, three times 3G5 added to 366', 
 are equal to four times 365|, or four complete 
 years. 
 
 This method of regulating the year, was first 
 introduced by Julius Cassar, (46 years before 
 Christ;) from whence it is called the Julian 
 year. But as the true fractional excess of each 
 year is not exactly a quarter of a day, or six hours, 
 but oxAy jive hours 38 min. 57 sec; the Julian 
 computation gains a day ever}^ 130 years; which, 
 in the process of ages, occasions a sensible dif- 
 ference from true solar time. To remedy this 
 defect. Pope Gregory XIII., in 1582, instituted 
 a new computation; which consisted, in keeping 
 the Julian reckoning, (of a Leap-year every fourth 
 year,) except at every hundredth year not divisible 
 ^y 4 ; uV^hich was always to be a common year 
 
240 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 of 365 days, although it should happen to be the 
 fourth year from a Leap-year. This happened in 
 the year 1800 ; so that there then were eight con- 
 secutive years, and only one Leap-year. By this 
 means, the Julian reckoning is restrained from the 
 excesses to which it was liable. 
 
 The original Julian reckoning (or Old Style) 
 was used in this country until the year 1752; 
 when it was set aside, and the New or Gregorian 
 Style was established by act of Parliament. 
 
 As it is the sun that appears to us to move, and 
 as our common language is adapted to that com- 
 mon appearance, we must follow the common 
 usage, and call the earth's yearly revolution, a re- 
 volution of the Sun. This great revolution of the 
 sun, or THE SOLAR YEAR, is divided into twelve 
 parts, or months, measured by the sun's progress 
 through the great circle in the heavens called the 
 Zodiac ; which circle is divided into twelve parts, 
 called the twelve Signs of the Zodiac, — Table IV. 
 
 The solar year divides itself also into four quar- 
 ters, or seasons, by the sun's equinoctial and solsti- 
 tial stations in the ecliptic. The spring season 
 begins from the vernal equinox, which takes 
 place on the 20th of March ; the ^ww^mer season, 
 from the summer solsticcj on the 21st of Juge; the 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 nutumn season, from the autumnal equinox, on the 
 23(1 of September ; and the winter season from the 
 winter solstice, on the 21st of December. At the 
 two equinoxes, the days and nights are of equal 
 length ; viz. twelve hours each : the sun rising and 
 setting at six o'clock. From the vernal to the 
 autumnal equinox, the days are longer than the 
 nights ; and from the autumnal to the vernal 
 equinox, the nights are longer than the days. At 
 the summer solstice, the day is the longest ; at the 
 winter solstice, the day is the shortest. — See 
 Table IV. 
 
 But here it must be observed, that although we 
 compute time by the true solar year, yet the 
 twelve solar months and our twelve calendar 
 months differ in their divisions and periods. The 
 cause of this difference is, that our civil year does 
 not begin exactly at any one of the four great solar 
 points, of the solstices and equinoxes, but is made 
 to begin eleven days after the winter solstice, 
 which happens on the 21st of December ; and the 
 same differeiice continues throughout the year, 
 between tlie divisions of the months. But this dif- 
 ference does not prevent our common year from 
 Toeing altogether a solar year. — See Table V. 
 
 Years are numbered by centuries, or hundreds; 
 
 M 
 
•42 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 and are reckoned from some fixed period^ which is 
 called AN EPOCH A ; and the reckoiiwg of years 
 from the particular epocha, is called the era of 
 that epocha. 
 
 The SOLAR days, months, seasons, and years, con- 
 stitute the rule of time by which the common 
 business of human life is regulated ; so that it is 
 necessary, to reduce all other measures of time to 
 that rule. 
 
 LUNAR TIME. 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 The second great natural index of lime, is the 
 >iooN. But, as the revolutions of this luminary 
 do not correspond in measure with any revolu- 
 tions depending upon ikt sun, some rule of equa- 
 tion, or artificial adjustment, is requisite, in order 
 to reconcile their motions with each other. 
 
 The revolution of the moon round the earth 
 is completed in 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 
 and 3 seconds ; (or, by a round number, in 30 days.) 
 This revolution is called a lunation, or lunar month. 
 Twelve of these lunar months^ constituting one 
 
ELEMENTARY CHEONOLOGY. 24! 
 
 lunar year, are therefore completed in 354^ days; 
 that is to say, 10 days, 15 hours, 11 minutes, and 
 27 seconds, before the twelve of the solar year 
 months are completed. Hence it folbws ; 1st, that 
 the lunar year comprehends only 354 days; and^ 
 2dly, that it is constantly departing from the rule 
 of the solar year, at the rate of about eleven days 
 every year. 
 
 § Correspondence of Solar and Lunar Time, 
 
 As it is of great importance to the uses of man- 
 kind to reconcile the two computations, in order 
 that we may be able to know 'when each lunation 
 begins; that is to say, to know on what days of the 
 solar year the new-moons will fall ; the following 
 method has been devised, for adjusting the two 
 measures. 
 
 When the solar and the lunar year begin to- 
 gether, that is, when it is new-moon upon the first 
 day of January, the moon (as has been said) will 
 complete her twelfth month, 10 days, 15 hours, 
 11 minutes, 27 seconds, before the sun will have 
 completed his twelfth month ; and, consequently, 
 the moon will be already advanced those }0 d, 
 M 2 
 
^44f 1ELEMENTAKY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 15 A. 11 m. 27 s, into her 13th lunation, 2l\\^ second 
 year, when the sun is only beginning his second 
 year. It will follow, that at the end of the 
 second year the moon will have completed her 
 year, twice 10 days, 15 hours , 11 minutes, 27 
 seconds, before the sun has completed his : and so 
 on, for each succeeding year. 
 
 But it is found, that at the end of every nineteen 
 ^ solar years, (which are equal to 19 lunar years and 
 
 7 months,) the moon and the sun meet again on the 
 1st of January; and begin their years again in 
 coincidence. And thus, after a cycle, or recur- 
 rence, of 19 solar years, called the Lunar 
 Cycle, all the new moons fall again upon the 
 same days of the solar months that they did I9 years 
 before. 
 
 Now, as the difference between the solar and lunar 
 year is in the proportion of 10 days, 15 hours, 11 
 minutes, 27 seconds, for each of those 19 years; 
 or, speaking by a round number, 11 days; by 
 always adding eleven days to the lunar years, for 
 the difference between solar and /i/wflr measure, the 
 two sums will be kept at par ; and the appearances 
 of the moon will be always fixed to the standard of 
 solar time. 
 
 The eleven days, thus successively added to the 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 lunar years throughout the 19 solar years of the 
 cycle, are reduced into lunar months, in the follow- 
 In^ manner : 
 
 Years of the 
 Lunar Cycle, 
 
 1 •• 
 
 2 
 
 3 •• 
 
 4 
 
 5 . 
 
 6 • 
 
 7 • 
 
 8 • 
 
 9 . 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 • 
 
 12 • 
 
 13 • 
 
 14 • 
 
 15 • 
 
 16 • 
 17 
 
 18 • 
 
 19 • 
 
 I 
 
 Eleven days 
 
 added. months. days. 
 
 
 
 11 11 
 
 22 ^^ 
 
 33 — or, 1 motjth, aiid 3 
 
 44 1 in. 14 
 
 55 1 m. 25 
 
 66 2 ra. 6 
 
 77 2 ni. 17 
 
 iiV> 2 ra. 28 
 
 99 3 ra. 9 
 
 110 3 m. 20 
 
 121 4 m. 1 
 
 132 4 m. 12 
 
 143 4 m. 2;^ 
 
 154 5 m. • • • • • • 4 
 
 165 5 m. 15 
 
 176 5 m. 26 
 
 187 6 m. 7 
 
 198 6 iH. 18 
 
 210, or, 0. 7 m. or, 
 
 After the last, or igth, year of the cycle, twelve 
 days are added instead o( eleven, (yiz, 18 + 12 =30,) 
 which completes the lunar month ; and the new 
 cycle finds the sun and moon in conjunction on the 
 first day of the first year, as they had been nineteen 
 years before. 
 
 It is evident, that the numbers in the last column > 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 show the fractional parts , or days of the lunar 
 month, with which each year of the cyc\Q ends; 
 and, consequently, they show the age of the moon 
 at the beginning of the years against which they 
 arc severally set. By deducting that number, 
 therefore, from 30, the remainder gives the day of 
 the month for the new moon in January y for each 
 year of the cycle. 
 
 This series of numbers, proceeding always by 
 elevens^ and showing the age of the moon at the 
 beginning of each year, is called tpie epact ; from 
 a Greek word, signifying addition. 
 
 The seven lunar months, or 210 days, which are 
 added to the general account to make it equal to 
 19 solar years, are the difference between 19 solar 
 and 19 lunar years. For 19 solar years, con- 
 tain 6939 days; 19 lunar years, contain 6729 
 days; add seven lunar months, or 210 days, and 
 the sum makes 6939 days : omitting fractions. 
 
 From the correspondence of the epacts with the 
 years of the lunar cycle, it is easy to find the new- 
 moons, and consequently the full-moons, for every 
 month of the year. 
 
 l"c "i?} ^* ^- ^' ^' ^' ^' '^' ^' ^'^^' ^^' ^^* *^* ^^* ^^' ^^' ^^' ^^' ^^' 
 
 EpacU. 0. 11.22. 3. 14.25. 6, IT. 28. 9- 20. 1. 12. 23. 4. X5. SG. 7* 18- 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. ^J47 
 
 To find the new moon for any given month, we 
 must, 1st, know the current year of the lunar 
 cycle; 2dly, the epact corresponding to that year : 
 3dly, we must deduct the number of the epact of 
 that year from 30, for January, and the remainder 
 will be the day of the new moon in that month. 
 Thus, if the epact be 12, (that is, if the moon be 
 12 days old at the end of the year,) we must 
 deduct 12 from 30, (the sum of a lunar month,) 
 and 18 will remain; therefore it will be new- 
 moon on the 18th of January following. For 
 February, we must deduct the epact from 28 ; for 
 March, from 30. For the other ten months, we 
 must add to the epact, 2 for April, 3 for May, 
 4 for June, and so on ; and deduct from 30 ; and 
 the remainder will give the day for the moon's 
 change, or new moon, in each of those ten months. 
 But, if the epact together with the number added 
 exceed 30, then we must deduct 'from ()0, (or 2 
 months,) instead of from 30; and the remainder 
 will equally show the day of the new moon. 
 
 Since therefore the new moons, after every nine- 
 teen years ^ fall again upon the same days of the 
 month, a table of the new moons for one entire 
 cycle of nineteen years will show the new moons 
 for the succeeding cycles ; with sufficient accuracy 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 for every purpose of common life, though not for 
 ihe exactness of astronomical calculations. And, 
 since the fall moons are always 14 dai/s SLud 18 
 ^ours before, and after, the new moons ; by findmg 
 the new moon for any month, we find also the full 
 moony by counting 14 days and a half cither forward 
 or backward. This method may sometimes err, 
 by one day, or thirty-six hours ; but that difference 
 is immaterial for common life, and in most in- 
 stances it will be found exact even to a day. 
 
 It is upon this principle, that Table II. has been 
 arranged; in which we may trace the beautiful 
 order uniformly maintained by that splendid lumi- 
 nary, " the faithful witness in Heaven V This 
 Table shows the New- Moons, upon a mean calcu- 
 lation, for every month of the year in the recurrent 
 CYCLE of NINETEEN years. It is digested froni 
 the ecclesiastical Table of Epacts, compared 
 throughout with the two last lunar cycles in the 
 Nautical Almanack, and with the years of the 
 present cycle, of which the present year, 1812, is the 
 8th year. In order to use it, first find the number 
 of the current year in the lunar cycle ; correspond- 
 ing to which number in the same line are the days 
 
 * Psalm Ixxxix. 37. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 249 
 
 of the New-Moons, for each of the twelve months 
 of the year. To find the Full-Moon of any month, 
 reckon 14 days and a half, backward or forward, 
 from the dav of the New-Moon. The Epact of 
 each year is subjoined, which shows the Moon's 
 age at the beginning of that year. 
 
 HEBDOMADAL* TIME. 
 
 §. Of Weeks. 
 
 We have now seen the operations of the suit 
 and MOON, as the natural indexes of time; and we 
 have found the means of adjusting the indications 
 of the latter, to the days depending upon the former, 
 so as to know, with sufficient accuracy, upon 
 what days of the solar year the new and full moons 
 shall fall. 
 
 But there remains another rule of time, of the 
 utmost benefit and importance, which it is equally 
 necessary for us to adjust to the days of the solar 
 
 ♦ From the Greek, i^rr*, hepta — ieven* 
 M 5 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 year ; this is, the se^en constantly recurring days of 
 THE week; by means of which, the measures of 
 months are subdivided into smaller portions, and 
 more convenient measures, of time. » 
 
 This division of time has no relation, either to 
 the sun, or to the moon, or to any ?iatural index 
 whatsoever; but is the positive institution, and per- 
 petual evidence of the intervention, of the Author 
 OF TIME. Some eminent astronomers, chiefly of 
 the late French school, attempted (for obvious 
 reasons,) to get rid of the institutional origin of 
 THE WEEK ; by representing it as an invention of 
 man, to mark the fourth parts, or quarters, of the 
 hmar month. But they must have been able to 
 see, what every common observer may at once dis- 
 cern, that the rule of weeks would be at variance 
 with that of the lunar motions, before three of them 
 could pass ; and that the variance would be con- 
 tinually increasing. There is, indeed, a perpetual 
 and essential discordance, between the ratio of 
 weeks and that of the lunar motions; since one 
 lunar year contains only 48 of those quarters, 
 while it embraces 50 weeks and four days. Let us, 
 then, humbly recognise and adore the Almighty 
 power, who so graciously superadded to His 
 natural dividers of time, this inestimable, unchan- 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 ging moral divider, IIis seventh day ; by which 
 alone the flux of time is reduced into such small 
 and commodious measures, and a perpetually re- 
 current day of civil and religious rest, io he distin- 
 guished from all other dai/s, interposed, after every 
 six days of labour are concluded. 
 
 This seventh day of distinction was, by 
 GoD*s ordinance, the last day of the seicn^ from the 
 creation of the world (which great event it was 
 designed to commemorate,) until the time of ouu 
 Lord upon the earth; but, from His time, the 
 Jirsf day of the seven has been made the day of 
 DISTINCTION ; in commemoration of His resur- 
 rection from the dead upon that day, who was 
 " Lord also of the Sabbath/' 
 
 With the same reference, Easter Sunday, or 
 Easti'r-Day, is rendered the first in importance 
 of all those sacred days in the year; all other days 
 of religious observance, that are not fixed, being 
 made to depend upon the time of the Feast of 
 Easter, which Is always the first Sunday after the 
 full moon which happens upon, or next after, the 
 21st day of March ; and if the full moon happens 
 upon a Sunday, Easter-day is the Sunday fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 Easter-day cannot fall earlier than the 2'2d of 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 March, nor later than the 25th of April; which 
 two days are therefore called, the Easter limits. 
 
 As the fixing the great festival of Easter, which 
 governs the whole series of moveable days of 
 -observance, depends upon finding the full moon 
 upon, or next after, the 21st of March ; it became 
 necessary to establish some common and universal 
 rule, which should serve for the whole Christian 
 church, for determining that moon, and the great 
 festival which was to be regulated by it. 
 
 This gave rise to the invention of the Epact, 
 already mentioned; by means of which Easter-da]/ 
 has been determined since the ye^r 1582, when the 
 Epact was first publicly employed for that purpose 
 by Pope Gregory XIII. 
 
 This ecclesiastical epact, however, as it has al- 
 ready been intimated, though of sufficiently ^ewerai^ 
 accuracy for the purposes to which it is applied, is 
 nevertheless defective in minute exactness; for 
 which reason, astronomers have calculated exactly 
 the annual differences of the solar and lunar revolu- 
 tions, and have reduced those differences into Tabks 
 of astronomical epacts ; for, which, see M. de la 
 Lande's Astronomic, Tom. I. p. 102, (Tables), 
 and Tom. II. p. 239, &c. 
 
 ^Vhen Easter-day is known for any year^ all the 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 other moveable days of observance are known by 
 the following rules. 
 
 Advent Sunday is always the nearest Sunday to 
 the Feast of St. Andrew, whether before or after ; 
 which feast is always fixed to the 30th of No- 
 vember. 
 
 Septuagesiraa w ^nine ^ 
 
 Sexagesima I I eight 1 ^^^^^ ^ . 
 
 Quinquagesima VSundaj, is-^ seven V Easter-day.^ 
 CJuadrapesima 1 f six 1 *' 
 
 Quadragesima I I six 1 
 
 Palm ^ ^one -^ 
 
 Maundy Thursday, is three days, ^^^^^^ Easter-day. 
 (jood Inday, is two days 3 -^ 
 
 Logation Sunday ^five weeks 
 
 .scension-daj or| \ f„^^ 1 
 
 Holy Ihursday V is < J J \ 
 Vhit-Sunday 1 f seven weeks i 
 
 'rinitv SiinHav -^ ^fiiaht weeks "^ 
 
 Rogation Sunday ^five weeks 
 
 ''^'Holy^xIm'Sda" I is ) ''"^y ^^^^^ \ ^ft^'^ Ea»ter- 
 Whit-Sunday 1 f seven weeks i ^* 
 
 Trinity Sunday ^ eight weeks 
 
 The number of Sundays, after Trinity, and after 
 Epiphany, are determined, by the distance of Easter- 
 day from the Feast of St. Andrew, and by the 
 distance of the Feast of St, Andrtw from Easter-day 
 following. 
 
 All these days are shown in Table II., where, 
 by finding Easter-day for the year, in the first 
 column, all the other moveable days for that year 
 are found also. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 §. Correspondence of Hebdomadal and Solar Time, 
 
 In order to be able to find the perpetual cor- 
 respondence between the days of the week, and the 
 days of the mouthy it is necessary first to find, 
 upon what days of the solar or common year each 
 seventh day of distinction (or Sunday) shall fall ; 
 which being found, all the other six days are 
 found in course, by their regular consecutive 
 order. For this purpose, the first seven letters of 
 the alphabet, called the Sunday -letters, have been 
 made to represent the 7 days of the week. These 
 r letters are successively repeated throughout the 
 year, beginning with the first day of the year; and 
 are set against the 36'5 days of which the year con- 
 sists; A answering to the 1st of January, and 
 so on. 
 
 This may be seen in the Calendar of any Prayer- 
 book ; and in order to exemplify it, a Calendar was 
 introduced in the first edition of this work ; but, 
 in consequence of a legal notice from the Solicitor 
 of the Stamp-office, it has of necessity been with- 
 drawn. It is easy however to attain the end in 
 view, and with additional advantages, by not 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 resorting, to the common Calendar, but to a 
 General Table, (Table III.) exhibiting at one 
 view, the entire and perpetual correspondence of 
 Hebdomadal (or weeklT/j) and Solar (or monthly) 
 
 TIME. 
 
 In this Table, all the days of the year follow 
 each other in the weekly order prescribed by the 
 Sunday-lctterS; which Sunday-letters are arranged 
 in the^rst column. Each of the following columns, 
 which contain the days of the twelve months, is 
 marked at the foot with the name of*the month 
 which begins in the column. By finding the 
 Sunday-letter belonging to any year in Table I., all 
 the Sundays of that year will be seen in the new 
 Table at one view. Thus, if C be the Sunday 
 letter for the year, (as in the year J 813,) all the 
 days of months in the several parallel lines of C 
 will be Sundays; and, consequently, all the six 
 letters following, between C and C, will mark the 
 other six days of the week, in their regular conse- 
 cutive order. Therefore, if C, which answers to 
 the 31st of January, and 28th of February, be the 
 Sunday-letter, D will show Monday ^ at the 1st of 
 February, and 1st of March ; E, Tuesday; F, 
 Wednesday, G, Thursday; A, Friday; B^ Saturn 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 day ; and C, Sunday again, at the 7th; there 
 being only those seven letters employed. 
 
 But in Leap-year, when there are two Sunday- 
 letters, as C B ; then, though C marks Sunday at 
 the 28th of February, yet D at the 1st of March 
 will mark Tuesday ; because in that month, is 
 consequence of the intervention of the unlettered 
 intercalary day, or 29 Feb., Sunday will fall upon 
 the second Sunday letter, B, The reason of which 
 effect will become manifest, by merely tracing the 
 operation 6i the intercalary day upon the Sunday- 
 letter, from the last Sunday in February to the first 
 Sunday in March ; both in a common year, and in 
 a Leap-year. And as, in the latter case, B will be 
 found the Sunday -letter of March, it is evident 
 that D, the sixth letter immediately preceding^ must 
 have been Tuesday. 
 
 Thus, any day of the week and months for any 
 future year throughout the whole of the present 
 century, may be seen, at one glance, by merely 
 applying the Sunday letters, from Table I., to 
 Table III., the General Table of Weehs and 
 Months, For let us ask, for example, on what 
 day of the week will the l6th of June fall in the 
 year 1825?— I find in Table L theit the Sunday- 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 257 
 
 letter for that year is B. I find in Table III. that 
 the l6th of June answers to F. — Therefore B 
 being Sunday, and F the Jiftk letter from B, the 
 i6th of June 1825 will be ihejifth day of the week, 
 or Thursday. Or, on the other hand, if we wish 
 to find on what day of the month the 3d Thursday 
 of June 1825 will fall; we have only to reverse 
 the process. We find that B is the Sunday-letter, 
 and that F will necessarily represent Thursday. 
 The letter F stands opposite to the l6th of June; 
 which is therefore the date of the 3d Thursday of 
 that month. In contemplating which intimate 
 and admirable involution of the diiOfcrent measures 
 of time, it is impossible not to be struck with 
 wonder at the perfection of that skill, which thus 
 contrived the " great lights'' of heaven, in com- 
 bination with " THE SEVENTH BAY,** tO be ^^for 
 
 " SIGNS, and for seasons, and for days, and 
 
 " YEARS." 
 
 Upon this correspondence of Hebdomadal and 
 Solar time is founded another cycle or revolution, 
 of 28 years, called the solar cycle, with re- 
 ference to the ancient name of Sun-day, or dies 
 Sous; which revolution being completed, the 
 dominical or Svnday letters return into their former 
 j)laces ; the days of the months return to the same 
 
258 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY, 
 
 days of the week; the sun's place to the same 
 signs and degrees of the ecliptic, on the same 
 months and days; and the leap years begin the 
 same course, with respect to the days of the week, 
 on which the days of the months fall. The year 
 1 812, was thej^r^^ year of a solar cycle. 
 
 COMPOUND CYCLE, 
 
 Victorius or Dionysius. 
 
 If the two Cycles of which we have spoken, 
 (the Lunar Cycle of IQ years, and the Solar Cycle 
 of 28 years,) begin together on any given day, (as 
 they did on the day of Creation^ they will not com- 
 mence again on the same day, till after a lapse of 
 532 years ; when they will again commence to- 
 gether. Thus, after every 532 years the two 
 cycles begin at the same time, and they thus pro- 
 duce a compound C3/c/e,called from its first inventors 
 or employers, in the 5th and 6th centuries, the 
 Victorian, and the Dionysian, Cycle, The sum of 
 the years of this Cycle is the product of tUe Solar 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. ^59 
 
 and Lunar Cycles multiplied into each other; 
 viz. 19 -f 28 = 532. This capacious measure 
 will be found of essential service for measuring and 
 dividing the ages of time, with relation to the 
 events of this earth ; which is the proper object of 
 Historical Chronoiogy, 
 
TABLE L 
 
 Showing the Years of the present Ct ntury j with the 
 Years of the Xunar Cvclk^ the Epact; Sunday 
 Letter ; and Easter Day ,• of each Year. 
 
 o 
 
 CJ 
 
 < 
 c 
 
 r 
 
 a- 
 
 w 
 
 1 
 
 a 
 
 > 
 cn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Y' 
 o 
 
 § 
 
 3- 
 1 
 
 s 
 a. 
 
 
 pi 
 
 
 
 ft" 
 
 »< 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 2. 
 fT 
 
 
 71 
 
 < 
 
 1812 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 ED 
 
 Mar. 
 
 29 
 
 
 1826 
 
 3 
 
 22 
 
 A 
 
 M. 26 
 
 1813 
 
 9 
 
 28 
 
 C 
 
 Apr. 
 
 18 
 
 
 1827 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 G 
 
 A. 15 
 
 1814 
 
 10 
 
 9 
 
 B 
 
 — 
 
 10 
 
 
 1828 
 
 5 
 
 14 
 
 FE 
 
 — 6 
 
 1815 
 
 11 
 
 iO 
 
 A 
 
 M. 
 
 26 
 
 
 1829 
 1830 
 
 6 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 D 
 C 
 
 — 19 
 
 — 11 
 
 1816 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 GF 
 
 A. 
 
 14 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1817 
 
 13 
 
 12 
 
 £ 
 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 1831 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 B 
 
 A. 3 
 
 1818 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 D 
 
 M. 
 
 22 
 
 
 1832 
 
 9 
 
 28 
 
 AG 
 
 — 22 
 
 1819 
 
 15 
 
 4 
 
 C 
 
 A. 
 
 11 
 
 
 1833 
 
 10 
 
 i; 
 
 F 
 
 — 7 
 
 18^0 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 B A 
 
 — 
 
 2 
 
 
 1834 
 1835 
 
 li 
 
 12 
 
 20 
 
 1 
 
 E 
 D 
 
 M. 30 
 A, 19 
 
 1821 
 
 17 
 
 26 
 
 G 
 
 — 
 
 22 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 18^2 
 
 18 
 
 7 
 
 F 
 
 — 
 
 7 
 
 
 1836 
 
 13 
 
 12 
 
 CB 
 
 — 3 
 
 1823 
 
 19 
 
 18 
 
 E 
 
 M. 
 
 30 
 
 
 1837 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 A 
 
 M. 26 
 
 1824 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 D C 
 
 A. 
 
 18 
 
 
 1838 
 
 15 
 
 4 
 
 G 
 
 A. 15 
 
 1825 
 
 2 
 
 U 
 
 B 
 
 — 
 
 3 
 
 
 1839 
 
 16 
 
 i5 
 
 F 
 
 M. 31 
 
 i 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1840 
 
 17 
 
 2u 
 
 E D 
 
 A. 19 
 
> 
 
 c 
 
 ft 
 
 03 
 
 > 
 
 
 S5 
 
 
 
 
 en 
 
 i 
 
 w c 
 
 a 
 
 W 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 fC 
 
 c 
 
 W 
 
 pi 
 
 c 
 
 c 
 
 
 
 r*" 
 
 > 
 
 
 >f^ 
 
 
 
 G 
 
 SO 
 
 3 
 
 a 
 
 ■0 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 .? 
 
 
 1841 
 
 18 
 
 7 
 
 C 
 
 — 11 
 
 
 1871 
 
 10 
 
 9 
 
 A 
 
 — 9 
 
 1842 
 
 19 
 
 la 
 
 B 
 
 M.27 
 
 
 1872 
 
 11 
 
 20 
 
 GF 
 
 M.31 
 
 1843 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 A. 16 
 
 
 1873 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 E 
 
 A. 13 
 
 1844 
 
 2 
 
 11 
 
 G F 
 
 _ 7 
 
 
 1874 
 
 13 
 
 12 
 
 D 
 
 — 5 
 
 1845 
 
 3 
 
 22 
 
 E 
 
 M.23 
 
 
 1875 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 C 
 
 M. 28 
 
 1846 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 D 
 
 A. 12 
 
 
 1876 
 
 15 
 
 4 
 
 BA 
 
 A. 16 
 
 1847 
 
 5 
 
 14 
 
 C 
 
 — 4 
 
 
 1877 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 G 
 
 
 1848 
 
 6 
 
 25 
 
 B A 
 
 — 23 
 
 
 1878 
 
 17 
 
 26 
 
 F 
 
 — 21 
 
 1849 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 G 
 
 — 8 
 
 
 1879 
 
 18 
 
 7 
 
 E 
 
 —■ 13 
 
 1850 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 F 
 
 M.31 
 
 
 1880 
 
 19 
 
 18 
 
 D C 
 
 M.28 
 
 1851 
 
 9 
 
 28 
 
 E 
 
 A. 20 
 
 
 1881 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 B 
 
 A. 17 
 
 1852 
 
 10 
 
 9 
 
 DC 
 
 — 11 
 
 
 1882 
 
 2 
 
 11 
 
 A 
 
 — 9 
 
 1853 
 
 11 
 
 20 
 
 B 
 
 M.27 
 
 
 1883 
 
 3 
 
 22 
 
 G 
 
 M.25 
 
 1854 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 A 
 
 A. 16 
 
 
 1884 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 FE 
 
 A. 13 
 
 1855 
 
 13 
 
 12 
 
 G 
 
 — 8 
 
 
 1885 
 
 5 
 
 14 
 
 D 
 
 — 5 
 
 1856 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 F E 
 
 M.23 
 
 
 1886 
 
 6 
 
 25 
 
 C 
 
 — 25 
 
 1857 
 
 15 
 
 4 
 
 D 
 
 A, 12 
 
 
 1887 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 B 
 
 — 10 
 
 1858 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 C 
 
 -~ 4 
 
 
 1888 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 AG 
 
 •— 1 
 
 1859 
 
 17 
 
 26 
 
 B 
 
 — 24 
 
 
 1889 
 
 9 
 
 28 
 
 F 
 
 — 21 
 
 1860 
 
 18 
 
 7 
 
 AG 
 
 --. 8 
 
 
 1890 
 
 10 
 
 9 
 
 E 
 
 — 6 
 
 1861 
 
 19 
 
 18 
 
 F 
 
 M.31 
 
 
 1891 
 
 11 
 
 20 
 
 D 
 
 M.29 
 
 186« 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 E 
 
 A. 20 
 
 
 1892 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 CB 
 
 A. 17 
 
 1863 
 
 2 
 
 11 
 
 D 
 
 — 5 
 
 
 1893 
 
 13 
 
 12 
 
 A 
 
 — 2 
 
 1864 
 
 3 
 
 22 
 
 C B 
 
 M.27 
 
 
 1894 
 
 14 
 
 23 
 
 G 
 
 M.25 
 
 1865 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 A 
 
 A. 16 
 
 
 1895 
 
 15 
 
 4' 
 
 F 
 
 A. 14 
 
 1866 
 
 5 
 
 14 
 
 G 
 
 — ■ 1 
 
 
 1896 
 
 16 
 
 15 
 
 ED 
 
 — 5 
 
 1867 
 
 6 
 
 25 
 
 F 
 
 — 21 
 
 
 1897 
 
 17 
 
 26 
 
 C 
 
 — 18 
 
 1868 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 ED 
 
 — 12 
 
 
 1898 
 
 18 
 
 7 
 
 B 
 
 — 10 
 
 1869 
 
 8 
 
 17 
 
 C 
 
 M. 28 
 
 
 1899 
 
 19 
 
 18 
 
 A 
 
 — 2 
 
 18701 9128 
 
 B 
 
 A. 17 
 
 
 1900 
 
 1 
 
 29 
 
 G 
 
 — 15 
 
TABLE II. 
 A GENERAL TABLE of LUNAR md SOLAR TIME. 
 
 r % *< 
 
 > S3 
 S3 ^' 
 
 1 
 
 1 «- 
 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 c 
 
 B 
 
 
 > 
 
 03 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 
 1. 
 
 30. 
 19. 
 
 8. 
 
 27. 
 16. 
 
 5. 
 
 28. 
 17. 
 
 19. 
 8. 
 
 28. 
 17. 
 
 6. 
 
 27. 
 16. 
 
 5. 
 
 26. 
 15. 
 
 4. 
 
 ^5. 
 14. 
 
 3. 
 
 24. 
 
 23. 
 
 22. 
 
 21. 
 10. 
 
 29. 
 
 20. 
 9. 11 
 
 28. 22 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 4 
 5 
 
 6 
 7 
 
 13. 
 
 12. 
 1. 
 
 11. 
 
 1. 
 30. 
 
 6. 
 25. 
 14. 
 
 3. 
 
 2. 
 
 27. 
 16. 
 
 5. 
 
 25. 
 14. 
 
 3. 
 
 24. 
 13. 
 
 2. 
 
 23. 
 
 12. 
 
 22. 
 
 11. 
 
 1. 
 30. 
 
 21. 
 10. 
 
 29. 
 
 20. 
 9. 
 
 28. 
 
 19. 
 8. 
 
 27, 
 
 18. 
 
 17. 3 
 
 6. 14 
 
 25. 5^5 
 
 7. 
 
 26. 
 
 1. 
 
 24. 
 13. 
 
 2. 
 21. 
 
 10. 
 29. 
 18. 
 
 7. 
 26. 
 15. 
 
 22. 
 11. 
 
 1. 
 
 19. 
 
 8. 
 
 27. 
 
 16.1 
 
 5. 
 
 24.' 
 13. 
 
 24. 
 13. 
 
 22. 
 11. 
 
 21. 
 10. 
 
 20. 
 9. 
 
 19. 
 8. 
 
 1 
 
 8. 
 
 17. 
 6. 
 
 16. 
 5. 
 
 15. 
 4. 
 
 14. 6 
 
 3. 17 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 11 
 
 7. 
 
 2. 
 21. 
 
 10. 
 29 
 18. 
 
 7. 
 
 1. 
 30. 
 
 19. 
 
 8. 
 
 27. 
 16. 
 
 5. 
 
 29. 
 18. 
 
 7. 
 26. 
 15. 
 
 4. 
 
 28. 
 
 27. 
 
 26. 
 15. 
 
 4. 
 
 23. 
 
 25. 
 
 24. 
 
 23. 
 12. 
 
 1. 
 20. 
 9. 
 
 28. 
 
 22. 28 
 
 11. 9 
 
 1. 
 
 30. 20 
 
 19. 1 
 
 8. 12 
 
 27. 23 
 
 17. 
 
 16. 
 
 5. 
 
 24. 
 
 is! 
 
 2. 
 
 14. 
 
 3. 
 
 13. 
 
 2. 
 
 6. 
 
 25. 
 14. 
 
 12 
 13 
 
 14 
 15 
 16 
 
 22. 
 
 21. 
 10. 
 
 29. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 2. 
 
 11. 
 
 1. 
 30. 
 
 3. 
 
 15. 
 
 24. 
 13. 
 
 2. 
 
 21. 
 
 23. 
 12. 
 
 1. 
 20. 
 9. 
 
 22. 
 11. 
 
 1. 
 
 30. 
 
 19. 
 8. 
 
 21. 
 10. 
 
 29. 
 18. 
 
 7. 
 
 2 
 9 
 
 2{ 
 
 a. 
 
 3. 
 
 19. 
 8. 
 
 27. 
 16. 
 
 18. 
 
 17. 
 6. 
 
 25. 
 14. 
 
 3. 
 
 16. 4 
 5. 15 
 
 24. ^6 
 13. 7 
 2. 18 
 
 7. 
 26. 
 
 -1 
 
 18 1 
 
 4. 
 
 2. 1 
 
 4. 
 
 12. 
 
 21.' 
 10. 
 
 23. 
 
 12. 
 
 1^- 
 
 15. 
 
 19 , 
 
 10. 
 
 6. 
 
 
 5. 
 
 4. 
 

 
 
 
 
 TABLE IIL 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 A GENERAL TABLE of HEBDOMADAL and SOLAR TliME. 
 
 A 
 
 Mot 
 
 >fTHS 
 
 and Dav 
 
 i 1 
 
 s. 
 
 
 
 IJ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 B 
 
 2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 C 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 D 
 
 4 
 
 IF 
 
 IM 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 E 
 
 5 
 
 2 , 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 27 
 
 25 
 
 22 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 7 
 
 F 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 26 
 
 23 
 
 21 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 G 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 lA. 
 
 29 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 9 
 
 A 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 28 
 
 25 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 10 
 
 B 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 IM. 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 18 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 11 
 
 C 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 27 
 
 25 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 12 
 
 D 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 26 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 13 
 
 E 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 4 
 
 1 J. 
 
 29 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 14 
 
 F 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 28 
 
 25 
 
 22 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 ih 
 
 G 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 IJ. 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 23 
 
 21 
 
 18 
 
 16 
 
 A 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 17 
 
 B 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 25 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 18 
 
 C 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 4 
 
 lA. 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 19 
 
 D 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 27 
 
 "io 
 
 22 
 
 20 
 
 E 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 26 
 
 23 
 
 21 
 
 F 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 IS. 
 
 29 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 22 
 
 G 
 
 2J 
 
 18 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 28 
 
 25 
 
 23 
 
 A 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 10. 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 24 
 
 B 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 Z<^ 
 
 27 
 
 25 
 
 C 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 21 
 
 18 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 26 
 
 D 
 E 
 
 25 
 26 
 
 22 
 23 
 
 22 
 23 
 
 19 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 12 
 13 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 5 
 
 IN. 
 
 2 
 
 29 
 30 
 
 27 
 28 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 F 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 24 
 
 21 
 
 19 
 
 16 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 3 
 
 ID. 
 
 29 
 
 G 
 
 28 
 
 'Zb 
 
 25 
 
 22 . 
 
 20 
 
 17 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 9 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 A 
 
 29 
 
 26 
 
 26 
 
 23 
 
 21 
 
 13 
 
 16 
 
 13 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 5 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 B 
 
 30 
 
 27 
 
 27 
 
 24 
 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 17 
 
 14 
 
 11 
 
 9 
 
 6 
 
 4 
 
 
 C 
 
 31 
 
 28 
 
 28 
 
 .25 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 18 
 
 15 
 
 12 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 Jan. 
 
 Feb. 
 
 Mar. 
 
 Apr. 
 
 May 
 
 June 
 
 July 
 
 Arg 
 
 Sep. 
 
 Oct. 
 
 Nov. 
 
 Dec 
 
 
 
TABLE IV. 
 
 Showing^ the Sun*s Rising and Setting, every Tenth Day. 
 
 Jan. 1 
 
 Rises. 
 
 Sets. 
 
 
 July 1 
 
 Rises. 
 
 Sets. 
 
 M. H. 
 
 45.9. 
 
 
 H. M. 
 
 8. 5. 
 
 M. H. 
 
 5.4. 
 
 H. M. 
 
 3.45. 
 
 10 
 
 7.68. 
 
 58.5. 
 
 
 10 
 
 3.52. 
 
 52.9. 
 
 
 20 
 
 7.47. 
 
 47.5. 
 
 - 
 
 20 
 
 4. 2. 
 
 2.8. 
 
 
 Feb. 1 
 
 7.29. 
 
 '29,5. 
 
 Aug. 1 
 
 4.19. 
 
 19.8. 
 
 10 
 
 7.13. 
 
 13.5. 
 
 
 10 
 
 4.34. 
 
 34.8. 
 
 
 20 
 
 5. 54. 
 
 54.6. 
 
 
 20 
 
 4.52. 
 
 52.8. 
 
 
 March j 
 
 6. 35. 
 
 35.6. 
 
 Sept. 1 
 
 5.14. 
 
 14.7. 
 
 10 
 
 6.17. 
 
 17.6. 
 
 
 10 
 
 5.32. 
 
 32.7. 
 
 
 20 
 
 6. 0. 
 
 0.6. 
 
 V. Equin. 
 
 23 
 
 6. 0. 
 
 0.6. 
 
 A. Equin. 
 
 April 1 
 
 5.33. 
 
 33.7. 
 
 Oct. 1 
 
 6.13. 
 
 13.6. 
 
 10 
 
 5. 16. 
 
 16.7. 
 
 
 10 
 
 6.30. 
 
 30.6. 
 
 
 20 
 
 4. ,"^7. 
 
 57.8. 
 
 
 20 
 Nov. 1 
 
 6. 50. 
 
 50.6. 
 
 
 May 1 
 
 4.37. 
 
 37.8. 
 
 7.12. 
 
 12.5. 
 
 10 
 
 4.22. 
 
 22.8. 
 
 
 10 
 
 7.28. 
 
 28.5. 
 
 
 20 
 
 4. 7. 
 
 3. 53. 
 
 7.8. 
 53.9.' 
 
 
 20 
 
 7.43. 
 
 43.5. 
 
 
 June 1 
 
 Dec. 1 
 
 7.57. 
 
 57. 5. 
 
 10 
 
 3.46. 
 
 46.9. 
 
 
 10 
 
 8. 4. 
 
 4.4. 
 
 
 21 
 
 3. 43. 
 
 43.9. 
 
 S. Solst. 
 
 21 
 
 8. 8. 
 
 8.4. 
 
 W. Solst. 
 
 N. B. The first columns show the mimites(M.) after the keur (h.) 
 of sun-rise; the second, the m, before tht H^ of»un-»et. 
 
TABLE V. 
 
 Correspondence of the Solar and 
 Cai^endar Months. 
 
 Jan. 19"\ 
 Feb. 18 
 March 20 
 April 20 
 May 21 
 June 21 
 July 22 
 August 22 
 Sept. 23 
 Oct. 23 
 Nov. 22 
 Dec. 21. 
 
 Aquarius. , 
 Pisces. 
 
 Aries. — Equinox 
 Taurus. 
 Gemini. 
 The Sun Cancer. — Solstice, 
 enters Leo. 
 Virgo. 
 
 Li bra. — Equinox, 
 Scorpio, 
 Sagittarius. 
 ^Capricorn . — Sohticf^ 
 
t66 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGT. 
 
 !S. HISTORICAL CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 OF EPOCH AS, AND ERAS. 
 
 Historical Chronology, is the science of 
 assigning dates of time to the events of history. 
 
 A date, is a relative mark of time, reckoned 
 from some fixed period. 
 
 1\iQ period from which marks of time referrible 
 to events are reckoned, is called an epoch a. 
 
 The reckoning of time from the epocha, is called 
 the ERA of the epocha. The date^ is the particular 
 year of the era. 
 
 Hence it is manifest, that an epocha and an 
 era differ from each other in Chronology, as much 
 as a point differs in Geometry from a line which is 
 drawn from it. It is therefore surprising, that 
 Hume, Gibbon, and many other eminent authors, 
 should have occasionally confounded the terms 
 epocha and era, by using the latter to signify 
 the former; although the perversion of language 
 is not less, than if they had used the word line to 
 signify a point: a confusion less excusable in 
 professed historians, than in any other class of 
 writers. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 267 
 
 Without ^ovciiijixed point of time to reckon from, 
 ho distinct notion of time could be attached to any 
 past event ; which must be noted, by its relation 
 to that fixed point. 
 
 The real use of Historical Chronology, is to 
 afford a ready apprehension of the distance of 
 
 PAST EVENTS /row PRESENT TIME. 
 
 In order to which end, nations that have reached 
 a state of civilization, have commonly fixed upon 
 some event in their domestic transactions, from 
 which to reckon the progress of time ; making 
 that event the period, or epocha, of their era, or 
 reckoning of years. This has usually been the 
 earliest period, to which they could refer with any 
 authority, or security. 
 
 Of these epochas, the principal among the 
 ancient heathen nations, were the three great 
 epochas, 
 
 Cthe Olympiads 7T6) 
 
 of < the Building o/*RomE' *753 >' 
 vNabonassar • • « 747 J 
 
 years before 
 Christ. 
 
 The first of these, was adopted by the Greeks ; 
 the second, by the Romans ; the third, by the 
 Babylonians and Egyptians, 
 
 All time prior to those epochas, (all of which 
 
263 ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 fall in the middle or end of the eighth century 
 before Cpirist,) was pronounced by Varro, the 
 great heathen reformer ofcHRONOLOGY, to be 
 either fabulous, or wholly obscure ; which two cha- 
 racters of time he divided, by the intervening tra- 
 ditional event ^ o/'the Flood : an arrangement, in 
 which his penetration and sagacity are as con- 
 spicuous above those of all other heathen writers, 
 as his ingenuousness and the fidelity of his reason 
 are pre-eminent, above those of many who have 
 been denominated Christians. 
 
 But the most important, and the most entirely 
 useful epocha which has yet been found for 
 reckoning time, is that great event from which 
 the whole Christian world now agree in 
 computing time; namely, the birth, or first 
 COMING of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ : an epocha, which furnishes a twofold 
 era, retrograde and direct : retrograde to the crea- 
 tion of the world ; and direct, to the end of the 
 world, or to His second coming. This singular 
 and luminous era, forms one continued line of 
 time, from the beginning to the end of our 
 race ; receiving and . uniting all other eras, Sacred 
 and Profane, and furnishing to the mind the readiest 
 apprehension 'possible^ of the distance of past 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. £69 
 
 events from present time : which is the perfec- 
 lion of Historical Chronology. 
 
 It is astonishing, that this great epocha did not 
 suggest itself to the Christian church, for forming 
 an era, until about the year of our Lord 526 ; when 
 DioNYSius THE LiTTLE, a Scythian monk, had 
 the distinguished merit of first proposing it. It is 
 still more astonishing, that having been once pro- 
 posed, it was not generally adopted until thebegin- 
 tiing of the ninth century, when it was established, 
 under Charlemagne, in the Western Empire. 
 
 There is, however, a slight difference of 4 years, 
 between the true epocha of our Lord's birth, and 
 that assumed in the vulgar era ; the true epocha 
 having been found, upon examination, to he four 
 years earlier than the common reckoning supposes 
 it to be. So that the true date for the present year, 
 1812 of the "culgar Christian era^ would be 18 iG. 
 
 The computation by Olympiads was continued ia 
 Greece until the year 312 ; when it was superseded, 
 by authority of the Council of Nice, by com- 
 putations of 15 years, constantly recurring, called 
 the Cycle of the Indiction ; being the term of an 
 imperial tribute, established by Constantine the 
 Great, ^nd collected every 15 years.^ This- 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 method of computation commeneed January 1,' 
 A. D. 313. 
 
 OF THE JULIAN PERIOD. 
 
 It will be important, now, to take a view of 
 another celebrated compound period of computa- 
 tion, which has been invented for the service of 
 history ; namely, the Julian Period, of 7980 years. 
 
 As the Victorian or Dionysian Cycle above 
 mentioned must of necessity recommence every 
 532 years, Joseph Scaliger, to obtain a period 
 which should be sufficiently capacious to com- 
 prehend all historical time, imagined a method 
 oi giving extension to the Dionysian Cycle, by mul- 
 tiplying it again by 15 ; taking the quantity of the 
 Cycle of Indiction already mentioned p. 2^9; so 
 as to involve that cycle in the former, and to 
 suppose a cycle of 15 years to have been always 
 running on, along with the two cycles of 28 and 19 
 years. By this means he obtained an artificial 
 period of 7980 years, Qor^\)XQhQ\\dimgJifteen Diony- 
 sian cycles; which period he denominated the 
 
 i 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. 
 
 Julian period because he epiployed the Julian 
 reckoning of years. 
 
 Having obtained that period, his next object 
 was to apply it to the uses of history. In order to 
 which end, (" ut in usum deducatur/' as he himself 
 says,) he had, first of ^U, to fix the year of the birth 
 OF Christ in that period; that is to say, to find 
 the corresponding years of the solar and lunar cycle, 
 and of the supposed cycle of Indiction, when that 
 birth took place. This he found in the year 4713 
 of his period ; when the number of the first of those 
 cycles was 9? and of the second 1; which thus 
 became his historical epocha for determining the 
 dates of all events, retrogradely and directly. He 
 had, next, to compute back the year of the crea- 
 tion of Till. WORLD ; which he supposed to have 
 taken place in the year 3949 before Christ ; which 
 year fell in the year 764 of his great period. So 
 that the period has an imaginary coimncncementy 
 764 years before the beginning of' time. 
 
 Great as is the capacity and convenience of this 
 period for computing time and giving chrono- 
 logical characters to events, it is nevertheless 
 plainly wanting in that which can alone give 
 solid satisfaction to the reason, viz. &. foundation in 
 TACT. To use a period commencing i>e/brc time, 
 
elementahy chronology. 
 
 for the purpose of measuring tJie parts of time, 
 is undeniably perplexing, if not revolting, to the 
 sober judgment ; especially, since we are able 
 to find one actually/ commencing with time, that is, 
 with the original motion of the earth and heavenly 
 bodies ; and, in every respect, fruitful of the same 
 real advantages as the Julian period. 
 
 We have the most reasonable grounds for assum* 
 ing, that the creation commenced with the com- 
 mencement of a solar and a lunar cycle, or, in 
 other words, with the beginning of a cycle of 532 
 years. For we know, with full certainty, that the 
 first day of the creation was the first day of a week; 
 because it was thejirst of a series of stmn days, the 
 last of which was the first Sabbath. We have 
 likewise the best moral evidence, from the order 
 established in the celestial machinery for originat- 
 ing and dividing time, joined to a well-considered 
 interpretation of the text of the sacred historian, to 
 assume, that on that first day of the first \veek the 
 TWO GREAT INDEXES OF TIME, the SUN and the 
 MOON, were in conjunction, and did not unfold 
 their relative distinguishing characters until the eve 
 of the fourth day ; according to the common 
 course of nature after a conjunction. Consequent- 
 ly, the first day of the creation would be the first 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY, 
 
 day of SLweeJc, of a solar, and of a lunar year ; that 
 is, the first day of a cycle of 332 years : a series of 
 ivhich cycles have continually succeeded to each other , 
 from that first cycle to the present time. The only 
 question therefore is ; which of the Dionysian 
 cycles before Christ are we to assume for the first 
 CYCLE ofth^ world? or, in which Dionysian cycle 
 are we now revolving ? 
 
 Now we know, that all the principal computa- 
 tions for the epocha of the Creation, fall about the 
 beginning of the fourth millenary, or four thou- 
 sandth YEAR, before Christ. The common 
 computation assumes the year 4004; the extreme, 
 computations, are the years 3942, and 4397. The 
 mean computation, of Frank, is the year 41 SI. 
 As, ihjsrefore, we have good ground foi- assuming, 
 that the Creation began with a Dionysian cycle; 
 and as the year 4181 before Christ was ac- 
 tually the beginning of such a cycle, we have 
 good ground for assuming that year for the year 
 of the Creation ; for, if we ascend another 
 cycle, of 532 years, we shall go too high, and if we 
 descend 532 years, we shall go too low. 
 
 As, therefore, we know, that (according to the 
 vulgar Christian era) Christ was born in the 457th 
 year of a Dionysian cycle, whose number for tks 
 N 5 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY, 
 
 solar cycle was 9, and for the lunar cycle 1, we 
 easily find, that the year 4181 before Christ was 
 the beginning of the eighth Dionysian cycle, 
 reckoned backward ; or, that Christ was born in the 
 457th year of the eighth Dionysian cycle, from 
 the Creation. We are, now, in the twelfth cycle 
 from the same original point, and in the 141st year 
 of that cycle; which began A. D. 167I, and will 
 end A. D. 2203 ; having still 391 years to run. 
 
 But, sinco no one who has well weighed and con- 
 sidered the sacred prophecies, and the answering 
 events of the world, will entertain a prospect of 
 another such cycle to follow the present one ; nor, 
 indeed, will conceive a belief that this present cycle 
 will reach a ?m^wraZ termination; we may reasonably 
 and contentedly close our view of time, with this 
 PRESENT twelfth CYCLE ; and thereby obtain a 
 period, sufllciently productive to answer all the 
 purposes of the Julian period ; with the addi- 
 tional advantage, of having an epocha in time for its 
 commencement. We have, therefore, only to take 
 12 Dionysian cycles, instead of 15 with Scaliger; 
 and to multiply 532 by 12, instead of by 1 5 ; which 
 will give us a period of 6384 years ; consti- 
 tuting a temporal period, or period of uni- 
 versal time, beginning with the first movement of 
 
e-iementahy chronology. 
 
 the celestial bodies, and first day of the week, in 
 the year 4181 years before Christ; and extend- 
 ing forward, three hundred and ninety-one years 
 beyond the present time. 
 
 This period, comprehending the solar and lunar 
 cycles, and an artificial duodecimal (instead of 
 Scaliger's quindecirnal) cycle, multiplied into each 
 other, contains in itself all the important cha- 
 racters of time that can be supplied by the Julian 
 period; substituting only the number 12, for 15, 
 Thus, as the characters of each year of the Julian 
 period are found, by dividing .by 28 for the solar 
 cycle, by 19 for the lu?iar cycle, and by 15 for the 
 artificial cycle; so also here, by dividing any year 
 of this temporal period by 28, by I9, and by 12, 
 the distinguishing character of each year will 
 equally be found* 
 
 The cycle of Indiction has no concern with 
 history till aft€r the year A. D. 312, when it first 
 commenced. By deducting therefore 312 from 
 any subsequent year of the Christian era, and then 
 dividing the sum by 15, we can at all times find 
 the year of the Indiction, if required, without hav- 
 ing recourse to the Julian period; the remainder, 
 being the year of the Indiction, and the quotient, 
 the number of the cycle. 
 
ELEMENTARY CHHONOLOGY. 
 
 The following scheme will show the progress 
 of this great temporal period, through all its twelve 
 cycles, and also its correspondence with the years 
 before and after Christ ; conveying a distinct notion 
 of the ENTiREKESS OF TIME, 80 far as we are able 
 to contemplate it with any accuracy of measure, 
 or any manifest relation to the ratio and indexes of 
 time: which, as we have already seen, signifies 
 nothing else but the duration of the earth and 
 
 HEAVENLY BODIES. 
 
SCHEME OF THE TEMPORAL PERIOD, 
 
 COMPRISING TWELVE DIONYSIAN CYCLES OF 532 YEARS. 
 
 No. of the 
 CYCLE. 
 
 Years of 
 the Cycle. 
 
 Yrs. before 
 CHRIST. 
 
 
 1. 
 
 1. 
 
 532 
 
 4181 
 3649 
 
 THE CREATION. Adam. 
 
 2. 
 
 1064 
 1596 
 
 3117 
 
 i>et/i. 
 
 3. 
 
 2585 
 
 Enoch. 
 
 4. 
 
 2128 
 
 2053 
 
 The FLOOD. Noah. 
 
 5. 
 
 2660 
 
 1521 
 
 Abraham. 
 
 6. 
 
 3192 
 
 m9 
 
 Moses. 
 
 7. 
 
 .S724 
 
 457 
 
 Solomon. 
 
 8. 
 
 (4181) 
 
 4256 
 
 A. D. 
 
 1 
 75 
 
 £xra. 
 
 CHRIST BORN, 457th 
 yr.of8th Dion. Cycle. 
 
 9. 
 
 47RR 
 
 607 
 
 Titus. 
 
 10. 
 
 5320 
 
 1139 
 
 Phocas. 
 
 11. 
 
 5852 
 
 1671 
 
 at, Marnard. 
 
 12. 
 
 (5993) 
 (6000) 
 
 C384 
 
 (1812) 
 (I8I9) 
 ^ 2203 
 
 Lewis XI K 
 The PRESENT YEAR, '^^^' 
 14 1 of 12lh D. Cycle. 
 —Remain 39 J years. [ 
 
27B KLEMENTARY CRRQ-NOLOaY. 
 
 The Tables which now follow, contain : 
 
 First ; a General Chronological View of His* 
 tory, ancient and modern, to the present time, 
 divided into its twelve primary periods : for 
 an explanation of which, the reader is referred to 
 " A Christian's Survey," &c. ; in which work, 
 the grounds of those twelve d'voisions are distinctly 
 exposed. 
 
 Secondly ; a move particular chronological view 
 of the contents of each of those twelve divisions of 
 History; in which, some of the leading events of 
 each are inserted, so as to form a connected chain 
 of incidents down to our own time. 
 
 The chronology of Sir Isaac Newton is generally 
 followed, in the early events of heathen history ; 
 Avhich, considered as a system, is, without corn- 
 parison, the most sagacious, best considered, and 
 best supported, of any that have yet been given to 
 the world. 
 
 As all the heathen computations fail, upon 
 Varro's acknowledgment, before the first Olympiad, 
 the traditional events of those first ages, which he 
 denominates Obscure^ and FabuIoitSj can only be- 
 
ELEMENTARY CHRONOLOGY. ^79 
 
 reconciled to history by the aid of the Sacred 
 Chronology. 
 
 In contemplating the remote eveiHs of ancient 
 history, it is requisite always to keep in our mind 
 this truth, that ^iiinute exactness in point of his- 
 torical dates is unattainable; and to remember 
 the wise caution expressed by Sir William Jones, 
 " that whoever, in those early ages, expects a 
 " certain epocha, unqualified with about ox nearly ^ 
 " will be greatly disappointed.** 
 
A General Chronological View of the Primary 
 Periods of History, Ancient and Modern, to the 
 present Time. 
 
GENERAL VlfeW 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 SACRED. 
 
 Ihe Cri-ahon. 
 1st Period. 
 
 The JbLooD. 
 2d Period. 
 
 Call of A.B/iAxiAM. 
 Sd Period, 
 
 The Exodus and Law. 
 
 4th Period. 
 
 Hebrew Monarchy begun 
 5th Period. 
 
 Heb. Monarchy dissolved 
 6th Period. 
 
 Return from Captivity. 
 7th Period, 
 
 Yeai! 
 B. C 
 
 aboUl 
 
 4000, 
 
 or 
 (4181) 
 
 2348 
 
 1921 
 
 1491 
 
 Years 
 B. C. 
 
 1079 
 
 606 
 
 536 
 
 The biRTH OF Christ. 
 (Modern Historic Commences. ) 
 
 about 
 750 
 606 
 
 OBSCURITY^ 
 
 The Flood, 
 
 FjIMLE, 
 
 ooii 
 331 
 
 31 
 
 Infancy of the ChaldeEan Power. 
 
 Babyl. or Chald. Empire 
 1st Period, 
 
 PERSIAN Empire. 
 2a! Period. 
 
 Macedonian Empire. 
 3d Period. 
 
 The Roman Empire. 
 ( Modern History Commences. ) 
 
GENERAL VIEW 
 
 OF 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 i3iurH Of OUR Lord 
 Jtsus Christ. 
 
 1st Period, 
 
 Extinction of 
 Paganism, 
 
 2d Period, 
 
 Rise of Pontifical 
 
 Power. 
 
 3d Period, 
 
 Foundation of Papal 
 Sovereignty, 
 
 4th Period, 
 
 Revival of Li.arning, 
 AND Reformation. 
 
 5th Pernod, 
 
 Extinction of Papal 
 
 Sovereignty, 
 
 (The French Empire.) 
 
 A. D. 
 
 395 
 
 800 
 
 ^ 962 
 1995 
 
 S 1453 
 ^ 1519 
 
 1810 
 
 A. D. 
 
 395 
 
 800 
 
 962 
 
 1453 
 
 1806 
 
 Roman Empiiie j 
 Augustus Caesar, 
 
 1st Period. 
 
 Grfek Hkad of 
 Roman Empire. 
 
 2d Period, 
 
 Frankish Head of 
 
 Roman Empire. 
 
 od Period. 
 
 Germanic Head of 
 Roman Empire, 
 
 4th Period, 
 
 ExriNCTioN of 
 Greek Head. 
 
 5th Period, 
 
 Fall and Extinction op 
 
 Germanic Head. 
 
 (The French Empire.) 
 
A more Particular Chronological View of the 
 primary Periods of History, Ancient and 
 Modern. 
 
286 
 
 Years 
 
 before 
 
 Christ. 
 
 about 
 4000 
 
 or 
 4181 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 1st PERIOD. 
 
 SACRED. 
 
 3000 
 
 2469 
 
 2348 
 
 The Creation of the World. 
 
 Adam and Eve created : — The seventh day distin- 
 guished by God:— The marriage bond established : 
 — Paradise : — Forfeiture-, 
 
 A Saviour promised. 
 
 Cain — Abel. 
 
 Seth. 
 
 Enos. 
 
 ; Caiuan. 
 
 MahalaleeU - 
 
 Jared* 
 
 Enoch, prophesies : — foretels the majesty of God's final 
 judgment : — is taken up into Heaven. 
 
 Methusaleh. 
 
 Lamech. 
 
 Noah. 
 
 Shem— Ham— Japhe t. 
 
 Universal depravity of mankind :— The Flood fore- 
 told. 
 
 One hundred and twenty years of warning given of 
 the impending catastrophe. 
 
 The Ark built. 
 
 The Flood. 
 
£87 
 OBSCURITY. 
 
 Formation of xhb .W!orld. 
 
 The Gelden Age, (Ovid») 
 
 The Iron rase. (Ovid.) 
 
 The Flood 
 
^88 
 
 Years 
 before 
 Christ., 
 
 2d PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 SACRED 
 
 about 
 
 2348 
 
 2234 
 
 2188 
 
 2126 
 
 1996 
 
 1921 
 
 The Flood. 
 
 Noah and his family descend from the Ark upon 
 Ararat, a mountain in Armenia : — The Rainbow 
 made the Divine pledge, that the earth should 
 not be again destroyed by Water: (being reserved 
 for a final catastrophe by Fii^e.) — Noah plants the 
 Vine. — He imparts his knowledge to the new race. — 
 His family multiplies in Armenia. 
 
 First migration of the new race, to the plain of 
 Shinaar, between Euphrates and Tigris : — They pre- 
 pare to build the Tower of Babel, for a mark and 
 centre to prevent their dispersion : — The miracu- 
 lous multiplication of languages, and providential 
 dispersion of the heads of future nations to their 
 destined seats, are the consequences of that attempt. 
 
 The descendants of 
 Japhet. Ham. Shem. 
 
 People Asia Minor, I People the West 
 Greece, and the) of Asia, Es;ypt, 
 adjoining parts of j and Africa. 
 Europe. | 
 
 People Asia, east, 
 north, and south 
 of the Tigris, 
 
 MiZRAiM founds a sovereignty in Egypt : — Nimrod 
 in Shinaar: — Assur on the east bank of the Tigris : — 
 Arphaxad settles in Chaldaea, or Chaldia, by Armenia. 
 
 Terah, 
 
 Abraham. 
 Sarah. 
 
 } 
 
 Call of Abraham. 
 
289 
 
 FABLE. 
 
 The Flood. 
 
 Deucalion and Pyrrha. — Xisuthrus. } 
 
 Dionysius I. or Bacchus /. — Sileims, $ 
 
 (Ovid. Diod. Sic. Virgil, Eel. 6.) 
 
 TJie Giants pile vp the mountains to assail Heaven, 
 
 (Passim.) 
 
 TJie progenitors of a people of Asia Minor suddenly lose 
 their primitive language^ and acquire a new one, 
 
 (Arrian, Exped. Alex.) 
 
 JapetuSj regarded by the Greeks as the father of mankind. 
 
 (i^assim.) 
 
 First Egyptian Monarchy. 
 
 Menes, 
 
mo 
 
 Ycara 
 before 
 Christ. 
 
 .3(1 PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 about 
 19^27 
 
 1902 
 
 1842 
 
 1712 
 
 1491 
 
 Call of Abraham. 
 
 Abraham leaves Chiddaea to proceed to Cainaan. A 
 famine j he goes into Egypt. 
 
 The Messiah promised: — Ishmaelborn; — Circum- 
 cision first established. 
 
 Isaac born. 
 
 Jacob, or Israel. 
 
 General Famine : — Nations resort to Egypt for com. 
 
 Joseph, governor of Egypt. 
 
 Moses : — commissioned by God to liberate the He- 
 brews: — Plagues miraculously inflicted upon Egypt, 
 and upon all the objects of its superstitious reve- 
 
 The Passover instituted : — Many of the Egyptians, 
 instructed by their recent experience, receive last-, 
 ing impressions of the Hebrew rites and religion. 
 
 The Exodus, or departure out of Egypt :-*The Kin^ 
 of Egypt pursues the Hebrew people : — ^The passage 
 of the Red Sea; — Annihilation of the Egyptian so- 
 vereign, his chief officers, and army. 
 
 The kingdom is laid open to the invasion of thcf 
 neighbours. 
 
 Moses receives from God the Tables of 
 The Law. 
 
mi 
 
 FABLE. 
 
 PROFANE. 
 
 First Egyptian Monarchy. 
 
 General Famine: — Natmis resort to Eg^yptfor corn:-^ 
 
 (^Diod. Sic.) 
 
 The Red Sea Dry .w(Diod. Sic.) 
 
 End of the first Egyptiam monarchy. 
 
 The Arabians invade Egypty and take possession qf. the 
 country. 
 
 The Shepherd Kinss. 
 
 — f^ ■ ■ ' ■ • -- ^ ... ... ,^... ., ^ 
 
 o S 
 
Years 
 before 
 CHiasT. 
 
 about 
 1491 
 
 1490 
 1451 
 
 1445 
 
 1413 
 
 1245 
 1187 
 
 1137 
 
 1094 
 1079 
 
 4th PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 The Law. 
 
 The Hebrews journey in the Wilderness 40 years : 
 — their progress alarms many of the adjoining 
 nations. 
 
 The Hebrews are miraculously fed with quails. 
 
 Balaam prophesies of the Messiah. 
 
 Moses dies. 
 
 Joshua conducts the Hebrews into Canaan. 
 
 Canaan conquered: — The Hebrew nation esta- 
 blished. 
 
 Government of the Judges. 
 
 The Hebrews subdued by the King of Mesopotamia. 
 
 They are delivered. 
 
 Gideon. 
 
 Jephthah. 
 
 Samson, eminent for strength and heroic achieve- 
 ment : — Rills the lioii : — Carries away the gates of 
 Gaza, and pulls down the pillars of the Philistines. 
 
 Samuel. 
 
 Saul. 
 
 Commencement of 
 The Hebrew Monarchy. 
 
293 
 
 FABLE. 
 
 PROFANE. 
 
 The Phoenicians migrate from the Red Se4i to Palestine. 
 (Herodotus.) 
 
 Heracles* J or Hercules^ is miraculmsly fed with quails, 
 (Atheuajus, ix. c. 2.) 
 
 Heracles, is renowned for strength : — Kills the lion > 
 Carries away the pillars. (Passim.) 
 
 * The word /DTn, Heracl, is used as synonymous with 
 Vi'Dt Canaanite, and is applied, generally, to the inhabitants 
 of that country ; from whence the fabulous character seems 
 to have been derived. 
 
294 
 
 Years 
 before 
 Chjrist. 
 
 about 
 1079 
 1059 
 
 1048 
 1019 
 
 980 
 
 974 
 901 
 
 906 
 
 800 
 780 
 770 
 
 724 
 720 
 
 715 
 
 674 
 
 677 
 
 624 
 
 610 
 606 
 
 5th PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 The Hebrew Monarchy established. 
 
 Saul, the first King. 
 
 David, King : — He propliesies of the Messiali's hu- 
 miliation, and final glory. 
 
 Hiram, King of Tyre. 
 
 Solomon, King : Builds the Temple. Allies himself 
 •with the King of Egypt. 
 
 The Hebrew kingdom divided : 
 
 Rehoboam, King of Judah. ) 
 Jeroboam, King of Israel. 5 
 
 Sisac, King of Egypt, enters Asia, and reduces Judah. 
 Elijah, or Elias : — is taken up into Heaven. 
 
 Jonah :—!« sent to the King of Ninyaf (or Nineveh) j— 
 Swallowed by a fish. 
 
 Babylon founded by the King of Nhnjft, or AsJ*) ria. 
 
 Isaiah — Joel — Hosea— Amos--prophesy, 
 
 Pal, King of Assyria, first penetrates into Lracl, 
 
 Hezekiah, King of Judah. 
 
 The kingdom of Israel is extinguished by th<- I\in$ of 
 
 Assyria. 
 Sennacherib, miraculously expelled from JudiBa. 
 Obadiah, Micah, and Nahum, prophesy. 
 Assarhaddon: — The kingdom of Assyria subverted by 
 
 the Medes, and the rising power of Babylon. 
 Manasseh, King of Judah, carried captive to Babylon. 
 Josiah, King of Judah, repairs the Temple, and 
 
 recovers the book of Deuteronomy. 
 Josiah slain in battle with Necho, King of Egypt. 
 
 Jehoiakim, King of Judah, is made prisoner by Ne- 
 buchadnezzar the Great. 
 Commencement of the 70 Years of Captivity. 
 
 Hebrew Monarchy dissolved. 
 
Years 
 before 
 CHU16T, 
 
 about 
 
 974 
 
 900 
 850 
 
 800 
 
 tl95 
 
 FABLE. 
 
 Sesostris^ conquers the Arabian Kings of Efi^ypt^ and takes 
 possession of the country : — He invades Asia and Thrace: 
 and plants Colonies on the eastern coast of the Euxine, 
 or Black Sea. (Herodotus.) 
 
 Heracles, three days in a whale, (Lycophron, 1. So, ct 
 Schol.) 
 
 Tlie Siege of Troy: — Carthage built — JEneas, 
 
 Hesiod — Homer. 
 
 Ninus — Ninyas, King of Nineveh or Assyria* 
 
 Semiramis, Queen of Assyria. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 1st PERIOD. PROFANE 
 
 77-6 
 753 
 
 747 
 
 609 
 606 
 595 
 
 Tlie era of the Olympiads commences. 
 The em of Rome eonuneiices. Romulus. 
 The era of Naboj^assar commences. 
 
 710. Numa. 
 
 672. Tuilus Hostilius. 
 
 640. Aiicus Mavtius. 
 
 616. TarquiniusPriscus, 
 Senacherib, King of Assyria. (Herodotus.) 
 
 PsammeticuSj King of Egypt. 
 Sardanapalus, last King of Assyria. 
 
 1. The Babylonian Empihe. 
 
 Necos, or Pharaoh Neclio, King of Egypt. 
 Nebuchadnezzar begins his reign in Babylon. 
 Apries, or Pharaoh Hophra, King of Egypt: — is de- 
 feated by the Babylonians, or Chalda^ans. 
 
Q96 
 
 Years 
 
 before 
 
 Christ. 
 
 about 
 
 588 
 
 655 
 
 538 
 
 536 
 
 6th PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 The Hebrew Monarchy dissolved. 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar the Great. 
 
 Jeremiah and Ezekiel prophesy of the Restoration of 
 the Jews. 
 
 Daniel— foretells the succession and fall, of the four 
 great and last empires of the earth : viz. 
 
 /-Babylok. 
 
 rtiL -^ ' .1 Persia. 
 TheEmpii'isof/,, 
 
 i Macidon. 
 
 V Rome. 
 
 Evil-Merodach, or Belsha^zar, succeed? to his father 
 Nebuchadnezzar :— last King of Babylon, 
 
 Babylon is taken by the Medes and Persians, under 
 Cyrus, as foretold by the Prophets Isaiah and 
 Jeremiah. — Darius, the Mede, is made Vice-roy of 
 B^abylon. 
 
 Daniel discerns the arrival of the period, foreshown 
 for the termination of the Captivity. 
 
 Cyrus, King of Persia, issues his royal decree for 
 rebuilding the Temple of Jerusalem, and for the 
 return of the Jews to their own laud. 
 
 The Return of the Jevs^s from the Captivity. 
 
297 
 
 Yeajs ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 CHRICT. 1st PERIOD. 
 
 I. The Babym)nian Empire. 
 
 588 Nebuchadnezzar, called Labynites I. by Herodotus. 
 
 570 Amasis, King of Egypt. — Servius Tulliiis, 6th King of 
 Rome, reigns 4-i years. 
 
 566 Pisistratus, Tyrant of Athens. 
 
 564 Phalaris, Tyrant of Sicily. 
 
 562 Croesus, King of Lydia. — Solon, Legislator of Athens, 
 
 560 Cyrus, King of Persia and Media. 
 
 554 Anacharsis, the Scythian Traveller, returns homefrqpi 
 Greece. 
 
 551 Confucius, the Chinese Philosopher, born. 
 
 548 Cyrus conquers Lydia, and all Asia Minor. 
 
 544 Pherecydes the Syrian, Preceptor of Pythagoras. 
 
 Labynites II. last King of Babylon. 
 
 Cyrus conquers the Babylonians, and puts an end to, 
 The CHALD.fiAN, or Babylonian Empire. 
 
 II. The Persian Empire. 
 0~5 
 
^1)8 
 
 Years 
 beft.re 
 Christ 
 
 536 
 
 521 
 458 
 445 
 
 332 
 312 
 
 170 
 
 166 
 
 63 
 
 40 
 18 
 1 
 
 7th PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 SACRED. 
 
 Return of the Jews from the Captivity. 
 
 Zerubbabel, and Joshua, the High Priest, conduct 
 the Jews to Palestine : — they begin to restore the 
 Temple. 
 
 Haggai and Zechariah prophesy. 
 
 Ezra. 
 
 Nehemiah: — Malachi, the last prophet, foretells the 
 appearing of the Messiah in the New Temple. 
 
 Alexander, King of Macedon, enters Syria : — receives 
 the submission of the Jews. — Dies, 324. 
 
 Seleucus Nicanor renders himself master of Babylon, 
 and King of Syria : — Beginning of the Era of the 
 Seleucides. 
 
 The H<ebrew Scriptures translated into Greek. 
 
 Jerusalem pillaged, and the nation persecuted, by 
 Antiochus Epiphanes, who defiles the Temple. 
 
 Judas Maccabeus, and his family : Their exploits, in 
 resistance of Antiochus. 
 
 The Jews form alliances with the Romans and Lace- 
 demonians. 
 
 Jerusalem is taken by Pompey. — Julius Caesar is greatly 
 esteemed by the Jews ; who incline to regard him as 
 the predicted Founder of the Fourth Empire. 
 
 Herod is made King of Judah by the Romans. 
 
 Herod rebuilds or embellishes the Temple of Jerusalem 
 
 John, the Baptist, born, the prophetic Elias, or imme- 
 diate forerunner of the Messiah : — Judea taxed. 
 
 The Birth ©f our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 (Modern History commences,) 
 
299 
 
 Years 
 before 
 Christ. 
 
 2d PERIOD. 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 536 
 524 
 522 
 509 
 497 
 480 
 
 442 
 431 
 424 
 
 387 
 378 
 350 
 3i6 
 
 336 
 
 ^. The Persian Empire. 
 
 Cyrus, King or Emperor of Persia. — Pythagoras — Anacreon — 
 Oambyses. — He conquers Egypt. — Pindar — iEschylas. 
 
 Darius, son of Ilystaspes. Harmodins and Arisiogiton. 
 
 End of Kingly Government in Rome. — Consular Government. 
 First Dictator appointed. — 490. Battle of Marathon.— Miltiades. 
 Xerxes passes the Hellespont: Wars of the Greeks and Persians. — 
 
 Leonidas — Aristides— Simonides — Democritus. 
 Herodotus, the most ancient surviving Heathen Historian. 
 The Peloponuesian War : it lasts 28 years. — Pericles. — Phidias. 
 Darius I>Jothus, or Ochus, King of Persia. — Alcibiadcs. 
 Socrates — Euripides — Sophocles — Hippocrates— Thucydides. 
 Artaxerxes Mncmon, King of Persia. — Cyrus the Younger. 
 Plato — Xenophon — Aristophanes — Critias — iEschines — Phssdo— 
 
 Crito — Ctesias. 
 The Gauls, under Brennus, besiege Rome. — Camillus, Dictator, 
 
 Beginning of the intestine Wars in Greece. Epaminondas. 
 
 Philip, Kjng of Macedon.— Demosthenes— Aristotle. 
 
 Philip is admitted into the Amphyctionic Council : His ascendancy 
 
 in Greece. — Meuander — Philemon. 
 Philip is killed by Pausanias : Is succeeded by his son, Alexander. 
 Dauius Codomanus, the last King of Persia, succeed* to Ariax 
 
 Ochus, son of Mnemon. 
 
 264 
 218 
 
 1*9 
 111 
 
 70 
 
 Co 
 
 50 
 54 
 
 46 
 43 
 
 31 
 1 
 
 3d PERIOD. 
 
 III. THE Macedonian Empire. 
 
 PROFANt 
 
 Alexander, the Great, conquers Persia, and subveR|ts its empire. 
 
 Spreads tlie arras and language of Greece in Asia. 
 
 Dies at Babylon. Ptolemy I. son of Lagus, King of Egypt. 
 
 Zeno — Euclid — Berosus — Manetho — Epicurus — Lycophron. 
 
 1st Punic War; lasts 23 years. — Apoll. Rhodius — Theocritus. 
 
 2d Punic War; 17 yrs. Hannibal. — Archimedes — Ennius — Plautus. 
 
 3d Punic War ; 3 years. Carthage destroyed by Scipio.-170. Terence. 
 
 Jugurthan War. — Metellus— Marius. 
 
 Terentius Varro, the most learned of the Romans, reforms the 
 
 Heathen Chronology, 
 The first Triumvirate ; Julius Cxsar, Pompey, and Crassus.— Cato. 
 Cicero — ^Sallust — Virgil— Tibullus—Diodorus Sic. — Luc etius. 
 Julius Ceesar conquers Gaul— invades Britain: 49. His Civil War 
 
 with Pompey. 
 He refornw the Calendar : the Jitlian era begins. — ^Horace— Li vy— 
 He is murdered, March 15. — Ociavius succeeds to his power. 
 
 2d Triumvirate — Propcrtius — Mauilius — Qvid — Hyginus. 
 A most splendid comet appeared, in the month of Seitember, 
 
 under the .seven conspicuous .stars of the Great Bear: to 
 
 which a temple was raised in Rome.— (Pliny.) 
 The Battle of AcnuM : Octavius, now Augustus, sole Empehor of 
 
 the Greek and Roman World, 
 He taxes tke whole empire, 
 
 IV, The Roman Empiri. 
 
 (Modern History cwnmences.J 
 
300 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ. 
 
 1st PERIOD. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 30 
 33 
 
 61 
 
 70 
 93 
 
 96 
 
 107 
 130 
 
 l6l 
 166 
 178 
 196 
 
 202 
 £35 
 250 
 257 
 272 
 284 
 
 302 
 323 
 325 
 
 390 
 
 BiRTii, OR First Advent, of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 Jesus Christ enters upon His public ministry : is Baptized. Ap- 
 points his Twelve Apostles. 
 
 The fourth Pa?sovcr celebrated by Christ : — He institutes the com- 
 memorative rite of his Last Supper. — His Crucilixion, Resuriec 
 tion, and Ascension. — The descent of the H. Spirit. — St. Stephen — 
 Sf. Paul Converted. Apostolic Fathers; Clement, Barnabas, 
 Hermas. 
 
 iFirst Persecution, under Nero. St. Peter and St. Paul suffer mar- 
 
 I tyrdom. 
 
 jjerusalem destroyed, according to the prediction of our Lord. 
 
 Second Persecution, under Domiiian. — St. John, the Evangelist; 
 exiled to Patraos. 
 
 St. John is shown the Vision, of the Seven Imperial Heads, suc- 
 ceeded finally by an Imperial Carcass, of great, but transient, 
 power. 
 
 Third Persecution, under Trajan. — St. Ignatius, Mart. 
 Aquila, a Christian convert from Judaism, translates the Old Testa- 
 ment into Greek. — As does Theodotion, in I76. 
 Fourth Persecution, under Marcus Aurelius. 
 St. Polycarp — 167. St. Justin — suffer martyrdom. 
 Iren&us, Bishop of Lyons. — Heiesy of Montanus. 
 Controversy, for fixing the day of Easter to Sunday. 
 
 Fifth Persecution, under Severus. — Clemens Alex— TertulUan. 
 Sixth Persecution, under Maximin. — Julius Africanus. 
 Seventh Persecution, under Decius. — Origen — Cyprian. 
 Eighth Persecution, under Valerian. — Heresy of Sabellius. 
 Ninth Pcrsecutiim, under Aurelian. — Heresy of Manes. 
 Commencement of the Era of Dioclesian, or of the Martyrs. — 
 
 Arnobins. 
 Many distinguished Romans are converted about this time. 
 
 Origin of the Monastic life : a devotional retirement from perse 
 
 ctuion, and the distractions of the Empire. St. Anthony, St 
 
 Ililarion, &c. 
 Religious rites multiplied : — Altars used. — Pagan mysteries imitated. 
 Tenth Persecution, under Dioclesian. — Heresy of Arias. — St. Atha- 
 
 nasius. — Laciantius. 
 Chiistiariity established in the Empire, by Constantine the Great. 
 
 Ensebius. 
 First General Council of IJice : Confirms the primitive Faith, and 
 
 condemns the errors and innovations of Arius. 
 About this time a mystical reverence began to be paid to the 
 
 Elements of the Eucharist. — Incense used. — Ecclesiastical orders 
 
 and ranks are multiplied. — St. Basil — St. Martin. 
 Saints, Ambrose — Gregory — ^Augustine — Chry sostom — Pauiinus- 
 
 Jerom. 
 
 The Extinction of Paganism. 
 
301 
 
 Years 
 after 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 Christ. 
 
 1st PERIOD. SECULAR. 
 
 IV. The Roman Empire. 
 
 1 
 
 AuGUSTT^s C-ff^3AR, Emperor.— 2. Parthians defeated by Caius Caesar. 
 
 11 
 
 Augustus associates Tiberius in the Empire. 
 
 14 
 
 Augustus dies at Nola, Aug, 19, set. 76. — Strabo — Phsedrus. 
 
 
 Tiberius, Emperor. Val.Max.-Patcrculus-Columella 
 
 27 
 
 Pontius Pilate made Governor of Judea.— Celsus. 
 
 37 
 
 Caius Caligula, Emperor. 
 
 41 
 
 Claudius, Emperor. Phito jHd?eus — Seneca. 
 
 54 
 
 Nero, Bmperor. EpicJetus-Persius-Q.Curtius-Pliny 
 
 63 
 
 Galba, Emperor. Lucan, Fi'ontiniis. 
 
 69 
 
 Otho, Vitellius, Vespasian, Emps. Josephus — Silius Ital. 
 
 79 
 
 Titus, Emperer. ' Tacitus — Quintillian. 
 
 81 
 
 Doniitian, Emperor. Juvenal — Martial — Statius. 
 
 96 
 
 Nerva, Emp. 
 
 98 
 
 Traj in, Emperor. Plutarch — Suetonius — Fiorus. 
 Adrian, Emperor. Arrian — Aristides. 
 
 117 
 
 138 
 
 Antoninus, Emperor. Appiau — Aulus Gellius. 
 
 161 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, L. Verus, Emps. Lucian— Maxim. Tyr, 
 
 180 
 
 Commodus, Emperor. Julius Pollux — Diogenes Laertius. 
 
 193 
 
 Perlinax, Emperor. Athenaeus— Solinus. 
 
 193 
 
 Sept. Severus, Emperor. Plotinus — Oppian. 
 Caracalla, Geta, Empewrs. 
 
 211 
 
 218 
 
 Fleliogabului, Emperor. TJlpian — JElian. 
 
 222 
 
 Alex! Severus, Emperor. Dion Cassius— Uerodian. 
 
 238 
 
 Gordian III., Emperor. Censorinus. 
 
 249 
 
 Decius, Emperor. Justin. 
 
 284 
 
 Dioclesian, Emperor. Longinus— -Porphyry— Stobaeus. 
 CoNSTANTiNE the Great, Eiop. — ^lamblicus — ^Jul. Capitolinus — Vo- 
 
 306 
 
 
 piscus— Servias— Eutropius. 
 
 328 
 
 The seat of Empire removed from Rome to Constantinople. 
 
 363 
 
 Julian, Emperor, vainly attempts to rebuild the Temple of Jeru- 
 
 
 salem, in defiance of the Prophecy of Christ. 
 
 364 
 
 Valentinian and Valens, Emperor: divide the Empire into West 
 
 
 and East. 
 
 379 
 
 rHEODOSiUo THE GREAT, sole Emperor, reigns 16 years. 390. He 
 
 
 prohibits the Pagan Religion. The Empn e divided between his 
 
 395 
 
 llONORius. Emp. of the West, 395. Arcadtus, Emp. 
 
 
 or of Rome. Final Establish, of the Greek, 
 
 
 (;r Second Head o/*ROMAN Emp. 
 
3(n 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ. 
 
 396 
 
 398 
 408 
 
 447 
 495 
 
 590 
 595 
 596 
 
 607 
 
 6l3 
 
 622 
 635 
 
 643 
 
 679 
 
 726 
 
 748 
 753 
 
 796 
 800 
 
 '2d PERIOD. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 Extinction of Paganism. 
 
 St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo. 
 
 St. Jerom, translates and expounds the Scriptures at Bethlehem ; 
 
 where he died, 420, a;t. 80. 
 St, John Chrysostom, Bisliop of Constantinople. 
 1st Siege of Rome by the Goths. — 409, 2d Siege. — 410, 3d Siege and 
 
 Sack of Rome by the Goths, who respect the Christian Religion. 
 
 — Franks and Germans converted. 
 Heresy of Pelagius.— 429. Heresy of Nestorius. — Orosius— Sulpitius 
 
 Severus, Christian Historians. 
 Leo I. or the Great, Bishop of Rome.— Cyril, Patriarch of Alex- 
 
 andria.—St. Patrick converts the Irish. 
 Heresy ofEutyches: condemned in the Council of Constantin. 
 Conversion of Clovis, King of the Franks. 
 
 St. Benedict founds the great Monastic Order of the Western 
 
 Church. 
 The Christian Era first proposed by Dionysius Exiguus, or the 
 
 Little. 
 Heresy of the Monothelites.—Female Convents multiply.— Heresy, 
 
 and Superstition, corrupt the Faith, and cause great disturbance; 
 
 in the Church.— Jornandes—Procopius, Historians. 
 Grcgorj', the Great, or I. Bishop of Rome.— Isidoius, of Seville.- 
 
 Greg, of Tours, 1st Frankish Historian— Fortunatus. 
 John, Bishop of Constantinople, assumes the title of Universal 
 
 Bishop ; for which he is excommunicated by the Bp. of Rome. 
 Augustine, a Monk, preaches the Gospel in England :— King Ethel 
 
 bert converted:— Contest of the Greek and Latin Churches. 
 
 Boniface HI. Bishop of Rome, obtains the title of Universal Bishop 
 
 from the Emperor Phocas— Dedicates the Pantheon to All Saints. 
 Chosroes,K. of Persia, conq. Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and Asia Minor, 
 
 Mahomet Beginning of the Mahometan Era of the Hcgira. 
 
 The Saracens penetrate into Egypt ; ravage Palestine, and take 
 
 Jerusalem.—Fredegarius, 2d Frank. Historian. 
 Omar, Cattph of the Saracens, rebuilds the Temple of Jerusalem for 
 
 a Mosque ; in which he Is murdered. 
 Christianity spreads in Holland and Friesland. 
 In this century divine worship is paid to the Virgin Mary, and 
 
 Martyrs.— Idolatrous rites adapted to Christian Worship. 
 
 Contest between the Greek Emperor and the Bishop of Rome, or 
 
 Pope, concerning adoration to Images, 
 The Christian Era begins to be used by writers of Hist.~V. Bede. 
 Pepin, King of France, gives the Exarchate of Ravenna to the 
 
 Bishop of Rome, Stephen II. 
 Ceremony of kissing the foot of the Roman Bishop introduced.— 
 
 Churches raised to Saints.— Masses for the dead. 
 LeO' III.— renounces Ms allegiance to the Greek Emperor.— Alcuin.- 
 Leo anoints Charlemagne Emp. of the Romans, on Christmai-day 
 
 The Rise op Pontihcal Power. 
 
303 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ 
 
 2d PERIOD. 
 
 395 
 
 406 
 
 410 
 
 420 
 
 427 
 419 
 4.'>0 
 
 476 
 
 486 
 
 511 
 5(51 
 
 563 
 590 
 
 600 
 
 711 
 
 737 
 
 742 
 
 752 
 
 771 
 778 
 
 800 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 SECULAR 
 
 Fin ST Hkad of Roman 
 Empire. 
 
 flONORius, F.MP.— Stilico. 
 
 The Vandals, and other north 
 ern nations, enter Gaul. 
 
 Rome taken by the Goths, 
 under Alaric. 
 
 Pharnmond, 1st King of the 
 Franks. 
 
 The Vandals under Genscric. 
 
 I he Saxons invade Britain. 
 
 Attila, the IJun, spreads his 
 armies in the West. 
 
 Pr. Arthur opposes the Saxons. 
 
 AUGirSTULlIS, LAST llMP. 
 
 Odoacer, King of the Uerulij 
 takes posses:»ion of Rome 
 and Ravenna :--First Bar- 
 barian King of Italy. 
 ExTiNCiiON of the First 
 Head of Roman Empirf. 
 
 Clovis, establishes the French 
 
 Monarchy in Gaul. 
 Clotairc I. son of Clovis. 
 Siwebert f . son of Clotaire. 
 GOGUE, \ii% first Mayor of 
 
 the Palace, 
 Kingdom of the Lombards 
 
 founded. 
 Pope Gregory the Great saves 
 
 Rome from the Lombards. 
 
 The seventh century is distin- 
 guished throughout by the 
 contests of the Greek Em- 
 perors with the Persians and 
 Saracens in the East, and 
 with the Lombards ia the 
 West. 
 
 The Saracens overturn the 
 kingd. of the Goths in Spain, 
 
 Prosperity of Spain under the 
 Saracens, or Moors. 
 
 Charles Martcl defeats the 
 Saracens in France. 
 
 Childcric IIL last King of 
 France of the first race. 
 
 Pepin, declared King by the 
 States of France. 
 
 Charlemagne, King of France. 
 
 Battle of Roncevalle. 
 
 Charlemagne founds the dd 
 or Frankisu Head of Ro- 
 man Empire. 
 
 706 
 
 Slcond, or GrI':kk Head of 
 
 ROMAN Empire. 
 Arcadius, Emp. 
 heodf.sius II, Emperor. 
 
 rhe Huns ravage Thrace. 
 
 The 'Iheodosian Code pub- 
 islied. 
 
 The Huns attack the East. Em- 
 pire, and occupy Hungary. 
 
 Dlarcianus, Emperor. 
 
 Leo, theThvacian, Emperor. 
 
 Leo II. Zeno, Emperors. 
 
 The Persian War. 
 Ju.nin I. Emp. — Boethius. 
 JubTiNiAN, Emp.— Belisarins. 
 He publishes his Codex and 
 
 Digest. 
 Recovers Rome from the 
 
 Goths. 
 Puts an end to the Roman 
 
 Consulship. 
 Justin n. Emperor. 
 Exarchs of Ravenna first 
 
 created, as Governors of 
 
 Italy for the Gr. Emperors. 
 INIaurice, Emperor. 
 Chosroes II. King of Persia. 
 
 Phocas, Em. He is put lo d. by 
 
 Heraclius, Emperor. 
 
 Constantinople delivered from 
 the Persians. 
 
 Rise of the Saracen, or Arabj 
 power in the East. 
 
 The Saracens burn the cele- 
 brated Library of Alexan- 
 dria. 
 
 The Saracens, having laid waste 
 a great part of the Eastern 
 Empire, attack Constanti 
 nople, and spread their arms 
 westward, into Spain. 
 
 Justinian II. Emperor. 
 
 Leo, the Isaurian, or Icono- 
 clast, Emperor, opposes the 
 worship of Images, promoted 
 by the Bp. of Rome. 
 
 G. Syncellus. 
 
 Haroun El Raschid, or the 
 Just, Caliph of the Saracens, 
 He sends magnificent pre 
 scnts to Charlemagne. 
 
S04 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Chuist. 
 
 831 
 845 
 
 863 
 864 
 879 
 895 
 
 900 
 
 950 
 
 902 
 
 3d PERIOD. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 The Rise of Pontihcal Power. 
 
 CiiAULEMAGNE convokes a Council at Aix-la-Chapelle ; — lie pro 
 
 tects the Charch, and exalts tlie See of Rome. 
 This Imperial reign is not more distiugnished by tlie renewal of the 
 
 RoiTian Empire in the West, than by the attention paid to the 
 
 learning of the age. Charlemagne, by the aid of Alcuin, founds a 
 
 school at Paris, which is generally resorted to. 
 
 Theophilus, Gr. Emp. prohibits the worship of Images in his Empire. 
 
 Ubanus Maurus, Abbot of Fuh^a, Archbishop of Mentz: a cele 
 brated disciple of Alcuin. 
 
 At this time, history makes mention of a female having been raised 
 to the papacy, under the name of Pope Joan : the truth of which 
 tradition, though now generally discredited, was nevertheless a 
 subject of active controversy. 
 
 Photius, the learned Patriarch of Constantinople. 
 
 Conversion of Russia, and Bulgaria, to the Greek Church. 
 
 Final separation of the Eastern aiid Western Churches. 
 
 Alfred, King of England, founds the University of Oxford; en. 
 couiages learning, by his own example. 
 
 In this, and the following Century, Christianity is widely spread 
 among the Swedes, Danes, Saxons, Huns, Bohemians, Moravians; 
 Sclavonians, Poles, and into India. 
 
 This age is styled the Age of Ignorance ; yet the papal doctrines of 
 Transubstantiation, the worship of Images, Saints, and the Cross, 
 and the Celibacy of the Clergy, are continually opposed, although 
 maintained by the power of the Popes; who persecute and con- 
 demn all their opponents, as Heretics. The power of the Pontiff 
 progressively increases. In this, and the preceding century, the 
 Decretals are forged, to give authority to the papal usurpations : — 
 The Legends of the Saints are fabricated : — Saints are canonized : 
 — The Festival of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary is intro- 
 duced, &c. 
 
 High power acquired by the Monks in England : — 
 
 Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury ; afterwards Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury. — Celibacy of the Clergy enforced in England. 
 
 The influence of the Religious Orders increases. 
 
 The Emperors are gradually divested of their authority by the Popes. 
 
 John XII. crowns Otho, King of Germany, Emperor of Rome. 
 
 Foundation of the Papal Sovereignty. 
 
305 
 
 Tears 
 after 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 Christ. 
 
 3d PERIOD. SECULAR. 
 
 
 3d, or Frankish Head of 
 
 
 Continuation of 2d, or Greek 
 
 
 ROMAN Empire. 
 
 
 Head of Roman Empire, 
 
 800 
 
 CllARLEaiAGNE, EMP. — is ac- 
 
 800 
 
 Irene, Empress. — 
 
 
 kuowledged AUGUSTUS by 
 
 802 
 
 Nicephoras, Emperor. 
 
 
 !Nicephoras. 
 
 816 
 
 The Saiacens, under Alma- 
 
 
 Charlemagne dies ; is suc- 
 
 821 
 
 mon, greatly encourage learn- 
 ing. 
 Constantinople besieged by 
 
 814 
 
 
 ceeded by his son, Lewis, 
 
 
 the Saracens. 
 
 
 Emperor. 
 
 829 
 
 Thcophilns, Emp. 
 
 827 
 
 Egbert, first King of all Eng- 
 
 839 
 
 Origin of the Russian Mo- 
 
 
 land. 
 
 
 narchy. 
 
 838 
 
 The Picts, .conquered by Ken 
 
 842 
 
 Michael III. Emperor. 
 
 
 neth. King of Scotland. 
 
 867 
 
 Basil I. Macedonian Emp. 
 
 840 
 
 Lotharius, Emperor. 
 
 
 He combats the Saracens in 
 
 843 
 
 The Normans enter France. 
 
 
 the East, and assists the 
 
 855 
 
 Lewis II. Emperor. 
 
 
 Emp. Lewis in the West:— 
 
 865 
 
 Saracens enter Italy ; are re- 
 
 
 Compiles the Basilic Code 
 
 
 pulsed by Lewis. 
 
 
 of Laws. 
 
 86r 
 
 The Danes invade England. 
 Ethclrcd, King of England. 
 
 
 
 872 
 
 <41A'ed, King of EngUiud. 
 Chavle» the Bald, Emperor. 
 
 
 
 87.1 
 
 686 
 
 Leo VI. the Philosopher, Emp. 
 
 831 
 
 (Jharieij Le Gros, Emperor.— - 
 The Western Empire di- 
 vided into five Kingdoms. 
 
 
 
 838 
 
 Arnolph, Emperor. 
 
 
 John MalaU. 
 
 899 
 
 Lewis IV. Emperor. 
 
 
 
 901 
 
 Edward the Eider, K. of E. 
 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 Constantlne VII. Porphyro- 
 genitus, Bmperor, lie en- 
 
 912' 
 
 The Normans establish them' 
 
 
 selves in Fiarfce. 
 
 
 courages learning and the 
 
 917 
 
 The Huns ravage the W. Emp. 
 
 
 arts. 
 
 925 
 
 Athelstan, King of England. 
 
 9J9 
 
 Rom.'mu3 I. Emperor, 
 
 938 
 
 Defeats the Scots, Welsh, and 
 Danes. 
 
 ExTiNcnoN of the Franrish, 
 
 
 
 
 or 2d HkAD of Roman 
 
 936 
 
 The Saracen empire divided. 
 
 
 Empire. 
 
 
 
 911 
 
 Edmimd, King of England. 
 
 
 
 9ia 
 
 Edred, King of England. 
 
 
 Constantine is poisoned by his 
 
 955 
 
 Edwy, King of England. 
 
 
 son. 
 
 9o9 
 
 Edgar, King of England. 
 
 959 
 
 liomanns I[. Emp. — Who is 
 succeeded by his General, 
 
 
 Otiio r. or THE Great, erects 
 the Fourth, or Germanic 
 Head of Roman Empire. 
 
 963 
 970 
 
 l^icephoras II. Emperor. 
 
 John Zimisces, Emp. He as- 
 sociates in the empire Ba.»il 
 IL and Constantine IX., 
 sous of llomanus IL 
 
 9D2 
 
306 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 Christ. 
 
 4th PERIOD. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 962 
 
 1009 
 1048 
 1053 
 
 1188 
 
 1203 
 
 1248 
 1253 
 1256 
 1268 
 1272 
 
 1310 
 1316 
 1365 
 1362 
 
 1378") 
 
 1418J 
 
 1407 
 1414 
 
 1452 
 1480 
 J 500 
 
 1513 
 1519 
 
 The Foundation of the Papal Sovereignty. 
 
 Otho, confirms to the See of Rome the donations of Pepin and 
 
 Charlemagne. 
 Concordate between GREGORY V. and Otho III. oniting the Crowns 
 
 of Rome and Germany for ev«*. 
 The Saracens ravaiik Jerusalem. 
 The Tope, now crowned for the first time. 
 Schism of the Greek and Latin Churches. — The Pope excommu 
 
 nicates the Patriarch of Constantinople, and the Greeks.— Edward 
 
 tiie Confessor, King of England. 
 Hiltiebrand, Gregory VII, , exalts the Papacy above the Empire. 
 Submission of the Emperor, Henry IV., to Gregory. 
 St. Bruno founds the Order of Carthusians. 
 
 First Cruzade Godfrey of Bouillon Urban II. 
 
 Jerusalem taken from the Saracens:— Is erected into a kingdom :- 
 
 The Order of Knights of St. John of Jerusalem instituted. 
 Incorporation of the University of Paris. 
 
 Contest in Eng. concerning the Investiture of Bishops — St. Anselm 
 First General Lateran Council ; for the Recovery of the Holy Land. 
 Abelaid --St. Bernard- I'eter Lombard, Master of the Sentences. 
 
 Second C» u/.ade. ll64. Council of Clarendon.— J ho. a Becket. 
 
 Party of the Guelfs and Gibbclines.— Univ. of Cambridge f. 
 
 The Pope, Alexander III., sends a Legate into Tarlary to Prester 
 
 John.— Benj. of Tudela.— Maimonldes. 
 Third CruzaHe.—Jerusakm taken by Saladin. 
 Fourth Cruzade.— 1204. The Inquisition founded by St. Dominic. 
 Persecntfon oftheAlbigenses, or early Reformers.-Univ. of Padua f. 
 i'lie Fitlh Cruzade.— St. Lewis departs for the Holy Land. 
 The University of the Sorbonne founded.— Mat. Paris,— Albert M. 
 Thomas Aquinas.- Roger Bacon. 
 
 Loss of the Holy Land by the Christians.— Antioch taken. 
 Foundation of the Academy of Florence — Many similar Societies 
 
 formed about this time.— Raymond Lully. 
 Dante — 1340. Petrarch— Boccacio— Chaucer. 
 Foundation of the Univ. of Valladolid.— 1348. Univ. of Prague. 
 Univ. of Vienna and Geneva founded.— 87- of Sienna, and Cologne. 
 Wickliff exposes the Church of Rome; and prepares the Keforma- 
 
 ticn.— His disciples are denominated Lollards, and sulier severe 
 
 Persecution.— He translates the Holy Scriptures into English. 
 
 Great Schism of the "Western Church ; two Popes claiming the papal 
 dignity, and being severally abetted by different Powers, 
 
 John Huss preaches the Reformation of the Church, in Bohemia. 
 The Council of Constance— condemns the doctrines of Wickliff, 
 
 John Huss, and Jerom of Prague ; and causes the two latter to be 
 
 burnt alive. 
 Last Coronation of an Emperor in Rome— Frederick III. Emperor, 
 The Inquisition established in Spain, under Ferdinand and Isabella, 
 I'he Popes acquire the absolute Dominion of Rome — Machiavel. 
 Leo X.— Erasmus-F. Ximcnes-Poggio-Lewis Vives-Reuchlin, &c. 
 LuTHtR, oppose* the scandalous abuse of Indulgences. 
 
 The Revival of Letters, and Reformation. 
 
307 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ. 
 
 962 
 975 
 
 9>>7 
 
 1002 
 1017 
 
 1056 
 1066 
 
 1037 
 
 110(3 
 1135 
 
 1152 
 1164 
 
 1139 
 
 1£S6 
 
 1271 
 1273 
 
 1282 
 1283 
 1302 
 1307 
 1327 
 
 1350 
 1355 
 1377 
 1399 
 
 nL3 
 
 1422 
 
 1440 
 1461 
 
 1471 
 1483 
 
 1485 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 4th PERIOD. 
 
 SECULAR. 
 
 E'ouRTH, or Germanic Head 
 0/ RoM.AN Empire. 
 
 OTHO, EMP. of the KOMANS. 
 
 lulward, the Marl. King of E. 
 Hugh Capet, Kg. of Fr. : foun- 
 der of the third and last race. 
 Henry II. D of Bavaria, Emp. 
 Canute, the Dane, K. of Eng. 
 rienrv IV. Emperor. 
 V'illiarn, of INonnandy, King 
 
 of Ens;, conquers Harold. 
 Widiam II. King of England. 
 Philip [. King of France. 
 Henry 1. King of England.— 
 
 Lewis VI. le Gros, K. of Fr. 
 Henry V. Emperor, 
 tephen, King of England.— 
 
 Lewis VII. King of France. 
 Frederick Barbarossa, Emp. 
 Henry II. King of England.-- 
 
 PJiil. Aug. King of France, 
 tlichaid I. King of England. - 
 lohn, Kg. of E.-IVIagna Charta. 
 Henry HI. King of England.— 
 
 Lewli Vni, King of France, 
 •^t. Lewi* IX. King: of France, 
 I'dwurd I. hirtg of I'»ngl«inl.— 
 
 l^ulip UI. IV. Kings of Fr. 
 Rodolph, of Hapsburgh, Emp. 
 the first of the Aust. family, 
 rhe Sicilian Vesperg. 
 Wales conq. — united to Eng. 
 rhe Mariners' Compass iuv. 
 Edward II. King of England, 
 Edward III. King of Eng- 
 
 28. Phil, de Valois, K. of F. 
 Gunpowder invented in Germ. 
 Order of the Garter instituted. 
 Charles VI. Emp.-Gold Bull. 
 Kichard II. King of England. 
 Henry IV. Kg. of England. — 
 
 Charles VI. King of France. 
 Henry V. King of England. 
 Henry VI. King of England. — 
 
 Charles VII. Kg. of France, 
 The Art of Printing invented. 
 Edward IV. K. of England.— 
 
 Lewis XI. King of France. 
 I^renzo di Medici. 
 Edward V. Kg. of England. — 
 Uichard [IF. King. 
 Henry VII. Kg. of England.— 
 
 Vasco di Gaina. — Columbus. 
 
 1025 
 1028 
 1034 
 1041 
 
 1067 
 1081 
 1099 
 
 1118 
 1143 
 1180 
 1185 
 1204 
 
 ICO6 
 
 ISS8 
 1255 
 12.5i) 
 12(jb 
 1282 
 
 1299 
 
 1309 
 
 1321 
 
 1341 
 1370 
 
 1387 
 
 1391 
 1402 
 
 1421 
 1444 
 1448 
 
 Continuation of 2d or GREEf 
 Head ^i/' 11 OMAN Emmre. 
 979 Suidas. 
 
 Constantine IX. Emperor. 
 
 Romanus III. Argyrus, Emp 
 
 Michael IV. Emperor. 
 
 Michael V. Emp.— Zoe and 
 Theodora. 
 
 Michael VII. Emp,— Endoxia. 
 
 Alexis Comnenus, Emperor 
 
 The Cruzaders, having taken 
 Jerusalem, make Godfrey K 
 
 John Comnenus, Emperor.- 
 Zonaras. 
 
 Manuel Conm., Empeior. 
 1160. Johnand.ls.Tzetzes 
 
 Alexis II. Emperor. — 1179- 
 Con!.-t. Manasses. 
 
 Isaac Ang. Emp.— 1184. Will, 
 of Tyre. 
 
 Greek Empire divided with 
 the Frankg.-Baldwin, Isi 
 Fr. Emp.—Theodorc Las- 
 caris, Gr. Emp. 
 
 Gen^is Khan, founds the Mo- 
 gul Empire. 
 
 Baldwin fl. U»t Fr. Emp. 
 
 Theodore Lai<cari» 11. En>p,— 
 
 John Lascaib, Emp. 
 
 Michael Palcologus, Emp. 
 
 Andronicus I. Enip. — 1284. 
 Abulfaragius. 
 
 Ottoman, Founder of the pre- 
 sent Turkish Empire. 
 The Knights of St. .John of 
 Jerusalem occupy Rhodes. 
 
 Abulfeda, Prince of Syria, the 
 great Arabian Geographer. 
 
 John Paleologiis, Emperor. 
 
 ihe Turks first enter Europe, 
 under Amurath I. 
 
 Bajazet, his sou invests Con- 
 stantinople. 
 
 Manuel Paleol. Emp. 
 
 Tamerlane, the Mogul, defeats 
 Bajazet. 
 
 Amurath II. invests Constant. 
 
 Scanderbeg, defends Albania. 
 
 Constantine Paleologus, 
 LAST Emp. 
 
 Constantinople taken by Ma- 
 HOMFT II. 
 
 Extinction of the Second, or 
 Gr. Head o/" Roman Emp. , 
 
308 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ. 
 
 5th PERIOD. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 1519 
 1329 
 
 1535 
 1547 
 1549 
 
 1553 
 1558 
 
 1572 
 1582 
 
 1590 
 
 1()05 
 1618 
 1640 
 
 16-43 
 
 lf>49 
 l660 
 
 1663 
 
 1685 
 1688 
 
 1752 
 
 1769 
 1789 
 
 1810 
 1811 
 1814 
 
 The Revival of Letters, and REFOiiMATiON. 
 Luthcr-Melancthon-Bucer-.Zulnglius.-CEcoiampadius -Calvin, &c. 
 The name of Protestant, first used in the Diet of Spires. — 1530. Con 
 
 fession of Augsburgh.— 153i. League of Smalkalde. 
 lOrder of Jesuits founded, by St. Ignatius Loyala. 
 JThe Reformation es'ablislieiJ in England, under King Edward VI. 
 iThe Council of I rent : etTovts of the Church of Rome to consolidate 
 its remaining power.— Polyd. Virgil — Copernicus— Jul. Scaligcr. 
 jTernporary revival of Popciy in England, under Queen Mxry. 
 jFinal ove» throw of Popery in England, under Queen Elizabeth. 
 Puritans, or Calvinistic Protestants, first appear in England. 
 Massacre of Fr. Protestants ; St. Barthol.— Heresy of F. & L. Socinus. 
 Pope Gregory XIII. corrects the CALENDAR.— Joseph Scaliger— 
 
 Tycho J3i ahe — Toiqiiatus Tasso. 
 F. Bacon, Id. VeruJam— Father Paul Sarpi — ^Thuanus, or de Thou— 
 
 Casaubon, &C4— 1598. The Edict of >: antes. 
 Conspiracy of the Popish party in England, Nov. 5. — Guido Fawlces. 
 The Synod of Don, against /^iminius. — Joseph Mede — Buxtorf. 
 Galileo — Grotius — Des Cartes — Gassendi — Bochart — Br. Walton— 
 
 Marsham, &c. 
 The Peace of Westphalia, or Munster, between the Protestant and 
 
 Roman Catholic States ; confirming the privilecea of the former. 
 The Church and State of England subverted.— Milton—teekkn. 
 The Church and Stateof England restored.-— Religion, Learning, and 
 Science, nourish eminently in Brit.— -The Royal Society founded, 
 Robert Bovie — Isaac Barrow — Bishop Pearson, &c. 
 The U. Acaoemy of Inscriptions :—l666. The R. Acad, of Sciences 
 
 established at Paris.— 168I. W. Pcnn, founds Pennsylvania. 
 Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. 
 
 Burnet— Locke— Tillotson—Pritieaux—Bossuet—Fenelon— Sherlock 
 —Bull— Hyde— Ray— Puliendorf--IIerbelot~BayUvVitringa,&c. 
 Sir Isaac is; ewton — Leibnitz— ^\'allis — Halley — Flamstead — Cassini. 
 A spirit of sophistry, metaphysical scepticism, and active infidelity, 
 distinguishes the beginning and progress of this century, and pre- 
 pares the way for the calamities which have so awtully characte- 
 rized its conclusion.— The names of Addison, Butler, Leland, 
 Johnson, Beattie, &c. are consecrated by their opposition to 
 the impieties of Ilobbes, Hume, Voltaire, Gibbon, Sec. 
 The Calendar is corrected in England, and the Old, or Julian Style, 
 
 changed for the Gregorian. 
 Pope Clement XIV., Ganganclli, suppresses the Order of the Jesuits. 
 The moral and intellectual disorder of this century at length pro- 
 duces a General llEVOLunoN in Christendom. 
 The Galilean Church subverted.— Monastic orders suppressed.— Civil 
 and religious licentiousness, propagated in Europe. — Anc. Crowns 
 and States extinguished.— New Crowns and Kingdoms erected, 
 Pope Pius VII. consecrates Napoleon Buonaparte EMPEROR OF 
 France, at Paris; with whom he enters into a Concordate, for 
 regulating the Church of France. 
 Rome annexed by Napoleon to THE FRENCH EMPIRE. 
 The Pope imprisoned by Napoleon. 
 
 A League of the heads of all the Christian Communions succeed in 
 extinguishing the New French Emp.— The Pope restored to Rome. 
 
309 
 
 Years 
 
 after 
 
 Christ. 
 
 1493 
 
 1509 
 
 1519 
 
 15i7 
 1553 
 1558 
 
 1.564 
 1588 
 
 1589 
 1595 
 
 1()03 
 ](5lO 
 
 1(319 
 1625 
 
 1643 
 1653 
 1658 
 1660 
 1685 
 1688 
 1697 
 
 1702 
 1713 
 1714 
 1727 
 1748 
 1760 
 1763 
 1783 
 1789 
 1792 
 1793 
 1800 
 
 5th PERIOD. 
 
 Continuation of the Fourth 
 or Germanic Hi ad oJ Ro- 
 man Empire. 
 
 MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 1802 
 1803 
 
 . wueen or tngianci. 
 ih Q. 4)f E.—Spencer. ") 
 nd I. Em p. Sidney. > 
 il. II. E. Sliakspcaie. j 
 
 1522 
 
 IvXTiNcnoN of the Sfcond, 
 or Greek. Head o/"Koman 
 Empire. 
 
 Solinian II. takes the Isle of 
 Rhodes from the Knights 
 of St. John of Jerusalem; 
 who receive the Island of 
 Malta from the Emperor, 
 Charles V. 
 I57l|rhe Turks take the Island of 
 Cyprus. 
 
 -Raleigh. 
 
 1804 
 1806 
 
 1812 
 
 1813 
 1814 
 
 Henry VIII. Kg. of England. 
 
 —Sir Tho. More—Woiscy. 
 Charles V. Emp.— 1513. Iran- 
 
 cis I. King of France. 
 Edward VI. King of England. 
 Mary I. Queen of England, 
 Elizabeth Q. 
 I'trdinand 
 Maxinul 
 The defeat of the Invinciltle Armada, of Philip II. King of .Spain.- 
 
 Sir Francis Drake. — 1600. East India Company incorporated. 
 Henry IV. King of France. — First of the House of Bourbon. — Sully, 
 HenrjTlV. en>braces the Romish Faith. — Mayenae--Con(k--Coligny 
 James I. King of England and Scotland. — Buckingham 
 
 Lewis Xlll. King of France. — Richelieu. 
 
 Beginning of the 30 Yrs. War, concluded by the Peace of V.^e^tphalia. 
 
 Charles I. King of England and Scotland. — Beheaded 16^9.— Slraf- 
 ford — Archbishop Land — Falkland — Hampden. 
 
 Lewis XIV. Kg. of Fr. — Mazarin — ^Turenne. — Edict of Nantes rev 
 
 (Crcmwell.) — Estab. of the Naval pre-era of Eng. by the victories of 
 
 Leopold I. E. [Blake-Monk-Deane--Pcnn~Lawson-over the Dutch, 
 
 Charles II. Kg. of E. and S. restored.-Clarendon--Ormond-Temple. 
 
 James II. King of Eng. and Scot. — abdicates the Crown, 1688. 
 
 William III. (P. of Orange) and Mary II. K. and Q. of E.-Ld. Somers, 
 
 Peter the Great, Czar of Moscovy. — Charles XII. King of Sweden. 
 
 Anne, Queen of Great Britain, — Union of England and Scotland. 
 
 The Peace of Utrecht. — Marlborough — Addison. 
 
 George I. Elector of Hanover, Arch-Treasurer of the Roman Em- 
 
 George II. King of Great Britain, [pire, ascends the British throne. 
 
 The Peace of Aix-la-Chapellc. — Frederic III. King of Prussia, 
 
 Gforge III. King of Great Britain, &c. begins his long, glorious 
 
 The Peace of Paris. — 1774. Lewis XVI. [and exemplary reign 
 
 The Peace of Versailles. 
 
 The Revolution of France.- Beginning of the miseries of the kingd. 
 
 Lkwis XVI. King of France, his Queen, and Siser, beheaded. 
 
 War with the new State of France. 
 
 Union of Great Britain and Ireland. — Rt. Hon. William Pitt. 
 
 The Peace of Amiens. — Admiral Lord Nelson. 
 
 Failure of that Peace, and renewal of the War with France. 
 
 The French Empire.— Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 
 Francis II last Rom. limp.— 1 all of Germ. Head o/'Rom. Emp. 
 
 atid title of Augustus. 
 H. R. H. George Pr. Reg. assumes the full Sovereignty of these 
 
 realms. 
 The army of Napoleon annihilated in Russia. 
 Napoleon totally routed in Saxony. 
 Paris taken by the Allied Powers. — ^Alexander, Emp. of Russia. 
 
 The New French Empire extinguished. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
INTERESTING WORKS 
 
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