Of God, and his Attributes. |
Dignity of the Scripture Language. |
The Power and wisdom of God in the Creation. |
Against Atheism and Infidelity. |
The Providence of God. |
|
The Worship of God. |
Against the Modern Freethinkers. |
Advantages of Revelation above Natural Reason. |
Immortality of the Soul, and a Future State. |
Excellency of the Christian Institution. |
Death and Judgment. |
Collected from the Writings of
The Right Hon. JOSEPH ADDISON, Esq.
Sold by him in Greenfield, by Thomas & Whipple,
Newburyport, Henry Whipple, Salem, and by
Thomas Dickman, Springfield.
1812.
THE character of Mr. Addison, and his writings, for justness of thought, strength of reasoning, and purity of style, is too well established to need a recommendation; but their greatest ornament, and that which gives a lustre to all the rest, is his appearing throughout a zealous advocate for virtue and religion against profaneness and infidelity. And because his excellent discourses upon those subjects lie dispersed among his other writings, and are by that means not so generally known and read as they deserve, it was judged to be no unseasonable service to religion at this time to move the Bookseller to publish them together in a distinct volume, in hopes that the politeness and beauty peculiar to Mr. Addison’s writings would make their way to persons of a superior character, and a more liberal education; and that, as they come from the hands of a layman, they may be the more readily received and considered by young gentlemen as a proper manual of religion.
Our modern sceptics and infidels are great pretenders to reason and philosophy, and are willing to have it thought that none who are really possessed of those talents, can easily assent to the truth of Christianity. But it falls out very unfortunately for them and their cause, that those persons within our own memory, who are confessed to have been the most perfect reasoners and philosophers of their time, are also known to have been firm believers, and they laymen; I mean Mr. Boyle, Mr. Locke, Sir Isaac Newton, and Mr. Addison; who, modestly speaking, were as good thinkers and reasoners as the best among the sceptics and infidels at this day. Some of them might have their particular opinions about this or that point in Christianity, which will be the case as long as men are men; but the thing here insisted on is, that they were accurate reasoners, and, at the same time, firm believers.
Mr. Boyle, the most exact searcher into the works of nature that
any age has known, and who saw atheism and
This account we have from one who was intimately acquainted with him, (Dr. Burnet) and preached his funeral sermon. “It appeared to those who conversed with him in his inquiries into nature, that his main design in that (on which, as he had his own eye most constantly, so he took care to put others often in mind of it,) was to raise in himself and others vaster thoughts of the greatness and glory, and of the wisdom and goodness of God. This was so deep in his thoughts, that he concludes the article of his will, which relates to that illustrious body, the Royal Society, in these words: Wishing them a happy success in their laudable attempts to discover the true nature of the works of God and praying that they, and all other searchers into physical truths, may cordially refer their attainments to the glory of the great Author of nature, and the comfort of mankind.” The same person also speaks thus of him: “He had the profoundest veneration for the great God of heaven and earth that ever I observed in any person. The very name of God was never mentioned by him without a pause, and a visible stop in his discourse.”
And of the strickness and exemplariness of the whole course of his life, he says, “I might here challenge the whole tribe of Libertines to come and view the usefulness, as well as the excellence of the Christian religion, in a life that was entirely dedicated to it.”
Against the Atheists he wrote his Free Inquiry into the received Notion of Nature, (to confute the pernicious principle of ascribing effects to nature, which are only produced by the infinite power and wisdom of God;) and also his Essay about final Causes of Things Natural, to shew that all things in nature were made and contrived with great order, and every thing for its proper end and use, by an all wise Creator.
Against the Deists he wrote a treatise of things above reason;
in which he makes it appear that several things, which we judge to be contrary to
reason, because above
The veneration he had for the holy scriptures, appears not only from his studying them with great exactness, and exhorting others to do the same, but more particularly from a distinct treatise, which he wrote on purpose to defend the scripture style, and to answer all the objections which profane and irreligious persons have made against it. And speaking of morality, considered as a rule of life, he says, “I have formerly taken pains to peruse books of morality, yet since they have only a power to persuade, but not to command, and sin and death do not necessarily attend the disobedience of them, they have the less influence: for since we may take the liberty to question human writers, I find that the methods they take to impose their writings upon us may serve to countenance either truth or falsehood.”
His zeal to propagate Christianity in the world appears by many
and large benefactions to that end, which are enumerated in his funeral sermon: “He
was at the charge of the translation and impression of the New Testament into the
Malayan language, which he sent over all the East-Indies. He gave a noble reward
to him that translated Grotius’s incomparable book of the Truth of the Christian
Religion into Arabic; and was at the charge of a whole impression, which he
took care to order to be distributed in all the countries where that language is
understood. He was resolved to have carried on the impression of the New Testament
in the Turkish language; but the company thought it became them to be the doers
of it, and so suffered him only to give a large share towards it.—He was at seven
hundred pounds charge in the edition of the Irish Bible, which he ordered to be
distributed in Ireland; and he contributed largely both to the impression of the
Welsh Bible, and of the Irish Bible in Scotland. He gave, during his life, three
hundred pounds to advance the design of propagating the Christian religion in America;
and as soon as he heard that the East-India
In his younger years he had thoughts of entering into holy orders: and one reason that determined him against it was, that he believed he might in some respects be more serviceable to religion, by continuing a layman. “His having no interests with relation to religion, besides those of saving his own soul, gave him as he thought, a more unsuspected authority in writing or acting on that side. He knew the profane crew fortified themselves against all that was said by men of our profession, with this, that it was their trade, and that they were paid for it; he hoped therefore that he might have the more influence the less he shared in the patrimony of the church.”
Mr. Locke, whose accurate talent in reasoning is much celebrated, even by the sceptics and infidels of our times, showed his zeal for Christianity, first, in his middle age, by publishing a discourse on purpose to demonstrate the reasonableness of believing Jesus to be the promised Messiah; and, after that, in the last years of his life, by a very judicious commentary upon several of the epistles of St. Paul.
He speaks of the Miracles wrought by our
Saviour and his apostles in the strongest manner, both as facts unexceptionably
true, and as the clearest evidences of a divine mission. His words are these: “The
evidences of our Saviour’s mission from heaven is so great, in the multitude of
his miracles he did before all sorts of people (which the divine providence and
wisdom had so ordered, that they never were nor could be denied by any of the
To those who ask, “What need was there of a Saviour? what advantage
have we by Jesus Christ?” Mr. Locke replies, “It is enough to justify the fitness
of any thing to be done by resolving it into the wisdom of God, who has done it;
whereof our narrow understandings and short views may utterly incapacitate us to
judge. We know little of this visible, and nothing at all of the state of that intellectual
world (wherein are infinite numbers and degrees of spirits out of the reach of our
ken or guess), and therefore know not what transactions there were between God and
our Saviour in reference to his kingdom. We know not what need there was to set
up a Head and a Chieftain in opposition to THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD,
THE PRINCE OF THE POWER OF THE AIR, &c. whereof there are more than obscure
intimations in scriptures. And we shall take too much upon us, if we should call
God’s wisdom or providence to account, and pertly condemn for needless all that
our weak and perhaps biased understanding cannot account for.” And then shews at
large the necessity there was of the gospel revelation, to deliver the world from
the miserable state of darkness and
The holy scriptures are every where mentioned by him with the greatest reverence. He calls them the Holy Books, the Sacred Text, Holy Writ, and Divine Revelation and exhorts Christians “to betake themselves in earnest to the study of the way to salvation, in those holy writings wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and proposed it to the world; seeking our religion where we are sure it is in truth to be found, comparing spiritual things with spiritual.” And, in a letter written the year before his death to one who asked this question, “What is the shortest and surest way, for a young Gentleman to attain to a true knowledge of the Christian religion, in the full and just extent of it?” his answer is, “Let him study the holy scripture, especially the New Testament. Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its Author; salvation for its end; and truths without any mixture of error, for its matter.” A direction that was copied from his own practice, in the latter part of his life, and after his retirement from business; when, for fourteen or fifteen years, he applied himself especially to the study of the holy Scriptures, and employed the last years of his life hardly in any thing else. He was never weary of admiring the great views of that sacred book, and the just relation of all its parts. He every day made discoveries in it, that gave him fresh cause of admiration.”
Of St. Paul in particular, upon several of whose epistles he drew
up a most useful commentary, he says, “That he was miraculously called to the ministry
of the gospel, and declared to be a chosen vessel:—That he had the whole doctrine
of the gospel from God by immediate revelation:—That for his information in the
Christian knowledge, and the mysteries and depths of the dispensation of God by
Jesus Christ, God himself had condescended to be his instructor and teacher:—That
he had received the light of the gospel from the Fountain and Father of light himself:
And the death of this great man was agreeable to his life; for we are informed by one who was with him when he died, and had lived in the same family for seven years before, that the day before his death he particularly exhorted all about him to read the holy scriptures: That he desired to be remembered by them at evening prayers; and being told, that if he would, the whole family should come and pray by him in his chamber, he answered, he should be very glad to have it so, if it would not give too much trouble: That an occasion offering to speak of the goodness of God, he especially exalted the love which God shewed to man, in justifying him by faith in Jesus Christ; and returned God thanks in particular for having called him to the knowledge of that divine Saviour.
About two months before his death he drew up a letter to a gentleman (who afterwards distinguished himself by a very different way of thinking and writing) and left this direction upon it, “To be delivered to him after my decease.” In it are these remarkable words, “This life is a scene of vanity that soon passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction, but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of another life. This is what I can say upon experience, and what you will find to be true, when you came to make up the account.”
Sir Isaac Newton, universally acknowledged to be the ablest philosopher
and mathematician that this or perhaps any other nation has produced, is also well
known to have been a firm believer, and a serious Christian. His discoveries concerning
the frame and system of the universe were applied by him, as Mr. Boyle’s inquiries
into nature had been, to demonstrate, against Atheists of all kinds, the being of
a God, and illustrate his power and wisdom in the creation of the world. Of which
a better account cannot be given, than in the words of an ingenious person who has
been much conversant in his philosophical writings: “At the end of his mathematical
principles of natural philosophy he has given us his thoughts concerning the Deity,
wherein he first observes, that the similitude found
This great man applied himself, with the utmost attention, to the study of the holy scriptures, and considered the several parts of them with an uncommon exactness; particularly, as to the order of time, and the series of prophecies and events relating to the Messiah. Upon which head he left behind him an elaborate discourse, to prove, that the famous prophecy of Daniel’s weeks, which has been so industriously perverted by the Deists of our times, was an express prophecy of the coming of the Messiah, and fulfilled in Jesus Christ.
Mr. Addison, so deservedly celebrated for an uncommon accuracy in thinking and reasoning, has given abundant proof of his firm belief of Christianity, and his zeal against infidels of all kinds, in the writings that are here published of which it is certainly known that a great part of them were his own compositions.
I mention not these great names, nor the testimonies they have given of their firm belief of the truth of Christianity, as if the evidences of our religion were to be finally resolved into human authority, or tried in any other way than by the known and established rules of right reason; but my design in mentioning them is,
1. To shew the very great assurance of those who would make the belief of revelation inconsistent with the due use of our reason; when they have known so many eminent instances, in our own time, of the greatest masters of reason, not only believing revelation, but zealously concerned to establish and propagate the belief of it.
2. The remembrance of this will also be a means, on
3. Further, as these were persons generally esteemed for virtue and goodness, and notwithstanding their high attainments, remarkable for their modesty and humility; their examples shew us, that a strong and clear reason naturally leads to the belief of revelation, when it is not under the influences of vice or pride.
4. And finally, as they are all laymen, there is no room for the enemies of revealed religion, to allege that they were prejudiced by interest, or secular considerations of any kind. A suggestion that has really no weight, when urged against the writings of the clergy in defence of revelation, since they do not desire to be trusted upon their own authority, but upon the reasons they offer; lawyers and physicians are not less trusted, because they live by their professions; but it is a suggestion that easily takes hold of weak minds, and especially such as catch at objections, and are willing to be caught by them. And, considering the diligence of the adversary in making proselytes, and drawing men from the faith of Christ; equal diligence is required of those who are to maintain that faith, not only to leave men no real ground, but even no colour or pretence for their infidelity.
The following discourses, except that concerning the Evidences of Christian Religion, were all published in separate papers some years ago, and afterwards collected into volumes, with marks of distinction at the end of many of them, to point out the writers. Mr. Addison’s are there distinguished by some one of the letters of the word CLIO; and the same marks of distinction are here continued; as are also the rest, where any letter was found at the end of the discourse.
* * * Mr. Addison having left his treatise on the truth of the Christian religion unfinished, the Publisher, to make it somewhat more complete, selected, from the Spectator, several papers (mostly the author’s) on the being and perfections of God, the nature of religion, the immortality of the soul, and a future state; and printed them with it. But though the treatise and the other papers are well calculated to prove the truth of, and recommend the Christian religion to, the faith and practice of mankind; yet their influences will be but small, till men are awakened out of that insensibility into which they are fallen, and brought to believe how much they are interested in the great truths Christianity reveals. To beget thought and excite inquiry it was judged the following extract from Mons. Pascal’s Thoughts, against an atheistical indifference, would neither be an improper, nor an unacceptable introduction to the subsequent papers.
IT were to be wished that the enemies of religion would at least
bring themselves to apprehend its nature before they oppose its authority. Did religion
make its boast of beholding God with a clear and perfect view, and of possessing
him without a covering or veil, the argument would bear some colour, when men should
alledge, that none of the things about them do indeed afford this pretended evidence,
and this degree of light. But since religion, on the contrary, represents men as
in a state of darkness, and of estrangement from God; since it affirms him to have
withdrawn himself from their discovery, and to have chosen in his word, the very
style and appellation of Deus absconditus; lastly,
since it employs itself alike, in establishing these two maxims, that God has left
in his church certain characters of himself, by which they who sincerely seek him
shall not fail of a sensible conviction—and yet that he has, at the same time, so
far shaded and obscured these characters as to render them imperceptible to those
who do not seek him with their whole heart; what advantage is it to men who profess
themselves negligent in the search of truth, to complain so frequently that nothing
reveals and displays it to them? For this very obscurity under which they labour,
and which they make an exception against the church, does itself evince one of the
two grand points which the church maintains, (without affecting the other) and is
so far from overthrowing its
If they would give their objections any strength, they ought to urge, that they have applied their utmost endeavour, and have used all means of information, even those which the church recommends, without satisfaction. Did they express themselves thus, they would indeed attack religion in one of its chief pretensions. But I hope to shew, in the following papers, that no rational person can speak after this manner, and I dare assert that none ever did. We know very well how men, under this indifference of spirit, behave themselves in the case. They suppose themselves to have made the mightiest efforts towards the instruction of their minds, when they have spent some hours in reading the scriptures, and have asked some questions of a clergyman concerning the articles of faith. When this is done, they declare to all the world they have consulted books and men without success. I shall be excused, if I refrain from not telling such men (what I have often told them) that this neglect of theirs is insupportable. It is not a foreign or a petty interest which is here in debate; we are ourselves the parties, and all our hopes and fortunes are the depending stake.
The immortality of the soul is a thing which so deeply concerns,
so infinitely imports us, that we must have utterly lost our feeling, to be altogether
cold and remiss in our enquiries about it. And all our actions,
Thus is it our highest interest, no less than our principal duty, to get light into a subject on which our whole conduct depends. And therefore, in the number of wavering and unsatisfied men, I make the greatest difference imaginable between those who labour with all their force to obtain instruction, and those who live without giving themselves any trouble, or so much as any thought, in this affair.
I cannot but be touched with a hearty compassion for those who
sincerely groan under this dissatisfaction; who look upon it as the greatest of
misfortunes, and who spare no pains to deliver themselves from it, by making these
researches their chief employment and most serious study. But as for those who pass
their life without reflecting on its issue, and who, for this reason alone, because
they find not in themselves a convincing testimony, refuse to seek it elsewhere,
and to examine to the bottom, whether the opinion proposed be such as we are wont
to entertain by popular simplicity and credulity, or such as though obscure in itself,
yet is built on solid and immoveable foundations, I consider them
It requires no great elevation of soul to observe, that nothing in this world is productive of true contentment; that our pleasures are vain and fugitive, our troubles innumberable and perpetual; and that after all, death, which threatens us every moment, must, in the compass of a few years, (perhaps of a few days) put us into the eternal condition of happiness, or misery, or nothing. Between us and these three great periods, or states, no barrier is interposed but life, the most brittle thing in all nature; and the happiness of heaven being certainly not designed for those who doubt whether they have an immortal part to enjoy it, such persons have nothing left but the miserable chance of annihilation, or of hell.
There is not any reflection which can have more reality than this,
as there is none which
‘Tis in vain for men to turn aside their thoughts from this eternity which awaits them, as if they were able to destroy it, by denying it a place in their imaginations. It subsists in spite of them; it advanceth unobserved: and death, which is to draw the curtain from it, will, in a short time, infallibly reduce them to the dreadful necessity of being forever nothing, or forever miserable.
We have here a doubt of the most affrighting consequence, and which therefore to entertain may be well esteemed the most grievous of misfortunes; but, at the same time, it is our indispensable duty not to lie under it without struggling for deliverance.
He then who doubts, and yet seeks not to be resolved, is equally unhappy and unjust. But if withal he appears easy and composed; if he freely declares his indifference; nay, if he takes a vanity in professing it, and seems to make this most deplorable condition the subject of his pleasure and joy, have not words to fix a name on so extravagant a creature. Where is the very possibility of entering into these thoughts and resolutions? what delight is there in expecting misery without end? what vanity in finding one’s self encompassed with impenetrable darkness? or what consolation in despairing forever of a comforter?
To sit down with some sort of acquiescence under so fatal an ignorance, is a thing unaccountable beyond all expression: and they who live with such a disposition ought to be made sensible of its absurdity and stupidity, by having their inward reflections laid open to them, that they may grow wise by the prospect of their own folly. For behold how men are wont to reason, while they obstinately remain thus ignorant of what they are, and refuse all methods of instruction and illumination!
Who has sent me into the world, I know not; what the world is,
I know not, nor what I am myself. I am under an astonishing and terrifying ignorance
of all things. I know not what my body is, what my senses, or my soul. This very
part of me which thinks what I speak, which reflects upon every thing else, and
even upon itself, yet is as mere a stranger to its own nature as the dullest thing
I carry about me. I behold these frightful spaces of the universe with which I am
encompassed; and I find myself chained to one little corner of the vast extent,
without understanding why I am placed in this seat rather than any other; or why
this moment of time, given me to live, was assigned rather at such a point, than
at any other of the whole eternity which was before me, or of all that which is
to come after me. I see nothing but infinities on all sides, which devour and swallow
me up, like an atom; like a shadow, which endures but a single instant,
As I know not whence I came, so I know not whither I go; only this I know, that at my departure out of the world, I must either fall forever into nothing, or into the hands of an incensed God, without being capable of deciding which of these two conditions shall eternally be my portion. Such is my state; full of weakness, obscurity, and wretchedness. And from all this I conclude, that I ought therefore to pass all the days of my life, without considering what is hereafter to befall me; and that I have nothing to do but to follow my inclinations, without reflection or disquiet, in doing all that which, if what men say of a miserable eternity prove true, will infallibly plunge me into it. ‘Tis possible I might find some light to clear up my doubts; but I shall not take a minute’s pains, nor stir one foot in the search of it. On the contrary, I am resolved to treat those with scorn and derision who labour in this inquiry with care; and so to run, without fear or foresight, upon the trial of the grand event; permitting myself to be led softly on to death, utterly uncertain as to the eternal issue of my future condition.
In earnest, ‘tis a glory to religion to have so unreasonable men
for its professed enemies; and their opposition is of so little danger,
Nothing is so important to any man as his own estate and condition; nothing so great, so amazing, as eternity. If therefore we find persons indifferent to the loss of their being, and to the danger of endless misery, ‘tis impossible that this temper should be natural. They are quite other men in all other regards: they fear the smallest inconveniences; they see them as they approach, and feel them if they arrive; and he who passeth days and nights in chagrin or despair, for the loss of employment, or for some imaginary blemish in his honour, is the very same mortal who knows that he must lose all by death, and yet remains without disquiet, resentment or emotion. This wonderful insensibility with respect to things of the most fatal consequence, in a heart so nicely sensible of the meanest trifles, is an astonishing prodigy, an unintelligible inchantment, a supernatural blindness and infatuation.
A man in a close dungeon, who knows not whether sentence of death
is passed upon
Thus, not the zeal alone of those who heartily seek God demonstrates the truth of religion, but likewise the blindness of those who utterly forbear to seek him, and who pass their days under so horrible a neglect. There must needs be a strange turn and revolution in human nature, before men can submit to such a condition; much more, ere they can applaud and value themselves upon it. For, supposing them to have obtained an absolute certainty that there was no fear after death, but of falling into nothing; ought not this to be the subject rather of despair than of jollity? And is it not therefore the highest pitch of senseless extravagance, while we want this certainty, to glory in our doubt and distrust?
And yet after all, it is too visible, that man has so far declined from his original nature, and as it were departed from himself, as to nourish in his heart a secret seed plot of joy, springing up from these libertine reflections. This brutal ease or indolence, between the fear of hell and of annihilation, carries somewhat so tempting in it, that not only those who have the misfortune to be sceptically inclined, but even those who cannot unsettle their judgment, do yet esteem it reputable to take up even a counterfeit diffidence. For we may observe the largest part of the herd to be of this latter kind, false pretenders to infidelity, and mere hypocrites in atheism. There are persons whom we have heard declare that the genteel way of the world consists in thus acting the bravo. This is that which they term throwing off the yoke, and which the greater number of them profess, not so much out of opinion, as out of gallantry and complaisance.
Yet, if they have the least reserve of common sense, it will not
be difficult to make them apprehend, how miserably they abuse themselves, by laying
so false a foundation of applause and esteem. For this is not the way to raise a
character, even with worldly men, who as they are able to pass shrewd judgment on
things, so they easily discern, that the only method of succeeding in our temporal
affairs is to approve ourselves honest, faithful, prudent, and capable of advancing
the interest of our friends; because men naturally
If they would compose them to serious consideration, they must
perceive the method in which they are engaged to be so very ill chosen, so repugnant
to gentility, and so remote even from that good air and grace which they pursue,
that, on the contrary, nothing can more effectually expose them to the contempt
and aversion of mankind, or mark them out for persons defective in parts and judgment.
And indeed should we demand from
And thus it is evident; that they who wear no more than the outward mask of these principles are the most unhappy counterfeits in the world; in as much as they are obliged to put a continual force and constraint on their genius, only that they may render themselves the most impertinent of all men living.
If they are heartily and sincerely troubled at their want of light,
let them not dissemble the disease. Such a confession could not be reputed shameful;
for there is really no shame, but in being shameless. Nothing betrays is much weakness
of soul, as not to apprehend the misery of man, while living without God in the
world: nothing is a surer token of extreme baseness of spirit, than not to hope
for the reality of eternal promises: no man is so stigmatized a coward, as he that
acts the bravo against Heaven. Let them, therefore, leave these impieties to those
who are born with so unhappy a judgment
If then there are persons who sincerely inquire after God, and who, being truly sensible of their misery, affectionately desire to be rescued from it, it is to these alone that we can in justice afford our labour and service, for their direction in finding out that light of which they feel the want.
But as for those who live without either knowing God, or endeavouring
to know him, they look on themselves as so little deserving their own care, that
they cannot but be unworthy the care of others: and it requires all the charity
of the religion which they despise, not to despise them to such a degree, as even
to abandon them to their own folly. But since the same religion obliges us to consider
them, while they remain in this life, as still capable of God’s enlightening grace;
and to acknowledge it as very possible, that, in the course of a few days, they
may be replenished with a fuller measure of faith than we now enjoy, and we ourselves,
on the other side, fall into the depths of their present blindness and misery; we
ought to do for them what we desire should be done
I. General division of the following discourse, with regard to Pagan and Jewish authors, who mention particulars relating to our Saviour.
II. Not probable that any such should be mentioned by Pagan writers who lived at the same time, from the nature of such transactions.
III. Especially when related by the Jews.
IV. And heard at a distance by those who pretended to as great miracles of their own.
V. Besides, that no Pagan writers of that age lived in Judea, or its confines.
VI. And because many books of that age are lost.
VII. An instance of one record proved to be authentic.
VIII. A second record of probable, though not undoubted, authority.
I. THAT I may lay before you a full state of the subject under
our consideration and methodise the several particulars that I touched upon in discourse
with you, I shall first take notice of such Pagan authors as have given their testimony
to the history of our Saviour; reduce these authors under their respective classes,
and shew what authority their testimonies carry with them. Secondly, I shall take
notice of The author did not live to write this second part.
II. There are many reasons why you should not expect that matters
of such a wonderful nature should be taken notice of by those eminent Pagan writers,
who were contemporaries
Supposing such things had happened at this day in Switzerland, or among the Grisons, who make a greater figure in Europe than Judea did in the Roman Empire, would they be immediately believed by those who live at a great distance from them? or would any certain account of them be transmitted into foreign countries, within so short a space of time as that of our Saviour’s public ministry? Such kinds of news, though never so true, seldom gain credit, till some time after they are transacted, and exposed to the examination of the curious, who, by laying together circumstances, attestations, and characters of those who are concerned in them, either receive or reject what at first none but eye-witnesses could absolutely believe or disbelieve. In a case of this sort, it was natural for men of sense and learning to treat the whole account as fabulous: or, at farthest, to suspend their belief of it, until all things stood together in their full light.
III. Besides, the Jews were branded not only for superstitions different from all the religions of the Pagan world, but in a particular manner ridiculed for being a credulous people: so that whatever reports of such a nature came out of that country, were looked upon by the Heathen world as false, frivolous, and improbable.
IV. We may further observe, that the ordinary practice of magic in those times, with the many pretended prodigies, divinations, apparitions, and local miracles among the Heathens, made them less attentive to such news from Judea, till they had time to consider the nature, the occasion, and the end of our Saviour’s miracles, and were awakened by many surprising events, to allow them any consideration at all.
V. We are indeed told by St. Matthew, that the fame of our Saviour, during his life, went throughout all Syria; and that there followed him great multitudes of people from Galilee, Judea, Decapolis, Idumea, from beyond Jordan, and from Tyre and Sidon. Now, had there been any historians of those times and places, we might have expected to have seen in them some account of those wonderful transactions in Judea; but there is not any single author extant, in any kind, of that age, in any of those countries.
VI. How many books have perished in which possibly there might have been mention of our Saviour? Look among the Romans, how few of their writings are come down to our times! In the space of two hundred years from our Saviour’s birth when there was such a multitude of writers of all kinds, how small is the number of authors that have made their way to the present age.
VII. One authentic record, and that the most authentic Heathen
record, we are pretty sure is lost, I mean the account sent by the
VIII. The story of Abgarus, king of Edessa, relating to the letter which he sent to our Saviour, and to that which he received from him, is a record of great authority; and though I will not insist upon it, may venture to say, that had we such an evidence for any fact in Pagan history, an author would be thought very unreasonable who should reject it. I believe you will be of my opinion, if you will peruse, with other authors who have appeared in vindication of these letters as genuine, the additional arguments which have been made use of by the late famous and learned Dr. Grabe, in the second volume of his Spicilegium.
I. What facts in the history of our Saviour might be taken notice of by Pagan authors.
II. What particular facts are taken notice of, and by what Pagan authors.
III. How Celsus represented our Saviour’s miracles.
IV. The same representation made of them by other unbelievers, and proved unreasonable.
V. What facts in our Saviour’s history not to be expelled from Pagan writers.
I. WE come now to consider what undoubted authorities are extant among Pagan writers: and here we must premise, that some parts of our Saviour’s history may be reasonably expected from Pagans. I mean such parts as might be known to those who lived at a distance from Judea, as well as to those who were the followers and eye-witnesses of Christ.
II. Such particulars are most of these which follow, and which
are all attested by some one or other of those Heathen authors, who lived in or
near the age of our Saviour and his disciples. “That Augustus Cæsar had ordered
the whole empire to be censed or taxed,” which brought our Saviour’s reputed parents
to Bethlehem: this is mentioned by several Roman historians, as Tacitus, Suetonius,
and Dion. “That a great light, or a new star, appeared in the east, which directed
the wise men to our Saviour:” this is recorded by Chalcidius. “That Herod, the king
of Palestine, so often mentioned in the Roman history, made a great slaughter
III. Celsus was so hard set with the report of our Saviour’s miracles,
and the confident attestations concerning him, that though he often intimates that
he did not believe them to be true, yet knowing he might be silenced in such an
answer, provides himself with another retreat, when beaten out of this, viz. that
our Saviour was a magician. Thus he compares the feeding of so many thousands, at
two different times, with a few loaves and fishes, to the magical feasts of those
Egyptian impostors, who would present their spectators with visionary entertainments,
that had in them neither substance nor reality: which, by the way, is to suppose,
that a hungry and fainting multitude were filled by an apparition, or strengthened
and refreshed with shadows. He knew very well that there
IV. The unconverted Heathens, who were pressed by the many authorities
that confirmed our Saviour’s miracles, as well as the unbelieving Jews, who had
actually seen them, were driven to account for them after the same manner: for,
to work by magic, in the Heathen way of speaking, was, in the language of the Jews,
to cast out devils by Beelzebub the prince of the devils. Our Saviour, who knew
that unbelievers, in all ages, would put this perverse interpretation on his miracles,
has branded the malignity of those men, who, contrary to the dictates of their own
hearts, started such an unreasonable objection as a blasphemy against the Holy Ghost,
and declared not only the guilt, but the punishment of so black a crime. At the
same time he condescended to shew the vanity and emptiness of this objection against
his miracles, by representing, that they evidently tended to the destruction of
those powers, to whose assistance the enemies of
V. We now see what a multitude of Pagan testimonies may be produced for all of those remarkable passages which might have been expected from them; and indeed of several, that, I believe, do more than answer your expectations, as they were not subjects, in their own nature, so exposed to public notoriety. It cannot be expected they should mention particulars, which were transacted amongst the disciples only, or among some few even of the disciples themselves, such as the transfiguration, the agony in the garden, the appearance of Christ after his resurrection, and others of the like nature. It was impossible for a Heathen author to relate these things; because, if he had believed them, he would no longer have been a Heathen, and by that means his testimony would not have been thought of so much validity. Besides, his very report of facts, so favourable to Christianity, would have prompted men to say that he was probably tainted with their doctrine. We have a parallel case in Hecatæus, a famous Greek historian, who had several passages in his book conformable to the history of the Jewish writers, which, when quoted by Josephus, as a confirmation of the Jewish history, when his Heathen adversaries could give no other answer to it, they would need suppose that Hecatæus was a Jew in his heart, though they had no other reason for it, but because his history gave greater authority to the Jewish than the Egyptian records.
I. Introduction to a second list of Pagan authors, who give testimony of our Saviour.
II. A passage concerning our Saviour from a learned Athenian.
III. His Conversion from Paganism to Christianity makes his evidence stronger than if he had continued a Pagan.
IV. Of another Athenian philosopher converted to Christianity.
V. Why their conversion, instead of weakening, strengthens their evidence in defence of Christianity.
VI. Their belief in our Saviour’s history founded at first upon the principles of historical faith.
VII. Their testimonies extended to all the particulars of our Saviour’s history.
VIII. As related by the four Evangelists.
I. TO this list of Heathen writers, who make mention of our Saviour, or touch upon any particulars of his life, I shall add those authors who were at first Heathens, and afterwards converted to Christianity; upon which account, as I shall here shew, their testimonies are to be looked upon as the more authentic. And, in this list of evidences, I confine myself to such learned Pagans as came over to Christianity in the three first centuries, because those were the times in which men had the best means of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour’s history; and because, among the great number of philosophers who came in afterwards, under the reigns of Christian emperors, there might be several of them who did it partly out of worldly motives.
II. Let us now suppose that a learned Heathen writer, who lived
within sixty years of
III. I dare say you would look upon this as a glorious attestation
for the cause of Christianity, had it come from the hand of a famous Athenian philosopher.
These forementioned words, however, are actually the words of one who lived about
sixty years after our Saviour’s crucifixion, and was a famous philosopher in Athens.
But it will be said he was a convert to Christianity: now consider this matter impartially,
and see if his testimony is not much more valid for that reason. Had he continued
a Pagan philosopher, would not the world have it said that he was not sincere in
what he writ, or did not believe it; for if so, would not they have told us he would
have embraced Christianity? This was indeed the case of this excellent man; he had
so thoroughly examined the
IV. Aristides was an Athenian philosopher, at the same time famed for his learning and wisdom, but converted to Christianity. As it cannot be questioned that he perused and approved the apology of Quadratus, in which is the passage just now cited, he joined with him in an apology of his own to the same emperor on the same subject. This apology, though now lost, was extant in the time of Ado. Vinesis, A. D. 870, and highly esteemed by the most learned Athenians, as that author witnesses. It must have contained great arguments for the truth of our Saviour’s history, because in it he asserted the divinity of our Saviour which could not but engage him in the proof of his miracles.
V. I do allow, that generally speaking, a man is not so acceptable
and unquestioned an evidence, in facts which make for the advancement of his own
party. But we must consider, that, in the case before us, the persons to whom we
appeal were of an opposite party, till they were persuaded of the truth of those
very facts which they report. They bear evidence to a history in defence of Christianity;
the truth of which history was their motive to embrace Christianity. They attest
facts which they had heard while they were yet Heathens, and had they not found
reason to believe them, they would have still
VI. When a man is born under Christian parents, and trained up
in the profession of that religion from a child, he generally guides himself by
the rules of Christian faith, in believing what is delivered by the evangelists;
but the learned Pagans of antiquity, before they became Christians, were only guided
by the common rules of faith; that is, they examined the nature of the evidence
which was to be met with in common fame, traditions, and the writings of those persons
who related them, together with the number, concurrence, veracity, and private characters
of those persons; and being convinced upon all accounts that they had the same reason
to believe the history of our Saviour, as that of any other person to which they
themselves were not actually eye-witnesses, they were bound, by all the rules of
historical faith, and of right reason, to give credit to this history. This they
did accordingly, and in consequence of it published the same truths themselves,
suffered many afflictions, and very often death itself in the assertion of them.
When I say, that an historical belief of the acts of our Saviour induced these learned
Pagans to embrace his doctrine, I do not deny that there were many other motives
which conduced to it, as the excellency of his precepts, the fulfiling of prophecies,
the miracles of his disciples, the irreproachable lives and magnanimous sufferings
of their
VII. To this I must further add, that as we have already seen many particular facts which are recorded in holy writ, attested by particular Pagan authors, the testimony of those I am now going to produce, extends to the whole history of our Saviour, and to that continued series of actions which are related of him and his disciples in the books of the New Testament.
VIII. This evidently appears from their quotations out of the
evangelists, for the confirmation of any doctrine or account of our blessed Saviour.
Nay, a learned man of our nation, who examined the writings of our most ancient
fathers in another view, refers to several passages in Irenæus, Tertullian, Clements
of Alexandria, Origen, and Cyprian; by which he plainly shews that each of these
early writers ascribed to the four evangelists by name, their respective histories;
so that there is not the least room for doubting of their belief in the history
of our Saviour as recorded in the gospels. I shall only add, that three of the five
fathers here mentioned, and probably four, were Pagans converted to Christianity,
as they were all of
I. Character of the times in which the Christian religion was propagated.
IL And of many who embraced it.
III. Three eminent and early instances.
IV. Multitudes of learned men who came over to it.
V. Belief in our Saviour’s history the first motive to their conversion.
VI. The names of several Pagan philosophers who were Christian converts.
I. IT happened very, providentially, to the honour of the Christian religion, that it did not take its rise in the dark illiterate ages of the world, but at a time when arts and sciences were at their height, and when there were men who made it the business of their lives to search after truth, and sift the several opinions of philosophers and wise men, concerning the duty, the end, and chief happiness of reasonable creatures.
II. Several of these, therefore, when they had informed themselves
of our Saviour’s history, and examined, with unprejudiced minds, the doctrines and
manners of his disciples and followers, were struck and convinced, that they professed
themselves of that sect; notwithstanding, by this profession, that juncture of time, they bid farewell
to all
III. Of this sort we may reckon those three early converts to Christianity, who each of them was a member of a senate famous for its wisdom and learning. Joseph the Arimathean was of the Jewish sanhedrim, Dionysius of the Athenian, Areopagus, and Flavius Clemens, of the Roman senate; nay, at the time of his death, consul of Rome. These three were so thoroughly satisfied of the truth of the Christian religion, that the first of them, according to all the reports of antiquity, died a martyr for it; as did the second, unless we disbelieve Aristides, his fellow citizen and contemporary; and the third, as we are informed both by Roman and Christian authors.
IV. Among those innumerable multitudes, who, in most of the known
nations of the world, came over to Christianity at its first appearance, we may
be sure there were great numbers of wise and learned men, besides those whose names
are in the Christian records, who, without doubt, took care to examine the truth
of our Saviour’s history before they would leave the religion of their country,
and of their forefathers, for the sake of one that would not only cut them of from
the allurements of this world, but subject them to every thing terrible or disagreeable
V. Who can imagine that men of this character did not thoroughly inform themselves of the history of that person whose doctrines they embraced? For however consonant to reason his precepts appeared, how good soever were the effects which they produced in the world, nothing could have tempted men to acknowledge him as their God and Saviour, but their being firmly persuaded of the miracles he wrought, and the many attestations of his divine mission, which were to be met with in the history of his life. This was the groundwork of the Christian religion; and, if this failed, the whole superstructure sunk with it. This point, therefore, of the truth of our Saviour’s history, as reckoned by the evangelists, is every where taken for granted in the writings of those who, from Pagan philosophers, became Christian authors, and who, by reason of their conversion, are to be looked upon as of the strongest collateral testimony for the truth of what is delivered concerning our Saviour.
VI. Besides innumerable authors that are
I. The learned Pagans had means and opportunities of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour’s history.
II. From the proceedings,
III. The charmers, sufferings,
IV. And miracles of the persons who published it.
V. How these first apostles perpetrated their tradition, by ordaining persons to succeed them.
VI. How their successors in the three first centuries preserved their tradition.
VII. That five generations might derive this tradition from Christ, to the end of the third century.
VIII. Four eminent Christians that delivered it down successively to the year of our Lord 254.
IX. The faith of the four above mentioned persons the
X. Another person added to them, who brings us to the year 343, and that many other lists might be added in as direct and short a succession.
XI. Why the tradition of the three first centuries, was more authentic than that of any other age, proved from the conversation of the primitive Christians.
XII. From the manner of initiating men into their religion.
XIII. From the correspondence between the churches.
XIV. From the long lives of several of Christ’s disciples, of which two are instances.
I. IT now therefore only remains to consider, whether these learned men had means and opportunities of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour’s history; for unless this point can be made out, their testimonies will appear invalid, and their inquiries ineffectual.
II. As to this point, we must consider, that many thousands had
seen the transactions of our Saviour in Judah; and that many hundred thousands had
received an account of them from the mouths of those who were actually eye-witnesses.
I shall only mention among these eyewitnesses, the twelve apostles, to whom we must
add St. Paul, who had a particular call to this high office, tho’ many other disciples
and followers of Christ had also their share in the publishing this wonderful history.
We learn from the ancient records of Christianity, that many of the apostles and
disciples made it the express business of their lives, travelled into the remotest
parts of the world, and in all places
III. Heathens therefore of every age, sex, and quality, born in the most different climates, and bred up under the most different institutions, when they saw men of plain sense, without the help of learning, armed with patience and courage, instead of wealth, pomp, or power, expressing in their lives those excellent doctrines of morality, which they taught as delivered to them from our Saviour, avering that they had seen his miracles during his life, and conversed with him after his death: when, I say, they saw no suspicion of falshood, treachery, or worldly interest in their behaviour and conversation, and that they submitted to the most ignominious and cruel deaths, rather than retract their testimony; or even be silent in matters which they were to publish by our Saviour’s especial command, there was no reason to doubt of the veracity of these facts which they related, or of the divine mission in which they were employed.
IV. But even those motives to faith in our Saviour would not have been sufficient to have brought about, in so few years, such an incredible number of conversions, had not the apostles been able to exhibit still greater proofs of the truths which they taught. A few persons of an odious and despised country could not have filled the world with believers, had they not shown undoubted credentials from the divine person who sent them on such a message. Accordingly we are assured that they were invested with the power of working miracles, which was the most short and the most convincing argument that could be produced, and only one that was adapted to the reason of all mankind, to the capacities of the wise and ignorant, could overcome every cavil, and every prejudice. Who would not believe that our Saviour healed the sick, and raised the dead, when it was published by those who themselves often did the same miracles, in their presence, and in his name? Could any reasonable person imagine that God Almighty would arm men with such powers to authorise a lie, and establish a religion in the world, which was displeasing to him, or that evil spirits would lend them such an effectual assistance to beat down vice and idolatry?
V. When the apostles had formed many assemblies in several parts
of the Pagan world, who gave credit to the glad tidings of the gospel, that, upon
their departure, the memory of what they had related might not perish,
VI. Upon the death of any of these substitutes to the apostles and disciples of Christ, his place was filled up with some other person of eminence for his piety and learning, and generally a member of the same church, who, after his decease, was followed by another in the same manner by which means the succession was continued in an uninterrupted line. Irenæus informs us, that every church preserved a catalogue of its bishops in the order that they succeeded one another, and (for an example) produces the catalogue of those who governed the church of Rome in that character, which contains eight or nine persons, though but at a very small remove from the times of the apostles.
Indeed the lists of bishops, which are come down to us in other
churches, are generally filled with greater numbers than one would expect. But the
succession was quick in the three first centuries, because the bishop very often
ended in the martyr; for when a persecution arose in any place, the first fury of
it fell upon this order of holy men, who abundantly testified, by their deaths and
sufferings, that they did not undertake theses offices out of any temporal views:
that they were sincere and satisfied in the belief of what they taught;
VII: We may fairly reckon, that this first age of apostles and
disciples, with that second generation of many who were their immediate converts,
extended itself to the middle of the second century and several of the third generation
from these last mentioned, which was but the fifth from Christ, continued to the
end of the third century. Did we know the ages and numbers of the members in every
particular church which was planted by the apostles, I doubt not but in most of
them there might be found five persons, who, in a
VIII. Among the accounts of those very few out of innumerable
multitudes, who had embraced Christianity, I shall single out four persons eminent
for their lives, their writings and their sufferings, that were successively contemporaries,
and bring us down as far as to the year of our Lord 254. St. John who was the beloved
disciple, and conversed the most intimately with our Saviour, lived till Anno Dom.
100. Polycarp who was the disciple of St. John, and had conversed with others of
the apostles and. disciples of our Lord, lived till Anno 167, though his life was
shortened by martyrdom. Irenæus, who was the disciple of Polycarp, and had conversed
with many of the immediate disciples of the apostles, lived, at the lowest computation
of his age, till the year 202, when he was likewise cut off by martyrdom, in which
year the great Origen was appointed regent of the cathecatic school at Alexandria;
and as he was the miracle of that age, for industry, learning, and philosophy, he
was looked on as the champion of Christianity, till the year 254, when, if he did
not suffer martyrdom, as some think he did, he was certainly actuated by the spirit
of it, as appears in the whole course of his life and writings; nay, he had often
been put to the torture, and had undergone trials worse than death. As he conversed
with the most eminent Christians
IX. It is evident to those who read the lives and writings of Polycarp, Irenæus, and Origen, that these three fathers believed the accounts which are given of our Saviour in the four evangelists, and had undoubted arguments, that not only St. John, but many others of our Saviour’s disciples, published the same accounts of him. To which we must subjoin this further remark, that what was believed by these fathers on this subject, was likewise the belief of the main body of Christians in those successive ages when they flourished since Polycarp cannot but be looked upon, if we consider the respect that was paid him, as the representative of the eastern churches in this particular, Irenæus of the western upon the same account, and Origen of those established in Egypt.
X. To these I might add Paul the famous hermit, who retired from
the Decian persecution five or six years before Origen’s death, and lived till the
year 343. I have only discovered one of those channels by which the history of our
Saviour might be conveyed pure and unadulterated through those several
XI. But to give this consideration more force, we must take notice,
that the tradition of the first ages of Christianity had several circumstances peculiar
to it, which made it more authentic than any other tradition in any other age of
the world. The Christians, who carried their religion thro’ so many general and
particular persecutions, were incessantly comforting and supporting one another,
with the example and history of our Saviour and his apostles. It was the subjec
not only of their solemn assemblies, but of their private visits and conversations.
Our virgins, says
XII. Especially if we consider that they could not then be received
as Christians till they had undergone several examinations. Persons of riper years,
who flocked daily into the church during the three first centuries, were obliged
to pass through many repeated instructions, and give a strict account of their proficiency,
before they were admitted to baptism. And as for those who were born of Christian
parents, and had been baptized in their infancy, they were with the like care prepared
and disciplined for confirmation, which they could not arrive at, till they were
XIII. We must further observe, that there was not only in those times this religious conversation among private Christians, but a constant correspondence between the churches that were established by the apostles or their successors in the several parts of the world. If any new doctrine was started, or any fact reported of our Saviour, a strict enquiry was made among the churches, especially those planted by the apostles themselves, whether they had received any such doctrine or account of our Saviour, from the mouths of the apostles, or the tradition of those Christians who had preceded the present members of the churches which were thus consulted. By this means, when any novelty was published, it was immediately detected and censured.
XIV. St. John, who lived so many years after our Saviour, was
appealed to in these emergencies as the living oracle of the church; and as his
oral testimony lasted the first century, many have observed, that, by a particular
providence of God, several of our Saviour’s disciples, and of the early converts
of his religion, lived to a very great age, that they might personally convey the
truth of the gospel to those times, which were very remote from the first publication
of it. Of these, besides St. John, we have a remarkable instance in Simeon, who
was one of the seventy sent forth, by our Saviour, to publish the
I. The tradition of the apostles secured by other excellent instructions;
II. But chiefly by the writings of the evangelists.
III. The diligence of the disciples and first Christian converts to send abroad these writings.
IV. That the written account of our Saviour was the same with that delivered by tradition;
V. Proved from the reception of the gospel by those churches which were established before it was written.
VI. From the uniformity of what was believed in the several churches.
VII. From a remarkable passage in Irenæus.
VIII. Records which are now lost of use to the three first centuries, for confirming the history of our Saviour.
IX. Instances of such records.
I. THUS far we see how the learned Pagans might apprize themselves,
from oral information, oral information, of the particulars of our
II. But lest such a tradition, though guarded by so many expedients, should wear out by the length of time, the four evangelists, within above fifty, or, as Theodoret affirms, thirty years after our Saviour’s death, while the memory of his actions was fresh among them, consigned to writing that history, which for some years had been published only by the mouths of the apostles and disciples. The further consideration of these holy penmen will fall under another part of this discourse.
III. It will be sufficient to observe here, that in the age which
succeeded the apostles, many of their immediate disciples sent or carried in person
the books of the four evangelists, which had been written by the apostles, or at
least approved by them, to most of the churches which they had planted in the different
parts of the world. This was done with so much diligence, that when Pantænus,
IV. That the history of our Saviour as recorded by the evangelists, was the same with that which had been before delivered by the apostles and disciples, will further appear in the prosecution of this discourse, and may be gathered from the following considerations.
V. Had these writings differed from the sermons of the first planters of Christianity, either in history or doctrine, there is no question but they would have been rejected by those churches which they had already formed. But so consistent and uniform was the relation of the apostles, that those histories .appeared to be nothing else but their tradition and oral attestations made fixed and permanent. Thus was the fame of our Saviour, which in so few years had gone through the whole earth, confirmed and perpetuated by such records as would preserve the traditionary account of him to after ages, and rectify it, if at any time, by passing through several generations, it might drop any part that was material, or contract any thing that was false or fictitious.
VI. Accordingly we find the same Jesus Christ, who was born of a virgin, who had wrought many miracles in Palestine, who was crucified, rose again, and ascended intoheaven: I say, the same Jesus Christ had been preached, and was worshipped, in Germany, France, Spain, and Great Britain; in Parthia, Media, Mesopotamia, Armenia, Phrygia, Asia, and Pamphylia; in Italy, Egypt, Afric, and beyond Cyrene, India, and Persia; and, in short, in all the islands and provinces that are visited by the rising or the setting sun. The same account of our Saviour’s life and doctrine was delivered by thousands of preachers, and believed in thousands of places, who all, as fast as it could be conveyed to them, received the same account in writing from the four evangelists.
VII. Irenæus to this purpose very aptly remarks, that those barbarous nations, who in his time were not possessed of the written gospels, and had only learned the history of our Saviour from those who had converted them to Christianity before the gospels were written, had among them the same accounts of our Saviour which are to be met with in the four evangelists: an incontestible proof of the harmony and concurrence between the holy scripture and the tradition of the churches in those early times of Christianity.
VIII. Thus we see what opportunities the learned and inquisitive
Heathens had of informing themselves of the truth of our Saviour’s history during
the three first centuries,
IX. Among those records which are lost, and were of great use to the primitive Christians, is the letter to Tiberius, which I have already mentioned; that of Marcus Aurelius, which I shall take notice of hereafter; the writings of Hegesippus, who had drawn down the history of Christianity to his own time, which was not beyond the middle of the second century; the genuine Sybilline oracles, which, in the first age of the church, were easily distinguished from the spurious: the records preserved in particular churches, with many others of the same nature.
I. The sight of miracles in those ages, a further confirmation of Pagan philosophers in the Christian faith.
II. The credibility of such miracles.
III. A particular instance.
IV. Martyrdom, why considered as a standing miracle.
V. Primitive Christians thought many of the martyrs were supported by a miraculous power.
VI. Proved from the nature of their sufferings.
VII. How martyrs further induced the Pagans to embrace Christianity.
I. THERE were other means which I find had a great influence on the learned of the three first centuries, to create and confirm in them the belief of our blessed Saviour’s history, which ought not to be passed over in silence. The first was, the opportunity they enjoyed of examing those miracles, which were on several occasions performed by Christians, and appeared in the church more or less during these first ages of Christianity. These had great weight with the men I am now speaking of, who, from learned Pagans, became fathers of the church; for they frequently boast of them in their writings, as attestations given by God himself to the truth of their religion.
II. At the same time that these learned men declare how disingenuous,
base, and wicked it would be, how much beneath the dignity of philosophy, and contrary
to the precepts of Christianity, to utter falsehoods or forgeries in the support
of a cause, though never so just in itself, they confidently assert this miraculous
power which then subsisted
III. The letter of Marcus Aurelius, whose army was preserved by a refreshing shower, at the same time that his enemies were discomfited by a storm of lightning, and which the Heathen historians themselves allow to have been supernatural, and the effect of magic; I say, this letter, which ascribed this unexpected assistance to the prayers of the Christians, who then served in the army, would have been thought an unquestionable testimony of the miraculous power I am speaking of, had it been still preserved. It is sufficient for me in this place to take notice, that this was one of those miracles which had its influence on the learned converts, because it is related by Tertullian, and the very letter appealed to. When their learned men saw sickness and frenzy cured, the dead raised, the oracles put to silence, the demons and evil spirits forced to confess themselves no gods, by persons who only made use of prayer and adjurations in the name of their crucified Saviour, how could they doubt of their Saviour’s power on the like occasions, as represented to them by the traditions of the church, and the writings of the evangelists?
IV. Under this head, I cannot omit that which appears to me a standing miracle in the three first centuries I mean, that amazing and supernatural courage or patience which was shewn by innumerable multitudes of martyrs, in those slow and painful torments that were inflicted on them. I cannot conceive a man placed in the burning iron chair at Lyons, amid the insults and mockeries of a crowded amphitheatre, and still keeping his seat; or stretched upon a gate of iron, over coals of fire, and breathing out his soul among the exquisite sufferings of such a tedious execution, rather than renounce his religion or blaspheme his Saviour. Such trials seem to me above the strength of human nature, able to overbear duty, reason, faith, conviction, nay, and the most absolute certainty of a future state. Humanity, unassisted in an extraordinary manner, must have shaken off the present pressure, and have delivered itself out of such a dreadful distress, by any means that could have been suggested by it. We can easily imagine, that many persons, in so good a cause, might have laid down their lives at the gibbet, the stake, or the block but to expire leisurely among the most exquisite tortures, when they might come out of them, even by a mental reservation, or an hypocrisy, which was not without a possibility of being followed by repentance, and forgiveness, has something in it so far beyond the force and natural strength of mortals, that one cannot but think there was some miraculous power to support the sufferer.
V. We find the church of Smyrna, in that admirable letter, which gives an account of the death of Polycarp, their beloved bishop, mentioning the cruel torments of other early martyrs for Christianity, are of opinion that our Saviour stood by them in a vision, and personally conversed with them, to give them strength and comfort during the bitterness of their long continued agonies: and we have the story of a young man, who, having suffered many tortures, escaped with life, and told his fellow Christians that the pain of them had been rendered tolerable, by the presence of an angel who stood by him, and wiped off the tears and sweat which ran down his face whilst he lay under his sufferings. We are assured at least, that the first martyr for Christianity was encouraged in his last moments, by a vision of that divine person for whom he suffered, and into whose pretence he was then hastening.
VI. Let any man calmly lay his hand upon his heart, and, after
reading these terrible conflicts in which the ancient martyrs and confessors were
engaged, when they passed through such new inventions and varieties of pain as tired
their tormentors, and ask himself, however zealous and sincere he is in his religion,
whether, under such acute and lingering tortures, he could still have held fast
his integrity, and have professed his faith to the last; without a supernatural
assistance of some kind or other. For my part, when I consider that it was not an
unaccountable obstincy
VII. It is certain that the deaths and sufferings of the primitive
Christians had a great share in the conversion of those learned Pagans who lived
in the ages of persecution, which, with some intervals and abatements, lasted near
three hundred years after our Saviour. Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Lactantius, Arnobius,
and others, tell us, that this first of all alarmed their curiosity, roused their
attention, and made them seriously inquisitive into the nature of that religion
which could endue the mind with so much strength, and overcome the fear of death,
nay, raised an earnest desire of it though it appeared in all its terrors. This
they found had not been effected by all the doctrines of those philosophers whom
they had thoroughly studied, and who had been labouring at this great point. The
sight of these dying and tormented martyrs engaged them to search into the history
and doctrines of him for whom
I. The completion of our Saviour’s Prophecies confirmed Pagans in their belief of the gospel.
II. Origen’s observation on our Saviour’s disciples being brought before kings and governors;
III. On their being persecuted for their religion;
IV. On their preaching the gospel to all nations.
V. On the destruction of Jerusalem, and ruin of the Jewish œconomy.
VI. These arguments strengthened by what has happened since Origen’s time.
I. THE second of these extraordinary means, of great use to the
learned and inquisitive Pagans of the first three centuries, for evincing the truth
of the history of our Saviour, was the completion of such prophecies as are recorded
of him in the evangelists. They could not indeed form any arguments from what he
foretold, and was fulfilled during his life, because both the prophecy and the completion
were over before they were published by the evangelists; though as Origen observes,
what end could there be in forging some of these predictions,
II. But to pursue his reflections on this subject: There are predictions
of our Saviour recorded by the evangelists, which were not completed till after
their deaths, and had no likelihood of being so, when they were pronounced by our
blessed Saviour. Such was that wonderful notice he gave them, that they should be
brought before governors, and kings, for his sake, for a testimony against them
and the Gentiles,
III. Consider the time when our Saviour pronounced those words,
IV. Who is not struck with admiration, when he
represents to himself our Saviour at that time foretelling, that
his Gospel should be preached in all the world, for a witness unto
all nations, or, as Origen, (who rather quotes the sense than the
words) to serve for a conviction to kings, and people, when, at
the same time, he finds that his Gospel has accordingly been preached
to Greeks and Barbarians, to the learned and to the ignorant, and
that there is no quality or condition of life able to exempt men
from submitting to the doctrine of Christ? As for us, says this
great author, in another part of his book against Celsus, “When
we see every day those events exactly accomplished which our Saviour
foretold at so great a distance; that his Gospel is preached in
ail the world,
V. Origen insists likewise with great. strength on that wonderful
prediction of our Saviour concerning the destruction of Jerusalem, pronounced at
a time, as he observes, when there was no likelihood nor appearance of it. This
has been taken notice of, and inculcated by so many others, that I shall refer
VI. I cannot quit this head without taking notice, that Origen would still have triumphed more in the foregoing arguments, had he lived an age longer, to have seen the Roman emperors, and all their governors and provinces, submitting themselves to the Christian religion, and glorying in its profession, as so many kings and sovereigns still place their relation to Christ at the head of their titles.
How much greater confirmation of his faith would he have received,
had he seen our Saviour’s prophecy stand good in the destruction of the temple,
and the dissolution of the Jewish œconomy, when Jews and Pagans united all their
endeavours, under Julian the apostate, to baffle and falsify the prediction? The
great preparations that were made for rebuilding the temple, with the hurricane,
earthquake, and eruptions of fire, that destroyed the work, and terrified those
employed in the attempt from proceeding in it, are related by many historians of
the same age, and the substance of the story testified both by Pagan and Jewish
writers, as Ammianus
The ancient Christians were so entirely persuaded of the force
of our Saviour’s prophecy, and of the punishment which the Jews had drawn upon themselves
and upon their children, for the treatment which the Messiah had received at their
hands, that they did not doubt but they would always remain an abandoned and despised
people, an hissing and an astonishment, among the nations, as they are to this day.
In short that they had lost their peculiarity of being God’s people, which was now
transferred to the body of
I. The lives of primitive Christians another means of bringing learned Pagans into, their religion.
II. The change and reformation of their manners.
III. This looked upon as supernatural by the learned Pagans.
IV. And strengthened the accounts given of our Saviour’s life and history.
V. The Jewish prophecies of our Saviour an argument for the Heathens’ belief:
VI. Pursued:
VII. Purfued.
I. THERE was one other means enjoyed by the learned Pagans of
the three fist centuries, for satisfying them in the truth of our Saviour’s history
which I might have flung under one of the foregoing heads but as it is so shining
a particular, and does so much honour to our religion, I shall make a distinct article
of it, and only consider it with regard to the subject I am upon: I mean the lives
and manners of those holy men who believed in Christ during the first ages of Christianity.
I should be thought to advance a paradox, should I affirm that there were more Christians
in the world during
II. In the time that we are now surveying, the Christian religion shewed its full force and efficacy on the minds of men, and by many examples demonstrated what great and generous souls it was capable of producing. It exalted and refined its proselytes, to a very high degree of perfection, and set them far above the pleasures, and even the pains, of this life. It strengthened the infirmity, and broke the fierceness of human nature. It lifted up the minds of the ignorant to the knowledge and worship of him that made them, and inspired the vicious with a rational devotion, a strict purity of heart, and an unbounded love to their fellow-creatures. In proportion as it spread thro’ the world it seemed to change mankind into another species of beings. No sooner was a convert initiated into it, but, by an easy figure, he became a new man, and both acted and looked upon himself as one regenerated and born a second time into another state of existence.
III. It is not my business to be more particular in the accounts of primitive Christianity which have been exhibited so well by others, but rather to observe, that the Pagan converts, of whom I am now speaking, mention this great reformation of those who had been the greatest sinners, with that sudden and surprising change which it made in the lives of the most profligate, as having something in it supernatural, miraculous, and more than human. Origen represents this power in the Christian religion, as no less wonderful than that of curing the lame and blind, or cleansing the leper. Many others represented it in the same light, and looked upon it as an argument, that there was a certain divinity in that religion which showed itself in such strange and glorious effects.
IV. This therefore was a great means not only of recommending Christianity to honest and learned Heathens, but of confirming them in the belief of our Saviour’s history, when they saw multitudes of virtuous men daily forming themselves upon his example, animated by his precepts, and actuated by that Spirit which he had promised to send among his disciples.
V. But I find no argument made a stronger impression on the minds
of these eminent Pagan converts, for strengthening their faith in the history of
our Saviour, than the predictions relating to him in those old prophetic writings,
which were deposited among the hands of the greatest enemies to Christianity,
VI. The Heathen converts, after having travelled through all human
learning, and fortified their minds with the knowledge of arts and sciences, were
particularly qualified to examine these prophecies with great care and impartiality,
and without prejudice or prepossession. If the Jews, on the one side, put an unnatural
interpretation on these prophecies, to evade the force of them in their controversies
with the Christians; or if the Christians on the other side, overstrained several
passages in their applications of them, as it often happens among men of the best
understanding, when their minds are heated with any consideration that bears a more
than
VII. This set of arguments had therefore an invincible force with those Pagan philosophers who became Christians, as we find in most of their writings. They could, not disbelieve our Saviour’s history, which so exactly agreed with every thing that had been written of him many ages before his birth, nor doubt of those circumstances being fulfiled in him, which could not be true of any person that lived in the world besides himself. This wrought the greatest confusion in the unbelieving Jews, and the greatest conviction in the Gentiles, who every where speak with astonishment of these truths they met with in this new magazine of learning which was opened to them, and carry the point so far as to think whatever excellent doctrine they had met with among Pagan writers had been stolen from their conversation with the Jews, or from the perusal of these writings which they had in their custody.
Qui mare et terras variisque mundum
Temperat horis:
Unde nil majus generatur ipso,
Nec viget quicquam simile aut secundum.Hor. Od. 12. Lib. I. V. 15.
Who guides below, and rules above, The great Disposer and the mighty King: Than he none greater, next him none, That can be, is or was; Supreme he singly fills the throne. Creech.
SIMONIDES, being armed by Dionysius the tyrant what God was, desired a day’s time to consider of it before he made his reply. When the day was expired, he desired two days; and afterwards, instead of returning his answer, demanded still double time to consider of it. This great poet and philosopher, the more he contemplated the nature of the Deity, found that he waded but the more out of his depth; and that he lost himself in the thought, instead of finding an end of it.
If we consider the idea which wise men, by the light of reason,
have framed of the Divine Being, it amounts to this: that he has in
Though every one who thinks must have made this observation, I
shall produce Mr. Locke’s authority to the same purpose, out of his essay on human
understanding. “If, we examine the idea we have of the incomprehensible Supreme
Being, we shall find, that we come by it the same way; and that the complex ideas
we have both: of God and separate spirits, are made up of the simple ideas we receive
from reflection: v. g. from having, by what we experience in ourselves, got
the ideas of existence and duration, of knowledge and power, of pleasure and happiness,
and of several other qualities and powers, which it is better to have, than to be
without; when we would frame an idea the most suitable we can to the Supreme Being,
we enlarge every one of these with our idea of infinity; and
It is not impossible that there may be many kinds of spiritual perfection, besides those which are lodged in an human soul; but it is impossible that we should have ideas of any kinds of perfection, except those of which we have some small rays and short imperfect strokes in ourselves. It would be therefore a very high presumption to determine whether the Supreme Being has not many more attributes than those which enter into our conceptions of him. This is certain, that if there be any kind of spiritual perfection which is not marked out in an human soul, it belongs, in its fulness, to the Divine Nature.
Several eminent philosophers have imagined that the soul, in her
separate state, may have new faculties springing up in her, which she is not capable
of exerting during her present union with the body; and whether these faculties
may not correspond with other attributes in the Divine Nature, and open to us hereafter
new matter of wonder and adoration, we are altogether ignorant. This, as I have
said before, we ought to acquiesce in, that the Sovereign Being, the great author
of nature, has in him all possible perfection, as well in kind as in degree; to
speak according to our methods of conceiving. I shall only add under this head,
that when we have raised our notion of this infinite Being as high as it is possible
for the mind of man to
The advice of the son of Sirach is very just and sublime in this light. “By his word all things consist. We may speak much, and yet come short: wherefore in sum, he is all. How shall we be able to magnify him? For he is great above all his works. The Lord is terrible and very great; and marvellous in his power. When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed. And, when you exalt him, put fourth all your strength, and be not weary; for you can never go far enough. Who hath seen him, that he might tell us? and who can magnify him as he is? There are yet hid greater things than those be, for we have seen but a few of his works.”
I have here only considered the Supreme Being by the light of
reason and philosophy. If we would see him in all the wonders of his mercy, we must
have recourse to revelation, which represents him to us, not only as infinitely
great and glorious, but as infinitely good and just in his dispensations towards
men. But as this is a theory which falls under every one’s consideration, though
indeed it can never be sufficiently considered, I shall here only take notice of
that habitual worship and veneration which we ought to pay to this Almighty Being.
We should often
This would effectually kill in us all the little seeds of pride, vanity, and self-conceit, which are apt to shoot up in the minds of such whose thoughts turn more on those comparative advantages which they enjoy over some of their fellow-creatures, than on that infinite distance which is placed between them and the supreme model of all perfection. It would likewise quicken our desires and endeavours of uniting ourselves to him by all the acts of religion and virtue.
Such an habitual homage to the Supreme Being would, in a particular manner, banish from among us that prevailing impiety of using his name on the most trivial occasions.
I find the following passage in an excellent sermon, preached
at the funeral of a gentleman, who was an honour to his country, and a more diligent
as well as successful inquirer into the works of nature than any other our nation
has ever produced. “He had the profoundest veneration for the great God of heaven
and earth that I have ever observed in any person. The very name of God was never
mentioned by him without a pause,
Every one knows the veneration which was paid by the Jews to a name so great, wonderful, and holy. They would not let it enter even in their religious discourses. What can we then think of those who make use of so tremendous a name in the ordinary expressions of their anger, mirth, and most impertinent passions? of those who admit it into the most familiar questions and assertions, ludicrous phrases, and works of humour? not to mention those who violate it by solemn perjuries. It would be an affront to reason to endeavour to set forth the horror and profaneness of such a practice. The very mention of it exposes it sufficiently to those in whom the light of nature, not to say religion, is not utterly extinguished.
—Deum namque ire per omnes
Terrasque, tractusque maris, calumque profundum.
Virg. Georg. 4. ver. 221.
Dryden,
I WAS yesterday, about sun set, walking in the open field, till
the night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused myself with all
As I was surveying the moon walking in her brightness, and taking
her progress among the constellations, a thought rose in me, which I believe very
often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and contemplative natures. David himself
fell into it in that reflection: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,
the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful
of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” In the same manner, when I
considered that infinite host of stars, or, to speak more philosophically, of suns,
which were then shining upon me, with those innumerable sets of planets or worlds
which were moving round their respective suns: when I still enlarged the idea, and
supposed
Were the sun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with
all the host of the planetary worlds that move about him, utterly extinguished and
annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore.
The space they possess is so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that
it would scarce make a blank in the creation. The chasm would be imperceptible to
any eye that could take in the whole compass of nature, and pass from one end of
the creation to the other; and it is possible there may be such a sense in ourselves
hereafter, or in creatures which are at present more exalted than ourselves. We
see many stars, by the help of glasses, which we cannot discover with our naked
eyes: and the finer our telescopes are, the more, still, are our discoveries. Huygenius
carries this thought so far, that he does not think it impossible there may be stars
whose light has not yet travelled down to us since their first creation. There is
no question but the universe has certain bounds set to it: but when
To return therefore to my first thought, I could not but look upon myself with secret horror, as a being that was not worth the smallest regard of one who had so great a work under his care and superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the immensity of nature, and lost among that infinite variety of creatures, which, in all probability, swarms through all these immeasurable regions of matter.
In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I considered
it took its rise from those narrow conceptions which we are apt to entertain of
the divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many different objects at the same
time. If we are careful to inspect some things, we must of course neglect others.
This imperfection which we observe in ourselves is an imperfection that cleaves
in some degree to creature of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that
is, beings of finite and limited natures. The presence of every created being is
confined to a certain measure of space, and consequently his observation is stinted
to a certain number of objects. The sphere in which we move, and act, and understand,
is of a wider circumference to one creature than another, according as we rise one
above another in the scale of existence. But the widest
We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought of our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly employed, if we consider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent: and in the second, that he is omniscient.
If we consider him in his omnipresence, his being passes through,
actuates and supports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and every part of
it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made that is either so distant, so little,
or so inconsiderable, which he does not essentially inhabit. His substance is within
the substance of every being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately
present to it as that being is to itself. It would be an imperfection in him, were
he able to remove out of one place into another,
In the second place, he is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his omnipresence; he cannot but be conscious of every motion that arises in the whole material world, which he thus essentially pervades, and of every thought that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which he is thus intimately united. Several moralists have considered the creation as the temple of God, which he has built with his own hands, and which is filled with his presence. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation of the Almighty. But the noblest and most exalted way of considering this infinite space, is that of Sir Isaac Newton, who calls it the cenforium of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their cenforiola or little cenforiums by which they apprehend the presence, and perceive the actions of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and observation turns within a very narrow circle. But as God Almighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he resides, infinite space gives room to infinite knowledge, and is as it were an organ to omniscience.
Were the soul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it for millions of years continue its progress through infinite space with the same activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its creator, and encompassed round with the immensity of the Godhead. While we are in the body, he is not less present with us because he is concealed from us. “O that I knew where I might find him!” says Job. “Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; on the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him; he hideth himself on the right hand that I cannot see him.” In short, reason, as well as revelation, assures us that he cannot be absent from us notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.
In this consideration of God Almighty’s omnipresence and omniscience, every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing that has being, especially such of his creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety of heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this occasion: for as it is impossible he should overlook any of his creatures, so we may be confident that he regards, with an eye of mercy, those who endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice, and, in an unfeigned humility of heart, think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of them.
—Cælum quid querimus ultra? Luc. lib. ix.
Than heav’n what further can we seek?
IN your paper of Friday the 9th instant you had occasion to consider the ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time to shew, that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to every thing, and privy to all the modes and parts of its existence; or, in other words, that his omniscience and omnipresence are coexistent, and run together through the whole infinitude of space. This consideration might furnish us with many incentives to devotion, and motives to morality; but as this subject has been handled by several excellent writers, I shall consider it in a light wherein I have not seen it placed by others.
First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual being, who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his presence!
Secondly, How deplorable is the condition of an intellectual being, who feels no other effects from this his pretence but such as proceed from divine wrath and indignation!
Thirdly, How happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is sensible of his Maker’s presence from the secret effects of his mercy and loving kindness!
First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual
being who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
We may assure ourselves, that the great Author of nature will not always be as one, who is indifferent to any of his creatures. Those who will not feel him in his love, will be sure at length to feel him in his displeasure. And how dreadful is the condition of that creature, who is only sensible of the being of his Creator, by what he suffers from him! He is as essentially present in hell as in heaven, but the inhabitants of the former place behold him only in his wrath, and shrink within the flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in the power of imagination to conceive the fearful effects of omnipotence incensed.
But I shall only consider the wretchedness of an intellectual
being, who, in this life, lies under the displeasure of him, that, at all times,
and in all places, is intimately united with him. He is able to disquiet the soul,
and vex it in all its faculties. He can hinder any of the greatest comforts of life
from refreshing us, and give an edge to every one of its calamities. Who then can
bear the thought of being an outcast from his presence, that is, from the comforts
of it,
The blessed in heaven behold him face to face; that is, are as
sensible of his presence as we are of the presence of any person whom we look upon
with our eyes. There is doubtless a faculty in spirits by which they apprehend one
another, as our senses do material objects and there is no question but our souls,
when they are disembodied or placed in glorified bodies, will, by this faculty in
whatever part of space they reside, be always sensible of the divine presence. We
who have this veil of flesh standing between us and the world of spirits, must be
content to know that the spirit of God is present with us, by the effects which
he produceth in us. Our outward senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however
taste and see how gracious he is, by his influence upon our minds, by those virtuous
thoughts he awakens in us, by those secret comforts and refreshments which he conveys
into our souls, and by these ravishing joys and inward satisfactions, which are
perpetually springing up, and diffusing themselves among all the
If we would be thus happy, and thus sensible
—Si verbo audaria
detur,
Non metuam magni dixisse palatia cæli.
Ov. Met. Lib. L Ver. 175.
Dryden.
SIR,
I CONSIDERED in my two last letters that awful and tremendous
subject, the ubiquity or omnipresence of the Divine Being. I have shewn that he
is equally present in all places throughout the whole extent of infinie space. This
doctrine is so agreeable to reason, that we meet with it in the writings of the
enlightened Heathens, as I might show at large, were it not already done by other
hands. Bat though the Deity be thus essentially present through all the immensity
of space, there is one part of it in which he discovers himself in a most transcendent
and visable glory. This is that place which is marked out in scripture under the
different appellations of paradise, the third heaven, the throne of God, and the
habitation of his glory. It is here where the glorified body of our Saviour resides,
and where all the celestial hierarchies and the innumerable host of angels are represented
as perpetually surrounding the seat of God with hallelujahs and hymns of praise.
This is that presence of God which some of the divines call his glorious and others
his majestic presence. He is indeed as essentially present in all other places as
in this; but it is here where he resides in a
It is very remarkable that this opinion of God Almighty’s presence in heaven, whether discovered by the light of nature, or by a general tradition from our first parents, prevails among all the nations of the world, whatsoever different notions they entertain of the Godhead. If you look into Homer, who is the most ancient of the Greek writers, you see the supreme power seated in the heavens, and encompassed with inferior deities, among whom the muses are represented as singing incessantly about his throne. Who does not see here the main strokes and out lines of this great truth we are speaking of? The same doctrine is shadowed out in many other Heathen authors, though at the same time, like several other revealed truths. dashed and adulterated with a mixture of fables and human inventions. But, to pass over the notions of the Greeks and Romans, those more enlightened parts of the Pagan world, we find that there is scarce a people among the late discovered nations who are not trained up in an opinion that heaven is the habitation of the divinity whom they worship.
As in Solomon’s temple there was the sanctum
sanctorum, in which a visible glory appeared among the figures of the
cherubims, and into which none but the High-priest himself was permitted to enter,
after having made an atonement for the sins of the people; so, if
With how much skill must the throne of God be erected? With what glorious designs is that habitation beautified, which is contrived and built by him who inspired Hiram with wisdom? How great must be the majesty of that place, where the whole art of creation has been employed, and where God has: chosen to shew himself in the most magnificent manner? What must be the architecture of infinite power under the direction of infinite wisdom? A spirit cannot but be transported after an ineffable manner with the sight of those objects, which were made to affect him, by that Being who knows the inward frame of a soul, and how to please and ravish it in all its most secret powers and faculties. It is to this majestic presence of God we may apply those beautiful expressions in holy writ; “Behold! even to the moon, and it shineth not: yea, the stars are not pure in his sight.” The light of the sun, and all the glories of the world in which we live, are but as weak and sickly glimmerings, or rather darkness itself, in comparison of those splendors which encompass the throne of God.
As the glory, of this place is transcendant beyond imagination,
so, probably is the extent of it. There is light behind light, and
This is certain, that our imagination can not be raised too high, when we think on a place where omnipotence and omniscience have so signally exerted themselves; because that they are able to produce a scene infinitely more great and glorious than what we are able to imagine. It is not impossible but, at the consummation of all things these outward apartments of nature, which are now suited to those beings who inhabit them, may be taken in and added to that glorious place of which I am here speaking, and by that means made a proper habitation for beings who are exempt from mortality, and cleared of their imperfections: for so the scripture seems intimate, when it speaks of a new heaven and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.
I have only considered this glorious place with regard to the
sight and imagination,
Why therefore should we exclude the satisfaction of these faculties,
which we find by experience are inlets of great pleasure to the soul, from among
those entertainments which are to make up our happiness hereafter. Why should we
suppose that our hearing and seeing will not be gratified with those objects which
are most agreeable to them, and which they cannot meet with in these lower regions
of nature; objects which neither eye have seen, nor ear heared, nor, can it enter
into the heart of man to conceive? “I knew a man in Christ, (says St. Paul, speaking
of himself) above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether
out of the body, I cannot tell; God knoweth) such an one caught up to the third
heaven. And I knew such a man, (whether in
It is very natural for us to take delight in inquiries concerning
any foreign country, where we are some time or other to make our abode and as we
all hope to be admitted into this glorious place, it is both a laudable and useful
curiosity to git what information we can of it, whilst we make use of revelation
for our guide. When these everlasting doors shall be opened to us we may be sure
that the pleasures and beauties of this place will infinitely transcend our present
hope and expectations; and that the glorious appearance of the throne of God will
rise infinitely beyond whatever we are able to conceive of it. We might here entertain
ourselves with many other speculations on this subject, from those several hints
which we find of it in the holy scriptures; as whether there may not be different
mansions and apartments of glory, to beings of different natures; whether, as they
excel one another in perfection, they are not admitted nearer to the throne of the
Almighty, and enjoy greater manifestations of his presence; whether there are not
solemn times and occasions, when all the multitude
I have in this, and in two foregoing letters, treated on the most serious subject that can employ the mind of man, the omnipresence of the Deity; a subject which, if possible, should never depart from our meditations. We have considered the divine Being as he inhabits infinitude, as he dwells among his works, as he is present to the mind of man, and as he discovers himself in a more glorious manner among the regions of the blessed. Such a consideration should be kept awake in us at all times, and in all places, and possess our minds with a perpetual awe and reverence. It should be interwoven with all our thoughts and perceptions become one with the consciousness of our own being. It is not to be reflected on in the coldness of philosophy, but ought to sink us into the lowest prostration before him, who is so astonishing great, wonderful and holy.
Ov. Met. Lib. XIII. 179.
Dryden.
WE consider infinite space as an expansion without a circumference; we consider eternity, or infinite duration, as a line that has neither a beginning nor end. In our speculations of infinite space, we consider that particular place in which we exist, as a kind of centre to the whole expansion. In our speculations of eternity, we consider the time which is present to us as the middle, which divides the whole line into two equal parts. For this reason, many witty authors compare the present time to an isthmus or narrow neck of land that rises in the st of an ocean immeasurably diffused on either side of it.
Philosophy, and indeed common sense, naturally throws eternity
into divisions;
Let us first of all consider that eternity which is past, reserving that which is to come for the subject of another paper. The nature of this eternity is utterly inconceivable by the mind of man; our reason demonstrates to us that it has been, but at the same time can frame no idea of it but what is big with absurdity and contradiction. We can have no other conception of any duration which is past than that all of it was once present, and whatever was was once present, is at some certain distance from us; and whatever is at any certain distance from us, be the distance never so remote, can not be eternity. The very notion of any duration being past, implies that it was once present: for the idea of being once present is actually included in the idea of its being past. This therefore is a depth not to be sounded by human understanding. We are sure that there has been an eternity, and yet contradict ourselves, when we measure this eternity by any notion which we can frame of it.
If we go to the bottom of this matter, we
shall find, that the difficulties we meet with in our conceptions
of eternity proceed from this single reason, that we can have
no idea of any other kind of duration than that by which we
ourselves, and all other created beings, do exist; which is
a successive duration made up of past, present, and to come.
There is nothing which exists after this manner; all the parts
of this existence were once actually present, and consequently
may be reached by certain numbers of years applied to it. We
may ascend as high as we please, and employ our being to that
eternity which is to come, in adding millions of years to millions
of years, and we can never come up to any fountainhead of duration,
to any beginning in eternity; but the same time are sure, that
whatever was once present does lie within the reach of numbers,
though perhaps we can never be able to put enough of them together
for that purpose. We may as well say that any thing may be actually
present in any part of infinite space, which does not lie at
a certain distance from us, as that any part of infinite duration
was once actually present, and does not also lie at some determined
distance from us. The distance in both cases may be immeasurable
and indefinite as to our faculties, but our reason tells us
that it cannot be so in itself. Here therefore is that difficulty
which human understanding is not capable of surmounting. We
are sure that something must have existed
It is hard for a reader, who has not rolled this thought in his own mind, to follow in such an abstracted speculation; but I have been the longer on it, because I think it is a demonstrative argument of the being and eternity of a God: and though there are many other demonstrations which lead us to this great truth, I do not think we ought to lay aside any proofs in this matter which the light of reason has suggested to us, especially when it is such a one as has been urged by men famous for their penetration and force of understanding, and which appears altogether conclusive to those who will be at the pains to examine it.
Having thus considered that eternity which is past, according to the best idea we can frame of it, I shall now draw up those several articles on this subject which are dictated to us by the light of reason, and which may be looked upon as the creed of a philosopher in this great point.
First, It is certain that no being could have made itself; for if so, it must have acted before it was, which is a contradiction.
Secondly, That therefore some being must have existed from all eternity.
Thirdly, That whatever exists after the manner of created
beings, or according to any notions which we have of existence,
Fourthly, That this eternal being must therefore be the great Author of nature, the Ancient of days, who, being at an infinite distance in his perfections from all finite and created beings, exists in a quite different manner from them, and in a manner of which they can have no idea.
I know that several of the schoolmen, who would not be thought ignorant of any thing, have pretended to explain the manner of God’s existence, by telling us, that he comprehends infinite duration in every moment, that eternity is with him a punctum stans, a fixed point; or which is as good sense, an infinite instant that nothing with reference to his existence is either past or to come: which the ingenious Mr. Cowley alludes in his description of heaven:
For my own part, I look upon these propositions as words that
have no ideas annexed to them and think men had better own their ignorance, than
advance doctrines by which they mean nothing, and which indeed are self contradictory.
We cannot be too modest in our disquisitions, when we meditate on Him, who is invirioned
with so much glory and perfection, who is the source of being, the fountain of all
that existence which we and his whole creation derive from him. Let us therefore,
with the utmost humility, acknowledge, that as some being must
In the first revelation which he makes of his own being, he intitles
himself, I am that I am; and when Moses desires to know what name he shall
give him, in his embassy to Pharoah, he bids him say, I AM hath sent you. Our great
Creator, by this revelation of himself, does in a manner exclude every thing else
from a real existence, and distinguishes himself from his creatures, as the only
being which truly and really exists. The ancient Platonic notion, which was drawn
from speculations of eternity, wonderfully agrees with this revelation which God,
has made of himself. There is nothing, say they, which in reality exists, whose
existence, as we call it, is pieced up of past, present, and to
I shall conclude this speculation with one useful inference. How can we sufficiently prostrate ourselves and fall down before our Maker, when we consider that ineffible goodness and wisdom which contrived this existence for finite natures? What must be the overflowings of that good will, which prompted our Creator to adapt existence to beings in whom it is not necessary, especially when we consider that he himself was before in the complete possession of existence and of happiness, and in the full enjoyment of eternity? What man can think of himself as called out, and separated from nothing, of his being made a conscious, a reasonable and a happy creature; in short, of being taken in as a sharer of existence, and a kind of partner in eternity, without being swallowed up in wonder, in praise, and adoration! It is indeed a thought too big for the mind of man, and rather to be entertained in the secrecy of devotion, and in the silence of the soul, than to be expressed by words. The Supreme Being has not given us powers or faculties sufficient to extoll and magnify such unutterable goodness.
It is however some comfort to us, that we
Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitaque volantum,
Et que marmoreo sert monstra sub acquore pontus.
Virg. Æn. VI. v. 728.
Dryden.
THOUGH there is a great deal of pleasure in contemplating the material world, by which I mean that system of bodies into which nature has so curiously wrought the mass of dead matter, with the several relations which those bodies bear to one another; there is still, methinks, something more wonderful and surprising in contemplations on the world of life, by which, I mean all those animals with which every part of the universe is furnished. The material world is only the shell of the universe; the world of life are its inhabitants.
If we consider the parts of the material world which lie the nearest
to us, and are
The author of the plurality of worlds draws a very good argument from this consideration, for the peopling of every planet as indeed it seems very probable from the analogy of reason, that if no part of matter, which we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those great bodies which are at such a distance from us, should not be desart and unpeopled, but rather that they should be furnished with beings adapted to their respective situations.
Existence is a blessing to those beings only which are endued with perception, and is in a manner thrown away upon dead matter, any further than as it is subservient to beings that are conscious of their existence. Accordingly we find, from the bodies which lie under our observation, that matter is only made as the basis and support of animals, and that there is no more of the one, than what is necessary for the existence of the other.
Infinite goodness is of so communicative a nature, that it seems to delight in the conferring of existence upon every degree of perceptive being. As this is a speculation, which I have often pursued with great pleasure to myself, I shall enlarge further upon it, by considering that part of the scale of beings which comes within our knowledge.
There are some living creatures which are raised but just above
dead matter. To mention only that species of shell-fish, which are formed in the
fashion of a cone that grows to the surface of several rocks, and immediately die
upon their being severed from the place where they grew. There are many other creatures
but one remove from these, which have no other sense besides that of feeling and
taste. Others have still an additional one of hearing; others of smell, and others
of sight. It is wonderful to observe, by what gradual progress the world of life,
advances through a prodigious variety of species, before a creature is formed that
is complete in all its senses; and even among
The exuberant and overflowing goodness of the Supreme Bang, whose
mercies extend to all his works, is plainly seen, as I have before hinted, from
his having made so very little matter, at least, what falls within our knowledge,
that does not swarm with life: Nor is his goodness less seen in the diversity, than
in the multitude of living creatures. Had he only made one species of animals, none
of the rest would have enjoyed happiness of existence; he has, therefore, specified
in his creation every degree of life, every capacity of being, The whole chasm of
nature from a plant to a man is filled up with divers kinds of creatures rising
one over another, by such a gentle and easy ascent, that the little transitions
and deviations from one
There is a consequence besides those I have already mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing considerations. If the scale of being rises by such a regular progress, so high as men, we may by a parity of reason suppose that it still proceeds gradually through those beings which are of a superior nature to him: since there is an infinitely greater space and room for different degrees of perfection, between the Supreme Being and man, than between man, and the most despicable insect. This consequence of so great a variety of beings which are superior to us from that variety which is inferior to us, is made by Mr. Locke, in a passage which I shall here set down, after having premised, that notwithstanding there is such infinite room between man and his maker, for the creative power to exert itself in, it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will be still an infinite gap or distance between the higher created being, and the power which produced him.
“That there should be more species of intelligent creatures above
us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to me from hence;
that in all the visible
In this system of being, there is no creature so wonderful in its nature, and which so much deserves our particular attention, as man, who fills up the middle space between, the animal and intellectual nature, the visible and invisible world, and is that link in the chain of beings, which has beep often termed the nexus utriusque mundi. So that he who in one respect is associated with angels and archangels, may look upon a being of infinite perfection as his father, and the highest order of spirits as his brethren; may in another respect say to corruption, thou art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister.
Ovid. Met. Lib. II. V.
THOSE who were skilful in anatomy among the ancients, concluded
from the outward and inward make of an human body, that it was the work of a being
transcendently wise and powerful. As the world grew more enlightened in this art,
their discoveries gave them fresh opportunities of admiring the conduct of Providence
in the formation of an human body. Galen was converted by his dissections, and could
not but own a Supreme Being upon a survey of this his handy-work. There were, indeed,
many parts of which the old anatomists did not know the certain use, but as they
saw that most of those which were examined were adapted with admirable art to their
several functions, they did not question but those whose uses they could not determine,
were contrived with the same wisdom for respective ends and purposes. Since the
circulation of the blood has been found out, and many other great discoveries have
been made by our modern anatomists, we see new wonders in the human frame, and discern
several important uses for those parts, which uses the ancients knew nothing of.
In short, the body of a man is such a subject as stands the utmost test of examination.
Though it appears formed with the nicest wisdom, upon the most superficial survey
The body of an animal is an object adequate to our senses. It is a particular system of Providence, that lies in a narrow compass. The eye is able to command it, and by successive enquiries can search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed the whole universe, be thus submitted to the examination of our senses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldy for the management of the eye and hand, there is no question but it would appear to us as curious and well contrived a frame as that of an human body. We should see the same concatenation and subserviency, the same necessoty and usefulness, the same beauty and harmony in all and every of its parts, as what we discover in the body of every single animal.
The more extended our reason is, and the more able to grapple
with immense objects, the greater still are these discoveries which it makes of
wisdom and providence in the work of the creation. A Sir Isaac Newton, who stands
up as the miracle of the present age, can look through a whole planetary system;
consider it its weight, number and measure; and draw from it as many demonstrations
of infinite power and wisdom, as a
But to return to our speculations on anatomy. I here consider
the fabric and texture of the bodies of animals in one particular view; which, in
my opinion, shews the hand of a thinking and all-wise being in their formation,
with the evidence of a thousand demonstrations. I think we may lay this down as
an incontested principle, that chance never acts in a perpetual uniformity and consistence
with itself. If one should always fling the same number with ten thousand dice,
or see every throw just five times less, or five times more in number than the throw
which immediately preceeded it, who would not imagine there is some invisible power
which directs the call? This is the proceeding which we find in the operations of
nature. Every kind of animal is diversified by different magnitudes, each of which
gives rise to a different species. Let a man trace the dog or lion kind, and he
will observe how many of the works of nature are published, if I may use the expression,
in a variety of editions. If we look into the reptile world, or into those different
kinds of animals that fill the element of water, we meet with the same repetitions
among several species, that differ very little from one another, but in size and
bulk. You find the same creature that is drawn at large, copied out in several proportions,
and ending in miniature. It would be tedious to produce instances of this regular
conduct
But to pursue this thought still further: Every living creature,
considered in itself, has many very complicated parts, that are exact copies of
some other parts which it possesses, and which are complicated in the same manner.
One eye would have been sufficient for the subsistence and preservation of an animal
but, in order to better his condition we see another placed with a mathematical
exactness in the same most advantageous situation, and in every particular, of the
same size and texture. Is it possible for chance to be thus delicate and uniform
in her operations should a million of dice turn up twice together the same number,
the wonder would be nothing in comparison with this. But when we see this similitude
and resemblance in the arm, the hand, the fingers;
There are many more demonstrations of a Supreme Being, and of his transcendent wisdom, power, and goodness in the formation of the body of a living creature; for which I refer my reader to other writings, particularly to the sixth book of the poem, intitled Creation, where the anatomy of the human body is described with great perspicuity and elegance. I have been particular on the thought which runs through this speculation, because I have not seen it enlarged upon by others.
Jupiter est quodcunque vides.
Lucan. LIb. IX.
All, all, where’er you look, is full of God.
I HAD this morning a very valuable and kind present sent me of
a translated work of a most excellent foreign writer, who makes a very considerable
figure in the learned and Christian world. It is intitled, A demonstration of
the existence„ wisdom, and omnipotence of
To the GUARDIAN:
Sir,
I THINK I have somewhere read, in the writings of one whom I take
to be a friend of your’s, a saying which struck me very much; and, as I remember,
it was to this purpose; “The existence of a God is so far from being a thing that
wants to be proved, that I think it the only thing of which we are certain.” This
is a sprightly and just expression; however, I dare say you will not be displeased
that I put you in mind of saying something on the demonstration of the bishop of
Cambray. A man of his talents views all things in a light different from that in
which ordinary men see them and the devout disposition
If you insert this prayer, I know not but
“O my God! if the greater number of mankind do not discover thee
in that glorious flow of nature, which thou hast placed before our eyes, it is not
because thou art far from every one of us; thou art present to us more than any
object which we touch with our hands; but our senses and the passions which they
produce is us, turn our attention from thee. Thy light shines in the midst of darkness,
but the darkness comprehends it not. Thou, O Lord, dost every where display thyself:
thou shinest in all thy works, but art not regarded by heedless and unthinking man.
The whole creation talks aloud of thee, and echoes with the repetitions of thy holy
name. But such is our insensibility, that we are deaf to the great and universal
voice of nature. Thou art every where
Tisu carentem magna pars veri latet .
Sen. in Oedip.
Great part of truth is hidden from the blind.
IT is very reasonable to believe that part of the pleasure which
happy minds shall enjoy in a future state will arise from an enlarged contemplation
of the divine wisdom in the government of the world, and a discovery of the secret
and amazing steps of Providence, from the beginning to the end of time. Nothing
seems to be an entertainment more adapted to the nature of man, if we consider that
curiosity is one of the strongest and most lasting appetites implanted in us, and
that admiration is one of our most pleasing passions; and what a perpetual succession
of
It is not impossible, on the contrary, that part of the punishment, of such as are excluded from bliss, may consist not only in their being denied this privilege but in having their appetites at the same time vastly increased, with out any satisfaction afforded to them. In these the vain pursuit of knowledge shall perhaps add to their infelicity, and bewilder them into labyrinths of error, darkness, distraction, and uncertainty of every thing but their own evil state. Milton has thus represented the fallen angels reasoning together in a kind of respite from their torments, and creating to themselves a new disquiet amidst their very amusements: he could not properly have described the sports of condemned spirits, without that cast of horror and melancholy he had so judicioufly mingled with them.
Others apart sat on a hill retir’ed, In thoughts more elevate, and reason’d high Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix’d fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end, in wand’ring mazes lost.
In our present condition, which is a middle state, our minds are,
as it were, chequered with truth and falsehood: and as our faculties are narrow,
and our views imperfect, it is impossible but our curiosity must meet
From hence it is, that the reason of the inquisitive has so long been exercised with difficulties, in accounting for the promiscuous distribution of good and evil to the virtuous and the wicked in this world. From hence come all those pathetical complaints of so many tragical events, which happen to the wise and the good: and of such surprising prosperity which is often the reward of the guilty and the foolish; that reason is sometimes puzzled, and at a loss what to pronounce upon so mysterious a dispensation.
Plato expresses his abhorrence of some fables of the poets, which
seem to reflect on the gods as the authors of injustice; and lays it down as a principle,
that whatever is permitted to befal a just man, whether poverty, sickness, or any
of those things which seem to be evils, shall either in life or death conduce to
his good. My reader will observe how agreeable this maxim is to what we find delivered
by a greater authority. Seneca has written a discourse purposely on this subject,
in which he takes pains, after the doctrine of the Stoics, to shew, that adversity
is not in itself an evil; and mentions a noble saying of Demetrius, “That nothing
would be more unhappy than a man who had never known affliction.” He compares prosperity
to the indulgence of a fond mother to a child which
This thought will appear yet more reasonable, if we consider human life as a state of probation, and adversity as the post of honour in it, assigned often, to the best and most select spirits.
But what I would chiefly insist on here, is, that we are not at
present in a proper situation to judge of the counsels by which Providence acts,
since but little arrives at our knowledge, and even that little we discern imperfectly;
or, according to the elegant figure in holy writ, “we see but in part, and as in
a glass darkly.” It is to be considered, that Providence, in its economy, regards
the whole system of time and things together, so that we cannot discover the beautiful
connexions between incidents, which lie widely separated in time, and by losing
so many links of the chain, our reasonings become broken and imperfect. Thus those
parts in
I shall relieve my readers from this abstracted thought, by relating
here a Jewish tradition concerning Moses, which seems to be a kind of parable illustrating
what I have last mentioned. That great prophet, it is said, was called up by a voice
from heaven to the top of a mountain; where, in a conference with the Supreme Being,
he was permitted to propose to him some questions concerning his administration
of the universe. In the midst of this divine colloquy he was commanded to look down
on the plain below. At the foot of the mountain there issued out a clear spring
of water, at which a soldier alighted from his horse to drink. He was no sooner
gone than a little boy came to the same place, and finding a purse of gold which
the soldier had dropped, took it up, and went away with it. Immediately after this
came an infirm old man, weary with
Fortune favours still the wise and brave.
THE famous Gratian, in his little book wherein he lays down maxims
for a man’s advancing himself at court, advises his reader to associate himself
with the fortunate, and to shun the company of the unfortunate; which, notwithstanding
the baseness of the precept to an honest mind, may have something useful in it for
those who push their interest in the world. It is certain, a great part of what
we call good or ill fortune, rises out of right or wrong measures or schemes
Cicero recommended Pompey to the Romans for their general, upon
three accounts, as he was a man of courage, conduct, and good fortune. It was perhaps
for the reason above mentioned, namely, that a series of good fortune supposes a
prudent management in the person to whom it befals, that not only Sylla the dictator,
but several of the Roman emperors, as is fill to be seen upon their medals, among
their other titles, give themselves that of Felix or Fortunate. The heathens indeed
seem to have valued a man more for his good fortune than for any other quality,
which I think is very natural for those who have not a strong belief of another
world. For how can I conceive a man crowned with many distinguishing blessings,
that has not some extraordinary fund of merit and perfection in him, which lies
open to the Supreme eye, though perhaps it is not
Those who believe a future state of rewards and punishments, act very absurdly if they form their opinions of a man’s merit from his successes.
But certainly if I thought the whole circle of our being was concluded between our births and deaths, I should think a man’s good fortune the measure and standard of his real merit, since Providence would have no opportunity of rewarding his virtue and perfections but in the present life. A virtuous unbeliever, who lies under the pressure of misfortunes, has reason to cry out, as they say Brutus did, a little before his death, “O virtue! I have worshipped thee as a substantial good, but I find thou art an empty name.”
But to return to our first point, though prudence does undoubtedly
in a great measure produce our good or ill fortune in the world, it is certain that
there are many unforeseen accidents and occurrences, which very often pervert the
finest schemes that can be laid by human wisdom. The race is not always to the swift,
nor the battle to the
Upon the whole, since man is so sighted a creature, and the accidents which may happen to him so various, I cannot but be of Dr. Tillotson’s opinion in another case, that were there any doubt of a Providence, yet it certainly would be very desirable there should be such a being of infinite wisdom and goodness, on whose direction we might rely in the conduct of human life.
It is a great presumption to ascribe our successes to our own
management, and not to esteem ourselves upon any blessing, rather as it is the bounty
of Heaven than the acquisition of our own prudence. 1 am very well pleased with
a medal which was struck by
It is remarked of a famous Grecian General, whose name I cannot at present recollect, and who had been a particular favourite of fortune, that upon recounting his victories among his friends, he added, at the end of several great actions, And in this fortune had no share. After which, it is observed in history, he never prospered in any thing he undertook.
As arrogance, and a conceitedness of our own abilities are very shocking and offensive to men of sense and virtue; we may be sure they are highly displeasing to that Being who delights in an humble mind, and by several of his dispensations, seems purposely to show us that our own schemes or prudence have no share in our advancements.
Since on this subject I have already admitted several quotations which have occurred to my memory upon writing this paper, I will conclude it with a little Persian fable. A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the sea, and finding itself lost in such an immensity of fluid matter, broke out into the following reflection; “Alas! what an insignificant creature am I in this prodigious ocean of waters; my existence is of no concern to the universe; I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and am less than the least of the works of God.” It so happened, that an oyster, which lay in the neighbourhood of this drop, chanced to gape and swallow it up in the midst of this its humble soliloquy. The drop, says the fable, lay a great while hardening in the shell, till by degrees it was ripened into a pearl which, falling into the hands of a diver, after a long series of adventures, is at present that famous pearl which is fixed on the top of the Persian diadem.
Si fractus illabatur orbis Impavidum ferient ruina. Hor. Lib. III. Ode 3. l. 7.
Anon.
MAN, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched being. He is subject every moment to the greatest calamities and misfortunes. He is beset with danger on all sides, and may become unhappy by numberless casulties, which he could not foresee, nor have prevented had he foreseen them.
It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious to so many accidents, that we are under the care of one who directs contingencies, and has in his hands, the management of every thing that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the assistance we stand in need of, and is always ready to bestow it on those who ask it of him.
The natural homage which such a creature bears to so infinitely wise and good a Being, is a firm reliance on him for the blessings and conveniencies of life: and an habitual trust in him for deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as may befal us.
The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, has not
the same dark and melancholy views of human nature as he who considers himself abstractedly
from this relation to the Supreme Being. At the same
To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our trust in him, who is thus able to relieve and and succour us; the divine goodness having made such a reliance a duty, notwithstanding we should have been miserable had it been forbidden us.
Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend this duty to us, I shall only take notice of those that follow.
The first and strongest is, that we are promised he will not fail those who put their trust in him.
But without considering the supernatural blessing which accompanies
this duty, we may observe, that it has a natural tendency to its own rewards; or,
in other words, that this firm trust and confidence in the great Disposer of all
things, contributes very much to the getting clear of any affliction, or to the
bearing it manfully. A person who believes
The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the mind of man in times of poverty and afflictions, but most of all in the hour of death. When the soul is hovering in the last moments of its seperation, when it is jut entering on another state of existence, to converse with scenes, and objects, and companions, that are altogether new; what can support her under such tremblings of thought, such fear, such anxiety, such apprehensions but the casting of all her cares upon him who first gave her being, who has conducted her through one stage of it, and will be always with her to guide and comfort her in her progress through eternity?
David has very beautifully represented this
steady reliance on God Almighty, in his
Religentem esse sportet, religiosum nefas.
Incerti autoris apuid. Aul. Gell.
A man should be religious, not superstitious.
IT is of the last importance to season the passions of a child with devotion, which seldom dies in a mind that has received an early tincture of it. Though it may seem extinguished for a while by the cares of the world, the heats of youth, or the allurements of vice, it generally breaks out, and discovers itself again, as soon as discretion, consideration, age, or misfortunes, have brought the man to himself. The fire may be covered and overlaid, but cannot be entirely quenched or smothered.
A state of temperance, sobriety, and justice, without devotion, is a cold, lifeless, insipid condition of virtue; and is rather to be stiled philosophy than religion. Devotion opens the mind to great conceptions, and fills it with more sublime ideas than any that are to be met with in the most exalted science, and at the same time warms and agitates the soul more than sensual pleasure.
It has been observed by some writers, that man is more distinguished
from the animal world by devotion than by reason, as several brute creatures discover
their actions something like a faint glimmering of reason, though they betray, in
no single circumstance of their behaviour, any thing that bears the
I may take same other opportunity of considering those particular forms and methods of devotion which are taught us by Christianity; but shall here observe into what errors even this divine principle may sometimes lead us, when it is not moderated by that right reason which was given us as the guide of all our actions.
The two great errors into which a mistaken devotion may betray us are enthusiasm and superitition.
There is not a more melancholy object than a man who has his head turned with religious enthusiasm. A person that is crazed, though with pride or malice, is a sight very mortifying to human nature; but when the distemper arises from any indiscreet fervours of devotion, or too intense an application of the mind to its mistaken duties, it deserves our compassion in a more particular manner. We may however learn this lesson from it, that since devotion itself (which one would be apt to think could not be too warm) may disorder the mind, unless its heats are tempered with caution and prudence, we should be particularly careful to keep our reason as cool as possible, and to guard ourselves in all parts of life against the influence of passion, imagination, and stitution.
Devotion, when it does not lie under the check of reason, is very apt to degenerate into enthusiasm. When the mind finds herself very much inflamed with her devotions, she is too much inclined to think they are not of her own kindling, but blown up with something divine within her. If she indulges this thought too far, and humours the growing passion, she at last flings herself into imaginary raptures and ecstacies; and when once she fancies herself under the influence of a divine impulse, it is no wonder if she slights human ordinances, and refuses to comply with any established form of religion, as thinking herself directed by a much superior guide.
As enthusiasm is a kind of excess in devotion, superstition is the excess not only of devotion, but of religion in general according to an old Heathen saying, quoted by Aulus Gellius, Religentem esse oportet, religiosum nefas; A man should be religious, not superstitious; for, as the author tells us, Nigidius observed upon this passage, that the Latin words which terminate in ofus, generally imply vicious characters, and the having of any quality to an excess.
An enthusiast in religion is like an obstinate clown, a superstitious man like an insipid courtier. Enthusiasm has something in it of madness, superstition of folly. Most of the sects that fall short of the church of England have in them strong tinctures of enthusiasm, as the Roman Catholic Religion is one huge overgrown body of childish and idle superstitions.
The Roman Catholic church seems indeed irrecoverably lost in this
particular. If an absurd dress or behaviour be introduced in the world, it will
soon be found out and discarded: on the contrary, a habit or ceremony, though never
so ridiculous, which has taken sanctuary in the church, sticks in it for ever. A
Gothic bishop perhaps thought it proper to repeat such a form in such particular
shoes or slippers: another fancied it would be very decent if such a part of public
devotions were performed with a mitre on his head, and a crosier in his hand: to
this a brother Vandal, as wise as the others, adds
Their successors see the vanity and inconvenience of these ceremonies; but instead of reforming, perhaps add others which they think more significant, and which take possession in the same manner, and are never to be driven out after they have been once admitted. I have seen the Pope officiate at St. Peter’s, where, for two hours together, he was busied in putting on or off his different accoutrements, according to the different, parts he was to act in them.
Nothing is so glorious in the eyes of mankind, and ornamental to human nature, setting aside the infinite advantages which arise from it, as a strong, steady, masculine piety; but enthusiasm and superstition are the weaknesses of human reason, that expose us to the scorn and derision of infidels, and sink us even below the beasts that perish.
Idolatry may be looked upon as another error arising from mistaken devotion; but because reflections on that subject would be of no use to an English reader, I shall not enlarge upon it.
Omnibus in terris, quae sunt a Godibus usque
Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt
Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa, remota
Erroris nebula —
Juv. Sat. 10. l. 1.
Dryden.
IN my last Saturday’s paper I laid down some thoughts upon devotion in general, and shall here shew what were the notions of the most refined Heathens on this subject, as they are represented in Plato’s dialogue upon prayer, entitled, Alcibiades the second, which doubtless gave occasion to Juvenal’s tenth satire, and to the second satire of Persius; as the last of these authors has almost transcribed the preceding dialogue, entitled, Alcibiades the first, in his fourth satire.
The speakers in this dialogue upon prayer are Socrates and Alcibiades, and the substance of it (when drawn together out of the intricacies and digressions) as follows:
Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, as he was going to his
devotions, and observing his eyes to be fixed upon the earth with great seriousness
and attention, tells him, that he had reason to be thoughtful on that occasion,
since it was possible for a man to bring down evils upon himself, by his own prayers,
and that those things which the gods send him in answer to his petitions might turn
to his destruction this, says he, may not only happen when a man prays for what
Having established this great point, that all
In the first place, he recommends to him, as the model of his devotions, a short prayer, which a Greek poet composed for the use of his friends, in the following words; “O Jupiter! give us those things which are good for us: whether they are such things as we pray for, or such things as we do not pray for; and remove from us those things which are hurtful, though they are such things as we pray for.”
In the second place, that his disciple may ask such things as are expedient for him, he shews him that it is absolutely neccessary to apply himself to the study of true wisdom, and to the knowledge of that which is his chief good, and the most suitable to the excellency of his nature. In the third and last place, he informs him, that the best methods he could make use of to draw down blessings upon himself, and to render his prayers acceptable, would be to live in a constant practice of his duty towards the gods, and towards men. Under this head he very much recommends a form of prayer the Lacedemonians made use of, in which they petition the gods, “to give them all good things, so long as they were virtuous.” Under this head likewise he gives a very remarkable account of an oracle to the following purpose.
When the Athenians, in the war with the Lacedemonians received many defeats both by sea and land, they sent a message to the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon, to ask the reason why they who erected so many temples to the gods, and adorned them with such costly offerings; why they who had instituted so many festivals, and accompanied them with such pomps and ceremonies; in short, why they who had slain so many hecatombs at their altars, should be less successful than the Lacedemonians, who fell so short of them in all these particulars. To this, says he, the oracle made the following reply; “I am better pleased with the prayer of the Lacedemonians than with all the oblations of the Greeks.” As this prayer implied and encouraged virtue in those who made it; the philosopher proceeds to shew how the most vicious man might be devout, so far as victims could make him, but that his offerings were regarded by the gods as bribes, and his petitions as blasphemies. He likewise quotes on this occasion two verses out of Homer, in which the poet says, that the scent of the Trojan sacrifices was carried up to heaven by the winds; but that it was not acceptable to the gods, who were displeased with Priam and all his people.
The conclusion of this dialogue is very remarkable. Socrates having
deterred Alcibiades from the prayers and sacrifice he was going to offer by setting
forth the above mentioned difficulties of performing that duty as
Some learned men look upon this conclusion as a prediction of
our Saviour, or at least that Socrates, like the High Priest, prophecied unknowingly,
and pointed at that Divine Teacher who was to come into the world some ages after
him. However that may be, we find that this great philosopher saw by the light of
reason it, that it was suitable
Whoever reads this abstract of Plato’s discourse on prayer, will
I believe, naturally make this reflection, that the great founder of our religion,
as well by his own example, as in the form of prayer which he taught his disciples,
did not only keep up to those rules which the light of nature had suggested to this
great philosopher, but instructed his disciples in the whole extent of this duty,
as well as of all others. He directed them to the proper object of adoration, and
taught them according to the third rule above mentioned, to apply themselves to
him in their closets, without shew and ostentation; and to worship him in spirit
and in truth. As the Lacedemonians in their form of prayer implored the gods in
general, to give them all good things so long as they were virtuous, we ask in particular
“that our offences may be forgiven us as we forgive those of others.” If we look
into the second rule which Socrates has prescribed, namely, that we should apply
ourselves to the knowledge of such things as are best for us, this too is explained
at large in the doctrines of the gospel, where we are taught in several instances
to regard those things as curses, which appear as blessings in the eye of the world;
and on the contrary, to esteem those things
—Nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum.
Juv. Sat. 7. I 56.
’Tis what I only feel, but can’t express.
IF there were no other consequence of it, but barely that human
creatures on this day assemble themselves before their Creator, without regard to
their usual employments, their minds at leisure from the cares of this life, and
their bodies adorned with the best attire they can bestow on them; I say, were this
mere outward celebration of a Sabbath all that is expected from men, even that were
a laudable distinction, and a purpose worthy the human nature. But when there is
added to it the sublime pleasure of devotion, our being is exalted above itself;
and he who spends a seventh day in the contemplation of the next life will not easily
fall into the corruptions of this in the other six. They who never admit thoughts
of this kind into their imaginations, lose higher and sweeter satisfactions than
can be raised by any other entertainment. The most illiterate man who is touched
with devotion, and uses frequent exercises of it, contracts a certain greatness
of mind, mingled with a noble simplicity, that raises him above those of the same
condition; and there is an indelible mark of goodness in those who sincerely possess
it. It is hardly possible it should be otherwise; for the fervors of a pious mind
will naturally contract such an earnestness and attention towards a better being,
as will make the ordinary
As to all the intricacies and vicissitudes under which men are ordinarily entangled with the utmost sorrow and passion, one who is devoted to Heaven when he falls into such difficulties, is led by a clue through a labyrinth. As to this world he does not pretend to skill in the mazes of it, but fixes his thoughts upon one certainty, that he shall soon be out of it. And we may ask very boldly, what can be a more sure consolation than to have an hope in death? When men are arrived at thinking of their very dissolution with pleasure, how few things are there that can be terrible to them? Certainly nothing can be dreadful to such spirits, but what would make death terrible to them, falshood towards man, or impiety towards Heaven. To such as these, as there are certainly many such, the gratifications of innocent pleasures are doubled, even with reflections upon their imperfection. The disappointments which naturally attend the great promises we make ourselves in expected enjoyments, strike no damp upon such men, but only quicken their hopes of soon knowing joys, which are too pure to admit of allay or satiety.
It is thought among the politer sort of mankind, an imperfection
to want a relish of any of those things which refine our lives.
There are no distinguishing qualities among men to which there
are not false pretenders: but though none is more pretended to than that of devotion,
there are, perhaps, fewer successful impostors in this kind than any other. There
is something so natively great and good in a person that is truly devout, that an
aukward man may as well pretend to be genteel, as an hypocrite to be pious. The
constraint in words and actions are equally visible in both cases, and any thing
set up in their room does but remove the endeavours the farther off their pretensions.
But however the sense of true piety is elated, there is no other motive of action
that can carry us through all the vicissitudes of life with alacrity and resolution.
But piety, like philosophy, when it is superficial does but make men appear the
worse for it; and a principle that is but half received, does but distract, instead
of guiding our behaviour.
Thus humble, and thus great, is the man who is moved by piety, and exalted by devotion. But behold this recommended by the masterly hand of a great divine who I have heretofore made bold with.
“It is such a pleasure as can never cloy or overwork the mind;
a delight that grows and improves under thought and reflexion, and while it exercises,
does also endear itself to the mind. All pleasures that affect the body must needs
weary, because they transport; and all transportation is a violence; and no violence
can be lasting, but determines upon the falling of the spirits, which are not able
to keep up that height of motion that the pleasure of the senses raises them to.
And therefore how inevitably does an immoderate laughter end in a sigh, which is
only nature’s recovering itself after a force done to it; but the religious pleasure
of a well-disposed mind moves gently, and therefore constantly. It does not effect
by rapture and extasy, but is like the pleasure of health, greater and stronger
than those
—quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est .
Hor. Lib. I. Ep. 4. 1. 5.
—What benefits the wise and good. Creech.
RELIGION may be considered under two general heads. The first
comprehends what we are to believe, the other what we are to practise. By those
things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us in the holy writings,
and which we could not have obtained the knowledge of by the light of nature; by
the things which we are to practise, I mean all those duties to which
If we look into the mere serious part of mankind we find many who lay so great a stress upon faith, that they neglect morality; and many who build so much upon morality, that they do not pay a due regard to faith. The perfect man should be defective in neither of these particulars, as will be very evident to those who consider the benefits which arise from each of them, and which I shall make the subject of this day’s paper.
Notwithstanding this general division of Christian duty into morality and faith, and that they have both their peculiar excellencies, the first has the preeminence in several respects.
First, Because the greatest part of morality (as I have stated the notion of it) is of a fixed eternal nature, and will endure when faith shall fail, and be lost in conviction.
Secondly, Because a person may be qualified to do greater good to mankind, and become more beneficial to the world, by morality without faith, than by faith without morality.
Thirdly, Because morality gives a greater perfection to human nature, by quieting the mind, moderating the passions, and advancing the happiness of every man in his private capacity.
Fourthly, Because the rule of morality is
Fifthly, Because infidelity is not of so malignant a nature as immorality; or, to put the same reason in another light, because it is generally owned there may be salvation for a virtuous infidel, (particularly in the case of invincible ignorance,) but none for a vicious believer.
Sixthly, because faith seems to draw its principle, if not all its excellency, from the influence it has upon morality; as we shall see more at large, if we consider wherein consists the excellency of faith, or the belief of revealed religion; and this I think is,
First, In explaining and carrying to greater heights several points of morality.
Secondly, In furnishing new and stronger motives to enforce the practice of morality.
Thirdly, In giving us more amiable ideas of the Supreme Being, more endearing notions of one another, and a truer state of ourselves, both in regard to the grandeur and vileness of our natures.
Fourthly, By shewing us the blackness and deformity of vice, which, in the Christian system, is so very great, that he who is possessed of all perfection, and the sovereign judge of it, is represented by several of our divines, as having sin to the same degree that he loves the sacred person who was made the propitiation of it.
Fifthly, In being the ordinary and prescribed method of making morality effectual to salvation.
I have only touched on these several heads, which every one who is conversant in discourses of this nature will easily enlarge upon in his own thoughts, and draw conclusions from them which may be useful to him in the conduct of his life. One, I am sure, is so obvious that he cannot miss it, namely, that a man cannot be perfect in his scheme of morality who does not strengthen and support it with that of the Christian faith.
Besides this, I shall lay down two or three other maxims, which, I think, we may deduce from what has been said.
First, That we should be particularly cautious of making any thing an article of faith which does not contribute to the confirmation or improvement of morality.
Secondly, That no article of faith can be true and authentic which weakens or subverts the practical part of religion, or what I have hitherto called morality.
Thirdly, That the greatest friend of morality, or natural religion, cannot possibly apprehend any danger from embracing Christianity, as it is preserved pure and uncorrupt in the doctrines of our national church.
There is likewise another maxim, which I think may be drawn from
the foregoing considerations, which is this, that we should in all dubious points,
consider any ill consequences that may arise from them, supposing
For example, in that disputable point of persecuting men for conscience sake, besides the embittering their minds with hatred, indignation, and all the vehemence of resentment, and ensnaring them to profess what they do not believe, we cut them off from the pleasures and advantages of society, afflict their bodies, distress their fortunes, hurt their reputations, ruin their families, make their lives painful, or put an end to them. Sure when I see such dreadful consequences rising from a principle, I would be as fully convinced of the truth of it as of a mathematical demonstration, before I would venture to act upon it, or make it a part of my religion.
In this case the injury done our neighbour is plain and evident; the principle that puts us upon doing it of a dubious and disputable nature. Morality seems highly violated by the one; and whether or no a zeal for what a man thinks the true system of faith may justify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our religion produce charity, as well as zeal, it will not be for shewing itself by such cruel instances. But to conclude with the words of an excellent author, “We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.”
The fewer things we want the more we resemble God.
IT was the common boast of the Heathen philosophers, that by the efficacy of their several doctrines they made human nature resemble the divine. How much mistaken soever they might be in the several means they proposed for this end, it must be owned that the design was great and glorious. The finest works of invention and imagination are of very little weight when put in the balance with what refines and exalts the rational mind. Longinus excuses Homer very handsomely, when he says, the poet made his gods like men, that he might make his men appear like the gods. But it must be allowed that several of the ancient philosophers acted as Cicero wishes Homer had done: they endeavoured rather to make men like gods than gods like men.
According to this general maxim in philosophy, some of them have endeavoured to place men in such a state of pleasure, or indolence at least, as they vainly imagined the happiness of the Supreme Being to consist in. On the other hand, the most virtuous sect of philosophers have created a chimerical wise man, whom they made exempt from passion and pain, and thought it enough to pronounce him all-sufficient.
This last character, when divested of the glare of human philosophy
that surrounds it, signifies no more than that a good and wise man should so arm
himself with patience as
The Christian religion requires, that after having framed the best idea we are able of the divine nature, it should be our next care to conform ourselves to it as far as our imperfections will permit. I might mention several passages in the sacred writings on this head, to which I might add many maxims and wise sayings of moral authors among the Greeks and Romans.
I shall only instance a remarkable passage to this purpose out
of Julian’s Cæsars. The emperor having represented all the Roman emperors, with
Alexander, the Great, as passing in review before the gods, and striving for the
superiority, lets them all drop, excepting Alexander, Cæsar, Augustus Cæsar, Trajan,
Marcus Aurelius, and Constantine. Each of these great heroes of antiquity lays in
his claim for the upper place: and, in order to it, sets forth his actions after
the most advantageous manner. But the gods, instead of being dazzled with the lustre
of their actions, enquire, by Mercury, into the proper motive and governing principle
that influenced them throughout the whole series of their lives and exploits. Alexander
tells them that his aim was to conquer; Julius Cæsar, that his was to gain
Among the many methods by which revealed religion has advanced morality, this is one, that it has given us a more just and perfect idea of that Being whom every reasonable creature ought to imitate. The young man in a Heathen comedy might justify his lewdness by the example of Jupiter: as indeed there was scarce any crime that might not be countenanced by those notions of the Deity which prevailed among the common people in the Heathen world. Revealed religion sets forth a proper object for imitation, in that Being who is the pattern, as well as the source, of all spiritual perfection.
While we remain in this life we are subject to innumerable temptations,
which, if listened to, will make us deviate from reason
—Quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam,
Præmia si tollas?
Juv. Sat. x. I. 141.
Dryden.
IT is usual with polemical writers to object ill designs to their
adversaries. This turns their argument into satire, which, instead of shewing an
error in the understanding, tends only to expose the morals of those they write
against. I shall not act after this manner with respect to the freethinkers. Virtue,
and the happiness of society, are the great ends which all men ought to promote,
and some of that sect would be thought to have at heart above the rest of mankind.
But supposing those who make that profession to carry on a good design in the simplicity
of their hearts, and according to their best knowledge, yet it is much to be feared
those well-meaning souls, while they endeavoured
The sages, whom I have in my eye, speak of virtue as the most amiable thing in the world; but at the same time that they extol her beauty, they take care to lessen her portion. Such innocent creatures are they, and so great strangers to the world, that they think this a likely method to increase the number of her admirers.
Virtue has in herself the most engaging charms; and Christianity, as it places her in the strongest light, and adorned with all her native attractions, so it kindles a new fire in the soul, by adding to them the unutterable rewards which attend her votaries in an eternal state. Or, if there are men of a saturnine and heavy complexion, who are not easily lifted up by hope, there is the prospect of everlasting punishment to agitate their souls, and frighten them into the practice of virtue, and an aversion from vice.
Whereas your sober freethinkers tell you that virtue indeed is
beautiful, and vice deformed; the former deserves your love, and the latter your
abhorrence: but then it is for their own sake, or on account of the good and evil
which immediately attend them,
I will not say these men act treacherously in the cause of virtue: but will any one deny that they act foolishly who pretend to advance the interests of it by destroying or weakening the strongest motives to it, which are accommodated to all capacities, and fitted to work on all dispositions, and enforcing those alone which can affect only a generous and exalted mind?
Surely they must be destitute of passion themselves, and unacquainted with the force it hath on the minds of others, who can imagine that the mere beauty of fortitude, temperance, and justice, is sufficient to sustain the mind of man in a severe course of self-denial against all the temptations of present profit and sensuality.
It is my opinion, the free-thinkers should be treated as a set of poor ignorant creatures, that have not sense to discover the excellency of religion: it being evident those men are no witches; nor likely to be guilty of any deep deign, who proclaim aloud to the world that they have less motives of honesty than the rest of their fellow subjects; who have all the inducements to the exercise of any virtue which a free-thinker can possibly have and besides, the expectation of never-ending happiness or misery, as the consequence of their choice.
Are not men actuated by their passions? and are not hope and fear the most powerful of our passions? and are there any objects which can arouse and awaken our hopes and fears like those prospects that warm and penetrate the heart of a Christian, but are not regarded by a free-thinker?
It is not only a clear point, that a Christian breaks through stronger engagements whenever he surrenders himself to commit a criminal action, and is stung with a sharper remorse after it, than a free-thinker: but it should even seem that a man who believes no future state would act a foolish part in being thoroughly honest. For what reason is there why such a one should postpone his own private interest or pleasure to the doing his duty? If a Christian foregoes some present advantage for the sake of his conscience, he acts accountably, because it is with the view of gaining some greater future good. But he that, having no such view, should yet conscientiously deny himself a present good, in any incident where he may save appearance, is altogether as stupid as he that would trust him at such a juncture.
It will perhaps be said, that virtue is her own reward; that a
natural gratification attends good actions, which is alone sufficient to excite
men to the performance of them. But although there is nothing more lovely than virtue,
and the practice of it is the surest way to solid natural happiness even in
The thought that our existence terminates with this life doth
naturally check the soul in any generous pursuit, contract her views, and fix them
on temporary and selfish ends. It dethrones the reason, extinguishes all noble
Mens agitat molem .—Virg. Æn. vi. I. 727.
God actuates this universal frame.
TO one who regards things with a philosophical eye, and hath a soul capable of being delighted with the sense that truth and knowledge prevail among men, it must be a grateful reflection to think that the sublimest truths which among the Heathens, only here and there, one of brighter parts, and more leisure than ordinary, could attain to, are now grown familiar to the meaner inhabitants of these nations.
Whence came this surprising change, that regions formerly inhabited
by ignorant and savage people should now outshine ancient Greece, and the other
eastern countries, so renowned of old, in the most elevated notions of theology
and morality? Is it the effect of our own parts and industry? Have
If there be any of the free-thinkers who are not direct Atheists, charity would incline one to believe them ignorant of what is here advanced. And it is for their information that I write this paper; the design of which is to compare the ideas that Christians entertain of the being and attributes of a God, with the gross notions of the Heathen world. Is it possible for the mind of man to conceive a more august idea of the Deity than is set forth in the holy scriptures? I shall throw together some passages relating to this subject, which I propose only, as philosophical sentiments, to be considered by a free-thinker.
“Though there be that are called gods, yet to us there is but
one God. He made the heaven, and heaven of heavens, with all their host; the earth,
and all things that are therein; the seas, and all that is therein. He said, let
them be, and it was so. He had stretched forth the heavens. He hath founded the
earth, and hung it upon nothing. He hath shut up the sea with doors, and said hitherto
shalt thou come, and no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed. The Lord,
is an invisible spirit, in whom we live, and move, and have our being. He is
Can the mind of a philosopher rise to a more just and magnificent, and at the same time, a more amiable idea of the Deity, than is here set forth in the strongest images and most emphatical language? and yet this is the language of shepherds and fishermen. The illiterate Jews and poor persecuted Christians retained these noble sentiments, while the polite and powerful nations of the earth were given up to that sottish sort of worship of which the following elegant description is extracted from one of the inspired writers.
“Who hath formed a god, or molten an image that is profitable
for nothing? The smith with the tongs both worketh in the
In such circumstances as these, for a man to declare for free-thinking,
and disengage himself from the yoke of idolatry, were doing honour to human nature,
and a work well becoming the great asserters of reason. But in a church, where our
adoration is directed to the Supreme Being, and (to say the least) where is nothing
either in the object or manner of worship that contradicts the light of nature,
there, under the pretence of free-thinking, to rail at the religious institutions
of their country, sheweth an undistinguishing genius that mistakes opposition for
freedom of thought. And, indeed, notwithstanding the pretences of some few among
our free-thinkers, I can hardly think there are men so and inconsistent
If a person, who exerts himself in the modern way of free-thinking, be not a stupid idolater, it is undeniable, that he contributes all he can to the making other men so, either by ignorance or design; which lays him under the dilemma, I will not say of being a fool or knave, but of incurring the contempt or detestation of mankind.
—Aptissima quæque dabunt dii
Charior est illis homo, quam sibi—Juv. S. 10 I. 345.
Dryden.
IT is owing to pride, and a secret affectation of a certain self-existence,
that the noblest motive for action that ever was proposed to man, is not acknowledged
the glory and happiness of their being. The heart is treacherous to itself, and
we do not let our reflections go deep enough to receive religion as the most honourable
incentive to good and worthy actions. It is our natural weakness, to flatter ourselves
into a belief, that if we search into our inmost thoughts, we find ourselves wholly
disinterested, and divested of any views arising from self-love and vain glory.
But however spirits of superficial greatness may disdain at first sight to do any
thing, but from a noble impulse in themselves, without any future regards in this
or another being: upon stricter inquiry they will find to act worthily and expect
to be rewarded only in another world, is as heroic a pitch of virtue as human nature
can arrive at. if the tenor of our actions have any other motive, than the desire
to be pleasing
It is owing to the forbidden and unlovely constraint with which men of low conceptions act when they think they conform themselves to religion, as well as to the more odious conduct of hypocrites, that the word Christian does not carry with it, at first view, all that is great, worthy, friendly, generous, and heroic. The man who suspends his hopes of the reward of worthy actions till after death, who can bestow unseen, who can overlook hatred, do good to his slanderer, who can never be angry at his friend, never revengeful to his enemy, is certainly formed for the benefit of society; yet these are so far from heroic virtues, that they are but the ordinary duties of a Christian.
When a man with a steady faith, looks back on the great catastrophe
of this day, with what bleeding emotions of heart must he contemplate the life and
sufferings of his Deliverer? When his agonies occur to him, how will he weep to
reflect that he has often forgot them for the glance of a wanton, for the applause
of a vain world, for an heap of
How pleasing is the contemplation of the lowly steps our Almighty Leader took in conducting us to his heavenly mansions! In plain and apt parable, similitude, and allegory, our great Master enforced the doctrine of our salvation; but they of his acquaintance, instead of receiving what they could not oppose, were offended at the presumption of being wiser than they: they could not raise their little ideas above the consideration of him, in those circumstances familiar to them, or conceive that he who appeared not more terrible or pompous, should have any thing more exalted than themselves; he in that place therefore would not longer ineffectually exert a power which was incapable of conquering the prepossession a their narrow and mean conceptions.
Multitudes followed him, and brought him the dumb, the blind,
the sick, and maimed; whom when their Creator had touched, with a second life they
saw, spoke, leaped, and ran. In affection to him, and admiration of his actions,
the crowd could not leave him, but waited near him till they were almost as faint
and helpless as others they brought for succour. He had compassion on them, and
by a miracle supplied their necessities. Oh! the ecstatic entertainment, when they
could behold their food immediately increase to the distributer’s hand, and see
their God in person feeding and refreshing
But though the sacred story is every where full of miracles not inferior to this, and though in the midst of those acts of divinity he never gave the least hint of a design to become a secular Prince, yet had not hitherto the apostles themselves any other hopes than of worldly power, preferment, riches and pomp; for Peter, upon an accident of ambition among the apostles, hearing his Master explain that his kingdom was not of this world, was so scandalized, that he, whom he had so long followed, should suffer the ignominy, shame, and death which he foretold, that he took him aside, and said, “Be it far from thee, Lord! this shall not be unto thee:” for which he suffered a severe reprehension from his Master, as having in his view the glory of man rather than that of God.
The great change of things began to draw near, when the Lord of
nature thought fit as a Saviour and Deliverer to make his public entry into Jerusalem
with more than the power of joy, but none of the ostentation and pomp of a triumph;
he came humble, meek, and lowly; with an unfelt new extasy, multitudes strewed his
way with garments and olive branches, crying with loud gladness and acclamation,
“Hosannah to the son of David, blessed is he that cometh in
“But what heart can conceive, what tongue utter the sequel? Who is that yonder, buffeted, mocked and spurned? Whom do they drag like a felon? Whither do they carry my Lord, my King, my Saviour, and my God? And will he die to expiate those very injuries? See where they have nailed the Lord and giver of life! how his wounds blacken, his body writhes, and heart heaves with pity and with agony! Oh Almighty Sufferer! look down, look down from thy triumphant infamy: lo, he inclines his head to his sacred bosom! hark, he groans! see, he expires! The earth trembles, the temple rends, the rocks burst, the dead arise: which are the quick? which are the dead! Sure nature, all nature is departing with her Creator.”
IF to inform the understanding and regulate the will, is the most
lasting and diffusive benefit, there will not be found so useful and excellent an
institution as that of the Christian priesthood which is now become the scorn of
fools. That a numerous order of men should be consecrated to the study of the most
sublime and beneficial truths, with a design to propagate them by their discourses
and writings, to inform their fellow-creatures
The light in which these points should be exposed to the view of one who is prejudiced against the names, religion, church, priest, and the like, is, to consider the clergy as so many philosophers, the churches as schools, and their sermons as lectures, for the information and improvement of the audience. How would the heart of Socrates or Tully have rejoiced, had they lived in a nation, where the law had made provision for philosophers to read lectures of morality and theology every seventh day, in several thousands of schools erected at the public charge throughout the whole country, at which lectures all ranks and sexes, without distinction, were obliged to be present for their general improvement? And what wicked wretches would they think those men, who should endeavour to defeat the purpose of so divine an institution?
It is indeed usual with that low tribe of writers, to pretend
their design is only to reform the church, and expose the vices and not the order
of the clergy. The author of
Pope.
THERE is a certain coldness and indifference in the phrases of our European languages, when they are compared with the Oriental forms of speech: and it happens very luckily, that the Hebrew idioms run into the English tongue with a particular grace and beauty. Our language has received innumerable elegancies and improvements, from that infusion of Hebraisms, which are derived to it out of the poetical pates in holy writ. They give a force and energy to our expressions, warm and animate our language, and convey our thoughts in more ardent and intense phrases, than any that are to be met with in our own tongue.
There is something so pathetic in this kind of diction, that it
often sets the mind in a flame, and makes our hearts burn within us. How cold and
dead does a prayer appear, that is composed in the most elegant and polite forms
of speech, which are natural to our tongue, when it is not heightened by that solemnity
of phrase, which may be drawn from the sacred writings. It has been said by some
of the ancients, that if the gods were to talk with men, they would certainly speak
in Plato’s style; but I think we may say with justice, that when mortals converse
If any one would judge of the beauties of poetry that are to be met with in the divine writings, and examine how kindly the Hebrew manners of speech mix and incorporate with the English language; after having perused the book of Psalms, let him read a literal translation of Horace or Pindar. He will find in these two last such an absurdity and confusion of style, with such a comparative poverty of imagination as will make him very sensible of what I have been here advancing.
Since we have therefore such a treasury of words, so beautiful in themselves, and so proper for the airs of music, I cannot but wonder that persons of distinction should give so little attention and encouragement to that kind of music which would have its foundation in reason, and which would improve our virtue in proportion as it raised our delight. The passions that are excited by ordinary composition generally flow from such silly and absurd occasions, that a man is ashamed to reflect upon them seriously; but the fear, the love, the sorrow, the indignation that are awakened in the mind by hymns and anthems, Make the heart better and proceed from such causes as are altogether reasonable and praiseworthy. Pleasure and duty go hand in hand, and the greater our satisfaction is, the greater is our religion.
Music among those who were styled the chosen people, was a religious art. The songs of Zion, which, we have reason to believe, were in high repute among the courts of the eastern monarchs, were nothing else but psalms and pieces of poetry that adored or celebrated the Supreme Being. The greatest conqueror in this holy nation, after the manner of the old Grecian lyrics, did not only compose the words of his divine odes but generally let them to music himself: after which, his works, though they were consecrated to the tabernacle, became the national entertainment, as well as the devotion of his people.
The first original of the drama was a religious worship consisting only of a chorus, which was nothing else but an hymn to a deity. As luxury and voluptuousness prevailed over innocence and religion, this form of worship degenerated into tragedies: in which however the chorus so far remembered its first office, as to brand every thing that was vicious, and recommend every thing that was laudable; to intercede with heaven for the innocent, and to implore its vengeance on the criminal.
Homer and Hesiod intimate to us how this art should be applied,
when they represent the muses as surrounding Jupiter, and warbling their hymns about
his throne: I might shew from innumerable passages in ancient writers, not only
that vocal and instrumental music were made use of in their religious
Music, when thus applied, raises noble hints in the mind of the hearer, and fills it with great conceptions. It strengthens devotion, and advances praise into rapture. It lengthens out every act of worship, and produces more lasting and permanent impressions in the mind, than those which accompany any transient form of words that are uttered in the ordinary method of religious worship.
—Fungar inani
Munere—
Virg. Æn. vi. I 885.
An unavailing duty I discharge.
DR. TILLOTSON, in his discourse concerning the danger of all known sin, both from the light of nature and revelation, after having given us the description of the last day out of holy writ, has this remarkable passage.
“I appeal to any man, whither this be not a representation of things very proper and suitable to that great day, wherein he who made the world shall come to judge it; and whether the wit of man devised any thing so awful, and so agreeable to the majesty of God, and the solemn judgment of the whole world. The description which Virgil makes of the Elysian fields and the infernal regions, how infinitely do they fall short of the majesty of the holy scripture, and the description there made of heaven and hell, and of the great and terrible day of the Lord! so that in comparison they are childish and trifling; and yet perhaps he had the most regular and most governed imagination of any man that ever lived, and observed the greatest decorum in his characters and descriptions. But who can declare the great things of God but he to whom God shall reveal them.”
This observation was worthy a most polite man, and ought to be of authority with all who are such, so far as to examine whether he spoke that as a man of a just taste and judgment, or advanced it merely for the service of his doctrine as a clergyman.
I am very confident, whoever reads the gospels with an heart as much prepared in favour of them as when he sits down to Virgil or Homer, will find no passage there which is not told with more natural force than any episode in either of those wits, who were the chief of mere mankind.
The lad thing I read was the
I am very far from pretending to treat these matters as they deserve;
but I hope
It is with this view that I presume upon subjects of this kind; and men may take up this paper, and be catched by an admoni tion under the disguise of a diversion.
All the arts and sciences ought to be employed in one confederacy against the prevailing torrent of vice and impiety; and it will be no small step in the progress of religion, if it is as evident as it ought to be, that he wants the best taste and best sense a man can have who is cold to the beauty of holiness.
As for my part, when I have happened to attend the corpse of a friend to his interment, and have seen a graceful man at the entrance of a church-yard, who became the dignity of his function, and assumed an authority which is natural to truth, pronounce, “I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die:” I say, upon such an occasion, the retrospect upon past actions between the deceased, whom I followed, and myself, together with the many little circumstances that strike upon the soul, and alternately give grief and consolation, have vanished like a dream; and I have been relieved as by a voice from heaven, when the solemnity has proceeded, and after a long pause, I have heard the servant of God utter, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the later day upon the earth; and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another.” How have I been raised above this world, and all its regards, and how well prepared to receive the next sentence which the holy man has spoken; “we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out; the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord!”
There are, I know, men of heavy temper,
It is a gratitude that ought to be paid to Providence by men of distinguished faculties, to praise and adore the Author of their being with a suitable to those faculties, and rouse slower men, by their words, actions and writings, to a participation of their transports and thanksgivings.
—Procul O! Procul este profani!
Virg. Æn. vi. I. 258.
Hence! far hence, O ye profane!
THE watchman, who does me particular honours, as being the chief man in the lane, gave so very great a thump at my door last night that I awakened at the knock, and heard myself complimented with the usual salutation of Good-morrow, Mr. Bickerstaff, Good-morrow, my masters all. The silence and darkness of the night disposed me to be more than ordinarily serious; and as my attention was not drawn out among exterior objects by the avocations of sense, my thoughts naturally fell upon myself. I was considering, amidst the stillness of the night, what was the proper employment of a thinking being; what were the perfections it should propose to itself; and what the end it should aim at. My mind is of such a particular cast, that the falling of a shower of rain, or the whistling of wind, at such a time, is apt to fill my thoughts with something awful and solemn. I was in this disposition, when our bellman began his midnight homily (which he has been repeating to us every winter night for these twenty years) with the usual exordium,
Oh! mortal man, thou that art born in sin!
Sentiments of this nature, which are in themselves just and reasonable, however debased by the circumstances that accompany them, do not fail to produce their natural effect in a mind that is not perverted and depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, politeness, and ridicule. The temper which I now found myself in, as well as the time of the year, put me in mind of those lines in Shakespeare, wherein, according to his agreeable wildness of imagination, he has wrought a country tradition into a beautiful piece of poetry. In the tragedy of Hamlet, where the ghost vanishes upon the cock’s crowing, he takes occasion to mention its crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time, and to insinuate a kind of religious veneration for that season.
This admirable author, as well as the best and greatest men of
all ages, and of all nations, seems to have had his mind thoroughly seasoned with
religion, as is evident by many passages in his plays that would not be suffered
by a modern audience; and are therefore certain instances that the age he
It is indeed a melancholy reflection to consider that the British
nation, which is now at a greater height of glory for its councils and conquests
than it ever was before, should distinguish itself by a certain looseness of principles,
and a falling off from those schemes of thinking which conduce to the happiness
and perfection of human nature. This evil comes upon us from the works of a few
solemn blockheads, that meet together with the zeal
and seriousness of apostles, to extirpate common sense, and propagate infidelity.
These are the wretches, who, without any show of wit, learning, or reason, publish
their crude conceptions with an ambition of appearing more wise than the rest of
mankind, upon no other pretence than that of dissenting from them. One gets by heart
a catalogue of title-pages and editions, and immediately to become conspicuous,
declares that he is an unbeliever. Another knows how to write a receipt, or cut
up a dog, and forthwith argues again the immortality of the soul. I have known many
a little wit, in the ostentation of his parts, rally the truth of the scripture,
who was not able to read a chapter in it. Those poor wretches talk blasphemy for
want of discourse, and are rather the objects of scorn or pity than of our indignation;
but the grave disputant that reads and writes, and spends all his time in convincing
himself and
A wise man, that lives up to the principles of reason and virtue, if one considers him in his solitude, as taking in the system of the universe, observing the mutual dependence and harmony, by which the whole frame of it hangs together, beating down his passions or swelling his thoughts with magnificent ideas of Providence, makes a nobler figure in the eye of an intelligent being than the greatest conqueror amidst all the pomps and solemnities of a triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous animal than an Atheist in his retirement. His mind is incapable of rapture or elevation; he can only consider himself as an insignificant figure in a landscape, and wandering up and down in a field or a meadow, under the same terms as the meanest animals about him, and as subject to as total a mortality as they; with this aggravation, that he is the only one amongst them who lies under the apprehension of it.
In distresses, he must be of all creatures the most helpless and
forlorn; he feels the whole pressure of a present calamity without being relieved
by the memory of any thing
About thirty years ago I was a-shipboard with one of these vermine, when there arose a brisk gale, which could frighten nobody but himself. Upon the rolling of the ship, he fell upon his knees, and confessed to the chaplain, that he had been a vile Atheist, and had denied a Supreme Being ever since he came to his estate. The good wan was astonished, and a report immediately ran through the ship that there was an Atheist upon the upper deck. Several of the common seamen, who had never heard the word before, thought it had been some strange fish; but they were more surprised when they saw it was a man, and heard out of his own mouth, that he never believed, till that day, that there was a God. As he lay in the agonies of confession, one of the honest tars whispered to the boatswain, that it would be a good deed to heave him over board. But we were now within sight of port, when of a sudden the wind fell, and the penitent relapsed, begging all of us that were present, as we were Gentlemen, not to say any thing of what had passed.
He had not been ashore above two days,
AFTER having treated of false zealots in religion, See Spect.
vol. III. No. 185.
Since I have mentioned this unaccountable zeal which appears in Atheists, and Infidels, I must further observe that they are likewise in a most particular manner possessed with the spirit of bigotry. They are wedded to opinions full of contradiction and impossibility, and, at the same time, look upon the smallest difficulty in an article of faith as a sufficient reason for rejecting it. Notions that fall in with the common reason of mankind, that are conformable to the sense of all ages and all nations, not to mention their tendency for promoting the happiness of societies, or of particular persons, are exploded as errors and prejudices; and schemes erected in their stead that are altogether monstrous and irrational, and require the most extravagant credulity to embrace them. I would fain ask one of these bigotted Infidels, supposing all the great points of Atheism, as the casual or eternal formation of the world, the materiality of a thinking substance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organization of the body, the motions and gravitation of matter, with the like particulars, were laid together and formed into a kind of creed, according to the opinions of the most celebrated Atheists, I say, supposing such a creed as this were formed, and imposed upon any one people in the world whether it would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith, than any set of articles which they so violently oppose. Let me therefore advise this generation of wranglers, for their own and for the public good, to act a least so confidently with themselves, as not to burn with zeal for irreligion, and with bigotry for nonsense.
—Cahum ipsum petimus stultitia.—
Hot. Od. III. I. 1. v. 38.
Dryden:
UPON my return to my lodgings last night, I found a letter from
my worthy friend the clergyman, whom I have given some account of in my former papers.
He tells me in it, that he was particularly pleased with the latter part of my yesterday’s
speculation; and at the same time inclosed the following essay, which he desires
me to publish as the sequel of that discourse. It consists partly of uncommon reflections,
and
A believer may be excused by the most hardened Atheist for endeavouring to make him a convert, because he does it with an eye to both their interests. The Atheist is inexcusable who tries to gain over a believer, because he does not propose the doing himself or the believer any good by such a conversion.
The prospect of a future state is the secret comfort and refreshment of my soul; it is that which makes nature look gay about me: it doubles all my pleasures and supports me under all my afflictions. I can look at disappointments and misfortunes, pain and sickness, death itself, and what is worse than death, the loss of those who are dearest to me, with indifference, so long as I keep in view the pleasures of eternity, and the state of being, in which there will be no fears nor apprehensions, pains nor sorrows, sickness nor separation. Why will a man be so impertinently officious, as to tell me this is only fancy and delusion? Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news? If it is a dream let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and the better man.
I must confess I do not know how to trust a man who believes neither
heaven nor hell, or, in other words, a future state of rewards and punishments.
Not only natural self-love, but reason directs us to promote our own interest above
all things. It can never be for
Infidelity has been attacked with so good success of late years, that it is driven out of all its outworks. The Atheist has not found his post tenable, and is therefore retired into Deism, and a disbelief of revealed religion only. But the truth of it is, the greatest number of this set of men, are those who, for want of a virtuous education, or examining the grounds of religion, know so very little of the matter in question, that their Infidelity is but another term for their ignorance.
As folly and inconsiderateness are the foundations of Infidelity,
the great pillars and supports of it are either vanity of appearing wiser than the
rest of mankind, or an ostentation of courage in despising the terrors of
The great received articles of the Christian religion have been
so clearly proved, from the authority of that divine revelation in which they are
delivered, that it is impossible for those who have ears to hear, and eyes to see,
not to be convinced of them, But were it possible for any thing in the Christian
faith to be erroneous, I can find no ill consequences in adhering to it. The great
points of the incarnation and sufferings of our Saviour produce naturally such habits
of virtue in the mind of man, that, I say, supposing it were possible for us to
be mistaken in them, the Infidel himself must at least allow that no other system
of religion could so effectually contribute to the heightening of morality. They
give us great ideas of dignity of human nature, and of the love which the Supreme
Being bears to his creatures, and consequently engage us in the highest acts of
our duty towards our Creator, our neighbour, and ourselves. How many noble arguments
has St. Paul raised from the chief articles of our religion, for the advancing of
morality in its three great branches? To give a single example in each kind: What
can be a stronger motive to a firm trust and reliance on the mercies of our
If our modern Infidels considered these matters with that candour
and seriousness which they deserve, we should not see them act with such a spirit
of bitterness, arrogance, and malice; they would not be raising such insignificant
cavils, doubts, and scruples, as may be started against every thing that is not
capable of mathematical demonstration; in order to unsettle the minds of the ignorant,
disturb the public peace, subvert morality, and throw all things into confusion
and disorder. If none of these reflections can have any influence on them, there
is one that perhaps may, because it is adapted to their vanity by which they seem
to be guided much more than their reason. I would therefore have them consider,
that the wisest and best of men in all ages of the world have been those who lived
up to the religion of their country, when they saw nothing in it opposite to morality,
and to the best lights they
Qua ratione queas traducere lemite ævum:
Ne te semper inops agitet, vexetque cupido;
Ne pavor el rerum mediocriter utilium spes.
Hor I. 1. Epist. XVIII v. 97.
Creech.
HAVING endeavoured, in my last Saturday’s paper, to shew the great
excellency of faith, I shall here consider what are the proper means of strengthening
and confirming it in the mind of man. Those who delight in reading books of controversy,
which are written on both sides of the question in points of faith, do very seldom
arrive at a fixed and settled habit of it. They are one day entirely convinced of
its important truths, and they next meet with something that shakes and disturbs
them. The doubt which was laid revives again, and shews itself in new difficulties;
and that generally for this reason, because the mind, which is perpetually tossed,
in controversies and disputes, is apt to forget the
reasons which had once set it at rest; and to be disquieted with any former perplexity,
when it appears in a new shape, or is started by a different hand. As nothing is
more laudable than an inquiry after truth, so nothing is more irrational than to
pass away our whole lives without determining ourselves one way or other in those
points which are of the last importance to us. There are indeed many things from
The first rule therefore which I shall lay down is this, that
when, by reading or discourse, we find .ourselves thoroughly convinced of the truth
of any article,, and of the reasonableness of our belief in it, we should never
after suffer ourselves to call it into question. We may perhaps forget the arguments
which occasioned our conviction, but we ought to remember the strength they had
with us, and therefore still to retain the conviction which they once produced.
This is no more than what we do in every art or science: nor is it possible to act
otherwise considering the weakness and limitations of our intellectual faculties.
It was thus that Latimer, one of the glorious army of martyrs, who introduce reformation
in England, behaved himself in that great conference which was managed between the
most learned among the Protestants and Papists in the reign of Queen Mary. This
venerable old man, knowing how his abilities were impaired by age, and that it was
impossible for him to recollect all those reasons which had directed him in the
choice of his religion, lest his companions, who were in the full possession of
their parts and learning, to baffle and confound their antagonists by
But to there last I would propose, in the second place, that they should lay up in their memories, and always keep by them in a readiness, those arguments which appear to them of the greatest strength, and which cannot be got over by all the doubts and cavil of Infidelity.
But, in the third place, there is nothing which strenghtens faith
more than morality. Faith and morality naturally produce each other. A man is quickly
convinced of the truth of religion who finds it is not against his interest that
it should be true. The pleasure he receives at present, and the happiness which
he promises himself from it hereafter, will both dispose him very powerfully to
give credit to it, according to the ordinary observation, that we are easy to believe
what we wish. It is very certain that a man of sound reason cannot forbear closing
with religion upon an impartial examination of it: but at the same time it is as
certain that faith is kept
There is still another method which is more persuasive than any of the former, and that is, an habitual adoration of the Supreme Being, as well in constant acts of mental worship as in outward forms. The devout man does not only believe but feels there is a Deity. He has actual sensations of him: his experience concurs with his reason; he sees him more and more in all his intercourses with him, and even in this life almost loses his faith in conviction.
The last method which I shall mention for the giving life to a
man’s faith, is frequent retirement from the world, accompanied with religious meditation.
When a man thinks of any thing in the darkness of the night, whatever deep impressions
it may make in his mind, they are apt to vanish as soon as the day breaks about
him. The light and noise of the day, which are perpetually soliciting his senses,
and calling off his attention, wear out of his mind the thoughts that imprinted
themselves in it with so much strength, during the silence and darkness of the night.
A man finds the same difference as to himself in a crowd, and in a solitude; the
mind is stunned and dazzled amidst that variety of objects which press upon her
in a great city; she cannot apply herself to the consideration of those things which
are of the utmost concern to her. The cares or pleasures of the world strike in
with every
I.
II.
III.
Sir,
THERE arrived in this neighbourhood, two days ago, one of your gay gentlemen of the town, who being attended at his entry with a servant of his own, besides a countryman he had taken up for a guide, excited the curiosity of the village to learn whence and what he might be. The countryman (to whom they applied as most easy of access) knew little more than that the gentleman came from London to travel and see fashions, and was, as he heard say, a Free-thinker; what religion that might be he could not tell; and for his own part, if they had not told him the man was a Free-thinker he should have guessed, by his way of talking, he was little better than a Heathen; excepting only that he had been a good gentleman to him, and made him drunk twice in one day, over and above what they had bargained for.
I do not look upon the simplicity of this, and several odd inquiries
with which I shall not trouble you, to be wondered at; much less can I think that
our youths of fine wit and enlarged understandings have any reason to laugh. There
is no necessity that every squire in Great Britain should know what the word Free-thinker
stands for: but it were much to be willed that they who value themselves upon that
conceited title were
This, as far as I could ever learn from their writings, or my
own observation, is a true account of the British Free-thinker. Our visitant here
who gave occasion for this paper, has brought with him a new system of common sense,
the particulars of which I am not yet acquainted with, but will lose no opportunity
of informing myself whether it contains any thing worth Mr. Spectator’s notice.
In the mean time, Sir, I cannot but
l am, Sir, your most humble Servant,
Philonous.
Quicquid est illud, quod sentit, quod sapit, quod vult, quod viget, cæleste et divinum est, ab eamque rem æternum sit necesse est.
Tull.
Whatever that principle is, which lives, perceives, understands, and wills, the same is heavenly and divine, and consequently eternal.
I AM diverted from the account I was giving the town of my particular
concerns by casting my eye upon a treatise, which I could not overlook without an
inexcuseable negligence and want of concern for all the civil as well as religious
interests of mankind. This piece has for its title “A Discourse of Free-thinking,
occasioned by the rise and growth of a sect called Free-thinkers.” The author very
methodically enters upon his argument, and says, “By Free-thinking, I mean the use
of the understanding in endeavouring, to find out the meaning of any proposition
whatsoever,
It will be perhaps expected, that I should produce some instances of the ill intention of this Free-thinker, to support the treatment I here give him. In his 52d page he says,
“2dly. The priests throughout the world differ about Scriptures,
and the authority of Scriptures. The Bramins have a book of Scripture called the
Shafter. The Persees have their Zundavastaw. The Bonzes of China have books written
by the disciples of Fo-he, whom they call the God and Saviour of the world, who
was born to teach the way of salvation, and to give satisfaction for all men’s sins.
The Taiapoins of Siam have
I believe their is no one will dispute the author’s great impartiality in setting down the accounts of there different religions. And I think it is pretty evident he delivers the matter with an air, that betrays the history of one born of a virgin has as much authority with him, from St. Sommonocodom, as from St. Matthew. Thus he treats revelation. Then as to philosophy, he tells you, p. 136, “Cicero produces this as an instance of a probable opinion, that they who study philosophy do not believe there are any gods;” and then, from consideration of various notions he affirms Tully concludes, “That there can be nothing after death.”
As to what he misrepresents of Tully, the short sentence on the
head of this paper is enough to oppose; but who can have patience to reflect upon
the assembly of impostures among which our author places the religion of his country?
As for my part, I cannot see any possible interpretation to give this work, but
a design to subvert and ridicule the authority of Scripture. The peace and tranquility
of the nation, and regards even above those, are so much concerned in this matter,
that it is difficult to express sufficient sorrow for the offender, or indignation
against him. But if ever man deserved to be
—mentisque capacius altæ. Ovid. I. 1. v. 76.
Capacious of a more exalted mind.
AS I was the other day taking a solitary walk in St. Paul’s, indulged my thoughts in the pursuit of a certain analogy between the fabric and the Christian church in the largest sense. The divine order and œconomy of the one seemed to be emblematically set forth by the just, plain and majestic architecture of the other. And as the one consists of a great variety of parts united in the same regular design, according to the truest art, and most exact proportion; so the other contains a decent subordination of members, various sacred institutions, sublime doctrines, and solid precepts of morality digested into the same design, and with an admirable concurrence tending to one view, the happiness and exaltation of human nature.
In the midst of my contemplation I beheld a fly upon one of the
pillars; and it straight-way came into my head, that this same fly was a Free-thinker.
For it required some comprehension in the eye of the spectator to
The thoughts of a Free-thinker are employed on certain minute particularities of religion, the difficulty of a single text, or the unaccountableness of some step of Providence or point of doctrine to his narrow faculties, without comprehending the scope and design of Christianity, the perfection to which it raiseth human nature, the light it hath shed abroad in the world, and the close connection it hath as well with the good of public societies, as with that of particular persons.
This raised in me some reflections on that frame or disposition which is called largeness of mind, its necessity towards forming a true judgment of things, and where the soul is not incurably stinted by nature, what are the likeliest methods to give it enlargement.
It is evident that philosophy doth open and enlarge the mind,
by the general views to which men are habituated in that study, and by the contemplation
or more numerous
“When a philosopher hears ten thousand acres mentioned as a great estate, he looks upon it as an inconsiderable spot, having been used to contemplate the whole globe of earth; or when he beholds a man elated with the nobility of his race, because he can reckon a series of seven rich ancestors, the philosopher thinks him a stupid ignorant fellow, whose mind cannot reach to a general view of human nature, which would shew him that we have all innumerable ancestors, among whom are crouds of rich and poor, kings and slaves, Greeks and Barbarians.” Thus far Socrates, who was accounted wiser than the rest of the Heathens, for notions which approach the nearest to Christianity.
As all parts and branches of philosophy, or speculative knowledge,
are useful in that respect, astronomy is peculiarly adapted to remedy a little and
narrow spirit. In that science, there are good reasons assigned to prove the sun
an hundred thousand times bigger than our earth; and the distance of the stars so
prodigious, that a cannon bullet, continuing in its ordinary rapid motion, would
not arrive from hence at the nearest of them in
But the Christian religion ennobleth and enlargeth the mind beyond any other profession or science whatsoever. Upon that scheme, while the earth, and the transient enjoyments of this life, shrink in the narrowest dimensions, and are accounted as “the dast of a balance, the drop of a bucket, yea less than nothing,” the intellectual world opens wider to our view: the perfections of the Deity, the nature and excellency of virtue, the dignity of the human soul, are displayed in the largest characters. The mind of man seems to adapt itself to the different nature of its objects; it is contracted and debased by being conversant in little and low things, and feels a proportionable enlargement arising from the contemplation of these great and sublime ideas.
The greatness of things is comparative;
How mean must the most exalted potentate upon earth appear to that eye which takes in innumerable orders of blessed spirits, differing in glory and perfection? How little must the amusements of sense, and the ordinary occupations of mortal men, seem to one who engaged in so noble a pursuit, as the assimulation of himself to the Deity, which is the proper employment of every Christian!
And the improvement which grows from habituating the mind to the
comprehensive views of religion must not be thought wholly to regard the understanding.
Nothing is of greater force to subdue the inordinate motions of the heart, and to
regulate the will. Whether a man be actuated by his passions or his reason, these
are first wrought upon by some object, which stirs the soul in proportion to its
apparent dimensions. Hence irreligious men, whose short prospects are filled with
earth, and sense, and mortal life, are invited by these mean ideas, to actions proportionably
little and low. But a mind
There is not any instance of weakness in the Free-thinkers that raises my indignation more, than their pretending to ridicule Christians, as men of narrow understandings, and to pass themselves upon the world for persons of superior sense, and more enlarged views. But I leave it to any impartial man to judge which hath the nobler sentiments, which the greater views; he whose notions are stinted to a few miserable inlets of sense, or he whose sentiments are raised above the common taste, by the anticipation of those delights which will satiate the soul, when the whole capacity of her nature is branched out into new faculties? he who looks for nothing beyond this short span of duration, or he whose aims are so extended with the endless length of eternity? he who derives his spirit from the elements, or he who thinks it was inspired by the Almighty?
Sir,
“SINCE you have not refused to insert matters of a theological
nature in those excellent papers, with which you daily both instruct and divert
us, I earnestly desire you to print the following paper. The notions
No man that reads the Evangelists, but must observe that our blessed Saviour does upon every occasion bend all his force and zeal to rebuke and correct the hypocrisy of the Pharisees. Upon that subject he shews a warmth which one meets with in no other part of his sermons. They were so enraged at the public detection of their secret villanies, by one who saw through all their disguises, that they joined in the prosecution of him; which was so vigorous that Pilate at last consented to his death. The frequency and vehemence of these reprehensions of our Lord, have made the word Pharisee to be looked upon as odious among Christians, and to mean only one who lays the utmost stress upon the outward, ceremonial and ritual part of his religion, without having such an inward sense of it as would lead him to a general and sincere observance of those duties which can only arise from the heart, and which cannot be supposed to spring from a desire of applause or profit.
This is plain from the history of the life and actions of our
Lord, in the four Evangelists. One of them, St. Luke, continued his history down
in a second part, which we commonly call the Acts of the Apostles. Now it is observable,
that in this second part, in which he gives a particular account of what the apostles
did and suffered at Jerusalem
Accordingly, therefore, when Peter and John had cured the lame
man at the beautiful gate of the temple, and had thereby raised a wonderful expectation
of themselves among the people, the priests and Sadducees, clapt them up, and sent
them away for the first time with a severe reprimand. Quickly after, when the deaths
of Ananias and
We see here what the part was which the Pharisees acted in this important conjuncture. Of the Sadducees, we meet not with one in the whole apostolic history that was converted. We hear of no miracles wrought to convince any of them, though there was an eminent one wrought to reclaim a Pharisee. St. Paul, we see, after his conversion, always gloried in his having been bred a Pharisee. He did so to the people of Jerusalem, to the great council, to King Agrippa, and to the Philippians. So that from hence we may justly infer, that is was not their institution, which was in itself laudable, which our blessed Saviour found fault with, but it was their hypocrisy, their covetousness, their oppression, the overvaluing themselves upon their zeal for the ceremonial law, and their adding to that yoke, by their traditions, all which were not properly essentials of their institution, that our Lord blamed.
But I must not run on. What I would observe, Sir, is, that Atheism
is more dreadful, and would be more grievous to human society, if it were invested
with sufficient power, than religion under any shape, where its professors do at
the bottom believe what they profess, I despair not of a Papist’s conversion, though
I would not willingly lie at a zealot Papist’s mercy, (and no Protestant would,
if he knew what Popery is) though he truly believes in our Saviour. But the Free-thinker,
who scarcely believes there is a God, and certainly disbelieves revelations
If these notions be true, as I verily believe they are, I thought they might be worth publishing at this time, for which reason they are sent in this manner to you by,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant.
M. N.
Quid si in hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales esse credam, libenter erro: nec mihi hunc errorem, quo delector, dum vivo, extorqueri velo: sin mortuus (ut quidam minuti philosophi censent) nihil sentiam; no vereor, ne hunc errorem meum mortui philosophi irrideant.
I please myself in my mistake: nor while I live, will I ever chuse, that this opinion, wherewith I am so much delighted, should be wrested from me, but if, at death, I am to be annihilated, as some minute philosophers imagine, I am not afraid lest those wise men when extinct too, should laugh at my error.
SEVERAL letters which I have lately received give me information, that some well disposed persons have taken offence at my using the word Free-thinker as a term of reproach; To set therefore this matter in a clear light, I must declare that no one can have a greater veneration than myself for the Free-thinkers of antiquity, who acted the same part in those times, as the great men of the reformation did in several nations of Europe, by exerting themselves against the idolatry and superstition of the times in which they lived. It was by this noble impulse that Socrates and his disciples, as well as all the philosophers of note in Greece; and Cicero, Seneca, with all the learned men of Rome, endeavoured to enlighten their contemporaries amidst the darkness and ignorance in which the world was then sunk and buried.
The great points which these Free-thinkers endeavoured to establish
and inculcate into the minds of men, were, the formation of
I would fain ask a minute philosopher, what good he proposes to mankind by the publishing of his doctrines? Will they make a man a better citizen, or father of a family; a more endearing husband, friend, or son? Will they enlarge his public or private virtues, or correct any of his frailties or vices? What is there either joyful or glorious in such opinions? Do they either refresh or enlarge our thoughts? Do they contribute to the happiness, or raise the dignity of human nature? The only good that I have ever heard pretended to, is, that they banish terrors, and set the mind at ease. But whose terrors do they banish? It is certain, if there were any strength in their arguments, they would give great disturbance to minds that are influenced by virtue, honour and morality, and take from us the only comforts and supports of affliction, sickness and old age. The minds therefore which they set at ease, are only those of impenitent criminals and malefactors, and which, to the good of mankind, should be in perpetual terror and alarm.
I must confess, nothing is more of usual than
The history of a Gentleman in France is very well known, who was so zealous a promoter of Infidelity, that he had got together a select company of disciples, and travelled into all parts of the kingdom to make converts. In the midst of his fantastical success he fell sick, and was reclaimed to such a sense of his condition, that after he had passed some time in great agonies and horrors of mind, he begged those who had the care of burying him, to dress his body in the habit of a Capuchin, that the devil might not run away with it: and, to do farther justice upon himself, desired them to tie a halter about his neck, as a mark of that ignominious punishment, which in his own thoughts he he had so justly deserved.
I would not have persecution so far disgraced, as to with these
vermin might be animadverted on by any legal penalties; though I think it would
be highly reasonable that those few of them who die in the professions of their
infidelity, should have such
When I was a young man about this town, I frequented the ordinary
of the Black Horse, in Holburn, where the person that usually presided at the table
was a rough old-fashioned Gentleman, who according to the customs of those times,
had been the Major and Preacher of a regiment. It happened one day that a nosy young
officer, bred in France,
—Inter silvas academi quærere verum.
Hor. lib. II. epist. 2. v. 45.
To search out truth in academic groves.
THE course of my last speculation See Spectator, Vol. II.
No. 111.
First, from the nature of the soul itself, and particularly its immateriality, which, though not absolutely necessary to the eternity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a demonstration.
Secondly, from its passions and sentiments, as particularly from its love of existence, its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with that secret satisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue, and that uneasiness which follows in it upon the commission of vice.
Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whole justice, goodness, wisdom and veracity, are all concerned in this great point.
But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality
of the soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul, to its
perfection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a hint that I
do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others who have written on this
subject, though it seems to me to carry a great weight with it. How can it enter
into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections,
and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing
almost as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no purpose? A brute
arrives at a point
A man, considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and immediately quits his post to make room for him.
——Hæres
Hæredem alterius, velut unda supervenit undam.
Hor. lib. II. Epist. 2. v. 175.
He does not seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down
to others. This is not surprising to consider in animals, which are formed for our
use, and can finish their business in a short life. The silk-worm, after
There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant consideration
in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which the soul makes towards the
perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To look upon
the soul as going on from strength to strength, to consider that she is to shine
for ever with new accessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that she will
be still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in it something
Methinks this single consideration, of the progress of a finite spirit to perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, and all contempt in superior. That cherubim, which now appears as a God to a human soul, knows very well, that the period will come about in eternity, when the human soul shall be as perfect as he himself now is: nay, when she shall look down upon that degree of perfection, as much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the higher nature still advances, and by that means preserves his distance and superiority in the scale of being: but be knows how high soever the station is, of which he stands possessed at present, the inferior nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same degree of glory.
With what astonishment and veneration may we look into our own
souls, where there are such hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such inexhausted
sources of perfection! We know not yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter
into the heart of man to conceive the glory that will be always in reserve for him.
The soul, considered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that
may draw nearer to another for all eternity,
Nescio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quasi seculorum quoddam augurium fututorum; idque in maximis, ingeniis altissimisque animis existit maxime et apparet facillime.
Cic. Tusc. Quæst.
There is, I know not how, deeply imprinted in the minds of men a certain presage, as it were, of a future existence; and this takes the deepen root, and is most discoverable in the greatest geniuses and most elevated minds.
To the SPECTATOR.
Sir,
“I AM fully persuaded, that one of the best springs of generous
and worthy actions, is the having generous and worthy thoughts of ourselves. Whoever
has a mean opinion of the dignity of his nature will act in no higher a rank than
he has allotted himself in his own estimation. If he considers his being as circumscribed
by the uncertain term of a few years, his designs will be contracted into the same
narrow span he imagines is to bound his existence. How can he exalt his thoughts
to any thing great and noble, who
For this reason, I am of opinion that so useful and elevated a contemplation as that of the soul’s immortality cannot be resumed too often. There is not a more improving exercise to the human mind than to be frequently reviving its own great privileges and endowments, nor a more effectual means to awaken in us an ambition raised above low objects and little pursuits, than to value ourselves as heirs of eternity.
It is a very great satisfaction to consider the best and wisest of mankind in all nations and ages, asserting as with one voice this their birth-right, and to find it ratified by an express revelation. At the same time, if we turn our thoughts inward upon ourselves, we may meet with a kind of secret sense concurring with the proofs of our own immortality.
You have in my opinion raised a good presumptive argument from
the increasing appetite the mind has to knowledge, and to the extending its own
faculties, which cannot be accomplished, as the more restrained perfection of lower
creatures may in the limits of a short life. I think another probable conjecture
may be raised from our appetite to duration itself, and from a reflection on our
progress through the several stages of it. We are complaining, as you observe in
a former speculation, of the shortness of life, and
Now, let us consider what happens to us when we arrive at these imaginary points of rest. Do we stop our motion, and sit down satisfied in the settlement we have gained? or are we not removing the boundary, and marking out new points of rest, to which we press forward with the like eagerness, and which cease to be such as fast as we attain them? Our case is like that of a traveller upon the Alps, who should fancy that the top of the next hill must end his journey, because it terminates his prospect; but he no sooner arrives at it, than he sees new ground and other hills beyond it, and continues to travel on as before.
This is so plainly every man’s condition in life, that there is
no one who has observed any thing but may observe, that as fast as his time wears
away, his appetite to something future remains. The use therefore I would make of
it is this, that since nature (as some love to express it) does nothing in vain;
or, to speak properly, since the Author of our being has planted no wandering passion
in it, no desire which has not its object, futurity is the proper object of the
passion so constantly exercised about it; and this restlessness in the present,
this assigning ourselves over to farther stages of duration, this successive grasping
at something still to come,
I take it at the same time for granted, that the immortality of the soul is sufficiently established by other arguments: and if so, this appetite, which otherwise would be very unaccountable and absurd, seems very reasonable, and adds strength to the conclusion. But I am amazed when I consider there are creatures capable of thought, who, in spite of every argument, can form to themselves a sullen satisfaction in thinking otherwise. There is something so pitifully mean in the inverted ambition of that man who can hope for annihilation, and please himself to think that his whole fabric shall one day crumble into dust, and mix with the mass of inanimate beings; that it equally deserves our admiration and pity. The mystery of such men’s unbelief is not hard to be penetrated; and indeed amounts to nothing more than a sordid hope that they shall not be immortal, because they dare not be so.
This brings me back to my first observation, and gives me occasion to say further, that as worthy actions spring from worthy thoughts, so worthy thoughts are likewise the consequence of worthy actions: but the wretch who has degraded himself below the character of immortality, is very willing to resign his pretensions to it, and to substitute, in its room, a dark negative happiness in the extinction of his being.
The admirable Shakespear has given us a very strong image of the unsupported condition of such a person in his last minutes in the second part of King Henry VI. where Cardinal Beaufort, who had been concerned in the murder of the good Duke Humphrey, is represented on his death-bed. After some short confused speeches, which shew an imagination disturbed with guilt, just as he is expiring, King Henry standing by him full of compassion, says,
The despair which is here shewn, without a word or action on the part of the dying person, is beyond what could he painted by the most forcible expressions whatever,
I shall not pursue this thought further, but only add, that as annihilation is not to be had with a wish, so it is the most abject thing in the world to wish it. What are honour, fame, wealth, or power, when compared with the generous expectation of a being without end, and a happiness adequate to that being? I am,
Sir,
Your most obedient
humble servant,
T. D.
To live in joyful hope becomes the wise.
THE time present seldom affords sufficient employment to the mind of man. Objects of pain or pleasure, love or admiration, do not lie thick enough together in life to keep the soul in constant action and supply an immediate exercise to its faculties. In order therefore to remedy this defect, that the mind may not want business, but always have materials for thinking, she is endued with certain powers that can recal what is passed, and anticipate what is to come.
That wonderful faculty which we call the memory is perpetually looking back, when we have nothing present to entertain us. It is like those repositories in several animals that are filled with stores of their former food, on which they may ruminate when their present pasture fails.
As the memory relieves the mind in her vacant moments, and prevents any chasms of thought by ideas of what is past, we have other faculties that agitate and employ her upon what is to come. These are the passions of hope and fear.
By these two passions we reach forward into futurity, and bring
up to our present thoughts objects that lie hid in the remotest depths of time.
We suffer misery and enjoy happiness before they are in being: we can set the sun
and stars forward, or lose sight of them by wandering into those retired
By the way, who can imagine that the existence of a creature is to be circumscribed by time, whose thoughts are not? But I shall, in this paper, confine myself to that particular passion which goes by the name of hope.
Our actual enjoyments are so few and transient, that man would be a very miserable being were he not endued with this passion, which gives him a taste of those good things that may possibly come into his possession. “We should hope for every thing that is good,” says the old poet Linus, “because there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the gods are able to give us.”
Hope quickens all the still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake in her most remiss and indolent hours. It gives habitual serenity and good humour. It is a kind of vital heat in the soul that cheers and gladdens her, when he does not attend to it. It makes pain easy, and labour pleasant.
Beside these several advantages which rise from hope, there is
another which is none of the least, and that is, its great efficacy in preserving
us from setting too high a value on present enjoyments. The saying of Cæsar is very
well known. When he had given away all his estate in gratuities among his friends,
one of them asked what he had left for himself? To which that great man replied,
The old story of Pandora’s box (which many of the learned believe was formed among the Heathens upon the tradition of the fall of man) shews us how deplorable a state they thought the present life without hope. To set forth the utmost condition of misery, they tell us that our forefather, according to the Pagan theology, had a great vessel presented him by Pandora upon his lifting up the lid of it, says the fable, there flew out all the calamities and distempers incident to men, from which, till that time, they had been altogether exempt. Hope, who had been inclosed in the cup with so much bad company, instead of flying off with the rest, stuck so close to the lid of it that it was shut down upon her.
I shall make but two reflections upon what I have hitherto said.
First, that no kind of life is so happy as that which is full of hope, especially
when the hope is well grounded, and when the object of it is of an exalted kind,
and in its nature proper to make, the person happy who enjoys it. This proposition
must be very evident to those who consider how few are the present enjoyments of
the most happy man, and how insufficient
My next observation is this, that a religious life is that which most abounds in a well-grounded hope, and such an one as is fixed on objects that are capable of making us entirely happy. This Hope in a religious man, is much more sure and certain than the hope of any temporal blessing, as it is strengthened not only by reason, but by faith. It has at the same time its eye perpetually fixed on that state, which implies, in the very notion of it, the most full and the most complete happiness.
I have before shewn how the influence of hope in general sweetens life, and makes our present condition supportable, if not pleasing; but a religious hope has still greater advantages. It does not only bear up the mind under her sufferings, but makes her rejoice in them, as they may be the instruments of procuring her the great and ultimate end of all her hope.
Religious hope has likewise this advantage above any other kind of hope, that it is able to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind not only with secret comfort and refreshment, but sometimes with rapture and transport. He triumphs in his agonies, whilst the soul springs forward with delight to the great object which she has always had in view, and leaves the body with an expectation of being reunited to her in a glorious and joyful resurrection.
I shall conclude this essay with those emphatical expressions of a lively hope, which the Psalmist made use of in the midst of those dangers and adversities which surrounded him; for the following passage had its present and personal, as well as its future and prophetic sense. “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth; my flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine holy one to see corruption. Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fullness of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.”
For we are his offspring.
To the SPECTATOR.
Sir,
IT has been usual to remind persons of rank, on great occasions
in life, of their race and quality, and to what expectations they were born: that
by considering what is worthy of them, they may be withdrawn from mean pursuits,
and encouraged to laudable undertakings. This is turning nobility into a principle
of virtue, and making it
It is for the like reason, I imagine, that you have, in some of your speculations, asserted to your readers the dignity of human nature. But you cannot be insensible that this is a controverted doctrine; there are authors who consider human nature in a very different view, and books of maxims have been written to shew the falsity of all human virtues. The reflexions which are made on this subject usually take some tincture from the tempers and characters of those that make them. Politicians can resolve the most shining actions among men into artifice and design; others, who are soured by discontent, repulses, or ill usage, are apt to mistake their spleen for philosophy; men of profligate lives, and such as find themselves incapable of rising to any distinction among their fellow-creatures, are for pulling down all appearances of merit, which seem to upbraid them; and Satirists describe nothing but deformity. From all these hands we have such draughts of mankind as are represented in those burlesque pictures, which the Italians call Caracatures; where the art consists in preserving amidst distorted proportion and aggravated features, some distinguishing likeness of the person, but in such a manner as to transform the most agreeable beauty into the most odious monster.
It is very disingenuous to level the best of mankind with the
worst, and for the faults
It is true indeed, that there are surprising mixtures of beauty and deformity, of wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, in the human make; such a disparity is found among numbers of the same kind; and every individual, in some instances, or at some times, is so unequal to himself, that man seems to be the most wavering and inconsistent being in the whole creation. So that the question in morality, concerning the dignity of our nature, may at first sight appear like some difficult question in Natural Philosophy, in which the arguments on both sides seem to be of equal strength. But as I began with considering this point, as it relates to action, I shall here borrow an admirable reflection from Monsieur Pascal, which I think sets it in its proper light.
It is of dangerous consequence, says he, to represent to man how
near he is to the level of beasts, without shewing him at the same time his greatness.
It is likewise dangerous to let him see his greatness without his meanness. It is
more dangerous yet to leave him ignorant of either; but very beneficial that he
should be made sensible of both. Whatever imperfections we may have in our nature,
it is the business of religion and virtue to rectify them, as far as is consistent
O king, live for ever!
may be addressed to the lowest and most despised mortal among us, under all the infirmities and distresses with which we see him surrounded. And whoever believes the immortality of the soul, will not need a better argument for the dignity of his nature, nor a stronger incitement to actions suitable to it.
I am naturally led by this reflection to a subject I have already
touched upon in a former letter, and cannot without pleasure call to mind the thoughts
of Cicero, to this purpose, in the close of his book concerning old age. Every one
who is acquainted with his writings will remember, that the elder Cato is introduced
in that discourse as the speaker, and Scipio and Lelius as his auditors. This venerable
person is represented looking forward as it were from the verge of extreme old age,
into a future state, and rising into a contemplation on the unperishable part of
his nature, and its existence after death. I shall collect part of his discourse;
and, as you have formerly offered some arguments for the soul’s immortality, agreeable
“This, (says Cato,) is my firm persuasion, that since the human soul exerts itself with so great activity, since it has such a remembrance of the past, such a concern for the future; since it is enriched with so many arts, sciences, and discoveries, it is impossible but the being which contains all these must be immortal.
The Elder Cyrus, just before his death, is represented by Xenophon
speaking after this manner. Think not, my dearest children, that when I depart from
you, I shall be no more, but remember, that my soul, even while I lived among you,
was invisible to you; yet by my actions you were sensible it existed in this body.
Believe it therefore existing still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would
the honours of illustrious men perish after death, if their souls performed nothing
to preserve their fame? For my, own part I could never think that the soul, which
in a mortal body, lives: but when departed out of it, dies: or that its conscioulness
is lost when it is discharged out of an unconscious habitation. But when it is freed
from all corporeal alliance, then it truly exists. Further, since the human frame
is broken by death, tell us what becomes of its parts? It is visible where the materials
of other beings are translated, namely, to
Thus Cyrus. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me, Scipio, that your worthy father, or your grandfathers, Paulus and Africanus, or Africanus’ father, or uncle, or many other excellent men whom I need not name, performed so many actions to be remembered by posterity, without being sensible that futurity was their right. And, if I may be allowed an old man’s privilege, to speak of myself, do you think I would have endured the fatigue of so many wearisome days and nights, both at home and abroad, if I imagined that the same boundary which is set to my life must terminate my glory! Were it not more desirable to have worn out my days in ease and tranquility, free from labour and without emulation? but I know not how, my soul has always raised itself, and looked forward on futurity, in this view and expectation, that when it shall depart out of life; it shall then live for ever; and if this were not true, that the mind is immortal, the souls of the most worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest impulse to glory.
What besides this is the cause that the wisest men die with the
greatest equanimity, the ignorant with the greaten concern? Does it not seem, that
those minds which have the most extensive views, foresee they are removing to a
happier condition, which
I am, Sir, &c.
—Nec morti esse locum—Virg. Geog. IV. v. 262.
No room is left for death. Dryden.
A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefooted, “Father,” says he, “you are in a very miserable condition if there is not another world.” True son said the hermit; “but what is thy condition if there is?” Man is a creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for two different lives. His first life is short and transient; his second permanent and lasting. The question we are all concerned in is this: In which of these two lives is it our chief interest to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words, Whether we should endeavour to secure to ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost length of a very inconsiderable duration; or to secure to ourselves the pleasures of a life which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this question knows very well which side of it he ought to close with. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong side of the question. We make provisions for this life, as though it were never to have an end, and for the other life, as though it were never to have a beginning.
Should a spirit of superior rank, who
is a stranger to human nature, accidentally alight upon
the earth, and take a survey of its inhabitants,
But how great would be his astonishment,
when he learned that we were beings not designed to exist
in this world above threescore and ten years? and 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 preparations? Nothing
The following question is started by one of the schoolmen. Supposing the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mass of the finest sand, and that a single grain or particle of this sand should be annihilated every thousand years; supposing then that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this prodigious mass of sand was Consuming by this slow method till there was not a grain of it left, on condition you were to be miserable for ever after; or supposing that you might be happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable till the whole mass of sand were thus annihilated at the rate of one sand in a thouand years: which of these two cases would you make your choice?
It must be confessed in this case, so
many
1 here put the case even at the worst,
by supposing what seldom happens, that a course of virtue
makes us miserable in this life; but if we suppose, as it
generally happens,
Every wise man therefore will consider this life only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully sacrifice the pleasures of a few years to those of an eternity.
Sentio te sedem hominum ac domum contemplari, quæ si tibi parva (ut est) ita videtur, hæc coelestia semper spectato; illa humana contemnito.
Cic. Somn. Scip.
I understand, you contemplate the abode and habitation of men; which if it seem so small to you, as indeed it is, direct your views continually to heavenly objects, and contemn those that are earthly.
THE following essay comes from the ingenious author of the letter upon novelty, printed in a late Spectator; the notions are drawn from the Platonic way of thinking, but as they contribute to raise the mind, and may inspire noble sentiments of our own future grandeur and happiness, I think it well deserves to be presented to the public.
“If the universe be the creature of an intelligent mind, this mind could have no immediate regard to himself in producing it. He needed not to make trial of his omnipotence, to be informed what effects were within its reach; the world, as existing in his eternal idea, was then as beautiful as now it is drawn forth into being; and in the immense abyss of his essence are contained far brighter scenes than will be ever set forth to view; it being impossible that the great author of nature should bound his power by giving existence to a system of creatures so perfect, that he cannot improve upon it by any other exertions of his almighty will. Between finite and infinite there is an unmeasured interval, not to be filled up in endless ages; for which reason, the most excellent of God’s works must be equally short of what his power is able to produce, as the most imperfect, and may be exceeded with the same ease.
This thought hath made some imagine, (what,
it must be confessed, is not impossible,) that the unfathomed
space is ever teeming with new births, the younger still
inheriting a greater perfection than the elder. But, as
this doth not fall within my present view, I shall content
myself, with taking notice, that the consideration now mentioned
proves undeniably, that the ideal worlds in the divine understanding
yield a prospect incomparably more ample, various and delightful
than any created world can do; and that
Thinking on this, I am obliged to believe,
in justice to the Creator of the world, that there is another
state when man shall be better situated for contemplation,
or rather have it in his power to remove from object to
object, and from world to world: and be accommodated with
senses, and other helps, for making the quickest and most
amazing discoveries. How does such a genius as Sir Isaac
Newton, from amidst the darkness that involves human understanding,
break forth, and appear like one of another species! The
vast machine, we inhabit, lies open to him, he seems not
unacquainted with the general laws that govern it; and while
with the transport of a philosopher he beholds and admires
the glorious work, he is capable of paying at once a more
devout and more rational homage to his maker. But alas!
how narrow is the prospect even of such a mind? and how
obscure to the compass that is taken in by the ken of an
angel: or of a soul but newly escaped from its imprisonment
in the body! For my part, I freely indulge my soul in the
confidence of its future grandeur;
The other, and that the ultimate end of
man, is the enjoyment of God, beyond which he cannot form
a wish. Dim at best are the conceptions we have of the Supreme
Multa putans, sortemque animo miseratus iniquam. Virg. Æneid. VI. v. 332.
IN compassion to those gloomy mortals, who by their unbelief are rendered incapable of feeling those impressions of joy and hope, which the celebration of the late glorious Easter festival naturally leaves on the mind of a Christian, I shall in this paper endeavour to evince that there are grounds to expect a future state, without supposing in the reader any faith at all, not even the belief of a Deity. Let the most stedfast unbeliever open his eyes, and take a survey of the sensible world, and then say, if there be not a connexion and adjustment, an exact and constant order discoverable in all the parts of it. Whatever be the cause, the thing itself is evident to all our faculties. Look into the animal system, the passions, senses, and locomotive powers, is not the like contrivance and propriety observable these too! Are they not fitted to certain ends, and are they not by nature directed to proper objects?
Is it possible then that the smallest
bodies should, by a management superior to the wit of man,
be disposed, in the most excellent manner, agreeable to
their respective natures; and yet the spirits or souls of
men be neglected, or managed by such rules as fall short
of man’s understanding? Shall every other passion be rightly
placed by nature,
If any thing looks like a recompence of
calamitious virtue on this side the grave, it s either an
assurance that thereby we obtain the favour and protection
of Heaven, and shall, whatever befals us in this, in another
life meet with a just return, or else that applause and
reputation, which is thought to attend virtuous actions.
The former of these, our Free-thinkers, out of their singular
wisdom and benevolence to mankind, endeavour to erase from
the minds of men. The latter can never be justly distributed
in this life, where so many ill actions are reputable, and
so many good actions disesteemed or misinterpreted; where
subtile hypocrisy is placed in the most engaging light,
and modest virtue lies concealed; where the heart and the
soul are hid from the eyes of
“It was in the reign of Saturn provided
by a law, which the gods have since continued down to this
time, that they who had lived virtuously and piously upon
earth, should after death enjoy a life full of happiness,
in certain islands appointed for the habitation of the blessed;
but that such as had lived wickedly should go into the receptacle
of damned souls, namely Tartarus, there to suffer the punishments
they deserved. But in all the reign of Saturn, and in the
beginning of the reign of Jove, living judges were appointed,
by whom each person was judged in his lifetime in the same
day on which he was to die. The consequence of which was,
that they often passed wrong judgments. Pluto, therefore,
who presided in Tartarus, and the guardians of the blessed
islands, finding that, on the other side, many unfit persons
were sent to their respective dominions, complained to Jove,
who promised to redress the evil. He added, the reason of
these unjust proceedings is that men are judged in the body.
Hence many conceal the blemishes and imperfections of their
minds by beauty, birth and riches; not to mention, that
at the time of trial there are crouds of witnesses to attest
their having lived well. These things mislead the judges,
From this, as from numberless other passages
of his writings, may be seen Plato’s opinion of a future
date. A thing therefore in regard to us so comfortable,
in itself so just and excellent, a thing so agreeable to
the analogy of nature, and so universally credited by all
orders and ranks of men, of all nations and ages, what is
it that should move a few men to reject? Surely there must
be something of prejudice in the case. I appeal to the secret
thoughts of a Free-thinker, if he does not argue within
himself after this manner: The senses and faculties I enjoy
at present are visibly designed to repair, or preserve the
body from the injuries it is liable to in its present circumstances.
But in an
But as this manner of reasoning proceeds from a poverty of imagination, and narrowness of soul in those that use it, I shall endeavour to remedy those defects, and open their views, by laying before them a case which, being naturally possible, may perhaps reconcile them to the belief of what is supernaturally revealed.
Let us suppose a man blind and deaf from
his birth, who being grown to a man’s estate, is by the
dead palsy, or some other cause, deprived of his feeling,
tasting, and smelling; and at the same time has the impediment
of his hearing removed, and the film taken from his eyes:
what the five senses are to us, that the touch, taste, and
smell were to him. And any other ways of perception of a
more refined and extensive nature were to him as inconceivable,
as to us those are, which will one day be adapted to perceive
those things which “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither
hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.” And
it would be just as reasonable in him to conclude, that
the loss of those three senses could not possibly be succeeded
by any new inlets of perception; as in a modern Free-thinker
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilus avum.
Hor. epost. II. I. 1. v. 43.
It glides, and will for ever glide along.
Mr. Spectator,
THERE are none of your speculations which please me more than those upon infinitude and eternity. You have already considered that part of eternity which is past; and I wish you would give us your thoughts upon that which is to come.
Your readers will perhaps receive greater pleasure from this view of eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a concern in that which is to come; whereas a speculation on that which is past is rather curious than useful.
Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive duration never to have an end though, as you have justly observed, that eternity which never had a beginning is altogether incomprehensible; that is, we can conceive an eternal duration which may be, though we cannot an eternal duration which hath been; or, if I may use the philosophical terms, we may apprehend a potential, though not an actual eternity.
This notion of a future eternity, which
is natural to the mind of man, is an unanswerable argument
that he is a being designed for it: especially if we consider
that he is capable of being virtuous or vicious here; that
he hath faculties improvable to all eternity; and, by a
proper or wrong employment of them, may be happy or miserable
throughout that infinite duration. Our idea indeed of this
eternity is not of an adequate or fixed nature, but is perpetually
growing and enlarging itself towards the object, which is
too big for human comprehension. As we are now in the beginning
of existence, so shall we always appear to ourselves as
if we were for ever entering upon it. After a million or
two of centuries, some considerable things already past
may slip out of our memory, which, if it be not strengthened
in a wonderful manner, may possibly forget that ever there
was a sun or planets, and yet notwithstanding the long race
that we shall then have run, we shall still imagine ourselves
just starting from the goal, and find no proportion
But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question not but you will throw it into such lights as shall at once improve and entertain your reader.
I have, inclosed, sent you. a translation of the speech of Cato on this occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and which, for conciseness, purity, and elegance of phrase, cannot be sufficiently admired.
ACT. V. SCENE I.
CATO solus, &c.
SIC, sic se habere rem
necesse prorsus est,
Ratione vincis, do lubens manus, Plato.
Quid enim dedisset. Qua dedit frusta nihil,
Æternitatis insitam cupidinem
Natura? Quorsum hæc duelis expectatio;
Vitæque non explenda melioris sitis?
Quid vult sibi aliud iste redeundi in nihil
Horror, sub imis quemque agens præcordiis?
Cur terita in se refugit anima, cur tremit
Attonita, quoties, morte ne pareat, timet?
Particula nempe est cuique nascenti indita
Divinior; quæ corpus incolens agit;
Hominique, succinit, tua est Æternitas.
Æternitas! O lubricum nimis aspici,
Mixtumque dulci gaudium formidine!
Quæ demigrabitu alia
hinc in corpora?
Quæ terra mox incognita? Quis orbis novus,
Hæc intuenti spatia mihi quaqua
patent
Immensa: sed calignosa nox premit;
Nec luce clara vult videra frugula.
Figendus his pes; certa sunt hæc hactenus:
Si quod gubernet numen humanum genus,
(At, quod gubernet, esse clamant omnia)
Virtute non gaudere certe non potest:
Nec esse non beata, qua gaudet potest
Sed qua beata sede? Quove in tempore?
Hæc quanta quanta terra, tota est Cæsaris.
Quid dubius hæret animus usque adeo? Brevi
Hic nodum hic omnem expediet. Arma en imduor.
[Ensi manum admovens.
In utramque partem
facta; quæque vim inserant,
Et quæ propulsent? Dextera intentat necem
Vitam sinistra: vulnus hÆc dabit manus:
Altera medelam vulneris; hic ad exitum
Deducet, ictu simplici; hæc vetant mori.
Secura ridet anima mucronis minas,
Ensesque strictos, interire nescia.
Extinguet ætas sidera diuturnior:
Ætate languens ipse sol obscurius
Emittet orbi consenescenti jubar:
Natura et ipsa sentiet quondam vices
Ætatis; annis ipsa deficiet gravis;
At tibi juventus, at tibi immortalita;
Tibi parta divum est vita. Periment mutuis
Elementa sese et interibunt ictibus:
Tu permanibis sola semper integra,
Tu cunctu rerum quassa cuncta naufraga,
Jum portu in ipso tuta, contemplabere.
Compage rupta, corruent in se invicem,
Orbesque fractic ingerentur orbibus;
Illæsa tu sedebis extra fragmina.
ACT. V. SCENE I.
CATO alone, &c.
IT must be so—Plato, thou reason’st
well—
Else whence this pleasinng hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself and startles at destruction?
’Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
’Tis heav’n itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untri’d being,
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass?
The wide, th’ unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there’s a pow’r above us,
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy.
But when! or where!—This world was made for Caesar.
I’m weary of conjectures.—This must end ‘em.
But in all these schemes there is something
gross and improbable that shocks a reasonable and speculative
mind; whereas nothing can be more rational and sublime than
the Christian idea of a future state. Eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard, neither hath it entered, into the heart of
man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for those
that love
Nevertheless, in order to gratify our imagination, and by way of condescension to our low way of thinking, the ideas of light, glory, a crown, &c. are made use of to adumbrate that which we cannot directly understand. “The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them into living fountains of waters: and God than wipe away all tears from their eyes. And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away, and behold all things are new. There shall be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the sun for the Lord God giveth them light, and shall make them drink of the river of his pleasures: and they shall reign for ever and ever. They shall receive a crown of glory which fadeth not away.”
These are cheering reflections: and I
have often wondered that men could be found so dull and
phlegmatic, as to prefer the thought of annihilation before
them, or so ill-natured as to endeavour to persuade mankind
to the disbelief of what is so pleasing and profitable
I know not how to account for this absurd turn of thought, except it proceed from a want of other employment, joined with an affectation of singularity. I shall therefore, inform our modern Free-thinkers of two points, whereof they seem to be ignorant. The first is, that it is not the being singular, but being singular for something that argues either extraordinary endowments of nature, or benevolent intententions to mankind, which draws the admiration and esteem of the world. A mistake in this point naturally arises from that confusion of thought which I do not remember to have seen so great instances of in any writers, as in certain modern Free-thinkers.
The other point is, that there are innumerable
objects within the reach of a human mind, and each of these
objects may be viewed in innumerable lights and positions,
and the relations arising between them are innumerable.
There is, therefore, an infinity of things whereon to employ
their thoughts, if not with advantage to the world, at least
with amusement to themselves, and without offence or prejudice
to other people. If they proceed to exert their talent of
Free-thinking in this way, they may be innocently dull,
and no one take any notice of
—Solemque suum, seu sidera norunt.
Virg. Ænid. VI. v. 641.
Stars of their own, and their own suns they know.
Dryden.
I HAVE already taken a particular pleasure
in examining the opinions which men of different religions,
different ages, and different countries, have entertained
concerning the immortality of the soul, and the state of
happiness, which they promise themselves in another world.
For whatever prejudices and errors human nature lies under,
we find that either reason, or tradition from our first
parents, has discovered to all people something in these
great points which bears analogy to truth, and to the doctrines
opened to us by divine revelation. I was lately discoursing
on this subject with a learned
We are likewise to take notice, that every particular faculty is capable of being employed on a very great variety of objects. The understanding, for example, may be happy in the contemplation of moral, natural, mathematical, and other kinds of truth. The memory likewise may turn itself to an infinite multitude of objects, especially when the soul shall have passed through the space of many millions of years, and shall reflect with pleasure on the days of eternity. Every other faculty may be considered in the same extent.
We cannot question but that the happiness
Our manner of considering the memory, understanding, will, imagination, and the like faculties, is for the better enabling us to express ourselves in such abstracted subjects of speculation, not that there is any such division in the soul itself.
Seeing then that the soul has many different
faculties, or, in other words, many different ways of acting;
that it can be intensely pleased, or made happy by all these
different faculties, or ways of acting; that it may be endued
with several latent faculties, which it is not at present
in a condition to exert:
We shall be the more confirmed in this doctrine if we observe the nature of variety with regard to the mind of man. The soul does not care to be always in the same bent? the faculties relieve one another by turns, and receive an additional pleasure from the novelty of those objects about which they are conversant.
Revelation likewise very much confirms
this notion under the different views which it gives us
of our future happiness. In the description of the throne
of God, it represents to us all those objects which are
able to gratify the senses and imagination. In very many
places it intimates to us all the happiness which the understanding
can possibly receive in that state where all things shall
be revealed to us, and we shall know even as we are known.
The raptures of devotion, of divine love, the pleasure of
conversing with our blessed Saviour, with an innumerable
host of angels, and with the spirits of
Some of the Rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love most. Whether this distinction be not altogether imaginary I shall not here examine; but it is highly probable, that among the spirits of good men there may be some who will be more pleased with the employment of one faculty than of another, and this perhaps according to those innocent and virtuous habits or inclinations which have here taken the deepest root.
I might here apply this consideration
to the spirits of wicked men with relation to the pain which
they shall suffer in every one
Therecannot be a stronger argument that
God has designed us for a state of future happiness, and
for that heaven which he has revealed to us, than that he
has thus naturally qualified the soul for it, and made it
a being capable of receiving so much bliss. He would never
have made such faculties in vain, and have endued us with
powers that were not to be exerted on such objects as are
suited to them. It is very manifest, by the inward frame
and constitution of our minds, the he has adapted them to
an infinite variety of pleasures and gratifications which
are not to be met with in this life. We should therefore
at all times take care that we do
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE GUARDIAN.
Sir,
THE inclosed is a faithful translation from an old author, which if it deserves your notice, let the reader guess whether he was a Heathen or a Christian.
I am, Your most humble Servant.
“I cannot, my friends, forbear letting
you know what I think of death; for, methinks, I view and
understand it much better, the nearer I approach to it.
1 am convinced that your fathers, those illustrious persons
whom 1 so much loved and honoured, do not cease to live,
though they have passed through what we call death; they
are undoubtedly still living, but it is that sort of life
which alone deserves truly to be called life. In effect,
while we are confined to bodies, we ought to esteem ourselves
no other than a sort of galley slaves at the chain, since
the soul, which is somewhat divine, and descends from heaven
as the place of its original, seems debased and dishonoured
by
By no means think, therefore, my dear
friends, when 1 shall have quitted you, that I cease to
be, or shall subsist no where. Remember that while we live
together you do not see my mind, and yet are sure that I
have one actuating and moving my body: doubt not then but
that this same mind will have a being when it is separated,
though you cannot then perceive its actions. What nonsense
would it be to pay those honours to great men after their
deaths, which we constantly do, if their souls did not then
subsist?
—Afflata est
numine quando
Jam propiore Dei—Virg. Æneid. VI. v. 250.
When all the god came rushing on her soul.
Dryden.
THE following letter comes to me from that excellent man in holy orders, whom I have mentioned more than once, as one of that society who assists me in my speculations. It is a thought in sickness, and of a very serious nature, for which reason I give it a place in the paper of this day,
Sir,
The indisposition which has long hung
Among all the reflections which usually
rise in the mind of a sick man, who has time and inclination
to consider his approaching end, there is none more natural
than that of his going to appear naked and unbodied before
him who made him. When a man considers, that, as soon as
the vital union is dissolved, he shall see that Supreme
Being, whom he now contemplates at a distance, and only
in his works; or, to speak more philosophically, when by
some faculty in the soul he shall apprehend the divine Being,
and be more sensible of his presence, than we are now of
the presence of any object which the eye beholds: a man
must be lost in carelessness and stupidity, who is not alarmed
at such a thought! Dr. Sherlock, in his excellent treatise
upon death, has represented, in very strong and lively colours,
the state of the soul in its first separation from the body,
with regard to that invisible world which every where surrounds
us, though
“That death, which is our leaving this
world, is nothing else but our putting off these bodies,
teaches us, that it is only our union to these bodies which
intercepts the sight of the other world: the other world
is not at such a distance from us as we may imagine: the
throne of God indeed is at a great remove from this earth,
above the third heavens, where he displays his glory to
those blessed spirits which encompass his throne; but as
soon as we step out of these bodies, we step into the other
world, which is not so properly another world, (for there
is the same heaven and earth still) as a new state of life.
To live in these bodies is to live in this world, to live
out of them is to remove into the next: for while our souls
are confined to these bodies, and can look only through
these material casements, nothing but what is material can
affect us; nay, nothing but what is so gross, that it can
reflect light, and convey the shapes and colours of things
with it to the eye; so that, though within this visible
world there be a more glorious scene of things than what
appears to us, we perceive nothing at all of it; for this
veil of flesh parts the visible and invisible world: but
when we put off these bodies, there are new and surprising
wonders present themselves to our views: when
As a thinking man cannot but be very much
affected with the idea of his appearing in the presence
of that Being whom none can see and live, he must be much
more affected when he considers that this Being whom he
appears before will examine all the actions of his past
life, and reward or punish
It is this series of thought that I have endeavoured to express in the following hymn, which I have composed during this my sickness.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
—Animæque capaces
Mortis—
Lucan.
Our lives are ever in the pow’r of death.
THE prospect of death is so gloomy and
dismal, that if it were constantly before our eyes it would
imbitter all the sweets of life. The gracious Author of
our being hath therefore so formed us, that we are capable
of many pleasing sensations, and reflections, and meet with
so many amusements and solicitudes, as divert our thoughts
from dwelling upon an evil, which by reason of its seeming
distance, makes but languid impressions upon the mind. But
how distant soever the time of our death may be, since it
is certain that we must die, it is necessary to allot some
portion of our life to consider the end of it; and it is
highly convenient to fix some stated times to meditate upon
the final period of our existence here. The principle of
self-love, as we are men, will make us inquire, what is
I was wonderfully affected with a discourse
I had lately with a clergyman of my acquaintance upon this
head, which was to this effect: “The consideration, said
the good man, that my being precarious, moved me many years
ago to make a resolution, which I have diligently kept,
and to which I owe the greatest satisfaction that a mortal
man can enjoy. Every night before I address myself in private
to my Creator, I lay my hand upon my heart, and ask myself,
Whether if God should require my soul of me this night,
I could hope for mercy from him? The bitter agonies I underwent,
in this my first acquaintance with myself, were so far from
throwing me into despair of that mercy which is over all
God’s works that they rather proved motives to greater circumspection
in my conduct. The oftener I exercised myself in meditations
of this kind, the less was my anxiety: and by making the
thoughts of death familiar, what was at first so terrible
and shocking is become the sweetest of my enjoyments. These
contemplations have indeed made me serious, but not sullen;
nay,
Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum.
Hor. lib. I. epist. 4. v. 13.
Mr. Ironside,
THE following letter was really written by a young gentleman in a languishing illness, which both himself and those who attended him thought it impossible for him to outlive. If you think such an image of the state of a man’s mind in that circumstance be worth publishing, it is at your service, and take it as follows:
Dear Sir,
You formerly observed to me, that nothing
made a more ridiculous figure in a man’s life, than the
disparity we often find in him sick and well. Thus, one
of an unfortunate constitution is perpetually exhibiting
a miserable example of the weakness of his mind, or of his
body, in their turns. I have had frequent opportunities
of late to consider myself in these different views, and
hope I have
then surely sickness, contributing no less than old age to the shaking down this scaffolding of the body, may discover the inclosed structure more plainly. Sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand volumes of philosophers and divines. It gives so warning a concussion to those props of our vanity, our strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves within, when there is so little dependence on our out-works. Youth, at the very best, is but a betrayer of human life in a gentler and smoother manner than age: It is like a stream that nourishes a plant upon its bank, and causes it to flourish and blossom to the sight, but at the same time is undermining it at the root in secret. My youth has dealt more fairly and openly with me; it has afforded several prospects of my danger, and given me an advantage not very common to young men, that the attractions of the world have not dazzled me very much; and I began, where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.
When a smart fit of sickness tells me
this scurvy tenement of my body will fall in a little time
I am even as unconcerned as was that honest Hibernian, who,
being in bed in
He was taken away speedily, lest that wickedness should alter his understanding, or deceit beguile his soul.
I am your’s.
ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix xx xxi xxii xxiii xxiv xxv xxvi 27 23 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 51 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 127 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 316 217 218 219 120 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 282 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312