*B IQH MDl Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/diallifebioscoOOpennrich T^^^i^^t>/t^ 4^ //f^/^^^ • v / ^._-- 4/ J 5 %C-4^^ yf4' hiMHlb-niiv John 3I:nrrav. .AlLoiim i k- .n, ri ,/nnr RU I 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, 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. 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 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». 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 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 HJothus, 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 Laip,— 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 Hatelg j)ubli0j?eti By JOHN MURRAY, iO, ALBEMARLE STREET, LONDON. THE PROPHECY OF EZEKIEL CONCERNING GOGUE, the last Tyrant of the Church, his Invasion ofRos, his Discomfiture and final Fall ; examined, and in part illus- trated. By Granville Penn, Esq. Foolscap 8vo. 6s. A CHRISTIAN'S SURVEY of all the PRINCI- PAL EVENTS and PERIODS of the WORLD, from the Commencement of History to the Conclusion of Prophecy. By Granville Penn, Esq. Third Edition, small 8vo. 7s. 6d. SACRED MEDITATIONS AND DEVOTIONAL POEMS. With Essays in Prose, composed on various Occa- sions of Life, and published for the Use of the intelligent Mind in its serious moments. Second Edition. Handsomely printed in small 8vo. With an Engraving. 7s. 6d. HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION IN SCOT- LAND. By George Cook, D.D. Minister of Laurencekirk, Scotland. Three Volumes, 8vo. ll. lis. 6d. PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY COMPARED; in a Course of Lectures to theKinj^'s Scholars, at Westminster. By John Ireland, )).D. late of Oriel College, Oxford, Pre- bendary and Sub-Dean of Westminster. 8vo. JOs. 6d. BOOK OF THE CHURCH: Describing, l.Tho Religions of our British, Roman, and Saxon Ancestors, and the Consequences resulting from their respective Systems. — 2. A View of Popery and its Consequences. — 3. A Picture of Pnritanism. — 4. A Picture of Methodism, Concluding with an Account of what the Church is, how it acts upon us, and showing how inseparably it is connected with the Interest of the Country. Interspersed with Biographical Sketches. Neatly printed in one Volume, small 8v0. In the Pr^.«.«. Books lately Published. THE MISSIONARY: a Poem, in Eiglit Cantos. Post 8vo. 7s, 6ti. THE ORIGINAL JOURNAL of the second JOURNEY OF MUNGO PARK INTO THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA, in the Year 1805. Transmitted by him to the Colonial Secretary of State. Together with the Authentic and Interesting Particulars, subsequently received, of Mr. Park's Melancholy Death. To which is prefixed, a Biographical Memoir of Mr. Park, from Documents communi- cated by his Family. In one 8vo. Volume, uniform with Mr. Park's former Travels, with a Map and other Plates. •«* Gentlemen who are desirous of liaviug their Copies of this Work in 4to. arc requested to send their names to the publisher, who does not intend to print any more, in this form, than shall be subscribed for — the price is not expected to exceed 28s. THE MISCELLANEOUS WORKS OF EDWARD GIBBON,Esq.withMEMOIRSof his LIFE and WRITINGS, composed by himself; illustrated from his Letters, with occa- sional Notes, and Narrative. By John Lord Sheffield. A New Edition, comprising nearly One Third of New Matter, with a new Portrait, from the best Likeness of the Author, and other Plates. In 6 Volumes, 8vo. *«* A List of Subsoribers is preparing. iifi In consequence of numerous applications, Mr. Murray proposes to print the whole of the New Matter separately, in onk vol. 4to. to Complete the Sets of the Old Edition. lie requests those cientlemcn, who wish for this additional Volume, to favour him wih their names, either direct, or through the medium of their Booksellers, as early as possible, as he pledges himself not to print on« more copy than shall be actually subscribed for previously to its publication. CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE BRITISH POETS; with occasional SelectioBs from their Works, By Thomas Campbell, Esq, Author of the Pleasures of Hope. Printed uniformly with Mr. Ellis's Specimens, in 4 Volumes, post 8vo. In the Press, THE LIFE OF NELSON. By Robert Southey. Beautifully printed in 2 Volumes, small 8vo. with Plates. Second Edition. 10s. •«• Many Lives of Nelson have been written ; one >s yet wanting, clear and concise enough to becom«i a Manujil for the j onng Sailor, which he may carry aboat with him till he has treasured up the example in his memory and ia his heart. In attempting such a Work, the Author proposes to himself to •write the Eulogy of our great Naval Hero ; for the best Eulogy of NlL«ON ia the faitliful history of hi* actions ; the bef t hi«ory, is that which ahall relate Ahem most p«rspicuonsly. Books lately Published, TALAVERA: a Poem, with Notes. The Ninth London Edition ; with important Additions and Corrections. To which are now added Trafalgar, and other Poems. With a Portrait of Lord Wellington, from an original Bust. Handsomely printed in 4to. 15s. THE PEACOCK AT HOME; with otlier Poems. By Mrs. Dorset. Handsomely printed in small 8vo. 5s. A NEW SYSTEM OF DOMESTIC COOKERY; formed npon Principles of Economy ; and adapted to the Use of Private Families. Comprising also the Art of Carving, Observations on the Management of the Dairy, and Poultry Yard ; Instructions for Home Brewery, Wines, &c. ; Cookery for the Sick, and for the Poor ; many very useful Miscellaneous Receipts, and Directions proper to be given to Servants both in Town and Country. To which is prefixed, an Essay on Domestic Economy and Household Management, comprising many Observations which will be found particularly useful to the Mistress of a Family. By a Lady. A New Edition. lu a neat and closely printed Volume, small 8vo. containing 10 Plates. 7s. 6d. A FAMILY RECEIPT BOOK: a Collection of more than Eight Hundred truly valuable Receipts (omitting those in Medicine and Cookery) in various Branches of Do- mestic Economy, selected from the Works of British, and Foreign Writers of unquestionable Experience and Authority, and from the attested Comnmnications of scientific Friends. Dedicated, by permission, to Dr. Charles Taylor, Secretary to the Society of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce; to whose superintendance the Work has been submitted, and to whom the Editor has been indebted for many valuable Com- munications. A New Edition, greatly improved, handsomely printed in Foolscap 8vo. similar to Domestic Cookery. 7s. 6d. THE COSTUME OF THE ANCIENTS ; Illustrated in a Series of Three Hundred Engravings, selected from the finest Specimens of Art, with a Descriptive Introduction. By Thomas Hope. Elegantly printed in 2 Volumes, royal 8vo. 21. 2S. / ♦#* A few Large Paper Copies, in 2 Volvimes, royal 4to. 51. 5s. GERTRUDE OF WYOMING, and other Poems. By Thomas Campbell, Author of" The Pleasures of Hope." New Edition, small 8vo. 9s. h| retlt 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. ^30c^'e27M, RHC'D LQ JAM 9 1963 m^ 2\97014: *#*; 1/4^ i. BEC'D^j ^DEC237Q-12AM2 R- •O UD JMlB'SS-^'^ JUN 8 " *'•"'" " 4 JUM 71072 9 RiC'DLD MAY ^5 72 -QAM ft LD 21A-50m-3,'62 (C7097sl0)476B '^'IL General Library University of California Berkeley x>erKeiey pf ||j . ni i. % n